Posts in category "Random"

The Porcelain Spring

Sometimes I’m too tired to real­ly think, and my eyes are too tired to focus on any­thing, so I decide to take a show­er to refresh myself. I expect to think about what needs con­sid­er­ing while I’m show­er­ing, so that I can come back to my com­put­er know­ing exact­ly what I need to. I usu­al­ly end up not think­ing at all while los­ing myself to the pres­sure of the water flow­ing over me.

Why I Shouldn't Receive Gifts

I always open Christmas gifts, espe­cial­ly from fam­i­ly or fam­i­ly friends, with a lit­tle trep­i­da­tion. It’s more of an oblig­a­tion than any­thing else for many peo­ple to give me some­thing, and I’m of the firm belief that if some­one isn’t going to like or have use for a gift, one should­n’t give any­thing at all. There’s no point to giv­ing some­one a stu­pid present, and it just ends up being worse than if one gets noth­ing. There are a few excep­tion to this rule, being the thought or effort put into the gift, although there is gen­er­al­ly none of either if some­one does­n’t like the present any­way. Sometimes it just ends up being the fact that the best inten­tions are used, but a gift isn’t need­ed to fig­ure this out.

Of course, I’ve been known as the hard­est bas­tard to shop for any­way, since I usu­al­ly buy what­ev­er I want. As soon as an idea is in my head for some­thing I’d like, I’ll research it for a few days and then go out and buy it. It ends up being very rare that I want to get some­thing I don’t have, main­ly due to the fact that my inter­ests are fair­ly sim­ple and afford­able.

Cause You're Not Right

I hate it when peo­ple tell me what I should be like, espe­cial­ly if the per­son thinks they have the right to say some­thing just because they’re old­er than me. No I don’t need a bet­ter sense of direc­tion, no I don’t know what that word defen­es­trate is, no I don’t care who won the Battle of Antietam. I spend enough ener­gy try­ing to improve myself in ways which I deem are impor­tant now or in the future, I don’t need some­one else telling me to improve myself in ways they think are impor­tant. Unless I have a sol­id, well found­ed respect for some­one, I don’t give a fuck what they think peo­ple should be like.

How My Dad Came To This Country

My grand­moth­er told me two sto­ries I had­n’t heard until yes­ter­day. I’m not sure how much truth there is in them, although it’s dif­fi­cult to imag­ine my grand­moth­er embell­ish­ing any­thing.

My father was sup­posed to meet my grand­moth­er for lunch one school day when he was about 15. He nev­er showed up, but called her instead, half an hour past the meet­ing time. It turns out that three guys had approached him on his way to see her, demand­ing that he give them his ring, his watch, and his neck­lace. When he refused, they dragged him to a garage to beat him. Having prac­ticed Shaolin Kung Fu with a pri­vate mas­ter for years, he fought all three and won.

Around the age of 17, my father and his friends were out hav­ing a late night snack at a restau­rant where peo­ple cook their own food on skew­ers. In the mid­dle of the meal, a few tri­ad mem­bers came to the table, and know­ing that they were too young to smoke, asked for cig­a­rettes as an excuse to cause trou­ble. When they could­n’t pro­vide any, the tri­ad mem­bers told every­one to give them their mon­ey and jew­ellery. Everyone com­plied, and put their belong­ings on the table. At the right oppor­tu­ni­ty, my father grabbed one of the gang mem­bers arms and held him in a prone posi­tion, with a skew­er to his chest. My father told his friends to get their stuff from the table, and demand­ed that the gang mem­bers give his friends taxi fare home. When my grand­moth­er found out, she sent my dad to study in Canada, wor­ried that the gang mem­bers would take revenge.