What are the properties of a human body after 11 hours of sleep?
1) Refresh!
2) Feel warm
3) Feel love
4) Let's go happy!
5) Math is cute animal
6) Connect
7) Take time
8) Make time
9) No languid
10) Have an enjoy
11) Happy Thanksgiving!!!
This has been brought to you like a good eggplant brings comfort, happiness, and with java.
Saturday, 27 October 2007
Saturday, 20 October 2007
Fuel, desire, and ratings, stop, plug
This is a freewrite about epsilon as epsilon approaches nothing. Yet they still insist on it being about something, and that's why I hate real analysis.
My (this is funny--) grader for part of my problem set gave me a low grade and said something like the following: "I'm sorry to be so negative, but you should go see your professor about this, since he could tell you more than I could ever write down on a piece of paper." The funny part about this is that I HAVE DONE WELL ON THE PREVIOUS HOMEWORKS WHY ARE YOU SO SAD THAT I HAVE NOT HAPPENED TO DO SO HERE. That class is so stupid, I really don't want any more of it. But I'm stuck with 5.5 credits now (e.g. 6 classes, one of them being me basically getting credit for the programming work I did over the summer), so I'll just have to carry on.
I'm going to see Twelve Girls Band on Sunday with my family and hopefully some friends too. It should be fun; they're really good. My friends and the band. -- biatch!
My mind is spinning somewhat halfheartedly and I'm trying to get it to go the full 720. I think if I start doing more random shit I'll get that to happen. Stupid homework.
You know, I don't really like the fall, and I think it's because people have a harder time in the fall than in any other season, in my opinion. Me included? Yeah, probably, though it depends on the year sometimes (last winter was unbearable). This is obviously arguable, but arguments can cease like the shrillness of the abstractly bitchy, possibly gleeful autumn wind. (that's me trying to find a new way to describe the autumn wind) As in, don't accept it: let it flow?
Cease, ..., cease! Well, if you won't, that's what the winter's for.
And let the winter come.
Actually, no, don't. I'll fight the fall while it's here.
My (this is funny--) grader for part of my problem set gave me a low grade and said something like the following: "I'm sorry to be so negative, but you should go see your professor about this, since he could tell you more than I could ever write down on a piece of paper." The funny part about this is that I HAVE DONE WELL ON THE PREVIOUS HOMEWORKS WHY ARE YOU SO SAD THAT I HAVE NOT HAPPENED TO DO SO HERE. That class is so stupid, I really don't want any more of it. But I'm stuck with 5.5 credits now (e.g. 6 classes, one of them being me basically getting credit for the programming work I did over the summer), so I'll just have to carry on.
I'm going to see Twelve Girls Band on Sunday with my family and hopefully some friends too. It should be fun; they're really good. My friends and the band. -- biatch!
My mind is spinning somewhat halfheartedly and I'm trying to get it to go the full 720. I think if I start doing more random shit I'll get that to happen. Stupid homework.
You know, I don't really like the fall, and I think it's because people have a harder time in the fall than in any other season, in my opinion. Me included? Yeah, probably, though it depends on the year sometimes (last winter was unbearable). This is obviously arguable, but arguments can cease like the shrillness of the abstractly bitchy, possibly gleeful autumn wind. (that's me trying to find a new way to describe the autumn wind) As in, don't accept it: let it flow?
Cease, ..., cease! Well, if you won't, that's what the winter's for.
And let the winter come.
Actually, no, don't. I'll fight the fall while it's here.
Friday, 28 September 2007
Soulja Boy wants YOU -- enlist today
It's strange. It was going by so slowly, and now it's going by so fast.
28, September. You won't have to wake me up when it ends. I read a bit of the Public Journal, which is a Tufts literary publication filled with, uh, writings from people who must've written them when they were feeling really insecure. Or really sexually devious. Yeah, that inspired me to freewrite.
I think my creativity is back. Fuck that, it is back; it has to be! Stupid hesitant semicoloned sentence. HEY, you just got coloned! Well, semicoloned anyway.
Speaking of colons, real anal(ysis) made me pull an all-nighter. There goes never pulling an all-nighter at Tufts. It sedated me, though, I think. It got me back to working, to being nice, and to being creative. That was Monday night to Tuesday morning. What a bad problem set--- and what a better problem set it would've been had I started this earlier.
I'm typing this with the keyboard in my lap, and I'm awfully tempted to write stream-of-consciousness-style. By the way, French surrealism is really, really cool and quite inspiring. Basically, French surrealists wanted to do things in an "automatiste" manner-- meaning automatic, but not so much the way you might be thinking about it. As in, they wanted to escape from, well, the rational, and the thinking process. I hope I've got this right, because it matters for the eight-page paper that I'll have to write and that he hasn't even talked about (and it's due in three weeks). But yeah, I'm pretty sure it's right. We get to read surrealist poetry, and basically it consists frequently of long, just barely, barely sensible connections of images. They are all connected, but only very slightly. Just the right amount for it to mirror the least rational thought process possible. And it's pretty cool. I've failed to explain why I think it's so cool, but here's why maybe?:
It's impossible to escape one's thought process completely, unless you are in a coma, or some non-coma really bad state of inebriation. But the surrealists didn't want to settle for the weekly get-away from rationality; they wanted to be away from it all the time and LIVE without thought. Wow, capital letters; I must be into it, right? Ehh. Anyway, that's what the surrealists wanted to do-- live "automatically," free from the constraints of thought and reason. You might say that this is impossible and find it foolish to bother, but I realized something: the idea of trying to completely escape from rationality and thought is completely irrational. Now isn't that clever? And so nice. Ah, but you could point out another paradox: I just resolved this paradox in a rational way. ANOTHER PARADOX! or a disproof. Whatever.
So a girl wrote an article in the Daily about a girl's duty (her opinion, absolutely not mine) to give head to a guy in certain situations, and uh, it was not received very well by pretty much anyone. One person I know pointed out (in a letter to the Daily) that the article did nothing to point out the possibility of getting STDs from oral (canker sores and all that). Another thought it was not appropriate for the newspaper but said that it was good advice for girls. STUPID; the latter, I mean, who also characterized the article as overly liberal (uh, I don't see what makes an article on oral sex with no mentions of political shit at all liberal, especially since it's the OTHER side that claims it's merely exerting its First Amendment rights whenever it's written something horribly stupid. It's like saying, "Yes, it's stupid and we're stupider, but you're the STUPIDEST because the First Amendment exists and you didn't praise us for doing what the Constitution allows us to do." ). Too many parentheses. The paper is so pissy, and I guess I just bought into it by ranting on it so much. Oh well.
I drew a car on my friend's dry-erase board, drew CADILLAC on the side of the car, and strew the letters D and d on top of the car. It was a play on the song "Throw Some D's" by Rich Boy. He's talking about throwing dubs on a car (and instead of "car" he says "bitch")...
Finally, Kanye West and 50 Cent had this competition to see who would get #1 on the Billboard albums chart in the first week, and Kanye won. The hype shot his single "Stronger" to #1 on the singles chart for that week, unseating "Crank That (Soulja Boy)," by you know who, which was up there for 2 weeks. Now, Crank That just unseated Stronger and is back on top again. Soulja Boy must be so happy now.
28, September. You won't have to wake me up when it ends. I read a bit of the Public Journal, which is a Tufts literary publication filled with, uh, writings from people who must've written them when they were feeling really insecure. Or really sexually devious. Yeah, that inspired me to freewrite.
I think my creativity is back. Fuck that, it is back; it has to be! Stupid hesitant semicoloned sentence. HEY, you just got coloned! Well, semicoloned anyway.
Speaking of colons, real anal(ysis) made me pull an all-nighter. There goes never pulling an all-nighter at Tufts. It sedated me, though, I think. It got me back to working, to being nice, and to being creative. That was Monday night to Tuesday morning. What a bad problem set--- and what a better problem set it would've been had I started this earlier.
I'm typing this with the keyboard in my lap, and I'm awfully tempted to write stream-of-consciousness-style. By the way, French surrealism is really, really cool and quite inspiring. Basically, French surrealists wanted to do things in an "automatiste" manner-- meaning automatic, but not so much the way you might be thinking about it. As in, they wanted to escape from, well, the rational, and the thinking process. I hope I've got this right, because it matters for the eight-page paper that I'll have to write and that he hasn't even talked about (and it's due in three weeks). But yeah, I'm pretty sure it's right. We get to read surrealist poetry, and basically it consists frequently of long, just barely, barely sensible connections of images. They are all connected, but only very slightly. Just the right amount for it to mirror the least rational thought process possible. And it's pretty cool. I've failed to explain why I think it's so cool, but here's why maybe?:
It's impossible to escape one's thought process completely, unless you are in a coma, or some non-coma really bad state of inebriation. But the surrealists didn't want to settle for the weekly get-away from rationality; they wanted to be away from it all the time and LIVE without thought. Wow, capital letters; I must be into it, right? Ehh. Anyway, that's what the surrealists wanted to do-- live "automatically," free from the constraints of thought and reason. You might say that this is impossible and find it foolish to bother, but I realized something: the idea of trying to completely escape from rationality and thought is completely irrational. Now isn't that clever? And so nice. Ah, but you could point out another paradox: I just resolved this paradox in a rational way. ANOTHER PARADOX! or a disproof. Whatever.
So a girl wrote an article in the Daily about a girl's duty (her opinion, absolutely not mine) to give head to a guy in certain situations, and uh, it was not received very well by pretty much anyone. One person I know pointed out (in a letter to the Daily) that the article did nothing to point out the possibility of getting STDs from oral (canker sores and all that). Another thought it was not appropriate for the newspaper but said that it was good advice for girls. STUPID; the latter, I mean, who also characterized the article as overly liberal (uh, I don't see what makes an article on oral sex with no mentions of political shit at all liberal, especially since it's the OTHER side that claims it's merely exerting its First Amendment rights whenever it's written something horribly stupid. It's like saying, "Yes, it's stupid and we're stupider, but you're the STUPIDEST because the First Amendment exists and you didn't praise us for doing what the Constitution allows us to do." ). Too many parentheses. The paper is so pissy, and I guess I just bought into it by ranting on it so much. Oh well.
I drew a car on my friend's dry-erase board, drew CADILLAC on the side of the car, and strew the letters D and d on top of the car. It was a play on the song "Throw Some D's" by Rich Boy. He's talking about throwing dubs on a car (and instead of "car" he says "bitch")...
Finally, Kanye West and 50 Cent had this competition to see who would get #1 on the Billboard albums chart in the first week, and Kanye won. The hype shot his single "Stronger" to #1 on the singles chart for that week, unseating "Crank That (Soulja Boy)," by you know who, which was up there for 2 weeks. Now, Crank That just unseated Stronger and is back on top again. Soulja Boy must be so happy now.
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Too many, felly, too many
Now get buck in this ~
Get buck in this ~
Get buck in this ~
Get buck in this ~
Get CRUNK in this ~
Get CRUNK in this ~
Get CRUNK in this ~
HEY
Lately, there have been numerous situations in which I have felt quite hazukashii. Embarrass! I don't really feel like going into any of them, because, again, hazukashikatta. Yeah. One of them involved just now trying to think of how a song would be DDRed, by, uh, experimenting on my floor. And the guy downstairs heard it :(
I don't like the hall I live in at all, which sucks. Oh well.
By the way, I guess this is my last hurrah at Tufts in terms of trying new things, right? If I'm studying abroad my whole junior year (which is looking like it'll be the case), then senior year is the next time I get to try getting involved in a club. Um... that means I'm trying frisbee this year, since why not. I need something to keep me moving. I wouldn't be surprised if in two weeks you can look here and see that I'm not doing frisbee anymore, because of homework or piano or something. WHATEVER. Society for Industrial and Applied Mathematics meets tomorrow; free lunch. Hopefully the lunch is good and hopefully it's not as boring as it sounds.
Also, I heard they recently made individual Facebook profiles searchable on Google? Is it possible to get around that? Because I'm thinking of actually getting one, you know.
Hmm, I'm really accomplishment-hungry right now. I want to accomplish something new, big and great. I don't know why this is. Maybe I should go running... at 8:52 at night.
Maybe not. Yeah.
At least I discovered something cool recently: want to find a new song in mp3 form? Search "[title] [artist] mp3 blog site:blogspot.com" on Google. Voilà! Wow, I tried to type à and instead typed α. Very good. All these fucking languages... I'm studying math (yes, it's gradually becoming a language of its own), French, Japanese, and C++. It's not a surprise when I mix them together sometimes. How often do I speak my own language anymore?
Not enough.
Boston- where I don't speak my tongue!
(I just downloaded a song called "Boston" by Augustana which was on the charts about 6 months ago. The lyric is really "where no one knows my name.")
Get buck in this ~
Get buck in this ~
Get buck in this ~
Get CRUNK in this ~
Get CRUNK in this ~
Get CRUNK in this ~
HEY
Lately, there have been numerous situations in which I have felt quite hazukashii. Embarrass! I don't really feel like going into any of them, because, again, hazukashikatta. Yeah. One of them involved just now trying to think of how a song would be DDRed, by, uh, experimenting on my floor. And the guy downstairs heard it :(
I don't like the hall I live in at all, which sucks. Oh well.
By the way, I guess this is my last hurrah at Tufts in terms of trying new things, right? If I'm studying abroad my whole junior year (which is looking like it'll be the case), then senior year is the next time I get to try getting involved in a club. Um... that means I'm trying frisbee this year, since why not. I need something to keep me moving. I wouldn't be surprised if in two weeks you can look here and see that I'm not doing frisbee anymore, because of homework or piano or something. WHATEVER. Society for Industrial and Applied Mathematics meets tomorrow; free lunch. Hopefully the lunch is good and hopefully it's not as boring as it sounds.
Also, I heard they recently made individual Facebook profiles searchable on Google? Is it possible to get around that? Because I'm thinking of actually getting one, you know.
Hmm, I'm really accomplishment-hungry right now. I want to accomplish something new, big and great. I don't know why this is. Maybe I should go running... at 8:52 at night.
Maybe not. Yeah.
At least I discovered something cool recently: want to find a new song in mp3 form? Search "[title] [artist] mp3 blog site:blogspot.com" on Google. Voilà! Wow, I tried to type à and instead typed α. Very good. All these fucking languages... I'm studying math (yes, it's gradually becoming a language of its own), French, Japanese, and C++. It's not a surprise when I mix them together sometimes. How often do I speak my own language anymore?
Not enough.
Boston- where I don't speak my tongue!
(I just downloaded a song called "Boston" by Augustana which was on the charts about 6 months ago. The lyric is really "where no one knows my name.")
Thursday, 30 August 2007
Not what it a-pear-s to be
So I was drinking some Kool Aid Jammers Grape...drink... and it said "Artificially flavored" AND "Made from Real Fruit Juice!" So I was wondering what was going on. Then, when I found the box, the ingredients (not to be found on the individual Caprisun-style drink packages) included pear juice. And not grape juice.
It must really suck to be a pear.
Think about it. Nobody can market you or your side products. You're indie, and even if the big guys find some way to make you popular, you have to say goodbye to those old fans who liked you for your esoteric charm. Plus, nobody's found a way to beautify a pear yet, at least not compared to how great those grapes looked on the Kool Aid thing. But... you know you have something beautiful inside you; I mean, there must be a reason why Kool Aid wants to use you and twist you into what it wants to be! Still, when people make it hard for you to see the Koolness within yourself, they'll tell you you're being haughty or narcissistic when you embrace it. So you think: what's wrong with being narcissistic? Well, you know you can't live without them. But, also!--to reach a satisfying conclusion, they can't live without you either.
That is the story of a pear
On the package of a drink
Long time ago, ladies and gentlemen.
*chord!*
It must really suck to be a pear.
Think about it. Nobody can market you or your side products. You're indie, and even if the big guys find some way to make you popular, you have to say goodbye to those old fans who liked you for your esoteric charm. Plus, nobody's found a way to beautify a pear yet, at least not compared to how great those grapes looked on the Kool Aid thing. But... you know you have something beautiful inside you; I mean, there must be a reason why Kool Aid wants to use you and twist you into what it wants to be! Still, when people make it hard for you to see the Koolness within yourself, they'll tell you you're being haughty or narcissistic when you embrace it. So you think: what's wrong with being narcissistic? Well, you know you can't live without them. But, also!--to reach a satisfying conclusion, they can't live without you either.
That is the story of a pear
On the package of a drink
Long time ago, ladies and gentlemen.
*chord!*
Monday, 27 August 2007
Well. (other title: Inspiration)
I know Greg tried at one point to promote this blog (although there's a flaw in the way he did it--- he set the date of one of the blog posts ahead, so it would constantly be the newest blog post, but that's not how Blogger works. It displays the blogs that were just posted only, and then they're gone. So it wouldn't show up on the front page until that one split second it was posted, and then bye bye!), but somebody else (dunno who) set the blog to private again (this is the second time now). So evidently we have contradicting notions on who we want to be able to read this blog. Well, I set it back to public again, only because I don't want to log in every time I want to read the blog, and because I don't want to be constantly logged into Google on my computer (in case someone else uses my computer or something). So yeah. I can switch it back if you want, though, you mystery man you.
Well, look at you, mystery man! You made me freewrite. You were my inspiration to post something again. And inspiration's exactly what I've wanted recently. I've been around a lot of great people and a lot of great things this summer, but for some reason the inspiration has been slow in taking effect or just hasn't accessed the creative part of my brain. Excuse me as I switch from this Natasha Bedingfield song... no, sorry, Natasha, you're not as inspiring as you claim to be.
Rap from 1999? Hell yes.
This summer. Yes, this summer. That might as well be a complete sentence, because it was a rather complete summer. However, as you well know from AP English, that is NOT a complete sentence. Meaning something was missing. And I think this summer it was quite simple: playing outside. I didn't get enough of it! And remember... VERB. IT'S WHAT YOU DO. Ah, don't you miss that public-service commercial slogan? I do. Miss. It's what I do. That should be a new sentence form: [verb]. It's what [pronoun] do(es). Yes. Am genius. It's what I do.
The Pussycat Dolls? Not so much the inspiring type... There we go. QUEEN LATIFAH. That's right. "Ladies First"! One of the best old-school rap songs ever.
In fact, this song is almost 50% rapped by another female rapper, Monie Love, and she's really good too. "I'm conversatin' to the fools who have no whatsoever clue, so listen very carefully as I break it down for you." Again, new sentence structure. Songs like this are why I dig hip-hop so much; it's just so fun. Haha, she just said "And I'm first, 'cause I'm an L-A-D-I-E"... very good. And I'm spent.
Well, look at you, mystery man! You made me freewrite. You were my inspiration to post something again. And inspiration's exactly what I've wanted recently. I've been around a lot of great people and a lot of great things this summer, but for some reason the inspiration has been slow in taking effect or just hasn't accessed the creative part of my brain. Excuse me as I switch from this Natasha Bedingfield song... no, sorry, Natasha, you're not as inspiring as you claim to be.
Rap from 1999? Hell yes.
This summer. Yes, this summer. That might as well be a complete sentence, because it was a rather complete summer. However, as you well know from AP English, that is NOT a complete sentence. Meaning something was missing. And I think this summer it was quite simple: playing outside. I didn't get enough of it! And remember... VERB. IT'S WHAT YOU DO. Ah, don't you miss that public-service commercial slogan? I do. Miss. It's what I do. That should be a new sentence form: [verb]. It's what [pronoun] do(es). Yes. Am genius. It's what I do.
The Pussycat Dolls? Not so much the inspiring type... There we go. QUEEN LATIFAH. That's right. "Ladies First"! One of the best old-school rap songs ever.
In fact, this song is almost 50% rapped by another female rapper, Monie Love, and she's really good too. "I'm conversatin' to the fools who have no whatsoever clue, so listen very carefully as I break it down for you." Again, new sentence structure. Songs like this are why I dig hip-hop so much; it's just so fun. Haha, she just said "And I'm first, 'cause I'm an L-A-D-I-E"... very good. And I'm spent.
Saturday, 4 August 2007
Cheezu, in, in han-do, in cheezu, han-do, in
The air is hot, but stale now. I think even I'm tired of it, but the drive from home to work and work to home isn't an adequate amount of time to appreciate the heat.
The sky is black now, "this suit is black not," I haven't been up at night this late for awhile, and I haven't made a Borat joke in awhile. Well, I guess I have. NOT SO MUCH lately, though.
But this is summer. And I need to be more aware of it. Maybe I should go to Water Country. Yeah, right. The prices must be exorbitant there. "EXORBITANT" is the word used to describe a difficulty level of eight feet in old-school DDR games. Nine feet was "CATASTROPHIC," six feet was "GENUINE," five feet was "MARVELOUS," and so on.
I know I said I'd had too much computer, but I found myself right back here at my mom's computer (mine is off) with a need to write. Can't explain it. It supercedes the need for eye rest, even though I haven't really been using the computer nearly as much as I used to. I guess computers just depress me now.
My t-shirt from the Philippines (I only got two; I should've got more, since they cost about 8 bucks a shirt) that I'm wearing right now says "WESTFIELD ATHL. DEPT." Did you know Westfield retired this year? Yes, he did. No more gym teachers suggesting people take a shower after a gym class of relatively low intensity... anyway, that's why I got the shirt, yes.
Mark Bellhorn is in the majors again. He's hitting .333 (1 for 3, I think; probably not 2 for 6), and he pinch-hit, walked, and scored tonight for the Reds. Awesome!
Currently, I'm not bored, I'm just insecure. I feel like I'm missing something necessary but not necessarily obvious, and until I find what it is, it'll
~~~
My mom just asked me, "Why are you so dark?" because the light is off in the room. Very good, mom, excellent. --- uhh---
I do wish my skin were darker, and I guess I'm in the minority on that. It's pretty sad how even among people of the same relative skin color, having skin whiter than everyone else's helps you. Unless you're albino, and I can't say I've ever seen an albino person, so forget that.
---
I think I know what I'm missing now. People!
.
.
.
.
people people people people people
ippai
uhhh
mai ippai
The sky is black now, "this suit is black not," I haven't been up at night this late for awhile, and I haven't made a Borat joke in awhile. Well, I guess I have. NOT SO MUCH lately, though.
But this is summer. And I need to be more aware of it. Maybe I should go to Water Country. Yeah, right. The prices must be exorbitant there. "EXORBITANT" is the word used to describe a difficulty level of eight feet in old-school DDR games. Nine feet was "CATASTROPHIC," six feet was "GENUINE," five feet was "MARVELOUS," and so on.
I know I said I'd had too much computer, but I found myself right back here at my mom's computer (mine is off) with a need to write. Can't explain it. It supercedes the need for eye rest, even though I haven't really been using the computer nearly as much as I used to. I guess computers just depress me now.
My t-shirt from the Philippines (I only got two; I should've got more, since they cost about 8 bucks a shirt) that I'm wearing right now says "WESTFIELD ATHL. DEPT." Did you know Westfield retired this year? Yes, he did. No more gym teachers suggesting people take a shower after a gym class of relatively low intensity... anyway, that's why I got the shirt, yes.
Mark Bellhorn is in the majors again. He's hitting .333 (1 for 3, I think; probably not 2 for 6), and he pinch-hit, walked, and scored tonight for the Reds. Awesome!
Currently, I'm not bored, I'm just insecure. I feel like I'm missing something necessary but not necessarily obvious, and until I find what it is, it'll
~~~
My mom just asked me, "Why are you so dark?" because the light is off in the room. Very good, mom, excellent. --- uhh---
I do wish my skin were darker, and I guess I'm in the minority on that. It's pretty sad how even among people of the same relative skin color, having skin whiter than everyone else's helps you. Unless you're albino, and I can't say I've ever seen an albino person, so forget that.
---
I think I know what I'm missing now. People!
.
.
.
.
people people people people people
ippai
uhhh
mai ippai
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