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.
October 27, 2011
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.
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