I've never been one for major holidays. As someone who has spent pretty much his entire life trying to avoid being clumped into a specific type of person, and who doesn't really want to be associated with his entire race (or the stereotype of it), major holidays kind of feel like that to me. That doesn't really make sense. What I really mean is that I really, really like avoiding the norm. I don't want to be easily defined. I'd be a hipster if I did anything more than think like one. I'd be an engineer if I didn't do art. I'd be an artist if I wasn't in engineering school. I'd be a writer or a musician if I actually had the time or drive to focus on honing that (those) craft(s). I guess that kind of makes me a non-committal, endlessly distracted kind of person who's good at a few things but never great at anything. But I really don't want to be that either.
Anyway, that's not really the point.
I avoid major holidays because to me, it's just a day that everyone does the same thing together. If everyone else is doing it, I don't wanna. It's the same reason why I'll automatically disagree or find another side to any widely-held opinion (which, I admit, is mostly when my father tells me I should or shouldn't do something).
Everyone celebrated new year's tonight. I spent it in an elevator, tired and getting home from a trip out west. I knew about a few different happenings, but didn't act on any of them. I avoided facebook and twitter because I know what every single tweetpost is going to be about, for at least the next 18 hours. Instead, I played some music by myself and tried not to think of all my friends having fun somewhere in the company of their other, cooler, closer, more genuine friends.
In reality, I don't avoid holidays because I don't want to be associated with the endless number of people who all celebrate it. I avoid them because I've never been good at making or being friends, and any time a large group of people get together to do something just makes me feel left out. I've always felt like all my friends are better friends with someone else, and holidays do nothing to disprove that. Well, here's to another year.
Showing posts with label how much longer until i start seeing giant purple bunny rabbits everywhere?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label how much longer until i start seeing giant purple bunny rabbits everywhere?. Show all posts
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Monday, November 8, 2010
Bacon Pop
The future is now and it is refreshingly meaty.
For the vegetarians out there:
"If you’re sick of bacon, no problem. Jones also makes a “Tofurky and Gravy” soda, which it promises is “100% Vegan.”"
For the vegetarians out there:
"If you’re sick of bacon, no problem. Jones also makes a “Tofurky and Gravy” soda, which it promises is “100% Vegan.”"
Friday, February 26, 2010
"Up In The Air" Was a Total Lie, Or: Bernice, Live from Ft. Lauderdale International!
9:25 AM
After spending the last five days in sunny south Florida, I had a flight to catch to get home. The plan was this: 11:25 flight to Toronto, 4 PM connection to Montreal. This allowed me a buffer zone of 90 minutes to clear customs, re-check my bags, and get on the second plane. Risky, I know, but riskier airplane connections have certainly been made. When I get to the airport, the check-in lineup is four people wide, stretching around the back wall of the terminal building, snaking around corners and staircases. crap. At this point, I should add, my Toronto flight has been delayed 35 minutes until 12:00.
10:00
I get pulled out of line and asked to check in at the automated kiosk, because my flight is soon and I've made virtually zero progress so far. Boarding passes now printed, I go to the special baggage drop-off counter and the woman looks at my boarding passes and laughs at me. I smile, ask what's up, and she says in a jolly Caribbean inflection, "Dere is no way you ah makin' dat connection!". I laugh, I was already resigned to that, so she says she'll try to get me on another flight. Cool. First, though, she makes a joke that I'll first have to pay for my mistake of going to the kiosk, when I should have known that I would miss my connection. I hate when people at airports, restaurants, or school do that because you have absolutely no way to tell when they're kidding. I mean, I don't know the rules for when you express-check in to a connection you're probably going to miss, but they lady tells you to use the express in order to make your first flight that's already delayed. Anyway, she tells me that "I shouldnt be doin' dis, but I can get ya on de flight direct to Montrayal at two fitty-five. But dat means you be doin your waitin' heah instead of in Toronna because all de Montrayal flights in de rush howa ah full". That will get me into Montreal at 6:15, only an hour behind schedule, which has since long been shot anyway. I reply "Hell Yes". My flight boards at 2:15, which means I have four hours to kill in the airport! hello, Liveblog!
11:00
It turns out that there's free wi-fi in the entire airport. Sweet. This makes it way easier to kill all this time. My original, former flight to Toronto is now leaving at 12:30, which means that i would have had to get a connection at 5 the VERY EARLIEST, and every single flight in toronto is delayed. this direct flight might be the only way I get home tonight. The only goal is 9:30, in time to watch the hockey game. I really want a vanilla coke, i've only had one since i've been here.
11:30
I had two novels to buy this trip that I need for school next week. I went to a Barnes and Noble and a Borders, no luck at all. They were BOTH in the airport bookstore. the day is looking up. Toronto flight now at 12:45.
12:20
I checked my baggage at 10:15 AM for a 2:50 PM flight. I'm afraid that they're going to lose it, or they sent it on the 11:30 to montreal. - why? are we that distrustful of airports that we assume that if any thing is remotely out of the ordinary, then they're just going to screw it up?
12:50
So now, all flights in and out of New York are cancelled due to weather. uh-oh. Toronto flight just left.
1:15
Still waiting for my flight, hasn't been cancelled yet. boarding at 2:15, in 60 minutes, but the plane hasn't showed up yet. no worries, it's got time. However, i took a stroll to the duty-free and saw A BOTTLE OF PATRON FOR 35 dollars, and the gold kind for 40! what the hell? that shit is 70 bucks AT LEAST in canada, and 90 for the gold! I wanna feel like a rap star! WHY THE FUCK AM I NOT 21?!?!
2:15
just destroyed a sbarro personal pizza. feel sick. should be boarding right now, ain't for whatever reason. for a while behind me there was a french guy telling what must have been an unbelievably entertaining story, because everyone he was telling it to was screaming and laughing the whole time. he's gone now, and the mood round these parts is definitely less upbeat. hopefully boarding soon.
2:25
the plane just got here everyone is getting off this is getting really intense! people are standing up and stuff as if it'll make the plane take off faster! in other news, i'm sitting in the gate across from someone who must be a charter member of the John Calvert Look-alike club.
2:45
Boarding! Success! Five hours waiting for a flight complete! See y'all soon
After spending the last five days in sunny south Florida, I had a flight to catch to get home. The plan was this: 11:25 flight to Toronto, 4 PM connection to Montreal. This allowed me a buffer zone of 90 minutes to clear customs, re-check my bags, and get on the second plane. Risky, I know, but riskier airplane connections have certainly been made. When I get to the airport, the check-in lineup is four people wide, stretching around the back wall of the terminal building, snaking around corners and staircases. crap. At this point, I should add, my Toronto flight has been delayed 35 minutes until 12:00.
10:00
I get pulled out of line and asked to check in at the automated kiosk, because my flight is soon and I've made virtually zero progress so far. Boarding passes now printed, I go to the special baggage drop-off counter and the woman looks at my boarding passes and laughs at me. I smile, ask what's up, and she says in a jolly Caribbean inflection, "Dere is no way you ah makin' dat connection!". I laugh, I was already resigned to that, so she says she'll try to get me on another flight. Cool. First, though, she makes a joke that I'll first have to pay for my mistake of going to the kiosk, when I should have known that I would miss my connection. I hate when people at airports, restaurants, or school do that because you have absolutely no way to tell when they're kidding. I mean, I don't know the rules for when you express-check in to a connection you're probably going to miss, but they lady tells you to use the express in order to make your first flight that's already delayed. Anyway, she tells me that "I shouldnt be doin' dis, but I can get ya on de flight direct to Montrayal at two fitty-five. But dat means you be doin your waitin' heah instead of in Toronna because all de Montrayal flights in de rush howa ah full". That will get me into Montreal at 6:15, only an hour behind schedule, which has since long been shot anyway. I reply "Hell Yes". My flight boards at 2:15, which means I have four hours to kill in the airport! hello, Liveblog!
11:00
It turns out that there's free wi-fi in the entire airport. Sweet. This makes it way easier to kill all this time. My original, former flight to Toronto is now leaving at 12:30, which means that i would have had to get a connection at 5 the VERY EARLIEST, and every single flight in toronto is delayed. this direct flight might be the only way I get home tonight. The only goal is 9:30, in time to watch the hockey game. I really want a vanilla coke, i've only had one since i've been here.
11:30
I had two novels to buy this trip that I need for school next week. I went to a Barnes and Noble and a Borders, no luck at all. They were BOTH in the airport bookstore. the day is looking up. Toronto flight now at 12:45.
12:20
I checked my baggage at 10:15 AM for a 2:50 PM flight. I'm afraid that they're going to lose it, or they sent it on the 11:30 to montreal. - why? are we that distrustful of airports that we assume that if any thing is remotely out of the ordinary, then they're just going to screw it up?
12:50
So now, all flights in and out of New York are cancelled due to weather. uh-oh. Toronto flight just left.
1:15
Still waiting for my flight, hasn't been cancelled yet. boarding at 2:15, in 60 minutes, but the plane hasn't showed up yet. no worries, it's got time. However, i took a stroll to the duty-free and saw A BOTTLE OF PATRON FOR 35 dollars, and the gold kind for 40! what the hell? that shit is 70 bucks AT LEAST in canada, and 90 for the gold! I wanna feel like a rap star! WHY THE FUCK AM I NOT 21?!?!
2:15
just destroyed a sbarro personal pizza. feel sick. should be boarding right now, ain't for whatever reason. for a while behind me there was a french guy telling what must have been an unbelievably entertaining story, because everyone he was telling it to was screaming and laughing the whole time. he's gone now, and the mood round these parts is definitely less upbeat. hopefully boarding soon.
2:25
the plane just got here everyone is getting off this is getting really intense! people are standing up and stuff as if it'll make the plane take off faster! in other news, i'm sitting in the gate across from someone who must be a charter member of the John Calvert Look-alike club.
2:45
Boarding! Success! Five hours waiting for a flight complete! See y'all soon
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
I really want to see Zombieland
Lately, I've been thinking about how you can get to do things that you want to do. Sorry, that's vague, but I have been on 3 hours a sleep a night for the last 3 days so there you go.
On a whim, I wrote a play this summer, and I just found out it got selected for competition for the U of T Drama Festival in February. My immediate reaction was "this is awesome!" but, of course, the cynical/pessimistic/humble(?) version of myself was already coming up with reasons as to why it got selected.
I didn't think it was spectacular... it was fun to write, for sure, and I liked the premise, but I didn't really do any planning for it, and I kind of just started writing and it took it's own course. I feel like writing this way equates to a result with no overarching theme, no overall message, etc. Essentially, it's just two characters with 45 pages or so of "interesting" and "quirky" dialogue. (The synopsis in 8 words: "Waiting for Godot but Godot is a zombie.")
My cynical self is convinced that the reason "Waiting for Zobo" got selected is because no one else submitted a play. (Or that the premise is just gimmicky and about zombies, and they needed a "weird" play, but that's not the point).
Here is my point: I think at this stage in our lives, we're fortunate enough that if we want to do something, we'll be able to do it, as long as you put enough effort into getting to do it.
Aka: success is proportional to the amount of effort and determination and drive.
(While not true for everything, it seems to be the overriding rule in my life)
I feel like this only happens in the smaller bubbles of life, like university, or young adulthood.
In the real world, talent and ability plays a much much bigger role, because in the real world there are simply a much larger number of people competing for what you're doing.
(For example, the act of simply writing a play is probably good enough for in university for it to be produced, but in the real world, it has to be good and smart and clever and well-thought out and amazing)
I think right now, we're still able to get by with little talent and a lot of determination, and I'm going to be thankful for that, because it's going to change in a few years and one day and we'll all be old and upset that we were never good enough to do what we actually wanted to do in life, and will look back on these days because that we got to do it anyways, because we chose to and we could.
On a whim, I wrote a play this summer, and I just found out it got selected for competition for the U of T Drama Festival in February. My immediate reaction was "this is awesome!" but, of course, the cynical/pessimistic/humble(?) version of myself was already coming up with reasons as to why it got selected.
I didn't think it was spectacular... it was fun to write, for sure, and I liked the premise, but I didn't really do any planning for it, and I kind of just started writing and it took it's own course. I feel like writing this way equates to a result with no overarching theme, no overall message, etc. Essentially, it's just two characters with 45 pages or so of "interesting" and "quirky" dialogue. (The synopsis in 8 words: "Waiting for Godot but Godot is a zombie.")
My cynical self is convinced that the reason "Waiting for Zobo" got selected is because no one else submitted a play. (Or that the premise is just gimmicky and about zombies, and they needed a "weird" play, but that's not the point).
Here is my point: I think at this stage in our lives, we're fortunate enough that if we want to do something, we'll be able to do it, as long as you put enough effort into getting to do it.
Aka: success is proportional to the amount of effort and determination and drive.
(While not true for everything, it seems to be the overriding rule in my life)
I feel like this only happens in the smaller bubbles of life, like university, or young adulthood.
In the real world, talent and ability plays a much much bigger role, because in the real world there are simply a much larger number of people competing for what you're doing.
(For example, the act of simply writing a play is probably good enough for in university for it to be produced, but in the real world, it has to be good and smart and clever and well-thought out and amazing)
I think right now, we're still able to get by with little talent and a lot of determination, and I'm going to be thankful for that, because it's going to change in a few years and one day and we'll all be old and upset that we were never good enough to do what we actually wanted to do in life, and will look back on these days because that we got to do it anyways, because we chose to and we could.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
7am inspiration
every morning, i start my day with a great, fantastic, life-changing idea.
"i can make my life so much better if i just..."
every morning that thought ends differently.
usually, it becomes some sort of romantic gesture: "... asked her out," "... sent her flowers," "... called her," “…talked to her,” “…told her i have a huge embarrassing 12-year old crush on her,” (ie. a crush a 12-year old would have, not a crush that has lasted 12 years), etc.
occasionally, it becomes about aiming my life in a different direction: “…studied art” “…studied design” “…played music for real” “…made movies” “… lived in london for a year” "...wrote a play", and so on.
whereas it’s easier to brush off the latter category as just whimsical thinking outside the realm of possibility or practicality, the girl-related thoughts seem at least… plausible.
either way, the outcome is always the same:
by the time i finish breakfast, the idea will be a vague curiousity. by noon, it will have become an impossibility. once night comes around, the same thought will have seemed so crazy that nighttime-me will have reprimanded morning-me for ever thinking it at all.
(i’m omitting super late-night daydreaming here; nothing good happens after 2am, kids)
here's the problem:
is it the idea itself that was crazy and wrong to begin with, and it just took me the whole day to realize it?
or, is it that the idea is apt (and that it could indeed make my life “so much better”), but it only seems possible when one foot is still in the dream world?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
DOES THIS LOOK LIKE ANYBODY WE KNOW?!?!?
His Name is Chase Budinger, and he just declared for the NBA draft.Here's Another.
And what the hell, One more.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
When the Trickster Goes A-Pokin'
Hey Everybody! Check out This Video.
The very presence of two of the most esteemed American writers of all time, both who made their livings on social criticism, on the second-most iconic talk show of all time, is mindboggling. Yes, this was after Cavett made his switch to public television, a medium far better suited to Cheever and Updike than ABC, but I think you see my point.
What I find the most interesting is the mutual desire, the need, both of them reveal to move out of New York City. Despite their hatred of all things suburban (if you didn't yet pick that up, read Bullet Park. Chilling, truly.), they must return there, for it is their nexus. i suppose it speaks to the idea of comfort and home, and to the conceit that criticism is okay when you are understanding of your subject.
Steven King defines three types of writers: Those that are so bad they have no hope, those that are good enough to forge a career (he puts himself in this group), and those that are so good that they either are driven to misery by their own frustrations with their limits, or even their abilities. I came across this theory immediately after watching this video, and saw some parallels. Updike, certainly a brilliant writer, is laconic, social, eloquent. He is also humble and engaging, which are two words so far from Cheever that they're practically wearing a cowboy hat and kicking him in the face. It's in his turning away from Cavett, his obnoxious New England accent, and his unwillingness to discuss virtually anything that shows how profoundly uncomfortable he is with his place in society and literature. It's safe to assume that his mind is long lost at this point on self-definition and other matters.
The very presence of two of the most esteemed American writers of all time, both who made their livings on social criticism, on the second-most iconic talk show of all time, is mindboggling. Yes, this was after Cavett made his switch to public television, a medium far better suited to Cheever and Updike than ABC, but I think you see my point.
What I find the most interesting is the mutual desire, the need, both of them reveal to move out of New York City. Despite their hatred of all things suburban (if you didn't yet pick that up, read Bullet Park. Chilling, truly.), they must return there, for it is their nexus. i suppose it speaks to the idea of comfort and home, and to the conceit that criticism is okay when you are understanding of your subject.
Steven King defines three types of writers: Those that are so bad they have no hope, those that are good enough to forge a career (he puts himself in this group), and those that are so good that they either are driven to misery by their own frustrations with their limits, or even their abilities. I came across this theory immediately after watching this video, and saw some parallels. Updike, certainly a brilliant writer, is laconic, social, eloquent. He is also humble and engaging, which are two words so far from Cheever that they're practically wearing a cowboy hat and kicking him in the face. It's in his turning away from Cavett, his obnoxious New England accent, and his unwillingness to discuss virtually anything that shows how profoundly uncomfortable he is with his place in society and literature. It's safe to assume that his mind is long lost at this point on self-definition and other matters.
science experiment
i've been awake for 39 hours. (i'm more than halfway to being legally insane, apparently, though i can't find a credible source to link to)
when i close my right fist, the knuckles of my fourth and fifth fingers yell at me. i can't stay on my tip-toes for more than 2 seconds because my legs give out from under me. my left hand doesn't do anything bad when i close it into a fist, but when i straighten my arm, my elbow starts complaining. my mouth is constantly dry, and i've lost my voice. i'm too out of it to move 6 feet to my bed so i've been sitting here and almost blacking out for about an hour.
that's what 7 hours of hip-hop choreo, follow by a midterm the next morning, then class and 6 hours of building a robot will do to you, i guess.
at some point last summer, i thought it would be an awesome idea to get a group of close friends together and try to stay awake for as long as possible whilst staying within a confined space close to each other. i ran this idea by my good korean friend and he said it was the stupidest thing he's ever heard.
i'm beginning to think that he's won this round. my mind will probably change in the morning though.
when i close my right fist, the knuckles of my fourth and fifth fingers yell at me. i can't stay on my tip-toes for more than 2 seconds because my legs give out from under me. my left hand doesn't do anything bad when i close it into a fist, but when i straighten my arm, my elbow starts complaining. my mouth is constantly dry, and i've lost my voice. i'm too out of it to move 6 feet to my bed so i've been sitting here and almost blacking out for about an hour.
that's what 7 hours of hip-hop choreo, follow by a midterm the next morning, then class and 6 hours of building a robot will do to you, i guess.
at some point last summer, i thought it would be an awesome idea to get a group of close friends together and try to stay awake for as long as possible whilst staying within a confined space close to each other. i ran this idea by my good korean friend and he said it was the stupidest thing he's ever heard.
i'm beginning to think that he's won this round. my mind will probably change in the morning though.
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