Last night, I saw Omar Sharif in Monsieur Ibrahim. Omar Sharif seems to pop up in the most random places, but it's always a nice surprise. The last time I saw him was in the IMAX show at the Philadelphia King Tut exhibit, where he was the narrator telling the history of the King Tut discovery to his fake niece as if it were a nice bedtime story. Random!
The movie was very good, and I wouldn't mind watching it a few more times in order to listen to M. Ibrahim's sage life aphorisms. It's about the Koran and about an old man's need to leave his legacy, which he does by spoiling a 16 year old boy with goods, both of the tangible and the intangible sort. They end up going on a roadtrip to Turkey. Roadtrips are something every human being should do at least once in their lifetime. In the end, the boy, grown up now, becomes the owner of M. Ibrahim's convenience store. A boy walks in and steals stuff, just as he did so many years ago, and so he too gets the opportunity to take M. Ibrahim's place and pass on the knowledge of the Koran.
Aaron said he thought the ending was too contrived, though he loved the movie, and I agreed with him. Later though, under the influence of the bubbly no doubt, I realized that it- the ending that was really a return to the beginning- might be yet another parallel to the Islam faith; Muslims believe that the nature of life is cyclic. It doesn't make the ending any less contrived, but at least I understand why the director might have ended it that way. One of my favorite parts was when the boy Momo gave the prostitute his teddy bear.
Also, I took a mini-mini roadtrip to Olympia with the people I met through the French club (who are turning out to be so so awesome!) and had the best weekend ever in the middle of nowhere. As we were nearing our destination, we spotted a real, live brown & white cow hangin' out on the side of the road.
"Cow!" cried out Tom excitedly. Only, when a Frenchman says it, "cow" sounds a lot like "car". And cars, frankly, are not that interesting or uncommon, despite the fact that we were in Olympia. So Aaron and I were like "Uh, calm down Frenchman, it's just a car. They must have those in France too, dude."
So that's how we nearly missed our first cow-on-the-road sighting, but luckily, we saw it in time, and then Aaron and I were the ones yelling "cow!" and pointing and gawking at it like stupid city folk. Seeing cows on the roadside is somehow that much more exciting than seeing them grazing on the grass. Seriously though, it was like, we could have reached out of our window and touched it!
Monday, March 03, 2008
Saturday, March 01, 2008
A Decade's Difference
Yesterday, I found myself hanging out with some people in their 30's. We had just met, so I didn't know much about them yet, but as I got to know them, I began to think about how different 30 year olds were from 20 year olds. When we're in our 20's, we are, generally speaking, full of aspirations and dreams like getting a doctorate, traveling to 5 countries, taking up painting, or writing a book. We are either waiting to find the right time or inspiration for reaching these goals, or in the process of reaching these goals, but we haven't reached them yet.
But as I lounged in the living room and listened to the idle chat of a couple 30 year olds, I thought about the two or three other 30 year olds I knew, and realized that these people have actually accomplished what they set out to do in their 20's. They sit nonchalantly, shy or boisterous, experienced for better or for worse, but they sit on all these accomplishments that make their older age a non-issue. When I think of turning 30, it freaks me out because it sounds so old. But these people who have actually reached their 30's don't seem to freak out about the passage of youth because they've done what they set out to do, they've got things to show, things to talk about- concrete things, not just insubstantial hopes and dreams. They appear dignified in my eyes, and make me look forward to that part of being 30.
But as I lounged in the living room and listened to the idle chat of a couple 30 year olds, I thought about the two or three other 30 year olds I knew, and realized that these people have actually accomplished what they set out to do in their 20's. They sit nonchalantly, shy or boisterous, experienced for better or for worse, but they sit on all these accomplishments that make their older age a non-issue. When I think of turning 30, it freaks me out because it sounds so old. But these people who have actually reached their 30's don't seem to freak out about the passage of youth because they've done what they set out to do, they've got things to show, things to talk about- concrete things, not just insubstantial hopes and dreams. They appear dignified in my eyes, and make me look forward to that part of being 30.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Frog & Possum
Today, a possum sneezed on me.
I couldn't decide which was more newsworthy: the fact that I got sneezed on by a possum, or that I saw a possum, and it was alive! Until today, I thought possums only came in the form of dead-on-the-roadside. Well, a single counterexample put that notion to rest, and there shattered my worldview. I think I was happier not knowing the truth. As the saying goes, ignorance...paves the road to Rome.
"Oh, don't worry," said the guy with the live possum on his shoulder, "Possums don't carry germs, they're totally clean." Oh, well thank god! That's exactly what I was thinking of when the possum sprayed its marsupial mucus all over my scarf and pea coat, thanks for the reassurance old man! Of course, all I said out loud was "Thank God!" We must be civil, yes we must!
Ribbit, ribbit!* Hmmm...why was there a frog in the Google logo today? It was jumping out from where the l usually was, and because I couldn't think of any amphibian-heralding holidays off the top of my head, I did a quick google search and discovered it was in celebration of the leap day. Clever!
In other animal news, I visited Pike Place market (where I saw the live possum) and bought a statuette of a baby elephant with the fattest cheeks ever. Fat cheeks are so cute! It sounds like a frivolous purchase, but actually, if people didn't make frivolous purchases every once in a while, no one would sell anything and there would be no economy. So I was just doing my duty and making my frivolous purchase of the year. The cool thing about these statues is, they're made out of the volcanic ash of Mt. St. Helens, a mountain in WA that erupted 28 years ago. Ashes to ashes!
*That's supposed to be a transition. Think of a frog leaping out onto the next page. New page, new topic.
I couldn't decide which was more newsworthy: the fact that I got sneezed on by a possum, or that I saw a possum, and it was alive! Until today, I thought possums only came in the form of dead-on-the-roadside. Well, a single counterexample put that notion to rest, and there shattered my worldview. I think I was happier not knowing the truth. As the saying goes, ignorance...paves the road to Rome.
"Oh, don't worry," said the guy with the live possum on his shoulder, "Possums don't carry germs, they're totally clean." Oh, well thank god! That's exactly what I was thinking of when the possum sprayed its marsupial mucus all over my scarf and pea coat, thanks for the reassurance old man! Of course, all I said out loud was "Thank God!" We must be civil, yes we must!
Ribbit, ribbit!* Hmmm...why was there a frog in the Google logo today? It was jumping out from where the l usually was, and because I couldn't think of any amphibian-heralding holidays off the top of my head, I did a quick google search and discovered it was in celebration of the leap day. Clever!
In other animal news, I visited Pike Place market (where I saw the live possum) and bought a statuette of a baby elephant with the fattest cheeks ever. Fat cheeks are so cute! It sounds like a frivolous purchase, but actually, if people didn't make frivolous purchases every once in a while, no one would sell anything and there would be no economy. So I was just doing my duty and making my frivolous purchase of the year. The cool thing about these statues is, they're made out of the volcanic ash of Mt. St. Helens, a mountain in WA that erupted 28 years ago. Ashes to ashes!
*That's supposed to be a transition. Think of a frog leaping out onto the next page. New page, new topic.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Spacetime's 5 Steps to Becoming Voluptuous
Do you ever wonder how spacetime became so seductively curvaceous? I've squashed the argument found on the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy into 5 bullet points:
Now, that scant, skeletal version of the argument ought to be fleshed out if anyone really wants to understand it, but sometimes it's easier to memorize now, understand later. Also, I'm a huge fan of bullet-pointing when the logic behind the words is not so clear.
If I were to strip the argument down even further, it would look something like:
Wow, that's pretty meaningless.
A third way of putting it would be:
Inertials used to be in, but now freefall is the new inertial, and freefall prefers curves. Thus, space is curved.
- By definition, inertial trajectories are the straight lines (geodesics) of spacetime
- By the Equivalence Principle of General Relativity, free-falling trajectories are indistinguishable from inertial trajectories
- By the General Covariance of General Relativity, free-falling trajectories ought to be identified as the inertial trajectories- and thus the geodesics- of spacetime
- Free-falling trajectories show relative accelerations- a defining feature of curved geometry.
- Thus, spacetime is curved.
Now, that scant, skeletal version of the argument ought to be fleshed out if anyone really wants to understand it, but sometimes it's easier to memorize now, understand later. Also, I'm a huge fan of bullet-pointing when the logic behind the words is not so clear.
If I were to strip the argument down even further, it would look something like:
- geodesic
- inertial trajectory = geodesic
- freefalling trajectory = inertial trajectory = geodesic
- => freefalling trajectory (accelerates) = geodesic (curved)
Wow, that's pretty meaningless.
A third way of putting it would be:
Inertials used to be in, but now freefall is the new inertial, and freefall prefers curves. Thus, space is curved.
McCain’s Canal Zone Birth Prompts Queries About Whether That Rules Him Out
McCain’s Canal Zone Birth Prompts Queries About Whether That Rules Him Out
Anyone else think this Times article was gonna be about a certain anatomical structure of Mrs. McCain? When I saw this title, I was like, what's the matter, we can't have presidents born from their mom's vagina anymore? Jesus, what a title. They really should refrain from putting 'canal' and 'birth' so close together in a sentence. My brain does funny things with such quasi-juxtapositions.
Monday, February 25, 2008
I Was the Block!
One of my friends most recent blog entry was about how she thinks she might be boring her readers with the stuff she's been writing lately. I made the following empathic (at first, I put "empathetic") comment:
For me, there are boring blog entries, and there are boring blog entries by friends, which are not boring. Sometimes I find interesting blogs, but I usually stop reading them eventually unless they are really good because I don't really care about the person behind the blog. For example, if they wrote about how they got into a grad school, I would feel no elation for them. But if a friend-blogger wrote that she got into grad school, I'd be thinking 'Woo! yeah! sweet!" and feel happy for her.
So about that Walk: I went out thinking I was going to be out for only an hour and a half, in order to drop off a dvd at the nearest grocery store (yeah, that shows you just how rustic an area we live in), but on the way back, I decided to take a little detour, and ...you know that block game I might have mentioned a while back, where you have to push a block around a maze and try to drop it into a hole?
I was the block!
And whoever was pushing me was really really stupid and had no sense of direction. Okay, I suppose it had less to do with sense of direction than the dead end after dead end and "not a through street" streets and "no outlet" lets that I encountered. Whew, good thing it didn't start raining. In fact it was so sunny that there was a good number of people out washing their cars or doing yard work. Hehe, I faked a British accent when I asked one of them if there was a way out that way (there wasn't of course).
Later, after I found out who won Best Make-Up Artist, I went to see Persepolis with some people I met at the French club meeting. And BOY was it lovely! The drawings and animation I mean, not the torture and war and loss of basic human/women's rights. I definitely want to get the dvd for this one, as well as read the graphic novel the film was based on.
A political story on the surface, I would say it's as much a love story and coming-of-age story. Despite the harsh nature of the political one, there were a lot of funny moments as well as quite a few sad ones that moved me in a way that Reading Lolita in Tehran never did (this sentence would read totally differently if that book title was not capitalized). It's not a matter of one story being sadder or funnier or better written than the other; rather it's a testament to the power of images over words. Or maybe my imagination just sucks.
At any rate, Persepolis (the film) captured in a few second-long images the sadness of separation, or the desolation of being homeless. What I love about animation is how it can make even the act of hitting a homeless man seem funny. Which sounds terrible, but it's true! In animated form, I guess, we sort of forget the live, 3-D consequences of hitting someone in the face with a bag, or repeatedly smashing a box of mashed potatoes over someone's head. Satrapi, the author of Persepolis, made a brilliant move in choosing to tell her "growing up in Iran" story visually.
So goes the story, but it was the artwork that I loved the most. It was done mostly in black and white, & speaking as one who doesn't know much about animation, it was inky and swirly with spongey areas showing light. There were falling jasmine petals, butterflies fluttering away like an Escher Metamorphosis, flying cars, sea waves drawn as curly-cues, even an (possibly unintentional) homage to Edward Munch's The Scream.
I think about this too when I feel the blog urge. Should I or shouldn't I tell my readers about the 2.5-hour walk I took today in Spanaway (bumblefuck), during which the most interesting thing I saw was a garage band? I thought it was interesting. But would they? What a quandary...
For me, there are boring blog entries, and there are boring blog entries by friends, which are not boring. Sometimes I find interesting blogs, but I usually stop reading them eventually unless they are really good because I don't really care about the person behind the blog. For example, if they wrote about how they got into a grad school, I would feel no elation for them. But if a friend-blogger wrote that she got into grad school, I'd be thinking 'Woo! yeah! sweet!" and feel happy for her.
So about that Walk: I went out thinking I was going to be out for only an hour and a half, in order to drop off a dvd at the nearest grocery store (yeah, that shows you just how rustic an area we live in), but on the way back, I decided to take a little detour, and ...you know that block game I might have mentioned a while back, where you have to push a block around a maze and try to drop it into a hole?
I was the block!
And whoever was pushing me was really really stupid and had no sense of direction. Okay, I suppose it had less to do with sense of direction than the dead end after dead end and "not a through street" streets and "no outlet" lets that I encountered. Whew, good thing it didn't start raining. In fact it was so sunny that there was a good number of people out washing their cars or doing yard work. Hehe, I faked a British accent when I asked one of them if there was a way out that way (there wasn't of course).
Later, after I found out who won Best Make-Up Artist, I went to see Persepolis with some people I met at the French club meeting. And BOY was it lovely! The drawings and animation I mean, not the torture and war and loss of basic human/women's rights. I definitely want to get the dvd for this one, as well as read the graphic novel the film was based on.
A political story on the surface, I would say it's as much a love story and coming-of-age story. Despite the harsh nature of the political one, there were a lot of funny moments as well as quite a few sad ones that moved me in a way that Reading Lolita in Tehran never did (this sentence would read totally differently if that book title was not capitalized). It's not a matter of one story being sadder or funnier or better written than the other; rather it's a testament to the power of images over words. Or maybe my imagination just sucks.
At any rate, Persepolis (the film) captured in a few second-long images the sadness of separation, or the desolation of being homeless. What I love about animation is how it can make even the act of hitting a homeless man seem funny. Which sounds terrible, but it's true! In animated form, I guess, we sort of forget the live, 3-D consequences of hitting someone in the face with a bag, or repeatedly smashing a box of mashed potatoes over someone's head. Satrapi, the author of Persepolis, made a brilliant move in choosing to tell her "growing up in Iran" story visually.
So goes the story, but it was the artwork that I loved the most. It was done mostly in black and white, & speaking as one who doesn't know much about animation, it was inky and swirly with spongey areas showing light. There were falling jasmine petals, butterflies fluttering away like an Escher Metamorphosis, flying cars, sea waves drawn as curly-cues, even an (possibly unintentional) homage to Edward Munch's The Scream.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Sunshine, Nails, and Funny Greek Tales
Ah! Western WA is being blessed with the most amazing weather! At least during the day. Thank you* Apollo!
In honor of the presence of sunshine, I trimmed my nails outside, on our front steps. It's actually quite liberating because when you do it inside over a newspaper, you inevitably let fly some nail shards outside the perimeter of the newspaper; if you do it over the toilet, you're haunted by the possibility that you could accidentally drop the clipper into the toilet, plus the same problem as with the newspaper. Solution: clip your biodegradable nails outside!
*Greek word for 'thank you': Efcharisto!
Also, if you ever have the urge to read a Greek tale, something short and amusing, read Daphnis and Chloe by Longus. It's a tale of young love blooming between a shepherd and goatherd. It's a tale that shows what you might have done if you didn't have friends, family, books, film, the internet, or other media to tell you how to deal with the onset of love and lust, or even what it was, these "stirrings".
In honor of the presence of sunshine, I trimmed my nails outside, on our front steps. It's actually quite liberating because when you do it inside over a newspaper, you inevitably let fly some nail shards outside the perimeter of the newspaper; if you do it over the toilet, you're haunted by the possibility that you could accidentally drop the clipper into the toilet, plus the same problem as with the newspaper. Solution: clip your biodegradable nails outside!
*Greek word for 'thank you': Efcharisto!
Also, if you ever have the urge to read a Greek tale, something short and amusing, read Daphnis and Chloe by Longus. It's a tale of young love blooming between a shepherd and goatherd. It's a tale that shows what you might have done if you didn't have friends, family, books, film, the internet, or other media to tell you how to deal with the onset of love and lust, or even what it was, these "stirrings".
Beatles Magic
Just got back from a magical night with the Tacoma French Club. Speaking in French and meeting new people was great, but what made it magical was that there happened to be some really talented musicians at the meet-up, plus musical instruments, and so the night ended with an impromptu concert for an audience of three. Unless we count doing the hat-&-cane dance to The Entertainer as being part of the band- then it would be an audience of two. So it's three. They closed with a piano-sax-bongos (we decided to leave the didgereedoo out) rendition of the Beatles "Hey Jude". Any evening that ends with a Beatles sing-along is a magical evening in my book.
Can I tell you how much I love that song? When Karen started banging it out on the piano, I threw myself back onto the couch, said, "I love this song!", and sighed with pleasure. Whenever I hear this song, I think of those late nights freshman year at Hill House, when Sarah and I stayed up until sunrise...being college students. That was the year I discovered music (coincidentally, the same year we discovered Kazaa).
Click here for a video clip of a heartrending 1950's classic love song by Jacques Brel. Called Ne Me Quitte Pas (Don't Leave Me). While watching, I couldn't help thinking how simian his face looked, and how full of despair his ne me quitte pas's were. If it were a prettier face singing the same words, would it be so affecting? If it were Justin Timberlake or I dunno, John Mayer singing,
Can I tell you how much I love that song? When Karen started banging it out on the piano, I threw myself back onto the couch, said, "I love this song!", and sighed with pleasure. Whenever I hear this song, I think of those late nights freshman year at Hill House, when Sarah and I stayed up until sunrise...being college students. That was the year I discovered music (coincidentally, the same year we discovered Kazaa).
Click here for a video clip of a heartrending 1950's classic love song by Jacques Brel. Called Ne Me Quitte Pas (Don't Leave Me). While watching, I couldn't help thinking how simian his face looked, and how full of despair his ne me quitte pas's were. If it were a prettier face singing the same words, would it be so affecting? If it were Justin Timberlake or I dunno, John Mayer singing,
would it be as pitiful, or just silly?
Let me be
the shadow of your shadow
the shadow of your hand
the shadow of your dog,
Friday, February 22, 2008
Vent
Sometimes, I feel like Michael Corleone:
"Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in!"
Or like Hermione Granger:
"I'm not an owl!" (Oh, but aren't I?)
Or like Alan Shore:
"Puddles do not ask for why not. it is cheese, breath, and wind. It is cheese." (He's afflicted with Word Salad.)
Better go runnin' tomorrow, get those endorphins kicking. Good stuff, endorphins.
Night y'all, hoot hoot,
Archimedes
"Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in!"
Or like Hermione Granger:
"I'm not an owl!" (Oh, but aren't I?)
Or like Alan Shore:
"Puddles do not ask for why not. it is cheese, breath, and wind. It is cheese." (He's afflicted with Word Salad.)
Better go runnin' tomorrow, get those endorphins kicking. Good stuff, endorphins.
Night y'all, hoot hoot,
Archimedes
Thursday, February 21, 2008
I Should Have Studied at Tully's Today
Horrible, absolutely horrid! They're playing the most godawful song at Barnes right now. I can't even begin to describe it...just to give you an idea, there's this part that sounds like a turkey gobbling, and another like an angry cat, and then a blood-curdling scream.
Why in god's name are they playing this at a bookstore? WHY?!
Why in god's name are they playing this at a bookstore? WHY?!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Cuttlefish (not a fish)
I knew cuttlefish tasted good, but I wasn't aware of the cool things they can do while they are still alive! In this article, cuttlefish are called "camouflage masters". The strange thing is, a huge part of their brain is dedicated to the visual faculty that makes them such amazing camouflagers, but cuttlefish are colorblind, having only a single pigment in their eyes (we have a three). Which means, I guess, that they have no idea what their brain & skin are up to?
Cuttlefish Facts & Comments:
Fact: They've got blue-green blood.
Comment: Because their blood-carrier is copper, not iron like ours.
Fact: They've got THREE hearts (one for pumping blood to each of their gills, and a third for the rest of their body)
Comment: I wonder which heart you have to destroy in order to kill a cuttlefish? If you destroy one of the gill hearts, will it just have a lame gill and still be alive and functioning? If you destroy the third heart, will the other two gill hearts take over, kind of like what our left eye would do if our right eye stopped working?
Fact: They only live 1-2 years (So basically they hatch -> have babies -> die)
Comment: Gee, how blessedly simple are the lives of cuttlefish
I was just going to say that someone ought to come out with a chameleon superhero: awkward nerd teen accidently gets injected with cuttlefish hormones instead of half-dead flu virus, nerd teen becomes less awkward and more heroic with the coolest disguise ever. But I just looked it up, and apparently The Chameleon, aka Dmitri Anatoly Smerdyakov Kravinoff (I love Russian names. Anginovna Chunginovsky. Doesn't that sound so cool?!!!) actually does exist. Of course, he has an identity problem. Because of his lack of identity, he made a really good spy for the Soviets and ran around in disguises that he kept in his "multi-pocket disguise vest". Hm, decidedly not as cool as the cuttlefish hormones, but I like the espionage thing.
Cuttlefish Facts & Comments:
Fact: They've got blue-green blood.
Comment: Because their blood-carrier is copper, not iron like ours.
Fact: They've got THREE hearts (one for pumping blood to each of their gills, and a third for the rest of their body)
Comment: I wonder which heart you have to destroy in order to kill a cuttlefish? If you destroy one of the gill hearts, will it just have a lame gill and still be alive and functioning? If you destroy the third heart, will the other two gill hearts take over, kind of like what our left eye would do if our right eye stopped working?
Fact: They only live 1-2 years (So basically they hatch -> have babies -> die)
Comment: Gee, how blessedly simple are the lives of cuttlefish
I was just going to say that someone ought to come out with a chameleon superhero: awkward nerd teen accidently gets injected with cuttlefish hormones instead of half-dead flu virus, nerd teen becomes less awkward and more heroic with the coolest disguise ever. But I just looked it up, and apparently The Chameleon, aka Dmitri Anatoly Smerdyakov Kravinoff (I love Russian names. Anginovna Chunginovsky. Doesn't that sound so cool?!!!) actually does exist. Of course, he has an identity problem. Because of his lack of identity, he made a really good spy for the Soviets and ran around in disguises that he kept in his "multi-pocket disguise vest". Hm, decidedly not as cool as the cuttlefish hormones, but I like the espionage thing.
Monday, February 18, 2008
5th Post of the Day!
After every tutoring session, we have to fill out a survey answering the following questions: What topics did you cover? How did it go? What can be improved?
My answer for the last one: 2nd fundamental theorem of calc; it was going well until her grandma fell down the stairs...she had to go.
My answer for the last one: 2nd fundamental theorem of calc; it was going well until her grandma fell down the stairs...she had to go.
Fourth Post of the Day
I'm drawn to transcendentalism/idealism because...
I'm wary of Emerson because...
He gives human beings too much credit- we're not that great.
- rather than saying the divine is some sort of separate entity that is superior to us all, it urges each individual to find "an original relation to the universe", saying that anyone can experience revelation, but in different ways; Emerson finds his through solitude in nature and writing- and it's that phrase "solitude in nature" that resonated with me; &
- it doesn't denounce materialism (science, senses), but says what our senses tell us is incomplete; there is more out there than what we can physically experience; this has been my claim, too, for a while, but I always went on to say that our sensory (sensual?) knowledge is the most sure-fire way to knowing reality
I'm wary of Emerson because...
- his emphasis on the individual's "intuition" is more than vaguely reminiscent of Stephen Colbert's "truthiness": truth felt viscerally, in the gut, specifically in the cilia that line the large intestine
He gives human beings too much credit- we're not that great.
The Philosophy of Where's Waldo
While reading about transcendentalism and Where's Waldo (a lethal combination), a totally bullshit idea just occurred to me, and as a future student of philosophy, I thought it my duty to share this bullshit idea with you all. Sorry, I didn't mean that- or maybe I did- or not. I don't know.
Anyway, the idea is that Waldo of the picture book series was actually inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was the leader of the transcendentalist movement of the early-mid 19th century. Just as transcendentalism's key notion is that the divine is present everywhere in nature, so is Waldo everywhere and everywhen on every page, from beaches & deep sea dives to the Stone Age, Ancient Rome,...he could be standing right next to you in that innocuous looking red-&-white striped tee. Hello, Waldo.
Someday, I will purchase a 'round-the-world ticket and travel the globe in Waldo attire the whole time. I'll take pictures and make my own version of the book.
Anyway, the idea is that Waldo of the picture book series was actually inspired by Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was the leader of the transcendentalist movement of the early-mid 19th century. Just as transcendentalism's key notion is that the divine is present everywhere in nature, so is Waldo everywhere and everywhen on every page, from beaches & deep sea dives to the Stone Age, Ancient Rome,...he could be standing right next to you in that innocuous looking red-&-white striped tee. Hello, Waldo.
Someday, I will purchase a 'round-the-world ticket and travel the globe in Waldo attire the whole time. I'll take pictures and make my own version of the book.
CPAWW: "Ice Cream Makes Your Boobs Pop Out"
That is what's going on in that picture right? Little man in brown shorts surprises woman with an ice cream in the back, woman's bikini top pops off? This whole picture is just a wild orgy on the beach if you ask me.
Thanks to the organization of Concerned Parents Against Where's Waldo, the book (or books) made it to #88 in the list of Most Banned Books of 1990-2000. Along with the likes of Toni Morrison, Stephen King, Lord of the Flies and...A Wrinkle in Time? It must be the whole tesselation thing- we simply cannot teach our children that the shortest distance between two points is not always a straight line. No, the Concerned Parents simply won't stand for such non-Euclidean hearsay.
There's another stuffed duck sitting, this time, on the display of chocolates. God help me.
James Joyce Meets Harry Potter
How did James Joyce get rid of the boggart?
He waved his wand and cried "Ridiculyss-es"!
He waved his wand and cried "Ridiculyss-es"!
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Irresistable Distraction
Dude, I am such a sucker for stuffed animals.
At the Barnes cafe, in honor of the upcoming Easter holiday, I guess, there is a display of ducks sitting on the counter. Adorable, plush, buttercup-yellow sitting ducks. And that's not all! They come dressed in an equally adorable sunny yellow raincoat, matching hat and rainboots! And in their left (your right) hand- I mean wing, they carry a bag of peachios, just for you.
I really really want it. But I won't get it. Because material things aren't forever. It will only leave me poorer. But my heart richer. No, poorer! Poorer! Ok...I can already feel the desire for Quackers 'n Cheese waning. Also, I just gave it a name.
Back to philosophy of physics.
At the Barnes cafe, in honor of the upcoming Easter holiday, I guess, there is a display of ducks sitting on the counter. Adorable, plush, buttercup-yellow sitting ducks. And that's not all! They come dressed in an equally adorable sunny yellow raincoat, matching hat and rainboots! And in their left (your right) hand- I mean wing, they carry a bag of peachios, just for you.
I really really want it. But I won't get it. Because material things aren't forever. It will only leave me poorer. But my heart richer. No, poorer! Poorer! Ok...I can already feel the desire for Quackers 'n Cheese waning. Also, I just gave it a name.
Back to philosophy of physics.
Friday, February 15, 2008
I Spy...on the Spanaway Road
Today while taking a walk along 152nd street, a road about 2.5 miles long near my house, I spied the following items of roadkill:
-2 possums
-1 skunk
-1 racoon
-1 unidentifiable mass of pale ivory-colored fur
-1 blackened banana peel
That last one doesn't qualify as roadkill, I guess. But I spied it. One of the possums' head was lying 5 feet away from its body.
What a fun game!
-2 possums
-1 skunk
-1 racoon
-1 unidentifiable mass of pale ivory-colored fur
-1 blackened banana peel
That last one doesn't qualify as roadkill, I guess. But I spied it. One of the possums' head was lying 5 feet away from its body.
What a fun game!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I made it to Paradise!!
I have a confession to make. It's not anything bad, just so weird. Wait, when has weirdness ever stopped me from posting? Right, glad we got that sorted out.
I dreamt that I died and went to heaven, and heaven turned out to be an ocean of sailboats and surfers.
I distinctly remember feeling a great sense of antic-appointment. Actually, what I said was: "That's it? Just more of the same?" Well...I'd like to check out hell before I make a final decision, thanks.
I dreamt that I died and went to heaven, and heaven turned out to be an ocean of sailboats and surfers.
I distinctly remember feeling a great sense of antic-appointment. Actually, what I said was: "That's it? Just more of the same?" Well...I'd like to check out hell before I make a final decision, thanks.
Sarcasm, Irony, Deadpan
There are so many ways to be funny. Then why is it that every time I think of that prisoner in Shawshank picking up a book and reading "Alexander Dumb-ass", I think it's like the funniest thing ever? Even the 100th time around? I guess my humor level is and always will remain at the kindergarten level. To illustrate, here's a joke:
Why did everyone think the ocean was so friendly?
Cuz it was always waving!*
Speaking of funny (yes, a real transition!), I discovered the "Modern Love" section of the Times and ran across this article, so funny and sweet. I think I'll use his tactic if I ever get in a car accident. It seemed to work very well: no police, no exchanging of phone numbers, insurance companies or money- yep, pretty sweet.
*The live version includes a friendly wave with a cheesy smile at the end.
Why did everyone think the ocean was so friendly?
Cuz it was always waving!*
Speaking of funny (yes, a real transition!), I discovered the "Modern Love" section of the Times and ran across this article, so funny and sweet. I think I'll use his tactic if I ever get in a car accident. It seemed to work very well: no police, no exchanging of phone numbers, insurance companies or money- yep, pretty sweet.
*The live version includes a friendly wave with a cheesy smile at the end.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Obama in Seattle
I attended the Obama rally in Seattle on Friday! Unfortunately, I arrived 15 minutes after the doors opened, so I was one of the 3000 people stuck listening outside. Yes, it rained. But it was a fine mist! So me and my mac were ok.
Can you guess what was emphasized in his speech? Besides Hope and Delta: The Green cause of course! Since Seattle is charicaturized by granola, birkenstock-sporting, pro-organic everything, tree-huggers, this Go Green cheer was inevitable. I've never owned a pair of Jesus sandals myself, but not for lack of coveting it. 'Granola' is a term I never heard until a few months ago.
As for the environment thing, I was never into the whole tree-hugging business, and have only recently started caring more about sustaining the planet as well as myself. I have my own reasons for starting to become more conscientious about saving the environment, which is that I've gotten fond of traveling, exploring new places-whether in a city or the wide fields of nowhere- and it would be a shame to let something that makes me happy go to waste.
But if anyone wants a more scientific source of incentive for recycling, here's one: The two- sustaining the planet and yourself- are linked, if we're to believe in the Darwinian concept that our primary purpose is to make sure our genes survive. So if you believe this Darwinian concept to be true, and if you want to fulfill your primary purpose for living- ensuring the survival of your awesome genes-, then you better start recycling and emitting less greenhouse gases! Of course, if this is indeed your incentive for saving the environment, it's also true that no amount of recycling will help your purpose if you don't also commit to the duty of propagating.
Seeing the future President, even from a couple hundred feet away booming into a megaphone for a couple minutes before he headed into the arena, was ultra-exciting! There were tons of young people skipping school and tons of older people taking 3-hour lunch breaks from work in order to come see him speak. People around me were really listening to his words, nodding and cheering when they especially agreed with what he said. It was quite inspiring. And I got to put my newfound stadium whistle talent to action, hurray.
Later, I had this conversation with someone who said she would prefer Clinton over Obama, saying that his ability to inspire masses of people was dangerous because it could lead to a lack of checks and balances if he were to become President (She herself was voting for Huckabee). It's an interesting point, and if it were anyone else up on that stage enthralling 1000s of people young and old, and inspiring them to become engaged in politics and issues, I might give it more creedence. Like, if he had a toothbrush moustache (or any moustache for that matter- you know how I feel about moustaches), spoke with a gutteral h, and had a certain special symbol on his uniform, then I might be worried. Or even if he was squinty-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and spoke in a southern drawl, even then I might consider the idea of over-effective charisma coming into play.
Going off on a slight tangent, while watching the Sopranos recently, I noticed that they (the mob characters, or the writers through the mob characters) kept making the point that the mafia was no different from a business or government. They are both corrupt, and the only difference is that the corruption is acknowledged and accepted by the rest of the Family, whereas in civil society, the government and business leaders have to hide their corruption from their people under smiles and promises. This is totally true! I thought at first. So why do we so hypocritically brand the mafia as the bad guys?
But after a second round of thinking, I decided that openly accepted corruption really is worse than covert corruption, where the people are being lied to. Why? Because the empty 'smiles and promises' I spoke of is merely proof that a checks and balances system exists. (And yes, we need this checks and balances system; just because corruption is inevitable, it doesn't mean we should make it easy for it to exist and spread.) It doesn't feel good to know that our leaders could be being dishonest with us, it might make us feel like fools, but actually, it should make us feel that we have at least some power in our hands because they have to sneak around to try to carry out their dirty deeds. A higher level of dishonesty is an easy price to pay for a lower level of corruption, even though that level of corruption may never reach zero.
Of course, this is all theoretical talk. In reality, the mob is disgustingly corrupt, but equally disgustingly dishonest, and so is the government. Bleh. I'm excited for something new. Right now, at this moment, I'm not worried, I'm inspired!
Can you guess what was emphasized in his speech? Besides Hope and Delta: The Green cause of course! Since Seattle is charicaturized by granola, birkenstock-sporting, pro-organic everything, tree-huggers, this Go Green cheer was inevitable. I've never owned a pair of Jesus sandals myself, but not for lack of coveting it. 'Granola' is a term I never heard until a few months ago.
As for the environment thing, I was never into the whole tree-hugging business, and have only recently started caring more about sustaining the planet as well as myself. I have my own reasons for starting to become more conscientious about saving the environment, which is that I've gotten fond of traveling, exploring new places-whether in a city or the wide fields of nowhere- and it would be a shame to let something that makes me happy go to waste.
But if anyone wants a more scientific source of incentive for recycling, here's one: The two- sustaining the planet and yourself- are linked, if we're to believe in the Darwinian concept that our primary purpose is to make sure our genes survive. So if you believe this Darwinian concept to be true, and if you want to fulfill your primary purpose for living- ensuring the survival of your awesome genes-, then you better start recycling and emitting less greenhouse gases! Of course, if this is indeed your incentive for saving the environment, it's also true that no amount of recycling will help your purpose if you don't also commit to the duty of propagating.
Seeing the future President, even from a couple hundred feet away booming into a megaphone for a couple minutes before he headed into the arena, was ultra-exciting! There were tons of young people skipping school and tons of older people taking 3-hour lunch breaks from work in order to come see him speak. People around me were really listening to his words, nodding and cheering when they especially agreed with what he said. It was quite inspiring. And I got to put my newfound stadium whistle talent to action, hurray.
Later, I had this conversation with someone who said she would prefer Clinton over Obama, saying that his ability to inspire masses of people was dangerous because it could lead to a lack of checks and balances if he were to become President (She herself was voting for Huckabee). It's an interesting point, and if it were anyone else up on that stage enthralling 1000s of people young and old, and inspiring them to become engaged in politics and issues, I might give it more creedence. Like, if he had a toothbrush moustache (or any moustache for that matter- you know how I feel about moustaches), spoke with a gutteral h, and had a certain special symbol on his uniform, then I might be worried. Or even if he was squinty-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and spoke in a southern drawl, even then I might consider the idea of over-effective charisma coming into play.
Going off on a slight tangent, while watching the Sopranos recently, I noticed that they (the mob characters, or the writers through the mob characters) kept making the point that the mafia was no different from a business or government. They are both corrupt, and the only difference is that the corruption is acknowledged and accepted by the rest of the Family, whereas in civil society, the government and business leaders have to hide their corruption from their people under smiles and promises. This is totally true! I thought at first. So why do we so hypocritically brand the mafia as the bad guys?
But after a second round of thinking, I decided that openly accepted corruption really is worse than covert corruption, where the people are being lied to. Why? Because the empty 'smiles and promises' I spoke of is merely proof that a checks and balances system exists. (And yes, we need this checks and balances system; just because corruption is inevitable, it doesn't mean we should make it easy for it to exist and spread.) It doesn't feel good to know that our leaders could be being dishonest with us, it might make us feel like fools, but actually, it should make us feel that we have at least some power in our hands because they have to sneak around to try to carry out their dirty deeds. A higher level of dishonesty is an easy price to pay for a lower level of corruption, even though that level of corruption may never reach zero.
Of course, this is all theoretical talk. In reality, the mob is disgustingly corrupt, but equally disgustingly dishonest, and so is the government. Bleh. I'm excited for something new. Right now, at this moment, I'm not worried, I'm inspired!
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Happy Year of the Rat!
I love google's logo today- a mama and baby rodents flipping a calendar.
Also, rats are cute only in cartoon form. If those babies were real, I'd have their head on a platter in a jiff. Which is to say, I'd be standing on the highest surface available in the room and screaming my uvula off.
It's the year of the rat, baby! Hey, according to Wikipedia, I would do well in the field of espionage. If I ever tell you I work at a bank, you better think twice about it!
Also, rats are cute only in cartoon form. If those babies were real, I'd have their head on a platter in a jiff. Which is to say, I'd be standing on the highest surface available in the room and screaming my uvula off.
It's the year of the rat, baby! Hey, according to Wikipedia, I would do well in the field of espionage. If I ever tell you I work at a bank, you better think twice about it!
Ode to Another Hero
Ohhhhh Girrrrl! by the Chi-Lites. It was referenced in a Sopranos episode, and now I'm listening to it, and it's putting me in such a gooooood mooooood! Nothing like music to make your days 10 times more uplifting.
King Arthur...he's the kindest, purest soul there ever was created in literature next to Jesus (kidding kidding! I know he was probably a real historical figure blown up to mythical proportions...kinda like King Arthur actually), and it makes me sad to read about his wife and best friend taking advantage of his absolute goodness to satisfy their own happiness. In these times, it's not fashionable to "turn the other cheek" instead of standing up for oneself- it's considered meek, weak, spineless. But Arthur was none of these things. He just didn't stoop to even justifiable feelings of jealousy and vengeance because he loved Lancelot and Guenevere that much. By the end, the three friends are so close they can communicate without words half the time. This is my favorite kind of story- the kind that revolves around a friendship.
Hm, I had no plans to write about anything beyond the Chi-lites, but now I've written another rambling tribute to one of my heroes. King Arthur, Sherlock Holmes...a post about Einstein should be in the works eventually if the pattern persists. Stay tuned!
King Arthur...he's the kindest, purest soul there ever was created in literature next to Jesus (kidding kidding! I know he was probably a real historical figure blown up to mythical proportions...kinda like King Arthur actually), and it makes me sad to read about his wife and best friend taking advantage of his absolute goodness to satisfy their own happiness. In these times, it's not fashionable to "turn the other cheek" instead of standing up for oneself- it's considered meek, weak, spineless. But Arthur was none of these things. He just didn't stoop to even justifiable feelings of jealousy and vengeance because he loved Lancelot and Guenevere that much. By the end, the three friends are so close they can communicate without words half the time. This is my favorite kind of story- the kind that revolves around a friendship.
Hm, I had no plans to write about anything beyond the Chi-lites, but now I've written another rambling tribute to one of my heroes. King Arthur, Sherlock Holmes...a post about Einstein should be in the works eventually if the pattern persists. Stay tuned!
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Words of the Wise
Dude, vomiting is just not as much fun when you're sober.
Heh- I just hyperlinked vomiting to Wikipedia. Hm, it seems they've changed the picture in this entry- they used to show a blond dude upchucking fantastically into a bucket. Actually, this new picture is much funnier.
Ew, gross, it says that vomiting is "the forceful expulsion of the contents of one's stomach through the mouth and sometimes the nose!" The nose???
Heh- I just hyperlinked vomiting to Wikipedia. Hm, it seems they've changed the picture in this entry- they used to show a blond dude upchucking fantastically into a bucket. Actually, this new picture is much funnier.
Ew, gross, it says that vomiting is "the forceful expulsion of the contents of one's stomach through the mouth and sometimes the nose!" The nose???
Late Night Logic aka BEST TV EVER
There I go again, hyping things up, but let's just say, you don't want to have missed this. They call it Super Brawl 2008. Get your wings and pizza and let the clip roll! Or watch the whole episode on nbc.com.
The story behind the brawl takes place in 4 episodes, and it's really like one big logic game. You see, Conan and Colbert both took credit for making Mike Huckabee (it had nothing to do with Huck's Army). Conan's argument was that he made Chuck Norris with his Walker Texas Ranger lever (which is also doubly worth checking out!). Before that Walker was a fool in cowboy boots. Or is it the cowboy boots that made him a fool? Anyway, then Conan came along wielding a giant yellow lever in hand, and suddenly there are all these jokes about Chuck Norris like "Chuck Norris can divide by zero," and "There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris' computer. Chuck Norris is always in control." And so on. Anyway, we were talking about Huckabee. Chuck Norris started campaigning for Huck, which made Huck big, so the logic here is:
Chuck made Huck.
Conan made Chuck.
Therefore, Conan made Huck.
It's a simple application of the transitive property of Late Night: C made K, & K made H => C made H.
Conan also points out that by merely mentioning Colbert on his show, he made Colbert. So, even if we were to suppose that Colbert made Huck, the logic then goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Therefore Conan made Huck.
But then John Stewart comes along and shows evidence (a VHS- you know, the thing we used before DVD came along) that he made Conan, and so in fact the complete iron-clad logic goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Stewart made Conan.
Therefore Stewart made Huck.
Plato would be proud. I'm proud. And notice how Chuck Norris just completely dropped out of the picture.
The story behind the brawl takes place in 4 episodes, and it's really like one big logic game. You see, Conan and Colbert both took credit for making Mike Huckabee (it had nothing to do with Huck's Army). Conan's argument was that he made Chuck Norris with his Walker Texas Ranger lever (which is also doubly worth checking out!). Before that Walker was a fool in cowboy boots. Or is it the cowboy boots that made him a fool? Anyway, then Conan came along wielding a giant yellow lever in hand, and suddenly there are all these jokes about Chuck Norris like "Chuck Norris can divide by zero," and "There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris' computer. Chuck Norris is always in control." And so on. Anyway, we were talking about Huckabee. Chuck Norris started campaigning for Huck, which made Huck big, so the logic here is:
Chuck made Huck.
Conan made Chuck.
Therefore, Conan made Huck.
It's a simple application of the transitive property of Late Night: C made K, & K made H => C made H.
Conan also points out that by merely mentioning Colbert on his show, he made Colbert. So, even if we were to suppose that Colbert made Huck, the logic then goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Therefore Conan made Huck.
But then John Stewart comes along and shows evidence (a VHS- you know, the thing we used before DVD came along) that he made Conan, and so in fact the complete iron-clad logic goes:
Colbert made Huck.
Conan made Colbert.
Stewart made Conan.
Therefore Stewart made Huck.
Plato would be proud. I'm proud. And notice how Chuck Norris just completely dropped out of the picture.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sarcastic Blog
Not sure how I ended up at this particular blog, but there I was, and man is it funny! Here is how he described the serious national security dealings of Condoleezza Rice:
Then Condi waves, gets on a plane, gets off a plane, waves, eats lunch with a Middle Eastern dictator. They take a picture sitting at 45 degrees, she gets back on a plane and when she gets back to DC, she says "we had a meaningful discussion."And so many more of those nuggets of sarcasm!
Monday, January 28, 2008
Harking Back to Graduation
J.K. Rowling is speaking at the Harvard graduation!! Luckyyyyyy...And as that article shows, you can never please everyone. Hey Dumbledore said that too! When Hagrid was down about parents sending him hate owl-mail because he was a giant half-breed. Here's a quote from the article that shows that no matter who it is, the keynote speaker at every college graduation will always be either too serious or not serious enough:
"The word from the college, meanwhile, is that some Harvard students are not exactly thrilled at the news, and disappointed that the university chose someone involved in the production of fairy tales rather a world leader or politician.
PS: I learned the news about JK Rowling from Pottercast, the official Leaky-Cauldron Harry Potter podcast. They actually got to interview her during one of their podcasts recently!
"The word from the college, meanwhile, is that some Harvard students are not exactly thrilled at the news, and disappointed that the university chose someone involved in the production of fairy tales rather a world leader or politician.
'[Faust] thinks this is a game?" one student complained. "It's a damn election year! You can't get someone at all related to that shit?'"
I for one thoroughly enjoyed listening to Jodie Foster at our commencement- including the part where she quoted Eminem and had the crowd follow along. And including the part where our inarticulate school president presented her as successfully transitioning from "precocious child star to adult film artist." I knew that was her in that "interpretive dance" video.PS: I learned the news about JK Rowling from Pottercast, the official Leaky-Cauldron Harry Potter podcast. They actually got to interview her during one of their podcasts recently!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Promises
One of the reasons Clinton-backers are giving for choosing her over Obama is that no one can say whether or not he will actually fullfill all the promises that he makes. He's a great orator, gets listeners riled up with his promises of change, but will he deliver? Who can know, since he has not had commensurate experience. Whereas Clinton (first name Hillary) was in the White House as Bill's right hand. She's experienced, they say, and if anything, she's a great learner: she learns from her mistakes. So when she makes promises, they somehow have more legitimacy. Because her experiences make her more knowledgeable about what's possible and what's too Kucinich.
Ok, I see. I was wondering why experience would make her more trustworthy, after all an experienced politician could make empty promises as well as the non-experienced politician. But it's not a question of who's more capable of lying, but who is more capable of making promises that are fulfillable.
Sometimes it helps to write things out as if I'm talking to someone.
Anyway, I decided I want King Arthur for president. In "The Once and Future King", Merlyn tells him he's going to come back in a few centuries. Could the Second Coming be now?! Long live King Arthur!
Ok, I see. I was wondering why experience would make her more trustworthy, after all an experienced politician could make empty promises as well as the non-experienced politician. But it's not a question of who's more capable of lying, but who is more capable of making promises that are fulfillable.
Sometimes it helps to write things out as if I'm talking to someone.
Anyway, I decided I want King Arthur for president. In "The Once and Future King", Merlyn tells him he's going to come back in a few centuries. Could the Second Coming be now?! Long live King Arthur!
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Science and Philosophy
I found this article in this week's Science Times, on the extreme improbability of the Big Bang. Basically it says that the chance that our universe came into existence due to a "giant fart" (as my old Sunday School teacher so disparagingly put it) is much much less likely than the chance of finding bodiless brains floating around in space.
I can't help thinking what a random comparison this is- almost like asking why aren't apples oranges and oranges apples? I also find myself thinking about the nature of probabilities- they are, after just probabilities, only saying what is likely to happen. What actually happens is a different matter (this is where I refrain from making a horrible pun concerning matter, you're welcome). Unless you're a cat in a box- then apparently, you're both dead and alive until someone opens the box and finds out that you're actually dead. Or alive. Yep, makes just about as much sense as a unicorn on a bowling ball.
I also find myself thinking about the divide between philosophy and science that happened a few centuries ago. In the beginning, there was the Word, yes, but also, science and philosophy were one- science was a subcategory of philosophy in Ancient Greece up until the 17th or 18th century. But then science (and other fields) became more and more specialized, and they sort of became at odds with each other with respect to their goals, one driven by metaphysical questions of how we know in general, and the other by empirical questions of what we know specifically through our senses.
These days with the rise of quantum mechanics and also brain research, it seems like the domains of philosophy and science are intersecting again, and this is especially noticeable in this article, where reincarnation is being discussed alongside cosmology. Cosmologists are wondering whether they should consider other universes that may be bubbling forth zillions of light years away when doing their calculations, but that doesn't make sense to me. How can you study something scientifically if you can't see it? See meaning detect, of course. The reassuring thing about science is that you can test your results by trying to manipulate things or create things artificially. You push something, it falls, cause and effect. Of course, philosophers would object saying how do you know for sure that that's the cause, maybe there was in intermediary cause that was the real cause...there's all these objections, but the wonder of science is that we are surrounded by results that come from our manipulations that show that we are onto something, at least. Genetically-enhanced food, cloning, robots controlled by mere thought, the list is endless.
What other field of knowledge has such a list? Someday, would we know enough about this so-called "God" to actually be able to manipulate him? Highly, highly doubt it. But that's a totally different situation, right? He's not supposed to be tangible, therefore rendering him un-manipulatable. Right...totally different situations.
I can't help thinking what a random comparison this is- almost like asking why aren't apples oranges and oranges apples? I also find myself thinking about the nature of probabilities- they are, after just probabilities, only saying what is likely to happen. What actually happens is a different matter (this is where I refrain from making a horrible pun concerning matter, you're welcome). Unless you're a cat in a box- then apparently, you're both dead and alive until someone opens the box and finds out that you're actually dead. Or alive. Yep, makes just about as much sense as a unicorn on a bowling ball.
I also find myself thinking about the divide between philosophy and science that happened a few centuries ago. In the beginning, there was the Word, yes, but also, science and philosophy were one- science was a subcategory of philosophy in Ancient Greece up until the 17th or 18th century. But then science (and other fields) became more and more specialized, and they sort of became at odds with each other with respect to their goals, one driven by metaphysical questions of how we know in general, and the other by empirical questions of what we know specifically through our senses.
These days with the rise of quantum mechanics and also brain research, it seems like the domains of philosophy and science are intersecting again, and this is especially noticeable in this article, where reincarnation is being discussed alongside cosmology. Cosmologists are wondering whether they should consider other universes that may be bubbling forth zillions of light years away when doing their calculations, but that doesn't make sense to me. How can you study something scientifically if you can't see it? See meaning detect, of course. The reassuring thing about science is that you can test your results by trying to manipulate things or create things artificially. You push something, it falls, cause and effect. Of course, philosophers would object saying how do you know for sure that that's the cause, maybe there was in intermediary cause that was the real cause...there's all these objections, but the wonder of science is that we are surrounded by results that come from our manipulations that show that we are onto something, at least. Genetically-enhanced food, cloning, robots controlled by mere thought, the list is endless.
What other field of knowledge has such a list? Someday, would we know enough about this so-called "God" to actually be able to manipulate him? Highly, highly doubt it. But that's a totally different situation, right? He's not supposed to be tangible, therefore rendering him un-manipulatable. Right...totally different situations.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Angie in Dreamland
I dreamt that my dad stabbed in the heart. The psychiatrists would have a field day with this one.
In case you've wondered what it feels like to walk around with a stabbed heart, it's like your throat is closing up, gives you a bit of trouble breathing. And can you believe it, those damn doctors, they put me on the waiting list for surgery!
I hate waiting.
In case you've wondered what it feels like to walk around with a stabbed heart, it's like your throat is closing up, gives you a bit of trouble breathing. And can you believe it, those damn doctors, they put me on the waiting list for surgery!
I hate waiting.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
What a Moron
I can't believe this guy is allowed to write for anyone, let alone the Times. Gee, where to start. First off, I think it's ironic that he realized how ugly British women were upon returning to the UK after four years in Philadelphia because a recent survey carried out by Travel & Leisure mag shows Philly to be the least attractive city. Whatever the credibility of this survey is, I think he just said what he said for the sake of humor. It would have been more honest to say that compared to girls in LA, British women are more unkempt. But then again, 90% of the world's population is probably less "kempt" than girls in LA. I am all for taking artistic licenses (see past blog posts for examples), but not if it's done to injure others. They should be taken strictly for the sake of self-effacement, if effacement has anything to do with it.
In fact, he does go on to say that he had just returned from a two-month residence in LA and NY. This nugget of info only serves to weaken the worthiness of his opinion even further. He is clearly comparing British girls to girls from the two most appearance-conscious capitals (okay, not capitals, but why is it that state capitals are usually the least known city in the state, generally set in the middle of nowhere?) in the country. So when he polls his "friends" (I'm sure they're really his friends, after all, who wouldn't want to be friends with a guy who's shallower than a kiddy pool?), of course he's going to find out that they spend hundreds of dollars on beauty every month and go to "bikini boot camp" (???) Personally, I spend probably $20 on appearance a month, and please shoot me if you ever catch sight of me at bikini boot camp. Here's a charming generalization taken from the article:
Charming and utterly false. I know that there are girls out there who like to turn trips to the loo into a group event, but most mothers I knew did not take a gaggle of girls to the beauty parlor on a regular basis. Tips are given at home, passed from mother to daughter, friend to friend, and sure, some girls like to make a day trip to the spa or salon with their girlfriends every once in a while, but it does not make up a large part of our childhood. When I think of my childhood, I think of playing four-square and chinese jumprope, or reading, not trips to the salon for "gossip" and "catchup". Usually I find myself wishing my hair-stylist would shut up- the few times I actually went to a salon for a haircut. I don't understand why any guy would want a girl who spends an average of $700 on "upkeep" every month! A girl who blows that much dough on appearance is most likely self-involved, spoiled, and shallow. Right. As with the hydrophobic tails of cell membrane lipids, "like likes like". See this is why assholes don't die out. Assholes like other assholes, as long as they spend at least $700 on appearance every month.
Finally, I just hate it in general when guys talk about what a butterface this girl is and how they'd do that girl but they wouldn't do that girl even under threat of de-cockification. Please, man. You talk as if any of those girls would do you in a heartbeat. The author goes on to make some negative and shamefully false generalizations about American girls, just so he doesn't get assassinated by the women of Britain, a sorry call for redemption that was crushed even as it took off on its pedicured feet.
I just read the rest of the article, and as it turns out, he does complain that American girls are actually too involved with their appearance, and that this obsession can appear "unattractive" and "unpleasant". So now, we're too conscious about our looks? I now have cause to hate him more. If ever there was a man that was hard to please and more hypocritical than Father Michael, ex-Roman Catholic priest and child molester, it is this guy.
"Nobody's perfect," he begins his ending paragraph. Well, ass-in-a-box, then why do you demand such supreme perfection from women, British or American? Ass, ass, ass! No wonder he's single- with any luck, and with the release of this article, he'll be single for life. If he's lucky, he'll end up spending the rest of his sad lonely days with his fat manager like that burnt-out rocker on Love, Actually. And what was it that the rocker said during the radio interview scene? Here it is:
"When I was young, I was greedy and foolish, and now I'm left with no one. Wrinkled and alone."
Great movie, by the way. I watched it twice in a row during Christmas- the second time with the commentary on. And by the way, the cast is full of beautiful British women.
In fact, he does go on to say that he had just returned from a two-month residence in LA and NY. This nugget of info only serves to weaken the worthiness of his opinion even further. He is clearly comparing British girls to girls from the two most appearance-conscious capitals (okay, not capitals, but why is it that state capitals are usually the least known city in the state, generally set in the middle of nowhere?) in the country. So when he polls his "friends" (I'm sure they're really his friends, after all, who wouldn't want to be friends with a guy who's shallower than a kiddy pool?), of course he's going to find out that they spend hundreds of dollars on beauty every month and go to "bikini boot camp" (???) Personally, I spend probably $20 on appearance a month, and please shoot me if you ever catch sight of me at bikini boot camp. Here's a charming generalization taken from the article:
As with many societal ills, I blame the parents. British mothers do not instruct their daughters the way American mothers do. In the US, beauty treatments appear to be a large part of their growing-up experience. A trip to the beauty salon is a group event for girls, an opportunity for a gossip and a catchup.
Charming and utterly false. I know that there are girls out there who like to turn trips to the loo into a group event, but most mothers I knew did not take a gaggle of girls to the beauty parlor on a regular basis. Tips are given at home, passed from mother to daughter, friend to friend, and sure, some girls like to make a day trip to the spa or salon with their girlfriends every once in a while, but it does not make up a large part of our childhood. When I think of my childhood, I think of playing four-square and chinese jumprope, or reading, not trips to the salon for "gossip" and "catchup". Usually I find myself wishing my hair-stylist would shut up- the few times I actually went to a salon for a haircut. I don't understand why any guy would want a girl who spends an average of $700 on "upkeep" every month! A girl who blows that much dough on appearance is most likely self-involved, spoiled, and shallow. Right. As with the hydrophobic tails of cell membrane lipids, "like likes like". See this is why assholes don't die out. Assholes like other assholes, as long as they spend at least $700 on appearance every month.
Finally, I just hate it in general when guys talk about what a butterface this girl is and how they'd do that girl but they wouldn't do that girl even under threat of de-cockification. Please, man. You talk as if any of those girls would do you in a heartbeat. The author goes on to make some negative and shamefully false generalizations about American girls, just so he doesn't get assassinated by the women of Britain, a sorry call for redemption that was crushed even as it took off on its pedicured feet.
I just read the rest of the article, and as it turns out, he does complain that American girls are actually too involved with their appearance, and that this obsession can appear "unattractive" and "unpleasant". So now, we're too conscious about our looks? I now have cause to hate him more. If ever there was a man that was hard to please and more hypocritical than Father Michael, ex-Roman Catholic priest and child molester, it is this guy.
"Nobody's perfect," he begins his ending paragraph. Well, ass-in-a-box, then why do you demand such supreme perfection from women, British or American? Ass, ass, ass! No wonder he's single- with any luck, and with the release of this article, he'll be single for life. If he's lucky, he'll end up spending the rest of his sad lonely days with his fat manager like that burnt-out rocker on Love, Actually. And what was it that the rocker said during the radio interview scene? Here it is:
"When I was young, I was greedy and foolish, and now I'm left with no one. Wrinkled and alone."
Great movie, by the way. I watched it twice in a row during Christmas- the second time with the commentary on. And by the way, the cast is full of beautiful British women.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Things I've already done before turning that certain age
1. Road-tripped cross-country.
2. Went to a circus.
3. Took a bubble bath.
4. Visited Europe (France, Britain) and Asia (Korea- the southern half).
5. Lived on the east coast (Philly).
6. Visited San Fran.
7. Biked to a castle in France, pitched a tent, and ended up sleeping outside on a bench by the Cher river because the tent was pitched incorrectly and on an ant hill.
8. Ran a half-marathon.
9. Won a spelling bee.
10. Threw up at a (different) spelling bee.
11. Attended Harry Potter Midnight Magic party!
12. Lived during the HP era.
13. Got a degree in an obscure language called Math.
14. Reconnected with a childhood friend:)
15. Worked in a bookstore.
16. Downed a whole pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting. (More than once!)
17. Went on a date (More than once!)
18. Acted in a play (Chekov's "The Sneeze").
19. Wrote a tune on the guitar.
20. Hiked up Mt. Rainier.
21. Kept a blog.
22. Went snorkeling in the Bahamas.
23. Kissed an Irishman.
24. Danced in a ballet.
25. Made a nerdy physics joke.
26. Got over my fear of spiders and vegetables.
27. Dove off the high board. (OUCH. Never again.)
28. Inspired someone.
29. Got a tattoo.
30. Stayed up all night watching Alias.
31. Memorized the times table up to 12-sies.
32. Memorized the Lord's prayer. (I was bored. Waiting in the car. Did nothing for my faith.)
33. Read the Elegant Universe.
34. Learned to play Korean jacks.
35. Learned to hula hoop.
36. Fell in love, maybe.
37. Learned how to do the stadium whistle (just yesterday, actually).
38. Learned how to do a headstand.
39. Got hit by a taxi.
40. Visited Mont St. Michel in Normandy- tres joli!
41. Read The Little Prince in French. (I think I understood it too- it was a book about Napoleon, right?)
42. Downed 15 shots of soco&lime and didn't fall off the rooftop.
43. Dressed up as Superglue for Halloween with real bottles of Elmer's glue on my utility belt, an orange cape, and everything.
44. Saw Rent on Broadway and cried...until he came back to life. Then I got angry and threw rotten tomatoes at the Hollywood ending.
45. Acquired a tolerance for sushi, but only in the roll form. I don't do big chunks of raw flesh!
46. Reunioned at Mad4 with my beloved amigos.
47. Made a list of my accomplishments that ended at Rambaldi's magic number.
2. Went to a circus.
3. Took a bubble bath.
4. Visited Europe (France, Britain) and Asia (Korea- the southern half).
5. Lived on the east coast (Philly).
6. Visited San Fran.
7. Biked to a castle in France, pitched a tent, and ended up sleeping outside on a bench by the Cher river because the tent was pitched incorrectly and on an ant hill.
8. Ran a half-marathon.
9. Won a spelling bee.
10. Threw up at a (different) spelling bee.
11. Attended Harry Potter Midnight Magic party!
12. Lived during the HP era.
13. Got a degree in an obscure language called Math.
14. Reconnected with a childhood friend:)
15. Worked in a bookstore.
16. Downed a whole pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting. (More than once!)
17. Went on a date (More than once!)
18. Acted in a play (Chekov's "The Sneeze").
19. Wrote a tune on the guitar.
20. Hiked up Mt. Rainier.
21. Kept a blog.
22. Went snorkeling in the Bahamas.
23. Kissed an Irishman.
24. Danced in a ballet.
25. Made a nerdy physics joke.
26. Got over my fear of spiders and vegetables.
27. Dove off the high board. (OUCH. Never again.)
28. Inspired someone.
29. Got a tattoo.
30. Stayed up all night watching Alias.
31. Memorized the times table up to 12-sies.
32. Memorized the Lord's prayer. (I was bored. Waiting in the car. Did nothing for my faith.)
33. Read the Elegant Universe.
34. Learned to play Korean jacks.
35. Learned to hula hoop.
36. Fell in love, maybe.
37. Learned how to do the stadium whistle (just yesterday, actually).
38. Learned how to do a headstand.
39. Got hit by a taxi.
40. Visited Mont St. Michel in Normandy- tres joli!
41. Read The Little Prince in French. (I think I understood it too- it was a book about Napoleon, right?)
42. Downed 15 shots of soco&lime and didn't fall off the rooftop.
43. Dressed up as Superglue for Halloween with real bottles of Elmer's glue on my utility belt, an orange cape, and everything.
44. Saw Rent on Broadway and cried...until he came back to life. Then I got angry and threw rotten tomatoes at the Hollywood ending.
45. Acquired a tolerance for sushi, but only in the roll form. I don't do big chunks of raw flesh!
46. Reunioned at Mad4 with my beloved amigos.
47. Made a list of my accomplishments that ended at Rambaldi's magic number.
23 Things to do before I turn that certain age
1 for each of the years that I've lived so far:
1. Write & illustrate a children's book
2. Hot Air Balloon ride.
3. Buy a Victorian-style house in San Fran.
4. Get a PhD
5. See Swan Lake or Sleeping Beauty.
6. Perform with my guitar.
7. Fall in love for sure.
8. Fold a 1000 cranes and make a wish. (About halfway there!)
9. Visit South America. Travel to all 7 continents.
10. See the Northern Lights from...somewhere cold.
11. Learn Egyptian.
12. Ride a camel to the Pyramids in Egypt, then use my knowledge of Egyptian to decipher the writings on the tombs.
13. Learn to Tango.
14. Go to a Late Night with Conan taping.
15. Either give birth to or deliver a baby, but not both. And name it Summer if it's a girl.
16. Learn to play chess so well I can win at drunk chess.
17. Go surfing in Hawaii.
18. Go surfing in Costa Rica.
19. Learn to surf.
20. Go to Mars. C'mon NASA, I've only got like 70 years left!
21. Become a neonatal nurse.
22. Learn to unicycle, then tour with Cirque du Soleil.
23. Pay off all my school loans.
Thought I'd end on a practical note.
1. Write & illustrate a children's book
2. Hot Air Balloon ride.
3. Buy a Victorian-style house in San Fran.
4. Get a PhD
5. See Swan Lake or Sleeping Beauty.
6. Perform with my guitar.
7. Fall in love for sure.
8. Fold a 1000 cranes and make a wish. (About halfway there!)
9. Visit South America. Travel to all 7 continents.
10. See the Northern Lights from...somewhere cold.
11. Learn Egyptian.
12. Ride a camel to the Pyramids in Egypt, then use my knowledge of Egyptian to decipher the writings on the tombs.
13. Learn to Tango.
14. Go to a Late Night with Conan taping.
15. Either give birth to or deliver a baby, but not both. And name it Summer if it's a girl.
16. Learn to play chess so well I can win at drunk chess.
17. Go surfing in Hawaii.
18. Go surfing in Costa Rica.
19. Learn to surf.
20. Go to Mars. C'mon NASA, I've only got like 70 years left!
21. Become a neonatal nurse.
22. Learn to unicycle, then tour with Cirque du Soleil.
23. Pay off all my school loans.
Thought I'd end on a practical note.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Virtual Reality, Fishing, and Taters
Art imitates life, kids play house, and in Second Life, residents buy, sell, trade, and work. Why is it that when given the opportunity to escape reality, we always end up imitating it as best we can? In the virtual reality world of Second Life, the player is given the freedom to create any sort of world he desires and to make anything happen, but despite this ultimate freedom, the game's purpose evolved into the mundane real-world activities of making ordinary objects like clothes and selling or trading them, earning money (in Linden dollars), driving cars, owning land.
If I were to create a virtual reality game, I feel like I would want to create a whole new system of living that does not involve earning money or the business of real estate. But I can see a reason why a virtual imitation of reality would be such a draw: mainly because there are a lot of things in reality that can technically happen or exist, but do not because of lack of resources or talent or looks or personality or luck; which makes these things (that can technically happen or exist) unreal and invaluable. For example, it is mentioned in Wikipedia that artists use SL in order to exhibit their artwork in a Second Louvre. Getting one of your paintings exhibited in the Real Louvre is an event that could technically occur in reality, but for such an event to actually take place, a ton of skill and some luck, among other variables, are required. It is technically possible, but the chance of it actually occurring is so incredibly slim that it is what we call an "honor" for the lucky few, "tunneling" by quantum physicists, and a "flight of fancy" for the rest of us- in other words, it's a real, but not a realistic event. The virtual world allows players to live out their real-worldly dreams of being beautiful and winning car races and running naked in public. Which is testament to the fact that reality is pretty cool, often undervalued; we don't necessarily have to leave the realm of reality in order to experience amazing things. Fantastical events like flying without an apparatus only seem cooler because they cannot happen in reality. If we could fly, but we couldn't walk, walking would seem so much cooler just because it can't happen in reality. (Similarly, square watermelons, though not impossible to grow, seem cooler than round ones just because watermelons are naturally round.) But then again, isn't that like saying murderers only kill because their brains are wired a certain way that makes them more prone to murderous tendencies? Whatever led them to kill, unless it was due to insanity- having no moral judgment- it does not change the fact that they killed, so they should be punished for it. Similarly, the coolness factor of flying shouldn't be devalued just because it stems from the fact that flying lies outside the bounds of physical possibility. It is cool precisely because it is impossible and is a sensational experience.
Not only does SL allow real but not realistic things to "actually" occur, but there are actually some pretty cool non-real ideas explored through SL that stray away from the mundane activities of real life. Wikipedia mentions that artists have explored novel art forms that aren't physically possible in the real world. I guess what I realize is that fantastical re-imaginings of the world and systems of living don't just spring out of nowhere; they have a basis in reality and evolve gradually. We have to start with what we know, and innovations will come about until we look back and ooh and awe over what a spectacle we've created, how different the world seems compared to X numbers of years ago, and how fantastical the present appears to be compared to the past in terms of the kinds of jobs, clothes, buildings, technology, lifestyles, etc. that exist. And anyway, some people relish the game of real estate. Honestly, I am a huge fan of the saying that everything is interesting if looked at from a certain angle. However, there are some subjects whose interesting angle is hidden deeply in a crevice and once fished out, turns out not to be worth the amount of fishing line it took to get it out. Either that or it's never fished out because the angler falls asleep from boredom before it's ever found. Think about that the next time you run into a dozing fisherman. It's not the sun, it's the lack of biting angles!
Speaking of fishing, here's a T-shirt aphorism I spotted at a t-shirt store at Pike Place Market: Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day; teach him how to fish and he'll sit on a boat drinking beer all day.
I had never heard of Second Life before today, when Hyung boo (what I call my cousin's husband) asked if I knew about it. The three of us ended up spending all of dinner talking about it, it's relation to what he and his colleagues are trying to do with cyworld, and it's implications. An interesting point was when I wondered aloud whether our world could someday be taken over by a virtual world. Initially, I arbitrarily defined being "taken over" as spending more than half the day's hours in the virtual world. My cousin, Lira Unni, pointed out that that's pretty much already happened because we spend so much time on the internet. But she happened to think that a take-over was not a huge concern. For instance, when e-books first came out, people expressed concern over the possibility that e-books would eradicate paperbooks, but as is evident, paperbooks are still around and cherished because people naturally want to be able to hold and touch our books. But I pointed out that that desire comes from the generation that grew up with paperbooks- perhaps a few generations down the line, the ability to hold and touch a physical substance-representation of the written word will be of little or no importance. Then, Hyung boo made the really great point that today, 90% of money is not real, and how many people predicted that degree of virtual take-over? They are in the form of investments, something to do with options, stocks...Options was another thing I never heard of until today. "You mean like choices?" I asked naively. Nope, not quite. Good thing Lira Unni was there to translate Hyung boo's explanation of options. Food, I can talk about in Korean. Movies? Virtual reality even? Those too. Options- not so if it means anything other than choices.
The problem with SL seems to be that too many people get tired of it eventually. What would maintain and increase interest in a virtual world where there are really no rules or a point? A few gain a good chunk of profit from it, but the rest, they break even and just do it "for fun". But unlike a game, there is no winner or end, no collection of points. Cyworld people seem to be focused on the idea that a market is the way to go. As one reviewer put it, "Cyworld is money-driven and sickeningly commercial." Kinda harsh, but I think he may have a point: why is it that money is always the chosen incentive? Hyung boo told us that in Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash (which was the inspiration for SL), pizza delivery is the most sought-after job of young people (or something like that- might have misunderstood his mixture of Korean-English). This is a great example of alternative hierarchies, or alternative values. It alludes to the idea that in a game- even one with no winner or end- there could be other incentives besides monetary ones. Hard to believe in our capitalistic society, but with a wee bit of whimsical thinking, I think we could come up with an alternative. Like potatoes. You can boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew. Actually, they're not that great. And evidently, they're prone to mass wipeout. And anyway, potatoes would then just be another word for money.
If I were to create a virtual reality game, I feel like I would want to create a whole new system of living that does not involve earning money or the business of real estate. But I can see a reason why a virtual imitation of reality would be such a draw: mainly because there are a lot of things in reality that can technically happen or exist, but do not because of lack of resources or talent or looks or personality or luck; which makes these things (that can technically happen or exist) unreal and invaluable. For example, it is mentioned in Wikipedia that artists use SL in order to exhibit their artwork in a Second Louvre. Getting one of your paintings exhibited in the Real Louvre is an event that could technically occur in reality, but for such an event to actually take place, a ton of skill and some luck, among other variables, are required. It is technically possible, but the chance of it actually occurring is so incredibly slim that it is what we call an "honor" for the lucky few, "tunneling" by quantum physicists, and a "flight of fancy" for the rest of us- in other words, it's a real, but not a realistic event. The virtual world allows players to live out their real-worldly dreams of being beautiful and winning car races and running naked in public. Which is testament to the fact that reality is pretty cool, often undervalued; we don't necessarily have to leave the realm of reality in order to experience amazing things. Fantastical events like flying without an apparatus only seem cooler because they cannot happen in reality. If we could fly, but we couldn't walk, walking would seem so much cooler just because it can't happen in reality. (Similarly, square watermelons, though not impossible to grow, seem cooler than round ones just because watermelons are naturally round.) But then again, isn't that like saying murderers only kill because their brains are wired a certain way that makes them more prone to murderous tendencies? Whatever led them to kill, unless it was due to insanity- having no moral judgment- it does not change the fact that they killed, so they should be punished for it. Similarly, the coolness factor of flying shouldn't be devalued just because it stems from the fact that flying lies outside the bounds of physical possibility. It is cool precisely because it is impossible and is a sensational experience.
Not only does SL allow real but not realistic things to "actually" occur, but there are actually some pretty cool non-real ideas explored through SL that stray away from the mundane activities of real life. Wikipedia mentions that artists have explored novel art forms that aren't physically possible in the real world. I guess what I realize is that fantastical re-imaginings of the world and systems of living don't just spring out of nowhere; they have a basis in reality and evolve gradually. We have to start with what we know, and innovations will come about until we look back and ooh and awe over what a spectacle we've created, how different the world seems compared to X numbers of years ago, and how fantastical the present appears to be compared to the past in terms of the kinds of jobs, clothes, buildings, technology, lifestyles, etc. that exist. And anyway, some people relish the game of real estate. Honestly, I am a huge fan of the saying that everything is interesting if looked at from a certain angle. However, there are some subjects whose interesting angle is hidden deeply in a crevice and once fished out, turns out not to be worth the amount of fishing line it took to get it out. Either that or it's never fished out because the angler falls asleep from boredom before it's ever found. Think about that the next time you run into a dozing fisherman. It's not the sun, it's the lack of biting angles!
Speaking of fishing, here's a T-shirt aphorism I spotted at a t-shirt store at Pike Place Market: Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day; teach him how to fish and he'll sit on a boat drinking beer all day.
I had never heard of Second Life before today, when Hyung boo (what I call my cousin's husband) asked if I knew about it. The three of us ended up spending all of dinner talking about it, it's relation to what he and his colleagues are trying to do with cyworld, and it's implications. An interesting point was when I wondered aloud whether our world could someday be taken over by a virtual world. Initially, I arbitrarily defined being "taken over" as spending more than half the day's hours in the virtual world. My cousin, Lira Unni, pointed out that that's pretty much already happened because we spend so much time on the internet. But she happened to think that a take-over was not a huge concern. For instance, when e-books first came out, people expressed concern over the possibility that e-books would eradicate paperbooks, but as is evident, paperbooks are still around and cherished because people naturally want to be able to hold and touch our books. But I pointed out that that desire comes from the generation that grew up with paperbooks- perhaps a few generations down the line, the ability to hold and touch a physical substance-representation of the written word will be of little or no importance. Then, Hyung boo made the really great point that today, 90% of money is not real, and how many people predicted that degree of virtual take-over? They are in the form of investments, something to do with options, stocks...Options was another thing I never heard of until today. "You mean like choices?" I asked naively. Nope, not quite. Good thing Lira Unni was there to translate Hyung boo's explanation of options. Food, I can talk about in Korean. Movies? Virtual reality even? Those too. Options- not so if it means anything other than choices.
The problem with SL seems to be that too many people get tired of it eventually. What would maintain and increase interest in a virtual world where there are really no rules or a point? A few gain a good chunk of profit from it, but the rest, they break even and just do it "for fun". But unlike a game, there is no winner or end, no collection of points. Cyworld people seem to be focused on the idea that a market is the way to go. As one reviewer put it, "Cyworld is money-driven and sickeningly commercial." Kinda harsh, but I think he may have a point: why is it that money is always the chosen incentive? Hyung boo told us that in Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash (which was the inspiration for SL), pizza delivery is the most sought-after job of young people (or something like that- might have misunderstood his mixture of Korean-English). This is a great example of alternative hierarchies, or alternative values. It alludes to the idea that in a game- even one with no winner or end- there could be other incentives besides monetary ones. Hard to believe in our capitalistic society, but with a wee bit of whimsical thinking, I think we could come up with an alternative. Like potatoes. You can boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew. Actually, they're not that great. And evidently, they're prone to mass wipeout. And anyway, potatoes would then just be another word for money.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Anagram for Kazoo?
You know that dream you get sometimes, where there's a bunch of clowns running around, popping in and out of the floor, and even one sitting on a chair which is sitting on a bicycle which is sitting on a rope that is hanging 50 feet above ground-level?
Here's a secret: that is no dream. It's real! I saw it with my own eyes!
I saw KOOZA!
What can I say? It was surreal. My favorite part was the Wheel of Death, where two clowns balanced on giant wheels that spun on either end of the apparatus, both inside and outside of the wheel, jump roping on it, or just jumping up and hanging suspended in the air for seconds above the spinning wheel. The contortionists looked like live theatrical versions of Dali's paintings, and the unicycling duo made me think that maybe legs aren't so absolutely necessary after all. One can do a lot on wheels, even with just one. Although it would be kind of hard to stay still for long on a wheel. Standing still would be replaced by "wavering". Makes me think of those weird wheeled horse creatures from the His Dark Materials trilogy.
I think one reason why I have such a fascination with the circus is because it realizes the absolutely astounding potentials of what human beings can accomplish. Physically, at least. Who would believe that people can jump rope on a thin wire or touch their ass to their head, dancing their feet around the head like a spider? And I've heard of acrobats who can do double back tucks from one galloping horse to another blind-folded! These days, a few are even trying to fly.
Hey! I actually did one thing from my list of "Things to do before I turn..." list! Next: Hot air balloon? Let me see if I can actually dig up this list, actually...
Here's a secret: that is no dream. It's real! I saw it with my own eyes!
I saw KOOZA!
What can I say? It was surreal. My favorite part was the Wheel of Death, where two clowns balanced on giant wheels that spun on either end of the apparatus, both inside and outside of the wheel, jump roping on it, or just jumping up and hanging suspended in the air for seconds above the spinning wheel. The contortionists looked like live theatrical versions of Dali's paintings, and the unicycling duo made me think that maybe legs aren't so absolutely necessary after all. One can do a lot on wheels, even with just one. Although it would be kind of hard to stay still for long on a wheel. Standing still would be replaced by "wavering". Makes me think of those weird wheeled horse creatures from the His Dark Materials trilogy.
I think one reason why I have such a fascination with the circus is because it realizes the absolutely astounding potentials of what human beings can accomplish. Physically, at least. Who would believe that people can jump rope on a thin wire or touch their ass to their head, dancing their feet around the head like a spider? And I've heard of acrobats who can do double back tucks from one galloping horse to another blind-folded! These days, a few are even trying to fly.
Hey! I actually did one thing from my list of "Things to do before I turn..." list! Next: Hot air balloon? Let me see if I can actually dig up this list, actually...
Happy Feet
Yesterday, I was actually whimpering by the end of the day because of my horrible high hells- I mean heels. When I took them off to survey the damage done after a full day of walking around the mountainous streets of San Francisco, I noted visible indents above my ankles and scratch marks (it looked like a vicious cat had attacked them), along with heel burns and sore arches.
When your feet are in so much pain, every second spent standing feels like an eternity, and the last thing you want to do is take a trip to Safeway and spend a half hour trying to decide which deli-meat you want to buy for tomorrow's breakfast. IT'S ALL THE SAME! You feel like screaming. PIG'S SHOULDER, PIG'S SNOUT, PIG'S WING, ANY ANATOMICAL STRUCTURE WILL DO, FOR WILBUR'S SAKE! Luckily, there was the variety pack. And now, I am very near declaring myself a vegetarian. I cannot believe we eat noses, god that is so disgusting.
Needless to say, today, I went back to Payless and traded in the awful heels from hell for black, cushy, flat sneakers. It was the happiest moment of my life, past, present, or future. My enthusiasm for life grew exponentially, I felt like I could walk a 100 miles, jump to the moon, anything. Moral of the story: Happy feet make for a happy person, folks.
When your feet are in so much pain, every second spent standing feels like an eternity, and the last thing you want to do is take a trip to Safeway and spend a half hour trying to decide which deli-meat you want to buy for tomorrow's breakfast. IT'S ALL THE SAME! You feel like screaming. PIG'S SHOULDER, PIG'S SNOUT, PIG'S WING, ANY ANATOMICAL STRUCTURE WILL DO, FOR WILBUR'S SAKE! Luckily, there was the variety pack. And now, I am very near declaring myself a vegetarian. I cannot believe we eat noses, god that is so disgusting.
Needless to say, today, I went back to Payless and traded in the awful heels from hell for black, cushy, flat sneakers. It was the happiest moment of my life, past, present, or future. My enthusiasm for life grew exponentially, I felt like I could walk a 100 miles, jump to the moon, anything. Moral of the story: Happy feet make for a happy person, folks.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Warning: Not to be read by those who quease easy
Being on a plane with a clogged and dripping sinus is the pits. My hearing was reduced to 45% of it's capacity until I woke up today from a 15 hour sleep and discovered that I wouldn't have to learn sign language after all. My imagination tends to run away when I'm sick. To illustrate, freshman year in college, I fell really really ill and lay in bed wondering (skeptically, but still wondering!) if I had mad cow...I came to the conclusion that it would affect those around me more than me since I would be mad and wouldn't give a damn what was happening to me, and so really, I needn't worry except for my parents. As an explanatory note, that semester, we were reading "Deadly Feasts" in Ponzy's class, which is a book about mad cow and the human version, CJD, and prions. Very interesting book, but it could drive you a bit insane with hypochondriatic worries.
Anyway, a couple nights before my departure back to the West, I woke up in the middle of the night and yelled out: "Whatthefuck! The whole left side of my face is WET!!" A condition which evidently begs an explanation. It turned out, I had been sleeping on my left side, and so all the mucus clogged up my left nostril and started overflowing out all over the left side of my face. I kind of assumed I had woken up before it started dripping onto the pillow, but I could've been wrong. Might want to check that out Sarah. Before I wrote about this incident, I considered using an alias because it's pretty disgusting and not lady-like at all. It's not even man-like, come to think of it. It's just...animalistic. But how lame and obvious would it be to write "Jane did this", and "Jane did that" and "Jane snotted all over her face". It could have come across as bad fiction. Better to be up-front in this case, I thought.
The only thing I can think of right now that is more disgusting than snotting all over one's face is roaches. Even the word is disgusting, and I can't believe I'm desecrating my site with such obscenities as...you-know-what.
My PA vacay was splendoriferous. It started out in leafy Pittsburgh with the best Thanksgiving dinner yet. I used to think it was part of the Thanksgiving tradition to feel incredibly antic-apointed by the feast, which always looked and smelled so good until you actually got around to tasting it, but since college, it's only been getting better and better, and this year was no exception.
I met a lot of nice and/or interesting people, which was mostly fun, with the only bad part being that each initial meeting inevitably followed up with the question "So what do you do?" This question was easy to answer when I was in school ("I do magic tricks, memorize the digits of pi, and do headstands to increase blood-flow to my head"), but when you're in the middle of acquiring a job and moving to a different state, and your not quite sure what your heading into really, it becomes a big pain in the arse to answer, especially around 15 people on their way to be doctors.
Other than that, Pittsburgh was a good time, and I was so impressed by the Jesster's amazing domestic skills, which she somehow manages to cultivate alongside her intense med-school studies. As a thank-you for hosting us, Sarah and I painted her a beautiful Van-Gogh like jungle scene that we thought would complement Eric and his friend's abstract explosion of color very nicely. I'm sure both canvases are hanging over the black velvet massage chair this very moment, creating a relaxed, feng shui environment.
A mini-roadtrip took us to the east, where I got to see Philly again (including the rampant crime and racism!) and go to Pietro's- twice! In one week!- and do the Old City dance and a cheesey-go-round at Di Bruno's; I got to read at the Rittenhouse Barnes and see the Square all lit up, cross Broad Street, and of course the people! It was good to be with Sarah again. I found out what she'd been doing since I last saw her a month or two ago- watching the food network and television in general with a religious fervor worthy of the Inquisition. Now I'm home, and my mom is doing the same thing with the Korean channel. The momentary time of silence I had this morning while sitting at the kitchen table drinking hot cinnamon tea with a spoonful of honey and staring out the window at the falling snow was absolutely golden.
On another note, I randomly stumbled upon this page on Joseph Campbell. Well, I say 'randomly', but actually I can trace out the exact path I took to get there: I was at the Rittenhouse Barnes reading the latest issue of Zoetrope: All-story (a quarterly literary publication founded by Francis Ford Coppola). This latest issue was half-dedicated to his latest film, Youth Without Youth, which he says explores ideas of consciousness, time, dreaming and languages. Sounds like my kind of film. Anyway, there was this really fascinating article written by a former love interest of his, a mythologist named Wendy Doniger. Unfortunately, it's not online, but here is a Time article spotlighting the movie that mentions her. Remembering this article, I decided to google 'mythologist' to find out what they do exactly, and came across this page on Joseph Campbell. Wow, to think I reduced this whole paragraph to one word: 'randomly'. I can't wait to read more about this "master story-teller" as well as his famed "Hero of a 1000 Faces", once I have time. He seems to be the Brian Greene of mythology- being an innovator in his field, as well as popularizing it for non-academics, as well as having appeared in a PBS broadcast series version of his book "The Power of Myth".
Anyway, a couple nights before my departure back to the West, I woke up in the middle of the night and yelled out: "Whatthefuck! The whole left side of my face is WET!!" A condition which evidently begs an explanation. It turned out, I had been sleeping on my left side, and so all the mucus clogged up my left nostril and started overflowing out all over the left side of my face. I kind of assumed I had woken up before it started dripping onto the pillow, but I could've been wrong. Might want to check that out Sarah. Before I wrote about this incident, I considered using an alias because it's pretty disgusting and not lady-like at all. It's not even man-like, come to think of it. It's just...animalistic. But how lame and obvious would it be to write "Jane did this", and "Jane did that" and "Jane snotted all over her face". It could have come across as bad fiction. Better to be up-front in this case, I thought.
The only thing I can think of right now that is more disgusting than snotting all over one's face is roaches. Even the word is disgusting, and I can't believe I'm desecrating my site with such obscenities as...you-know-what.
My PA vacay was splendoriferous. It started out in leafy Pittsburgh with the best Thanksgiving dinner yet. I used to think it was part of the Thanksgiving tradition to feel incredibly antic-apointed by the feast, which always looked and smelled so good until you actually got around to tasting it, but since college, it's only been getting better and better, and this year was no exception.
I met a lot of nice and/or interesting people, which was mostly fun, with the only bad part being that each initial meeting inevitably followed up with the question "So what do you do?" This question was easy to answer when I was in school ("I do magic tricks, memorize the digits of pi, and do headstands to increase blood-flow to my head"), but when you're in the middle of acquiring a job and moving to a different state, and your not quite sure what your heading into really, it becomes a big pain in the arse to answer, especially around 15 people on their way to be doctors.
Other than that, Pittsburgh was a good time, and I was so impressed by the Jesster's amazing domestic skills, which she somehow manages to cultivate alongside her intense med-school studies. As a thank-you for hosting us, Sarah and I painted her a beautiful Van-Gogh like jungle scene that we thought would complement Eric and his friend's abstract explosion of color very nicely. I'm sure both canvases are hanging over the black velvet massage chair this very moment, creating a relaxed, feng shui environment.
A mini-roadtrip took us to the east, where I got to see Philly again (including the rampant crime and racism!) and go to Pietro's- twice! In one week!- and do the Old City dance and a cheesey-go-round at Di Bruno's; I got to read at the Rittenhouse Barnes and see the Square all lit up, cross Broad Street, and of course the people! It was good to be with Sarah again. I found out what she'd been doing since I last saw her a month or two ago- watching the food network and television in general with a religious fervor worthy of the Inquisition. Now I'm home, and my mom is doing the same thing with the Korean channel. The momentary time of silence I had this morning while sitting at the kitchen table drinking hot cinnamon tea with a spoonful of honey and staring out the window at the falling snow was absolutely golden.
On another note, I randomly stumbled upon this page on Joseph Campbell. Well, I say 'randomly', but actually I can trace out the exact path I took to get there: I was at the Rittenhouse Barnes reading the latest issue of Zoetrope: All-story (a quarterly literary publication founded by Francis Ford Coppola). This latest issue was half-dedicated to his latest film, Youth Without Youth, which he says explores ideas of consciousness, time, dreaming and languages. Sounds like my kind of film. Anyway, there was this really fascinating article written by a former love interest of his, a mythologist named Wendy Doniger. Unfortunately, it's not online, but here is a Time article spotlighting the movie that mentions her. Remembering this article, I decided to google 'mythologist' to find out what they do exactly, and came across this page on Joseph Campbell. Wow, to think I reduced this whole paragraph to one word: 'randomly'. I can't wait to read more about this "master story-teller" as well as his famed "Hero of a 1000 Faces", once I have time. He seems to be the Brian Greene of mythology- being an innovator in his field, as well as popularizing it for non-academics, as well as having appeared in a PBS broadcast series version of his book "The Power of Myth".
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Exploring Berkeley
I just spent two hours at a store called: Games of Berkeley. It was the origami section that drew me. Did you know, an ordinary square sheet of paper can be transformed into a unicorn? Or an Arab riding a horse? Or Jesus praying at the rocks? I spent about half of the two hours trying to convince myself I didn't need to buy an origami book, then I spent the other half trying to figure out how to make a duck and a penguin. Hmmm, yes, I see now why I must travel alone.
Before I discovered the game store, I sat at a large table at Tully's (which has free wi-fi, cheers!) and listened to the woman sitting at the same table crying. Not loudly, just sniffles. A bouquet of tacky, bright orange, red, and purple flowers lay on the table in front of her. A long while later, a man entered and came to her. "I'm so sorry, I did the stupidest thing!" he said, "I got on the wrong BART train!" They left Tully's together.
Before I discovered the game store, I sat at a large table at Tully's (which has free wi-fi, cheers!) and listened to the woman sitting at the same table crying. Not loudly, just sniffles. A bouquet of tacky, bright orange, red, and purple flowers lay on the table in front of her. A long while later, a man entered and came to her. "I'm so sorry, I did the stupidest thing!" he said, "I got on the wrong BART train!" They left Tully's together.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Kindred Blog-Spirit
Check out this fun blog called Cocktail Party Physics. I guess it wasn't so strange that I considered dressing up as Schrodinger's cat for Halloween. (Charming maybe!) In the post "Get your physics phreak on", she writes about the premiere of the new show, "The Big Bang Theory", specifically about how one character dressed up as The Doppler Effect for a Halloween party! Hoohoohooboy, that's so funny! And then she goes on to list some other creative punny physics costumes like Schrodinger's Cat ("...demonstrate your collapsing wave function"). I love how she writes after this suggestion, "If your looking for something a little less mainstream..." Indeed, Schrody's Cat has become the E=mc^2 of quantum theory.
Happyredpigs! I like your idea of a mini-roadtrip from Pittsburgh to Philly! Will do my best to haul ass out there (and I've got a little surprise news, too! Let's just say...I've acquired a new skill, and it's slightly more useful than the one where I can wiggle my ear and burp the alphabet. Wait, I can't even do that latter one, sadly.)
Happyredpigs! I like your idea of a mini-roadtrip from Pittsburgh to Philly! Will do my best to haul ass out there (and I've got a little surprise news, too! Let's just say...I've acquired a new skill, and it's slightly more useful than the one where I can wiggle my ear and burp the alphabet. Wait, I can't even do that latter one, sadly.)
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Block Game
This game does a great job of illustrating how a single event occurring at one point in space can drastically affect an event at another point, even though the two seem utterly unrelated due to their distance. As drastic as making the impossible possible. Sounds fuzzy, but you'll see what I mean if you play the game, especially level 21.
And so it goes, 'round and 'round like a merry-go-round. The above quote is taken from a children's book, Midnight Magic, a medieval mystery taking place a year before Columbus sailed the ocean blue, where reason and empiricism are pitted again magic and vengeful Shakespearean ghosts. The former pair win out this particular battle, but as suggested by the above quote, even their world is fated to be turned upside down- or spherical- in the coming months, though not by magic. The relationship between Magnus the magician and his servant Fabrizio is so reminiscent of the one between Merlin and the owl Archimedes (hoot hoot!) in The Sword in the Stone, that I wouldn't be surprised if the author, Ava, actually had them in mind when he sketched out his own two characters. Even the quote above reminds me a lot of the one to the side of this homepage.
Also, this Tuesday, the whole Science Times section was devoted to the topic of Snoozing. Besides the regular articles, they had sleep quotes running down the sidelines of the pages, sources ranging from an ancient Buddhist to English poets and playwrights to present-day physicists. One of these physicists was quoted as saying that he had a colleague who dreamt that he was an elementary particle. How...I...What I...yeah, I'm speechless. I read about them and make jokes about them, but to actually have dreamt about being one...he must be one quarky dude. I wonder if biologists dream about being DNA or proteins. A Day in the Life of a Nucleotide. The Adventures of Alph, the Elementary Particle. I think I'll pitch these ideas to Chronicle Books.
Speaking of grammar, to whom it concerns, I sort of take issue with the fact that the very British, very colloquial term "cadge" is included in the GRE verbal section. Isn't this an American test to get into American schools? As if we didn't have enough of a British invasion already. Fine! I'll learn it! But I'll learn it grudgingly! And maybe I wasn't speaking of grammar, but I was thinking about it (dreamed? dreamt? They both sound wrong to me), so I figured that was enough merit a transition.
--"Master, last week I spoke to a boy I know. He insists the world is round because his patron told him so. Stupid, yes, for any donkey can see with their own eyes that the world is flat. But is the boy mad to believe what his patron told him? Would you call every person who believes an impossible thing 'mad'?"
--"Fabrizio, if one sees what isn't there to see, madness is the only possible explanation. So, yes, if your friend insists the world is round, alas, he is mad."
And so it goes, 'round and 'round like a merry-go-round. The above quote is taken from a children's book, Midnight Magic, a medieval mystery taking place a year before Columbus sailed the ocean blue, where reason and empiricism are pitted again magic and vengeful Shakespearean ghosts. The former pair win out this particular battle, but as suggested by the above quote, even their world is fated to be turned upside down- or spherical- in the coming months, though not by magic. The relationship between Magnus the magician and his servant Fabrizio is so reminiscent of the one between Merlin and the owl Archimedes (hoot hoot!) in The Sword in the Stone, that I wouldn't be surprised if the author, Ava, actually had them in mind when he sketched out his own two characters. Even the quote above reminds me a lot of the one to the side of this homepage.
Also, this Tuesday, the whole Science Times section was devoted to the topic of Snoozing. Besides the regular articles, they had sleep quotes running down the sidelines of the pages, sources ranging from an ancient Buddhist to English poets and playwrights to present-day physicists. One of these physicists was quoted as saying that he had a colleague who dreamt that he was an elementary particle. How...I...What I...yeah, I'm speechless. I read about them and make jokes about them, but to actually have dreamt about being one...he must be one quarky dude. I wonder if biologists dream about being DNA or proteins. A Day in the Life of a Nucleotide. The Adventures of Alph, the Elementary Particle. I think I'll pitch these ideas to Chronicle Books.
Speaking of grammar, to whom it concerns, I sort of take issue with the fact that the very British, very colloquial term "cadge" is included in the GRE verbal section. Isn't this an American test to get into American schools? As if we didn't have enough of a British invasion already. Fine! I'll learn it! But I'll learn it grudgingly! And maybe I wasn't speaking of grammar, but I was thinking about it (dreamed? dreamt? They both sound wrong to me), so I figured that was enough merit a transition.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Opening Night For Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Cate Blanchett does a painfully amazing job at showing us that being a queen is not a position to be envied and not only because of the heavy getup she has to wear. I believe one of her dresses were actually winged. As if to conjure up a semiotic image of a queen bee? Who knows. Winged dresses, ugly red ramen-noodle hair wigs, and layers of Casper powder on my face? Thanks, I'll pass. What? But she got to kiss Clive Owen, you say? Well, she could have done much more than just kiss him if she hadn't been queen. Like explore other territories. North Carolina, Virginia, Conjugia*...But virgin mother to her people that she is, she has to remain in her palace and protect and fight for her people instead.
Clive Owen is given the most beautiful lines to go along with his beautiful self. No joke: the first time he came on screen, a more than audible sigh swept through the theater audience. I swear there were a few guys that joined in too! Owen plays the explorer Sir Walter Raleigh, who was the one who settled the colony of Roanoke in North Carolina, the one that mysteriously disappeared with not a sole soul nor body left as evidence that a colony ever existed.
The Armada battle scene contained many individual artistic shots, but was overall an antisappointing montage sequence, choppy and not nearly as grand and majestic as we all expected it to be. It came off as perfunctory, the necessary battle sequence preceded by the necessary rallying speech, both of which fell flat compared to parallel scenes from Gladiator, LOTR, etc. Google spellcheck tells me "antisappointing" is not a word. Spellcheck be damned!
*This is a reference to a really funny joke made in the movie, which I won't tell just in case anyone goes to see the movie.
Also, I pulled a major crangie-ism today. Like MAJOR. It's practically unpublishable. There was a Mennonite involved. Sigh. I am incorrigible. Suddenly, I'm feeling punny.
Why do cars sleep?
Because they're tired!
Why do bicycles sleep?
Bicycles don't sleep.
Why is it that dogs bark, birds fly, and children who get their feet wet must take their medicine?
Because Mary Poppins said so.
Clive Owen is given the most beautiful lines to go along with his beautiful self. No joke: the first time he came on screen, a more than audible sigh swept through the theater audience. I swear there were a few guys that joined in too! Owen plays the explorer Sir Walter Raleigh, who was the one who settled the colony of Roanoke in North Carolina, the one that mysteriously disappeared with not a sole soul nor body left as evidence that a colony ever existed.
The Armada battle scene contained many individual artistic shots, but was overall an antisappointing montage sequence, choppy and not nearly as grand and majestic as we all expected it to be. It came off as perfunctory, the necessary battle sequence preceded by the necessary rallying speech, both of which fell flat compared to parallel scenes from Gladiator, LOTR, etc. Google spellcheck tells me "antisappointing" is not a word. Spellcheck be damned!
*This is a reference to a really funny joke made in the movie, which I won't tell just in case anyone goes to see the movie.
Also, I pulled a major crangie-ism today. Like MAJOR. It's practically unpublishable. There was a Mennonite involved. Sigh. I am incorrigible. Suddenly, I'm feeling punny.
Why do cars sleep?
Because they're tired!
Why do bicycles sleep?
Bicycles don't sleep.
Why is it that dogs bark, birds fly, and children who get their feet wet must take their medicine?
Because Mary Poppins said so.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Collision
"Enervate" means to weaken vitality, not strengthen it? But this is absurd! In Harry Potter, the spell to re-awaken someone who's been knocked unconscious is enervate, so that word must mean to strengthen vitality! This is madness. It's utterly counter-intuitive! Either the wizarding world mislabeled their spell, or ETS and the Concise Oxford contain typos. I must write a letter to the latter pair disabusing them of their fanciful notions about the word...
There is this word, weltzschmertz, which means the feeling you get when your ideal world and the real world collide. Yep, I can feel it right now, weltzschmertz generated by a potterverse-reality collision. I wonder if we'll get a second moon out of this collision. According to a GRE reading-comprehension passage, the moon might have been a result of Earth's collision with another celestial heavy-weight.
On another note, I finally picked up a book by Noam Chomsky ("What We Say Goes"), and I should restrain myself from saying so after only having read 3/4 of 1 of his books, but no: he is brilliant. Admittedly, I have a tendency to idolize and idealize those I admire to an extent somewhere beyond what's called for. Still, the amount of knowledge contained in the man's brain is outrageous. A skillful debater includes examples and facts and figures in his arguments, and he seems to have a bottomless pit of them in every topic people throw his way. Which, albeit is usually related to politics or linguistics.
It's interesting to note how pro-Palestine he appears to be in the book. No, maybe I stated that incorrectly: I don't know if he's pro-Palestine, but he's completely against what he sees as US-Israel criminal activity/schoolhouse bullying. I don't know a lot of people who take the anti-Zionism stance, and when I asked a Jewish friend once, whether he supported the State of Israel, he replied "What do you mean? Of course I do!" Like, duh, what kind of answer was I looking for? I don't know,...with what little knowledge I have of the situation, it seems wrong to kick out hundreds of thousands of people from their homes just like that.
Also, Chomsky scares me the way he talks about nuclear warfare and the end of our species. But then he goes on to say later that Iran's not going to shoot nuclear missiles unless they want to commit mass suicide, in other words: not likely. Inconsistency there, but maybe I'm missing an element. A word or two about 9/11 conspiracies, the futility of name-calling in politics (and why it may actually help the one being verbally abused), and many other issues, written in the form of a dialogue between him and a journalist. The point of the book, as you can guess, is that the U.S. is an outlaw state, fully acknowledged, whatever we say goes, no matter how hypocritical or criminal. I just remembered one thing that the journalist mentioned in the book that cracked me up: Bush accused Iran of "meddling" in Iraq. No irony intended. What a riot.
A note about this other book I'm reading at the same time "Rich Dad, Poor Dad": Something about the methods to striking it rich that are described in the book strikes a bad chord with me. His methods seem sound and reasonable, and at first I was a most enthusiastic reader, thinking about buying mutual funds and all, but as I kept reading, I started to feel like something was wrong with some of his methods.
It took me a while to pinpoint the cause of my unease, but when he started raving about corporations, it hit me: it's exploitation. He's bragging about dooping people and ripping them off, and how you can make so much money by playing with corporations. How you can avoid taxes by spending as much of your asset-generated money as possible on fancy cars and dinners and vacations to Bali before taxes. And I really dislike the way he makes "hard-working professionals" and in particular, his own father ("poor dad") out to be idiots. It's awful. This is a major problem with our society, that there are people like him who think as long as your technically sticking to the rules- paying close attention to the wording so you can make loopholes- then what you're doing is perfectly okay, morally, and your winnings are justly obtained. He has good points, like the importance of differentiating between assets and liabilities, and everything he says makes sense, but is it enough to be technically true?
Oh, and today, I found myself flossing at the bookstore. I happened to have a little tooth-shaped container of dental floss in my backpack, and after eating an apple and a nectarine, I really, really needed to floss. I suppose I could've gone to the bathroom and done it in private. At any rate, Jess, I wish you were there to see it. It was a defining moment in my tooth-care career.
There is this word, weltzschmertz, which means the feeling you get when your ideal world and the real world collide. Yep, I can feel it right now, weltzschmertz generated by a potterverse-reality collision. I wonder if we'll get a second moon out of this collision. According to a GRE reading-comprehension passage, the moon might have been a result of Earth's collision with another celestial heavy-weight.
On another note, I finally picked up a book by Noam Chomsky ("What We Say Goes"), and I should restrain myself from saying so after only having read 3/4 of 1 of his books, but no: he is brilliant. Admittedly, I have a tendency to idolize and idealize those I admire to an extent somewhere beyond what's called for. Still, the amount of knowledge contained in the man's brain is outrageous. A skillful debater includes examples and facts and figures in his arguments, and he seems to have a bottomless pit of them in every topic people throw his way. Which, albeit is usually related to politics or linguistics.
It's interesting to note how pro-Palestine he appears to be in the book. No, maybe I stated that incorrectly: I don't know if he's pro-Palestine, but he's completely against what he sees as US-Israel criminal activity/schoolhouse bullying. I don't know a lot of people who take the anti-Zionism stance, and when I asked a Jewish friend once, whether he supported the State of Israel, he replied "What do you mean? Of course I do!" Like, duh, what kind of answer was I looking for? I don't know,...with what little knowledge I have of the situation, it seems wrong to kick out hundreds of thousands of people from their homes just like that.
Also, Chomsky scares me the way he talks about nuclear warfare and the end of our species. But then he goes on to say later that Iran's not going to shoot nuclear missiles unless they want to commit mass suicide, in other words: not likely. Inconsistency there, but maybe I'm missing an element. A word or two about 9/11 conspiracies, the futility of name-calling in politics (and why it may actually help the one being verbally abused), and many other issues, written in the form of a dialogue between him and a journalist. The point of the book, as you can guess, is that the U.S. is an outlaw state, fully acknowledged, whatever we say goes, no matter how hypocritical or criminal. I just remembered one thing that the journalist mentioned in the book that cracked me up: Bush accused Iran of "meddling" in Iraq. No irony intended. What a riot.
A note about this other book I'm reading at the same time "Rich Dad, Poor Dad": Something about the methods to striking it rich that are described in the book strikes a bad chord with me. His methods seem sound and reasonable, and at first I was a most enthusiastic reader, thinking about buying mutual funds and all, but as I kept reading, I started to feel like something was wrong with some of his methods.
It took me a while to pinpoint the cause of my unease, but when he started raving about corporations, it hit me: it's exploitation. He's bragging about dooping people and ripping them off, and how you can make so much money by playing with corporations. How you can avoid taxes by spending as much of your asset-generated money as possible on fancy cars and dinners and vacations to Bali before taxes. And I really dislike the way he makes "hard-working professionals" and in particular, his own father ("poor dad") out to be idiots. It's awful. This is a major problem with our society, that there are people like him who think as long as your technically sticking to the rules- paying close attention to the wording so you can make loopholes- then what you're doing is perfectly okay, morally, and your winnings are justly obtained. He has good points, like the importance of differentiating between assets and liabilities, and everything he says makes sense, but is it enough to be technically true?
Oh, and today, I found myself flossing at the bookstore. I happened to have a little tooth-shaped container of dental floss in my backpack, and after eating an apple and a nectarine, I really, really needed to floss. I suppose I could've gone to the bathroom and done it in private. At any rate, Jess, I wish you were there to see it. It was a defining moment in my tooth-care career.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
More Mom & Dad Tales
Tonight, my dad expounded on the controversial topic of modern day Korean pop stars versus the classical Korean singer-performers of his generation, and doled out valuable counsel in between shots of Bek Se Ju, a tasty Korean rice wine that tastes like ginseng tea. He is a very wise man for someone who made so many mistakes in his lifetime- or I guess, because of the mistakes. He is also a fun person to drink with.
The other night, my mom and I stopped by at a Chevron. Filling the tank took no time, so afterward, I sat in the car waiting as my mom carried on with her newest obsession: wiping down the car with her dollar-store glass cleaner every chance she gets. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe.
Suddenly, about 30 feet to our right, this dude sprints to the car parked there and starts kicking the hell out of the car door, while the girl inside yells and curses her brains out. I'm sitting in the car in severe shock and thinking somewhere in the folds of my gray matter that I should dial 911, but I seem to have lost the ability to move to look for my phone, so I just stare stupidly. I think the Hamburger Helper hand, or even the Paper Clip from Word would have been more helpful than me.
Luckily, the girl herself brings out her cell and starts dialing 911, mute curses still streaming out of her mouth a mile a minute (her window was rolled up so I couldn't hear what she was saying, but her eyes and arm gestures said it all). Then, I guessed that the dude had taken enough of his anger out on the car because he ran away, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
But then, 30 seconds later, dude sprints back to the car, this time with a sledgehammer-type weapon in his hand and starts wacking the window with it! Bam bam bam! Pieces of glass start flying everywhere, and I'm thinking oh shit, phone phone phone oh shit! But then I realize it's the head of the weapon that's breaking into bits and flying everywhere, not the window. The guy I guess realizes the same thing, so after he wacks the shit out of the car window, he runs away again. For good this time.
Finally able to tear my eyes away from this scene, I look for my mom and realize that she's still cleaning the car window with her dollar-store imitation windex. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe.
Hoo hoo hoo lord! Every time I think of that night I burst out laughing as I picture my mom, this little Asian lady calmly wiping away at the stains on her car window while a full blown act of violence is taking place 30 feet behind her.
The other night, my mom and I stopped by at a Chevron. Filling the tank took no time, so afterward, I sat in the car waiting as my mom carried on with her newest obsession: wiping down the car with her dollar-store glass cleaner every chance she gets. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe.
Suddenly, about 30 feet to our right, this dude sprints to the car parked there and starts kicking the hell out of the car door, while the girl inside yells and curses her brains out. I'm sitting in the car in severe shock and thinking somewhere in the folds of my gray matter that I should dial 911, but I seem to have lost the ability to move to look for my phone, so I just stare stupidly. I think the Hamburger Helper hand, or even the Paper Clip from Word would have been more helpful than me.
Luckily, the girl herself brings out her cell and starts dialing 911, mute curses still streaming out of her mouth a mile a minute (her window was rolled up so I couldn't hear what she was saying, but her eyes and arm gestures said it all). Then, I guessed that the dude had taken enough of his anger out on the car because he ran away, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
But then, 30 seconds later, dude sprints back to the car, this time with a sledgehammer-type weapon in his hand and starts wacking the window with it! Bam bam bam! Pieces of glass start flying everywhere, and I'm thinking oh shit, phone phone phone oh shit! But then I realize it's the head of the weapon that's breaking into bits and flying everywhere, not the window. The guy I guess realizes the same thing, so after he wacks the shit out of the car window, he runs away again. For good this time.
Finally able to tear my eyes away from this scene, I look for my mom and realize that she's still cleaning the car window with her dollar-store imitation windex. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe. Spray spray spray. Wipe wipe.
Hoo hoo hoo lord! Every time I think of that night I burst out laughing as I picture my mom, this little Asian lady calmly wiping away at the stains on her car window while a full blown act of violence is taking place 30 feet behind her.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Musings and Tips
Smoke from a chimney: it's filthy, it pollutes the air and our lungs, it smears the sky black, it's not natural at all, but for some reason, it's pretty,...romantic,...the perfect touch to a sunrise over the city scape.
The best way to occupy your time during a layover at the airport:
If you have >= 3.5 hours, take the train to the city and take a whirlwind tour.
If you have<= 3.5 hours, go to the nearest newsstand and catch up on the latest events. Pick up at least 1 local paper, the Wall Street (where on the left hand column of the front page, they give convenient bullet point summaries of the goings-on in the world), the NYT, and USA Today (read the Life section to catch up on pop culture- movies and such). Don't buy them, for Chrissake, just stand there for 45 minutes or so reading. I used to do that with the NYT at Wawa every morning before work, after purchasing my daily jug of Wawa diet iced green tea.
The best way to occupy your time during a layover at the airport:
If you have >= 3.5 hours, take the train to the city and take a whirlwind tour.
If you have<= 3.5 hours, go to the nearest newsstand and catch up on the latest events. Pick up at least 1 local paper, the Wall Street (where on the left hand column of the front page, they give convenient bullet point summaries of the goings-on in the world), the NYT, and USA Today (read the Life section to catch up on pop culture- movies and such). Don't buy them, for Chrissake, just stand there for 45 minutes or so reading. I used to do that with the NYT at Wawa every morning before work, after purchasing my daily jug of Wawa diet iced green tea.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Pre-E-Ticket Days of Yore
Does anyone remember how we booked flights before the advent of e-tickets? Because I sure didn't. This question randomly popped into my mind as I dazedly traversed the Columbus Airport (due to a long long red-eye flight, I am presently existing in a state of extreme zombieness). I vaguely remembered that we had to bring the ticket to the airport on the day of travel, but that's all I remember of those pre-historic days. The only way I could think of was that we called in to book tickets. But that was crazy, I thought. That would clog up phone lines. Or something. It just sounds crazy, calling in to book tickets.
But, as I discovered through a quick online search, that is exactly what we used to do before the advent of electronic tickets! I can't believe it! How quaint were our ways! Amazing...
Also, I was reaching for a paper towel in the bathroom- it was one of those sensored ones that just zoom right out when you reach for it. Next to me stood a little blonde girl on a chair as her mom helped her wash her hands.
"Kid, we didn't have those when I was a kid," I said to her, gesturing to the sensored paper towel ejector. Man the things that can change in just a couple decades.
But, as I discovered through a quick online search, that is exactly what we used to do before the advent of electronic tickets! I can't believe it! How quaint were our ways! Amazing...
Also, I was reaching for a paper towel in the bathroom- it was one of those sensored ones that just zoom right out when you reach for it. Next to me stood a little blonde girl on a chair as her mom helped her wash her hands.
"Kid, we didn't have those when I was a kid," I said to her, gesturing to the sensored paper towel ejector. Man the things that can change in just a couple decades.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Umma-ism
Here is another hilarious umma-ism (umma=mom in Korean):
"You should eat a little something before we go out to dinner."
And:
Umma: Who's this?
Me: Leonardo DiCaprio.
Umma: Lehnodacabbri?
Me: Lee-uhn
Umma: Lee-uhn
Me: -ar
Umma: -ar
Me: doh
Umma: doh
Me: Leonardo
Umma: Leonardo. Leonardo.
Me: Dicaprio. Di-
Umma: What there's more?! Sick!
"You should eat a little something before we go out to dinner."
And:
Umma: Who's this?
Me: Leonardo DiCaprio.
Umma: Lehnodacabbri?
Me: Lee-uhn
Umma: Lee-uhn
Me: -ar
Umma: -ar
Me: doh
Umma: doh
Me: Leonardo
Umma: Leonardo. Leonardo.
Me: Dicaprio. Di-
Umma: What there's more?! Sick!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Instructions for drawing a picture of Angie's dream house
1. Take a crayon.
2. Draw a fancy treehouse.
a) Winding staircase entrance.
b) Skylights.
c) Fireplace.
3. Add a swing set.
4. Color in a sparkling lake.
5. Add a canoe.
Sarah and I took a day trip to Poulsbo to visit a friend who lives and works on an organic farm there. She took us out canoeing off Bainbridge Island, and it was the most wonderful adventure. There's nothing like the feeling of being so close to the water, just like the ducks. References were made, or images swam in my head, of Life of Pi, Tom Hanks and Wilson, canoeing in Sarah Finseth's backyard pond (and getting lost), Ariel and Prince Eric, the Row row row your boat nursery rhyme, the whaleship Essex (and regrettably, those math story problems that go: "If you're swimming against the current at x mph, with the speed of the current being y mph...")...as we paddled through the harbor, winding through the ferries and bobbing alongside the ducks, with the pink-gold Seattle skyline behind us and the blue sky above us. The moments are rare, when my ideal world aligns with the real one, but when it does...whew! It's marvelous! I felt inexplicably content, as well as slightly sweaty under that life-vest.
2. Draw a fancy treehouse.
a) Winding staircase entrance.
b) Skylights.
c) Fireplace.
3. Add a swing set.
4. Color in a sparkling lake.
5. Add a canoe.
Sarah and I took a day trip to Poulsbo to visit a friend who lives and works on an organic farm there. She took us out canoeing off Bainbridge Island, and it was the most wonderful adventure. There's nothing like the feeling of being so close to the water, just like the ducks. References were made, or images swam in my head, of Life of Pi, Tom Hanks and Wilson, canoeing in Sarah Finseth's backyard pond (and getting lost), Ariel and Prince Eric, the Row row row your boat nursery rhyme, the whaleship Essex (and regrettably, those math story problems that go: "If you're swimming against the current at x mph, with the speed of the current being y mph...")...as we paddled through the harbor, winding through the ferries and bobbing alongside the ducks, with the pink-gold Seattle skyline behind us and the blue sky above us. The moments are rare, when my ideal world aligns with the real one, but when it does...whew! It's marvelous! I felt inexplicably content, as well as slightly sweaty under that life-vest.
Regression
After a marvelous day spent in downtown Seattle, Sarah and I are back home watching Cinderella. Sup sup! Trap trap! Cat cat! Gus Gus! Apparently, mice speak doublespeak too.
Oh my god, I just noticed foreshadowing! There's a scene where Cinderella climbs the stairs to take breakfast to her ugly stepsisters, and she loses a shoe- just like when she runs away from the ball later! I knew we should've watched this in English class.
The most popular version of Cinderella was written by Frenchman Charles Perrault, hence the French surnames announced at the ball. According to the wikipedia entry, "One can argue that this is one of the greatest stories in the history of story-telling times." I suppose anything can be argued in this day and age.
Oh my god, I just noticed foreshadowing! There's a scene where Cinderella climbs the stairs to take breakfast to her ugly stepsisters, and she loses a shoe- just like when she runs away from the ball later! I knew we should've watched this in English class.
The most popular version of Cinderella was written by Frenchman Charles Perrault, hence the French surnames announced at the ball. According to the wikipedia entry, "One can argue that this is one of the greatest stories in the history of story-telling times." I suppose anything can be argued in this day and age.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Mood Ring
I'm irritated from trying to understand mangled English while being congested, fatigued, and constantly cold. Bleh. But I am also still slightly caffeinated by the doubly spectacular Bourne Ultimatum. So I think I can get through the rest of this editing process without blowing a fuse. Only a nose maybe.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Home=Free Food+Extravant Doting
I've only been home for 3 hours, and my mom's already trying to stuff me like a turkey until I wind up a statistic (one of the 60% of overweight Americans).
Mom: Angie, taste this!
Me: Ok!...Mmm, it's delicious!
Mom: Want to have some with rice?
Me: Tomorrow, mom. I'm not hungry right now.
10 minutes later...(repeat above dialogue).
15 minutes later...(repeat above dialogue, yet again).
10 minutes later...(you know the deal).
Mom: Tomorrow, tomorrow, it's always tomorrow. I thought your name was Angie, not Annie!
Me: Mom, that's cuz you keep asking me the same question over and over again. I'm not going to answer the same question 3 different ways!
Alas, reason fails in the ears of a mother who misses coddling her younguns. Also, yet again, I embellished the dialogue with the "Angie, not Annie" bit.
Mom: Angie, taste this!
Me: Ok!...Mmm, it's delicious!
Mom: Want to have some with rice?
Me: Tomorrow, mom. I'm not hungry right now.
10 minutes later...(repeat above dialogue).
15 minutes later...(repeat above dialogue, yet again).
10 minutes later...(you know the deal).
Mom: Tomorrow, tomorrow, it's always tomorrow. I thought your name was Angie, not Annie!
Me: Mom, that's cuz you keep asking me the same question over and over again. I'm not going to answer the same question 3 different ways!
Alas, reason fails in the ears of a mother who misses coddling her younguns. Also, yet again, I embellished the dialogue with the "Angie, not Annie" bit.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Double the Pleasure, Double the Fun, and Double the Clothes
One of the terrific benefits of having a twin sister is that we can borrow from each other's wardrobe, so really it's like having twice the wardrobe. Most of the time, thought, I'm the one who borrows from Sarah's wardrobe, so I dunno...should I be insulted by that? Whatever, so not only can we borrow from each other's wardrobe, but sometimes I get clothes for free once Sarah gets tired of something, so sometimes I get to actually come to own one of her cool outfits.
But usually it takes at least 6 months for her to tire of an article of clothing, so it takes patience, this acquiring of sister's clothing thing. But I tease her about it all in good fun all the while. Take the following incident, for instance:
Two weeks ago, Sarah bought a beautiful blue summer dress at H&M patterned with a lighter blue heart-star-flower petal pattern and a poofy skirt part (sorry, I don't know the technical term for that). One week after the purchase, she wore it, and it looked gorgeous on her.
"Oh my god, Sarah I love it!" I gushed all girly-like. "I can't wait till you get tired of it so I can have it!"
"Oh, har har," she laughed rather sarcastically. "Is that how you look at all my clothes, you vulture?"
"Yeah, isn't it a great system?"
Today, two weeks after the Purchase, I'm lounging on the bed while Sarah packs in a flurry. Going through her mountainous clothes pile, she holds up the beautiful blue summer dress she bought two weeks ago at H&M, and said "Ann, do you want this?"
It was something beyond my wildest dreams. Two weeks, not even a month before she decided it wasn't "her"! I couldn't believe my luck. But all the same, I really couldn't believe she was giving up on it so soon.
"Are you sure, Sarah? But it's so pretty, how can you be tired of it already?"
"Really, you think so? Maybe I sh-"
"No no no, actually you're right, it's not so great! I'll take it!"
We both rolled on the bed laughing hysterically.
Hoo hoo, oh man, how lucky am I to have a twin sister with decent taste in clothes? Oh, and I'd like to note that she did not actually call me a vulture. But I thought it would have been funny if she did, so I took some liberty with the dialogue. Sue me silly!
On another note (G#), I have a four hour layover in Atlanta, GA tomorrow, yall!! God I love airports- as I was trying to tell someone earlier, but couldn't think of the right words, it's the hub of transition! And it's a great place to catch up on reading since there's not much else to do, so for that, I've got...Dun dun dun: Quantum Mechanics Demystified! I don't usually like the dummies/idiots/demystified books, but I figure it's better to know the dummy version than no version at all, right? Don't worry, I've got some good ole Sherlock Holmes adventures if I get too boggled down in whosits and whatsits and other weird physics.
But usually it takes at least 6 months for her to tire of an article of clothing, so it takes patience, this acquiring of sister's clothing thing. But I tease her about it all in good fun all the while. Take the following incident, for instance:
Two weeks ago, Sarah bought a beautiful blue summer dress at H&M patterned with a lighter blue heart-star-flower petal pattern and a poofy skirt part (sorry, I don't know the technical term for that). One week after the purchase, she wore it, and it looked gorgeous on her.
"Oh my god, Sarah I love it!" I gushed all girly-like. "I can't wait till you get tired of it so I can have it!"
"Oh, har har," she laughed rather sarcastically. "Is that how you look at all my clothes, you vulture?"
"Yeah, isn't it a great system?"
Today, two weeks after the Purchase, I'm lounging on the bed while Sarah packs in a flurry. Going through her mountainous clothes pile, she holds up the beautiful blue summer dress she bought two weeks ago at H&M, and said "Ann, do you want this?"
It was something beyond my wildest dreams. Two weeks, not even a month before she decided it wasn't "her"! I couldn't believe my luck. But all the same, I really couldn't believe she was giving up on it so soon.
"Are you sure, Sarah? But it's so pretty, how can you be tired of it already?"
"Really, you think so? Maybe I sh-"
"No no no, actually you're right, it's not so great! I'll take it!"
We both rolled on the bed laughing hysterically.
Hoo hoo, oh man, how lucky am I to have a twin sister with decent taste in clothes? Oh, and I'd like to note that she did not actually call me a vulture. But I thought it would have been funny if she did, so I took some liberty with the dialogue. Sue me silly!
On another note (G#), I have a four hour layover in Atlanta, GA tomorrow, yall!! God I love airports- as I was trying to tell someone earlier, but couldn't think of the right words, it's the hub of transition! And it's a great place to catch up on reading since there's not much else to do, so for that, I've got...Dun dun dun: Quantum Mechanics Demystified! I don't usually like the dummies/idiots/demystified books, but I figure it's better to know the dummy version than no version at all, right? Don't worry, I've got some good ole Sherlock Holmes adventures if I get too boggled down in whosits and whatsits and other weird physics.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Mysteries and Why I Love Sherlock Holmes
If anyone is looking for a quick, worthwhile read, might I recommend "The Westing Game" by Ellen Raskin? It's considered a children's book, but it's not "written for children" at all; rather, as the introduction says, it's written for the adult in every child. It's a great mystery, not predictable, yet written so that the reader can try a little sleuthing herself, really interesting characters, quirky, witty, touching, and not depressing (yay!). And for all you chess-lovers out there, it reads like a good game of chess. Although maybe I shouldn't advertise it like that since I don't really play chess, so how would I know. Reminiscent of "Clue" or the card game Mafia.
I'm sort of on a mystery book kick, I guess, because I'm rereading the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. I've forgotten how awesome he is, and Watson too. Their mystery adventures are interesting enough, but my affinity for the stories is more due to character attachment, and I am sure that if I had been alive in the UK when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed off Holmes, I would've been one of the 20,000 plus Brits who appeared in the streets in black, mourning this fictional character's death. It's so crazy how we can get so attached to imaginary folk.
What is it about his character that I like so much? Someone once told me about Nietzsche and his "amor fati", or "love one's fate" attitude toward life, and I see a bit of it in Holmes. His matter-of-fact acceptance of somber aspects of life and mankind, often with humor and maybe some well-justified arrogance, which I can hardly believe I'm writing because I used to think that there was no such thing as arrogance that can be justified. Maybe it's not justified, but I can definitely sympathize with him whenever he unravels the entire mystery himself and all the credit is given to one of the bumbling idiots of Scotland Yard who look on the genius Holmes as some eccentric, too theory-oriented, promising perhaps... "Life is dreary", he'd say so baldly, but it's not a fact that he ever sludges over, wondering why why why. He'll ponder over it from afar, like a curiosity, then throw himself into another mystery with passion and energy, or if there isn't one available presently, he'll take a pinch of snuff and scrape on his violin all through the night. Not that I endorse hard drugs, but well Watson got him to quit that eventually, didn't he? One minute he's filling Watson in on the latest develops of a case, and the next, he's insisting that the most important thing at the moment is lunch and miracle plays. And vice versa, one minute he's observing Londoners under the gaslights heading home from work, and philosophizing about the immortal spark that burns within each of them, and the next, he's hunting the grounds with his magnifying glass for cigar ashes and bootprints. He's terrifically adept at shifting gears and does so without concern for transitions or proper timing or other such restraining nonsense. His attitude of acceptance of all things is no better illustrated than in the scene where he and Doc Watson are chasing Jonathan Small and Tonga, who shoots a poisonous dart tip at them just as they shoot him down with their arms. Later they discover that the fatal dart had whizzed right between them, so they had been mere inches from death. Holmes merely smiles at it and shrugs "in his easygoing fashion", while Watson feels sick thinking of how close he came to death that night.
And Watson I like just as much because, among other reasons, he mirrors my admiration for his sleuth friend. Watson is who I am, and Sherlock Holmes is who I wish I could be.
I'm sort of on a mystery book kick, I guess, because I'm rereading the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. I've forgotten how awesome he is, and Watson too. Their mystery adventures are interesting enough, but my affinity for the stories is more due to character attachment, and I am sure that if I had been alive in the UK when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed off Holmes, I would've been one of the 20,000 plus Brits who appeared in the streets in black, mourning this fictional character's death. It's so crazy how we can get so attached to imaginary folk.
What is it about his character that I like so much? Someone once told me about Nietzsche and his "amor fati", or "love one's fate" attitude toward life, and I see a bit of it in Holmes. His matter-of-fact acceptance of somber aspects of life and mankind, often with humor and maybe some well-justified arrogance, which I can hardly believe I'm writing because I used to think that there was no such thing as arrogance that can be justified. Maybe it's not justified, but I can definitely sympathize with him whenever he unravels the entire mystery himself and all the credit is given to one of the bumbling idiots of Scotland Yard who look on the genius Holmes as some eccentric, too theory-oriented, promising perhaps... "Life is dreary", he'd say so baldly, but it's not a fact that he ever sludges over, wondering why why why. He'll ponder over it from afar, like a curiosity, then throw himself into another mystery with passion and energy, or if there isn't one available presently, he'll take a pinch of snuff and scrape on his violin all through the night. Not that I endorse hard drugs, but well Watson got him to quit that eventually, didn't he? One minute he's filling Watson in on the latest develops of a case, and the next, he's insisting that the most important thing at the moment is lunch and miracle plays. And vice versa, one minute he's observing Londoners under the gaslights heading home from work, and philosophizing about the immortal spark that burns within each of them, and the next, he's hunting the grounds with his magnifying glass for cigar ashes and bootprints. He's terrifically adept at shifting gears and does so without concern for transitions or proper timing or other such restraining nonsense. His attitude of acceptance of all things is no better illustrated than in the scene where he and Doc Watson are chasing Jonathan Small and Tonga, who shoots a poisonous dart tip at them just as they shoot him down with their arms. Later they discover that the fatal dart had whizzed right between them, so they had been mere inches from death. Holmes merely smiles at it and shrugs "in his easygoing fashion", while Watson feels sick thinking of how close he came to death that night.
And Watson I like just as much because, among other reasons, he mirrors my admiration for his sleuth friend. Watson is who I am, and Sherlock Holmes is who I wish I could be.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Two Windows
S: Can you check the weather report?
A: Sure gimme a sec. (Firefox window pops up). It's raining.
We stare at the sunshine streaming through the living room window.
S: Well, better take an umbrella with me.
A: Stupid dysfunctional weather report add-on.
A: Sure gimme a sec. (Firefox window pops up). It's raining.
We stare at the sunshine streaming through the living room window.
S: Well, better take an umbrella with me.
A: Stupid dysfunctional weather report add-on.
Morning Dialogue II: Ha, Hee, and Hoo
Angie: My stomach feels funny. It's telling knock-knock jokes. (Stifled giggling proceeds)
Sarah: (No response).
Angie: Isn't that funny? (Stifled giggling crescendos)
Sarah: Hrrrrrr.
Angie: Hahahaha! That was the best fake laugh ever! You sounded like you were retarded! Heeheehee! Oh man...*gasp*...can't breathe!...hooo...
Sarah: Pause...Oh I get it. Hey that's pretty funny! Hahaha!
Angie: Oh my god, you are retarded!
I give Sarah credit; she just improved my joke like 10-fold.
Sarah: (No response).
Angie: Isn't that funny? (Stifled giggling crescendos)
Sarah: Hrrrrrr.
Angie: Hahahaha! That was the best fake laugh ever! You sounded like you were retarded! Heeheehee! Oh man...*gasp*...can't breathe!...hooo...
Sarah: Pause...Oh I get it. Hey that's pretty funny! Hahaha!
Angie: Oh my god, you are retarded!
I give Sarah credit; she just improved my joke like 10-fold.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Morning Dialogue
Angie: I wonder what it's like to be raised by wolves.
Sarah: Huh?
Angie: I've been reading about feral children.
Sarah: Why is it that I never know what your talking about?
Sarah: Huh?
Angie: I've been reading about feral children.
Sarah: Why is it that I never know what your talking about?
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Heroes
I have a new hobby of keeping track each day of the number of encounters I have with nice people. This activity serves to uphold one of my two general views of humanity: In the best of lights, I see us as well-intentioned seekers of happiness with the ability to do astonishing things for creatures of such an insignificant physical stature, and where "crazy" means "colorful"; in the worst of lights, I see us as creatures to be pitied, and "crazy" just means you belong in the loony bin. I don't like to dwell on the latter view for purely selfish reasons- because it brings me down-, hence the new hobby.
Today's tally: 3 encounters with Seriously Nice people! Among them were the Garage Sale lady and the cashier at Jay's Deli. I was still raving about them when we reached Bruce's place to watch Heroes.
Heroes, is a great show not least because its characters are so all-encompassing and complex. I absolutely love the dynamic between Invisible Man and Peter Petrelli, where the former is the epitome of the jaded old hermit, and the latter is the hopeful humanist, the Little Engine That Couldn't But Kept On Chugging out of shear faith. Now, now he's just awesome. Oh man, is he awesome.
Another great thing about Heroes is that it totally plays into our fantasies that there's something out there bigger, cooler, more majestic than the daily 9 to 5 grind at a paper factory. One of my favorite quotes I heard today was when HRG (Horn-Rimmed Guy?) was interviewing for a job at the paper company:
At least, that's what I heard. Apparently, though, he had said "mildly", not "wildly". Personally, I like my version better. Anyway, we watched 7 episodes in a row before calling it a night. 6 more amazing hours to go!
Also, I haven't changed the look of this blog since I started it nearly 2.5 years ago, so I thought it was time for a change- just some minor ones, inspired by a fellow blogger.
Today's tally: 3 encounters with Seriously Nice people! Among them were the Garage Sale lady and the cashier at Jay's Deli. I was still raving about them when we reached Bruce's place to watch Heroes.
Heroes, is a great show not least because its characters are so all-encompassing and complex. I absolutely love the dynamic between Invisible Man and Peter Petrelli, where the former is the epitome of the jaded old hermit, and the latter is the hopeful humanist, the Little Engine That Couldn't But Kept On Chugging out of shear faith. Now, now he's just awesome. Oh man, is he awesome.
Another great thing about Heroes is that it totally plays into our fantasies that there's something out there bigger, cooler, more majestic than the daily 9 to 5 grind at a paper factory. One of my favorite quotes I heard today was when HRG (Horn-Rimmed Guy?) was interviewing for a job at the paper company:
Interviewer: So, how do you feel about paper?
HRG: Wildly enthusiastic.
At least, that's what I heard. Apparently, though, he had said "mildly", not "wildly". Personally, I like my version better. Anyway, we watched 7 episodes in a row before calling it a night. 6 more amazing hours to go!
Also, I haven't changed the look of this blog since I started it nearly 2.5 years ago, so I thought it was time for a change- just some minor ones, inspired by a fellow blogger.
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