Haha. I recall nearly killing myself last year with the overweening complexity and the 40+ classes I had to code for my AP Computer Science final project. Overkill, yes? The final product was quite amusing, however. It was a rudimentary text adventure-type game (where the player inputs commands in a text console to explore some imaginary game world), and it all revolved around the highly mindless slaughter of Korean boy band members.

A sample session might include the following output (user inputs in bold):

:: Dungeon Cell ::
The light emanating from the torches on the walls dance across your surroundings, casting a sinister glow upon the stone. With the aid of the light, you can just barely make out the old, dark stains on the walls and floor. The place bears the unmistakable signs of death and prolonged torment. Who knows what you'll find in this godforsaken place...
Obvious exits: north south east west
        Micky Yoochun is standing here.
        A cantaloupe lies on the ground.

HP: 100/100 > kill micky
You charge at Micky Yoochun!

HP: 100/100 > <*****> jab
You jab at Micky Yoochun, causing 13 damage!

HP: 100/100 > <**** >
Micky Yoochun girly-slaps your face with all of his strength, but misses!

Anyway, I implemented a truly kick-ass battle system. With multiple threading. Those DBSK members can move around freely in the dungeon, ambush the unsuspecting player, initiate pointless small-talk with the player (when they’re feeling slightly less hostile), and of course, engage in real-time combat. They drop their possessions when they perish, and the player can pick them up, scavenger-like (although as of yet I’ve not made them usable). Oh yeah, and interspersed throughout each confrontation with a Korean nancy-boy are classic battle quotes like “Your love is all I need…” and “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Sadly, I was a bit harried at the time, so I was only able to create five Korean boy band characters, more specifically the members of that odious group DBSK. I was thinking of expanding the dungeon and putting all thirteen members of Super Junior in there as well, and knowing nearly zilch about them, I browsed the Web today for their names and some basic biographical illumination.

Silly Super Juniors

Shindong — Shin-dong??? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! What an unfortunate lad…
Donghae — I think any Korean who calls himself “dong” should merit our wholehearted empathy.
Ryeowook — Ru-yeh-wook? Ru-ye-oh-wook? Doesn’t that sound like the perfect appellation for a Wookie?
Kibum — I nearly thought this was a name for some body part. Like coccyx. “He rubbed her coccyx and she cooed with pleasure.” “I kissed her on her kibum.” I’ve been reading far too much Vladimir Nabokov…
Eunhyuk — “Hyuk” is the sound I make when I hiccup. Hyuk, hyuk. Hy-uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuk-uweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegh-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh…

Basically, if mispronounced the right way, any one of those Korean misnomers could cause me to laugh my head off. Silly Koreans. Silly nancy-boys.

So, uh, what does my dear reader think? (Bonus points if you mention Koreans in your angry comment!)

Confession: that Ada or Ardor book (creation of Vladimir Nabokov) that I picked up several months ago, in the midst of my misery while school was in session? I still haven’t finished it. Although thoroughly delightful (with Nabokov’s characteristic artistic prose interspersed with a multitude of trilingual tangents), the tome measures about 600+ pages and is not sufficiently gripping for one to eagerly pursue its conclusion.

That fine must be exorbitant by now. The librarian informed me I would be unable to renew or re-check-out Ada another time (after exhausting this indulgence about sixteen times consecutively), so I obstinately held the book hostage for another few weeks, refusing to hand it over to whatever peon wanted the novel next.

Ah, I bemoan my summer school obligations. My companions can only be members of the “retard” and “bastard” biological kingdoms. Bowling strains my tendons and my anemic wrists. Scores that once-upon-a-time numbered in the 100s have now inexplicably nose-dived to the 30s and 40s. The English and Spanish summer slave-work, the cherry cordial Hershey’s kisses… are not simplifying matters.

You… I wish I could throw a scintillated saber at your silhouette, and strike live flesh. A missive from whom… will not, will not at the risk of insanity.

Whenever she is raging
She takes all life away
Haven’t you seen
Haven’t you seen
The ruins of our world…

This remembrance is long overdue.

Several months ago, I woke up one morning to the sound of electric saws and construction noises. I didn’t make much of it and drifted back to sleep. Later, I stepped out the door on the way to my bus stop and…

I loved that tree. Gentle and green-shadowed in the sun, glittering when encrusted with icicles, brushing against my window on moonlit evenings… and now it’s a forlorn stump.

I don’t have much to say after all.