What? Who is more relaxed around others? That can't possibly be a thing. Can it?

I mean, I understand the need for others. Being alone can be horrible. I understand the aching desire to be around other people and to share ideas or argue or just laugh or whatever. But more relaxed? Are you fucking joking?

Being around other people is performing sincerity. It's having to have a defined sense of self that I can accurately portray to others. There's no room for confusion and there's no time to hold on let me figure out how I feel or what I mean. It's exhausting.

I hold a grudge against over-forgivers, and I forgive those who hold grudges.

Seriously though, I got a real round back so I let most everything roll off. It's only the shit that really makes me insecure that I hold a grudge about, like the guy who wrote a short story with a pathetic character very clearly inspired by me. Don't lampoon me in fiction, dickhead! Or at least if you do, make it good! His story was butt and fuck that guy.

Also, I hold a grudge against this Taco Bell that messed up my order three times. They gave me a mountain of free food in reparations but a) it was Taco Bell, and b) their free food was all the messed up food I didn't want.

But other than that! Cheek turns forever!

Is this like that fuck, marry, kill game, but with ice cream flavors? Okay.

Cone: Blue Moon, from a stand on the beach at Lake Michigan
Cup: Mint Chocolate Chip, my BFF ice cream, always there for me
Milkshake: Strawberry, from a Jack in the Box, circa 1996.

So loud that it shakes the table holding the receiver, jostling the volume knob higher. So loud it causes phones to dial 911 and file a noise complaint automatically. So loud it becomes light, a blinding white that envelops all.

But not so loud that it leaks out of my headphones. That's just rude.

I'm basically never at a gathering where my appreciation for someone cannot be made in a more personal manner, so, no one? Applause is so weird, anyways. "I liked that thing you just did, so now I'm going to hit myself repeatedly to make a loud noise." I don't go to concerts or live shows. When people clap in movie theaters I want to rip out my hair. I guess the only time I clap anymore is ironically, when someone falls down and splits their pants. But I'm the only one I know that's done that! So I guess I deserve my applause.

Congrats, me.

The Great Howldini. It's about the world's greatest escape artist who is also a dog. It's a pretty great show but he spends the whole final dog season debunking mediums and psychics as charlatans and hoaxes. It's kind of tragic to watch because you want to hope that when the gypsy puppy claims to know where his long-lost bone is, she's telling the truth, but he can see her thump her leg and he knows it's a con.

First you dream up the thing that will make you the happiest in the world. Then you go to sleep and live that dream. Finally, you never wake up.

Hand holding is a very delicate thing. No one wants to be treated with kid gloves, to be made to feel that they aren't allowed a full and rich gaming experience. On the other hand, creators want to ensure that optimal conditions are being met, that new concepts are being introduced at the right time. Without hand holding, the world is a cruel and frustratingly deadly place; with it the world isn't even worth living in. Like all things, moderation is key.

Oh, you mean actually holding hands? Like with a... g... girl?

Only if I'm flying or if someone offers me a piece and I get the feeling they're offering it because my breath stinks and they're trying to politely make it not. I used to chew it more often but then I decided that I didn't like my jaw hurting all the time.

Not only do I prefer eating popcorn at the movies, it's basically the only place where eating popcorn is tolerable. It doesn't feel right anywhere else, like eating a churro when you aren't at Disneyland or Costco.

I would kiss Garry Marshall and it would be so powerful, like the amnesia kiss Superman gave Lois at the end of Superman II except it would work on everyone else in the world and everyone would forget the shitty films he's made from current turdstain New Year's Eve to classic fuckcapades like The Other Sister and Exit to Eden. They would all forget those films and they'd only remember the good things about Garry Marshall, like playing the boss on Murphy Brown.

I can, or at least I think I can. But doesn't everyone? I hear people who can't whistle, or can't carry a tune or stay on key, and yet they whistle anyways and I wonder, do they know? Maybe to them it sounds perfectly fine. Which means, can I actually whistle? Or when it comes out of my pursed lips, is it just wet noise?

This is pretty common for me, this idea that everyone else is in on a secret that I'm not. But then I've read that it's common for everyone else too, so even my self-questioning paralysis isn't unique.

I haven't heard of any IP-blocking shenanigans for the Vita's PSN shop, so the only disadvantage to getting a Japanese Vita would be the fact that it's 70 bucks more expensive (before shipping) and, well, actually getting one, since the pre-orders are sold out. So, basically the same as importing anything else?

I have never used mayo in my grilled cheese, but I do enjoy mayo. People use mayo in lots of things! In Japan you can find mayo in pizza and on curry. Both of those SOUND totally gross to me, but I'd be lying if I said that I would never try it. In fact, I kind of want to try mayo grilled cheese now. LOOK WHAT YOU'VE MADE ME DO.

Way back when, in the paleolithic era, I used to work at Blockbuster Video and got five free rentals a week for my troubles. This should have meant that I spent every non-working moment watching movies for free, but instead it meant that I rented 2001: A Space Odyssey something like 20 times but never made it through. I'm very lazy.

I did try and make it a point to rent every anime title we had, which was pretty easy because you could count them on one hand. I wasn't particularly interested in some of them, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth, even when that horse is a mechanical monstrosity roaming the hellish landscape of a future too far ahead to comprehend ( http://bit.ly/o4NRvT ). I never did get around to Voltage Fighter Gowcaizer, mostly because Masami Obari-designed characters look like they could destroy me my flexing their chin.

But it was with this quest in mind that I rented Ninja Scroll, one of the three "Japanimations" you could expect a teenager with no curiosity beyond the Blockbuster shelf to have seen at the time (after Akira and Ghost in the Shell, naturally). And it was with only a child's naivety that I put it in the VCR near the living room TV and started to watch Ninja Scroll at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon.

I would say my parents were anything but restrictive -- they only ever turned off one film (Serial Mom, after 30 minutes when my mom realized "Oh, wait, this is a John Waters film." She told me later we didn't miss much), never complained about the music we'd listen to and even got upset when my middle school's D.A.R.E. officer somehow extended his reach to get D&D banned during lunch hours. These are parents that sat and watched Clerks with me, laughing along.

Bearing all of that in mind, after 20 minutes of the violence, mega-violence, ultra-violence that Ninja Scroll had to offer me and my mother who stood less than ten feet away ironing clothes, I turned it off during the rape scene. She didn't seem to notice or care and didn't make a mention of it, but I knew right then that there were some things I just did not feel like watching with her around.

About five years after that, Manga Entertainment was readying the release of a brand-new transfer & release of Ninja Scroll and during their panel at Otakon they asked who in the audience had not seen it. I sheepishly raised my hand along with maybe three other people in the packed panel room, and the Manga representative chided us for being pussies as he made us walk up to the front and get a free copy of the old DVD. I still never watched it.

Yeah this one gets a do-over because I don't want this to be all flippancy, all the time.

There's always embarrassing moments in life that I replay when I close my eyes. Stuttering profusely while trying to say "Chief Pontiac" in class in the 4th grade. Always trying to get in on adult conversations as a kid and saying something profoundly stupid. That one time I misquoted John Lennon. These are all just tiny fleeting things though, nothing quite so awful that I could call it a "terrifying regret."

But I do have that.

In fall 2002 I moved with my family from Arizona to Maryland because, despite being an adult in every legal sense, I didn't have enough stable income, credit, or really, the chutzpah to move out. When I got there, I discovered an actual urban environment replete with culture, four honest-to-goodness seasons, and a community of people that did everything in the world to welcome me as a friend. It was the type of place that I could really see myself thrive and grow as a person.

In spring 2004 I moved back to Arizona. I moved back to a desert that only knows heat, back to a city that was planned the same way a cat plans to stretch itself out on the patch of sunlight coming in through the window, and back to a girl I'd been in love with for four years. It didn't work out (or it hasn't worked out?) on that front, and the lengths I went to in making the move have helped impede (along with general malaise) academic growth and financial well-being.

So what do I regret? I regret leaving Arizona to begin with.

Making this formspring account?

I don't speak french. Is this a question about Who's the Boss?

Should is a strong word. Do I think you're holding the nation back from greatness? Obviously. But I can't tell you how to live your life.

But what if I wanted to sell those eggs? And what is eating but a transaction between my mouth and my stomach? PS in this scenario, farts are legal tender.

In any case, eggs are pre-dated and magazines are post-dated? Dates are real things, people! They represent actual concepts! You can't just make shit up!