The real insanity stems from everybody having a random lingering covid symptom that’s just annoying enough to drive you insane, but not bad enough to kill you. 5 years later, I still get phantom burning smells that I can’t even compare to anything I’ve ever smelled before. It’s torture.
YES! My graphic design class in highschool printed out a bunch of em for the art show.
I remember these were called Demotivational Posters before they were called memes.
Ok. Back to Mednafen I guess.
Somebody told the birds we were gonna start using them for data, and they collectively said “no the fuck you’re not.”
Disagree with prejudice.
At any given time there’s three functions going on in my head. There’s a stream of calculations that constantly flow. There’s my inner entertainment system that that translates those calculations to thoughts if they need to be translated. Then there’s sorting room with the file cabinet and shredder to organize that flow of thoughts.
When I say entertainment system I mean my inner voice and the ability to visualize just by thinking. Is the voice what’s traditionally considered a monologue? I don’t know. It’s nothing like Al Pacino giving a speech. It’s some of the worst narration imaginable. What I think is happening is my mind is doing calculations then using my voice to put those calculations into my consciousness for me to understand. The amount of time my mind shuts the fuck up is almost nonexistent. It does happen but, for it to switch from monologue to nothing requires intervention. I’m either filling my head with something to occupy it like music, or reading, or video games which in that case my head voice focuses on whatever I’m throwing at my brain with a little spillage. Or I’m seeking out a purposefully quiet environment where I can just go and ignore my thoughts. Almost like meditation but I’m no monk. I’m not sitting in some room with my legs crossed and my arms out falling asleep. I usually just find some place quiet outside and take in the world around me.
What really grinds my gears is the sorting room. I imagine it as each thought going to a room with a few filing cabinets and a shredder in it. That room can probably be broken up into bodily function operations, everyday needs operations, and emotional operations. The first two are functioning, it’s the emotional one that’s backed the fuck up and overflowing. There’s some shit that should have been shredded a long time ago. Some thoughts keep popping up because that particular filing cabinet is overflowing. It manifests itself as depression and anxiety. When my inner voice is concentrating on that, then I know I’m in for a tizzy. The narration goes from quiet nothings to fucking full blown yelling and screaming matches in my head. The dangerous part is resisting the urge…
That’s so far from true. It’ll be cost of electricity. Heat. Distance shipped. They’ll probably tack on some country border crossing fee. They’ll find ways to make it more expensive simply because it’s an earth shattering technology.