Monthly Archives: February 2003

Inferno: Canto III, Line 9

I always won­der who reads this. I try to never write for any­one else; after all, the things I write about are things that bother me, that I need to get down. It puz­zles me some­times when I read people’s jour­nals, and they start to talk to their friends about some­thing, or to some phan­tom audi­ence. I can under­stand why one would do that though, since the point of some are to inform friends of how one is doing. More often than not, how­ever, it seems to be an exer­cise in narcissism.

I won­der what some­one would think of me, if they were read­ing this with­out ever meet­ing me. Would they be able to see all sides of me? Would they be able to under­stand who I really am? Most of the time, what I write is out of neces­sity, and ends up being some sort of com­plaint, rant, or confusion.

I think most peo­ple would believe that I’ve lost hope. It’s quite the con­trary really. Ever since the sum­mer, I’ve gained hope to a degree. Of course, I’ve often stated that hope is a bad thing, and I still feel that way to a degree.

What I’ve come to real­ize is that I should pos­si­bly try to hope for the future, but not get my hopes up. The dif­fer­ence between the two is in length of time. Getting one’s hopes up has a more short-term con­no­ta­tion for more tange­able ideas, whereas hop­ing for the future is thought of as hop­ing for some­thing that is cur­rently unknown. If the future is ever to become the present, I’ll try to keep myself more grounded.

And if the present were to come to fruition?

Maybe it would be a good thing.

Thoughts After A Bad Phonecall

Leave it to a sin­gle phone call to fill me with worry. Now I’m anx­ious about my marks, my mid-terms, my projects, my grad­u­a­tion, my life. Pat gave me a pep-talk yes­ter­day, and it helped. Graduation seems uncom­fort­ably close. I’m dying to know how the story ends.

Patrick was nice enough to come up to me and start a con­ver­sa­tion the other day. I asked him how his work was going, and he told that he’s really enjoy­ing it. He let me know that the Montage project in becom­ing really big, and they might be look­ing for more work­ers, and that if I send Chau my resumé and let him know that I can work full-time dur­ing the sum­mer, I might be able to get a job in devel­op­ment, instead of informatics.

God, my sen­tences are becom­ing more and more struc­tured like some­thing Henry James would have writ­ten, although I’m sure I’m not able to be as descrip­tive, or as bril­liant, since he’s a well renowned author infa­mous for being gar­ru­lous, whereas I’m sim­ply a com­puter sci­ence stu­dent, only able to write when necessary.

There seem to be a few Five Alive flavours on the mar­ket, such as “Tropical”, “Citrus”, or “Peach Passion”, but none taste as good as “Berry”. Aaron, Trolley, and I all agree that it tastes like Skittles. The juice from con­cen­trate has a slightly vary­ing taste from the one in the bot­tle; I find the lat­ter to be a lit­tle more tart and a lit­tle sweeter.

I’m get­ting a new Intellimouse Explorer sent to me via snail mail, thanks to Trolley. I called up Microsoft, told them that my mouse but­ton was double-clicking when it should have single-clicked (as instructed by Trolley), and they told me that they would send a new one, free of charge. I don’t even need to send my cur­rent one back. I got my cur­rent one four years ago, and I remem­ber spend­ing $100 on it. The pads of it have been worn out unevenly, caus­ing a notice­able wob­ble. The lat­est design of the Intellimouse Explorer has a lower, sleeker pro­file, and more eas­ily acces­si­ble thumb but­tons. Yay.

After talk­ing with my geol­ogy pro­fes­sor I feel dumb as fuck. I almost failed my mid-term; my mark was the sec­ond low­est in the class, even with a gen­er­ous grade curve. I think I did con­sid­er­ably well, con­sid­er­ing the fact that I had three mid-terms that day, and the fact that I find my mind to be dead when I have my Tuesday lec­tures after a 7:30am lab. Apparently, I have very lit­tle com­mon sense. Although I know that zinc is the main ingre­di­ent is sun­screen, or that soft-drinks con­tain car­bon, I don’t know that nitro­gen is an impor­tant ele­ment in fer­til­izer or that graphite is a pop­u­lar indus­trial lubri­cant. The list of what I don’t know goes on and on. I had no fuck­ing clue that bak­ing soda is sodium bicar­bon­ate. To my prof, all of this is gen­eral knowl­edge, so it’s assumed when deal­ing with the course. I was never good at chem­istry, and my pro­gramme of stud­ies isn’t even close to related. I also took the pre­req­ui­site at the begin­ning of uni­ver­sity, which is four years ago. Fuck.

Imbalance

I think Dolly may be inter­ested in hav­ing another cat around the house. I’ve been play­ing some cat sounds, and no mat­ter where she is in the apart­ment, she’ll com­ing run­ning into my room. A sec­ond cat is some­thing I only started to con­sider this term. Last term it felt as if I wouldn’t be able to han­dle the chores, let alone dou­bling my annual vet­eri­nar­ian bill. Sometimes she seems lonely though, like when she imme­di­ately starts to cry when I walk in the door after a day of school, her protest­ing only being soothed after pick­ing her up, and being replaced by a low purr. I’ve always seen myself as a one cat per­son; I think I’d feel a lit­tle imbal­anced if I had more than one. If I do decide to get one, it will def­i­nitely be after I grad­u­ate, def­i­nitely after I find a sta­ble job, and pos­si­bly after I can pur­chase a condo. It would be more for Dolly than for me though. I can’t imag­ine find­ing another cat that is as well-adapted as she is, so the idea scares me a little.

One time I dis­cussed with Pita whether he would ever con­sider get­ting two dogs. He said that he couldn’t, not just because it would be much harder to han­dle, but because he would feel more favourable to one or the other.

The idea of favour is one that I haven’t been able to under­stand. How can par­ents love all their kids with­out lik­ing one more than the other, espe­cially when one fol­lows the desires of the par­ents more closely. It might be some­thing I don’t under­stand, being an only child. If such a bal­ance is pos­si­ble, wouldn’t polyg­a­mous rela­tion­ships work as well? I think part of the mis­un­der­stand­ing stems from my con­fu­sion of rela­tional love and parental love as well.

For love is the root of my imbalance.

Old School, Frozen Carrots, Etc.

I was exhausted yes­ter­day. I worked almost all day on my graph­ics project, and Aaron came over to work on his Scheme assign­ment. I was able to talk to him for a few hours before start­ing the work. We caught Old School at the Coliseum near his place, but it was still a thirty minute walk in one direc­tion. The movie was too pre­dictable, but had some very well done scenes, such as Will Ferrell get­ting shot in the neck with a tranq dart. I thought some parts were almost insult­ing though, like a com­pletely gra­tu­itous cam­era shot of Elisha Cuthbert’s ass while she was lay­ing on a bed. It’s not that I don’t find her behind to be a thing of beauty, it’s that it feels like the pro­duc­ers are adding shit like that in just to get more peo­ple in the audi­ence. I guess it’s been hap­pen­ing for a while now; ever since Shannon Elizabeth bared her twins in American Pie, teen movies have been becom­ing more and more sleazy. I still enjoyed Old School though, and gen­er­ally laughed my ass off.

Watching Old School allowed me to dis­cover a decent song called Dust in the Wind by Kansas. I’ve also been down­load­ing a lot of Canadian singer Holly Cole, who has a beau­ti­fully expres­sive, olive oil voice. I enjoy Bagdad Café in par­tic­u­lar. I found two ver­sions of the song, one live and one stu­dio, which are good but with their own unique flaws. I pre­fer the live ver­sion because it has a sim­ple piano and bass, instead of synth sounds in the stu­dio ver­sion, but at one point she becomes obnox­iously loud, as if she was over­sing­ing the notes, the way a trum­pet would sound if the trum­peter was blar­ing. It makes her voice seem almost mas­cu­line, which is a big turn-off. The way she mixes her vibrato with her flar­ing is very seduc­tive though. In the stu­dio ver­sion, how­ever, she seems to start off one line a lit­tle flat, before push­ing her diaphragm to hit a note with­out going falsetto. It sur­prized me, since stu­dio songs tend to be a lit­tle too perfect.

I finally put up my poster of Dominique Swain. Aaron helped me decide on the linen closet door, since the walls in my room are so big they dwarf my mod­estly sized poster. I haven’t put it up since sec­ond year because it didn’t seem to fit into the sim­ple­ness of my room.

I’m not espe­cially happy with yes­ter­days entry, but I des­per­ately felt like I had to get some­thing down. It’s a lit­tle too trite for me to be satisfied.

I bought a bag of frozen car­rots and pearl onions to try out the last time I went gro­cery shop­ping, since I’ve been try­ing to eat more veg­eta­bles. I found out today that I really don’t like pearl onions. They taste like what I imag­ine an onion would taste like after being soaked in water overnight. I tried to have the car­rots only, but the bag is sup­posed to be a mélange of the two, and the taste of the onions ends up seep­ing into the taste of the car­rots. I really enjoy hav­ing a bunch of onion slices sautéed before adding in a pork chop or what­not to the fry­ing pan, but pearl onions seem to be a dif­fer­ent breed of onion.