Me:
So I guess the time has come (the Walrus said?) to talk of many things.
Of cars and phones and handball courts
of words that rhyme with "things."
So if you haven't heard, I crashed my car. I was in too much of a hurry and never saw the person who hit me. My insurance will probably cover it, but I'm a bit apprehensive, since I have the minimum coverage that would let me legally drive, and I haven't gotten a for sure on anything yet. And if that wasn't bad enough, the next morning my phone fell out of my pocket and the back cracked in a bunch of places. Not a great series of events for the expensive stuff I use all the time.
Combine all that with the fact that the only place with racquetball courts that are free to use is becoming a paid facility, and you've got a pretty nonplussed person. I still haven't figured out exactly how much it would cost me to continue playing, but I'm sure it's not cheap.
The only thing that seems to be way too nice is the weather. In fact, it's so nice I'll probably keel over dead. (Can you tell I'm an optimist?) I got off the bike today and felt a bit shaky. I quickly ate what was probably too much food (leftover chinese, two large pancakes, three pieces of bread with jam, and generous amounts of chocolate) before heading off to handball. I started off okay, but quickly realized I was fatiguing rapidly. It got to the point where at the end I was just serving and hitting one or two shots before giving up. Ugh. On the plus side, I felt a lot more comfortable on the bike at the beginning of the ride than I did yesterday. I think I'll need a day off tomorrow before hitting the road again on Saturday. It's supposed to be 57 degrees! That seems a bit absurd.
Speaking of Chinese food, I ate it three times today! We ordered from a new restaurant last night and got way too much, which turned out great. It was delicious. I had three meals worth of leftovers, and my parents each took some for lunch. My favorite was probably the moo shu vegetables, which came with an amazing plum sauce. Unfortunately, the food defies description (or I'm just really bad at coming up with words to describe foreign food), so I'm afraid I won't be able to say much more than it was a pleasure to consume.
I should be hearing back about my most recent LSAT attempt next week. It's kind of strange to think that that news will play a large role in determining what I wind up doing with the rest of my life. But I guess that's how things go frequently. Perhaps we just don't realize it in advance very often.
Observation:
I was sitting at work doing typical routine things when my mind, in one of it's unpredictable twists, started puzzling over the concept of sound and speakers and whatnot. It occurred to me that when I think of a record player, it has become ingrained in my mind that the record has somehow captured the sound and relates its tones to the machine which emits them. This, of course, is completely wrong. The record is simply a crude way of letting the machine know what sounds it is supposed to play. This may not seem like a crucial difference, but when I thought of it, my mind immediately jumped to a question: if the record's only purpose is to let the machine know what sounds to emit, couldn't anything "readable" be substituted for a record? By this I mean that, as long as there is a thing with different "states," we can arbitrarily assign those states tones or pitches or inflections and thereby extract sound from anything. For example, take any uneven surface, or any fluctuation of light. If we have a way of recording the differences in these materials, we can extract sounds from them in the same way we extract sound from a record. Granted, there's almost no chance the sound will be pleasant, but (and this may be a bit lengthy) this leads to the next point I want to make. Given that playback is simply a matter of assigning tones/pitches to variables, if we were to isolate the variables that are caused by sound itself, we would be able to resurrect sounds from anything they had affected. Yeah, this is what is used in a telephone. We know how sound affects the microphone, it translates that sound into electric something-or-others and it is then decoded by a speaker. But what if we could find out how sound affected everyday things? Like walls, for example. What if the walls really could have ears? If we could figure out what changed when a wall is affected by sound, we could theoretically design a machine to replay whatever sounds had affected the wall. Anyway, that's what popped into my head when I was sitting at my microscope.
Me again:
When I got back from handball I got hungry again. A serving size of potato chips is 13 chips. There are 16 servings in this particular bag, so according to my calculations, by morning I will have eaten approximately 200 potato chips. In unrelated news, 13 x 16 - the dregs of a bag of potato chips = 200. But hey, it's not my fault. They are about to expire in four months. I consider this adequate justification, but in case there are dissenters, you should know that I've come up with the best combination of dipping materials to date. See, if I dip my potato chips in one thing for too long (~6 chips), I get used to the flavor and they stop being addictively delicious. But if I vary my dipping strategically, I can eat indefinitely. Today, I used french onion dip and sweet and sour sauce (also left over from the chinese food). Amazing!
As long as I'm confessing, I also ate an entire king size bar of hershey's special dark chocolate today. I feel fat.
December 29, 2011
December 26, 2011
Christmas post
It's been almost a year since I started this blog, and almost a month since I updated it last. But I've posted 95 times now, which is a decent average if you think about it. And if I wasn't so frequently overcome by bouts of malaise when it comes to posting, I probably could have done better. As it is, for a first year, I think it has gone pretty well. I'm not unhappy with the switch away from the stricter formatting I started with. It was good in that it forced me to work on the things I wanted to work on, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it's not incredibly important to work on your weak points in that fashion. Yes, I have difficulty motivating myself to write fiction and to come up with ideas. But I've decided that the best way to go about tackling this is to wait. I generally hate saying much about my ambitions for writing, but recently I feel as though I have some ideas percolating and am optimistic they might find some sort of form in the weeks or months to come. Please don't ask me about this. It's all I want to say. I'll just leave it at "I have a computer of my own again, and I intend to use it."
I just got back from a trip to Wisconsin to visit relatives, and I must say that on the whole it was quite a success. Everyone was pleasant, and despite getting overwhelmed a bit by all the socializing on Saturday, it was good to touch base with everyone. I was beginning to get that nagging feeling that I hadn't seen these people in too long. I'm not sure when that feeling will strike again, but I'm glad we had the opportunity (and fantastic travel weather) to abate it for a while. As with every trip, I had some random impressions and thoughts.
The first problem I encountered was whether or not to be modest around my Dad's side of the family. Sometimes it feels like there is a bit of a competition amongst the cousins regarding who is doing well and whatnot. I played it safe and took the modest approach. When asked about my plans I said I was waiting to hear back about my second round of LSAT testing, didn't really say much about my score, and only gave further information if prompted. It was a bit funny, really, because the cousin I felt got the most attention wasn't even in attendance. Laura, recently-married, was the topic of choice when it came to people who were doing well. She recently changed jobs and makes a lot of money as the person in charge of the books for a large non-profit. The rest of the cousins there were sort of the deadbeats, I guess. I'm living at home, Joe is working nights at a heat-treatment plant, Jeanine is working while finishing up a grad school thing in an area she didn't really want to pursue in the first place, and my sister is still in college, and so won't warrant attention until next year, when plans are more required. But Laura always was the one with the work ethic, plans, and ambition. Plus, her wedding photos were beautiful. It left me in an awkward situation, since of course I feel like I'm still going somewhere, like I'm taking steps to make something of my life, but of course so do the rest of these people to whom I'm hesitant to give credence.
That whole thing led to another small realization: until you've actually done something as a writer, you're a joke. Joe is theoretically also interested in being a writer, to the point where when people are going around talking about what their kids are doing, he gets called the "famous writer-to-be" in the family. I almost choked. I've never read anything he's written, and he might be fantastic, so that's not really the point. The point is, I'm sure that's what people think whenever anyone says they want to be a writer. And when that person is me, and I don't really pursue anything to the point of submitting it, I'm sure it's just as ridiculous to hear. So now I'm the "famous lawyer-to-be" in the family. At least when someone says they're going to be a lawyer it occasionally means something to someone...
I have two more things to say about Saturday. The first is that, until I'd been to college, I never realized the significant role alcohol plays in this family, but this year I kept a bit more track of who was drinking what and how often. The growing boisterousness and increased volume, coupled with the further and further stretching for sexual innuendos, all of a sudden made a lot more sense than they did when I was younger. When almost half the gifts exchanged centered around alcohol of some sort, all I could do was shake my head. I don't see the point. It's probably just lost on me or something. The second thing I wanted to mention is that chocolate is delicious. The dessert of the evening was a chocolate-cherry trifle, and I'm going to cannibalize it into a chocolate-raspberry concoction soon.
Well, my parents are back from their bike ride, making continuing to write a futile endeavor what with all the conversation (feline and human alike). So I'll try to write a bit more soon. Maybe not as much about the trip. We'll see. I hope everyone had a great holiday. I know I count mine a success.
I just got back from a trip to Wisconsin to visit relatives, and I must say that on the whole it was quite a success. Everyone was pleasant, and despite getting overwhelmed a bit by all the socializing on Saturday, it was good to touch base with everyone. I was beginning to get that nagging feeling that I hadn't seen these people in too long. I'm not sure when that feeling will strike again, but I'm glad we had the opportunity (and fantastic travel weather) to abate it for a while. As with every trip, I had some random impressions and thoughts.
The first problem I encountered was whether or not to be modest around my Dad's side of the family. Sometimes it feels like there is a bit of a competition amongst the cousins regarding who is doing well and whatnot. I played it safe and took the modest approach. When asked about my plans I said I was waiting to hear back about my second round of LSAT testing, didn't really say much about my score, and only gave further information if prompted. It was a bit funny, really, because the cousin I felt got the most attention wasn't even in attendance. Laura, recently-married, was the topic of choice when it came to people who were doing well. She recently changed jobs and makes a lot of money as the person in charge of the books for a large non-profit. The rest of the cousins there were sort of the deadbeats, I guess. I'm living at home, Joe is working nights at a heat-treatment plant, Jeanine is working while finishing up a grad school thing in an area she didn't really want to pursue in the first place, and my sister is still in college, and so won't warrant attention until next year, when plans are more required. But Laura always was the one with the work ethic, plans, and ambition. Plus, her wedding photos were beautiful. It left me in an awkward situation, since of course I feel like I'm still going somewhere, like I'm taking steps to make something of my life, but of course so do the rest of these people to whom I'm hesitant to give credence.
That whole thing led to another small realization: until you've actually done something as a writer, you're a joke. Joe is theoretically also interested in being a writer, to the point where when people are going around talking about what their kids are doing, he gets called the "famous writer-to-be" in the family. I almost choked. I've never read anything he's written, and he might be fantastic, so that's not really the point. The point is, I'm sure that's what people think whenever anyone says they want to be a writer. And when that person is me, and I don't really pursue anything to the point of submitting it, I'm sure it's just as ridiculous to hear. So now I'm the "famous lawyer-to-be" in the family. At least when someone says they're going to be a lawyer it occasionally means something to someone...
I have two more things to say about Saturday. The first is that, until I'd been to college, I never realized the significant role alcohol plays in this family, but this year I kept a bit more track of who was drinking what and how often. The growing boisterousness and increased volume, coupled with the further and further stretching for sexual innuendos, all of a sudden made a lot more sense than they did when I was younger. When almost half the gifts exchanged centered around alcohol of some sort, all I could do was shake my head. I don't see the point. It's probably just lost on me or something. The second thing I wanted to mention is that chocolate is delicious. The dessert of the evening was a chocolate-cherry trifle, and I'm going to cannibalize it into a chocolate-raspberry concoction soon.
Well, my parents are back from their bike ride, making continuing to write a futile endeavor what with all the conversation (feline and human alike). So I'll try to write a bit more soon. Maybe not as much about the trip. We'll see. I hope everyone had a great holiday. I know I count mine a success.
November 28, 2011
Thanksgiving etc.
I have a couple of other posts with poems started , but about halfway through I decided I hated them. So I figured I'd just type some here to make sure everyone knows I'm still alive and whatnot. Thanksgiving break went marvelously. As usual, I found myself with less time to myself than during normal weeks, but when it's the company of friends I'm plagued by rather than the company of coworkers, I find I human interaction much less distasteful. I'm not sure I wore my headphones for more than a few hours the past four days. In typical fashion, my family didn't quite get our act together for a gigantic Thanksgiving day, and what wound up happening was a drawn out affair wherein we had our traditional items spread out over a few day's worth of meals. It wound up feeling similar to how I usually hear the holiday described, with days worth of leftovers drawing out the experience. Because my family doesn't eat meat, this process rarely applies to us. But having many days worth of Thanksgiving fare was great. Sitting down together for nice meals isn't something I usually put a lot of emphasis on, but it was perhaps that fact that made it seem special/ when it happened consistently.
Black Friday was pretty uneventful as far as shopping was concerned. In fact, the only thing I bought, I bought online, using my phone while I was in another store realizing the prices still weren't good enough to justify being awake. I did buy some used books at our local store downtown, an event prompted by my recent re-reading of Stranger in a Strange Land. I bought another copy of it, in fact, as well as a couple of other things. I have decided it is almost impossible to find decent science fiction books without researching a bit. Looking at the shelf, I was astonished at the amount of junk taking up space. Titles like Robot Unicorns From Alpha Six are not out of place. It's no wonder that people look down on the genre as if it exists purely for cheap entertainment. But maybe I should look at it as encouraging. Maybe there is room out there for more as long as it's not crap. Then again, reading Heinlein takes up the opposite side of the spectrum. That guy could write.
I hope the holidays treated everyone well and continue to do so!
Black Friday was pretty uneventful as far as shopping was concerned. In fact, the only thing I bought, I bought online, using my phone while I was in another store realizing the prices still weren't good enough to justify being awake. I did buy some used books at our local store downtown, an event prompted by my recent re-reading of Stranger in a Strange Land. I bought another copy of it, in fact, as well as a couple of other things. I have decided it is almost impossible to find decent science fiction books without researching a bit. Looking at the shelf, I was astonished at the amount of junk taking up space. Titles like Robot Unicorns From Alpha Six are not out of place. It's no wonder that people look down on the genre as if it exists purely for cheap entertainment. But maybe I should look at it as encouraging. Maybe there is room out there for more as long as it's not crap. Then again, reading Heinlein takes up the opposite side of the spectrum. That guy could write.
I hope the holidays treated everyone well and continue to do so!
November 16, 2011
Beds
I'm sorry to have to say this, but my life might be over. I might never make it out of bed again. After a week in my car (during which I actually slept quite a bit), my reintroduction to soft surfaces was a significant occurrence. I grabbed my technology and vowed to myself never to leave again. I blogged on my iPad, browsed the internet, checked my email, etc. And then I fell asleep. It was glorious. Unfortunately, this process was repeated a number of times, and eventually I came to the realization I was not to be trusted with a giant pillow that cradles my body perfectly while keeping me warm and content. Very anti-productive.
So hear I am at the desktop near the kitchen vowing to actually get some typing done. The first order of business is to finish a poem I started a while ago:
Bus Ride
So hear I am at the desktop near the kitchen vowing to actually get some typing done. The first order of business is to finish a poem I started a while ago:
Bus Ride
I'm sitting here in shorts
watching the 30-degree exterior
in millisecond-snapshots
framed in the black metal
of the bus's doors
while across from me
a girl huddles,
clutching her knees
and her knapsack
with her mittened hands
as the faux fur hood
half-drawn, obscures most
of the loneliness.
Summer's end an end
to the final familiarity,
the heat the last reminder
of China, family,
and the warmth of friendship.
A ball unto herself,
the people rise and fall
from the red seats around her,
like bobbing corks
or whack-a-moles
puffy jackets
brushing her elbows
brushing her elbows
brief contact
until someone scoots away.
More from Missouri:
I was trying to remember something from Missouri that would portray what I took away from the experience, and I think this anecdote will serve nicely. It turned out that, as with every college sport I've come in contact with, the handball scene includes a significant amount of drinking. I had the pleasure of overhearing a girl say the following:
"I used to be concerned that drinking would kill brain cells, but my dad likes to say that it's just weeding out the bad brain cells. It's like natural selection for my brain!"
I don't know what part of this is the best. The fact that natural selection is probably something she learned about during one of her (probably few) sober days in class? The fact that natural selection obviously works completely differently than she thinks, and in a just (if ironic) world, will probably have its way with her? Or the fact that it was her DAD that said it. And then the guy she was talking to said, "That's a great way of looking at it!" I hope it's a Missouri thing.
Also while I was in Missouri meeting with graduate departments, I was generally discouraged by their lack of interest. Then I met with the Religious Studies department. The guy was fantastic, southern accent and all. Perhaps it was the fact he was being the stereotypical, smiling, hospitable gentleman that led him to humor me while slipping hints that I might not be up to snuff. It started with him inquiring into my background of Religious Studies. When I replied that it was negative (although my philosophy major certainly relates), he said I would probably find the courses quite challenging. He started talking about getting me into what amounted to remedial courses and catch-up stuff before I asked him about financial aid. He hemmed and hawed for a bit and then asked me for my GPA. After I responded, his tone changed considerably. Talk of remedial courses ceased, he regretted the lack of assistantships, and said he'd get me in as soon as my application was submitted. The change of tone was fantastic to hear. I know Missouri State isn't exactly the cream of the crop, but it was just nice to know I was wanted to be in a graduate program somewhere.
November 14, 2011
I'm Back!
Height
Three arched-ceiling stories of separation
Is all it takes
For me to stop considering their wants.
Their thoughts,
Which pulled at my curiosity
As they passed inches from my shoulders
Have ceased, now that all I see
Are hats, hair, and similitude.
Perhaps this is where perspective comes from,
The inability to care about the tops of heads
The minute manifestations of singularity,
Slumped shoulders, a quickened gait,
So easily ignored.
If I, from my third-floor, library perch,
Can't associate the faceless masses
Filling sidewalks, destined for work,
With individuals, with sadness,
With a rushed cup of coffee
Or a dropped phone,
And an almost-silent curse,
As the bent-over break in traffic,
The diverging flow of heads and hats
Are the only evidence I have that something happened,
What must the sixty-floor man think,
Corner office filled with framed faces
As specks of color scuttle below
So easily reduced.
And what of the churches rising from the house-lines
Towering over the run-down rentals,
The men behind stained glass peering down
At the tops of heads?
If it's the eyes which are windows to the soul
Do they see me walking below, my head,
My red jacket, my metronomic stride,
Or do they only see the multitude
The sidewalked masses?
Poem:
I spent a lot of time in a library looking out a window, and this is just one if the things u noticed. When I pass a stranger on the sidewalk, a part of me wonders what's going on in their head, what their life holds or means to them. But when I looked down, nothing of the sort occurred to me. Perspective is a funny thing.
Observation/Me:
For those of you who don't know, I spent the last week in Springfield, Missouri. Missouri State University there has the best handball program in the country, and their coach told me to see if I could enroll there after seeing me play in Kansas City. I went down for a tournament they held last weekend and stuck around to meet with their graduate school and attend some practices. Unfortunately, none of the departments or office had funding available, so it doesn't look like I'll be going there. While there, however, I had a lot of free time. As usual, I wasted the overwhelming majority of it, but I did do some blogging-style stuff. I didn't get it uploaded because I was mostly on campus, and since I was using my iPad (and the Internet there was only accessible to students), I decided to wait raher than wander until I could find free wireless.
Another thing which was noteworthy about my trip was my accommodation situation. I stayed in my car. I do this at most tournaments I attend in order to save money. I could have stayed with someone from the handball team, but after talking to them I got the imorssuon they were much more interested in drinking than I was, so I opted to keep staying in my car. Cntinuing my quest to conserve the number of dollars I have, I also bought pretty basic food. Essentially, I became a hobo for a week. It was not the incredibly fun time I was expecting. It turns out sleeping in a car is uncomfortable and that eating cold deli meat sandwiches for almost every meal is less than stellar. With that in mind, here's some stuff I wrote last week.
I went to walmart to purchase some food, bought the cheapest deli meat, cheese, and bread I could find (based on price per ounce), and still wound up spending almost twenty dollars (after you factor in the bagels I also bought. And sales tax. And a pumpkin pie). I thought to myself, "for that price, I could just eat at a buffet and save some money. But having consumed almost all of that food, I am assured I made the right decision. It lasted me four full meals and I still have five bagels left. The buffet would have replaced at best two meals, and probably would have resulted in severe discomfort. Granted, I am currently in moderate discomfort, but I believe that to be the fault of eating an entire pie. I think I may have consumed approximately one too many of those in the past twenty-four hours (give or take a few pieces). It can't possibly be my fault, though; I blame whoever it was that made pumpkin pie so delicious.
I wrote that on Monday. Walmart is selling pumpkin pie for less than three dollars. Enough said.
Later in the week (Thursday or Friday), I wrote this:
I realized yesterday that my diet of bread, meat, cheese, and more bread wasn't really fulfilling my fruit and vegetable requirements, so I walked into walmart with the intent of rectifying the situation. Ten minutes later I emerged with the makings for even more sandwiches and blueberry muffins. And an apple pie. I ate a muffin, consuming somewhere in the neighborhood of three and a half blueberries, and thought maybe I could have gone about acquiring fruit in a better way. A couple of sandwiches and a piece of pie later, and I am full, but not quite content. I'm currently craving salty snacks and thinking back on the chocolate cake a narrowly talked myself out of buying.
The upside of eating bland sandwiches for a week is that my first meal once I got back was amazing. Flavor, while perhaps unnecessary, is amazing! More about my trip will follow shortly, I hope. It's good to be back.
Three arched-ceiling stories of separation
Is all it takes
For me to stop considering their wants.
Their thoughts,
Which pulled at my curiosity
As they passed inches from my shoulders
Have ceased, now that all I see
Are hats, hair, and similitude.
Perhaps this is where perspective comes from,
The inability to care about the tops of heads
The minute manifestations of singularity,
Slumped shoulders, a quickened gait,
So easily ignored.
If I, from my third-floor, library perch,
Can't associate the faceless masses
Filling sidewalks, destined for work,
With individuals, with sadness,
With a rushed cup of coffee
Or a dropped phone,
And an almost-silent curse,
As the bent-over break in traffic,
The diverging flow of heads and hats
Are the only evidence I have that something happened,
What must the sixty-floor man think,
Corner office filled with framed faces
As specks of color scuttle below
So easily reduced.
And what of the churches rising from the house-lines
Towering over the run-down rentals,
The men behind stained glass peering down
At the tops of heads?
If it's the eyes which are windows to the soul
Do they see me walking below, my head,
My red jacket, my metronomic stride,
Or do they only see the multitude
The sidewalked masses?
Poem:
I spent a lot of time in a library looking out a window, and this is just one if the things u noticed. When I pass a stranger on the sidewalk, a part of me wonders what's going on in their head, what their life holds or means to them. But when I looked down, nothing of the sort occurred to me. Perspective is a funny thing.
Observation/Me:
For those of you who don't know, I spent the last week in Springfield, Missouri. Missouri State University there has the best handball program in the country, and their coach told me to see if I could enroll there after seeing me play in Kansas City. I went down for a tournament they held last weekend and stuck around to meet with their graduate school and attend some practices. Unfortunately, none of the departments or office had funding available, so it doesn't look like I'll be going there. While there, however, I had a lot of free time. As usual, I wasted the overwhelming majority of it, but I did do some blogging-style stuff. I didn't get it uploaded because I was mostly on campus, and since I was using my iPad (and the Internet there was only accessible to students), I decided to wait raher than wander until I could find free wireless.
Another thing which was noteworthy about my trip was my accommodation situation. I stayed in my car. I do this at most tournaments I attend in order to save money. I could have stayed with someone from the handball team, but after talking to them I got the imorssuon they were much more interested in drinking than I was, so I opted to keep staying in my car. Cntinuing my quest to conserve the number of dollars I have, I also bought pretty basic food. Essentially, I became a hobo for a week. It was not the incredibly fun time I was expecting. It turns out sleeping in a car is uncomfortable and that eating cold deli meat sandwiches for almost every meal is less than stellar. With that in mind, here's some stuff I wrote last week.
I went to walmart to purchase some food, bought the cheapest deli meat, cheese, and bread I could find (based on price per ounce), and still wound up spending almost twenty dollars (after you factor in the bagels I also bought. And sales tax. And a pumpkin pie). I thought to myself, "for that price, I could just eat at a buffet and save some money. But having consumed almost all of that food, I am assured I made the right decision. It lasted me four full meals and I still have five bagels left. The buffet would have replaced at best two meals, and probably would have resulted in severe discomfort. Granted, I am currently in moderate discomfort, but I believe that to be the fault of eating an entire pie. I think I may have consumed approximately one too many of those in the past twenty-four hours (give or take a few pieces). It can't possibly be my fault, though; I blame whoever it was that made pumpkin pie so delicious.
I wrote that on Monday. Walmart is selling pumpkin pie for less than three dollars. Enough said.
Later in the week (Thursday or Friday), I wrote this:
I realized yesterday that my diet of bread, meat, cheese, and more bread wasn't really fulfilling my fruit and vegetable requirements, so I walked into walmart with the intent of rectifying the situation. Ten minutes later I emerged with the makings for even more sandwiches and blueberry muffins. And an apple pie. I ate a muffin, consuming somewhere in the neighborhood of three and a half blueberries, and thought maybe I could have gone about acquiring fruit in a better way. A couple of sandwiches and a piece of pie later, and I am full, but not quite content. I'm currently craving salty snacks and thinking back on the chocolate cake a narrowly talked myself out of buying.
The upside of eating bland sandwiches for a week is that my first meal once I got back was amazing. Flavor, while perhaps unnecessary, is amazing! More about my trip will follow shortly, I hope. It's good to be back.
October 27, 2011
Brief Catchup (more to follow)
Me:
Let's see. What's happened recently in my life? I guess I played handball in Denver since I last updated, but that was disappointing. What made it disappointing wasn't the poor finish (though that certainly didn't help), but the fact that I felt I didn't really learn that much by going. See, in the second round I played the top ranked player, but I played nervously and didn't hit the shots I wanted to. So rather than working on developing my game, I took a step backward and found difficulty with something I already knew was a problem. I guess it will certainly serve as a reminder, as that was an awfully long way to drive to remember that I need to stop playing that way.
Monday was too nice outside not to do something, but I rode my bike on Sunday and wasn't really feeling like a repeat venture, so I did something I haven't done in a really long time. I went for a run. And it was awesome! (Until my legs almost fell off...) I didn't really know how far I wanted to go, but there's a nice little park rather near the house, so I went that direction. And because I took along my bike computer, I now know that "rather near the house" means almost exactly one mile away. I ran the first mile pretty hard, hit the split button, and decided I'd had enough of running hard for a while. I ran my second mile easier, then my third hard again. At this point it suddenly became clear to me that I should probably ease back into running. The last two miles were run at a slow pace, mostly designed to get me home without injuring myself further. But because I had the computer along, I got to see all sorts of things. My first mile was a 5:45, my second was a 6:45, and my third was a 5:55. According to my calculations, that's 18:25 for three miles. Considering I took the second one off, I'm going to consider that not too shabby. Of course, the not-too-pleasant feeling I experienced in my hips/groin area might want to weigh in here, but I'll just chalk that up to general rustiness (while remembering it as a disincentive to try this stunt again).
In other news, I got back my LSAT scores, and as predicted, they were not good. Turns out almost falling asleep during one of the sections is not part of the recipe for success. I'm signed up to try again at the beginning of December. That happens to be the same weekend as a handball tournament in Milwaukee, which is pretty disappointing, but I guess it serves me right for not performing well. I've looked briefly into what is available considering the stats I have (pretty high GPA, etc.) and it looks like schools ranked in the top 20 nationally would still be willing to accept me, but I would have a really slim shot at anything ranked above 10 or so. A big part of me is retaking this just to avoid the disappointed feeling I have right now. If I had thought even a little that I had performed to my standards when I was done with the test I might be content, but when I walked out that door knowing I could have done better, I was pretty sure I was in for another round. I guess it's time to hit the books again...
Well, that's all I have time for now. I want to post here again soon, though. I feel like I've been neglecting my creative side a bit too long. Too focused on silly things. I think I wasted an entire afternoon/evening today. Even when I tell myself "life is short, let's get to it," I realize a half hour later I'm still in the same spot doing the same wasteful things with my time. Sometimes it's like I'm an ambitious person trapped in a body that doesn't quite catch on. Not really sure how to change that. We'll see.
Let's see. What's happened recently in my life? I guess I played handball in Denver since I last updated, but that was disappointing. What made it disappointing wasn't the poor finish (though that certainly didn't help), but the fact that I felt I didn't really learn that much by going. See, in the second round I played the top ranked player, but I played nervously and didn't hit the shots I wanted to. So rather than working on developing my game, I took a step backward and found difficulty with something I already knew was a problem. I guess it will certainly serve as a reminder, as that was an awfully long way to drive to remember that I need to stop playing that way.
Monday was too nice outside not to do something, but I rode my bike on Sunday and wasn't really feeling like a repeat venture, so I did something I haven't done in a really long time. I went for a run. And it was awesome! (Until my legs almost fell off...) I didn't really know how far I wanted to go, but there's a nice little park rather near the house, so I went that direction. And because I took along my bike computer, I now know that "rather near the house" means almost exactly one mile away. I ran the first mile pretty hard, hit the split button, and decided I'd had enough of running hard for a while. I ran my second mile easier, then my third hard again. At this point it suddenly became clear to me that I should probably ease back into running. The last two miles were run at a slow pace, mostly designed to get me home without injuring myself further. But because I had the computer along, I got to see all sorts of things. My first mile was a 5:45, my second was a 6:45, and my third was a 5:55. According to my calculations, that's 18:25 for three miles. Considering I took the second one off, I'm going to consider that not too shabby. Of course, the not-too-pleasant feeling I experienced in my hips/groin area might want to weigh in here, but I'll just chalk that up to general rustiness (while remembering it as a disincentive to try this stunt again).
In other news, I got back my LSAT scores, and as predicted, they were not good. Turns out almost falling asleep during one of the sections is not part of the recipe for success. I'm signed up to try again at the beginning of December. That happens to be the same weekend as a handball tournament in Milwaukee, which is pretty disappointing, but I guess it serves me right for not performing well. I've looked briefly into what is available considering the stats I have (pretty high GPA, etc.) and it looks like schools ranked in the top 20 nationally would still be willing to accept me, but I would have a really slim shot at anything ranked above 10 or so. A big part of me is retaking this just to avoid the disappointed feeling I have right now. If I had thought even a little that I had performed to my standards when I was done with the test I might be content, but when I walked out that door knowing I could have done better, I was pretty sure I was in for another round. I guess it's time to hit the books again...
Well, that's all I have time for now. I want to post here again soon, though. I feel like I've been neglecting my creative side a bit too long. Too focused on silly things. I think I wasted an entire afternoon/evening today. Even when I tell myself "life is short, let's get to it," I realize a half hour later I'm still in the same spot doing the same wasteful things with my time. Sometimes it's like I'm an ambitious person trapped in a body that doesn't quite catch on. Not really sure how to change that. We'll see.
October 17, 2011
The Red Velvet Riddle
Observation:
My parents and I went out for frozen yogurt at Orange Leaf, this new place that opened in town this year. We had just finished a pretty long bike ride, and I wanted chocolate. I was met with a dilemma. They had three different flavors of chocolate, and even had something called "red velvet cake" flavored yogurt. I was unsure whether or not "red velvet cake" met the requirements I had for "chocolate," so I played it safe and had whatever the thing with the most chocolate things in its name was. Probably something like chocolaty truffly brownie-y chocolaty chunky chocolate or something. I combined that with a layer of cheesecake-flavored yogurt, some brownie pieces, some cookie pieces, and some Snickers bar pieces. It was obviously fantastic. And yet the mystery of the red velvet cake had gone unsolved.
This was unacceptable, but in a fortuitous turn of events, I stumbled across something labeled "red velvet cake for two" on walmart's discount bakery shelf. Sensing a resolution to the riddle at hand, I leaped at the opportunity to purchase the cake and put to rest once and for all the controversy that had been brewing in my head. You see, on the one hand, everyone knows chocolate is not red. On the other hand, the sort of red I imagined the cake to be had an element of brown to it. On the one hand, if it were chocolate it would just be called chocolate cake, but on the other hand, velvet is an adjective I could easily see being applied to chocolate. On the one hand, nobody I had spoken with had described red velvet as chocolate, but on the other hand, none of them had really provided a satisfactory description of what it was if not chocolate. It was time to settle the score. Upon returning to my place of residence I wasted no time in sampling some of this fascinating fare.
Long story short: I still have no clue what it is or what it tastes like. Worst mystery resolution ever. I mean, it's exactly how it was described to me: not chocolate not vanilla, not any other flavor. It's indistinct. It's pretty good, but it's certainly not on the level of chocolate. At least I was reassured I had made the right choice at the yogurt shop, but the mystery of what exactly red velvet tastes like remains.
Observation:
I sometimes look like this:
Yup, I'm "that guy."
I figure if it makes people smile, I might as well look ridiculous. And it's fun, of course, to see the looks on people's faces. Occasionally I think of what my first impression must be when I'm clad in pink, sporting a spiked mohawk, displaying a crazy farmer's tan, and seeming for all intents and purposes as though I have not a single working brain cell in my head, and that makes me chuckle too. I doubt I come across at all how I think of myself. It even sometimes reminds me how inaccurate I may be with my own snap judgments, but it certainly hasn't prevented me from forming them as rapidly as ever.
The reason I bring this up is that I took along my typical "flair-ful" attire to my handball tournament last weekend in Kansas City and found I had no motivation to wear it. It seems it's only appealing to me to look like an idiot if there's someone around who knows I'm not one. At frisbee tournaments, there are my teammates, and at almost every other handball tournament I've been to, I've traveled with someone who knows the pink getup is all just silliness. But without someone around to be in on the joke, I just felt that there would be no point. I would be "that guy," and there would be nobody thinking to themselves how it didn't quite match up with the person I am every other day. So I wore my black shorts and a jersey with my name on the back like everyone else, and it was all perfectly normal. It turns out I'm not a huge fan of the perfectly normal. I'll still take the pink stuff to my next tournament, but I'm not sure whether or not I'll wear it.
Me:
Speaking of my tournament, it went pretty well. I won my first match after losing the first game due to nerves: 16-21, 21-10, 11-5. I played pretty poorly, and was sort of dreading my second round against the number one seed, but despite the loss, I played much better and was even winning briefly in the first game after going down 10-0. Sadly, after scoring thirteen points to his one, he figured out I've never played against someone who can serve hard to my left hand, and things spiraled away from that point on. I got some much-needed tournament experience, though, and I'm eager for my next one this weekend in Denver. I just signed up, and I'll be seeded last in the open division, but I look forward to the challenge.
My parents and I went out for frozen yogurt at Orange Leaf, this new place that opened in town this year. We had just finished a pretty long bike ride, and I wanted chocolate. I was met with a dilemma. They had three different flavors of chocolate, and even had something called "red velvet cake" flavored yogurt. I was unsure whether or not "red velvet cake" met the requirements I had for "chocolate," so I played it safe and had whatever the thing with the most chocolate things in its name was. Probably something like chocolaty truffly brownie-y chocolaty chunky chocolate or something. I combined that with a layer of cheesecake-flavored yogurt, some brownie pieces, some cookie pieces, and some Snickers bar pieces. It was obviously fantastic. And yet the mystery of the red velvet cake had gone unsolved.
This was unacceptable, but in a fortuitous turn of events, I stumbled across something labeled "red velvet cake for two" on walmart's discount bakery shelf. Sensing a resolution to the riddle at hand, I leaped at the opportunity to purchase the cake and put to rest once and for all the controversy that had been brewing in my head. You see, on the one hand, everyone knows chocolate is not red. On the other hand, the sort of red I imagined the cake to be had an element of brown to it. On the one hand, if it were chocolate it would just be called chocolate cake, but on the other hand, velvet is an adjective I could easily see being applied to chocolate. On the one hand, nobody I had spoken with had described red velvet as chocolate, but on the other hand, none of them had really provided a satisfactory description of what it was if not chocolate. It was time to settle the score. Upon returning to my place of residence I wasted no time in sampling some of this fascinating fare.
Long story short: I still have no clue what it is or what it tastes like. Worst mystery resolution ever. I mean, it's exactly how it was described to me: not chocolate not vanilla, not any other flavor. It's indistinct. It's pretty good, but it's certainly not on the level of chocolate. At least I was reassured I had made the right choice at the yogurt shop, but the mystery of what exactly red velvet tastes like remains.
Observation:
I sometimes look like this:
Yup, I'm "that guy."
I figure if it makes people smile, I might as well look ridiculous. And it's fun, of course, to see the looks on people's faces. Occasionally I think of what my first impression must be when I'm clad in pink, sporting a spiked mohawk, displaying a crazy farmer's tan, and seeming for all intents and purposes as though I have not a single working brain cell in my head, and that makes me chuckle too. I doubt I come across at all how I think of myself. It even sometimes reminds me how inaccurate I may be with my own snap judgments, but it certainly hasn't prevented me from forming them as rapidly as ever.
The reason I bring this up is that I took along my typical "flair-ful" attire to my handball tournament last weekend in Kansas City and found I had no motivation to wear it. It seems it's only appealing to me to look like an idiot if there's someone around who knows I'm not one. At frisbee tournaments, there are my teammates, and at almost every other handball tournament I've been to, I've traveled with someone who knows the pink getup is all just silliness. But without someone around to be in on the joke, I just felt that there would be no point. I would be "that guy," and there would be nobody thinking to themselves how it didn't quite match up with the person I am every other day. So I wore my black shorts and a jersey with my name on the back like everyone else, and it was all perfectly normal. It turns out I'm not a huge fan of the perfectly normal. I'll still take the pink stuff to my next tournament, but I'm not sure whether or not I'll wear it.
Me:
Speaking of my tournament, it went pretty well. I won my first match after losing the first game due to nerves: 16-21, 21-10, 11-5. I played pretty poorly, and was sort of dreading my second round against the number one seed, but despite the loss, I played much better and was even winning briefly in the first game after going down 10-0. Sadly, after scoring thirteen points to his one, he figured out I've never played against someone who can serve hard to my left hand, and things spiraled away from that point on. I got some much-needed tournament experience, though, and I'm eager for my next one this weekend in Denver. I just signed up, and I'll be seeded last in the open division, but I look forward to the challenge.
October 14, 2011
Poetry? Really? He's doing that again?
New Smell
Eight or ten times
I looked over my shoulder
at emptiness glinting
back at me,
a teasing cacophony
of almost-mirrors,
the bottles dancing
reflections
across their curvatures
an amplification of motion
when a tissue flutters
a hundred-fold
in the prismatic grasp
of glass.
Eight or ten times
I realized the scent
triggering my turn
did not herald the approach
of a new conquerer
or concubine,
but rather a small change
in identity,
for adjustment is slow
where scent is concerned;
the nose is last to let go.
Long after faces fade
lilac will conjure tears
in the crow's-foot crevices
as the sun-filled yard
hedged with purple
yields to a curtained,
perfumed interior
on the day of the last
"I love you."
The silent sense sliding
up the nostril to the brain
slinking from fold to fleshy fold
and striking when least expected
to summon an image,
a sight forgotten
by all but the nose.
So when I glance
that eighth or tenth time
expecting someone
other than me
it's only because I'm unused
to this scent that isn't mine.
Poem:
I went to Walmart to buy more deodorant and they were out of the stuff I always get. I didn't think it would matter, so I just got something else, and then spent the next couple of DAYS trying to figure out why I kept expecting to see people around me. Turns out I just needed to acclimate or something, but it was weird. I could have sworn people were walking up behind me at work all day, and every time: nothing.
Observation:
I saw this while reading about Magic: the Gathering and thought it was too true to not include in my blog:
http://www.quietspeculation.com/2011/08/motivation-cycles/
I find myself trapped somewhere between the steps of reality and reaction all too frequently. Ideas for writing, ideas for careers, ideas for dinner all fall prey to the devious ways of my brain. See, I'm plenty good at coming up with raw ideas, but I'm even better at instantly finding the flaws that prevent them from being realized. It's bridging from the second step to the third step that gets me every time. Or maybe this falls under the "resistance" category described in the article. Maybe I've realized it's just not worth it to keep trying to overcome obstacles. Either way, I guess I'm stuck hoping that this is indeed a cycle and not just a dead end. It would be great to be at the renewal stage again. I feel like I haven't been there with respect to my writing in years. Probably the last time was my junior year of college when I was in Benjamen Percy's class on writing creative nonfiction. Something about that guy just makes me feel constantly renewed. I guess the trick to being a writer is finding that within yourself. The oft-talked-about muse, as it were.
The cycle applies quite aptly to this blog, as you may or may not have noticed. I put a lot of time and effort into it initially, grew to realize it was taking up rather more time than I had thought initially, and thought I had better things to do. So I guess I underwent renewal at some point according to the steps in the article, but it really just felt like when I had more free time I went back to doing something that I knew filled it. I guess the obstacle was eliminated for me, so I effectively skipped some steps. Doubtless I will grow less enthusiastic again in the future, either as my time fills up or I grow weary of relating what seems to be trending toward a mundane existence.
Another poem:
Nightmares
I miss your nightmares.
The tossing panicked fears,
the wide-eyed waking,
the gasp for air
as you find the surface
having dug for days
through the dirt
after the world's collapse.
I miss the jerking awake,
the kicking,
the murmured explanations
of impending doom
unremembered.
I miss the realization,
that moment when the riptide
releases, the drowning ceases,
the quicksand relents
to a tightened squeeze,
almost-clenching
where you fit, unthreatened,
and the tension leaves in waves
a brief sidling
a sigh
and sleep again.
Poem:
No explanation required?
Eight or ten times
I looked over my shoulder
at emptiness glinting
back at me,
a teasing cacophony
of almost-mirrors,
the bottles dancing
reflections
across their curvatures
an amplification of motion
when a tissue flutters
a hundred-fold
in the prismatic grasp
of glass.
Eight or ten times
I realized the scent
triggering my turn
did not herald the approach
of a new conquerer
or concubine,
but rather a small change
in identity,
for adjustment is slow
where scent is concerned;
the nose is last to let go.
Long after faces fade
lilac will conjure tears
in the crow's-foot crevices
as the sun-filled yard
hedged with purple
yields to a curtained,
perfumed interior
on the day of the last
"I love you."
The silent sense sliding
up the nostril to the brain
slinking from fold to fleshy fold
and striking when least expected
to summon an image,
a sight forgotten
by all but the nose.
So when I glance
that eighth or tenth time
expecting someone
other than me
it's only because I'm unused
to this scent that isn't mine.
Poem:
I went to Walmart to buy more deodorant and they were out of the stuff I always get. I didn't think it would matter, so I just got something else, and then spent the next couple of DAYS trying to figure out why I kept expecting to see people around me. Turns out I just needed to acclimate or something, but it was weird. I could have sworn people were walking up behind me at work all day, and every time: nothing.
Observation:
I saw this while reading about Magic: the Gathering and thought it was too true to not include in my blog:
http://www.quietspeculation.com/2011/08/motivation-cycles/
I find myself trapped somewhere between the steps of reality and reaction all too frequently. Ideas for writing, ideas for careers, ideas for dinner all fall prey to the devious ways of my brain. See, I'm plenty good at coming up with raw ideas, but I'm even better at instantly finding the flaws that prevent them from being realized. It's bridging from the second step to the third step that gets me every time. Or maybe this falls under the "resistance" category described in the article. Maybe I've realized it's just not worth it to keep trying to overcome obstacles. Either way, I guess I'm stuck hoping that this is indeed a cycle and not just a dead end. It would be great to be at the renewal stage again. I feel like I haven't been there with respect to my writing in years. Probably the last time was my junior year of college when I was in Benjamen Percy's class on writing creative nonfiction. Something about that guy just makes me feel constantly renewed. I guess the trick to being a writer is finding that within yourself. The oft-talked-about muse, as it were.
The cycle applies quite aptly to this blog, as you may or may not have noticed. I put a lot of time and effort into it initially, grew to realize it was taking up rather more time than I had thought initially, and thought I had better things to do. So I guess I underwent renewal at some point according to the steps in the article, but it really just felt like when I had more free time I went back to doing something that I knew filled it. I guess the obstacle was eliminated for me, so I effectively skipped some steps. Doubtless I will grow less enthusiastic again in the future, either as my time fills up or I grow weary of relating what seems to be trending toward a mundane existence.
Another poem:
Nightmares
I miss your nightmares.
The tossing panicked fears,
the wide-eyed waking,
the gasp for air
as you find the surface
having dug for days
through the dirt
after the world's collapse.
I miss the jerking awake,
the kicking,
the murmured explanations
of impending doom
unremembered.
I miss the realization,
that moment when the riptide
releases, the drowning ceases,
the quicksand relents
to a tightened squeeze,
almost-clenching
where you fit, unthreatened,
and the tension leaves in waves
a brief sidling
a sigh
and sleep again.
Poem:
No explanation required?
October 10, 2011
Is there such a thing as a post-cursor post?
Me:
Steve Jobs said to find something you want to do. He said he woke up in the morning and looked in the mirror and asked himself if he really wanted to do what he was going to do that day, and if the answer was no too many times in a row, he needed to change something. He said that life is far too short to spend it doing anything other than exactly what you want.
I happen to be in a privileged position. I have a comfortable life, a family who supports me, and a good education (so far). So why don't I take Steve Jobs' advice? Why don't I spend every day doing exactly what I want? Obviously, there are limitations, but I am nowhere close to being happy with how I spend my days. I'm content, I suppose. I think that's the bane of people in my situation. People of my generation have parents who put them in a comfortable setting. They have worked their entire lives building a base which can support a child comfortably. So we are comfortable. I'm not sure how many people I know who are doing exactly what they want or are in the process of getting there. Maybe a few. The rest of us pretend we are looking at things pragmatically. We say "oh, of course I'd rather be doing something else, but it's just not practical. I have more to think about." The truth is that I don't. Right now is the time in my life to get hungry. There's a reason there are so many rags to riches stories. It's because it takes a hunger to drive a person to accomplish something and to keep accomplishing. It's nearly impossible to find this hunger when you grow up wanting for nothing.
Again, Steve Jobs had an answer. He reminded us that death is going to come, and that it helped apply pressure to his work. Knowing he was going to die made him productive.
That is undoubtedly the correct response. Unfortunately, acknowledging that and adopting the appropriate mindset are two very different things. It is far too easy to look at death's approach and say "to hell with it, nothing matters," or to cling too hard to the moments as they inevitably slip away.
I was reminded of all this again last Saturday at my cyclocross race. I had the option of attending a Pro Tour Qualifying tournament for Magic: The Gathering instead, but the fact that it was seven hours away and the race was put on by my cycling team persuaded me to stay. I rode less than half the race. It took me about two laps to realize I wasn't having any fun, nor would that be changing. It took me another two laps to decide that it wasn't worth finishing. I don't regret stopping. I don't even really regret not attending the PTQ seven hours away. It's always too easy to look back and think things would have been better if I had done something else, but the truth is that, for all I know, I would have crashed my car driving in a tired stupor either to or from the tournament. Or I would have gotten there, gotten my cards, and been outmatched in every round. What I do regret is not giving myself enough credit when I thought it would be more fun to go play Magic.
I don't know what I want to do with my life. Steve Jobs said to do exactly what you want and not to settle. If you're not happy, keep looking. Well, I've looked at (or at least thought about) a lot of different things, and I'm not really sure how many more there are to consider. All I've succeeded in doing so far is eliminating all but a few choices, and those seem so be focused more along the lines of continuing contentment than a passionate calling. I suppose there needs to be some risk involved. There needs to be a threat of failure in order to spark success. Right now, I don't have that element. I'm safe knowing that if something doesn't work out, I have other options. Is it possible for me to abandon this safety if I think it could propel me to actually accomplish something? I'm honestly not sure. I know I'm going to apply to law schools. If I get accepted, that might be the end of that. I'll be on my road toward contentment. There's probably nothing wrong with that. What's left in the meantime is some number of months to use in whatever manner suits me. I don't look in the mirror every morning, but if I did, I'm pretty sure it's been too many days in a row of unenthusiastic "no's."
I'm not sure what it will take to wake up excited for the day. It might be writing. It might be traveling. It might be being an astronaut. Of the three, the only one that's really feasible is writing, though. Maybe that's a good place to start. I know I haven't really figured anything out, but it helps to write it down.
Steve Jobs said to find something you want to do. He said he woke up in the morning and looked in the mirror and asked himself if he really wanted to do what he was going to do that day, and if the answer was no too many times in a row, he needed to change something. He said that life is far too short to spend it doing anything other than exactly what you want.
I happen to be in a privileged position. I have a comfortable life, a family who supports me, and a good education (so far). So why don't I take Steve Jobs' advice? Why don't I spend every day doing exactly what I want? Obviously, there are limitations, but I am nowhere close to being happy with how I spend my days. I'm content, I suppose. I think that's the bane of people in my situation. People of my generation have parents who put them in a comfortable setting. They have worked their entire lives building a base which can support a child comfortably. So we are comfortable. I'm not sure how many people I know who are doing exactly what they want or are in the process of getting there. Maybe a few. The rest of us pretend we are looking at things pragmatically. We say "oh, of course I'd rather be doing something else, but it's just not practical. I have more to think about." The truth is that I don't. Right now is the time in my life to get hungry. There's a reason there are so many rags to riches stories. It's because it takes a hunger to drive a person to accomplish something and to keep accomplishing. It's nearly impossible to find this hunger when you grow up wanting for nothing.
Again, Steve Jobs had an answer. He reminded us that death is going to come, and that it helped apply pressure to his work. Knowing he was going to die made him productive.
That is undoubtedly the correct response. Unfortunately, acknowledging that and adopting the appropriate mindset are two very different things. It is far too easy to look at death's approach and say "to hell with it, nothing matters," or to cling too hard to the moments as they inevitably slip away.
I was reminded of all this again last Saturday at my cyclocross race. I had the option of attending a Pro Tour Qualifying tournament for Magic: The Gathering instead, but the fact that it was seven hours away and the race was put on by my cycling team persuaded me to stay. I rode less than half the race. It took me about two laps to realize I wasn't having any fun, nor would that be changing. It took me another two laps to decide that it wasn't worth finishing. I don't regret stopping. I don't even really regret not attending the PTQ seven hours away. It's always too easy to look back and think things would have been better if I had done something else, but the truth is that, for all I know, I would have crashed my car driving in a tired stupor either to or from the tournament. Or I would have gotten there, gotten my cards, and been outmatched in every round. What I do regret is not giving myself enough credit when I thought it would be more fun to go play Magic.
I don't know what I want to do with my life. Steve Jobs said to do exactly what you want and not to settle. If you're not happy, keep looking. Well, I've looked at (or at least thought about) a lot of different things, and I'm not really sure how many more there are to consider. All I've succeeded in doing so far is eliminating all but a few choices, and those seem so be focused more along the lines of continuing contentment than a passionate calling. I suppose there needs to be some risk involved. There needs to be a threat of failure in order to spark success. Right now, I don't have that element. I'm safe knowing that if something doesn't work out, I have other options. Is it possible for me to abandon this safety if I think it could propel me to actually accomplish something? I'm honestly not sure. I know I'm going to apply to law schools. If I get accepted, that might be the end of that. I'll be on my road toward contentment. There's probably nothing wrong with that. What's left in the meantime is some number of months to use in whatever manner suits me. I don't look in the mirror every morning, but if I did, I'm pretty sure it's been too many days in a row of unenthusiastic "no's."
I'm not sure what it will take to wake up excited for the day. It might be writing. It might be traveling. It might be being an astronaut. Of the three, the only one that's really feasible is writing, though. Maybe that's a good place to start. I know I haven't really figured anything out, but it helps to write it down.
A Precursor Post
Observation:
A couple of days ago it occurred to me that the random thoughts running through my head are occasionally the sort people involved in social networking might display using whatever medium the are involved in. So without further ado, here are some "Things I would have Tweeted/Facebooked/Whatevered":
The low coefficient of friction between leaves makes biking difficult. And the COF between leaves and my eyeballs is high enough to accomplish the same result.
Cyclocross has the unlooked for benefit of covering people in dirt. The mud is good for two reasons: A shell to ward off mosquitoes, and a thick layer of material which will slide on smooth sections of pavement.
And this is after I had spent some time hosing my bike off. Oh cyclocross... why oh why...
Close-up of the shoes which bore the brunt of the assault.
It turns out that handball is better played with the fronts of your hands. On a related note, it also turns out that if you develop a bruise, the best course of action isn't to do whatever it was that caused it many more times.
Scrabble is becoming an increasingly depressing game for me lately. Most recently, it turns out that "ewok is not a word." Oh phone, how wrong you are...
Me:
Steve Jobs is dead. This is old news to everyone, I'm sure, but I've been meaning to write this entry for a while now, and I don't think this occurrence should go without recognition. The guy was amazing, not only for the products he made, but for his attitude toward life. Here is a link to a video I saw that really made me think:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VERGbYDuJ-4
I think I'll just let that sink in for a bit and write my response to it tomorrow. It's a bit late right now, and I'm tired enough as it is. It's just too awesome that the current theme in my life seems to be doing what you want to do. If only it were that simple, right? Seems like a good place to start my next post. Spoiler alert: it will probably be long. And perhaps boring. You have been warned.
A couple of days ago it occurred to me that the random thoughts running through my head are occasionally the sort people involved in social networking might display using whatever medium the are involved in. So without further ado, here are some "Things I would have Tweeted/Facebooked/Whatevered":
The low coefficient of friction between leaves makes biking difficult. And the COF between leaves and my eyeballs is high enough to accomplish the same result.
Cyclocross has the unlooked for benefit of covering people in dirt. The mud is good for two reasons: A shell to ward off mosquitoes, and a thick layer of material which will slide on smooth sections of pavement.
Scrabble is becoming an increasingly depressing game for me lately. Most recently, it turns out that "ewok is not a word." Oh phone, how wrong you are...
Me:
Steve Jobs is dead. This is old news to everyone, I'm sure, but I've been meaning to write this entry for a while now, and I don't think this occurrence should go without recognition. The guy was amazing, not only for the products he made, but for his attitude toward life. Here is a link to a video I saw that really made me think:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VERGbYDuJ-4
I think I'll just let that sink in for a bit and write my response to it tomorrow. It's a bit late right now, and I'm tired enough as it is. It's just too awesome that the current theme in my life seems to be doing what you want to do. If only it were that simple, right? Seems like a good place to start my next post. Spoiler alert: it will probably be long. And perhaps boring. You have been warned.
October 3, 2011
Food is pretty okay. In fact, I bet I could get used to the stuff.
Observation:
Let's talk about food! More specifically, it turns out I like bleu cheese salad dressing, and I feel this development warrants discussion. I still remember the first time I had it. My family had stopped at a restaurant on a visit to family in Wisconsin, and I decided that was as good a time as any to branch out. Nope! Terrible idea. Apparently "bleu cheese" was another term for "rotten food they forgot to throw out and put on my salad instead." I was displeased, and wouldn't finish it even after almost all of it had been removed from the remainder of the salad. The very smell made me nauseous. I spent the next many years of my life vigilantly avoiding the substance.
Cut to yesterday. My dad had purchased some bleu cheese salad dressing because it complied with my limitations on high fructose corn syrup, and I decided "to hell with it, I'll just have some." Not my most well-reasoned of thoughts, but as it turned out, I didn't have the immediate urge to vomit. So I had some more, and I guess the rest is history. The odd thing about this is that it tastes exactly how I remembered it. Unlike the famous baked potato incident of 2009 (wherein the same phenomenon occurred, but involved, you guessed it, baked potatoes), bleu cheese still tasted sort of rotten and had a tinge of the unappealing to it. But this time I liked it. I guess it could be because I've sunk into a bit of a rut when it comes to my diet, and this abrupt change seemed beneficial solely due to its departure from the norm (pasta with either marinara or butter/garlic (okay, margarine)), which I'd had for my previous three or four meals. In any case, the peculiarity involved was monumental enough to comment on.
Observation:
Just when you thought I was done talking about food...
I usually get plain yogurt because I enjoy putting honey on it. Here's the thing: I don't like plain yogurt. So, as I'm almost out of honey, I got vanilla so I wouldn't have a bunch of disgusting plain yogurt sitting around. This has nothing to do with the main point. The point is, when I went to open the yogurt, I noticed it said "Grade A Yogurt" on the cover. Really? Anderson Erickson felt the need to include that? Let me elaborate why I find this so silly. For one thing, there is no reference to what "grade" they are referring to. For all I know, they have an inverse grading scale, with F being the best, and I'm eating the dregs. Even assuming they are referencing something legitimate, am I to assume that if their product didn't meet the highest standard that they would have included it on the label? Incredibly doubtful. I have no doubt it is impossible to buy something that says "Grade B Yogurt." Even if it does exist, I'll put money on the fact it isn't demarcated as such.
Let's talk about food! More specifically, it turns out I like bleu cheese salad dressing, and I feel this development warrants discussion. I still remember the first time I had it. My family had stopped at a restaurant on a visit to family in Wisconsin, and I decided that was as good a time as any to branch out. Nope! Terrible idea. Apparently "bleu cheese" was another term for "rotten food they forgot to throw out and put on my salad instead." I was displeased, and wouldn't finish it even after almost all of it had been removed from the remainder of the salad. The very smell made me nauseous. I spent the next many years of my life vigilantly avoiding the substance.
Cut to yesterday. My dad had purchased some bleu cheese salad dressing because it complied with my limitations on high fructose corn syrup, and I decided "to hell with it, I'll just have some." Not my most well-reasoned of thoughts, but as it turned out, I didn't have the immediate urge to vomit. So I had some more, and I guess the rest is history. The odd thing about this is that it tastes exactly how I remembered it. Unlike the famous baked potato incident of 2009 (wherein the same phenomenon occurred, but involved, you guessed it, baked potatoes), bleu cheese still tasted sort of rotten and had a tinge of the unappealing to it. But this time I liked it. I guess it could be because I've sunk into a bit of a rut when it comes to my diet, and this abrupt change seemed beneficial solely due to its departure from the norm (pasta with either marinara or butter/garlic (okay, margarine)), which I'd had for my previous three or four meals. In any case, the peculiarity involved was monumental enough to comment on.
Observation:
Just when you thought I was done talking about food...
I usually get plain yogurt because I enjoy putting honey on it. Here's the thing: I don't like plain yogurt. So, as I'm almost out of honey, I got vanilla so I wouldn't have a bunch of disgusting plain yogurt sitting around. This has nothing to do with the main point. The point is, when I went to open the yogurt, I noticed it said "Grade A Yogurt" on the cover. Really? Anderson Erickson felt the need to include that? Let me elaborate why I find this so silly. For one thing, there is no reference to what "grade" they are referring to. For all I know, they have an inverse grading scale, with F being the best, and I'm eating the dregs. Even assuming they are referencing something legitimate, am I to assume that if their product didn't meet the highest standard that they would have included it on the label? Incredibly doubtful. I have no doubt it is impossible to buy something that says "Grade B Yogurt." Even if it does exist, I'll put money on the fact it isn't demarcated as such.
September 29, 2011
Study break
I haven't eaten enough
for basic body maintenance
which I guess is self-destructive
behavior of the sort
people are always talking about.
But how appropriate
that I feel this empty.
It's too perfect to ruin
with the banalities
of yet another grilled cheese
reminder of masterpieces
manufactured for the lips
of another.
What could more obscene
than eating as if consumption
will lead to satisfaction?
So rather than rush
to rectify this gnawing
I'll revel, reflecting
on the tastes I'll be missing.
Poem:
Don't worry, I'm not starving myself. It's just that when I got hungry at work it felt appropriate, and I decided to experience it instead of just mindlessly consuming food. I must say, it's more interesting that I thought it would be to actually think about the fact that I'm hungry. Usually I either realize it and eat immediately, preemptively eat so as to never arrive in this situation in the first place, or, in the worst case scenario, push the realization out of focus in the event no food is readily available. I guess it takes a bit of a shake-up to get around to this.
Observation:
I got my new headphones today. They are huge and make me look silly. Also, they are amazing. None of the headphones I've had previously have sounded like these. Where there was once a baseline in the songs I knew, there is now a base chorus. It turns out that base isn't just a term for "that one low note used to set a beat," but can actually refer to an entire register of notes. Just when I think they've played the lowest note, another one lower shudders through the earpieces and sends a bit of a chill up my spine. The model I got was the Ultrasone DJ1 Pros, and while I'm curious what other types of headphones might sound like, these have blown me away so far. They are also amusing in that they are basically just speakers strapped to my head with little cushions to seal them. The cushions are spectacular, and allow for almost no sound leakage in or out. Of course, when I take them off the fact that they are really nothing more than speakers becomes apparent, since without anything to seal the sound in to, the music comes out loud and clear. I guess that could be a positive, though, if I wanted to share whatever I'm listening to.
The purchase of these has two immediate consequences on my life. The first is that I am now effectively deaf to the world. Unless the sound source is touching me, I'm not going to hear it. The second is that I will have a permanent dent in my hair where the strap presses into my head. These are small prices to pay for the pleasure I am experiencing. Actually, that first one isn't so much a price as yet another unlooked-for benefit. It turns out I don't like very much of the stuff I hear of the outside world anyway. I'll just have to be sure to be more olfactorily aware in case of emergencies (fires, etc.) Chances are still good that if you hear about a really stupid-sounding fatality in the next few days it's going to be me. I could totally imagine the scenario where I'm sitting at work transferring plant cells from one petri dish to another and then all of a sudden the flames that have been ravaging the building for an hour finally close in on me. But at least I'll go out to the tune of beautiful music.
Here's a picture!
Me:
The awkwardness of my ex-girlfriend and my sister being friends has become quite apparent. Not that I was really expecting it to remain hidden, but I thought I'd write a bit about it since it's on my mind. It turns out that my sister bought my ex a cat. Well, an adorable little kitten, but you get the point. This was something she had talked about wanting, and something I had cautioned rather strongly against, since she's out of town almost every weekend for frisbee during the seasons that is going, and busy with school and stuff the rest of the time, and I think cats (kittens especially) deserve as much attention as you can give them. Furthermore, she will be graduating soon with no guarantee that she'll have a place for the cat to stay after that. All in all, it just didn't strike me as prudent (since she already stranded her dog with her parents when she left the house for college).
That's not the real reason this is annoying, of course. The annoyance is that apparently she needed such an extreme form of consolation after cheating on her boyfriend and then breaking up with him. Gee, what a harsh situation to go through... Good thing she has such a good friend to cheer her up. And just to add (unintentional) insult to (emotional) injury, when my sister and I were talking and I made a comment about how I must not have been an interesting enough guy, my sister jumped right to her defense, saying that she just wants to know what else is out there. Not quite the reassurance I was fishing for. At the very least she could have mentioned that I'm not that uninteresting. It's not like she needed to go overboard and list the fact I'm involved in many sports at pretty high levels, have a patent pending for genetics, published works of all sorts in the local literary magazine, and a plethora of other things pointing toward the contrary. But you know, throwing me some sort of bone would have been nice. It's not like I'm expecting a new pet or anything. I mean, my standards are pretty low...
That's about all the ranting I'm in the mood for today. Other events in my life include the upcoming LSAT, studying for the LSAT, worrying about the LSAT, and occasionally eating/sleeping.
for basic body maintenance
which I guess is self-destructive
behavior of the sort
people are always talking about.
But how appropriate
that I feel this empty.
It's too perfect to ruin
with the banalities
of yet another grilled cheese
reminder of masterpieces
manufactured for the lips
of another.
What could more obscene
than eating as if consumption
will lead to satisfaction?
So rather than rush
to rectify this gnawing
I'll revel, reflecting
on the tastes I'll be missing.
Poem:
Don't worry, I'm not starving myself. It's just that when I got hungry at work it felt appropriate, and I decided to experience it instead of just mindlessly consuming food. I must say, it's more interesting that I thought it would be to actually think about the fact that I'm hungry. Usually I either realize it and eat immediately, preemptively eat so as to never arrive in this situation in the first place, or, in the worst case scenario, push the realization out of focus in the event no food is readily available. I guess it takes a bit of a shake-up to get around to this.
Observation:
I got my new headphones today. They are huge and make me look silly. Also, they are amazing. None of the headphones I've had previously have sounded like these. Where there was once a baseline in the songs I knew, there is now a base chorus. It turns out that base isn't just a term for "that one low note used to set a beat," but can actually refer to an entire register of notes. Just when I think they've played the lowest note, another one lower shudders through the earpieces and sends a bit of a chill up my spine. The model I got was the Ultrasone DJ1 Pros, and while I'm curious what other types of headphones might sound like, these have blown me away so far. They are also amusing in that they are basically just speakers strapped to my head with little cushions to seal them. The cushions are spectacular, and allow for almost no sound leakage in or out. Of course, when I take them off the fact that they are really nothing more than speakers becomes apparent, since without anything to seal the sound in to, the music comes out loud and clear. I guess that could be a positive, though, if I wanted to share whatever I'm listening to.
The purchase of these has two immediate consequences on my life. The first is that I am now effectively deaf to the world. Unless the sound source is touching me, I'm not going to hear it. The second is that I will have a permanent dent in my hair where the strap presses into my head. These are small prices to pay for the pleasure I am experiencing. Actually, that first one isn't so much a price as yet another unlooked-for benefit. It turns out I don't like very much of the stuff I hear of the outside world anyway. I'll just have to be sure to be more olfactorily aware in case of emergencies (fires, etc.) Chances are still good that if you hear about a really stupid-sounding fatality in the next few days it's going to be me. I could totally imagine the scenario where I'm sitting at work transferring plant cells from one petri dish to another and then all of a sudden the flames that have been ravaging the building for an hour finally close in on me. But at least I'll go out to the tune of beautiful music.
Here's a picture!
Me:
The awkwardness of my ex-girlfriend and my sister being friends has become quite apparent. Not that I was really expecting it to remain hidden, but I thought I'd write a bit about it since it's on my mind. It turns out that my sister bought my ex a cat. Well, an adorable little kitten, but you get the point. This was something she had talked about wanting, and something I had cautioned rather strongly against, since she's out of town almost every weekend for frisbee during the seasons that is going, and busy with school and stuff the rest of the time, and I think cats (kittens especially) deserve as much attention as you can give them. Furthermore, she will be graduating soon with no guarantee that she'll have a place for the cat to stay after that. All in all, it just didn't strike me as prudent (since she already stranded her dog with her parents when she left the house for college).
That's not the real reason this is annoying, of course. The annoyance is that apparently she needed such an extreme form of consolation after cheating on her boyfriend and then breaking up with him. Gee, what a harsh situation to go through... Good thing she has such a good friend to cheer her up. And just to add (unintentional) insult to (emotional) injury, when my sister and I were talking and I made a comment about how I must not have been an interesting enough guy, my sister jumped right to her defense, saying that she just wants to know what else is out there. Not quite the reassurance I was fishing for. At the very least she could have mentioned that I'm not that uninteresting. It's not like she needed to go overboard and list the fact I'm involved in many sports at pretty high levels, have a patent pending for genetics, published works of all sorts in the local literary magazine, and a plethora of other things pointing toward the contrary. But you know, throwing me some sort of bone would have been nice. It's not like I'm expecting a new pet or anything. I mean, my standards are pretty low...
That's about all the ranting I'm in the mood for today. Other events in my life include the upcoming LSAT, studying for the LSAT, worrying about the LSAT, and occasionally eating/sleeping.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)