Einstein’s brain. link courtesy of kim.
Archive for September, 2002
barf
OK, so this is going to be my petty school post of the year. I get one every year. This is it.
Ugh, I am struggling so far in this school year. I’m not sure what’s different, but it sure is taking me a while to get started and on track. So far, I have seen two sunrises, got one late major project, handed in one 2/3-done easy programming assignment , and have had countless close calls.
I have five pure CS classes and they’ve got me on a study diet of problem set after problem set. I’m barely keeping up. Well, actually, I’m not keeping up at all. ARGH. So frustrating. I need to get my shitezen together.
And, well, sometimes friends fight.
definite spork abuse
Overheard cell phone conversation:
Her: I’m going to tear you apart with my spork.
Phone: ….
Her: It’ll be vaguely entertaining. … No, tearing you apart.
Phone: ….
Her: Not just disembowelment, sweetie.
Phone: ….
Her: No, yeah, I’m going to kill you. Luv ya, bye.
girls : other guys :: space shuttles : inclement weather
I have come to the conclusion that dating cute girls is like launching space shuttles. It’s all about the small window of opportunity. Cute girls are constantly getting new boyfriends, because, well, they’re cute. When you’re cute, people will date you. Anyway, when these people break up with them, there is a small time of availiability that this cute girl is available. This is the time when you must go for it! When you must strike before someone else does!I’m not going to talk about girls for a while. I’ve gone girl crazy. I need to think about other things. Like computer science. or eastern religion. or playing more basketball. Or how about a new hobby.
hi, i’m stupid
Went to a party last night. Was introduced to a really cute girl. Yeah, guess who bungled the introduction?
The friends I was with spotted the girl (that they knew) as she entered. Sometime later, I went to refill my drink. When I got back, she had come over and was chatting with my friends. The unfortunate part was that, as I was rounding the corner and came upon them, I had stuck my finger into my plastic-cupped beer, to test how much head there was on my beer. And this is exactly when the introduction commenced: “Oh, hey, this is my friend [crab]! …” I sucked the beer off my finger, and then I realized I was about to shake hands with this girl. “oh.. uhh.. whoops. hi, uh… i’m [crab].” Yeah, I bet she was really enthusiastic about meeting me. I was Prince Charming in grey jeans and sticky hands.
In case you were wondering (cuz i sure was), yes, she has a boyfriend already. Yeah. You know what? I think I’m fucking sick of meeting really cute girls that already have boyfriends.
no, i got them all cut
Went to C-town today. It was very productive. We ate Malaysian food, shopped for Chinese groceries (and mooncakes), and walked around a lot. The whole day was very Asian. I also got a hair cut.
Haircuts are always a tricky affair. I usually get my mum to cut my hair. I have trouble going to outside places for hair cutting. I can’t go to American shops because they have no idea how to cut chinese people hair. Our hair is very special. It’s straight. naturally. It doesn’t curl up and do all sort of interesting things like white-people hair. Chinese hair just comes out of the head, straight as an arrow, and falls to the ground. That’s all. Also, these people love to talk to you. Look, I don’t want a new friend, I just want this black stuff on my head shorter. Your niece sounds nice; now, cut my frigging hair.
I can’t go to Chinese places either. It’s a communication problem. I’m always afraid I’ll order some weird Hong Kong hairdo, or just embarass myself in general with my stumbling, muttering Canto. These places are very intimidating for young, up-and-coming ABCs like yours truly.
But today, I managed to get my hair cut at a place in Chinatown. I was with a friend who also needed a shearing session, so I tagged along. I figured his fluent Chinese would help if I accidentally told the stylist she was a brown pus-bag.
I think it worked out well. If you see me, say something nice.
part two
So what did I do that day?
I woke up at 8am and headed to Low Plaza for Columbia’s rememberence services with Mags and Bay. Speeches were made; moments were silent; bells were knelled. The service was somber, dignified and well-executed. My friends had class, so I joined up with some other friends and we walked around a bit. Got coffee. Cider would have hit the spot perfectly, but no one sells little ciders. Frowny face.
I got back to my room and sat quietly, thinking about stuff. I became tired because it was early as hell, so I turned on the radio and laid down for a nap. The Howard Stern show was playing a real-time re-broadcast of last year’s show on september 11th. You could hear information frantically pouring in as Mr. Stern tried to make sense of the occuring events. I got real quiet and turned it off at 10:30am.
I woke up two hours later and went to class. It was like another day had started. I went to class and ate dinner and did some school work and chatted on AIM. I think I’ll be glad to move on, as long as moving on consists of less mention of “September 11th” and more mention of “world consciousness and responsiblity”. With some hope, that day will be the day that my fellow Americans realized there was a world outside of their stupid American bullshit.
red, white, and (black and) blue
There’s so much to say, I’m speechless. Maybe I’ll just start from the beginning.
One year ago, a friend called me and woke me up with “Dude, some plane just hit the World Trade Center”. Thinking (incorrectly) that some stupid prop plane had smacked itself into a tower, I then proceeded to watch nearly three thousand New Yorkers die on national television. Suffice it to say, it was a weird day. Much of everyday life suddenly became silly and completely inconsequential.
I also became fairly ashamed of what an un-informed citizen I was. For all my vast knowledge, I haven’t even got the past two hundred years of world history pinned down, nor a basic foundation of economics and political science. That is, not enough knowledge to sort out this whole mess or to even have a strong informed opinion about it. I made a small promise to remedy this situation, and I’m still working on it to this day. One day, I’ll be an active, knowledgable citizen that proudly participates in the nonsense of modern American democracy.
To be honest, it’s been a long, long year. We’ve all been through so much and September 11, 2001 just seems light years away. A lotta stuff has happened since then. A lotta major changes have taken place; some well-executed, some just downright scary.
To reiterate my first thought, there’s just so much data to process right now. Everyone’s chiming in with their two cents… there’s just too much right now. I’m going to post a part two. Stay tuned…. also, I realize that I hate writing on these major occasions. I always feel overwhelmed and pressured to deliver amazing eloquence in the face of occasion. I’m just a kid. I’ll postulate on booze, girls, and homework, but I draw the line at international relations and foreign policy. Thanks for staying with me this far.
not the typical girl story. ok, maybe
Today I was walking up 116th street to get to main campus. It was night time. A girl was walking towards me on the opposite side. Just as we approach each other, she turns her head suddenly, her eyes widen and she jumps back, and then lets out a scream. It was a sonic wail that would shake the hair from your balls, it was that high. When she recovered (and when I recovered), I said, “Are you OK??”. She pointed at the dark steps and muttered, “there… w-w-was.. rat”. Which, I did not see. I shrugged my shoulders and continued walking.
At first, I thought: Man, what a crazy chick.. got so freaked out over some harmless rat that didn’t even touch her.. she needs help. But then I thought: Man oh man, she’s a screamer.
soon enough
In a week, it will be September 11th. The City of New York will be having services. Columbia will be having some, too. I haven’t figured out what I want to do yet. Being in NYC and all, I want to make the most out of this. I think I just want to perch myself high above and watch people. I want to watch their faces and their hands and their sniffly lil’ noses. I want to see tears and grimaces. I want raw emotion piped through me! ::sighs::
apparently, it is
And classes begin. This year I’m taking quite a course load. Eight, count ‘em, eight courses of Ivy League ball-tickling fun. Went to a couple classes already. As the day wore on, I met progressively worse teachers.
Listen, I just want coherent people to stand in front of me and tell me things they know. Truthful things, hopefully, and actually convince me of them, and make me believe in these things. He or she can even use audiovisual aids. I don’t care. Is that so much to ask for?
brand new, but same old
New academic year, new courses, new living arrangements. Excitement! I hope this year I meet more Indian people. Because I don’t know enough. A gajillion is not enough. Hell, someone buy me a ticket to Calcutta. Let’s get this over with.
Anyway, I am now a resident of Woodbridge Hall, sharing a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen with Abhay. A coin toss gave me the living room to make my home, while he squats the bedroom.
Decorating is hard. Last year, my decorations consisted of a big bedsheet stapled to the wall and a rug. This year, I hope to include photographs of people I know. Ah, a man can only hope to be Mr. Insider Trading.