Justin_Case001

Believe it or not, I wanted to be a roller coaster designer when I was a kid. Now? Well, now... I just want to be... dead...

How about we get a chimp and barbecue some shoes? Maybe I'll be a blue piano *ominous tone*.... for Easter...

FFVI is the game that made me. It defined my life and turned me into who I am. FFVI is my origin story. Omg, I'm such a frigging clod. I didn't look at the name. I didn't even realize that you made it! I just thought you wanted to share some random cool youtube video that you found. Geeze louise, what a dope. Anyway, it's great! I'm very impressed.

This song takes me back to a better time, a simpler time, a time of hope and happiness, a time I wish I could return to. This song encapsulates my childhood, and every positive thing about my life.

Hey. Y'know what really grinds my gears? When superheroes or similar characters make outfits/costumes appear magically when that's clearly not part of their powers. The best example that every here will know is when the Equestria girls use their friendship laser powers and it gives them all magnificent superhero costumes that look like they took Rarity months to design. Why is that part of the power? Makes no sense. And how about good ol' Elsa making her dress during Let It Go? She's Iceman. She's a cryokinetic. Why can she magically make a dress appear? And where did the dress she was previously wearing go?! Another example off the top of my head is Storm in the pilot of the old '90s X-Men cartoon. At the mall when the sentinel attacked, Storm surrounded herself with electricity which magically transformed her street clothes into her super suit for no reason. I think she did the same thing when demonstrating her power to Jubilee later at the school. WHY? That has NOTHING to do with Storm's power! I mean, I can kinda let the EG and Elsa slide, but X-Men should be held to a higher standard. The mutant's powers are supposed to have more continuity than that. Why on Earth can Storm magically change outfits??!! Every time characters do this, I just hear Ryan George saying, "Wait, can their powers actually do that?" "Maybe, who's to say?" "Well okay then!"

Stipulated. I really wish you'd try. I mean, a lot depends on your compatibility and life situations/goals, etc, but if you line up well on those things, I really think it's worth the risk. When one finds the right person, the transition from friendship to romance should leave the friendship part intact and undamaged, but I completely realize that if the romance fails and a breakup occurs, the relationship can almost never be reverted back. Once merged, the friendship usually cannot be excised from the romance without damaging it. It's a one way transition. I get that. But as someone who has desperately longed for a romantic partner from when I was old enough to be self-aware, and who is now 37 and never been on so much as a first date, and who is a broken, destroyed man who will absolutely die alone and a virgin, and who struggles every minute of every day to cope with the gnawing loneliness and devastating pain of knowing that there is no hope, and that hope never even existed in the first place--as that person, I firmly believe that it's worth the risk for you to take the shot. Many of us don't even get a shot. I hate to see someone let theirs slip away. But I realize that for many people, they feel that the platonic friendship is of more value to them in its current state than a romance would be, so each person has to decide what's right for them. But I sure as hell know what I'd do.

Young? Nothing, really. Old? Everything. I'm not that old, relatively speaking, but I feel like an ancient f*cking corpse whenever an adult youtuber says that their favorite nostalgic childhood game is Halo 3. Like, god dammit, WTF?! Uh... that's so depressing. How am I so old that adults today grew up playing Halo f*cking 3??!

I am terrified of violence and flee the scene as fast as possible as soon as I hear so much as a raised voice, so that would be a negatory. Throughout most of history, the measure of a person's worth (and in this case we're basically talking about men) was their ability to face physical danger and violence without flinching. Cowardice has traditionally been the greatest sin one could commit in many cultures, even if it's just a case of wisely avoiding needless danger. I personally think that mindset is stupid. There are more important character traits, especially in today's world, than not backing down from a fight.

Is neither an option? I'm no leader at all, but I also go my own way and don't follow others. I'm not really good with authority or conforming to what others want me to do. I work best alone.

I don't always eat donuts, but when I do, I prefer Krispy Kreme chocolate.

I respectfully and vehemently disagree. I believe that if your spouse/significant other isn't your best friend, then you're not doing it right and/or you found the wrong person. I have always rejected this cynical, sitcom bs that friendship and romantic love are somehow inherently separated, and that romantic entanglement necessarily and by definition kills certain freedoms that you have with friends and whatnot, etc. The quintessential illustration of this idea is the classic Relationship George vs. Independent George bit on Seinfeld. Absolutely no offense or disrespect intended to anyone, but I believe that if one views relationships that way (The George Costanza mindset), then your views are profoundly flawed and utterly tragic. Your lover and your best friend are supposed to be one and the same.

Sure, but only if I get to sit on top of it when it goes off. That'd sure solve some problems.

I have an incredibly good memory, but it's not particularly visually oriented, so I don't think it would quality as eidetic. It comes in pretty handy, I guess. I like being able to remember stuff quite well, but I guess it comes with the dark side of obsessing over things and thinking myself to death like a rampant AI.

Against elites? Rifle. Against grunts and jackals? Handgun. Against flood? Shotgun.

Jet black and hot pink. I painted the inside of my closet in those colors.

Playing Super Mario Bros on NES. I was probably 3 or so.

Um... happiness? Self-esteem? Hope?

EVERYTHING. I have pantophobia.

I find this little guy cute, which absolutely shocks me, cuz I don't like bugs.

Been born. Does that count? Is that a valid answer?

There is definitely no hope for me. I'll be single forever. I used to have hope, then for many years I clung to the hope that there was still hope, and eventually that drained away. I've stopped trying and stopped hoping. Now I just try to enjoy the little distractions as best I can, but I often have a lot of trouble coping with the knowledge that I'll never have what I really want. It's devastating sometimes.

I have broken every bone in the human body... but none of them were my own... I'm just kidding. I just think it's funny that you can take the question two ways.

Hey. Y'know what really grind my gears? When products advertise having some sort of "technology" when it's completely unwarranted just as a gimmick to make it sound cool. Like, for instance, the ziplock bags we have in our cupboard boast having "power shield technology". It's a plastic bag, you dipwads. And my hand lotion claims to have "MVE delivery technology". Or, say, a mop might claim to have "dirt locking technology", or perhaps a t-shirt will have "lint repelling technology", or a towel will have "rapid absorption technology", or a bottle of water will have "ultra-hydration, hyper-thirst-quenching technology". Get off your f*ckin' high horse. It's so stupid. Yeah, I know that technically speaking, literally anything that humans make is some sort of technology. Like, tying a rock to the end of a stick and using it to hit things is technology, but gimmie a frigging break. Those technology claims on products just sound asinine.

I wouldn't choose to never feel sad. I would choose to rarely feel sad, and to not have any avoidable tragedies happen. No, of course I don't need to cut off my right hand to better appreciate my left. In fact, (and I have a feeling this might get me into trouble with some folks) it's a big pet peeve of mine when victims of horrible tragedy say that they are immensely grateful for the tragedy because it taught them something about appreciating life, etc, etc. Like, a person loses a limb, or their eyesight, and then they gain all this perspective about appreciating life to the point where they actually say that if they had it to do over again, then would wish for the tragedy to happen again. This irritates me to no end. I think it's bullshit. Now, if one does indeed experience those positives after a tragedy, that's fine. That's great, in fact. I'm all for making lemonade from lemons, but here's the thing--every positive lesson that people learn from tragedy?--all of those lessons are there to be learned without experiencing the tragedy. All one needs to do is pay attention. I could write a whole essay just on this. The point is, I do not believe that we need tragedy and unnecessary suffering in order to fully appreciate the good, and moreover, you can find silver linings in a tragedy without being downright glad that it happened. However, I don't think that that's what I was advocating for in this blog. And moreover, I certainly don't think we need an equal amount of pain and pleasure, or good and bad, to balance each other out. That's grade A bullshit. Occasional sadness can have a strange beauty to it, but a little goes a long way. I don't want it that often. And I was speaking strictly of natural death--when people and pets reach the end of a good, long life and die when it's "their time". That's what can be beautiful in a strange way, if we let it. I think a life without sickness, physical pain, and needless misery and tragedy would be great, and I hope we invent Star Trek tech to get us there some day. I don't think you need to be sick to appreciate being well, and I don't think you need to be miserable to appreciate being happy. You can learn to better appreciate the good without having to experience the bad firsthand by learning how to pay attention. But what I'm saying is that I wouldn't want to block out or recoil from the natural process of death--the circle of life. Hope that kinda clears it up.

This is a sister entry to the previous blog about The Lion Guard. It is recommended to read that one first before proceeding. In my previous entry I gushed about Disney's The Lion Guard, and how they included a brilliant, sensitive, emotional, and lovingly crafted death scene. That scene got me thinking more about something I've thought about occasionally for a long time, and that's the strange beauty of sadness. There are definitely a few emotions that I could do without. Anger, frustration, annoyance, hatred. I mean, these emotions are still integral to the whole human experience, but if I never felt those again for the rest of my life, I'd be sound as a pound. The same isn't true of sadness. Ironically, sadness without anger can be a strangely beautiful emotion. This blog may be a little clumsy, because I'm not sure if I can even articulate this very well. I've never tried. We've all heard philosophical statements about how joy cannot exist without sadness, or how sadness makes happiness all the better and brighter, or how life needs balance, and the good cannot be experienced without the bad, and I think we all understand that to a degree, and most of us tend to agree with all that, but I think I take it a step further. Sometimes, I actually find certain kinds of sadness to be... well... pleasant. We all know that a good cry, when it's needed, can be very cathartic and make one feel better afterwards, but what I'm talking about is more than that. There are certain moments that, on their face, are the saddest in life, and yet, somehow, in some strange, inexplicable way, can also be the most beautiful, if we let them. I've never been much in the tears department. It takes a really big catalyst to make me really cry, but I actually wish that I could cry a little more easily, because the few times I've done it in my life have actually felt really good, and have been eerily pleasant. There have been many more moments when I felt like I needed or wanted to cry, but nothing comes out. And no amount of forcing makes it work. Most of my life has been spent in a state of depression or mundane annoyance and frustration, which just feels like it's rapidly aging you, shortening your lifespan, and wreaking all sorts of physical havoc on your body. But those rare moments of pure, unadulterated sadness have been... I want to say... actually... almost euphoric. That death scene I talked about from The Lion Guard--that scene was unbelievably sad, but it was, without question, the most beautiful scene in the show, and really, one of the most achingly beautiful scenes in any show that I've ever seen. When thinking about similarly sad but beautiful scenes, another that instantly comes to mind is Iroh's Tale in Tales of Ba-Sing-Se from Last Airbender. (Oh yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about.) I absolutely love these kinds of scenes. It's not that I'm glad that a good character died, per se, nor am I rooting for them to die. However, I find such emotional death scenes to be by far the best and most beautiful. Another prime example is Violet Evergarden, a show packed with gorgeous, emotional gut-punches. You better put on emotional body armor for that show, cause it's gonna hit you in the feels so fucking hard. Why do I love these scenes so much? Why do I find them so beautiful? Is it something about the meaning of life? Something about a valuable lesson on how to live? A lesson about the preciousness and brevity of life? All of the above? Something else entirely? I'm not quite sure. I'm not even sure if searching for that answer is a worthwhile endeavor. Perhaps it's wisest not to question, but to just feel. But is this feeling of beautiful sadness only relegated to fiction? It turns out no. As I said, I'm not much in the tears department, and I've also been extraordinarily lucky that I haven't dealt with much death in my life. All of my grandparents have died, as well as a couple of extended family members, but I was never very close with any of them, and it didn't affect me very much. I've never had anyone extremely close to me die. Not yet. But none can escape, as death comes for us all. However, I have experienced the death of many pets. My family had pets the whole time I was growing up. I remember the death of each one, but none affected me quite like our last cat. We got her when I was a teenager, and we pretty much knew at that time that she would be our last pet. We didn't want to take care of pets forever. I loved that cat more than any of our other pets, and bonded more with her. She outlived all others, and for over seven years, she was our only pet. She moved across the country with us, and helped make our new house feel more like home. Her death at the ripe old age of 18 was unlike any other pet death that I had experienced. All others had been rather unexpected--a sudden health event, followed by an emergency vet visit from which the pet never returned. But our cat was different--her death was... well... scheduled, actually. See, her health was rapidly declining. It was clear that she was in pain, and not eating much, as animals tend to do near the end. This was also a complicated time for us because we needed to move across the country--again. Due to a variety of complicated reasons (some being job-related, and some being related to the boring, stupid reality of the housing market), we needed to make the move in a timely manner. We couldn't wait another year or more. The vet, and my mom, completely agreed that our cat could not make the journey. It would be much too hard on her. At that late and painful stage of life, stuffing her into a carrier for a cross-country trip, and dumping her into a new house when she was already having trouble seeing and navigating in her own house--all of that would have been cruel. The vet didn't even believe that she could survive the trip. We all knew that the end was near, and while we could have prolonged her life for a few more painful months, we needed to make the move, and we all agreed that putting her to sleep now was the best option for everyone, including her. So, we scheduled the vet visit. The night before, after my parents had gone to bed, I sat alone with her, petting her and saying my goodbyes. It was a surreal moment. I had never experienced anything like it. It is truly a strange thing--to look into a creature's eyes, into a loved one's eyes, and to know, to know... that by this time tomorrow... they will be gone. I had no idea how unprepared I was for that. I sat with her for hours, just holding her, and crying silently, and telling her that she would be okay. But here's where it gets strange--in an eerie and inexplicable way, that moment actually felt good. And not just in hindsight, either, but right then, in that moment. I didn't run from the emotion. I didn't push it away. I wasn't afraid of it. I just embraced it, let it all in, let it all out, and let it all wash over and through me, and there was something wonderful about it. Don't misunderstand me--there was no part of me that was glad that she was dying. Not at all. I can't really explain it. There was just something extraordinarily, indescribably, achingly beautiful about letting this sadness happen and just experiencing it. And naturally, my eyes are full of tears right now as I type. I cannot reminisce about this experience without some of the emotions returning. But you know what's also strange? It's now over seven years in the past, and when I think back to that night, crying with my cat are some of the most pleasant and wonderful memories that I have. I know how that might sound, but again, please don't misunderstand. I wasn't happy to see her go, as I think is abundantly evident, and moreover I still miss her today, but when I call those memories to mind, they don't feel painful. It's not the same kind of pleasant as remembering an actual fun, happy event, but it's pleasant in a different way. When I surrender to the memories, they just feel... warm... beautiful... and even comforting in a way. I don't fully understand it myself. I don't even know if it's possible to understand it. I don't even know if we should understand it. But that's how it feels. Still sad, but somehow eerily wonderful, too. I love those memories. Is that weird? Is it just me? Does anybody else feel this? I know I'm not alone, because I've listened to several podcasts with people who work in hospice care who have repeatedly said that the end of life for people can be amazingly beautiful if you let it. I think I know what they mean. Death has much to teach us. However, I think that death can only bring this sort of ironic beauty in certain contexts. Firstly, the death must occur at a point where we'd agree that it was "their time". That is to say, the death must be at the end of a good and full life, a life well-lived, and at a time where we don't feel like this person (or pet) went before their time and was robbed of life. A tragic death before one's time is incredibly painful, and it's almost impossible to see beauty in it, particularly if the deceased was the victim of a crime. Such tragedies are accompanied by feelings of anger, hatred, and confusion, which amount to some of the worst suffering on the menu for the human condition. Secondly, I think that in order to experience this strange beauty, those left behind mustn't be alone. That is to say that once the loved one has passed, you, the still living, need to have at least one other loved one still with you. It's hard to imagine feeling any sort of cathartic, beautiful sadness if you're left completely alone in this world. But if a loved one passes in a peaceful way, at the end of a full life, and those left behind aren't alone, then the end of life can bring a strange beauty and deeply meaningful lessons if we let it. I can't speak from experience about people dying, but I think I do understand this to be true. I want to wrap this up before it rambles on too long, which it absolutely could. Certain types of pure sadness, unaccompanied by anger or hatred, can be eerily beautiful, and it's an emotion that I would never want to purge from existence. And, truthfully, I kind of wish that I could feel that way just a little more often... What, did you actually think I was going to end this blog without mentioning BUTTERS?! HA!