I just realized

that this blog has been a self-indulgent pit of whininess and manufactured sentiment since March 26th. How repulsive. Here is a picture to mollify the frustrated masses:



I am sure I have posted this before, but the impossible touristy-ness of the photo and the image of male-pattern-baldness-baby saying "Okay, now get one of me in front of the crowd" gets me every time.

THIS JUST IN: In an effort to remain as pretentious and procrastinatory as possible, I have moved to Wordpress. This blog, and all of its posts, are now at yourbutts.wordpress.com.

From an article on (God help me) Oprah.com: "Savor your longing. Note the clever way it has of reminding you that you are very much alive."

Old songs

It's funny how there are so many songs that I never used to like until I hear them again, years later, and I am just nostalgic enough to be won over.

I just YouTubed and watched every version of "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" that I could find. Including a High School Musical song with the same name that appears unrelated. The version that I first heard and that made me fall in love with it was an a cappella rendition by Penn Atma, who I normally don't like but who nail this song so beautifully. To date, I haven't found one that I like quite so much.

My assessment of a person's intelligence

is heavily, heavily based on their writing. I know, on a practical level, that there are many different kinds of intelligence, and someone far more brilliant than me at math or science or just about damn anything might still be a sloppy writer. But I can't help it--if I read a person's writing and I don't like it, it makes them appear stupider to me. Some people say that art is a window to a person's soul. If that's the case, then I think writing is a window to their mind. How can someone think deeply, reason thoughtfully, if they can't put those thoughts down? Or, on an even more elementary level, how can someone so smart have failed to pick up on the basic syntactical and grammatical rules that are drilled into our heads since childhood? I would imagine that someone of greater intellectual capacity than me could not only form coherent sentences, but play with the intricacies of language in the same way they play with ideas or equations. Doesn't the problem of how to phrase a thought stir the same intellectual curiosity?

Sigh. It seems like there is a negative correlation between putting a premium on intelligence and valuing good writing.

Uh oh

My senior project advisor, regarding my job in the SIG lab over the summer: "Don't fuck up, because my ass is on the line."

Shit just got serious.

Snatched from the jaws of death yet again

A beacon of hope in the form of two timely extensions has emerged from the murky depths of certain doom. Thank you, Steve Lane and Sanjeev Khanna, for saving the sanity of the mysterious stranger who only occasionally graces you with its presence. The phantom walks for another day.


On a side note, I have been occupying myself with an interesting but glum question: is passion and the theoretical drive towards it enough? Is there really hope, or am I just fooling myself and dragging down whatever poor sod is burdened with me for no reason? In other words, should I continue doing what I love in the expectation that things (well, I) will improve, or should I just face the reality that this is something I will never be able to succeed at?

I break my hiatus to bring you

http://www.marieclaire.com/sex-love/men/

A sex column written by a guy. Don't ask how I found it; I get very creative with my time-wasting.

It's interesting, not because of the content (nothing too enlightening and frankly, pretty bland), but because of the way in which it's written. The columnist is clearly a good writer--he has good phrasing, the sentences flow nicely, and his word choice is varied and intelligent. But, he is also clearly a lazy bum. In fact, the articles read a lot like mine: the basics of competent writing are there, but with zero effort or care. They feel rushed, like he pulled each one out of his ass 10 minutes before the deadline. And in a way, that dedication to minimal effort makes me relate to him. I wouldn't necessarily care to know the guy in real life, but I feel somewhat happy knowing that there is someone else out there hiding their aversion to hard work under a cloak of impeccable grammar and a passable grasp of the English language.

Anyway, back to my real mothertongue: C++, baby.

Hiatus

I am going to hold off on posting for a while, because my entries are going to generally be of the too-much-work, hate-my-dancing, life-as-I-know-it-is-over kind, and that is fun in the sun for no one.

As an offering of peace and regret, here is an axolotl.

I want one.

Sleep

I've been sleeping for the last few nights on the couch in the SIG lab, using my coat as a blanket. At first I could only get in a couple of hours at a time, which was good given the work I have to do. But I have been sleeping more and more, even when I'm not tired. Because for some reason, the dreams I have while sleeping on that couch are the best kind. I fall asleep in the lab and wake up in a world that is exactly the same but richer, fuller, with little happy surprises that are so rare in real life. Somewhere under my stale wool coat is a portal to an alternate universe where all the things that could never happen to me do, and I can't help but escape to it.

Song

I would complain about the fact that I have no one for this song to remind me of. But, I do. I have the people I would complain about it with. :)

I am tired

and lack team spirit. I need a dog or portable friend to take with me everywhere I go and give me company exactly when I need it.

Edit: The "friend" I was imagining would be big and soft and silent. In other words, what I actually want is a comfy heated sofa.

After weeks of nailbiting

I finally received all of my rejections in one day. I guess it is convenient that I will not have any more time to stupidly keep hoping.

I realized today

that I could get a "@sharkattacks.com" email address. Am currently weighing the remote chance of meeting and offending an actual shark attack victim against the unbelievable awesomeness that such an email address would entail.

Pardon my French, but

I am a fuckup. This semester has been abysmal with my complete lack of work ethic, flagrant disregard and disrespect for my classes, inability to complete coursework, and horrible attendance. It is definitely my worst semester so far, and honestly I have no idea what to expect. It has also been the lightest in terms of work, with only 4 classes and my senior project. My animation instructor, after a concerned/angry email about my lack of attendance, extended to me a ray of hope as long as I perform a complete turnaround and clean up my act. I am going to take that ray and apply it to all of my responsibilities. I know I can be a good student if I tried just a little, so really it's shameful that I haven't so far. Well, here's to a deservedly tough--but productive--remaining 3 weeks!

Why I can never keep up with computer scientists

An email that I got today from the CS department, apparently as some sort of joke:

A rogue Turing machine just proved that P = NP after computing for decades
in a West Philadelphia basement. When interviewed by CNN, the aging Turing machine
said that the proof techniques involved many different things, including a
denormalized version of normalized graph cuts of Jianbo, by tweaking the
viscoelastic coefficient of Kostas swimsuit and by using the dissatisfaction primal-dual,
thermal version of Horn clauses, adapting an old result of mine.

The Turing machine is planning to be the host of a new reality show co-hosted with Sarah Palin and
Tiger Woods.

More details on this major event will be forthcoming.

Best,
-- Jean

I do not understand these people, and I do not want to see Kostas in a swimsuit.

Why I can never keep up with the trends

I always get fixated on some particular items of clothing that I see other people wear that I really really want, but by the time I get around to actually shopping for them, they are out of fashion and no longer available.

Also, why am I only ever in a really good mood when it is detrimental to me? I am sick, I have a shitload of work to do, everything that was due this week is now late, I have skipped a ton of mandatory classes, and yet I am fluttering about with a big, idiotic grin on my face and with no motivation to do anything but stare happily at my fingers.

It must be the drugs.

Over the course of two days of shirking all responsibility (at a time when I should be working the hardest) I have successfully managed to extract all sheets from my bed and onto the floor, developed a barking seal-cough in record time, and slept about 20 hours a day. On the plus side, I have also discovered that tea tree oil, while it smells vaguely poisonous, is an excellent spot treatment for acne =).

Black belt testing

I suddenly remember the day I tested for my black belt. We had our Tae kwon do portion and our physical portion. I was given a blue bracelet to wear during the physical portion because of my asthma, intended to place me in a lower-intensity group. I tore it off and joined the normal group, and while we were doing army crawls my pants kept sliding down.

I just had a moment of revelation--I wish I could live on the East Coast. I like the city atmosphere, I like the fact that I'll be close to a bunch of my college friends, I like the fact that every state is driving distance from the next, I like the existence of actual seasons, I like the fashion, the crowds, the rudeness, the culture, the diversity, the dancing. And I think, more than anything, I like the memories that I've made here and the people that I've met. California is beautiful with its pleasant weather, amicable population, and highways that are wide and scenic and go on forever. But it's home, and with that title comes the claustrophobic sense of comfort and monotony that it implies. It's my personal limbo, where no risks are taken, nothing ever happens, and like generic elevator jazz, it swallows me with its emptiness and drives me insane.

Hmph

!

Bah. Another thrilling Friday night at home doing nothing but laundry and ramen-making. What a valuable way to spend one of the last few weekends here. Maybe it's time to add it to the list of things that I pretend do not bother me.

Skulked around deviantart today in hopes that jealousy would propel me into action. It did not, and somehow lead me to look up various twinning deformities on Wikipedia for about 3 hours so that I am now not only unproductive, but also jealous and scarred for life.

After a brief self-inspection

in the art building bathroom, I realized... I had something stuck in my teeth all of samba rehearsal! Eww! Apologies to all who had to witness this. Also, I really need to whiten my teeth. They're not brown, just splotchy. Quite splotchy. And, I have concluded that although my new eyebrows are better than before, they do like to fluff about at every provocation.

I have a sudden inclination to remember what it was like to be a child. I wish I could remember the unwarranted but deeply seeded belief that I could make my own decisions, the hurt refusal to accept things I didn't understand, the desperate desire to live the glamorous lives of others. I wish I could not only remember that, but respect it, because as your life gets richer and more complicated and you see the darker side of growing up, it's easy to dismiss those naive longings. You forget that the same things you see and feel every day seem--to some--so exciting and wild and beautiful.

"There is inside me (and with sadness I have seen it in others) a knot of cruelty borne by the stream of love."

From The Scarlet Ibis by James Hurst

Words cannot describe

how much I love this picture. The bright colors of the birds, the fat puffiness of the male next to the female (I am merely speculating at gender, of course), the sweet and tender pose, the way the out of the focus leaf in the foreground lends a sense of voyeurism to the image... I know that the birds really feel nothing for each other, or for anything at all, and in all likelihood the leaning head was a split-second spasm, but even so I can't help succumbing to the warm-and-fuzzies.

Ramping up

The second half of the semester is going to present a lot of deadlines, and with the alluring but rather disconcerting prospect of actual industry legitimacy dangling in front of us, this means a lot less "Alles Was Zahlt" and a lot more Alles Was SIG Lab. Plus, the Last Show Ever and the Last Competition Ever bring with them the Last Chance Ever to prove to this side of the country (and to myself) that my shuffling around and tripping over my feet can potentially amount to something. Not to mention the thought of only six weeks left to spend with the best friends I've ever had and possibly ever will have (and the corresponding impending loneliness).

Siighh... I long for the days when the end of everything seemed so far away.

Someone I didn't know

in the computer lab talked to me today. Maybe it was because I inadvertently scratched his hand while trying to clear my trash from his side of the table. I should assault strangers more often.

Never plan ahead

After a long and tempestuous romance with my Banana Leaf leftovers, I am finally finished and stuffed to the brim. So much for taking care of lunch for tomorrow.

Also, I am apparently either pregnant or a teenage boy because 5 of my last 6 posts have been about food.

Revelation

Just had a supreme vision: tater tots with pepper jack. Am I a genius?

Yes.

I have spent the last 25 minutes

trying to find a way to voice my thoughts in a manner that does not sound naive, bitter, or overly abstract.

But, I am not a poet nor am I important enough to have real problems. So instead here is a picture of some hot legs:

Pepsi

is better than Coke. Funny, I would have fancied myself a Coke girl.

Doing mentoring tomorrow. I am making a pilgrimage downtown for the sole purpose of buying a pair of opaque leggings in which to display my ass during the class. My hope is to assemble an outfit snazzy enough to distract the newbies from my poor teaching abilities.

Stunning self-realization of the day

I get cranky when I'm hungry. I just grow more and more sophisticated by the minute.

Happy coincidence

My purchase of a bag of frozen tater tots just happened to initiate a two-weeks-and-running streak of random tater tot cravings!

My day

-Wake up at 8:30 and make it to class only 5 minutes late. Me: 1 Laziness: 0
-Sleep through entire 3 hour art class. Chastise myself. Self appears unfazed. Me: 1 Laziness: 4
-Do not sleep through German, but also do not actively participate in class. Me: 1 Laziness: 4
-Come home, put away laundry, put Drano in sink, and make bed. Me: 4 Laziness: 4
-Start to clean room, but give up within a few minutes. Me: 4 Laziness: 5

Conclusion: Laziness wins, but Me = Laziness, so I win anyway.

Such talent

In other news, I have decided that computer science and I have a strained and barely civil relationship that arises mostly from my refusal to get to know the guy a little better. If only we could all just get along, then perhaps I will not have settled quite so comfortably into my role as the dumbest person to have ever taken 660, ever.

Eeee

eeek.

Edit: eek of panic, not of joy.

My grapes

I ate all of my grapes. As worried as I was that I would not finish them, I ate them all and now I am sad because they were the best bunch of grapes I ever bought. =(

To do

1. Get out of this bed.
2. Take proper pictures of figure drawing stuff.
3. Take proper videos of coding stuff.
4. Render out wireframes! People want to see a progression.
5. Do this by Monday.
6. Refuse to depress self by seeing other, better work before then.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Here are some pickles for you:

Lost in Translation

So the German soap I've been watching tends to use a lot of English music, some of which is rather inappropriate. I guess this is okay, because it's unlikely most German viewers would understand the lyrics anyway. I would, however, draw the line with a song that contained the haunting lyrics, "You go and you come... between my thighs" played during a sequence which featured some guy eating strawberries and doing paperwork.

Happiness

There must be something wrong with Philip Glass

because there is no way that a normal person, given the mental and physical abilities that a normal person is typically allotted, can produce something like that.

EDIT: i.e. He is amazing.

The fingernails of my left hand

ARE PERFECT. This event must be commemorated.

I would not mind

Making this a dietary staple for the rest of my life.

An Ode to Lint

Hello there, Lint. I only recently realized what a big role you play in the saga that is my life. I always noticed you, but I wrote you off, never stopping to digest the fact that through thick and thin, from one coast to the other, in childhood and through adolescence into semi-adulthood, you have always been with me. Staking out in my bellybutton, migrating from my socks to the spaces between my toes, finding a permanent home in my sweaters and coats and blankets and pretty much any old fuzzy thing, you have coupled your existence with mine. I have even taken special note of certain members of your kind, like the Lint that resides under Timmy's "balls" that I pick at when pensive or the big blobs of Lint inside my boots. I am not sure whether to thank you for your loyalty or chastise you for being so damn annoying and persistent, but I am sure that wherever I may aimlessly wander to next, you will remain bravely by my side.

ASL pop song

I think I'm in love.

Must stop watching TV

and go to gym instead.

Why

does it seem like I'm the only one who isn't allowed to take things at face value?

Burp

I am on a mission to like beer. I have so far found one kind that I legitimately like, and a few that I can tolerate for a few sips (perhaps an almost-glass).

Much more significant than beer, however, is the recent degeneration of my toenails to short, dark stubs that exist more out of obligation than function. I once painted them in an attempt to disguise their unseemly appearance, but it felt kind of silly, like putting a tutu on a gorilla. Yet another one of the many tolls that dance takes on the well being of my feet.

When we were driving back from SF

it was really really foggy--we couldn't see more than ten feet in front of us--and there was a car coming in the opposite direction with its high beams on. The light scattered in the fog, and there was a sign in front of us which was silhouetted by the scattered light. The guy soon turned his headlights back down, but for about 4 seconds it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

It is somewhat mind boggling to know that there are little gorgeous pieces of nothing everywhere.

The Hurt Locker

is a good movie, despite the fact that I had to take a break at least every 5 minutes to calm my nerves and it took me 3 days to get through.

Probably not entirely true, but

(nicked from PostSecret)
(which doesn't have a URL so I'm not linking to anything)
(well it does, but it's a blog and this isn't on it)


I am officially canceling my New Year's resolution. I realize that one of the only things I like about myself is my immunity to drama. Why should I fight against it? Maybe not stressing out has given me a worse GPA, makes my life a little more boring. It also gives me a sense of perspective that I see a frustrating lack of in a lot of people. So screw it, I'm not going to go inventing trouble. Maybe it's less about making a big deal out of everything and more about just taking more risks. I will do that, and greet whatever hijincks result with open arms.

My mom made bad bread

so she wants to throw it away. But what she doesn't know is

(I secretly would prefer to eat it)

After over a week of being off

my phone has received:

1 mass new year's text from an unknown number
1 roomie text
1 message from my mom, and
0 voicemails

Sigh.

The thought that there is a man in the world in whose head this image originated

terrifies me.

I hate it when it is so cold that my face becomes numb and my nose runs and I don't know it's running because my face is numb and I frolic about with an unattended runny nose.

Even though my phone is dead

I still bring it around to pretend I have someone to text to in awkward situations.

Obligatory New Year's post

I don't know what made 2009 any different from 2008 or 2007, or what will make it any different from 2010. It's not that change has not occurred--it's just that it's hard to quantify the minor ups and downs of a generally unremarkable life into neat little units of time. In my mind it all just runs together, sometimes jumbled and never important.

I always like the think that the best and worst is still to come, but it's my biggest fear that this is not true. Maybe this is it. Maybe I'm doomed to forever reside in the gray, pleasant, bland space between happiness and misery. Maybe it's a sign that I spend every new year's eve in the claustrophobic limbo that is San Jose. Maybe tonight has merely marked the end of nothing and the perpetuation of nothing.

So, resolution: drama! suspense! an inflated sense of self-importance! Life should be more than just something that happens between periods of eating.