Month: April 2005

alright.

Everytime you begin a new term, you look for classes. During this process, you occasionally get conned into picking these “magic” classes that have no real exams, just an end term take home homework or a final project. You then, all excitedly, sign up for said classes under the foolish assumption that your end term is going to be fun, since you won’t be cramming like the rest of the populace.

Of course, end term comes, and the random people with finals slog one half-evening and get their tests over within a few hours, tops.

And you’re stuck in a room at 2 AM for the second consecutive night working some “take home”, still having made no noticeable progress.

Well, fuck.

o For a guy who doesn’t drink, I end up spending an awful lot of time in bars and such.
o The last time I shared a table with some 7-8 people, most in the same age group, I was the only one who wasn’t married. I think that’s awfully strange and noteworthy.
o Reread that last line, because that’s all I got.

Unrelated: And finally, after years of being unable to clearly envision what I wanted entropy to be, it is falling in place — like so.

(I have all sorts of other posts partially typed up, but I am unable to get myself to finish any of them.)

Somewhere in the dark regions of the spectrum of channels on TV, there is this one channel I’m fairly certain few watch religiously, FX. It is here that my latest gulity pleasure, and what is probably the coolest drama on TV, resides. Nip/Tuck — This is a well written, nicely acted and intriguingly set up pornography-meets-discovery-channel-meets-edgy-drama fest. I have to say, I was channel flipping late one night and I paused for just a teeny bit before I ended up being irreparably hooked. Now I sadly admit I’ve seen every single episode of the show. The show primarily revolves around the lives of a couple of plastic surgeons in Florida. Briefly,

– Everybody is insanely beautiful, on the outside
– Everybody cheats on/fantasizes about cheating on everybody else
– All intimate scenes are shown in full graphic detail
– All surgical procedures are shown in full graphic detail
– The humour, when it exists, is insanely dry and sarcastic
– And, when it exists, it’s such a grim take on the sad state of people, you won’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted
– All characters are heavily flawed, but somehow manage to get somewhere in life, just like real people

I know it sounds clichéd so far, but what initially appears to be something formulaic ends up being anything but. For instance, here is a teeny sample of the kinds of boudaries pushed,

– You get to see a bunch of 15-16 year old high-school kids at their first threesome
– You get to see a woman commiting suicide (to Rocketman) while her lover, who’s cheating on his wife to be with her, supports her
– You get to see doctors rebuilding a model’s clitoris so she can experience an orgasm, then sleep with her to test the procedure

IN EACH EPISODE!

It is definitely not for the young, the squeamish or the easily influenced. But for the rest of us, this is insanely gripping TV. If you haven’t watched it, or saw an ad somewhere and dismissed it as cheesy, just indulge me and watch an episode(, if you’re old and sane enough, of coure).

I’m fairly certain you’ll be hooked.

(God it feels good to be out of the closet about this.)

Relevant Simpsons excerpt, paraphrased from memory.

Lisa: Dad, it’s the 15^th, you’ve got to file your income tax.
Homer: Lisa honey, daddy did his taxes years ago.
Lisa: But dad, that was for that year.
Homer: You’ve got to do these every year?!?
(In his hurry to get something done, Homer ends up putting something like 19 dependents down in order to owe the IRS nothing. They get audited, of course.)

And so, a mad dash to the finish begins with 4:30 tomorrow afternoon being the semi-hard deadline.

Bring it on.

Update: And, as always, I got it done before it had to be done.

It’s some 2 AM, I’ve wasted all day and now I’m unable to sleep.. I need to get this out of my system.

With the royal wedding and consequently Princess Die on everyone’s mind…

Just what was the last thing that went through Diana’s mind when she died?
.
.
.
.
.

The radiator.

And this isn’t really a joke but a major peeve.

Guy from the genital herpes ad: I’ve got genital herpes, but I don’t let it bog me down!
Me: Dude, perhaps you should.
Me: You know, for her.

That will be all. Now I can sleep. Or try to.

As I was busy pimping other efforts, I forgot to mention I saw Team America: World Police and Sideways last weekend. They were both very funny, in very different ways.

But I have to say, they were both overrated. Very good, but not great, as people make them out to be. Here is a page in flash sampling the kinds of things Team America is all about. It is not safe for children, or work. It isn’t even for the squeamish. Please don’t get caught doing something stupid.

Morals of their respective stories? Middle Easterners have a vocabulary of some 3 words, and don’t get caught lying to a biker chick who carries her helmet with her all the time.

And so, entropy begins to live. This time, I’m going to actually finish what it is I have planned for it, for real. Work-safe articles, work-safe photos, work-safe art, … you get the idea. Work-safe-non-work content in general.

That will be all.

Are you in grad school?
Are you constantly being bothered by random kids asking you the same set of clueless questions over and over?
Are you annoyed none of the people you earnestly-patiently help turn out to be hot young things eager to repay the favour in any way you’d prefer payment?

Then you probably need this. No matter what they ask, just point them there and tell them it’s already been answered.

The grad school FAQ.

Now newer, improved and enlarged.
Because size matters, unfortunately.

This has been a paid presentation for the Free All Grad Students From Useless Chores (F.A.G.S.F.U.C) Foundation

I just got back from pretty much an all night bar/club hop. Some observations:

1. Most of these places are dilapidated pieces of crap. It’s just that you have to be sober to notice.
2. The people flocking to them (including the supposed hotties straddling their poles) really aren’t all that pretty. Again, it’s just that you have to be sober to notice.
3. You know you’re old when you can be tired just by watching someone else have trying to have fun.
4. Prolonged exposure to dense cigarette smoke causes blindness.
5. I amn’t kidding when I keep saying I’m socially stunted. But then again, as with the business plan of the owners of these establishments, it doesn’t matter if everyone’s too drunk to notice.
6. Bouncers are paid to appear mean. They’re really nice people.
7. Good music is good music, however annoyingly loud it’s played.

I quite enjoy tweaking my medium of delivery. It is surprising how subtle changes can result in thinking about life in a different light. Points of view ever so slightly skewed from normal, and consequently potentially humourous… or plain ludicrous. You decide.

You know what people, I’m single. Oh yeah, I know you’re looking at me going, “That gorgeous bohemian hunk? Single? Now way! “. /Pause For Laughter/ But yes, it’s true. And you know how things are when you’re single, don’t you? All you see around you are couples. Everywhere you look. For as far and wide as the eyes can see. <‘accidentally’ drop glasses, squint while struggling to see> /PFL/. Yeah, sure there’s the occasional all-cozy threesome and even the unlikely ever-elusive foursome /PFL/, but for the most part, there are couples. Couples, everywhere! It’s like all the women are walking around wearing this big red sign that reads “Occupied <little glowing LED>”. It gets so bad that people forget number systems can start from one, and not necessarily two. I mean, you walk into a fancy restaurant, and the cute hostess, “Occupied” of course /PFL/, asks you excitedly, “Table for two, sir?”. Two? Why two? Here, look at me, do I look big enough to be two whole .. <look at large self> err.. wrong argument. “No miss, a table for one will be quite sufficient.” /PFL/

At one point though, and I’m waaay past that at the moment, you’ll get to a stage where such incidents stop bothering you. You even begin carrying an entire stash of random-yet-believable decoys to make sure you avoid eye contact with all those people you know are looking at you with pity. Books, the iPod, a DECORATED CHINESE FOLDABLE SCREEN /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_____________ /PFL/. Hey, if they can’t see you, they can’t think you’re two whole people now, can they? /PFL/

Even though you’ve soon learnt to deal with the countless looks you’ll get from the four-eyed-two-bodied monsters /PFL/ roaming so freely in the wild, it’s not as easy tackling the ones you keep running into near home base. The most irritating one, of course, being “that guy“. You know, that guy who’s always going “my girlfriend” this, “my girlfriend” that? Like hello, newsflash — she’s got a name. It’s Audrey. I know, I’ve met her. You can say “Audrey and I are …”, you don’t HAVE to say “my girlfriend and I …”. It’s like he’s going, you see the “Occupied” sign on her? You do? Well, it’s here, anyway. Here. See? Here. <point to random portion of random woman> . See? /PFL/

But, it’s all not bad. Mostly bad, /PFL/ but not all. Occasionally, one of these Joe “my wife and I” Schmoes will actually bring his wife around to whatever, and then you can’t help but listen to your inner self laugh its deviously evil laugh. Ha.. hahah … hahahahahahh! <evil laugh mode… carry on indiscriminately> /PFL/. *Shudder* She’s hideous. And that nasal nagging voice, “Harold, would you be a dear and redo the dishes I’ve marked as insufficiently shiny?”. Hmm, I started the anecdote with Joe, didn’t I? I really ought to work thse things out more before getting on stage. But I’m not making this stuff up, I swear /PFL/.

Anyway, I’d definitely rather be single than married to that. /booo oooo/

What? It’s OK for the couple demons, you know with their four eyes and two bodies /PFL/, to haunt you ever so often, but can’t laugh at the three that don’t scare you?

Jeez, that’s rich, I’m leaving. <Leave>

Preliminaries:

1. I am definitely not the insensitive type, but I can play one if the moment calls for it. This is one such moment.
2. I don’t usually talk about such things, i.e. things of common general interest, but of no immediate consequence to me, because:
   a. However I act or whatever I claim, I am an inward looking self centered bastard, and don’t really give a damn about happenings outside my little bubble.
   b. Talking about such things is tantamount to admitting my life is boring, and a desperate attempt at whoring for hits and comments from interested third parties who’d like to hear another opinion, and more importantly, have their say on the matter, yet again.
   c. I am not really into current affairs and so on, and really don’t know what happens in the world. Nor do I care, of course. I know a lot of cool stuff in areas that I am passionate about. For details, refer (a).

But returning to what it was I was trying to say.

With the whole feeding tube debacle now slowly crawling out of being the most often brought up story on all major (and minor) news programmes, I shall open my mouth on (what could be, you never know,) my take on things.

I submit exhibits A and B.

Exhibit A: The woman on a normal day:

Exhibit B: The same woman after she’d been through some changes (her heart stopped at some time in the past, oxygen to the brain was cut off, and she was left brain dead though the heart was soon restarted):

(Images stolen without permission from AP. But then again, it’s not like as if everyone hasn’t already seen at least the second one some 34,739 times anyway.)

Now, whether or not she really wanted to die or someone was being untruthful, whether or not she “was killed” or “allowed to die”, whether or not scientists were “playing god” “killing her” or they were “playing god” keeping her alive with machines in the first place, whether or not “she was a vegetable” or she was conscious, “spiritwise”, whether or not courts have more rights on these things than individuals, whether or not parents have more rights on these things than spouses, …

None of these really matter. Not one thing.

I, for one, am quite sure what she really didn’t want was to have that disheveled image of her be the only one people have of her, as everyone (news organizations, courts, lobby groups, C-list celebrity wannabes, …) capitalized on her deteriorating situation to make an argument in front of the entire country.

Whatever the decisions reached, or the perceived moral implications attached, people should primarily have a right to do things without it turning into a circus. A circus where that picture is flashed every 20 seconds.

A chance at dignity ought to be a fundamental right.

After much thought over the past few months, it is clear I am not bright enough to cut it at this level. This is quite a harsh realization and it took me a long time to bring myself to admit it. But I realized there is no point trying to fool myself anymore.

I’m leaving grad school, and will probably do some travelling (emptying the extreme savings account one can fill up in grad school) before I decide what I now want to do with my life. And where I want to do it.

Social service sounds like a plan, but you never know.

Update: Please check the post date after you’ve begun your knee-jerk reaction. I thank you all for your concern, but enough with the e-mails already. It was nice to have a laugh at your expense though, and thank you for playing. You’ve been fabulous.