...Like my newest one:
Ah, Team Praesieo would be proud!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
There are Some Men Who Never Go Out of Style...
One nice thing about having Photoshop is being able to make your own desktop backgrounds.
...Like my newest one:
Ah, Team Praesieo would be proud!
...Like my newest one:
Ah, Team Praesieo would be proud!
In the Mind of a Madman?
So much to write, so little time to do so...
How about I start with the colorful "message to the world" I posted a few days back. Some of you were perplexed as to the meaning, but here's the basic gist:
There is no meaning.
The history of this goes back a few months...no, it goes back further than that. You see, I tend to make "things" out of the most random stuff. For example, during my RA training a year ago, I had to do a virtual reality practice session about handling a case of depression (something I've had real-world experience with). The weirdest part about VR, though, is always the intro lines. So, here was my opening lines in this session.
Me: "Hey Andrew (his name was also Andrew), I haven't seen you around lately. Are you doing alright."
Him: (Sullenly) "Yeah, I guess I'm alright."
Me: "How are classes going?"
Him: "Eh, not too well, I really don't like my Math 127 class. Too hard."
Me: "Oh, do you have Professor Smith...en...john?"
Him: "Uh, yeah."
Me: "Yeah, he's a real bitch."
At this point, everyone around me was cracking up (which wasn't very conducive for a depression training session), mainly due to my horrible creation of the name "Smithenjohn." And that became one of my running jokes in that staff (though not nearly as famous as my "Clarrecrefun" idea). The way this worked was that I would take Post-It's or other pieces of paper and put the following on them:
I would them post them in places where they'd be sure to be found, such as on people's keyboards and such. No real reason, just a little bit of fun.
(Side note; I've also decided to use Prof. Smithenjohn in my University of Satherton series of short stories; acting as a satire of the "tough" professor. In fact, Prof. Smithenjohn is so tough that he tells his students on the first day, "I've been known to give grades so low that they lead at least one student a semester to suicide. I will expedite the process." He then takes out a gun and shoots one of the students in the front row.)
Now, this brings me back to the yellow & blue thing. This also began when I was with my CKC coworkers. We were at a program to help people choose their next year's housing. I was sitting around and doing nothing while standing by a chalkboard (nobody was really there). So, I pick up a piece of yellow chalk and write on the board "Yellow." No real reason; I just had the impulse to do so. So, I did so again. The board now read:
Yellow.
Yellow.
I also saw a piece of blue chalk, so I wrote under that, "Blue?" Because 1) Question marks are inherently funny, and 2) where the heck was blue coming from? I then decided I needed some closure to the little string of words, so I added "Blue!" to the end. It then read:
Yellow.
Yellow.
Blue?
Blue!
Again, no real point. Then my friend Carlos sees it and asks what it means. I tell him what I told you. He then told me that some Art (or maybe English) major would try to interpret it, possibly is as a realization that something must interrupt the status quo before it is accepted. He said I should take a picture, then sell it to some snob.
I never did that, but I have continued to put that message wherever I've found the colors yellow and blue (which, when you go to Cal, are not hard to find). For example, the other day, I found some yellow and blue scraps of paper, wrote those words on them, and taped them to my supervisors' door. And I've done similar things all over. I guess you could consider it a kind of softcore vandalism; nothing actually gets damaged; people just become confused.
So, anyhoo, that's the story on that. G'night.
How about I start with the colorful "message to the world" I posted a few days back. Some of you were perplexed as to the meaning, but here's the basic gist:
There is no meaning.
The history of this goes back a few months...no, it goes back further than that. You see, I tend to make "things" out of the most random stuff. For example, during my RA training a year ago, I had to do a virtual reality practice session about handling a case of depression (something I've had real-world experience with). The weirdest part about VR, though, is always the intro lines. So, here was my opening lines in this session.
Me: "Hey Andrew (his name was also Andrew), I haven't seen you around lately. Are you doing alright."
Him: (Sullenly) "Yeah, I guess I'm alright."
Me: "How are classes going?"
Him: "Eh, not too well, I really don't like my Math 127 class. Too hard."
Me: "Oh, do you have Professor Smith...en...john?"
Him: "Uh, yeah."
Me: "Yeah, he's a real bitch."
At this point, everyone around me was cracking up (which wasn't very conducive for a depression training session), mainly due to my horrible creation of the name "Smithenjohn." And that became one of my running jokes in that staff (though not nearly as famous as my "Clarrecrefun" idea). The way this worked was that I would take Post-It's or other pieces of paper and put the following on them:
I would them post them in places where they'd be sure to be found, such as on people's keyboards and such. No real reason, just a little bit of fun.(Side note; I've also decided to use Prof. Smithenjohn in my University of Satherton series of short stories; acting as a satire of the "tough" professor. In fact, Prof. Smithenjohn is so tough that he tells his students on the first day, "I've been known to give grades so low that they lead at least one student a semester to suicide. I will expedite the process." He then takes out a gun and shoots one of the students in the front row.)
Now, this brings me back to the yellow & blue thing. This also began when I was with my CKC coworkers. We were at a program to help people choose their next year's housing. I was sitting around and doing nothing while standing by a chalkboard (nobody was really there). So, I pick up a piece of yellow chalk and write on the board "Yellow." No real reason; I just had the impulse to do so. So, I did so again. The board now read:
Yellow.
Yellow.
I also saw a piece of blue chalk, so I wrote under that, "Blue?" Because 1) Question marks are inherently funny, and 2) where the heck was blue coming from? I then decided I needed some closure to the little string of words, so I added "Blue!" to the end. It then read:
Yellow.
Yellow.
Blue?
Blue!
Again, no real point. Then my friend Carlos sees it and asks what it means. I tell him what I told you. He then told me that some Art (or maybe English) major would try to interpret it, possibly is as a realization that something must interrupt the status quo before it is accepted. He said I should take a picture, then sell it to some snob.
I never did that, but I have continued to put that message wherever I've found the colors yellow and blue (which, when you go to Cal, are not hard to find). For example, the other day, I found some yellow and blue scraps of paper, wrote those words on them, and taped them to my supervisors' door. And I've done similar things all over. I guess you could consider it a kind of softcore vandalism; nothing actually gets damaged; people just become confused.
So, anyhoo, that's the story on that. G'night.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Being Social Shouldn't be so Hard...
Yesterday was a rough day. I had to put on a Tuesday Night Social, which, as it sounds, is a social put on every Tuesday Night by two RAs. It's just another program, but for some reason, they always seem to be more difficult and stressful than other programs. I attribute this to the following things:
1. There are always going to be people there. Always. Because it's so consistent, people can always go and expect there to be something. Hence, you want to please them.
2. Even though we as a hall staff are a team, there is still a sort of competitiveness when it comes to Tuesday Night Socials. Probably because we're all doing one, we want to have "the best one" and so we're all trying to one-up each other.
Mine was particularly taxing. My co-worker and I put on a social called "Party On!!!" with kebabs and party games. However, we just had a new move-in, with 300 new residents, and a portion of them will of course come, particularly since this is their first. Secondly, our budget was suddenly cut, so we could no longer get the kebabs we wanted. Instead, we had to make our own "desert kebabs" (fruit, marshmallows, etc.). I can tell you now, that upset quite a few people who were expecting what I wanted to give them: meat!
Now, we only learned of our lower budget after we had gone to several different places looking for kebabs. The owner of one place was a total jackass, and when we politely but firmly refused his $8-a-person price (totally outrageous), he said that his food was to good for us. The other shop owner was very nice, but it took us a while to come to any sort of agreement, mainly because we had a hard time understanding each other. However, we did eventually come to a price of $400. Then I get a phone call and am told our budget is now $150. I wanted to slam my head on a wall.
So then we had to go get food. Unfortunately, my co-worker kept putting it off until he eventually had to go by himself (I was on duty that particular night). What I did, though, was go and buy some party stuff. I went to a store which had paper, party stuff, and...ugh...novelties. The sad thing is, the novelties (from a squirting cigarette to fake vomit) were all familiar, as none of them had changed their packaging since I was a kid. An electronic whoopee cushion even said on the packaging "As seen on the Rosie O'Donnell Show." I guess the novelty industry has been stagnant lately (can't say I'm too sorry for it).
Anyhoo, I ended up buying a little piñata, a limbo set, and some blue and gold bead necklaces to act as "prizes" for games and such. Unfortuantely, the limbo set ended up sitting in the corner of the office, as it was painfully small (literally). Even on the easiest setting, the bar was below my waistline. So that was a no-go. But the piñata was a go-go. I filled the little burro with candy and beads, as I also did with the hollowed-out head of a Hello Kitty piñata that we found in the office.
Then, yesterday, I found out that my coworker hadn't bought marshmallows on his grocery trip. So I had to. And you know what? I was able to walk to and from the Safeway down the street (a 25 minute walk each way) and never once saw a bus going in my direction (there were plenty going the other way, though). So, I was already a bit exhausted when I had to start cutting up the fruits. And a little annoyed, too, because as I was working on getting our program ready, he was complaining about wanting coffee, and then he spent an hour - an hour - trying to make some homebrew coffee. In that time, he made a complete and total mess of the kitchen (like, there was liquid all over the counter and the floor), and when he was done, he poured in some cream that had curdled, and had to throw it away.
I showed him how to peel an orange in Mozambique (that is, you use a knife), but he preferred his messy hands method. Then he went to dinner while I continued doing work (I didn't eat a single meal on Tuesday, for the record), and then we had a meeting at 6:30.
Now, we used to have meetings at 7pm, but they tend to run about 2 hours (a fair deal longer than our 45 minute CKC meetings), and the powers that be wanted to give enough prep time to those holding the social, so they moved the meetings back a half-hour. The result? Meetings now last 2 hours and 30 minutes, mostly spent by people bickering about unimportant details. At 8:30 (when my co-worker and I were to set up everything), we had to schedule duty. I ended up leaving my building mates to make it without me, which in turn led to confusion later. But the social needed setting up and the quickly-oxidizing apples and bananas (ooples and banoonoos?) still needed to be cut. Thank God all my other coworkers helped out.
Yes, set up was hellish, and yes, I was completely worried that things were going to fall apart at every moment. But I relegated people to work at different games, and got everything together, and you know what, it turned out all right. In fact, it turned out pretty good.
I used my favored bat for the piñata, and people seemed to have a lot of fun with it. Then one of my coworkers took a swing and the bat came out of his hands, flying to the side. Everyone thought it was hilarious, except for one of my now-former boss who was attending (the previously mentioned Y'rhhf), who said, "Yeah, that's not okay." Even though I didn't like the movie, I was really reminded of the boss in Office Space. Still, I think the piñata was a brilliant idea, and I would totally do it again.
But after the piñata was done with, I finally knew things were good. Why? Four words:
"Do the Limbo Dance"
This song is one of my all-time guilty pleasures, mostly because of the person who sings it - David Hasselhoff. Yes, the overacting ham of the world, David Hasselhoff. Don't believe me? Here, watch the music video:
However, despite (or due to) the fact that its cheesier than Parcheesi, I can't help but love it. I don't know why, but it always brings my spirits up. And I don't think I'm the only one. Every single person I've shown this song to can't not like it. Then, when I explain that it's the Hoff, they're shocked.
Now, I had a group of near 100 college students from all around the world, possibly jaded, and reared up on hip hop and maybe some J- and Europop. Yet, when I put this song on for our own limbo dance, people...loved it. Seriously, I was putting it on the speakers as a joke, and people loved it. People were actually dancing to it. At that point, I knew that I was king.
(Quick aside: I have this unrealistic plan to hack into the United States sound system and play this song in the middle of the State of the Union address. My hope is that all the Congresspeople would start dancing to it [though, realistically, they'd probably all duck and cover].)
The rest of the social was smooth sailing, and I even got a few compliments for it. Then, at 11pm, it was quiet hours, and we had to clean up. By 11:30, the coworker who I planned with had gone off to bed, but I was still plugging away, cleaning the kitchen and the main office. Then I saw that some unfinished posters for a program I was holding Wednesday night (Board Game Night), and decided to finish those. I ended up working until 2am (though, to be fair, I was dancing to my iPod music (including the Limbo song) during some of that time. That made 13 straight hours of all work and no play (and no food).
But I didn't turn out too dull; just tired and relieved that it was all over. I probably would have had this entry up sooner, but I've been so busy (story of my summer life, eh?) that I had to wait until late at night to write it. So, now if you ever attend a Tuesday Night Social, you'll know the hard work that was put into it.
...Oh, you wanted to know about my cryptic message yesterday? Well, I'll explain it a bit more tomorrow.
1. There are always going to be people there. Always. Because it's so consistent, people can always go and expect there to be something. Hence, you want to please them.
2. Even though we as a hall staff are a team, there is still a sort of competitiveness when it comes to Tuesday Night Socials. Probably because we're all doing one, we want to have "the best one" and so we're all trying to one-up each other.
Mine was particularly taxing. My co-worker and I put on a social called "Party On!!!" with kebabs and party games. However, we just had a new move-in, with 300 new residents, and a portion of them will of course come, particularly since this is their first. Secondly, our budget was suddenly cut, so we could no longer get the kebabs we wanted. Instead, we had to make our own "desert kebabs" (fruit, marshmallows, etc.). I can tell you now, that upset quite a few people who were expecting what I wanted to give them: meat!
Now, we only learned of our lower budget after we had gone to several different places looking for kebabs. The owner of one place was a total jackass, and when we politely but firmly refused his $8-a-person price (totally outrageous), he said that his food was to good for us. The other shop owner was very nice, but it took us a while to come to any sort of agreement, mainly because we had a hard time understanding each other. However, we did eventually come to a price of $400. Then I get a phone call and am told our budget is now $150. I wanted to slam my head on a wall.
So then we had to go get food. Unfortunately, my co-worker kept putting it off until he eventually had to go by himself (I was on duty that particular night). What I did, though, was go and buy some party stuff. I went to a store which had paper, party stuff, and...ugh...novelties. The sad thing is, the novelties (from a squirting cigarette to fake vomit) were all familiar, as none of them had changed their packaging since I was a kid. An electronic whoopee cushion even said on the packaging "As seen on the Rosie O'Donnell Show." I guess the novelty industry has been stagnant lately (can't say I'm too sorry for it).
Anyhoo, I ended up buying a little piñata, a limbo set, and some blue and gold bead necklaces to act as "prizes" for games and such. Unfortuantely, the limbo set ended up sitting in the corner of the office, as it was painfully small (literally). Even on the easiest setting, the bar was below my waistline. So that was a no-go. But the piñata was a go-go. I filled the little burro with candy and beads, as I also did with the hollowed-out head of a Hello Kitty piñata that we found in the office.
Then, yesterday, I found out that my coworker hadn't bought marshmallows on his grocery trip. So I had to. And you know what? I was able to walk to and from the Safeway down the street (a 25 minute walk each way) and never once saw a bus going in my direction (there were plenty going the other way, though). So, I was already a bit exhausted when I had to start cutting up the fruits. And a little annoyed, too, because as I was working on getting our program ready, he was complaining about wanting coffee, and then he spent an hour - an hour - trying to make some homebrew coffee. In that time, he made a complete and total mess of the kitchen (like, there was liquid all over the counter and the floor), and when he was done, he poured in some cream that had curdled, and had to throw it away.
I showed him how to peel an orange in Mozambique (that is, you use a knife), but he preferred his messy hands method. Then he went to dinner while I continued doing work (I didn't eat a single meal on Tuesday, for the record), and then we had a meeting at 6:30.
Now, we used to have meetings at 7pm, but they tend to run about 2 hours (a fair deal longer than our 45 minute CKC meetings), and the powers that be wanted to give enough prep time to those holding the social, so they moved the meetings back a half-hour. The result? Meetings now last 2 hours and 30 minutes, mostly spent by people bickering about unimportant details. At 8:30 (when my co-worker and I were to set up everything), we had to schedule duty. I ended up leaving my building mates to make it without me, which in turn led to confusion later. But the social needed setting up and the quickly-oxidizing apples and bananas (ooples and banoonoos?) still needed to be cut. Thank God all my other coworkers helped out.
Yes, set up was hellish, and yes, I was completely worried that things were going to fall apart at every moment. But I relegated people to work at different games, and got everything together, and you know what, it turned out all right. In fact, it turned out pretty good.
I used my favored bat for the piñata, and people seemed to have a lot of fun with it. Then one of my coworkers took a swing and the bat came out of his hands, flying to the side. Everyone thought it was hilarious, except for one of my now-former boss who was attending (the previously mentioned Y'rhhf), who said, "Yeah, that's not okay." Even though I didn't like the movie, I was really reminded of the boss in Office Space. Still, I think the piñata was a brilliant idea, and I would totally do it again.
But after the piñata was done with, I finally knew things were good. Why? Four words:
"Do the Limbo Dance"
This song is one of my all-time guilty pleasures, mostly because of the person who sings it - David Hasselhoff. Yes, the overacting ham of the world, David Hasselhoff. Don't believe me? Here, watch the music video:
However, despite (or due to) the fact that its cheesier than Parcheesi, I can't help but love it. I don't know why, but it always brings my spirits up. And I don't think I'm the only one. Every single person I've shown this song to can't not like it. Then, when I explain that it's the Hoff, they're shocked.
Now, I had a group of near 100 college students from all around the world, possibly jaded, and reared up on hip hop and maybe some J- and Europop. Yet, when I put this song on for our own limbo dance, people...loved it. Seriously, I was putting it on the speakers as a joke, and people loved it. People were actually dancing to it. At that point, I knew that I was king.
(Quick aside: I have this unrealistic plan to hack into the United States sound system and play this song in the middle of the State of the Union address. My hope is that all the Congresspeople would start dancing to it [though, realistically, they'd probably all duck and cover].)
The rest of the social was smooth sailing, and I even got a few compliments for it. Then, at 11pm, it was quiet hours, and we had to clean up. By 11:30, the coworker who I planned with had gone off to bed, but I was still plugging away, cleaning the kitchen and the main office. Then I saw that some unfinished posters for a program I was holding Wednesday night (Board Game Night), and decided to finish those. I ended up working until 2am (though, to be fair, I was dancing to my iPod music (including the Limbo song) during some of that time. That made 13 straight hours of all work and no play (and no food).
But I didn't turn out too dull; just tired and relieved that it was all over. I probably would have had this entry up sooner, but I've been so busy (story of my summer life, eh?) that I had to wait until late at night to write it. So, now if you ever attend a Tuesday Night Social, you'll know the hard work that was put into it.
...Oh, you wanted to know about my cryptic message yesterday? Well, I'll explain it a bit more tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
And There's No Time Left for Losin'
Sometimes you make mistakes.
Like, a while back, I was looking at the various venues that were going to be playing at the Greek Amphitheater here in Berkeley (a ten minute walk from where I am). Most of them were either for people who were I've never heard of, or people I had no interest in seeing.
Except for one: the Goo Goo Dolls. When I saw that, I wanted to buy a ticket, but I didn't (I think I was just hesitant, or procrastinating, or something). Eventually I forgot entirely about it.
That concert was this Friday, and I missed it. One of my residents went, though, and I asked him how it was. He said it was great. Not only did the Goo Goo Dolls play, but the opener? Lifehouse. Life-freaking-house. They played for 45 minutes, while the Goo Goo Dolls played for 2 hours.
"Oh. My. God. How the hell did I miss that? That would have been so unbelievably awesome," I said. And apparently it was. During the Goo Goo Doll's arguably most famous song, Black Balloon, they flipped some switch that released hundreds of balloons into the audience.
So, let this be a lesson to you, and especially to me: if there's a concert around where you live, with a band you like, and the tickets are less than $50, don't wait. Buy them immediately. Sometimes spontaneous consumption can be healthy for you. That is one mistake I'm not making again.
Like, a while back, I was looking at the various venues that were going to be playing at the Greek Amphitheater here in Berkeley (a ten minute walk from where I am). Most of them were either for people who were I've never heard of, or people I had no interest in seeing.
Except for one: the Goo Goo Dolls. When I saw that, I wanted to buy a ticket, but I didn't (I think I was just hesitant, or procrastinating, or something). Eventually I forgot entirely about it.
That concert was this Friday, and I missed it. One of my residents went, though, and I asked him how it was. He said it was great. Not only did the Goo Goo Dolls play, but the opener? Lifehouse. Life-freaking-house. They played for 45 minutes, while the Goo Goo Dolls played for 2 hours.
"Oh. My. God. How the hell did I miss that? That would have been so unbelievably awesome," I said. And apparently it was. During the Goo Goo Doll's arguably most famous song, Black Balloon, they flipped some switch that released hundreds of balloons into the audience.
So, let this be a lesson to you, and especially to me: if there's a concert around where you live, with a band you like, and the tickets are less than $50, don't wait. Buy them immediately. Sometimes spontaneous consumption can be healthy for you. That is one mistake I'm not making again.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Mini-Blogs, Set Six
Dreaming in Disguise
I had an interesting dream a couple nights ago (well, I also had one last night, but I don't remember it). It must be in anticipation for the new Transformers movie coming out, because it had to do with...Transformers.
However, things were a little off. For one thing, the transformers didn't come from another planet. They came through these interdimensional portals. Second, there wasn't actually much transforming going on. They just stood there and talked with each other. The only way that I knew they were Transformers at all was the fact that one was named "Optimus Prime" and the other "Megatron". But going even further, they didn't look like...well, how they should look.
Optimus Prime looked like a giant, fat gorilla (probably a throwback to his Beast Wars variant), and Megatron is...John Hammond...the owner of Jurassic Park. I'm...I'm really not sure where that came from. But he seemed a lot more pleasant than the gorilla, and I wanted him to win (well, if they were actually fighting). Does that make me evil?
What if Ghandi had Played Board Games?
Indian people are crazy. Insane. Maybe its just the Indian people here for the summer. One interesting thing: we have a bunch of royalty living with us. Seriously. A bunch of the Indian kids are the children of, like, nobility and whatnot. They're all super duper rich. Consider this conversation I had with one:
Him: "Hey Andrew, can I ask you a question?"
Me: "That's why I'm here."
Him: "How much would it cost to rent a bus?"
Me: "A...I'm sorry?"
Him: "A bus."
Me: "Like...a full-sized bus?"
Him: "Yeah."
Me: "Well, to be honest, I don't know, but I would say at least $300."
Him: "Oh, that's all?"
Me: "Uh, yeah."
Him: "Okay. Also, we're trying to book a lodge in Tahoe. Who do we talk to for that?"
Me: "Um...when do you need it by?"
Him: "We want to go to Tahoe this Friday."
(It was currently Thursday morning.)
Me: "Tomorrow? I...I don't know if that's even doable. And if it is, it's going to be a lot more expensive. A lot."
Him: "That's fine."
Me: "Uhuhuhuhuh...."
This, by the way, was the same guy who told me on the second day of Summer Sessions that he lost his phone...his phone that cost $800.
Now, this was a bit of a thing during the beginning of the summer, because some of them thought that the RA's were servants. We snapped them out of that quickly, and it's been fine since.
Anyhoo, we were playing this game called Taboo. It's a word guessing game where you have to get people to say a word without using any of an additional five words. (I'm actually pretty good. For example, I had "Chelsea Clinton" and couldn't say "President", "Daughter", or anything like that. So, I said "The offspring of the previous administrator of the United States.") Most of the people that were playing, though, were Indian.
I must say, they're quite...passionate. There was a three-minute shouting argument about the teams, prompting me to say, "Can we just choose numbers?" Then, every minute (literally every minute), there was another argument, whether one person was cheating, or another person said something wrong, or another person was using gestures, or some other mess. It prompted me to exchange glances with one of my residents who came, a la The Office. The game lasted probably about 2.5 times longer than it needed to.
Now, I'm a fairly competitive player, but I don't think I've actually ever shouted at people about stuff like that. If that's the way they like to play, God bless 'em, but I'm going to be a bit more wary when I play with a group of Indians (especially if one is from north India, and the other from the south. Apparently that riles them up even more).
Honesty is the Best Policy
I've been playing this computer game for a little bit called Medieval II: Total War. It's a very intersting game which mixes real-time strategy battle scenes with turn-based campaign menus (which acts similar to a virtual Risk board). You start as some faction in 1080 AD Europe, and then play until...I think 1540 (I'm currently playing as the Spanish). In addition to fighting others, you make alliances (and do other diplomatic stuff), manage cities, take orders from the Pope, try to get one of your priests to be the new Pope, try to have royal family members get married and have babies, etc. While that may not sound like the most exciting concept, it's terribly addicting.
I've noticed something, however. So far in my campaign, I'm one of the most trustworthy nations there is. If I make an alliance, I stay true to that alliance. I am loyal and honest.
However, not everyone is the same way. Not once, not twice, but thrice I've been betrayed by my allies and attacked. My response to this? Swift, brutal, and merciless.
France was my ally. France betrayed me. France was wiped from existence.
Scotland was my ally. Scotland betrayed me. Scotland was wiped from existence.
England was my ally. England betrayed me. England was wiped from existence.
See a pattern here. Every time I've been betrayed, I've responded by obliterating the betrayers. Well, sometimes I've had to call temporary ceasefires, mainly because the Pope is a jerk and won't let me attack my fellow Christians. Of course, the opponent attacked me during these times, getting themselves excommunicated and opening the door to decimation.
...Where was I going with this? Oh, yes. With all this, I've realized one thing: I treat honesty, loyalty, and trust in very high regard. I am always true to my word and will not break my promises. Furthermore, I have no mercy for those who don't feel the same way. After all, the deepest circle of hell is that of the betrayer. While one could argue that this is only relevant in terms of this game, I like to think that shades of it play into real life.
Are They Dying of Thirst or of Poverty?
I found out the most amazing thing today: they don't have free refills anywhere outside the United States, apparently. Not in Europe, not in Asia, not anywhere. Not even in fast food restaurants. This is literally what the conversation went like.
Singaporean Girl: "It's so interesting to not have to pay for drinks a second time."
Me: "What, don't you have free refills in Singapore?"
Singaporean Girl: "No."
Me: "Good...God!"
German Guy: "We don't have them in Germany either."
Finnish Guy: "Or in Finland."
Me: "............"
German Guy: "Yeah, the United States is the only country that has free refills."
Me: "............"
Singaporean Girl: "Andrew?"
Me: "I just.....I just don't believe it. I can't believe it. I won't believe it. Free refills are a God-given right. That's practically the reason why America declared its independence."
Singaporean Girl: "Well, in every other country, you have to pay to refill."
Me: "I take back every nice thing I said about all other countries. That is just sick!"
I still have a hard time believing it. I mean...how? I...it boggles the mind. I really think there should be some worldwide treaty that says that free refills should beallowed required at all restaurants.
An Administrative Note
I'd like to end with a small note about the immediate future of this blog. Since beginning it, I've worked to maintain a certain...requirement for me posting things. This usually meant that I would not post small items until I collected enough of them to make a mini-blog like this one.
However, I've been surprisingly occupied this summer, and I'm finding it more and more difficult to write what are essentially mini-essays. What's more, many of my "No news today" topics (like those about my history, etc) have been used. Not all, but a good number. Hence, the blog is suffering from a lack of updates.
So, here's the deal. I'm going to, for the immediate future, lower my requirements for posting things. In essence, I'm doing what I refused to do when people told me to do it. I will be posting shorter posts, little thoughts that come to mind, etc. This will likely mean a smaller number of long posts, but a more regularly updated, always-fresh blog. Who knows, I may even post more than once a day. But don't worry; even though I'm making my posting habits more mainstream, it will still have my own unique look at things.
We'll see how this goes, but I think it'll be good. ^_^
I had an interesting dream a couple nights ago (well, I also had one last night, but I don't remember it). It must be in anticipation for the new Transformers movie coming out, because it had to do with...Transformers.
However, things were a little off. For one thing, the transformers didn't come from another planet. They came through these interdimensional portals. Second, there wasn't actually much transforming going on. They just stood there and talked with each other. The only way that I knew they were Transformers at all was the fact that one was named "Optimus Prime" and the other "Megatron". But going even further, they didn't look like...well, how they should look.
Optimus Prime looked like a giant, fat gorilla (probably a throwback to his Beast Wars variant), and Megatron is...John Hammond...the owner of Jurassic Park. I'm...I'm really not sure where that came from. But he seemed a lot more pleasant than the gorilla, and I wanted him to win (well, if they were actually fighting). Does that make me evil?
What if Ghandi had Played Board Games?
Indian people are crazy. Insane. Maybe its just the Indian people here for the summer. One interesting thing: we have a bunch of royalty living with us. Seriously. A bunch of the Indian kids are the children of, like, nobility and whatnot. They're all super duper rich. Consider this conversation I had with one:
Him: "Hey Andrew, can I ask you a question?"
Me: "That's why I'm here."
Him: "How much would it cost to rent a bus?"
Me: "A...I'm sorry?"
Him: "A bus."
Me: "Like...a full-sized bus?"
Him: "Yeah."
Me: "Well, to be honest, I don't know, but I would say at least $300."
Him: "Oh, that's all?"
Me: "Uh, yeah."
Him: "Okay. Also, we're trying to book a lodge in Tahoe. Who do we talk to for that?"
Me: "Um...when do you need it by?"
Him: "We want to go to Tahoe this Friday."
(It was currently Thursday morning.)
Me: "Tomorrow? I...I don't know if that's even doable. And if it is, it's going to be a lot more expensive. A lot."
Him: "That's fine."
Me: "Uhuhuhuhuh...."
This, by the way, was the same guy who told me on the second day of Summer Sessions that he lost his phone...his phone that cost $800.
Now, this was a bit of a thing during the beginning of the summer, because some of them thought that the RA's were servants. We snapped them out of that quickly, and it's been fine since.
Anyhoo, we were playing this game called Taboo. It's a word guessing game where you have to get people to say a word without using any of an additional five words. (I'm actually pretty good. For example, I had "Chelsea Clinton" and couldn't say "President", "Daughter", or anything like that. So, I said "The offspring of the previous administrator of the United States.") Most of the people that were playing, though, were Indian.
I must say, they're quite...passionate. There was a three-minute shouting argument about the teams, prompting me to say, "Can we just choose numbers?" Then, every minute (literally every minute), there was another argument, whether one person was cheating, or another person said something wrong, or another person was using gestures, or some other mess. It prompted me to exchange glances with one of my residents who came, a la The Office. The game lasted probably about 2.5 times longer than it needed to.
Now, I'm a fairly competitive player, but I don't think I've actually ever shouted at people about stuff like that. If that's the way they like to play, God bless 'em, but I'm going to be a bit more wary when I play with a group of Indians (especially if one is from north India, and the other from the south. Apparently that riles them up even more).
Honesty is the Best Policy
I've been playing this computer game for a little bit called Medieval II: Total War. It's a very intersting game which mixes real-time strategy battle scenes with turn-based campaign menus (which acts similar to a virtual Risk board). You start as some faction in 1080 AD Europe, and then play until...I think 1540 (I'm currently playing as the Spanish). In addition to fighting others, you make alliances (and do other diplomatic stuff), manage cities, take orders from the Pope, try to get one of your priests to be the new Pope, try to have royal family members get married and have babies, etc. While that may not sound like the most exciting concept, it's terribly addicting.
I've noticed something, however. So far in my campaign, I'm one of the most trustworthy nations there is. If I make an alliance, I stay true to that alliance. I am loyal and honest.
However, not everyone is the same way. Not once, not twice, but thrice I've been betrayed by my allies and attacked. My response to this? Swift, brutal, and merciless.
France was my ally. France betrayed me. France was wiped from existence.
Scotland was my ally. Scotland betrayed me. Scotland was wiped from existence.
England was my ally. England betrayed me. England was wiped from existence.
See a pattern here. Every time I've been betrayed, I've responded by obliterating the betrayers. Well, sometimes I've had to call temporary ceasefires, mainly because the Pope is a jerk and won't let me attack my fellow Christians. Of course, the opponent attacked me during these times, getting themselves excommunicated and opening the door to decimation.
...Where was I going with this? Oh, yes. With all this, I've realized one thing: I treat honesty, loyalty, and trust in very high regard. I am always true to my word and will not break my promises. Furthermore, I have no mercy for those who don't feel the same way. After all, the deepest circle of hell is that of the betrayer. While one could argue that this is only relevant in terms of this game, I like to think that shades of it play into real life.
Are They Dying of Thirst or of Poverty?
I found out the most amazing thing today: they don't have free refills anywhere outside the United States, apparently. Not in Europe, not in Asia, not anywhere. Not even in fast food restaurants. This is literally what the conversation went like.
Singaporean Girl: "It's so interesting to not have to pay for drinks a second time."
Me: "What, don't you have free refills in Singapore?"
Singaporean Girl: "No."
Me: "Good...God!"
German Guy: "We don't have them in Germany either."
Finnish Guy: "Or in Finland."
Me: "............"
German Guy: "Yeah, the United States is the only country that has free refills."
Me: "............"
Singaporean Girl: "Andrew?"
Me: "I just.....I just don't believe it. I can't believe it. I won't believe it. Free refills are a God-given right. That's practically the reason why America declared its independence."
Singaporean Girl: "Well, in every other country, you have to pay to refill."
Me: "I take back every nice thing I said about all other countries. That is just sick!"
I still have a hard time believing it. I mean...how? I...it boggles the mind. I really think there should be some worldwide treaty that says that free refills should be
An Administrative Note
I'd like to end with a small note about the immediate future of this blog. Since beginning it, I've worked to maintain a certain...requirement for me posting things. This usually meant that I would not post small items until I collected enough of them to make a mini-blog like this one.
However, I've been surprisingly occupied this summer, and I'm finding it more and more difficult to write what are essentially mini-essays. What's more, many of my "No news today" topics (like those about my history, etc) have been used. Not all, but a good number. Hence, the blog is suffering from a lack of updates.
So, here's the deal. I'm going to, for the immediate future, lower my requirements for posting things. In essence, I'm doing what I refused to do when people told me to do it. I will be posting shorter posts, little thoughts that come to mind, etc. This will likely mean a smaller number of long posts, but a more regularly updated, always-fresh blog. Who knows, I may even post more than once a day. But don't worry; even though I'm making my posting habits more mainstream, it will still have my own unique look at things.
We'll see how this goes, but I think it'll be good. ^_^
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Japanese, Nicknames, and Ping Pong: Three Unrelated Topics That Will be Reconciled in the Last Sentance
If you've ever wondered what my name looks like in Japanese (and run through a cheesy Photoshop filter), today's your lucky day!
...
"Now, see here!" you're saying, "What's this second batch of foreign characters that you've put up with no explanation?"
Well, the first half (everything before the novelty "Greater than or equal to" sign) is the Japanese way of writing "Schnorr". The second half...well, let me go on a short aside.
Having the name Schnorr comes with a few...downsides. First off, it literally translates into something akin to a conniver, a wheedler, someone who takes without giving back. Basically, a less than pleasant person. (When all of my German residents found out my name, they thought it was pretty funny.) This, I can take in stride, because my name was mentioned in this context on The Simpsons (by Krusty the Clown during a soccer game) and on Little House on the Prairie (by some Rabbi telling a girl to plant a tree so that you'll "never be a Schnorr"). So, that's notoriety. Also, I like to tell people that one of my ancestors was a Bavarian prince of thieves, which is where the name comes from (and I haven't gotten any evidence to the contrary, so I'm going to assume its true).
However, there is a question that has haunted me all my life, as well as my father's (he told me as much), and I'm assuming his father before him:
"Do you Schnorr at night?"
Good. God. You have no idea how many times I've been asked this, especially when I was younger. Hell, even Santa asked me that when I sat on his knee! But no, it didn't end after I graduated from elementary school. No, there were people who asked me that in high school, and even a couple in college. Not even a variation, either, just "Do you Schnorr at night?" I just want to respond by saying, in a bitterly sarcastic tone, "Wow, I'm impressed. That's just so original. I've never heard that once in my 20 years on this earth. Congratulations, sir, your wit is an inspiration to us all." (I'm usually nicer than that in real life.)
Now, in more recent times, I've gotten an honest-to-goodness nickname based upon my last name and it's resemblance to the word "snore." And that came from one of my SoCal Magic: The Gathering buddies (who unfortunately quit). A few years back, I saw him at a tournament, and went up to me, and when he saw me, he said in a deep voice "Schnorrlaaaaax!"
You see there's this animal...a Pokémon, really, called Snorlax. Here's a picture.
Yeah, it's a fat...thing. That eats and sleeps a lot. And is really fat.
Luckily, the resemblance is in name only. So, anyway, I was given the nickname "Schnorrlax". But it kind of died down after a while. Then I started hall staff and I mentioned it. It caught on, and it's all a few people call me. I don't mind it at all. In fact, I was interested in seeing what my nickname looked like in Japanese. And thus, that's what the second batch of Japanese characters at the top is.
Now, I know what the second question on your mind is: "Andrew, where'd you get Japanese writing?"
Well, tonight was "Japan Night," one of our Tuesday Night Socials. As it was Japan Night, there were a bunch of stereotypical Japanese activities, such as sushi eating, origami, and chopstick races (transferring a bunch of marbles from one bowl to another). I don't eat sushi, and I wasn't too interested in origami, so I tried the chopstick races. I actually did pretty decent (and I think I had more class in my maneuvering than anyone else).
But, overall, the main attraction was a single girl. Her name is Mariko, she's Japanese, and at least half of the men in the dorms have a crush on her. Seriously. They're not even shy about it. When I was telling some of my Finnish residents about it, they said, "Is, uh, thawt Japan girl goeeng to be thare? Maybe wee'll go." Thing is, she seems completely, 100% oblivious to it. But I suppose that's part of her charm.
Anyway, she was writing people's names in Japanese as part of the activities, and I think she did a pretty good job (though, to be honest, I can't real a word of kanji, so she could be serving me total BS and I'd be none the wiser).
I actually spent most of my time at the social playing ping pong. In fact, I played for 80 minutes straight; no hyperbole there. And I haven't played ping pong in years. How did I do? Somehow, I was on fire!
I partially attribute this to my latent abilities, and partially to the fact that I've very recently found myself a new...I dunno what you'd call it, "Pump-you-up Song"? It's called "Atlus", and it's by some relatively no-name band called Battles, but it's completely insane (that is, it makes you feel like you belong in a madhouse or something). Here, take a listen. I think it matches well to my brain style.
Anyhoo, I had this song playing through my head again and again, and I think it was pumping me up. I took the ping pong paddle, and it was like ballet. I was dancing to and fro, spinning around, and striking poses as I was hitting the ball. And every time, I hit near the edge. Every time.
Co-Worker: "Wow, Andrew, since when have you been a master at ping pong?"
Me: "I'm not. I...I don't know what's come over me."
80 minutes I played. Nothing actually competitive; the only rule was "The ball is always live." Still, I was playing like I knew what I was doing, and I made it look like an artform. I was working up quite a sweat, too; that's what running around a room trying to hit that pop-fly will do to you (I did end up hitting that pop-fly, and even from a distance of at least 20 feet, I was able to make a corner shot...that was awesome).
As I got more and more tired, my game started degrading, but I still think I did pretty well for myself overall. Maybe I should just drop college altogether, begin anew under my true calling. If I ever end up playing ping pong against a Japanese guy, I could even show him how to write out my nickname.
..."Now, see here!" you're saying, "What's this second batch of foreign characters that you've put up with no explanation?"Well, the first half (everything before the novelty "Greater than or equal to" sign) is the Japanese way of writing "Schnorr". The second half...well, let me go on a short aside.
Having the name Schnorr comes with a few...downsides. First off, it literally translates into something akin to a conniver, a wheedler, someone who takes without giving back. Basically, a less than pleasant person. (When all of my German residents found out my name, they thought it was pretty funny.) This, I can take in stride, because my name was mentioned in this context on The Simpsons (by Krusty the Clown during a soccer game) and on Little House on the Prairie (by some Rabbi telling a girl to plant a tree so that you'll "never be a Schnorr"). So, that's notoriety. Also, I like to tell people that one of my ancestors was a Bavarian prince of thieves, which is where the name comes from (and I haven't gotten any evidence to the contrary, so I'm going to assume its true).
However, there is a question that has haunted me all my life, as well as my father's (he told me as much), and I'm assuming his father before him:
"Do you Schnorr at night?"
Good. God. You have no idea how many times I've been asked this, especially when I was younger. Hell, even Santa asked me that when I sat on his knee! But no, it didn't end after I graduated from elementary school. No, there were people who asked me that in high school, and even a couple in college. Not even a variation, either, just "Do you Schnorr at night?" I just want to respond by saying, in a bitterly sarcastic tone, "Wow, I'm impressed. That's just so original. I've never heard that once in my 20 years on this earth. Congratulations, sir, your wit is an inspiration to us all." (I'm usually nicer than that in real life.)
Now, in more recent times, I've gotten an honest-to-goodness nickname based upon my last name and it's resemblance to the word "snore." And that came from one of my SoCal Magic: The Gathering buddies (who unfortunately quit). A few years back, I saw him at a tournament, and went up to me, and when he saw me, he said in a deep voice "Schnorrlaaaaax!"
You see there's this animal...a Pokémon, really, called Snorlax. Here's a picture.
Yeah, it's a fat...thing. That eats and sleeps a lot. And is really fat.
Luckily, the resemblance is in name only. So, anyway, I was given the nickname "Schnorrlax". But it kind of died down after a while. Then I started hall staff and I mentioned it. It caught on, and it's all a few people call me. I don't mind it at all. In fact, I was interested in seeing what my nickname looked like in Japanese. And thus, that's what the second batch of Japanese characters at the top is.
Now, I know what the second question on your mind is: "Andrew, where'd you get Japanese writing?"
Well, tonight was "Japan Night," one of our Tuesday Night Socials. As it was Japan Night, there were a bunch of stereotypical Japanese activities, such as sushi eating, origami, and chopstick races (transferring a bunch of marbles from one bowl to another). I don't eat sushi, and I wasn't too interested in origami, so I tried the chopstick races. I actually did pretty decent (and I think I had more class in my maneuvering than anyone else).
But, overall, the main attraction was a single girl. Her name is Mariko, she's Japanese, and at least half of the men in the dorms have a crush on her. Seriously. They're not even shy about it. When I was telling some of my Finnish residents about it, they said, "Is, uh, thawt Japan girl goeeng to be thare? Maybe wee'll go." Thing is, she seems completely, 100% oblivious to it. But I suppose that's part of her charm.
Anyway, she was writing people's names in Japanese as part of the activities, and I think she did a pretty good job (though, to be honest, I can't real a word of kanji, so she could be serving me total BS and I'd be none the wiser).
I actually spent most of my time at the social playing ping pong. In fact, I played for 80 minutes straight; no hyperbole there. And I haven't played ping pong in years. How did I do? Somehow, I was on fire!
I partially attribute this to my latent abilities, and partially to the fact that I've very recently found myself a new...I dunno what you'd call it, "Pump-you-up Song"? It's called "Atlus", and it's by some relatively no-name band called Battles, but it's completely insane (that is, it makes you feel like you belong in a madhouse or something). Here, take a listen. I think it matches well to my brain style.
Anyhoo, I had this song playing through my head again and again, and I think it was pumping me up. I took the ping pong paddle, and it was like ballet. I was dancing to and fro, spinning around, and striking poses as I was hitting the ball. And every time, I hit near the edge. Every time.
Co-Worker: "Wow, Andrew, since when have you been a master at ping pong?"
Me: "I'm not. I...I don't know what's come over me."
80 minutes I played. Nothing actually competitive; the only rule was "The ball is always live." Still, I was playing like I knew what I was doing, and I made it look like an artform. I was working up quite a sweat, too; that's what running around a room trying to hit that pop-fly will do to you (I did end up hitting that pop-fly, and even from a distance of at least 20 feet, I was able to make a corner shot...that was awesome).
As I got more and more tired, my game started degrading, but I still think I did pretty well for myself overall. Maybe I should just drop college altogether, begin anew under my true calling. If I ever end up playing ping pong against a Japanese guy, I could even show him how to write out my nickname.
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