World peace is finally at hand. More specifically, at my right hand. Can you feel it?
My first album, entitled "Huh??" is finally out! Before you read on, go and preview it here:
Huh??
Ok, now buy it.
Now buy two more copies for Uncle Sally and Aunt George. Each.
Ok, now read on.
First of all, a note on the "Explicit" tag: it's just the word "bitch" in the song "Your Favorite Girl." With that song title, it was impossible to avoid. Oh wait, my bad, it's not in that song. It's in the song "High Maintenance." Hmm...I'm starting to doubt I wrote this album.
Other notes:
1. These are all originals...like most songs in the world...but these happen to be written by me. The singer is also coincidentally me, though I'm not sure that's as happy a coincidence.
2. That's my real hair on the album cover.
3. My band name for this album is Something Kinky. I realize this may be a little too kinky for some people, but this is Sermon on the Couch after all, and a modern Moses uses all the tools at his disposal.
4. The album will also soon be available on iTunes and a bunch of other online stores, I'll put up the list.
Next, here's the plan. Each of you tells at least 1000 people about this album, and they all go out (to their respective living rooms, to their computers) and buy it. Afterwards, when I'm rich, you can all come stay at my mansion and live off of my massive untaxed interest.
I'll try to give some info on each song next time, but right now it's time to attend to the screaming fans outside my window. Wait...reality check...I'm lucid dreaming!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Dream Food Induces Lucidity
I'm generally optimistic, but nothing beats my sister and her essay contests. Every month or so, she'll participate in some national writing contest and she'll spend a solid ten minutes writing an essay. I figure she just doesn't really care, but then three weeks later, when the results are due, she takes an extra three shifts at the mailbox, waiting for a letter of congratulations.
I finally had a lucid dream today! It lasted all of 2 seconds, but it was unmistakable. The interesting part was how I got to lucidity. In order to become lucid, you have to realize that you're dreaming while in the dream. If you do reality checks all day every day, then you usually become lucid through that - performing one inside a dream. In my case, it was predictably much more roundabout.
In my dream, I'm at this big family gathering in our backyard. There's tons of food and even more relatives, which should already tip me off since we rarely even invite ourselves over for dinner. So there's all this food, but for some reason I don't pounce on it. Instead, I go out to the car and drive away somewhere. I forget where I drove and I don't think I even really knew in the dream, but I drove for a while, making illegal U-turns and getting nowhere.
Suddenly I get suspicious. Why the hell am I driving around aimlessly when there's so much food to be eaten at home? "I must be dreaming," I think. "How do I check?...Aha!" I whip out my cell phone and call home. Mom picks up.
Mark: Mom, where am I right now?
Mom: you're sitting at the table eating.
Mark (hangs up): I'm dreaming!
The instant I become sure of it, it's like fifteen layers of fog suddenly lift and the world is suddenly real and colorful. It's amazing how I didn't notice its dreariness before. But no matter, I'm lucid dreaming now! I'm about to take off (flying) and then...I wake up.
Another one bites the dust.
I finally had a lucid dream today! It lasted all of 2 seconds, but it was unmistakable. The interesting part was how I got to lucidity. In order to become lucid, you have to realize that you're dreaming while in the dream. If you do reality checks all day every day, then you usually become lucid through that - performing one inside a dream. In my case, it was predictably much more roundabout.
In my dream, I'm at this big family gathering in our backyard. There's tons of food and even more relatives, which should already tip me off since we rarely even invite ourselves over for dinner. So there's all this food, but for some reason I don't pounce on it. Instead, I go out to the car and drive away somewhere. I forget where I drove and I don't think I even really knew in the dream, but I drove for a while, making illegal U-turns and getting nowhere.
Suddenly I get suspicious. Why the hell am I driving around aimlessly when there's so much food to be eaten at home? "I must be dreaming," I think. "How do I check?...Aha!" I whip out my cell phone and call home. Mom picks up.
Mark: Mom, where am I right now?
Mom: you're sitting at the table eating.
Mark (hangs up): I'm dreaming!
The instant I become sure of it, it's like fifteen layers of fog suddenly lift and the world is suddenly real and colorful. It's amazing how I didn't notice its dreariness before. But no matter, I'm lucid dreaming now! I'm about to take off (flying) and then...I wake up.
Another one bites the dust.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Local Apocalypse
Monday, life is coming to an end in this house. It's supposed to be that part of the 30-day no-sugar-added trial where all other impulses are abandoned as well, but we haven't decided quite what this means yet. Some ideas presented to the board were:
1. Do the opposite of every impulse, a la Seinfeld, where George does it to great effect on a first date: "I'm unemployed and I live with my parents." Best pick-up line ever. Actually, the only thing separating me from George-hood right now is a Herculean body, bountiful hair, fantastic talents, 20/20 vision, intense self-appreciation, and easy-goingness. Otherwise, I'm pretty much channeling the lifestyle.
2. Meditate 12 hours a day. This is the most realistic one of course. Unfortunately, in a different reality.
3. Become more aware of each moment by doing everything differently, i.e. only getting around by hopping, only chewing using incisors, only going to the bathroom in August, etc.
4. Get rid of impulses through overindulgement: watch 10 movies a day while sitting in a bathtub filled with chocolate and masturbating continuously. Appealing, but I don't think we have enough movies. Nor is any one of us physically fit enough for the third leg of this simul-triathalon.
5. Fasting. Ha!
6. Just give up! I've had great success with this strategy in the past and I don't know if this is the right time to break in a new one. It's "the easy way out" of course, but the easy way out's bad rap is undeserved. I already have the conversation planned out for when...whoa there, almost let that one get by!...IF I have a son:
Son: Daddy, I took the easy way out today, just like you taught me.
Mark: I'm proud of you son!
Son: And I'm never getting a job.
Mark: That's my boy! And don't you worry, Mama'll support us.
Funny:
(to Pei)
Mark: ur like the soviet union
Mark: has anyone ever told u that?
Mark: I'm only a 100% sure
Gene: well we should check the other 100% just in case
Michelle: he's so cute! He's so cute! He's so cute!
Mark: who's cute?
Michelle: the guy who got skin cancer.
(deciding whether to watch Get Smart or Secret Life of Bees)
Mark (minus brain): ok, let's flip a coin. Tails is Bees because bees have tails.
1. Do the opposite of every impulse, a la Seinfeld, where George does it to great effect on a first date: "I'm unemployed and I live with my parents." Best pick-up line ever. Actually, the only thing separating me from George-hood right now is a Herculean body, bountiful hair, fantastic talents, 20/20 vision, intense self-appreciation, and easy-goingness. Otherwise, I'm pretty much channeling the lifestyle.
2. Meditate 12 hours a day. This is the most realistic one of course. Unfortunately, in a different reality.
3. Become more aware of each moment by doing everything differently, i.e. only getting around by hopping, only chewing using incisors, only going to the bathroom in August, etc.
4. Get rid of impulses through overindulgement: watch 10 movies a day while sitting in a bathtub filled with chocolate and masturbating continuously. Appealing, but I don't think we have enough movies. Nor is any one of us physically fit enough for the third leg of this simul-triathalon.
5. Fasting. Ha!
6. Just give up! I've had great success with this strategy in the past and I don't know if this is the right time to break in a new one. It's "the easy way out" of course, but the easy way out's bad rap is undeserved. I already have the conversation planned out for when...whoa there, almost let that one get by!...IF I have a son:
Son: Daddy, I took the easy way out today, just like you taught me.
Mark: I'm proud of you son!
Son: And I'm never getting a job.
Mark: That's my boy! And don't you worry, Mama'll support us.
Funny:
(to Pei)
Mark: ur like the soviet union
Mark: has anyone ever told u that?
Mark: I'm only a 100% sure
Gene: well we should check the other 100% just in case
Michelle: he's so cute! He's so cute! He's so cute!
Mark: who's cute?
Michelle: the guy who got skin cancer.
(deciding whether to watch Get Smart or Secret Life of Bees)
Mark (minus brain): ok, let's flip a coin. Tails is Bees because bees have tails.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Sniping The Toilet
Yesterday another lucky tooth graduated from death row to tooth heaven. I went to the dentist and got that long due root canal. My other teeth are jealous, but I promised them the same fate shortly.
My dentist hates doing root canals so he had a stunt double do mine. Of course I wasn't fooled. Not only did she look nothing like him, the way she operated couldn't be more different. There's an expression: "measure twice, cut once." Actually, in Russian, the expression is "measure seven times, cut once." Well my dentist is to the Russian version as the Russian version is to the American one. He can measure all day, muttering little rhymes and anecdotes into his beard, and then cut sometime next month and in a different mouth altogether. He's slow, methodical, slow, and really really slow. However, he's supposedly good at what he does and I'm definitely good at providing him with a constant inflow of work material, so we're loyal to one another.
His replacement was the exact opposite. If my dentist is more like a lizard who can wait all day to strike at that unsuspecting fly, she was more like a wasp - flying right into that bee colony and snapping off all their heads, or in my case - flying in from all directions and never letting the drill's buzz reverberations inside my mouth die out.
Nevertheless, I ended up sitting there with my mouth open for two hours and forty-five minutes. The problem was that this was a molar tooth and they have more canals than Mars ever did. Each canal has to be cleaned out separately. At least one made-up statistic says: 75% of molars have 3 canals, 24.99% have 4 canals, but then there's that nasty 0.01% that have 173. Luckily I fell in the 24.99%, otherwise I'd still be sitting in that chair.
She also used some interesting aids that my dentist never used. She put what amounted to a hand-made elastic funnel into my mouth in order to isolate the tooth from the rest of me. You can perform oral sex with that thing in your mouth and the tooth will be innocent of the whole affair. I kept wondering the whole time what it looked like from her point of view, so eventually I asked her for a bathroom break and went to take a look. The dentist's aide passed me in the hall and nearly died laughing. When I reached the bathroom I understood why. It looked pretty ridiculous. The closest I can find on the Internet is this:
which unfortunately looks nothing like it. This looks even less like it:
and this:
is completely unrelated.
Unfortunately, as soon as I entered the bathroom, I felt an irresistable urge to pee. I got in position and suddenly realized that there was absolutely no way I could see where to aim, with this all-but-Japanese-invention protruding from my face. I had to orient myself by sound. Does that sound like it's hitting water? No, that must be a magazine or something. Toilet paper...floor...wall...."hey! Quit that!"...window...trash bin...aha! Found it!
You know how when you wake up in the morning, you're like two feet taller till your spine snaps back to its normal length? I think there's a similar rule for jaws. When I closed my jaw after three hours of holding it open, I couldn't quite fit the two halves together. It took a few hours for everything to get back in their right places. If this is a trend for other parts of our body, I don't understand how astronauts deal with it. Seems like they'd just explode in slow motion.
My dentist hates doing root canals so he had a stunt double do mine. Of course I wasn't fooled. Not only did she look nothing like him, the way she operated couldn't be more different. There's an expression: "measure twice, cut once." Actually, in Russian, the expression is "measure seven times, cut once." Well my dentist is to the Russian version as the Russian version is to the American one. He can measure all day, muttering little rhymes and anecdotes into his beard, and then cut sometime next month and in a different mouth altogether. He's slow, methodical, slow, and really really slow. However, he's supposedly good at what he does and I'm definitely good at providing him with a constant inflow of work material, so we're loyal to one another.
His replacement was the exact opposite. If my dentist is more like a lizard who can wait all day to strike at that unsuspecting fly, she was more like a wasp - flying right into that bee colony and snapping off all their heads, or in my case - flying in from all directions and never letting the drill's buzz reverberations inside my mouth die out.
Nevertheless, I ended up sitting there with my mouth open for two hours and forty-five minutes. The problem was that this was a molar tooth and they have more canals than Mars ever did. Each canal has to be cleaned out separately. At least one made-up statistic says: 75% of molars have 3 canals, 24.99% have 4 canals, but then there's that nasty 0.01% that have 173. Luckily I fell in the 24.99%, otherwise I'd still be sitting in that chair.
She also used some interesting aids that my dentist never used. She put what amounted to a hand-made elastic funnel into my mouth in order to isolate the tooth from the rest of me. You can perform oral sex with that thing in your mouth and the tooth will be innocent of the whole affair. I kept wondering the whole time what it looked like from her point of view, so eventually I asked her for a bathroom break and went to take a look. The dentist's aide passed me in the hall and nearly died laughing. When I reached the bathroom I understood why. It looked pretty ridiculous. The closest I can find on the Internet is this:
which unfortunately looks nothing like it. This looks even less like it:
and this:
is completely unrelated.
Unfortunately, as soon as I entered the bathroom, I felt an irresistable urge to pee. I got in position and suddenly realized that there was absolutely no way I could see where to aim, with this all-but-Japanese-invention protruding from my face. I had to orient myself by sound. Does that sound like it's hitting water? No, that must be a magazine or something. Toilet paper...floor...wall...."hey! Quit that!"...window...trash bin...aha! Found it!
You know how when you wake up in the morning, you're like two feet taller till your spine snaps back to its normal length? I think there's a similar rule for jaws. When I closed my jaw after three hours of holding it open, I couldn't quite fit the two halves together. It took a few hours for everything to get back in their right places. If this is a trend for other parts of our body, I don't understand how astronauts deal with it. Seems like they'd just explode in slow motion.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
I'm Not Taking The Blame For Your Suicide
We (Mark, Gene and Ellen) saw two movies today in the theater for the price of one. We surrendered our morals to Buddha so we felt no compunction in cheating the movie theater out of the price of three extra tickets.
The first movie was I Love You Man. This was a pretty damn funny comedy though with a slightly far-fetched premise: Paul Rudd, sexiest man alive according to some magazine or another I'm sure, has never had a guy friend. Now his wedding/funeral is approaching/looming and he needs to find someone to be his best man. I don't buy it, but given the given, it's a hit.
Gene was saying today how the latest protagonists in movies are anti-heroes. We used to have classic-definition heroes like James Bond - indestructible and irresistable to women, Tom Cruise - pretty boy with that vulnerable touch, Arnold Schwarzenegger - sexiest man alive and all-around badass.
These days we've advanced/regressed to heroes like Seth Rogan from Knocked Up - fat losers with Jew-fros, Jack Black from School of Rock - fat losers with body odor, and Steve Carell - idiots. And it's amazing, but after one of those movies, you actually want to be that fat smelly retarded loser! But what's really crazy is that not only you do, I do too.
The second movie was Sunshine Cleaning. This is about two girls with no skills except remembering their dead mother, who start a crime-scene-cleanup business. It's a pretty good movie, but don't go trusting IMDb that it's a comedy.
Sunshine Cleaning had more (implied) blood and headless torsos than Saving Private Ryan, so it got me thinking a bit about mortality, albeit in a sci-fi direction.
I was thinking:
If human beings were virtually immortal, if the only way they really died was by offing themselves, what do you think the average lifespan would be? I think it might be even lower than it is in our reality. Think about it. Living is a very complicated and hard habit. People are horrible at maintaining hard habits. That's why I do all these 30-day trials, because I know that it's just 30 days, it'll be over soon.
Same thing with life, it's like a long 30-day trial; you feel like an ass if you quit half-way. If there was no half-way point, you wouldn't feel so bad about quitting. When you go on a run and you say "I'm going to run 5 miles," you're going to run waaaaaaay farther than if you say "I'm going to go for a run and see how far I get." I've been saying the second one since the 5th grade and I still haven't left the couch.
Human beings are interesting in that they adhere to both the immortal and mortal states of mind. On one level, everyone acts like they're immortal - the way they live unhealthy lifestyles, the way they plan for the far far future when they might not even survive the day, and especially the way they drive. On the other hand, people know all about their own mortality. You can see this from the fact that they very rarely ask themselves "am I enjoying living?" The subconscious response to that is "whatever, I'm mortal anyway, I'll just go ahead and finish this crapola." They keep living even if they don't enjoy living at all, precisely because they're mortal.
It's kind of like when you order a meal at a restaurant. It's good, but you're full, and you feel sick, but you keep eating because you don't come here very often and today's the only day they're serving Komodo dragon. If you had free all-you-can-eat Komodo dragon ribs every day of the week, you wouldn't bother sticking feathers down your gullet mid-meal to clear up some space for the lonely leftovers on your plate. You'd throw them right down the trash chute. Same with life. If we were all immortal, we'd probably all shoot ourselves in our late twenties.
Ok, that said, don't commit suicide you lazy bastards.
By the way, Tuck Everlasting sucked. Book and movie.
Helpful friends:
Mark: 怎么说 to clean? (how do you say "to clean")
Pei: убирать
The first movie was I Love You Man. This was a pretty damn funny comedy though with a slightly far-fetched premise: Paul Rudd, sexiest man alive according to some magazine or another I'm sure, has never had a guy friend. Now his wedding/funeral is approaching/looming and he needs to find someone to be his best man. I don't buy it, but given the given, it's a hit.
Gene was saying today how the latest protagonists in movies are anti-heroes. We used to have classic-definition heroes like James Bond - indestructible and irresistable to women, Tom Cruise - pretty boy with that vulnerable touch, Arnold Schwarzenegger - sexiest man alive and all-around badass.
These days we've advanced/regressed to heroes like Seth Rogan from Knocked Up - fat losers with Jew-fros, Jack Black from School of Rock - fat losers with body odor, and Steve Carell - idiots. And it's amazing, but after one of those movies, you actually want to be that fat smelly retarded loser! But what's really crazy is that not only you do, I do too.
The second movie was Sunshine Cleaning. This is about two girls with no skills except remembering their dead mother, who start a crime-scene-cleanup business. It's a pretty good movie, but don't go trusting IMDb that it's a comedy.
Sunshine Cleaning had more (implied) blood and headless torsos than Saving Private Ryan, so it got me thinking a bit about mortality, albeit in a sci-fi direction.
I was thinking:
If human beings were virtually immortal, if the only way they really died was by offing themselves, what do you think the average lifespan would be? I think it might be even lower than it is in our reality. Think about it. Living is a very complicated and hard habit. People are horrible at maintaining hard habits. That's why I do all these 30-day trials, because I know that it's just 30 days, it'll be over soon.
Same thing with life, it's like a long 30-day trial; you feel like an ass if you quit half-way. If there was no half-way point, you wouldn't feel so bad about quitting. When you go on a run and you say "I'm going to run 5 miles," you're going to run waaaaaaay farther than if you say "I'm going to go for a run and see how far I get." I've been saying the second one since the 5th grade and I still haven't left the couch.
Human beings are interesting in that they adhere to both the immortal and mortal states of mind. On one level, everyone acts like they're immortal - the way they live unhealthy lifestyles, the way they plan for the far far future when they might not even survive the day, and especially the way they drive. On the other hand, people know all about their own mortality. You can see this from the fact that they very rarely ask themselves "am I enjoying living?" The subconscious response to that is "whatever, I'm mortal anyway, I'll just go ahead and finish this crapola." They keep living even if they don't enjoy living at all, precisely because they're mortal.
It's kind of like when you order a meal at a restaurant. It's good, but you're full, and you feel sick, but you keep eating because you don't come here very often and today's the only day they're serving Komodo dragon. If you had free all-you-can-eat Komodo dragon ribs every day of the week, you wouldn't bother sticking feathers down your gullet mid-meal to clear up some space for the lonely leftovers on your plate. You'd throw them right down the trash chute. Same with life. If we were all immortal, we'd probably all shoot ourselves in our late twenties.
Ok, that said, don't commit suicide you lazy bastards.
By the way, Tuck Everlasting sucked. Book and movie.
Helpful friends:
Mark: 怎么说 to clean? (how do you say "to clean")
Pei: убирать
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Being Japanese For A Day, Almost Always Fatal
Brilliant! : Japanese Soft Drinks, especially
and
Ok, after seeing those, I went on a brilliant-Japanese-inventions binge. Obviously these have all been displayed on various websites before, but here are my personal favorites:
Generally money-saving but could get expensive when you need to hop on a space shuttle to get some sunlight at 9PM.
This one's a double whammy. Hair blocker inside the house, fastest way to get arrested outside.
Just don't confuse it with your Krazy Glue stick.
Brilliant! Attach a stick to anything and it suddenly gains new uses. Abraham Lincoln knew what he was taking about when he told us to shut up and grab a stick. It just took us some time to interpret it right.
For those of us with shoes made of sugar or with feet alergic to water (Japanese people).
Don't use this without a chaperone, it requires inhuman flexibility to undo. This invention armed with starvation has already claimed over 10,000 Japanese lives.
The only part of your better half that you really need anyway. This invention has already halved the marriage rate in Japan.
Modeled after Mel Gibson's lap.
and
Ok, after seeing those, I went on a brilliant-Japanese-inventions binge. Obviously these have all been displayed on various websites before, but here are my personal favorites:
Generally money-saving but could get expensive when you need to hop on a space shuttle to get some sunlight at 9PM.
This one's a double whammy. Hair blocker inside the house, fastest way to get arrested outside.
Just don't confuse it with your Krazy Glue stick.
Brilliant! Attach a stick to anything and it suddenly gains new uses. Abraham Lincoln knew what he was taking about when he told us to shut up and grab a stick. It just took us some time to interpret it right.
For those of us with shoes made of sugar or with feet alergic to water (Japanese people).
Don't use this without a chaperone, it requires inhuman flexibility to undo. This invention armed with starvation has already claimed over 10,000 Japanese lives.
The only part of your better half that you really need anyway. This invention has already halved the marriage rate in Japan.
Modeled after Mel Gibson's lap.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Nightmares
I had a nightmare today for the first time in years. I won't divulge the details for I don't want to be in breach of dreamer-dreamee confidentiality, but there was one funny scene at the end that I'll risk telling.
I'm running out of the dream-setting's house, headed for my car. There's a guy chasing me by the bizzare name of Alek-Alex. This is obviously my subconscious giving me a wonderful clue that I'm in a dream, but I don't perceive it as such. Alek-Alex has two defining characteristics - his ridiculous name, and his temper problem. The dream makes it abundantly clear that you REALLY don't want Alek-Alex to "freak out." Unfortunately, Alek-Alex is about to do just that.
Anyway, I reach my car and it's some kind of mini-car, like the Smart Car but ten thousand times smaller. This doesn't phase me at all of course; there's a psycho named Alek-Alex chasing me! So I get in and I look sort of like this:
...though not quite as dashing as this fine specimen of masculinity.
After some wriggling, wiggling, waggling, writhing, worming, and loads of tongue-on-shoulder panting, around 50% of me has managed to get in the car, but my giant Mr. Olympia legs just won't fit. I feel around, praying for a button or lever that unfolds this "center for ants" into a bus and finally find a button that slides out the front of the car a bit, giving me some more legroom. There's one catch though: as soon as I let go of the button, it snaps right back at four times the speed of light. I play catch and release with the button as I shuffle my legs around, risking all kinds of horrible kneecap-to-eyeball injuries and all with no insurance, but there's absolutely no way I can get either foot to reach the pedals. For some reason the idea to hold the button down while driving doesn't even cross my mind.
At this point Alek-Alex still hasn't emerged from the house, but I'm panicking nonetheless. Alas, then I woke up, fortunately for my dream-safety but unfortunately for the story aspect.
Sometimes I wonder - when I wake up from a dream, maybe the dream me stays there and has to live out the conclusion of the story. He's never led on that this might be true; in every subsequent dream he's as good as new despite all the abuse from hordes of Alek-Alexes, but who knows? For his sake, I should be taking sleeping pills.
I'm running out of the dream-setting's house, headed for my car. There's a guy chasing me by the bizzare name of Alek-Alex. This is obviously my subconscious giving me a wonderful clue that I'm in a dream, but I don't perceive it as such. Alek-Alex has two defining characteristics - his ridiculous name, and his temper problem. The dream makes it abundantly clear that you REALLY don't want Alek-Alex to "freak out." Unfortunately, Alek-Alex is about to do just that.
Anyway, I reach my car and it's some kind of mini-car, like the Smart Car but ten thousand times smaller. This doesn't phase me at all of course; there's a psycho named Alek-Alex chasing me! So I get in and I look sort of like this:
...though not quite as dashing as this fine specimen of masculinity.
After some wriggling, wiggling, waggling, writhing, worming, and loads of tongue-on-shoulder panting, around 50% of me has managed to get in the car, but my giant Mr. Olympia legs just won't fit. I feel around, praying for a button or lever that unfolds this "center for ants" into a bus and finally find a button that slides out the front of the car a bit, giving me some more legroom. There's one catch though: as soon as I let go of the button, it snaps right back at four times the speed of light. I play catch and release with the button as I shuffle my legs around, risking all kinds of horrible kneecap-to-eyeball injuries and all with no insurance, but there's absolutely no way I can get either foot to reach the pedals. For some reason the idea to hold the button down while driving doesn't even cross my mind.
At this point Alek-Alex still hasn't emerged from the house, but I'm panicking nonetheless. Alas, then I woke up, fortunately for my dream-safety but unfortunately for the story aspect.
Sometimes I wonder - when I wake up from a dream, maybe the dream me stays there and has to live out the conclusion of the story. He's never led on that this might be true; in every subsequent dream he's as good as new despite all the abuse from hordes of Alek-Alexes, but who knows? For his sake, I should be taking sleeping pills.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
The Unquenchable Thirst For Idiocy
I was vacuuming downstairs today, a rare treat bestowed upon me by my loving mother, and I was cleaning out stuff from under the couch to avoid having to perform mouth to mouth on the vacuum cleaner. Couches are magical creatures, kind of like Asian people. There's some as of yet undiscovered law of physics along the lines of: "looking at a blanket strewn across a couch, it's impossible to tell whether or not there's an Asian person sleeping under it." I learned this one by experience - sitting down on innocent-looking couches only to receive a dragon kick to the head.
Anyway, couches also have a magical quality - the amount of space underneath a couch is greater than it appears, usually by a factor of 12. You can probably fit an entire apartment's worth of stuff under most couches. This is why when people want to clear up some space in their apartment, they go out and buy a couch or three.
So I was cleaning out the stuff from under the couch, and it was all Michelle's things that she hasn't used since she was in Mom's uterus. Being a natural born leader, I ordered Michelle to take it all down to the basement. Being a smart little Jewish girl, she negotiated me down to half of the items.
As I set up my vacuuming gear, I watched Michelle follow my orders. Trying to save time and effort in the very humanly unintuitive way, she was building a veritable tower of "STUFF" in her arms, balancing it like she was at a Cirque du Soleil audition. There was absolutely no way she could carry it all down in one trip, but this didn't phase her in the least.
Now, I'm an expert at this method of "saving time and effort." I've written books or at least this one blog entry about it. I sacrificed my first MP3 player to this technique back in 2002. And I'm proud/ashamed to say that I have learned absolutely nothing in terms of not repeating my mistakes. I am incurably optimistic. In her place, I would have been doing the exact same thing except perhaps with less grace. So naturally (I never miss an opportunity to be a hypocrite) I tried my best to make her feel like a complete idiot and unleashed torrents of derision as her leaning tower became a falling tower at every third step. With my encouragement and her innate talent for mulishness, the one-minute task stretched easily to ten.
I was thinking about why we're both such imbeciles in this respect, and I think the main problem here is the "but now I'll never know" factor, as in "but now I'll never know if I could have done it in one trip without smashing anything/everything into a million pieces." When you try and fail and it takes you ten minutes, you know for sure that you would have done it faster had you taken several trips. But when you do it in several trips, when you're done you're still in the dark. You don't know what would have been the best way. So really, it's the thirst for knowledge that's driving this idiocy, not laziness.
Phew, one more charge of laziness skirted.
Anyway, couches also have a magical quality - the amount of space underneath a couch is greater than it appears, usually by a factor of 12. You can probably fit an entire apartment's worth of stuff under most couches. This is why when people want to clear up some space in their apartment, they go out and buy a couch or three.
So I was cleaning out the stuff from under the couch, and it was all Michelle's things that she hasn't used since she was in Mom's uterus. Being a natural born leader, I ordered Michelle to take it all down to the basement. Being a smart little Jewish girl, she negotiated me down to half of the items.
As I set up my vacuuming gear, I watched Michelle follow my orders. Trying to save time and effort in the very humanly unintuitive way, she was building a veritable tower of "STUFF" in her arms, balancing it like she was at a Cirque du Soleil audition. There was absolutely no way she could carry it all down in one trip, but this didn't phase her in the least.
Now, I'm an expert at this method of "saving time and effort." I've written books or at least this one blog entry about it. I sacrificed my first MP3 player to this technique back in 2002. And I'm proud/ashamed to say that I have learned absolutely nothing in terms of not repeating my mistakes. I am incurably optimistic. In her place, I would have been doing the exact same thing except perhaps with less grace. So naturally (I never miss an opportunity to be a hypocrite) I tried my best to make her feel like a complete idiot and unleashed torrents of derision as her leaning tower became a falling tower at every third step. With my encouragement and her innate talent for mulishness, the one-minute task stretched easily to ten.
I was thinking about why we're both such imbeciles in this respect, and I think the main problem here is the "but now I'll never know" factor, as in "but now I'll never know if I could have done it in one trip without smashing anything/everything into a million pieces." When you try and fail and it takes you ten minutes, you know for sure that you would have done it faster had you taken several trips. But when you do it in several trips, when you're done you're still in the dark. You don't know what would have been the best way. So really, it's the thirst for knowledge that's driving this idiocy, not laziness.
Phew, one more charge of laziness skirted.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Windows Necromancy
Windows has been reinstalled, my drives have been formatted, I'm back on a clean machine. Took me quite a few hours to reinstall all my software and uninstall all of the prepackaged crapola, but now I'm all ready to download more viruses.
Funny:
Mario: did u like the songs
Mario: i've been listeing to them continuously
Mark: not bad, but they repeat too much
Mario: they dont repeat enough...if it repeated more i wouldnt have to click "replay" so much
Funny:
Mario: did u like the songs
Mario: i've been listeing to them continuously
Mark: not bad, but they repeat too much
Mario: they dont repeat enough...if it repeated more i wouldnt have to click "replay" so much
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Sick
My computer got infected by a virus sometime yesterday, and so far the unwelcome guest is really testing the limits of my hospitality. I was generous at first, giving it the lion's share of the CPU and tolerating its flurry of popups when the browser wasn't even open, but when the screen burst into flames I knew I'd had enough. I opened my Common Sense handbook and started taking what we lawyers call "countermeasures."
First I went online and downloaded some more viruses, hoping they'd somehow fight and cancel each other out, including the one I'm currently hosting. This totally didn't go according to plan. Somehow, they managed to find a common ground and united against me.
Then I downloaded three anti-virus/anti-spyware programs: avast!, AVG, and the fearsomely named Spybot - Search & Destroy.
Ad-Aware was already running on my computer, but the viruses had kidnapped its family so it wasn't to be trusted.
I started up all three at the same time, and once again, expectations were not met. These guys are as individualistic as it gets. Instead of doing their job, all they do is moan about not being compatible with your other anti-virus programs. I ended up having to run them sequentially.
Good news: Spybot Search & Destroy found 8 googolplex viruses, and destroyed them all. Avast! did a boot-time scan, and deleted everything on my computer that sounded suspicious and everything else that sounded a little too unsuspicious.
Bad news: absolutely nothing has changed from a user's perspective. The flurry of popups and the obnoxious CPU usage remain standing strong. Also, AVG failed completely. It just threw up its hands and crashed. Twice. And then it crashed during uninstall.
Good news: as soon as I turn off my Internet connection, my computer starts behaving reasonably sanely.
Bad news: without Internet, I will wither and die in 3 hours.
Ok, time for some more scanning. I'm starting to think I'm dealing with SkyNet or something. There's always the tried and true unplug-computer-then-throw-it-down-onto-an-uncarpeted-floor-and-stomp-on-it method, but I'm willing to wait another 15 minutes and see if these anti-virus/anti-anti-virus clowns can get the job done.
Ok, back from scanning. Results:
Avast! should be renamed to Pure Evil!. First of all, it starts on system startup, something I absolutely hate in a program. Usually, in this scenario, I'll Run msconfig and uncheck it under startup/services, but this didn't fly with avast!. I resorted to my trusted Spybot Search & Destroy to take care of the problem. Spybot is capable of detecting registry changes and asking you for confirmation or denial. Usually this looks something like "A program calling itself SlowPainfulDeathToYourComputer is requesting to add a value to your registry, would you like to allow the change?" Then you click Yes, and are successfully infected. Except this time I was being infected by my own anti-virus.
I did the usual, and went to msconfig. When I removed avast! from the startup queue, Spybot asked me if I was sure. There was no option for Hell Yes, so I settled for Yes. A split-second later, Spyboy tells me avast! tried to reenable avast! to start on system startup, do I want to allow this? I said No of course, and got the same message a split second later. Avast! was playing dirty! The next time the query came up, I said "Remember my decision" and was treated to a veritable battle of anti-virus software. Every second or so, Spybot would report to me about successfully thwarting another attempt by avast!. I watched this for a minute, then uninstalled avast! altogether. I wish it were that simple with viruses.
Ten minutes later, I'm in the same situation with my friendly nearby virus. I managed to track down one of its tentacles in the registry, and deleted the key. A second later, deja-vu:
"value added in registry for yigivoguvu, do you want to allow?"
"No. Remember my decision."
Now I'm enjoying the same "denied change" message flickering on my screen, except this time for "yigivoguvu," a random name picked by my latest malware resident, one apparently called Virtumonde. Hopefully Spybot can live up to its name and destroy it once and for all.
...
Ok, after some more unsuccessful attempts at getting rid of stuff with Spybot and manually, I downloaded 15 more anti-virus utilities, including Kaspersky, Webroot and Norton. Webroot was doing great, finding all these viruses on my computer and even freshening up the air in my room, but then it demanded $40 for the task of deleting all those viruses and I showed it to the door. Currently Kaspersky is doing his thing, we'll see if he's any more charitable. I'm starting to get sick of this though.
Funny:
Mark: lust caution
Mark: no martial arts
Mark: so u should be fine with it
Mario: they are too cautious for fighting?
Mario: lets fight!...woah, wait, we might get hurt
First I went online and downloaded some more viruses, hoping they'd somehow fight and cancel each other out, including the one I'm currently hosting. This totally didn't go according to plan. Somehow, they managed to find a common ground and united against me.
Then I downloaded three anti-virus/anti-spyware programs: avast!, AVG, and the fearsomely named Spybot - Search & Destroy.
Ad-Aware was already running on my computer, but the viruses had kidnapped its family so it wasn't to be trusted.
I started up all three at the same time, and once again, expectations were not met. These guys are as individualistic as it gets. Instead of doing their job, all they do is moan about not being compatible with your other anti-virus programs. I ended up having to run them sequentially.
Good news: Spybot Search & Destroy found 8 googolplex viruses, and destroyed them all. Avast! did a boot-time scan, and deleted everything on my computer that sounded suspicious and everything else that sounded a little too unsuspicious.
Bad news: absolutely nothing has changed from a user's perspective. The flurry of popups and the obnoxious CPU usage remain standing strong. Also, AVG failed completely. It just threw up its hands and crashed. Twice. And then it crashed during uninstall.
Good news: as soon as I turn off my Internet connection, my computer starts behaving reasonably sanely.
Bad news: without Internet, I will wither and die in 3 hours.
Ok, time for some more scanning. I'm starting to think I'm dealing with SkyNet or something. There's always the tried and true unplug-computer-then-throw-it-down-onto-an-uncarpeted-floor-and-stomp-on-it method, but I'm willing to wait another 15 minutes and see if these anti-virus/anti-anti-virus clowns can get the job done.
Ok, back from scanning. Results:
Avast! should be renamed to Pure Evil!. First of all, it starts on system startup, something I absolutely hate in a program. Usually, in this scenario, I'll Run msconfig and uncheck it under startup/services, but this didn't fly with avast!. I resorted to my trusted Spybot Search & Destroy to take care of the problem. Spybot is capable of detecting registry changes and asking you for confirmation or denial. Usually this looks something like "A program calling itself SlowPainfulDeathToYourComputer is requesting to add a value to your registry, would you like to allow the change?" Then you click Yes, and are successfully infected. Except this time I was being infected by my own anti-virus.
I did the usual, and went to msconfig. When I removed avast! from the startup queue, Spybot asked me if I was sure. There was no option for Hell Yes, so I settled for Yes. A split-second later, Spyboy tells me avast! tried to reenable avast! to start on system startup, do I want to allow this? I said No of course, and got the same message a split second later. Avast! was playing dirty! The next time the query came up, I said "Remember my decision" and was treated to a veritable battle of anti-virus software. Every second or so, Spybot would report to me about successfully thwarting another attempt by avast!. I watched this for a minute, then uninstalled avast! altogether. I wish it were that simple with viruses.
Ten minutes later, I'm in the same situation with my friendly nearby virus. I managed to track down one of its tentacles in the registry, and deleted the key. A second later, deja-vu:
"value added in registry for yigivoguvu, do you want to allow?"
"No. Remember my decision."
Now I'm enjoying the same "denied change" message flickering on my screen, except this time for "yigivoguvu," a random name picked by my latest malware resident, one apparently called Virtumonde. Hopefully Spybot can live up to its name and destroy it once and for all.
...
Ok, after some more unsuccessful attempts at getting rid of stuff with Spybot and manually, I downloaded 15 more anti-virus utilities, including Kaspersky, Webroot and Norton. Webroot was doing great, finding all these viruses on my computer and even freshening up the air in my room, but then it demanded $40 for the task of deleting all those viruses and I showed it to the door. Currently Kaspersky is doing his thing, we'll see if he's any more charitable. I'm starting to get sick of this though.
Funny:
Mark: lust caution
Mark: no martial arts
Mark: so u should be fine with it
Mario: they are too cautious for fighting?
Mario: lets fight!...woah, wait, we might get hurt
Monday, March 16, 2009
Crime and Punishment
Speaking English in this house is generally a no-no. However, people have been getting away with it for years, especially since Gets-Away-With-It was born. (My sister's maiden name). However, when the prospect of losing the mother tongue becomes apparent, drastic measures are taken. Several years ago, I was commissioned to invent a fun way to punish language offenders. I came up with a silly game consisting of only one rule: If you say an English word and don't immediately correct yourself, you have to come up with five synonyms in Russian, or else meet the dreaded "or else." You also get a point. At the end of the week, the person with the most points gets put up for adoption or crossed out in the will or has to wash dishes or something.
The game was an instant hit, and my sister struggled a bit and got back into the speaking Russian mindset. Then the game was abandoned. (strings come in, melancholy and mysterious)
Well today, a comeback was staged. Seeing as everyone in this house is just full of English words to say, there was really no other choice, if only to give our ears a short respite. The effects were immediate: dinner was highly anomalous. Contrary to custom, it wasn't Michelle's story-telling hour. Instead, we were treated to horror-movie silence, with everyone poised to pounce on each other's throats at the first non-Slavic syllable. I'm now suffering from a mild case of middle-school gossip withdrawal and cat-got-your-tongue disease.
Actually, being a gentleman of outstanding wisdom who thinks before he opens his mouth, I pretty much rock at this game. The other three however, live a life full of adventure. To even things out, they united against me this evening and made me read The Time Traveler's Wife out loud to them till their scores didn't look so pitiful.
My sister's been assigned a project on a most fascinating and fresh topic - why tobacco is bad. She needs the whole shebang - poster, slogan, a pair of fresh crispy-black lungs, and of course an essay. She came to me for ideas, her own being full of blood and guts and oral cancer. After throwing up all over her shoes, I gave her a slightly dangerous suggestion.
I figured that everyone's going to be writing about tobacco staining the back of your head yellow and making your toenails become self-aware and about oral cancer of course; everyone's going to be dragging in their uncle Carl who talks through a harmonica in his throat and the infant corpses of their unborn brother or sisters. Everyone's going to be showing off their collection of family tumors, and in that case there's really just a slim chance that hers is the biggest, especially since we only patronize hard drugs like sugar in this house.
So I told her to write about how it's too expensive a habit to maintain. Now I'm thinking it may backfire. On her. It seemed like a good idea at the time but knowing the conservative audience (her teachers), I'm starting to think I just signed her up for her first mandatory appointment with a psychiastrist. Oh well, too late now, we're not due to talk for another month.
By the way, there's an excellent article on writing that everyone should read before they write anything at all: "How to Say Nothing in 500 Words."
The game was an instant hit, and my sister struggled a bit and got back into the speaking Russian mindset. Then the game was abandoned. (strings come in, melancholy and mysterious)
Well today, a comeback was staged. Seeing as everyone in this house is just full of English words to say, there was really no other choice, if only to give our ears a short respite. The effects were immediate: dinner was highly anomalous. Contrary to custom, it wasn't Michelle's story-telling hour. Instead, we were treated to horror-movie silence, with everyone poised to pounce on each other's throats at the first non-Slavic syllable. I'm now suffering from a mild case of middle-school gossip withdrawal and cat-got-your-tongue disease.
Actually, being a gentleman of outstanding wisdom who thinks before he opens his mouth, I pretty much rock at this game. The other three however, live a life full of adventure. To even things out, they united against me this evening and made me read The Time Traveler's Wife out loud to them till their scores didn't look so pitiful.
My sister's been assigned a project on a most fascinating and fresh topic - why tobacco is bad. She needs the whole shebang - poster, slogan, a pair of fresh crispy-black lungs, and of course an essay. She came to me for ideas, her own being full of blood and guts and oral cancer. After throwing up all over her shoes, I gave her a slightly dangerous suggestion.
I figured that everyone's going to be writing about tobacco staining the back of your head yellow and making your toenails become self-aware and about oral cancer of course; everyone's going to be dragging in their uncle Carl who talks through a harmonica in his throat and the infant corpses of their unborn brother or sisters. Everyone's going to be showing off their collection of family tumors, and in that case there's really just a slim chance that hers is the biggest, especially since we only patronize hard drugs like sugar in this house.
So I told her to write about how it's too expensive a habit to maintain. Now I'm thinking it may backfire. On her. It seemed like a good idea at the time but knowing the conservative audience (her teachers), I'm starting to think I just signed her up for her first mandatory appointment with a psychiastrist. Oh well, too late now, we're not due to talk for another month.
By the way, there's an excellent article on writing that everyone should read before they write anything at all: "How to Say Nothing in 500 Words."
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Nothing Happens Pretty Often
Mom finally listened to my songs. I'm suddenly not sure at all if it was a good idea to let her sensitive ears anywhere near my creations. With her suggestions, seems the album won't be released till 2013 after all. Back to the studio for me.
Ok, just emerged from the home studio.
Good news: album release is being pushed (pulled?) to this year.
Bad news: it's getting pushed up because making it significantly better is a pain in the ass and takes way too much skills and patience. My patience is tied up keeping my pants from falling down, so the album's going to have to suck it up and suck a little more.
The latest developments concerning OCD:
Pei: my roommate was cleaning up the balcony. I was helping her.
Mark: by yelling at her to clean faster?
Pei: she is a monica indeed. I kept telling her, it's ok it's ok...
Pei: but she wouldn't listen. :D
Pei: I don't mind there is trash on the balcony.
Pei: I don't live on the balcony
Mark: hmm, so we have 4 degrees of people
Mark: ur roommate doesn't care if there's trash on the moon
Mark: u don't care if there's trash on the balcony
Mark: i don't care if there's trash in my room
Mark: and mario doesn't care if there's trash in his breakfast cereal
...I feel like we're missing a degree in between the last two. And Franco with his putting-trash-in-the-fridge needs to be in there somewhere.
On Americans:
Pei: americans like turtles
...
Mark: do u think americans have actually been on the moon?
Madelyn: not really...
...
Pei: how slow american clocks run
...
Pei: I blame american everything
...
Pei: I believe americans are weird
...
Pei: yea americans need help
...
Pei: of course I know. and I know the reasons too. I think it's because american faces are too big.
...
Pei: u ignorant american people
...
Mark: i'm an american
Zhang: qu ! (get away from me)
...
Zhang: sorry, forgot u r american
...
Zhang: silly american cannot understand
Oof, Chinese people sure have a lot to say about Americans, especially when looked at out of context.
Today was low on ideas for blog-writing, so Madelyn helped me out:
Madelyn: what about a glass of water
Madelyn: what will you think of when you see a glass of water
Hmm...who knows what I would have thought of before. Now I'm doomed (blessed?) to think of this conversation.
Madelyn: haha
Mark: haha is an idea or just haha-ing?
Inspiration, where are you?
Ok, just emerged from the home studio.
Good news: album release is being pushed (pulled?) to this year.
Bad news: it's getting pushed up because making it significantly better is a pain in the ass and takes way too much skills and patience. My patience is tied up keeping my pants from falling down, so the album's going to have to suck it up and suck a little more.
The latest developments concerning OCD:
Pei: my roommate was cleaning up the balcony. I was helping her.
Mark: by yelling at her to clean faster?
Pei: she is a monica indeed. I kept telling her, it's ok it's ok...
Pei: but she wouldn't listen. :D
Pei: I don't mind there is trash on the balcony.
Pei: I don't live on the balcony
Mark: hmm, so we have 4 degrees of people
Mark: ur roommate doesn't care if there's trash on the moon
Mark: u don't care if there's trash on the balcony
Mark: i don't care if there's trash in my room
Mark: and mario doesn't care if there's trash in his breakfast cereal
...I feel like we're missing a degree in between the last two. And Franco with his putting-trash-in-the-fridge needs to be in there somewhere.
On Americans:
Pei: americans like turtles
...
Mark: do u think americans have actually been on the moon?
Madelyn: not really...
...
Pei: how slow american clocks run
...
Pei: I blame american everything
...
Pei: I believe americans are weird
...
Pei: yea americans need help
...
Pei: of course I know. and I know the reasons too. I think it's because american faces are too big.
...
Pei: u ignorant american people
...
Mark: i'm an american
Zhang: qu ! (get away from me)
...
Zhang: sorry, forgot u r american
...
Zhang: silly american cannot understand
Oof, Chinese people sure have a lot to say about Americans, especially when looked at out of context.
Today was low on ideas for blog-writing, so Madelyn helped me out:
Madelyn: what about a glass of water
Madelyn: what will you think of when you see a glass of water
Hmm...who knows what I would have thought of before. Now I'm doomed (blessed?) to think of this conversation.
Madelyn: haha
Mark: haha is an idea or just haha-ing?
Inspiration, where are you?
Friday, March 13, 2009
Lies
I finally shaved today, mostly hair off of my face, but also about about 10 years worth of appearance. I am now smooth as a freshly flogged bottom, and finally less hairy. I can almost understand why Mario wants to get a Brazilian wax so badly, smooth skin is fun. Unfortunately, other people know it's fun too, and I'm starting to feel a little bit like one of those greasy goats at the petting zoo.
The sugar low is still killing me. I haven't started dreaming about chocolate yet, which means the worst is yet to come, but they sing to me from every cabinet in the kitchen, every bookshelf, every desk drawer, from under every upturned bowl. Yes, this is a very loaded house for a person in my position. My dental floss lies right next to a big jar of Jolly Ranchers that scream "Eat Me!" I almost accidentally strangled myself the last time I flossed.
Still, I lucked out. No sweets is a trifle compared to what could have been. You have to know Gene a bit to understand what I'm talking about.
Gene is a fan of drastic measures. If you say "let's take a vacation" and then pop a Honey Nut Cheerio, before you can crack it open he's already found a buyer for the house. If you suggest a half-hour meditation, you get put in the meditation stocks for three hours. When I naively released "let's not eat sugary foods for a month," just before I decided whether or not it was meant rhetorically, Gene was already pitching his own version: "That's ridiculous! Just give up sweets? That's way too hard. We're not eating at all."
Fortunately I have a mother who still has residual maternal instincts.
More polls below. Can you believe these are people's actual responses? Me neither.
If someone says/does something and you have the urge to feel offended, what do you do?
Mark: impossible situation. I'm always offended to begin with, saves me the trouble.
Ellen: impossible situation. I never leave the house and I screen my calls.
Mario: impossible situation. The urge to get offended? I've definitely never felt that...until now! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!
Gene: oof, that's a tough one. On the one hand, if I get offended, I get to skip today's movie according to the rules of the no-getting-frustrated 30-day trial. On the other hand, if I don't, I'll miss out on the 3 hour meditation to surrender the offended feeling to Buddha. Ah, never mind, impossible situation! I'm on a 30-day trial of not having any urges.
Chun: I keep on writin' that med school essay. It's not going to write itself! Although...maybe the tear stains on the paper will get me some bonus points! You think?
Pei: they will apologize. I will provide dirty looks and the silent treatment as hints.
Lucy: you ever seen Oldboy? I wouldn't do a damn thing differently.
Perry: make up sex usually solves the problem. Sometimes you need a stand-in though. Sometimes both of you do; wouldn't want to exacerbate the situation. God, people are ugly!
Igor: why would Renata say/do something like that?
Madelyn: get offended. Then buy lots and lots of shoes. Then take slow and painful revenge. First I play mind games with them until they beg for mercy, then I shoot them in the back of the head, 1984 style. HAHAHAHA!
Funny:
Mark: when do you want to go? (to the grocery store)
Gene: never
...
Gene: but in 30 minutes is fine
The sugar low is still killing me. I haven't started dreaming about chocolate yet, which means the worst is yet to come, but they sing to me from every cabinet in the kitchen, every bookshelf, every desk drawer, from under every upturned bowl. Yes, this is a very loaded house for a person in my position. My dental floss lies right next to a big jar of Jolly Ranchers that scream "Eat Me!" I almost accidentally strangled myself the last time I flossed.
Still, I lucked out. No sweets is a trifle compared to what could have been. You have to know Gene a bit to understand what I'm talking about.
Gene is a fan of drastic measures. If you say "let's take a vacation" and then pop a Honey Nut Cheerio, before you can crack it open he's already found a buyer for the house. If you suggest a half-hour meditation, you get put in the meditation stocks for three hours. When I naively released "let's not eat sugary foods for a month," just before I decided whether or not it was meant rhetorically, Gene was already pitching his own version: "That's ridiculous! Just give up sweets? That's way too hard. We're not eating at all."
Fortunately I have a mother who still has residual maternal instincts.
More polls below. Can you believe these are people's actual responses? Me neither.
If someone says/does something and you have the urge to feel offended, what do you do?
Mark: impossible situation. I'm always offended to begin with, saves me the trouble.
Ellen: impossible situation. I never leave the house and I screen my calls.
Mario: impossible situation. The urge to get offended? I've definitely never felt that...until now! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!
Gene: oof, that's a tough one. On the one hand, if I get offended, I get to skip today's movie according to the rules of the no-getting-frustrated 30-day trial. On the other hand, if I don't, I'll miss out on the 3 hour meditation to surrender the offended feeling to Buddha. Ah, never mind, impossible situation! I'm on a 30-day trial of not having any urges.
Chun: I keep on writin' that med school essay. It's not going to write itself! Although...maybe the tear stains on the paper will get me some bonus points! You think?
Pei: they will apologize. I will provide dirty looks and the silent treatment as hints.
Lucy: you ever seen Oldboy? I wouldn't do a damn thing differently.
Perry: make up sex usually solves the problem. Sometimes you need a stand-in though. Sometimes both of you do; wouldn't want to exacerbate the situation. God, people are ugly!
Igor: why would Renata say/do something like that?
Madelyn: get offended. Then buy lots and lots of shoes. Then take slow and painful revenge. First I play mind games with them until they beg for mercy, then I shoot them in the back of the head, 1984 style. HAHAHAHA!
Funny:
Mark: when do you want to go? (to the grocery store)
Gene: never
...
Gene: but in 30 minutes is fine
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Coming Soon To Your Friendly Nearby Internet
I've been writing and recording music lately, trying to get enough songs together to get an album up on iTunes. Quantity has finally reached its goal, and I've been sneakily testing quality on various so-called friends and family. The reviews/reactions so far have been pretty mixed. My friends in China generally give me at least one thumb up, partly because their culture doesn't allow them to voice criticism, and partly because of the One-Person-One-Thumb policy in China.
My family is generally supportive, though they express this support in very different ways. The "generally supportive" average is reached primarily thanks to my sister, who lavishes praise with a heavy hand regardless and especially irregardless of quality. (Somewhere Perry is getting very very angry about my word usage. Lucy, do what you can for him). "Mark! You wrote that!?" she shrieks. "It's soo good! You're amazing!" My guess is that up till now she thought I was clinically retarded, because I can literally play one chord and elicit that response.
My mother, the most musically inclined of my subscribers, is eager to listen to my creations but only has time to do so on the 32nd of every month. Never fear, my supreme patience is holding stong.
Gene, who now runs out of the house if you call him "Dad," gives a two-for-one deal: reserved praise and vague criticism. "Hey! That's...pretty good...but something's missing...I don't know what," is his well-rehearsed response. He is as consistent and oblivious to quality as my sister, though in a different slice on the spectrum.
Grandma and Boris never say a single word about the quality of the music. They react, but I haven't decided how to interpret their reaction yet. Usually it goes something like this:
(a three course meal is shoved down Mark's throat to lull him into a false sense of security and a very real sense of nausea)
Grandma: sing us one of your songs! You never sing to us!
Mark: ugh...I only sing to my microphone. But you can hear my computer imitate me. Want to?
Grandma: you didn't eat anything today! Do you want some strawberries? Plums? Chocolate? Herring? Pickles? I know! Let's drink a shot together!
(If you're wondering about the exclamation points, Grandma lives at around 130 decibels)
Mark: no thanks, I only drink with Michelle.
Grandma: well at least have some bread. Nuts. Potatoes. Want me to make you a steak? Pancakes? Why aren't you playing your song to me!?
Mark: uhh...good point. (Turns song on)
Grandma (listens for 5 seconds): BORIS! GET OVER HERE, MARK'S PLAYING US HIS SONGS!
Boris (from the kitchen): meh? You say something?
(They arm themselves with megaphones and yell into each other's earpieces for the next three songs. Boris finally comes over. Mark writhes in pain on the carpet; he is congenitally incapable of habituating to sonic warfare)
Grandma: is that your song playing?
Mark: ye...e...e...s.
Grandma: Boris, listen! Don't fall asleep, you old goat!
Boris: I'm not sleeping, I'm listening!
(5 seconds pass)
(Mark quietly gets up, negotiates the two blissfully snoring geezers, packs his things and drives himself to the hospital)
(scroll down three days and repeat)
Neither Grandma nor Boris has stayed awake for the duration of a single song, which is 3.5 mins on average. Good? Bad? I don't know but I'm going to be optimistic. At their age, if they don't die of something, it's probably really really really ridiculously good.
Mario is the only one who gives constructive feedback. Unfortunately, by some crazy coincidence, he's the one person whose advice I never listen to. Can't do anything about it, the decision was made a long time ago.
Chun is busy 758 hours a week so she has no time to give feedback. My turn to be the object of her attention was coming up, but then a little thing called Daylight Savings Time stole my spot. Now she's back in her exercise wheel, dancing her way into medical school. Don't stand in her way, she has a mean left pirouette.
And finally, there was one person outside the usual circle who got a taste of this album (that's coming soon to your friendly nearby Internet). That was my aunt. Around Christmas, she demanded I send her a song. Being an obedient little nephew, I obliged...and that was the last I heard from her. I should really go check if she's OK. Hmm...nah, I'll just wait till next Christmas. If she doesn't show up, then I'll know something's wrong. Never too late to call 911.
My family is generally supportive, though they express this support in very different ways. The "generally supportive" average is reached primarily thanks to my sister, who lavishes praise with a heavy hand regardless and especially irregardless of quality. (Somewhere Perry is getting very very angry about my word usage. Lucy, do what you can for him). "Mark! You wrote that!?" she shrieks. "It's soo good! You're amazing!" My guess is that up till now she thought I was clinically retarded, because I can literally play one chord and elicit that response.
My mother, the most musically inclined of my subscribers, is eager to listen to my creations but only has time to do so on the 32nd of every month. Never fear, my supreme patience is holding stong.
Gene, who now runs out of the house if you call him "Dad," gives a two-for-one deal: reserved praise and vague criticism. "Hey! That's...pretty good...but something's missing...I don't know what," is his well-rehearsed response. He is as consistent and oblivious to quality as my sister, though in a different slice on the spectrum.
Grandma and Boris never say a single word about the quality of the music. They react, but I haven't decided how to interpret their reaction yet. Usually it goes something like this:
(a three course meal is shoved down Mark's throat to lull him into a false sense of security and a very real sense of nausea)
Grandma: sing us one of your songs! You never sing to us!
Mark: ugh...I only sing to my microphone. But you can hear my computer imitate me. Want to?
Grandma: you didn't eat anything today! Do you want some strawberries? Plums? Chocolate? Herring? Pickles? I know! Let's drink a shot together!
(If you're wondering about the exclamation points, Grandma lives at around 130 decibels)
Mark: no thanks, I only drink with Michelle.
Grandma: well at least have some bread. Nuts. Potatoes. Want me to make you a steak? Pancakes? Why aren't you playing your song to me!?
Mark: uhh...good point. (Turns song on)
Grandma (listens for 5 seconds): BORIS! GET OVER HERE, MARK'S PLAYING US HIS SONGS!
Boris (from the kitchen): meh? You say something?
(They arm themselves with megaphones and yell into each other's earpieces for the next three songs. Boris finally comes over. Mark writhes in pain on the carpet; he is congenitally incapable of habituating to sonic warfare)
Grandma: is that your song playing?
Mark: ye...e...e...s.
Grandma: Boris, listen! Don't fall asleep, you old goat!
Boris: I'm not sleeping, I'm listening!
(5 seconds pass)
(Mark quietly gets up, negotiates the two blissfully snoring geezers, packs his things and drives himself to the hospital)
(scroll down three days and repeat)
Neither Grandma nor Boris has stayed awake for the duration of a single song, which is 3.5 mins on average. Good? Bad? I don't know but I'm going to be optimistic. At their age, if they don't die of something, it's probably really really really ridiculously good.
Mario is the only one who gives constructive feedback. Unfortunately, by some crazy coincidence, he's the one person whose advice I never listen to. Can't do anything about it, the decision was made a long time ago.
Chun is busy 758 hours a week so she has no time to give feedback. My turn to be the object of her attention was coming up, but then a little thing called Daylight Savings Time stole my spot. Now she's back in her exercise wheel, dancing her way into medical school. Don't stand in her way, she has a mean left pirouette.
And finally, there was one person outside the usual circle who got a taste of this album (that's coming soon to your friendly nearby Internet). That was my aunt. Around Christmas, she demanded I send her a song. Being an obedient little nephew, I obliged...and that was the last I heard from her. I should really go check if she's OK. Hmm...nah, I'll just wait till next Christmas. If she doesn't show up, then I'll know something's wrong. Never too late to call 911.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Rash Decisions And Other Staples
Today is the third day of a really nutty 30 day trial. The rules of the trial are a bit ambiguous, but several items have been agreed upon:
1. No sweets (excluding ones that grow on trees (excluding ones that grow on trees in Johnny Depp's Chocolate Factory (exluding ones that also grow on trees outside the factory))).
We can pretty much stop here because it's already enough for full-scale clinical depression. I'm an extreme sugar fiend. I eat chocolate before and after a meal, floss my teeth with Twizzlers and use a Jawbreaker for a retainer. When I make myself a cup of tea, it doesn't matter in the least what flavor the tea it is because I drown the flavor in copious amounts of miracle powder. In fact, if I can tell what flavor tea I'm having by the time I finish a cup, I make an appointment with my physician; it is extremely aberrant.
So it's day three now, and I can't help but notice that I suddenly have tons of free time. At least three extra hours. Granted, now I spend them prostrate on the floor of my room, suffering from withdrawal, but they're extra nonetheless. If you could have an extra few hours of life every day with no ultimate changes to your lifespan, with the "BUT" (fancy word for "caveat") being that they were full of suffering, would you take them? I would without a second thought, but only if I were on a 30-day trial of taking them.
Generally, I'm feeling more deflated across the board (hmm, can't think of a way to not be redundant in this sentence, oh well). I experienced this before - during my 4th attempt to quit drinking soda. The abrupt disappearance of the sugar high renders life gray and uninteresting. I'm sure glad I'm giving up sugar and not heroin (NEVER giving that one up).
2. No snacking. Only eat when hungry.
Snacking all but disappears when you eliminate sugar from your diet. Now I only have the urge to snack every three minutes as opposed to after every successful swallow. I spend a lot of time in my room upstairs working up my hunger to earn permission to indulge my mouth. "I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry," is the mantra of the month.
3. Decide what to do for the generalized version of this 30 day trial.
The original plan was to give up all impulses. Obviously this is only feasible for living Buddhas and select igneous rocks, but there's a saying about bars and settings that's popular in this house - something along the lines of "set the bar high for everyone else." After much fruitless discussion, we decided to start off with the obvious sacrifices - #1 and #2 (not the ones you're thinking of...well...definitely not the ones you're thinking of after reading this sentence), and then kick it into high gear the second to last or last week of the trial. I'll let you know how that goes if it goes anywhere.
Went to New York today as a chaperone for Gene on his field trip to the dentist. Gene dropped me off at 80th and Broadway and went off to the torture chamber. I took a slow walk to Barnes and Noble a few blocks away, scaring pidgins and people with my hasn't-seen-the-light-of-day-for-months pale zombie face, and read about three pages in half an hour. I decided I was better at walking and went back out to partake of some pollution.
Later, I came to check up on Gene and he was still being held prisoner. The warden said he was due for release soon, but time passes very differently inside and outside the prison; I ended up waiting for another hour. Anyway, I went outside again, and just then this guy passed me carrying a box. The box read "China" and nothing else. Thank God I'm practicing stifling my impulses, otherwise I would have snuck into that box and prayed it was on an express delivery route to Shanghai...and probably would have ended up as dinner. Still, it's obviously a sign that China's anxious for my arrival.
On the way back from New York, we dropped by the King Fung Food Market - a Chinese grocery store in my town. At checkout, Gene, with his usual lack of sensibility, casually mentioned to the Chinese cashiers that I study Chinese. All of a sudden, there was a blinding tornado of blood and headless torsos, followed by an investigation into my abilities. I came out relatively unscathed, being 38.9% Chinese by the latest estimate, but I fear (and am secretly eager) to return. Sometimes enjoying life as a masochist is so easy it's unfair.
1. No sweets (excluding ones that grow on trees (excluding ones that grow on trees in Johnny Depp's Chocolate Factory (exluding ones that also grow on trees outside the factory))).
We can pretty much stop here because it's already enough for full-scale clinical depression. I'm an extreme sugar fiend. I eat chocolate before and after a meal, floss my teeth with Twizzlers and use a Jawbreaker for a retainer. When I make myself a cup of tea, it doesn't matter in the least what flavor the tea it is because I drown the flavor in copious amounts of miracle powder. In fact, if I can tell what flavor tea I'm having by the time I finish a cup, I make an appointment with my physician; it is extremely aberrant.
So it's day three now, and I can't help but notice that I suddenly have tons of free time. At least three extra hours. Granted, now I spend them prostrate on the floor of my room, suffering from withdrawal, but they're extra nonetheless. If you could have an extra few hours of life every day with no ultimate changes to your lifespan, with the "BUT" (fancy word for "caveat") being that they were full of suffering, would you take them? I would without a second thought, but only if I were on a 30-day trial of taking them.
Generally, I'm feeling more deflated across the board (hmm, can't think of a way to not be redundant in this sentence, oh well). I experienced this before - during my 4th attempt to quit drinking soda. The abrupt disappearance of the sugar high renders life gray and uninteresting. I'm sure glad I'm giving up sugar and not heroin (NEVER giving that one up).
2. No snacking. Only eat when hungry.
Snacking all but disappears when you eliminate sugar from your diet. Now I only have the urge to snack every three minutes as opposed to after every successful swallow. I spend a lot of time in my room upstairs working up my hunger to earn permission to indulge my mouth. "I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry," is the mantra of the month.
3. Decide what to do for the generalized version of this 30 day trial.
The original plan was to give up all impulses. Obviously this is only feasible for living Buddhas and select igneous rocks, but there's a saying about bars and settings that's popular in this house - something along the lines of "set the bar high for everyone else." After much fruitless discussion, we decided to start off with the obvious sacrifices - #1 and #2 (not the ones you're thinking of...well...definitely not the ones you're thinking of after reading this sentence), and then kick it into high gear the second to last or last week of the trial. I'll let you know how that goes if it goes anywhere.
Went to New York today as a chaperone for Gene on his field trip to the dentist. Gene dropped me off at 80th and Broadway and went off to the torture chamber. I took a slow walk to Barnes and Noble a few blocks away, scaring pidgins and people with my hasn't-seen-the-light-of-day-for-months pale zombie face, and read about three pages in half an hour. I decided I was better at walking and went back out to partake of some pollution.
Later, I came to check up on Gene and he was still being held prisoner. The warden said he was due for release soon, but time passes very differently inside and outside the prison; I ended up waiting for another hour. Anyway, I went outside again, and just then this guy passed me carrying a box. The box read "China" and nothing else. Thank God I'm practicing stifling my impulses, otherwise I would have snuck into that box and prayed it was on an express delivery route to Shanghai...and probably would have ended up as dinner. Still, it's obviously a sign that China's anxious for my arrival.
On the way back from New York, we dropped by the King Fung Food Market - a Chinese grocery store in my town. At checkout, Gene, with his usual lack of sensibility, casually mentioned to the Chinese cashiers that I study Chinese. All of a sudden, there was a blinding tornado of blood and headless torsos, followed by an investigation into my abilities. I came out relatively unscathed, being 38.9% Chinese by the latest estimate, but I fear (and am secretly eager) to return. Sometimes enjoying life as a masochist is so easy it's unfair.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
For Those Of You Who Call Me Lazy
For the last two weeks, I've been wearing a pair of cargo pants with the important button missing. Actually, the button isn't even missing, it's sitting right in front of me, next to my laptop; I can just reach it if I slide my left pinkie off the keyboard. The fly zipper is fine so I don't have to devote one hand to a full-time task of preventing indecent exposure, but a zipper can only do so much and every thirty seconds of walking results in a need for readjustment. You would think it'd be tempting to just go and sew the button back on, an enterprise that would take all of two minutes, but then you'd be forgetting how manly, patient and just plain hardworking I am. I am so uncompromisingly hardworking and NOT lazy that I am willing to lift my pants up and rezip the zipper ninety-six times a day just to avoid those easy cop-out two minutes of sewing. This little piggy takes the hard road.
I have strong precedents in this direction. When I still had my previous laptop, an ancient pre-Internet dinosaur that ran on ant and squirrel power and majored in freezing, there was one time when the keyboard really tested my patience. A bunch of keys didn't work no matter what gauge finger you hit them with. The offenders included four letters, among them 's' and 't,' the left Shift key, Backspace, and most irritatingly - the Esc key. The problem was obviously the nuts and bagel bites and milk and cereal that slowly accumulated under the keys after weeks of use. The most popular solution is to do some cleaning, but instead of being the typical lazybones and buying a can of air and a straw and a slave to press the button and two more slaves to aim the nozzle, I put in some extra effort. I held the four letters in the clipboard - pasting and deleting the ones I didn't need, I slowly taught my right pinkie to use the right Shift key, I highlighted and used the Del key instead of Backspace, and God knows what I did for the Esc key. Probably just restarted my computer. When you're in that kind of situation and you're in dire need of the Esc key, it's like living in that silly quote from Windows hell "Press any key to quit or any other key to continue." Except none of my keys worked.
Anyway, this went on for two months. Finally, when I felt I had mastered patience, I ordered my dad to clean the keyboard for me. He did (instantly, of course), and I was back to appearing normal.
This strategy applies to most situations in life. People love saying "Why put off till tomorrow what you can do today?" or sometimes the exact opposite, but they never think "Why don't I just suck it up, and stop making things easy for myself? Why don't I not pay these taxes, and see what happens?" When I see a button missing on my pants, I don't think "eh, I'll fix it later," nor do I think "I better go fix this right now." I don't try to save myself work either way. I think "hey, a button's missing. Let me just pull the old pants up a bit and zip up...there we go, that'll hold for another ten seconds."
If we always do things the easy way, by doing them at the right time, we miss out so much invaluable suffering. And the density of life lessons in suffering exceeds that of in joy by far. If I go and fix my pants right now, I'll learn absolutely nothing from this incident, and I'm not one to waste opportunities to learn.
More examples from my wonderful dictionary:
邮件 - mail
警方一直截查我的邮件。
The police had been intercepting my mails.
我打开了邮件，惊讶地发现了一个打碎的花瓶。
I opened my mail and was surprised to see a broken vase.
一起 - together
那个妓女和逃犯一起被杀死了。
The harlot was killed together with the fugitive.
擅长 - to be good at
他擅长绘画。
He excels in painting.
她擅长绘画。
She is clever at painting.
I have strong precedents in this direction. When I still had my previous laptop, an ancient pre-Internet dinosaur that ran on ant and squirrel power and majored in freezing, there was one time when the keyboard really tested my patience. A bunch of keys didn't work no matter what gauge finger you hit them with. The offenders included four letters, among them 's' and 't,' the left Shift key, Backspace, and most irritatingly - the Esc key. The problem was obviously the nuts and bagel bites and milk and cereal that slowly accumulated under the keys after weeks of use. The most popular solution is to do some cleaning, but instead of being the typical lazybones and buying a can of air and a straw and a slave to press the button and two more slaves to aim the nozzle, I put in some extra effort. I held the four letters in the clipboard - pasting and deleting the ones I didn't need, I slowly taught my right pinkie to use the right Shift key, I highlighted and used the Del key instead of Backspace, and God knows what I did for the Esc key. Probably just restarted my computer. When you're in that kind of situation and you're in dire need of the Esc key, it's like living in that silly quote from Windows hell "Press any key to quit or any other key to continue." Except none of my keys worked.
Anyway, this went on for two months. Finally, when I felt I had mastered patience, I ordered my dad to clean the keyboard for me. He did (instantly, of course), and I was back to appearing normal.
This strategy applies to most situations in life. People love saying "Why put off till tomorrow what you can do today?" or sometimes the exact opposite, but they never think "Why don't I just suck it up, and stop making things easy for myself? Why don't I not pay these taxes, and see what happens?" When I see a button missing on my pants, I don't think "eh, I'll fix it later," nor do I think "I better go fix this right now." I don't try to save myself work either way. I think "hey, a button's missing. Let me just pull the old pants up a bit and zip up...there we go, that'll hold for another ten seconds."
If we always do things the easy way, by doing them at the right time, we miss out so much invaluable suffering. And the density of life lessons in suffering exceeds that of in joy by far. If I go and fix my pants right now, I'll learn absolutely nothing from this incident, and I'm not one to waste opportunities to learn.
More examples from my wonderful dictionary:
邮件 - mail
警方一直截查我的邮件。
The police had been intercepting my mails.
我打开了邮件，惊讶地发现了一个打碎的花瓶。
I opened my mail and was surprised to see a broken vase.
一起 - together
那个妓女和逃犯一起被杀死了。
The harlot was killed together with the fugitive.
擅长 - to be good at
他擅长绘画。
He excels in painting.
她擅长绘画。
She is clever at painting.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Ouch
Today's high and low:
High: patient, productive (recorded a bunch of songs)
Low: self-pity + killer toothache
Did you ever notice that total badass and antonio banderas sound exactly the same?
Listen to yourself say it:
I'm a total badass
I'm antonio banderas
Identical!
I think there's a song to be made of this discovery.
More ridiculous Chinese dictionary fun:
上厕所 - to go to the bathroom
睡觉前，接受实验者先上厕所，再上床，之后其大脑活动也许至多保持十分钟便会入睡。
Before sleep, the subject leaves the room, gets into bed, and may remain mentally active for as long as ten minutes.
High: patient, productive (recorded a bunch of songs)
Low: self-pity + killer toothache
Did you ever notice that total badass and antonio banderas sound exactly the same?
Listen to yourself say it:
I'm a total badass
I'm antonio banderas
Identical!
I think there's a song to be made of this discovery.
More ridiculous Chinese dictionary fun:
上厕所 - to go to the bathroom
睡觉前，接受实验者先上厕所，再上床，之后其大脑活动也许至多保持十分钟便会入睡。
Before sleep, the subject leaves the room, gets into bed, and may remain mentally active for as long as ten minutes.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Today's estrogen levels: high
Maybe it's time for this blog to make the evolutionary leap to a girl's xanga-style blog, where I whore out all my feelings for you beasties to feed on. Let's start gently though, with the day's high and low.
Today:
High: on the border between "eh" and "blah"
Low: why, God, why??
Meanwhile, more great dictionary examples:
骄傲 - "proud"
她很骄傲她从来没有和北方佬说过话。
She was proud that she never talked with a Yankee.
Hmm, better make that "example" minus the 's'
Nope, found another one:
碰巧 - "by chance, coincidence"
她试图自杀，但我们碰巧救了她。
She tried to commit suicide, but we saved her life by chance.
Today:
High: on the border between "eh" and "blah"
Low: why, God, why??
Meanwhile, more great dictionary examples:
骄傲 - "proud"
她很骄傲她从来没有和北方佬说过话。
She was proud that she never talked with a Yankee.
Hmm, better make that "example" minus the 's'
Nope, found another one:
碰巧 - "by chance, coincidence"
她试图自杀，但我们碰巧救了她。
She tried to commit suicide, but we saved her life by chance.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Who is Obama?
I was peeing today and I noticed something kind of weird. My pee smells exactly like Cheerios, and not the Honey Nut kind, the regular. I'm not sure what this means for my relationships with Cheerios and urination, but I sure hope I don't have to quit doing the second to keep the first.
Coincidentally, I had another bathroom dream today, where I can't find a satisfactory place to do my business no matter how hard I look. My bathroom dreams are riddled with obstacles that video games don't even dream of.
I was getting a tea bag out of the cupboard today, and I was failing miserably to get the flavor I wanted, or rather anything but the flavor I didn't want. Having taken an algorithms course at MIT, I knew that randomized algorithms kick ass. I'd pick a box at random and select a tea bag from it. If it was African Red Bush, I'd put it back and repeat the process. Assuming I remembered which boxes I already checked, this should have worked just fine. Unfortunately several circumstances were against me. First of all, when it comes to tasks like these, I'm your Guy Pearce from Memento. I never once remembered which box I already checked, so I was probably just checking the same box over and over. Secondly, the odds were against me: every single box was African Red Bush. When I finally realized this devasting truth, I had an interesting thought. Based on the given information I had no way of telling whether I was living in a house full of African Red Bush lovers or haters. Both scenarios made perfect sense. If the family is suffering from an African Red Bush fetish, then we probably buy truckloads wholesale. If we hate African Red Bush, we're probably still making our way through that one truckload from 1991, and drinking everything else first.
Now I'm thinking this probably applies to most situations, which is why we have the privilege of witnessing such wonderful misunderstandings. I'll be looking for more of these.
Madelyn sent me a hilarious image yesterday: it's a Google Search's Auto Complete giving suggestions for the typed-in phrase: "I am extremely"
Among the ten or so suggestions, was "I am extremely terrified of Chinese people," with 300,000+ results. I thought it was a joke at first, but then I tested it in my browser and it turned out to be true.
Curious, I decided to see what else the Google user base is interested in. Here are the results. In quotes we have search phrases typed into Google, and below them, Auto Complete suggestions:
"chinese people..."
chinese people eat babies (617,000 results)
"i..."
i can haz cheeseburger (956,000 results)
"why do..."
why do men have nipples (456,000 results)
"why is..."
why is my poop green (346,000 results)
"what do i..."
what do i do (550,000,000 results)
what do i do with my life (103,000,000 results)
"what if I..."
what if I am a black woman (10,400,000 results)
"what the hell..."
what the hell is Kwanzaa (119,000 results)
what the hell does a vegan eat (1,360,000 results)
"when did you..."
when did you stop beating your wife (681,000 results)
"who is..."
who is obama (126,000,000 results)
I kind of wish I could use Auto Complete for the sentences that come out of my mouth. That would make for some interesting conversations.
More great quotes from the Orient:
Pei: I don't like love
Coincidentally, I had another bathroom dream today, where I can't find a satisfactory place to do my business no matter how hard I look. My bathroom dreams are riddled with obstacles that video games don't even dream of.
I was getting a tea bag out of the cupboard today, and I was failing miserably to get the flavor I wanted, or rather anything but the flavor I didn't want. Having taken an algorithms course at MIT, I knew that randomized algorithms kick ass. I'd pick a box at random and select a tea bag from it. If it was African Red Bush, I'd put it back and repeat the process. Assuming I remembered which boxes I already checked, this should have worked just fine. Unfortunately several circumstances were against me. First of all, when it comes to tasks like these, I'm your Guy Pearce from Memento. I never once remembered which box I already checked, so I was probably just checking the same box over and over. Secondly, the odds were against me: every single box was African Red Bush. When I finally realized this devasting truth, I had an interesting thought. Based on the given information I had no way of telling whether I was living in a house full of African Red Bush lovers or haters. Both scenarios made perfect sense. If the family is suffering from an African Red Bush fetish, then we probably buy truckloads wholesale. If we hate African Red Bush, we're probably still making our way through that one truckload from 1991, and drinking everything else first.
Now I'm thinking this probably applies to most situations, which is why we have the privilege of witnessing such wonderful misunderstandings. I'll be looking for more of these.
Madelyn sent me a hilarious image yesterday: it's a Google Search's Auto Complete giving suggestions for the typed-in phrase: "I am extremely"
Among the ten or so suggestions, was "I am extremely terrified of Chinese people," with 300,000+ results. I thought it was a joke at first, but then I tested it in my browser and it turned out to be true.
Curious, I decided to see what else the Google user base is interested in. Here are the results. In quotes we have search phrases typed into Google, and below them, Auto Complete suggestions:
"chinese people..."
chinese people eat babies (617,000 results)
"i..."
i can haz cheeseburger (956,000 results)
"why do..."
why do men have nipples (456,000 results)
"why is..."
why is my poop green (346,000 results)
"what do i..."
what do i do (550,000,000 results)
what do i do with my life (103,000,000 results)
"what if I..."
what if I am a black woman (10,400,000 results)
"what the hell..."
what the hell is Kwanzaa (119,000 results)
what the hell does a vegan eat (1,360,000 results)
"when did you..."
when did you stop beating your wife (681,000 results)
"who is..."
who is obama (126,000,000 results)
I kind of wish I could use Auto Complete for the sentences that come out of my mouth. That would make for some interesting conversations.
More great quotes from the Orient:
Pei: I don't like love
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Testing...Testing...Yep, Title Works
I recently had an interview with Microsoft in Shanghai for a summer internship. I already did this once before with Microsoft, in 2007, but that time I was interning as a developer, and in California (The US one). This time I was interviewing for a testing position. Testing also involves coding, but mostly to try to break things as opposed to building them. Doesn't sound too bad if you put it that way, who doesn't like destruction and chaos? However, I can't say that testers get the same respect as even the lowest codemonkeys (developers). I had the naivete of telling my parents about this opportunity and they didn't hesitate to convey to me the extent of my betrayal of all that is good and holy. My sister is quickly catching on with the general sentiment.
These days, when I come down to the kitchen, I'm liable to hear:
"Hey tester, get me some coffee. On the double, you low-life!" or
"I have failed as a mother! How will I show my face on the street with a son who's a tester!?" or
"What do you think you're doing? Testers don't eat at the same table as people. I already put your food in the litter box, get out of here!"
During morning meditation, Gene intones "please God! Buddha, Jesus, Mary, Moses, Elysha, Julia, Krishna, Babaji, Papaji, Yogananda, Tolle, PLEASE help me learn to love testers like I love human beings!"
Michelle doesn't even need to know what a tester is. It has the word "test" in it, and that's enough to elicit disapproval (to put it lightly...where "lightly" is an understatement and "understatement" is a euphemism).
When I told my friend in China, I got some more encouragement:
Pei: ur a bad horrible evil little thing
Since I am on a 30-day trial of not getting frustrated at anything I have no choice but to find all of this hatred and prejudice infinitely amusing, and save my tears for when I retire for the night. I look forward to more entertainment/crucifixion tomorrow, when I declare that I've finally found my life's true purpose - it is of course none other than testing. I should stock up on anti-heartattack medicine tonight.
Chinese is still the most important resident on my schedule, and my dictionary still hasn't ceased to amaze me. The example sentences for the words are waaaaay out there. Let's play a game. I will give you the example, and you guess what word that sentence is an example for. When you think you know, highlight the lines below the example to see the answer.
他殷勤地侍候她。
He danced attendance on her.
她喜欢仆人前呼後拥地侍候她.
She loves to have servants dance attendance (up) on her.
Answer: to attend on - 侍
尸体躺在血泊中.
The body was lying in a pool of blood.
Answer: to lie down - 躺
他善於随机应变, 总能摆脱追踪他的人.
Thanks to agile footwork he always managed to escape his pursuers.
Answer: to take off (clothes) - 脱
闭上你的嘴, 没人要你说话!
Shut your mouth, nobody asked you!
Answer: 嘴- mouth
And lastly, an easy one:
有人听见他在呻吟.
He was heard to groan.
Answer: to groan - 呻吟
That last one was out of a Chinese tabloid. Here is the rough translation:
Breaking news! The rising pop sensation Jay Chou has been heard to groan. Yes, yet again, a star falls from his pedestal. Mr. Chou has currently been isolated in Nanjing hospital. After the 1977 country-wide groaning epidemic, we can't afford to take any risks. For further information, see how one contracts "groaning" (not for the faint of heart).
Apparently groaning is a rare disease in China, like sanity is in my family.
These days, when I come down to the kitchen, I'm liable to hear:
"Hey tester, get me some coffee. On the double, you low-life!" or
"I have failed as a mother! How will I show my face on the street with a son who's a tester!?" or
"What do you think you're doing? Testers don't eat at the same table as people. I already put your food in the litter box, get out of here!"
During morning meditation, Gene intones "please God! Buddha, Jesus, Mary, Moses, Elysha, Julia, Krishna, Babaji, Papaji, Yogananda, Tolle, PLEASE help me learn to love testers like I love human beings!"
Michelle doesn't even need to know what a tester is. It has the word "test" in it, and that's enough to elicit disapproval (to put it lightly...where "lightly" is an understatement and "understatement" is a euphemism).
When I told my friend in China, I got some more encouragement:
Pei: ur a bad horrible evil little thing
Since I am on a 30-day trial of not getting frustrated at anything I have no choice but to find all of this hatred and prejudice infinitely amusing, and save my tears for when I retire for the night. I look forward to more entertainment/crucifixion tomorrow, when I declare that I've finally found my life's true purpose - it is of course none other than testing. I should stock up on anti-heartattack medicine tonight.
Chinese is still the most important resident on my schedule, and my dictionary still hasn't ceased to amaze me. The example sentences for the words are waaaaay out there. Let's play a game. I will give you the example, and you guess what word that sentence is an example for. When you think you know, highlight the lines below the example to see the answer.
他殷勤地侍候她。
He danced attendance on her.
她喜欢仆人前呼後拥地侍候她.
She loves to have servants dance attendance (up) on her.
Answer: to attend on - 侍
尸体躺在血泊中.
The body was lying in a pool of blood.
Answer: to lie down - 躺
他善於随机应变, 总能摆脱追踪他的人.
Thanks to agile footwork he always managed to escape his pursuers.
Answer: to take off (clothes) - 脱
闭上你的嘴, 没人要你说话!
Shut your mouth, nobody asked you!
Answer: 嘴- mouth
And lastly, an easy one:
有人听见他在呻吟.
He was heard to groan.
Answer: to groan - 呻吟
That last one was out of a Chinese tabloid. Here is the rough translation:
Breaking news! The rising pop sensation Jay Chou has been heard to groan. Yes, yet again, a star falls from his pedestal. Mr. Chou has currently been isolated in Nanjing hospital. After the 1977 country-wide groaning epidemic, we can't afford to take any risks. For further information, see how one contracts "groaning" (not for the faint of heart).
Apparently groaning is a rare disease in China, like sanity is in my family.
Monday, February 9, 2009
No Complaints
NOTE: All the whining and complaining below have no emotional component, and thus do not revoke my right to watch a movie today.
It's all been about Chinese the last few days; I've been neglecting pretty much everything else. It would seem that I would have some skills to show for the invested time, but as of now they are still wimpy at best.
I also spent some time fighting the new Flash format - "f4v" - but it is being a real 笨蛋 and refusing to do what I tell it.
Up until today I've been using McAfee Antivirus, but today there was some downsizing and McAfee took a hit. The complaints were numerous and all too valid to ignore. Here they are, in order of idiocy, from greatest to least:
1. You can't turn it off. Once it's installed, the only way to turn it off is to uninstall it. Otherwise, it runs whenever your computer is on. It's a program with no Exit feature! That's a little too versatile for me.
2. It scans. It constantly scans. I never know what it's thinking, it's always scanning. Is it scanning itself? I'd rather not know, so goodbye McAfee.
3. It updates itself every five minutes and then demands system restart. If you say "No, I'll restart later," it conveniently pops up reminders at 30 second intervals until you comply with its demands.
4. It's a whiny little bitch. If you change your settings to anything less than "Scan everything from files to family members' colons," it incessantly begs that you change them back, with the same patience as in complain #3. Well guess what happens to whiny little bitches in this family? They get uninstalled.
More wonderful Chinese:
留意 - to be mindful/careful
若要老婆留意自己所说的话，作丈夫的只要把话向其他女性说便成了。
If a man wants his wife to pay attention to what he says, he addresses his remarks to another woman.
Evil and wise, a dangerous combination.
It's World War III time.
棒 - stick (among other things)
示威者用棍棒和各种投掷物攻击警察。
Demonstrators attacked the police, using sticks and assorted missiles.
他们试图用一根铁棒撬开锁。
They tried to use an iron bar to pry open the lock.
侦探认为这根木棒和谋杀案有牵连。
The detective thought the stick was related to the murder case.
农夫拿著大棒追赶闯进来的人。
The farmer came after the intruder with a big stick.
我们接近她时, 她就挥棒乱打.
As we approached her, she laid about her with a stick.
So the movies are all true! They do beat the crap out of each other with sticks all day. It's probably a scheduled event:
Mr Li: honey! It's eight o'clock already. We're going to be late for the morning stick fight. It's the Zhang family's turn to take a beating, we don't want to miss it!
Mrs Li: crap! I haven't even finished sharpening my iron bar! And have you been going through my assorted missiles again? They're all out of order!
Mr Li: ah, sorry about that honey. We had a little impromptu fight yesterday after work. But good news, now there's no need to fire anyone.
Mrs Li: oh, wonderful! That's such good news! Ok, I think I'm ready. Iron bar - check, bamboo poles - check, flying daggers - check, missiles - check, dragon costume - check. Let's go!
It's all been about Chinese the last few days; I've been neglecting pretty much everything else. It would seem that I would have some skills to show for the invested time, but as of now they are still wimpy at best.
I also spent some time fighting the new Flash format - "f4v" - but it is being a real 笨蛋 and refusing to do what I tell it.
Up until today I've been using McAfee Antivirus, but today there was some downsizing and McAfee took a hit. The complaints were numerous and all too valid to ignore. Here they are, in order of idiocy, from greatest to least:
1. You can't turn it off. Once it's installed, the only way to turn it off is to uninstall it. Otherwise, it runs whenever your computer is on. It's a program with no Exit feature! That's a little too versatile for me.
2. It scans. It constantly scans. I never know what it's thinking, it's always scanning. Is it scanning itself? I'd rather not know, so goodbye McAfee.
3. It updates itself every five minutes and then demands system restart. If you say "No, I'll restart later," it conveniently pops up reminders at 30 second intervals until you comply with its demands.
4. It's a whiny little bitch. If you change your settings to anything less than "Scan everything from files to family members' colons," it incessantly begs that you change them back, with the same patience as in complain #3. Well guess what happens to whiny little bitches in this family? They get uninstalled.
More wonderful Chinese:
留意 - to be mindful/careful
若要老婆留意自己所说的话，作丈夫的只要把话向其他女性说便成了。
If a man wants his wife to pay attention to what he says, he addresses his remarks to another woman.
Evil and wise, a dangerous combination.
It's World War III time.
棒 - stick (among other things)
示威者用棍棒和各种投掷物攻击警察。
Demonstrators attacked the police, using sticks and assorted missiles.
他们试图用一根铁棒撬开锁。
They tried to use an iron bar to pry open the lock.
侦探认为这根木棒和谋杀案有牵连。
The detective thought the stick was related to the murder case.
农夫拿著大棒追赶闯进来的人。
The farmer came after the intruder with a big stick.
我们接近她时, 她就挥棒乱打.
As we approached her, she laid about her with a stick.
So the movies are all true! They do beat the crap out of each other with sticks all day. It's probably a scheduled event:
Mr Li: honey! It's eight o'clock already. We're going to be late for the morning stick fight. It's the Zhang family's turn to take a beating, we don't want to miss it!
Mrs Li: crap! I haven't even finished sharpening my iron bar! And have you been going through my assorted missiles again? They're all out of order!
Mr Li: ah, sorry about that honey. We had a little impromptu fight yesterday after work. But good news, now there's no need to fire anyone.
Mrs Li: oh, wonderful! That's such good news! Ok, I think I'm ready. Iron bar - check, bamboo poles - check, flying daggers - check, missiles - check, dragon costume - check. Let's go!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Family of Jerks
At last the no-water odyssey has come to an end. My poor teeth are crying bitter fear-drenched tears right now. If earlier I would eat some chocolate and then swish some water around in my mouth to not let the poor bastards (yes, the no-cursing marathon has ended as well) bathe for too long in evil glucose-infested waters, now I follow a chocolate binge with a tall glass of oversweetened tea or red supersaturated sugar water otherwise known as juice. And all without dental insurance! Who can say I don't live dangerously?
An interesting 30-day trial started today in my house. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but it's along the lines of a firm belief in this family - if you got offended - you're a jackass. So the 30-day trial is: "not getting frustrated/annoyed." Since this is not an easy task for such irascible people as myself and my parents (and myself again), we decided on a punishment in case of failure. Any time a person gets frustrated, they cannot watch a movie that night unless they manage to meditate away all of their frustration.
The trial immediately bore wonderful fruits. During today's half-hour-long evening meditation, Michelle, who was meditation-free and is not part of the 30-day trial group of masochists, decided to give us all a little test. We meditate downstairs in the TV room which is right next to the kitchen. For twenty of the thirty minutes, while trying to be as quiet as possible (during her mission of transferring the contents of the refrigerator to her stomach), she managed to make more noise than a hippopotamus eating contest. The results: while attempting to quell the furious impulses of righteousness (righteous anger that is), several contestants giggled and two received heartattacks. Auspicious beginning.
Of course, the real goal of this trial is to give everyone license to be little jerks, petty tyrants. By tomorrow, I have no doubt that the trial's high nobility will regress into a competition of who can say the ugliest truth about someone else, as bitterly and offensively as possible, and who can withstand a psychological seige the longest. By the end of the 30 days we'll probably be missing a number of limbs and at least three sanities.
More great Chinese example phrases:
逗 死 人 了! 是 你 太 笨 吧! 可以 想象 你 摔 倒 时 的 样子!
That's funny as hell! It must be because you are so dumb! I can just imagine your face when you fell down.
An interesting 30-day trial started today in my house. I'm not sure where the idea came from, but it's along the lines of a firm belief in this family - if you got offended - you're a jackass. So the 30-day trial is: "not getting frustrated/annoyed." Since this is not an easy task for such irascible people as myself and my parents (and myself again), we decided on a punishment in case of failure. Any time a person gets frustrated, they cannot watch a movie that night unless they manage to meditate away all of their frustration.
The trial immediately bore wonderful fruits. During today's half-hour-long evening meditation, Michelle, who was meditation-free and is not part of the 30-day trial group of masochists, decided to give us all a little test. We meditate downstairs in the TV room which is right next to the kitchen. For twenty of the thirty minutes, while trying to be as quiet as possible (during her mission of transferring the contents of the refrigerator to her stomach), she managed to make more noise than a hippopotamus eating contest. The results: while attempting to quell the furious impulses of righteousness (righteous anger that is), several contestants giggled and two received heartattacks. Auspicious beginning.
Of course, the real goal of this trial is to give everyone license to be little jerks, petty tyrants. By tomorrow, I have no doubt that the trial's high nobility will regress into a competition of who can say the ugliest truth about someone else, as bitterly and offensively as possible, and who can withstand a psychological seige the longest. By the end of the 30 days we'll probably be missing a number of limbs and at least three sanities.
More great Chinese example phrases:
逗 死 人 了! 是 你 太 笨 吧! 可以 想象 你 摔 倒 时 的 样子!
That's funny as hell! It must be because you are so dumb! I can just imagine your face when you fell down.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Idiots Don't Wake Up
All this meditation must be doing something because lately I've been having really long and plentiful dreams. Time to put some paper near the bed again so I can write them down as soon as I wake up. I'm pretty sure I see around 4 a night.
There was a beautiful one today that had almost no action - not usually my favorite recipe - but this time was very satisfying. I'm in Cambridge, looking over the Harvard bridge, and I watch as the last few cars get off the bridge and only the illegally parked ones are left. At this moment, a pair of headlights lights up the horizon from the Boston side, but the car responsible for them doesn't come into view, mostly I think because I don't want it to. At the other end of the bridge there's a castle instead of Boston, and the headlights put it in a perfect light. It's really majestic - the kind that deserves some poetry from someone other than me. I decide to take a picture with my cellphone.
The camera on my phone works really weirdly - this is where I should have gone lucid (if not when I saw the castle instead of Boston): for some reason (I'm thinking in the dream), the camera input is coming from satellite, and it's coming in really slowly. So first I see the view of everything from above, and then it slowly gets to me, and then it starts moving towards the castle. I keep snapping shots as this little movie plays out on my cell screen, all the way up until the view is moving up the castle walls, discovering towers in the darkness and whatnot. It was like a movie director's wet dream.
Another dream today had to do with two groups investigating some mystery concerning a giant mythical creature. The two groups were the Smart People and the Beautiful People. By some hideous flaw in the system, I was placed with the Smart People (how could I not have realized that I was dreaming? Just the fact that I didn't should have eliminated me from the Smart People group!). Anyway, the Smart People were in charge of figuring stuff out, and the Beautiful People were the ones that got all the action and took all the credit. But the two groups didn't cooperate well at all - I guess we wanted credit too, because the whole dream was really about running away from the Beautiful People and not giving them our intel. There was this really stupid door scene that reminded me of Signs - where the all-powerful aliens with their hyperspace drive and Kosher pork and whatever other crazy technology, can't get through a two-inch-thick wooden door.
Hopefully there'll be more dreams tonight. Hopefully I won't be an idiot and I'll realize that the third arm sprouting from my nose isn't normally there, and will go lucid. It's about time.
This online Chinese dictionary I'm using is too good to be true. It gives you example sentences for each word, and these examples are exactly the kind you want to be using on a daily basis. Take the word "guy" for example. In Chinese it's 家伙
Common usage examples:
他不是那种和你一样的坏家伙。
He is not such a bad guy as you (are).
这个平时温和的家伙简直发疯了, 开枪打死了十个人.
This ordinary quiet guy just freaked out and shot ten people.
你这忘恩负义的家伙!
You ungrateful wretch!
他是个卑鄙的家伙.
He's a scurvy wretch.
他是个笨手笨脚的[古里古怪的]家伙.
He's an awkward/queer old cuss.
你瞧那戴怪帽子的家伙!
Get a load of that old bloke with the funny hat!
Or "kill" - 杀
他们在密谋如何杀害他。
They are plotting how to murder him.
那只骚扰绵羊的狗被杀死了。
The dog that molested the sheep was killed.
因为宿怨，他最终杀了她。
He eventually killed her because of a long-standing feud.
I could read this thing all day, it's like a joke machine. And I can't wait to use all of these in China. Come visit me when I'm back, I'll be the guy in the little urn.
There was a beautiful one today that had almost no action - not usually my favorite recipe - but this time was very satisfying. I'm in Cambridge, looking over the Harvard bridge, and I watch as the last few cars get off the bridge and only the illegally parked ones are left. At this moment, a pair of headlights lights up the horizon from the Boston side, but the car responsible for them doesn't come into view, mostly I think because I don't want it to. At the other end of the bridge there's a castle instead of Boston, and the headlights put it in a perfect light. It's really majestic - the kind that deserves some poetry from someone other than me. I decide to take a picture with my cellphone.
The camera on my phone works really weirdly - this is where I should have gone lucid (if not when I saw the castle instead of Boston): for some reason (I'm thinking in the dream), the camera input is coming from satellite, and it's coming in really slowly. So first I see the view of everything from above, and then it slowly gets to me, and then it starts moving towards the castle. I keep snapping shots as this little movie plays out on my cell screen, all the way up until the view is moving up the castle walls, discovering towers in the darkness and whatnot. It was like a movie director's wet dream.
Another dream today had to do with two groups investigating some mystery concerning a giant mythical creature. The two groups were the Smart People and the Beautiful People. By some hideous flaw in the system, I was placed with the Smart People (how could I not have realized that I was dreaming? Just the fact that I didn't should have eliminated me from the Smart People group!). Anyway, the Smart People were in charge of figuring stuff out, and the Beautiful People were the ones that got all the action and took all the credit. But the two groups didn't cooperate well at all - I guess we wanted credit too, because the whole dream was really about running away from the Beautiful People and not giving them our intel. There was this really stupid door scene that reminded me of Signs - where the all-powerful aliens with their hyperspace drive and Kosher pork and whatever other crazy technology, can't get through a two-inch-thick wooden door.
Hopefully there'll be more dreams tonight. Hopefully I won't be an idiot and I'll realize that the third arm sprouting from my nose isn't normally there, and will go lucid. It's about time.
This online Chinese dictionary I'm using is too good to be true. It gives you example sentences for each word, and these examples are exactly the kind you want to be using on a daily basis. Take the word "guy" for example. In Chinese it's 家伙
Common usage examples:
他不是那种和你一样的坏家伙。
He is not such a bad guy as you (are).
这个平时温和的家伙简直发疯了, 开枪打死了十个人.
This ordinary quiet guy just freaked out and shot ten people.
你这忘恩负义的家伙!
You ungrateful wretch!
他是个卑鄙的家伙.
He's a scurvy wretch.
他是个笨手笨脚的[古里古怪的]家伙.
He's an awkward/queer old cuss.
你瞧那戴怪帽子的家伙!
Get a load of that old bloke with the funny hat!
Or "kill" - 杀
他们在密谋如何杀害他。
They are plotting how to murder him.
那只骚扰绵羊的狗被杀死了。
The dog that molested the sheep was killed.
因为宿怨，他最终杀了她。
He eventually killed her because of a long-standing feud.
I could read this thing all day, it's like a joke machine. And I can't wait to use all of these in China. Come visit me when I'm back, I'll be the guy in the little urn.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Indeed
February started today to my great surprise, and along with it, FWAM - February Album Writing Month...which would make it FAWM but pressing backspace is just not in me right now. I'm still not sure if I'm up to the challenge (14 songs in 28 days), but I got off to an OK start today. I have one mostly complete song, and a bunch of short melody sketches. I figure I'll try to write roughly one a day for the first 14 days, and then edit and record during the second half of the month. Yes, good plan, I agree. Hopefully it will be the second half of this month.
I've been trying to be more aware the last couple of days, and it has been roughly impossible. 99.99% of the time, I'm aware 0% of the time. And when I do pull myself into awareness, I can only be completely aware for precious seconds. If I'm not busy doing anything, if I'm just sitting around, I can collect more of those moments per minute - maybe 1 or 2. But if I'm doing something, anything at all - thinking up melodies, reading, eating, writing this sentence, it's hopeless; I'm a complete zombie. Every word you're reading right now, except the word "now," came out of some programmed state of being. I hope you're as disgusted with me as much as you should be with yourselves.
I'm sad to say that 30-day trials aren't going so well. Water, no cursing, and meditation are still cruising, Chinese is as well, but crunches have been all but abandoned for the last couple of days, and "writing for an hour" hasn't shown its face for four days-ish. I am at least a tiny bit ashamed.
Hmm. Sleepy.
I've been trying to be more aware the last couple of days, and it has been roughly impossible. 99.99% of the time, I'm aware 0% of the time. And when I do pull myself into awareness, I can only be completely aware for precious seconds. If I'm not busy doing anything, if I'm just sitting around, I can collect more of those moments per minute - maybe 1 or 2. But if I'm doing something, anything at all - thinking up melodies, reading, eating, writing this sentence, it's hopeless; I'm a complete zombie. Every word you're reading right now, except the word "now," came out of some programmed state of being. I hope you're as disgusted with me as much as you should be with yourselves.
I'm sad to say that 30-day trials aren't going so well. Water, no cursing, and meditation are still cruising, Chinese is as well, but crunches have been all but abandoned for the last couple of days, and "writing for an hour" hasn't shown its face for four days-ish. I am at least a tiny bit ashamed.
Hmm. Sleepy.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Going Blind In The Eyeball Area
Morning meditation:
Today was a big day. Today was the first time I didn't open my eyes sometime during the hour, thinking "surely I set the timer for 3 hours by accident," look at the clock and exclaim inwardly "another half an hour! Holy crap!...I mean...surrendering my impatience, surrendering surrendering surrendering...Okay, all patient now...now how much longer do I have to sit here for Chrissake? Oh yea, half an hour...crap...I mean..."
Well not today. Today I kept my eyes closed the whole time, all thanks to my formidable powers of patience...or was it the duct tape blindfold...holy crap that hurts to take off!
Evening meditation:
For the last three days, sometime between 9:30PM and 12:30AM, I cry like a baby for roughly 30 minutes. No, I'm not mourning the loss of my innocence or making a statement against manly men who don't cry. It's all much more simple: this is Gene's latest instrument of torture, designed to get us to enlightenment ASAP.
The idea is to practice mindfulness (yes, again), and to do it with the view of helping out the lucid dreaming experiment. Apparently mindfulness and lucid dreaming go hand in hand. The latest book in Gene's endless queue suggests picking a simple object (mine is hand-drawn letter A), and staring at it for long periods of time, displacing all thoughts from one's mind - doing nothing but observing that object. The book gives a number of helpful suggestions including: "don't blink." This one, this family has taken seriously. Evening meditation is now a sobfest. Oof, now let me go dump my prune-like eyeballs in some warm water.
Today was a big day. Today was the first time I didn't open my eyes sometime during the hour, thinking "surely I set the timer for 3 hours by accident," look at the clock and exclaim inwardly "another half an hour! Holy crap!...I mean...surrendering my impatience, surrendering surrendering surrendering...Okay, all patient now...now how much longer do I have to sit here for Chrissake? Oh yea, half an hour...crap...I mean..."
Well not today. Today I kept my eyes closed the whole time, all thanks to my formidable powers of patience...or was it the duct tape blindfold...holy crap that hurts to take off!
Evening meditation:
For the last three days, sometime between 9:30PM and 12:30AM, I cry like a baby for roughly 30 minutes. No, I'm not mourning the loss of my innocence or making a statement against manly men who don't cry. It's all much more simple: this is Gene's latest instrument of torture, designed to get us to enlightenment ASAP.
The idea is to practice mindfulness (yes, again), and to do it with the view of helping out the lucid dreaming experiment. Apparently mindfulness and lucid dreaming go hand in hand. The latest book in Gene's endless queue suggests picking a simple object (mine is hand-drawn letter A), and staring at it for long periods of time, displacing all thoughts from one's mind - doing nothing but observing that object. The book gives a number of helpful suggestions including: "don't blink." This one, this family has taken seriously. Evening meditation is now a sobfest. Oof, now let me go dump my prune-like eyeballs in some warm water.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
春节快乐 To All Russians
Every family has their little genetic/behavioral advantages and disadvantages. In our family, a popular setback is bad teeth. Gene and Ellen share the gold and silver medals for most unopenable mouths, with me arriving at the finish line in a few more years if everything goes as planned. But now it seems like Michelle is in the running for bronze, with the latest trip to the dentist shortening the distance between us by a factor of 5 or 10.
After I took Michelle to the dentist a couple of days ago, we spent many an hour in a state of open-mouthed shock (disgusting, I know). Our limited savings were quickly headed to Michelle's all-consuming black hole of a dental plan. But something or other thrives in times of adversity, and we (Gene) got to researching preventative measures. Here are some findings:
Finding #1: Genes aren't everything. Cavities mostly occur because of continued presence of sugar in the mouth. No sugar in your mouth, less cavities.
Obvious solution #1: eat and drink through an IV.
Obvious solution #2: get false teeth.
Less obvious and harder to implement solution #1: don't eat sweets. Ha! Talk about unrealistic.
Less obvious and harder to implement solution #2: brush after every sugar-binge, and by binge I mean anything bigger than a single speck of confectioners' sugar powder.
Finding #2: Xylitol. Yes, this sounds like something you're already giving your kids in pill form, but it isn't. Instead, it's a little miracle. Xylitol inhibits the growth of Streptococcus Mutans bacteria - the biggest threat to our great nation's teeth - the main bacteria associated with cavity formation. It's also magically delicious. And as an added bonus, chewing Xylitol gum when you're pregnant with child prevents transmission of the Streptococcus Mutans bacteria to the infant. Also chew it when you're breastfeeding anyone; xylitol is beneficial out of any orifice.
Obvious solution #1: buy some Xylitol gum and chew it till you're either all better, or it rips out all of your fillings, as gum sometimes does.
Obvious solution #2: avoid being the child of a non-Xylitol-gum-chewing mother, and/or get breastfed by a Xylitol user once you're out of the womb and making demands.
Obvious solution #3: eat only Xylitol-rich food. WARNING: this lifestyle correlates heavily with starvation. Fortunately, as we all know, correlation does not imply causality.
Less obvious and harder to implement solution #1: actually research Xylitol and find out if it works. And then when you find out that Xylitol is just a Placebo, laugh at those people for whom it works perfectly, and then go drop $10,000 into your dentist's pocket. Ah, last laughs.
A new song was written today/yesterday, coincidentally by me, called Pei's Chun Jie (Pei's Chinese New Year). Pei agreed (speaking retrospectively from the future) to let people listen to it here. It's an instrumental, so you don't have to be afraid of hearing me or Mario sing.
Hmm, Blogger is being a dick and not letting me upload the MIDI that I specially converted to MP3 and then to video to make it Blogger-edible. No worries, Lablz.com to the rescue! Pei's Chun Jie
After I took Michelle to the dentist a couple of days ago, we spent many an hour in a state of open-mouthed shock (disgusting, I know). Our limited savings were quickly headed to Michelle's all-consuming black hole of a dental plan. But something or other thrives in times of adversity, and we (Gene) got to researching preventative measures. Here are some findings:
Finding #1: Genes aren't everything. Cavities mostly occur because of continued presence of sugar in the mouth. No sugar in your mouth, less cavities.
Obvious solution #1: eat and drink through an IV.
Obvious solution #2: get false teeth.
Less obvious and harder to implement solution #1: don't eat sweets. Ha! Talk about unrealistic.
Less obvious and harder to implement solution #2: brush after every sugar-binge, and by binge I mean anything bigger than a single speck of confectioners' sugar powder.
Finding #2: Xylitol. Yes, this sounds like something you're already giving your kids in pill form, but it isn't. Instead, it's a little miracle. Xylitol inhibits the growth of Streptococcus Mutans bacteria - the biggest threat to our great nation's teeth - the main bacteria associated with cavity formation. It's also magically delicious. And as an added bonus, chewing Xylitol gum when you're pregnant with child prevents transmission of the Streptococcus Mutans bacteria to the infant. Also chew it when you're breastfeeding anyone; xylitol is beneficial out of any orifice.
Obvious solution #1: buy some Xylitol gum and chew it till you're either all better, or it rips out all of your fillings, as gum sometimes does.
Obvious solution #2: avoid being the child of a non-Xylitol-gum-chewing mother, and/or get breastfed by a Xylitol user once you're out of the womb and making demands.
Obvious solution #3: eat only Xylitol-rich food. WARNING: this lifestyle correlates heavily with starvation. Fortunately, as we all know, correlation does not imply causality.
Less obvious and harder to implement solution #1: actually research Xylitol and find out if it works. And then when you find out that Xylitol is just a Placebo, laugh at those people for whom it works perfectly, and then go drop $10,000 into your dentist's pocket. Ah, last laughs.
A new song was written today/yesterday, coincidentally by me, called Pei's Chun Jie (Pei's Chinese New Year). Pei agreed (speaking retrospectively from the future) to let people listen to it here. It's an instrumental, so you don't have to be afraid of hearing me or Mario sing.
Hmm, Blogger is being a dick and not letting me upload the MIDI that I specially converted to MP3 and then to video to make it Blogger-edible. No worries, Lablz.com to the rescue! Pei's Chun Jie
Friday, January 23, 2009
Nostalgia And More Chinese Antics
Had an interesting evening meditation yesterday. I had started reading Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now a couple of days ago, and he emphasized that people live either in the past or in the future but never in the present. He himself is of course a level 6 ninja in this aspect, so I trust him. Anyway, I was doing the surrendering exercise, and I was focusing on some of my nostalgia for a certain girl whose name I will not say explicitly (I will be fair however and give a hint: her name is one of the 24 arrangements of the letters 'c,' 'h,' 'u,' and 'n').
Anyway, I was surrendering this and that, and some of the other, some etc., and also lots of yadda yadda yadda, and I was feeling pretty good about myself, which is of course strictly prohibited by the meditation police. It was going well though, but at the same time it wasn't a relaxing process, it was a bit of a race; I'd surrender one scene, and another would show up with a little sign saying "dwell in me for a bit," and I'd say "good idea...wait! No! I surrender you!" And then I'd sit there waiting for the next ambush.
This game continued for a while, and then I decided to invoke some Tolle magic on myself. Not being a "future" kind of guy, I decided to start with my past, and went ahead and erased it all in one stroke. Of course, I didn't actually give myself amnesia, but I somehow managed to get a feeling of what it might be like to exist in a state of memory loss. I said to myself that I of course have certain feelings about things, but that now it no longer matters how I got to those feelings. Thinking this way, I figured that it would be easier to surrender emotions - they'd have no past to cling to.
I never really got to that second part (surrendering past-less emotions), but I did feel really weird for a while. The state of having no past was odd and interesting, a bit like coming out of the pool into the fresh air. Eh...pretty bad analogy, go ahead and insert your own.
Feeling on a roll, I decided to try one other thing, and inspiration suggested to attempt disappearing myself. I visualized stepping back out of my body, and tried to erase both my body and my mind, dry-eraser-across-blackboard-style. This isn't the first time I've tried this, but it was the first time it gave any sort of result. Usually I just end up waking up from yet another daydreaming sequence where my erasing had seamlessly morphed into fingerpainting, or worse, the dreaded "washing dishes" nightmare.
This time though, I managed to slip into another weird feeling, different from the past-less one, but equally strange. I felt like I was in the background - this is the only way I can think of to describe it. I didn't feel my body at all, and didn't really have a center of mass to my consciousness, just kind of faded. Pretty cool, but very tenuous and hard to hold onto.
Blah. No more.
I woke up today at 7AM and remembered some dream, but then, in a moment of weakness, decided to get some more sleep. And that's the end of that story; dream lost forever. Shame on me. To atone, I took Michelle for a 4 hour vacation to the dentist chair.
MIT finally shut off my webspace a day or two ago, so the previous entry's sound files pointed to nowhere (at the time of its creation). Yesterday I spent a good 5 minutes(!) remedying the situation and throwing my hands up in the air at the various inconveniences involved. For instance, Blogger doesn't allow uploading sound files. Pictures and video are OK, but there's some kind of prohibition on plain old audio. Being, as always, on a tight schedule, I didn't have the time to fight the man on this one, so I just converted my clips to video.
More Chinese learning took place today. I was learning indefinites - things like anywhere, anything, somelobster, nokitten, and I thought the Chinese approach to using these was really funny and simultaneously brilliant. For example, when you ask a Chinese person who's headed nowhere in particular "where are you going, my Chinese brother?" he'll tell you "I'm not going where." Isn't that efficient? Or if he's really not going anywhere at all, he'll say "I'm not going everywhere." This is like something made to order for Abbott and Costello.
Here's a semi-accurate semi-completely-inaccurate Chinese style English conversation for you to see what I'm up against in my quest to learn Mandarin.
Mark: you good.
Authentic Chinaman: you good.
Mark: you are going where?
Authentic Chinaman: I'm not going where.
Mark: not going where?
Authentic Chinaman: yes. not.
Mark: ah...and there is who?
Authentic Chinaman: there isn't who. There isn't everyone.
Mark: and you there will do what?
Authentic Chinaman: there I will not do everything.
Mark: excellent! can I come with you?
Authentic Chinaman: but I'm not going where...
Mark: I'm not going where either. I'm going there.
Authentic Chinaman: I'm not going there. I'm not going where.
Mark: me too. Or was it me neither. Crap. You understand?
Authentic Chinaman: I don't understand everything.
Mark: you everything don't understand? Or you don't understand everything?
Authentic Chinaman: I don't understand everything.
Mark: yea, I'm pretty lost too. Good, I go now. See again.
Authentic Chinaman: see again.
Anyway, I was surrendering this and that, and some of the other, some etc., and also lots of yadda yadda yadda, and I was feeling pretty good about myself, which is of course strictly prohibited by the meditation police. It was going well though, but at the same time it wasn't a relaxing process, it was a bit of a race; I'd surrender one scene, and another would show up with a little sign saying "dwell in me for a bit," and I'd say "good idea...wait! No! I surrender you!" And then I'd sit there waiting for the next ambush.
This game continued for a while, and then I decided to invoke some Tolle magic on myself. Not being a "future" kind of guy, I decided to start with my past, and went ahead and erased it all in one stroke. Of course, I didn't actually give myself amnesia, but I somehow managed to get a feeling of what it might be like to exist in a state of memory loss. I said to myself that I of course have certain feelings about things, but that now it no longer matters how I got to those feelings. Thinking this way, I figured that it would be easier to surrender emotions - they'd have no past to cling to.
I never really got to that second part (surrendering past-less emotions), but I did feel really weird for a while. The state of having no past was odd and interesting, a bit like coming out of the pool into the fresh air. Eh...pretty bad analogy, go ahead and insert your own.
Feeling on a roll, I decided to try one other thing, and inspiration suggested to attempt disappearing myself. I visualized stepping back out of my body, and tried to erase both my body and my mind, dry-eraser-across-blackboard-style. This isn't the first time I've tried this, but it was the first time it gave any sort of result. Usually I just end up waking up from yet another daydreaming sequence where my erasing had seamlessly morphed into fingerpainting, or worse, the dreaded "washing dishes" nightmare.
This time though, I managed to slip into another weird feeling, different from the past-less one, but equally strange. I felt like I was in the background - this is the only way I can think of to describe it. I didn't feel my body at all, and didn't really have a center of mass to my consciousness, just kind of faded. Pretty cool, but very tenuous and hard to hold onto.
Blah. No more.
I woke up today at 7AM and remembered some dream, but then, in a moment of weakness, decided to get some more sleep. And that's the end of that story; dream lost forever. Shame on me. To atone, I took Michelle for a 4 hour vacation to the dentist chair.
MIT finally shut off my webspace a day or two ago, so the previous entry's sound files pointed to nowhere (at the time of its creation). Yesterday I spent a good 5 minutes(!) remedying the situation and throwing my hands up in the air at the various inconveniences involved. For instance, Blogger doesn't allow uploading sound files. Pictures and video are OK, but there's some kind of prohibition on plain old audio. Being, as always, on a tight schedule, I didn't have the time to fight the man on this one, so I just converted my clips to video.
More Chinese learning took place today. I was learning indefinites - things like anywhere, anything, somelobster, nokitten, and I thought the Chinese approach to using these was really funny and simultaneously brilliant. For example, when you ask a Chinese person who's headed nowhere in particular "where are you going, my Chinese brother?" he'll tell you "I'm not going where." Isn't that efficient? Or if he's really not going anywhere at all, he'll say "I'm not going everywhere." This is like something made to order for Abbott and Costello.
Here's a semi-accurate semi-completely-inaccurate Chinese style English conversation for you to see what I'm up against in my quest to learn Mandarin.
Mark: you good.
Authentic Chinaman: you good.
Mark: you are going where?
Authentic Chinaman: I'm not going where.
Mark: not going where?
Authentic Chinaman: yes. not.
Mark: ah...and there is who?
Authentic Chinaman: there isn't who. There isn't everyone.
Mark: and you there will do what?
Authentic Chinaman: there I will not do everything.
Mark: excellent! can I come with you?
Authentic Chinaman: but I'm not going where...
Mark: I'm not going where either. I'm going there.
Authentic Chinaman: I'm not going there. I'm not going where.
Mark: me too. Or was it me neither. Crap. You understand?
Authentic Chinaman: I don't understand everything.
Mark: you everything don't understand? Or you don't understand everything?
Authentic Chinaman: I don't understand everything.
Mark: yea, I'm pretty lost too. Good, I go now. See again.
Authentic Chinaman: see again.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Those Flat Chinese
Morning meditation:
Today was more focused. I think I'm up to 1.2 consecutive milliseconds of consciousness, which sounds low, but feels like an improvement.
Dream:
I'm a sailor on a semi-modern ship. I am looking for a bathroom where I can move my bowels. I find one, but it is completely unacceptable. There are two toilets, facing each other from opposite corners of the room, as if in a duel, and about fifteen people between them, just shooting the breeze (something people only do in bathrooms in dreams). I barely hesitate a second before taking my privacy-sensitive bowels in search of other accomodations. I finally find a private bathroom with a single toilet, lock myself in, and mount the beast.
Lo and behold, this must be a toilet from an amusement park. Sitting on this thing is like sitting in one of those virtual ride machines at Chucke E. Cheese's, except that I don't have a screen in front of me convincing me that I'm on runaway railcar. I try to relax, but it is impossible, my cheeks are gripping the seat with all the static friction they've been storing away for the last 22 years. It's like trying to relax a bear trap. I struggle for a while, but my needs finally give in to the consistency of my failures, and I decide that I guess I don't really need to go. As I leave the bathroom, the next contestant comes in, Brian Voorhis who I haven't seen since middle school. I give him the thumbs up sign.
After this, I teleport to the dock. The ship is leaving, and I need to get on before I'm left behind. I remember what the captain said about the really stupid things sailors sometimes do, and proceed to do one of such caliber that further speeches in this vein are assured for generations to come. Instead of just jumping onto the ship, I wrap my four appendages around some 4 foot diameter column that holds the ship's roof up. Now I'm hopelessly stuck. If I let go, I fall into the water, but there's no way I can maneuver around this thing without help. I can barely move at all. I stick one leg out as much as I can, which is about one inch, and yell for someone to drag me in by my leg. Unfortunately, the other sailors lack the necessary genie powers required to perform such a feat. I realize that my last chance is to get back onto the deck and then try to jump for it. I try and fail, and almost fall off, and then suddenly I'm on the deck in some kind fluke of teleportation. I don't hesitate for instant to thank the Gods, and execute a beautiful running long jump onto the deck. Crisis averted.
End of Dream
I was studying Chinese today, and ran across this sentence: ge1ge1 he1 ka1fei1 he1 de hen3 shao3. Now don't panic! Of course, at first sight this looks like incomprehensible gibberish, unless you're one of the enlightened few (2 billionish). But in reality, it's pretty simple.
Let me give you some brief background: The above is the romanization of the Chinese sentence 哥哥喝咖啡喝地很少. (Romanization = Chinese for Americans). Romanization tells you how to pronounce the words, unlike the authentic Chinese sentence which just hurts your eyes, not to mention your brain. The numbers in the romanization indicate the tone (what to do with your voice) to use with each vowel sound. Tone 3 is for Chinese Jedi Masters, while tone 1 is Ben Stein's permanent residence - flat tone - where your voice doesn't change pitch during the duration of the vowel.
What's special about this sentence is that the first 6 tones are tone 1. Basically this means that you're likely to say the first 6 syllables on one note. When I say it out loud, it sounds absolutely ridiculous.
This reminded me instantly of Galaxy Quest, where the aliens consistently speak in a perfect monotone, with the added benefit of residing on the precise pitch of their voice breaks. Listen to this (Blogger doesn't allow uploading sound files, I had to convert it to video):
Now back to the Chinese phrase. Expect the worst:
I sound even more retarded, but you get the gist.
Madelyn: ur awesome
Mark: wow
Mark: r u learning to notice the obvious too?
Madelyn: yeah, im not good at it
Madelyn: that's how my compliment came to you
Today was more focused. I think I'm up to 1.2 consecutive milliseconds of consciousness, which sounds low, but feels like an improvement.
Dream:
I'm a sailor on a semi-modern ship. I am looking for a bathroom where I can move my bowels. I find one, but it is completely unacceptable. There are two toilets, facing each other from opposite corners of the room, as if in a duel, and about fifteen people between them, just shooting the breeze (something people only do in bathrooms in dreams). I barely hesitate a second before taking my privacy-sensitive bowels in search of other accomodations. I finally find a private bathroom with a single toilet, lock myself in, and mount the beast.
Lo and behold, this must be a toilet from an amusement park. Sitting on this thing is like sitting in one of those virtual ride machines at Chucke E. Cheese's, except that I don't have a screen in front of me convincing me that I'm on runaway railcar. I try to relax, but it is impossible, my cheeks are gripping the seat with all the static friction they've been storing away for the last 22 years. It's like trying to relax a bear trap. I struggle for a while, but my needs finally give in to the consistency of my failures, and I decide that I guess I don't really need to go. As I leave the bathroom, the next contestant comes in, Brian Voorhis who I haven't seen since middle school. I give him the thumbs up sign.
After this, I teleport to the dock. The ship is leaving, and I need to get on before I'm left behind. I remember what the captain said about the really stupid things sailors sometimes do, and proceed to do one of such caliber that further speeches in this vein are assured for generations to come. Instead of just jumping onto the ship, I wrap my four appendages around some 4 foot diameter column that holds the ship's roof up. Now I'm hopelessly stuck. If I let go, I fall into the water, but there's no way I can maneuver around this thing without help. I can barely move at all. I stick one leg out as much as I can, which is about one inch, and yell for someone to drag me in by my leg. Unfortunately, the other sailors lack the necessary genie powers required to perform such a feat. I realize that my last chance is to get back onto the deck and then try to jump for it. I try and fail, and almost fall off, and then suddenly I'm on the deck in some kind fluke of teleportation. I don't hesitate for instant to thank the Gods, and execute a beautiful running long jump onto the deck. Crisis averted.
End of Dream
I was studying Chinese today, and ran across this sentence: ge1ge1 he1 ka1fei1 he1 de hen3 shao3. Now don't panic! Of course, at first sight this looks like incomprehensible gibberish, unless you're one of the enlightened few (2 billionish). But in reality, it's pretty simple.
Let me give you some brief background: The above is the romanization of the Chinese sentence 哥哥喝咖啡喝地很少. (Romanization = Chinese for Americans). Romanization tells you how to pronounce the words, unlike the authentic Chinese sentence which just hurts your eyes, not to mention your brain. The numbers in the romanization indicate the tone (what to do with your voice) to use with each vowel sound. Tone 3 is for Chinese Jedi Masters, while tone 1 is Ben Stein's permanent residence - flat tone - where your voice doesn't change pitch during the duration of the vowel.
What's special about this sentence is that the first 6 tones are tone 1. Basically this means that you're likely to say the first 6 syllables on one note. When I say it out loud, it sounds absolutely ridiculous.
This reminded me instantly of Galaxy Quest, where the aliens consistently speak in a perfect monotone, with the added benefit of residing on the precise pitch of their voice breaks. Listen to this (Blogger doesn't allow uploading sound files, I had to convert it to video):
Now back to the Chinese phrase. Expect the worst:
I sound even more retarded, but you get the gist.
Madelyn: ur awesome
Mark: wow
Mark: r u learning to notice the obvious too?
Madelyn: yeah, im not good at it
Madelyn: that's how my compliment came to you
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Quick, Check If You're Conscious Before It's Too Late
Morning meditation:
Today I was plagued by melodies and lyrics from my own songs. I remember now that this happened on some of the other days, so just go ahead and add it to the general list of distractions. There were a couple of moments when I was thinking to myself - "hey, my mind's pretty quiet, right on, brother!" and then I'd realize that it was because my mind was wrapped so tightly around some catchy scrap of music that other thoughts just didn't stand a chance.
The new 30-day trials are only partially taking. Studying Chinese for half an hour is cake, even an hour is no problem. The lucid dreaming techniques are lagging behind though. I did maybe 20 reality checks today in total, which unfortunately doesn't average out to one every 10 minutes. And there are stretches of hours where I completely forget to do them. But I remembered today that another prerequisite is writing down dreams, so I'm going to start doing that tonight. Surely that'll clinch it.
Gene has also caught the lucid dreaming bug and now has some half-baked get-rich-quick scheme that he insists is exactly the opposite of that (not a get-rich-quick scheme). I haven't decided if I believe him yet, but I'll play along, especially since he reads this blog.
More silly jokes:
People are playing Scattergories:
The Letter: S
Category: Things that grow
Mom: self-awareness. But usually not mine.
Dad: Sri Ramakrishna. You haven't seen "grow" till you've seen my buddy Sri. You don't like it? Fine, then Snigfilunkers. You haven't heard of them? They're silicon-based creatures from the lower East side of the Horsehead Nebula.
Chun: sores. You should really get those checked by the way.
Tina: sadness and self-doubt. Ah, my old friends.
Mark: subscribers. Usually from 3 to 4, but sometimes the other way around.
Mario: sundried tomatoes. What? Why wouldn't that count? Well have you ever kept them on the shelf in high humidity for 6 years? No? Then you're not qualified to judge, are you?
Perry: snotty self-serving scientologists. Those little pricks.
Madelyn: sweet savory strips of seventy percent chocolate. No wait...those disappear.
Pei: single moms. No! Sex drive! Phew, nailed it.
Lucy: sluts. And sexist pigs. HAHAHAHA!
Igor: Rena...hmmm, no, that's 'R'...umm...yea...oh! Suicide statistics! Yay, I'm so happy now!
Question: What would you do with a billion dollars?
Mom: never work another day in my life!
Dad: never see any of you again! God, enough is enough.
Mark: I'd probably take it. Yep, there's at least a 10% chance I'd take it.
Mario: buy some Cheezits. They're on sale now: 10,000,000 boxes for $20,000,000. That's not a deal you miss.
Chun: go to medical school. What? Medical schools are like $30K a year these days!
Igor: buy a really authentic-looking degree. Renata won't suspect a thing!
Tina: oh, what's the point...
Pei: be a single mom. To a really fat spoiled baby.
Madelyn: die of chocolate overdose. And then probably go to work.
Perry: buy out scientology and burn it at the stake!
Frank: invest it. There's no faster way to lose money. Wait, did I say lose or make?
Lucy: ha! Gimme a break.
Question: What do you know?
Mom: lots of things. But please don't ask me to remember them. Gene can tell you which ones.
Dad: plenty, but it's never never never enough!
Mark: hah! You could fill a page with what I know!
Chun: I know exactly what I'm doing. And also how to busy myself every second to eliminate time for doubt.
Mario: that I am the duke of Mario! Or was it earl of Mendiola...wait, was that in the first one or the sequel?
Perry: huh? Let me tell you instead about intelligent design. It's retarded.
Lucy: everything. Name one thing I don't know. I dare you. Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait...except that one.
Igor: I know that if Renata ever...oh Christ, I don't even want to think about that. Brrrghf.
Tina: I know that if you ask me one more question, I'm gonna strangle you.
Pei: not nearly enough. I've already read 600 pages of zodiac today, and I still have no idea.
Frank: money money money money money money money money money money money money money money money. Or in modern jargon: lots of money.
Madelyn: oh, just a little secret. Hehe.
Today I was plagued by melodies and lyrics from my own songs. I remember now that this happened on some of the other days, so just go ahead and add it to the general list of distractions. There were a couple of moments when I was thinking to myself - "hey, my mind's pretty quiet, right on, brother!" and then I'd realize that it was because my mind was wrapped so tightly around some catchy scrap of music that other thoughts just didn't stand a chance.
The new 30-day trials are only partially taking. Studying Chinese for half an hour is cake, even an hour is no problem. The lucid dreaming techniques are lagging behind though. I did maybe 20 reality checks today in total, which unfortunately doesn't average out to one every 10 minutes. And there are stretches of hours where I completely forget to do them. But I remembered today that another prerequisite is writing down dreams, so I'm going to start doing that tonight. Surely that'll clinch it.
Gene has also caught the lucid dreaming bug and now has some half-baked get-rich-quick scheme that he insists is exactly the opposite of that (not a get-rich-quick scheme). I haven't decided if I believe him yet, but I'll play along, especially since he reads this blog.
More silly jokes:
People are playing Scattergories:
The Letter: S
Category: Things that grow
Mom: self-awareness. But usually not mine.
Dad: Sri Ramakrishna. You haven't seen "grow" till you've seen my buddy Sri. You don't like it? Fine, then Snigfilunkers. You haven't heard of them? They're silicon-based creatures from the lower East side of the Horsehead Nebula.
Chun: sores. You should really get those checked by the way.
Tina: sadness and self-doubt. Ah, my old friends.
Mark: subscribers. Usually from 3 to 4, but sometimes the other way around.
Mario: sundried tomatoes. What? Why wouldn't that count? Well have you ever kept them on the shelf in high humidity for 6 years? No? Then you're not qualified to judge, are you?
Perry: snotty self-serving scientologists. Those little pricks.
Madelyn: sweet savory strips of seventy percent chocolate. No wait...those disappear.
Pei: single moms. No! Sex drive! Phew, nailed it.
Lucy: sluts. And sexist pigs. HAHAHAHA!
Igor: Rena...hmmm, no, that's 'R'...umm...yea...oh! Suicide statistics! Yay, I'm so happy now!
Question: What would you do with a billion dollars?
Mom: never work another day in my life!
Dad: never see any of you again! God, enough is enough.
Mark: I'd probably take it. Yep, there's at least a 10% chance I'd take it.
Mario: buy some Cheezits. They're on sale now: 10,000,000 boxes for $20,000,000. That's not a deal you miss.
Chun: go to medical school. What? Medical schools are like $30K a year these days!
Igor: buy a really authentic-looking degree. Renata won't suspect a thing!
Tina: oh, what's the point...
Pei: be a single mom. To a really fat spoiled baby.
Madelyn: die of chocolate overdose. And then probably go to work.
Perry: buy out scientology and burn it at the stake!
Frank: invest it. There's no faster way to lose money. Wait, did I say lose or make?
Lucy: ha! Gimme a break.
Question: What do you know?
Mom: lots of things. But please don't ask me to remember them. Gene can tell you which ones.
Dad: plenty, but it's never never never enough!
Mark: hah! You could fill a page with what I know!
Chun: I know exactly what I'm doing. And also how to busy myself every second to eliminate time for doubt.
Mario: that I am the duke of Mario! Or was it earl of Mendiola...wait, was that in the first one or the sequel?
Perry: huh? Let me tell you instead about intelligent design. It's retarded.
Lucy: everything. Name one thing I don't know. I dare you. Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait...except that one.
Igor: I know that if Renata ever...oh Christ, I don't even want to think about that. Brrrghf.
Tina: I know that if you ask me one more question, I'm gonna strangle you.
Pei: not nearly enough. I've already read 600 pages of zodiac today, and I still have no idea.
Frank: money money money money money money money money money money money money money money money. Or in modern jargon: lots of money.
Madelyn: oh, just a little secret. Hehe.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Breasts, And How To Squeeze Lucid Dreams Out Of Them...Or Was It The Other Way Around?
Morning meditation:
I have the attention span of the Memento guy.
OK, it's time to start more 30-day trials. I came up with two in the 3.7-nanosecond-long conscious section of my meditation.
1. 30 mins or more of studying Chinese per day.
I'm planning on going to China sometime in this or my next life, so it's about time to put some discipline into my studying. Lately I've paid more attention to my love handles than to my Chinese skills (and I pay less attention to my love handles than to my fictional great aunt Propecia. Hmm...I should call her).
2. Start trying to lucid dream again.
Lucid dreaming is a synonym for "stop wasting a third of your life on nonsense, just so you can write it down in the morning for a 30-day writing-down-dreams-in-the-morning trial." It was adopted at the Belgium-based Winslow-Gordon Convention in 1865, when people realized that they have had it up to here(Northern New Jersey, upwards of my head) with saying that long quote twenty times a day.
Normally, you have no control over your dreams. You can lie there right before falling asleep and chant the latest Miss World's name till you're blue in the face, but will she grace your dream with her scantily clad presence? Very doubtful, because she's too busy serving (servicing?) lucid dreamers. Instead, you get assigned the dream where you're filling out your taxes, you're late, all you have left to do is sign, but your pen's stuck up in some tree for some reason and a village of armadillo gophers is willing to lay down their lives making sure you don't get it in time.
Dreaming for the average man (women don't have dreams, it's something to do with their breasts) is like watching an in-flight movie. You have no choice in the content, and chances are the pilot likes The Lizzie McGuire Movie. Or sometimes you don't even get one you haven't seen yet, you get a "recurring" one. What movie did you watch ten times already? Beethoven's 4th? What a coincidence! That's what we're playing today!
Lucid dreamers don't put up with this. They're elite, they're first class passengers, they're "the foot" as the French would say. They take out a couple minutes every day to ensure they don't get trapped in squirrel paradise like the average dreamer. What they do is they do "reality checks." Every ten or fifteen minutes, an aspiring lucid dreamer will examine the world for a second to make sure he's truly awake. For example, look at your hands right now. ...Uhh, I meant look at your hands after the next sentence. If they start swimming in your field of vision/changing shape size or color/vary in their finger content/(insert whatever your particular set doesn't normally do), then you know you're dreaming. In that case, you snap into the reality of the dream, which is much more vivid that ordinary dream-watching, and find yourself in a world where you have almost limitless control over the content. This is what a lucid dream is. You own the dream, you're the master. You can do whatever you want. You can fly around circles, fly around in squares, fly around in triangles...yea, my imagination ends here, but fortunately you're only limited by yours.
Of course, there's a price. In exchange for additional hours of consciousness, during the day you look like an idiot - whipping out your hands every ten minutes, then explaining to the police why you suddenly punched that pregnant woman with both fists. My advice is to take it slowly. Don't rip your pockets off, just calmly withdraw your hands: "calm calm calm...OK, let's see what we have here. Hmm, only one hand, I'm dreaming!...oh, never mind, I lost that one in Nam, nope...not dreaming, OK, see you in ten minutes, hand, done." Do that as often as you can, and you're on your way to lucid dreaming.
In case you're tempted to try it, there are other techniques that can help you achieve a lucid dream, preferably done in combination with "reality checks:"
1. Surpreme confidence - you know you're going to have a lucid dream. "If that idiot blogger can do it, I can do it."
2. Affirmations - unlike Miss World, lucid dreams will materialize if you think about them constantly. Before you go to sleep, turn on a mental mantra - "I will lucid dream tonight, I will lucid dream tonight, I will lucid dream tonight, I will lucid dream tonight," etc.
3. Attach reality checks to everyday things - every time you feel you need to pee, do a reality check. Every time you flip a light switch, do a reality check. Every time you think about breasts, do a reality check. Especially if you do this last one, you're set. Unfortunately, breasts have very little to do with most people's reality.
4. Reading this blog. Twenty to thirty times a day should be enough.
Lastly, performing a "reality check" inside a dream is not the only way to obtain a lucid dream. You can go straight into a lucid dream when you're falling asleep. For that, you need to be a bit of a sniper. You have to lie on your back and wait patiently for that moment when you slip away into dream land. And in that moment, you have a chance to get into the dream, but not lose consciousness. Often, the falling asleep moment will be accompanied by strange bodily sensations, such as heat and full body vibration. These are signs that you're close, but don't get too excited, you'll spook the lucid dream away.
Alright, ready, set, reality checks start...three paragraphs ago! Happy hunting!
I have the attention span of the Memento guy.
OK, it's time to start more 30-day trials. I came up with two in the 3.7-nanosecond-long conscious section of my meditation.
1. 30 mins or more of studying Chinese per day.
I'm planning on going to China sometime in this or my next life, so it's about time to put some discipline into my studying. Lately I've paid more attention to my love handles than to my Chinese skills (and I pay less attention to my love handles than to my fictional great aunt Propecia. Hmm...I should call her).
2. Start trying to lucid dream again.
Lucid dreaming is a synonym for "stop wasting a third of your life on nonsense, just so you can write it down in the morning for a 30-day writing-down-dreams-in-the-morning trial." It was adopted at the Belgium-based Winslow-Gordon Convention in 1865, when people realized that they have had it up to here(Northern New Jersey, upwards of my head) with saying that long quote twenty times a day.
Normally, you have no control over your dreams. You can lie there right before falling asleep and chant the latest Miss World's name till you're blue in the face, but will she grace your dream with her scantily clad presence? Very doubtful, because she's too busy serving (servicing?) lucid dreamers. Instead, you get assigned the dream where you're filling out your taxes, you're late, all you have left to do is sign, but your pen's stuck up in some tree for some reason and a village of armadillo gophers is willing to lay down their lives making sure you don't get it in time.
Dreaming for the average man (women don't have dreams, it's something to do with their breasts) is like watching an in-flight movie. You have no choice in the content, and chances are the pilot likes The Lizzie McGuire Movie. Or sometimes you don't even get one you haven't seen yet, you get a "recurring" one. What movie did you watch ten times already? Beethoven's 4th? What a coincidence! That's what we're playing today!
Lucid dreamers don't put up with this. They're elite, they're first class passengers, they're "the foot" as the French would say. They take out a couple minutes every day to ensure they don't get trapped in squirrel paradise like the average dreamer. What they do is they do "reality checks." Every ten or fifteen minutes, an aspiring lucid dreamer will examine the world for a second to make sure he's truly awake. For example, look at your hands right now. ...Uhh, I meant look at your hands after the next sentence. If they start swimming in your field of vision/changing shape size or color/vary in their finger content/(insert whatever your particular set doesn't normally do), then you know you're dreaming. In that case, you snap into the reality of the dream, which is much more vivid that ordinary dream-watching, and find yourself in a world where you have almost limitless control over the content. This is what a lucid dream is. You own the dream, you're the master. You can do whatever you want. You can fly around circles, fly around in squares, fly around in triangles...yea, my imagination ends here, but fortunately you're only limited by yours.
Of course, there's a price. In exchange for additional hours of consciousness, during the day you look like an idiot - whipping out your hands every ten minutes, then explaining to the police why you suddenly punched that pregnant woman with both fists. My advice is to take it slowly. Don't rip your pockets off, just calmly withdraw your hands: "calm calm calm...OK, let's see what we have here. Hmm, only one hand, I'm dreaming!...oh, never mind, I lost that one in Nam, nope...not dreaming, OK, see you in ten minutes, hand, done." Do that as often as you can, and you're on your way to lucid dreaming.
In case you're tempted to try it, there are other techniques that can help you achieve a lucid dream, preferably done in combination with "reality checks:"
1. Surpreme confidence - you know you're going to have a lucid dream. "If that idiot blogger can do it, I can do it."
2. Affirmations - unlike Miss World, lucid dreams will materialize if you think about them constantly. Before you go to sleep, turn on a mental mantra - "I will lucid dream tonight, I will lucid dream tonight, I will lucid dream tonight, I will lucid dream tonight," etc.
3. Attach reality checks to everyday things - every time you feel you need to pee, do a reality check. Every time you flip a light switch, do a reality check. Every time you think about breasts, do a reality check. Especially if you do this last one, you're set. Unfortunately, breasts have very little to do with most people's reality.
4. Reading this blog. Twenty to thirty times a day should be enough.
Lastly, performing a "reality check" inside a dream is not the only way to obtain a lucid dream. You can go straight into a lucid dream when you're falling asleep. For that, you need to be a bit of a sniper. You have to lie on your back and wait patiently for that moment when you slip away into dream land. And in that moment, you have a chance to get into the dream, but not lose consciousness. Often, the falling asleep moment will be accompanied by strange bodily sensations, such as heat and full body vibration. These are signs that you're close, but don't get too excited, you'll spook the lucid dream away.
Alright, ready, set, reality checks start...three paragraphs ago! Happy hunting!
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