Thoughts. . .

Monday, April 30, 2001

New exam: Six hours and forty-five minutes counting until the exam before becomes daunting. . . .Macroeconomics Final exammination at 12:30PM Monday.
I have been studying but the material does not soak in at all like a sponge. . . goes to show my hard-headness (all pun intended). Hmmm, so here at 5:40AM I am awake, again??? Indeed so--and also giving a little rambling too--tsk tsk on my part.
I just wanted to comment on how much informercials late at night. . . errr early in the morning can make you stay awake, the innovations that people think of, and they market so well (or so badly) their product. Ever watch one? I've watched many of them throughtout my life. . . from the Juice Man to the Roast Oven to the Thunder Stick and now. . . "Pump 'N Seal" (the incredible "vacuum food storage system" that keeps food fresh like when you bought them--not to mention they keep silverware, jewelry, and metals from tarnishing!). Ever observe how the host can do all that talking in one-take? I wonder how many takes they do before they get the perfect take for the show? Do they get thirsty? (especially the ones who adverstise about the delicious foods and related products) Oh, and picture them reacting crazily to a delicious, mouth-watering food item ONE second before the food enters their mouth--now that is talent. I would sure like to have the ability to taste food without the food entering my mouth. Hmmmm. . . . I wonder how their eyes light up like Christmas lights--do they get a "high", or real enjoyment, from talking about their innovation? And then you take one look at their product and demonstration and that's basically how the rest of the 29 minutes of the paid program goes--just repeated over and over to tell you how much you need this product, how much easier life is with their product, how great your body will look and feel. Oh, one more question: do they have writers for the show? I would think so, right? After all, it's amazing, if not wonderful, and absolutely magical, that those brain-thinking writers can think of so many synonyms for "incredible"!
Awww shucks, I missed how to marinate foods and use the Pump 'N Seal product to create "like factory sealed" freezer bags. I am serious--I wanted to see how the pump does it--it's like an addiction to watch.
Okay, enough of my rambling--I should be giving thoughtful ideas here, shouldn't I?
5:53AM: Beaty Towers West Dorm Desk
posted by John Khuu 5:53:37 AM

Saturday, April 28, 2001

Thinking is a twenty-four hour and seven days a week occupation; when I die that is when my vacation begins. Lately, I've been doing lots of thinking to myself while being offline. . . away from the computer.
For some unknown reasons, I have had flashes and thoughts about the white headed (most people would say "white faced" but 'head' includes ears, forehead, somewhat neck, etc.), red-nosed (no, I'm not describing Rudolph the Reindeer), red-haired, and vicious-looking clown: Pennywise, created by author Stephen King. King wrote the novel, titled "IT", about an ancient evil that mainly takes the form of a clown called Pennywise. A group of kids discover the creature and apparently destroy "It". They make a pact to return and finish "It" if "It" ever comes back.
Now take out most of the words from that brief description, and you have: "an __ evil ___ clown called Pennywise ___ comes back."
Why I included pictures of "IT" here on the web page is from spontaneity. I know I will regret putting such images up. . . especially tonight when I goto sleep.
_SIGH_
::shrugs::
Many of those reading may not fear this clown--and who would? Okay, I would, but that goes with a few reasons.
First, "IT" was one of the first "real horror" movie I saw as a child. I never sat down to see this movie entirely when "IT" was televised in 1990 on ABC. (I was about ten or eleven years old then.) I could not stand the sight of blood everywhere in a bathroom sink. . . often times, I found myself trying not to see blood in the sink of the bathroom in my house--which had similar architecture as the one in the movie. I could not stand the idea of illusions of fear becoming reality. . . or should I say fear of illusions becoming reality? Hmmmm. . . .
Secondly, I've grown up in, I suppose I could term such, a "sheltered" environment--not necessarily in the sense where my parents governed what I could do or not do. Rather an environment whereupon I grew up within a small (non-territorial) boundary of livelihood. (Coincidentally, terms like "grounded" and "curfew" are not vocabulary words in our family.) Uhmmm, basically, I was not a socialite. As a result, in American culture, I would assume that scary movies are part of pop culture for American children. Definitely not in Asian culture--at least not to my knowledge.
Thirdly, I'm too imaginative with all things (objects, ideas, feelings (maybe not so at the current time) etc.) in life--and I would not trade or sell such a characteristic about myself. See, this imagination is both a positive and negative trait but worthy. I let my imagination live its own fantasy and impact upon my own reality. (Gosh, so much to talk about now. . . imaginations of being a hero, the reality and illusion of reality, itself, "diggin' myself", and fear of course).
I could go on about my imagination but I don't think I am conveying my thoughts too cohesively as I would like or would be understandable to others.
I really do not understand (yet) how other people of all ages (adults, children, teens) deal with "scary movie" fears. I mean to watch some form of manifestation of fear be immortalized into an object or being is quite. . . scary (with no exaggeration or overempahsis on the word). I realize some say that some just "realize" movies are only make-believe. But somehow I cannot settle for a simplistic explanation and logic. Perhaps this fear itself is a form of reality check. Just maybe seeing fears even as they logically do not exist is not an hallucination or crazy state of mind but a peripheral sense of mind. Not "Sixth Sense", but a state of mind found in a minute population.
I tell myself that one of these days I will be rid of these fears, but I told myself I would not lose my childishness (not immaturity but mentality--confuse not the two widely misunderstood concepts).
Anyway, we are conditioned in this American society (speaking of this society's behalf only) that adults are to realistically lose their childhood fears. The novel-turned-movie, "IT", for example, explains how we lose our "childhood fears" because we outgrow them. (Pennywise the clown had counted on the belief that the children would grow up and throw away their fears of "It"; thus simply go on about their lives.) We simply stop believing in those fears, and that is one element that makes us too common with each other.
Just like we lose, or should I say "grow out" of, our childhood. In middle school, we are told we will not survive in high school with the behavior we display. Then in high school, we are told again that we will not survive in college with our displayed behavior. Of course, that is not to say we should misbehave in school--but the social conditioning throughout our adolescent years we form a behavior that is socially acceptable as an adult. Gone is our childhood.
In one thought that is good, we are maturing into someone unique who is still ourselves. But often times what we do is we completely forget our origins.
"Origins" brings about another thought: As we grow up to be adults and enter the "real world", do not forget how you came to where you are standing. Not merely out of your own self-endurance and work, but you are where you are because of your parents. Perhaps one of your two parents helped you achieve the life you are living. Perhaps none or you don't give much thought to them--if so, skip to the next paragraph. The point I'm trying to make is that we all are born two people (for the time being at least) and from there they nurture us (at least most do), then like young birds we spread our wings and embark on our adventures. The real world we live in suddenly becomes real to us because now we partake in what truly affects us (pain, emotions, lessons, etc.)
Speaking of which, what is reality? Do we exist as ourselves uniquely? I will not go into this subject much at this time since I would prefer to do some separate thinking on this subject.
Interestingly enough, I began this thoughts-writing on my own notion to talk about "diggin' myself" (explained later when I actually talk about "diggin' one's self". In fact, the beginning sentence of thought was going to start out as such: "Diggin' myself and along comes a sparrow. . . (12:18AM)"--all of which would explained of course. . . as always.
I will continue diggin' myself for abit while I head offline with that last comment. But may I give some words of caution: do not dig yourself too much or. . . along comes a sparrow.
I bid you goodnight for now as I should try to normalize my sleep.
2:16AM: Home Desk with Simon & Garfunkel comforting my imagination.
posted by John Khuu 3:31:13 AM

Saturday, April 14, 2001

A day in the life. . . of a numbed-poet boy rambling. . . . no, not rambling but thinking out loud. For rambling, to my definition, is senseless and/or thoughtless spewing of words, that is, just ranting.
Well, I am here categorizing (tagging) some of The Beatles' music. . . actually the Red and Blue albums. And I am quite impressed into my chair by their music. I admit I once thought The Beatles were just pop-rock music in the 1960s and 1970s, and overly rated. But if you take a listen to their Red (1962-1966) and Blue (1966-1970) albums, these anthology albums may change your opinion of the former-stated opinion.
The music of the songs are typical of pop and rock music of then. The words, though, are what I found impressing on me. The song, "A Day In The Life", is what really finally hit me and made me think twice about The Beatles' music. Their earlier music is pop music-oriented, but their latter songs are quite thoughtful provoking and fun to listen to.
Note that my liking The Beatles does not push out Simon & Garfunkel at all. . . impossible.
Here are the exact words that really caught my attention to The Beatles--as well as the music that they play:
"I saw a film today oh, boy
The English army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
But I just had to look
Having read the book
I'd love to turn you on.
[strange 'out of dream'/waking up musical interlude]
Woke up, got out of bed
dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
and looking up, I noticed I was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream"
Okay, okay, so you think what's so interesting about those posted words. Take a look, however, at the poetic writing. Here, I will point them out. The words of "[a] crowd of people turned away" is word-played on with the following "I'd love to turn you on". Being able to play with words is such a neat and effective use of writing. Then the imagery of "dragg[ing] a comb across [one's] head" is such a purely, unique imagery. The uniqueness reminds me of Simon & Garfunkel's imagerical song, "The Dangling Conversation". . . :
"It's a still life watercolor,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives."
The imageries loaded in that first stanza of the song is amazing yet well-juxtaposed. How often do you find poetry in songs nowadays? Not much, in my opinion. Sweeeeet, go back and read that imagery of "the sun shin[ing] through the window" while "shadows wash the room"!!! That is poetry--to be able to summarize the passing of day from morning to dusk with shadows. Pure sweetness to my mind.
Or how about the Simon & Garfunkel song, "Bleecker Street"--which this Café derives its name from. Take a reading at this song's imagery and personification of shadows:
"Voices leaking from a sad café
Smiling faces try to understand
I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand
On Bleecker Street"
Soft and sad isn't that? Imagine--two gray shades of shadow hands touching each others in attempts to console the bleakness of each other's sadness in a (probable) sidewalk café. Perhaps I read too much into songs and their writing styles, but they more than get their point and sadness across.
Okay, the point of this post is to tell you to take a listen into The Beatles' (perhaps their later work from 1965 and on). Some songs I recommend of theirs are "A Day In The Life", "Paperback Writer", "Eleanor Rigby", and/or "Strawberry Fields Forever".
But if you missed my sublimal message of promoting Simon & Garfunkel. . . tsk tsk tsk. For those who want to explore the poetry of Simon & Garfunkel songs, then take a listen to these recommended songs: "The Dangling Conversation", "Bleecker Street", Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall", "The Sound Of Silence", and "The 7 O'Clock News / Silent Night".
For now, I shall rest my head upon something flat enough to give a comfortable rest.
6:08AM: Murphree Dorm Desk
posted by John Khuu 5:23:20 AM

Wednesday, April 04, 2001

'Sleeping children better run like the wind out of the lightning dream' (Counting Crows' Round Here). . . . my mind tells me sleep is a hindrance to me finishing the endless tasks to be accomplished each day and night. (I feel more and more like the Greek Sisyphus. Sisyphus was punished by the gods to to push a rock up a hill, only to have the rock roll back down on him again, again, and again.) My body feels ached and twisted from the positions and places I have slept in at college. My parents would be abhorred, if they knew. Myself feels achingly tired but not wanting to sleep. I can only talk out what stops me from sleeping. . . from sleeping. . . sleeping. . . .
I slept past my math discussion class this afternoon, but did I really miss the meaning of life because of this? I was supposed to wake at 10AM, but my alarm was not tuned correctly. At 10AM, I was going to complete my Sociology lab assignment of which the previous night I stayed up 'til 5AM to watch and jot notes down on infomercials on the Ronco Showtime BBQ Oven and the Thunderstick Mixer (Oooooo...). Alas, I did not turn in the assignment, and I am fine with that. Earlier that night (Monday night), I was doing Calculus homework (Newton's (Boring, Repetitive) Method and Anti(racist)deritvatives).
But before that, at 11:20PM-ish, I went with three other guys to explore the attic of my dorm building. We walked in the dark with a flashlight and a bike light through the simplistic, one-pathed labrynith. Along the way, we discovered a small heap of papers (accidentally or intentionally left). The papers were pamphlets by a Student Government party running for SG elections. On estimation, the papers are circa 1960s or 1970s since they discuss issues about supporting "all Black students", and colleges and universities did not politically accept Black students until after many legislative actions, (which led the U.S. federal government to recognize the Blacks' "separate but equal" policies in educational insitutions by the 1950s). This piece of pamplet is certainly a vintage collection to be treasured. Perhaps next time we go up the attic, we'll leave a piece of history there for the next scouting group to discover. We climbed through professionally cut holes to explore each separate section. One of the guys suggested we film a murder scene up there in the attic of someone running or in a similar manner. The Murphree Witch Project?
Click the flyer for a larger view.

Ughhh, well sleep is often hindered by (limit as HW goes to infinity) homework, tests to study and fail, seldomly occurring adventures, and other time-consuming activities.
Perhaps, though the main reason for not sleeping is that sleep is not something worthy for me. Sleep reminds me of Jonalyn. Such an idea of sleep was peaceful and enchanting once, but now the idea has transformed into a dismal, dreary concept.
"1-2-3-4-5-6-7A.M.
All alone again
But I've been through all this shit before
Spend my nights in self defense
Cry about my innocence
But I ain't all that innocent anymore, more, more
I see her on the TV, I see her in the movies
I see her in these animals that dance inside my head
I'll follow you down baby, down into this valley
I'll follow you down baby, but I won't come up again
But I'm not sleeping anymore, anymore
But I'm not sleeping anymore, anymore"
--Counting Crows (I'm Not Sleeping)
Maybe these sleepless nights and days are marked by lonely days alone. I sleep through early morning and wake up in aches and pains from hours of rest, but I do not feel any better than when I had laid down (or hunched over) to sleep.
"Well I woke up in mid afternoon cause that's when it all hurts the most...
If dreams are like movies then memories are films about ghosts"
--Counting Crows (Mrs. Potter's Lullaby)
::shrugs::
Nowadays, I sleep at the desk (well that was also Bed #2 before sleep became a drag), in the lounge (either hunched over the table or scrawled up in the one-seat, hard-cushioned, public sofa), in the Architecture computer lab, here and there on campus (way up in the stadium seats or outside the computer lab), other people's places, or two chairs-bed in front of the room's heater to keep warm. I think to a degree, sleeping anywhere but in my dorm bed is more comfortable--especially outside the computer lab in the frigid cold.
I hear the sneers and thoughtless remarks of people commenting on my sleeping habits: "He doesn't sleep in his bed for some odd reason", "John slept in front of the heater on two chairs", "Are you healthy? Are you healthy?", "Sleep in your bed for a peaceful sleep". . .
What have I become? A robot or ant working constantly but tediously? A being driven to busy the mind and the heart from getting drunk on loneliness and misery? The detested image (which I wanted to avoid) of a businessman who has no time to sit down on a recliner and have his children sit on his laps as they recount their day at school? A mentally-abusive (former) boyfriend unable to direct my time to hear out a loved one's thoughts? A superificial friend hardly giving time to hear other friends' worries?
What have I become?
What have I done?
This would be the moment, I insert the comment: 'just let me sleep away these troubles, just let me sleep all of this away. . .'
But I'm not feeling that sense of satisfaction. Heck, I feel like I could go sleep in the stadium one of these days, one of these days, these days,. . . dazed.
But this sleepness, I bet would be appropriately called 'insomnia'--and more specifically 'chronic insomnia'. ::shrugs:: From the Virtual ^ Children's Hospital:
"Chronic insomnia may result from illnesses that cause pain, nausea or shortness of breath. Depression or anxiety may also cause chronic insomnia." But who am I or they to suggest that I have insomnia? Pish-posh. . .
::-sigh-::
"I can't keep myself away from me
In perfect blue buildings,
Said I,
'How am I gonna keep myself awake?
How am I gonna keep myself away from me?
Keep myself away
How am I gonna keep myself away from me?
Keep myself awake?
How am I gonna keep myself away from me?'"
--Counting Crows (Perfect Blue Buildings)
3:38AM: Murphree Dorm Desk
posted by John Khuu 1:46:27 AM

Saturday, March 3, 2000

"Things are changing
But nothing changes
And still there are changes
Le roi est mort, vive le roi! [The king is dead, long live the king!]

There is no teacher
Who can teach anything new
He can just help us to remember
The things we always knew"
--Enigma (Odyessy Of The Mind)

Here on this page, I will lay upon to you, the reader, my thoughts that are not intended to teach but to remind us all of our past, mistakes, lessons, and all things that shape our lives.
posted by John Khuu 10:30PM

-={ To read previous 'Thoughts' on this page, visit the Archive of Past 'Thoughts' Postings }=-

Woohoo, you are the ^th person to visit this page. I appreciate your visit to my poetry caf?