Sunday, October 31, 2010

This Addiction

While I was listening to the song This Addiction by Alkaline Trio, I realized that there was actually a lot of truth behind what they are saying; love and relationships are an addiction, a drug that people desire.
The end of the world as we know it

The people I know who are in relationships always seem to be in one, or if not in one, are actively and fully looking to be in another one even though they say they don't want to date for awhile. Withdrawal perhaps? Then you have my type where we date very few and very far between. It's been so long since my first girlfriend that I don't even remember what it was like having one. I just remember it being a good feeling, knowing that someone out there is probably thinking about you.

So is either option "better?" Jumping from relationship to relationship, experience the extremes of both sadness and happiness. Do people who do this seriously consider the next person they date, or just rush into it to get their addiction satisfied?

Or is it better to cruise, feeling sad-ish that you're not in a relationship and feeling those moments of happiness, but avoiding the sadness and difficulty of them? Is it better to seriously consider any relationship and likely not pursue it out of fear of rejection or getting hurt?

I guess in the end, we all just want to be wanted...

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Pocket Knife of Life

There's a bathroom right outside of the design lab that I frequently use since I'm always in lab and it's convenient. Today was no exception since I had a biochem test to study for, and massive amounts of coffee to keep me awake from last night's shenanigans.

So in this bathroom, there's a huge-ass lock that you twist to engage. I went in to the bathroom and the fucking handle to the lock falls off. I thought it was no big deal since I could just go to another bathroom, but then I realized that it locked, THEN the handle fell off. Two things went through my head: whoever put the lock handle back on when it was broken was a giant dick, and how the hell am I going to get out of this bathroom.

Now, normal people would call for help when someone passed by or use their cell phone to call someone. I didn't have my cell phone on me and I didn't want to wait for a long time for someone to get help and bust down the giant metal door. In fact, I'm pretty sure it would have involved some big torches or axes, and it just would have sucked all around. Furthermore, it would have taken forever and I had stuff to do. Incredibly stupidly in hindsight, I thought, "I wonder if I can get out of here without any help?"

I tried putting the handle back in and trying to turn it back, but it wasn't turning at all. Then I tried to grab the little metal sliver with my hands and turning it, but that wasn't working either. I then realized that I had my pocket knife, so I whipped that out and tried to leverage the metal strip thingie to unlock the door, to no avail. I then saw 4 screw on the lock, so I used my pocket knife to unscrew these. I expected the lock to open up so I could see inside, but the thing didn't move at all. SO THEN, I tried to use my pocket knife to separate the lock box from the door, and it loosened a little. I pushed and pulled the lox box up and down as hard as I could and the thing finally came off. I opened the door and went back to work.

Two lessons learned: I'm too independent for my own good, and pocket knifes save lives. Or study time anyways.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Procrastination

Came across this while not doing my neuro homework. Love it! :
-------------------------------------------------

"The Square Root of Three"

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
...Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun,
as 1.7321
Such is my reality,
a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

- Dave Feinberg

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Partial Catharsis

There is a part of my chest, slightly below and to the right of my heart (from my perspective) that I think these things called "emotions" are located. Whenever something emotionally stimulating happens, it always seems to be this area that reacts the most, then the rest of my body can decide to act if it wishes.

Somewhere in my upbringing, my personality decided that showing excessive emotion was something I didn't want to do, so whenever this "emotion" center acts up, I tend to do nothing about it. Hence, most of the time I have a neutral face on, not showing emotion one way or the other. Annoying people think that I'm sad all the time for some reason because I don't have a giant grin on my face every fucking second of the day. People who know me better know that I'm not really feeling a strong emotion one way or the other (or just lost in my own thoughts (or tired)).

Also somewhere in my upbringing, I really really hate showing sadness on any level. If something really sad happens, I'll tend to bury it and keep my neutral face on. Why? I dunno, call me machismo or whatever, but I'm not the type of person to break down and cry if I hear a sad story. I probably feel it in the "emotion" center, but I won't express much facially or physically.

If something small happens that makes me happy or laugh, I'll definitely drop the neutral face and smile; ain't nothing wrong with that!

Why do I bring this up?

1) People seem to have mislabeled me as some continual sad/angry person, and I'm not. My neutral expression is just that: neutral. Not sad or angry, I'm just not feeling anything one way or the other. I have a hard time expressing "emotion" every time the slightest thing happens. Sue me.

2) Still one of the greatest emotions I have a hard time not expressing is rejection. As rejection letters keep coming in from medical schools, I see my chances keep fading that I can get in for this year, meaning I have to start studying for the MCAT again and go through the entire process of committee, secondaries, AMCAS, application fees, and my own disappointment. I have never failed to accomplish something major, and I don't feel like starting now.

This is continually in the back of my mind. ALWAYS! Whatever I'm doing, it's back there, whispering and taunting that I'm not good enough to be a doctor yet somehow adding 3 points to my MCAT score will make me more qualified. It's incredibly frustrating to me that this is how the system works, but there is nothing I can do about it except play the game.

This is the current source of my anger and frustration. It's not some personality trait, so quit telling me what emotions you think I'm feeling; believe it or not, I KNOW WHAT I'M FEELING!!!!!!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Reply: Little Experiment

Question posed by the only person who read this: What sort of non-essential material things do YOU guys want, and what do they say about you?

-----

New bike wheels, one yellow and one blue:


Mario and Nintendo stickers to put on my bike:

Tools:


Big Azz HD TV:


A new desktop computer:

A frolf set:


Dog:


A teleportation device (probably far in the future):
--------------------
What do they say about me? The first few reflect my new hobby, my bike, and making it look nice as well as thinking about riding it around Ft. Collins with my friends this summer. I really want some ballin' tires, stickers for added sweetness, and then tools to actually be able to get work done. The next few items, TV and computer, reflect me wanting to have more ways to hang out with my roommates. We used to all console game and watch the football games in the living room. We gave the TV to someone and now my roommates are computer gamers, leaving me to consoles. I definitely want to pick up Star Craft 2, but I don't have the computer, money or time to do so. The frolf (frisbee golf) set is so that I can pick up another, more outdoorsy hobby and play that with my friends. Next, the dog. I love dogs and really want one, but there is no way that I could have another living thing dependent on me right now, hell, probably not for the next 4-8 years until I'm fully done with schooling and settled down. The last item is so I can transport between here, Colorado, and Japan. That way, I would never have to be missing someone continually, friends or family.

But all I REALLY want, which to me is not a 'non-essential material thing', is a medical school interview...
Third image in Google search of 'medical school interview,' and exactly how I feel when waiting

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Poetry I Wish I Could Write: Ogden Nash

My favorite poet is along with Frost is Ogden Nash. He writes "light verse," light hearted and witty/pun filled poetry. It reminds me of Dr. Seuss, and I just can't get enough of it. In his own words, "my field -- the minor idiocies of humanity." Once again, if you're lazy, just read the last 2 poems:
----

A Lady who Thinks She Is Thirty

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?

----

The Tale of Custard the Dragon

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called hum Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
and Blink said Weeck! which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm,
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets, but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim.
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pirate.

But presently up spoke little dog Mustard,
I'd been twice as brave if I hadn't been flustered.
And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink,
We'd have been three times as brave, we think,
And Custard said, I quite agree
That everybody is braver than me.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

----

The Purist

I give you now Professor Twist,
A conscientious scientist,
Trustees exclaimed, "He never bungles!"
And sent him off to distant jungles.
Camped on a tropic riverside,
One day he missed his loving bride.
She had, the guide informed him later,
Been eaten by an alligator.
Professor Twist could not but smile.
"You mean," he said, "a crocodile.
----

To My Valentine

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
That's how you're loved by me.

----

My Dream

This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.

-----
On a side note, I found my notebook with some of my poems that I thought I left in Colorado. I almost feel like burning it to forget my high school self...

Friday, September 24, 2010

Poetry I Wish I Could Write: Robert Frost

Robert Frost is one of my all-time favorites. Not only does he use nature a lot in his poems, his rhythm and pace just really appeal to me, with a mix of serious and lighthearted poems. His classics of course are The Road Not Taken, Mending Wall, and Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (one of my favorite of Frost's). Here are some other that you may not be familiar with. The very last line of this post may be my favorite line of poetry ever in the history of ever-ness:

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Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

----

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

----

A Minor Bird

I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.

And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.

----
Frost wrote his own epitaph:

And were an epitaph be my story
I'd have a short one ready for my own
I would have written of me on my stone
I had a lover's quarrel with the world.