Down the Line
No one’s perfect. In our lifetime, we all had our fair share of mistakes. We all have unwanted and undesirable traits. We’ll probably make many more in the future.
But during that spent time, you’ve probably asked yourself this question: do you like yourself?
I am very shy. I can come across as a doormat sometimes. I fidget way too much. I’m forgetful. I’m very clumsy. I’m a pretty slow person. I get nervous very easily. If my mistakes were packages, I’d definitely have to invest in public storage.
Despite all that, I like being me. When I look in the mirror, I give that person a smile and tell him, “You’re doing alright, kid.” Whatever flaws I have, I like to think I have many other accomplishments and traits that I’m proud of.
And to me, I think it’s imperative that you like yourself, because you’re stuck with that person for the rest of your life. I’ve met more people who get stuck in the past, berating themselves about their mistakes and hating themselves, than people who strive to do better in the future.
I’m only eighteen years old, so I have barely any life experience. You may be laughing on how I’m just figuring this out now, or how I’m a young, naïve kid who is just babbling nonsense. But this thought is liberating. It makes me unafraid of the future. I might make a mistake tomorrow, or way ahead from now. And that’s okay. It’s a learning experience. I’ll take those mistakes and mold myself into a better person.
Radio Theta v.2
This is a “re-master” of the series I made with my friends in high school. It ended at episode three, because there was too much schoolwork hindering the project. So this ties in all three episodes and puts on some kind of closure at the end. As stupid and juvenile as it is, I still love it to death.
Valentine’s Day
I hope you’re excited. Here’s a little something I feel on Valentine’s Day:
Heh. Just kidding. Speaking of Radiohead, their new album “The King of the Limbs” has just been announced and they say it’s the world’s first (allegedly) newspaper album. Unfortunately, I cannot afford the newspaper album, so I’ll just settle for the digital only option. I’m excited for February 19, anyway.
Happy holidays.
Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Boxing Day/whatever…
I really don’t give a damn.
Ever had this problem?
Have you had some inconsiderate jerk, some empty-headed dipshit taking up precious parking space?
Then go here: youparklikeanasshole.com
Akula [VI. Epilogue]
(This was a project from mythology class. Sorry if some of the details are wrong. It’s not meant to be totally accurate. Or even remotely accurate for that matter.)
As soon as Ivan’s background was released to the authorities, they noticed that Ivan was an unauthorized immigrant with suspicion to be a clandestine worker. The factory was shut down until further notice. Ivan’s benefactor was found out by police. Jason Williams was arrested for smuggling immigrants with a suspicion for treason.
June 2, 1987. Rybachiy, Russia. Two crewmen were turning off equipment inside the Akula.
“Too bad we have to decommission her. Ivan got her ready to go,” said one crewmen.
“I wonder what happened to Ivan. I haven’t heard from him in almost a year,” said the other crewmen.
All the lights were out. All of the systems were disabled. They turned on a flashlight and headed toward the hatch. Akula was left there to rust.
[END]
Heh. I hope it was too bad.
Akula [V. Complete Malice]
(This was a project from mythology class. Sorry if some of the details are wrong. It’s not meant to be totally accurate. Or even remotely accurate for that matter.)
Ivan quickly got accommodated to living in America. Working at the factory became a routine now. He got used to his co-workers, yet barely conversed with them. They were a little suspicious about a Russian working with them. Ivan earned tougher jobs which meant a bigger income. He was able to afford his own house and a car. It filled him with joy that he can earn all this, but he wanted more. His egotistical side began emerging more and more. He has gotten the distrust and contempt from his co-workers, but as long as he did a good job in his work, he would continue to move up. Time flowed by and Ivan was now the manager of his field.
The day was May 14, 1987.
“Come on, get a move on! We got an important project and we can’t afford you all screwing around!” Ivan commanded. An engineer arrived at his station with a look mixed with confusion and fear.
“Hey, North. Your late. Wipe that stupid expression off your face and get to work,” Ivan demanded. The team was concerned about the visibly shocked worker. Out of his bag, he had a newspaper with the title, “Soviets Plan to Assimilate Afghanistan”. The team still as a statue, relayed what Mr. Krinkov said. An important project.
“Never trust a Russian,” North scowled.
As the workers were going on with their duties, they wondered what was going to happen to them. Why was Mr. Krinkov given a job in the first place? Were we helping the Soviets this whole time? Are we committing treason? North, however, had his mind on other things. “Afghanistan will be liberated because of me,” North darkly proclaimed. The day was over. North checked his bag for Ivan’s “gift”. Right before Ivan exited the building, North tried to get his attention.
“Excuse me, sir. Weren’t you born from the Soviet Union?” North asked with a hint of malice.
“Yeah. What’s it to you?” Ivan growled.
“So would you sacrifice anything for your country?” North asked. Ivan stood silent for a moment. He remembered is family and friends is Vilyuchinsk. He remembered his time in Rybachiy. Ivan became a little disheartened on how he never looked back. Sure, Vilyuchinsk was a dirty, dead-end place, but he couldn’t deny it was home.
“Yes, I would,” Ivan responded. That was the first time Ivan meant something with sincerity. North was unfazed.
“I thought so.”
There was a piercing, booming sound followed by a flash of light. Ivan fell down like a ragdoll with blood coming out of the back of his head. North stood there, smirking, with a pistol in his hand. Some tried to subdue North, while others called 911. Ivan laid dead.
Akula [IV. I Am Here, Because...]
(This was a project from mythology class. Sorry if some of the details are wrong. It’s not meant to be totally accurate. Or even remotely accurate for that matter.)
September 28, 1986. Ivan was sleeping in his new apartment that Jason provided. Unlike the old one, this one seemed brand new. He got a new uniform which was cleaner, but simpler in design. He grabbed his bag which had a new, blank notebook and a resume. As Ivan exited the complex and transverse through the streets, he noticed how different Seattle was from his home town. There were a third as many posters and very few of them were government related. Building structures had more variety. The thing that caught his mind was the Space Needle. Secluded in plain Vilyuchinsk for the majority of his life, this was a spectacle. The people themselves had variety. He saw people with long coats, skimpy outfits, piercings, et cetera. Some of these things weren’t tolerated in the Soviet Union.
Ivan went through a fairly plain and simple train ride. He arrived at the Boeing factory. First thing to get done was to meet the manager so he could be assigned. As he entered the factory, he saw dozens of people working in tandem with one another. This was a change from working at Rybachiy, where there was only two or three engineers working. Ivan was a bit nervous now, since was used to working by himself. Putting that aside for now, he walked towards the manager’s office.
Since jobs in the Soviet Union were basically assigned to you, Ivan didn’t know the steps to “sell yourself”. He was contemplating how he should present himself. After a minute of thinking, he manager came by for his interview. He had a suit similar to Jason’s. His height matches Ivan’s, had long blonde hair, and blue eyes. The meeting so far was knowing Ivan’s skillsets. The manager always held an unchanging, stern face which worried Ivan. After gathering information, the manager decided to close it up with a personal question.
“Alright, Mr. Krinkov. Why are you here?” The manager asked.
“Well, sir. Being in the Soviet Union has limited my options and opportunities. I thought that being here in America, I can be able to show what I am capable of,” Ivan replied. However, that was only partly true of what he really wanted. The manager gave a nod.
“If that’s the case, I want to see how efficient you are. I’ll put you in a similar field, then advisors will assess you. Understood?” The manager said with that unchanging expression.
Ivan gave a nod, then a smirk. This is going to be easy, he thought. He exited the office and then went to his work space. There was a large table with various tools, all looking brand new. On the right, there were two advisors ready to observe him. The component was on the desk, ready to be worked on. To his surprise, it was a navigations system. One thing popped into his mind. Akula. He didn’t know if it was a common coincidence, or if Akula brought him here, but he cannot deny that it marked a turning point of his life. Replicating from last time, he began his swift, mechanical motions. In a matter of minutes, the component was fully assembled. Dumbfounded, the advisors tested the component and were shocked it see it fully functional. Ivan took a good look at their expressions. He guaranteed his fate.
Akula [III. Transition]
(This was a project from mythology class. Sorry if some of the details are wrong. It’s not meant to be totally accurate. Or even remotely accurate for that matter.)
It was September 26, 1986. The weather had brightened up. Ivan’s walls were completely bare and he had two backpacks containing his belongings. With a smile on his face, he left his apartment for good. An old, yet polished car pulled up. The driver looked like he would belong in the military, but he had no national designation on his uniform. The person on one of the back seats was Jason Williams. He opened the door and Ivan, filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement, entered the car. They passed through all the places Ivan knew from his childhood. One they passed Rybachiy, Ivan whispered, “Goodbye, Akula.”
The process in the airport was standard fare. Waiting, passport check, and security passes. The airplane ride to Ivan was spectacular. He had never left Vilyuchinsk. They left the land of the Soviet Union, floating through a gradient of blue and orange, and then touching down in the night sky of Seattle, Washington.
“Here we are. Seattle, Washington,” Jason exclaimed. Everyone exited the plane and Ivan got a quick look at his new home. The city was illuminated with bright, colorful lights. A huge contrast from the almost pitch black nights in Vilyuchinsk.
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