OH, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well did I behave.
And now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain,
And miles around they’ll say that I
Am quite myself again.
-- A. E. Housman
Monday, April 23, 2007
4:37 PM
And who would've thought, that god would send me an angel, in the form of the ugliest crook with a bit of honesty...so this is how my faith is to be found, in the lowest levels of hell. This is the third time I've bought Beethoven. The first time, my parents bought me Beethoven, from Costco. When they bought me Beethoven without much ado, I knew I'd gotten rejected from Berkeley. I didn't believe it, but part of me knew. The second time I bought Beethoven for myself, right before I went to Notre Dame. This time I let a bum buy me Beethoven. We cheated Borders (perhaps), but he did not cheat me. I saved $10 and he gained $50 in cash. He gave me change...without any prodding. I never expected him to do that, but he did. He needed a coat and I needed Beethoven. It was an honest business proposition. Truth is, I didn't trust him, I just didn't want to bother telling him no. I fully expected him to try to take the full $60 when I didn't have change (I probably would've let him; it would've cost me $60 anyway; I had nothing to lose), but he didn't. He didn't at all.
Faith...why have I so little faith? Like a frozen boiled egg (if that makes any sense)...how many seconds in the microwave does it take to get it to an edible form? Perhaps I want too much. Perhaps I've bought too many things, like in a game of Monopoly. Perhaps my mind is too persistent...why do I still fear to take a bite out of a microwaved boiled egg, fearing that it'll explode in my face? This after at least 4 shots of whiskey! Why do I find it so hard to pray except under complete intoxication? Perhaps the devil hasn't given up on me yet...I thought she had. Anyways, do you know what happens to a boiled egg after you put it in the fridge which is too cold? It is very interesting; I sometimes like it better than a "normally" cooked egg. Egmont overture.... There's something about Beethoven, which is not to be found in any other composer. God, sometimes how I wish I had a modicum of musical talent! Oh well, it was never meant to be. My parents thought I was tone deaf for a very long time; they were probably right. God, what is it that you want me to do? Math is charming indeed and yet why do I fail? Why? So weak, always so weak. Help me.... I do not understand anything at all.
I was strong once, why did I stop? But I was fueled by rage. Yet in my rage there were islands of sanity, of peace. But I was also weak once.... I am out of words.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
7:49 PM
It always gets cold when you're not here....
Friday, March 9, 2007
12:57 AM
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Friday, February 16, 2007
3:05 PM
(Renamed 2/17/2007, 2:50 AM)
Remnants of a Storm
I wake at the break of dawn
to the sound of pneumatic drills.
I wrap myself tight
to ward off the persistent chills.
In vain I toss and turn
for the sweetness of sleep,
once disturbed,
would not return.
Afraid to open my eyes
I roll onto my back and lie
until some shapeless dream carries me away,
amidst the muffled moans and silent screams.
I wake to the sound of alarms
but now my waking dream has me bound
by its myriad of mirages and irresistible charms.
I hug my pillow tight, holding on
...
Gently sucking on a cigarette
and watching it burn in the little fire.
Then float away in a cloud of smokes
like the ghost of my desires.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
7:43 PM
Red roses in the vase
patiently wait
to fall, shatter, wither, break.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
2:37 PM
I am feeling much better today, but I was sick (still am). Not the annoying kind, but the kind where you feel like you ran into an army truck (or got run over by one), where your whole world goes dark. My head felt bloated and I thought I was in an almost constant feverish state as soon as I was off Advil. After 5 days on antibiotics, which made me feel like throwing up, the worst is hopefully over. In any case, I was in the middle of giving myself a crash course in complex analysis when the fevers struck. Disturbing...no amount of willpower or caffeine could get my mind to focus.
To make matters worse, I about hit the worst part of the book I was (re)reading, which was The World According to Garp. I was just at the part where he's about to describe naked Mrs. Ralph. I've decided I can't stand to read the book anymore. The part about his upbringing and his time in Vienna where he fucked a 50 year old prostitute who lost her "purse" then died and wrote his first story was just fine, but when it got to his married life, it sounded more and more like a bored man with too much time on his hands who obsessively worried about his children and his dick. On the other hand I suppose he was not a bad husband except for the babysitter-fucking. In any case, too much lust, no romance whatsoever. The book made a very amusing first read, but on second reading...not as amusing. Well, the problem is, the prose is not at all so beautiful for one thing. I'll probably continue when I'm in the mood to read it again, but for the time being I've decided to move on to Nabokov (longer paragraphs, better prose). I'm not ready to open Lolita again so I've decided to read Pnin.
Work, must refocus on work. Math has not been so kind to me. We don't have intimate conversations anymore. When we do, I don't remember it. When I can't think about math, I pretty much can't think about anything else either, except sex. So I think incessantly about sex. It's driving me insane. I'm sick of the subject. I'm sick of thinking about the subject. It's probably why Garp started to bother me. I think enough about the act and the act itself becomes not so appealing. I am a romantic after all. I never seriously lust after anybody purely on a physical basis.
Maybe that didn't make any sense, but in any case, a couple days ago I seriously thought I was losing my mind. I dreamed I was schizophrenic. Stuffed animals came to life and was squealing, giggling, jumping around. Then there was a big bogeyman with a beard chasing them around. All this happend in some sort of room in the Math Sciences buliding where I had a bed. The stuffed animals were jumping around on my bed. There were many of them, at least a rabbit and a fucking chihuahua. I knew they weren't real, but they went on jumping anyway; I felt compelled to see them moving around. Then in the same room, in front of my bed was a blackboard and somebody had just given a talk on the third proof of the Prime Number Theorem and the chairman of the department was taking notes on it. On the board were many combinatorial diagrams like the type I saw the summer at Notre Dame when one of the research groups were working on counting a certain type of finite graphs and I had no idea what it had to do with prime numbers. It was such a strange feeling, I knew people knew I was crazy. I knew I was crazy. I knew the stuffed animals weren't alive. They stopped moving after a while, but the bogeyman...short, bearded, almost Gimli-like except he had a sharper face, almost Chinese face...he was so real. I saw him and kept seeing him even in the presence of company when all the stuffed animals went quiet. It was such a vivid dream. It so vivid that for many hours after I woke up I was convinced that must be what an actual schizophrenic feels like.
In the same string of vivid dreams I dreamt something very pleasant which did come to pass. My dream was not exactly accurate, but there were two details which I did get right. I only hope the schizophrenia does not come to pass, hehe. Good, my sense of humor seems to be returning. I am feeling much better. You may wonder why I have written everything I have written up till now and yet refuse to tell you the happier things. The reason is simple. Given that I do not aspire to write professionally, I only resort to my meager writing skills as a means of catharsis. My trials and tribulations I put into words so that I may safely forget them and move on without feeling I've left a piece of myself behind. There was one instance where I wrote a story about a very pleasant experience (it was also very very sad in a way). The reason for that was because due to external pressure I had to immediately put that experience out of my mind. In general I like to keep happier things close to my heart, until I become afraid I'd lose them...
It's been over an hour. It is now time to get out of here and move on. Thanks for listening and goodbye.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
1:43 PM
For a moment everything was still, until the gentle caress of a breeze sent ripples of pleasure through the lake....
Saturday, January 6, 2007
2:43 PM
Happy New Year. New Year resolution is simple: stop getting old! What is necessary is summarized by the following quote which I first saw on Alvaro's IM profile:
``The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and
his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and
his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He
simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to
decide whether he is working or playing. To him he's always doing both.''
-- James A. Michener
I was much better at this just a few years ago. This is how infants start out; this is how children are (playing is the mechanism through which children first develope their minds). This is how I remained throughout high school and most of college. Why have I forgotten? Work without play is a drag; play without work reeks of guilt. The sharp distinction between work and play, labor and leisure, mind and body, information and recreation, love and religion is a wholly adult invention. It is a form of resignation. It is the failure to have a unified and harmonized vision of what the fuck one is doing. It is cutting a piece of life away entirely or at best chopping life up into schizophrenic little pieces. The little pieces shrivel up and die one by one...this is how we get old.
Friday, November 24, 2006
3:57 AM
Happy (belated) Thanksgiving. I do finally feel very thankful. Recently I've felt (for lack of a better expression) haunted by my past. I've been reminded of a lot of my failures and shortcomings, past and present. I'm having trouble with words today. A friend from Hawaii left a message saying happy thanksgiving. I suddenly realized something: sometimes I'm so busy suffering that I forget the things I do have and the people who do care (even if I don't understand why they care). I shut people out then bitterly wonder why I feel so alone. I'm thankful there are people who do stick around. Most of all I'm thankful that often after a trying day filled with frustration and petty insecurity, I find, in the lonely silence of the night, a tiny morsel of peace; that I end the day realizing the error of my ways and can go to bed feeling penitent, not angry.
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
3:50 AM
The last few days have been trying for some reason, but thanks to a great act of kindness I'm feeling much better, and very grateful. Yesterday I made my birthday wish while listening to Beethoven's 5th. I guess I've turned 23 whether I like it or not. Yesterday was a turbulent day, but I believe I made the right wish. The last couple of weeks has shown me I'm not as strong as I think and not quite as good a person as I wish I were. Sometimes it is difficult to tell whether I care too much or not enough. My heart is a mystery to me. For many reasons I'm no longer guided by a single blinding light and at times I feel lost. But what needs to be done is clear enough and I believe I do what I do in good faith. There seems to be a neverending struggle to make peace with myself, to strive to be better, stronger. But perhaps sometimes I forget the softer side of things. I ought to find more beauty in what I do.
Monday, November 6, 2006
2:07 PM
It struck me every day
The lightning was as new
As if the cloud that instant slit
And let the fire through.
It burned me in the night,
It blistered in my dream;
It sickened fresh upon my sight
With every morning's beam.
I thought that storm was brief, --
The maddest, quickest by;
But nature lost the date of this,
And left it in the sky.
-- Emily Dickinson
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
2:47 AM
It's funny...I feel so weak and self-indulgent right now. Thing that haven't hurt me for a while all of a sudden hurt like hell. It's like I yanked a bandage off a not yet healed wound. Not sure why I did that. Lots of work to do and I'm not on top of all the things I'd like to do. The day kind of got off to a really bad start; there was simply NO parking when I got here shortly before section. Brain was not working most of the day. Managed to get a little bit of work done starting around 11. I'm degenerating into a night schedule again. I guess it can't be helped. Oh well. Just need a little bit more of that stoicism. What I really need seems to be more peace of mind so I can focus better, get more work done, and worry less.
Sunday, October 1, 2006
5:40 PM
I am afraid of so many thing, but in the end what I'm afraid of the most is failure and my own stupidity. But failure is no excuse not to try and stupidity is no excuse not to think. I must...I must...there is nothing else left for me to believe in so god help me.
Friday, September 29, 2006
1:46 AM
Beginning of another school year. I felt weak and uncertain today, like I'm not good enough. Faith. Faith is what I lack. Faith is what I've always lacked. It's been on my mind a lot lately. For some reason everything I now do has taken on a certain...seriousness. Sometimes the weight is unbearable. At my weakest moments when my present life felt heavy as a rock, I thought of my friend from middle school whom I've now known for 10 years and somebody whose name I don't know and will never see again. I began to understand many things when I read This Side of Paradise where Fitzgerald wrote something along the lines of "a sentimentalist is someone who hopes things last; a romantic is someone who hopes against all hope that they don't". Romance is a fragile thing and I am so weak and clumsy. I cling to romance hoping it will last, only to have my sentimentalism slowly corrode it away. Maybe the most romantic thing is a kiss that will never be repeated, so that it can be a frozen moment in time, never to be tainted. Fitzgerald is not 100% right of course. There is something romantic about hoping against all hope that things will last. After all, it is much more difficult for things to last than not. Not a goddamn thing ever seems to stand still.... Faith. A little faith is what I need.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
2:49 AM
Should've been in bed a couple of hours ago. Oh well. I don't have much to say either as I seem to be having a case of writer's block (no big deal since it's not my profession; I believe that after a tumultuous relationship of 5 years I'm just about ready to marry math), just unwinding before going to bed (yes it is very important to unwind before I try to fall asleep!). For lack of anything better to do I'm reading horoscopes on theonion.org. Here's my favorite: "While a persistent case of writer's block may have driven you right to the edge, it will continue to delay your suicide for months to come." Hilarious. Somehow against the rules to commit suicide without writing a fucking note explaining yourself. That in itself is ridiculous if you think about it: you hate the world so much you want to leave and never return or have anything to do with it again, but the last thing you do is explain to everybody still in the world why you want to leave? I have one thing to say to that: WHAT THE FUCK. Must be like Mersault wishing for "howls of execration" (not "cries of hate"! The more recent translation is clearly inferior on the basis of the last line alone.) at the end of The Stranger. Or it's like: I want you to love me; I want you to know that I want you to love me; I want to know if you know that I want you to love me...anyways, I'm already confused. That's quite enough unwinding for me. Time for bed.
Monday, September 18, 2006
6:51 PM
Stupid IE crashed when I tried to save. Oh well. Algebra qual in about 14 hours. Probably not going to study anymore. Only managed to study for about 5 hours today. I must not be as strong as I used to be, seems almost impossible for me to get myself to do more than 6 hours of serious work a day. Must be getting old. The body is a major annoyance. Going to watch American Wedding (watched American Pie 2) last night, then think through the delicate process of waking up tomorrow morning and taking the proper amount of drugs (caffeine, nicotine and advil if needed) to ready myself for the exam. Wish me luck. If I flunk this exam again, I'm seeing a shrink. Got any recommendations?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
10:59 PM
Due to the data transfer limitation I unfortunately had to remove the music.
8:57 AM
I did not feel at peace this morning. Listening to Beethoven's 5th. The devil's been whispering in my ears. 5 years since September 11. I remember that morning 5 years ago. I woke up alone in our old San Francisco apartment, thinking it was just another day. I was having a good summer. Berkeley summer school had ended and I spent my days mostly alone, learning random pieces of math, reading Ayn Rand, playing the piano and thinking through what classes I would take at UCLA. I was just about to go off to college and thought my life was finally shaping up just a little. I turned on the TV and saw that incredible sight on almost every channel, again and again. My dad called and said "something big happened in America today". It's ironic, that something so horrible would happen, just when I began to value my own life just a little bit. In the years immediately following, everytime I had to fly I would be a little afraid. Afraid to die. It was a curious feeling. Up till then I never thought I would be afraid to die. 5 years and where are we? Where am I? Here's a good speech on 9/11: http://news.yahoo.com/s/thenation/20060912/cm_thenation/15120539
"The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men."
I must still be too young because 5 years feel like a long time. In 5 years I've gone from somebody who knew almost no higher math to having half-assedly taken a lot of graduate level math classes, written two papers, given a couple of talks and been to a few conferences. For the most part I did not lack drive and enthusiasm. It must have been a reaction against the fact that I was mostly secluded in high school that I did not hesitate to plunge myself into situations involving lots of people. In many ways it has been a blast, but sometimes I feel so so tired. It feels like I have been fighting for a long time, except I'm not even sure what I have been fighting, why I have been fighting. I'm reminded of the X-Files and in particular the poster that says "I want to believe". I wanted to believe...anything, anything at all, as long as I could believe it wholeheartedly and I did believe. But now I can no longer believe. Doubt surrounds me everywhere I go like a shroud.
There has been many moments where I'm alone doing some math and have been striken by the beauty of something. It was not an ecstatic feeling. Not a feeling of "I'm so smart". It was not happiness I felt, but peace. It was as if the whole world just dropped away and there was only this thing which I see, in the most lonesome and desolate corner of my mind. Beauty need not come with material gain. Sometimes it was a little scary. Sometimes it felt a little cold. But it is the best reason to do math. The purest intentions are not of this world. To seek beauty with good faith and to look upon it, first timidly, then a little more boldly but still grateful, as it slowly reveals itself.... I have those moments more rarely these days, but thankfully they are not all gone. It is that good faith that I must shield and protect from worldly concerns. It is a precious thing. It keeps the devil away. It is the way to peace.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
3:10 AM
Back from Germany. Long trip. I seriously started to feel claustrophic after a while on the airplane, but I'm alive. Great conference, a little overwhelming for me given my juniority and feeling of unease about my academic situation, but it was a good experience. I didn't get to spend too much time outside of Oberwolfach, but I think I like Europe. I'll leave it at that for now. I have a story to write (you won't get to read it, sorry) and for once I have the perfect title but don't quite know how to begin or end the story. Then need to get on a morning schedule and get back to preparing for the exam.
Friday, September 1, 2006
4:11 AM
Going to Germany tomorrow for a conference. This is going to sound out of the blue, but when I was very little, I wanted to touch a burning candle. My mother told me not to but I didn't believe her so I put my thumb in the flame. I learned my lesson. Growing up I was told that I should always "try". I always wondered why. Why try when it may all be in vain? I spent a number of days in the past week feeling terrible about my previous relationship. I have no idea what precipitated that bout of self-disgust. Something was to be learned and I think when I recalled the candle incident, I slowly began to realize what it was. I cannot help how I feel. In the grand scheme of things maybe I can't even help how I act. But I can try. A lot of things from the age of 16 onwards has been a demonstration of what happens when I don't try. Again I've put my thumb in the flame.... Ouch.
Monday, August 28, 2006
4:09 AM
One of those days...where I simply felt bad about myself. I'll pray: Dear Father, shower me with your paternal love and show me in my dreams the happiness only you can give, the truth only you can know, and the beauty only you can create. Replenish my body and mind so that I may work, soothe my heart so that I may love, and cleanse my soul so that my intentions may be pure. Father, I was afraid today, of myself, my fickle heart, petty insecurities and dubious intentions. Give me strength and show me the way that I may find peace for myself and bring happiness to others.
Friday, August 25, 2006
3:44 AM
Watched my first baseball game today and had 2 beers for dinner. It was great fun. But afterwards.... The pain is still unbearable. There is one curious thing I've observed. The more time I spend doing/thinking about math, the more I understand, no matter how excruciatingly slowly. Life doesn't seem to work that way at all. The older I get the more I feel like I really don't understand anything. I may be slightly less angry at god, have a bit more of this thing called faith, and just a little more forgiving than before. The little things I do understand...sometimes I wish I didn't. After reading Confessions of a Mask, I all of a sudden understood why Mishima committed ritual suicide. It was a flash of lightning, almost like an "aha" moment when I manage to solve a problem...but it was no math problem that I solved, just a disturbing, gut-wrenching "understanding" of one man's one act which slightly mystified me when I first read The Sound of the Waves and learned that he committed seppuku back when I was 14. Understanding is the wrong word.
Maybe it's never the truth that scares me, but reality. Reality I escape as much as I can and yet it has such a strong hold. So amazingly difficult to be satisfied with delusions, to live completely in a dream world, in fantasy land, no matter how beautiful it is. So comforting real people can be...tangible touches, sights, sounds.... It is reality I fear: the things that are already real, the things I want to be real, the things that may not be real, the things that cannot be real.... Many things can be true, but so few are real. Reality is a drag. Reality is having to sleep, eat, shower, etc. Reality is so hard, so unclean. It is so easy to dream, so difficult to make them real. So much willpower it has taken to make just a few things real, sometimes I fear I have none left. As I withdraw further and further into my mind, reality fades but it beckons me still. Then dreams and fantasies become unbearable. Reality stares at me and laughs. I laugh back because I never had any delusions about my delusions. Whatever reality accuses me of I'll admit. I'll admit to worse things. I'm a coward because I run and hide, but let me not fear. I must not fear; fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that....
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
12:00 AM
Finished Confessions of a Mask by Yukio Mishima. I saw it in the bookstore sometime last week and decided to pick it up. It took my mind off of math more than I would've liked. Mishima...I should've known better. Fascinating book. I'd reflect on it but given that the whole book is basically a 250 page reflection that would be rather redundant. I'm not opening another Japanese book for a long time, heh. Time to get my mind out of the gutters and refocus on math. Should start reading Jean Christophe again.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
5:17 PM
The San Francisco Conservatory of Music is moving to Civic center. I watched a video piece on their website...for some reason it brought a great deal of emotions. I have not responded that way to music since I was very little. When I was a child I was positively afraid of music, mainly for two reaons: first my parents thought I was tone deaf because I couldn't sing for shit; second, some music brought out in me overwhelming surges of emotions that I did not understand, so running was my only option. Except for episodes of sulking and sometimes a feeling that things are "not fair", I was a daydreaming, drily intellectual and not at all emotional child. I did not grow up with dolls and fairy tales (I did have a doll though, only one; I don't remember what happened to her, but I don't think I ever had another one), so my daydreaming were always completely unrealistic visions of what I would do when I grew up. Nowadays when I listen to music, the emotions are already there and the music carries and soothes them. When emotions are running too high, it is only with the help of music that I can ever hope to get any work done. Otherwise I simply cannot sit still.
I was surprised that video piece brought out so much emotions. It's been so many years since I flirted with the idea of being a musician. I began to listen to music before bed when we moved to SF and had a sudden surge of interest when I was about 15 or 16. The conservatory was in Sunset District, which was where I was living most of my time in SF. It was the only thing beautiful in that entire god-forsaken neighborhood.
The month before my move to San Francisco I remember as the best time of my early-mid teenage years. I got up at 6 every morning to do homework then went to school. After school I met Alden in the arcade and we played street fighters. Afterwards I would run about a mile and bike before dinner. After dinner I either watched TV or played on Eternity's Trials (a MUD). My academic attention was mostly focused on Modern European History, taught by a tall Michigander who in fact concentrated in Asian history, so a great deal of attention was focused on the late Ching dynasty and China's unfortunate encounter with the Europeans. It was a fascinating (and humiliating) period of Chinese history. I believe I was also taking Biology, English, Geometry and Drawing. Granted I didn't spend enough time being productive, but heh, I did make straight A's that semester.
San Francisco...my city of lost dreams. I lost my interest in history soon after our move to San Francisco, mainly two reaons I think: no Mr. Mann to talk to and no UH library. I developed some interest in literature, but it didn't take a strong enough hold. I was also not very bright and probably didn't understand a lot of things :P. Then there was music, but that was overtaken by physics. Giving up physics was probably the most inexcusable thing. I went along with being a CS major because it seemed safer and of course more practical. Heh, I started college and was quickly seduced by math...ironic. So weak, why was I so weak.... I cannot fail again. Time to stop thinking about the past. My not so clear future beckons me. Actually my stomach beckons me. Time to move towards something called food.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
6:20 AM
Good morning. I made a heroic attempt to rejoin civilization by going to bed at 4:30 two nights ago but unfortunately didn't get up till 2 the next day. Took an advil last night but still didn't manage to fall asleep till about a bit before 6. Unfortunately the drug seemed to be very much in the system when I got up at 12 today. 5+ hours of work, dinner, 3 more hours of work, 4 hours of starcraft, one episode of angel and supper later I still have zero desire to go to bed. I give up....I suppose for now it is in my best interest to stay in bed once I've done the hard work of falling asleep. Heh, if I precess a couple hours a day I will rejoin civilization in a week. I did have caffeine after dinner and ate chocolate around midnight, but still, that was a long time ago. I've been encouraging my mind to stay active to amuse myself, but now it won't shut up. Oh well. I'll fall asleep when I fall asleep. I've been realizing the body is a real annoyance sometimes. Needs to be fed about 3 times a day, washed at least once a day, etc etc. I just realized...if I manage to fall asleep by 8 and have 8 hours of sleep, I'll be up at 4pm. Great. Just great. Actually feeling a little tired now. Good night.
Monday, August 7, 2006
2:30 PM
I haven't written for a while. You miss me? I know you do. I miss me sometimes, heh. As an effort to improve my opinion of myself I decided to stay up till about 9 in the morning last Friday so I could finish watching season 3 of Angel and then stop watching. There has been two consequences so far. First I got terribly sick. I've woken up the last 2 or 3 days feeling like I just got run over by a truck. It hurt to smoke. My head felt like it was going to explode sometimes. But it's all better now. The morning tea seems to cure many things. Yesterday I also had the help of porn. I had a major headache and it worked like a charm, hehe.
There is a practical discovery I've made: drugs take some time to take effect. I was told this is called delay time. Somehow I always expected drugs to work right away, which has led to some unpleasant consequences. For example, I would drink a lot of alcohol and then half an hour later discover I'm sick to my stomach and really want to stick my fingers down my throat to induce vomitting. Once I had so much Nyquil that the drug was still in my system well into the next day. It seems that when it comes to day to day life sometimes I'm indescribably stupid. Some rational intervention is probably a good idea. If I just took a moment to think quantitatively about drugs and how they work....
The second consequence is now I have no idea how to fall asleep. I watched Brokeback Mountain two nights ago. Great movie. I was afraid to watch it for two reasons. First I didn't know how I would respond to the gay love scene. I never liked gay men porn, heh. I must say it was very well done and...touching. Second I was afraid it would be too sad/depressing. That turned out to be not the case. The reason for that is said best by Alfred Lord Tennyson:
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
I have not yet thought much about the movie and maybe it is best I don't. In any case I somehow fell asleep sometime after watching the movie. Of course I also had the help of Advil. Last night I tried to fall asleep starting from around 3AM and finally succeeded sometime after 6. I've started to read Jean Christophe but for some reason didn't feel like reading it. I ought to try that tonight.
Exam studying is still going fairly slowly, but I believe some phase transition has occurred because I seem to have lost my dread of it. I worked for about 5 hours yesterday. There is still much to do, but for some reason I don't really feel like doing anything. Probably just the cold dulling my mind. But it is time to try to get to work again.
Friday, July 28, 2006
3:53 AM
Progress has picked up a little. I do seem to be thinking about math more. Commitments, promises, vows. They are all lies. I've told myself so many lies that now I find myself disillusioned. But it does seem to be true that whatever else is going on, my academic standing and my perception of my academic abilities remain eminently tied to my sanity and emotional stability. A certain kind of happiness still seems to come exclusively from interactions with other people. I'm that way whether I like it or not. Whether that is the work of god or the devil I do not know, probably both. Experimental evidence has shown, however, that other people are a poor source of peace. At least it absolutely cannot be the sole source of peace. Far as social things are concerned, it's all just a big silly game. When we're winning, i.e. when we feel loved, respected, liked, etc. we are happy and want to play the game more. When we're losing, we are not. It sounds really dumb but that's how it really is. At the end of the day there's nothing more faithful, innocent, steadfast and patient than mathematical truths, long as I'm not too stupid to see them.
I used to think that I do math because it makes me happy. I now see that there is a much more fundamental reason: it is my shield. At the end of the day, my mind is my greatest protector. To think, to conjure up images, to fantasize, to dream...my mind is what keeps me company constantly. It is so important to form sentences, paragraphs and thoughts, no matter how ridiculous they may seem. I remember when I was in high school, I felt ecstatic after thinking for a very long time and concluding that life is completely meaningless. Doesn't make much sense at first but it actually makes a lot of sense: the reason I was ecstatic was simply because I had a stimulating albeit slightly ridiculous conversation with myself. I've been "accused" of constantly thinking by many people in the past...I think I've finally been alive long enough to realize that if I stop thinking, misery is sure to follow. It's as certain as death and taxes. I probably always understood this intuitively; it may be one reason why I never liked going to sleep.
I'm losing coherence. In any case, the upshot is I've learned it is much better to be obsessive about things that aren't real than things that are. Reality is much more...comfortable...when observed from a distance. People are much more benevolent and lovable when I see them unexpectedly in some corner of my mind than when I think about them and analyze them incessantly. Love...the most important thing of all, seems to be the one thing my mind cannot ever hope to understand. Think about it enough and there is absolutely no romance left. And yet, it takes a most creative mind to say "I love you" in more ways than one. I don't understand any of this at all.
Friday, July 21, 2006
3:39 AM
I've traded a heartache for a headache. Then one headache for another headache. The headaches have subsided and at the very end of the day I'm still left with a great big heartache. Neccessity. A number of things must be done. That's all I know now. But truths I can't change. Trying to add a little method to my madness. I now see that happiness is often found impulsively but peace must be sought most patiently and methodically.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
3:48 AM
Two weeks.... It's been a summer of goodbyes. One way or another. It feels like a chapter of my life is drawing to a close, but what's ahead I do not see with complete certainty. Perhaps it is better this way. I used to be so certain, but it was all a lie. The most important things, the most beautiful things, the most painful things...I never saw them coming. I've gotten mostly what I wanted, but here I am sitting in "jail", willingly, not for what I did, but for all that I didn't do.
The trip to San Francisco was nice. I like the city; it's a pity I was stuck in Sunset District most of the time I lived there. So tired. I've only had one can of coke and 8 cigaretts today. Heh, that's one accomplishment: smoking has gone down by half and caffeine intake is basically down to zero, but I still need a little in the morning. Unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to stay away from caffeine.
You always make me feel so penitent, yet I feel no guilt or shame. I've done no wrong. I just wish I can do a little better, have a bit more patience. In the end all I can say is please forgive me, I know not what I do.
Monday, July 3, 2006
11:28 AM
Morning. I woke up today feeling very very old. 22 almost 23, oh god. Well into the twenties. Soon it'll be 24, 25, blah blah blah, then before I know it it'll be 30. No serious regrets so far. From 14 to 18 was a rather dull period of life, but I believe I've compensated since then. Shit, 23.... I don't want to be 23. 23 is a terrible number. It's now July, four more months and I'm 23. 14 was a beautiful number. 17 was also beautiful. 18, 19, 20 were just fine. They were numbers to be passed through. Didn't have to think about them much. The odd number always seem more striking. The even ones I seem to ignore, but 16 was significant I think. 21 was beautiful, but 23! It's a "cuspy" number if you know what I mean. Prime too. It's a number that's nowhere in particular, but ominous just the same. Awkward, gawky and ugly. Makes me think of a tall lumpy girl with hips that are too big. Or Billy in Slaughterhouse Five. There is nothing glamorous about 23 at all. The next beautiful number is 27. After that I'm not sure if there are any more beautiful numbers. Damn...damn damn damn. Damn it all. Breakfast then to campus...got to stop thinking about 23.
Saturday, July 1, 2006
2:00 PM
Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D...I used to listen to it every single night before I fell asleep when I first moved to SF. So beautiful, so full of life, so sweet, and, orgastic.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
3:21 AM
"...we have a terrible honesty that all our sophistry cannot destroy and, above all, a childlike simplicity that keeps us from ever being really malicious." - This Side of Paradise
Saturday, June 17, 2006
2:40 AM
It's been a week, a long week indeed. What have I accomplished? Not a whole lot, but not nothing either. Sick again I think, probably picked up something from office hours Monday (just when I recovered from a previous bout of cold too), lots of people came and it was a good last office hours. The heat also has not been good for me; I feel like there's a big lump in my chest half the time. I don't seem to be in a good emotional state and insomnia has been kicking in a bit; the little amount of work I've been getting done is probably a lot of what's keeping me sane. Overall things are not bad though. Things are going slowly but they have not ground to a halt. I cannot afford to be too obsessive about things, at least not until the quals are passed, heh. Once the exams are done then I'll really have the ropes to hang myself with. It would be a silly waste indeed if my next birthday wish has to be "I wish I pass the exams next time I take them". When I think about it, my wishes always seem to come true, somehow, just not exactly the way I expect. Speaking of wishes, there was one entirely altruistic wish I made when I was much younger. I remember we were visiting Hearst Castle and there was a place to make a wish; I put in a coin and wished for somebody else's happiness. I truly did. She was a very good friend of mine. In retrospect it is surprising, but it is a good thing I made that wish since she knew me at a very bad time in my life. Funny, I became friends with her right after being traumatized over "the bitch" and basically deciding that I would avoid girls from then on if possible. Sometimes I don't understand me. Anyways, not enough got done today, but it's bedtime...have to start getting up a little earlier.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
3:32 AM
Three hours to do one contour integral. The source of all the trouble was I forgot a coefficient when using the quadratic formula. So many things to deal with all at once. Personal growth always seem to happen in spurts. I used to love history, but gave up soon after our move to San Francisco; I gave up music because I had absolutely no talent; I gave up writing because it drove me crazy. Heh, I can't lose again, so god help me. There's nowhere else to run, but I'm happy with where I'm headed.
Saturday, June 3, 2006
3:23 PM
One of those days, where I feel I'm quite literally losing my mind. Just imagine having had too much to drink (both caffeine and alcohol) and too much to smoke...except I have not touched a drop of liquor and have only had a cup of tea. Maybe I'm having a fever. Can never tell. I feel like an egomaniac and yet I can't even put a few books on the bookcase without ripping the entire shelf off. Yeah, it's my rickety bookcase that I failed to put together so now there's two of them. I wrote a poem a couple days ago, haven't done that in five years. I sat there for four hours, even forgot to somke. God, what's happening to me.... Time to get out of the apartment. Pink, must wear pink today.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
11:10 PM
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
5:52 AM
Feels so good to stay up all night. I've never figured it out but usually if I stay up long enough, after a certain hour, positive thinking takes over, I become sane again, and life begins to appear livable. It is during certain hours of the day that I have the worst thoughts. I ought to become a vampire...carefree life without a soul...creature of the night when everybody sleeps...if only it's possible not to bite people. Soul, I'm not sure everybody has one. Sometimes I wonder if I do. Maybe I'm a cross between an angel and a demon, neither of which needs a soul...not really. Only two things a soul is good for: love and suffering. Everything else you can manage just fine without, probably better. So much to do. One thing after another...beauty and truth are nowhere to be found. Two ways to redemption: appreciation and a certain amount of altruism. I have neither right now; self-absorbed, physically unwell, 21 years of age on a double expressway to hell. Seeya.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
3:38 AM
Rachmaninoff's 2nd. I used to listen to it every day before sleep when I was in high school. Nowadays I watch Buffy before sleep. I've been without it for a couple days now...just never had the time to go to the video store. The paper writing is going well, but physically I've been feeling like shit; cough here and there, intermittent headaches, upset stomach, 8 hours of sleep and still dizzy head...one nasty cold I've got.
There is something about TV shows that is so distinctly different from movies. TV shows - especially ones with some continuity, are much more real, closer to life and like a casual acquaintance. I've always wondered about it, why is it that watching some other...life is so important? Casual acquaintances, TV shows, news.... The point is not to be close to any of those people/things at all; the point is to watch other beings and pretend they don't have problems. The point is to understand, but not empathize; to be amused but not feel. The point is to run away. I'm not at all adept at hiding or self-deception, so that leaves me with running. Sometimes you just can't run fast enough. What a shitty CD player. Never mind. You see as far as that is concerned, Buffy is much better for me than Angel, because Angel is too much like me. Second movement, my favorite. It is therapeutic in a strange way. He dedicated it to his shrink I believe, heh, makes sense. There's always something to run away from.
Contradiction after contradiction...this world makes no fucking sense at all. Yeah, I've always been very adept at finding problems. I had such a wonderfully "abstract" mind as child: I would find a problem, think through to a solution, be convinced I was right and be real pleased. Yeah, I just lived in my fucking head. I was a whole lot better at self-deception back then too. See, I wanted to be the emperor, the reasoning being that then I would be able to do all these wonderful things for everybody, but the truth is I just wanted to be in a position where I could do whatever I wanted. Funny I don't want that anymore. What an incredible amount of faith I had in myself; I was convinced I would make a great ruler. Life just wasn't that real to me back then. I had next to no feelings...maybe I did, but I had no names for them and things don't become real until you name them. First time I cried for a non-obvious reason I probably wondered why water was coming out of my eyes. Why did I first develop feelings? To understand some fucking novel or another maybe. I remember this one time when my mom and I went to stay with a friend of hers; I played with this boy a lot and then when we left he cried but I felt absolutely nothing at all. Mommy then told me I should tell them how much I enjoyed my stay and how I'll miss them a lot, that part of the experience was to teach me to have/express feelings. Yeah, great, that's how it was; they had to ruin everything, and what for? I had a great playmate, we had a great time, can't we leave it at that? Problem with feelings is that they're addictive; once you learn feelings you feel dead when you don't feel them. That's how I am anyway. Sick, don't you think?
Mind boggling when I think of it. I was so different back then. How did it all happen? Fucking hormones.... One day I realize I'm bleeding...then it happens again and again, monthly visit from reality. Pain is real. Then off I go and develope a conscience, feelings, empathy, one after another; and yeah I really started to understand the fucking novels. 10 years later and I'm still traumatized. You know what else is real? Fucking is real. There's nothing more real than fucking. Probably one of the only good "real" things. I never had a need for cartoons, science fiction or fantasy when I was a child, because life was already a dream to me. Not anymore. So off I go to vampires, spaceships, heaven, hell and when I'm functional enough, mathematics.
Friday, September 2, 2005
12:01 AM
Wow, I haven't updated for a while. You've basically missed my entire vacation. I went home to SF on Aug 18 and we flew to Hawaii on the 19th. My time in Hawaii (especially Honolulu) was enjoyable, thanks mainly to Alden. We met up and played a lot of Starcraft :) and a little bit of tennis which managed to give me blisters at the bottom of my feet (I have the shitty shoes I was wearing to thank for that). Thanx to my ping pong playing I actually enjoyed the little bit of tennis I played; it actually used to be one of my least favorite things to do in PE because I always had an urge to turn around and run away when I see the tennis ball coming towards me.
I also managed to meet up with another middle school friend Jian. We visited Washinton Middle School (where we used to go); the main highlight of the visit was that we saw a dead black cat on the road who got run over by a car. Jian completely freaked out, but I talked her into helping me bury it (her response was to stay the fuck away from the cat because she's afraid it's going to haunt her, but well if you think about it, it's a much better idea to do something nice for it so that hopefully it won't haunt anybody, in particular me; heh, my intentions weren't as pure as you may think, but it's a start. I remember a cat like that when I used to go to school there; the boys used to throw rocks at it...probably the same boys who used to pick on me); unfortunately by the time we walked halfway across the campus and dug a couple boxes out of the trash can some lady had already bagged the cat. It's probably going to get taken to some garbage dump. Poor thing.
Honolulu hasn't changed all that much. The only unfortunate thing is that Wakiki is now infested with hotels and stores. If they build anymore, it would ruin the whole thing. The other thing is now there seems to be a real Korean presence there. The net cafe Alden and I went to to play Starcraft was Korean. Then to demonstrate that I could have a couple shots of vodka without going kaplooey we went to a bar - where I quickly had two shots of vodka and smoked 4 cigarrettes, which turned out to be Korean as well. (Well you get the idea).
We also visited our old landlord/landlady (one of many, we moved many times there) who were good friends with us; I used to play with their grandkids. They are well and in good health and spirits - perhaps also a little surprised to see how haole (Hawaiian word for white) I turned out. I also hung out in my old neighborhood a bit. It was an excellent neighborhood to grow up in: one block away from both a library and a very good park. Unfortunately the arcade Alden and I used to go to has closed down.
After Honolulu we went to Maui. The weather there was much better and it was much less crowded. The beach in the morning was wonderful and I took a nap there while the rest of the family went swimming. We drove around Hana, went to a Luau, and went on a snorkel cruise (where I refused to go snorkeling and spent the whole time on the boat instead - I like being on the boat, btw). Heh, I have gained a new appreciation for ass shaking from the Luau. Amazing girls can do it so much better than guys; I suppose actually having an ass helps. On the other hand the highlight of the show was an anorexic looking male dancer who had the biggest mouth and the biggest grin.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
3:07 PM
Woke up with a monster of a headache. Yeah, sick again.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
3:28 AM
Spirits of the wind, what do you bring me today? So many unanswerable questions. Funny, some of the questions I least know how to answer are ones I asked before I was 10. So much for growing up. Heh, at some point I realized I'd never understand really those things so now I'm doing something more practical instead, namely math. If I had to choose between a genius of a god with a not so pure heart and a dumb god with a pure heart, then the choice is clear. I rather believe god didn't quite know what he's doing - but he meant well - then that he somehow meant for certain things to happen. Believing things will eventually work out is one thing, accepting justification for suffering is quite another. Intellectually I understand that I'd be bored out of my mind if I got literally everything I wanted with no effort, but the childlike part of me find the idea of suffering simply unacceptable. It's not just how things are that's important, but how things ought to be. When I see something I don't like, I tell myself it ought to be better and I try to be better. Sorry, I'm making no sense at all. Goodnight.
Sunday, August 7, 2005
Don't ever underestimate the power of alcohol. I feel much better after a couple cups of barcardi 151 mixed with soy milk. So much bullshit, but what do I really believe? Here is what I believe: I believe in love. Here is what I don't believe: I don't believe in unrequited love (of any kind). I've never loved in vain, I don't love in vain, and I will never love in vain. Period.
Alden, you've saved me time and again. You're my angel, really. Thanks.
Saturday, August 6, 2005
2:35 PM
I'm going to start reading The Fountainhead again. I've been feeling an awful pall hanging over me for days and it just wouldn't lift. I'm afraid I may be sinking into the worst depression in years. Since I last read the book, I've discovered a thing or two about the author which is not so palatable; however, that ought to have no bearing on the book itself at all. How miserable Ayn Rand was in her late life has no bearing on the fact that last time I read the book I was productive for at least two year; in many ways that has gotten me where I am now. So caught up in my own shortcomings and the irrationalities of life that I no longer see how things ought to be. To live without a vision, a dream, is no longer possible. That is the function of novels; a novel may have next to nothing to do with reality at all. A novel is either a projection of an ideal or a social critique. Gadfly. No need to say everything is wrong...it just could be a whole lot better.
Friday, August 5, 2005
10:33 PM
Dinner time. Highlight of the day: finally found garlic sauce at Ralph's! The question now is what to eat. Enjoying the basic necessities of life, it seems, is very important for survival.
Thursday, August 4, 2005
2:52 PM
Headache...stuck at home waiting for my sofa delivery and listening to trance. Trance will be good for me...there is something calming about repetition. I feel weak and...uncertain. Have to focus on repetitions and the most boring and primal certainties of life. Going to put together a piece of furniture while I wait for Advil to take effect then work....
Wednesday, August 3, 2005
4:22 AM
So late already. I have still utterly failed to settle myself into any semblance of routine. Yeah, I'm not so adept at survival, heh, if you haven't noticed already, but then again you always see me at my weakest moments. Ironic I find the need to expose my vulnerabilities to potentially faceless strangers, but then again, who gives a shit anyway? I've always compensated for my lack of stability with obsession; you tell yourself this one single thing you're doing is all that matter, that your life depends on it, etc, etc. It is the easiest way to get through the day if you can convince yourself of that.
You know there's something I've never understood...I seem to have such a strong dependence on...people. I always considered it an utter failure (perhaps the biggest in my life so far) that I've never learned to just be by myself for an entire day, not talk to a soul and not go crazy by the end of the day. In some sense the solution is simple: you go to sleep and sleep for a long time and then when you wake up you're so happy and excited that you'll be pleased to see a rat, but unfortunately I don't like to sleep all that much. You see, most people don't see this "problem" because if you think about it, how many days (if any) do you really go through without talking to anybody? Well, for me it's a bit different; the point is, when I don't talk for a long time, I basically forget how to talk. It's that simple. Good thing I don't forget how to think - maybe I do. I was always a bit like this. When I was in elementary school, I would see my mother walking down the street and not talk to her. The reason I'm sure was manifold, but maybe it just took too long to register: oh I see a person; oh wait that's my mother; maybe I should say hi.
Such a little freak I was. It's a big fucking miracle I survived this long and am not a completely shitty and worthless person. Just too little life in me; have to work hard to stay in decent shape. Just a weak little creature with a small heart and bloated head filled with the kind of fluffy nonsense I'm spewing out right now. Yeah, I'm sure mommy doesn't approve of me sitting here bitching when I have better things to do, lol. Life is meaningless, worthless, blah blah...I'm not feeling well, blah blah; mommy would just say "you live and you die, big deal, don't you have better things to do? Work hard, have a good life and all your little problems will go away." Yeah, sure, no problem. Yeah, mommy always knew what I wanted, even when I didn't.
My parents were freaks too: I would say that I'm sick, not feeling well, etc; mommy would say "you have a problem? what problem? you don't have a problem" and then daddy would say "told you to put that sweater on and you didn't listen to me; now you're sick and it's all your fault." To tell you the truth I actually prefered not having a problem to it all being my fucking fault. People are so full of shit (I'm full of shit too in case you haven't noticed) and so fucking sure of ourselves. Mommy and daddy used to be both convinced that they knew exactly what I was thinking, except the only problem was their versions were completely different; the poor little stupid kid that I was would get so confused I wouldn't know what the fuck I was thinking (actually sometimes they were both right to some extent; you see I was a complicated and fucked up kid, but of course they would never agree the other might have been right). See, it works recursively: one person is either too busy or having too much fun to see any problems; the other person sees problems, is amazed the other person doesn't see the problem (whether there's a problem or not), and then the fact that the other person doesn't see the problem itself then becomes a new problem; the first person then becomes convinced the second person is out of his/her fucking mind and is creating problems out of thin air. Truth, falsehood, the existence or absence of problems then become a big entangled mess and nobody can sort it out.
But see, I'm a balanced individual, so I go through cycles. I'd go through a while feeling everything's happy and perfect and if I just do what I'm obsessed over there is no problem whatsoever; then I go through the next cycle where I think every aspect of my life is problematic, that I'm a shitty individual in desperate need of help, kick in the ass etc. Ok, whatever happened to using the head? I do that too, every once in a while. Well, the key is to make sure whichever cycle is closer to the truth sticks around longer than the other one.
Actually to make myself feel better about the lack of some civilized routine in my life I'm going to recall my wonderful high school junior year. So back then I had this great routine of getting up at 7 in the morning, spending half an hour waiting for the bus (and freezing my ass off) to go to school, sitting through 4 or 5 boring classes (with shitty school lunch in the middle somewhere), finishing HW right in class or between breaks, spending another half an hour waiting for the bus, taking the bus home, stuffing myself silly with the worst kind of junk imaginable (ice cream, pizza, chicken wings, etc) since I was starving from not having had enough lunch, then playing computer games till mommy and daddy comes home and drags me to dinner, pacing around the kitchen for an hour or two as an attempt to put off doing dishes while thinking the kinds of wonderful thoughts you see here to amuse myself, doing dishes, maybe an hour or so of TV, taking an hour to shower, and going to sleep. And then there was the half-semester reports filled with A's which meant absolutely nothing to me.
Great life, don't you think? Well, I didn't think so. So one quarter I decided to do something different. First of all I dropped Latin (since I got a B+ instead of an A the quarter before) to take up second semester French after trying very hard to give myself a crash course in the language a week before the semester started; second of all I managed to get into honors English; third of all I was taking trignometry with a long-term substitute teacher with the biggest fucking frog eyes anybody's ever seen. I decided to make life exciting by really fucking around and spending minimal time on HW even while I was on campus (I took long walks instead during my breaks). Well, life sure got exciting. Within a month I saw my life crumble into pieces right in front of my eyes. I was flunking trignometry, terrified by my English teacher, and barely scraping by in French (well take the word flunking with a grain of salt; I was probably getting C's). The only thing still going smoothly was band, which was taught by a woman who was rather fond of me and I was charmed by - she looked like a doll and the boys flirted with her at times.
So anyways it was a major fiasco which fortunately was straightened out by the end of the semester: my trig grade slowly went from a C to an A; I was saved in English by Madame Bovary, a book we read and perhaps I understood and appreciated to a greater extent than most in the class, and French I dropped altogether. One (perhaps minor) result of my little experiment was I completely forgot how to play the system to get A's with minimum effort - something I never relearned. But then again, maybe the classes just got harder and I was too stupid to be able to get away with no work anymore - the truth is grades already didn't mean too much to me even long before the fiasco, long as it didn't keep me from going to college.
Why am I telling you all this? No reason really; just thinking out loud. That was the bleakest time in my life before 19. The cause of my troubles did not solely consist of my fuck up in school, but far as that is concerned, something began to occur to me for the very first time: things that are seemingly meanless to me may in fact have something to do with my identity, survival, etc. Over the years I have in fact began to see how much my life and survival depends on various things/people, which - amazing as it may sound - was a novel concept to me; as a child I was under the illusion that once I grew up my life depended on me alone in the sense that I wouldn't need anybody else, etc, but I turned out to be wrong.... Sometimes it's probably best not to think of it that way (my life depends on X, Y, Z and if I lost X, Y, Z I wouldn't know what the fuck to do) because it's too depressing and too scary. I'm not being clear, but to put it simply I basically learned how absolutely easy it was to fuck up my life (scary thought), but then again I should also remember how easy it was to fix: I actually had two good years after that fiasco before things started to blow up again. After spending close to two hours thinking these thougts, the lesson is ridiculously simple: one of my first math TA's gave us one advice before the final and it can be summarized in three punchy words - DON'T FUCK UP.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
1:33 AM
Fuck, what a royal waste of a day. I literally didn't want to do anything all day (or rather couldn't decide what to do). Got up at 2:30, smoked and ate breakfast, on campus around 4, smoked, did errands, smoked some more, out of there by 6, "cooked" and ate dinner, did laundry, watched Charlie, talked on the phone, smoked, dyed my hair, smoked, diddled around with useless ideas, showered, smoked some more...that's about it. Amazing how I managed to piss away the day with relative ease. Yeah maybe I should just get drunk and play Starcraft...at least then I'll be doing something.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
1:01 PM
4:57 AM
Damn, it's actually 6 already (was reading a bit of Camus and slowly drifting into a pre-sleep null). Got very little sleep last night and the day ended in defeat. Even Starcraft with Alden got off to a rough start; the two of us combined were having trouble at first defeating three computer players - the computer has definitely gotten better with the latest upgrade, but we got the hang of it after a while. Life is an illogical mess: Outdated genetic programming, flawed physiological design, a mind capable of logic trapped in an inefficient chemical machine fueled by unreliable hormones in constant flux.... Acceptance of our condition because it is natural? Because god willed it so? No.... My unacceptance is the only thing I have left to defend. I don't like to sleep; I don't really like to eat; I'm no longer as adept at falling into routines as I used to be. The older I get the more I realize that without passion (or in the absence of that some form of obsession) life is worthless and barely livable. Live, live, live, live as if you'll die tomorrow (and learn as if you'll live forever).
Monday, July 25, 2005
4:05 AM
Some mundane updates: I have decided to stop watching videos; there are just so many better things I could be doing - aside from the obvious research and studying I ought to be doing, my time is much better spent hanging out with people, talking to people on AIM or playing Starcraft. And poor Diana broke her foot and is now stuck at her not so accessible apartment.
Love, hate, suffering, personal epiphanies...nobody's gonna give a shit about any of that at my funeral. All they'll ever remember is what I have produced. All that too will be forgotten in time, but it'll last a little longer than the others. I'm reminded of the scene in Troy where Achilles' mother basically tells him that if he goes then she'll never see him again but his name will go down in history, but if he stayed, he would have a peaceful life, be remembered by his children and then forgotten. When you're happy and content you just be, when you aren't, what's a better use of time than to work on the obituary? Got to take something from this place, right? Got to make suffering worth something. Gambler...I'm like a gambler; loss after loss after loss...more and more and more, a win here and there, then finally a pat on the back, a grin: nice try, kid, a piece of paper saying I'm dead and that I tried real hard, coffin closes, good night. Fuckers. Can't ever win against the house. Wonderful. You can't tell me it's not worth dying - hence living - for. Funeral after funeral, science makes progress....
Thursday, July 21, 2005
3:44 PM
There was a game I used to play. You have a triangle and a whole bunch of shapes, each different: square, L-shape, segment, zigzag, etc. The point of the game was to tile the triangle with these shapes in various ways. The amazing thing is, if you start with any compatible shape on any corner, you can almost always tile the rest of the triangle using the remaining pieces (with difficulty at times). The process proceeds in a way that one would expect: as more pieces fill the triangle, it becomes increasingly more difficult to fit the rest of the pieces. What usually happens is that everything works perfectly until the very last piece, then you go through great difficulty to rearrange the pieces so that they eventually all fit on the triangle.
That's what we are, randomly shaped pieces, each trying to tile his own with others, except it never tiles. The uniqueness of our souls dooms us to loneliness - some do better than others of course. Various parts are left empty at various times, then we shift and rearrange the pieces (maybe obtaining new ones and getting rid of old ones). Are we doing better now than 5 years ago? It's never clear; maybe all we did was rearrange the pieces. How do you measure better? By the amount of empty space left? The tightness of whatever tiling is there? How difficult it would be to fill the remaining area? Whatever, the point is it never tiles, and the empty spot keeps moving.... Lol, actually reminds me of Illyria from the Angel: I don't require the attention of any of these creatures. Yeah, we all just gotta run around like busy little bunnies and fill the empty spots.
Our cursed humanity...it is weakness that defines humanity; such frail little critters we are. It is our frailty that we celebrate: frail body, pitiful mind, fickle heart. Regret, guilt, shame, and the grand ability to indulge in large scale illusions (AKA hope)...this is our conscience, our defense against evil. So irrational (and unwilling to admit it) and experts at self-delusion...this is how we survive - yeah, out of sight, out of mind. What a shitty little species...one moment of glory then years (decades) of misery and tears - all packaged into a glittering hollywood production, media piece, chapter in a book, line in a newspaper, or, my favorite "funeral after funeral, science makes progress" - ever heard of a more inspirational quote?
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
4:51 AM
IE crashed, so let me start again. When I last started writing I was wondering whether to sleep or not. I've made up my mind since then (obviously). The quandary was the following: I dislike going to bed not completely at peace and looking forward to tomorrow and yet given how tired I am it is perhaps difficult to find peace. And yet (in the absence of time constraint) why should I go to sleep unfulfilled, leaving things undone, thoughts unfinished, problems unresolved, only to wake up with the same unfulfilled feeling, rush out the door to the traffic, the glaring sun, the terrible terrible evening hours, and then to sleep with the same old baggage? My peaceful silent nights where the devil sleeps and god whispers to me, where have they gone? Keeping a routine that doesn't exist? Making empty promises for an empty tomorrow.... where is tomorrow when there wasn't even today?
Those horrible, at times unbearable hours from about 6 till 9...the interface between day and night, today and tomorrow, harbingers of the night - no, of sleep and the death of today. I used to hate daytime naps and the reason was simple: I would wake up and everything would be different. That's how it is. Dinner...then boom everything is different, because the sun has gone down and it feels like the day is dead. It's never a continuous transition; the analogy with death is a good one, you don't quite continuously die, at some point you're dead with certainty. So here I am, dreading the little death that will occur about 13 hours from now - the death of a day that is not yet born. Tomorrow? What is tomorrow? Tomorrow too will die. All must be done now, now, now....
Monday, July 18, 2005
1:21 PM
When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me, so
* Darling darling stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me, stand by me
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Or the mountain
Should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me, and
(Repeat * 2 times)
Whenever you're in trouble
Won't you stand by me, oh stand by me
Saturday, July 16, 2005
4:58 AM
Great...can't sleep...either didn't enough or didn't watch enough stupid videos.
Monday, July 11, 2005
3:32 PM
Shit, went to bed at 4AM last night (versus 6AM the night before...that's progress) and didn't get up till now. Damn it. Forgot to have a smoke before I went to bed, heh. I guess I'll have to start setting the alarm again.
Saturday, July 9, 2005
3:33 PM
Listening to KDFC (http://www.kdfc.com)...Galway playing Hungarian Pastoral Fantasy by Doppler. Of all instruments, the flute has the most haunting sound. I had a very rough night yesterday, what you would call dark night of the soul. Heh, still alive. Sometimes I feel like a werewolf; every once in a while I turn into a monster. All I can do is try my best not to say or do anything I would regret. I believe I have succeeded; I'm alive, well, didn't piss anybody off and my life hasn't fallen apart. Oh well, it's a um, living hazard (like a professional hazard). The only thing I really remember is I realized that Romeo and Juliet are both burning in hell right now (don't ask why I thought of that...it was the most amusing thing I could come up with at the time), if the catholics are right, heh. Eternal damnation for a few days of love...nah, I don't believe that, because that's exactly what the devil would want me to believe.
Thursday, July 7, 2005
1:26 AM
I guess it's been a month since my last rambling. I was actually cut off from the internet at home for quite a while. Well, I have learned a few things in the past month or so and I'm sure you can't wait to hear them.
You know, the older I get the more unsure of myself I become. I used to believe (this was reinforced by "adults") that as I age I will be more sure of myself and be less conflicted, more balanced, blah blah. You see, not so long ago, I believed I did things the way I did because that's the way they ought to be done, that it is the right way. Well, it has nothing to do with right or wrong at all; viewed positively, I did things in a way that took maximum advantage of my strength; viewed negatively, I did things in a way that best covered my limitations. Yeah, all a bunch of bullshit, just one of the many lies I believed as a child...nothing to do with right or wrong, just who I am. I'm sure Alden understood and accepted this a long time ago. I've only recently seen this to be true, and no, I'm not going to accept it. Well, I'm not quite the judgmental pig I used to be and I'm sure you think that's a plus. But see, there is something tragic about realizing that certain things that occur so so naturally to you is not the truth, but just a result of your particular genetic makeup and shitty life you've led up till that point. Oh well, we all have our own tragedies; I've just switched from one to another. I probably live a different tragedy everyday, heh.
That leads me to the next thing. I have come to understand the devil's best invention. Now this thing has many names: In mathematics it's called binary; in Chinese it's called yin-yang. This thing is at the same time the sole source of our logical certainties and the sure path to decadence, inactivity, and pessimism. There's an old Chinese saying: throw a party and you're busy for a day; build house and you're busy for a year; get a wife and you're busy for a lifetime. Heh, not to mention all the shitty things that can go wrong with any of the above activity. So yeah, best thing to do is to do nothing, then you can do no wrong, blah blah. All this is perhaps old news to you, but see, this yin-yang thing made no sense to me whatsoever when I was first exposed to it. Well, let me be a bit more explicit about why I think this is such a poisonous idea: when I was a child and I found something "good", it did not occur to me at all that it might lead to something bad. I was exposed to such ideas in kung fu movies, and at the time I probably thought this is what old dead Chinese men pulled out of their asses one day when they've been staring at their navel for a little too long. I do admit I was not too bright as a kid, but the point remains: if something is good and you're happy, why for godsake would you think there's something bad attached to it? I believe the moment I understood yin-yang is the moment pessimism started. See, this whole yin-yang thing is supposed to be great wisdom; in some sense it's not so different from the Confucius idea of taking the middle road. So much wisdom -- I mean bullshit...whoever tried to get these ideas into my head all deserve a big overdue fuck you. You know it's ironic, as a kid I really thought I would never understand all this yin-yang bullshit, but now I actually do -- to some extent.
Fuck you too to all those who think I need more "balance" in my life; heh, the middle road ain't the only way to balance: Take the two extremes and average them and you still get the fucking middle; what's wrong with that (long as it doesn't kill you)? See, that's the child's way: you're happy you're happy you're so happy and you can't imagine being sad; then your favorite toy gets taken away and you're sad sad sad, you think it's the end of the world and wish you had it back, and when you do you're happy happy happy again. I believe the greatest perversion of a child comes when the child, out of some defensive mechanism and foolish pride, says to the parent/friend that they no longer want the toy when in fact they still do; in time they actually believe they no longer want the toy and then they don't know what the fuck to do with themselves because that toy was such a pure source of joy for them. And why does the child do this (in addition to the already proposed reasons)? Very simple: By so doing and making the toy less desirable they increase their chances of getting it back. Yeah, corruption of the young happens ridiculously early.
That brings me to the devil. Let me first start with god. I have come to realize that god is filled with goodwill but dumb as a slab of concrete. This epiphany was prompted by the character Jimmy Bond in the TV show The Lone Gunman. The first thing I thought of when I saw Jimmy was that this is how god is. You know all these people walk around and say "god has a plan for everyone", but that's a whole bunch of baloney. God doesn't have a plan, but the devil sure does. I attribute only benevolence to god; everything else the devil can have. It is always the will of god against the infinite cleverness of the devil. God is a big brother who never quite grew up. People write such complicated prayers; my prayer is very simple: "help me". Every once in a while when I drive down Gayley, I silently say to him "help me". What more do I need to say? He's a good guy but a busy guy; he'll help me when he hears me. What more can I ask? All the bitching and moaning and vengefulness I offer to the devil, the clever little bitch (two reasons I think the devil is a girl: 1. can't think of a guy quite that clever, heh. 2. I always liked boys better and associate dumb goodwill with (some) of them).
Okay, so this is how it works: We have things that make us so so happy, the devil can't quite take them away because it is the will of god that we have them, so she racks her brain to make life as complicated as possible. We get so tired of all her shit that we voluntarily let go of our favorite toy. Then she gets a hold of them and won't give them back. We then pout and say "fine, I didn't want it anyway", and then the kid scenario happens and before we know it we don't know what the fuck to do with ourselves. The devil then does a victory dance. We then either shoot ourselves/jump off the Golden Gate Bridge/take a couple bottles of sleeping pills (take your pick) or succeed in getting our toy back somehow and/or find a new toy, then the cycle repeats. Yeah, little bitch is so clever. Throughout all this god is very confused about what's happening and he's no match for the devil's cleverness, but his goodwill remains and usually that suffices. See, that's why I ask him to help me every opportunity I have, because I know the devil is omnipresent, I can't outsmart her and I'm emotionally vulnerable.
So then you ask, if one understands how the devil operates, then why is it that she still has so much success? The answer is very simple: She has a very very potent weapon. This weapon is our fear of being alone. We are alone and helpless and feeling our life slowly drained out of us by a vacuum, then she sends her minions out to seduce us. This raises the question of how she got a hold of this weapon. One plausible explanation is the following: God thought it was a good idea for us to be with others and share our joy, but unfortunately he is not schooled in yin-yang and the devil is. She immediately sees how to use this to her advantage. This is only one example of such a thing. God gives us so many simple and wonderful gifts which the devil twists. The bitch causes so much havoc in this world, and yet is she evil? She is, but in some sense she's probably no different than idle gossipers who have nothing better to do but stir up trouble (with or w/o intention to cause problems). And we are so weak...help me my brother.
Ah, enough of this. Food, an episode of the Lone Gunman and sleep. Tomorrow there's work to do. Work, work, have to work hard to hold on to my toy. Good night and thank you, my brother.
One last thing...I have picked up a strong dislike of sandwiches due to a difficult month in my life a year or two back when I ate at least two sandwiches a day. Ah, this must be the first sign of aging. I must fight back. Why hold old grudges again...sandwiches? Yes, they are wonderful inventions: healthy, nutritious and simple. I will have a sandwich tomorrow. I will have two sandwiches tomorrow. Yum, ham and yucky yellow American cheese. I will have one everyday.
Friday, June 3, 2005
2:23 AM
Been screwing around on the computer for 7 hours. Music, porn, and back to music, heh. To tell you the truth I was pretty much turned off by porn this time. For some reason I could not get over the disgustingness of the bodies. Heh, when it comes to people I don't know, there's no reason for me to get over their physical disgustingness. It really struck me today: how fucking ugly we really are. Everybody has flaws and each flaw has the potential to disgust. I really don't know how those fuck around's do it...do they ever get hit by a sudden blast of disgust right when they're taking down their pants and about to fuck the girl? Heh, that's what alcohol is for. That's why love is good for you: you don't really notice these things when you are in love (at least I don't). Blah, I'm disgusted enough that I may be able to go to sleep now. Nite.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
12:30 AM
Amazingly I passed the basic. Trip to Rutgers was also a success, other than the fact that I probably averaged no more than 4 hours of sleep while I was there. My month+ long cold of course took advantage of my physical weakness to come back with full force - having visited every other part of my body it has finally made its way into my lungs. I literally slept all day today: got up at 3, ate, went back to sleep at 4 and didn't get up till 7. Of course I felt absolutely miserable when I got up and my head was about to explode from lack of caffeine/nicotine. I'm now finally beginning to feel a bit more sane and possibly able to do some work. In my feverish state in the past couple of days I had become quite bothered by certain inherent inequalities when it comes to sex (in every sense of the word), but a peek at my shitty porn has made me feel much better about the subject.
Justice...I could not stop thinking about justice. How pitiful are our attempts at justice in the face of nature's great injustices! They are no more than a child's attempt at rebellion against an authoritarian parent. So many rules we can't do anything about so we make even more rules and tell ourselves that they are our rules and delude ourselves into thinking that we have some control over our lives. Such foolish children we are, but I must admit it does have its use: if one analyzes every situation in advance and find rules for how to respond then life becomes exponentially easier. Anyway that is the innocent side of justice. There is the dark side of justice. When it comes to dealing out punishment justice is no more than a euphemism for revenge. Bastard number one kills bastard number two, so we feel that bastard number one should now die. But if you stop and think about it, killing bastard number one isn't going to bring back bastard number two. Well, I'm sure there are lots of other good reasons to kill bastard number one, but the fact remains: anybody close to bastard number two would probably love to see bastard number one die a very ugly death. Here's another example, if somebody were to cheat on me, I would feel a hell of a lot better if I cheat on him in return. In Alfie, Alfie's best friend cheated on his fiancee so she was very upset and basically refused to see him. Then one night, Alfie went to the fiancee's club to have a drink and of course they ended up fucking on the pool table. The next morning the fiancee was all of a sudden very forgiving of Alfie's friend and so they got married. See that would've been a very beautiful ending (until of course, he cheats again) if only Alfie was smart enough to wear a fucking condom or the girl was cold enough to have an abortion. This I consider a major personality flaw, but how it works is very simple: something was done to upset me so I need some kind of "justiice" to be done to delude myself into feeling better - it is a poor delusion at that since my cheating does not at all change the fact that he cheated on my in the first place. The other reason for such things is of course we don't want to be perceived as spineless: if somebody drops a nuclear bomb on US territory we will feel obligated to bomb the shit out of them. Yeah, we're all shitheads. We all hear of people who spend their lives doing things for others and receive no respect in return at all. Yeah, great, I just spent the last two days of my life convincing myself what I'm sure you knew all along: we're all shitheads who don't trust each other so we need rules to make us feel better.
So there is the cold truth, but I never believed in rules (heh, don't think I'm spineless). What happened to people doing the right thing because they wouldn't want to do anything else? Yeah, fat chance of that. We can't even manage that in relationships (very good couples maybe); people should not cheat on their spouse not because they'll go to hell when they die if they do, or that their spouse will dump them if they do and they'll be lonely and miserable, or they are too fucking lazy or unattractive to get somebody else to fuck, but simply because they don't want to. Yeah, real fat chance of that (especially for guys, heh...I admit it is slightly unfair, because how is fucking any different than say playing a game of chess, checkers, cards, tennis, or ping pong? Somehow it is and I've never figured it out. They should do some fucking research on this subject. I suspect the reason is simply that fucking is the most explicit expression of affection and well if we got equally upset at our partner doing anything else with somebody else then our society simply cannot function, so fucking turns out to be the convenient line to draw. On the other hand, if fucking is like pissing to a guy then why should he fly off the handle if his gf does the same? Yeah yeah, if we're real abstract thinkers then we understand that all that matters is love and whatever the fuck the other person does in some sense doesn't matter. But well, we're not that good. I'm not that good). What a pity...I don't believe in hell, I'm not lazy or unattractive, and I'm learning to be alone so I should be well on my way to pure abstract romantic love, right? Heh, only in my dreams - otherwise why would I be wasting my time here brooding over this? But I can dream whatever the fuck I want and you can't stop me.
Enough of that...if I'm lucky maybe I'll get some work done tonight and look for apartments tomorrow. I should've taken the Rochester place when I had the chance...oh well it was too expensive and not that great. Given that I'll be in my new apartment for at least a year some time investment now is probably wise, however dreadful that is.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
9:37 PM
Had a drink/smoke with Diana last night to get the basic out of my mind. It basically worked. I didn't get up till three today and finally got sick enough of ramen to cook. Unfortunately put in a little too many cracked black peppers. Oh well. What I learned today: how to open a bottle of beer with a screwdriver.
I was in such a mood to clean my room, but then I started to get a little emotionally. This always happens. All kinds of old shit that ought to be thrown away. See, the key to throwing shit away is you throw them away before you become attached to them; you throw them away without thinking about them. That is what my mother does. Problem is, when you start to think about it, it's always a little hard to throw away. Oh this applies to almost all things for me, not just overtly sentimental objects. See, the point is, whatever that old shit is, it had significant at some point in your life and that makes it hard to throw away. I mean it could just be some old Sunday paper that's been sitting on your desk for a long time and you're just so damn used to seeing it. Or some stupid fucking equation written on your blackboard that for some reason never got erased.... Blah, on with life.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
12:42 PM
Just spent half an hour figuring out some stupid hypothesis does nothing more than show the set I'm considering is non-empty. God, I'm so stupid. Quit Prozac. I can't tell you how happy that makes me; I have really come to hate it - for the simple reason that the pill is so fucking stupidly shaped that it gets stuck in my throat unless I'm careful. In fact the idea of not taking the thing is probably enough to compensate for whatever drop in happy chemicals that may result from quitting. May fourth...my second favorite day in the year (the first favorite is of course my birthday). I know, I say this every year and you must be sick of it. Happy birthday Mr. Mann.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
4:15 AM
So far 5 hours of work and 4 hours of TV (about to watch more TV). A little sad but better than no work and no TV, heh. I was going to go play the piano but by the time I made it out the door it was nearing midnight and the building was locked by the time I got to campus. Slept from about 6AM till 3PM yesterday, but hopefully will go to bed slightly later today and wake up slightly earlier so I'll be able to get up for Terry's class on Monday (at noon).
Saturday, April 23, 2005
1:24 AM
Just finished taking an hour and a half walk. Smoked (half of) my first cigar and bought myself cough drops. Hopefully I'm now drugged enough and bored enough to start doing some work, heh. I've watched House of Flying Daggers and Independence Day today. Strange but I liked the latter one much more. What a long day and I haven't done shit yet today except go to Tao's class, sleep, watch movies and smoke.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
3:44 AM
Quiet night. Just me, the cat, the computer, tv, bacardi 151 and cigaretts. Having trouble finishing only one shot of bacardi 151. Just not drinking fast enough; it really burns when you're not drinking fast enough. So quiet, so beautiful, so full of hope. No poisonous thoughts, no worries, no stupid questions, almost no thought at all. Who said there are no stupid questions? There are lots of stupid questions. You say there are no stupid questions, only stupid answers. I say if a question has no right answer then it is a stupid question. When I'm awake I ask the right questions. At night I ask no question. It is only in between that I ask stupid questions. You have no idea what I'm talking about of course. What a great tragedy it is to be smart enough to ask questions but stupid enough to always ask the wrong ones! That, above all else, is curse of mediocrity. It has occurred to me that I'm much too foolish to have a long life; I'd spend half of it asking stupid questions anyway. Anybody foolish enough to demand happily ever after most likely don't even deserve an ever after to begin with. Forever...forever...those damned words we mutter. So greedy and so ungrateful we all are. No, maybe not you, just me then. Fuck me.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
6:32 PM
Got a very minimal amount of work done today. "Cook", eat/movie, long walk...then more sleep. I've probably taken in about 500% daily vitamin C and have been sleeping like a pig in the past couple of days. Tomorrow I will stop being sick, get back to work, and put an end to this loveless (don't ask) and mind-numbing existence.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
11:32 PM
Hot...cold...restless. No rest, no peace. Help me.
8:26 PM
Just got up from a long and fitful five hour nap. I haven't experienced full-blown flu symptoms like this for a while. I got up at 10 or 11 after at least eight hours of sleep, did laundry, cleaned the microwave, vacuumed, ate and went to sleep. It was the longest and most comfortless five hour sleep I've ever had as I was dreaming non-stop - non of which pleasant. I suppose one thing is clear: I have nobody to depend on at this point, which is as it ought to be. It always makes me wonder, during feverish sleep who do you crave to be there? Mother? Lover? Anybody? I had nobody to comfort me, so I'll say god. To have somebody at your side when you're weak, to bring you water, talk to you and comfort you...I have learned that that is the kind of thing that ought not to be craved for or demanded; it's a gift that can only be given freely, and never ever asked for.
Another smoke...then what? A long and leisurely walk...maybe a movie, maybe work on the paper. I'm still not feeling well so it's the perfect excuse to put off studying for the Basic for may another day or so, heh.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
11:54 AM
Watched Chopin - Desire for Love last night. Now I have an irresistible urge to play the piano, and in particular a couple of Chopin pieces (fortunately they are not awfully difficult technically). I have not felt that urge to play the piano in many years...not since I entered college. There is nothing I want more than to be in a room alone with a piano right now. It is the strangest thing, for the desire is so certain, so persistent, and as real as the desire to make love. One of the biggest regrets of my life so far is my lack of any true musical talent whatsoever. Any true understanding of music forever remains just barely out of reach, forever teasing and eluding me. I asked myself many many times, how can one love something one does not understand? I do not know. There is nothing I can do, for I am as I am. Time to leave for campus to give a talk on Reimer's inequality; now that's something I do understand. Wish me luck.
Friday, April 8, 2005
11:40 PM
If you love for beauty,
Oh, do not love me!
Love the sun,
She has golden hair!
If you love for youth,
Oh, do not love me!
Love the spring;
It is young every year!
If you love for treasure,
Oh, do not love me!
Love the mermaid;
She has many clear pearls!
If you love for love,
Oh yes, do love me!
Love me ever,
I'll love you evermore!
-- Ruckert
Tuesday, April 5, 2005
8:05 PM
What a long day. I was on campus from 9AM till 7PM. I wasn't quite as productive as I should have been but I made a sincere effort to concentrate and work for the most part. I am dreadfully tired, not physically, maybe not even mentally, but after I left the libray and smoked my last cigarette a dreadful emptiness gripped me and would not let go. You know, the sudden feeling that you've lost your place in the world, that you no longer know what to do with yourself, no longer know what you want, no longer know what you live for but still somehow scared as shit about dying at the same time. And yet some thought reveals that there's really nothing wrong with your life at all, that if you remotely believed in god, you ought to be on your knees with your face awash with grateful tears, thankful for all he has given you and all he has withheld from you, so that you may convince yourself you're deprived, write poetry and revel in the beauty of your own words, so that you can bend over like a masochist and derive pleasure from giving yourself up to him and all the shitheads who make your life a living hell.
I'm writing now because I was told once that I ought not to drink alone. Yeah, Diana said that, and I ran into her today. It's obvious, isn't it? I'm on my way to drinking myself to stupidity and oblivion. I'm thrilled because once I get off the fucking Prozac my alcohol tolerance will skyrocket, haha. You know why I always drink so much? Because I'm afraid I will sober up too soon. Yeah, that's it. That's all there is to it. I'm already feeling so much better. For the most part I'm the happiest drunk you'll ever see. You know when I started to feel that way I knew I had to get wasted. You think I'm immature? No. Not at all. I know what I'm doing. I first fed myself dinner, then filled up the water filter. I knew I had to do this. The more wasted I get, the better I will be tomorrow. I will be ready to get back to work again. Oh, I do love to work, but sometimes I get so tired, so tired of being sober. But don't get me wrong, I like it this way. You know what they say, "may all your wishes be granted except for one, so that you always have something to strive for." I need to be drunk because I don't have everyhing I want, but that's the way it ought to be, right? I know we're mortal, but sometimes it feels like our lives are so long. You know how it is, day in and day out. What would you do with yourself if you didn't have something to strive for, huh? I suppose some people are perfectly satisfied with an ordinary life, with its dull routine and lack of surprises, but I am not. That is my gift and that is my curse. I am very very difficult to satisfy. Janice is up, let me entertain her. I'll be back.
Monday, April 4, 2005
12:52 AM
Cleaned my room today...I haven't seen so much floor space in a very long time. I also seem to have grown out of my addiction to music while I'm alone, which I take to be a good sign. There is something to be said for silence. There's never complete silence of course; there is the murmuring of my ceiling fan, patient ticking of my clocks, and the quiet presence of Janice's cat.
The cat is absolutely adorable, always hungry for attention and love, and never ashamed of showing it. If only people were so! He rolls on his back when you come close and if you pet him he purrs contentedly. Pointy ears, big, alert eyes, snow-white fur that has been tanned slightly yellow, perky tail.... He was just sitting on my flimsy $10 Rite Aid table which can support no more than 100lb., resting peacefully, when my E. Munch painting started to fall off the wall...it fell onto my computer desk and he was so startled that he jumped off the table; to make matters worse my table toppled over in the other direction and scared the shit out of him. I laughed. He's wised up and is now sitting on my bed. I love watching him. He's the most graceful creature I've ever seen. Soft and supple, amazingly quick, soundless and never a wasted movement. I am absolutely flabergasted at how high he can jump relative to his height. How clumsy I am compared to him!
Our golden retriever Sparky, on the other hand, can never sit still, cries and barks when he's left out of play, jumps on and greets everybody, and runs around like a train. When he wags his tail on the floor it sounds very much like a stick hitting the wall. Once my sister and I went skating without bringing him, so he sat and cried loud and long enough to wake up my mother. Of course he is still a baby, albeit a big one - 54 lbs. Such curious creatures they both are. Sparky goes crazy with any and all living things and food, the cat, on the other hand, is enamoured with anything that moves - he is very much in love with my tickler sitting on top of my bookshelf. Such different creatures: the cat is content receiving love, but when you pet Sparky, he insists on licking you if he can; of course the only problem is he also happens to eat his own shit if you don't clean it up in time.
What would I rather be? A cat or a dog? Both, of course. I want the grace, elegance, and suppleness of the cat, but I also want the vigor and unabating enthusiasm of Sparky. So much we can learn from animals...they are one thing and they are that thing purely and completely. But we can be many things. I can be a cat or a dog if need be. Those are only the means and not the end. And yet, what is the end and what determines the end? Only God knows and he only whispers it to you at night, when nobody's looking. At least that's how he is with me. Desire. Desire is what makes the world go round.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
9:10 PM
Cold. Tired. Sick. Working. Slowly. Click....click...click. Yeah that's the extent of my poetic ability right now. Time for another smoke?
Thursday, March 10, 2005
7:38 PM
How clumsy I am..so much I feel and yet so little to say. Maybe another time...sleep awaits me.
Monday, March 7, 2005
1:09 AM
Drinking Guinness and listening to Young Turks by Rod Stewart. I love Guinness...hands down my favorite beer at this point. It brightened my day. I amazingly got some work done today between the hike, going to grocery store, and napping. What to do now...work, read, or sleep? I'll see how I feel after a Guinness...or two.
Wednesday, March 2, 2005
10:22 PM
Finally done with dutch's final. Probably would've been done quite a while ago if I didn't make the mistake of deciding to put on Frida to keep me company. Of course I ended up watching the movie again. I love the soundtrack. Write up the final and then take a long walk and figure out what to do with the rest of my night....
Tuesday, March 1, 2005
5:32 AM
Great...can't sleep. I love staying up at night: everybody's home and asleep so I feel surrounded by friendly life but at the same time everything is quiet and peaceful. I think the devil sleeps at night too because even at my worst times the night has always been good to me. Not at my most productive but two out of four final problems done so far. I got slightly discouraged and was going to go to sleep but figured it out after I turned off the light and rolled around in bed a few times and now I seem to be awake again, so I guess I'm not sleeping tonight.
Monday, February 28, 2005
10:33 PM
Just got up from a three plus hour nap. I had a terrible dream. I dreamed that myself and one I thought I didn't love anymore (I'll call him K) were in danger of being decapitated for reasons I do not remember exactly - I believe it was for failing to complete a certain task. Miraculously we were asked if we completed the task and as a result had the chance to lie and get away and avoid immediate decapitation, so K and I both lied and tried to get away as fast as possible. K left before me and he was so fast that I could not catch up with him and I soon lost sight of him. I remember climbing a great hill on all fours, with my legs sore as hell - still from broomball I suppose. I got to safety in a cabin in the woods. The cabin was mostly finished except for minor things like lighting and there was a middle-aged man not so far from it. I struck up a conversation with him about the cabin and woodwork (it turned out that finishing the cabin was the task I failed to accomplish which supposedly would get me decapitated). All this time a parallel story was developing where once again K and I were in great danger. K had two handguns but they were not loaded. I suggested we stay together so that we may have a better chance of surviving, but for one reason or another we were again separated. Then there was a confusing flurry with visions of people coming to look for me at my house, my house blowing up and finally me in a relatively safe place watching one person after another getting decapitated on TV. In my confusion I had forgotten that K had gotten away so I was terrified by the decapitations and I dreamed in my dream that I single-handedly saved K from prison with a muffled shotgun. We made it into a car and I drove and drove and drove.... The dream ended with me realizing that saving K from prison was just a dream. As consciousness came back to me, the first thing I realized was that all my worries were in vain and that K had in fact gotten away.
I woke up sad and frightened and wanting to recite Shakespeare. Unfortunately the only thing that came to mind was Juliet's balcony speech. On my walk back to my apartment I passed by Palomino and I was struck by a middle-aged man sitting by the door. I don't know why I even saw him at all because I have a tendency to keep my head down when I walk, perhaps he was looking at me, but I have no way of knowing. As I passed him I realized that he reminded me of mr. mann: his frame - tall and lanky and the expression in his face. I saw him through the glass and it seemed almost surreal. But his hair was too long and perhaps too blonde and he had none of the boyishness I associated with mr. mann.
But thought of him was enough to cheer me up, as are thoughts of my grandfather, the first boy to be sweet to me. Grandfather is dead and I will probably never seem mr. mann or my elementary school sweetheart again.... So many loves of the past which will never come back. So much love given to me which I never returned. So much longing.... The loves of my life...how I miss them. Those dear souls represent everything I love about this earth, this life. If I died now I'd turn into a ghost and linger around so I can see how they all are. Around Valentine's I had an epiphany: a romantic is one who cannot bear not to be in love. I have always been in love, with one or another, either I knew it or not. And how I have suffered on account of that! Every time love left I pined, dreamed of its return, and refused to move on, sometimes for years. It was 4 years before I accepted that I would probably never be with my elementary school boy again; my grandfather died when I was nine and I have been looking for him ever since. But I understand now...that is just who I am; it is the only way I know how to live, the only way I can live.
What can I do but to love who I love now a little more.... I know you must think I'm ridiculous and weak; think what you want, look down on me, spit on me, laugh at me.... I do feel weak today and wish I weren't alone, and yet I would much prefer solitude to any company except yours so that I may think of you, my love. One small small glass of sake before I shake myself out of my melancholy and get to work. I drink to you, loves of my past, for you are angels who still brighten my day; and to you, my love, for I am so much more worthy because of you...thank you.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
9:54 PM
Still sore all over from broomball last night, but not as bad as expected - I had been warned. I do admit it was the most exercise I have gotten in a very long time. Went to Chinatown today with apartmentmates and bought a mini-guitar for $8; hopefully I will learn to play simple things soon. Betty got a sword, heh - I would've gotten one too but didn't quite find the right one; the samurai swords were too short given the curve and aesthetically unappealing and the others just didn't seem right. I'll wait for one that is made for me. Also bought a sake glass and a bottle of sake which I will begin to enjoy shortly. We also went to dinner and I got to have Tsingtao beer.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
9:16 AM
Learning to respect beer...five and a half beers and I almost felt as bad as the time I had 10 shots of hard liquor. Woke up before 7 with some kind of fever and felt like shit for a couple hours, but now I'm miraculously sober and awake and ready to work - learning I got into ucla probably helps :). Shower then Starbucks.
Friday, February 18, 2005
10:34 PM
Insomnia. I went to sleep at 7:00am, got up by 9:00 to go to class...slept for another 2.5 hours at most and haven't had the urge to sleep since. Saw Constantine with Jon. Thumbs up. I am pleased with the fact that I got dutch's homework done last night to the best of my knowledge...there are a thing or two I'm slightly nervous about, but hopefully I'm not too far off.
And here I am sitting alone with smirnoff vodka and Julius Caesar. I love epics and have for as far back as I can remember. Rest today, sleep, then work tomorrow: probability homework, calculations for the triangular lattice problem i'm working on with lincoln, and much much more. I refuse to believe I was put on this earth in vain, to suffer and wallow in misery, to be swallowed by loneliness and despair; what are any of those things compared to god's gift to me? I will work and I will not stop working until the day I die - my body may crumble but my will will not. There are so many truths I cannot know, but there are truths I can know and I will find them, so may god help me.
1:29 AM
Went to sleep at 4:30 last night thanks to watching Warrior of Heaven and Earth, and didn't get up till 2:30. I had dreams of familial happiness intertwined with nightmares about getting rejected by both princeton (which is already a fact) and ucla. It made me afraid.... I was finally woken up by a loud sound of a heavy object hitting the ground from very high up; the ground shook and I heard men yell - there is construction going on next to our apartment building. I woke up with a sore throat but feeling refreshed. and the rest of the day went ok. I ate breakfast while playing Freecell (on a 10 win streak), showered, and biked in the rain to campus by around 3:40. I actually don't know where my umbrella is, but biking in the rain is very enjoyable. I managed to work till about 6:00 on stat. mech. Progress was slow because my brain was slightly cloudy thanks to the sickness/oncoming sickness/departing sickness, but I do believe I have a slightly better understanding of things than yesterday. Then had dinner/spent some good time with jon and worked somemore.
I have been waking each day to sounds of construction and I really don't mind even though it sometimes interferes with my daytime naps, because to me construction represents life and progress. When I was in china many years ago I woke up to construction everyday too. I've been going to sleep quite late and biking back right after class during the day to nap. There are advantages to this system one of which being that it eliminates the debilitating depressive stage I usually go through around dinner time - it is one of the worst feelings in the world and I used to experience it almost daily...it was absolutely dreadful. The only problem is this probably precludes me from spending any serious time with people during certain parts of the day.
To sleep or not to sleep...nah. It's time for coffee and work. So many uncertainties and so many fears, but even if all else are gone, I have my bike, movies, math, will, dreams and prayers.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
2:22 AM
Met up with albert and diana today and played cards, drank beer, and talked. I haven't spent time with them in so long and I was...happy. My alcohol tolerance is shamefully low as I am feeling drunk after only three beers. I haven't seen them in so long, but I think i appreciate them much more now than I ever have before. On top of everything else I do have them to thank for first introducing me to lincoln. Talking to alden right now too...haven't talked to him in a long time too.
Everything happens for a reason...so let me be grateful for whatever comes and may whatever discontent in my heart be a source of progress and creativity - and no more.
Friday, February 11, 2005
12:41 AM
So tired again already, but still so much more work to do, books to read, and movies to watch. I had an epiphany today: I believe I have come to understand what a vow is: a vow is an expression of will.
There is something absolutely satisfying about going down a slope on a bike. I lost my virginity three times - the first time was to a bicycle that was much too tall for me. As I came down Westwood on my bike, I was suddenly reminded of a passage from First Love:
"'Freedom...do you know what can give a man freedom?'
....
'The will, your own will, and the power it can give, which is better than freedom. Learn how to express your will - and you'll be free, and you'll be in command.'
....
Above and beyond anything else my father wanted the will to live - and he lived...Perhaps he had a premonition that he didn't have long to enjoy 'what life's all about'...."
Here is an entry written on the 5th but not posted till the 6th because my internet was unplugged on the 5th:
Saturday, February 5, 2005
10:00 PM
Dear Father, this is my prayer today: Shower me with your paternal love and show me in my dreams the happiness only you can give, the truth only you can know, and the beauty only you can create. Replenish my body and mind so that I may work, soothe my heart so that I may love, and cleanse my soul so that my intentions may be pure. Father, I was afraid today - of men, their fickle hearts, petty insecurities and dubious intentions; but I am no longer afraid for with the strength you have given me I shall defy them all - and the shadow in my own heart, so that I may stay on the path you have shown me.
Thursday, February 3, 2005
3:45 AM
I seem to be feeling better emotionally, but physically drained - slept from 9 till 11:30, got up for a bit, went back to sleep till 2:30, and about to go back to bed. Things have balanced out and settled down like they always do...until next time. I often wonder: why those days? Why the "dark nights of the soul"? What function must they serve? I always pray that they would not come and yet they always come without fail and then leave without a trace. I suppose this time was particularly bad since obsession over a particular problem drained all my physical energy - during the day I feel almost nothing, then all of a sudden both fatigue and emotions attack me at once.
It is said that the rational do not fear the inevitable, but no amount of rationality has ever stopped me from feeling indignation at such useless suffering...so I carry on my irrational, futile, and ridiculous rebellion. No, I am not rational at all. My mind has a mind of its own. Just as I cannot stop thinking about a problem I'm obsessed with, I cannot ever stop wondering why. Those days are kicks in the pants: they pore the truth on our heads like buckets of cold water; on days like those no amount of masterful denial or rationalization can shield us. I have often wondered, if I never lied to myself, maybe those days will go away? But when have I ever lied to myself? I run but I do not hide. Those days bring no new knowledge, only fatigue - from compromising. Do not tell me you've never compromised; you would only be lying to yourself.
Surely I've gotten better: I no longer lash out in rage at such...injustice - which no doubt makes me a slightly more pleasant being to be around, and I have learned to be...grateful when those tribulations end. But the intellectual rebellion goes on, as it should. Ah, I must feel I'm somehow compensated for such sufferings; *gasp* does that mean I'm happy? There is one thing that has helped me. I had a dream a few years ago. It was a vague dream - almost a vision, but I've never forgotten it and I have come to believe it. I often wondered why of all my dreams real and fantastic I picked that particular one to believe. This must be the closest I have come to "blind" faith. It's been good for me so I suppose I'll let it be. Oh, what the dream was? No, I won't tell you. Maybe someday I will, maybe I will not. Some things...once shared...lose their magic.
Monday, January 31, 2005
7:50 PM
Got absolutely nothing done over the weekend. So much to do, so little time.... Shortly before dinner I started to feel extremely sad...I believe I was on the verge of tears. I have no idea why. There is only one thing on my mind right now: nap. My dreams will comfort me as they always do.
Saturday, January 29, 2005
12:00 AM
To sleep or not to sleep, that is the question. Something seems to be getting to me: I can't think, I can't sit still, I seem to have next to no tolerance for anybody except Jon. So basically can't work, can't socialize, and can't relax. Not sure what's causing it - Lack of sleep? Too much caffeine? Sickness? Lack of fresh air? Frustration? Probably all of the above. Just need to calm down and take one step at a time....
Friday, January 28, 2005
2:45 AM
Didn't sleep too well last night and woke up around 8:30, despite being painfully tired when I went to sleep. Fortunately managed to go back to sleep after an hour of fooling around on the computer and didn't get up till 12:30...managed to drag myself to Starbucks by 2:30ish...worked till almost 5:00 and went on campus. Ran into Craig on the way to MS, but unfortunately by the time I got there pretty much everybody was gone or leaving; it made me quite sad in fact, as hard to believe as that may be. It was partly because I was feeling groggy most of the day and didn't quite know what to do with myself.
I finally managed to wake up after dinner with Jon and nap. Went to HollywoodVideos around 11:00 and finally got a membership card and monthly pass. Checked out four movies: Return to Oz, Troy, Anna and the King, and Passions of Howard Hughs.
I was going to watch the Wizard of Oz so I can watch Return to Oz with Jon tomorrow, but ended up working instead. I believe I have managed to prove something, but I'm not sure. Only reason I'm writing is because I have to stop myself from pacing around, write down certain things and go to sleep - especially since I have made the rather unfortunate discovery that water may have been turned off :-(.
You see, the reason I don't like to write things down rigorously is because I love savoring the potential of beauty; I felt the same when I played the piano: I enjoyed it the most when I first heard - half in my mind and half in reality - the final shape I want a piece to take. There is something inexplicably attractive about the almost...the tower in the fog...the thin screen between the absolute, truth, beauty and whims, fantasies, hallucinations. It's the angel in my dreams...the demon in my failures.
When everything is all nicely written down and mastered it's like a coffin that's been neatly nailed down - there's nothing more final and authoritative than that. I watch in awe as the coffin slowly closes over the still body - neatly combed hair, dark eyelashes, rudy cheeks, dressed for a ball. But of course, the nails have to go in some time...the hammer rises slowly and comes down. Up and down...up and down...my eyelids grow heavy, my legs give way under me, but still the hammer moves patiently, rhythmically, soothingly, weaving a lullaby.... I close my eyes and sleep, wondering when the final nail will go in.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
1:03 AM
"The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable." - Total Eclipse, DiCaprio after stabbing his lover in the palm with a knife.
"I have researched the shape of the happiness no one escapes..." - Total Eclipse
Got to probability ten minutes late this morning, but I suppose it is better than not going at all which is what happened on Friday since I woke up an hour late. Had a cheeseberger after alg. geometry and immediately took a nap in the library. Dutch's class...dinner with jon...went straight back to sleep and didn't get up till 10:30. I think I'm coming down with something, but hopefully it'll go away.
Around 11:40 I decided to take a trip to the grocery store to get some fresh air/exercise. Heh, I got more exercise than I bargained since I got nearly $40 worth of groceries and had to carry it all back. The checkout line at Ralph's was amazingly long and kept getting longer. Here's what I got: 4 boxes of Natural Valley granola bars, 4 boxes of Nestle hot chocolate, 19 bags of coffee bags, 16 oz. Nestle coffee mate, a black mug, 90 paper plates, 72 plastic forks, 1.78 lb. of turkey ham, half a gallon orange juice, and 2.95 L. laundry detergent. Now I'm finally awake, stocked up on caffeine and ready to get to work once I finish eating. Goodbye.
Friday, January 22, 2005
1:07 PM
I can't write and can hardly work. My mind is blank and I feel tired, in a strange way. I watched Frida last night...great movie, have to get the soundtrack. Woke up an hour later than I should've today so didn't bother going to any class so far, but did manage to get some work done outside Kerkhoff. My left leg is still sore from ping pong. I don't know how to describe this feeling. Life is going on and I'm doing alright, but it's as if all meaning has been sapped out of everything I do - not that it necessarily had any meaning to begin with but at least sometimes it felt like it did. Maybe I've been forgetting to take happy pills, lol.
Thursday, January 21, 2005
2:13 AM
Today was better than yesterday. I felt more unsettled and anxious yesterday than I have in a while. Never mind, I don't feel like talking right now. G'nite.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Pretty productive day today. Breakfast at Denny's, bought a wonderful pair of black shoes for $15 to replace a not so ideal pair (it was pissing off my feet - in particular toes - so much that I literally threw it into the trash in the restroom in Ralphs once I got the new pair...oh changed into my fucking-rabits T-shirt too since the shirt I was wearing was too fugly compared to my wonderful new shoes), bought a giant bottle (32 oz) of Miller High Life to keep me company while I worked, spent time with jon - discussed a little math - since that's what we both had been doing up till then, had dinner, and watched adoringly while he played Diablo II.
I'm relatively pleased with the fact that I think I have managed to prove 1/x - [1/x] ([ ] denotes the integer part) on (0, 1) preserves the measure given by integrating 1/(1 + x). Now if I can only show it's ergodic...I can already see it's probably not nearly as "easy". Hmm, this is good...I haven't been so pleased with myself mathematically for a while. The reason I'm pleased is because when I first read the problem at Denny's I had no clue what the fuck to do, but slowly got myself to see the light. To finish off a good day: some beer, porn, and sleep. Good nite.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Two rather unusual fortunes (from fortune cookies at Scallions): "you will always live in interesting times" and "you have imaginative but honest intentions." Rather strange, but to tell you the truth I kind of like them. We were shocked at the first one because you would think they would be too afraid of getting sued to put something like that, but heh to tell you the truth I always wanted to live in interesting times as a kid - of course back then I had no idea what "interesting" means. I am puzzled by the second one, but I'll let you know when I figure it out. I'm sure it's a compliment so it will be a good exercise for me in positive thinking, lol.
You know there's an old Chinese saying: youth does not know what sorrow is but for the sake of poetry pretends to. Here's a poem I wrote in high school which is supposedly getting published:
It walks slow to lengthen prisoner's woe;
It walks fast to shorten nightingale's song.
Foe alike to gay and sorrowful souls,
Fast, slow, contrary always, wrong wrong wrong.
A day is old then a day will be young;
Springtime's flower doth yearly blossom and bloom.
Yet a man who is old is forever gone.
Then it stops, to pronounce judgment and doom.
Wiseman's fool to glimpse its morbid abyss;
Fool's wise to frolic in its rabid trial.
Fulfilling a lost promise he still lives,
To compromise desire and its denial.
Thus I shield my eyes from its timeless sway,
Rise, toil, lay,
Day over night over day.
You know what's really funny...I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about when I wrote this poem. I was a kid...I'm still a kid, but I was more of a kid then than I am now. I remember how I came up with my favorite stanza: I thought of the word "abyss" and then in my desperate attempt to rhyme thought of "promise"...promise reminded me of "compromise"...which led to "denial"...which led to "trial"...how to describe an abyss..."morbid"...which led to "rabid". I was at the bus stop when I thought of "promise" and "compromise"...they made such a nice pair. But what did I know other than pretty words?
I don't know as many pretty words now and they no longer flow like they used to. I left music because I had no chance. I left words because I lost my nerve - as lincoln would say. It's alright. Math is better for me. I just need to shape up, then math will be able to lift me up and carry me away from this world. Isn't that what I always wanted? History...literature...music...physics...math. So many petty desires, futile worries, mundane events. My whole life I've tried to escape this mortal coil, but why did I stop? Sex? Love? Or just because I got tired of failures? Probably all of the above. I don't remember what point I was making...too tired. Goodbye.
Monday, December 27, 2004
11:55 PM
Nancy and her family came over yesterday so we had a chance to talk after not having seen each other for years. She still seems much more grown up than me :P. I was slightly surprised to hear how much she enjoys Mount Holyoke, an all-girls school. Hopefully I will be seeing her a bit more now that her family has moved back to California.
It was cold and raining heavily most of today *sniff* *sniff* so I took a nap in the afternoon. Sparky is sad too because he doesn't get to go on walks. He usually gets walked three times a day! I later went to Betty's birthday/holiday potluck today, which was relaxing and fun. We saw Bowling for Columbine (I was shocked by the statistics comparing the number of gun murders in the US versus other countries) and started watching Ali. Janice baked a very sweet two-layer peach cake which Betty cut with a 12 inch knife :~>. Hard to believe I've been apartmentmates with Betty and Janice for over a year now.
Sparky is an active and sweet little puppy. I rather like his enthusiasm and his jumping up to greet people, but unfortunately he needs to be broken out of the habit because he is going to get a lot bigger. He's a naughty little boy: he insists on chasing after ping-pong balls and only behaves when he sees that you have food. Sadly it doesn't look like I will be able to talk my parents out of castrating Sparky. They both think it is necessary (versus just convenient). I've always wondered...why can't they make birth control pills/condoms for pets? I'm sure it can be easily done. Instead we just spend close to $200 castrating them....
Saturday, December 25, 2004
11:41 PM
Merry Christmas.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
11:03 PM
Wow, can't believe I haven't written here in two weeks. Too many deadlines, etc...still not completely done with applications, hopefully will be within a couple of days. Back home in SF, played Wordracer on Yahoo with Jon and he won :(. I thought he would never play me again, but he said it was only if we were in the same room, heh. Oh well, I'm tired, since I've been having less than 6 hours of sleep for three day in a row (not much but compounded with my sickness - which is fortunately going away - it takes a bit of a toll).
Sparky is a big puppy...25 pounds. I expected grown dogs to be that big, but when he's grown he's going to be at least three times that big. I sat down to play with him, he pushed me down and I had trouble getting up. Yeah, I'm so weak nowadays. I used to be able to do 20 honest push-ups in a roll with no trouble but now I can hardly do one. Probably could've avoided falling/jumping into the water with Eddie on the hike on Sunday too if I were stronger, but then again it was probably just poor judgment to do what I tried to do. It happened so fast I'm still not sure what happened, but all things considered if I made any kind of decision then it was not a bad one and well if I didn't then we were just pretty damn lucky...I was ready to drop down on my knees and thank God when I saw that Eddie was unharmed. Sunday was a great day...I lost in ping-pong as usual...I do need to learn not to take things so seriously, but well I don't want to suck so much that I'm no fun to play with at all :P. *Yawn*, too tired...I'm barely making complete sentences. It's time to watch martial arts movies. I'll write again soon.
Tuesday, December 7, 2004
10:15 PM
Another overly long nap. I woke up with a stuffed nose and sore throat so I guess I needed it. I no longer feel..."frivolous". I feel serious. I went shopping this morning, at Footnote; it only took 15 minutes at most but I'm satisfied. Had lunch with Jon. Met with Lincoln briefly. Life Science 15 presentation. Dinner...laundry...nap. That's all I got done in 10 hours? Must have napped for...three and a half hours. LS 15 took nearly two hours. Dinner...1 hour. Lunch...1 hour. I suppose my day has not yet begun. No more rosy dreams...and what is this sadness that weighs down on me? Maybe it's just the rain. I feel like drinking, but I shouldn't. There is too much to do and the night is getting old...
"You knew me not yesterday so I know you not today." What happened to turn the other cheek? Justice...revenge....revenge...justice.... What horrible ideas. Eternal damnation? Who can think of such a thing? Forget God...just ask yourself, what kind of person would want suffering for his child? There is an old Chinese saying: even the most fierce tiger doesn't eat his own cub. Oh, but you say it is this way because we are given freedom of choice and some may choose never to be saved. But eternity is a long time, so how can you be sure? But then you say oh maybe God made them that way. I refuse to believe that. God did not make them that way.
I used to think that I would dump my spouse/partner for sure if he cheated on me for whatever reason. What a foolish way of thinking. How can I know what I'll do? If I walk into my house and see my best friend and my husband on the bed, would I shoot them? I don't know; there were times when I was so angry that all I wanted would be to shoot the offender, so one could argue that if I had a gun available then I would shoot them for sure. But I don't know for sure, so I'll let God decide. I'll leave some room for miracles. Maybe I'll just cry...isn't that enough? Your husband and your best friend, would you really shoot them? Don't you want them to be happy? When you see happiness, even if it comes at the price of betrayal, would you really have the heart to destroy it? Their happiness has one price: you; aren't they the dearest in your life? Can't you forgive them? If somebody slaps me, then I'll slap them back because maybe that'll make them stop. What does shooting them accomplish? Make them stop fucking? But that's not the point, is it?
In the harsh rigidity of your reality, you claim to have principles and you defend them and stand by them at almost all cost. You hold those close to you to very high standards and you berate them and punish them when they go wrong. And yet where is love and forgiveness? You're their friend, not their conscience. Why do you judge them constantly? Is judgment the price of eternity? No...not at all. If one has eternity to redeem any wrong, then why is judgment necessary? Are we so low that we need the fear of a higher power in order to do right? I've been thinking...I don't have many principles, but I have one: I never value my life more than that of another and I never impose my own standards and prejudices on others. (I believe I have perhaps been slightly more successful adhering to the first one than the second.) And then there's empathy and love. I don't think I need much more than that.
Ah what is all this nonsense? I must be delirious. Sickness does funny things to me. There is so much to do and yet...I must lift this sadness somehow. You know I once hated somebody so much that I sometimes thought of dragging her off to Alaska, killing her and chopping her body into a thousand pieces. I almost wrote a story about it. I wanted her to disappear; I never wanted to see her again. She acted like my very existence was a nuisance to her and by the end I adopted the same view with regard to her. I believed that we could not coexist in the same place. The fear and hatred was so great and yet nobody understood or cared to. I was a child before I met her but by the end I'd seen my darkest darkest side. Ironically my best friend also came from around the same time. In retrospect I know realize it was a dose of jealousy I had thrown at me. And yet, did he love her? Did he love me? Did I break them up? I'll never know. It'll forever remain a mystery to me. The first boy to explicitly talk to me of love (of his love for her); the first boy to ask me out to a movie...I said no...he begged...I still said no; the first boy to give me a rose. The same boy denied having done either ever since....
She introduced him to Eternity's Trials (a Multi-User Dungeon...a roleplaying game) and he introduced me to it. We used to run to the library to play everyday after school. She was better than me; she killed me every opportunity she got; she deleted my character once. She moved away after a year and I continued to see him everyday after school to play StreetFighters and MUD. She continued to MUD for a while and hunted and killed me and taunted me. Once somebody (an immortal) played a cruel trick on us and pretended to be her and talked to me; I don't remember what exactly was said, but things got out of hand. After a while he came online...they had a fight...I don't know what was said, but she left after that. She pretty much left for good. She never MUDded seriously again. The next day he told me she was gone. He was totally broken down emotionally. He muttered incoherently about love. I'd never seen him like that and I would never see him like that again in all the years since. The whole conversation happened online and I often wondered if it was actually him. Maybe it was another cruel trick?
After that he started to treat me slightly differently. He started to hug me (online) and call me "girl". He asked for my number. He asked me out. I turned him down, for two reasons: I wasn't ready and I thought he was just replacing her with me - in my foolishness it was inconceivable to me that he could love me because I felt she was so much better than me in many ways. He backed down and gave me a rose thanking me for being his friend. He never brought that stuff up again. He denied ever since having ever asked me out. We went on being good friends. He supported me emotionally for many years and still does. We continued to play together and after I moved to California we still played together online and sometimes talked on the phone. We used to play Yahoo chess and pool. We played Starcraft. He was Protoss and I was Zerg. Protoss suited him and Zerg suited me. We did quite well sometimes; I would rush in with zerglings and take down some key building (spawning pool) holler at him to help and he would come later with zealots and finish the job.
You know sometimes I still wonder if all this was the fantasy of a lonely child. But they do exist and I still think of them, even though we now lead disjoint lives (I'm turning into a mathematician, he's turning into a lawyer, she's majoring in Chinese literature and CS? It's ironic because back then she was much better at math than I was, but then again I suppose it's not surprising...she befriended me in the beginning and we talked about Chin-Yung's martial arts fiction...she's a fine writer too...draws...plays the oboe.) Even after she started to hate me I tried so hard to befriend her, but I failed miserably and it brought out my worst side in the end. After a while I was willing to forgive her for his sake...if only he had asked, but he never did. This was one thing about me that he never understood...or didn't want to understand...or understood but didn't want to think about. Now I'm willing to forgive her for my own sake...for all our sakes. I hope she forgives me as well.
You must think I'm crazy. I guess I am. I often wonder if our encounter had as much effect on them (especially her) as it had on me. I don't think I will ever find out. Maybe it affected me the most because I was a baby and they were more grown up - even though we were the same age. Heh, since I'm typing right now I guess I should give them credit for my typing skills...we used to have typing competitions and of course she almost always won, but I was getting close. When I started getting good at typing she started saying that I was training myself to be a brainless secretary. It made me mad. I learned how to climb over the fence thanks to her too. The three of us went to the arcade together once and played some stupid Simpsons game; he won the button pressing contest and got the most points - he was still playing the piano back then. We went over to her house a few times to play Scrabble - I lost and she gloated. She had a cat. I was such a child...I liked spending time with both of them...why did she have to be so cruel. Thinking of the good times the three of us had (however far and in between they were) actually still brings tears to my eyes. Why did we all have to grow up. We could have been such good friends; maybe in the end that's why I hated her: I had never tried so hard to befriend anybody but she was so cruel.
I don't think I ever tried so hard to befriend another girl again...maybe Nancy...hopefully I'll be seeing her when I go home for Christmas. I haven't seen her for quite some years (4 or 5?). She's three years younger than me and yet in many ways she was so much more mature than I was...I was always such a child.
It's been two hours now...you must think I'm immature to be wasting time like this when there's so much to be done. Jon keeps saying I was lazy this quarter. Maybe I was. There are just too many distractions this quarter...and I can't focus. What he doesn't understand is that I need ten hours of a sleep to be able to do so many trivial things. I suppose I'd be so much further along now if I didn't have so many "problems", but if suffering makes me less harsh and less judgmental then perhaps in the end it was worth it...oh you must think I'm just trying to justify my pathetic nature...now don't be harsh, heh. In any case I hope much has been accomplished through all these time wasting. I do believe I'm slightly more in tune with my rhythms: I have days like this but I also have days of explosive productivity and unbounded happiness; I have learned that sometimes it's better to just let go and go to sleep or sit down and ramble...I always did these things anyway but I never forgave myself when I did and instead spent all my time hating myself for being weak. What foolishness.
Shut up Helen...shut up....
Sunday, December 5, 2004
12:27 AM
Took the Putnam today. Not sure how I did...let's just say my score is bounded above by 40 and bounded below by 0. Unfortunately had very little sleep last night...between going to the bathroom (three times) and Jon coughing I'd bound the amount of sleep I got by three hours. So I was only about 30% functional mathematically and of course 0% functional socially. Oh well. Watched two movies after dinner: some weird Japanese supernatural thing (forgot the title) and The Kiss of the Dragon (with Jet Li in it). Oh yeah, I finally figured out what caused my worst stomach in 10 years on Thursday: I was being a stupid piece of shit and basically ate half-cooked pork; the problem was I got some kind of frozen thing so I assumed it was cooked, but well it wasn't.
Trivialities...trivialities...where is my mission, where is my purpose, where is my all-consuming passion? You see, sometimes I worry more about Sparky (our new boy puppy) getting castrated than I worry about me. Well, the point is there isn't too much to worry about me, right? Sick, bored, tired, hungry...all easily taken care of. Yeah, life's great, just fucking great. I'm serious. Really. Really really serious. Happy happy happy happy. So damn happy I don't know what to do with myself. Yeah, this is really scary. I can hardly ever sit still because I'm so damn happy all the time.
Right now I'm so tired I probably don't know how to fall asleep. You see, the problem is when you're really tired (when I'm really tired that is), you don't really remember that sleep is good for you, that you'll get up all ready and eager to embrace the world, just like a little baby (if you stay in bed till your hearts content that is...waking up to the alarm doesn't really count as sleep...it's um...inefficient recharging for work). You see, there's a little window in the morning right before you wake up (assuming there is no alarm!) when you're in a semi-dreamy state and can mold your dreams. That's when you can fuck whoever you want, however many times you want, win the lottery, be ten times smarter/prettier/sexier than you are and all that good stuff. Then you get out of bed and it's all gone, but it hardly matters because you've already gotten your satisfaction - at least if you're smart you'll understand that what you just had was a great gift from god and that you should not be greedy - and you're all ready to embrace your boring existence again.
Oh yeah, it has occurred to me that I have made great strides in terms of my mental health. I am no longer paranoid with respect to women. I think it's because I finally forgave the bitch. See, I probably made more progress towards uncovering subconscious blah blah during my week or two of heavy drinking than I did seeing a therapist for 6 months.
Yeah, it's weird like that. Any other day I would've taken a nap after dinner but not today. Instead I'm sitting here like a pothead wasting my time (and yours too if you're actually reading this). You see, sleep is important when you have to do work; that's when you should sleep like a pig. Sex is also good, heh. It's really those idiots who fuck all day and don't do anything else who are giving sex a bad name. Our overall productivity will probably increase if we schedule sex the way we schedule sleeping, eating, and maybe even shitting (for some).
Now if I can only find a cause to sacrifice myself to, then life will be PERFECT. I have learned a few things about what kind of causes are allowed and what kind aren't. For example, a person as a cause is not allowed because then the person with whom you're obsessed goes crazy, dumps you, and therefore spells the end of the cause. Heh, I know all about balance, but I think you're lying if you say that there isn't something exciting about lack of balance. It seems that I'm approaching the stage where I will fall asleep even though I'm too tired to want to fall asleep, so good night.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
9:48 PM
Good news today: my sickness seems to be going away a bit. Bad news...well, let's not spread the bad news. But, I have learned after Jon dumped me last year that God is always with me - when everything has gone down the toilet and/or everybody has forsaken me - in the form of eating, sleeping and masturbating. I'm amazed at what a great mood I'm in right now. I should make this an algorithm: bad news followed by eating followed by sleeping followed by more eating followed by masturbating, heh. Worked like a charm, at least this time. There are a couple more things to be pleased about, none of which will make any sense to you. Well, I'll tell you one of them...after watching the movie Alexander, I have taken an interest in the man, especially his love for Hephaestion and speculations about how he died. Yeah, I feel like such a fucking woman sometimes...if I were younger I would care more about all the great conquests he made, but well the other stuff adds color. Actually I'm interested in more than his personal life. I admire him because he is ahead of his time: he married a "barbarian". Anyways, time to shut up.
12:25 AM
Drowning in shitwork...just got up after yet another after dinner nap. Talked to Betty and Janice briefly. All my apartmentmates are sick, Jon is sick, and of course I am also sick. I can't believe how fucking cold it has been....thank goodness I'm in LA and don't have to deal with this for long. Given how much I have complained Jon has stopped taking me seriously when I say I'm sick, but this time is for real - I think. There must be some unknown sadness weighing down on my soul, weakening my immune system.
Monday, November 22, 2004
11:30 PM
I am writing this in Notepad at Jon's apartment. He doesn't yet have internet connection, but I must write this now as I am in one of those peculiar moods that if I don't write this now I may never write it. My biorhythm says I am at a critical day for my emotional cycle and very close to one for my intellectual cycle. Of course I don't really have to write this, but I felt something would be lost if I didn't. So here I am again, alone, cold and shivering and opening my mind for all to read, defile, violate...fuck.
I'm listening to Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D, Op 13, after a long four hour after dinner nap...which is after a short half an hour nap in the library. It is the first piece of classical music I loved; I listened to it every night before I went to sleep after I moved to San Francisco. I always used to have a before sleep routine and sometimes I suspect that is what makes me feel fulfilled when all else fail.
I had a sudden urge to go to a bar today in the middle of the day after manifolds and giving lincoln some stuff I did over the weekend. I was relatively satisfied with what I got done on Sunday, perhaps that is why I opted for self-indulgence the first opportunity I got? Yeah, I can be a pretty pathetic creature. That was not quite how it was, as I actually felt productive this morning - but quite tired as well. Ah, I had another reason...arguably a good reason, but things didn't quite work out in the end. (In any case I ought to make a mental note to myself again not to touch alcohol before dinner unless I'm willing to take most of the day off...I've experimented this three times - all failures.) I had the misfortune of forgetting that Roadside Grill was still closed and started heading there instead of Westwood Brewing Company. I ended up in Tomodachi and had sushi and Sapporo. You know there is something about Japanese alcohol...the very first time I passed out from alcohol was after I had a bit of sake. Sapporo got me drunk very fast and soon after I had a headache - it hasn't gone away even now. I still wonder if my day could've gone differently if I had Westwood Blonde instead. In any case it was a mistake and I never should've done it, especially given my current physical condition (sick).
Ah why am I boring you with such trivialities? I had a dream. It was a good dream and I'm glad...grateful. Our amazing ability to dream and fantasize is one of our greatest gifts. I'd sooner be schizophrenic or go insane with desire than have somebody convince me that I'm not free in my mind. And yet why are we such greedy creatures? Why insist on making things "real"? That was a burning question of my childhood. I still ask the same question. I suppose I'm just not good enough, not strong enough, not...pure enough. I suppose as a child I simply pushed my dreams into the future and was satisfied with the possibility that they will be fulfilled sometime, but see there is still the requirement that they would be "real" in the future! I used to have these fantastic notions of what I would be like when I grew up...how many degrees I would get, how pretty my house would be, etc, but at the end of imagining my perfect life I always felt empty. I did this quite frequently - at least daily I think. I don't have such dreams anymore, at least not nearly as much. I don't know why...it scares me. I suppose it's because I'm grown up now, so what am I supposed to do? Push them off to heaven? Heaven's another story, of course.
This always happens...I still haven't started saying what I wanted to say, and I'm already tired and ready to go back to bed - again. I woke up thinking about my childhood. The boys of my childhood. I was the only girl on my dad's side of the family and grew up playing with male cousins. There were four of them on my father's side - all older than me and one on my mother's side - younger. The oldest one used to play games with me that he invented and insisted on giving me big wet kisses on my cheeks when I lost - of course I always lost. He was in some of my earliest memories and I loved playing with him but he also tortured me in his own way because he was older and could do things I couldn't do and his kisses were too wet for me. He tantalized me with things I couldn't have and sometimes I got so frustrated that I would jump up and down or cry - much to his amusement I assume. He found himself a pretty girl and got married...my first sister in law. Another cousin teased me every opportunity he got.
And then there's the pretty cousin...he's so much prettier than me and after all these years he is still the most gorgeous boy I know: twinkling eyes, well-defined lips, and the most perfect nose. In many ways he is the most perfect blend of eastern and western beauty. I didn't get to know him until I was six because his family didn't move back to where I was till then. We both stayed with grandpa and grandma for a while. He was six or seven years older than me. He used to get annoyed or sulky a lot, but rarely - if ever - totally lost his temper. He was the nicest to me of all the cousins and somehow we got along. He usually let me have my way and at times he was almost parentlike: once I made a smart comment about the relative amount of sauce in his bowl and mine and he patted my head and was truly pleased - I was such a little little girl.... Before I moved to the States I tried to learn how to ride the bike, but we didn't own a bike my size so I tried with my mother's big bike. He would help me onto the bike and hold on to the handle bars and walk along with me as I pedaled. The bike was much too tall for me and I was afraid but I trusted him not to let go and he never did. In some ways he was gentle to me in a way my mother and grandpa never were (my dad was gentle to me, but somehow in a strange way...maybe he just talked too much.) My grandpa lost his temper without apology (in retrospect not surprising as he had to quit smoking and had lung cancer) but I never doubted that he loved me and after the temper things were always good as before. And to give you some idea about my mother...she finally taught me how to ride the bike by forcing me to go down a hill: there was a tree and a big trash can at the bottom of the hill so her idea was to force me to learn how to steer by trying to make it between the tree and the trash can; I think I hit the trash can much more often than the tree :). It was a brilliant idea and in retrospect I don't think I was traumatized by that experience...it was really the combination of her AND my dad that made things bad - like you shouldn't have more than one person add stuff to the soup - especially when the things being added are incompatible.
Anyways back to my pretty cousin. The truth is I had no idea that he was pretty when I was a kid - I had no clue who was pretty and who wasn't in general. It wasn't until I went back to China about five years ago and saw him again that I realized that. He seemed to have matured quite a bit as well as he didn't get annoyed or sulky as much. He took me to the arcade and we went shopping for pirate CD's. He kept on commenting on how short I was, but he did it in a nice way. We had "deeper" conversations since I was more grown up than when I had left. Even the cousin who used to tease me had good conversations with me...I was older and he finally respected me. The day before I flew back to the US the three of us went to a net cafe and played Starcraft well into the night. I set the alarm after we got back so I wouldn't miss my flight and my pretty cousin was slightly hurt at the way I was so determined to make my flight and he said something along the lines of "are you so eager to go? wouldn't it be better if you did miss it?" The next day he came with us to the airport and we waved goodbye. I don't remember if either of us cried...I don't think I did because my parents were there and after a certain age I didn't cry in front of them if I could help it, but I felt a lump in my throat and my lips quivering....I miss him and wish he were here; he'd make the girls go wild, but then again he's too nice a guy.
I loved boys and because of my early experience with my cousins they were always my playmates of choice. At their best boys are the sweetest angels around...and at their worst they are little demons who tease, taunt and hit...and I pouted, cried, and hit back. After a while I learned that if you get past a little boy's teasing, taunting, and hitting and earn his respect and love, he'd never leave you. Boys rejected me at first but they always loved me in the end - at least I hope. My parents were always the bigger obstacle because they didn't like the fact that I was a little tomboy (they didn't let me learn kung fu because of it) who played among boys. I played ping-pong with them and fought with them. A favorite activity of ours during recess when we couldn't get a ping-pong table was to split up into teams (with boys and girls...we were truly coed) and have a big melee. Nobody really got hurt...we just flailed our arms around, punched and slapped. It was just wild fun and in the end it didn't matter who won or lost because it was such a mess nobody could tell - or cared - anyway. I picked one boy as my "boyfriend" and he was pleased and bought me whatever I asked. One day he showed up wearing a golden suit...I was amused. I think he told me he loved me but he said it in English and I didn't understand English then. But then jokingly I said I liked somebody else...I think he got mad and things were never the same again and I think he didn't like me anymore. He even became cruel at times; I was invited to his Bday party but then he said to me "my parents wanted to invite you, not me." But the truth is I always liked him because he was my special boy and I knew it the first time I saw him. It was no doubt a silly childhood thing, but to tell you the truth I don't think any boy has been quite that sweet to me again.
These are my fondest memories...why did we all have to grow up? My sweet little boys turned into creatures who can knock me out with one punch. There was a gorgeous little boy with golden hair at my high school but within one year he cut short his pretty hair and turned into a petulant teenager. I ought to stop now...it's been two hours since I started.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
11:00 PM
I'm twenty one. I turned twenty one on Saturday. I was ecstatic. I can finally buy alcohol. It's been a few days and reality is starting to set in. Next year I will have nothing to be ecstatic about for my birthday. I'll just be getting older. I'm beginning to see fine wrinkles on my face...my health has declined...and right now no matter how hard I try I cannot understand a word of Lang's book on differentiable manifolds...all this after only one beer at dinner. I just checked my biorhythm and I'm supposed to be tired and stupid...I suppose that may explain some of it.
You know when I was younger I always believed that if you had a strong enough will you would never fall asleep, pass out, or die. It made perfect sense to me and yet night after night I was put to bed and I slept against my will. I hated sleeping when I was a child...I didn't hate sleep itself but I hated the idea of sleep (yes even as a child I knew how to hate the idea of a thing rather than the thing itself). I thought sleep was a major waste of time and to tell you the truth it is a little depressing because of how much it resembles death. I always imagine a city that never sleeps. That's probably why I like to be in big cities.
Why am I so weak...wake up...wake up...wake up....
Monday, October 25, 2004
12:12 PM
Good morning. Unfortunately not finished reading Atiyah-McDonald. Only managed to read two chapters yesterday...that's not good. Heh, saw a poster at the poster sale outside Ackerman and it said "live as if you'll die tomorrow; dream as if you'll live forever." It's got a cute guy on it, that's why I saw it in the first place. I like the quote very much. I need to get the fucking book read before I accidentally drink myself to death (relax, that's a joke). I do think alcohol is mankind's greatest invention, heh. People who can't get drunk scare me a little. Mostly I feel a little sorry for them :P. I haven't been sleeping well...I am haunted by shadows of my past. Ah, I should not call them shadows as they are fond memories. But I feel refreshed today...work work...work unceasingly...and drink as if you'll never die.
Friday, October 22, 2004
3:13 PM
I love you.
Monday, October 18, 2004
12:00 PM
It's good to be out of bed. Last Thursday and Friday were miserable, but now I'm better. I supposed it is time to get my shot glass, as it is simply too dangerous to just pour hard liquor into my glass without knowing how much. We watched Patton and Romeo Must Die on Friday. I love that son of a bitch Patton. He's so much like my grandpa: tall, loud, and dirty. That's my kind of guy. I wanted to be a conqueror when I was a child. Children are easily moved and I was moved by all the "big" things people did. But then I fell in love with my history teacher and he taught me compassion. Strictly speaking that's probably when I started to grow a conscience. It's kind of funny because he was a cynical guy, but then again they say that behind every cynic is a romantic - a wounded one at that. I never told you this but I named my hamster after his daughter. His daughter's name is Irene. I ran into him once in the park with his curly blond daughter. He was so tall and she was so short. It amused me to see it because in some ways he struck me as a perpetual bachelor. It's amazing because it was only after knowing him that I began to accept this country...the fact that I would be here for the rest of my life, which is probably what my granpa wanted in the first place. Before that I always thought I would go back to China. I was ten years old, but it took me four years to accept America. Yeah, I was an old kid.
Saturday was productive. Saturday night I had at least four shots of single malt on an empty stomach and talked for five hours straight. I think it accomplished something. It certainly did. I think it's the reason I'm out of bed right now. Single malt was rough...on the bottleneck it said "made without compromise". I liked that. It was one of the few hard liquor that actually hurt as it went down my stomach. Yes, it actually hurt. I could feel it turning around in my stomach and it burned everywhere it went. Even Barcardi 151 didn't hurt quite like that. I had 4 hours of sleep that night at most. Sunday was productive as well. I said many things that night, but I came to the conclusion that we are here to love and work. I suppose I got that out of Brothers Karamazov. I saw in Father Zossima's speech the best argument against suicide I've found so far. I won't repeat it since I probably won't get it right. You go read it yourself and you'll see. It's funny because when I was seeing a therapist, I asked her - I was being difficult - what the hell she lived for. She didn't know what to say the first time I put that to her, but a week later she told me "well, there's love and there's work." So that was exactly what she said. I didn't really believe her of course. I guess now I do. Sure has taken long enough.
I don't believe in many things. I believe in love, work, and I believe that where there's a will there's a way. There are times when I didn't believe those things of course, but those were probably the times I wanted to kill myself the most. Suffering is not what kills you...it's not being able to love.
This may be rather abrupt, but I have said too much in the past few days, and it is time to get back to work.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
3:39 PM
Are you still here? It has been so long.... I miss you. I really do. Three years now and what have I done? I have made zero progress. Still a child and still weird. Mathematically I have grown up beyond my wildest expectations, but what of my heart? I found one answer to one question I asked almost two years ago in moments of the deepest despair. Ah, I'm too drunk to write right now...I'll be back...you'll be here, right?
Saturday, December 13, 2003
5:00 AM
Sleepy...but feeling incredibly sane, open-minded and clean. Don't I wish I feel like this all the time....
There are 5 types of people: I: those without principles and don't give a shit; II: those who do give a shit but have resigned themselves to the fact - after encountering seemingly unsurmountable difficulties and dirtiness - that there's nothing they can actually do and what ought to be can only exist in their mind; III: those who refuse to accept how things are, but feel helpless and as a result are often in a state of turmoil on account of it; IV: those who manage to shield themselves (to some extent) with their innocence or lack of interaction with reality; V: those who have seen dirtiness, but still hold principles and ideals in their heart, live by them, and do what they can to improve reality without sacrificing or compromising themselves in anyway. I would like to believe true type I's are rare, but like rotten apples, their influence is far-reaching. Type II's and III's are weak, but their weakness possibly manifests itself in different ways. Type II's are withdrawn and a dull kind of bitterness permeates their existence; type III's are actively suffering and run the danger of becoming martyrs or lunatics if they don't move into type II or V in reasonable time; Type IV's are lucky, but maybe still run the danger of being corrupted later on.
I'm very pleased to announce I have been thinking clean thoughts (and listening to Brahms) for the past three hours. I hope you're feeling better too... Good night.
Thought that I was going crazy
Just having one those days yeah
Didn't know what to do
Then there was you
And everything went from wrong to right
And the stars came out and filled up the sky
The music you were playing really blew my mind
It was love at first sight
'cause baby when I heard you
For the first time I knew
We were meant to be as one
Was tired of running out of luck
Thinking 'bout giving up yeah
Didn't know what to do
Then there was you
And everything went from wrong to right
And the stars came out and filled up the sky
The music you were playing really blew my mind
It was love at first sight
'cause baby when I heard you
For the first time
I knew we were meant to be as one
And everything went from wrong to right
And the stars came out and filled up the sky
The music you were playing really blew my mind
It was love at first sight
Sunday, December 7, 2003
"Howard, have you ever held power over a single human being?"
"No. And I wouldn't take it if it were offered to me."
"I can't believe that."
"It was offered to me once, Gail. I refused it."
...
"Out of respect for the man?"
...
"Out of respect for myself."
Thursday, November 13, 2003
Higher...not lower.
Monday, November 10, 2003
What is a man without ideals but a walking haystack? Independence...is a beautiful thing. So what is there to discuss? What advice do I need? In the end, it is always simplicity that strikes me. When things are how they ought to be, how can anything be too good to be true?
Wednesday, November 5, 2003
8:46 PM
So cold....
Wednesday, November 5, 2003
Sometimes I feel so clean when I'm alone. Why have I not gained the peace of mind necessary to be with people? Even people dear to me.... I'm beginning to understand...I must refuse to partake in the eternal propagation of thoughts and feelings that never should have been. Why suffer on account of how things are, versus how they ought to be? Why take to heart what others may say, when I myself know best? And when I don't know...what's the use of pulling on straws? I once saw a wooden statue of a man with his head buried in his lap. Perhaps one's first instinct is to say he's praying, but I thought to myself: he's not quite ready to pray yet. He was in turmoil, but he had faith. He was uncertain and there's nothing shameful about that at all. I do believe earnest prayers will be answered...eventually. But how can one be earnest when one doesn't know? If I were to simply ask that I be made happy, that would be meaningless indeed, wouldn't it?
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
Talk, advice, analyze, suppositions, rationalization.... and yet, why is it that the more I think, the dirtier I feel? I ask so many questions, but the only question I have the right to ask is how did I ever manage to profane my best intentions, purest emotions? How did I let half truths and uncertainties cloud the only thing I was certain of? Too idealistic? No...I wasn't idealistic enough. Romantic? Maybe in the beginning, but then why did I breath in every piece of dirt that came my way then breath it out at him, the one I felt most precious to me? Why was I so weak...still so weak? In the darkness of the night...in the private silence of my mind, I felt no confusion, and yet why did I wake up in turmoil? Do you know what it is like to feel dirty? In the name of the best in me and my love, please stop....
Monday, November 3, 2003
You may know me today but you may not know me tomorrow. You see my joy and you see my sorrow, but do you know me, do you believe me, do you trust me? Mystery excites me, darkness frightens me. Backwards? Forwards? Hold? Fold? Love me? Hate me? Have faith in me!
Saturday, November 1, 2003
I whispered to you and only to you. Did you hear me? Was I too loud? I heard you. I still hear you. We're all lonely, but why does it hurt me to see you so? What are tears to me? What's anything to me.... Suffering ends when crying begins. Suffering ends when anything begins. At your loneliest moments, why curse the devil when you can simply refuse to suffer? I don't suffer because I can cry. I don't suffer because I can walk. I don't suffer because I can still breath. I don't suffer because I simply refuse to. Years ago, a boy threw a tantrum in class because he did not want to give a presentation he felt he was not ready for. In the end, three words from him settled the matter: I simply refuse.
But why am I still afraid? Why do I still sit here, paralyzed? Life was beautiful when I was drunk. I was so happy when I sobered up too, because life was still beautiful. I haven't felt that way in a long time. I was happy...grateful...that I could still feel that way. Let me remember that then. Don't ever let me forget that. And you? Will you drink a little more? Just a little bit more...you're still sober. You've always been sober. Sober and lonely...sober and busy...sober and...afraid?
I'm tired. There's work, there's sleep, then there's tomorrow.
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Guilty until proven innocent or innocent until proven guilty? The answer, it seems, is simply don't judge.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Another weekend. So much strife. Happiness used to be the normal state of things, then a goal, then almost a prize to be fought over. I have come to understand it is commitment that makes us happy. Nothing and no one can make us happy unless we let it or him or her. Except...I not only let him make me happy, I demanded.... Happiness became an obsession and was consequently lost. In the end, not much had to be said, not much had to be done...I only had to know and feel there was a heart like mine, right beside me. I said all I could...I did all I could, only to forget how much I cherish him. I was so happy that I was afraid. My life had never seemed to dear to me and death never so dreadful.
Yes, hardwork cures everything, but not because I can drown my sorrow in it. I cry now...but sorrow should not be drowned, because there are lessons to be learned and knots to be untied. Work is important because it's important to strive and be earnest. Why does it take so long for me to learn anything? Many nights I asked myself why I liked you and didn't know. Now I do know: I love you because I do and because you're earnest. I never should have doubted you. Do you hear me? Do you still care? I like to insist one should do things for the right reasons, because I want things to last and I like to demand that they do. But what are reasons after all? I spend my time searching for reasons, and yet everytime the void stares me back. Three years ago, I didn't learn physics for the right reason, but I told myself it mattered and I learned it earnestly. It made me happy and saved me despite myself.
I became selfish and wanted all your earnestness for myself. If I were earnest like you I would've understood...it is a way of life and inherent in everything you do. I never should've demanded that you give that up. I always knew the importance of being earnest...that's why you attract me like a magnet, but I was weak. I floundered. I oscillated between soaring high above like the eagle and staring down with cold indifference and sinking low underground and wallowing in misery. I made a wish not so long ago that I would like to be the eagle. But I don't want to fly...I only want to stay right here, on the ground, with you.... Maybe I'm too late now...only our hearts can tell. I will change my ways; I will be earnest; and I will pray.
Friday, October 24, 2003
The sun was absolutely gorgeous today. I stepped out of MS to find everything under a harmonious red glow. Red can represent the passion of Mars, but today that was not what I felt. For maybe the first time, I saw the beauty of harmonious existence. Passion is the driving force, then the finale, but without harmony there is nothing left but cacophony once passion fades. I have always been able to feel passion, but I never understood what it meant to coexist harmoniously. I could hold on...I could commit, but I could not trust. I knew to dread intense suffering, but I didn't know to appreciate quiet satisfaction. I yearned for passionate embraces, and yet how my heart fluttered with excitement at the lightest touch! I only knew how to want, need, give blindly then demand, but I didn't know how to receive. I wanted too much and held on too tight, but forgot what really mattered. I was selfish, undisciplined, and cowardly under the guise of love. I was happy, but I loved in the lowest way possible. I not only stopped flying, I landed; I not only landed, I drilled myself a hole; when I realized what had happened, I panicked, struggled, but only sank deeper. Enlightenment begins when resentment ends. Not bad is not equal to good; just lack of malice is simply not enough. You will forgive me, but I will have to forgive myself.
I went to the garden today. To my happy amazement I didn't hear construction. Instead I heard children's voices: happy, innocent, and excited, with no edge, no hidden sarcasm, no bravado. One little girl held another little girl's hand and said "come on Cecil, we're leaving now." A little boy put his arm around another one and said, "aren't you my best pal?" I was once happy and embraced the world with wide-eyed curiosity, but now I'm sad and penitent. There's plenty of life left in me - and love. I will be like them again. You believe me, don't you? I do.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
I feel...repentant. Forgive me. I hold you close to my heart. I heard Dershowitz today. I was moved. Thank you for reminding me to always have an open mind and stand up for what I am and what I believe. I have been a coward.
Monday, October 20, 2003
"We strive for so much, but find so little. We can't find our dream while asleep, but we dream so much while awake." I haven't opened a serious Chinese book in so long. For once I didn't strive for too much. I stopped striving. In the end what did I give him? A hollow body, an empty mind, a bitter heart, and meaningless affection. I'm sorry. To all those who didn't abandon me in the past week: thank you. I hardly deserved it. Don't allow me to abandon you again...and myself.
Sunday, October 19, 2003
Talked to Nancy and Diana. Nancy totally made me feel like I'm psycho (thanks a lot...and sorry about Rich). Diana thinks I'm totally unattractive. Nancy will definitely dump me if I were her bf. Strangely I don't feel bad, because they're both right. I should've talked to them sooner. There are reasons and explanations for having become what I have allowed myself to become once again, but no excuses.
Friday, October 10, 2003
If you were to ask me what I'm doing now, the answer would be "nothing." If you were to ask me what I'm thinking now, the answer would be "I don't know." If you ask why, the answer would be "does there have to be a reason?" Before you say or think anything else, let me assure you all those answers are perfectly honest.
Actually I am doing something. I'm pacing my room, waiting to get hungry so I can eat and be satisfied. As far as my last post is concerned, let me just say that at some point I came to the remarkable conclusion that suffering thus defined in fact doesn't exist as long as I always remember to forgive my own stupidity and swallow my pride, but I'm realizing that probably won't get me that far. You can't just choose to feel happiness but nothing else. Happiness often comes with corollaries. I would never sacrifice the capacity to experience happiness for anything. When somebody becomes say a monk, he basically trades happiness for peace of mind. I have come to see that such a trade is possible. I'm just not going to do it, because absence of suffering is not worth nearly as much as even the remote possibility of happiness. I have heard happiness defined as the absence of pain, but well, think of it this way: a man who's had a frontal lobotomy feels no pain, but I don't consider him happy by a long shot.
I'm tired all of a sudden. It's been like that. It just hits me like a bullet and I'm out. I better eat now if I'm going to eat at all. 'Nite.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
I never thought I would be back, but I am. I'm not certain where to begin, so I will start with senseless chatter, like I always do. I simply have too many thoughts, some of which I must throw into the wind. There is only so much that can be said. In most cases it's probably better not to say anything at all. I already say too much. It is ironic that I get responses when I don't expect them but don't when I do. Let me expect nothing then. And desire nothing. I'm doing what I used to do all the time. I'm simply pretending to talk to somebody. I never imagined his or her response. My audience was always somebody I longed to be close to in real life, but I have come to realize that he or she was always imaginary in spirit. In most cases I never got close enough to them to know. Let me just throw my abstract nonsense at the "benign indifference of the universe". I always have that much freedom.
I feel no guilt and no shame. I have not sinned and don't plan to. Even if I did, guilt and shame will probably do me no good. Who invented guilt and shame anyway? It was a marvelous invention I must admit. For me there is only a painful realization that I have suffered against my will. That was of course redundant. In the strict sense, there is no such thing as willing suffering. If there is willingness, then there is always joy in spite of everything. The suffering always lies in the unwillingness and the injustice we perceive. Suffering is a consequence of our failure to justify a less than ideal situation. All that was a less than direct way of saying that for there to be suffering, not only does there have to be an unfavorable situation, but also we must be keenly aware of it, attempt to justify or rectify it, and fail miserably on both counts.
Of course you knew this already. The solution is simple: you swallow that discontent in your heart and go on living as if nothing ever happened. That's the simplest solution in any case. A very sensible solution indeed. Lazyman's solution. I probably could've worded that solution much more favorably, because after all, it's most likely the Christian's solution as well as the philosopher's solution. For some reason it never really worked for me. I'm either too diligent or simply too dumb. You get to pick. I really don't care. So I always went on suffering pointlessly. Very inefficient indeed. I'm not nearly as dumb as some, but I'm sure they put their heads to better use than I do. So in the end, I'm the laughingstock and they're just sensible people with common sense. Not brilliant, but still better than a idiot like me, don't you think? Yeah, I have convinced myself of how dumb and ridiculous I am.
I had something in mind before I started, but I may not get there. My caffeine-induced clarity only lasts so long and I have already wasted it on nonsense. I had something much more positive in mind, but my inadvertent introduction has taken up all the space. It's best I go outside for a while. Maybe another cup of tea. Some math to clear my mind. Ah, I did want to talk about math. But it will have to wait till another time.