For the sake of the double avian kill with one stone, I won't write anything new. I'll just recycle things that have already been said before. If you think about it, once you know someone long enough, you'll never have to say anything new to him/her, and you can just repeat the things you've already said. Rinse and repeat my friends.
Lmiah531: do u kno what time new episodes of scrubs is on
Lmiah531: err what day
FreshPokerOrange: like thursday nights?
Lmiah531: is that it?
Lmiah531: cus i watched thursday
Lmiah531: shit wasnt new
FreshPokerOrange: yeah i know
FreshPokerOrange: that was disappointing
Lmiah531: hell yeah
Lmiah531: what wasnt dissapointing thou was our bowl win 2day
Lmiah531: u watch?
FreshPokerOrange: nah i didn't
FreshPokerOrange: my bad
Lmiah531: lol its all good
FreshPokerOrange: i think season 6 is a little break
Lmiah531: ?
FreshPokerOrange: the next one is also an old one
FreshPokerOrange: of scrubs
FreshPokerOrange: it is supposed to be thurs, 9 pm though
FreshPokerOrange: on a break, i mean
Lmiah531: ohh
Lmiah531: fuck christmas then
Lmiah531: no new daily show till like the 8th either
FreshPokerOrange: yeah, pretty much santa's fault
FreshPokerOrange: or jesus's
-------------
"I'm Santa Claus."
"No, I'm Santa Claus."
"We're also Santa Claus."
"And I'm his friend, Jesus!"
...
"My God, the real Santa! Get him, Jesus!"
"I help those who help themselves!"
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Things overheard on AIM when I'm not there
sunshinadinah: cosy!
sunshinadinah: I mean.. cody!
sunshinadinah: wow
sunshinadinah: that's an awesome typo
sunshinadinah: not only do I approve of cosy things
sunshinadinah: I also approve of british spelling
sunshinadinah: way to have a name that can so easily mean something else accidentally
-------------Fall break in 2 weeks, can't wait for warm-ish weather (and awesome-ish people).
Monday, October 09, 2006
I hope this is not what I sound like to my Chinese professor...
Below I present the machine translation to English of my most recent Chinese essay for CHI 403, provided by Microsoft Word courtesy of WorldLingo:
-------------
I would just like to point out, my name at the top of the document was literally translated to "King." Thank you and good night, my subjects.
"King
CHI 403
2006 Year10 Month 9 Date
（6) Is intervenes the sex compared to the unbalanced time
pg. 83 V. 2) Can the economical situation improvement change the view which the people tradition regards men as superior to women?
The economical situation improvement not impossible to change the Chinese over a thousand years tradition completely in the short-term. Regards men as superior to women in the society in China, the economical influence is only a question part. Looked from Chinese several thousand old histories and the culture that, woman's status falls behind by far man's status. Several dozens year economical development are unable to impel this Taishan.
This said but actually that, the economical situation improvement does not have the help to woman's status. The economical development the new opportunity which brings for the woman is obvious, moreover has given them many before wants not to dare the new life choice continually which thought. In the new open market, the woman can find own work, but does not need to depend on a man's income completely. Like this gave the woman to pursue oneself happiness and the free opportunity. To the modern woman, the divorce or the regard single mother, does not certainly have before was so fearful.
But in a very basic foundation, the Chinese always all is thinks a man compared to a woman “well” to the present. No matter is said the man is more competent than the woman, the man is stronger than the woman, the man can have prospects compared to the woman, the Chinese is in brief thought takes a boy to take a girl to be better than. Although this idea does not have the truth completely, but is similarly very difficult to change. The economical situation improvement only can cause the minimum influence in people's thought, but the true change needs to wait for the society accepts the woman slowly with the man equality idea."
-------------
I would just like to point out, my name at the top of the document was literally translated to "King." Thank you and good night, my subjects.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Adventures in Taking the Road Less Traveled By
I have recently come to the very simple conclusion that walking on foot is for chumps. For example, walking to the Friend Center Tuesday and Thursday mornings for a 10:00 AM computer science lecture is entirely unreasonable, when said walk has to be made in less than 10 minutes because of an overpowering desire to ingest some food items in the morning that consequently leaves me not much more than that amount of time for walking. Likewise, in order to maintain a healthy record of promptness, when the aforementioned lecture ends on time at 10:50 AM I am forced into making another long pilgrimage across campus, to Fine Hall for a deceptively simple-looking number theory class at 11:00 AM. Of course, computer scientists rarely like to end lectures on time, what with being the cool, crazy programming muthafuckas that we are.
Henceforcewith, I deduced that a simple, two-wheeled mechanism might be invested in, in order to more easily accomodate my transportational needs. Inquiries were made at various reputable shops around the township of Princeton; however, these shopkeeps were entirely unreasonable, demanding a minimum of $260 for the most base of these new-fangled "bicycles." Thusly was I coerced into joining that most hated of fraternities of men upon this earth, the brotherhood of those who cannot avoid the ever-present darkness that is Walmart.
Possessing no adequate means of transport at that point in time, I sought out the services of a driver of these new, miraculous horseless carriages. A most unscrupulous character thus baited me into his mechanized monster, who immediately proceeded to shamelessly fleece me for the princely sum of $15 for transport to the nearest (oh how my very soul shudders when I contemplate this-- this abomination) Walmart. So brazen was he that when I finally arrived at my destination, he demanded what in his native tongue he called a "tip." This I take to mean in proper English, "ransom."
Nonetheless, I was arrived at the one location left to me in this strange country wherefore I might acquire a "bicycle." It however being not the most opportune of times for such a purchase, a clerk in the store who looked to be of Jamaican descent, kindly informed me that the most affordable wares had long been dispensed to buyers less tardy and more attentive than myself. I was thus left with the uncomfortable yet necessary decision to purchase a more gentlemanly-priced model, in hopes that such a hefty investment might prove futurely rewarding in terms of quality and ease of maintenance.
When I proceeded to mount my new steed and direct myself homeward, I found the thoroughfare that the knave of a driver had chosen to transport me on proved too constricted to allow passage of an inexperienced rider such as myself. Concisely put, the way was too dangerous a route to be forayed into, given that it allowed passage of only one lane of vehicles in either direction. I considered this a final insult from the evil driver.
As luck would have it, Fortune presented a solution to this impossible riddle of mine, in the guise of a small, gravel path off to the side of the main roads; I might never have noticed this route, were it not for the predicament I thus found myself mired in. Knowing not which way the path led, I followed it with not much more than a vague hope and a vaguer sense of being in pursuit of what may have been something approaching the right direction.
Several miles later, I found U.S. Route 1. Oops, turn around, ride ride ride ride ride, BAM: Princeton University, next right. Thank you random road sign for saving my life. The bike definitely did not look brand new anymore, after this little adventure.
I hate Walmart.
-------------
Reading too much Edgar Allan Poe too fast will fuck you up.
Henceforcewith, I deduced that a simple, two-wheeled mechanism might be invested in, in order to more easily accomodate my transportational needs. Inquiries were made at various reputable shops around the township of Princeton; however, these shopkeeps were entirely unreasonable, demanding a minimum of $260 for the most base of these new-fangled "bicycles." Thusly was I coerced into joining that most hated of fraternities of men upon this earth, the brotherhood of those who cannot avoid the ever-present darkness that is Walmart.
Possessing no adequate means of transport at that point in time, I sought out the services of a driver of these new, miraculous horseless carriages. A most unscrupulous character thus baited me into his mechanized monster, who immediately proceeded to shamelessly fleece me for the princely sum of $15 for transport to the nearest (oh how my very soul shudders when I contemplate this-- this abomination) Walmart. So brazen was he that when I finally arrived at my destination, he demanded what in his native tongue he called a "tip." This I take to mean in proper English, "ransom."
Nonetheless, I was arrived at the one location left to me in this strange country wherefore I might acquire a "bicycle." It however being not the most opportune of times for such a purchase, a clerk in the store who looked to be of Jamaican descent, kindly informed me that the most affordable wares had long been dispensed to buyers less tardy and more attentive than myself. I was thus left with the uncomfortable yet necessary decision to purchase a more gentlemanly-priced model, in hopes that such a hefty investment might prove futurely rewarding in terms of quality and ease of maintenance.
When I proceeded to mount my new steed and direct myself homeward, I found the thoroughfare that the knave of a driver had chosen to transport me on proved too constricted to allow passage of an inexperienced rider such as myself. Concisely put, the way was too dangerous a route to be forayed into, given that it allowed passage of only one lane of vehicles in either direction. I considered this a final insult from the evil driver.
As luck would have it, Fortune presented a solution to this impossible riddle of mine, in the guise of a small, gravel path off to the side of the main roads; I might never have noticed this route, were it not for the predicament I thus found myself mired in. Knowing not which way the path led, I followed it with not much more than a vague hope and a vaguer sense of being in pursuit of what may have been something approaching the right direction.
Several miles later, I found U.S. Route 1. Oops, turn around, ride ride ride ride ride, BAM: Princeton University, next right. Thank you random road sign for saving my life. The bike definitely did not look brand new anymore, after this little adventure.
I hate Walmart.
-------------
Reading too much Edgar Allan Poe too fast will fuck you up.
Friday, September 01, 2006
10 Easy Steps to Growing Up
Step 1:
Nice suit.
This one is actually not that hard to accomplish, and will earn continual dividends for you over the years. A good suit automatically affords you some style, elegance, class, and charm. If you're color coordinated, so much the better; a good shirt, stylish tie, and matching shoes will put you quite far along down the road to success.
All it takes to acquire a fitting piece for your wardrobe is some time, a little patience, some comparison shopping, and a good chunk of change (be prepared to spend at least $200, but you'd be better off at around $300 usually, or $400 if you just happen to fall in love with a piece). Be sure to try on as many suits as you can at each store, and make sure the fit is good for your physique. Each designer has a different size template, so 40R does not always mean 40R. Also, if you don't know your measurements yet, make sure you get yourself measured at the first respectable suit shop you visit (I know suit shop isn't the technical term, cut me some slack... get it slacks? oh God please don't let me do stand up any time soon).
Find a color that matches your skin tones, and that expresses a little something about your sense of style or your personality. Beware of overly gaudy or flashy pieces, no matter how fancy they might be. Pinstripes are cool, only if you can pull them off. And if you have to pause and think about it, then you probably can't. White suits are reserved for movie stars and Kanye West; I have never seen a normal person wear an all-white suit and look good. Greys and browns may work for you, but beware of looking too old-fashioned or boring. Black is always in style, but don't get anything too formal or stiff. The cut of a suit is also important, as a more stylish, slimmer, fitted cut can give off an air of... whatever it is that cool people give off an air of.
Keep in mind some rules about wearing suits:
1) NEVER button the bottom button. This applies to two-button as well as three-button suits.
2) Ties should have something in common with the suit or shirt. Complementary or matching, should be one or the other.
3) Black pants, black belt. Wear a brown belt with black pants, and be prepared to face the consequences. Specifically, the world will end. I'm not kidding. Please don't try it.
4) Black suit, white shirt, black shoes, and conservative tie for job interviews. If you don't know what a job interview is, don't worry about it. In fact, save yourself the money for buying a suit, you won't need it. Go buy yourself a nice trailer home.
Next time, Step 2:
Social Skills
-------------
Do I have any idea what I'm talking about? God no. But we'll see where my advice gets me at Princeton.
(fingers crossed)
Nice suit.
This one is actually not that hard to accomplish, and will earn continual dividends for you over the years. A good suit automatically affords you some style, elegance, class, and charm. If you're color coordinated, so much the better; a good shirt, stylish tie, and matching shoes will put you quite far along down the road to success.
All it takes to acquire a fitting piece for your wardrobe is some time, a little patience, some comparison shopping, and a good chunk of change (be prepared to spend at least $200, but you'd be better off at around $300 usually, or $400 if you just happen to fall in love with a piece). Be sure to try on as many suits as you can at each store, and make sure the fit is good for your physique. Each designer has a different size template, so 40R does not always mean 40R. Also, if you don't know your measurements yet, make sure you get yourself measured at the first respectable suit shop you visit (I know suit shop isn't the technical term, cut me some slack... get it slacks? oh God please don't let me do stand up any time soon).
Find a color that matches your skin tones, and that expresses a little something about your sense of style or your personality. Beware of overly gaudy or flashy pieces, no matter how fancy they might be. Pinstripes are cool, only if you can pull them off. And if you have to pause and think about it, then you probably can't. White suits are reserved for movie stars and Kanye West; I have never seen a normal person wear an all-white suit and look good. Greys and browns may work for you, but beware of looking too old-fashioned or boring. Black is always in style, but don't get anything too formal or stiff. The cut of a suit is also important, as a more stylish, slimmer, fitted cut can give off an air of... whatever it is that cool people give off an air of.
Keep in mind some rules about wearing suits:
1) NEVER button the bottom button. This applies to two-button as well as three-button suits.
2) Ties should have something in common with the suit or shirt. Complementary or matching, should be one or the other.
3) Black pants, black belt. Wear a brown belt with black pants, and be prepared to face the consequences. Specifically, the world will end. I'm not kidding. Please don't try it.
4) Black suit, white shirt, black shoes, and conservative tie for job interviews. If you don't know what a job interview is, don't worry about it. In fact, save yourself the money for buying a suit, you won't need it. Go buy yourself a nice trailer home.
Next time, Step 2:
Social Skills
-------------
Do I have any idea what I'm talking about? God no. But we'll see where my advice gets me at Princeton.
(fingers crossed)
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
I Think I'm in Love with my Dental Hygienist
"Hey, tell Angie her patient's here."
I guess the "patient" was me, and I guess "Angie" must have been the gorgeous blond who came to greet me.
"Hi Cody," she said. I think I said "hi" back. Or maybe I just imagined I did; I know I did imagine what my suave/charming/articulate alter ego, who is far more versed in the art of conversing/flirting with females, would have said. Well, I didn't actually know what he would have said, but it would've been something good, something that would have earned a sexy smile that would have shown off her brilliant teeth. I didn't actually see her teeth, but being a dental hygienist, one assumes that that is true. Plus, she was one of those girls that you just know has an amazing smile, the kind that you wouldn't mind being the last beautiful thing you saw on God's green earth before you died.
"Follow me please." Like she had to tell me to. I would have followed her anywhere, to the ends of the earth if she'd have asked me to.
She led me to a room in the back of the office, and pointed at the standard chair. "Have a seat, Cody." I loved the sound of her voice. It wasn't too girly, too high pitched. It was sexy, but not too sultry. I could almost imagine what it must be like to hear her laugh, the sort of laugh that would make you feel good about yourself too just for having made her laugh. I considered cracking a joke, to test this latest hypothesis. There was nothing funny going on or in sight however, not to mention there's always been some truth to my email address, strugglingcomic@gmail.com.
"So how've you been? Have you had any problems recently?" Wow, not only was she gorgeous, but she also genuinely cared about me. She was it, the perfect girl.
"Umm, not really. Everything's been pretty good," I said. Things had gotten a helluva lot better though since she'd walked into my life. Or had I walked into hers? She was after all, my hygienist; she had a job to do still, and I wouldn't want to get her in any trouble. Our feelings for each other would just have to wait.
"That's good. So it looks like today we'll just be doing a cleaning, ok?" As she spoke, she draped the blue dentist's bib across my chest, and her hand gently brushed against my cheek. I felt it, and I'm sure she did too: the spark of electricity. Her hand was so smooth, so gentle, yet firm as well when she got down to work.
"Sounds good." Anything she said would have sounded good. She could have told me to jump off a cliff, and I'm sure it would have sounded like a brilliant idea.
She sat down herself, and slid her chair behind mine. She reclined my chair down, down, until my head was squarely in her lap. I looked up, and the light illuminated her golden strands of hair perfectly. Angie must be a nickname for Angel.
She looked down at me intently, caringly, passionately. As I looked up, our eyes met, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. Love at first sight. Her eyes were an azure blue, a sharp blue that reminded me of France, of golden sandy beaches, and of swaying to some beautiful jazz on a moon-lit boardwalk. God, she smelled great too.
We didn't say anything else for the next half hour. It would have spoiled the perfection of our time together. We knew it without having to say it to each other. What little time we were allowed to share with each other, we treasured.
"You're going away soon aren't you?" she asked as she finished cleaning up. She was already missing me. Jesus, I was going to miss her too. Maybe it was the spray from the water jet she was using, but I could swear there were tears on her lovely cheeks.
"Yeah... I don't know when I'll be back."
She seemed to sense the sorrow that crept into my voice, and tried to cheer us both up.
"Well, you'll probably be back over Winter Break right? You could schedule an appointment then."
Yes, she was right. I would see her again, in a few months.
When she said "Bye," I almost blurted out "I love you." Instead I nodded, and looked at her with what I'm sure must have been very obvious longing.
-------------
Goodbye Angie, my love.
I guess the "patient" was me, and I guess "Angie" must have been the gorgeous blond who came to greet me.
"Hi Cody," she said. I think I said "hi" back. Or maybe I just imagined I did; I know I did imagine what my suave/charming/articulate alter ego, who is far more versed in the art of conversing/flirting with females, would have said. Well, I didn't actually know what he would have said, but it would've been something good, something that would have earned a sexy smile that would have shown off her brilliant teeth. I didn't actually see her teeth, but being a dental hygienist, one assumes that that is true. Plus, she was one of those girls that you just know has an amazing smile, the kind that you wouldn't mind being the last beautiful thing you saw on God's green earth before you died.
"Follow me please." Like she had to tell me to. I would have followed her anywhere, to the ends of the earth if she'd have asked me to.
She led me to a room in the back of the office, and pointed at the standard chair. "Have a seat, Cody." I loved the sound of her voice. It wasn't too girly, too high pitched. It was sexy, but not too sultry. I could almost imagine what it must be like to hear her laugh, the sort of laugh that would make you feel good about yourself too just for having made her laugh. I considered cracking a joke, to test this latest hypothesis. There was nothing funny going on or in sight however, not to mention there's always been some truth to my email address, strugglingcomic@gmail.com.
"So how've you been? Have you had any problems recently?" Wow, not only was she gorgeous, but she also genuinely cared about me. She was it, the perfect girl.
"Umm, not really. Everything's been pretty good," I said. Things had gotten a helluva lot better though since she'd walked into my life. Or had I walked into hers? She was after all, my hygienist; she had a job to do still, and I wouldn't want to get her in any trouble. Our feelings for each other would just have to wait.
"That's good. So it looks like today we'll just be doing a cleaning, ok?" As she spoke, she draped the blue dentist's bib across my chest, and her hand gently brushed against my cheek. I felt it, and I'm sure she did too: the spark of electricity. Her hand was so smooth, so gentle, yet firm as well when she got down to work.
"Sounds good." Anything she said would have sounded good. She could have told me to jump off a cliff, and I'm sure it would have sounded like a brilliant idea.
She sat down herself, and slid her chair behind mine. She reclined my chair down, down, until my head was squarely in her lap. I looked up, and the light illuminated her golden strands of hair perfectly. Angie must be a nickname for Angel.
She looked down at me intently, caringly, passionately. As I looked up, our eyes met, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. Love at first sight. Her eyes were an azure blue, a sharp blue that reminded me of France, of golden sandy beaches, and of swaying to some beautiful jazz on a moon-lit boardwalk. God, she smelled great too.
We didn't say anything else for the next half hour. It would have spoiled the perfection of our time together. We knew it without having to say it to each other. What little time we were allowed to share with each other, we treasured.
"You're going away soon aren't you?" she asked as she finished cleaning up. She was already missing me. Jesus, I was going to miss her too. Maybe it was the spray from the water jet she was using, but I could swear there were tears on her lovely cheeks.
"Yeah... I don't know when I'll be back."
She seemed to sense the sorrow that crept into my voice, and tried to cheer us both up.
"Well, you'll probably be back over Winter Break right? You could schedule an appointment then."
Yes, she was right. I would see her again, in a few months.
When she said "Bye," I almost blurted out "I love you." Instead I nodded, and looked at her with what I'm sure must have been very obvious longing.
-------------
Goodbye Angie, my love.
Monday, June 26, 2006
This is so dead, I don't even want to talk about it...
Do you ever just sit back and take the time to truly appreciate the ironies of life?
I mean, what if one day, you help a nice, semi-senile old lady across a busy intersection, bid her good day, turn around and walk away, and promptly turn around again just in time to see her get deep fried by a bolt of lightning? Thinking about shit like that is what keeps me from ever walking old ladies across streets.
Really though, irony will fuck with your head. Another example: there exists a certain Facebook group at Princeton, namely "Asian Guys Who Don't Date Asian Girls." I assume it's in protest/competition with the other (and much larger) Facebook group, "Asian Girls Who Don't Date Asian Guys." I am one of only two members of the former, and ironically, the only other member of AGWDDAG (wait a second...) is an Asian girl. I won't even begin to pretend to understand what the fuck God is trying to tell me here.
In China, a 1.25 liter bottle of Pepsi in a moderately-priced restaurant costs a little over (12 yuan) one-third of a fairly good Chinese-English, English-Chinese dictionary from a large (i.e. Barnes & Noble-type) bookstore (32 yuan). Imagine what you could buy in America for a third of a dictionary... Well actually, B&N.com lists the Pocket Oxford Chinese Dictionary (English/Chinese, Chinese/English) for only $17.95 USD. One-third of this amounts to $5.98, which is about equivalent to the price of a large Whopper combo meal at Burger King here. Strangely, a Big Mac combo at a McDonald's in China will again also run you a little over one-third of that same dictionary back in China (this time, 15.50 yuan).
What a fucked up world this is.
I mean, what if one day, you help a nice, semi-senile old lady across a busy intersection, bid her good day, turn around and walk away, and promptly turn around again just in time to see her get deep fried by a bolt of lightning? Thinking about shit like that is what keeps me from ever walking old ladies across streets.
Really though, irony will fuck with your head. Another example: there exists a certain Facebook group at Princeton, namely "Asian Guys Who Don't Date Asian Girls." I assume it's in protest/competition with the other (and much larger) Facebook group, "Asian Girls Who Don't Date Asian Guys." I am one of only two members of the former, and ironically, the only other member of AGWDDAG (wait a second...) is an Asian girl. I won't even begin to pretend to understand what the fuck God is trying to tell me here.
In China, a 1.25 liter bottle of Pepsi in a moderately-priced restaurant costs a little over (12 yuan) one-third of a fairly good Chinese-English, English-Chinese dictionary from a large (i.e. Barnes & Noble-type) bookstore (32 yuan). Imagine what you could buy in America for a third of a dictionary... Well actually, B&N.com lists the Pocket Oxford Chinese Dictionary (English/Chinese, Chinese/English) for only $17.95 USD. One-third of this amounts to $5.98, which is about equivalent to the price of a large Whopper combo meal at Burger King here. Strangely, a Big Mac combo at a McDonald's in China will again also run you a little over one-third of that same dictionary back in China (this time, 15.50 yuan).
What a fucked up world this is.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Oh, Look Who's Cool Now...
'cuz I am writing this blog from China.
Allow that to sink in for a moment. Bask in the miracle of the Internet. Hooray for the most oppressive goernment on Earth (not).
(Your job, is to figure out which thing I just said "not" to)
This place is freaking amazing. Every city block is simultaneously being torn down and built up. You can't look around without seeing either rubble, construction cranes, or donkeys. Oh, and there's bicycles... lots of bicycles.
Pedestrians here have no sense for self-preservation. They cross the streets like they own it. Bicycles and cars, everywhere. Everytime we drive around, I fear for other people's lives. No one ever stops honking. It serves more as a way to let people know you're there than for anything else. It's like New York traffic, only not as romantic.
Everything smells. Bad.
I love this place.
-------------
I love you too.
Allow that to sink in for a moment. Bask in the miracle of the Internet. Hooray for the most oppressive goernment on Earth (not).
(Your job, is to figure out which thing I just said "not" to)
This place is freaking amazing. Every city block is simultaneously being torn down and built up. You can't look around without seeing either rubble, construction cranes, or donkeys. Oh, and there's bicycles... lots of bicycles.
Pedestrians here have no sense for self-preservation. They cross the streets like they own it. Bicycles and cars, everywhere. Everytime we drive around, I fear for other people's lives. No one ever stops honking. It serves more as a way to let people know you're there than for anything else. It's like New York traffic, only not as romantic.
Everything smells. Bad.
I love this place.
-------------
I love you too.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
This May Be the Last Thing that I Write for Long
You see, there's this little place called China. It's just a Mickey Mouse head-shaped country 10,000 miles from... well, here.
12 years. Have you not done anything for 12 years? If it's been 12 years since the last time you did something, then by most accounts you've just given that something up haven't you?
Strange then, that tomorrow feels like the day I come home. Is it still family, when you don't recognize any of them and they don't recognize you? I guess it has to be. It'll always be family.
Oh I am going to miss the Bill of Rights. The Internet. My cell phone. Video games. Microwaves. The Simpsons. Fresh air. Clean water. My Corolla. Privacy. English. Oh boy oh boy, how I am going to miss English.
I'm planning on bringing two bridge books (Bergen for the Defense, and Challenge Your Declarer Play), Hofstadter's Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid, and Feynman's Six Not-So-Easy Pieces. Hopefully, by the time I come back, I'll be good enough to join the Princeton Bridge Club team, understand the universe a little better, and also relearn enough physics so that not taking a class in the fall won't hurt as much.
Wish me luck. Have a marvelous summer.
-------------
Wo ai ni.
12 years. Have you not done anything for 12 years? If it's been 12 years since the last time you did something, then by most accounts you've just given that something up haven't you?
Strange then, that tomorrow feels like the day I come home. Is it still family, when you don't recognize any of them and they don't recognize you? I guess it has to be. It'll always be family.
Oh I am going to miss the Bill of Rights. The Internet. My cell phone. Video games. Microwaves. The Simpsons. Fresh air. Clean water. My Corolla. Privacy. English. Oh boy oh boy, how I am going to miss English.
I'm planning on bringing two bridge books (Bergen for the Defense, and Challenge Your Declarer Play), Hofstadter's Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid, and Feynman's Six Not-So-Easy Pieces. Hopefully, by the time I come back, I'll be good enough to join the Princeton Bridge Club team, understand the universe a little better, and also relearn enough physics so that not taking a class in the fall won't hurt as much.
Wish me luck. Have a marvelous summer.
-------------
Wo ai ni.
Monday, April 17, 2006
They Might Have a Point
You know, I've always thought legal age limits were silly. Let anyone take an aptitude test, for driving, for drinking, for voting, whatever. If they can do it and do it well, without risking harm to others, let them, no matter how young they might be. Such was my attitude towards gambling, as well. If I can be a good gambler, let me into a casino. Hell, I'm still fiscally more responsible than most of the old folks, who range from recently retired to recently deceased, that you'll find in most casino crowds.
And yet, recently I've been thinking. Maybe I'm not such a responsible gambler. After all, I have flipped coins with Randy for anything up to $10 a flip. And I've played 9-ball games for up to $30 a game as well (thank God I won that one). I know, it's not that impressive. But when you manage to lose $80 in the span of 2 hours, you have to ask yourself, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING? GET A FUCKING JOB." Ok, so maybe that last part was not a question.
"How much do you make at your job?"
"Oh, $7.50 an hour."
"Oh that's good."
"What about you?"
"Anywhere from +$90 to -$80."
"..."
-------------
"Oh, Son," my mother said, "why don't you be sensible and go to Harvard or Princeton."
And yet, recently I've been thinking. Maybe I'm not such a responsible gambler. After all, I have flipped coins with Randy for anything up to $10 a flip. And I've played 9-ball games for up to $30 a game as well (thank God I won that one). I know, it's not that impressive. But when you manage to lose $80 in the span of 2 hours, you have to ask yourself, "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING? GET A FUCKING JOB." Ok, so maybe that last part was not a question.
"How much do you make at your job?"
"Oh, $7.50 an hour."
"Oh that's good."
"What about you?"
"Anywhere from +$90 to -$80."
"..."
-------------
"Oh, Son," my mother said, "why don't you be sensible and go to Harvard or Princeton."
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
An Inspiring Sight
7:02 AM, and I'm going to be late to class if I don't hurry up since it takes forever to walk up the stairs and holy crap what the hell is this car accident doing in the courtyard?
It took me a moment to adjust to this new addition to my morning landscape. I stopped walking. Part of me thought I was dead, that that was my car all smashed up and broken, and that I was having some sort of out-of-my-dead-body experience, where my soul was stopping to survey the scene before passing on to heaven. Then I realized, I wouldn't be going to heaven, so odds are, I was probably still alive.
No, it was just the obligatory prom death car. Week before prom, homecoming, and any other activity where students are liable to have fun, the death car is always rolled out, to scare you into driving 30 miles under the speed limit. I mean, yeah, I get why you would do this, but still... somebody somewhere is just bitter they didn't get to enjoy their prom, so they're trying to rain on our parade.
I'll have you know, things like this, I take as a challenge.
It took me a moment to adjust to this new addition to my morning landscape. I stopped walking. Part of me thought I was dead, that that was my car all smashed up and broken, and that I was having some sort of out-of-my-dead-body experience, where my soul was stopping to survey the scene before passing on to heaven. Then I realized, I wouldn't be going to heaven, so odds are, I was probably still alive.
No, it was just the obligatory prom death car. Week before prom, homecoming, and any other activity where students are liable to have fun, the death car is always rolled out, to scare you into driving 30 miles under the speed limit. I mean, yeah, I get why you would do this, but still... somebody somewhere is just bitter they didn't get to enjoy their prom, so they're trying to rain on our parade.
I'll have you know, things like this, I take as a challenge.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Missed Opportunities
It's too late for an April Fool's Joke isn't it? Blast. You know what's worse? I missed my blog's birthday...
That settles it doesn't it? I am a horrible person. ::sigh:: It has been a really long year, since I started writing this. There's probably about 5 or 6 posts I really like. And a couple drafts that still aren't ready to see the light of day/people's eyes/the internet. A long, long year. Funny, there's only about 5 or 6 memories I'm really fond of too. Life, in 2 month intervals. A higher dosage would probably be lethal.
Today was the transition day. I got all my learning done for the day in chem, first. Then I skipped the last 20 minutes of English after an assembly (I think the 3rd one I have ever been to), so +7 cool points for that. Went to lunch, which was technically not accurate since I didn't eat lunch so it was more like, went to that room where other people have the option to eat lunch if they so choose but me I prefer not to kill myself using chicken patties. For some as yet unexplained reason, I was happy for the most of the day. That went away, which is good, because I'm not ready for Happiness. I'd like a little bit more time with my current mistresses, Confusion, Complaceny, and Complaint. A funner orgy was never had by anyone. Yes, I know, that last sentence would not make a good SAT question on the Writing section.
Wow. I have nothing to write about. Or maybe I expect too much in the way of estimating what you might like to hear. Maybe you'd be content with discourses on why Burger King is slowly killing me.
P.S. I am fat.
P.P.S. Yay greasy foods, no exercise, and stress. The over/under on my developing diabetes is 2010. Takers?
That settles it doesn't it? I am a horrible person. ::sigh:: It has been a really long year, since I started writing this. There's probably about 5 or 6 posts I really like. And a couple drafts that still aren't ready to see the light of day/people's eyes/the internet. A long, long year. Funny, there's only about 5 or 6 memories I'm really fond of too. Life, in 2 month intervals. A higher dosage would probably be lethal.
Today was the transition day. I got all my learning done for the day in chem, first. Then I skipped the last 20 minutes of English after an assembly (I think the 3rd one I have ever been to), so +7 cool points for that. Went to lunch, which was technically not accurate since I didn't eat lunch so it was more like, went to that room where other people have the option to eat lunch if they so choose but me I prefer not to kill myself using chicken patties. For some as yet unexplained reason, I was happy for the most of the day. That went away, which is good, because I'm not ready for Happiness. I'd like a little bit more time with my current mistresses, Confusion, Complaceny, and Complaint. A funner orgy was never had by anyone. Yes, I know, that last sentence would not make a good SAT question on the Writing section.
Wow. I have nothing to write about. Or maybe I expect too much in the way of estimating what you might like to hear. Maybe you'd be content with discourses on why Burger King is slowly killing me.
P.S. I am fat.
P.P.S. Yay greasy foods, no exercise, and stress. The over/under on my developing diabetes is 2010. Takers?
Friday, March 31, 2006
I am such a liar
... but I am also an excellent poker player, so I'm neutral. Come to think of it, the former accounts for the latter.
-------------
We now present the following as the first part in what may become a continuing series, featuring conversations between my mother and I... (except where obvious, what ensues happened orignally in chinglish)
"So, who did you hang you out with today?"
"You know who my friends are, mom."
"I know the guys that you're friends with."
"Oh come on, you've met some of the girls too."
"I know... Ernie, Terrorist, and Cheney."
"... excuse me?"
"Did I say those wrong?"
Swear to God, that's what she said.
Sorry, Erin, Taryn, and Channing.
-------------
We now present the following as the first part in what may become a continuing series, featuring conversations between my mother and I... (except where obvious, what ensues happened orignally in chinglish)
"So, who did you hang you out with today?"
"You know who my friends are, mom."
"I know the guys that you're friends with."
"Oh come on, you've met some of the girls too."
"I know... Ernie, Terrorist, and Cheney."
"... excuse me?"
"Did I say those wrong?"
Swear to God, that's what she said.
Sorry, Erin, Taryn, and Channing.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
We Came...
3:45. My alarm clock doesn't have AM or PM symbols. Instead, there is a little dot on the left side that lights up when it is AM. Yes, that dot was burning silently away into the darkness. No, I didn't want to believe her.
My alarm clock must be a girl. Rather, a woman. Her name is Bee, because of the noises she likes to make at me. We have a wonderful time, Bee and I. Especially when I am pounding the top of her head with my drowsy fist trying to find her snooze button. All women should come with snooze buttons. I meant that in the most non-sexist, non-chauvinist way possible, which is still a good deal of both, but who's counting?
3:46. Time crawls when you're two-fifteenths awake. I got up without quite knowing which direction was up. My feet found the floor while my head found its way out of a pleasant little dream involving my winning the 2010 WSOP main event championship, with a first prize of 15 million... not dollars, but Mu Alpha Theta trophies I think. They looked an awful lot like the ones I got at the 2003 State Convention. You know, when life was good and so was I. At math anyways.
A low groan escapes from somewhere within my throat. I wish I had some more normal fantasies.
It's 4:15 when I go to get dressed. Blue jeans, white undershirt, and my trusty old Mu Alpha Theta t-shirt from freshman year. "Divide and Conquer" with Einstein on a horse. Einstein wasn't even a mathematician. I ponder this for about as long as I would ponder who I would save if terrorists kidnapped my entire family and all my friends, and I could only save one person. I've concluded that it would have to be... Xiao Jinyu. She's just too cute to let die. Most of the rest of you believe in heaven anyways, and for those of you that don't, well, I'll make sure you fertilize something nice. She's my tortoise, by the way.
A cup of hot chocolate for breakfast. My life is complete as long as I have hot chocolate. At this point, keeping the previous statement in mind, I think the sole reason I came to America was for hot chocolate.
4:19 and my clock in my Corolla -- my brand new, very underpowered, very ironically white, and very sexy-in-a-demure-Asian-way, Corolla -- does say AM. I'm glad. Even though we've only just met, I think I'm really going to enjoy getting to know her, and handle her. She's... amazing. A little skinny, and a little on the weak side, but I still think she's really gorgeous. She lets me sit in her lap and stare at her perfect, round, smooth instrument panels.
I am a sick, perverted human being I tell myself. I am also late. 4:32 AM, which means I needed to be there two minutes ago. There is something extremely but vaguely malicious about the universe, embodied in this going to school at 4:30 AM on Saturday morning. There is no God because God would not let something so evil happen to me, one of His children whom he loves very much even though I have never gone to church and don't really believe in Him but then again maybe I do. There is a God because He has given me math, hot chocolate, and a tortoise who loves me very much. I am still a sick, perverted human being.
The bus ride is long and dark. Breakfast is preceded by waking up with a bad taste in my mouth, a neck cramp, and the realization that I have a bruise on my head at the spot where my head kept falling and hitting a bolt on the edge of the window whenever I fell asleep. McGriddle. Yum. I would almost rather lick the dirt and piss off the bathroom floor. The coffee tasted like my aforementioned half-wish had come true.
I got a little bit of studying done on the rest of the bust ride. I arrived at Stetson knowing about two BC Calculus homework assignments more than when I left my house. I almost prayed for myself to do better. Almost.
... in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Nimish, amen.
-------------
"The truth seems to be, however, that when he casts his leaves forth upon the wind, the author addresses, not the many who will fling aside his volume, or never take it up, but the few who will understand him better than most of his schoolmates or lifemates. Some authors, indeed, do far more than this, and indulge themselves in such confidential depths of revelation as could fittingly be addressed only and exclusively to the one heart and mind of perfect sympathy; as if the printed book, thrown at large on the wide world, were certain to find out the divided segment of the writer's own nature, and complete his circle of existence by bringing him into communion with it."
- Nathaniel Hawthorne, "The Custom House - Introductory," The Scarlet Letter
My alarm clock must be a girl. Rather, a woman. Her name is Bee, because of the noises she likes to make at me. We have a wonderful time, Bee and I. Especially when I am pounding the top of her head with my drowsy fist trying to find her snooze button. All women should come with snooze buttons. I meant that in the most non-sexist, non-chauvinist way possible, which is still a good deal of both, but who's counting?
3:46. Time crawls when you're two-fifteenths awake. I got up without quite knowing which direction was up. My feet found the floor while my head found its way out of a pleasant little dream involving my winning the 2010 WSOP main event championship, with a first prize of 15 million... not dollars, but Mu Alpha Theta trophies I think. They looked an awful lot like the ones I got at the 2003 State Convention. You know, when life was good and so was I. At math anyways.
A low groan escapes from somewhere within my throat. I wish I had some more normal fantasies.
It's 4:15 when I go to get dressed. Blue jeans, white undershirt, and my trusty old Mu Alpha Theta t-shirt from freshman year. "Divide and Conquer" with Einstein on a horse. Einstein wasn't even a mathematician. I ponder this for about as long as I would ponder who I would save if terrorists kidnapped my entire family and all my friends, and I could only save one person. I've concluded that it would have to be... Xiao Jinyu. She's just too cute to let die. Most of the rest of you believe in heaven anyways, and for those of you that don't, well, I'll make sure you fertilize something nice. She's my tortoise, by the way.
A cup of hot chocolate for breakfast. My life is complete as long as I have hot chocolate. At this point, keeping the previous statement in mind, I think the sole reason I came to America was for hot chocolate.
4:19 and my clock in my Corolla -- my brand new, very underpowered, very ironically white, and very sexy-in-a-demure-Asian-way, Corolla -- does say AM. I'm glad. Even though we've only just met, I think I'm really going to enjoy getting to know her, and handle her. She's... amazing. A little skinny, and a little on the weak side, but I still think she's really gorgeous. She lets me sit in her lap and stare at her perfect, round, smooth instrument panels.
I am a sick, perverted human being I tell myself. I am also late. 4:32 AM, which means I needed to be there two minutes ago. There is something extremely but vaguely malicious about the universe, embodied in this going to school at 4:30 AM on Saturday morning. There is no God because God would not let something so evil happen to me, one of His children whom he loves very much even though I have never gone to church and don't really believe in Him but then again maybe I do. There is a God because He has given me math, hot chocolate, and a tortoise who loves me very much. I am still a sick, perverted human being.
The bus ride is long and dark. Breakfast is preceded by waking up with a bad taste in my mouth, a neck cramp, and the realization that I have a bruise on my head at the spot where my head kept falling and hitting a bolt on the edge of the window whenever I fell asleep. McGriddle. Yum. I would almost rather lick the dirt and piss off the bathroom floor. The coffee tasted like my aforementioned half-wish had come true.
I got a little bit of studying done on the rest of the bust ride. I arrived at Stetson knowing about two BC Calculus homework assignments more than when I left my house. I almost prayed for myself to do better. Almost.
... in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Nimish, amen.
-------------
"The truth seems to be, however, that when he casts his leaves forth upon the wind, the author addresses, not the many who will fling aside his volume, or never take it up, but the few who will understand him better than most of his schoolmates or lifemates. Some authors, indeed, do far more than this, and indulge themselves in such confidential depths of revelation as could fittingly be addressed only and exclusively to the one heart and mind of perfect sympathy; as if the printed book, thrown at large on the wide world, were certain to find out the divided segment of the writer's own nature, and complete his circle of existence by bringing him into communion with it."
- Nathaniel Hawthorne, "The Custom House - Introductory," The Scarlet Letter
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Me <3 Princeton
Obviously, but here's something to tide you over, while I write up a decent post from Stetson...
-------------
Princeton University, Math 214 (Numbers, Equations and Proof), Fall 2004-2005 Midterm, Administered 20 October 2004
Extra Credit:
In his book The Road Ahead, Bill Gates wrote:
"Because both the system's privacy and the security of digital money depend on encryption, a breakthrough in mathematics or computer science that defeats the cryptographic system could be a disaster. The obvious mathematical breakthrough would be development of an easy way to factor large prime numbers. Any person or organization possessing this power could counterfeit money, penetrate any personal, corporate, or government file, and possibly even undermine the security of nations..."
Why is the sentence beginning "the obvious mathematical breakthrough...?" unintentionally funny? What did Gates actually mean to say?
-------------
I didn't know what love was, until I met you, Princeton.
-------------
Princeton University, Math 214 (Numbers, Equations and Proof), Fall 2004-2005 Midterm, Administered 20 October 2004
Extra Credit:
In his book The Road Ahead, Bill Gates wrote:
"Because both the system's privacy and the security of digital money depend on encryption, a breakthrough in mathematics or computer science that defeats the cryptographic system could be a disaster. The obvious mathematical breakthrough would be development of an easy way to factor large prime numbers. Any person or organization possessing this power could counterfeit money, penetrate any personal, corporate, or government file, and possibly even undermine the security of nations..."
Why is the sentence beginning "the obvious mathematical breakthrough...?" unintentionally funny? What did Gates actually mean to say?
-------------
I didn't know what love was, until I met you, Princeton.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Dawn of the... Not-quite-dead?
Well, after all of the fat lady's singing (actually, there were four of them, they were called Fourte, and they were all very attractive, talented young ladies from FSU), the gift-bag giving (courtesy of Micro-"we own you, your computer, and everything in between"-soft, Casio, and Maplesoft), and the trying to eat lobster with fork and knife, I'm home.
Home, Sweet "omg, i have to go to school again" Home.
Suck it up.
Home, Sweet "omg, i have to go to school again" Home.
Suck it up.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Dying, Dying, ... Dead!
You know, at this point, if I could be any more exhausted, I would be. But I have only myself to blame, blah blah blah. I don't even blame myself anymore. This is just how I operate:
"Hey Cody, big project due next month."
"Awesome."
...
"Hey Cody, how's that project coming along?"
"What project?"
...
"Hey Cody, you sure you don't want me to go over that big project of yours with you?"
"I'm still working on it."
"It's due in 5 days."
"Wow, 5 whole days? Gee, thanks!"
...
It's just not fun until your ass is on the line.
"Hey Cody, big project due next month."
"Awesome."
...
"Hey Cody, how's that project coming along?"
"What project?"
...
"Hey Cody, you sure you don't want me to go over that big project of yours with you?"
"I'm still working on it."
"It's due in 5 days."
"Wow, 5 whole days? Gee, thanks!"
...
It's just not fun until your ass is on the line.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Things Fall Into Place
(coming soon to a computer near you)
...
Edit: February 26, 2006
(ok, so "soon" means something different when life comes at you like a hail storm of sharp screwdrivers falling from the sky... oh, and uh just for kicks, you're naked)
(ouch)
-------------
Instead of a new post, this will be a "best of" show. We bring you "A Cup of Juice From the IB Coffeehouse," dated April 19th, 2005:
While it's fresh in my mind, let me bring you a snapshot of my night at the IB Coffeehouse.
Leaving home at around roughly 6:02:17 PM, I'm kinda jittery walking out the door. Of course I'd never tried to do anything so cool in public ever before. I weaved through the evening traffic like a madman, getting to school in 10 minutes flat. About the fastest time ever for me. I guess I drive faster when I'm nervous.
First things I notice walking towards the gates in front of the courtyard are the three cars parked there. Unloading drums, amps, speakers, etc. I half-wondered if I was supposed to bring my own mike. Nahh, these were IB kids, heck we share Extended Essays, who cares about a mike?
Walked into the cafeteria to kinda get a feel for the place. Yes I've been in the cafeteria before, but this was different. The air felt different. Made a few casual greetings, checked with Ms. Lowry to confirm that I could use different material than what I had auditioned with, and then proceeded to a bench in the courtyard to write up the aforementioned new material. Oh man, I'd been so busy with everything that I hadn't had time to go over my act at all since auditions 2 weeks ago. It sucked. It didn't even sound funny to me anymore. Eh, I still had time. Busted out the ITT Tech clipboard and my trusty notepad plus lucky blue pen (yes I believe in lucky blue pens), and started writing.
Oh God, writing feels comfortable. I've had some ideas floating around my head for a few days, and now I had a chance to straighten them out and deliver them to myself. I reworked my opening, added a new joke close to the beginning, and changed up the order of the rest of my material. I also decided to forego the "prime telephone number" joke, on the sole advice of one J. F. Kregler, a.k.a. Sir Sucksalot. I'd only gotten through half a page before my watch hit 6:30 and I walked back inside.
Boy, there sure were a lot of people in that previously empty cafeteria. Now I started getting a little more nervous. I found a seat in a corner (maybe you haven't noticed, but I like corners) and scribbled away furiously as friends seated themselves around me and made casual remarks to the effect of "IT'S CODY-TIME, WOOOO." Do you have any conception how hard it is to write anything when the person next to you is screaming "GOOOO (your name)!!!" once every 7 seconds? I was done with about a page's worth of material when Madamoiselle Zebrowski opened the night. And as rock music blared through the air and filled my ears, I tried my best to find the sense of humor I had lost along with my sanity and a good pair of safety scissors when I entered IB.
Time flies when you're waiting for your name to be called. I'd barely finished writing down the basic sketch of how my act was going to go when Madamoiselle Zebrowski's voice reentered my consciousness.
Showtime.
And when you finally get up there, and grab the mike in your hand, and look across that sea of faces, you know it's time. You know this is what you've been waiting for. And once that moment hits you, you're ready, whether you know it or not.
I didn't even know what the word "nervous" meant anymore.
Oh and by the way, everybody else rocked like the neolithic age. You guys have got some real talent, and you have no idea how amazing I thought everybody was. Saying that I was impressed would be far too condescending. Let's just say that if there was a word for "amazed beyond the capability of the English language to express that amazement," I'd use it right about now.
Also, I am no good at taking compliments. So thanks to everyone who told me good job. I appreciate it. Mucho. Tonight has completely made my day/week/month/existence.
...
Edit: February 26, 2006
(ok, so "soon" means something different when life comes at you like a hail storm of sharp screwdrivers falling from the sky... oh, and uh just for kicks, you're naked)
(ouch)
-------------
Instead of a new post, this will be a "best of" show. We bring you "A Cup of Juice From the IB Coffeehouse," dated April 19th, 2005:
While it's fresh in my mind, let me bring you a snapshot of my night at the IB Coffeehouse.
Leaving home at around roughly 6:02:17 PM, I'm kinda jittery walking out the door. Of course I'd never tried to do anything so cool in public ever before. I weaved through the evening traffic like a madman, getting to school in 10 minutes flat. About the fastest time ever for me. I guess I drive faster when I'm nervous.
First things I notice walking towards the gates in front of the courtyard are the three cars parked there. Unloading drums, amps, speakers, etc. I half-wondered if I was supposed to bring my own mike. Nahh, these were IB kids, heck we share Extended Essays, who cares about a mike?
Walked into the cafeteria to kinda get a feel for the place. Yes I've been in the cafeteria before, but this was different. The air felt different. Made a few casual greetings, checked with Ms. Lowry to confirm that I could use different material than what I had auditioned with, and then proceeded to a bench in the courtyard to write up the aforementioned new material. Oh man, I'd been so busy with everything that I hadn't had time to go over my act at all since auditions 2 weeks ago. It sucked. It didn't even sound funny to me anymore. Eh, I still had time. Busted out the ITT Tech clipboard and my trusty notepad plus lucky blue pen (yes I believe in lucky blue pens), and started writing.
Oh God, writing feels comfortable. I've had some ideas floating around my head for a few days, and now I had a chance to straighten them out and deliver them to myself. I reworked my opening, added a new joke close to the beginning, and changed up the order of the rest of my material. I also decided to forego the "prime telephone number" joke, on the sole advice of one J. F. Kregler, a.k.a. Sir Sucksalot. I'd only gotten through half a page before my watch hit 6:30 and I walked back inside.
Boy, there sure were a lot of people in that previously empty cafeteria. Now I started getting a little more nervous. I found a seat in a corner (maybe you haven't noticed, but I like corners) and scribbled away furiously as friends seated themselves around me and made casual remarks to the effect of "IT'S CODY-TIME, WOOOO." Do you have any conception how hard it is to write anything when the person next to you is screaming "GOOOO (your name)!!!" once every 7 seconds? I was done with about a page's worth of material when Madamoiselle Zebrowski opened the night. And as rock music blared through the air and filled my ears, I tried my best to find the sense of humor I had lost along with my sanity and a good pair of safety scissors when I entered IB.
Time flies when you're waiting for your name to be called. I'd barely finished writing down the basic sketch of how my act was going to go when Madamoiselle Zebrowski's voice reentered my consciousness.
Showtime.
And when you finally get up there, and grab the mike in your hand, and look across that sea of faces, you know it's time. You know this is what you've been waiting for. And once that moment hits you, you're ready, whether you know it or not.
I didn't even know what the word "nervous" meant anymore.
Oh and by the way, everybody else rocked like the neolithic age. You guys have got some real talent, and you have no idea how amazing I thought everybody was. Saying that I was impressed would be far too condescending. Let's just say that if there was a word for "amazed beyond the capability of the English language to express that amazement," I'd use it right about now.
Also, I am no good at taking compliments. So thanks to everyone who told me good job. I appreciate it. Mucho. Tonight has completely made my day/week/month/existence.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Growing Up
So, differential equations. Exactly as hard as it sounds. I made two dumb mistakes on my first Diff. Eq. test. Probably got something in the mid-70s. Nice temperature. Not so nice grade.
But there is one thing I really like about the class. I'm not treated like a kid anymore. I don't need to feel guilty when I miss class, or don't do homework, or bomb a test. Hey, it's my life, my responsibility, and I do enjoy it so much when other people don't feel the need to try and tell me what's best for myself.
Welcome to being your own reason.
-------------
Now for something a little more light-hearted.
I wore glasses today, for the first time in never. I also dressed up a little bit for the IB and senior pictures. Yeah, call me old-fashioned but I still like to look just as bad even as I try not to. But apparently, when I do both of these things ON THE SAME DAY, I turn into a different person. According to some sources, my dad.
Even Mr. Burton asked me if this was my new look, or just something he hadn't seen before.
Yeah, that's it. My new look is to look like my dad.
-------------
-- Homer opens his fortune cookie and reads his fortune.
Homer: [reading his fortune] "You will find happiness with a new love." [out loud] Aw, even the Chinese are against me. [sigh] What's the point? I can't fight fate.
[In the kitchen...]
Man 1: Hey, we're out of these "New Love" cookies.
Man 2: Well, open up the "Stick With Your Wife" barrel.
-- Controversial fortune cookies, "The Last Temptation of Homer"
But there is one thing I really like about the class. I'm not treated like a kid anymore. I don't need to feel guilty when I miss class, or don't do homework, or bomb a test. Hey, it's my life, my responsibility, and I do enjoy it so much when other people don't feel the need to try and tell me what's best for myself.
Welcome to being your own reason.
-------------
Now for something a little more light-hearted.
I wore glasses today, for the first time in never. I also dressed up a little bit for the IB and senior pictures. Yeah, call me old-fashioned but I still like to look just as bad even as I try not to. But apparently, when I do both of these things ON THE SAME DAY, I turn into a different person. According to some sources, my dad.
Even Mr. Burton asked me if this was my new look, or just something he hadn't seen before.
Yeah, that's it. My new look is to look like my dad.
-------------
-- Homer opens his fortune cookie and reads his fortune.
Homer: [reading his fortune] "You will find happiness with a new love." [out loud] Aw, even the Chinese are against me. [sigh] What's the point? I can't fight fate.
[In the kitchen...]
Man 1: Hey, we're out of these "New Love" cookies.
Man 2: Well, open up the "Stick With Your Wife" barrel.
-- Controversial fortune cookies, "The Last Temptation of Homer"
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Happy Chinese New Year!
In case you haven't smelled it coming yet, yes folks, this is the Year of the Dog.
"Experts warn pet-owners to shoot all Chinamen on sight"
As part of my anti-anti-sociality training, I took Erin and JFK to the Chinese New Year Festival at C-Side, this past Saturday. Erin, because she's undertaking to learn Mandarin. John F. Kennedy, because he's dead and hasn't been to a good party in a long time. I wanted to keep that streak going for him.
Ok, so Joseph Francis Kregler also works. (Attention all Internet child molesters: if his full name is not enough, email me at strugglingcomic@gmail.com and I will forward you his home address and phone number.)
Things we learned:
1) The Chinese Communist Party leadership wished us all a Happy New Year, c/o of the Chinese Consulate in Houston.
2) The cute Chinese children flanked us on all sides and began their bombardment.
3) Box dinner means what it says.
4) Raffles are not meant to be won, especially not by the cheap tickets, and especially not by white people.
5) I have no conman-skills, yet...
6) There are no attractive Chinese females around my age.
Then we hit a Blockbuster (that hurt), and couldn't decide what to get. The Aristocrats was unavailable for rental, so me being the smart business man that I am, I go and find the last and only copy for sale. And "for mature audiences only" apparently now means, "for 17-year-old Chinese boys who aren't too good at trying to look older than they are."
Did I mention Erin was still there? She watched Moulin Rouge on my iPod (wait, how'd that get on there?) while JFK and I watched Billy the Mime tell the joke in pantomime.
Seriously, that was even cooler than it sounds (pun totally intended).
At this point, Erin refused to vacate the premises, even at the request of the manager/owner, and so it was deemed necessary to throw her out. Literally. By the time we got to her house, it was 9:52 PM, and I was dangerously close to missing the new episode of Hustle. Even at my most reckless, there was no way I would have made it home in 8 minutes (Later when I did go home, I cut the trip to 14 minutes flat, running 2 red lights and scaring the hell out of 3 pedestrians. Speed limits are only half of what they should be anyways.)
Phone calls were made, smooth-talking was talked, and I introduced Erin to the magic that is Hustle:
Danny Blue: "What do you know about alarms?"
Ash Morgan: "I know about everything."
Danny Blue: "Oh, you know about everything, okay, if you know about everything, what's the capital of Luxembourg?"
Ash Morgan: "Luxembourg City."
Danny Blue: "...You're good."
Somehow, I also have to take dancing lessons now.
-------------
Our collective resolution for 2006?
Get the world to drop the "Chinese" and have ours be the New Year.
"Experts warn pet-owners to shoot all Chinamen on sight"
As part of my anti-anti-sociality training, I took Erin and JFK to the Chinese New Year Festival at C-Side, this past Saturday. Erin, because she's undertaking to learn Mandarin. John F. Kennedy, because he's dead and hasn't been to a good party in a long time. I wanted to keep that streak going for him.
Ok, so Joseph Francis Kregler also works. (Attention all Internet child molesters: if his full name is not enough, email me at strugglingcomic@gmail.com and I will forward you his home address and phone number.)
Things we learned:
1) The Chinese Communist Party leadership wished us all a Happy New Year, c/o of the Chinese Consulate in Houston.
2) The cute Chinese children flanked us on all sides and began their bombardment.
3) Box dinner means what it says.
4) Raffles are not meant to be won, especially not by the cheap tickets, and especially not by white people.
5) I have no conman-skills, yet...
6) There are no attractive Chinese females around my age.
Then we hit a Blockbuster (that hurt), and couldn't decide what to get. The Aristocrats was unavailable for rental, so me being the smart business man that I am, I go and find the last and only copy for sale. And "for mature audiences only" apparently now means, "for 17-year-old Chinese boys who aren't too good at trying to look older than they are."
Did I mention Erin was still there? She watched Moulin Rouge on my iPod (wait, how'd that get on there?) while JFK and I watched Billy the Mime tell the joke in pantomime.
Seriously, that was even cooler than it sounds (pun totally intended).
At this point, Erin refused to vacate the premises, even at the request of the manager/owner, and so it was deemed necessary to throw her out. Literally. By the time we got to her house, it was 9:52 PM, and I was dangerously close to missing the new episode of Hustle. Even at my most reckless, there was no way I would have made it home in 8 minutes (Later when I did go home, I cut the trip to 14 minutes flat, running 2 red lights and scaring the hell out of 3 pedestrians. Speed limits are only half of what they should be anyways.)
Phone calls were made, smooth-talking was talked, and I introduced Erin to the magic that is Hustle:
Danny Blue: "What do you know about alarms?"
Ash Morgan: "I know about everything."
Danny Blue: "Oh, you know about everything, okay, if you know about everything, what's the capital of Luxembourg?"
Ash Morgan: "Luxembourg City."
Danny Blue: "...You're good."
Somehow, I also have to take dancing lessons now.
-------------
Our collective resolution for 2006?
Get the world to drop the "Chinese" and have ours be the New Year.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Time for you know what
There really is no better time to blog than 12:43 AM. Holy crap, it's frozen. Seriously, my clock ain't moving. Hehe, I broke time, yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy... never mind, there it goes.
So, I've been pretty much incommunicado for the last 2.5 days, and by now the math teachers probably have a bounty on my head. Hey, guess what's not happening on Saturday at our high school? What, not an Invitational competition, with 1200 students or so expected to come? Oh no, no way.
I've panicked before. It's not new. It's more fun this time though. Panic, panic, panic. I should take up biting my fingernails. Or professional procrastination. Where you get paid to not do things.
Oh man. I need to stop. STOP.
-------------
You will wake up and fall out of bed tomorrow moring. Don't land on anything sharp.
- Practical fortune cookies brought to you by, Cody "Look it's 12:48" Wang.
So, I've been pretty much incommunicado for the last 2.5 days, and by now the math teachers probably have a bounty on my head. Hey, guess what's not happening on Saturday at our high school? What, not an Invitational competition, with 1200 students or so expected to come? Oh no, no way.
I've panicked before. It's not new. It's more fun this time though. Panic, panic, panic. I should take up biting my fingernails. Or professional procrastination. Where you get paid to not do things.
Oh man. I need to stop. STOP.
-------------
You will wake up and fall out of bed tomorrow moring. Don't land on anything sharp.
- Practical fortune cookies brought to you by, Cody "Look it's 12:48" Wang.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Addendum
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Taryn is great,
but I'll leave the end-rhyme to you.
-------------
That's as close to an ode as you're ever going to get from me. :-)
Violets are blue.
Taryn is great,
but I'll leave the end-rhyme to you.
-------------
That's as close to an ode as you're ever going to get from me. :-)
And I thought this would be easy
Disregarding the last, super lame comment on my blog (Karan, are you serious? Why do I need gas?), I seem to have one and only one faithful reader.
And when I say faithful, I mean she likes to goad me into writing more and working less. And when I say working less, I mean not at all.
I'm sure you all know her quite well by now; her own xanga was quite famous in its time, and her current blog, though less profilic, is nonetheless well-appreciated by critics Internet-wide. Ok, so the only comment she's gotten in the past 2 or 3 months was from a spamming Forest Ranger's blog, but what the hey? We still love her.
... By the way, I wouldn't actually click that last link if I were you; we're fairly certain there will be worms and trojans and automatic porn-downloading viruses involved.
Perhaps she trolls my blog because we're kindred spirits. Perhaps she's awed by my wonderous command of the English language. Nah. She just likes to poke (yes, poke) fun at me, and there's nowhere better than here to load up on ammunition.
Good luck with that English presentation.
-------------
T.D., I hope you appreciate this shout-out. It took me 45 minutes just to log in.
And when I say faithful, I mean she likes to goad me into writing more and working less. And when I say working less, I mean not at all.
I'm sure you all know her quite well by now; her own xanga was quite famous in its time, and her current blog, though less profilic, is nonetheless well-appreciated by critics Internet-wide. Ok, so the only comment she's gotten in the past 2 or 3 months was from a spamming Forest Ranger's blog, but what the hey? We still love her.
... By the way, I wouldn't actually click that last link if I were you; we're fairly certain there will be worms and trojans and automatic porn-downloading viruses involved.
Perhaps she trolls my blog because we're kindred spirits. Perhaps she's awed by my wonderous command of the English language. Nah. She just likes to poke (yes, poke) fun at me, and there's nowhere better than here to load up on ammunition.
Good luck with that English presentation.
-------------
T.D., I hope you appreciate this shout-out. It took me 45 minutes just to log in.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
By Popular Demand
Now, context is a very important thing. Things that are fine when said in context become capital offenses in an inappropriate setting.
Example: the three little words "I love you." When uttered in the middle of a good laugh among best friends, it is a great way of showing affection. No one takes offense to it, and everyone loves each other all the more for having said it. However, if you so much as whisper these three little words on say, a first date... boy oh boy, are you in a world of hurt.
Why the little spiel? Well, popular means different things to different people. When used in the title of an otherwise unspectacular blog, "popular demand" really just means one person happened to mention that I hadn't blogged in a while.
Yay for low expectations and being easily influenced. Actually, it's more like, I felt flattered that at least someone noticed I hadn't blogged, and so I'm really doing this to sort of show off. Excuse me while I go polish some Mu Alpha Theta trophies too, by the way.
One thing I've been wondering for the past few weeks, and I don't know how to find out the answer to this either... would Princeton rescind my admission if I got straight B's second semester? I think if I got more than 2 C's, they probably would... but exactly how badly do I need to do before they say, "sorry kid, you ran out of gas." Boy, talk about a kick in the crotch, that doubles you over in pain so that you don't see the pile of dog shit that you're about to fall face first into as you collapse in pain, and when you do realize your face is covered in dog shit, you jump up and run blindly trying to find water or something, only you end up running across some busy intersection and instead of just falling face first in excrement, you also fall face first into a speeding semi-truck loaded with (oh the irony... wait for it, wait for it) horse manure.
It seems like that should be a Darwin award... only not.
-------------
You will soon realize fortune cookies are meaningless.
Example: the three little words "I love you." When uttered in the middle of a good laugh among best friends, it is a great way of showing affection. No one takes offense to it, and everyone loves each other all the more for having said it. However, if you so much as whisper these three little words on say, a first date... boy oh boy, are you in a world of hurt.
Why the little spiel? Well, popular means different things to different people. When used in the title of an otherwise unspectacular blog, "popular demand" really just means one person happened to mention that I hadn't blogged in a while.
Yay for low expectations and being easily influenced. Actually, it's more like, I felt flattered that at least someone noticed I hadn't blogged, and so I'm really doing this to sort of show off. Excuse me while I go polish some Mu Alpha Theta trophies too, by the way.
One thing I've been wondering for the past few weeks, and I don't know how to find out the answer to this either... would Princeton rescind my admission if I got straight B's second semester? I think if I got more than 2 C's, they probably would... but exactly how badly do I need to do before they say, "sorry kid, you ran out of gas." Boy, talk about a kick in the crotch, that doubles you over in pain so that you don't see the pile of dog shit that you're about to fall face first into as you collapse in pain, and when you do realize your face is covered in dog shit, you jump up and run blindly trying to find water or something, only you end up running across some busy intersection and instead of just falling face first in excrement, you also fall face first into a speeding semi-truck loaded with (oh the irony... wait for it, wait for it) horse manure.
It seems like that should be a Darwin award... only not.
-------------
You will soon realize fortune cookies are meaningless.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Kicking off the New Year with an Old Tradition...
Haha, time to get back to work.
"Boy, I haven't done this in ages."
"Done what?"
"Blogged instead of doing IB homework."
"Man, you're right."
"Wicked."
"Shut up."
Chemistry IA, you say? Why the heck should I, when I've got so many better things to do? Sarcasm, you say? Damn well right sarcasm.
It's ok, I can afford it. I like having a positive balance in the emotional bank account from which I can draw upon. How did it get there? I'm not sure. It just sort of... materialized.
Don't you love it when things come together like that?
-------------
Love. She's a funny word she is. I meant it though. As far as I know, I meant it.
"Boy, I haven't done this in ages."
"Done what?"
"Blogged instead of doing IB homework."
"Man, you're right."
"Wicked."
"Shut up."
Chemistry IA, you say? Why the heck should I, when I've got so many better things to do? Sarcasm, you say? Damn well right sarcasm.
It's ok, I can afford it. I like having a positive balance in the emotional bank account from which I can draw upon. How did it get there? I'm not sure. It just sort of... materialized.
Don't you love it when things come together like that?
-------------
Love. She's a funny word she is. I meant it though. As far as I know, I meant it.
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