This one moment I remember

There was this one moment I remember, and it’s another one of those silly moments that are pointless but somehow stays with me and brings me joy. I was sitting across from her at the table and she accidentally stepped on my shoe – I didn’t move and don’t think she noticed. But this trivial, oblivious action broke some kind of spatial barrier in me and I suddenly realized that this beautiful woman was sitting in front of me – fully, physically present. I looked at her in this new perspective as she chatted with the person to her right, and remembered – remembered feeling truly, and blissfully, content.

Love is Selfish

I've never been a selfish person. I've always conceded to people who disagreed with my opinions, if I ever voiced them. I've never wanted very much, anything more than nothing was fine by me. If I was hungry, I wouldn't beg. If I was cold, I wouldn't ask for a jacket. In no way did I want to detriment anyone else because of my own lack of preparedness.

There was only one thing I really wanted in life. 8:33am every Monday, Wednesday, and occasionally Friday morning. He would come rushing to the platform right before the train would arrive. There would be that 15 to 20 seconds where he's inside my comfort zone, breathing deep, completely oblivious to my existence. The train would arrive. We would enter through different doors, and that would be that. Nothing more, nothing less. 

I wanted his embrace. Once. That would be plenty. Enough to make this life of meekness and shadows worth it. 

8:29am, Friday morning. I hate Fridays, I get so tense wondering if he's going to come. There's a light rain outside that wets the track and makes the trains slightly late. If he comes, we'll have more time together. 

8:32am. He's here. A whole minute early. He's walking this way. I think he saw me. "Nice coat." He says, standing at a distance that couldn't be called close nor far. I look at his shoes and give him a nod of recognition. I'm flustered. 

8:33am. I lean over to look in the tunnel to see the spot of light approaching that brought us together. As I lean over, someone pushes me. I lose balance. I don't know what's going on, but I find myself on the track with my ankle shooting pain into my brain. I look to the approaching light in horror. I freeze.

All of a sudden, the white beam of death is blocked. I open my eyes to see those shoes in front of me. "Let's get you up and off the track." It's that unfamiliar but reassuring voice, pulling me out from the depths of fear that I was frozen in. He helps me to my feet. He holds my hand. I am so close to him, I can't think about anything else.

I take a step and my ankle gives. I fall. I fall, into his arms. He catches me. The train blasts its horns, but I can't hear it. I can't register it. In his arms, everything else is outside with a thick layer of glass between. His words once again slip into my ear. "Come on, we don't have much time."

His arms release me, and he starts leading me to the median where we'll be safe. But it's too late. I've tasted what I wanted, and I need more. I don't care about anything else anymore. I wish to hold him again. The train's horns blare and the brakes fill the tunnel with the screech of imminent doom, and I, realizing that this must be love, pull him back to me; back onto the tracks.

'Love is selfish' I think to myself as he falls backwards into my arms, and I hug him with all my might.

8:34am.

The Occasional Girl

Recently I started this new job which requires me to carry a Blackberry around when I’m not in the office. Should the Blackberry ring, I am to listen to whatever troubles our IT specialist can’t solve, and figure out the solution myself. Finding a solution is a very time-sensitive issue, as lots of data has to be cranked out before a certain time each day. It was my first week.

One morning when my girl was visiting, we went out for breakfast. During the drive to the local Burger King, I was explaining to her all the intricacies of my job. For some reason she didn’t want to talk about it, I think it was because of the part where I said I have to be ready to solve problems at a moment’s notice, even if I was having breakfast with her. I told her just to warn her that I might have to take a call, and before I know it, she’s left the passenger seat of my Miata, and is sitting Indian-style on the car’s hood, right where my left pop-up headlight is.

I instantly become worried. It’s not that this teleportation is out of place, but rather I am driving in the middle of a six-lane road going 35mph, and my girl is on the hood. I don’t slow down, but I ease into the right lane and come to a stop at a red light. I am taken aback at how stubborn my girl is and decide not to tell her to get off the hood. She’ll get off once the car starts moving again.

The light turns green and I start moving, but she doesn’t budge. The Burger King is coming up, so I slow to a creep and turn into the parking lot. She doesn’t even budge from her headlight seat during the turn, arms crossed in anger. After parking, she gets off the hood and we walk into Burger King, I haven’t said a word to her since she teleported.

After ordering food and before we pick it up, my mom and grandma walk in the door. This is no coincidence, because I live in Illinois and they live in Georgia. I haven’t seen them in a while either, so we sit together and have our meal. Midway in, my Blackberry rings.

My girl eyes the phone and gives me a look that says, ‘don’t pick it up’. I answer it, and my boss and the IT specialist are on the other line. They tell me xx has happened and it would be good to sit and watch how the specialist deals with this issue, in case I run into it. Furthermore, I am to meet with the specialist sometime this week and have knowledge transfer. He just sent me a link where I can follow all the proceedings.

I tell him that I am at breakfast now, and not near a computer. He tells me not to worry, that he’ll just walk me through it using his voice and we can go over it again sometime when I am in the office. As I am listening in on monologue of altering command files to rerun procedures, the ladies walk out of Burger King. They come towards me, my girl unhappy and my mom and grandma smiling. Following them is a chipmunk.

They stop at one of the trees surrounded by a concrete barrier in the parking lot, not saying anything to me but watching the chipmunk run circles around the tree. We go our separate ways, and my girl is back on the hood of the car. The chipmunk is close too, I just don’t know where. Occasionally my girl looks back at me, never uncrossing her arms.

I always meet her eyes when she looks back at me. She tells me that I betrayed her; I tell her that I still love her, all while my left hand is pressing the Blackberry against my left ear and my mouth doesn’t move. The chipmunk is sick and will die soon, but my girlfriend is never going to get off my hood.

Long after we have parted ways, she still rides on my hood, occasionally looking back at me. Her eyes still tell the same story of betrayal and mine of sadness.  I drive slow and am careful taking turns, so she doesn’t fall; but I don’t tell her to get off. 

Upon a walk
I came across flowers of exceptional beauty
but they were not the flowers of yesterday

She’s a good one. She played her part, even in my dying breaths. Before I take over, remember this, my story does not end sadly. 

There’s only one consciousness I remember, the other ones are just lapses in memory. All inconveniences aside, they look out for the body they’re in, and so do I. What I want is not that the other personalities go away, I have evidence that they’re actually great people, but rather to get to know them. I tried to contact them through leaving messages, but they do not communicate back. A wall.

I see her on a balcony with someone else I know. They are having dinner and enjoying it. I can only watch from afar, knowing that I have lost her. I desperately want to ask her something, but can’t muster up the courage to do so.

The final act is where I see the two other me’s, and we finally recognize each other. Men with guns surround her and two of the other people. I can no longer watch. I show myself to her, and she sees me. I jump from the top, screaming. The men see me and open fire, the other me is being fired at too, and jumps off the second story ledge to join me. I can’t feel any bullets hit me, I am not sure why. We land on the third me, lying down on a metal grating. I see the men with guns unload their clips, first hand. She is with them, but not by choice.

I pan out and view this slowly from third person. 

I don't know how to delete posts. I am blogspot illiterate. Here's a haiku for this:

Illiteracy.

You show me that it's not you,

it is me. Screw you.

Another one for my diarrhea I've been having today:

Oh diarrhea

You keep giving and giving

DIU LE LO MO, FOOL

I COPIED THIS FROM SOMEWHERE BUT THOUGHT IT WAS GOOD

"In an attempt to get people to look into each other's eyes more, the government has decided to allot each person exactly 167 words per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In a restaurant, I point to chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night I call my long distance lover and proudly say: I only used 59 words today, saved the rest for you. When she doesn't respond, I know she used up all words. So I slowly whisper "I love you" thirty-two and a third more times. After that we just stay on the line listening to each other breathe."

If nobody sees you when you breath, are you really alive?

On Catching Words

There was a man who talked and talked until he had no more words to say. Because of this, he talked more, but said nothing. He did not know the secret to having words to say. The man, like everybody else, had two implements, one on either side of his head, with which to catch words, so that they could later be used. Yet he did not use them.

Soon, everybody started to have no more words to say. As a result, they all talked more, but said nothing. The words that were once said drifted away, off into the distance, and were lost. Nobody had any words left, because nobody had bothered to catch the ones that were said.

Timber

I walked through the forest and came upon a fallen tree. It appeared recent, maybe even last night.

I knew it was dead, as did all the other trees. Maybe that's why they didn't move to help their fallen friend.

Things That I Often Think About (And Probably Have Answers That I Am Too Lazy To Look Up)

If x is any real number, what is the probability that it is zero? The probability is 0. Therefore, x is not zero. If x is any real number, and it is not zero, does this mean that zero is not a real number? What about 1? 2? I'm so glad to not be a mathematician.

Infinity is a frightening concept. I used to think that everything in the universe is bounded, but eventually I learned that there are galaxies that are moving away from each other at greater than the speed of light. That means that there are conceivably bits of matter than would require infinite time in order to reach, and are an infinitely far distance away from us (since an object moving away from us at higher than the speed of light cannot be measured, according to our current knowledge of the universe).

On the flip side, I've heard that things cannot be infinitely small. There is apparently a minimum distance, beyond which smaller distances make no physical sense. Given, this distance is something on the order of 10^-35's, so it doesn't really mean much to us. This minimum distance would confirm what I've suspected for a while now, which is that there is no such thing as a perfect circle, and that there are no such things as tangent lines, let alone lines. (But on the contrary)

This would imply that the universe has a positive infinity, yet does not have an infinite amount of precision (that is, it is truly discrete.)

Does information consist of some sort of matter or energy? How does a subatomic particle interact with another subatomic particle? With a smaller subatomic particle? And how do those interact? You might begin to see a problem here.

What is the universe? I assume that outside of the universe there is either nothing or something. If there is nothing, what is the opposite of nothing? What exactly is nothing? Surely there is a difference between a vacuum and the total lack of existence.

Exactly how much affect does the flapping of the butterfly's wings have on the other side of the world? Is this a measurable effect? And to that end, does the flapping butterfly have an effect on the moon? On Jupiter? On Alpha Centauri? In another galaxy? Does it have an effect on a vacuum?

Is it possible for the universe to repeat itself at any point? That is, has the universe ever had every single bit of matter in the exact same place as it was a moment ago? If not, no experiment can be perfect. If no experiment can be perfect, then no knowledge can be scientifically proven. If no knowledge can be proven, can there be a single truth, despite the fact that it is unknowable? If no truth exists, then logic cannot exist as truth, yet the idea of truth not existing depends on the existence on logic.

One of my favorite thought experiments is Schroedinger's Cat. Why does such a conundrum even exist? Why are things not knowable, or not possible? Why are things possible? (Same as the tree that falls in the forest example.)

What does it mean to be all-knowing? Is there an infinite amount of information in the universe? Is the amount of information increasing at a faster rate than the ability to know or recall the information? If information is increasing at a faster rate than the ability to know it, how can anything be all-knowing?

If there are more than the four appreciable dimensions, we must exist in those other dimensions. What separates existing with four appreciable dimensions from existing in more than four dimensions?

What do synesthetes see/hear/feel/taste/smell?

Why is the sky so utterly vast? If space is infinitely large, then why am I able to perceive any given amount of it? Isn't any given amount of space literally 0% of the total amount of space? I would occupy literally 0% of space, so I should not exist. This is referring back to the first point, I know.

Why do humans presume to know anything at all? Clearly, nothing we know is more than 0% of the sum total of everything, nor is any amount of information. We exist in literally 0% of total space, yet we are only occupied by ourselves.

What is the real capacity of a human brain? Does it contain our personalities? How about our emotions? What about our character? Finally, what about our souls? Is a soul a bit of matter or energy that exists in this universe? Does a soul even exist, in the most strict definition of "exist"?

If I sleep earlier every day until my sleep schedule is back to normal, will I be able to keep that sleep schedule? Remember, these are just thought experiments.

Desire

Curt walked up to the window, knowing that he could never cross the quarter-inch thick glass to the other side. He pressed his face up against it, trying to get as close to the other side as he could.

He closed his eyes and imagined passing through the glass, face first, running to his prize. This drove Curt crazy. He opened his eyes and looked around for a hard object. He found that someone had used a hefty rock to weigh down a trash can lid across the street. Without even contemplating his actions, he was lugging the rock back across the street to the window.

As he gathered momentum rocking his arms back and forth, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass. His thoughts were catching up with his actions. He didn't want to think; it would drown out fire inside him; it would make him question whether it was really worth the trouble. Refusing reason and a second more of time, he threw the rock at his reflection... breaking it.

An alarm sounded, but he did not hear it. Faced with nothing but intangible air and his prize, something suddenly hit him. He was scared, very scared. He was about to obtain something he knew he would never have. He looked at it as it stared back, waiting to see whether destiny would be rewritten. Of course, destiny can never be rewritten; destiny is destiny. The object knew this, and it was only a matter of time before the man realized this.

It didn't take very long for the man to realize. He thought he had changed destiny, but he hadn't. The only thing he changed was the barrier preventing him from having the unobtainable object. He stared at the object in full desire but also in full inaction. The object stared at him, fully cognizant of their relationship and the destiny shared by the two. The man stared back.

The man averted his eyes as tears started streaming down his face. Fear capitalized on the opportunity and drowned him. Having broken eye contact with the object, his desire was engulfed in the imperfections of the world. He turned around and ran as fast as he could.

The object stared back at him, even as he was out of sight; its gaze the same as it always was: unchanged. It saw the desire, the passion, the rage... but was unmoved.

The object did not recognize him. For of what importance is someone to something destiny has not allotted for?

Quote from a story I've abandoned

Though the story might never reach the light of day, may this quote be passed on and appreciated.

“Well, I better get going.” I said, unsure of how else to break the awkward silence. She snapped out of her thoughts and led the way to the door. As she opened it for me, she said “It was very nice meeting you mister Li” and gave me a perfect smile. It was paralyzing. It’s shocking how such a simple gesture can be so powerful, like how playing an F# instead of an F changes an entire key and emotion.

hubba hubba

(read with rhythm)

tick, tock, drip, drop,
licky licky flip, flop,
one, step, skip, hop,
lock it bring it make it pop.

make a mooove through it down there
take some cooool dips down through air
drop it looow crank it bank it
use some sass and flip that hair with flair.

won't you work all day, sweatin'
don't you work all night, sweatin'
can't you work it every way,
ain't you workin' without pay?

bring it out to here, break it,
ain't nothing far too sheer just fake it,
please girl don't show fear, we'll see it,
please girl take this beer believe it.

please girl try and make believe it,
please girl really make me see it.

LNYF Skit: The Story of Tigerman and the GG Squad.

Stay tuned.

I hate trains

For me to be able to write something that I like, I have to be in the right mood. Unfortunately, it is usually a semi-depressed, highly introspective mood that gets my mind flowing.

I deleted (equivalent of tearing up) the script that I was writing for LNYF today, because it had no heart. Sure it was funny and happy, but to me it lacked value. I sought to induce a mood of self-depression and introspection today. The ordeal took me from 6pm to now.

The method of choice was to read the synopsis of as many Wang Kar Wai films and to revisit the plots of some of the more depressing stories/movies I've read/seen over the years (ea. Grave of Fireflies). After about two hours, I thought of something brilliant.

The new mail sorter that finds a collection of old letters the post office has been keeping because it can't be delivered and there is no return address. They are ordered by a simple rubber band, and the letters all come from same pen. Where it goes from there is lost to me. I don't think I could develop it anymore. I threw that sheet of paper into the recycle bin.

I stumbled across this movie that I had never heard of before. The title screamed "sentimental" and I ate it up. After watching it for an hour, I have induced the sadness that I need to write, but I don't want to. The simplicity of a missed exchange or the meekness of both parties can tear lives apart. Wanting to make a move but never doing so is like wanting to live but not taking a step forward. It pains me to see such deep desire hindered by self-depreciation and fear.

The mere tug of a shirt is not enough sometimes. Silent tears fall without meaning.

I hate trains.
Trains allow too much time for thought. One gets on to visit his childhood sweetheart, but thinks too much on the train. One gets on the train to return home and is brainwashed by another passenger on the train. Two people cross train tracks and feel the connection as the rails come down and trains pass. One looks back and waits. The other walks away.

It really strikes me how words can be so beautiful when carefully chosen.

a self-evaluation (for college students) #1

let's take a moment to examine ourselves. this is for those of us that have grown accustomed to the college life. i have appropriately tainted everything with my bias.

the day typically begins with waking up. sometimes the day begins with a strange dream from which you wake, but regardless, all days begin with waking save those during which you do not wake. is your mind awake? if not, try again: go back to the previous sentence. what do you think about first? do you debate going back to sleep? do you consider each little task to complete during the entire day? do you fall somewhere in-between, knowing what is for breakfast but not dinner? (think now: what does how you start your day say about how you're starting your life? are you taking things one step at a time? do you go with the flow? are you rigid? do you know where you'll be 5 years from now? is knowing part of being responsible?)

you rise. perhaps you urinate first. perhaps you brush. perhaps you shower. most of us dress. what do you consider when you dress? are you more concerned with looking good or feeling good? are you choosing between free t-shirts or are you considering which hat would go best with the top? is your mismatched outfit deliberate? do you put on make up? what is a sarong, anyway? (think now: what does your style of dress say about your concerns? evaluate: just how independent of a person are you?)

some of us eat breakfast. some of us check our emails before moving out. you walk (or drive, or bike) to class. let's say for the sake of our evaluating that you walk to class. how do you walk to class? do you move briskly, or do you stroll along? do you wave hello to everybody you know, or do you hope to see nobody you know? do you listen to music, or do you move in silence? are you wondering what the people you don't know think of you as you pass by, or are you wondering about just how late you're going to be if you don't pick up the pace? (think now: what does your preferred interaction with friends along the way say about your preferred social setting? what does your preference for music or silence say about how much thinking or not thinking you're doing? what does your daily performance strutting to class or daily jog to class say about your concerns? just how much do you think about yourself, anyway?)

let's say you get to class. did you bring a laptop to class? if so, is it to perform the previously mentioned activities instead of paying attention, or are you actually taking notes? speaking of notes, do you take notes because everybody does it, or are you actually listening? or are you sleeping? did you sleep early the night before so you could stay awake, or was that time spent catching up to the material you slept through already? is there even such a thing as catching up for you? do you understand the material, or are you just getting by to get by? did you skip this step of your day? more specific: do you actually care about the economics of sub-Saharan Africa, or do you just fancy yourself sophisticated? is psychology actually going to become useful for you, ever? do tensors matter? what is a caesura? (think now: what does bringing your laptop to class really do for you? what does your note-taking style (or lack thereof) say about your learning strategy? what does your level of preparation for class say about your understanding of the impact of each and every class on your future? what impact does each and every class have on your future?)

at some point, you eat. or not. but let's say you do. what do you eat? do you eat healthy? do you eat healthy to say something, or do you eat healthy so you can say something? or do you eat healthy because eating healthy is good for you? (why exactly is eating healthy good for you, anyway? on the flip side, replace healthy in the previous several sentences with unhealthy) regardless, eating is a communal thing. or is it. do you choose between eating alone or with people, or do you choose between eating with this group or that group? does it matter to you who you are seen eating with? would you prefer to be in the sole company of an attractive girl, or would you prefer to be in the company of several close guys? (ladies, reverse it.) what do you think of people that make the opposite choice? do you always eat with the same people, or do you find something new, always something new? (think now: do you even enjoy that tofu-burger? what is a few more pounds, anyway? what does your diet say about what is important to you? what does your company say about what you value?)

perhaps you return for more classes. what do you do after classes? study at the library? find your friends to hang with? retreat back to your humble abode? are you worried about the work you have to do, or are you just tired of thinking about academics? do you follow a normal routine or do you do whatever comes to mind? are there meetings and whatnot that you must attend, or are there events and planning to do that you look forward to? if not, do you find the nearest computer terminal and diligently check 3 different social networking sites? do you read the news, and if so, are you reading world news, politics, technology, business, fashion, sports, or the funnies? do read to learn or do you read to be entertained? maybe you read nothing. (think now: what do your after class activities say about your attitude toward classes and learning? about your attitude toward social activeness: apathetic? if you do check too many social networking sites or if you live by any one social networking site, why is it so appealing? what did people do without those sites? how is it that you unwind, and why do you need unwinding after a few hours of class?)

some of us do schoolwork. eventually, we all do some schoolwork, or else we would cease to be here. but some of us also don't do schoolwork on any given day. do you do work all the time, some of the time, or none of the time? is work something to be done sooner or later? if sooner, what drives you to work diligently? if later, what distracts you from working diligently? (think now: if diligent and work are never in the same thought for you, why not? what does your work ethic say about your attitude for your future? what does your work ethic say about you and instant gratification? do you have patience? do you have maturity? is your attitude toward work about excuses or about sweat?)

let's ignore social things. that's another whole thing on its own.

maybe you eat again. that was covered. maybe you fiddle around some more. eventually we go to sleep again (unless we're catching up, but that was covered as well). when do you sleep? do you sleep when you are tired, sleep when you are afraid of not sleeping, or sleep when everybody else has gone to sleep? if you sleep when you are tired, are you tired at 10pm or 2am? or 3am? or 4am? if you sleep for fear, do you not sleep at a fixed time, or do you just get up at different times every day? do you sleep when nobody else is left because you were squeezing out the last drop of attention from everybody else? do you sleep well, or do you sleep fitfully? (think now: if sleeping is a chore for you, when are you going to grow old already? sheesh. what does the trigger for your sleep say about the value you place in sleep? just how valuable is sleep anyway? remember that a human must breath, eat, and sleep in order to stay alive. if you can't sleep well, what keeps you up at night? if you sleep well, is it because you have something warm inside, or is it because you're just dead tired?)


and some of us dream. do you dream? (think now: do you dream?)


perhaps some summary questions: what is important enough to you that it changes your daily schedule? do you offer yourself time to think and evaluate yourself? are you growing into a responsible adult?

WTF man. This is messed up.

I didn’t even know this girl well.

However, because of my present state, something of value had to have been placed on her. I can walk past the most beautiful woman and not be drawn to her. I can pass Jesus on the sidewalk and not give a glance. How would this girl that I don’t know well, that isn’t the most beautiful person in the world, one that I don’t wish to spend the rest of my life with or even see benefit from friendship… how did this girl acquire some value to me?

That is the question that I need the answer to.

in 2005, I quit my job because my boss was dishonest. I could not work under such conditions

in 2006, I killed a cat with my car. I was deeply saddened but I was glad it wasn't a human, because cats are not as important as humans

in 2007, I played ultimate frisbee for hours every single day. I was in the best shape of my life. To get back to that health level, I would have to train extensively. Though it is not one of my immediate goals, I do intend to best myself before age limits my abilities

in 2008, I lost my shirt playing the stock market. I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes even spreading your seeds cannot prevent famine.

in 2009, I ran around my college campus naked at night. I was detained by the police, but since our school is a liberal arts school, after some discussion about this being an example of free expression, I was let off with 30 hours of community service

in 2010, I will be entering into ******** as a first year med student. I will be meek and poor, but I will eat sh*t and get hazed daily if it means that I amount to something the university is willing to hand a diploma to

in 2011, i will be convicted of 11 counts of perjury. I will not have any excuse for the matter, and plead insanity. It will not work because I am too smart to be insane.

"Sometimes, too, as Eve was created from a rib of Adam, a woman would be born during my sleep from some strain in the position of my thighs. Conceived from the pleasure I was on the point of consummating, she it was, I imagined, who offered me that pleasure. My body, conscious that its own warmth was permeating hers, would strive to become one with her, and I would awake. The res of humanity seemed very remote in comparison with this woman whose company I had left but a moment ago my cheek was still warn from her kiss, mu body ached beneath the weight of hers.If, as would sometimes happen, she had the features of some woman whom I had known in waking hours, I would abandon myself altogether to the sole quest of her, like people who set out on a journey to see with their eyes some city of desire, and imagine that one can taste in reality what has charmed one's fancy. And then, gradually, the memory of her would dissolve and vanish, until I had forgotten the girl of my dream."