If all the stupid decorations in public spaces that no one ever looks at had never been built and the money that had gone to their construction and installation instead went overseas to help poverty and curable disease, I wonder how many people would benefit. Am I an asshole for thinking this every time I see a gaudy sign or colorful light fixture in a restaurant? People are just there to eat. They really don't give a hoot about the frosted glass wall sconce. Or maybe they do, and their continued business at decorated establishments evinces this.

I'm really happy that I go to UCSD. Today I saw such a wide variety of people walking about. Especially for summer session, I've been seeing a lot of students on campus, students from all sorts of backgrounds. Every time I see a young Muslim woman on campus, I feel like I am going to a really good school. I feel like I am in the company of liberal, accepting, friendly people. Maybe I am easily affected by these little things. Is there such a thing as being too observant? Meaning, do I pay attention to the details so much to the extent that I extract meaning where there is none? Maybe there was just a Muslim woman walking around campus today. Maybe it doesn't necessarily mean anything. I think I try and make bigger conclusions about small little things I notice. In doing this, I might be ignoring problems that really exist because my observations have lead me to believe that everything's okay when it's not.

Then again, maybe being overly observant works in the other direction. Maybe I perceive negative occurrences to be a part of a bigger pattern when they're not. So that cancels out the good patterns I falsely believe to exist? Either way, I think I should stop looking for reasoning where there is none. Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes people are in a certain place at a certain time, and the only reason for it is why that person is there at that particular time. Not everyone's every movement is connected to a larger current. Sometimes, people just wander. And I don't want to overlook an individual fish's decision just because the the whole school is moving a certain way.

Going off of yesterday's post, I have been thinking about other spaces that we enter in order to feel like a certain person. Although they all serve their own purpose, we do use them to feel like a kind of person that we want to be. Here is my list:

Hair salon - After I get my hair done, I surely feel like a different person. My appearance has changed and the act of enhancing my appearance arguably makes me a certain type, but being in the space of a salon makes me feel like a part of pop culture. I am in the cool crowd because that is a place that cool people frequent.

Library - Even if I don't read a single book in the library, I feel smarter being in there. The close proximity to so much knowledge makes me feel enlightened. I'll go to the library to work even if I don't use of the resources available. It's a weird kind of contact high that doesn't make much sense, but it feels so right.

Grocery store - The market is a staple of everyday lives because we all need to eat. I can only speak for myself when I say this, but I go into the grocery store sometimes to feel like I care about my body and my health. After going grocery shopping, I feel like I am more in touch with my life, like I am more in control than I was before I went grocery shopping. I think this is because the grocery store gives us so many choices. You can't look anywhere in there without seeing something that you can choose to by or walk past. Maybe this is why shopping malls and stores in general are so popular. We feel in control because there are so many choices at our fingertips. Even if we don't necessarily want to buy everything, or even if we can't afford anything in the store, just being in there puts us on that side of the fence, the consumer side. And part of the American dream is being able to buy anything we want. Being a consumer, having that ability, that is supposedly power. Little do we realize that consumers are at the whim of producers. Having the ability to choose what goes on the shelf, that's a whole other side of power we rarely acknowledge.

Outdoors - I was guilty of this this morning. Lately, I haven't much felt like doing on my morning run. For a while, I had a really good habit of waking up and going on a run before having breakfast. Then I'd come home and make myself something nutritious to eat. I would feel energized and healthy for the rest of the day. In the past few months though, I've given up on running because of business and plain old lethargy. To try and make a comeback, I'll maybe go on a quick walk outside. Even just going around the block once makes me feel better, and even that tiny bit of exercise surely does help. But I've realized that just being outside makes me feel healthier, and I think it's a false sense of healthy. The sun and fresh air is undoubtedly salutary in the morning, but it's not the same as the physical exertion I was putting myself through before.

I spent a lot of today in a coffee shop. It's such a weird setting to be in. Well, for a single anyways. Well, for me anyways. I can't help but look around and wonder what everyone else is doing. It looks like they're meeting people here. It's never a place to come for the coffee. The product they serve is more of an activity to partake in with other people. It's a starting point for conversation and sharing.

What does this say about our ability to connect with others? Does it mean we always need some medium in which to be ourselves, in which to talk to other people? Why can't there be a public space, like a square room with nothing in it, to just meet and chat? This of course takes up valuable space that would otherwise be used for a business. You can't pay rent by giving away free space. Still, there are plenty of public spaces people can meet in. Why don't we go to the park more often to socialize? Or the beach, or just walking around the neighborhood? People do these things, but the cafe is still a staple in everyone's lives.

Maybe it's a way for us to exercise our wallets. It gives us something to buy and show how wealthy we are, that we can buy a cup of coffee that we don't need to furnish an activity that doesn't particularly require any outside factors. There are a lot of things in life that we buy to supplement an activity that doesn't really need it. Driving requires little more than a working car, but rims, paint jobs, accessories, ornaments, lights, and all sorts of decorations are popular with car owners. Even the car itself is often bigger than it needs to be to contain the one or two people that are usually in it.

The cafe is really a sort of identity. We choose a cafe that is decorated and fitted to attract a "cool" crowd. It is hip in its presentation, and therefore attracts the young, hip crowd. We enter this space and then feel like we are a part of this crowd. I am going to think more about this idea that entering a space gives us an identity.

A lot of times I want to force myself to do something, I'll make it known to other people that I have a goal. When I know that other people know, it encourages me to follow up on my plan and see it through. I can't just leave it behind, forget about it, procrastinate, make up excuses, get busy with other things... I have to actually do what I promise I would. ...in theory. I've tried this recently, but it hasn't worked. Maybe it's just not a successful technique for me anymore. Maybe I know that other people don't really care about my goals and won't pressure me or hold me up to my own standards. Maybe people aren't even really reading it.

These promises I make are on Facebook, by the way. That's probably my first problem. No one goes on Facebook to help others or care about their friends. It's more of a cathartic outlet than anything else, which explains why I'm posting about my goals on there in the first place. Facebook has that quality now. It's like a blog where you know other people are watching you and judging you by what you post, and it's enjoyable in a sick way. I have been Facebook friends with so many people who post things just so they'll appear a certain way. They put up a facade. That's so strange that the same platform can be used as an outlet for who you really are or as a canvas for portraying who you want people to see you as.

This makes me wonder what Facebook's successor will be. What qualities and features will it have that will set it apart? What will attract people to it and distract from Facebook? I think it will be guided by the wants and needs of people like I talked about above. They are like consumers in a way. The producers will give them the functionality that they want, whether it's practical or emotional. The next big question is will Facebook be able to keep up? Will they follow suit and evolve to the changing desires of their user base? The converse would be staying the same, not sacrificing their values. But what values does Facebook have exactly? Some may say that they'll change who they are to satisfy the people. I'm not convinced that that makes them any less dignified. Did Mark Zuckerberg create Facebook with certain values he wanted to spread, or was he reflecting values that were already part of culture?

Beast. Monster. Ogre. Ugly. Outcast. Acne. Severe. Limb. Arm. Hand. Finger. Nail. Hammer. Tool. Jersey Shore. Tom's River. Six Flags. Roller coaster. Final Destination 3. Bad movies. Death to Smoochie wasn't that bad...

I don't think I have any pet peeves (except maybe when people ask me what my pet peeves are). When I think of pet peeves, I think of something that's pretty trivial but irritating nonetheless. I really don't think I have any. Not because I'm an easy-going person that sees the good in everything. More like, when I'm bothered, I'm aggravated to the point of pissed off. Case-in-point: the number one thing that bothers me are spoilers. Not expiration dates. I mean in regards to movies, games, tv shows... usually narrative-based works, but not limited to just that. I HATE when people ruin something for me when I intend on experiencing it for myself. It is the most depressing and infuriating thing someone could say to me. I am so looking forward to experiencing a certain emotion, epiphany, realization, solution to a puzzle, or other experience for myself unaltered that when someone tells me what happens, I want to punch that person in the face. I remember reading about the notorious twist in Final Fantasy VII before I planned on playing the game. I didn't think I liked RPGs. I finally played it and loved it, and I was so bummed out that I ruined the big moment for myself. I still managed to tear up, though.

Sometimes people don't so much as spoil it for you, but they do alter your expectations. Conversation about a film, hype surrounding it, excessive viewing of trailers, all kinds of stuff can get into your mind and plant suppositions and preconceived notions of what is to come. Mostly these work against the film viewing experience. All too often I have gone into a movie I have really wanted to see and come out disappointed that the movie did not meet my expectations. It makes me want to experience art in a bubble so I'm not thinking ahead and expecting anything. However, this phenomenon can sometimes make the movie-watching experience better. When I don't think the movie will be very good, I may end up liking it more than anyone else. This is because I expect everything to be bad (or at least the aspects people warn me of), and I expect not to get anything out of the movie. Even if most of the movie is bad, maybe I'll appreciate the costumes, or the lighting, or a joke here and there. Or maybe it will be so bad it's good. Either way, I really liked Death to Smoochy.

I don't really feel like writing today, so I painted a canyon instead (Wacom Bamboo Fun and Photoshop CS3).

All the dreams I've ever had that I can remember:

-Since I was little, I've had this recurring dream where I start on one side of a wall and there's a tiny little door a la Alice in Wonderland. I open it and enter. On the other side is a turquoise-colored world with a glass stage and a troupe of dancing toothpicks. Their routine seems very cult-ish, like they are trying to awaken something. From the sky slowly drops a huge wad of what appears to be ground beef. It is skewered by the toothpicks.

-My first nightmare was that all the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were murdered by some yellow villain. There was blood.

-I recurringly have nightmares where I am stalked and hunted by large animals, usually lions or bears and usually in residential areas like neighborhoods. Sometimes they take place and around my own home, either imaginary, real, or a home from the past. A lion once stalked me for what seemed like hours in my childhood home except the entire bottom floor was one big garage. I always seem to outrun them with superhuman speed, but just barely. I have a conscious fear of big animals that have too much physical power for me to overcome such as lions, tigers, bears, sharks, alligators, etc. Dreaming about them could be a manifestation of this fear. I have also been told that it might represent a fear of losing control or not being in control of my own destiny. I am tempted to believe this (see my last post).

-On multiple occasions, I have dreamt that my teeth are rotting. I look in the mirror and my usually perfectly yellow teeth have large brown cavities in them. Not enough to be ridiculous, just enough to be scary and somewhat real.

-When I was in the mental hospital, I remember dreaming of being in a rocket. I think I also dreamt of a hot air balloon ride not long after that. I sure wanted to get out of adolescence by unconventional means.

-My favorite dreams (when I remember them) are about video games. Sometimes I make up new game mechanics in my dreams. That's the ultimate creative expression for me, when I make something up in my head and live it out in a dream.

-My wet dreams are nothing but horrible. They have involved detachable penises and old men among other things. I'll just leave it at that.

I can't sleep. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I have a year left before I graduate college, and I don't know how I'm going to spend it. Here at UCSD, I have two majors: Communication and Interdisciplinary Computing and the Arts (visual arts emphasis); and I am minoring in Computer Science. I am interested in technology—the history thereof as well as technical skills such as programming—and also more creative disciplines such as art and its history. I love working with people, both as part of teams and also serving outside parties. I am equally fascinated by theory and pragmatics. I absorb like a sponge and I work hard. I have no clue what I'm doing.

What turns my anxiety to anger are the people who claim to support me. "Don't worry so much, you'll figure it out. You're young. You have time. Just enjoy life." First of all, I'll be 25 in a few short months. My last year of college will be my 7th. This is undergraduate work, by the way. I agree that there's nothing wrong with taking time. Everyone has a different trajectory even if they land in the same place. But I haven't accomplished anything noteworthy (to me) in these 6 years since high school. I've been jumping between schools and majors, including accumulating $60,000 in debt at a private school that I dropped out of, living off my mom the entire time. There is nothing okay about continuing this stagnant lifestyle without planning to move on. This is what I am trying to do: I am planning. And every time I voice my concerns about my plans, people question why I'm even planning in the first place. The only people who support me don't support my adulthood. They just enable this prolonged adolescence that precludes any substance I could make of myself. Furthermore, despite what they say, I am trying to "enjoy life." I enjoy life by working hard and seeing my work pay off. That will not happen with my feet up on the coffee table. Let me repeat myself: I enjoy working hard and seeing my work pay off. I have been working hard academically for several years now, and the payoff (besides a diploma, which I am genuinely excited for) is a job. But as soon as I plan for this, I'm "worrying." I don't much think trying to figure out how I'll work after school is a trivial worry. It's a legitimate concern many times over for the reasons I have already mentioned. I am not going to wait until the day the bills show up to prove that.

So what is it that I could do after graduation? For several years off and on, I have considered working in the video game industry. More specifically, I have studied game art. Right now I am working on a game with some friends that we hope to publish by October. I have taken this project to be a sort of test for myself: if this proves to be enjoyable, productive, and lucrative, I will very much consider working as an artist next year. But as it stands now, misery is gradually creeping up. Stress is coursing through my veins. Like I said, I cannot sleep. It is normal for me to excuse the final pieces I produce. I don't like my art; I paint for the act of painting, not any end result. But lately, I've even been upset by painting itself. No drop of paint happens the way I want it to. What's coming out of my hands is uninspiring and, more importantly, it's not doing the job. It just looks like, and feels like, I am trying to do something I am not cut out for. I still feel like art is a great hobby of mine, and I will continue to practice it on a regular basis. But after this project is over, I don't know that I will want to continue art at a professional level.

My backup plan (which was my main plan when I first arrived at UCSD) is to move to LA and get an internship at my favorite television studio, G4. I have felt like working in game journalism would be fulfilling in ways that I seek on a regular basis anyway. I am in this community all the time. Games, art, technology, this is what I breathe every day of my life. Learning and talking about it, teaching other people what's new, what I think, sparking discussions, contributing to a field I love—this is how I envision a career in journalism to be like. However, I tried my hand at this my first year at UCSD. I wrote for The Guardian and had the worst time trying to change my voice into something appropriate for that publication. I was not the best writer and I knew this, so I tried my best to take direction and write in an entertaining but informative way. It was like pulling teeth that weren't there. This is one reason I am worried about this path. Also, I'm not too keen on the part about moving up to LA with little more than an idea. I would try and intern at this place before I graduate, but even then nothing's a sure bet. Furthermore, moving to LA brings up so many dreams from my past about becoming an actor and comedian, things that I am not convinced will ever come true. I would love to be the person that can just drop everything logical to follow dreams, and if fact I did that before. I tried, I gave it my all. And when I did this, majoring in theatre out of high school, I ended up having a nervous breakdown when I realized it just wasn't for me. It was horrible, scarring realization. I felt like I was breaking up with a significant other. And now, 6 years later, long after getting over the experience, that jerk is calling me. I will say I am a different person than I was back then. I'm much more honest and comfortable in my own skin. Unfortunately, Hollywood doesn't appreciate such authenticity. Even if it did, I'm still pretty self-conscious about all my skills. Going through the aforementioned cliche artist's turmoil is not helping the matter.

Sometimes I wish I was involved in an atrocity. Like a robbery, or earthquake, or something horrible where I could be a hero and save the day and make money off of interviews talking about the greatness of this one thing I did. It wouldn't require an esteemed personality trait on my part or a drive that I sustain with hard work. Just a quick few minutes. Or I could be shot in the head and put into a coma, or lose my legs under a large piece of rubble, or something to that effect. Not death; I don't want to die. I just want someone to make a decision for me. Either way, heroism or tragedy, some other force would be guiding my fate. Not me. I can't even decide what to eat for lunch every day. How do I know what to do with my life?

Before my group goes out on our final project excursion, it would be good to try and predict what kind of results we will get. Our idea at this point is to go to public places with lots of people and ask for advice. We are assuming roles that are not to far from ourselves: graduating or soon-to-graduate college students about to embark on their journey into adulthood and not knowing how to maneuver through the real world. We think this idea solves the problem of it being hard to get bystanders to participate in our project. If we open up first and make ourselves vulnerable, then maybe people will be more likely to interact with us because it doesn't seem as risky and uncomfortable. It's also more likely that we will get a wide variety of people to participate this way, not just the outgoing or curious.

The advice we get will depend largely on where we decide to go. We talked about asking people at a cafe. These are great places to catch unassuming people who are relaxed and not stressed out by their own lives. I think no matter what people we find there, coffee shops open people up and put them at ease. However, I do expect to find maybe the smarter part of the population there. I don't know if I would necessarily take their advice automatically, but I think they'll be more thoughtful than other places we could go.

We also talked about going to an area surrounded by office buildings or other places with business-minded folk. The idea here is to talk to people who are very conscious of how they became successful and will therefore have an answer at the ready when we ask how we should go about success. The goal is to see how people interact with strangers in this situation and how their responses may reflect who they really are as people.

I thoroughly don't understand people who get so excited when watching sports. It's exciting, and the team represents a hometown. I get that. But yelling at the television screen, at the players, at other fans... YOU'RE NOT EVEN PLAYING. If you're actually being tackled and your bones are pushed close to their breaking point, yelling is completely justifiable then. It's not validated when you have chili nachos dripping down your chin. And people get so caught up in the individual players' performance. It must be so stressful being judged a few hours at a time when in reality, that person spend weeks upon weeks of their lives practicing for what could amount to be just a couple of public games. I get competitive and pumped up when playing sports. Lord knows I get excited when I'm in the middle of a tense video game. However, I am playing. How the game unfolds directly affects me. I am involved. It is first-hand. My hand is first to act because I am in control of my actions in that game. But if I'm watching someone else play... anyway, you get the idea. I don't get people. Morons.

I have a stomach ache. Not really sure what caused it. It might have been that turkey I had for lunch that had been sitting in the fridge for a few days past its life expectancy. Well, the expectancy of the turkey meat. The actual bird has been long dead. Hmm.. Does the sex of the animal dictate the quality of the meat? I've never considered that before until this moment. If I were a cannibal, I'd sure eat males for protein and females for something fatty and more... decadent. Generally speaking, of course. Jessica Biel has much more protein than most guys I know. Man, if I were a cannibal, I would be starving. I hang out with lots of programmers at UCSD, and let me tell you the computer science department is like a pile of skeletons. I'm starving. I mean, I would be if I were a cannibal.

Let me just clear up the last part: I am not a cannibal. I just think cannibalism is fascinating. Not the weirdo secluded island tribes that get sick of coconuts. That's boring. I'm talking about the sick serial killers who eat their victims. I've read stories of these people, journal entries and whatnot. The way they talk about the people they kill and eat is intimate and shows some serious calculation in who they choose. It's like they want a relationship with these people first before they eat them. I remember reading about this one guy who specifically went after a small child because she was nice and trusted him. It's odd to make friends with someone only to kill them and eat their flesh. Well, it's more than a little peculiar to do that for any reason. But I assumed people killed out of rage or other negative feelings towards a person, not admiration or affection. I don't understand people who kill other people. Almost as much as I don't understand why YOU KEEP YELLING AT THE FOOTBALL GAME THAT YOU'RE NOT EVEN A PART OF.

I don't know if I will attend my high school reunion in a few years (Yep, it's coming up.), but I like to imagine what it would be like. Lots of children, I think. Privileged middle class white people who've been told they're wonderful their whole lives tend to give birth to people that will continue to do the same. However, those who have never had love try and find it with a... let's say stranger, for all intents and purposes, have a child with said stranger, and then split. So tykes and tots will be in abundance. I hope alcohol is served at this event. Not for me, for them. And if I go, I hope I remember to bring a camera.

Sunday night always feels... wrong. It feels like it should be better than it is. Like it's supposed to be happy and joyful and relaxed and... holy, or some shit like that. But it never is. It's just pre-Monday anxiety filled with disappointment that the weekend is almost over, and you probably didn't get as much done as you wanted to. Thankfully, I did a few hours of homework and laundry, and that's about as much productivity as I can ask of myself between Friday and Monday.


Popcorn is really good. But when I eat it, it's usually too much and I feel like throwing up. Never thrown up popcorn before, but I imagine it's like a bunch of little scratchy kernels combing the mucous of the esophagus as it comes back up. And by the time it gets to your mouth, it's one big gummy-juicy-crispy wad, not unlike a mixture you'd see flowing down the rivers of some planet light years away.


Several years ago, there was a TV channel called TechTV. It was great. They had a news show that focused on news stories from around the globe that dealt with technology. There was the troubleshooting show Call For Help. And of course The Screen Savers, an hour long variety show of reviews, discussions, and all-around nerdiness. After a while, it merged with the video game channel G4 to make G4TechTV, then it dropped half the moniker and just became G4 again. A few shows from TechTV survived, but it is mostly a video game channel again. Next year, I am thinking about interning at one of the shows and maybe working in television. I can't promise I'll be good, but at least I'll look good.


That last sentence was really stupid. This is going no where at warp speed. I'm gonna go eat.

I've been thinking about Friday's movie theater shooting in Aurora, Colorado, and I can't help but wonder how it will be remembered. Specifically, I wonder how the gunman will be known when people look back on this event in history. I assume he will just be written off as a crazy person without any reason or logic to his behavior. I agree that, whatever reason he had in his head, it is completely unjustifiable. There is a severe dearth of logic with someone that does something like this. However, we should always critically think about these tragedies more than we do. I do not know if there is a "why" behind this event, but there are a few reasons that should at least be considered. (Note that blaming the media, art, entertainment, etc. for peoples' behavior is not what I am suggesting. Such allegations are naive, irrelevant, and distract from substantial conversation on this topic. I could talk ad nauseam about falsely attributing behavior to media, especially alleged connections between violent behavior and entertainment media, but that shall be for another post.)

At this point, there isn't a lot of information on the suspect, his motivation, and his background. A few people who have known him say he kept to himself and was "socially inept." He also worked very hard academically and was a doctoral student until dropping out a couple months ago.

First of all, let me illustrate a distinction I make between two types of mass murderers. (I stress that I am not an expert in psychology or criminal behavior; these are simply my observations.) When people say the words "psycho" or "psychopathic," I think of psychopathy in the psychiatric sense: a person devoid of sensitivity or care of other people, someone socially detached and unafraid of consequences. A psychopath lacks the mental characteristic commonly referred to as a conscious. Not all psychopaths become mass murderers, but it is easy to see how someone who wants to kill would have no trouble doing so if he/she is a psychopath. The other type of person I think could be a mass murderer is someone who does not necessarily have a psychiatric predisposition to seeing other people as disposable. Rather, this type of person is pushed to insanity by factors in his/her life such as upbringing, treatment by peers, social isolation, etc. This would be a person who loses sense of reality and human connection due to specific events or general life patterns. Compare this to a psychopath who is born this way. In other words, I think insanity can be caused by both nature or nurture depending on the person.

Again, not much is known about James Holmes at this point. However, if my distinction between two types of killers is correct, let's assume Holmes may be the latter kind—not a "psychopath," but rather someone who traveled to the brink of sanity because of an unfortunate life. If my hypothesis is right about a person transforming into a kind of personality that is capable of killing, this transformation is preventable. Of course everyone grows up differently. And it is hard to draw parallels between murderers who seemingly act without logic. But perhaps they did not have to be that way. Perhaps Holmes was not destined to walk into that theater and murder innocent people. If his life had been different, maybe he would not have committed such a terrible crime. Going insane is not an easy process to detect, track, and find the cause of. But I believe we should start talking about this more to hopefully find patterns that can be broken.

I think people are afraid of looking for reasons for horrible occurrences because they don't want to seem like they are a) sympathizing with the perpetrator; b) finding an explanation for the act that is anything but the fault of the perpetrator; c) blaming innocent people for the actions of a criminal. This taboo is not useful. I am not saying that all murders can be explained or that there is some unifying reason for why people do horrible deeds. Maybe they are all just crazy people who are born to be evil. I don't claim to know one way or the other. But if what happened at that movie theater, if what happened inside James Holmes' mind, is part of a larger problem, it would be an awful shame for the world to cast it off as an anomaly and possibly miss the chance to prevent similar catastrophes from happening. Labeling a person as the enemy is easy. Seeing the world from their eyes and possibly understanding how they think, that's harder. It's even scary to think about. But I think it must be done if we want these nightmares to disappear.

Friendships and the evolutions of them throughout time and life events and whatnot... It's the craziest phenomenon that's simultaneously prevalent and so hard to understand. We all have relationships with others that we observe strengthen and then weaken as people grow together and then apart. It's easy on paper, but when taking into account all the facets of a single relationship and what they mean to those individuals, it's a headache. The following is a list of questions about the events and factors of a relationship. The answers to these questions can say a lot about how two people know and feel about each other.

-How did they meet?

-What mediums do they use to keep in contact?

-Do they go to school together?

-Do they work together?

-In what other ways might they interact outside of scheduled "friend time"?

-Are they both a part of a hierarchy of some sort?

-Are they romantically involved?

-Are they sexually involved?

-How close do they live together?

These and many more qualities of a friendship dictate what type of friendship it is. That is, how close the two are and in what capacities are they friends. I think I'm realizing that as we get older and we mature, so do our relationships. They are able to take the stresses of multiple contexts. We can have friends who we see in different settings, work with, live with, etc. Of course we all need our own space, but it becomes more possible to use the foundation of a friendship to launch into a more productive partnership. It tests the patience, communication skills, and commitment of both parties, but it is very much possible. I am learning to become more cautious about how I speak and interact with those whom I want to keep in my life for a long duration. It is scary as all hell, but there's no learning to be done in staying safe.

What's the difference between familiarity and monotony? What's the difference between riskiness and recklessness?

Almost every morning for the past year, I've had the same breakfast:
A) Slice of whole wheat toast with almond butter, peanut butter, Nutella (or a generic equivalent), sliced banana, cinammon, and possibly honey. This stemmed out of a recipe I made for my version of an Elvis sandwich. I call it Alex's Pelvis (Alex P's version of an Elvis). It is comprised of the above ingredients between two slices of toast and grilled on the stove. Or better yet, one slice of toast sliced width-wise into two thin slices. This is to let the creamy inside of the sandwich really shine. Also, I put the but butters on one slice but leave the Nutella and honey for the other slice so that when the sandwich is grilled, the honey and the Nutella caramelize a bit.
B) Home fries fried in a small amount of oil; fluffy on the inside but golden and crispy on the outside; seasoned with black pepper, garlic powder, and paprika; served with ketchup and barbecue sauce.
C) Scrambled egg if I worked out that morning.

Is there something wrong with this? Do I need to get out of my comfort zone? Or have I just found the perfect combination of healthy and delicious? I don't get sick of this combination, so something has fallen into place. Even if it is perfect, should I mix it up for the sake of adding variety and not getting my body (...and soul. Just try the Pelvis.) accustomed to one thing?

Whatever. It puts me in a good mood and prepares me for the day. That's enough for me to make a habit.

Don't really know what to talk about, so I'll just type until I think of something here I go what will come out of my fingers malabar chestnut. Scientific name: pachira aquatica. Indigenous to the Americas. How come when people think "tropical" and "tree" they think palm? There is so much more to tropical flora. Don't get me wrong, the world of palms is deep and riddled with amazing... frawns. But there's much more to the world than pretty green spikes.

Okay, that didn't much go anywhere, let's try this again. Ice cream. Mint 'n chip. Creme de menthe. Rum. Daquiris. Strawberrys. There we go. Today I heard a song off of a record that was recorded for a charity. It's called Sweet Relief, and it raises money for musicians in need of financial assistance when faced with health care costs. Their logo is a strawberry but sort of in the shape of a guitar pick. I think that from now on, for at least awhile, every time I see a strawberry, I will think of this charity. That kind of visual association is beautiful in a way. But it's also the basis of advertising. Marketing is all about reminders and obsessive thoughts about brands and goods and services that can only be quelled by buying the damn piece of crap whose logo floats around in your head or whose theme song you can't stop humming. And one will remind us of another, and before we know it, we've got a shopping list on our hands. Our culture is full of these cross-associations where one thing signifies another, and it's all meant to make money for someone. Thankfully, we know how to maneuver through this deluge of signs. Sometimes I wonder what someone from another time period would think of this world. If, say, a pilgrim walked into a Target, I don't think she'd know up from down. Depressing how convoluted the world has become? Possibly. It's easy to say how beautiful a simple life would be. But about that maneuvering. Aren't we kind of awesome for getting through it all? I think it's quite an accomplishment of us as people, as members of this culture, to look through it all and see what really matters. We are discerning people who realize the brevity of life and how our priorities don't necessarily match up with what we encounter on a daily basis. It's like we're seeing with two eyes: one looking in front of us, and the other looking at what really matters. Err, humans do have two eyes. But we're looking different things at once. We look at what is in front of us, but our peripheral vision keeps track of what is real.

Famous people are weird. Having crushes on them is weirder.
What does it mean to like celebrities? I don't think it means you actually like those people; you don't even know them. You may think you know them based on magazine articles, television interviews, their public work, but you don't know who they really are or what they're like in real life. Or do you? I wonder how accurately media portrays people. It surely depends on the media and the person in question, but I err on the side of skepticism. I don't think there's any way to truly know a person until you know them personally. The reason for this is because meeting someone yourself involves the least number of mediations: zero. There is nothing standing in between you and the other. There is no interviewer, or producer, or editor, or camera operator, or director, or writer, or any other person who would otherwise get in the way of you making your own judgments. These judgments may be inaccurate. It doesn't mean you still know the person because you may think false ideas or be wrong for any number of reasons. But at least no one else is doing the dirty work for you.

So if liking celebrities doesn't mean liking the actual person (because that's impossible), then does it mean liking what they represent? And what exactly do they represent? Well, they most often represent whatever the media portrays them to represent. And so in turn, you are really just appreciating the side of the person (which may or may not actually be part of the person) that the media is choosing to show. In effect, you are falling for an illusion. This is not unlike falling for someone through rumors, hearsay, stories, folklore, etc. No one is who they say they are, no one is who other people make them out to be, and really no one is who you judge them to be, even when you know them. But that last option is the most suitable for deciding if you like somebody, no matter how wrong you may be.

None of those are really good answers, so I'll spell it out bluntly. When you like a celebrity, you're probably stupid. You probably watch too much TV, and you never read the newspaper. You most likely don't have many friends, or the ones you do have are all as groundless as you are. You probably don't get out much, and your job (if you have a solid one) doesn't put in contact with new people or others' insights and perspectives.

I make a deal out of this because I do not consider myself one of these people, but I have started showing the symptoms lately. Why, why does your singing voice have such an allure..
What my attraction to certain people says about my own personality... That's for another post. But I can assure you I read the newspaper.

I am at a creative standstill.
The worst part of driving along the road of creativity is coming to a roadblock.
I have no idea how to be brilliant on the spot. The only time I come up with good ideas is when I'm not thinking of them. A few months ago, I got a really crazily scary idea for a creature design while walking around my sunny neighborhood looking at flowers.

I am currently working on a creative project with friends, and I am frustrated at our lack of productivity. I don't mean competency to turn out work, but rather creative productivity. We are still in the planning/conceptual stage, and we have tried our hardest to think of good ideas. We are all very talented, hard-working, innovative critical thinkers. I think that we are all so passionate about what we do that we tend to overthink and put too much pressure on ourselves. We—or rather, I, as I really should only speak for myself—tend to dive into a project and lose sense of direction. I envelope myself in the thoughts and feelings surrounding it to the point of losing objectivity. I don't consider myself a creator who easily get emotionally attached to certain designs or ideas. If I want to work as a commercial artist, I need to be able to stand back from ideas, either mine or someone else's, and view it as science. I need to appraise what is right and what is wrong without any favor towards or against anything. As stolid and scientific as I am, this is somehow very, very hard. I don't think it's because I am attached to individual ideas so much as I am attached to the idea of succeeding. Not wanting to fail makes me so dedicated to succeeding that I have trouble molding and shaping the clay into what it will become. I just see a big hunk of clay on the table and think, "I don't want to screw it up. Let's just work with it the way it is."

No, that metaphor doesn't make sense. A better example for how we're doing now is that we're all looking at this blank canvas. Pure white, not a lick of paint to be seen. And we keep talking about what we could paint, and we talk some more. Then we nix some ideas and build up others. Then we tweak some stuff. Then we scrap it all and start over. Meanwhile, we could have turned out two or three small prototype paintings to see what might work and give it a shot.

We're overthinkers, that's for sure. I am especially. In my own art, I do the same thing. I plan out each detail ad nauseum. Not only does this waste time that could be spent actually creating, but I also set the standard way too high for myself. If I can see each little detail in my head, I set myself up for failure when those details don't materialize on the canvas like I hoped. I also prevent any chance of happy accidents because anything that strays from my vision is automatically deemed a flaw. There is no experimenting or improvisation allowed when the blueprint is set in marble.

We need to just... make something.
walking + talking > talking

Today we had a group assignment in class to find a place on campus where people congregate, observe how people use the space and what the purpose of the space might be, and take notes. Furthermore, we were asked to disrupt the usual flow of activity in the space somehow and see what happens. My group chose the entrance to Geisel Library. We stood right above the entrance and peered below to observe the flow of people in and out of the library. For our activity, we chose to block half of the path by sitting on the walkway in front of the entrance and reading out loud. We sat in a small circle and read from our laptops at a medium volume so people passing by could clearly hear what we were saying. Despite the interesting material (reading for this class), no one paid us any attention. People just kept walking on a mission to get to where they were going. I thought we would at least get a few odd stares or remarks, but not one person reacted, at least in a noticeable way. The only person that stopped was my roommate and that's only because she recognized me. Frankly, we got more looks when we were standing above the entrance and observed.

We concluded that people passed by because it's a college campus and social experiments like this aren't out of the norm. This campus in particular has a lot of quirky students who do things like this somewhat regularly. Also, protests and other gatherings occur often here. Our attempt at disruption did not prove weird enough for the average UCSD onlooker. However, maybe people did have a reaction but they did not display it. If a person stopped to talk to us or so much looked our way, they may have felt that that gave us an opportunity to involve them in the activity. So to avoid being roped in, people may have intentionally ignored us.

If I was to do this exercise again, I would try something even more extreme. We considered doing something a little more invasive such as talking to people as they went in the library, either small chat or asking them if they needed assistance in the library. I'm always a little hesitant to do things like this not only because of embarrassment, but also because I hate to bother people when they look busy and determined. No one goes to the library to chill out, at least generally not on a college campus during summer. The only young people who are at the library are those taking classes who need to get work done. I'm also just afraid of how people will react. Some may get angry or uncomfortable, and while this isn't validated by someone simply asking you how your day is, I still don't like pushing peoples' buttons. I can see how in rare cases a person might feel unsafe, and I didn't feel like defending my artsy social experiment to a security guard.

The worst thing, the absolute worst thing in the world is having an awkward social moment. This is because it is a disruption of social text. Intended meaning of speech can be muddled or overturned.  Speaker is left frustrated, ashamed, disappointed, or embarrassed, and listener is made confused, offended, sad, or just feeling downright odd. Today I had just such a moment and it is still tearing me up inside. If I could turn back the sands of time, I would. But I can't, so I must live with myself and my horrifically missed mark for the rest of my life. Or until I grow senile and forget memories like these. But even then, I think this one will slip through the cracks and haunt me past death. I have been the cause of so many awkward instances that you would think I'd be immune to the obsession that follows, but my conscious does not let me forget so easily. Fortunately or not, today's occurrence was not nearly as awful as other awkward moments in my life. A few have even crossed the border from uncomfortable to socially tragic.

When I worked at Cold Stone Creamery, there was a young girl no older than thirteen who always came in with her family. She had some trouble speaking, though I couldn't tell if it was a speech impediment or something more cognitive. Either way, her friendliness was not lost on the observant, and I tried my best to be personable each time I served her. One day, she came in alone, presumably with a family member waiting outside, to make an order.
     As best she could, she managed the word "cake." Then, "birthday cake."
     "Oh, you'd like to order a cake?" I respond.
     "Mmm hmm."
     "Okay," I enthuse while nodding my head. As I walk to the back to grab an order form, I feel glad that it's a slow night so I can give this girl my full attention. Right as I return to the front with paper in one hand and pen in the other, I see her at the end of the lobby, rushing through the door as hurriedly as a person could. I realize then that my excitement came off as sarcasm and mockery of her condition. I thoroughly upset this poor child who went out on a personal and public limb to do something on her own. She did not seem like the kind of person who comes out of her shell very often, so to exercise a little independence was a monumental risk. I taught her not only that it doesn't pay off, but that it backfires so harshly that there is no reason to ever leave the comfort of loneliness. Occasionally I think about this incident and dream that someday, I will run into this person again, and I'll be able to right my wrong. I'll make her a cake completely from scratch. None of this corporate soybean oil/high fructose corn syrup mess, but something crafted out of love. But I know this day will most likely never come, and there is nothing than can console me. When I think back on this memory, I simply feel like mud. The kind that ruins a birthday.

Time flies when you're having fun. Time also flies when you're not necessarily having fun. Time flies when you're not having fun at all. Time flies when you hate life. Time flies when you love life. Time flies when you're waiting for what seems like an eternity; it's just not flying in your direction. Time flies into clean windows and loses consciousness in the dirt for a few hours. That's what that thud outside was. Time flies when you think you're working hard until you realize that 6 years have passed by and you have nothing to show for your efforts. Time flies when you're trying your hardest. Time flies when nothing gets done. Time flies when you're trying your hardest to get stuff done but nothing seems to make the cut.

Where does all that stuff go? The effort you put into being fruitful and the prospective results of labor. Where does that go? It existed at one point (inside the head at the very least), so it's not like it never existed. I want to visit this place where dead goals go to flee their creators. Is it the goals that want to run away, or does time kidnap them? Or do their creators lose track of them?

Time flies when you're not trying to write for forty-five minutes. Time flies when you're not doing homework. Time flies when you're not working. Time flies when you're not thinking about the present. Time flies when you're thinking about the past. Time flies when you're thinking about the future. Time flies when fingers hit keyboards around the world.

Time does not fly when only one keyboard is being used. Time does not fly when you're not yet graduated. Time does not fly when you're productive. Time does not fly when you're awake. Time does not fly when you're trying your hardest to make it go faster. Time is not very nice to its inhabitants. Time does not fly when I'm trying to write for forty-five minutes. Time does not fly when I'm healing. Time does not fly when I'm trying to forget. Time does not fly when I'm trying to fall asleep. Time does not fly when I'm tired of the present. Time does not fly when you're waiting for the video to buffer.

To my knowledge, the immense popularity of dating websites does not correspond to their success rates. This is a problem. Hopeful singles keep coming back to these online forums to allegedly find true love (or at least true lust), but there has to be some other reason. If they were really looking to go on successful dates, they would stop trying after realizing that weren't getting anywhere. Because of the self examination one must do in order to set up a profile, I think many people who frequent these sites only want to keep thinking about themselves. But they can't simply obsess over a mirror; they need to know that other people are watching. They need to know that every update to their profile is seen by another person, regardless if this other is compatible or even attracted to them. In other words, they're personality exhibitionists. I would know because I am one. I have not gone a successful date with a person from OkCupid ever. But I still check it every day religiously to see who is looking at me. That is one of the interesting characteristics of OkCupid: the ability to see the visitors to your page. You can see who looked at you and at what time. This in combination observing whom sends you messages and whom does not is telling about what kinds of people like you and what kinds just pass you by. I'd like to think it's telling, anyways. My exhibitionism mixed with my scientific methodologies gives me very particular ways in maneuvering these dating websites. I maintain my online presence more diligently than I maintain my car.

But that's just me. What about all the other weirdos who date online without ever leaving the house? What're their excuses? Some are purely and naively optimistic. Their experiences tells them that these services don't help how they claim to, but these obviously aren't people who look to the past for lessons. They just keep on with their same pattern in the hopes that someone brilliantly fresh and new will come along and snatch up the person with the most notch marks on the wall. Maybe that's what these sites teach: persistence. The longer you stay, the better people the sites matches you with. It's like a reward for sticking around. Or maybe they just seem better because you're been alone for so long by that point that you'll date just about anybody who will give you the time of day. I'd like to think it's that, because then I can say that I haven't gotten to that point. I don't compromise my values or standards to which I hold up prospective dates just to have someone. On the other hand, I wish I was that person. Then I would have something more interesting to write about than my obsession with dating online. Something more interesting, like.... my mediocre relationship with my boyfriend who I met online.

Or maybe people aren't having as much trouble dating online as I am. I just don't hear many success stories of people who meet online. It's always that you meet people at work or school or that trip to the gym that you just have to tell your entire social network about. No couple ever says they met online. Maybe they did but they just don't admit it. Or maybe the only couples that meet online are hermits that go online for a specific reason, and so it's hard to hear their stories when they're harder to track down.

I still think there are a lot of self-adoring people who need the world to know what they're looking for in a mate (even if they no longer actually care about finding one).

How much does voice play into what someone says? I don't mean the English teacher "I want to hear your individual voice in your paper" meaning. I mean actual voice, the audible characteristics aside from what someone is actually saying. Do listeners perceive someone's speech differently depending on the arrangement of their mouth and how it sounds when talking? The question is rhetorical, as of course voice is a crucial part of the message and how it is received by others. I wonder how many people are not listened to or not taken seriously because of how they sound. I imagine there is a lot of ignoring and misunderstanding because someone doesn't sound convincing or engaging. This also has a lot to do with the delivery of speech, but again, this is not necessarily an easily controllable quality. Sometimes people just talk funny, or pause too often, or stutter, or speak slower than others, or have some physical quirk while they talk that might distract or signify a meaning the speaker does not intend. It makes me very pessimistic about our communication skills as humans. We have the right equipment and mental capacity to transfer meaning to each other without any inhibitions, but sometimes we get hung up on things like voice. The message is overlooked because of the medium. I'm sure there are times when this is useful, like when trying to tell if someone is lying or reading subtext that the speaker is not explicating in words. However, I bet that voice obstructs messages far more than it enhances them. Is this a quirk of personhood? Should I be proud to have all these extraneous traits that I can't control? Is this part of being an individual? If people are judging me based on how I do over what I do, I'm not sure I want to be quirky. I want my individuality to be defined by my passions in life, my interests, the messages I sent out into the universe. If the voice I use to do so is more remarkable than the messages themselves, I start to lose the point of talking.

I am a firm believer that silence is golden. It's safe, you don't get hurt, no one can see you. You're just an object, a part of the scenery. And it's a great opportunity to simply let other people make fools of themselves.

Sometimes I get in this rut where I don't feel like consuming any social text at all. It's not that I find the world boring, unhealthy, dangerous, or inadequate in any way. Surely there are texts that have these negative characteristics and more, but the entire library of texts that is the world around me should offer something to consume for every kind of day I would have, no? Lately I've felt like there is absolutely nothing I would like to read. At all. And this bothers me because I usually go out of my way to try new things, meet new people, and consume new media I would otherwise not be exposed to were it not for my attention-deficit tastes. Instead, I have just been interested in things I have already seen before. I keep coming back to the same movies or video games I've already experienced. I'll read news articles, but only of topics that I am familiar with, or only editorials which I already agree with. I don't quite understand my new resistance to the unfamiliar, but I have a few hypotheses. Firstly, I have been working very hard, if I do say so myself, in college. I am learning new things every day, in each class I go to. It's wonderful and I feel my brain expanding more and more, so much so that I feel like I'm in some sort of growth spurt. You know when you're growing as a kid and even walking hurts your legs? Molecules just keep packing themselves in, lengthening bones and muscles to the point that it feels like someone is stretching your limbs with a medieval torture device. Growing is a good feeling, no doubt. But when I get home, all I want to do is...nothing. I just want to sit and pass the time by thinking the same thoughts, listening to my normal music, watching syndicated episodes of TV shows I've seen too many times to count. I wonder if I'm wasting my time or just recharging some resource of sanity only filled by the "usual." But I don't want to have a usual anything. I want to have new texts all the time; I want to be intellectually promiscuous. There's nothing wrong with committment, but I feel like I'm wasting time if I settle for a lesson I've already learned. But maybe I've learned all that one person can. I'm around the age that (supposedly) the brain stops growing, or adjusting or something. I'm no neurologist. There's a real possibility that I am so old that I'm stopping the development process. I am the person who I am going to be. The only food I'll eat must resemble flavors I already enjoy. The only people I will get along with have personalities that I have been exposed to. (Consequently, this may mean the only people I won't get along with have personalities that I have already learned to avoid.) The only technology I will be okay interfacing with can only progress so far past what I have already deemed to be groundbreaking (read: discoveries that have occurred in my generation). Anything else is just too out there for me. Am I turning into.... an old person? I hope not.


I think old people are worthless. Understand me: when I say "old people," I do not mean those who have been around for longer times. I mean people who are set in their ways, so-to-speak. I mean people for whom discussion is an opportunity to regurgitate all their knowledge onto the youth. I mean people for whom the act of listening is equivalent to waiting for an opening to speak. I mean people for whom ethnocentrism is a legitimate ideology. I mean people who need protection against the tyranny and naivete of those who are different. I also mean people who are so "open-minded" that they have no respect for those who are not as adventurous as them. I also mean people who make a religion out of accepting those who are different. I also mean people who believe diversity is more valuable than value itself. 


I hope I am not turning into either of these people, for both know not how to listen, how to read. They have their minds made up about what is comfortable for them, and in both cases there is an area of discomfort. I don't want that. I don't want people to ever make me uncomfortable. I want to make myself uncomfortable by going there first, and that's just what I intend to do for the rest of my life. But I can't do that if I feel like staying home and playing with souvenirs from a trip that's not yet over.


Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I just need a little nap.

This is my daily writing journal I will be maintaining for the duration of my COGN 150 class (Senior Seminar in Communication at UCSD). As prescribed by the syllabus, each entry represents one 45-minute session of free-form writing, although I will also throw in any other forms of expression I feel like utilizing on a given day (probably sketches/paintings as I am a visual artist). I promise to write whatever I cloud feel like, and garage door it will not make any glass of water sense. Or maybe it will; I cannot potato chip predict.

Several years ago, my sister went to Japan. I feel a little guilty not even remembering why, but nevertheless, she brought back lots of souvenirs and photos like any good American would. She gave me this solar-powered figurine that nods its head when provided with sunlight. (Actually, now that I think about it, she might have gotten this from some overpriced gift shop in LA when she lived up there. Eclectic overpriced gift shop, Asian tourist destination, same difference.) It is a plastic pink humanoid figure with a proportionally large spherical head, patiently sitting on a green grass patch holding a flower. Almost immediately, noticing that its face was a little too simple even for a minimalist like myself, I penciled in a mustache above its mouth. Not a bushy Selleck or Pancho Villa, just a couple French curly Qs so its face didn't look so barren. To this day, I wonder what this says about myself. Do I need to mark all my property to somehow feel ownership? Am I afraid people will think I am too much of a follower, a codependent consumer who simply amasses commodities in their pristine factory condition without ever showing that they were owned or used? Or am I just some immature kid that compulsively draws shit? I still have no idea. I doubt the little pink man cares. Sometimes I feel like that thing is collecting solar energy in order to one day melt its ass from the plastic pedestal, get up, and kill me in my sleep.