Month: February 2005

This friend of mine, she has a really odd way of looking at the world.

Let me explain. Or better yet, let me resort to the much famed conversation excerpt.

Me: *Says something random and irrelevant.* (as usual)
She: “Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve turned gay too.”
Me: “Huh? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? One doesn’t turn gay.”
She: “Oh, really? A lot of Indian guys I know have miraculously become gay after being in this country for a short while.”
Me: *Stiffles guffaw* “You don’t say.”
She: “Yep, and it’s a typical male thing to do too. They’re irresponsible, and do it because they can have fun without regards to any repercussion”.
(I think she means, apart from risking the usual STDs, being socially stigmatized, the obvious physical discomfort …)
Me: “So, you’re saying they do this because it then means they have nothing to worry about?”
She: “Yes, there isn’t the risk of an unwanted pregnancy.”
Me: *Bursts out laughing, and gets the cold glare he doesn’t have the guts to meet.*

Like I started off saying, sometimes, the way people see things is just odd.

And for the record, this is a true story and hasn’t been arbitrarily concocted.

Honest.

There aren’t many reasons why I’ve been silent, there’s just one. I’ve been swamped.

I cannot believe how far behind I’ve fallen terms of stuff I need to get done but haven’t, given I’m putting in 17×7 = ~120 hours a week.

That is not to say I am ever not far behind. It’s just, it was quite OK to be behind when I put in the 40 minutes of work a week. Not when I actually try.

I better get back to doing nothing and blaming nothing getting done for lack of trying. This sort of nonsense tends to hurt the ego.

*Gently strokes bruised ego.*

I’ve been having difficulty putting this in words, and what you’re reading right now is probably the fourth rewrite. Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t translate to this entry being any better than the previous attempts.

Our story, like most others, revolves around a girl. I don’t know her. I don’t know anything about her. I don’t even know her name. It’s just, every time I see her[1], I get this oddly exhilarating rush… my head is in the clouds, I’m all fluttery as my heart begins to race and my knees (and most of the rest of me) get weak, in a good tingly way.

I’m euphoric, I’m inspired, and I’m peaceful. It’s like, for that brief instant, everything’s “just right” and I know why I am. Everything seems to slow down, and it’s all so… clear.

Of course, all of these are just words. In them, I’m struggling, but failing to accurately capture the effect her presence has on me.

This… high… lasts for a while, and the moment she’s out of sight, the pleasurable quivering[2,3] begins to die down. It soon negates, and now I’m shivering in terror as it dawns on me… I don’t know her. And, knowing me, I probably won’t ever.

If you’re particularly naive, you might say, “Well, if it affects you so much, what harm could it possibly do to just talk to her?” All I can say in response is “Easier said than done”. Does one ever really approach a total stranger, with whom they probably have nothing in common, and ‘just start’ a pleasant conversation? What would you talk about? Compliment the fabulous way she’s worn her hair? Make an insightfully-witty comment pertaining to the book she’s carrying? Hide your watch and ask for the time? Talk about the weather?

Without any sort of common circumstantial environment, what?

(That was almost a rhetorical question. Cheesy lines picked from movies, like “The moment I saw you, I knew I was going to marry you”, and variants, will not be tolerated.)

For all I know, she’s probably married, or something.

The scary thing here is, well, I’m not a kid. You’d think crushes and such are in the realm of the 14 year olds and their boy band member fantasies, not me. Not now. Especially not one who almost prides himself in not having a single thread of irrationalism in the fiber of his being.

The scariest thing, however, is how could one so articulate[4] begin to emulate a mute when he needs his words the most?

[1] A grand total of six times over the past couple of months. No, there were no instances involving binoculars. And is it weird that I vividly remember each instance?
[2] No, not what you just thought.
[3] Yes, you have reached the punchline this post was crafted around. You can stop reading now if you choose.
[4] That is not to say that I am particularly articulate or anything, just that I am not dumb. As in, I am fully capable of speaking.

Aside: Responding to all comments and e-mails relating to recent changes, I still haven’t figured out what to do with this default theme. It looks great, but it seems trite and un-me. We’ll see.

The other day, I was out window shopping and I couldn’t help but notice this adorable little burgundy top at a chic boutique. It had this fabulously varied and intricate design work done on it… and yet, it was simple and didn’t seem like it had too much going on. It wasn’t all flowy, definitely flattering, without being all corsety and uncomfortably constricting.

All was well and good, except:
a) It was horrendously expensive, especially for the poor student sort.
b) I most definitely don’t have a petite frame, and such pieces are crafted with the anorexic model in mind.
c) I lack a vagina.

Bear with random brokenness.

Update: I was, as usual, trying to revert back to the old theme to fit it in with the rest of the site. But now, I’m not too sure. This looks pretty sweet.

I don’t really talk too much about it here, but I’ve been watching a ton of movies recently. And by recently, I mean for about two months now. Here’s what I got to see over last week, and my succinct thoughts.

Chicago — Moderately entertaining, but extremely overrated. Doesn’t deserve the ton of Oscars I think it claimed. During the entire movie, all I did was feel sorry for the convenient putz, Amos.
[2/5]

Erin Brokovich — I usually hate Julia Roberts (irrationally, of course), but this was a decent flick. There were so many opportunities to make bits of the movie a lot funnier, but none of them were taken. I guess, under the blanket excuse of having to stay “true to some real story”.
[4/5]

Big Fish — An amazing experience. It’s the oddest, most colourful, funniest drama that’ll ever make you cry. This is something no one should miss. Features Ewan McGregor.
[5/5]

Moulin Rouge! — I re-saw this. It just rocks so hard. Features Ewan McGregor, again.
[5/5]

Black Hawk Down — Even more Ewan McGregor. I don’t know what to say really. I usually detest war like movies, on principle, but this one was well paced and quite fun. No stunning performances or anything, just something that mocks military stupidity. There are some overly detailed gross bits involving dismembered body parts.
[3/5]

Knots — This was the only one in this list I saw on TV. I saw it on one of the women’s channels. It was a funny take on contemporary relationships. Funny, I guess in a sort of dark and ironic way. Mostly no-name actors.
[2/5]

Philadelphia — This one made me cry. The acting was spectacular, though the story seemed to drag a little in the middle. Probably a good date flick, if you’re a gay homosexual^*.
[3/5]

Men of Honor — Can we knock it off with the movies based on real life stories already? Sure, there was some decent acting and it was a very inspiring story, but come on. I hate feeling guilty for “not working hard against odds” and not “making it to the top”.
[-1/5] (Because enough is enough.)

The Pianist — Ah, we finally get down to the review that’s going to be most controversial. Firstly, it was an OK movie. Not a good movie, and definitely not a great movie. The only thing more overrated, is Chicago. Now, this movie might have struck a chord in the hearts of all those people who believe everyone in the world is equal and random mistreatment is a horrid thing.

I am not one of those people. There are different sorts of people on this planet. <Disclaimer in effect> Some superior (yes, you heard right) than others and it is perfectly acceptable for them to do whatever they choose with the inferior ones.</Disclaimer still in effect> Because of having such thoughts, I really don’t think I was the target audience for such a flick.

Equality, pfft.
[1/5]

And yes, this list was just over last week.

^* Eric Cartman, South Park. Season 1, Episode 4 – Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Boat Ride

Either you’re a prude, or a slut.^*

 
Yes, life’s a bitch.

^*A most insightful article title stolen from the cover story on a most intriguing magazine.

Except Filipino, and not born in Britain.

As I’ve said, I recently saw Bend it like Beckham. There were a bunch of (admittedly hot) shirtless men in the movie. Subliminally, I was extremely certain I had seen one of the hotter (shirtless of course) ones earlier. Though I wasn’t consciously thinking about it, during a randomly-purposeful googling session today, I figured out who he is. And why he seemed so familiar.

He’s Trey Farley.

Now, a lot of you young’ns might have no idea who he is. I wouldn’t have either, except I happen to be ancient enough to have caught him on Channel [V]’s (the Asia-Pacific-Australian one, not the now-tainted-97.4%-desi-programming-and-proud-of-it one) “By Demand”. He’s by far the single most dynamic person on TV, ever, and the primary reason I put up with whatever crap music they played, for as long as he was on that show.

I used to worship him.

Him and that little stuffed purple-green-talking cow(?), Muriel.

It’s funny how you tend to idolize the most random of people (or muppets), once you assume they are capable of breezing through something that’s hard for you.

The only game on my playlist for the past couple of weeks has been Capcom’s Viewtiful Joe for the GameCube. Like I said yesterday, I got past one of the tougher level-bosses “Fire Leo” the previous evening, and then went on to finish the game last evening. The following is a small review.

For those in the audience with ADD — It’s challenging, but amazing fun.
You can leave now.

After you’ve finished gawking at how gorgeous everything looks, the first thing you realise about this game is how old school it really is. Most, if not all, of the humour in the game derives from the fact that it is basically taking some cliched/cheesy gameplay or storyline and knowingly doing the exact same thing. The creators realize they don’t have much of a story or any real plot, but make fun of that too. You do have to suspend any and all sense of reality in order to enjoy what’s going on, but you will as soon as you begin to play. The “plot” is simple enough. Evil movie characters in some sort of warped scheme to escape “moveland” end up entering the real world and kidnapping Joe’s girlfriend. In an attempt to rescue her, he enters the movie world, and with the help of an aging hero, “Captain Blue”, awakens to his true “heroness” and goes about kicking baddies until he eventually, well, rescues her.

Like I said, it isn’t much of a story.

The game itself is presented as a (2.5 D) sidescroller. I must reiterate, it is gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more slick, or stylish, game and they’ve used the whole cell-shading (Zelda-Windwaker like) animation technology in a totally immersive way. The whole feel is a sort of comic-book-manga meets make-fun-of-crappy-old-Japanese-movie-influenced-action-flick meets trippy colours. And they actually pull it off.

As Joe awakens to his heroness, he learns all sorts of these cool movie-like effects, called the VFX, which help him in his quests. He can slooow down time (you can easily dodge bullets), zooooom in the camera to capture his moves in glorious detail (stun baddies with your stylish moves), and speed up time (kick baddies before they even know what hit ’em). Unlike other games, which shall remained unnamed *cough* Max Payne *cough*, which use similar effects as a marketing gimmick, all these time-manipulation effects are integral to the gameplay in Viewtiful Joe. They vary from insanely helpful, to downright necessary while solving the game’s puzzles and effectively getting past bad guys. And since this is not an easy game by any stretch of the imagination, anything that helps you toward your goal is most welcome.

You know this oft-repeated sequence in Sesame Street, where Ernie hides in some random place and Big Bird searches for him? You know, the one which is basically “Elementary Pattern Recognition — 101” for few month olds? When you’re in this game, you’re doing just about the same thing, at an all new extreme level. There is almost no hope in just running into a bad guy/girl and hoping to cause any damage initially. You will get trashed, and as you’re getting trashed, you will begin to notice patterns in their behaviour, and you will figure out combos of your own moves to counter them. There is no other way. You will die, and die often.

So if there is one flaw in this otherwise awesome experience, if you can call it a flaw, it is that if you aren’t able to figure out what to do soon enough (it does happen occasionally), you keep dying, and can get frustrated with being unable to make any progress. You will keep going through the same sequence over and over (I spent an evening on “Fire Leo”) until you figure it out. All that said, it is extremely pleasing to figure things out and move along. Before you know it, you’re finished, and you’re going through sad and painful withdrawal symptoms. On a positive note, once you’re done with the game, and you sit through the credits, you get to see this neat animated music video where Joe and other characters in the movie sing and perform. That was cool, even with the music being Japanese.

I’ve not been posting regularly, but that’s not because I haven’t been writing. Some random unrelated bits.

— I’ve been making some intellectual breakthroughs and I think I am at a critical tipping point. A point where hand-holding isn’t needed anymore for me to understand and do things. And that’s a sweet feeling.

— I decided to travel half the world away to see them play, but now they’re playing in my own backyard. Now it is quite clear I want to travel more than actually see them play, so travel it is.

— I just got past Fire Leo in Viewtiful Joe. My fingers hurt quite a bit from playing this game (review soon), and I must stop typing now.

This post is a continuation of yesterday’s. If you haven’t read that one yet, you probably should. Unless of course, you are a big fan of just randomly reading stuff and not particularly keen on following along.

Now that I’ve given you substantial motivation for all of this, I return to our topic of immediate interest — the argument. After the Egypt leg of the journey, my parents had planned to (and did) proceed to other parts of the world so that they could catch up with some old friends. I don’t see the point of catching up, or even that of old friends, but I knew this sort of thing is important to them, so I encouraged them to go ahead and do whatever made them happy.

And so were sown the seeds of confusion.

When I was later talking to her about how the trip went, after all the details about Egypt had past, I began to get annoying information (slowly at first, and then turned into a flood) about random people — like where they are in the world and what they’re doing. Since I knew some of these people as a kid, it was implicitly assumed I was curious to know where they are in the world at the moment.

No, I am not the least bit curious. In fact, I had forgotten the existence of most of these people, and haven’t wasted a moment of my life thinking about any of them. So at some point in the conversation, rather abruptly, I said something like “Would it bother you if I told you I honestly don’t care?”. And when she said something like “No, it’s not a problem”, my obvious response was, “OK, please stop. I don’t care”.

It’d have been cool if I’d shut up at that point. But nooo.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t know these people. They are not my “friends”. I haven’t maintained contact with them in over 10 years. The ONLY reason I ever got to meet most of them, and play or whatever, was because they were your friends’ kids. I do NOT WANT to waste my time listening to details pertaining to where they are in the world today or what they’re doing. Or how happy they are. Or whether they’re intellectually capable of handling their uni. Or whether they’re married. Or…

Because, quite frankly, I just don’t care. And I don’t even see why I should.

Catching up was important to you, and I didn’t object. I was happy you were happy getting to meet them. NOT CATCHING UP is important to me, can’t you see you’re forcing me otherwise?”

At which point things just started rolling even more downhill. Come to think of it, it wasn’t really as much of an argument as me getting terribly annoyed and venting. It sort of reminded me of the other such times. Times when I’ve blown up hearing stuff like so.

“Oh H, why don’t you go work out or hang out with your friends or something?”

Hello, as easy as that may sound for you folks, it is FRICKIN’ HARD for someone like me. I just don’t “make friends and hang out”. It is an arduous process for me. It takes time, years. And even then, there is a good chance I might not get near the point you apparently reach within minutes.

The moral in all of this being, parents, if you have a kid who sees the world from an extremely different perspective from the way you do, please don’t attempt to mould him to what you know. Just realise he’s evolved past you and bow to his glorious way of going about things. For his way is definitely better. That’s what evolution is about, isn’t it?

We’ll soon return to our (much sought after) regular “In grad school…” programming. Honest.

My parents just got back from Egypt. They had a splendid time and got to see and do a lot of different things, along with that cruise down the Nile they’ve always wanted. It’s gotten them so excited, my mom’s written these detailed travelogues and dad’s sent me all these pictures. Other people who’ve read these travelogues tell me what a wonderful writer my mom is (oh why did I get the wrong half of the genes?). I wouldn’t know, for I, the evil son, haven’t made the time to read them yet. Of course, it’s not like I’m busy at all, I’m just so damn lazy.

However, this post has nothing to do with any of that.

If you remember, I’m the one who convinced them to take time off and do this. I paid for all of it. I even bought them the camera that took all those pictures. I, the poor student, sacrificed things like 400 channel cable, and a rusty set of wheels, so they’d have fun. It’s all me. Me me me ME!

However, this post has nothing to do with any of that either.

When I first got into grad school, there was a good chance I’d have to spend a lot of money, at least initially, and I did. Considering exchange rates and what not, my first few months here were a dent in my parents’ life savings. Whether it was a serious dent or not is not the point, I’ve had a strong urge to just… return the sum. Since it’s obvious they won’t take a cheque, I have had to figure out various other devious ways of returning it. Enter plans for trips around the world.

But, as you might have guessed, this post has nothing to do with any of that either. As I was talking to my mom when she got back, we got into a (relatively big, by my standards) argument. That is what this post is about.

<Begin Background>

My parents are social people. They have friends — ranging from the many not-so-close to the few close ones with whom they hang out and do real stuff. More importantly, meet often, and talk. My dad knows multiple languages and various dialects, and will automatically switch to what is native to a place he’s at and always attempts (and often succeeds) to blend in with the locals. All in all, I’d say they care about/like being around a lot of people and a lot of people care about/like being around them and they just fit in to the whole social scheme of things.

Oh, horror of horrors, I, am their son. I have minimal social skills, almost no friends, no confidantes, can barely speak one language (and stammer when stressed), don’t really care about anyone (and most of the world feels the same way about me), never blend in, and always remain a rogue outside social circles. Again, it’s not like I’m antisocial, I’m asocial. I don’t hate people, I just quite enjoy doing my own thing.

Needless to say, this teeny conflict of personality types often results in fun exchanges, where each side has no idea where the other is coming from.

</End Background>

To be continued…

With all that talk about Indian things, I went home that evening having this weirdly undecided urge — on the one hand, I wanted to connect with something back home, and on the other, I wanted to get away as far as possible. Usually, in moments like these, I pick the obvious middle path — do absolutely nothing. But the other evening I decided another middle path involving watching two movies, Unbreakable and Bend it like Beckham. The following are some thoughts.

Unbreakable was a lot less retarded than Signs. Either that, or I am a much bigger fan of comic books than I am of crop circles, or Mel Gibson. To Unbreakable’s credit, it had a simple and quite brilliant musical theme. And it stayed just about constant throughout the movie — the same 7 or so notes. That was good. Unfortunately, extrapolating the curve that’s set up from the Sixth Sense through Signs all the way to The Village, I am quite certain The Village will absolutely suck.

On a more pleasant note, I absolutely adored Bend it like Beckham. It was, cute, funny, quite real and a lot more, all at the same time. I laughed. A lot. A couple of dialogues that struck me as particularly poignant. Both of the following are paraphrased, of course.

Women in a locker room in various states of undress: So Jess (the main character, Indian origin, female), what would your parents say if you brought home a white man?
Jess: Oh, no, it’s out of the question.
Jess: And a black, NO!
Jess: And a Muslim, DEFINITELY NOT!

————

Jess: I like Beckham.
Tony: (Male, Indian origin, main character’s good friend) I like Beckham too.
Jess: Yeah, no one can bend it like Beckham.
Tony: No, Jess, I really like him.
Jess: Uh, you mean?…
Jess: But you can’t be, you’re Indian.

Indian men can be gay. We’ve evolved to a point where we use PRODUCT IN OUR HAIR, but can’t possibly fancy other men?

I bought some new hardware for a computer at work. Said hardware needed some random cable to work. Said cable costs some 8$.

Like a fool, I order the cable from Dell, since the computer is from them, and psychologically, people around would feel better if only “Dell certified” things end up in the box.

Shipping costs for said cable is over 8$, even on the most basic option Dell provides.

Dell, in some fucked up business move, uses DHL to ship said cable.

Retarded delivery boys (girls?) at DHL will not mention when they are going to show up the next day to try to redeliver once they’ve missed you, other than to say “PM”. Nice move geniuses, now all I have to do is wait for you from 12:00+ PM in the middle of the fucking afternoon through 12:00- PM in the middle of the night.

Obviously, said delivery company misses me all three times.

Since said delivery company is such a big shop, their nearest “pickup center” is a couple of cities away.

I call to try to ask them if they’re willing to ship it from their pickup center to my home, for a nominal fee.

They say, of course, for a nominal fucking fee of 15$.

All in all, I’ve almost decided to cut my losses to just the original 8$ + morethan8$shipping and let them have the fucking cable.