Y2kk Update: Bad eggs? Bad week?

Eh. Bleh. Touché. I've had worse. But it's up there.

On the bus ride home today, I was reflecting over the past week... or more specifically, the past few hours, actually... and realizing how much of a bloody foul of a fool I was, I couldn't help but tilt my head to the side and silently exasperate, "you're an idiot"... The thing was, I was talking about myself. I was in full IvanFian mode this week, and I was definitely not proud of the fact. But the thing was, the woman that was directly opposite of me on the bus today? She just couldn't help but snicker as she winked at me and peered to her side, where two girlfriends were gabbing with their gaggles over bloody cellphones enough to gag me over to goddam no end... and, well... the old woman thought I was calling those two girls idiots, and although I agree with that assessment, that's not what I meant. But at least that showed me something... that that was yet another one of the God knows how many misunderstandings I've had this week. Things definitely haven't been going well for me, and, well... it all sounds like so much damn fun, doesn't it?

Tuesday was the day of my first real mid-term of this final term of second year. I wasn't expecting it to be much of a day however, and I sure wasn't expecting it to be much of an exam... but hell, AOL, I always guess wrong, I'm afraid. I should've learned my lesson by now, but if I ever did, I wouldn't be IvanF, now would I?... I remember leaving a study room at one point, after my friend told me he needed to make an aid sheet for himself. Not thinking anything of it, I left for the library to see if any of my other friends had arrived at school yet. I did find one of them, whom I kind of spite since he kinda refuses to speak English around me... And anyhew, he wasn't much of a conversationalist Tuesday either, since he said he needed a lot of time to make his own aid sheet for our exam late at night. So feeling withdrawal yet again from a friend who constantly seems to reject me, I left for the International Students Center, where I found my better friends, all diligently working on study sheets themselves. I tried to study with them for a second, but I still had some pent up anger and bent up rage from the past few weeks, in which they've sort of ignored me, if only for the sake that I'm not one of them. Sure, they consider me funny, but they don't consider me fun. When they speak English to me, I can see it on their faces: they're not happy about it... and yet no matter what they talk about, as long as it's in their native Pakistan language, their faces beam up with a smile like an ark of a convenant, although I guess I shouldn't use that analogy when it comes to Muslims... They were all talking about the big Indian and Pakistan Cricket match happening this weekend, and since I don't even know the rules of Cricket, I felt completely outmatched and outclassed when I was with these friends of mine at university. So since I couldn't study with all their racket about wickets, I decided to take my losses (just like Pakistan against Australia... oops, shouldn't have said that...) and leave.

I went down to the front foyer to eat, and just as I was about to take the first bite from the sandwich my mom made for me, the girl I talk too much about exaggeratingly tapped me on the shoulder from behind, cheat sheet in hand. She opened up with the line,"I can't believe you're actually eating", since she never sees me eat around her. I'm always embarrassed about my habits of talking while I'm eating, and spitting out my mashed up food if I can't swallow, so I try my best to avoid her whenever a meal is involved... guess a candle light, dinner date would be out of the question then, but that's besides the point... Anyhew, I don't really remember what we talked about. I do remember however, that I was half upset at her again. The last time I had seen her, it was in the Digital Systems lab I think. I was trying to help her with her circuit - I failed naturally, since I didn't have a clue what I was doing either... But the thing that miffed me off, was that her partner was a guy. Not just any guy, but one of those rugged looking guys that can feature as a Calvin Klein or Zoolander model or some crap like that. And I recalled that time when she mentioned something to me about this partner guy, that she has so much fun with her Digital Systems partner, as if he was family or some crap like that, and now I know why... she likes rugged, strong, scented, men, and why not? It's in her blood... while she doesn't exactly fancy ragged, stingy, stinted men like me, and why not? It's in my blood... And I do recall that in our Tuesday conversation, as she snacked on her lunches and as I wished I could snack on her, that she did mention that I was hard to talk to, especially in contrast with others like her Digital partner. The thing was, she said that I pull things out of her, things she wants to keep private, like I was yanking teeth or yanking tears or yanking my thing into her when it comes to her emotions or some crap like that. She said she wished that we had more casual conversations, not just depthly ones about life and death and my hope of an Elektra Complex with her and stuff like that... and more importantly, and more impotently, she mentioned in her own words that she doesn't exactly trust me when it comes to the things she says... and, well... I can vouch for that, considering she'd kill me if she ever found this website. But the thing was, the truth hurts. Or actually, no trust hurts... She has no reason to trust me, but then really, I have no reason to trust her. And yet I do. Because I care about her. And judging by her disdain of what I thought were meaningful conversations between the two of us, I figured that no matter how I felt about her, she just didn't care about me. So upon realizing that all hope was lost when it comes to threesomes, of her and me and the Karma Sutra, I snickered at one point, and let loose an evil laugh. She asked what I was laughing at, but I just shook it off, because I wasn't ready to tell her the truth just yet. The truth is really reserved for those who care about me... and, um, apparently also you two anonymous readers of my websites, but that's besides the point...

Eventually, I went back to the library to study. For two hours, I just sat like a log as I logged countless hours of staring at my study papers with absolutely no thoughts running through my mind... and eventually, a friend of mine came along, with a cheat sheet in one hand and Starburst candies in another. He offered some sweet sugar to me, so how could I resist?... although I guess that doesn't sound too good, coming from a guy... So as I popped that candy into my mouth, I noticed that the girl who talks too much had entered the room like a breath of fresh air. I waltzed over to her to say hello, and she mentioned how great the aroma of my breath smelt, and heaven forbid, I was almost ready to suck it up and pucker up... But the thing was, as soon as I swallowed the candy, she completely shook off whatever kind of stare she was giving me, and went over to that "perfect" friend that I talked about a few updates ago, and studied with him for the rest of the night... And of course, I asked my friend for more Starbursts, considering I was too cheap to go Dentyne Ice or whatever kind of crap. But to my generous dismay, he had eaten the rest, and then I looked over my shoulder to see the girl I talk too much about nearly eating out of the palm of that perfect guy's hand, but that's besides the point... because the point hurts...

For another hour, my friend sat beside me as I futilely studied for this grand, ol' opera of a mid-term of ours. In the end, I only got a half hour of studying done, and considering I had been lazy all reading week and barely even studied a single example question, I knew I was Bret Hart screwed. But I figured that I'm always screwed for exams, and yet I always make it slew through anyhew, so I just shrugged it off and started talking to my friend again, instead of ignoring him for the work that would be king. Eventually, one of his friends came along, and said some joke along the lines of, "A seal walks into a club..."... I didn't get it. But I finally did get what my friend said afterwards... I don't know how, and I don't know why, but after that stupid line alone, my friend finally took out his aid sheet again, and mentioned to his friend that we're allowed to bring a cheat sheet into the exam room today... and, um... um?... excuse me, but... WHAT?!?... a frickin' cheat sheet?!?... who throws a shoe, honestly?... We're friggin' allowed to bring a friggin' cheat sheet into the exam room? We're friggin' allowed to have a frickin' cheat sheet attached to our heads?... well, blow me down and beat me with an ugly stick... and, well...

My friend just stared at me blankly then and there, with just twenty minutes left 'till the exam starts. He sort of rolled his eyes and told me of course we're allowed to bring a cheat sheet into the exams. It was written on the course website. And hell, he said everyone knew about it.
So why the hell didn't I?... and the thing was, all I could do was just stare blankly back, without a single blink to bring me back into existence. Because the thing was, it all started coming back to me... Goddammit, all my friends ignored me so they could make their "aid sheets"... dammit, I thought they were just talking about notes that they would study off of... I then checked the internet for confirmation that a cheat sheet was permitted, and stumbled across a line that said, "an aid sheet is allowed in the exam"... and, um, bloody hell... I thought that meant the TAs would give us a bloody sheet with formulas on it! I didn't know we had to make the damn thing ourselves! And honestly, why the hell did no noob and nobody tell me we could bring a goddam cheat sheet into the exam room? With fifty formulas to memorize practically, I stood no chance of doing anything on the exam if I didn't have them all right in front of me! And honestly, who throws a shoe?! I know this is all my fault, considering I never went to class to learn about this, but honestly, all my friends know that I'm the guy who writes so damn small that I can fit every damn example question in the whole damn course into one damn sheet! They're the ones that know that I can fit all those fifty bloody formulae of ours into one damn corner of a damn page! And yet none of them reminded me? None of them?!... honestly, I felt slighted, and I felt cheated, about the bloody hell cheat sheet... and with just fifteen minutes left to spare until the exam, I told my friend he could leave to get an early bird seat if he wants, but I had to stay behind until the last minute, to write what I could onto a damn blank sheet to bring in...

So tick tock, tick tock, thanks to my stupidity, the clock was against me. Not only was I at a serious disadvantage compared to others in terms of having example questions to emulate on the exam, but I knew I was screwed ten fold, considering I had studied for this exam as if there was no cheat sheet involved. But now that I knew they were allowed, I just knew the damn exam questions would be harder than anything we've ever seen in the course, and bloody hell, I now had 10 minutes to sort things out... In the end, in my most frantic of writing styles, I meshed and mashed out five or so previous exam questions onto half a sheet, noticed that I had only a minute left until the exam, and rushed all the way across the campus to where the hell I was supposed to write... but, um, you see... there was just one problem... There were actually two exam times: you could write at 5 o'clock or 6 o'clock, depending on schedule conflicts or whether you just wanted to get the exam over with as soon as possible. It was now 5:59 pm. The TAs had expected half the class to go to the 5 pm exams. I had expected at least a third of the class to go to the 5 pm exams, since they were the ones who demanded the change... and, well... we were both wrong... At exactly 6 pm, I entered the exam building with eyes wide shut, and was swarmed by a flock of student seagulls on their way out of the damn building. Knowing exactly what had happened, I rushed up to my exam room, saw that cheat sheet of a cheater friend of mine, and saw him smile an evil smile at what he knew I would say... I stormed up to his desk, slammed my hand on the wood, and honestly and openly yelled for him in front of the class, "Thank you! Thank you for everything today!"... because honestly, he had warned me about the cheat sheet... a little too late to be of any use, however... except to keep me on the other side of campus long enough that I didn't get to the damn exam room in time! Because goddammit, practically the entire class chose to skip their later lectures and take the exam at bloody 6 o'clock, and what did that mean for me? My snickering friend knew the truth. I now had to rush all the way across to the other side of campus yet again, gag up four floors, and take the damn exam in some sort of reject of an overflow room. So once again, I offered to him a perverted but very persuasive and apparently a very loud, "Thank you, oh so much!", as I banged my way out of the room for doing such a bang up job. It was kind of funny when I think of it, however... how I humiliated him in front of the class. I guess I made my not-so-peace with him a little too noisily for his tastes, but hell, at least it was entertaining...

So now that I was five minutes late for the exam, all thanks to rubbing it into my friend's face that he had essentially got me kicked out of my rightful room, I sped over to the other side of campus, and ten minutes later and floor floors higher, I made it to the exam room... Now, there's not much that I can say about this exam. But suffice to mention, despite all that you've heard from me before, this was absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst bloody hell exam I have ever taken in my life... Sure, I've complained before. Sure, I got -100% on one quiz and a 25% on a major test. But I've never done this bloody hell bad on an exam before. Hell, I didn't even know how to start any of the questions, and I seriously mean any of the question... hell, by the time the final buzzer rang, I didn't even know how the hell to spell my name anymore. It was that damn bad, especially since I didn't have half of the formulae on my no-name, non-cheat sheet to actually work with... and of course I felt terrible afterwards, especially hearing people complain behind me about missing just one damn question, or mixing up just one damn line... Because honestly, I swear to God, I shit you not that I fucked the whole exam up. I'm not lying when I say I deserve a 20% on the damn thing, although I can only pray that they show me mercy and almost let me pass, even though it's obvious from the happy faces of feces that I drew that I had absolutely no goddam clue what the hell I was doing... It was so much damn harder than previous year exams that I almost cried, because goddammit, I knew it was all my fault. I'm the one who took the damn exam lightly like a goddam McDonalds' lighter choice meal. I'm the one who only studied a grand total of two bloody hours for it, when I had the entire reading week at my garbage waste disposal. I'm the one who couldn't register in his thick assclown brain that a cheat sheet was allowed, even though everyone around me was literally walking around with one in hand. And I'm the one that has to see the look on my father's face when I have to tell him that I failed miserably my Electronics exam, the course that he excelled at in college and refuses to believe that I'm not good at... Believe me when I say he'd rather disown me than see me fail at his favourite course in all of post-secondary education. And, well... mow, I don't think I'll fail the course, and he'll never truthfully or officially disown me, but goddammit, it's a long way up from here, and it's a hell of a long road ahead... drastic measures are required. Hell, the Subway diet is required... but hell, I hate Subway... and now I hate the subway, after this day...

I waited in the subway station for that friend of mine, the one who aided me a little too late when it came to the aid sheet. It took a while for him to finally show up, considering he was bummed out about the exam too. And as selfish as it was, it actually cheered me up a bit, knowing that at least I wasn't alone in the world when it came to the absolute law of sucking... But the thing was, he felt so bad about missing a few questions here or there, that when I tried talking to him about how I felt about the whole damn thing, he instead just shut me up and told me not to talk to him, because he just wasn't in the mood... and although I completely understand why he would say such a thing to me, it still stung like a stigmata or listening to Sting, deep underneath where it was still shiny and sunny and blimy balmy for me, where I was hoping to seek some sort of Solaris of a solace from friends and three's company... and, well... When I got to the train station, I debated a debacle with myself, of whether I should sit with the girl who talks too much or not. I was feeling horrible, and I was hoping that she could make me feel better, considering that's how our friendship started long time ago. I learned to trust her, and not just lust her, because she actually listened to my incessant whining back then, on our train rides home after the most grueling, demoralizing of exams. But the thing was, after talking to her too much these past few months, I've learned that she's changed, all thanks to self-defence mechanisms or whatever kind of crap. She refuses to talk about exams she's taken anymore. It's her refuge from the feelings of inadequacy, or would-be pregnancy, as instead, she just complains about how stupid people are for talking about exams after they're all said and finally done with... if only I could hypothetically, hypocritically be the same...

But anyhew, I decided to risk it. I was now so damn insecure from our earlier conversation that day, that she didn't care about me one damn bit, but I decided to risk my feelings anyhew, if only because all's fair in love and war... But the thing was, I found her standing by the train with another friend, a girl of a friend of hers that I knew would remove any sort of honesty that I could expect from the girl I talk too much about when we're alone. And right away, I did my sad, little puppy face, trying to express how damn badly I felt about the exam, if only to gain a little pity from the crowd. And eventually, after ignoring me for a moment or two, the girl I talk too much about finally turned her head to me, said more than just hello, and asked what was wrong... as if she didn't know... So I just made a cutting gesture like a jester around my neck, signifying a noose that just wasn't loose enough, that I pretty much got slaughtered like a pig on that goddam exam of ours. And the thing was, the worst of the worst, at least in my eyes, happened then and there... because it looks like she was telling the truth to me all along these past few months... that she doesn't care about exams after post-mortem, and she doesn't care about me... not enough to actually care about how I was feeling... Because she simply rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and waved me off as if she had heard it all before. She told me "it'll be alright", or her version of "get over it", and completely ignored how I was feeling, as if I was just some generic guy in the crowd or someone she never cared about... I boarded the train of course with her and her friend, even though I wanted to high-tail my little legs off to the farthest compartment I could. I had come to her for solace. Instead, she simply brushed me off, like the lint she often flicks off my shoulder... I was nothing to her. Hell, I was less than nothing to her. For the second time in months, she made me feel stupid. It's no bloody wonder why I have a crush on her.

If there's one thing I can't tolerate in the world, it's not just being ignored. It's about being ignored when it's obvious I'm there to get some attention. It's about being ignored when I'm there for help. I was hurting real deep inside, not just because it was my fault and only my fault that I failed the exam so damn miserably, but because my other friend had brushed me off not so long ago... And now the girl that I keep telling myself that I don't love, yet just can't help repeatedly falling in love with, had just done the same to me, when I was the most upset and most depressed that I've been in bloody months... she didn't care enough about me to even pretend to care. I prefer genuine honesty, but honestly, she wasn't even giving me that either... Instead, she just talked about My Big Fat Greek Wedding with that girlfriend of hers, as I literally sat on the sidelines. And the thing was, I was feeling so bad, that I just couldn't bare to open my mouth... not when something rude was destined to crawl its way out... so I stayed silent. I stayed Jay and Silent Bob silent. But the problem was, I had no window next to me to stare out of, and for the first time ever, I was morbidly depressed when sitting near the girl who talks too much, and I didn't know how to handle the situation... except to earn some pity, the only way that I could... So I simply stared at the floor. For forty minutes straight, I just stared blankly at the floor. I somehow felt that the slush and sludge of the snowy ground represented me somehow, but that wasn't the only reason I was staring. I was sick of being ignored, so I felt the only thing I could do was ignore myself and ignore my thoughts, and hopefully in the end, ignore her and her talk of Friends, without being a friend...

Eventually, the girl I talked too much about tried to cheer me up, by mocking me no less. She compared me to a log, like a tree stump gone bad. She didn't ever say anything honest, or even remotely mentioned the exam again... So I just kept on staring, staring at the floor as if not a thought was racing through my mind, except that one finally was... I hated her. I truly did. She has no real compassion for others, but she's damn good at pretending like she does. She made me feel like I was being listened to last year whenever I whined about exams, and yet throughout that whole time, she was simply nodding her head with a smile, not giving a damn about the words that were coming out of my mouth. And here she was, laughing and smiling and having a ball while I was licking my balls and licking my wounds just a seat away from her. I should've taken my ball and run all the way to hell with it, since she seemed like she was having the time of her life, talking about girl shows, the crap that she has repeatedly told me she doesn't care about, and yet here she was, caring more about that than she ever did for me. She's told me so many damn times she cares not for casual talk, and yet here she was, choosing that over me. She told me that Tuesday that she cares not for the so-called emotional conversations that we have. And yet everytime we have one, I always walk away, thinking that I've actually pleased her... but truth be told, I can't please anyone, especially not a girl. I've always been insecure, and goddammit, I just found the proof I needed, on a day that sure as hell didn't go as planned, I can assure you of that. She claims she hates casual conversations. She claims she hates meaningful conversations. Why the hell doesn't she just come forth and say she doesn't like conversations, period? As if she's having bloody conversations with dead people or some crap like that... and yet she smiles and winks and giggles, no matter who the hell she talks to. Hell, I thought she saw me as special. But now I know the truth. She's just social, period. She's just good at making everyone feel good. She's exactly the opposite of me. I only try my hardest to please those that I care about. And I care about her. She just doesn't care about me.

She tried talking to me when we got off the train, after forty bloody minutes of silence between us... It's never been more silent between us than just a few seconds of awkwardness, and yet even at the end of it all, she still didn't get the idea in her head that maybe she had something to do with the way I was feeling... I remember her exact words before she parted for her bus departure, that "why worry over an exam? There are so many more important things in life, like the stars and the moon. Exams are meaningless"... and sure, you can argue that she's right. But I don't care. Because that wasn't the point. It's not about right. It's not about wrong. It's about how I was bloody feeling. It's about what I was bloody thinking. I was about me feeling depressed, now thanks to her. I don't care whether exams should be or could be or would be important or not. All I care about, was that I was upset. That I did care about it, regardless of whether I should or not. I was seriously, mortifiably, gravely pissed off about it all, and she couldn't even give up her own notions of a perfect world with the perfect guy to even take my feelings seriously. She didn't care about what I cared about. And honestly, I may love her, but it just kills me that for some things, she just doesn't get it... what it means to be human, I mean... I kept repeating to her, that it's human nature to brush people off, especially when their views clash with your own. Ignorance is bliss, as long as it doesn't come back to haunt you... and, well... I was just hoping that she was more than human, that's all. I was just hoping that she'd be like family. But instead, she's just like my sister... no wonder I have a crush on her...

Anyhew, a lot of crap things happened on Wednesday and Thursday as well, but there's no need and no time and no hope to delve deep into those, not that you readers would really care. I did meet the girl who talks too much the day after that Tuesday exam. I still wanted to tell her off for being so damn insensitive and so damn callous the night before, but I bit my tongue again, slapped on a happy smile, and apologized to her for acting the way that I did... she just brushed off my apology of course, smiled, and said it didn't matter, which was yet again the response that I least desired, but that's besides the point... at least she didn't hate me, and that's a plus... or a big fat Greek minus, as she put it a while ago... But something bad did come up today, just a few hours ago, and it didn't involve the girl who talks too much. I royally pissed off the friend that was a bit too slow at telling me about the cheat sheet, and regardless of whether I think I was justified in what I did and what I felt today, I'm sorry for my actions, nonetheless. I'm always sorry, even when I'm sorry about being sorry...

Yesterday, we had another mid-term, and I saved my friend's ass on it by telling him just 10 minutes before the exam a question he never once thought of, yet showed up exactly as I cited it on the exam, and managed to make up 15% of our bloody test mark while it was at it... He got perfect on that question, thanks to Mr. imperfect me. He never said thanks to me though, except a slight nod and a sigh of relief, which was good enough for me... Until today, in our Electronics lab, when I asked him a question and he just stared at me with blank eyes, as if I was stupid for not knowing the answer. I had saved his ass just the day before, and he wouldn't even give me one answer to just one question for this bloody hell lab? And, well... that's what friends are for... or at least, that's what he's for... but anyhew, I should also note that I've been getting pissed at him lately, for always ditching me in the Digital labs. He always finishes early, then comes to my station, sees that I'm having trouble, and then leaves after barely offering any sort of help whatsoever... and usually, the problems I have are so trivial that if he just bothered to help for five bloody minutes, I could get out of there a bloody hell hour early, but I usually just shrug the feeling off. I mean, it's just human nature to want to have free time for yourself and let people learn by themselves, isn't it?... and, well... he's been getting pissed at me over ICQ for the past two weeks or so. I've constantly been berating the low-class movies he likes, and on Thursday, I even mocked his spelling of the word, "idioitic"... it was ironic that he would spell "idiotic" wrong, but as soon as I sent him the message, I knew I had said something wrong. Especially when in my disgust, I finally figured out what he meant by, "a seal walks into a club..."... It never feels good to be corrected for your spelling, and even though he joked about it after, I was sure that he took some of my criticism seriously...

Seal clubbing. Some people have a sick sense of humour... I'm one of them, but nevermind...

So all in all, today was a Metroid prime date for a volatile situation and a 6th day violation. My partner and I managed to finish our lab decently early, but I stuck around the Electronics lab anyhew, in case my friend needed any help with his or whatever... and apparently, he did. He couldn't get the last section of the lab experiment to work, and despite all my paltry suggestions, nothing seemed to fix the problem. He was stuck on the same damn problem for half an hour, and it was only a matter of time until he snapped at me. I mean, I was just walking around, innocently looking for pens and pencils and praises and penises to steal from unsuspecting others. I talked to him about things that didn't matter to him at the time, like the Digital exam we have on Monday, or the history presentation I have on Wednesday. And, well... so I wasn't surprised when he told me to be quiet. Realizing that it was all my fault, that I was being an annoying prick of a pointless bastard yet again, I pretty much shut up to him, and tried to solve the problem in a serious tone with his partner... Fifteen minutes later, after congregating with some friends outside, I returned to the lab room and saw my friend in good spirits. They had asked for the TA's help and finally solved their problem, so I stated joking with him again, even saying, "Well, you're not going to snap at me again", to which he jokingly replied, "well, I can't promise you that"... and, well... I guess I should've taken his comment more seriously... Because ten minutes later, I came back to the room. I expected that my friend was done his project by now, considering he had finished the last step the last time I was there... I should've suspected otherwise... He found a new problem. A conceptual problem. One that I could've helped with. But I didn't know that he was once again frustrated, feeling castrated at the time... Hell, I didn't even know he was still bloody hell working on the lab... So I came up and joked with him again, expecting him to be a friend and mock me about watching Friends or some crap like that. But instead, he did what any human would do: he yelled at me. He warned me to get out of his way, that I was just there to bug him or some crap like that, and while I tried to suck up my pride and save what remnants I had left of myself from the past horrid week, I simply shrugged all the bad vibes off and said, "Okay, should I go then?"... he wouldn't look at me again after that point. He just told me, "whatever", and I gently and indignantly picked up my bag to flee like a fallen angel to the outskirts of the room... It was a simple misunderstanding. I knew I was being annoying, but I only had good intentions in heart. I wanted to help. I know I'm too stupid to help, but I wanted to help... but I overstayed my welcome. Too much IvanF in one dose is never a good thing, I've been told... fire in the hole...

And in the end, the contrast in our beliefs, that he should stay to help me in the Digital Labs and that I should leave and let him be in the Electronics labs, sort of sliced and diced and schismed my hopes of ever finding a true friend in this goddam university of mine. Sure, I have good friends, decent friends, ones of which I can laugh with and joke with and talk about computers with. But when it comes to having meaningful conversations?... I know I'm clingy. I know I'm needy. I know I'm nerdy. And I know I'm stingy... but hell, honestly... even the girl my goddam dick of a brain claims I love doesn't want anything to do with me, even after my flimsy attempts to wane her day of judgement on Tuesday... and so, after thinking to myself on the bus ride home today, I couldn't help but sign a sigh and exclaim to myself, that "you're an idiot"... and voila, another misunderstanding and another close encounter with the bus kind gone awry. I seem to be good at making three's a crowd... of making bad eggs, I mean...

It's been a bad week. It was eh. It was bleh... though it wasn't all that bad. I've had worse. But it was up there... because, heh... it all sounds like so much goddam fun, doesn't it?... but meh, I've had better... or at least, I've had more bitter... and to that I say, a God speed, a Good Will Hunting, and a God Bless Us, Everyone...

nVidia: Joy to the mass commmercialized world, because just saw over at Savagenews that some new Detonator drivers have arrived. Don't know what version 43.00 does, but go ahead and get the Win9x versions at: http://www.pny.com/support/drivers/apps/fx5800/43.00_win9x.exe . The WinXP/2k version is at: http://www.pny.com/support/drivers/apps/fx5800/43.00_win2kxp.exe . And if you still use NT4, go visit: http://www.pny.com/support/drivers/apps/fx5800/43.00_winnt4.exe .

ATI: Just telling you that Rage3d has reviewed the Radeon 9700 Pro Ultimate Edition. Don't know what they said, but go ahead and care about something at: http://www.rage3d.com/reviews/Sapphire/sapphire9700pue/ .

Y2kk Update: Okay, this is going to be a first for me. Or a first evil, as I said on my noname site, but that's besides the point... The point is, I can almost hear it bleeping, like a censored echo or a time beacon in, um, time... You see, just like last week, I have absolutely nothing to write, except the will to write, but what's right but the wrong, about writing about nothing except the will to write?... or whatever I'm trying to say... Anyhew, out of sheer laziness and also out of hope that I can finally start on some studying before mid-terms start next week, I'm going to forego my download update for the first time in a long time, and simply cope by copying and pasting here what I wrote on my tweakui site just a few hours ago:

"At last, I can finally, officially declare myself to be the idiot that was, and the idiot that forever will be, not like that was ever in question, mind you… It's just that, I was trying to be the hero two Mondays ago. After my partner rescued me in the Electronics lab the Friday before, I pitied myself and pitted myself between the moth and the flame, or the bucket and the lopsided ball, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean… I stayed at school for the longest time that night, toiling in the computer mines at the Digital Systems pre-lab for God knows how long… and when the time finally came on Monday to show off my goods and prove to my partner what I've got? I know this may not sound too good, but all I wanted was to make myself feel like an equal, to stand high, proud and tall, for holding my own, no matter how hard it feels or may be…

Unfortunately, the extra two hours we spent in the lab that morning, all thanks to my dear, sheer incompetence, sort of throw me out of the loop, along with that last ray of hope of Mario sunshine of mine. Because, well… you see, if there was a problem with the Altera hardware we were using or something, I would've been real pissed, but at least I wouldn't have beaten myself over an ugly stick for it afterwards. But the truth of the matter is? It was my fault. It's always my fault. And it's always my fault, because I never seem to do anything Dudley do right… I was the one manning the computer. I was the one programming damn chip pins like a chimp into the damn program… For it was the best of times. It was the blurst of times. And yet throughout the three hours that I was sitting idle in the lab, I never once realized that I was reading the damn pin numbers wrong off the goddam sheet?… For three frickin' hours, all I kept doing was mistranslating and misplacing every damn number in front of me, in plain English English, as if I was some dyslexic fool or some schizophrenic psychopath, or just plain IvanF or some crap like that… Short story short, I was trying my best not to be useless. I was trying my best to be the best, to be the one on top, so that all things considered would work out for the best. But alack, and alas, and ay, there lies the rubbing of the balls… for all good things must come to an end, for all good things that goes around, cums around, harder and faster from behind than ever before… And although I know this doesn't sound too good, it's true, oh it's true, that it always seems, I save the best for three frickin' hours last.

Anyhew… enough with the no-name closet talk for one day… Getting back to IvanFian seriousness, I actually meant to write this Y2kk Update of mine about two weeks ago, shortly after the shuttle Columbia exploded upon reentry. The thing was, I used to be the biggest NASA fan back in the day. I wasn't quite on par with my cousin however, who seemed to memorize all the shuttle names and their commission dates by the age of 10 or whatever, but I did admire the space program in its entirety, simply because I've always been a sci-fi dreamer and a Sigourney Weaver at heart. But the thing was, the saddest part of it all, was when the space shuttle Columbia came crashing down to earth two or three weeks ago, I did what I hoped I would never do: I became one of those annoying pricks, those ball kissing hicks, that I kept bashing and blasting and lambasting and basting and complaining all about soon after September 11th… If you total recall, I sort of mocked all those who chose to mock America around and about the event that changed the world nevermore. Regardless of whether their criticism was right or wrong, the fact of the matter was, it wasn't justified. Not for the time, and not by me. Whenever I found a person using September 11th to their advantage, if only to prove their own points to make them seem smarter, then they deserved a spanking, or at least a stern lecture from me that I knew they would never no-name hear in their lifetimes… Of course, I was being a hypocrite too at the same time, criticizing them during an era that I myself claimed should only be for mourning, and not for verbal macking, or even Macaroni Cheese, but that's besides the point…

But you see, things were a bit different back then… not all that different, though. In which, I never cared about terrorism, and I never cared much about US globalization. I did care however, about all those damn people back in high school who goddam kept slurring and insulting me for my tolerance to both sides of the argument… I never chose a side, except to side against both of them annoying pricks. And life was good, sitting my ass on the picket fence, as pineapple painful as it was… And thus, I used September 11th to prove my own points and my own merits, that some people just won't keep their damn mouths shut, and yet I forgot all those Y2kk days of mine, to label myself as a perpetrator of intellectual masturbation as well… And apparently, things haven't changed very much since then, or at least I haven't changed much since then, because when I first saw the sight of the space shuttle hurtling to the hearth of the earth? All I could do was complain and whine and be the same damn IvanF that I wish I never was. I started yelling at the television screen, as if it would respond, for being damn dumb enough to think terrorism was involved, even if there was an astronaut from Israel on board. I started correcting my sister and mother, cutting them off as they got the dates of the Challenger explosion and the age of the space shuttle fleet wrong. I started preaching to the choir, or at least my own family room, that the shuttles have had micro-fractures in their fuel lines for the longest damn time, and considering they still use CPU chips that they bought off of e-bay, it was only a matter of time until a catastrophe like this one was bound to happen, regardless of whether it was hit by an asteroid or its own Styrofoam ass on the way up… and it was only a matter of time until I bitch slapped my forehead silly, and realized the hypocrite that I was. When it came to September 11th, all I could ever think about was how damn stupid nay-sayers were being, for squeezing their own pineapples and justifying their own principles with the charred remains of the dead, as if they were guilty of necrophilia in my eyes or some crap like that. And yet when it came to the shuttle explosion the other week? Regardless of how few casualties there were in comparison, I still had no right to became the same damn virus of a vulture that I labeled as a genus of a genitalia not so long ago. And, well… hell, AOL, I guess it's a good thing that I don't know anything about oil or New York or whatever, otherwise I'd be all over this goddam Staten Island explosion as goddam well… I'll never be rid of this intellectual masturbation, will I?… otherwise I'd have nothing left to write…

Of course, it's been a long Bay of Al Bundy time since Columbia was destroyed, and while I still fear that the space industry will not get the Fundy funding that I've always felt they deserved, it's not like I'm still kicking myself over how I acted anymore… except on this website, but that's besides the point… Some feelings pass with bitter time, yet some only get more and more whiny and annoying as iotas of ions and eons pass by, sort of like me, being an internet cancer I mean, or an internet Taurus who drives a Ford Taurus, and also as a certain other experience of mine seems to be. Because you see, I knew just by looking across my tutorial rooms in university that people were getting photocopies of textbooks from some secret store down the street from my school. I know that these photocopies were technically and literally illegal, but considering they cost about a fourth of what those goddam bookstores charge, I really didn't give a shit. So I waltzed up to that copy store one day, fully knowing that they had just sold a textbook to someone I knew a few minutes ago. I pleasantly nodded to the Chinese manager in style, as he uttered some Chinese diaphragm dialect to me that I couldn't get the gist of with my horrid, torrid linguistical skills. And as I tried my best to ignore his greeting of an insult, I opened my mouth to the sound of English and almost saw his eyes wince in traumatic, automatic, climatic, psychedelic pain … Ignoring his reaction yet again, I politely asked whether he had any copied textbooks on sale for the course I knew he was selling them for. But before he could show me the copy I wanted, he essentially slammed the book right in front of my face, threw his own book at me, kicked me out of the store, and slammed the door on my ass on the way out. He flat out rejected me, and after two damn weeks of pondering, with nothing left to ponder, I still didn't know why. I mean, I had asked politely. It's like I said, "give me the damn book!" or some crap like that… and I was willing to pay in cash. So why the hell did I just get rejected, like the NBA always feels against the Harlem Globetrotters, as if I was on some bloody first date? I didn't even get a peck on the cheek on the way out… or a biting of the ass… either one's the same…

It was about the time of the Columbia destruction that I mentioned this whole story to a friend (after he wouldn't listen to my space shuttle rhetoric any longer), and while I was slapping myself silly for being that damn innocent and that damn ignorant enough to not notice that he wasn't listening, he essentially slapped me in the face as well, for being so damn gullible and for being so damn naïve. I was his genuine Eve, but, um, nevermind… Because apparently, just from the tone of my voice (and the lack of tone in my muscles), he knew that I had asked for the damn copied textbook all wrong… I mean, I wasn't supposed to ask. I was supposed to demand a damn copy. The whole damn thing was illegal, and apparently, at least according to my friend, the Chinese manager probably thought I was some government spook or communist spy or some crap like that, although I would certainly hope that governments would get better inspectors than ugly losers like me… So in order to preserve his pride and prove me wrong, after an entire Buffy season and session of me trying to prove him wrong when it came to Columbia, he dragged me by the ear back to that photocopy store, and when we arrived, I expected some grand show or something, as if the owner would invite him to the back and make some dirty pornography deal with him under the table or some crap like that… or on the table actually, if you're into that kind of thing, though me and my partner aren't… my lab partner, I mean, but, um, guess I shouldn't refer to him as that anymore, should I? But that's besides the point… flying dick, my ass… But anyhew, while I was expecting the Usual Suspects 2 or U of T Registrar Dogs 3 or some crap like that, I got this instead:

My conversation two weeks sort of went like this:
Manager: "$%$ <censored Chinese>"
Me: "Hello there. Can I have a copy of the <censored for my Electronics course… oops…> textbook please?"
Manager: "No book for you! Goodbye!"
Me: "Ow, my ass hurts! It really, really, ridiculously hurts! What's left to ponder?…"

Um… okay, that didn't sound very good… But moving along, this is how my friend's conversation went the other day:
Friend: "Give me a damn textbook!"
Manager: "Yes, sir! It'll be ready for you tomorrow!"
Friend: "Yeah! My ass hurts! Boo-yah!"… or some crap along those lines…

So all in all, I had no clue what the hell just went on there. He entered the store, moaned one damn sentence, and then as if magic, or as if they were partners, I got the goddam textbook I needed the very next day. Now, I could attribute this to the fact that the photocopy store or that pornography store was empty when my friend and I went, thus eliminating any possibility of a CIA operative being there to illegally deport the manager or something… But instead, I'm going to use to my own sense of warped and speed logic here, and officially declare that the Chinese manager is racist against damn Chinese! Or at least, has seen too many Seinfeld episodes for me to even begin to wonder what the hell he said to me at first…

And, well… it's not like this Chinese store owner is the only one who seems to steer clear of me for no apparent reason whatsoever. The friend I used to help all the time with computers last year barely even says hello to me anymore, even when I'm flapping my arms and flubbing my gums at him like some not-very-wily coyote… although, um, that could explain why he doesn't exactly make eye contact with me any longer… along with the fact that I called him my lab partner, but that's besides the powerpoint… And then there was this other guy, who used to be so Luke Perry, lukewarm with me at the start of the year, like Princess Leia cuddling up to Luke Skywalker or some crap like that, as if he wanted to be my lab partner or, George not feeling well, some crap like that… But short story short, after being this no-name guy's friend for a couple of weeks or whatever, he finally came up to me and asked me a computer question that I didn't know. So I told him instead to ask the TA, and you know what he said?… "Um, you're not the TA? Um… sorry, my mistake"… and, um… well… oops… I should've said instead, "give me the damn textbook!"… my mistake…

And after that, you can sort of guess the outcome. He had been buddy buddy with me ever since day one, every single day that he saw me in the lab, laughing at my jokes while rubbing his own dick and squeezing his precious pineapple, all at the same damn time… and then suddenly, when he realized that I wasn't the one who was going to mark his projects and leave a mark on his ass?… He never talked to me again, except for that one time to yell at me for talking about Columbia… he would've preferred to see the damn black board over my damn black-haired head rather than my lack of pictures of the damn black box, or rather would've preferred to hear talk of Columbine and necrophilia over my goddam voice, as wonderful as that sounds… He was a decent Charlie chap, now wasn't he? But alas, I never got to know him well… and as it stands right now, he was the last guy who ever bothered to think of me as a TA. Besides all those other guys who thought I was the TA, I mean… And after that, I guess my intellectual prowess sort of lost its charm… as really, really, ridiculous as that sounds, coming from a no-name whiner like me… Who would've thunk?

Which explains a lot when it comes to that Digital Systems lab of mine, but I'm sort of trying to lock that total recall out of memory. Besides, it's not like it was a pivotal moment in my life or something, considering I do a million idiot things a day to remind me of who I am… forgetting one damn memory yields no damn benefits for a hypocrite of a man like me, but that's besides the point…

And yet both knowing and not knowing, essentially half the battle of who I am, never seems to stop me from being the no-name writer, or being who I am. To be or not to be, I guess that was never the question, but honestly, who throws a shoe? Honestly? No shoe for you. And who would've thunk? Except that it all sounds like so much goddam globetrotter fun, doesn't it?… whatever the hell I'm trying to say…"

But besides all that, there is one iddy biddy thing I want to get off my chest... You see, I forgot to mention this last week, since apparently, the way to get me to forget about the girl I talk too much about, is by actually talking too much to her... And the thing was, I forgot this little detail, that for the first time in our friendship, I was actually touched by the angel, hand to hand, skin to skin, not that it really means anything, mind you. It's just that, sure she's given me those girly hugs before, or those taps and brushes on the shoulders, or that standard handshake of an earthquake that every engineering student here at U of T seems to give away like pimps on a Sunday prostitute... But all those times, she always touched me on the clothes, never on my face or hands or anything that remotely laid bare, especially those parts I wished could lay bare and bare gifts for her, but that's besides the point... But the thing was, first contact with my obsession long time ago, for those two old timer Y2kk readers out there, led to love at first touch, and actually, a re-falling in love covertly and conveniently right before the graduation formal that year. And yet this time? This time, I barely even noticed that I touched the girl I talk too much about for the very first time. There was no spark. There was no shower of excitement. There wasn't even a smile. But rather, I gently held her hand as I would any of my other friends, and while I can argue that's a good thing, that I trust her enough that I actually do treat her as a close friend, the truth of the matter is, I just wish that there was something more... In essence, I wanted to have my cake and eat it too... or actually, it would be pie in this case, but that's besides the point, because she'd kill me if she knew I wrote that... But anyhew, I guess I've always been a goddam fanatical romantic at heart, and even though I should be proud that I've fallen in love with her personality, and not her aura of feminism or whatever, I still wish that it could be both... but now, um... I sort of sound like her, come to think of it. She's always talking about this fluff of a stuff, about feeling connections when feeling each other up or some Cosmo crap like that... I guess she and Joe Millionaire have sort of rubbed off on me and my balls over the past few weeks, perish the <slurp> thought, but that's besides the point...

ATI: Hello, Nurse... you'd think I'd get use that line, considering my university is surrounded by hospitals. But instead, I was forced to sing the song that never ends for my friends at university, to the point where my friend shook his head at me and essentially made me shut up... Of course, I got a measure of revenge later that week in an Xpilot race or some crap like that. You see, he was first place and was about to lap me, but honestly, I didn't know that it was him coming up my rear. Believing that I had to take out the only loser of a guy who was still behind me in the pole positions, I turned around, starting shooting blanks, and ended up ramming right into my friend's ship... and, well... bad driving on his behalf, I assume... He lost first place that way, while I lost my second last place... So sue... or actually, I think he has...

Anyhew, saw over at Rage3d that some new Omega drivers have come out, based on the latest Catalyst release. I don't know what version of these tweaked drivers were just released, but I can tell you they're based on Catalyst 3.1 over at: http://www.omegacorner.com/ .

ATI: Firingsquad has done a comparison betweem the Catalyst 3.0 drivers and the newly released 3.1 drivers. Don't know what they said, but go ahead and run away with the fork and spoon anyhew at: http://firingsquad.gamers.com/hardware/catalyst3.1/default.asp .

ATI: Just letting you know, the Inquirer has informed the internet this useless trivia fact, that the R350 is going to be called the Radeon 9800 Pro. You can thank them for giving us the meaning of life at: http://www.theinquirer.net/?article=7895 .

Y2kk Update: Well, it's Saturday night, the end of yet another Y2kk week in review, and yet I have absolutely nothing on my mind to write... I said a while ago that as long as I'm comfortable, as long as I'm content, as long as there is no contempt, then I shall be speechless. And considering life has been nothing but Valentine's Day roses and peaches, I honestly have nothing to report.

Okay, so I did suffer yet another lecture from my sister yesterday. Y2kk readers will recall that I invested a sum of about $200 in Nortel Stocks about a year ago. The thing is, both to my surprise and surprising chagrin, my money has essentially doubled in value since then... of course, I refuse to take my money out or the damn company, even though I expect Nortel to nose dive (or even worse, skinny dive) down under, and declare Ottawa Senators bankruptcy in just a few short years or so... Nonetheless, this sort of attitude of mine got to my sister the other day, especially when I started mocking her mutual funds for halving in value over just half of a year... She then went on a spirited spurt against me, arguing that I'm so damn immature, that I should either take my money out and use it for something practical, or at least give it away to charity (with charity not being in the 'practical' category)... because anything's better than my reason for keeping my Mulan mullah in: that it's all a grand game to me. Afterall, I don't actually care about the money I essentially gave away. I 'm obsessed however, with the idea of keeping my word and keeping my principles, and refusing to sell until Nortel stocks reach $120 on the Toronto Stock Exchange yet again... That's what I said two or more years ago, and call me crazy if you will, but I'm just playing a game with myself right now, that's all... even though that doesn't sound very good... But I am. I am dwelving myself into a very immature game, which is why I deserved every word my sister spat on me the day before... and then, of course, being the distant gal that she is, she left for her little condo in the city... and then a few hours ago, she arrived back here with a look of pithy in her eyes, and also a yearning for a pitter patter of a pathos of pity... because oops, in her fury the day before, she had forgotten her wallet with all her credit cards inside, and all her driving licenses, on my very study desk before me... heh... I pity the fool that has to suffer sweet, sweet, succulent justice... and I pity the fool's garden who translates Lemon Tree into Cantonese, but I won't get into that...

Talk of immaturity was essentially the extent of my contact with the girl I talk too much about this week. We've gone through the whole, same debate before though, with me really, really, ridiculously wanting to claim that maturity is just a fabricated standard to judge and gauge ourselves against the rest (though I never have to courage or audacity to say such a thing), and with her always complaining about the immaturity of us guys, yet never being able to personally deduce or define what exactly her idea of maturity is... You see, it was Valentine's Day yesterday, and even though I've never personally cared about this so-called holiday (except to reminisce about getting my own Valentine's Day cards glued to my hands and wrists... and, um, sort of licking the glue off with a kiss...), all her ranting and raving about it, about the meaning of love and what love means to her, has really has opened my eyes... eyes wide shut, that is... But she cares about it, so I care about it. I never thought it would come to this, but yeah, I know see the significance of this damn insignificant, little holiday, lest my flowered eyes deceive me... Because the thing was, she had guys going for her left and right, and because of this, she even realized the half truth, that she keeps getting asked out for dates from would-be suitors because she is one of the only women in computer engineering, period... although I'd prefer just to consider her the prettiest girl in engineering, but I digress... Of course, I kept my mouth shut throughout most of her faking and fluttering about all those guys being flattering but just too damn flat or what have you. She really is a popular damsel in distress, I tell you... And the reason she's in distress? Because she keeps getting asked out by guys she claims she simply cannot bear, and will never bare none for, bar none, not even if they were the last person on earth... sound familiar? Double sided trenchant? Touché...

It keeps driving me wild though. The fact that she's playing mind games with me... no, wait. She's not playing mind games. It's just that she can't make up her mind... Back in my old days, I used to be known as quite the bargainer, and not just as a bum or a beggar. Whenever I stepped into a used video game shop, I would hesitate and hesitate and just keep on hesitating from buying what I wanted, and to think, my parents actually thought it was so I could get those massive discounts that the shop owners just kept on giving me, no matter how long I just kept on questioning my decisions... But the truth of the matter was, I wasn't trying to be deceptive. Truth be told, I was just so damn indecisive that I couldn't make up my damn mind... And the thing is, the same goes for the girl I talk too much about. Last week, she wanted to ask a guy out for Valentine's Day. This week, she said her little crush was already over... Last week, she kept claiming how important Valentine's Day was, and how she would love it if a guy asked her to Copywell and coffee. And this week? Besides flirting at me with her eyes, as if she wanted me to ask her out or something, she just kept rolling her eyes indirectly at me, although more directly at all those guys I mentioned above that actually did ask her out, and that she just flat out refused with a talk from the hand and a slap down back to mommy...

And as crazy as that sounds, and as crazy as that should make me, it doesn't. In fact, it was welcome. Hell, it was like a Mentos freshener, a sign for a sigh of relief. Because the thing that truly did get me this week, was how damn popular she is with all the guys... Last week, I was annoyed at the perfect guy I talked about on my MSN site. This week, on Wednesday, it all started out with a close-to-perfect guy, who started talking to her when we were already talking. And the thing was, I honestly couldn't stand how much she smiled at his gaze, as she flirted with him as much as she has ever flirted with me... So I left. I sort of turned my back, not thinking that she'd notice, when all of sudden, she called out my name and waved goodbye with a slap happy smirk of a slapshot smile on her face... Ten minutes later, when I returned and found her again, she started lecturing me on how strange it was how I just left her there, not just because it was rude, but because it was "weird"... and after knowing her for a couple years or so, I knew "weird" was her polite way of saying she at least partially took it personally... she was afraid that she did something wrong... or that there's something wrong with me... Of course, that's exactly when two humbering, lumbering guys came along, and essentially pushed me out of the picture, stealing my thunder and making me feel as if I had just lost the girl. And of course, as they chatted ever so effortlessly with the girl I talk too much about, I grew more and more jealous as she just kept getting happier, and happier, and happier... and it just ghasted, gilded, and glided me to death how damn giddy she gets whenever somebody other than me is ever around... I'm never good enough, or at least that's how I feel, so that's when I left. Or more accurately, I didn't leave, considering I didn't want to shun her feelings again. But rather, I simply drifted off to the side, and waited for her conversation with the two guys twice my size to finally be done and over with... And the thing was, once again, when she finally started talking to me again, she started lecturing me how oops, I did it again, that I ran away from her, as if I was offended. And, well...

Truth be told, I was. And I told her that that's the way I am. I felt threatened by those guys for more than just Freudian reasons, so I gave them room and let them talk. It's the alpha male complex, and there's nothing complex about it... I mean, there was absolutely nothing that I could offer their conversation, considering I didn't know them whatsoever, so why should I have bothered to stay monkey and Malcolm in the middle of it all, with my mouth and eyes wide shut?... and as for that earlier time when I walked out of the room on her, I argued that I was in a hurry (which was partially true), and besides, it would've been awkward to butt into their conversation, just to wave goodbye or some crap like that... because I for one didn't want to intrude on their conversation, as he did on mine...

Of course, the girl I talk too much about (whom I have talked too much about, even in a week like this one where there's nothing to talk about), still rambled on with the lecturing, as only the finest women can do. Of course, that's when I relinquished my last resort of a weapon, much to the blitz and chagrin of Blix and his group, and sort of harkened the girl I talk too much about back to the day when I called her "jealous" of the girl who knew me on the train... Because the thing was, why did I think that she was jealous? Weeks ago, when I was weak at the knees (and still am, thanks to this damn ping-pong injury that just won't go away), I had let her believe I was being a stereotypical guy then and there, calling her jealous, simply because I have the crazy notion that all girls were bitches towards each other... But despite all the stereotypes and archetypes I bitterly house in my warehouse of a personal wardrobe of a conic conundrum, girls being jealous of one another certainly was not one of them... Instead, the reason that I told her she was jealous, was because while I was talking to that other girl on the train, I looked back at the girl who talks too much, and noticed that she wasn't talking at all. Instead, she was looking down at her homework, trying or pretending to read, and it was almost as if she had a look of sadness on her face... like a damsel in distress... and you know, me being the guy who cries about spilled milk and the fact that I'll never get to spill her milk, I couldn't help but resist the thought from crossing my Jordan of a mind... that maybe, just maybe, hope be to God, she was jealous of me, just for once, that I was talking to another girl... She makes me damn jealous, every time another damn guy crosses her path. So I thought, maybe it was payback time... Just maybe, I thought, it was time to spill my own milk, whatever the hell that means, and cash my own check so I can buy my own 1% lactose free furlings for my favourite kittens with mittens... and nothing but mutton for the other ones... but that's besides the point, as even I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say...

The point is, she sort of stopped lecturing me when she realized she does the same thing as I do when someone else is around: hide and scurry like a virutuous scurvy, and retreat into seclusion, holding onto what we know dear... besides the one we want to call, "dear"... but I'm not sure if she got my hidden message in it at all. I admitted I felt jealous every time some other guy butted his assclown of a face into our conversations, and buttered her up with Valentine's Day oral gifts and all... which sounds even worse than what I thought when I think about it that way, but I digress... I was half hoping, and half grudging and judging and dreading, that she would understand from that, that I do care about her. I didn't want to consciously admit that I do, but it sort of came out when I was trying to comfort her. And I was sort of hoping that she would mention that maybe, just maybe, if only, she cares about me too... not romantically perhaps, but at least enough to get jealous of me, if only for a moment... but instead, she didn't really say anything. Of course, just from her eyes all week, I kept feeling like she was begging me to ask her out to coffee and Copywell or some crap like that... but then I remembered that she gives the same gaze to every damn person out there, so all I can really go by are her words and actual phrases. You know, the stuff that are actually real. The things that dreams are not made of.

And what she told me, mouth to mouth (though not the way that I would've liked), was that we were good friends, and that she's thankful that we're good friends... but she likes guys other than me, or at least any guy that she doesn't pit into the minus category like she kind of did to me... So short story short, I did nothing on Valentine's Day for her, except write her an e-mail from home, reaffirming our friendship. I hope it was the right move, that it'll cement our trust but not checkmate my lust, but I guess I'll never know, will I?... and that was my week, weak at the knees. It's now a Saturday night, and a post Valentine's Day mortem and post Valentine's Day massacre when it comes to hope for my heart. Thus ends yet another Y2kk week in review, and even though I talked too damn much about the girl I talk too much about, the fact of the matter is, I have nothing to talk about. I have absolutely nothing on my mind to write. I'm comfortable. I'm content. I have no contempt. And I'm speechless.

But I'm not a very good liar, am I? Liars are always good attractors. Gotta work on that, I guess...

ATI: Hey, what do you know? My Radeon 7500 PCI is now a month and a half late, thanks to my cousin dropping out of collage and getting a pretty decent marketing job, so it's not really like I care about this news... But still, it's nice to know that ATI has released some new official, Catalyst drivers for their Radeon 9500/9700 cards. The WindowsXP/2k version 6.13.10.6292 does something at: http://pdownload.mii.instacontent.net/ati/drivers/wxp-w2k-radeon-7-83-030120a1-007447c-efg.exe . The Win9x/Me version 4.13.01.9082 is hiding at: http://pdownload.mii.instacontent.net/ati/drivers/wme-radeon-7-83-030120a1-007447c-efg.exe . And if you want the updated control panel? It's over at: http://pdownload.mii.instacontent.net/ati/drivers/control-panel-7-83-030120a1-007447c-efg.exe .

ATI: Saw over at Rage3d.net that Rage3dTweak 3.8 has been released. It adds some pixel shader and vertex shader tweaks or something, but besides that, I have no clue what's new at: http://www.rage3d.com/r3dtweak .

ATI: Also saw at Rage3d that Rivatuner has found a way to use the FirePro series' OpenGL driver with the R300, thus improving Radeon 9500/9700 performance by as much as three times in the goddam leaked, Doom3 alpha. Go ahead and try your luck at: http://www.rage3d.com/board/showthread.php?s=&threadid=33666424 . I'm not sure if that link is right, but it'll definitely lead you to the tweaking and dweaking gods you need.

Y2kk Update: Not much happened in the world of IvanF this week. I made it through Chinese New Years alive, all things considered. It kind of hurt when my relatives started ratting on my poor Chinese pronunciation. They haven't done so in years, and it definitely reminded me of why I stopped trying to speak proper sentences in the first place... The good news however, was that I didn't drop a single chop stick. Not once. Of course, I just had to ruin the jubilation of the festive mood by making a complete loud mouth, smart ass of myself, as my cousin kept feeding me mound after mound of geekish Star Wars crap, and I just kept spouting out rhetoric about how dumb evil is in the movies at the top of my bloody lungs, annoying and pretty much boring everyone in the restaurant to tasers and tears... but that's the IvanFian way, I guess. Evil may always be stupid, but so I am... for I may see no evil, and hear no evil, but I'll always be with stupid, though that's hopefully besides the point...

It took me forever to get through school today. After my complete uselessness in our first Digital Systems lab on Monday, in which my partner did all the wiring while I never once did step up to the plate, I was really trying to make amends with my guilt-ridden self today, and also for the past few days, where I kept nagging my partner to get started on building our Electronics circuit early... the thing was, he was a little too addicted to ping pong to get ahead in school, and eventually I got dragged into the table tennis fold as well, getting a knee injury in the process as I made a sparkling back-hand save... too bad we weren't playing hockey... And hell, this old knocker of a knicker-boxer of a knee of mine is now flailing up even as we don't speak. For speak no evil, it's true that old habits die hard, and old sports injuries die harder I'm afraid... then again, before you know it, I'm sure the pain will die hardest with a vengeance, but as always, that's besides the Simon Says point...

Well, we finally managed to start on the circuit today, which so happened to be the day that it was due... Short story short, I ended up feeling damn useless for most of the day, because simply put, I was the secretary. All I did for the three or so hours that we were in the lab, was get coaxial cables here, and set up function generators there. And hell, I didn't even know how to set up the ground and positive terminals right on whatever damn voltage sources we were forced to use... But really, I guess since it was my stupidity that got me into this predictable predicament of uselessness in the first place, it was destined to be the one thing that dragged me out of it as well. Because after my partner had pretty made the entire circuit, he was baffled as to why the damn thing wouldn't generate an output digital signal whatsoever. And the thing was, after consulting friend after friend, after TA after TA, to even bloody loser ol' me, my partner ended up completely stumbled and crumpled, and, well... he was essentially ready to take out losses and scrap the whole project altogether... But that's when I stepped up to the plate, and you know what I did? It was genius. It was purely, infamously ingenious.

I tripped. And I landed on the circuit. And you know what? I busted the final resistors and op-amps making up the circuit loop that would be king. And, well... what do you know? By crushing the competition, literally, we actually got an output signal! And goddammit, the output digital sine waveform that we got was actually the one that we needed! Or close enough, actually... I actually got the damn project to work by a complete fluke, because apparently, my partner had misplaced two resistors near the end, and I was lucky enough that those two were the ones that broke my fall! And hell, AOL, goddammit, I felt so damn proud after that, I really did!... until the TA came along to question us on the engineering theory of the circuit, and after my mouth went radio silent from sheer stupidity all over again, I felt completely useless yet again when my partner had to fill in the blanks and bank from my lack of Frodo words... I guess some things never change... Except when he finally got a question that stumped him, about why LED diode lights cannot be seen at 50Hz or higher, and I suddenly remembered all my refresh rate training from the past, and all those times I yelled at nVidia gamers for actually seeing a Quake3 difference between 60fps and 240fps. And, well... I couldn't help but smile when my friend at the end thanked me for pulling him out of the gutter... as he has done for me for about, oh, three damn hours that one fine day alone... But that's not the point, is it? Tell me that's not the point... that I'm useless, useless, Ulysses useless... not that I'm complaining, of course... not anymore... or at least, not for now...

There was one another momentous thing that happened to me this week, besides the crap that I'll hopefully be able to post on my MSN site in a day or two... By Tuesday, I was still a bit perplexed as to why the girl I talk too much about was avoiding me a bit too much for my tastes... I mean, it wasn't as if she was still mad at me, was she? Because it wasn't as if she tried not to laugh around me, like she did the week before. I mean, she did smile on Monday when I said whatever I said. But it was just that she was again being hesitant to open up to me, and I was afraid that either she was still hurt from my jealousy comment, or that there was something else, something even bigger in her warehouse storage, bungling her insides and boggling my mind... And you know what? She claimed on Monday that she wasn't very responsive to me because she was tired... and, well... that's the excuse I used a week ago, when I was nervously terrified that something was wrong between the two of us. Fatigue was my fallacy, my fraud to hide my feelings, and on Monday, I became damn shamefully scared that she was now using the same damn tactic on poor, oblivious ol' me... And I couldn't help but ask myself Monday night, why was she ignoring me? What have I done this time to piss her off?...

And naturally, since I have a crush on her, even though I never wanted one in the first place (but knew the moment that I met her that I would), my mind couldn't help but drift off later that night in the hope that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like me... I mean, not just like me. But like me. As more than a friend I mean, just like I see her... Hell's bells and sweaty balls, it made perfectly ingenious, IvanFian sense, didn't it? Her dreaming that I was the perfect man, sensitive to her feelings and always saying the most perfect of words (well, not in reality I mean... dreams are dreams for a reason...). And then suddenly, I say one wrong thing, shattering her chaste visions into perfectly chastised oblivion, casting her away in doubt like some castaway, as to whether there's anyone left in the world for her... or left for me, actually, considering that's how I've always felt, each and every time one of my crushes beat me down with an ugly stick, although I'd keep coming back for more, as if I was addicted to the pain of caning and Kanenites, but that's besides the point... And I couldn't help but hope that the girl I talk too much about would be exactly the same, that for once I was the one with the phallic cattle prod in hand or some crap like that, and that I had finally found someone with a personality enough like mine that I could actually be content with... like a smiling face symbol forever saying I'm with stupid... though she's not stupid. Far be it, actually. She's a hell of a lot smarter than I'll ever be, especially if she can ever find this website, so I should really use the delete key right about now... and, um... gulp... she's going to kill me... and, well...

Because the stupid thing was, I finally got my answer on Tuesday... in which at some point in the conversation, she motioned to me that she had thought of romantic possibilities over the weekend, considering Valentine's day was right around the corner, and I was included full frontal at the forefront of her forethoughts... I started taking this as a hint, realizing that maybe she was not so subtlely inviting me out for a date, just so she doesn't feel alone in the world... She was the dish, and I was the turkey leftovers, and I was more than obliged to be the one with a bite taken from the ass... But I wasn't exactly ready to take the bait or anything, though seriously, I was seriously starting to consider buying her a teddy bear or a box of chocolates or something to make her feel better... simply in the hope that the chemistry between us could finally revert back to what I thought it used to be... But alas, like that damn box of chocolates, I guess I never know what I'm going to get next, because right then and there, before I was about to open my mouth and spout for her something, like an outing to console her pouting soul, that's when she finally let loose with the truth that no man and no man's land can ever handle, that yeah, she has been thinking of possibilities over the weekend... and the end result was that she found me to be a big fat, not so Greek and not so phat, big O "minus"... that, um, we share absolutely no connections and no feelings whatsoever... and, uh... um... wow... flattering...

D'oh...

Guess I wasn't expecting that... She then went on, ranting that the two of us would be completely wrong for each other, that we have absolutely nothing in common, and that she had no romantic inclinations for me whatsoever, for I am barely just a "good" friend... and, um... oops... I started praying at that moment that this was just some sort of self-defence mechanism or something, that she was now preying on me, playing me for ruining her dreams last week of us being together or some crap like that... But looking in her eyes, I knew that she was telling the truth, and that once again, just like always, the so-called connections I thought we shared were all just conjectures of my goddam mind yet again... That it was all just some colossal, JFK, alien conspiracy coax of a coaxial hoax, just like it always is... But besides a solemn sigh, I really didn't sister act as if I was at all surprised. Instead, I just cracked a joke as always, that "Yeah, well... a minus?... Don't worry. I'm used to hearing it from women..."... or actually, I'm used to being completely ignored as a sign that I'm a complete turn-off, but either one's the same...

But short story short, I felt a lot more relieved and a lot more serene after she finally told me the long-awaited truth. The sexual tension between me and... um, me, I guess... was finally short-circuited, thanks to my utter stupidity and her genuine honesty. It was refreshing to finally know yet again that I really am an idiot fish out of water when it comes to thinking up thesises for these bloody crushes in my mind, just like I'm an idiot whenever it comes to crushing circuits that take three bloody hours to make... I was hoping that I had finally found a partner. Instead, I found that I'm just useless as one... I had hoped at the moment of her official undiscretional and unsettling, revealing of the truth, that once and for all, the unholy, sacrilegious debate of her moaning in my mind could finally be resolved in the beanie bowels of my brain, that I could finally find some resolution to finally close the book on my chronicles of this goddam wave of a blue crush of mine, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean... but alas, I knew that no matter what she said, I'll still be attached to her with more than just platonic thoughts, and more than just her and I making Platonic shapes in bed... at least from my shrewd and taming of the screw perspective... But at least I feel safer now, knowing that she's more honest with me than I have ever been with her... and now that I know that she doesn't like me... at all... maybe I can keep this website and all the bloody, private things I say about her alone in the dark, away from her light... for in eternal darkness I shall always reside, one on one with absolutely no-one, with only myself to blame... festering forever my faulty feelings of bitter, utter, grimacing, ulcer-like, absolutism uselessness... useless, useless...

... until some Intel idiot barges in and brags about his 240fps in Quake3, but that's besides the point...

ATI: Just to let you know, some unofficial details about the upcoming Radeon 9900 is up at X-bit labs. All I know about this thing is that it'll have 8 rendering pipelines, each with 2 TMUs. Besides that, I'll leave the unnecessary reading up to you at: http://www.xbitlabs.com/news/story.html?id=1044532924 .

nVidia: Mercury News has a pretty cool read about the wars between ATI and nVidia... Actually, I'm not sure if it's a good read or not, considering I'm too lazy to click the link below. Go ahead and prove that you're not with stupid like I am above, by reading this review of bitter history at: http://www.bayarea.com/mld/mercurynews/business/5093187.htm .