Georgia Tech’s logo is flawed

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  To someone like me, there is beauty in symmetry; my personal view on aesthetics is typically favoring towards things with good balance.  I like the concept of balance outright, usually believing that a life well lived is a life that’s simply got good balance throughout the numerous aspects of living.

Working where I do, I see the Georgia Tech logo pretty much every single day.  Unfortunately, due to the fact that I support Virginia Tech and that without fail I will get stuck behind a deliberately troll-driving GT shuttle on a daily basis, I have grown to have a negative connotation whenever I see the GT logo; which is everywhere.  Which has made me become critical towards it, naturally.

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Using money depresses me

I know just about all of it has to do with the fact that I can be a cheap motherfucker from time to time.  Often times I feel like I have to tell myself that it’s okay to spend money that I’ve saved up for the occasional splurge, vacation, emergency or rainy day.  I’m pretty sure I get my reluctance to drop large sums of money from my own fairly financially conservative family, and it doesn’t help that given some of the circumstances of my parents’ divorce, there’s an expectation of my sister and I that we’re going to have to help financially support both of them at some point, when I’m struggling on a fairly consistent basis to keep my own head above water.

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5% of a gallon

Whenever I go to a gas station, I sometimes glance around at the pumps around me to see what the previous customer paid for their fuel.  Most of the time, it’s so I can see how many people paid out in nice perfectly round even numbers like $20, sometimes $10, and even the occasional $5.  Once I saw one pump actually sitting at like $165, which meant that someone with a Hummer or a Land Rover must have filled up all 40+ gallons of their tank with high-octane at the same cost of what a Sega Genesis, an extra controller and Ecco the Dolphin cost me when I was in the sixth grade.

Twenty bucks I can understand, and to some degree I get ten dollars, if they’re like a teenager or someone who probably still either doesn’t have enough disposable money on hand, or just can’t afford more.  Anything less than $10, and I’m often curious to how pointless it kind of is to even roll into the gas station in the first place, because even if they had pretty fuel economic vehicles, they’re guaranteed to be back in a day or two, tops.  Way, way less if they had like a Ford Explorer or any kind of six-plus cylinder vehicle.  Obviously, I don’t know these peoples’ financial situations, and such implications mean they can’t be too well off, but I’ve seen my share of people in some pretty luxurious cars also doing the whole “pay for less than $10 worth of gas” thing before as well.

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I don’t mean this in the long run

But right now, I kind of hate my family.  I kind of hate all Koreans for that matter.  The feeling will obviously eventually subside, and we’ll all find some sort of compromise to living again eventually, but at this very moment, I’m kind of pissed off at life, and I have only my family to thank for that.

Does this make me sound selfish?  Yeah sure, but I’m coming to the conclusion to a potential personal belief that everyone needs to have some selfish in them in order to prevent themselves from missing out on well, life.

During the tail end of my latest miserable visit up to Northern Virginia, the place where I grew up and now the place I dread going to more than jury duty or a workload of 380+ slide PowerPoints, the family was having another argument.  Typical Korean story bullshit, but then my mom pipes in that she now “gets” why the grandparents in Korean dramas are always pining for themselves to finally just die, so that they could alleviate the burden of their existence of their struggling children.

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There are times when I resent being Korean

Sometimes I wish my parents would go back to Korea, just so they could stop using their inability to have learned competent basic English as an excuse to be irresponsible and push the burden of their woes onto my sister and I. It sounds terrible, but I sometimes believe that if the monumental, albeit imaginary, language and cultural barrier didn’t stand in front of them, my parents might be able to take care of their own bullshit as opposed to heaping the responsibilities onto their children.

I understand the value of family and that we’re all supposed to be there for one another unconditionally, but in order for things to genuinely have any remote shot at success, all lines of communication must be open, and there has to be a mutual respect and acceptance that exists from all parties involved. I have no problem with helping my family or other people in general, because I like to imagine myself as a fairly decent person at the core, but it gets to a point where people that people who don’t help themselves are beyond any external help. That’s how I feel about my family sometimes, and it makes me feel genuinely lousy.

The story goes like this: Second-generation Koreans emigrate to the United States to do some sort of blue-collar work, whether it’s something agricultural or something more mundane like dry cleaning or operating a liquor store. I can’t say that I necessarily understand the rationale behind it, but often times the justification is “for the kids,” and often times “to have a better life.” The third generation of Koreans are essentially raised as Americans with as much Korean ideals as they are forcibly engrained with. In the perfect ending to this story, they become successful and make a boatload of money to where they can support their aging parents through the remainder of their lives as well as sustaining themselves and produce the next generation and sustain them too, with hopes that they will repeat the cycle, however theoretically from a higher starting point.

But the world ain’t perfect, and we live in reality. There aren’t nearly enough happy endings.

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Riot Graves gun construction: 01

I’ve been a bad builder what with my lack of any sort of updates in regards to current prop projects.  Chalk it up to a combination of the coming and going of Comic-Con, family-related matters that needed to be tended to, my own apathy of not wanting to work on things after work, and my own productivity that couldn’t find the breaks or time necessary to take photographs and make notations on each and every step of what I’ve been doing.

Needless to say, I’ve recently gotten back to work on the construction of the Riot Graves gun, because, Dragon Con is now like three weeks away, and aside from the gun, I’ve got a few other things I need to make, and not nearly as much time as I’d like to have in order to do such.

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Have you ever been full from an ordinary salad?

Yeah, neither have I.

Like so many things out there, it gets to a point where you have to believe that there is nobody who is going to do it right the way you want it, so it falls on your own shoulders to make things right.

I’m not sure where it occurred, but I’ve been craving salads lately, which is slightly uncharacteristic for a guy like me. Typically, the only salads that I voluntarily eat are the ones that come with my entree at particular restaurants. But as of late, because of this craving, I’ve been deliberately ordering side salads with my dinners when I go out to eat, and each time, I’m left feeling unsatisfied, and that I’ve wasted an extra few bucks.

So, I decided that if I was going to extinguish this craving for salads, that I would have to do it myself.

To the credit of all the salads that I’ve eaten lately, they’ve all had an ingredient or three that I do agree with, but all fall short to the grand spectrum of my expectations. That being said, I set out to make the ultimate salad that had everything I find ideal in a salad, with no shortcomings.

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