I love demotivators! I made my own downer parody of the popular Motivation posters:
You can make your own at Despair.com
Tommy V2 Facebook Page
No doubt there are at least a few fans of Tommy V2 reading this blog. He definitely railed against facebook in one of his articles, “Facebook is the End of Humanity“. But Facebook is just too addictive not to be a part of, no matter how much we all realize it to be an opposer of normal social interaction (you know…between people in the real world). For those people who feel conflicted emotions between agreeing with the comedic intellect of Tommy V2 –like a blind lemming before its untimely death from casual acceptance of suicidal acts — and love of Facebook, there is the Facebook page for fans of Tommy V2. You have to be registered on Facebook to join. Be an unapologetic hypocrite like Tom today!
You Make Me Ill…
I love my computer. This is a known fact to most people who have seen my already hugemongous backpack during the school year; I can’t help packing an extra 6 pounds of laptop and 3 pounds of power adapter in there! It’s to the point where I consider it weight lifting.
Well, ot is probably more accurate to say I love the internet, not the computer. But non-web computer softwares are okay too. I mean, I could survive without my connection to the rest of the world. I could just go other stuff like sit in the sun. But then, I could go live as a hermit on a mountain. On days when I don’t have the internet, that’s what I feel like!
On Sunday, I my computer was attacked by a backdoor Trojan. This would normally not be a non-issue. I’m used to slow computers (although now it annoys me to no end) so I have more patience than would normally be practical. The problem is that this attack was sabotaging my attempts to enter WordPress and search on Google. This is unacceptable! I was forced to take it to IT services at school on Monday, where they’re supposed to fix this nonsense for me. I was preparing myself for the 3 day fast from my laptop — it takes 3 days max (maximum times in business means they will take that long, don’t be such a freaking pansy) to do all the stuff. They actually returned my laptop to me yesterday, after just 33 hours of examination. I seriously had withdrawal during that time frame! I kept wanting to check email and write something…oh, it got bad.
So I get my laptop back, expecting it to be all better. But then WTF! There are apparently 10 viruses, not 1. Therefore, the tech could not fix the problem. He told me that I need to reimage my laptop! So I need to back up all my files first (7.52 GB of needed files) before complying with his suggestion. This has happened 5 times already; I was planning on it not happening again. And saving that much information is really complicated as I don’t have an external hard drive or a lot of USB flash drives. So I figure I need 11 or 12 CD-R’s to back up all this stuff (again). For some reason, the CD’s I made to backup data in the past is not running properly anymore. CD’s are funny like that. Haha….crap.
At this rate, I would say I could only be reliably online or on my laptop around this weekend. I wonder if I;ll make it without the Vicodin on this one…
Why would someone create this plague? How much of a misanthrope do you have to be to make something that attacks random people for no reason? Maybe whoever made it hates life. If so, don’t take it out on me! Maybe they hate someone (eg “girlfriend” who went on a pity date with them) and are dumping anger on the world. What an effing loser.
Madonna
Today, I heard Madonna might be getting divorced. She looked happy after such a long time of being kind of lost. It just reminded me of how much her style and music have been a part of my experience.
Madonna was the first major American music star I recognized. She is definitely an icon before my time; I was a teenager of the “oh-oh’s”, not as much the nineties. But Madonna was pretty much omnipresent through my childhood, someone I was aware of even in Asia. She isn’t the best singer but her performance as an entertainer us undeniable. She revolutionized popular culture and was a player in modernizing today’s view of women.
When “Evita” (1996) came out, with Madonna playing the main role, I was blown away. A lot of Argentine people had feared Madonna’s controversial and non-conservative reputation would taint the memory of Evita, the beloved and politically active first lady of the Peron era in the 50’s. Evita is remembered in two ways: as a saviour for the poor and socially disadvantaged, someone who had once been one of the “Descamisados”, shirtless ones. But Evita was disapproved of by the Argentine elite class. They saw her as a woman who had been involved with many men, bringing upwards her own social standing through association with them. Her husband, dictator-president Juan Peron, led a government which had engaged in corrupt activities and silenced opposition. Evita died of cancer (1952) at the age of 33, with a mourning by Argentina not unlike that for England’s Diana in 1997.
Madonna’s acting in the musical was received with good reviews from critics and the public. The film cast Evita, who was herself controversial for her political and personal life in her time, in a glorified light. After seeing the film, I was especially drawn to Madonna’s music. Most of her songs aren’t as varied as other artists, who would be much less likely to get away with it. However, her songs are very catchy and never boring! It also helps that no matter what she sings, all of her work receives the attention given anything with Madonna’s name on it.
Even now that she is 50, Madonna has not lost her popularity. I hear “4 Minutes”, the first song on her most recent album “Hard Candy”, all the time on the radio. The best part of that song: when the guy sings her name out “Muh-don-nuh” 
It has the dance-pop style that Madonna is known for, complete with her signature low voice and a defined beat rhythm reminiscent of the 80’s.
Growing up, Madonna has had some influence in my own style as well (its’ not as strong as it could be). I’m not a big fan of the 80’s grunge look that she is famous for, but I admire with her basic appearance: healthy figure, striking bone structure and incredibly adaptable to different styles.
Car Gripes, Today and Yesterday
Gas prices in the US have skyrocketed since nearly a decade ago and the effects have become starkly visible. Traffic jams used to be a given event in the mornings and afternoons, while going to any destination along a highway. Now, there is barely any traffic at all whenever I have been on the road! Any slowness now can usually be attributed to a commercial truck or a single slow car.
I remember a time when people paid $0.79/gal of regular petrol. I think I was still in primary school. People started complaining when prices jumped towards $2 after a long time of being near $1. The Baltimore/Washington region now has prices around $4.10 Even last year, the price of gas was on the high end of $3/gal.
In Chicago, it’s even higher than here.
The US is a nation where wheeled transportation is ingrained into the popular culture. Other nations are not so dependent or defined by cars. The petroleum gas for vehicles in the US is unleaded, as governmentally mandated, but this refining step is not taken in other places around the world. This is specifically applicable to certain parts of Asia, where environmental concerns and societal knowledge/action is lower than here. I remember visiting a temple in Asia atop a low mountain, where the road wound upwards. The road was a narrow (14 feet across max?), two way spiraling ramp unbounded by fenders or any modern road edges. The It took six hours to reach our destination from the base of the mountain so we took frequent breaks along the way. In one of those stops, we got out of the car to drink spring water irrigated from a crack in the mountain stone. It was all fresh and springy and natural (what it means to get away from it all) but when I turned around, I immediately faced the road where an oncoming public bus was driving towards me.
I wasn’t in danger of being run over, although the pedestrians-driver interaction is another topic that varies widely from the US tradition. But I was blown over by the exhaust emission trailing behind it. The exhaust was sooty black and I could smell it coming towards me like the plague (aka The Angel of Death in The Ten Commandments). I was kind of a like deer in the headlights as the truck passed, but its exhaust stayed behind, clouding my face! I could tell the soot was going to make me hack before it even got to me.
Buses and trucks there tend to be very colourful, with the lotus is a ubiquitous in its design (somewhere). This truck is probably a Tata, a major automotive company in central and south Asia.
Because I do not want to get cancer, I try to avoid getting smoke in my lungs as much as possible. My unsuccessful remedy to the exhaust fumes while in that country has always been to hold my breath whenever I see a car coming by. The fumes tend to linger, so when I breathe again I probably breathe in more than if I had just behaved like a normal person. I think this instinct is based on my reaction to seeing a smoker nearby. I feel kind of bad sometimes because I don’t want them to feel like a pariah but then I remember that they are basically killing me. I just hold my breath until I pass them; this often requires that I start walking really fast so that I don’t pass out.
The fume thing isn’t as bad out in the open road as in the cobbled roads of the cities and towns though. Mostly, this is because there were few cars in old-world countries. Many people own might own motorcycles rather than cars due to the cost and practical issues. Just to store and drive a larger vehicle is often not easy in places that are old-world. When I was driven to where I was staying from the airport in a compact car, we passed a herd of people. It was literally a herd, I shit you not. People might lazily cross the street or jaywalk here, but it is nothing compared to the chaos of even defining the road and the footpath there. In the capital city, where I was, the population density is its highest (which isn’t really that high compared to here) in the country.
*/People were trying to pass the car and each other to reach their destination. In doing so, they were crowding around the car the way a vacuum seal surrounds whatever it encloses. I was so afraid we were going to run over someone but it’s not like they have insurance or any way to be legally compensated if we ran over their toes! I had actually had my toes run over by a taxi AND a tempo when they backed up as I was just getting into the vehicle. It hurt like hell./*
The person driving was obviously used to this type of claustrophobia-inducing attack, so he just honked at the people. It was like swatting at a fly, most people didn’t even seem startled. I was reminded of those zombie movies (or 28 Days Later) where scary non-people crept onto the car and killed the people inside. The pedestrians eve had the same stoned look and slow gait. My solution was to clap my hands over my ears and close my eyes. The person driving me laughed at me for being such an effing tourist. He started laughing louder when we got to the end destination and I was still shaking.
I would have been mad except I really was such a stupid tourist. …Too bad I was still a national of that country then.
I was driving the wrong direction on the one-way road in Atlanta, GA (USA) but it was so hard to find a path into a road where I could be driving the right way. It was probably the wrong time to take a picture. This is unrelated to the Asia car stuff but eh…
I got lost and it was raining and it was a rental car. A police guy stopped me when I was trying to turn a corner (”Explain to me what you’re doing? WHAT are you doing?”). Luckily, some homeless guy saw my plates from the AL rental location. To further convince the police, I told him “I’m foreign!” Probably an unnecessary detail at that point.
Six Word Memoir
PlanetRoss tagged me to write a 6 word memoir:
The body is a lone vessel.
Rules:
Write your own six word memoir.
Post it to your blog including a visual illustration if you would like.
Link to the person who tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogsphere.
Tag 5 more blogs with links. Don’t forget to leave a comment in the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.
I am tagging:
Artistic License
When I was in high school, I used to do so much art! For two years, I had it in the very beginning of the day and then the second two years, I had it at the very end. Either way, it was inconveniently timed: if it was at the beginning of the day (or any other time not right before lunch period), I’d be late for my next class because I needed to clean out paintbrushes. If it was at the end of the day, I would probably miss the school bus. And yes, I rode the bus all four years. Laugh away.
A lot of art class was me making something in that slowpaced, careful way that I ccouldn’t get away with in any other subject. But a lot of my memories from art class is based on the people that were there with me, too. Art class was a place you could do a full psychological profile upon. What can I say? It was full of artists. The crazy ones, the sad ones, the perky ones, and the disillusioned ones.
One of my more favourite works. I wish I had been able to do finer detail on the lower cloth though. Blend styling of Van Gogh and Alphonse Mucha
The most notable character was probably that of *Eric, the strangest person I have yet had the pleasure of being around. His parents and older brother had immigrated from Korea, which might have explained the culture gap; this excuse was nullified when I later came to know his very sane older brother (who was extremely intelligent in his own right). Eric used to tell me his mom had died and he lived in a …box. But then I saw his mom at the art showing later that year and apparently he also did not live in a box!! He also told me Americans were stupid and he hated us all. Except he was born in Georgia. Liar.
He was an artistic genius, mostly excelling in architectural drawing that mixed form with fantasy (ie Greek buildings spilling forth waterfalls along its elegant staircases, flanked by gardens of wilderness). He was, at the same time, the type of person who makes you squint your eyes when he says something — usually something preposterous. He would respond to eye squints with an indignant retort that no one else ever understood.
His highest form of compliment to a girl was to tell her she was beautiful, which is wonderful. Except he would follow his words with giving said girl a drawing of a naked lady, superimposed on the girl’s face. Usually his awkward advances were followed with a huge silence, restrained smile, and girl’s body curving away from Eric. If it had been anyone else, it might have been considered very scary behaviour but we tended to dismiss most of his actions as unusual, “artistic” extremes of normal behaviour. The strangest thing he ever did was to grow mold that varied in colour for an art project. Eric grew different molds in an aluminum tray, covered by saran wrap (cellophane plastic). His idea was to have nature dictate the direction of the end result. What actually resulted, instead, was a mold scare when the saran wrap came off the top of the tray. As high schoolers, me and everyone else suddenly feared that we would become deformed from Eric’s stupid project (again). Generally, It got to the point where we would call him the crzn azn.
Once Eric was so excited to have been featured in some exclusive gallery (I forget exactly what) that he slammed his newly painted piece down. Unfortunately, he slammed the canvas down on the jutting handle of the paper cutter. That piece was supposed to be his final project. Being as creative as he was, he glued the canvas back together so it looked like it was meant to look funny in the middle.
Besides Eric, there were two guys in art class who also defied the usual ideal of conformism (but more deliberately so). Both were a product of (living in the same town all their lives) + (everyone looked the same) = the need to be different. *Tim, the one who was truly more unique, had a hobby of making things from duct tape. I remember one year when he make a trench coat from duct tape that he wore to school. Instant waterproof! At some point, we pushed through a small Art Club, which soon fell apart (I was VP of this on/off activity). Tim showed us how to make duct tape roses in one of the more successful sessions. We ended up giving them all to Tim and he stocked them until the definite end of Art Club, which dragged out for six months. Even if he hadn’t been duct tape god, Tim was awesome just because he had red-orange hair. The kind of red-orange that weird tomatoes and very mineral-rich carrots have.
The other guy, *Todd, was a lot more obscurely unique. This could be good or bad. I hope he glazes over this post if he finds this blog because he didn’t realize how much I always felt like he was judging me. Did you see that, Joel Todd? Todd was one of those people that I was friends with sometimes and, other times, I could tell he thought that he was cooler than me (pfffff). I could never tell what it was going to be on any given day. The worst part was when he got into certain trends that were only popular in the nerd subculture, like pirates. Some days, he’d dress, act, and talk like a pirate; this was complete with fake (aluminum foil) sword. I thought the pirate crap would die with him when I left for university, but no! For about two years, there was an obsession with pirates to the point where I started to hate pirates (but I still love Johnny Depp) with a passion rivalling the one I have for bananas. Then when I went to university and EVERYBODY was into pirates; it’s like it would never end.
Why do they keep multiplying!
Three of my best friends were also in art class. As the end of high school got near, I ended up going to the art class to eat with them (because D session lunch sucked). *Gia was probably the best artist of us all, technically and in expression. People always need a friend who is, on the surface, very different from them and I lived vicariously through her sporadic teenage rebellions. Sometimes it involved a forbidden guy and sometimes it had to do with stupid adults and their rules. I guess I was the equivalent of a guy’s “wingman” for her.
Being as our high school was in a really rural area (think rolling hills and the smell of cows, think goats trying to ram through the front doors), there was no Pizza Hut near the school. there was only a dinky little MD’s pizza which was not exactly quality.
//Who am I kidding? Pizza is (relatively) unhealthy no matter where you eat it.
So near the end of senior year, Gia and I decided to order pizza for lunch with our other friends. Unfortunately, while we were discussing this in the kiln room of the Art Dept, our Art teacher (sorry, but I never liked you that much after your divorce, Mr *blahblah. You turned bitter to the world.) was telling all the kids in the main art room that we weren’t allowed to “wander the halls” anymore. The pizza finally came after 30 minutes — beggars can’t be choosers — so Gia and I went to go get the pizza when someone at the front office told us it had been delivered. It took us a while to pay the pizza guy and go get it. When we returned to art class, our teacher slapped me and Gia with Detention and a write-up. A write-up! So he sent in all the paper work and we were really mad as we hadn’t been warned! This was during the time that the art teacher was getting kind of surly over small things and even more chauvinistic than he was already misogynistic (in the subtle way that only true country people can ever be). In high school, i was the type of kid that never got in trouble because I really never did anything (you can also have a good girl rep by never getting caught) and always competed with my marks. I waited to be hauled off to detention, I freaking waited for a week…I was so afraid of telling my parents! But it never came because the guidance office apparently gave the papers a weird look and threw it out. Yay for adults with common sense!
I probably could go on forever about art class. It was like some sort of sanctuary from my academically obsessed life. These days, I don’t art very much any more. It’s like a hidden love of mine 
Exploring the Game of Pick Up Artists
Recently, I’ve been made aware of the existence of pick-up artists (PUAs). I never knew there was an actual fine schooling of this psychology until a few months ago, when I was reading a blog commented by self-proclaimed PUA’s. Every girl has been approached either subtly or more conspicuously by a smooth talker but how many of these girls, or even the guys who smooth talk, know that there is a community of organized ideals on how to be suave?
The concept of pick up artistry is based on the idea that men are sexually selected by women based on different criteria than those that attract men to women. A man is not required to possess the same level of beauty expected by men of women nor is it encouraged for men to ply women’s favour through expensive gifts or awed flattery. Instead, self-confidence and the ability to utilise psychologically directed skills are emphasized.
PUAs practice lines and methods of interaction several times, even possibly hundreds of times, in each instance of contact with women. A master PUA is not simply one who goes about his actions by second nature over a long period of perfecting the art, but one who is deliberate in his every act. He has become precise by nature, whose second nature has become that which never acts reflexively but always analytically.
Pick up artistry is documented to 1970 or the 1970’s through Eric Weber’s self help book, How to Pick Up Girls (1970). It has since spawned an increasing number of pundits on the subject of seduction. In 2005, Neil Strauss’ The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pick Up Artists is one of the most recent calls for media attention to the PUA community. The Game was first on the New York Times Best Seller List and generated much interest in PUA’s and their view of sexual psychology. Feminists, psychologists, men, and women have taken to varying opinions of the the effect of such a subculture on today’s male-dominated, but female-minority tempered, first world atmosphere.
“Most men would like to get married and commit for life, but feminists have made this a reckless proposition with their no-fault divorce and vicious alimony customs. (There is no reason a man should continue supporting a woman who has left him, but as the law stands, that’s the price for a few months of sex.) Women will break your heart just for the rush of power it gives them. I am completely in favor of men strategizing to get some of their own back. If women are going to be faithless sluts, men should take advantage of them.” (Female Misogynist)
“I would say that this PUA technique is similar to a lion stalking a herd of water buffalo to find the weak and easy one…but that would be giving them too much credit. Considering there are more attractive, funnier and more well-adjusted men at this bar, the pickup squad comes off more like a pack of rabid jackals moving in to mop up once the real kings of the jungle have moved on.” (deadbeat Jones)
So far, I’m not so sure PUA’s are practising anything totally unethical or vicious. Women have the right to choose who they are interested in, as much as anyone may attract them. How is this psychological manner of demonstrating the best (or at least the most attractive) in a man very different from a woman who wears beautiful clothes or a lot of makeup? At some point, if the PUA finds a woman worth spending a very long time with, this exterior must fall away to reveal the true interior. At that point, the PUA has to understand he is either screwed or liberated.
The only real potential loser in the game is the PUA himself. In practising lines and approaches day after day, moment after moment, he may be missing out on the spontaneous interaction that is essential to human social health. For many men, this may be the reason for the unfruitfulness of their PUA skill; for other men, they may never notice as they as very successful as PUAs.
How is it that all PUAs are male? PUA assumption is that women never initiate contact as we are only passive receivers of the game. Through this, we can infer that women are by nature unable to master pick-up artistry.
I’m also a sucker for beautiful books. At some point I was obsessed with Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events even though the books were weird (though well written) and the jagged page edges hurt my fingers.
A fraternity at school mandates that its pledges read The Game as one of its rush activities. I’ve not heard of many women reading this book or finding use for the basic tenets of pick up artistry for interacting with men. But maybe this is something that needs to be investigated, accounting for the fact that The Game and the general concepts of the game are geared towards attracting (women, not men), by (men, not women). Even if learning the rules of the game are ineffective for women the same way it is for men, it may be beneficial to understand the psychological signals that attract us to men, whether they be bad boys or good boys. Maybe we should understand that the game is playing on our weaknesses and become less gullible, instead of complaining of the provocation by slick men. There are too many ways for men to fail at attracting women by accident; what man wouldn’t want assurance from a tested way to succeed? As much as men should respect the humanity of a woman, women need to be educated about how to resist being as quickly charmed by anyone. The only way to beat the system is to defy the stereotype that the system is perpetuated and founded upon. How many women are doing that?
I borrowed The Game from the library yesterday. It’s not a big deal but at least it’s something. I’m not attempting to find holes in the PUA community or loosen its foundations (1 girl at a time) but I think I should know what some of the techniques are. Good men will use pick up artistry just to increase their confidence to approach women; any psychological method can be used to hurt people but the ability to have that choice is what makes pick up artistry so popular.
Humour on a High
Writing reports was always such a hassle when I was in high school. Now that I’m in college, I can’t BS the way I regularly used to! But then, the stuff I study now requires more thinking than say, a random spiel on a 200-page coming-of-age book. Life used to be so simple before college: I had never seen a drunk person stumble around before falling down on concrete or heard people going at it next door. All night. It was like a freaking megaphone blast that night.
I found the following report that was supposed to analyze Oedipus on scribd.com Apparently the guy who wrote it was high. It is hilarious how blunt and bitter his mind is when on drugs :
Picturemania and The Happening
Weekend Photos
I went out the other day after a long stretch of not going anywhere but school, home, and work for a while! It was pretty exhilarating actually to be someplace with a whole herd of other people. I went to see The Happening with two other people. Although the film was received with mixed reviews, I would say it was well done. The only really annoying part of the film was the mandatory crying that happens in any disaster: it was visibly crocodile tears on this set, except for ones that came from the little kid. I know it sounds kind of cruel to say that I want to see real tears but it’s only expected (”real acting” is an oxymoron)! It was almost as if the character was thinking: I’m going to die alone now and I’m secretly happy but I have to pretend to be really, really sad!
That’s a little strange. Beyond that, it’s a sci-fi film with less fi than the sci. I’d recommend it for that reason alone. It has an element of the usual thriller flick in it too, punctuated by essential drama.
Has anyone noticed the hike in theatre ticket prices? It’s $10.00 now! I remember when film tickets were $5.00 and I’m not even old! I tried to use my student ID for a discount rate but apparently they’re only applicable on Thursdays. What students randomly go the the movies on a Thursday? (Don’t 18+ clubs also have college Thursdays too?) Thursday is the freakish work day before the pseudo-weekend on Friday — no one works on Friday. Why not do a Friday or a Saturday special!
After the movie, we basically hung around the mall, which is the platform for the film theatre. For 6 hours. We didn’t buy anything and entered the pet boutique to talk about Jon La Joie. We kept standing in the middle of the cramped front part of the store, though, so we decided to get out before someone elbowed us out!
I tried on at least 7 hats at Forever 21. It’s like high school when I’d try on ugly prom dresses and my friend would take pictures. I hope those photos are lost forever, since they’re technically blackmail now…
I don’t really know how to play piano.
That purple and yellow haired mannequins at Nordstrom were my inspirations. The brown haired one just looks like she was caught in an awkward moment.
*Shut up and drive, drive, drive*
I used to love Jaguars as a kid. Now I like many cars!
These and other images are on the About: Photos of Author, June 2008 SubPage.
A Tightly Coiled Pile
This story is about poop so be prepared for crassness!
There are very few things people can do to surprise me anymore, short of overt attention-whoring strategies that leave everyone in awe. From people I can’t ignore when they don’t shut up to people who are easily ignored as they stutter, there’s a wide range of personalities that warrant mockery and disdain. Someone, somewhere is probably laughing at me and you as well, right now.
It’s just that sometimes we get taken aback by behaviours from people we just did not expect in comparison to their usual outward “aura.” One of the most *gasp* moments from such a person was so very cringe-worthy, as the same situation happened not once, not twice, but three times.
In my school, we lived in dorm suites the first and second year: 4 people per suite and 1 bathroom per suite. In an earlier post, I had said that no one was on my shit list. I forgot about “Anne”, a suitmate some time ago. I think it’s only fitting that she be on my shit list as she is how I first thought of the colloquial term.
In one of my years at university, one of the girls in my suite committed a horrific act. The first two months in the suite, everything was fine and I got along well with my suitemates. The problems began in the third month, November, when I had just gotten back from class. I needed to use the bathroom since I had just gone through a 6 hour lecture marathon; I went into the suite bathroom and flicked on the light. It smelled a little strange in the bathroom at first but I automatically resolved this unsettling fact by telling myself that all dorm room bathrooms stink sometimes. Let’s face it, there were four girls using a bathroom: enough said. But spraying Lysol all over was not helping and in the one minute I was in the bathroom, I did actually just stand there and wonder if I had attained super-smelling powers. But no…
I stepped towards the toilet when I saw something terrible on the lime green bathroom mat. There sat a lump of poo, dark brown and completely gooey in texture. It looked clumpy as…shit…and steam was evaporating from the offending heap. I was petrified in mid step and wide eyed while I considered my options:
1. Ignore poo. Go back to room.
2. The poop is a figment of my imagination. I need to eat more regularly.
3. Am I on television?
4. Scream.
5. (a) scream and (b) call housing maintenance.
6. (a) scream and (b) call my mom.
7. Call police. There might be a murderer in the suite with a loose bowel.
8. Never use the bathroom again.
It was like this but steaming.
Against my better judgment, I left the poo where it was and left the suite to use the floor bathroom. Then I came back and closed the suite bathroom door. I took a piece of blank paper and taped it to the bathroom door with the words “Do not use bathroom. We need to talk.” and signed my name to it. I went to my room and did my physics problems set. Then around an hour from when I first entered the suite, my suitemates began the arrive back from class. After they all came back, I gathered them together and notified them that I had found poop on the floor. I asked them if any of their visitors had issues with their stomach or knew of anyone on our floor who used our bathroom — our room door was constantly open. Two suitemates looked very surprised and disgusted, but the third roommate (”Anne”) didn’t look especially surprised. Suffice it to say she looked very panicked. I didn’t suspect it was her but it seemed a little strange that she wasn’t as surprised as the rest of us were. Then I called maintenance and we explained to them that somehow there was poop in our bathroom and we didn’t know how it got there. Before the custodian came, the other two suitemates looked in the bathroom just out of curiosity. “Anna” seemed not to notice that much. After the custodians left, I took the bathroom mat (yes, it was personally owned and not provided by the school) and ended up cleaning it with lots and lots of detergent. When I was done, it looked pretty normal without any stains.
You would think that this would not repeat itself. But about a month after spring semester began, my other suitemate walked into the bathroom to find poop on the bathroom mat again. It was hastily scrubbed down this time; instead of a whole glop of loose poo, there was only the remains from the poo that had obviously wiped off in an attempt to clean the mat. Whoever had tried it, though, had done a very bad job as it had been just one swipe that left a smear of brown goo, like tire marks on soft mud. We talked to the other two suitemates (again) and my suspicion against “Anne” started to deepen. But it seemed so unlikely! Her dad was some corporate CEO in China or Hong Kong (I forget what city she came from) and she was insanely rich! Apparently she had a maid back home like the way royal women had ladies in waiting way back when. But still, why can’t she wipe crap (literally) in an effective fashion? Why do I always have to do it for her! I know it’s her!
normal crazy college behavior includes semi-strange bursts of being a spaz and offending the occasional innocent bystander.
In any case, no one said anything again and things went back to normal. For a while. Then in May, there was poo on the bathroom mat again! Again! This time I had about enough of this unnatural, impolite, and downright revolting habit. My bath mat had suffered enough.
I went to “Anne”’s room and demanded that she take responsibility for pooping on the bathroom floor THREE TIMES. She kept the door locked and didn’t make a sound but I knew she was in there. I have never called anyone a bitch but I came really, really close this time. I started feeling a wrath I never knew I could feel. I mean how do you miss a 12 inch hole right under you? Why does she always poop on the same spot all the time? If she has health issues, that is fine with me but why does she have to hide it –it’s not a ghost that’s crapping on that bath mat. She never opened the door to talk to me. At noon she left for class and left me in a bad state. When “Anna” came back, the RA had left a note on the door requesting whoever was “defecating” on the floor to please clean it themselves out of consideration for their suitemates. At 9 pm that day, I went to check the bathroom to see if “Anne” had cleaned it. What I found was a piece of paper on top of the pile of crap. Not just any paper, the RA’s note that had been on our suite door.
Have you ever felt the need to implode since exploding was socially stigmatized (another Asian thing)? have you ever felt like screaming and had a moment where your heart fluttered because you couldn’t? Have you ever felt that way while trying not to breathe in toxic fumes of hours old crap?
At some point, maintenance came to clean the bathroom and I asked them to please dispose of the bath mat. Better kill it now than make it suffer more later when finals made “Anne” spew. Maintenance said no, so I was forced to take it to the building dumpster myself. I would have burned her crap except feces is often used as a fossil fuel for burning; I didn’t want to be convicted of arson over my momentary rage.
A tightly coiled pile…
Today, my friends and I joke about that time when there was a tightly coiled pile on my bath mat. The Frito Lays corn spirals we used to buy all the time reminded us constantly of the girl who “shat and ran” (as quoted from someone who lived on the floor).
{shat [=] shit (past tense,v.) + sat}
Rebel Student
School is a necessary requirement for a lot of people to achieve what they want to do in life. The worst thing, besides god-awful lectures and textbooks without solutions manuals, is usually the exams. Sometime between when an exam begins and when it ends, I’ve gone through an order of (1) panic, (2) anxiousness, (3) impatience at whoever is handing out the papers, (4) a burst of mad adrenaline, and (5) fatigue as I put the pencil down. *sigh*
Minor projects and homework can be as frustrating, if not more, since they will be harder than an exam which relies on only your strength of learned skill.
I’ve never been so brave as to tell the system to talk to the hand, but sometimes I wish I could:
1. Kids who are jaded.
2. People who have too much common sense
3. Learning that senior year is all about taking advantage of the fact that you already got into the college you want. The below image is from a high school freshman, though, since geometry is a first year math. That person is/was screwed.
4. Finding that math is doesn’t stand for the BS (imagination…pfff) inherent in writing subjects
5. When a hard problem gets too hard, take the easy way out. Preferably so you never have another hard problem again.
6. We all know history was biased anyways.
7. When it works the first time, do it again.
All images are from Scribd.com. Not sure of exact url anymore…
The Sound of a Language
People often say that it gets harder to learn new languages after a child passes 5 years of age. Why is that? Do we get more stupid as we age? Are our brains just not as quick? Is that just a euphemism for the prior statement implying that we’re more stupid now than ever before?
Cognitive scientists think that it’s not exactly this lack of more brain cells that mainly determines this phenomenon. It goes back to how language is perfected by an individual in the first place. As children, there tends to be a time where we take in all sorts of sounds from our surroundings that we know nothing about. Over time, we begin to distinguish one sound from another. For example, when do we differentiate a /d/ sound from a /t/ sound? To better understand:
1. sound out a /d/, with your tongue as far back on your palate as possible
2. repeat step one, but progressively move your tongue towards the opening of your mouth
Can you hear when your /d/ sound becomes a /t/ sound? /d/ and /t/ sounds are a certain example of paired voiced/unvoiced vocals called a stop, where we completely withold air and then suddenly release that air. Other paired vocals include /z/&/s/, /b/&/p/, /l/&/r/, etc.
It’s not as useful to think about learning a language simply as the addition of knowledge per se (ie learning words, verbs, nouns, etc). It can also be characterized as the loss of distracting information. When we do not know the language, we do not understand the nuances in tone and sound or how to form them. Progressive mastery of a language increases as we find the relative boundaries between sounds.
In different languages, these boundaries may shift or not depending on the use within both languages. For example, have you ever noticed that many Japanese speakers have trouble pronouncing words with /l/ correctly? Instead of “library”, it may sound like “rhibrary”. This might be explained by the fact that Japanese has no character equivalent to /l/. In saying words like “sayonara” and “arigato”, they do not extend the tongue further than mid-palate to form the /r/ sound. After a time, this l-r boundary will be lost; they cannot recognize how to form the /l/ as different from /r/.
In most cases, it is more difficult to learn a sound (or how to form it) if the first language had a substitution — like native Japanese speakers compared to English — or a vocal similar to that sound. It is easier to learn sound distinctions if there is no instance of the new sound in the previous language — like the Khoisan language of some indigenous African tribes as compared to English.
As time passes and people become fluent in their languages, it becomes harder to introduce a new language that challenges the vocal phonological vocal boundaries that define their original language. But it’s not impossible; you must study for much longer to arrive at a point where a child could more quickly reach.
Tommy V2.0
Tommyv2.com isn’t really a blog but it’s not really a that far from the point of a blog either. Tommy V2 is some guy in Canada — yes, basically America without the gun-crazed people shooting people and trees (”I thought it was a deer…really”). I’m still not sure whether he is Canadian or not, by virtue of immigration from some eastern European country. I guess you could attribute his sharpness to being (a) some 20-something guy or (b) a European. I don’t see any turtlenecks, though, so at least he’s not that kind of European. From written articles and a spoken recording, he offers blunt opinions about stuff from road trip sightings & other people’s inferiority to nerd-dom & technology. And your mom’s mom. Yes, he will go there.
I first stumbled on the site ~ a year ago but I was less apt to be online then. He claims to be misogynistic but he’s got nothing on Roissy. That’s not to say he is totally a “beta.” To someone without any sense of humour, his musings on girls and magnitude of his ego will be off putting. But Tommy V2 probably doesn’t care about people who can’t laugh at themselves. That’s part of what makes his words so appealing: half of me can’t take him seriously but the other half realizes he’s on to something in his rawness.
I forever associate McDonald’s with him.
Most people have two types of friends: the kind you love to be around and the kind that you basically put up with. Tommy V2 is the latter. He’s the type of person that that you can’t stay away from because he says exactly what everyone is thinking. I’m just waiting to hear what’s going to come out of his mouth next.
“Never Again”
It was what the world said after discovering the horrors of Rwanda, where genocide and torture had invaded the lives of the common people. But Rwanda is not a closed event, its teachings are applicable to the present situation in Darfur, Sudan where millions of people are suffering from violent attacks on their person and communities every day. In spring 2006, I heard of the Save Darfur rally in Washington DC. I did not know about the situation in the area then, only that there was a civil war crisis reminiscent of the Rwandan Conflict in 1993. Recently, I’ve begun to hear increasing numbers of accounts regarding the terror in Darfur and the complex issues of ethnicity, climate, domestic politics, and international relations that surround the Darfur Conflict.
The fighting in Darfur consists mostly between two groups:
•militias of janjaweed, Muslim followers who are of the arab-nubian descended Baggara tribe nomads from northern Sudan. Famine and sudden climate change in northern Sudan have caused many nomadic people to immigrate south towards Darfur.
•non-Arab/ non-Muslim rebels mostly of the Fur, Zaghawa, and Massalit ethnic farming groups from southern Darfur. The Sudan Liberation Movement and the Justice and Equality Movement are two groups most notably associated with the non-Arab resistance.
Refugee Camp in Darfur
(Photo Link)
A history of violence between the non-Arab Sudanese, who claim “that the black residents of the region had been neglected by the Muslim central government” (New York Times) and the apparently governmentally favoured Arab descended Muslim population has occurred since the 1980’s. People from both demographics take part in violent bands against the other; villagers and nomads of both people are not inherently indocrinated into the crimes committed against the other as a part of their culture. Political instability and the prevalence of poverty have caused much dissatisfaction in the country. Violence has escalated as a result of increasing weapons availability. China has declared no breach of UN sanctions on the limitation of arms sold to Sudan but China and Russia, to a much lesser extent, were major sellers of weapons to the Sudanese government in 2005, as well as other countries in the middle eastern region. The influx of weapons to non-governmental forces by the Sudan government is evidenced by photographic surveillance that depicts arms being sent to the Darfur region, which violated a UN ban. (BBC News)
In 2003, non-Arab rebels attacked a military base of the Sudanese government for giving preference to the Muslim population while subordinating the black non-Arab people; the government was also seen as ignoring the welfare of Darfur. The Sudanese government tried to quell the rebel forces by organizing a force of the Sudanese military and calling additional manpower of the janjaweed. The janjaweed have been implicated in mass criminal attacks against the non-Arab civilian population of Darfur and non-Arab fighters have fought back accordingly. In 2004, the African Union began diplomatic attempts to end fighting between the janjaweed and the rebel groups. The UN supported the African Union, stated that Sudan was undergoing a time of extreme danger for its people. The African Union endeavour culminated in a ceasefire agreement despite pan-African military presence. The 2004 US identification of Darfur violence as genocide led a subsequent 2005 UN in-depth investigation into the Darfur conflict. The UN found serious atrocities in Sudan by the government of Sudan (which was ordered to desist military action against non-Arab resistance groups), the janjaweed, and rebel fighters against the people of Sudan. In 2006, the African Union allowed the UN to take over major diplomatic mediation. In May of 2006, the Darfur Peace Agreement was accepted by the Sudan government and a major rebel group, which would greatly increase UN presence in Darfur to protect civilians and humanitarian aid workers. In 2007, the UN and the African Union instated a UN-AU Mission in Darfur that would work to further foreign protection for Sudanese civilians and aid workers. The Sudanese government has since obstructed peacekeeping intervention through the Darfur Peace Agreement and UN-AU Mission in Darfur through aid supply and implementation interruptions.
(Eyes on Darfur)
Colin Powell as Secretary of State in 2004 at the UN
(Photo Link)
The United States has declared the Darfurian conflict to include genocide due to the definition of the opposing sides by a split ethnic composition. The atrocities in Darfur have documented the rape and murder of the non-Arabs and the razing of their villages by janaweed militias. Major human right violations have been reported, especially against women and children (The Washington Post). Aerial bombardment of non-Arab villages, as well as attacks on land have terrorized the Darfurian people (Medecins Sans Frontieres). In an effort to escape the violence, villagers have fled to neighboring Chad, which shares a border with Sudan that is largely unmarked. In this way, the fighting has spilled over from a Sudanese concern to one of international affects. The Chadian border with Sudan has been fortified with troops but there are attacks against non-Arab/non-Muslim Chadian civilians by the janjaweed, as in Sudan. The immigration of Darfurians into Chad has placed a danger in Chad that defies the Sudan government’s characterization of the Darfur Conflict as a domestic Sudanese issue. “While the Government of Sudan ‘has not pursued a policy of genocide’ ” as the UN has stated that the intent to harm non-Arabs, by the Arab-descent janjaweed, specifically for their ethnicity has not been proven. But the Sudan government “was implicated [in a 2005 release by the UN Commission of Inquiry] in numerous war crimes and crimes against humanity” (Eyes on Darfur). The government of Sudan so far has denied supporting the janjaweed violence but have also not been effectively receptive to foreign efforts to intercede. However, “the Sudanese government has so far rejected…a United Nations resolution that would establish a large peacekeeping force in Darfur to protect civilians” (National Geographic). The Sudanese government claims that the Darfurian conflict has been “overblown”, such as reportings of 400,000 casualties by moral organizations like Save Darfur. But whether 200,000 people or 400,000 people have died since the conflict began does not change the status of the situation in Darfur as a crisis which requires immediate assistance.
Destroyed Sudanese Villages
(Photo Link)
Years of negotiations and peace talks have been held, so why hasn’t peace arrived in Darfur?
In the UN, China has been the most notable supporter of the Sudanese government in Khartoum. China has petroleum oil interest in Sudan, which supplies China with 25% of its oil (Asia Times) for its commercial industries. China’s policy of noninterference, as it relates to Darfur, evaluates human rights as relative for any given country. China has been denigrated in the international realm for this policy, as well as its visible financial motivation to support the Sudan government, which has been largely inactive in ameliorating the Darfur conflict. The 2008 Olympics was seen as an opportunity for post-Tienanmen square China to illustrate its new modernity and relevance as a world power. Protests regarding the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, China as the “Genocide Olympics”, comparable to the 1936 Berlin Olympics, by critics worldwide demonstrate that China’s participation in hindering UN goals in Darfur will result in consequences and has not gone unnoticed (Christian Science Monitor).
Comparison of 2008 Olympics to 1936
(Photo Link)
The West has so far been unsuccessful in bringing peace to Darfur. It’s not that attempts have not been made to diplomatically call for ceasefires and accords or placements of troops on the ground; there is, though, a lack of willingness to actively engage militarily in the region. So far, the world has seen the results of neglecting civil in foreign nations like Rwanda. However, there is still the obstacle of motivation that prevents the West from acting in a manner that brings results. Partially, this is due to US-China relations that are integral to US economy. Also, the US does not have a great direct financial interest in the region of Sudan. Peace in Sudan is not unwanted by the West; it is simply less enthusiastically pursued than it could be.
There have been well over 200,000 civilian casualties in Darfur since 2003. In 2006, the UN believed about 200,000 had died in the Darfur conflict.
Over 2,500,000 Sudanese have been displaced from their homes. Most have fled to Chad or live in refugee camps (New York Times, Eyes on Darfur)
Letting Darfur fade into the background is not an option.
Knowledge is power: learn more about Darfur
http://www.eyesondarfur.org/index.html
Overall Analysis of the situation and involved people through time
http://www.savedarfur.org/content?splash=yes
Blog and news about Darfur, learn about how to get involved locally
http://www.24hoursfordarfur.org/
Video documenting the area and testimonies from public figures, send your own video reaction
http://darfur.unfpa.org/jon_darfur/?gclid=CPOG37rF75MCFQwaHgodSl8qVg
Image exhibit
http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/04/10/google.genocide/index.html
Use Google earth to map Darfur
http://www.darfurinformation.com/
European-Sudanese Public Affairs Council in-depth analysis
