Yearly Archives: 2003

Moving To Movable Type

The new lay­out is tak­ing much longer than expect­ed, even though the instal­la­tion of Movable Type was much faster than expect­ed. I’m only now learn­ing about div tags and their ben­e­fits. I’m find­ing it fair­ly dif­fi­cult to shape one of the default tem­plates to a lay­out I would be sat­is­fied with. It’s amaz­ing what MT can do with its flex­i­bil­i­ty.

I Don't Dance

Home at last, with time enough to write. Still busy, errands, etc.

I took a short walk before going home by bus from down­town. The bars and clubs are still busy from the big game, and the streets were over­flow­ing with crush­es of short-sleeved, tight-fit­ting peo­ple. I walked by the canal, and it was beau­ti­ful­ly lit on one side from street lamps, com­plete with spher­i­cal fix­tures.

A few peo­ple tried to get me to go out, but my fatigue would have pre­vent­ed me from hav­ing a good time. One of the peo­ple was fair­ly adamant in hav­ing me at the club. As flat­ter­ing as it was, I quick­ly grew tired of being harassed. On the oth­er hand, anoth­er per­son asked, and it was the first time that I did­n’t feel both­ered about being asked to go out. I think the dis­tinc­tion lies in the fact that the for­mer per­son gave off the impres­sion that she knew bet­ter than me about how good a time I would have (which is how I find I’m usu­al­ly asked out), where­as the lat­ter seemed more dis­ap­point­ed than any­thing that I could­n’t go.

Politics

Camping beach

Trolley shivers

Campfire

I got back from camp­ing on Monday, and had a great time. We went up as a group of 16, divid­ed into three sites. I resumed my role as the token Chinese guy, since I was the only one on the entire camp­ground. The sites were less than a three minute walk away from each oth­er. Activities con­sist­ed of bad­minton, ulti­mate fris­bee, read­ing, or just loung­ing. It was 20 degrees dur­ing the day so a lot of the time was spent in the shade. At night it dropped down to about 8 degrees, leav­ing most peo­ple shiv­er­ing in their sleep­ing bags or hud­dled around a camp­fire.

Some tried to swim, but the water was so cold that they end­ed up wad­ing. There was a com­pe­ti­tion every day to see who could stay neck deep in the water the longest, but they all end­ed in ties when every­one agreed that the idea was sil­ly and that suf­fer­ing through the icy water was not worth the poten­tial brag­ging rights.

camping drinks

Most peo­ple brought quite a bit of alco­hol (Wheaties actu­al­ly got a 2–8 just for him­self), and we were caught twice on the first night for hav­ing open alco­hol con­tain­ers off the sites. Fortunately, it was by two dif­fer­ent groups of rangers, so we got two warn­ings, instead of a warn­ing and then a fine with evic­tion.

Even when relax­ing on the camp­ground, with no time lim­its and no sched­ules, I dis­cov­ered that pol­i­tics had fol­lowed me there, to a place where one is sup­posed to for­get the stress and con­flicts of dai­ly life. It’s such a pity that life can be so com­pli­cat­ed in the midst of such serene sim­plic­i­ty, when the only thing that one should wor­ry about is how much beer one has left or whether a fire will be going in time for din­ner.

Something that I’ve long real­ized is that the pol­i­tics of life are every­where, most­ly preva­lent in uncom­mu­nica­tive or secre­tive sit­u­a­tions. An uncer­tain attrac­tion, a group of peo­ple with mutu­al dis­like for some­one, or per­haps even var­ied appro­pri­ate­ness in var­ied com­pa­ny are all typ­i­cal exam­ples I’ve most com­mon­ly run across and dealt with.

I always try to remain out of such com­plex affairs, in order to sim­pli­fy my life, in order to have clar­i­ty. By doing so, I find that things are much less uncer­tain, and I thus have less to wor­ry about. Of course, life thrusts me into such sit­u­a­tions whether I’m will­ing to par­tic­i­pate or not. After all, peo­ple will for­ev­er be upset by oth­ers. I find that I’ve been able to under­stand and sur­vive these sit­u­a­tions with increas­ing con­sis­ten­cy.

It’s quite a dif­fer­ent sto­ry when I am per­son­al­ly involved.

Fetus

I am usu­al­ly not one who pro­fess­es to know a lot. I’m often fair­ly hum­bled in front of many oth­ers who pos­sess a greater intel­li­gence than me (although I know my fair share of stu­pid peo­ple). I think that intel­li­gence is some­thing about myself that I’ll nev­er be sat­is­fied with. There are too many things to know and learn and improve upon, and the pur­suit of such would take longer than an eter­ni­ty.

Reading back on some of my entries, some­thing which has been hard to do late­ly, I feel like a child again. My entries seem to be filled with such uncere­bral emo­tion some­times. It’s as if I can be great­ly both­ered by things that I should be able to over­come. Of course, it’s writ­ing here which helps me out when I need it, when it feels like no one can under­stand or relate. It all just fills this writ­ten his­to­ry with bias. Nothing can change the fact that I am still a human per­son who has emo­tions, although my life expe­ri­ences have damp­ened them con­sid­er­ably.

I feel young when I real­ize how much these emo­tions can some­times affect me.

I’m still unsure whether it would be bet­ter or worse to feel more. On the one hand, I can keep myself in check and keep my actions con­sis­tent if some­thing hap­pens which might upset me. On the oth­er hand, I feel numb, as if things which should bring me plea­sure end up being noth­ing in par­tic­u­lar.

Balance need­ed in yet some­thing else.