3.30.2006

Flex

it's a shame that more people don't know about bruce lee's philosophy. or maybe they do. it just seems to me that everyone knows about his incredible martial arts skills, but not much else. i watched a documentary in my blaxploitation class about lee and his struggle to create the most efficient fighting style. after years of creating and teaching different styles based on efficiency of motion rather than preservation of tradition, he came to the realization that there is no one style that is the best. rather, the ultimate method of fighting is to fight in the 'style of no style,' meaning that to be the best, one should adapt and react to the movements of the opponent. i think this can be easily extrapolated beyond martial arts, to any number of other endeavors, and ultimately to one's life. openmindedness and flexibility, for me personally, are characteristics that should be highly sought after. to be lame and probably rip off some ancient proverbial metaphor, it is the rigid branch that will break during a storm. the flexible one will bend and sway with the wind. corny, i know, but hopefully somewhat salient to the discussion.

3.28.2006

Priorities

why is it that the only women i am attracted to are studying in the worst-paying fields? like philosophy or creative writing. for that matter, why are philosophy and creative writing such poor-paying fields? that's the kind of stuff that's the most important to me. not so much the state of wall street or how to effectively manage a business. i guess journalism is kind of a compromise for me. it definitely has ties to that kind of capitalistic mentality. parts of it are definitely not about creativity and free thinking. but then other parts are, especially with magazine and in-depth style writing, which appears to be my calling. plus the whole fact that it's another one of those poor-paying fields. so i guess it's my compromise between my need to express my creativity and my need to not quite be the starving artist. it would be nice to have nice things without having to sacrifice personal expression and authenticity to self.

3.25.2006

No Alibi

that was some bad basketball. for all those who didn't catch the ucla v. memphis game, consider yourselves lucky. it was ugly, ugly, ugly. really bad. horrible shooting, horrible ball handling, horrible everything. it was painful.

3.22.2006

Sleep Deprived

it seems the more sleep i get, the worse i feel the next day. i'm always lethargic and unmotivated to do any sort of physical or mental task. on the other hand, when i get shorter amounts of sleep, say 5-6 hours a night, i seem much more alert and energetic. is that defying science or what?

the midterm exam results are slowly trickling back in and the damage seems minimal at best. i don't want to be that guy who brags about how great he did, so i'm just going to say i am pleasantly surprised in some cases and happy in others. and, of course, glad to be through to another round.

i'm hoping that my new project at "enough necktie" isn't going to detract from the amount of posting i do on this blog, but i figure i can just use some of the time i normally spend procrastinating by playing guitar or roaming around collegehumor.com to post here.

Student Fights Natural Law, Pays Price

undergraduate jonathan murray was found dead in his apartment yesterday next to a slice of birthday cake. friends say minutes before his death he repeatedly inserted the confectionary delight halfway into his mouth and then screamed frantically. coroners ruled the cause of death as self-implosion of the head due to a prolonged attempt to have his cake and eat it too.

ed. note: this and other "news" stories will be posted on a new blog project of mine called enough necktie. you can access it from my links section of this blog. visit and comment!

3.20.2006

The 99 Trek

i had just finished reading the short story when we spilled out of the grapevine and the valley floor sprawled before us. a string of headlights slashed across the darkening landscape as if some giant unseen hand had sliced a thin, exact line along the belly of california and the liquid rock beneath the surface rose and formed tiny beads along the cut. the lava glowed white-hot as it stretched out across the expanse into the fog-blue haze of the horizon.

the cab of the truck filled with the acrid smell of burning rubber from the semis braking down the long grade.

"burnin'," my dad and i said in unison as we passed a rig with blue-white smoke curling from its tires. he reached over and slid the air vents closed. we sat in silence again. by the time we got to the other side of bakersfield, storm clouds closed overhead. the sky was blacker than i had ever seen it, even on the darkest, moonless night.

forty-eight miles from visalia, the solitary beam of a train headlamp glared through the night air. it passed on the right, three lonely engines coupled together. up along the highway in the distance rose what looked like smokestacks of an oil refinery. it seemed to be a miniature metropolis, its tiny towers gleaming with yellow lights, turning the white steam that poured from its rooftops yellow against the black, clouded sky.

we pulled into the driveway at a quarter to nine and i stepped out of the truck and stretched my cramped muscles, my body creaking and popping like an old ship. i'd made the trip dozens of times before, but this one stood out in my mind. something in the combination of the intensely dark sky, the low, steady hum of the engine and the shrinking distance to our destination brought incredible relaxation to my mind, despite my physical discomfort. my thoughts and anxieties had been left on the other side of the grapevine and this was now my temporary sanctuary where i could rest, regroup and prepare myself for the return.

Argh

is it too much to ask of people that they wait maybe 2 additional seconds before bum-rushing the elevator as i'm trying to get off? the doors barely get open and there they are, frozen in the middle of the opening, caught in the realization that, holy shit, someone else is actually using the elevator and, since this is the ground floor, they probably want to get off...what a novel idea! then, since they are already caught in the momentum of entering the elevator, they try to squeeze past as i exit, yet always manage to bump my shoulder and then retreat to huddle in the corner without a scant word of apology. what annoys me even more are those people with that dimwitted look on their faces that informs me that they have no idea how rude and self-absorbed this act unveils them to be as they barge directly onto the elevator with reckless disregard for any action resembling politeness. as my job calls for me to travel between buildings on campus, utilizing many elevators, i have come to the realization that most people in this world are oblivious to their surroundings and the impact of their actions on others, and i am happy because i see how easy it will be for me to stand out against this backdrop of social ineptitude.

3.18.2006

Spa Treatment

when i emerged onto the pool deck i already knew what had happened. some older rec swimmer had requested that the dive pool be opened instead of the 50m pool. the schedule posted by the lifeguard office still was as i had seen it on thursday: saturday - dive pool: closed, 50m pool: 11-4. i begrudgingly walked over to the edge of the dive tank and dunked my foot into the water, hoping for a chilly 78, but knowing before i did so that it would be more like a balmy 85. i looked up at the lifeguard and she slowly shook her head with an expression of regret. we already opened this pool, we can't switch to the other one now, and we don't have enough guards for both. i sighed and jumped into the putridly tepid water. there was only one option for a workout now. it is impossible to swim beyond 50 consecutive yards in water of that temperature. i would have to run the guantlet. 25 butterfly, 20 crunches, 25 butterfly, 10 deck-ups, and so on until i couldn't possibly haul my body out of the water one more time. i really hate it when they don't open the 50m pool.

3.17.2006

Wake Up, Kids

i wish i had a wider readership. i don't understand my fellow college students and generation y-ers who seem to insist on this apathy toward society. as much as i hate discussing it, mostly because of the depressingly pathetic state in which it currently resides, the political climate should be an important issue for every single person in this country. to say that politics don't apply in their particular case is completely ignorant. how can people just stand back and watch this country become increasingly overrun by corruption and remain held in a stranglehold by corporate interests and their puppet politicians who care more about their bank account than the issues they decide upon daily? well, not daily, because we all know being a politician is hard work, so they need lots of vacation time. i don't want to be caught in an absolutist statement here; i'm sure there is the occasional public official that has not only good intentions, but personal conviction and responsible morality. but anyone who can be honest with themselves can see that the state of our government is not healthy. that's why it bothers me so much when people tell me they aren't interested in politics, or that they don't bother with it because they can't possibly change anything by themselves. that result is only derived from the very existence of that attitude to begin with. sure, one person can't singlehandedly change everything that is wrong with this society. but if 300 million people all believe that they can't create change, then the result is simple: no change. that is why it is so important, despite the frustration inherent, to discuss the issues we face and propagate some sort of social consciousness that is seriously lacking among the youth of today. and that is why i am sad that i don't have a wider readership, or at least that they don't leave comments and foment some sort of intellectual discussion.

Unattainable?

i want to do this...

steve vai is my new personal hero.

wow.

3.16.2006

Flower Power

what is the deal with this hatred of the hippie culture? i just saw some commercial for a new energy-cola hybrid about a guy who creates the ultimate scarecrow that not only scares off crows, but gets rid of hippies by blasting fire from its mouth. hippies don't hurt anybody. what is it about their lifestyle that causes people to get so defensive? because they can't experience that same level of freedom from their cubicle-induced stress? there is nothing more irritating than a person who insists on passing judgement on others for no other reason than that they are different. bigots. hypocrites. "moral" majority my ass.

i saw an eric clapton tribute to blues musician robert johnson on pbs...freakin' sweet.

3.14.2006

Cyanide and Happiness

if you like hilarious and terribly offensive stuff, go to this site and look at their comics...here's an example...

3.06.2006

Water

a raindrop clung to a twig in the wind-whipped afternoon, then fell quickly to land on the back of my hand. it shimmered in the last fading light of the sun, dancing beams of light glowing like tiny pools of amber on my weathered skin. i pulled the zipper on my gray windbreaker higher and straightened the collar around the back of my neck. the high gray clouds showered a fine mist, like powdered sugar, down on the red brick pathway, tiny streams of rainwater gathering in the cracks and running off into the damp earth. my bike seat held a little puddle of water and i brushed it off quickly with my hand, the beads glistening as they fell on the green leaves and shiny stems of the flowers behind the bike stand. when i unclasped the lock, more rainwater poured out of the hollow cylinder. my hands and face were coated with a fine sheath of glimmering liquid. i pulled my bike from the black metal rack and climbed on, rolling a few feet and readjusting before cranking down on the pedals. i pulled out onto the main path and picked up speed quickly. after a few moments of cold wind ripping at my chest, i zipped my windbreaker up to my chin. the fine mist had transformed into a stinging sheet of piercing daggers, slanting directly into my eyes and turning my hands into raw, reddening claws. mud spun off of my tires, the pure, pristine rain mixing with the reddish-brown dirt on the ground to form the sludge that now pattered violently against my legs and back. my windbreaker was soaked, clinging to my skin uselessly, by the time i pulled up in front of my building. i peeled it off in the elevator, tossed it over the seat and stamped the water and mud off of my shoes. once inside, i rolled my bike out onto the balcony and fastened the lock through the frame and the back tire. in my room, i kicked off my shoes and tossed them next to my cluttered desk. my hands were shaking with numbness as i undid my belt and slid my drenched jeans to the floor, my thin ankle-socks pulled off in the process. next, my red t-shirt went over my head and fell into the crumpled pile of wet clothing. the bathroom lightswitch clicked upward with a efficient snap under my fingers and i closed and locked the door behind me. finally, i pulled off my last article of clothing, hunter-green boxers, and stood naked in the mirror, my red, icy hands and face standing out in my shivering reflection. i climbed into the small, glass-enclosed shower stall and cranked on the tap. it grew infinitesimally warmer as i cowered, waiting for that moment when i could push down the tiny plunger and let the life-giving warmth flow through my numbed and aching body.

3.05.2006

Lazy Sunday

just one or two comments about the oscars...was anyone else deathly afraid of dolly parton tipping over during her performance? i have to also mention that, while it is unfortunate that i must admit i actually watched some of it, the post-award banter was ridiculously inane and devoid of worthwhile content.

now folks, i know this may come as a great surprise to many of you, but there may be a reason to watch saturday night live again. the digital shorts aired recently, namely the lazy sunday bit and natalie portman's amazing rap, have been a shining gem in an otherwise putrid puddle of pathetic skits. check them out at the creator's site, the lonely island boys, along with some other great sketches.

3.03.2006

Pearl

i saw sera's guts today. i switched out her pickguard, not knowing that i would be basically deassembling my guitar and putting it back together again. it was a two-hour adventure, not counting the restringing and pickup-height adjustments. yea, fun. but she looks really nice now, so it was worth it.

the rain attacked me at work again. started when i went out to deliver mail, was tapering off by the time i got back to the office. typical.

i had my own personal lifeguard for about an hour at the pool before anyone else showed up. that's always a little awkward, because i knew the whole time i was swimming that they were probably looking at me for at least 75% of the time.

3.01.2006