Zel-kun’s Words

Its funny…

I bought SaGa Frontier a number of years ago and initially hated it.  But, times being what they were, with no RPG’s on the market and Square making fighting games and shooters for some reason, I pulled it out of its case and gave it another chance.  As I played through it, it actually turned out to be a pretty decent game.  Not terrific, but definitely better than a lot of crap that’s coming out today.

I bought its sequel, SaGa Frontier 2, and it was much better than its predecessor.  I played through it a number of times, and I feel its one of the more underrated RPG’s out there.

So, when I saw Romancing SaGa for the PS2 on the shelf at GameStop, a used copy for only $16.99, I picked it up.

The console RPG market is absolutely barren right now.  Every game is using this ‘active battle’ deal that was first done in Star Ocean.  It was fun the first time, but it has worn so thin by now.  When you try to cross action and turn-based, you end up failing at both most often.  The last good RPG I played was Dragon Quest, and that was more than a year ago.  I played Rogue Galaxy because everyone kept going on about it, and was bored by the third day of playing.

So, Romancing SaGa…

It uses the same system as the previous games, whereas the more you use a particular weapon, the more moves you learn with it.  Abilities and spells take Battle Points (BP), and they regenerate a fixed amount each round.  The amount is determined by some stat I haven’t figured out yet, but its nice when a mage has a powerful magic attack that costs 4 BP, and she regenerates 4 BP each round.  Yes, finally, console RPG’s making mages not suck.

Your stats go up at the end of nearly every battle loosely based on what you did.  For example, the mage might gain a point of INT and a point of WIL after a battle, whereas the swordsman might gain a point of STR and some HP.  There’s a noticeable change in abilities in a reletively short amount of time.

New to the series is the levelling of certain techniques.  You can go to a trainer, and spend points earned winning battles and completing quests to level up an ability.  Say, levelling up Terrology (Earth Magic) from lvl 2 to lvl 3.  This makes the magic more powerful AND cost less.  This can be done with dozens of skills that are used both in an out of battle, such as lockpicking, climbing, jumping, and disarming traps.  The whole thing seems like a Japanese take on the open-ended development systems of D&D.

Speaking of open-ended, this game is about as open-ended as they come.  You essentially start out with a vague goal, and then the world is open to you.  You can go exploring anywhere.  You can customize your team the way you want from adventurers and mercenaries in towns, and you can follow rumors about events and treasures hidden in dungeons.  You can actually piece together bits of legends and deduce where an ancient relic may be located, and search for it.

My one complaint is the challenge level.  I don’t mind a difficult game, but the increase of challenge can be seemingly random.  Enemies occasionally get stronger as you do, so you could be sailing through a dungeon, then suddenly a new random monster appears and kicks your butt.  And if you have the bad fortune of stumbling upon a boss (always optional, one boss I stumbled onto because I disturbed a grave in a catacomb) before you’re supposed to, its all over.  But you can save anywhere, so the best advice is to save often.

So, this game is definitely worthwhile, and lets me know that even in the barren RPG market, there’s still a gem or two to be had.

Zel-kun out.

Anyone else remember Alvin and the Chipmunks?  What crazy shows, both the old and the new ones.  Admittedly, hearing ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ and ‘Bad to the Bone’ done at 160 rpm may have seemed like a good idea at the time…

Anyway…

My reason for saying this is that I’ve been getting a rather persistent spammer, by the name of Alvin.  He always has only this to say:

Can anyone recomend a link to more detailed information?…

And of course, his email address is gibberish, and his homepage has more nonsense characters than I can count, but there’s always one consistency.

This comment is always left on my ‘Loli’ post.

That’s just great, apparently the chipmunk wants more information on cartoon child pornography.  I guess the fact that Alvin is a cartoon himself either lessens or increases the creepiness.  Haven’t decided yet.  I’m leaning towards the latter.

Zel-kun out.

I’m halfway through my second week of living in the big city.  Its definitely different.  I have, at different points in my life lived in the suburbs and the country, but this is my first real city experience.  I’ve spent most of my life within viewing distance of the city (you can see Chicago for 30-40 miles in any direction on a clear enough day if your view is unobstructed, even as far back as Gary, Indiana), but this is the first time I’ve had the chance to live there.

I’m not living in the ritzy neighborhoods to the north, where a studio apartment may cost upwards of $2000 a month, nor am I living downtown, where the shadows of skyscrapers cover the streets.  Nope, I live on the south side of Chicago, about five miles outside of downtown.

There’s no nice way to say it, I live in the grungy part of town.  The sidewalks are covered in old gum and discarded fliers and newspapers blow in the breeze.  There is garbage in the gutter, and a boarded-up building or two.  By anyone who is passing through, I live in a terrible neighborhood, and need to get out.

*ahem*

I would say my neighborhood is the most classic example of the saying, ”Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

I see it everyday, little things that say, “Hey, its not so bad.”

First and foremost: Parking

Its not easy to find parking, but when I find a space and pull into it, I can rest assured that I’ll have space to pull out in the morning.  I’ve been to many neighborhoods where the cars will pull bumper-to-bumper, but here there’s always a few feet to work with.  Its a little bit of common courtesy (or at least forethought so their bumpers don’t get smashed when I pull out) and that’s always a good thing.

Secondly: Children

I see children (of all ages, teenagers too) playing EVERY day when I come home from work.  They set up in the schoolyard I park near, playing softball, volleyball, and soccer.  There’s a few parents watching, and there’s a sense of community there.  One time, as I got out of my car, a ball rolled up to my foot, I picked it up and tossed it back, and the little kid thanked me.

Thirdly: People

When I walk from where my car is to my apartment, I see a lot of people.  Some are chatting on their porches and others are working on their homes.  Nearly EVERY occupied house if fixed up.  Fresh paint, clean siding, new decks.  I’ve seen people with garbage bags cleaning up the area in front of their homes.  As I go around, the establishments are clean, and the food is good.  There are a LOT of people that seem to just want to make their neighborhood better.

Sure, its not the best neighborhood in the world, there still are the litterbugs, and there is some gang violence, but there will always be the bad types wherever I go.

So, for the time being, I’m happy to live where I am.  Now if I could only do something about the commute….

Zel-kun out.

Another chapter that jumps around random points, but it somehow seems appropriate to write this chapter.  Those closest to me don’t really know what my beliefs are, Zai herself has remarked, “I have no idea what (religion) you are.”  So here is a chapter dedicated to the evolution of my beliefs throughout my life.

My earliest encounter with religion that I remember is when I was about eight or nine (1989, 1990).  Before that I was baptized Methodist, but I was an infant, so that barely counts.  I was playing in the backyard (crazy, I know, bear with me) and I saw my neighbor across the fence gardening.  She was an elderly lady with a lush garden of flowers I never seen before.  So I started commenting on the flowers.

We were talking (about what, I could only guess, probably how much work raising a garden like that takes) and she mentioned she was going to head to church.

“Church?” I ask, “What’s that?”  Its true.  At that point in my life, I had never been to church, it wasn’t really part of the Sunday ritual.  We didn’t say grace before meals, nor did we pray before bed.  Religion was an unknown concept to me at that point.

“Its where you go to worship God.”  She replied.  God, I had heard of.  ‘My God’ and ‘God dammit’ were phrases I had heard around the house, and I knew the basics of ‘Good = Heaven’.

Like the curious kid I was, I ask if I can go to church with her, to which she agreed, as long as my parents were okay with it.

As I look back on this event with an adult’s mind, I can only imagine how surreal it must have been.  There’s my mom, come home from a long day at work and cooking up whatever meal, when I, a small child, walk up and ask if I can go to church with our neighbor.

I really don’t remember asking, and I don’t remember what my mom’s reaction was.  But she must have agreed, because there I stood on Sunday morning in the finest clothes I owned, with the shirt tucked in, my hair combed and my fingernails clipped (all things I would never do of my own accord).

Stuart and Connie, my neighbors, were as traditional an elderly couple as you can imagine.  Their home was decorated with antiques, plastic on the furniture, quiet demeanors, and devout churchgoers.  The church they went to was on one of the main roads in Lansing, Illinois, inside a remodled house tucked back from the road a bit.  If it weren’t for the sign in front, you’d never know it was a church.  The service was held in the living room, and Sunday School upstairs.

I was one of a few children there.  The other three being girls.  I can’t remember their names, but the oldest one, about the same age as me, had a mild english accent.  It was fun because we became something of friends.  Sunday School was only half an hour, so we got to play outside while we waited for the main service to be over.  All in all, I would say it was a worthwhile experience.

The Religion: Christian Science.

Those two words don’t normally go together, its almost a paradox to use them.  But in a nutshell, they believe in the power and protection of God above all else, including modern science and medicine.  If you were in danger, if you were sick, God was there.  Medicine was the work of man, and unnacceptable.

I’m sure there are finer nuances to the religion, but this is the knowledge carried over from my childhood.  Along with the typical biblical teachings, I was taught that medicine was bad, and that there was nothing that the power of God could not cure.  It was somewhat ironic, being as I was constantly on medication.  Even while at the church, I had some ritalin in me.

But, as the impressionable child I was, I started taking the teachings to heart.  I questioned my mother everytime she gave me the pill, asking her why I took medicine if God said it was bad.  I’m sure that was more than a mild annoyance.  On the plus side, I also no longer tried to sneak home, hiding from older children who might wish to beat me up.  I felt the power of God would protect me.  Of course, it didn’t, and I still had to defend myself.  But the absence of that fear is important, I feel.  Despite everything, you should live your life.

I think on some level, I still carry that courage with me.

It was only a matter of time before I was no longer allowed to go to that church.  I remember that my mother took my brother and I to a Methodist church a couple times, likely an attempt to give me a taste of our family religion, but I honestly don’t remember a thing.

By the time I was in 8th grade (1995), I was going to church every Sunday, a Methodist church only a few blocks from my mother’s house in Merrillville.  I sat in the congregation, I took communion, I sang the hymns, I prayed every night before bed, and I wore a silver cross around my neck.

Yes, folks, I was religious.

I hope you don’t think less of me.

Then a series of events changed my outlook on life (most between 1996-1997).  Some of these I’ll delve into in another chapter, and there’s one I’ll keep to myself.  People died, people changed, and lifelong family ties were shattered.  In the end, I cast the silver cross aside.

I can remember one of the last times I went to church, and one of the reasons why I stopped going.  I was a sophomore in high school (1997), sitting there on a warm spring morning, when the pastor began talking of recent events, of how another pastor committed the sin of marrying a gay couple.  She went on to say how wrong this was, of how the church should not let such an horrid event repeat.  And I thought to myself, “Why the hell not?  Why is it so wrong?  And why do they see themselves fit to judge others?”

By the time I was a senior (1999), I was a self-described agnostic.  I had stopped praying, stopped looking to the sky for answers, and have not been to church in two years, much to my mother’s disappointment.  It was during this time that I had a discussion with Jeff, still a good friend of mine, about life and the nature of divinity.  Jeff is an atheist, and his views on death in a godless world scared the hell out of me at the time.  More and more I thought of the implausability of religion, and while I couldn’t classify myself as an atheist, I was very close to that.

In my second year of college (2002), I learned about Shinto, which is a Japanese religion.  Being the japophile I was at the time, I ate it up.  There’s deities and mythologies I won’t get into, and many different branches (including Shinto-Christians).  But what piqued my interest was Shinto Animism, which is the belief that ALL life is sacred, that the spirit of divinity is everywhere.

So, for awhile, this is how I labelled myself.  I can’t really say for how long, but maybe a year or two.  I bought a little stone that I carried around engraved with the ‘tree’ symbol, which is commonly worshipped in Shinto. 

This was also the first time I distanced myself from Christianity.  At first, it was semantic, I just wasn’t Christian.  But it didn’t take long for me to hate Christians.  Everytime I saw one, they were preaching to me.  If they found out I wasn’t Christian, they preached harder, and hurled threats of hell at me.

During my work at Wal-Mart, I had been told I was going to hell many times.  Sometimes by co-workers, other times by customers.  And in case you’re wondering why my religion somehow got brought up to a customer, this is how it usually went down:

“I like gospel, but your gospel section isn’t very large,” a customer would say.
“Sorry,” I would reply, not really caring. I was wearing a blue vest and listening to some old lady yammer on about gospel music getting paid six dollars an hour, honestly wasn’t into the whole ‘caring’ scene.
“Do you like gospel?” She would ask.
“Ah… I don’t overly care for it,” I would say, being truthful why attempting to skip past the deadly trap being set up.
“What church do you go to?” She would persist.
“I don’t,” I reply again, knowing that the inevitable is coming.
“You don’t!? Don’t you want to show praise to Jesus?” She demands.
“I’m not Christian.”

And then the fireworks would come.

I guess I began to fall out of it when I began to ask myself if I didn’t believe simply because it was Japanese, or whether I only believed in it because it wasn’t Christianity.

On Christianity:

It took me a long time to stop hating Christians and their holier than thou attitude. I have my good friend Paul to thank for that. I’m pretty sure I mentioned it in a past post, but I’ll say it again so its in this little autobiography. Paul is a devout Christian, and has NEVER, not once, ever preached to me. He has never made me feel like I was somehow beneath him, or destined to go to hell. He is helpful and generous, everything an ideal Christian should be. And again, non-judgmental. Knowing him has let me know that not all Christians are out to preach how much better than me they are.

In the years following that, I picked up a little Bhuddism. I never labelled myself as a Bhuddist, but I loved some of the teachings and took them to heart. For example, the freeing of yourself from want, and the belief that all life deserves the same chance to live.

So where am I now?  Where do my beliefs lie?  Did I go back to being agnostic? Did I got back to Shintoism? Do I worship the Christian God and all His works?

I can say a little of each.

I don’t know whether or not God exists. I like to believe so, there’s a lot of little miracles that we take for granted. I like to believe that a good life follows a good person. I belive in karma, I’ve seen it in action a few times. I believe that there is a bit of spirituality in everything, for better or for worse. I also believe that if Jesus existed, he was a good guy. At worst, he was simply a man who wandered the land preaching peace, acceptance, and understanding to a land that truly needed it, taking his beliefs so far as to die for them. So even at worst, he’s a man worth taking a cue from.

So, I’m not sure what you’d call someone such as me. Can’t say I really belong to any religion, but I’ve always been something of a loner, so perhaps that’s okay. But at the very least, maybe those few who read this and were curious, can get a little bit of insight on the workings of my mind.

“She turned me into a newt!”
“A newt?”
“…….I got better.”

*ahem*

On Sunday, I unpacked my computer, and finally set up my study.  Its a nice little room in the back of the apartment with a nice large desk I got from work.  Its the first time I’ve had a nice desk, I’ve been using a folding table for many a year.  I spent many hours and much money perfecting my computer.  A new hard drive here, power supply there, et cetera.  So, it was no small annoyance that when I booted the machine up, it didn’t work.

Everything seemed fine, it turned on, it booted into Windows, and I was able to play my mp3’s.  So I turn the volume up and listen while I set to unpacking.  Then the music skips.

Sure, we’ve all heard music skip before, ON CD’S.  This is a digital file.  It happens a few times, then I decide to play a different mp3, thinking that maybe I had a bad sound file.  (friends send me gigabytes of the stuff, it happens sometimes in the transfer)  Of course, it repeats itself, the music is skipping.  To test out whether its just the sound or whether the computer itself is, for lack of a better word, ’skipping,’ I play a video file that has no sound.  Sure enough, it skips around like a scratched DVD.

The next three days are spent with me trying to pinpoint this problem.  I do system restores, I open the case and reseat every cable, I look online (at work, I STILL don’t have internet at home) for possible causes, which I find out can be everything from a bad power supply, motherboard, memory, hard drive, processor, or corrupt operating system.  Greeeeeeat.

I’m sitting there on Tuesday night, mumbling at my non-working computer, which has been consistently for three days now, about ready to give up, when Zai walks in.

“Still not working?”  She asks.

“Nope, and nothing I do has any effect.  This room has bad juju.”  I reply.

“Reeeaaaly?”  she muses, and walks away.

Now, juju, where do I begin?  Its a term used among my circle of gamer friends for as long as I can remember.  If something doesn’t go right, its bad juju.  And it was used in pretty much any situation:

Ex. 1

“Roll your dice to see if you avoid being critically hit.”
“I’ll roll the blue dice, the red dice are bad juju.”

Ex. 2

“Don’t just rip up your old character sheet, that’s bad juju.”

Ex. 3

“I know better than to drink and roleplay, bad juju.”

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

And, to stray even FURTHER from the point of the story, I need to relay a key piece of information about my fiance:

She’s a Witch.

That’s right, a Wiccan.  Ironically enough, she is the FOURTH girl I’ve been close to to be a Wiccan.  I seem to attract them, I guess.  Not my cup of tea, but she believes in it, and I respect that.  She does things with herbs that truly shows her knowledge and dedication.  She has made teas that treat my insomnia, teas that have helped me when I was sore, and even a tea that cured my sore throat.  She also does things to bless things and dispel negative energy (or juju in my case), and has APPARENTLY done so in my study.  I’d say more, but I honestly don’t have a clue, she tends to keep to herself with that whole thing.

I go to my computer last night, and play a music file.  I haven’t done anything since Tuesday, but I figured I’d listen and then give the problem another go.  The file plays flawlessly.

I look at the screen, an eyebrow raised.  Maybe I just got lucky, or I didn’t actually hear it, being a techno song and everything.  So I give it the ultimate test: Freebird.

That’s right, nine minutes and ten seconds of unadulterated Skynard.

Flawlessly.  My computer is somehow cured.  It works as well as it ever did.  I look at Zai, “Did you do something to my computer?”

“I didn’t do anything to your computer.”

“Anything, move it, touch it… tap it, move the desk, anything?”

“I did not do anything… to your computer.”  She says, leaving the study.

“Did you make the juju go away?”

“Maaaaybe…”  I heard, and she would say nothing else.

Readers, I ask you, ehwa?

So I dunno, any speculation I could do wouldn’t do any good, and would just make me go insane.  Bottom line, I have a working computer again, so that’s good.

Zel-kun out.

Saturday….

It kinda sucked.  I spent the day loading up Paul’s trailer with my heaviest possessions, driving them to my apartment, and then hauling them up the stairs.  I have definitely done more fun things than that.  But, we got the bed and the couches and the tables up there, and the apartment is mostly put together.  Now we just need to get the little things…

Like dishes… I ended up eating my Apple Dapples out of a tiny ramen bowl.

The apartment is looking good, had my mother (a perfectionist and clean freak in the truest sorts)over, and she loves it, so that’s a point in our favor.  Her parents haven’t been over since we moved in, but if my mother is satisfied, I doubt they’ll have anything to complain about.

To thank Paul for all his hard work, I treated him and his wife to a dinner at the Melting Pot.  For those that don’t know, the Melting Pot is a fondue restaurant.  It has some decent food, and a VERY nice atmosphere at the one downtown.  It also has one of the highest price tags I’ve had the displeasure of encountering.  But, its definitely a place to try out if you got the green.

Speaking of green, I had a very new experience yesterday: Grocery Shopping!

I’m not altogether surprised that to find that I search the aisles for the cheapest deals in the store.  I look at a $4 box of cereal and scoff, instead buying the $3 bag that’s three times the size.  Sure, its a good deal, but all the cool kids have Apple Jacks, and I have a garbage bag full of Apple Dapples.

Maybe this trend will subside when I know I have more money, but right now, I’m watching every penny as I venture out into this brave new world known as ‘Living On My Own.’  I don’t want the water bill to come in and say, “I’m one dollar short!  Why oh why didn’t I buy the Apple Dapples?”

If that happens, I will try to be as dramatic as possible.

Zel-kun out.

Yes, so soon after my previous post about the delicious breakfast delicacy known as waffles, is yet another post about the delicious breakfast delicacy known as waffles.

*ahem*

So I loaded up the truck Monday night and headed to the apartment.  It took an hour and fifteen minutes to get there after work, but all in all, the drive wasn’t too horrible.  We unloaded the truck and ate dinner at Las Esperanzas, where I got my usual chorizo torta (pork sausage sammich).  Afterwards I set to work setting up my entertainment system.

Setting up the entertainment system is a battle I fight every few years, and it only gets more difficult with time as more components are added.  I remember curling in a fetal position, back in 1998, wondering why I had DVD sound, but no picture.  I remember whimpering in the corner in 2000, wondering why all the speakers on the left wouldn’t function.  I remember cackling madly on the roof in 2004, questioning the heavens why only channel 3 came in.

So, when I stood there, looking at the stack of components and bundles of wires, I was not looking forward to the task at hand.  I took a deep breath, and set to work, and began setting components and connecting wires.  After about twenty minutes or so, I had connected all the wires to the places I think they should go.  I take my remote, and wait for everything to go wrong.

Everything turned on, everything had sound, and unlike before, I could use both the VCR and TV as the channel tuner (the thingy you flip the channels on), and still have surround sound on both.  Yes, somehow, on my first try, I not only succeeded, but managed to hook everything up better than before.  It was shocking because I had a couple extra component cables that I couldn’t figure out where they went.

So I spent a little while revelling in my success, then went to sleep on an inflatable mattress on the floor.

In the morning, I woke up to the smell of fresh homemade waffles with strawberry syrup.  I had never had waffles that weren’t the prepackaged frozen kind, and I gotta say, homemade are a LOT better.  We ate on the living room coffee table because we don’t have the kitchen table yet, but it was a hot breakfast before work, and that’s something I haven’t had in years.

So, yes, I still like waffles.

Zel-kun out.

So, for whatever reason, Skittles has decided to release a limited edition of ‘carnival’ flavors.  They are so confident that people will like them that they put a few of the flavors in other bags of Skittles, just to give the consumer a taste.  A bag I bought came with the ‘Green Slushy’ flavor (I’ve always spelled it ’slushie’), which does not sound appetizing at all.  But, it was in the bag, so I ate one, and it was good.  Kinda like a lemon-lime-flavored skittle.  So I decided, why not, I’ll try a bag.

I have never eaten a less tasty candy.  Its like they got together and tried to make the most disgusting mix of horrid flavors imaginable.  I paid $.50 for the bag, and I regret it.

Candy Apple - I must give them credit, it tastes like a candy apple.  Or rather the stuff they dip the candy apple in.  That’s good, but the reason why a candy apple is good is because the apple tones down the immense sweetness.  As you might imagine, there are no apples in the Skittles, and I think I just became diabetic eating one.

Bubble Gum - Ugh.  It tastes a little like bubble gum, but about four or five times as much sugar.  I’m pretty sure that pure sugar has less sugar than one of these.

Cotton Candy - The lesser of evils, I suppose.  It does taste like cotton candy in Skittle form.  They did a good job on this one, too bad I don’t overly care for cotton candy.  It should be noted that cotton candy is really nothing but spun sugar.

Red Licorice - Yes, the red candy, the king of any bag of multicolor candies you buy.  From Starburst to Mike & Ike, the red is the most coveted (green and white to get cult followings, in many cases).  So I popped one of these, and it tasted like red licorice.  Not twizzlers or redvines or any of those other popular licorices, no no.  Have you ever had that cheap store-brand licorice that tastes dry and crumbly?  Yeah, its like that.  Although, compared to the other flavors, its almost palatable.

So, my advice, do not buy these carnival flavors, unless you want to try ‘Green Slushy’, because that is a good flavor.

And for those curious, the bag contained:

14 Red Licorice
14 Green Slushy
12 Cotton Candy
11 Bubble Gum
9 Candy Apple

60 Total

So, at least the good flavor was one of the most plentiful.

Any candies you’ve bought and been bitterly disappointed in?

Zel-kun out.

I loaded up the truck and plan on heading to the apartment tonight.  After this, the only things left to move will be TV stand, bed, couch, a chair, and my clothes.  Its a strange feeling, I’ve lived for a quarter of a century under my parents’ roofs, and now I’m finally moving out.  Spending the night there Saturday was an oddly surreal experience.  Now that I have my entertainment system there, the place should feel a tad more like home.

Its all coming together, and hitting me like a ton of bricks.  In a good way… so I guess they’re happy bricks or something.  The real test will come when I actually move in, hopefully my calculations were correct and we have enough money.

In other news, I have an increasing dislike of my future in-laws, who seem to be equal parts very nice and extremely rotten.  Not sure its my place to say, but some very inappropriate statements are being made behind my back.  But maybe its to be expected, we’re of different class, religion, and ethnicity.

Add to that me being a life-long suburbanite and them having lived in the city all their lives.

So I dunno.  I guess that’s part of having in-laws, is just dealing with them.

Zel-kun out.

I spent the weekend moving a few more things into the new apartment.  Made the drive out to Indiana to pick up a couple pieces of an entertainment center my father made for me a number of years ago, and carried them upstairs.  I trudged through the jungle of wires that is my media center and disconnected everything, bringing that up to the apartment.  We even now have a chair there.

Woo!

I spent Saturday night camped out on the floor, which could have been a better night’s sleep, but it could have been worse.  The air conditioner works very well, and the carpet is clean and soft.  We have curtains up now and the apartment is actually beginning to look nice.  I had almost doubted it was possible.

I had an encounter with Zai’s brother, and honestly, I’m a little creeped out.  If the craziness is all an act, its a pretty damn good act.  As was the norm, he was busy avoiding me in the kitchen, doing whatever he was doing.  Six o’clock was rolling around and I decided it was time for me to leave, and that path would lead me through the kitchen…

There’s a little closet in the kitchen where the garbage and the cleaning products are held, a little space about a foot or so deep, and that space was filled with shelves.  So it was a little strange to see his arm protruding from the closet, threatening anything that would come near with a large can of insecticide.

I decided to ignore this display and make my way towards the door, when I find out he is spraying the insecticide on himself, in an effort to relieve a sunburn.  Now, I know some insect REPELLANTS have sunblocking abilities, but when you spray a large can of residual insect-killing poison on yourself, you’re showing a distinct lack of sense.

I would have thought a bachelor’s degree and three members of his family warning him not to do it would teach him that spraying poison on already irritated skin is a bad idea.  But, I guess there are times when I am proven wrong.  So he sprays it on his arms and then looks at me (for like the first time ever) for a moment with this crazed look in his eyes.

“All right… I think I’ll be going now,” I say and go out the door.

From what I hear, his parents took turns shouting at him over the course of a few hours after I left.  I’m not sure, but I think the boy is beyond yelling.  I’m thinking now he’s up to a strait jacket and industrial-strength tranquilizers.

Zel-kun out.