Re: my last post. Also, regulating accounts.

See, there are days like that, and then there are nights like last night, when everything sort of works out right. When I realize that all (or most) of my closest friends (in Pittsburgh) are there with me, and that there are at that moment no responsibilities, and that I can step out of my overanalytical control-freak shell and enjoy a moment, and wish that the night had 1400 hours in it.

It doesn't happen often; I feel bad at organizing get-togethers. I feel like it's a good idea to expand friendly gatherings beyond the few hours of Friday and Saturday nights; if 5/7 of your week is straight work, that sucks a little bit. Or if your only encounters with friends are through business (like rehearsal). But then I organize a gathering and it's a bunch of people sitting around, bored. What I'm trying to do is spend time with friends without spending it putting food or drinks into ourselves, or spending money. There's got to be more you can do. Are we just not very creative?

About this whole in-and-out-flow of food and money thing: we spend most of our lives doing it.
You eat food, it's tasty. You exercise, it's difficult. (often it's fun. but it's still difficult, whether you're running or biking or whatever.) Food goes in, food gets burned off.
You work, you get money, it's difficult. (and maybe, hopefully, you like your job; it's still difficult) You spend money, you do something neat or you get things (or maybe you even get food), it's fun.
Obviously, the examples aren't complete. Sometimes you eat because you have to; sometimes you spend money because you have to. Sometimes you love exercise or your job so much that it's easy, and you do it a lot.

The point is, so much of your life is dedicated to these two tasks: your bank account and your food account.

Is that good? I feel like it's animalistic, especially the food account. Any animal can do that. And any idiot can spend his whole life chasing after money. I don't really want to get into a big discussion of "what is meaningful in life" yet, because I don't have any new insight since the last time I talked to you. Yes, you. Whoever you are, if we've had that conversation once, I don't really have any new bright ideas. If we haven't, we should! Given that people who read this are probably my friends, if you're reading this, I'd like to know what's driving your life- it's kind of an important issue, and one that really lets me get to know you, I think, much moreso than "how's it going?" Plus, maybe you know the secret, and you can let me in on it!

But I got sidetracked. I feel like I want to minimize the time spent regulating my food account and bank account. So if you have an idea for a Thing To Do that doesn't involve those, please, let me know! (of course, I still like doing those things: if I'm eating dinner, or going to a movie, or playing Whirlyball, or what have you, with friends, I'm spending time with friends, which, in my book, is in the top five things in the world. Even above skiing. Which is really saying something.) I'll repeat the previous sentence, not for emphasis, but just to get back on the same train of thought: So if you have an idea for a Thing To Do that doesn't involve those, please, let me know!

Two more weeks...

I just keep telling myself that... two more weeks...

For all the good times I'll remember about college, there's a lot of crap that I won't. Like now, staying up till 5 staring at a take-home test that doesn't make any goddamn sense, for a class I don't even want to be in, that's not even helping me graduate. Geez! Of all my classes right now, only AI is fulfilling at all. Maybe German a bit too, although why the hell am I learning German? I could go study in a lot of places without spending lots and lots of hours learning another language! But that's a different issue.

5 days a week, I'm a zombie. (not my fault! for God's sake, I eat healthier than a pro athlete; I exercise at least a reasonable amount, usually 5+ days a week; I sleep a lot, usually 7-8+ hours. I don't know what else I can do.) Then it's the weekend and I forget all about it. I think I know why people drink heavily. Not that I'm going to start doing that- the only thing dumber than going through this weekly pattern is going through this weekly pattern with a tad of alcoholism tacked onto the end.

I'm so tired of being tired.

A bit of optimism at 7 AM

City of Angels was a lot of fun. I'm no theatre critic, but I think we did a great job. I was really feeling it during the last run, really getting into it, which I hadn't done before, because I'm only in a couple of scenes.

I kind of enjoyed strike too, mainly because I think I was helpful. Stuff like taking entire platforms apart, etc. Sweet.

At any rate, things are looking up, and I feel pretty good. But sleepy. Good night. Good morning!

free(myself);

I'm done with malloc. For those of you who haven't taken 15-213, it's the toughest (of 7) homework assignments in the course. It took me pretty much all the time I wasn't doing anythign else this week (and a lot of the time I was doing something else, like PERFORMING A SHOW!) I don't want to sound melodramatic- a lot of that time was used just because I'm kind of dumb sometimes, and I'm not very good at programming.

That being said, I apologize twice:
1. First, for being such a goddamn nerd. It was goofy: I was sitting backstage with my friggin' laptop, even during carnival. That's not cool. Even taking into account that it had to be done, it's still not good. I have little tolerance for people who uphold the CS major stereotype, and, I'm afraid that this week I may have done just that.

2. (and more importantly) to the couple of people I snapped at while I was frustrated by this assignment. I realize you meant well by asking "how's the assignment going?" or whatever, and I had no right to give you the sarcastic answers I may have given you. Sorry about that.

But enough computing! It's carnival, and I'm going to go enjoy it for whatever time I have left!

If there is a heaven, and if I make it there,

I will probably not last very long because I will keep going down hills, and eventually plop right back down on Earth.

I realized the other day that my happiest moments alone are almost invariably spent going down hills. Be it skiing or biking. (or even rollercoasting) I will probably like skydiving a ridiculous amount.

How do you convince the parents that skydiving is not dangerous? I mean, I could just go, and not tell them, but that's not the way my family works. Ultimately, I probably wouldn't go without their consent.

Speaking of families, "Thank You For Smoking" is a pretty great movie. It was the first movie I've seen in a while that I wished would keep going when it ended.

And I'm really psyched about the summer. Wish me luck on the PSLC internship; even though I haven't met anyone there or seen their offices, I bet it'd be the most fun. Or the CTAT. I got the RADAR job, but it seems a little depressing, a little too code-monkey. At any rate, I'll be in the 'burgh for sure, so sweet!

A quick jot about what's up with my life, in case you're interested:

In a week: City of Angels. It'll be good. I'll sit backstage for a long time and possibly come out with a bucket on my head.

Soon: Gadget Play. It'll be GREAT. I'll sit backstage for a while and watch Kaitlin play Adam "Atom" Atkinson With British Accent, undoubtedly marvelously; an acting performance combated only by that of Andy as Man. Oh, and the special guest.

Then: Visiting grandparents. My grandpa goes in for a biopsy tomorrow on the Cancer Part II, to see if they can do chemo. Please hope, pray, or do whatever you do for him. He's a great guy, and I don't think it's quite time for him to check out yet.

Afterwards: summer in Pittsburgh! Job leads include:
- Pittsburgh Science of Learning Center: This is the internship I want, I think. I'd work on software to help kids learn maths and stuff. That's what I'm good at, I like to think.
- Cognitive Tutor Assistance Tools (or something): This is the one I want next, I think. Work on software to help people write software to help kids learn maths and stuff. That's what I'm good at, just one level removed, which is still cool.
- Something with Prof. Hebert involving artificial intelligence: I don't know what he has available, but AI sure is cool. I'm in his class now, I'm enjoying it.
- RADAR: An algorithm for a project that's not about Radar at all. It's about scheduling. Still, it offers some kind of algorithmic challenge, which is neat.
At any rate, the summer will hopefully also include camping, skydiving, and a sweet party in Cleveland. At least. If you're going to be around and I don't know yet, let me know.

Next semester: Networks! I'm biting the bullet, taking the last class-I-will-hate, hopefully, getting the 30-hour-a-week bear out of my schedule. Hopefully I'll also be TA'ing. I mean, really, TA'ing is the most important thing to me next semester. But getting Networks out of the way will free up time for:

Later: Studying abroad! I finally found a college in Germany that at least appears to fit my needs. It's the "International University in Germany." I sent them an e-mail, I hope it works out.



Now: Same old gunk. I was ill, I think I'm mostly better. I've been feeling sluggish (what else is new?) but hopefully a return to normal patterns of eating, exercising, and sleeping will help. Got a visiting student tomorrow, should be fun. Oh, and the Seder- that should be cool too.

I feel like I'm disabled.

I need 9 hours of sleep to function properly. And probably an hour dedicated to exercise. That's 10 hours. Even discounting ridiculous people, I'd say the average student here gets 7 hours of sleep. Where are those 3 hours a day going?

Am I happy here? How can I be? I don't even have time to worry about searching for some great HAPPINESS if I'm sludging through my average day in a torpor, unenthusiastic and exhausted, looking forward to the next time I can sleep so I can feel relatively normal again? It's as if I'm swimming underwater: I can breathe every so often, when I spend $1 at Entropy for a cup of coffee, or on the rare day that I manage to sleep in. What's wrong with me? And those of you who deal with less sleep, how do you do it?!

A post from in front of the UC

Today and yesterday are superlative! I want to stand on top of Warner Hall (or better yet, on top of a 100 foot pole at a 70 degree angle) and shout to the world:

Our campus isn't worthless!

There are Good Days, and They Are Here Again!

And even, whether I believe it or not:

There is a good god in heaven, and everything is all right!

Man, nobody blogs anymore

I decided, after writing a post, to check everyone else's. Shoot. I used to get so much stupid pleasure out of reading a little jot of everyone's personal lives.

In other news... my grandpa does have more cancer. I guess he'll be in chemo. See, this is ironic, because I listed this second instead of first, even though this is clearly more important. Hey, I'm serious about those of you with superpowers sending him a big psychic goodness energy wave.

The good thing is, though, he's a hero, and he's probably just annoyed by all this. "What, cancer? Again? Geez, just get this out of the way so I can go on with my normal life." Sort of the way I hope to be when I get cancer. (I mean, everyone does nowadays, right?)

My dreams have been going nuts recently

Something like 8 over the last 4 days. Of my dreams in the past week:
6 involved old people
3 involved an airplane or helicopter
2 involved my dad and me discussing music
1 involved U2 (sigh... my NPP pr is wearing off on me)
... 4 involved my grandparents or Cincinnati (where they used to live). And then I heard that my grandpa (who had lung cancer a year ago, and is probably cured) is going in for another checkup, and he's worried because he's been having trouble recently... so send him rays of positive psychic energy, if you have a moment and incredible powers.

Umm. Things I have been reading recently:

Michael Chabon, "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh" (courtesy of Julie)- This is tricky. I am useless as a book critic, because the things I can say about this book are:
I liked it.
It reminded me of the Great Gatsby (why? because they're in a city, there are symbols, and life is tough, I guess... ?)
It was cool reading about parts of Pittsburgh- I mean, exact spots in Pittsburgh where I've been.
It used the word "phosphenes." Twice.
I couldn't relate to it. Why not? I mean, is it "because I'm not gay"? Or, because I'm not "straight but confused"? Or maybe because I've never had to make a choice between two people I loved romantically, one of whom happens to be male? And maybe because I can't see why that choice would be so tough. Oh yeah, that, and my dad isn't a mob boss, and I'm not wasting away working at a crappy bookstore, and my life doesn't get wrecked.

Ray Bradbury, "A Sound of Thunder" (courtesy of Joe)- man, Ray Bradbury is a hero. He used to be one of my favorites, then I didn't read any of his books for a while, and now I found one again. He makes great stories. I've only read the first half dozen or so. No particular favorites yet, although "The April Witch" is strangely horrifying, and "The Murderer" reaffirms my desire* to give up a lot of my possessions. I'll write a more complete review when I finish.

*said desire is, of course, a very lame middle-class desire, which means it'll never happen. speaking of middle-class:

Douglas Coupland, "Generation X" and "Life After God" (again, courtesy of Joe)- Somehow, I can relate to these more, and they're also about wasting away at dead-end jobs and your life getting wrecked. Man, they're depressing, though. It's the whole rant that I've had at certain times, where life seems to be going nowhere, and I'm just a middle-class cog in the system. And how I will live a comfortable life but ultimately end up miserable, and 50 years after I'm gone, nobody will ever know that I've lived.

"You see, when you're middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you. You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you. It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence. And because of this price, all happinesses are sterile; all sadnesses go unpitied."

I'll alert you now: Joe read that to us during WASP. I can see why Joe likes Coupland so much- the same themes, in a way, as WASP. So if you don't want to hear any more about WASP or Douglas Coupland, you can quit reading now.

Generation X is nominally a novel, but really it's just Coupland's excuse to tell stories. Among them:

An astronaut, Buck, crash-lands on a distant planet, gets a disease where he sleeps all day except for 1/2 hour. A local family cares for him. He falls in love with each of the 3 daughters (Arleen, Darleen, and Serena) in turn, telling her "The love between a man and a woman can restart my rocket. If you come with me, I can start the rocket and get back home. The catch is that there's not enough air, and you'd have to die so that I can breathe to pilot the rocket. But when we got back to my home planet, I could revive you, and we'd live happily ever after." The first 2 daughters refuse. Finally, the last daughter accepts, and they blast off.
"'You realize,' said Arleen, 'that that whole business of Buck being able to bring us back to life was total horseshit.'
"'Oh, I knew that,' said Darleen. 'But it doesn't change the fact that I feel jealous.'
"'No, it doesn't, does it?'

I don't really have much to say about that one, besides the fact that I'd probably stay on the ground, and I'd probably feel jealous.
Also, there's this:

"After you're dead and buried and floating around whatever place we go to, what's going to be your best memory of earth? What one moment for you defines what it's like to be alive on this planet? What's your takeaway? ... Fake yuppie experiences that you had to spend money on, like white water rafting or elephant rides in Thailand don't count. I want to hear some small moment from your life that proves you're really alive."

Mine? I dunno. Can't count skiing stories, I guess, although if I could, there's one that sticks in my mind. It was Thursday of the week I was skiing with my friend from high school and his family, in December 2004, and that day we were in Copper Mountain, Colorado. First run down, or maybe second, we got to a lift called Rendezvous, and there were 7 inches of fresh snow on these trails. I could go on, but basically, I was skiing, one of my best friends and his brother were skiing with me, it was fantastic. But really, that's not the one moment where I'm alive, I mean, alive with italics. It's my thing-- people always ask "what's your favorite thing to do?" and you should have an answer I guess. I dunno if that's it though. Another story from Coupland:

The world's exploding. The Bomb has finally been dropped. You hear the sirens, see all the flashing lights. You and your best friend are in a store. (There's a lot of really good exposition, and I'd love to just copy the whole story in here, but it'd be too long. Check it out on page 62-64, if you ever read the book.)
Then comes The Flash. "Get down," you shout, "There's no time!"
and so then, just before the front windows become a crinkled, liquefied imploding sheet--
and just before you're pelleted by a hail of gum and magazines-
and just before the fat man in front of you is lifted off his feet, hung in suspended animation and bursts into flames while the liquefied ceiling lifts and drips upward-
Just before all of this, your best friend cranes his neck, lurches over to where you lie, and kisses you on the mouth, after which he says to you, "There. I've always wanted to do that."
And that's that. In the silent rush of hot wind, like the opening of a trillion oven doors that you've been imagining since you were six, it's all over: kind of scary, kind of sexy, and tainted by regret. A lot like life, wouldn't you say?

And then there's Life After God which is just, straight up, a bunch of short stories. The theme is this: our parents were the first generation to be raised without the strict religious upbringing that dominated a lot of previous generations. And so a lot of them lost religion entirely. And now we are sort of the first entirely non-religious generation. Some of the stories are kind of lame- there's another bit of Bomb anxiety which is a little heavyhanded, there's a good quick story about a few fairy tale characters, and then the real world. But there's one in the middle called "Gettysburg", which just blew me away. It's about a guy whose wife and kid just left him- not because of anything bad that happened, but just because she's not in love with him anymore. Not that she doesn't love him, but she's not in love with him. Naturally, he's confused, and depressed, and at one point his mom comes over to talk to him. At one point she says that what they're going through is something common to a lot of couples, and it's one of the sad points in life. She says: (last quote, I promise!)

"First there is love, then there is disenchantment, and then there is the rest of your life."
"But what about the rest of your life? What about all the time that remains?"
"Oh- there's friendship. Or at least familiarity. And there's safety. And after that there's sleep."
I think to myself, how do any of us know that it's going to end up like this? That this is all there is maybe going to be? I say, "Oh, God."
And my mother says to me, "Honey, God is what keeps us together after the love is gone."

Geez! That's terrifying! I'm still ultimately looking for meaning in life (if you've found any, let me know!) but I thought that love, this perfect ideal of Love might eventually bring some of it. And Coupland says: Nope. It's all kind of a cruel joke- there IS nothing more than this. Even Love isn't anything special.

But contrast that with Peggy Knapp, who taught Shakespeare last semester. At one point in the class, we were doing Othello, and I think Desdemona said something about her love for Othello always growing. Othello scholars, I apologize if I got it wrong. Anyway, Prof. Knapp said, as class was ending and people were putting their books away noisily, "it IS possible to love someone more every day. I know from experience."

What does Prof. Knapp know that Coupland doesn't? What, is it just religion? (she's older, she may be very religious, I don't know) But if I think most organized religion is, to a varying degree based on the religion, hooey, how can I believe in that and find meaning in it? Or does she just have the perspective of old age that Coupland may not have yet? Or did Coupland just hit some bad luck in the world of love, and is he just bitter?

Aargh! I can't keep writing, I have work to do, so that I can become a Computer Guy and waste away into a 4-bedroom suburban castle. If you have any answers, please, let me know!

Ich bin krank

I'm sick. What a great word for "sick". German continues to amuse. Hope I can actually go there somewhere. Maybe I should be looking into that instead of frittering away my free time posting here.

Whatever. I'm going to sleep for a long time now. I haven't been sick for more than a day in a long time, and I'm not about to start now! Tomorrow, I will feel great.

I will post as often as I damn well please.

Next year: Margaret Morrison 127. Come visit! We're on campus, there's an exercise room downstairs, food trucks across the street, a covered bike rack next door. Sweet. ("we" being Gerrit, Will, Grubb, and I) Sadly, we didn't get the Roselawn house with the random dude in it. So it goes. But yeah, I'm psyched.

Three Thoughts:

1. Towards the end of high school, I compiled a list of "things never to forget about these four years of my life." It exists on one fragile sheet of notebook paper tucked into one of my old yearbooks. I should start doing the same for college.

2. To be fair, my music collection does a lot of that for me. If I've doubted the merit of being a DJ and keeping up with the latest music, if I've degraded my musical knowledge because, hell, it's just pop music, I shouldn't. Maybe it is just pop music (I'm using "pop" here in the sense of "indie/indie pop" I guess) but I like it, and it brings back memories more intensely than a photo album.

3. I actually flicked someone off today on my bike. I was biking along, obeying all traffic laws, minding my own business (and remember, the biker has the right of way!), and he honked at me, so I held out my middle finger, loud and clear, for him to see in his rearview mirror. I'm a little disappointed in myself. Any dumbass can road rage.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Natalie Dee

I'm not a web-comic-reading guy. I read Toothpaste For Dinner sometimes. And he linked to his wife, Natalie Dee's, comic, so I read some of it. And I'm not a big fan of her comic overall; it's usually pretty dumb.
But read these two:
this and this

Thank you, Natalie Dee! Someone on the internet understands!

A Bag of Rocks and a Basket of Rolls

That's what my radio show was supposed to be called this semester. Instead, they entered it into the database as "I will tell you the names of the songs that I play," just like last semester. Whatever, that's a fine name too.

Speaking of which, give it a listen, Mondays 10AM-noon. WRCT 88.3fm, or here.

But the point is: recent musical preferences!

First on the list must be Portishead. They're something else. I guess they're considered charter members of the "trip-hop" genre, whatever that means- anyway, it's moody and dark but at the same time sweet. (I actually mean "sweet", not "sweet" as in "cool") Check out their debut CD, Dummy.

Second: Architecture in Helsinki again. I may actually go ahead and buy their first CD, Fingers Crossed, because In Case We Die is still moving up the ranks of my Top N CD's ever. I dunno, it might even be #2. Anyway, speaking of sweet, this music has the perfect degree of sweetness. Just enough to be "aww..." without being cloying (which is tough, because it's a fine line).

Next is Jimi Hendrix, who is clearly a hero.

Oh! Bitter Tea by the Fiery Furnaces. Nope, it's not the next Blueberry Boat, but it's pretty good. My only complaint is that a few tracks are just kind of boring. Some I really like though- "Bitter Tea" is nice Blueberry Boat-style madness, "Oh Sweet Woods" is groovy, and "Police Sweater Blood Vow" is, to overuse a term, sweet.

And if you want a blast from your ska past, check out Keasby Nights by Catch 22. I recently found a CD from another band, basically covering this CD, but not giving any credit to Catch 22. What bags. Go download/buy the original, it's my favorite ska CD. (out of all 5 that I know)

Quick blips: Sung Tongs by Animal Collective is cool, but then there are a couple of really long songs that I just end up getting bored by. I do like Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not by the Arctic Monkeys, despite it being the most popular CD in the world and really not that extraordinary, because it sort of rocks. And have I plugged Oh You're So Silent Jens by Jens Lekman yet? Because if I haven't, I should. It's great.

About Cleveland

Sorry, no rants about the suburbs this time. At this point, I'm trying to be more grateful that my parents could afford to live somewhere safe, in a big house, and send me to nice schools as I grew up. I don't see myself living there, certainly not in the near future, but they have their good points.

And fresh air. They have that. But really, I don't feel like I need the open air that much. A crisp city street breeze and parks in the vicinity (like Schenley, or even the Cathedral lawn) are good enough for me.

I wrote this earlier today. Man, remember when I used to write creative things sometimes? Now it's all just updates. Where did that little creative burst go? I hope it returns. Anyway, here's this:

I'm currently trying to get back to Pittsburgh a day earlier, because the opportunity came up and I figure, might as well. I feel a little bad because I had originally said Friday, now it's Thursday, and my parents are sad. I guess it doesn't really matter that much, because shoot, I didn't see them much when I was home. I'd wake up ridiculously late, they'd be at work until 6 or 7, we'd eat dinner, or not, then they'd go to bed. So practically, it doesn't really matter. But still... as I left, my dad tried to take an account of everything we did, as if making it into a list would make it more permanent. "Well, Dan, it was nice having you home, thanks for cooking*, thanks for going to Wai-su-wa-shi-sa-shi**, thanks for trying to fix the computer... um... and playing ping-pong***..."

* I made chicken curry with cashews. Maybe my favorite dish that I've made so far. It's really good. I also made a "moroccan-style" meatloaf and left it with them. Hooray for trendy online recipes.

** or Daishin japanese restaurant (see previous post about sushi). My dad has this thing about calling things by their real names, in that he can't. It's easier to make up a goofy fake name than to say the real name. Sometimes saying the real name sounds too cutesy. Maybe this is because, if you take the time to get the real name of a place correct, you are showing that it was worth the effort to do so, and in a sense giving tacit approval to it. And if you call one place correctly, and not another, well, you must favor that one over the other.

*** Well. Ping-pong with Dad. We've played since I can remember. When we were young, of course, he could always wallop me if he wanted, but hey, time goes by, I get better, he stays about the same. Now I can take him usually 3 out of 4. It happens with everything, right? The kid gets older, defeats the dad. And hey, it'll happen with me someday. But the weird thing is, our attitudes have both changed.

Let me just say, my dad has a real competitive streak, and I inherited it in a big way. I was the worst loser as a kid- which was tough, because I'd usually lose sports. Games I was better at, so I was usually okay. (except when I'd, say, move my ships in Battleship. Good lord, I was a competitive kid.) But when I was winning, I was a pretty good winner. But anyway, I'd usually lose ping-pong, obviously, so sometimes I'd complain, or whine, or have a little fit. Which is clearly ridiculous, but this isn't about my little peccadilloes, it's about my dad. Maybe I'll analyze myself later.

So now I win most of the time, and so my dad has the competitiveness most of the time. He never says anything about it, but I can definitely tell- he gets a certain way that he never does at any other time. Real serious-like, not smiling, and the only words he says, usually, are the score. He starts fighting for points- his paddle hits the wall or something, and he calls for a redo; or I'll try some dumb trick shot, jokingly, and he'll count it as a real point. I give him a look like "you're kidding, right?" and say "okay, 4-2", and he'll say pedantically, "no, it's 4-3". I try to keep things lighthearted. But then I start losing, and I feel the exact same way he does.

Nothing, I think, will quite compare to

hopping in "my" car on an unseasonably warm spring day and driving from Westlake in the general direction of downtown Cleveland. There are nostalgic bits about high school, but that's a rather big one.

Before I go on, understand that "nothing compares to" doesn't mean "nothing is better than." They're just different. You don't have to rank all of your experiences in a numerical order (this is something I have yet to fully appreciate, but I'm working on it).

Point is, driving around in high school. I mean, of course, you've got the basic "OMG I have my driver's license!" sort of nonsense, and everyone gets that a little bit, and for good reason. There's some grand sort of independence there, even moreso for those of us who were lucky enough to have a car available (geez! a family of 4 with 3 cars! I've always thought that was a little excessive. But ultimately, I think it was worth it, because if you live in the suburbs, you can't get anywhere without driving.) Anyway, whenever I get in a car (granted, now it's a 2000 green Toyota Corolla, not a 1994 silver Pontiac Grand Am) and drive around, with the radio on 88.3 WBWC (which kind of sucks a lot now) I'm back in junior year, driving to my friends' houses (usually about 30-45 minutes away...), Circus Company shows, or filming my Spanish video.

Speaking of which, I have such great memories of making that Spanish video- along with Ed, Jose, and marginally Jeff- mostly Ed and Jose. We drove all over Cleveland, filming "Don Quixote en Cleveland", featuring a scene where I was "jousting" with some 20-foot high stone statues on a highway, as well as a scene where Ed walks into a McDonald's wearing a mask that looks like our Spanish teacher- it was priceless. Of course we won first prize- the $50 prize just paid for all the dumb crap we bought for it. That, and I incurred the disapproval of one of my best friends' parents by assuming we could borrow their video camera without really asking. Whatever. Of all the things I did in high school, that's one of the ones I'm most proud of.

I really expected a "nostalgia blast" entry. Course, I was waiting until I could go back and visit my high school, which I didn't get a chance to do this week (no car, etc). Oh well, enjoy this little slice of my nostalgia pie, this little peek into what's in the "good memories" section of my mind.

Things that I like, part n:

Sushi. What a great food type. I've had it I think four times in my life, and two of those were California rolls from the UC, so really it's more like twice. Once in Washington, DC, with a couple of my more cultured friends, and once last night with the family. They wanted to go out to eat, I wanted something new, they didn't, so bingo! the Japanese hibachi/sushi place it is! They get an unintimidating dinner, complete with onion volcano, and I get to explore the world of sushi a little more.

What did I order? The "sushi dinner," which is about as much a "sushi for dummies" as it sounds. 6 tuna rolls, and 8 nigiri (pieces of fish), distributed as follows: 2 tuna, 2 salmon, 1 white fish, 1 eel, 1 shrimp, 1 octopus. My thoughts? Well, I guess, obviously it's all a little basic. But that was excellent, because now I have a basis for sushi. You know how, when you get a new CD that you know nothing about, you listen to it, and it all sounds the same? Then you find two or three songs you can pick out that you like, and you know those, and they sound different from the others. Then you start to recognize the songs before and after them, and you realize that this one is the upbeat tune that kicks off the album, and this is the quiet, introspective one that is pretty unremarkable until the great bridge, and this one is just not a very good track, and etc. Creating your world by naming, categorizing, applying value judgments to things. Anyway, that's what I am starting to be able to do with sushi.

Salmon is a solid all-around player. Very tender, that nice salmony flavor (although, really, sushi salmon doesn't taste much like regular salmon). White fish is white fish, kind of bland as usual, but still a nice texture. Tuna is a little drier and firmer, I like it a little less than salmon but still a lot. Eel is the first-round draft pick all-star quarterback- clearly the standout. Shrimp, well, you know what shrimp tastes like. Octopus: is pretty tough. Kind of lame.

As for the rolls, I like them all! The best I've had was a Rainbow Roll in DC- other than that, I like them all about the same. Eel, again, is nice. (unagi, I think it's called- see, I learn the Japanese for that, and then I'll start learning a few others, and pretty soon, I'll be a sushi champ.) Also, I think we had a crunchy shrimp roll, which was nice.

And then there's the idealistic reason that I like sushi: it's the anti-white bread. Sushi is an experience, both for the chef and the eater. You don't get a whole lot of food (at least compared to the typical huge american dinner) but each bite is artfully crafted. Each bite is intense and really tasty (not just "pretty good"). Plus, it looks beautiful. I appreciate any food that has effort put into making it look good, because I am entirely superficial and probably subconsciously judge a food's taste by its appearance. And hey, it's so different from everything else that you eat, and that's cool too.

I will link to more information for the second post in a row: Sushi HOWTO
Educate yourself!

Some days I have big profound thoughts

Probably most days, really. Some days they are more memorable than others. Today:

1. Geez, the Homestead Strikers were some kind of heroes. Imagine, your job at the steel plant is beating you down, and then Andrew Carnegie cuts your pay too. You just can't take any more. You strike, get locked out, and protest a lot. And then, you're sitting there at the plant, and you see a barge come down a river, and you know it's full of Pinkerton guards with guns who are there to beat you up. And you fight anyway, and you win a huge victory for organized labor. (course, then you also shoot down a white flag and beat the junk out of the Pinkertons, I guess, so I don't know how great heroes these guys are...)
Wikipedia Article

2. I am clearly going to be a professor. That's my path, it's all planned out, I'm excited. I saw a talk by Greg Kesden today, a CS professor (whom a lot of people hate because he's pretty tough I guess), and there wasn't anything spectacular about the content of his speech, except that he talked a bit about some of his greatest professors, and I realized, someday, one of my students could be saying that about me.

That said, my plans will clearly change in the next 2 years. Probably even a year from now, when I'm in Switzerland, and my view of the world gets demolished. If not, though, look for me teaching math or CS somewhere!

3. The annoyance of carrying skis to and from campus is alleviated by the knowledge that few things are more badass than someone carrying skis on his shoulder.

4. I just realized, next time it snows big enough to cover the streets (and there are no cars out), I am going up to the top of Squirrel Hill and skiing down. That will be really sweet. Probably next year.

Why I like taking out the trash

I mean, I don't really, but it's better than most chores, because you get this amazing sense of satisfaction: once it goes down the trash chute, you never have to worry about it anymore! It's also why I like answering emails sometimes: you can just obliterate them when you're done! The problem is entirely over.

That's how I used to work in grade school, too: I get homework, I get it done, then I don't worry about it ever again. Course, now I'm a slacker like everyone else. Do you know what I mean, though- how satisfying it is to get something absolutely taken care of? It's great!

Fiery Furnaces!

Concert tonight was pretty cool. I mean, they redo every one of their songs so that they can perform them on tour- they were generally not as good as the originals, but more energy in a lot of cases.

And I got their new CD, Bitter Tea, which is not released yet.

And I met both the Friedbergers! (the 2 main members of the Fiery Furnaces) I was a little awestruck, but managed to stammer out something about how they're my favorite band in the world. I got Eleanor's autograph on the new CD. They are pretty great!

WTD: a Human Being

For example, the one inside me. Today was almost traumatic. I went to this job fair, right, the "@pgh.cafe" which is a lame name for a job fair which is a lame thing to have, but they had it, so I went.

Attending: about 30 companies that all do the same thing. I don't care about any of them. They don't particularly care about me.

Anyway, I started speaking in buzzwords: "I'd love to try something that offers some new opportunities, so that I can make a difference and see my plans in action"; "I'd like to work for a small company because it's more agile and I won't get lost in the huge corporate shuffle"; "I don't have so much experience in those languages, but I'm a fast learner, and I'd be willing to pick up whatever languages you're using"-- and I couldn't stop! I was thinking "Okay, now I'm going to actually talk like myself, because I don't really need this job anyway, what can I lose by just being entirely honest?" AND I COULDN'T! I couldn't force myself to drop all the corporate nicey-nice-speak and tell shit like it really is!

So then I decided to go out and destroy some social conventions. This week at NPP workshop, Gerrit gave us a homework assignment: start a conversation with a stranger and lose. A la fight club, right? So I was going to do just that. I was also going to be a hype man (a la rappers) to a person in a random conversation. Just generally do whatever I felt like. And here's what happened- I walked through Oakland, and pretty much said nothing. I tried to pick out only the easiest targets- mostly white males about my age, or maybe older. The idea here is to minimize the creepiness. I had a few encounters:

Me: Do you have the time? (I clearly knew the time already)
Guy: Yeah, it's 5:25
Me: Okay, thanks.
Guy: (pointing to a parking meter prepay station thing) Wonder what these are...
Me: Parking meter stations, I guess.
Guy: I never saw them before.
Me: Yeah, me neither. Just never noticed them, I guess.
Guy: (crosses street)

Me: (hands empty plastic bottle to guy walking past) Here.
Guy: (recoils as if I were pointing a knife at him instead of a bottle... but then pauses and takes it)
Me: Thanks.

Me: (with a rock in my pocket) Hey, what are you listening to?
Guy: Ehh, I'm just cycling through stuff.
Me: (setting up a pun) Well... do you wanna rock?
Guy: (backs away) uhh, no thanks.
Me: Haha, because I've got a rock, see?
Guy: (leaves quickly)
Me: (realizes that "do you wanna rock" could probably be interpreted in many ways, most of them probably creepy, and cringes)

Me: Do you have the time?
Guy: It's 5:40.
Me: Thanks.

And a couple more. The point is, I lose. The other point is, almost everything you can possibly say or do is creepy. The other point is, why was it so hard to initiate conversations with strangers? I mean, it was really hard. Give it a try, maybe, I challenge you. Granted, it'd probably be easier on the CMU campus- less creepy. But still... what's so hard about it? Why can I only talk in buzzwords? Why can I not just talk to random people?

I have to go do laundry before the security guard locks the room!

AAAAAAaaaa!

God damn! I was just job searching, and I ran into a few old friends. Specifically, these old friends:

Only this time, they weren't at Hyland Software Inc, like before. Shit! I already got kung-fued by these thugs for reading my email at work last year! And I'm going to go through that all for another summer?

And yet, the world keeps spinning. As it always does. It's sped up recently. Can someone slow it down a bit? I'm getting a little woozy.

Still living!

I've been thinking about deleting this. If I have to post just to post, then the blog is becoming another burden on my time, and has outlived its purpose. I'll try to make an interesting post by plotting my day on a verbal line graph.

Morning: Pretty low. I was able to convince myself that I wasn't tired, even though I got like 6 hours of sleep, because of a 2-hour nap yesterday. You get the most deep sleep in the first couple hours of any sleep, so 2 great hours + 6 great hours = better than a normal 8 hour sleep. I think I had a Cafe Tasse (check this out: warm milk + instant coffee = crazy delicious!)

Mid-morning: stared at a damn computer for 3 hours. I was broken. Defeated. I was going to be late on another assignment, continuing the snowball effect that is my, and everyone else here's, life. And in doing so, I would resign myself to working instead of improving myself, toiling away on soon-forgotten homeworks instead of relishing the joy of my ever-waning youth. Tried to listen to music, but everything annoyed me. Tried not listening to music, but the teacher teaching some class about Excel annoyed me. Left a little early, just before getting part 1 of a 4-part assignment.

1:00: went to Entropy to get a snack and coffee. Ran into Bill, who is a year above me, whom I've known since high school, who hooked me up with recommendations to Hyland last year and Microsoft this year. He's really good at CS. Talked about jobs and classes, as usual, a pretty low-level conversation, but got me energized anyway. Hey, by the way, if I ever take a job where I just sit at a computer all day, come slap some sense in to me. Talking to people makes me feel good... programming doesn't.

After class: Bike Time! Hopped on Fifth and went as far as I could, or until I hit Frankstown road, which is when I started getting into Larimer or whatever that area is. Went North to Highland Park, came back via Negley, and went grocery shopping. I was a hero. Screw the homework, I was riding my bike, and life was great. And then I was grocery shopping, and life was still great.

Oh my geez... I was going to continue but I realized this was a "here's what happened today" kind of post, which is lame, so I'm quitting. When something else happens, I'll let you know.

Oh, PS. I got my assignment done.
PPS. I got cut from Microsoft too. They don't want me- whatever. I'm not entirely sure I wanted them. Hey, maybe I can work here in Pittsburgh over the summer!
PPPS. I'm writing for the Carnegie Pulse now too.

I guess consumerism's evil, but it makes me feel great

Bought:
One hat- I found a hat! It's great! It's made by a company called "Country Gentleman." Half wool- better than nothing. It only cost $7, so its dapper to dollars ratio is abour 5.5. (It has 38.5 dapper.)

Tkemaly sauce and Finn Crisps- from the "Ethnic Foods" store on Murray on the way to the Waterfront. Nice.

Whole wheat couscous and a packet of some weird protein shake drink that scares me a little bit- from the natural foods (read: a few organic things and a LOT of unnecessary supplements) store. Nice? Well, I do enjoy couscous.

A LOT OF GREAT FOOD from the GIANT EAGLE ON CENTER AND NAGLEY- which is GREAT, especially compared to the Ghetto Giant Eagle, which is now closed. It looks like a whole foods. They have a fish counter and everything. They sell whole wheat pasta. I'm used to this noise in the suburbs- it's not supposed to be that nice here!

Rock! Cooked me some tofu and spinach, which was very tasty. Got in a lot of bike riding. ... and now it's 10:00. Well, whatever. This is how life should be.

What does this even mean?

A certain company, which I will only refer to as "M.S.", described themselves on the EOC website in this way:

"Strategic partners to our business units, M.S.'s Information Technologists redefine the way we do business worldwide. Technology enables the Firm to win clients who understand the competitive advantage that our applications and infrastructure can bring to their businesses. Our people, values and the technology of M.S. continues to establish the Firm as the industry leader in e-commerce, object oriented software engineering, sophisticated global trading systems, worldwide securities transactions processing, risk management systems and models supporting derivative trading."

Look: "Morgan Stanley is a finance company." MINUS 71 WORDS ! (pronounced "Minus 71 words pause for emphasis BANG")

Dilbert* et al have poked fun at corporatespeak enough for it to be meaningless to make fun of. But this is a pretty crystal-clear example. I want to memorize this putrid paragraph. So that when someone asks me why I fear the business world, I can recite it.

(okay, fine, it's Morgan Stanley. If I were you, and I had a peanut allergy, I'd avoid them like a jar of Jif)

*which is no longer funny

Go Steelers... 'nat

Rock on. They won the Super Bowl. Way to go, dudes.

The NFL is completely arbitrary. A few guys (supposedly the best in the world, but where's the guarantee of that?) play some football, win something like 16 games, and then we all go nuts! Yeahhh!

Yeah, it's arbitrary. But still, it's a system of goals and rewards in which a whole city can unite behind a common cause- two complete strangers are on the street, and they could easily just greet each other and say "Go Steelers!" and start talking football, and hey, they're friends. We win the Super Bowl, and the whole Oakland area and two whole colleges go hang around out in the street. Sixty guys (or however many) are instantly turned into heroes. Hey, it's great.

Tonight was great:

- laughed harder than I've laughed in a long long time. We played Sardines in our apartment. Grubb hid under Joe's mattress. It was ri-god-damn-diculous.

- more importantly, did some great (note the bold font) improv. the show was pretty good, it had its high points, but afterwards we just did some scenes- me, beej, julie, will, and tom pike. we'd do a scene and talk about it a lot. it was fantastic. the sort of thing that, if you weren't there, me telling you about it doesn't really help you much. but, as this blog is as much for me remembering stuff later as it is for throwing up my thoughts for the whole world to see, i want to make a note of it.

It could be worse... I could have gotten stabbed in the eye

Not too great a day today. I felt two strong emotions, which was kind of nice because it brought me out of a rut, a little bit, but not really, because those emotions were anger and disappointment.

First, the anger. Webster Hall locks the laundry rooms after 11:00pm. If your clothes are in there, they say, get them out tomorrow morning. Never mind that a night of wet clothes wadded up in a washing machine is very bad. Anyway, it took a lot of hassle and persuasion of Rusty (the name of our security guard, we think) to get the door open. That still left me with wet clothes. So I put them all around the apartment on the floor to dry out. Sigh. It made me really mad; madder than I should have been. Bureaucracy, etc. I'll complain and stuff, but really, it just made me mad- because why the hell should they lock our laundry room?

Next, and this is the biggie, the disappointment. I tried to give blood today. This was going to be a big deal- today would be the day that I conquered my fear of needles! Turns out that before you give the blood, you have to get a finger-prick blood test. Turns out that that test involves squeezing a few drops of blood out of this miniscule prick. Turns out I just can't conceptually handle that.

I hyperventilated a little, got lightheaded, and they took me in the wheelchair over to the rest bed. I was a bit of a wreck. I was expecting a shot: like they say, you feel a little pinch in the arm, then you sit there for 10 minutes and you're done! Easily done, I save a few lives, and I prove that I can do anything. But the finger-prick test is worse. Squeezing blood out of a pin-hole- I mean, I'm getting queasy as I write this. I remember getting a little weak in the limbs while sitting on the rest table, I remember asking for water (and getting a Sprite; bad call, Red Cross, that'll dehydrate you!), but mostly I remember crying.

I haven't cried for a while. Three months? Shit! It was probably for something just as minor that time too. And cliche cliche trite trite, but it felt a little bit good. Here's how my thoughts went: I blew it. I'm not going to be able to give blood now. ... damn. I can't just get this over with. Moreover, though: I am not the amazing dude that I thought I was. I can't just waltz in and demolish a phobia, I guess. I looked at myself, right into my deepest fears, confronted them...

This is not the story of the guy who takes swimming lessons to get over his fear of the water. This is not the girl who is terrified of fire until she has to rescue her baby brother, and she brings him out of the burning building into her parents' eternally grateful arms. This isn't even the guy who finally works up the courage to ask out that cute girl he has a crush on. And that's the thing: I thought I was that guy... evidently not. That was the most crushing part- I have these fears, and I'm not the hero. I cried for a bit.

Fuck all, I wanted to be a lot more eloquent here. Suffice it to say that I felt really despairing around 5:35 today. It felt a little good, and I wanted to just wallow in some self pity. Then, later on, I decided, what's the point of that? At least I tried, and I'll just try again next Bloodmobile. The Strong Man wouldn't take no for an answer; moreover, to wallow in self pity is self-indulgent and obnoxious. Don't be that guy who everyone has to feel sorry for.

And that's how I feel now. Which one is the real me, though? Am I the Strong Man, and that was just a bout of insanity brought on by a psychosomatic fear over which I have no control? Am I the brooding Feeling Man who cannot face his fears, but who can face the fact that he cannot face his fears? (you'll notice I've avoided the term "emo" here- that has negative connotations. It's not "emo" I'm talking about here, but just the kind of person that everyone loves for being lower status)

So I'm wondering who I am. I think, ultimately, I'm not the tough guy type who is a "winner" in all senses of the word, I'm not the guy who takes some bad beats and whom everyone pities; I'm the guy who can see both sides of me and understand them, I guess. I'm not skillful enough and I'm too self-analyzing to be the tough guy- I can't win at everything, and I admit that. And I'm too successful to be the lovable loser; in a lot of ways (like trying to give blood), I'm a pretty sweet dude! ... ultimately, I guess the "middle path" that I'm trying to walk is the ideal. Go Buddhists, go Greeks.

Do you know what a jitney is? or, Tonight, I am a racist, or, 30 Pabst for me, please!

This story isn't as good as the Sufjanesque title that I gave it.

I get off my Greyhound bus and went to look for a cab. They had all just left. So a black guy says "Hey, you looking for a cab?" I say yeah, he says come with me. So I follow him into the parking lot, expecting to be taken to a cab. Nope! It's a regular car. I'm a little apprehensive of getting into a car with an entire stranger, so I tell him I'll just wait for a cab. He says okay, looking a little defeated, and I leave. On the way back to the building, another guy asks if I need a ride. I say "Do you drive a cab?" and he says "I'm a jitney, I drive a cab part time." Me: "Do you have a license?" Him: "Yeah."

It dawns on me, this is a regular thing. Not every cab driver has a big yellow cab. And I'm going to get a ride from this white guy, and the black guy sees me, and he probably thinks I'm a giant racist.

Anyway, this cabbie is a nice guy. His name's Ray, we talk about football and stuff, the usual. He's an older guy, single, and drives a lot; one night, he was telling me, someone gets off the bus and asks him for a ride to New York City. Hey, it's good pay for a day's drive! (of course, he drove up and back in a night. Got home around 7 or 8 AM)

As I'm heading out, he says "You going to be watching the game?" I say yeah, he says, "Yeah, I am too. I'll probably drink a six-pack. Course, back when I was your age, I'd probably drink a case or two!"

Side note: unless something unforeseen happens, I am giving blood on Tuesday! Those of you who know me well know that I have two big phobias: needles and bugs, with needles being the bigger of the two. Well, you get over your fear of heights by riding roller coasters, right? Wish me luck!

More Cooking!

Tonight: another bag of vegetables, a batch of whole wheat bread, and some chicken curry. Damn. Doesn't sound like so much, but it took a long time! It's the baking that does it; baking is difficult. Especially when you don't have an electric mixer.

Cooking: another arbitrary system of goals that I set up for myself. And it feels good when I complete them. Complete happiness, costing only a couple hours and the price of groceries.

Also note: the Indian grocery store (Kohl's) on Craig Street ROCKS A LOT. You can get spices there (granted, not all spices; but everything Indian, such as cumin and cilantro, which I needed today) for a lot cheaper than Giant Eagle. Giant Eagle = what a ripoff. Also, they have some fresh hot things like Samosas (a fried thing with potato-pea mash inside) which are evidently really good! Check the place out, it rocks a little more than Seoul Mart.

My culinary output tonight was extensive

Okay, so I made 4 bagels, a batch of tabbouleh, a bag of vegetables, and a bunch of roasted garlic. Not really that extensive. Unless you consider that bagels evidently take two and a half hours (half hour to make/knead the dough, half hour to rise, half hour to rise again, few minutes to boil, half hour to cook, plus the "magic of cooking" makes everything take longer)

Man, my output today as a human was extensive:
- went to 4 classes, enjoyed 2 of them (business and german) and paid attention well in all 4 (incl. programming and AI)
- enjoyed the gyros and grape leaves from the trucks. You can get grape leaves for 25c each! What a deal! And so delicious!
- made a "table" for NPP w/ Grubb
- went to the whole darn activities fair, mostly pushing NPP
- lifted weights
- went to music staff at WRCT (labeled new CDs for a couple hours)
- came home and cooked all of the aforementioned items.

I feel like I justified my existence today. Rock on!

edit: the bagels are complete. they are four. they are really big, and they are delicious. time well spent, I say.
also, this

Two things I learned today

1. This fleecey synthetic vest that I have, that I got for Christmas from The Backpacker's Shop in Sheffield, Ohio, and which is therefore very very overpriced but very good quality, actually is good quality. It is so warm. Rapidly rising on my list of "favorite clothing items" (said list is clearly very extensive.)

2. I'm all for forgiveness, and love-thy-neighbor, and avoid-road-rage, and being nice in general; but if you honk at bikers, or try to run them off the road, or otherwise menace them, you're pretty much the biggest piece of shit ever. Okay, I didn't learn this today, I already knew it.

If you could be any animal, what would you be?

I have 2 finalists:

1. Mountain lion (or puma, if you will)- he doesn't take crap from anyone. He is very fast, doesn't have to worry about being eaten, and isn't just some member of a pack. He is himself. Plus, they live on a mountain.

2. Dolphin- well, they're smart, obviously. But they're also sleek and they shoot through water like it's nobody's business. "But they're in the ocean," you say, "that's boring, no?" No! It looks boring to us, but that's just because we can't see all the cool stuff that's really there. Plus, there's so much more ocean than land on earth. They live in packs, (right?) but they're still smart enough to be individual. Like humans, I guess. Social but individual.

Some kind of bird of prey might be cool too. But that's trite. Everyone is that. Course, mountain lion is trite too. Whatever.

Adding an example to the previous post

For increased clarity.

So we all create these little systems to give ourselves rewards. It's almost like we're rats in a maze, but we create the maze, and we decide how much cheese we get at the end (corresponding to the difficulty of the maze). You could say your life goal is to climb Mount Everest, and that takes a lot of time, but then you've climbed Mt. Everest and you feel like "Man, I'm amazing!"

And here's an example that relates to my life a lot: I love skiing. If you've been around me for a while or seen my apartment wall (plastered with ski maps) you probably know that. So it's kind of become a life goal for me to ski as much as possible. I mean, someone asks if you had a million dollars, what would you do? and my stock answer has always been "Go skiing a lot! And then donate some and invest some, etc" - it gives me something to say to answer that question.

More than that, though, it gives me a way to experience a reward. I know that, when I'm skiing, I'm doing a good thing, not in the traditional sense of "doing a good deed" but in the sense of "it's making me happy." I know that I'm not missing out on something, because, when I'm skiing, what else would I rather be doing? Nothing! I'd rather be skiing! And it's pretty easy for me to experience this: just get out to a mountain and buy a lift ticket. Infinite gratification for $39/day!

And I wonder, is this worth pursuing? Clearly not as my ultimate life goal, but as a goal in general, it seems pretty good. I can ski for a long time, (into my late 70's if I'm badass like my grandparents) and every time I do it, I get better and skiing gets more fun. It's an arbitrary system of goodness and an arbitrary way to live, but hey, aren't they all?

"I told you so!" say the Catholic priests

Back in high school, everything was easy. You believe in Catholicism, you do good things, you go to mass on Sunday, you go to heaven. I mean, I didn't believe in Catholicism, but it was still out there as a Worldly Goal. I could still get a spot in heaven if I did good things for God (whatever God I believed in) and other people. And they (the catholics) warned me, they said, a lot of people go off to college and think they don't need God, and then they find their lives to be meaningless.

And I did, and I do. I mean, to an extent; I've sort of given up on God and I sort of feel like life is meaningless. I'd given up on God before, but I had always put Love up there as his replacement. I figure, have good relationships with friends and family, and that's what life is all about. That's the ultimate goal, if you will. But really, that's just another manufactured goal, it seems.

Before I forget, half of this post is Tim's thoughts, so I credit him here.

I mean, if you're a caveman, your need is to find food. Basic survival. But then if you are a modern man, you don't need basic survival anymore. So you move on, your needs become "a lot of money and a big house" so you work your ass off at your cubicle job. Whatever level you're at, you will create more needs for yourself. And here's where Catholicism or any other religion comes in: they give you a goal. You can say "I'm working towards the ultimate goal here- getting to heaven!" and then you can do whatever. It's just one of many goals you can put in front of yourself, I guess.

So, given that there is no meaning to life besides what you create for yourself, what do you do? I guess you say that the goal you're creating is whatever makes you happiest, which (for me anyway) I guess is Love again.

Umm. I'm not being the most coherent now. But overall the train of thought is very despairful. I guess it leaves me at the same place I was before, in that I'm going to put friends and family first, and I'll love a lot of people, and life will be meaningful because I'll be having fun with people I love. The difference is that "meaningful" now will mean "I'm enjoying it" rather than "this is good in and of itself." It's kind of solipsist (is that right?) and overall it seems not a great thought. But it's kind of what I'm thinking now.

The priests told me I'd lose all my direction in life, and hey, I did. But I'm not going to go back to Christianity, because that's another arbitrary goal, and it doesn't make me as happy as Love.

Ever write more than $6600 of checks in a single day?

I just did! Paid my parents back for the ski trip and sent a bunch of money to be deposited in a Roth IRA and a mutual funds account. What?! I thought I had to, uh, have a job to do that, or something. I can see my 5-bedroom suburban house, luxury SUV, and plasma TV now. Well hey, it beats sitting in a bank. Actually, it's kind of great. Putting money in a retirement account (I can also withdraw the money if I want to buy a house) is about the most badass thing I can be doing, I think. And if you disagree, we can fight, and you can beat me up, but then when I retire, I'll use my millions to shoot an inter-continental ballistic missile at your house. Even if you live in the US.

I'll trade my shirt for your pants

A Great Idea:

So I'm reading the newspaper, and some lady mentions she was at a "clothing swap." I had never heard the term, but presumably, it's an event where you bring a bunch of clothes you're tired of, and everyone trades some clothes. (am I right, fashion-conscious folks?)

But how about this idea: You don't bring any extra clothes. You just trade what you have on. Furthermore, you may not leave wearing anything you came in with. (okay, your underwear's fine, i mean, otherwise that's kinda gross) But wouldn't that be more fun?

A further variation if you're feeling really crazy: all trades are mandatory.

My adventures with the 12 hour flu

1:30pm- Wake up, feeling pretty good.
2:00pm- Eat some eggs and pancakes, suspect that I ate too much
2:30pm- Lying on the couch, stomach hurts
3:30pm- Cold. Climb into bed.
4:00pm- Really cold! Wearing a fleece, jeans, and socks. Fitfully falling in and out of sleep.
6:00pm- Hot! Now wearing T-shirt and shorts. Still sort of in and out of consciousness.
9:30pm- Wake up, take temperature, it's 102.3. Take some Tylenol.
11:00pm- Wake up, feeling a bit better, read a bit, back to sleep.
7:00am- Wake up. Back to sleep.
2:00pm- Wake up. Feel fine, no fever.

So there you go, nothing that an astronomical amount of sleep won't fix. It was almost kind of funny- of all times in the last 2 years to get sick, this was the single best one. Hell, I had nothing better to do. Might as well get sick for a day. At any rate, I think I'm all better now.

The sort of thing you'd expect to happen in a gondola, in a movie

I tossed my skis in the rack on the side of the gondola and climbed in, the seventh one into an eight person car. I was in the singles line, I think the first six were from the regular group line. Fair enough- I waited in line for about 30 seconds, they probably waited 15 minutes. Their loss.

There was the usual semi-chaos that accompanies loading a gondola. It's really not that hard, but still, you have to get 8 people plus skis into a car before it shoots up the mountain. It's mostly calm, but there's always a little hustle and bustle. Eventually we're on the way up, I'm looking out the little part of the window that opens. I think to start the usual lift-ride chitchat, but I delay, and then it becomes too late to start the small talk. You can't go halfway up the hill and then say "nice day today, eh?" (The idea of idle banter while going up the lift might sound lame. Really, it's not. I mean, usually I basically grill people for info. Is it supposed to snow tomorrow? Where else is good to ski around here? What trails have the best snow? etc. It's useful, and then you feel like you've made a friend for a few minutes. It's the kind of thing that real badass skiers would probably do all the time. No, not the skiers who are doing 720's in the half-pipe- they're hoodlums, not badasses. I mean the maybe 35 year old skiers who are going off-piste into the backcountry, hunting far and wide for fresh powder, that kind of badass.)

Anyway, I'm saved from my chat-or-not dilemma by the other six starting up a little dialogue among themselves. Fine. I didn't really feel like talking anyway. For probably the first time, I glance straight across the gondola, at passenger #8, and then we both quickly look away because we just accidentally made eye contact, and when that happens, you have to look away. But I couldn't help but wonder, as I studied the mountain out the window again while really looking through my peripheral vision, who she was.

Here we have a description of a girl who particularly caught my eye. You can skip this paragraph if you want; it's only a list of qualities. Most are undoubtedly unoriginal- if I had a pretzel crumb for every ignorant git who described a girl in a lot of trite words, I could make the pie crust that I made tonight. If I had a milliliter of pudding for each amateur who used "beautiful" a lot in such a description, I could make the pie filling and have enough left over to make up for Killington's lack of snow by covering the mountain in pudding. Anyway, since you've tossed me an "attaboy" by continuing to read, I'll try to hold up my end of the bargain by avoiding pie ingredients altogether. Light blue. That's the first color that jumps into my mind- I guess that's obvious, because she was wearing a light blue coat. Her hat was blue too- that's fair. Her ski clothes happen to match, that's cool. Hell, all mine do. I'm like Gothy McGotherson on that mountain, black like Slipknot. But this isn't about me. And of course her hair was blonde and straight. Consciously, I say I like brown hair. I always fall for blondes though. Am I deluding myself? Hard to say, not a large enough sample size. But really, enough about me! Anyway. She was good-looking, sure, but not remarkably good looking, and that was probably the most remarkable thing about her. Given an attractive snowboarder (did I mention she was carrying a snowboard?), I'd expect her to be aggressively attractive. Just on average- the stereotypical female snowboarder, in my mind, is a polished sort of beautiful, and will kick your ass in the terrain park. Passenger #8 wasn't and wouldn't. She was too attractive to be younger than me and too innocent to be older.

And who was she, anyway? Why was she riding the gondola silently and alone? It's possible she was just in the singles line to speed up the wait, but as I found out when we got to the top, she was boarding on her own. Was she just here with her friends and taking some time by herself, like me? Was she here with family, even? Was she a local, up for the day? Couldn't be- she didn't look comfortable enough with being here.

At this point, the six started talking about poker. Someone suggested calling someone else to play poker after skiing. Someone else mentioned that he had brought chips. And then the poker stories came out. (let me say that, in general, your poker story is not interesting.) "Man, I lost half my chips the other night, I had two pair and he made a full house!" "That sucks. One time I had nothing on the flop, and I made a set on the river, and beat the guy with two pair." "And then, the next hand, I had jack-2, and I folded, and the flop was jack, jack, 2." (and let me say that, in particular, THIS poker story is not interesting. You folded your shitty hand, you made the correct play, don't whine about it. I'm going to reiterate: this is NOT an interesting story.) Anyway, about the six: most of them snowboarded, they were all quintessential thugs. Their stories got more Neanderthal until I felt like they had their own little car, and passenger #8 and I were floating out in space alongside.

And yet, passenger #8 and I were in separate cars too. From time to time, I'd stop looking out the window, to catch another glimpse of her- I wanted to remember what she looked like. But of course, I only saw her in the big panoramic swoops that my eyes took, making eye contact with three of the six as much as her, as if every other spot in my field of vision would get jealous if my eyes were spending any extra time in her direction. I don't think we even made eye contact again for about six minutes. That's three fourths of an eight minute gondola ride.

But when the stories turned to boasts of drunkenness that were made to seem like they weren't boasts, but they clearly were, our eyes finally met for the first time since that first second in which we tried not to acknowledge each other's existence. They stayed locked for probably four seconds. How many facial expressions can be conveyed, how much information can you possibly say, in four seconds of subtle eye movements? Evidently it's more than either of us knew. For me, it was a glance to the side, a furrowed brow that indicated disgust at the six and the culture that they represent, a half second of straight faced eye contact, a mischievous half grin and a glance out the window, a quick eyebrow raise, and a full second of smiling eye contact, broken off quickly as if one of the six would notice or care. I couldn't replicate the expressions her eyes made if I tried, but I know it ended with the same grin.

The moment passed, and the gondola arrived at the top of the mountain. As I had the quicker route outside, I stepped out, deftly grabbed my skis, lumbered over to the mountain and put them on. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could, because I knew she could walk down the stairs and put her snowboard on faster than I could get my skis on. I took the most obscure trail down- I couldn't even tell you the name, because nobody skis on it. But it was a long groomer, and I was flying down it. And, of course, because my life is a movie, I turned my head, and she was right behind me. We completed our fifth second of eye contact ever. At that point, I was skiing faster than I had ever skied, on any hill, ever. I pulled up a bit, let her get ahead of me, and quickly dialed my friends to say I was skiing through lunch. That's believable; I'm a nut. If the mountain stayed open all day and all night and I told them I was skiing 72 hours straight, they'd believe me. I completed the phone call and put my phone back in my pocket, pulled into a tuck, which turned into a sit-down, and I pulled up even with her, and then passed her again.

You take it from there.

---

At a certain point, the above story changes from fact into fiction. You get three guesses as to when, and the first two don't count.

Dreams or nightmares?

No, seriously. Some people like nightmares better because then you wake up and they're over, and life is so much easier/nicer by comparison.

Today I had a dream that was so great, that after I woke up, after the initial shock, I was furious at my subconscious. If you're a subconscious mind, you don't let someone dream a dream that good and then immediately wake up! You just don't!

All the same, I vote dreams. You don't gain anything by having a bad experience and then realizing it was all a dream. And it's nice while it lasts.

In real news, we had a ski trip, and it was sublime. I really enjoyed Killington, there were few crowds, we got to ski all 21 hours that we planned to ski, the weather was as good as it could have been without snowing (the snow was a bit rough. god damn, life is such a tragedy, isn't it?), and the company was excellent. I mean Beej, Mike, Rob, Erika, and Jared, not the company that owns Killington, although they weren't bad either.

I felt so healthy. It was great. There's something very satisfying about skiing like hell as long as you possibly can, then collapsing, eating a bunch, sleeping a bunch, and doing it all the next day. We cooked our own food because we are too sweet to let the restaurants devour all of our money. We made the trip in under $350 each, all things included. I took a lesson, I think I learned a bunch, Jared and I skied the whole mountain, I felt really confident on my skis. I feel like I've done something pretty good already this year, and it's only January 7.

New Year's Resolutions. I feel like there's nothing wrong with these. In Fight Club, I think the narrator makes a comment like "Self-improvement is masturbation. Self-destruction is where it's at." Couldn't be farther from the truth, in my mind. So New Year's Resolutions are good.

Mine may be posted soon. But my first one will be something to the effect of "cut the crap." I don't need to check my email every 15 minutes, I don't need to eat Frosted Mini-Wheats just because I'm bored, I don't need to force myself to do something that I don't want to do, need to do, or have anything to gain by doing. Quitting Lambda Sigma was a step in the right direction; removing the links on this blog so I don't check them every day was another good one (although I'll still check them every so often- it's good to know what people are thinking, or at least what they want me to think they're thinking); deleting all computer games on this machine will be too. I want to pare my life down to the essentials, and at the same time, improve myself to make myself and others around me happier. Maybe more about this later too.

My New Year's Eve was pretty sweet

Well. How did you folks spend your new year's? You Pittsburghers were probably partying like silly at the Il Valletto house/Crimes of Fashion house/4626 Forbes/That house with the roofs/Just this place, you know? That sounds like fun, wish I could have been there.

But on the opposite end of the spectrum (That's not true; the opposite end of the spectrum would probably be working in a rice paddy) but somewhere along the spectrum, I had a pretty excellent New Year's myself.

So I meet up with my friends Erik, Dan, (two of my best friends since second grade) and Dan's girlfriend Julie (who is pretty cool too). We go to this Hibachi restaurant, where they cook the food in front of you. The walls were covered with framed pictures that had been wrapped up so they looked like Christmas presents. But hey, you go to one of these places for the show, right? Sadly, they were running low on cooks, so I think we got the new guy. He broke both eggs when he was flipping them, flubbed the onion volcano (unless the "volcano" is just supposed to be an onion tower engulfed in flames), and switched up a couple of orders. Whatever. I felt bad for the guy, because I know what it's like to be doing a show and dropping a lot.

I also felt bad for the guy because we expected more. You go to a Mexican restaurant, they bring you Mexican food. You go to a Thai restaurant, they bring you Thai food. But if you go to a Japanese restaurant, dammit, they better be either serving sushi or delivering a Hibachi performance. Come on, he's not juggling his cooking utensils? He's not throwing around flame and chopping up vegetables rhythmically? (by the way, it must be a "he", and he must speak broken English) Wait, why didn't he do the bit where he flips shrimp into your mouth? All in all, it's very Ugly-American to distill an entire cuisine into a necessary dinner theatre. What about the Japanese chefs who just want to cook?

Well, at any rate, maybe I should save this concern for the Japanese chefs. What do I know- maybe they all like the performance cooking. And if not, I'm sure there are some (probably expensive) Japanese places that don't do the whole charade. And hey, the food was very good, even if I did get a stomachache afterward (hopefully just from eating too much)

Cuisine integrity concerns aside, we moved on to the jazz show. It was at the Bop Stop, near West 25th on Detroit. We estimated before we got there that we'd be at most 1/2 the age of everyone else there. We were wrong- more like 1/3. I mean, when we walked in, the average age dropped about 7 years- we were clearly the youngest folks there. (Except for the performers' kids, who showed up about halfway through) I would not be surprised if multiple other people, at some point during the night, looked over at us and said something to the effect of: "Ahh, youth. Remember those splendid aromatic nights during the postwar hedonism where we'd cavort among the fastidious streets of our hometown, displacing melancholy and ushering in freewheeling snappiness? Those triumphant young people, so nattily dressed and resplendently frolicsome, are assuredly enjoying the grapplingly fragile trappings of youth, post-haste."

Or whatever it is that old people say, in their charming "I've been there" way, when they see young people having fun.

The jazz was pretty neat- I found myself actually appreciating it sometimes. The problem is, it's such a barrage- there's always the bassist doing one thing and the piano player doing another, and then the vibraphone or the guitar or the sax starts in and you don't even know which way you're going anymore. Ever been to a rock concert of a band you don't know? It all sounds the same, right? It was a little like that. Cool though.

So about the age thing, uhh, there was a "champagne toast" included at midnight. We thought, there's no way we'd get carded, right? I think the last time they carded anyone was 1972. And that was when one of the performers' four-year-old kids was hanging around and asked for some wine, and the waitress smiled and sweetly asked for his ID, and he looked confused, and all the adults around thought it was so cute. Uhh... so they asked us for ID when bringing out the champagne. And of course we just said we weren't 21 (except Dan), and they brought only him a little bottle of champagne. It was ridiculous. The worst was Julie: she turns 21 on January 11 or something. I said she should have just given the waitress her ID:

Waitress: Do you all have ID?
(Dan and Julie hand her their driver's licenses, Erik and I politely say we're not 21)
Waitress: I'm sorry, ma'am.
Julie: (doesn't say anything)
Waitress: You're not 21 yet.
Julie: (stares at her, still silent. Makes no move to take her driver's license back)
Waitress: ...So, we can't bring you any champagne. ... even though your birthday's in 11 days.
Julie and waitress: (awkward silence)
a few seconds pass
Erik and I: (join in the awkward silence)

I think time itself might have unraveled right there because it couldn't take such an awkward silence. Sadly, none of us is gutsy or mean enough to do that. Point is, again, arbitrary barriers. The kind of kids who spend their New Year's watching jazz are NOT the kind of kids you have to worry about!

However, we win 23595 cool points for spending our New Year's watching jazz! I mean, how excellent is that? For being the youngest people there and not caring, for being able to joke about things such as this guy's green suit (quoth Erik, "At what point in your life do you decide, 'Now is the time to purchase a green suit'?"), for trying something different for this holiday, I propose, to us, a toast!

of Meier's Sparkling White Grape Juice.

One of my friends didn't take a computer back to school with him

I mean, he had a computer, he just didn't take it with him. He says he gained so much free time, because he doesn't waste time mucking around on it, and he loves it. Granted, he's more hardcore than I, but it's an interesting idea. The problem is my damn major, and if I didn't have a computer, I'd have to be in the cluster a lot more. That's not too good. Point is, it's a neat idea.

In other news, I had a great Christmas, and I'm sure you all did too- if you didn't, and I ask you "how was your Christmas?" as I'm sure I'll do when I get back- I'm not very creative- I expect you to tell me that it wasn't too good. Really, I care, I'm not just making small talk. And if I am just making small talk, then slap me or something, because small talk is for suckas.

What if I made better small talk? What if, instead of "Hey, how's it going?" it was "Hey. If you couldn't be your current religion (or lack thereof), what would you be?" or "Hey, what's your favorite city that you've ever visited?" or "Hey. Would you rather know that you screwed up something huge in your life and you could have done better, or that you were just mucked in the first place?" or "Hey, who's the second-last person that you've talked to?" or "Hey. Arms or kicker?"

It's another neat idea. Might throw some people off. Might make life a bit more interesting. Might make me bizarre and intolerable. If so, I'll quit.

Ski trip status: Booked, confirmed, ready to go!

It's taking a lot of effort not to put a lot of exclamation marks in this post.

What am I trying to do here?

After reading previous post a few times, it strikes me that it's a little arrogant, and entirely unnecessary. A reality kick from Beej happened too- is it true that every time he posts a comment, I post again, recanting my previous post? Whatever, he's right.

I don't have an axe to grind with anyone, there's nobody with whom I'm trying to settle the score, and so why not just leave well enough alone? I still say honesty is nice, but it's not like we're in an honesty crisis right now. No use trying to stir up trouble when no such trouble exists.

On that note, I'm home from finals, finals were great, it's break, it's Christmas, and I'm going skiing in a couple weeks! So there are no problems anywhere! Exult! Jubilate!

Here is exactly what I think of you:

There, the title got your attention. I'll diverge to say that the band Aveo (A Seattle band that opened for Death Cab and Ben Kweller... I have their cd "Battery", I like it a lot... you've probably never heard of them... God, I'm a pretentious indie fuck) has a song called "3:33 AM/The Insomnia Waltz". It's now two hours after 3:33 AM. Irrelevant.

You know what? I can't say exactly what I think of you. I realized this tonight at dinner; well, at post-dinner... at Eat'n'Park midnight breakfast buffet. Four people know what brought this on; the specific case is not that big a deal. The point is: It is very much a faux pas in our society to say exactly what you think of someone.

Say there's someone you don't like. And you don't have a "legitimate" reason for not liking him. ("legitimate" reasons include: he actually committed a crime against you. That's about it.) You can't say bad stuff about him when he's around- I mean, he'll hear you. What if you're not around him? Nope, can't say anything bad then, because then you're a sneaky sly backstabber who acts nice around someone and says bad stuff behind his back. What can you do? You can imply stuff; you can sugarcoat it enough so that the people you're talking to know what you're talking about, but you didn't say it.

Which has the exact same effect as you just saying it! So why can't you do that?!

Joe once said that he wanted to post on his blog or something: send me an email, and I will tell you exactly what I think about you. My immediate reaction: "great idea!" But then he said, "well, you can never do that unless you're graduating." I thought for a minute and realized-- that's true. Why? Think about it- those emails you would write would become a swift zephyr through your social house of cards. That's obviously true, right? But why does it instictively seem like it would be so destructive?

Now, in an ideal world, all of your friends are people you admire entirely, because that's how the best friendships are. If you each respect the other person a lot, you have the same status, and yet you both think each other's at the higher status- as a result, you always want to be around that person. Petty squabbles get discarded, because your stake in each minor bicker isn't important enough to risk ruining your relationship with this Person of Higher Status.

Maybe the problem is that life ropes you into friendships with people you don't admire. Through classes, jobs, SnS/other activities, you have to spend a lot of time with people you don't like. Minor annoyances become major grudges, and soon you realize you want to say a bunch of stuff about people that you just can't say. Now would it be better to get that all out in the open? I don't know! If someone does something that bothers you, is it worth it to say it? In an ideal world, would it be worth it to say it? On the one hand, it'd be a lot more complaining. On the other... I mean, honesty is good, and having all these grudges pent up inside is undoubtedly bad.

Now, if you were Jesus or something, you could just decide not to have these grudges, and then you wouldn't, and then you would love everyone equally. But A, you're not Jesus, and B, that sucks, because if you love everyone equally you don't love anyone particularly, and you have a bunch of vague friend/acquaintances. It's almost like you have to know all these acquaintances to appreciate your real friends.

The above paragraph is the reason I think that this problem is not unique to me. To not have this problem; that is, to not have friends whom you really don't admire; is either to be very lucky or to be Jesus. ("Jesus" used here as a vague embodiment of a creature that loves everyone equally, and not as a specific religious figure) Of course, I could be wrong: I could be a real ass and you all think everyone else in the world is great.

And again, maybe this isn't a problem, because to appreciate great friends you have to have a contrast of okay friends. And for each okay friend, I'd say overall, it's more than worth it to take the good with the bad. So what am I even writing? I don't know- it's 6 AM and I deserve to get all dumbass-psychological once in a while; hey, if you don't like it, don't read it. You readers deserve something a little deeper than the usual "life is great! life is bad! life is great again!" meanderings of this blog... if this is a window inside my mind, I don't want you to think I'm shallower than I am. But if you've read this far, read the next paragraph:

Admittedly, this post so far is a bit judgmental. To say that I have friends I don't admire is to say that I think I am better than some of my friends. I don't think that; not consciously. If I reason about it, I think that most other people in the world rank better than me as a person, mostly because I haven't really been through any hardship in my life ever. On the other hand, I don't have self-esteem issues here; I feel good about myself as a person, because I think that I've done just about the best I could with what I've been given. Some people, I can say, I am better than you as a person, because I have taken what I had and made the most of it better than you have.
But ultimately, my intent is not to say that I'm better than anyone else, it's to expose my subconscious, and by getting it out into the open, to understand and control it. Most of my judgment of other people is subconscious, so I'm just exploring the darker corners of my psyche. If you understand and appreciate that, thanks. Otherwise, don't let an online post piss you off towards me; please talk to me in person before harboring another one of those hidden grudges because of anything I say online. The printed word on the white fluorescent screen is an expressionless messenger; emotions don't translate too well, and things can get taken too seriously.

Booya!

I made a booya tonight! With Julie's help, and also help from Joe and Connor and Ashley who went on a last-minute run for things. And last but not least, Mike Yin, without whose car and pots I would probably still be muddling around in the trafficky clutches of Squirrel Hill.

I would like to extend formal blog shouts-out to the aforementioned people. Or whatever it is that you bloggers do. And by "bloggers", I don't mean in the "news-gathering somewhat-respectable rumormongers" sense, I mean the "ninth grader posting about OMG how much she loves LFO" sort of way. And by that, I mean that doesn't make sense because LFO was way before blogs. Point is, thanks much to Julie, Joe, Connor, Ashley, and Mike. Couldn't have pulled off this immense stewing without all of you.

I would also like to extend a formal blog shout-out to Mr. Brian Gray, the guest of honor at the booya. For serious, it hasn't been the same here without him, and I'm real glad he's back. Or "you", as the case may be, in that said Mr. Gray I think constitutes one third of the people who read this blog on a regular basis. Point is, he has returned to make the kingdom right again. Just like Aslan.

Point is, things are great here at Happy U.

Hope!

Err... so clearly the way to do things is to do them, not mope about how stuff is awful. Who knew that, even though things seemed bad yesterday, they'd be done today?! Surprise! Life continues!

I got The 212 Assignment 80% done and handed it in (due tonight). I mean, I've worked on it for over 20 hours in the last 4 days or so... there's not much more they can ask. If they want more than that, sorry! But more importantly, I'm satisfied with my work. Take that, SCS!

Despair!

I'm sitting in the fucking cluster right now. It's Saturday night. Here I am. I am 2/5 of the way through an assignment, have made no progress in the last two hours, and see little hope of making any further progress. This assignment is so ridiculous that all the TA's have stopped giving office hours because they're just too drained. I'm sitting at this goddamn computer in the Unix cluster, because the banter of a few CS trolls is quieter than the banter of a couple of guys in the Windows cluster talking about how much or how little money they have. A side effect is that I'm sitting at this goofy-ass Unix computer that has such cute quirks as:
-backspace and delete are switched
-getting a decent text editor is a lot harder than it should be
-you can't open acrobat files in a browser- you have to download and open them through typing "acroread" on the command line
-oh yeah, and when I click the middle mouse button, it takes me to http://www.assi.com/. What?!

I'd really like to go have fun somewhere, doing something, it doesn't even matter. Or even, I wish I could do this assignment at home, on my own computer, but due to AFS and etc, that doesn't work. Oh well, that's life I guess.

Snowman Update

Someone built, from the ashes of 4-story snowman mcgee, another snowman. He's only got 3 stories, and he's kind of tiny, compared to the original, but whatever. Whoever did that rocks.

I just had a Great Life Experience™

It's snowing a lot! So I went to the Cathedral lawn to have a walk around and enjoy the snow. I took my camera, because I'm a fool. You can't take pictures in the dark like that!

At any rate, some kids were building a snowman. So I said, I'll take some damage. What?? Okay, I'm watching Joe play the Magic: the Gathering computer game, and I was talking and typing, and so that sentence just completed itself. I'll start over.

At any rate, some kids were building a snowman. So I said, I'll build a snowman. So I did. I got a big ball of snow, lugged it over in front of Webster, and plunked it down. I made 3 more big balls of snow, plopped them on top, and there you go, a 4-story snowman.


There you go! Proof that it existed! Proof necessary because, shortly afterwards, a big drunk jock "slipped" and knocked it over. He was all like "oops, sorry man, I slipped, that sucks, dude" and snickering. That's great! I got my snowman knocked over by a big drunk jock! Hilarious! Life is wonderful!

It's snowing!

And it's getting in to that time of year when everything's a party. Classes are over- party! Exam week and I have no exams- party! Go home, it's Christmas- party!

Currently manic

I met with a counselor a couple weeks ago (through CAPS! it's free! you get 12 free sessions!)... I was all depressed and wanted to know if I was actually depressed or just sad. Turns out I was just sad. Well, good to know, anyway.

But she asked if I ever experience mania, describing a sensation of a ton of energy and euphoria, where you can't sleep or anything, lasting like 24-48 hours. Well, until she mentioned the 24-48 hours thing, I thought, "all the time." Usually on weekends or when something really sweet is coming up, and usually after some coffee.

Right now, I'm getting that. Now, son of a gun, I had a 20oz. of diet dr. pepper a few hours ago, when I thought I'd be in UC318 for hours. I thought, pop doesn't have enough caffeine to get me manic. But it does, and now here I am. God, it's a wonderful sensation. I can do anything right now. It's one of the greatest feelings on earth, partially because I feel able to really be me, able to really enjoy life right now. Everything else is better. It'll suck a little bit tomorrow because I'll be low on sleep (especially after the last 2 nights) but right now, I feel great. I'm trying to calm myself down, because really, I'm tired too.

Why are things great?

-Little Footsteps was great. I'm so proud of it. I think I probably did the best job I've ever done in it, just because I hopefully progressed as an actor since WASP a year ago. WASP might have been a better final product- man, that show was great. But whatever, Little Footsteps was great too. All of us (incl. actors, directors, and all the tech folks- thanks so much to you guys by the way!) did excellently.

-No more rehearsals! I love SnS, I like acting, but it'll be nice to have some time off.

-This weekend's been great. Saturday's party at Il Valetto house was a lot sweeter than I thought it'd be. I took notes in Sharpie marker on an exercise band. I'm becoming more comfortable with who I am again, I think. That's a lot to say as an offhand remark, and I'm not sure if it's entirely true, but I hope so. I feel like I've backslid as a person this semester, and maybe I'm climbing back out.

-City of Angels passed for Carnival, and I feel good about the decision we as a board made. It may be very cool.

-I may turn said party notes into a story. Or maybe I'll just post them. I want to write something. It'll suck, but I want to write something. Maybe it'll be about the party, maybe not. This is the kind of thing I say when I'm manic.

-Four funny things today:
1. I yelled "fuck! shit!" prompting someone (Grubb? Gerrit?) to ask "Did you just step in the Tourette's spot?"
2. A good 185 pun from Julie: 185 neutrons walk into a bar and ask "How much for a drink?" The bartender says, "For you, no charge."
3 and 4. These are posters I saw. One said, in the middle of a page:

Kiva Han
starbucks lol

The other one said "Do you want a free iPod?" and it had pictures of ipods. No contact info or anything. And it had the little tear-off things on the bottom, where it usually has a website or phone number or something. But it just said:

Yes, please.
Yes, I would, indeed.

Add to that pie chart a big slice of study abroad!

Man, every time I look into this I get more excited. I don't even know where I'm going yet.

So I want to go to the Alps. Is that a bad motivation? I mean, I feel like that's like saying I want to study in Hawaii because I can go to the beach, or something. Study abroad isn't about taking a semester-long vacation. (is it?)

But here are my arguments, so if you want to play devil's advocate, I can play god's advocate, and banish you back into the hell-hole from which you came!

1. I'm not going to England or France. Everyone goes there.


2. Ideally, I'm not going to an English-speaking place. Sorry, Australia/New Zealand. Going there would be kind of sweet, but not challenging at all. It'd be like going to Chicago or something, still kind of Americanized. I think. I could be wrong, but that's my impression.


3. There's not much in Africa. There are a few programs, but I don't think going to Africa would be relevant to my future at all, or in any other way useful.


4. Same with Latin America. I am probably overgeneralizing here in thinking that Africa and Latin America are behind in the computer areas, but really, I can't see myself going there.


5. The smaller Western European countries are just very interesting. My mom went to Luxembourg and loved it, I've talked to some friends who have been there ("there" being "small Western European countries") and loved them- they just sound so cool. Again, gross overgeneralization. But there it is. Switzerland in particular sounds a little bit like Utopia.


6. Okay, so the choice is a little bit arbitrary... big deal! Wherever I go, I'd get a big new experience, so Switzerland is as good as any.

And the fact that there is awesome Alps skiing doesn't hurt.

At first I didn't think there was anything in Germany for a CS student like me, because I don't want to just study humanities for a semester. I think that would be unproductive. I don't have (or want) to be studying all CS stuff, but a little CS/math would be nice. Oh, yeah, and I don't know German. That's not a big deal for just surviving in Germany or Switzerland (I'm taking Beginning German), but it's less than good if you want to take classes in German. So I need English math/CS classes in Germany.

Apparently they exist though! Somewhere! I'm looking into it more, and this might work out really well! I'll keep you posted.