Last night neither Luke nor I had plans, as we couldn't make it home for Thanksgiving. Instead we went to a cool upscale-looking bar in Belleveue. We had a cute waitress that slouched and said "whats up" every time she came to our table. I tried to see if she had a ring on a certain finger but that is difficult to tell without being obvious. Luke thought she was interested in me.
Neither of us wanted to just go home after dinner, and there were no good movie playing so--and this is where everything went downhill--we went to a coffee shop at 11pm. There was a cute girl there, too, and Luke thought she was interested in me. Unfortunately Luke thinks pretty much every girl is interested in me, and this girl looked 16.
Then I went home. Played a few video games. Took a shower. Went to bed. And couldn't fall asleep. My body was exhausted, but my mind could not shut down. Then I realized that I shouldn't have had a coffee at 11pm. I've been trying to minimize my caffeine intake lately, and between a mountain dew in the afternoon and the coffee I was wired. I tried to fantasize about living on a Sandcrawler, on a desert planet like Dune where it got really cold at night. That didn't work. Then I read a most of some book in the Bible called Ezra. Unfortunately that turned out to be unusually fascinating, so that didn't work either. Then I watched a new episode of House on Hulu. Then I fantasized about meeting people who believe in Flat Earth Theory, and asking if they were pilots, and what it would take to repeat Eratosthenes' Experiment. Then I looked up Nora Jones on wikipedia and read some of her lyrics, unsuccessfully trying to figure out why she is so popular. Then I tried to write a song about people that lived on the west coast, but in a world where there were big mountains between the west and east coasts, and the people thought that the world just ended on the other side of the mountains--except this one guy whose deceased father had a painting of a sunset between cliffs, except that the painting featured and island that didnt exist, and the stars lined up with the eastern sky. The song sucked but I saved it anyway. Then I watched some Nora Jones music video about chasing pirates, which largely resembled the opening scenes of Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. Then I paced around my apartment. Then I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. All during this time my anxiety over missing sleep grew with each hour I lost. Then I went back on Hulu and started watching Arrested Development. That show is awesome by the way; you can watch the episodes over and over again and they are still funny. I made it through three before I finally started to get sleepy. It was 6am. I think I feel asleep as soon as I laid down.
We have a meeting every day at 11am. If we don't make it to the office on time, or are "working from home" then we have to call into the meeting. I set my alarm for 11 am, woke up, cleared my voice, and dialed into the meeting. But there was no meeting. I listened to the crappy sounding wait music while I went back to sleep. Arriving at the office around 2pm, I discovered that there was an emergency (unless you are a business person, then its a "fire") going on. It had been going on since early in the morning. Fortunately, no one paged me. So now I'm sitting in my office with two coworkers, all tooling away on our computers. Well, I'm mostly just listening because I'm useless. But anyway, it reminds me of a lan party. Also I feel like crap, which is about right for the second day of our old parties.
[Update 8:10pm]
I just said "thats what she said" during a critical conference call with the heads of my department, not realizing my phone was unmuted.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Dirty Balls
We went mini-golfing Sunday. I'm writing about this because it is an experience I will not forget, and because it represents what I think of half of Seattle. To begin, the place is called smashputt, and via its own advertising, and word of mouth, is advertised to be some incredible, extreme, and intense mini-golfing experience. There is a waiting list to get in. What that means is you have to buy tickets online, and if you don't, you may get stuck outside waiting in line (which is what happened to us). For a mini golf course.
As it turned out, it really wasn't that special of a place. The most notable part was the unfinished warehouse room, the extremely low quality holes, mismatched ugly (but probably artistic) furnature, and everything seemed homemade. Well, the wrong things. The hold marker stands (that have the name of the hole, and some rules that the author thought was funny) were handcrafted from two by fours, which clearly took a substantial amount of effort. But then, the lighting on the actual courses themselves was mostly table lamps. They could have just bought some nice stands for the course names, and spend all their do-it-yourself time implementing better lighting.
Speaking of the courses, they were fun. And interesting. And broken. Most were powered by a combination of air compressors and power, both of which went out multiple times. The most notable course was an air compressor gun that fired golf balls at targets made from painted sawblades in front of a pile of trash. You didn't even fire it yourself--you just pointed the gun while a staff person front-loaded a golf ball and pressed the trigger for you. Still, you could have some fun, because the pile of trash included a piano, and if you hit the piano just right the ball would come flying back at you. Of course, this "hole" really had nothing to do with minigolf, other than using golf balls as munition. If you hit a target on the first try, you get a "hole in one" and if not, you get a two. So the most prestigious hole also had the least effect on your score.
The next coolest hole was basically a catapult aimed at a castle. The amount of golfing skill required to load the catapult roughly resembles the skill needed to pour milk into a cup via a large funnel. You basicall hit the ball into these rails, and it slides up the length of the catapult arm. Actually, the catapult built to look like a trebuchet, but it was powered like a catapult, and I've already typed most of this paragraph using the work catapult, so we'll continue. The catapult didn't work very well, though. I spent my five shots unsuccessfully trying to find the correct arm necessary for the impotent catapult to launch my ball into the castle. Luke ignored the catapult completely, and bounced his ball of the ledge behind it and into the castle on the first shot.
The rest of the holes were amusing, but unremarkable. They all involve things that either spun or knocked your ball off of a narrow path, just like every other cheesy minigolf place. The only different here, was the courses were just some felt glued onto wood planks, and playing half of the holes involved little use of strategies one normally employs in a game of mini golf. The final hole featured a machine that, I think, it supposed to drill a hole in your ball, and then crush it, and then drop it into a bin. Unfortunately the machine wasn't working quite right. It did drill a hole--so long as you put two balls in at once to force the first one under the drill--but a sort of...error in the crushing step caused the ball to launch out the side of the contraption, piercing the poorly secured mesh wall and roll along the floor. So I guess half the people took home golf balls with a hole on the top.
Most of the time, I was more bored than I get even at work. However the other people were enjoying it, so I didn't say anything. Years of high school dances, awkward dates, business meetings, Army trade shows and tolerating hot girls' lame [boy]friends have given me lots of practice at feigning interest with minimal effort. Also, there was a girl there who loves Firefly.
So, in summary, Smash Putt is everything I perceive about the weird stuff that you can find in Seattle, or at least Capitol Hill: its weird, artistic, pretentious, and highly overrated. Like the bar I went to that was supposedly awesome because there was a ton of art on the walls that you could buy.
Oh, and golf balls were ugly, dirty, miscolored, and some (like mine) were chipped. And they didn't have any putters large enough for someone of my size.
One of the girls in that group told me that they had tried to go Salsa dancing, but people were mean because they didn't know enough (in my opinion, this would never happen to girls in Philly). I think I'm going to offer to teach them some basic moves and try to get some dancing going on. Last night I got the impression that the entire group thinks of me as the weird kid who says "thats what she said!" too often, which, while true, is an impression I'd like to change.
Some other future activities on my mind include flying to Bremerton for dinner, learning Texas Holdem, doing the super cool japanese private-room karaoke thing, and going to a comedy club.
In other news.
There is nothing more discouraging--no harsh comment or criticism more demoralizing to me--than hearing my own voice in a recording. I started recording myself playing my Love Story song. It sounds awful. Part of it is because my method of recording involves laying the mike infront of my guitar amp, or on the table in front of me, and just recording into the mic port of my computer. Part of it, though, it because I can't keep a steady beat and my voice is just...pathetic sounding. I really am not sure I'll ever record this--I can't imagine the amount of singing lessons I'll need. I might get someone else to sing it--I don't know.
Also, we watched the new Star Trek movie over the weekend. It inspired me to watch an Original Series episode last night before going to bed. It...was awful. The dialogue, the special effects, the acting, and the plot were all well below what I am comfortable watching. The only redeeming aspect was that it was Star Trek.
As it turned out, it really wasn't that special of a place. The most notable part was the unfinished warehouse room, the extremely low quality holes, mismatched ugly (but probably artistic) furnature, and everything seemed homemade. Well, the wrong things. The hold marker stands (that have the name of the hole, and some rules that the author thought was funny) were handcrafted from two by fours, which clearly took a substantial amount of effort. But then, the lighting on the actual courses themselves was mostly table lamps. They could have just bought some nice stands for the course names, and spend all their do-it-yourself time implementing better lighting.
Speaking of the courses, they were fun. And interesting. And broken. Most were powered by a combination of air compressors and power, both of which went out multiple times. The most notable course was an air compressor gun that fired golf balls at targets made from painted sawblades in front of a pile of trash. You didn't even fire it yourself--you just pointed the gun while a staff person front-loaded a golf ball and pressed the trigger for you. Still, you could have some fun, because the pile of trash included a piano, and if you hit the piano just right the ball would come flying back at you. Of course, this "hole" really had nothing to do with minigolf, other than using golf balls as munition. If you hit a target on the first try, you get a "hole in one" and if not, you get a two. So the most prestigious hole also had the least effect on your score.
The next coolest hole was basically a catapult aimed at a castle. The amount of golfing skill required to load the catapult roughly resembles the skill needed to pour milk into a cup via a large funnel. You basicall hit the ball into these rails, and it slides up the length of the catapult arm. Actually, the catapult built to look like a trebuchet, but it was powered like a catapult, and I've already typed most of this paragraph using the work catapult, so we'll continue. The catapult didn't work very well, though. I spent my five shots unsuccessfully trying to find the correct arm necessary for the impotent catapult to launch my ball into the castle. Luke ignored the catapult completely, and bounced his ball of the ledge behind it and into the castle on the first shot.
The rest of the holes were amusing, but unremarkable. They all involve things that either spun or knocked your ball off of a narrow path, just like every other cheesy minigolf place. The only different here, was the courses were just some felt glued onto wood planks, and playing half of the holes involved little use of strategies one normally employs in a game of mini golf. The final hole featured a machine that, I think, it supposed to drill a hole in your ball, and then crush it, and then drop it into a bin. Unfortunately the machine wasn't working quite right. It did drill a hole--so long as you put two balls in at once to force the first one under the drill--but a sort of...error in the crushing step caused the ball to launch out the side of the contraption, piercing the poorly secured mesh wall and roll along the floor. So I guess half the people took home golf balls with a hole on the top.
Most of the time, I was more bored than I get even at work. However the other people were enjoying it, so I didn't say anything. Years of high school dances, awkward dates, business meetings, Army trade shows and tolerating hot girls' lame [boy]friends have given me lots of practice at feigning interest with minimal effort. Also, there was a girl there who loves Firefly.
So, in summary, Smash Putt is everything I perceive about the weird stuff that you can find in Seattle, or at least Capitol Hill: its weird, artistic, pretentious, and highly overrated. Like the bar I went to that was supposedly awesome because there was a ton of art on the walls that you could buy.
Oh, and golf balls were ugly, dirty, miscolored, and some (like mine) were chipped. And they didn't have any putters large enough for someone of my size.
One of the girls in that group told me that they had tried to go Salsa dancing, but people were mean because they didn't know enough (in my opinion, this would never happen to girls in Philly). I think I'm going to offer to teach them some basic moves and try to get some dancing going on. Last night I got the impression that the entire group thinks of me as the weird kid who says "thats what she said!" too often, which, while true, is an impression I'd like to change.
Some other future activities on my mind include flying to Bremerton for dinner, learning Texas Holdem, doing the super cool japanese private-room karaoke thing, and going to a comedy club.
In other news.
There is nothing more discouraging--no harsh comment or criticism more demoralizing to me--than hearing my own voice in a recording. I started recording myself playing my Love Story song. It sounds awful. Part of it is because my method of recording involves laying the mike infront of my guitar amp, or on the table in front of me, and just recording into the mic port of my computer. Part of it, though, it because I can't keep a steady beat and my voice is just...pathetic sounding. I really am not sure I'll ever record this--I can't imagine the amount of singing lessons I'll need. I might get someone else to sing it--I don't know.
Also, we watched the new Star Trek movie over the weekend. It inspired me to watch an Original Series episode last night before going to bed. It...was awful. The dialogue, the special effects, the acting, and the plot were all well below what I am comfortable watching. The only redeeming aspect was that it was Star Trek.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Never a Dull Moment
Yeah, wine and cheese night, right? That sounds pretty tame. It started off pretty good. I had even sewn a button back onto an awesome shirt. I don't know how to sew, but the internet fixed that, and out of curiosity I even found out what a thimble is for--apparently its more than a monopoly piece. So I bought some wine called Snoqualmie. I did this because being a person whose knowledge of cheese consists entirely of the options at Subway I thought it would be safer to bring a bottle of wine, and Snoqualmie is the name of a skiing mountain out here. Made perfect sense in my head.
Anyway, I had a bit of a cough today. It became a serious problem at the wine and cheese party. As I sat on the couch in my awesome and recently repaired shirt, it became harder and harder to breathe without coughing. After all I didn't want people to think I had swine flu, and I really didn't want to gross people out because I'd only had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner and was helping myself to the ritz and cheddar plate quite frequently. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid coughing, though, and my shirt seemed to get tighter and tighter. Eventually it became unbearable to the point where I was trying to hold my breath even as my chest convulsed, inadvertently making vocal sounds as air trespassed through my vocal chords. I excused myself and headed home, erupting into a fit of coughing as soon as I was out of earshot.
It was then, as I stumbled back to my car, that I realized that my "cough" was actually an asthma attack. That strange feeling of being unable to breathe was caused by actually not being able to breathe. That explained a lot. So then I had to race home to my over the counter inhaler and then recovered in front of the tv with some videogames, trying to not to think about how that played off to all the wine and cheesers back there. I rarely get asthma attacks, so there is a good chance that it was set off by the wine, which, if true, leads me to the devastating conclusion that there may be some wines out there that I'm allergic to. Its bad enough to be allergic to hard cider and half of the beer brands out there, but to also be allergic to wine...thats just lame. Now I have to buy another bottle of Snoqualmie and drink it just to find out.
This reminds me: if you've ever seen a character in a movie with "asthma" you've probably seen some geeky, nervous kid that always takes a little huff of his trusty inhaler whenever he gets a little upset. Well, thats bullshit. In the real world asthma is serious case of being unable to breathe. Its not the paper bag hyperventilation thing; its basically you getting choked by your own lungs. So those people in movies like Hitch that just sort of decide to move on from their asthma by tossing their inhaler would actually end up dead or in the ER. Ironically, the panic attack people with the hyperventilation...you can really just let them pass out and they'll be fine. Probably need a nap anyway.
I think I'm going to have to buy another inhaler and keep it in my car, like the emergency med kit in James Bond's car in Casino Royale. Then I can just run to my car next time. All I need is someone to call who has a British accent. Oh, and if you think my obsession with James Bond is retarded, or getting old, read this section of wikipedia.
Anyway, I had a bit of a cough today. It became a serious problem at the wine and cheese party. As I sat on the couch in my awesome and recently repaired shirt, it became harder and harder to breathe without coughing. After all I didn't want people to think I had swine flu, and I really didn't want to gross people out because I'd only had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner and was helping myself to the ritz and cheddar plate quite frequently. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid coughing, though, and my shirt seemed to get tighter and tighter. Eventually it became unbearable to the point where I was trying to hold my breath even as my chest convulsed, inadvertently making vocal sounds as air trespassed through my vocal chords. I excused myself and headed home, erupting into a fit of coughing as soon as I was out of earshot.
It was then, as I stumbled back to my car, that I realized that my "cough" was actually an asthma attack. That strange feeling of being unable to breathe was caused by actually not being able to breathe. That explained a lot. So then I had to race home to my over the counter inhaler and then recovered in front of the tv with some videogames, trying to not to think about how that played off to all the wine and cheesers back there. I rarely get asthma attacks, so there is a good chance that it was set off by the wine, which, if true, leads me to the devastating conclusion that there may be some wines out there that I'm allergic to. Its bad enough to be allergic to hard cider and half of the beer brands out there, but to also be allergic to wine...thats just lame. Now I have to buy another bottle of Snoqualmie and drink it just to find out.
This reminds me: if you've ever seen a character in a movie with "asthma" you've probably seen some geeky, nervous kid that always takes a little huff of his trusty inhaler whenever he gets a little upset. Well, thats bullshit. In the real world asthma is serious case of being unable to breathe. Its not the paper bag hyperventilation thing; its basically you getting choked by your own lungs. So those people in movies like Hitch that just sort of decide to move on from their asthma by tossing their inhaler would actually end up dead or in the ER. Ironically, the panic attack people with the hyperventilation...you can really just let them pass out and they'll be fine. Probably need a nap anyway.
I think I'm going to have to buy another inhaler and keep it in my car, like the emergency med kit in James Bond's car in Casino Royale. Then I can just run to my car next time. All I need is someone to call who has a British accent. Oh, and if you think my obsession with James Bond is retarded, or getting old, read this section of wikipedia.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The Wings are NOT on Fire
My checkride was set up last minute, there were problems with my paper work, and IFR weather (instrument weather--the kind I can't fly in) was closing in around where we planned to go. However, the checkride went on and I passed. I don't know how I passed. Somehow I did a steep turn to the left without making too many mistakes. We ended the checkride by testing my landings at Tacoma, an airport I'd never been to.
If you've ever played a first person videogame--such as Half-life--and gotten stuck where you are almost dead, but for some reason you've managed to just barely hang in there and keep going, and you're going farther than you thought you could but any moment you could slip up...just trying to make it to the next health, or the next weapon drop...thats what my checkride felt like. One screwed up maneuver and I would be going home without a license. But I passed. I kicked ass on the oral quizzing and my checkride examiner didn't mind too much that I almost flew into SeaTac's airspace accidentally. So...I have a license now. I can fly planes.
Good thing to...because my checkride started at Boeing Field, and it ended at Tacoma, because that is where the examiner was based out of. My first flight as a real pilot was basically commuting home from the test. I thought that was humorous. At the time it was a bit scary.
Then, as I'm coming back to Boeing, another small plane was near me and at the same altitude and also inbound for Boeing AND their callsign sounded just like mine. That made for a great five minutes on the radio. But I eventually spotted them, and they passed me, and then I made a little mistake with the flaps that we won't tell anybody about, and I was home.
Then I had a few hours to kill, and then it was off to teach a bunch of girls how to salsa dance. That went ok. I managed to teach them the basic step and the right turn. I couldn't do anything else, though, because they had a lot of trouble with the right turn. Its hard to teach 6 people at once, but I have to admit I enjoyed it.
Then, Sunday, I saw Pirate Radio, which was awesome. Afterwards we went to the Cheesecake Factory. In case you've never been to The Cheesesteak Factory, let me describe it for you. It is an odd mix of fancy and...the opposite of fancy. It is a place with multiple forks to each place setting, but also a ton of advertisements in the menu. The most remarkable thing is the size of the portions. For a restaurant that specializes in cheesecakes, they sure try hard to make you so stuffed you won't want any. Each entree could probably feed a small family for a week. I actually ate so much last night that I woke up after only four hours of sleep, feeling too nauseous to lie down again. I spent the next four hours semi-huddled in front of my tv with a glass of water, learning about the early Pilgrims and also the July 20 plot on the history channel and then went to work. I was still so full that I skipped breakfast and lunch. Somehow, with a ton of coffee that almost made me feel sick, I survived work with less than half my team observing me doze off. And now here I am staying up late again.
So...what to do now. I have a bunch of friends to hang out with, a car that needs maintenance, some skiis to buy, some pictures to hang, an apartment to furnish...oh and I should probably go flying some time. If we ever get another clear day. Some of you have asked me if I do a lot of cool twisty turny things. The short answer is no. This video actually shows the most exciting thing pilots like me ever do (and live). Its wierd...the shots of those planes landing really aren't all that exciting, but knowing what goes into it makes it really interesting to me. I'm probably young enough to still make it into the military or an airline, but you should be glad that I don't.
If you've ever played a first person videogame--such as Half-life--and gotten stuck where you are almost dead, but for some reason you've managed to just barely hang in there and keep going, and you're going farther than you thought you could but any moment you could slip up...just trying to make it to the next health, or the next weapon drop...thats what my checkride felt like. One screwed up maneuver and I would be going home without a license. But I passed. I kicked ass on the oral quizzing and my checkride examiner didn't mind too much that I almost flew into SeaTac's airspace accidentally. So...I have a license now. I can fly planes.
Good thing to...because my checkride started at Boeing Field, and it ended at Tacoma, because that is where the examiner was based out of. My first flight as a real pilot was basically commuting home from the test. I thought that was humorous. At the time it was a bit scary.
Then, as I'm coming back to Boeing, another small plane was near me and at the same altitude and also inbound for Boeing AND their callsign sounded just like mine. That made for a great five minutes on the radio. But I eventually spotted them, and they passed me, and then I made a little mistake with the flaps that we won't tell anybody about, and I was home.
Then I had a few hours to kill, and then it was off to teach a bunch of girls how to salsa dance. That went ok. I managed to teach them the basic step and the right turn. I couldn't do anything else, though, because they had a lot of trouble with the right turn. Its hard to teach 6 people at once, but I have to admit I enjoyed it.
Then, Sunday, I saw Pirate Radio, which was awesome. Afterwards we went to the Cheesecake Factory. In case you've never been to The Cheesesteak Factory, let me describe it for you. It is an odd mix of fancy and...the opposite of fancy. It is a place with multiple forks to each place setting, but also a ton of advertisements in the menu. The most remarkable thing is the size of the portions. For a restaurant that specializes in cheesecakes, they sure try hard to make you so stuffed you won't want any. Each entree could probably feed a small family for a week. I actually ate so much last night that I woke up after only four hours of sleep, feeling too nauseous to lie down again. I spent the next four hours semi-huddled in front of my tv with a glass of water, learning about the early Pilgrims and also the July 20 plot on the history channel and then went to work. I was still so full that I skipped breakfast and lunch. Somehow, with a ton of coffee that almost made me feel sick, I survived work with less than half my team observing me doze off. And now here I am staying up late again.
So...what to do now. I have a bunch of friends to hang out with, a car that needs maintenance, some skiis to buy, some pictures to hang, an apartment to furnish...oh and I should probably go flying some time. If we ever get another clear day. Some of you have asked me if I do a lot of cool twisty turny things. The short answer is no. This video actually shows the most exciting thing pilots like me ever do (and live). Its wierd...the shots of those planes landing really aren't all that exciting, but knowing what goes into it makes it really interesting to me. I'm probably young enough to still make it into the military or an airline, but you should be glad that I don't.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Heaven Holds a Sense of Wonder
I think it would be fun to imagine that we are all guests here on this planet, that if you drew a line segment from the sun, through the Earth's position when you were born, and off into the never ending distance, that would be where you are really from.
Around the Sun in 365 Days!
I turned 26 recently. Kev doesn't know it, but he won a bet with me, because last year I bet him that I would act normal about my birthday, and throw a big party. I was secretly planning to invite everybody but him out of spite. Unfortunately, I completely forgot about my birthday. I spent most of it on an Airbus next to a small child that liked playing a game where she handed me a large quantity of small strips of paper, one at a time. This game didn't appear to have any rules, but we played it at least three times. Her name was Samantha, and her constant attention (at least while she was awake) melted through the all of the antisocial tendencies I could muster.
Now that I am 26 I am, officially, older than I've ever wanted to be. I understand you have to be at least 35 to be President of the United States, but I'm pretty sure neither of our incumbent political parties would ever let that happen. If they are even separate parties. I wrote a big melodramatic bromide about being so old and something about regrets, but I wrote it in Notepad (best Microsoft program ever) on my laptop, which is all the way in the other room. So instead, here, I will simply reflect on what I've learned over the past year. Last year actually started pretty bad. I think I got dumped/rejected by three of the four girls I've ever fallen in love with, pretty much all in a row. So the year only got better. Highlights include Bailey's New Years Eve Party, Betsy, Nicole and Scott's wedding...and pretty much every other time I've been to Philly. I'm sure something good happened in Seattle too. Seattle is great. Oh yeah, the Halloween party. That was in Seattle, and that turned out WAY better than the previous Halloween.
As an introvert trying to be an extrovert, I have learned the following things in the past year:
something about looking people in the eye, and smiling. You can't really look people in the eye without smiling, because people think that's creepy. Kyle says people like hearing their name, and he is dead on, however I'm still forgetting everyone's name, so thats out
something about doing what your afraid of, at least when it comes to interacting with people. Whether its confronting someone about something, or asking someone to dance, or talking to a girl you've never met before, spending 90 hours one on one with a total strangers who intimidate you, taking baby steps to be the opposite of passive-aggressive, putting effort into conversations with strangers on planes, going to NYC and spending all day trying to talk to people, asking out that hot girl you met on the plane that blew you off, going to a party where you know exactly one person...it all helps. Every other week I do something that I realize I would have never done a couple years ago.
saying it out loud when you need to tell someone they're beautiful. I hate telling girls they are beautiful. I tend to avoid* girls that know they are beautiful, because they tend to be impossible to deal with. However the girls that don't know it often won't believe it when you tell them, which leads to a strange sort of argument, one that I know from experience you can't win. Nevertheless, in my opinion, saying it is better than silence. Also, fun fact: if I think you are beautiful, that puts you in the 7th or 93rd percentile or something. Ok I don't really understand the math anymore, but I ran the numbers (don't ask how) and out of every 100 girls I meet, I think about 7 are attractive. I'm not exaggerating.
*avoid...get rejected...very fine line
Usually around my birthday I identify about 20 things that are wrong with my life (with being single near the top of the list, except you can never say that out loud because all your friends start acting really annoying) and about 250 things to do to fix it. Learning to fly was a line item in such a list from about two years ago. So you can see just how efficient that system is. I think this year I'm going to limit myself to one change: do less things that will theoretically benefit me at some distance point in the future that I don't want to reach, and spend more effort trying to enjoy my life. As soon as I finish the flying lessons.
In other news
What else was I going to ramble about...my checkride is Sunday. I need to prepare a flight plan to a destination of the check airman's choosing. My check airman has decided not to call me back yet. Work is getting pretty lame...my schedule sucks and for a programmer I sure haven't done much programming lately. I watched an awesome movie called Primer because it was in an XKCD strip. It was amazing. Unfortunately, it was unecessarily confusing, which could have easily been remedied by spending more time on certain key pieces, but I can't complain since it was done on an indie budget, and despite the fact that it was about something as ridiculous as time travel it had more (real) science in it than...probably every mainstream movie I've ever seen, put together. I'm planning on watching it another 5 times to understand what happens.
I've continued work on my version of Taylor Swift's love story. I am considering taking Kyle's advice, and recording the guitar in one track and then sing in another track while I listen to the guitar part. I had really wanted to make a youtube video, with the secret hope that girls everywhere would fall in love with me, and Taylor Swift would see it and one thing would lead to another and we'd play a duet on a stage somewhere. However, instead of doing that, and beacuse Adam and I spent a lot of time perusing the Lego store in King of Prussia, I am considering making a music video with Lego bricks (<- thats how the Lego company actually expects people to refer to legos). It would certainly give me an excuse to have legos again...but it could easily be more detrimental to my social life than even the flying. So we'll see. If I end up dying cold and alone, reast assured they will have to dig my body out from under a mountain of legos.
[Update]...
I forgot to write about the karaoke bar I went to with Betsy, Kat and Natasha. It was awesome. I'd read about these places on the internet before; apparently its a big thing in Japan to like get all serious about Karaoke and have your own private room and stuff. There is a place in chinatown (Philly) that does it. They serve sushi and drinks and there's a big tv and two mikes you can pass around. And its a Japanese system so all the American songs are labeled "foreign." Its hilarious. Anyway, I want to go back.
Also, I got bored in a meeting once when I happened to have also gotten McDonald's food, and starting peeling off the monopoly pieces. I don't know if it is still going on, but if it is, I have Reading Railroad, Pennsylvania Railroad, and B & O Railroad. So please check your monopoly tags the next time you go to McDonald's. The set is worth $500...which ironically isn't worth much in this town. Also, if you could just tell me what the fourth railroad is, I'd appreciate that as well; I can't remember it. I haven't played monopoly since that game with Chris, Adam, Owen and Erin where Chris screwed me out of winning.
Around the Sun in 365 Days!
I turned 26 recently. Kev doesn't know it, but he won a bet with me, because last year I bet him that I would act normal about my birthday, and throw a big party. I was secretly planning to invite everybody but him out of spite. Unfortunately, I completely forgot about my birthday. I spent most of it on an Airbus next to a small child that liked playing a game where she handed me a large quantity of small strips of paper, one at a time. This game didn't appear to have any rules, but we played it at least three times. Her name was Samantha, and her constant attention (at least while she was awake) melted through the all of the antisocial tendencies I could muster.
Now that I am 26 I am, officially, older than I've ever wanted to be. I understand you have to be at least 35 to be President of the United States, but I'm pretty sure neither of our incumbent political parties would ever let that happen. If they are even separate parties. I wrote a big melodramatic bromide about being so old and something about regrets, but I wrote it in Notepad (best Microsoft program ever) on my laptop, which is all the way in the other room. So instead, here, I will simply reflect on what I've learned over the past year. Last year actually started pretty bad. I think I got dumped/rejected by three of the four girls I've ever fallen in love with, pretty much all in a row. So the year only got better. Highlights include Bailey's New Years Eve Party, Betsy, Nicole and Scott's wedding...and pretty much every other time I've been to Philly. I'm sure something good happened in Seattle too. Seattle is great. Oh yeah, the Halloween party. That was in Seattle, and that turned out WAY better than the previous Halloween.
As an introvert trying to be an extrovert, I have learned the following things in the past year:
something about looking people in the eye, and smiling. You can't really look people in the eye without smiling, because people think that's creepy. Kyle says people like hearing their name, and he is dead on, however I'm still forgetting everyone's name, so thats out
something about doing what your afraid of, at least when it comes to interacting with people. Whether its confronting someone about something, or asking someone to dance, or talking to a girl you've never met before, spending 90 hours one on one with a total strangers who intimidate you, taking baby steps to be the opposite of passive-aggressive, putting effort into conversations with strangers on planes, going to NYC and spending all day trying to talk to people, asking out that hot girl you met on the plane that blew you off, going to a party where you know exactly one person...it all helps. Every other week I do something that I realize I would have never done a couple years ago.
saying it out loud when you need to tell someone they're beautiful. I hate telling girls they are beautiful. I tend to avoid* girls that know they are beautiful, because they tend to be impossible to deal with. However the girls that don't know it often won't believe it when you tell them, which leads to a strange sort of argument, one that I know from experience you can't win. Nevertheless, in my opinion, saying it is better than silence. Also, fun fact: if I think you are beautiful, that puts you in the 7th or 93rd percentile or something. Ok I don't really understand the math anymore, but I ran the numbers (don't ask how) and out of every 100 girls I meet, I think about 7 are attractive. I'm not exaggerating.
*avoid...get rejected...very fine line
Usually around my birthday I identify about 20 things that are wrong with my life (with being single near the top of the list, except you can never say that out loud because all your friends start acting really annoying) and about 250 things to do to fix it. Learning to fly was a line item in such a list from about two years ago. So you can see just how efficient that system is. I think this year I'm going to limit myself to one change: do less things that will theoretically benefit me at some distance point in the future that I don't want to reach, and spend more effort trying to enjoy my life. As soon as I finish the flying lessons.
In other news
What else was I going to ramble about...my checkride is Sunday. I need to prepare a flight plan to a destination of the check airman's choosing. My check airman has decided not to call me back yet. Work is getting pretty lame...my schedule sucks and for a programmer I sure haven't done much programming lately. I watched an awesome movie called Primer because it was in an XKCD strip. It was amazing. Unfortunately, it was unecessarily confusing, which could have easily been remedied by spending more time on certain key pieces, but I can't complain since it was done on an indie budget, and despite the fact that it was about something as ridiculous as time travel it had more (real) science in it than...probably every mainstream movie I've ever seen, put together. I'm planning on watching it another 5 times to understand what happens.
I've continued work on my version of Taylor Swift's love story. I am considering taking Kyle's advice, and recording the guitar in one track and then sing in another track while I listen to the guitar part. I had really wanted to make a youtube video, with the secret hope that girls everywhere would fall in love with me, and Taylor Swift would see it and one thing would lead to another and we'd play a duet on a stage somewhere. However, instead of doing that, and beacuse Adam and I spent a lot of time perusing the Lego store in King of Prussia, I am considering making a music video with Lego bricks (<- thats how the Lego company actually expects people to refer to legos). It would certainly give me an excuse to have legos again...but it could easily be more detrimental to my social life than even the flying. So we'll see. If I end up dying cold and alone, reast assured they will have to dig my body out from under a mountain of legos.
[Update]...
I forgot to write about the karaoke bar I went to with Betsy, Kat and Natasha. It was awesome. I'd read about these places on the internet before; apparently its a big thing in Japan to like get all serious about Karaoke and have your own private room and stuff. There is a place in chinatown (Philly) that does it. They serve sushi and drinks and there's a big tv and two mikes you can pass around. And its a Japanese system so all the American songs are labeled "foreign." Its hilarious. Anyway, I want to go back.
Also, I got bored in a meeting once when I happened to have also gotten McDonald's food, and starting peeling off the monopoly pieces. I don't know if it is still going on, but if it is, I have Reading Railroad, Pennsylvania Railroad, and B & O Railroad. So please check your monopoly tags the next time you go to McDonald's. The set is worth $500...which ironically isn't worth much in this town. Also, if you could just tell me what the fourth railroad is, I'd appreciate that as well; I can't remember it. I haven't played monopoly since that game with Chris, Adam, Owen and Erin where Chris screwed me out of winning.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
In Philly Saturday
Hello. I will be in philly saturday night, drinking somewhere. If you wanna hang out, text me to find out where I'm at. I've decided to do it this way instead of making plans with everyone individually, because that never works and I only have one night anyway.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Not quite a haiku
Forever is over[1]
at the end of the internet
where P equals N P
[1] Love Drunk
Was at a party tonight. Had to pull out pieces of last years ninja costume. Used a mini tire pump as a pretend dart gun because I had thrown away my sword. I also used a chalk bag as my bag of ninja sand, which was awesome because I then found out who all of the climbers were. I also climbed a rock wall outside their house. Met some awesome people, and there were more girls than guys half the time. At some point in the night, I remember actually being happy that I moved here, and that I wanted to totally write about it on my blog. Seemed a bit ironic. Speaking of which, xkcd's surprising relevance to our lives was also a topic of conversation. Still sick though, so no making out :(
Also my checkride was supposed to be today, but I couldn't get off work. It was a beautiful day too. I'm not going to have a chance to do it for over a week, which means I'll probably need to go up with another instructor and practice beforehand. It's going to be a big hassle. However, I am done the course, and all I have to do is get past this checkride. My apartment is in total disarray, Jessica is overdue for a 15k mile checkup, I'm out of money and time and half my friends think I hate them, but I've made it. Except for the checkride.
I think I'm gonna make next years halloween costume now, while I'm thinking of it. I like halloween; its the one day of the year I can really be myself. I'm never prepared though. I kind of want to make an armor shrine of different costumes in my closet (like the way batman hangs is suite up). And not just for costumes. I could have one for flying stuff, and for skiing stuff, and motorcycle armor layed out. Maybe a set of real samurai armor too, just to make people wonder.
at the end of the internet
where P equals N P
[1] Love Drunk
Was at a party tonight. Had to pull out pieces of last years ninja costume. Used a mini tire pump as a pretend dart gun because I had thrown away my sword. I also used a chalk bag as my bag of ninja sand, which was awesome because I then found out who all of the climbers were. I also climbed a rock wall outside their house. Met some awesome people, and there were more girls than guys half the time. At some point in the night, I remember actually being happy that I moved here, and that I wanted to totally write about it on my blog. Seemed a bit ironic. Speaking of which, xkcd's surprising relevance to our lives was also a topic of conversation. Still sick though, so no making out :(
Also my checkride was supposed to be today, but I couldn't get off work. It was a beautiful day too. I'm not going to have a chance to do it for over a week, which means I'll probably need to go up with another instructor and practice beforehand. It's going to be a big hassle. However, I am done the course, and all I have to do is get past this checkride. My apartment is in total disarray, Jessica is overdue for a 15k mile checkup, I'm out of money and time and half my friends think I hate them, but I've made it. Except for the checkride.
I think I'm gonna make next years halloween costume now, while I'm thinking of it. I like halloween; its the one day of the year I can really be myself. I'm never prepared though. I kind of want to make an armor shrine of different costumes in my closet (like the way batman hangs is suite up). And not just for costumes. I could have one for flying stuff, and for skiing stuff, and motorcycle armor layed out. Maybe a set of real samurai armor too, just to make people wonder.
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