drawing bright lines in the sand

Just a Reminder:

2009-07-14T08:44:00.001-07:00

The places to go are

http://www.facebook.com/brianbreed
http://www.twitter.com/brianbreed
http://www.themilieu.com

Lessons Learned in Vegas: Part 1

2006-06-26T12:50:00.000-07:00

1. It's hotter at 5pm than it is at 12pm.

2. You will see many asses. There is no avoiding asses in Las Vegas. In fact, Las Vegas loosely translates to "The Asses" in Spanish.

3. The Union looks mostly harmless, but is in fact big and scary.

4. Union workers look big and scary, but are in fact mostly harmless.

5. All casinos are the same.

6. If you're short-stacked. never take your 8/10 suited against the biggest stack, even when you have a great flop. He will get the King he needs on the River.

7. Addicts are literally plugged into the slot machines.

8. A job that appears small will turn out big. A job that appear big will turn out bigger.

[stay tuned for more]
-brian

How To: Meet A Celebrity

2006-06-15T00:51:00.000-07:00

We like celebrities. We do. But we don't know how to treat them right.

People do very strange things when they meet celebrities. It doesn't matter who the person is, or who the celebrity is. Almost universally, "fans" (conceptual or otherwise) act different around the famous. There are three basic responses.

A: The Scathing Amateur Critic
Some people, whether they dislike the actor, they don't know how to be nice, or (more likely) because they want to feel superior choose to debase the actor. These proud few insult the actor's choices in films, demean his talents as a performing artist, insinuate that his parents were never married, and suggest that a dog, a pile of feces, or (on the same level) even they could act better than the actor.

B: The "HeyYou'reLikeMe(BeMyFriendPleaseSoThenICanTellPeopleIKnowYou[AndCanValidateMyOwnSelf{WorthByPretendingToRespectYours)]}" Coolheaded Patron of the Arts
This person may or may not like the actor whom he meets, but will nonetheless instantly become self-assured and sympathetic upon meeting the celebrity. He'll say things like, "Hey man, I like your work," or "What's up?" or even offer a simple "Yo's." This fan's actions intone that he sees the celebrity as a real person, not just as a Hollywood prop. But what this guy really wants is to be invited to the next big Hollywood shindig. He replaces one type of objectification (namely, seeing an actor as a prop) for another (that is, seeing the actor as a golden ticket).

He almost never gets his wish.

C: The Choir
I call the third group the choir for two reasons: (1) they are the majority of the fan base, and (2) they can't stop praising the actor. They often scream, say things like "I can't believe it's [THAT CELEBRITY I LOVE]," or "SIGN MY BREASTS!" As you can guess, they're more often female than male. I don't know why this is. It's probably because guys think they win points by "being cool."

By the way, they don't.

Real Life
So the other day, when I met Johnny Knoxville, I saw this principle in action.

The scene: my coworkers and I are in a box truck on the Paramount Studios lot. We are waiting to set expensive drape for a camera show, wherein a popular company will peddle their wares to the cinematography departments at Paramount. We are waiting to receive our security badges while a drug dog sniffs our equipment (I guess they don't have one of those at the celebrity parking lots… ZING).

I see a man wearing a button-down Budweiser shirt. I note his spiky hair, lanky build, and aviator sunglasses. I ask a coworker… "Is that Johnny Knoxville?"

My coworker says, "Holy shit… that is Johnny Knoxville!"

He proceeds to go C on Johnny. He yells "Johnny! JOHNNY! YO JOHNNY! I LOVE YOU MAN!"

Johnny waves and smiles politely.

The other worker in the truck leans out the window and says, "What's up John-eeee!" pretending to be familiar with the guy. We see B in action here.

I feel compelled to do something. Now, I'm not a huge fan of Johnny's Knoxville's work, but I'm not the kind of guy to go depreciating the actor for what he does. After all, he's taken softballs to the groin from pro pitchers before. I mean, that takes some kind of talent.

So A is out of the options for me. B would be a lie (I don't know him, and I know I'm not cool), and C just demeans us all. So I go for the secret option:

D: The Tautologizer
Tautologizers do exactly what they sound like: they state an obvious truth as if it were a point in question.

I say (in my most sympathetic and reassuring voice): "Johnny! Hey! You have fans Johnny! Fans!"

This, by a surprising stroke of fortune, makes Johnny laugh and walk over to our box truck and give us all the knuckle. "Hey guys," he says, "thanks for supporting me."

After that, I act B on the outside, but I am all C on the inside.

[I love you JOHNNY!]
-brian

a great quotation

2006-06-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

'The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool."

-Lester Bangs, Almost Famous

[that's that]
-brian

How To Have An Adventure #47: In Los Angeles

2006-06-04T02:16:00.000-07:00

1. Acquire a group of friends.
2. Find a free Saturday.
3. Plan the night before to go to a hip Hollywood restaurant for breakfast.
4. Set the meeting time at 10:30 a.m.
5. Proceed to stay up until 5:00 a.m.
6. Wake up at 10:00 a.m.
7. Skip the shower. You smell fresh already!
8. Arrive at your friends' house.
9. Drive towards LA.
10. Get stuck in world-famous LA traffic.
11. Get lost on world-famous LA streets.
12. Arrive at hip Hollywood restaurant in time for lunch.
13. Mock the pretentious snoblets.
14. Eat your sandwich and savor its taste.
15. Get up to go (after paying your check).
16. Go outside.
17. Notice that your car is about to be up on a tow truck.
18. Plead with the man to lower your vehicle.
19. Listen to him charge you $150 for the back-breaking task of lowering the car's front wheels back to the ground.
20. Say something about extortion as you begrudgingly pay him.
21. Get a call.
22. Learn that your house has been robbed.
23. See a pattern here.

[miffed out]
-brian

IKEA is Scandanavian for EVIL

2006-05-30T02:21:00.000-07:00

My friend Tim picked up a "build your own chair set" from IKEA today.

"How much did the chair cost, bud?" I said.

"Oh, not too much. Only fifty for the chair and thirty for the footstool."

It took a moment for those numbers to set in.

"How much?" I said.

"Only eighty dollars for the pair!" Tim said with pride.

I was left stupefied. How is eighty dollars a good deal for a chair and footstool? A chair and a footstool that you have to build?

"That sounds expensive, Tim," I said.

"It's not," he reassured me. "Now help me build it!"

I looked at the design and thought to myself, "Boy, this looks really simplistic for eighty bucks." But, being a good friend, I lent Tim my masculine prowess and went to it.

It was great. The building of the chair took about fifteen minutes, and the accompanying footstool took only ten. I looked (and tried out) the finished product, and realized how comfortable and sleek it was.

I had been wrong before. IKEA’s furniture isn’t "simplistic"—it’s "minimalist." And "minimalist" is okay. It means that the thing is straightforward and functional, not flashy and annoying. Plus, I enjoyed building the chair. It was fun. And the finished product was really nice.

It's odd how IKEA indulges the masculine impulses to build and use tools, and yet bends them towards creating something stylish. With products from IKEA, strength really meets taste. And for only eighty bucks? Suddenly the numbers didn't sound so high.

"I could get used to this," I said to Tim.

"The chair?" he replied.

"Well, yeah, but also building my own good-looking stuff."

"Yeah," Tim said. "I love IKEA."

I loved IKEA too. For a moment.

But that moment passed, and with it went my newfound affection for the Swedish furniture people. I was walking out of the room when it hit me.

IKEA was evil.

They're vice peddlers. Think about it: the first hit of heroine is always free. Why? Because the dealer knows that the buyer will come back for more. You're hooked after one taste. IKEA's the same way. "I'll just get one chair," you think. But you end up coming home with a chair, a footstool, a bed frame, and a bookshelf. Not because you need them, but because you feel good when you finish making them.

It's evil. It's insidious. It's… a damn genius marketing strategy. That's what it is.

IKEA is a horrible company.

And yet so good… so very good. Um… I've got to go. I think I'm just going to look at the IKEA website… just to see if my suspicions are correct, of course. Research. You know.

[where's my VISA?]
-brian

text size = too big

2006-05-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Today I was on my parents' computer, reading a paper I wrote, and just felt like something was wrong with it. I got to this passage:

"What, though, is reader-response criticism? The question requires no short answer. Reader-response criticism is the academic explanation of what we do every time we take up a book for leisure reading: it is an investigation of what actually happens¾not what might, ought to, or could occur in a reader. Reader-response is a loose affiliation of theorists around one key belief¾'The reader is a major player in the making of a text.'"

If you didn't read that [and I wouldn't blame you], it was a brief introduction to reader-response theory criticism. I honestly think it's a well-composed paragraph. I use just the right number of big words to make it look smart, and just enough small ones to make it look friendly. Smart and friendly. Yay!

But it looked dumb and silly to me when I was reading it. Now, on my [now broken] laptop, the text looked just fine. So I knew it wasn't the text itself. I checked my parents' word processor settings, and I noticed what it was:

My parents have the text magnification set to a ridiculous level. Read the paragraph again like this...

"What, though, is reader-response criticism? The question requires no short answer. Reader-response criticism is the academic explanation of what we do every time we take up a book for leisure reading: it is an investigation of what actually happens, and not what might, ought to, or could occur in a reader. Reader-response is a loose affiliation of theorists around one key belief: 'The reader is a major player in the making of a text.'"

The point being, the bigger the text size, the more stupid whatever you have to say looks.

[consider and grow.]
-brian

fortune cookies are fun again

2006-05-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

Okay, nobody really believes that authentic Chinese fortune cookies are Chinese cookies containing authentic fortunes. But we all open them up and wonder what the fortunes will say anyway. But often they're just dumb: sayings like "Lend a hand to someone less fortunate than yourself." Blah. Boring. I'm not consulting cookies to hear proverbs. I'm looking to be entertained and, perhaps, enlightened.

I don't know about the second part, but my friends taught me a game a few years back which has greatly maginified the fun factor of fortune cookies. It's called "in bed." For those of you who haven't heard of this, "in bed's" rules are simple: add "in bed" to the most appropriate (read: hilarious) part of the fortune. So, a boring fortune like "Lend a hand to someone less fortune than yourself" becomes about a thousand times more interesting when it reads "Lend a hand to someone less fortunate than yourself in bed."

Anyway, I so love this game that I actually keep the best fortunes on me at all times: they're in a special pocket of my wallet. So, without further ado, here are my best (actually discovered) fortunes:

10. "Lend a hand to someone less fortunate than yourself in bed."
09. "Be daring, try something new in bed."
08. "Your talents in bed will capture you the highest status and prestige."
07. "With integrity and consistency, your credits in bed are piling up."
06. "Versatility in bed is one of your outstanding traits."
05. "You create enthusiasm around you in bed."
04. "You will be successful in bed through innovation and determination."
03. "A great pleasure in life is doing what others say you can't in bed."
02. "If you continually give, you will continually have in bed."

And, my favorite, la piece de resistance...
01. "If you can befriend yourself, you'll never be lonely in bed."

[suddenly hoping fortunes do come true]
-brian

five funny things from this week.

2006-05-23T03:04:00.000-07:00

1. "Can we make this quick? I left my daughter and three dogs in the car."
--A woman at Coco's speaking to her realtor.

2. Bottled water has an expiration date. How the hell does water go bad?

3. A friend of mine was joking around about white supremecy. I pointed out that he had a shaved head, wore a leather jacket, and had a superman shirt on.

4. The funniest combination of sounds in the english language (divorced from meaning) is "semiotic poopjoint."

5. "I like me a lot more when I'm unconscious at night."
--Me, epiphonizing.

[a good week]
-brian

how to ruin your day #17

2006-05-22T01:39:00.000-07:00

1. wake up and go to church.
2. volunteer to record the service.
3. realize you don't know what you're doing.
4. manage to record the service anyway.
5. sing as you get in your car.
6. play one of your favorite cds as you drive home.
7. take a nap when you get there.
8. get up and go get a nice, footlong sub for dinner.
9. dress up.
10. go to a really good play.
11. mingle with the cast and listen to them say neat things about you.
12. sing a jingle or two on your way back, like "eight-hundred five eight eight two-three-hundred, EMPIRE!"
13. add the finishing touches to a one act play that you have spent 50 hours writing.
14. save.
15. stand up.
16. remember your laptop.
17. think, "oh gosh, it would be horrible if i dropped this right now!"
18. drop "this" right now, where "this" is any laptop containing YOUR WHOLE F'ING LIFE.
19. try to catch it, only to ensure that it lands flat, but hard.
20. look at it.
21. realize that it's not "alive," where "alive" is any condition other than "dead."
22. try to turn it on.
23. hear very distressing buzzing noises.
24. receive false hope when the apple logo and the spinning wheel appear.
25. receive even MORE false hope when the computer shows the "starting mac os x" panel.
26. wait twenty minutes, checking every ten seconds to see if it starts working.
27. wait twenty more minutes.
28. watch the bar fill!
29. watch the bar remain full!
30. watch the bar do nothing!
31. turn off computer.
32. reboot.
33. instead of an apple logo, see a crossed-out circle.
34. pray.
35. go to sleep.

[groans all around on me!]
-brian

things never said.

2006-05-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

I talk. A lot. And I say a good deal of the things on my mind. But lest people should think I have absolutely no discretion, I am about to prove them wrong.

There was a girl. Her name was "Gingersnap." It wasn't really. But [as I've done before] I call her "Gingersnap" just so you won't ever confuse her pseudonym with the Gingersnap you know. So... if you know a Gingersnap, change her name to "Cinnamon Teardrop." And if you know a "Cinnamon Teardrop..." I dunno, just do whatever the hell you gotta do to understand that you don't know who I'm talking about.

backstory:
[I met Gingersnap at a favorite restaurant a few years back. We became friends and talked from time to time. Eventually I asked her out on a date. So Gingersnap and I went out once about a year ago. Why only once?

Well, shortly after, I asked her out a second time, and she said yes. She told me to pick her up from her house. But when I drove over see her, she wasn't there. So I knock on the door, her mom answered, and said that she didn't think Gingersnap was expecting anyone.

I called Gingersnap, and she said she was on the freeway and would call me when she got back. She didn't that night.

Or ever again.]

That sets the stage for the following events.

Today my best friend and I go to aforementioned family favorite restaurant where Gingersnap works. She's on the clock. She tries to avoid me, but is apparently told by her boss that customers have to be served. So she comes us and feigns surprise at seeing us. "Brian, hey!" she starts. "I haven't seen you in, like, forever!"

There is so much I want to say.

Considered responses:
-Not since you stood me up.
-That's what happens when you intentionally avoid me.
-Your plan worked!

Actual response: "No, you haven't."

Later on in the conversation, I ask how life is going.

"Pretty well," she replies, "but I feel like I'm stuck in a rut."

Considered responses:
-You look like it too.
-You are.

Actual response: "I'm sorry to hear that."

The food comes, Nick and I eat. We overhear an elderly woman say to a consultant: "Can we make this quick? I have my daughter and three dogs in the car."

We laugh, and imagine all the ways that could be construed. I can't help imagining a newborn surrounded by two unfriendly rottweilers and a pug. Anyway, Gingersnap returns to give us our check. We chat again for a bit.

Finally, she says, "Gosh, I've been 20 forever."

Considered responses:
No more than 365 days.

Actual response:
"No more than 365 days."

...

Oh well. I guess nobody's completely tactful. Least of all me.

But I can keep things to myself.

[peace out]
-brian

post-script: it just occurred to me that i may have kept it to myself then, but i didn't now. but that doesn't change the fact that i have... a head.

insomnia in stock now!

2006-05-16T04:03:00.000-07:00

at 4, i'm still up. very awake.

i don't have homework. i'm not watching a movie. i'm... this is going to sound weird... afraid of my bed.

about a week ago, i was supposed to go to sleep, but i had drunk 64 ounces of diet coke at denny's and just couldn't. so i stayed up until 7 playing smash bros. melee with my roommates. yes, this is extremely irresponsible, but shut up, i was perked. needless to say, when we were done playing, i crashed. and hard.

but since then, my sleep schedule has been comepletely f'ed. (by the way, "f'd" stands for "frustrated." just in case you were wondering.) the next night i went to bed at 6, then it was 4, then 5, then 3, then 6, then 4 again.

this doesn't explain why i'm afraid of my bed. in truth, i don't know if i can explain it well enough to satisfy a person's insatiable curiosity about my various [ridiculous] neuroses. but i will try.. take this account for what it is.

so after staying up 'til 7, when i went to bed my body felt very... weird. heavy in spots, twitchy in others. it was unsettling. i mean, if you can't feel rested after staying up for twenty hours straight, hopped up on diet coke, then when can you?

since then, i've just been... i dunno... uneasy about my bed. i feel great in the rest of my house, but whenever i lie down, i kind of tense up. i wish this wasn't the case, because being tense before trying to go to bed is a recipe for insomnia. which, if you have read thus far, i've been enjoying lately.

it would be nice to just fall asleep. i'd appreciate me a lot more if i was unconscious for the night.

-brian

2006-05-16T03:55:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't been very good at keeping this blog updated. But I have a good reason.

Well, actually, I don't. But I don't need one. A blog is a voluntary thing, right?

I think I'm supposed to say "Yes!" to that, but in reality, I feel a sort of obligation to write more regularly than I have. If not for your enjoyment, then for my own retro-spection.

About once every week or two, I look at my old blog posts from the previous year(s). This is a sort of ritual for me, a touching-base with my own past to get an idea where I am, and where I've come from. But if you look at my blog, it isn't "Dear Diary" crap that I'm talking about. Sometimes it's theological or philosophical musings, sure, but more frequently it's this or that funny experience that lets me reminisce. Besides which, I feel the need to "tell" about the humorous.

So what does the notable absence of posts suggest? I guess there's a few options.... funny things are happening to me less, I'm finding some other outlet to tell those stories, or I've forgotten how to tell about the funny things that happen. I'd say that maybe I've lost my sense of humor, but my friends would mock me incessantly.

Why am I telling you this? I don't know. I don't really care if anyone reads this, either. I just needed to tell it. Maybe in saying something about my writer's block I can at least chip away at it.

-brian

pug dealings.

2006-05-10T01:18:00.000-07:00

There is the matter of Patrick the pug.

Patrick is a six-year old dog who lives with some of my good friends. He is brown, and ugly. His eyes almost always have dollops of yellow mucous on them, and his ears perpetually smell. It is a strain for him to climb onto the couches, and he steals your seat when you get up because—hey—your ass is somewhat like a couch cushion heater.

The other night I visited these girls. I went over there to do homework, actually, but ended up watching video clips on the internet for about three hours instead. When I got worn out, I stretched out on a couch to rest my weary eyes.

I heard wheezing, so I opened my eyes. The wheezing was coming from the ugly, yellow-dollop-eyed, brown pug. He was on the floor looking up at me as though tired.

"Hey Patrick," I said.

He licked his feet in response.

"Do you want to come up?"

He looked at me, and turned his head to the side as if to say, "Words mean so little to me."

So I patted the couch cushion in what I hoped was an inquisitive way. But it might have been imperative. I'll never know, because I can't talk to dogs. Whatever the case may be, he wheezed much harder as he tried unsuccessfully twice to make it up onto the couch.

Then he gave me a look which might have been inquisitive or imperative. I don't know exactly what happened, but I got the impression that I should help him out. So I picked him up.

He settled on my chest, facing me for a second. I stared past his dollops of mucous, and I think we had a master/pet moment.

Then he turned around, settled his ass directly in front of my nose, and passed doggy gas. Promptly thereafter he fell asleep.

There was no guessing after what I smelled: the meaningful look in his eyes was not inquisitive, or imperative, but simply indigestive.

But I love him nonetheless. At least he's cleverer than this parrot.

[what's that—oh, PATRICK!!!]
brian

choose your own adventure: part 1

2006-04-05T02:14:00.000-07:00

I went through a phase when I read Choose Your Own Adventure books as a diversion. In case you're not familiar with the concept, Choose Your Own Adventures were sort of like paper-bound role-playing games. You assumed the identity of the protagonist in one of the stories, and were called upon to make important decisions at different junctures in the text. Depending upon what action you took, you faced a new gamut of decisions ad nauseum. Eventually you were called to make one final decision, and you would arrive at one of many different endings.

Choose Your Own Adventures were cool for many reasons. I got to take control of the narrative. My role as the reader was very important. If I did not make the right decisions, the world might be taken over by Nazi Germany or Kelbatron and his dark robots from Olbakrine Theta! Adventure called—and I accepted the charges.

Destiny was in my hands.

At least, I thought so. But the damn books never worked right for me. I would go through once and get an ending—often the one I didn't want. Choose Your Own Adventures were designed to cultivate critical thinking skills—if you arrived at the wrong ending, you needed to retrace your steps and find out what error you made. But for me, this was always an exercise in futility. Kelbatron would win, so I'd retrace my steps and find a juncture like this:

"You see a bright silver disk descend from the upper atmosphere and hover over the earth. Your heart beats faster, and you feel torn between two forces: curiosity and fear of the unknown. What do you do?

If you approach the silver disk, turn to page 43.
If you run away and examine the scene from a safe distance, turn to page 92."

The first time, I'd turn to page 43 because—hell—the disk took the time to travel all the way through the upper atmosphere. Someone's got to greet the occupants! I'm a curious cat.

So I'd turn to the appropriate page and meet this:

"The flying disk turns bright red as you approach. It begins to spin faster and move towards you. What do you do?

If you stand still and see what happens, turn to page 15.
If you break into a run and fly in the opposite direction, turn to page 77."

And—again, being a curious cat—I'd inevitably choose to stand still and see what happens. The disk responded to my presence, didn't it? I was getting an answer from something new!

So, on to page 15, where:

"The spinning red disk flies through your neck and severs your head from your shoulders. You die and Kalbatron takes over the world.

You should have run away."

Utterly defeated, I would restart. And I was determined to change my future!

So I'd get to the first decision, and struggle with it, and eventually say to myself: "Oh, it can't be all that bad to approach the disk again. Who knows what will happen?"

To page 43, and the second crisis.

And when I considered what I'd do, again I would wait and see what happened. In real life, I'd be just as ignorant as the first time through. So I turn to page 15 and get my head chopped off. So I'd use an expletive and turn to the beginning and try again.

But I just can't help it—I know what I'd do. In real life, I'd go towards the saucer, wait while it changed color, and stand idly by while it chopped off my head. I just would. That's the kind of guy I am. I really stand by my convictions.

And get my head chopped off again and again.

[crap]
brian

befuddled

2006-03-25T15:21:00.000-08:00

the funny truth is, more people come to my page to stop sweetgum fruit more than anything else.

-brian

I'm starting up...

2006-03-22T14:41:00.000-08:00

perkleate again. that's where i'll post lyrics, poems, quotations, and brief reviews of art that really moves me. go there.

[so]
-brian

these days

2006-03-16T01:16:00.000-08:00

-"These are my best pants!" Tim said. And then he just threw here pen away.

-Passing... We are all passing.

-Critical theorist Walter Benjamin intrigues me. He makes the following argument: industry, its reproduction of artistic works, and its medium of film, have had a profound effect on "art and its traditional form." Through reproduction, art has become widely available at the expense of authority (uniqueness of substance) and venue (uniqueness of location). Art reproduced ad nauseum loses its "aura"—the perceived distance between the object and the viewer, a certain respect for the "otherness" of the object—in the viewer's mind. This aura is sacrificed for the sake of an ever-expanding "sense of the universal equality of things."

-Has art really lost its aura? Or did it just go somewhere else?

-The last two thoughts were probably not interesting to anyone else.

-"the distance between
thinking and perceiving
grows with every
passing evening"

-Some people become less talkative as soon as they enter a classroom, and more talkative once they leave. But I've never met a person who works the other way around.

-Maybe we have celebrities so that we can find a release for our bad impulses. They really are a bunch of assholes, taken as a whole. Seriously.

-"the distance would grow
more grieviously
if not for more of you
and less of me"

-Someone had a thought project: "Imagine if there was an experience machine which you could plug into. You could program it to give you whatever set of experiences you would like: as much pleasure, as little pain, whatever God, society, etc. you desire. As soon as you were plugged in, you would forget that you were ever a part of any other world. Now would you choose to live in a fabricated reality that felt every bit as real (and much better) than 'real' reality?"

-I would never choose the experience machine. I am not God, and don't want to be a god of my own privately-defined reality'. The losses would be too great. I would lose reality for illusion, my friends for friends', my God for God'. My world, for world'... I live too much in world' already without the interference of an experience machine.

-Give me truth, and I will see.

-Tomorrow is today. Tomorrow is a big day. Today is that big day.

-It is good to be here.

[well. yeah.]
-brian

lull

2006-03-03T16:07:00.000-08:00

it's hard to blog when you say everything you want to say to people...

i said something funny the other day:

[watching jeremy play a video game]
brian: what game are you playing?
jer: need for speed undergound 2.
brian: you're not doing very well.
jer: nope.
brian: can i try?
jer: sure.
brian: [time passes] i suck at this. [drops the controller]
jer: at least i finished the race!
bri: at least i know when to quit.

[ouch]
-brian

guppy

2006-02-19T20:01:00.000-08:00

I played Scrabble(tm) with my best friend tonight. Usually, by the third round, he's kicking my ass so hard that I swear that I'll never use words again. But inevitably I break that vow when I tell him what he's done to me.

Why would I do such a stupid thing? Because (for whatever reason) Nick gets:
a. all the good letters
b. all the good bonus tiles
c. random letter combos that just happen to make words (gaby, anyone?)
d. all of the above.

and that flusters me. Me, the English major, lose to Nick!

...

See? Even thinking about Nick's little victories breaks my syntax.

But tonight... tonight is a night that will go down in my Scrabble book forever.

Tonight is the night that I opened with "martini" (22 pts + 50 pt bonus = 72 pt opening) and followed that three turns later with "material" (20 pts + 50 pt bonus = 70 pts).

Rock rock. Two seven-letter plays gave me a 150 point lead by the end of the first five turns.

Chew on that, Nicky-boy.

---
and chew he did.

He played "axel," "quits," "ozone," and "sac." Odd word choices, but also aggravating because he played them on triple-word scores. He closed the gap (Brian:362 to Nick:340), but mostly because I spent ten turns in the middle looking for an opening to play "guppy." It's a funny word. A word I want to play every time I get the letters.

Oh well. I will console myself with the fact I managed to play "sex" and "skid" in the same turn.

So, in the end, I scored a narrow victory but got some laughs out of it.

[guppy]
brian

Yes!

2006-02-09T01:39:00.000-08:00

I spent a few hours today cleaning up my room. I brought in a new bookshelf, and fixed an old broken one (with a hammer and everything!). I also cleaned a file cabinet which had apparently been used to catalog a large group of various poisonous spiders (still breathing), hung up some really cool (and sentimental) art, and dusted. Yes, dusted. It's important to dust.

My room feels more comfortable now. Papers no longer occupy the floor. Books no longer haunt the dark corners of my room. I have, as the Germans say, made a space for myself.

It feels good.

[spaces for everyone!]
brian

Mao

2006-02-04T03:03:00.000-08:00

Deity: Let there be a card game, and it shall be called Mao.
Lesser Deity: Mao?
Deity: Mao.
Lesser Deity: Why Mao?
Deity: Why not Mao?
Lesser Deity: Good point.
Deity: I thought you would agree.
Lesser Deity: So how does one play Mao?
Deity: That.... is unknown!
Lesser Deity: Unknown?
Deity: Unknown.
Lesser Deity: Why?
Deity: Why not?
Lesser Deity: Because if people do not know how to play, then they will not know how to win. And people don't like to play games that they cannot win.
Deity: You have turned logic against me, fiend! I shall fly at thee!
[Deity flies at thee]
Lesser Deity: Wait! Instead of hurting me, why not make up rules for the game?
[Deity stops flying at thee]
Deity: I shall consider this. [considers] You make a compelling argument.
Lesser Deity: Good.
Deity: The rules of the game are... that there are no known rules of the game!
Lesser Deity: No known rules?!
Deity: Precisely!
Lesser Deity: But then people cannot win!
Deity: Yes they can!
Lesser Deity: How can they win if there are no rules?
Deity: Who said there are no rules?
Lesser Deity:You just did.
Deity: Did I?
Lesser Deity: Yes!
Deity: DID I?
Lesser Deity: I heard you say that there are no known rules to Mao---
Deity: Precisely!
Lesser Deity: What do you mean?
Deity: There are no known rules for the game of Mao. However, there are rules.
Lesser Deity: How will the people play then?
Deity: [considers] I have it! Some few shall know!
Lesser Deity: But who decides who shall know and who shall not?
Deity: Hush, Lesser Deity, lest I fly at thee again! Will not the Mao go whither it goes?
Lesser Deity: Uh...
Deity: It shall! Let there be no confusion. Mao shall make its own way in the world of Man!
Lesser Deity: But how?
Deity: Are you sure you want to know?
Lesser Deity: Not really.
Deity: SURE?
Lesser Deity: Uh... yes...
[Deity looks left, right, left again]
Deity: [whispers] Come in closer.
Lesser Deity: What?
Deity: [whispers louder] Come in closer!
Lesser Deity: [comes in closer] Okay.
Deity: Mao shall make its own way in the world of Man, through...
Lesser Deity: Through?
Deity: Through....
Lesser Deity: THROUGH?
Deity: [whispers] Secret knowledge.
Lesser Deity: ! Brilliant!
Deity: I know!
Lesser Deity: So how shall we begin to spread the Mao?
Deity: Let us make just a few rules, and don the garb of humans, and give them what's for!
Lesser Deity: Yes, let's!
[Voices trailing off]
Deity: So I was thinking that the Aces should work as [!*#*@!]...
Lesser Deity: I see. And the 8's, what about if they [$&*_@$$]?
Deity: Brilliant!
Lesser Deity: What a good idea...

[go play it. if you dare.]
brian

a.to.z.

2006-01-30T20:39:00.000-08:00

My taste in music says a lot about me. This last year has been like a music class in which I've learned a lot about both what I like, and what is good. If you want to know something about me, then take a look at this music which I have sometimes discovered, and more often been introduced.

Click.

["they all understand days that are over will not continue to last"]
brian

And So It Ends

2006-01-30T13:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I said goodbye to something I have come to love very much.

I said goodbye to my break.

This was perhaps the most bitter of all farewells I have ever paid. I think it was because my last semester was just so rigorous. I took five courses, all of which were upper-division. Guh.

This semester looks to be quite a bit lighter. I only have four courses this time around, three of which are upper-division, one of which is a 200 level survey for my major. Why the hell am I taking a survey course here and now? It baffles the mind. I will be a senior in a class composed almost entirely of sophomores and freshman. I'm a moose in a dog kennel.

Moose in a dog kennel? Hm.

So, here goes the grind again. I'm off. Or on. Or back. :-
[break>school]
brian

Redrawing the Gender Lines

2006-01-25T01:07:00.000-08:00

Girls and homosexuals are not the only people who buy and/or want candles. I am tired of that stereotype.

It bothers me because I happen to like candles, and happen to be coined as either [a]homosexual or [b]a boyfriend who needs to get a gift fast. This is a fascimile of a real conversation at Pier 1 that I had:

Brian: How much is this Indonesian Teak candle?
Employee: $20 for the pillar.
Brian: Thanks.
Employee: You're welcome. Is this for your girlfriend?
Brian: [indignant] No.
Employee: Oh, I'm sorry! ... Is it for your boyfriend?
Brian: NO!

What is so unbelievable about a straight man wanting a candle? Candles are great, and they accomplish many things at once:

[1] They provide illumination at night.
[2] They create ambiant atmosphere for less than track lighting.
[3] They eliminate bad odors from a room [men make these].
[4] They often add good scents to a room [men don't make these].

Is it so unbelievable that a man might want to have a room look, feel, and smell good? Goshhhhhhh!

Well, I'm done ranting. Now if you'll excuse me... I have to go listen to some Kenny G while drinking rose tea in a bubble bath.

[kidding. i hate kenny g.]
brian

take that.

2006-01-24T11:59:00.000-08:00

Would you survive a horror movie? Find out @ She's Crafty

[bad@$$]
brian

Fortified

2006-01-22T02:34:00.000-08:00

When I was a child, I thought like a child, I felt like a child, I ate like a child. When I grew up, I put away childish things.

Except for Lucky Charms.

I love a good bowl of Lucky Charms. I've learned how to eat it so that it's always moist but never gets soggy (a difficult task) and so that there are always at least five marshmallows in the last bite (an even more difficult task). If you think about it, I have thought and felt like an adult while still eating like a child, which makes me proud.

But something recently irked me about my favorite sugary cereal. General Mills now advertises that a bowl of Lucky Charms is fortified with vitamins (A, C, and D) and calcium.

Well, sure. If you pour milk on it. Milk is what makes a serving of Lucky Charms into a bowl of Lucky Charms. And milk has the all vitamins and calcium I need. So did they really fortify it, or did they just point out the fact that milk has nurtional value?

Now why go to the pains to prove to anyone that Lucky Charms is good for you? It's clearly not. But that's not why people eat Lucky Charms. People eat Lucky Charms because it's toasted sugar and marshmallows, a recipe which few (if any people) can find fault with.

Who are they trying to impress: moms? Well, here's a tip, General Mills: nobody eats or gives Lucky Charms to a kid for health. It's for taste and/or to shut kid up.

If a health nut asked the question, "If you were stranded on a desert island with only one thing to eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?" I would answer, "Lucky Charms." I don't even have to think. I just know. I want to put Lucky Charms into me so much that I would choose them above all other foods for my magic, one-fooded desert island lifestyle.

But health nuts nay-say. They say, "Nay, Brian, you'd die because of malnourishment."

And I always say, "It's my magic desert island. I don't have to be practical, just full of sugar and marshmallows."

They don't understand my love for Lucky Charms. But I do. I've invested in this cereal for a long time. I'll drink milk to be healthy, and eat Lucky Charms to be happy. Now leave me alone and let me eat my damn toasted sugar.

[crunch]
brian

Thoughts on a Blustery January Night

2006-01-16T01:35:00.000-08:00

-How great a blessing is a friend.
-A spitchcock is not what it sounds like.
-A zobo is not a hybrid between a yak and a zebra, despite Balderdash's claims to the contrary. It is a cross between a yak and a zebu. Just thought you should know.
-A raptor is a bird of prey, not just a dinosaur. And I'm not just kidding you.
-"For shits and giggles" really is a funny expression.
-Febreze is a godsend.

[the mroe you know]
brian

Sweetgum Fruit is not Well-Named.

2006-01-14T02:39:00.000-08:00

I'll tell you the punchline now: it took me three times to learn my lesson.

Here's the setup:

The other night, I wanted to listen to some music, but I realized that I left my iPod in my car. So I went outside, garbed in nothing but a pair of shorts. I ran across the asphalt in my bare feet to my car, realized I left my keys inside, ran back to the house, ran back to my car with my keys, forgot what I wanted, remembered it was my iPod, grabbed my iPod, and ran back towards my house [again].

I made it past the street and sidewalk just fine. But then I hit the grass. The grass was wet and cold, so I ran faster. Now, my neighbors have a sweetgum tree. In the winter, the sweetgum tree drops its fruit and it rolls around. Now, you'd think with a name like "sweetgum," the fruit would be fun.

But sweetgum fruit is not fun. It is unfun.

Sweetgum fruit should be renamed to "sweetgum mines." Because sweetgum fruit looks like this:

If you look closely, you'll notice that the sweetgum fruit is barbed and sharp:

I hit one of these things running at full speed, and a few of its brines got buried in the sole of my foot. Since I was running at top speed, I landed on it about twice more before I could stop.

I stopped and said something. It was not repeatable.

There were two things I needed to do: [1] get inside, because it was cold, and [2] remove the sweetgum fruit imbedded in my foot because it didn't belong there. Sadly, I opted to go in that order.

I walked forward again, and again said something. It too was not repeatable.

There were two things I needed to do: [1] get inside, because it was cold, and [2] remove the sweetgum fruit imbedded in my foot because it didn't belong there. This time around, though, I thought, "Hey, why don't I take the poorly named sharp object out of my foot before trying to get indoors?"

And then I thought, "Gee, that's a good idea! Why don't I sit down on that porch glider to do it?"

I stepped forward again.

Said imbedded object became more of an imbedded object.

This time, I bit my tongue and realized that I should just stop and take thorny, God-forsaken fruit out of my feet before trying to walk on them. I soon realized that I could apply that knowledge elsewhere in life. I could apply it to just about any situation where I had something sharp in me! It was valuable knowledge.

And... insert punchline.

[stop. bleed. think. go. stop. think. go. stop. remove. go.]
brian

I Made A Playlist.

2006-01-10T19:00:00.000-08:00

It's called "unlike another." This playlist is, and I quote for myself: "a down-tempo mix of unique and moving songs from my favorite artists."

So if you ever wanted to see the man behind the mask of the man's mask... uh... well, go.

[some days her shape in the doorway...]
brian

Oh... the GIME

2006-01-10T01:28:00.000-08:00

I have an odd habit of really enjoying things without ever acknowleding that I enjoy them. Recently I unpacked that concept and realized that I just love the gym.

Working out provides me with satisfaction on so many levels. Physically, I get fitter. You might say, "Well, duh, Brian, that's why you work out," and you'd be right. But it's not just the exercise. I get into a MINDSET about this stuff. I eat healthier, get up earlier... I even move around more in general. I just feel alive after I get to the gym.

Then there's the emotional benefit. I get such a pick-me-up from going to the gym. Maybe it's because it's like a giant playground in my head. The machines are jumbo toys, and I go earn points which I can turn in to lose weight! There are new high scores to be set, new equipment to try, new fun to be had.

I think better after I hit the gym too. There's always the tough questions I have to ask myself when I go there, like: "Did I stretch yet? How should I order my workout? Aerobics, Weights, Sit-ups? Sit-ups, Aerobics, Weights? Gymnastics? Spinning? Do I do back and biceps, or chest and triceps today? I forgot... did I stretch yet?" After resolving them, I feel more focused, directed, and driven to do well in life. Yes, gym-going provides me with lots of food for thought.

Finally, there's the bragging rights and ego-boost. I curled 75 pounds today. I know, and now you know it too! You see this muscular thing?

Yeah, that's my deltuvius. Most people don't know how to properly lift with it, but I do.

I guess I'm pretty frickin' serious about something I discovered I liked yesterday.

[]
brian

idiocy is an art by happenstance

2006-01-07T10:18:00.000-08:00

As I've established, I'm an idiot. For example: the other night, it was foggy and mysterious. And I thought, "Hey, I should take a picture of this!" So I whipped out my digital camera, found the scene that I wanted to capture, and charged the flash.

Now keep in mind that fog is a low-lying cloud--in other words, fog is a bunch of water floating in the air. Now you remember what happens when you turn on your headlights in a thick fog, right? The whole cloud lights up. And if you turn on your brights, the whole cloud lights up more.

Now remember how bright a camera flash can be.

"So what happened?" you might ask.

Well... idiot though I may be... I stumbled into some beauty.

Click the images to see bigger pictures.

[beauty through stupidity]
brian

my best friend: in photos.

2006-01-04T18:26:00.000-08:00

Nick has been my best friend for near 12 years now. We've gone through junior high, high school, and college together. So he's been there for pretty much every joy, every trial, every drop of blood. Actually, Nick's been there for every significant event I've been through since I knew what "significant" meant.

But few of you have seen him. I intend to amend that [heh--poesy!].

So, without further ado... I give you Nick:

Yes, his is a countenance full of joy, grace, and (most of all) wisdom.

[marvel from afar]
brian

p.s. Sorry girls. He's married.

The New Addiction

2005-12-15T19:53:00.000-08:00

I have a link here.

I must warn you.

Clicking may mean the loss of your soul because the subject of the link is both addicting and aggravating.

With that said...

Click annoy yourself into a coma.

The game is Sudoku. The point of the game is to get the numbers 1-9 in each of the nine 3x3 cubes, across each row, and down each column.

It starts out sounding harmless enough. But you will be frustrated, I promise. And then you will be enraptured. And then frustrated. And enraptured.

The definition of addiction is an artificial need and consequent hatred for something. Well, I'm addicted.

Be addicted too.

-brian

photos of the year.

2005-12-11T23:23:00.000-08:00

http://www.time.com/time/yip/2005/?promoid=rss_top

TIME recently posted their picks for the 24 "best photos of the year" on their website. Almost all of them have to do with death or disaster, especially when the captions are read to give context. There were three that stood out as hopeful to me. But I feel deep distress. Could TIME find so little beauty to remember in 2005?

I can think of some.

-brian

"I've Just Been to the Most Wonderful of Places!"

2005-12-10T14:24:00.000-08:00

I saw The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe on Wednesday night at a pre-release at the Downtown Disney theatre.

Before I say anything more, I must confess that Lewis' Narnia cycle is one of my very favorite sequences in literature. The first time I read through it (as a sophomore in college) I actually wept at a few places in the story. In his fantastic world, Lewis captured some of the most true human moments. Perhaps that is why I love fantasy so much... it frees the author to talk about things we see every day, in a way which is new and refreshing.

In short, I went into the Narnia premiere on the defensive, prepared for the worst. I wondered if Disney would ruin one of my most treasured stories by totally obliterating the Christian theology which composes Narnia.

But they didn't. They left Narnia pretty much alone, and made an incredibly beautiful movie out of the source material.

I loved the LOTR trilogy, both book and movie. But there were points in the movies where the pacing waned and I got bored. This is not at all the case with Narnia. There really is no downpoint in the story. It's a 2.5 hour movie, but the pacing is very quick.

So the characters are shallow, right? Actually, no. Even though the story moves along very quickly, the characters obviously grow and have genuine depth. The child actors actually did an incredible job---especially Lucy. If I had a daughter as cute as Lucy, I think I would spoil her and make her a daddy's girl. Hm.

The scenery was incredible, the costumes appropriate, the animals well-animated, the music (for the most part) above-par, and the story (of course) engaging.

Go see it, if you haven't.

New Header

2005-12-07T17:42:00.000-08:00

<<<
"Now with SPACE TECHNOLOGY!">>

Why, you ask? Because my blog now has SPACE TECHNOLOGY.>>

Marvel at my ability to post with technology that was developed and tested.... IN SPACE!!!>>

Ergo, vis a vis, concordantly....>>

SPACE TECHNOLOGY!>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>-brian>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

D'oh...

2005-11-28T09:04:00.000-08:00

When you're sick, the most discouraging sound in the world is an alarm clock.

-brian

The Future---In Your Pocket

2005-11-26T15:47:00.000-08:00

I have two lexicons--phrases I use constantly inside my mind, and those I say out loud. Now, there's a lot of cross-over between the two. For example, in both lexicons the phrase "I wonder-" is at the top of the list. But there are many divergences.

Some phrases I only use out loud, like the suffixes "... right?" and "... you know what I mean?" There's the emphatics like "CRAP" and "Not again!"--both of which, interestingly, I find frequent context for using.

On the other hand, certain phrases seldom make it out of my head. "So THAT'S where that went" is one that usually stays inside. I also say "Wait, what?" "Stop," and "Okay" to myself a lot, but try not to use them so frequently in conversation.

So I recently noticed that a particular phrase has made it to the top of my internal lexicon. You'd probably never guess unless I told you, so I will.

The phrase that has gained so much prominence in my mind is...

ready?...

"Where's the Purell?"

I got hooked on the instant hand sanitizer this summer when I had to sit in my car overnight. I had a bottle of Purell on hand and made use of it after "going to the port-a-potty" or eating fast food. But over time, I began using it on more and more occassions.

When I finished my coffee, squirt.

When I sneezed or coughed, squirt.

When I shook hands with strangers, squirt.

When I finished reading a book, squirt.

I propose that we make it fashionable to keep a bottle of Purell on you at all times. I'm sure you can imagine all the practical applications, but the most important is that it would encourage men to wash their hands more.

I don't know what it is, but for some reason 75% of the men I see go into the restroom never wash their hands when done. Sure, they'll touch the cold metal levers on the urinals and toilets. Sure, they'll stop at the mirror to look at their hair. Sure, they'll proceed to pull the door open and thus spread their waste remnants, germs, and smell about.

But wash their hands? How dare we ask them to? I mean, they have to pull up on the faucet lever, put their hands under running water, push in on the soap dispenser, lather up the soap, stick their hands back under the running water, then push down on the faucet lever, and finally pull out a paper towel to dry off their hands.

This is too many steps to ask a guy to add to a bathroom routine which otherwise goes stop. unzip. go. zip. flush [maybe]. leave.

But think about Purell in the place of soap... they'd just have to go open. squirt. snap. rub. go.

And the world would be a much cleaner place.

How about it?

-brian

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-24T16:25:00.000-08:00

We all know that today is a day to be thankful. And I bet a lot of the blog community will remind you of that fact, and ask you to reflect on all the good things in life that you should praise God for having.

And they'll probably compose lists of important and significant things to be thankful for.

So they'll toss God, family, country, turkey, jobs, etc. on the list, and cover all that territory thoroughly--too thoroughly for me to add anything to the conversation of high-priority thankfuls.

So instead, I will create a list of things you might overlook, but should really be thankful for. Here it comes:

-The power cord. The living room would be a dark, entertainless place without it.

-The lamp shade. Not only does it add aesthetic value to illumination, it also makes a great hat or megaphone. Here's to a very versatile piece of fabric and wire!

-The meat thermometer. Without which, we would never know when the turkey was done.

-Toilet paper. It makes life so much easier, and yet rarely gets any credit.

-The "Shift" and "." keys. These two put in a lot of hours, but the letters get all the prestige. So I raise my glass to these two, even if none else will.

-The eyelash. It makes the face prettier, and keeps crud off the eyeball. Without the eyelash, sight just wouldn't be the same.

-The paper tray. Just imagine printing if you had to load paper in one sheet at a time. Ugh.

-The quotation mark. Another piece of punctuation which we take for granted, but which does enough work to deserve a nod.

-The anti-perspriant stick. It dries and deodorizes, and makes dealing with other people much easier.

-The remote control. It provides us with the means to be even lazier while sitting down to watch TV.

-The doorknob. It allows us to open walls without breaking them!

And la piece de resistance...

-The flange. It's that lever inside of the toilet which automatically turns off the water, preventing your business from escaping back out of the bowl. Ours recently went on a 10-minute break, and it took some convincing to get it to start working again. But when it did, I learned to really appreciate that piece of plastic and the job it does.

Okay. Happy Thanksgiving. Count your blessings.
-brian

Thoughts

2005-11-13T00:05:00.000-08:00

-I went shopping on Thursday, and decided to look for a shirt made in the USA. It's really hard--all the big brands are shipping out of Singapore, China, Mauritius, Malawi, and hundreds of other impoverished countries. I ended up buying one out of Mauritius.

-I miss Tim, Cate, and Kathy. Come back.

-Annie Hall is a really depressing movie. I didn't know that Woody Allen could star in a touching movie.

-It would be nice to receive a letter. Not an e-mail, but a letter: with a stamp and envelope and everything. I would love that. Maybe I should send one if I want to get one.

-I like it when the streetlight catches the fog. It makes everything look more... elegant.

-brian

A Dark Day

2005-11-09T22:15:00.000-08:00

Today, I had to say goodbye to a child I have never met.

-brian

Antitheses

2005-10-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

So I had two encounters on Friday that were about as polarized as any two encounters can be.

The first was a conversation with a woman at Starbucks. She was in her early thirties, and typing extensively while referencing out of a book that showed it had been read, and thoroughly—you know, the ones with highlighting all over the place and scribbling in the margins, etc.

I struck up a conversation with her. It surfaced that this woman was writing a book on women's rights and the obstacles holding them back. She had some good points, and was arguing that the biggest hurdles that women face in the struggle to be treated as equals are the Sexual Revolution and the widespread presence of pornography in our culture.

She has my respect and admiration.

The second encounter is completely different. I was walking into the mall to get my watch band adjusted when a twenty-something girl walked up to me, said, "I thought you might be interested in this," and handed me a business card with a porn site URL printed on it.

Ten feet later, I crumbled it up and threw it on the ground [where trash like that belongs]. She walked over, picked it up and yelled at me, "How RUDE!"

I stopped.

[note: Sometimes, when I get incensed, I say things very strongly. Right now, I was just at the limit of my patience.]

I turned around, and said back to her, "Is that web address for a porn site?"

She replied non-chalantly, "Yes," and started to walk away.

—Limit Break—

I said one last thing to her as she rounded the corner of a building. "I'm not being rude—I just respect you a whole hell of a lot more than you respect yourself."

She had nothing to say, so I went inside.

[when in Rome]
brian

hugs

2005-09-26T00:03:00.000-07:00

'cuz it's mah berfday.

[ORwoo-hoosDER]
brian

Yeah, I've Scene That

2005-09-09T02:36:00.000-07:00

Biola has some really neat student-organized activities, especially when it comes to music. Tonight was the kickoff of "the eddy," a concert held every Thursday on campus.

The eddy books bands you know and bands you don't, but all them are decent. It makes for an evening of good (free) entertainment, and on a Thursday too. I still get to have my weekends to do whatever I want.

While the music is enjoyable, and the admission free, I would still like to air a grievance.

Since the eddy plays host to indie, emo, and other bands in the same vein, these concerts draw a certain type of crowd. They stand in front of the stage, and really just stand there. No moving—they just stand. They're messy-haired, pink-shirted, tight-pantsed, sullen-faced, angst-filled 20-somethings who don't like you.

That's right: most of the audience is "scene." What is "scene," you ask? "Scene" means they know something you don't, and they're happy about it.

Yes, I'm generalizing. Not everyone who has refined musical or cinematic tastes is an ass-butt.

But let's be honest: a lot of scene people think they're better than "the crowd." I have had the tenacity to ask sceners (as I like to call them) for music recommendations, and 9 of the 10 times it has gone something like this might:

Brian: Hey, Trey.
Trey: Hey.
Brian: Are you doing all right? You look down.
Trey: I'm all right. But not too all right, just all right enough to keep myself from affecting you in any meaningful way.
Brian: Oh, that's good to hear… uh… hey, I was wondering…
Trey: ?
Brian: Could you, you know, recommend a few bands to me?
Trey: You want me to recommend some groups?
Brian: Yeah. See, I'm trying to expand my music horizons.
Trey: Cool. Have you heard of [geographic region + Greek god]?
Brian: No.
Trey: Oh. How about [Weather Condition + Day of Week]?
Brian: Nuh-uh.
Trey: How about [Adverb + Random Number]?
Brian: Wait! Are they the ones who play "Send Me Down?"
Trey: No, that's [Synonymous Adverb + Random Number*2].
Brian. Oh. I've heard of them.
Trey: Well, yeah. They're mainstream.
Brian: So can you just recommend a band I might like?
Trey: Yeah, pick up the Summer Winds LP from [fourth band you've never heard of].
Brian: Okaaaaaay. Thanks.

That's all well and good. I'm music illiterate, and I know it. Why else would I ask for recommendations? The hold-up is that, instead of recommending something I could probably get my hands on, I'm directed towards an LP that is almost impossible to acquire. Why? Because nobody but the scene people know about the group.

I have the sneaking suspicion that he does this to mock me.

Well, I have prepared a retaliation tool. The next time I go to an eddy, and someone starts talking about how they like Cinder better than the band that's playing, I'll do this:

Brian: Cinder? Yeah, they're okay.
Trey: You've heard of Cinder?
Brian: Yeah. Well, I was trying to find something like Death by Desire that would appeal to my mainstream friends.
Trey: Cinder's not mainstream.
Brian: Compared to Death by Desire, they are.
Trey: I've never heard of Death by Desire.
Brian: Really? Oh, wow. How about Grassland Apollo?
Trey: No…
Brian: Cloud Wednesday?
Trey: [bemused look]
Brian: The When Sisters?
Trey: Who?
Brian: Wow. Have you at least heard of Fide?
Trey: Uh…
Brian: You haven't heard of Fide? [look at watch] Well, I should probably be going…

And then I leave.

Two can play this game. All I have to do is make up convincing band names to win.

[hey, check out the new Sober Future LP]
brian

Space Filler

2005-09-04T02:00:00.000-07:00

I have loads of embarrassing stories. They range from unwittingly yelling at a deaf person to being too—how to put this—exposed in public, and everything in between. They're always accidental, and they're always awkward.

And that's what makes them funny.

The story I am about to tell happened during my Freshman year at Biola University. It happened in front of a dorm, and it happened because of a girl. That's all the background you need.

To protect her identity, we'll call this girl "Berry." I chose "Berry" because nobody names their daughter "Berry;" thus you can't confuse her with the Berry you know. Anyway, Berry was a member of my first group of friends. I was trying to impress her because I thought she was cute. I wanted her to think that I was the smartest, funniest, best-dressed, and most amazing person around. Yet while I gave my opinions, cracked my jokes, and wore my clothes, she still didn't seem to notice me.

Something was missing from my pitch. I strained my mind and thought about what I might be lacking. I checked and re-checked my work, only to be continually impressed with how I looked. Eventually I had to put the question missing aside because I just couldn't come up with an answer.

But it was always in the back of my mind, just waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

One night, Berry, my other friends and I all watched The Matrix in Sigma Chi Dorm's lobby. Neo finished blowing Agent Smith up, and we needed a reason to keep avoiding homework. It was late and all the stores were closed, so we decided to kill some time by talking outside.

Now after watching a movie like The Matrix, every male feels just a little bit more powerful than he did two hours before. He goes through an internal process, and it goes something like this:

-1. Assume that everyone around you is an enemy.
-2. Envision how you will take them all down, doing as many flips and throws as possible.
-3. Imagine some incredibly complex way of getting away from an opponent. There are extra points for you if it involves running up or across a wall.
-4. The final step is a rationalization process, where you call up every cool physical feat you've ever performed to try and justify how your fantasy is "legitimately possible."

I promise you, every guy goes through this process when he sees an action film. It's guaranteed. But I digress.

Back to the story: one of my friends was currently in phase four, telling everyone about his black belt in Tae Kwan Do. One girl voice how admiration while she ever-so-gently touched his arm. He was prepared for this and flexing before she made contact. The girl oohed and giggled as she felt his muscles, and that's when it hit me.

This is what I had lacked—cool guys aren't just funny, witty, and well-dressed. No. They need something more.

Cool guys need wicked physical skills!

It was so simple. Why hadn't I seen it before? I must have been too busy looking good in my Old Navy cargo pants to notice. But now I had noticed. All I needed was the opportunity.

I didn't have to wait long, because I was still in phase three. Thus my eyes were peeled for any cool geography which would allow for an impressive physical feat. And as my focus drifted around the outside of the dorm, it rested upon my answer: a bench next to a wall with about ten feet of clearance on each side.

In my mind, I saw it: my opportunity to outdo a black belt and win the affection of Berry forever. All I had to do was run across the wall over the bench.

I rushed through phase four, only saying to myself, "Brian, you can do this." I steeled myself to the task, crossed myself for good luck, and passed the point of no return.

I got everyone's attention by saying, "I'm gonna run over that bench on the wall."

The black belt looked at me and said, "You can't do that,."

And I said, "Oh yeah? Watch me."

I started my run. I jumped up onto the wall. My feet made contact. Right step, left step, right step. Here I realized that I was in the middle of my arc, and that I had made it so far without losing any inertia. I was going to make it. I was really going to make it! Berry was mine.

And then gravity reminded me that running up walls takes a lot of lower body strength.

My feet slid out from underneath me, and I went from the peak of my arc to my face in the concrete in a mere tenth of a second. My friends all gasped, mortified.

I got up quickly, brushed the dust off my pants and wiped the blood off of my lip.

"Holy crap, are you all right?" the black belt asked.

"I'm fine, fine, everything's cool," I replied, trying to play off the fact that I had just gone face-first into the concrete. "I like doing that. I call it concrete diving," I said, trying quickly to dig myself out of the hole I was already in. "It's just so much fun."

Nobody believed me, probably on account of the blood on my lips and the new hole in my Old Navy cargo pants. I realized that I was in over my head.

I looked at Berry, then at the black belt guy, and then back to Berry. "So, I'll catch you guys later, then," I said, and walked off into the night.

Nothing ever really developed with Berry,

But I did learn, conclusively, that I'm an idiot.

[new facts, every day]
brian!

Give

2005-08-31T21:29:00.000-07:00

Give something.

Thankfully, all my friends in the New Orleans are safe.

I have nothing to add which hasn't already been said thousands of times before. I pray for all of the victims of this severe disaster, and that God would act in this time of distress.

I hope you and all yours are safe this evening.

[at a loss]
brian

In The Zone

2005-08-23T02:31:00.000-07:00

Some of my friends are getting into "The Zone."

"The Zone" is the period of time right before the semester starts where you make all sorts of really big plans and vow yourself blue in the face about how this semester will be different:

... no more scrambling at the last minute to finish the paper worth 50% of your grade.

... no more leaving your 600 pages of reading until the day before it is due.

... no more avoiding exercise and/or a healthy diet.

"This year will be the beginning of the rest of my life," you say while you blithely cruise through "The Zone." "This year," you say, "I will be the me I've always wanted to be."

And then you smile.

Well, I encourage you to wear that smug grin of satisfaction while you can, you "Zoners." Because I know that you sincerely believe that you will be a newer, better you this semester. No more late nights, no more red eyes, no more stomach aches as you pound your head on the library table and repeat, "Oh God, WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! NEVER AGAIN!"

The memory of the excrutiating time you called "finals" last semester are close to your heart. When you vow, you really mean these vows. It is with a genuine heart that you plan to keep yourself above water.

You really, honestly, truly, completely plan to zip right through your Mead Day-Planner'ed semester like A BMW roadster on the Autobahn.

And, for the duration of "The Zone," you will zip. Zippity zip zip along, you zippers!

...

Until you hit the four-foot tall speed bumps.

Like your books for the semester weighing an excess of forty pounds, and you realize that each page weighs less than an ounce. And then you get out your calculator, and realize that you have somewhere near 20000 pages to read before you hit finals.

Or until you lose your Mead Day-Planner.

Or until your friend comes in while you're working, and the following dialog ensues.

[Friend]: Hey Dude, you need to come outside with us!
[Student]: I can't. Right now, I have to read.
[Friend]: Read? We're jumping off the roof of the house into a kiddie pool filled with custard!
[Student]: ...
[Friend]: So are you coming or wh-
[Student]: I'M THINKING!!!!!!

So ride "The Zone High" [as I like to call it] while you still can. Because at least you can feel good about your snazzy student self.

That is, until you actually have to be that snazzy student.

And realize you would rather jump into custard.

And realize, in Novemer, that all you have left of that "snazzy student self" at the end of the custard jumping is your self and 1600 pages to read before you start writing your over-weighted research paper.

Hey, before you complain and commence in the semi-annual library table head-bashing, just remember:

You're not bad, you were just in the way of "The Zone."

[splooshhh!]
brian!

Redding Wings

2005-08-20T22:34:00.000-07:00

My best friend’s wedding was held today.

It has been quite a road, a difficult but beautiful journey, to this day.

It doesn’t seem that long ago that I met Nick on a baseball diamond in sixth grade.

How could it be five years ago that we cut so many classes to go to the beach or whatever because we finally had [a] senioritis, [b] drivers’ licenses, and [c] absolutely no accountability?

Was it really only a couple of years ago that we had established a tradition of being home on the weekends to watch Adult Swim together, then go on a four or five-mile walk to talk about what life was like in our different colleges?

I have watched Nick as he has grown from a feisty, insolent, wanna-be gangster into a man who has almost finished a pastoral training program at CBU, working as an associate pastor at an established church, and distinguished by his patience and loyalty and sincere heart for God. I have seen anger become sorrow, hatred become compassion, fear become courage, and above all things, passion become purified love.

In short, I have watched as Nick became a man.

And then he met Christine… this wonderful lady who shook everything in his life up because she fit so well. Everyone who has met Christine can tell that she is really pretty—but Nick instantly saw that she was beautiful. Her heart so deep, her patience so abounding, and above all her sincere faith in Christ were all seen by Nick behind the veneer of physical appeal which seems to stop so many.

This morning, I saw Nick jittery with excitement at the thought of what was to happen in a few brief hours. I was alone with Nick as I have come to know him for the last time this afternoon.

We were in a room off to the side of the sanctuary.

"Hey Buddy," I said.

"Hey Buddy," he replied.

"Are you nervous?"

"Not really, no. I was so nervous all last week, but now I'm just... excited!"

"Man," I replied, "I must be nervous for both of us then." And I was: my heart was beating really fast, and my stomach was in knots.

"Do you have the rings?" he asked.

I checked my pockets, and didn't feel the box where I expected it. For a second there, my heart was just behind my eyeballs until I remembered that I had put the box in the left breast pocket.

There they were.

"Yeah, I've got the rings," I told Nick.

I looked at the clock on the wall, which told me that it was 8:40... just as it had all day long, because it was broken. Still, even though it was still 8:40, I knew that 3:30 was drawing really close.

I heard the door handle turn.

I got up to Nick, and said, “Nick, I am so proud to be your best man. I love you so much.”

"I love you too, Brian."

I hugged him, almost crushing his boutonnière, and then his pastor came in and said that it was time for me to go join the bridal procession.

“Goodbye, Nick, and good luck!” I said over my shoulder as I left the groom’s room.

And then I was walking the maid of honor down the aisle.

And then I was standing next to the same old Nick for one last time, as we both watched in awe as Christine approached.

And before I knew it, the rings were out of my coat pocket.

And then he kissed the bride.

And, in the span of a second, I was standing next to a new Nicholas R_____.

Because now, they were Nicholas and Christine R____. They suddenly shared one name, one life path, one destiny. And I couldn’t be happier for them.

God has truly brought these two together, for better or for worse. They have faced many hardships to reach this day safely, but through perseverence they have overcome every difficulty which has met them. I will guard their marriage as best as I can, all the while realizing every day that this Nick is a new Nick...

Because, with all the finality which a pair of bands on fingers can bring, Nick has joined Christine such as he has never joined someone before.

A hard realization, when I have invested so much in a single friendship for eleven years… for over half of my life. I have hitherto been the primary voice of affirmation, rebuke, praise, gratitude, sorrow, and joy.

But now, they are Nick and Christine R____. They are a new creation.

As the best man and best friend of the groom, I had the privilege of offering the first toast to Nick and Christine R____. I told him all I could while on a microphone, but it's pretty damned hard to represent the world of collected emotion and experience from eleven years in the span of two minutes.

Man, time flies far.

Godspeed, Nick and Christine. I eagerly wait to see where God takes you in this world.

[tick]
brian

How To Have An Interesting Experience #24: Involving a Keyboard and Your Lungs

2005-08-16T01:10:00.000-07:00

You will need a few common household items for this one:
[1] water bottle.
[1] pair of lungs.
[1] keyboard. A computer is preferable, although a typewriter will serve in a pinch.
[1] candlewax chip inside keyboard.
-[disclaimer: it is not recommended that you pour candlewax onto your keyboard, or that you put anything in your keyboard for that matter.]
-[disclaimer disclaimer: it's not really recommended that you perform the any of the in this actions post anyway, so if you feel like it, go ahead and pour wax all over your keyboard.]

Now that you have all of the items...
01. Get water bottle out of refrigerator.
02. Set water bottle and lungs in front of computer.
03. Connect to the internet to play a game. I chose to play chess.
04. Take cap off of water bottle.
05. Take a sip of water.
06. Set water bottle down on the table with a little too much enthusiasm.
07. Watch as little globules of liquid jump into the air and splatter on corner of keyboard.
08. Think of a way to immediately dry keyboard off, so as to prevent damage to the sensitive contacts underneath the keys.
09. When discovering that no drying surface is available, opt to suck the water off of the keyboard.
10. Suck corner of keyboard, paying no attention to how stupid this sounds.
11. Inhale hidden scented candlewax chip from underneath the "ENTER" key on the number pad.
12. Take a second to savor the pleasant flavor of the candlewax, which not only tastes good, but smells good even from inside of your lungs.
13. Take another second to realize that it also hurts very badly to have wax chips anywhere inside of you, but especially in your lungs.
14. Cough.
15. Cough again.
16. Take another drink out of water bottle.
17. Cough again with water in mouth, but attempt to keep the water inside of you.
18. Head to kitchen sink.
19. Force yourself to keep coughing, attempting to dislodge candlewax from your interior.
20. Start making horrible gagging and choking noises.
21. Look over at your mother, who is on the phone with a friend from another state.
22. Listen to her ask, "Are you okay?"
23. Opt not to answer with words, since you can barely breathe, but give her a thumbs up as you continue to gag and choke.
24. Expectorate into sink.
25. Laugh as you realize that this must look really dumb, and will sound even dumber when you explain what has happened.
26. Learn not to laugh when you are choking, because it makes you choke more.
27. Expectorate into sink again.
28. Exhale sharply.
29. Expectorate again.
30. Exhale with vivacity one final time.
31. Hear your mother speak into the phone, "I'd better go because my child is choking."
32. Tell your mom, "No really, I'm okay [gag] [chortle] [gag]."
33. Hear mother say "Good-bye," as you turn back to the sink.
34. Expectorate and exhale sharply. Repeat as necessary.
35. Examine the dislodged, slimy piece of candlewax in the sink.
36. Drink much more water.
37. Explain situation to your mother, who will undoubtedly look at you as though you were an idiot.
38. Realize that your mother's look is appropriate.
39. Go back to keyboard, and resume game.

[only being myself is enough]
brian!

Blind Adventures

2005-08-10T23:21:00.000-07:00

Last night, my friend Tim and I received a call from two girls in distress. You see, Cait and Kathy were in a bind with their blinds, and Andrew deferred them to us. They could not install them without the help of men.

Burly, muscular, tool-wielding men.

So we traveled to their house to see what we could do to help them out.

The first step was to remove the bracket which they had installed in the soft drywall of their window frame. For you see, while these girls had the foresight to buy a tool set from a hardware store [thereby earning the admiration a salesman], they overlooked the important acquisition of a stud finder. Screwing things into drywall is not what contractors would call "a good idea," seeing as how the mounting would be insecure.

I can't blame the ladies, really, because it's not like most windows are made out of drywall. Most are made out of wood. But I digress.

We unscrewed the one bracket they had gotten up, and replaced it on a secure part of the wall [with much grunting from Tim, who was in possession of the Philip's head].

We leveled, measured, and marked where the other end bracket for the first pair of blinds was to go. But the wall was very stubborn, and would have nothing to do with our endeavor. So Tim says to the wall, "Fine. Be that way. I'll get a drill!"

The wall apparently thought we were bluffing, but alas, we were not.

We set off on an adventure to claim a power drill from EIP, Tim and Cait's [and my former] workplace.

It must be noted that the night prior, EIP had been broken into and almost all of the computers were stolen. So we took our keys, because breaking a window wasn't a viable option.

We tried to get to the front door, but there was a jungle of spider webs obstructing our path. I got web in the face and Tim got web on his clothes, which to him are much more important than my face. I know this because I said, "Oh [something], I've got spider web all over my face!" and he responded, "Don't complain! I've got it all over my clothes!"

Thanks for the support, Tim.

The front door was proving to be an impasse, so we went around to the side door where we were met with more success. We got in, found a light switch, and found a drill. The only problem was that the drill had a bit stuck in it which would not budge on its own.

You see, the chuck was stuck. Chuck is the part of a drill which holds the "bit" or head in place. It has been said, "If the chuck is stuck, then you're pluck out of luck."

You've never heard it said? I have. I just said it.

Tim thought about this stuck-chuck problem, and hard. He came up with a solution.

One which proves to be the slightest bit reckless, but effective.

He stuck the chuck into a vice grip and turned the drill on.

Oh, it worked. The drill bit came out--flying out, actually. It is a good thing we were both standing on the un-chucked side of the drill, because I might not be telling you this otherwise.

With an unstuck chuck, we got ready to exit the premises. But not before a security guard stopped his truck in front of us with our un-stuck chuck, between us and freedom, in the door which we left wide open.

He shone his light upon us, and lo, we looked guilty. For we stand there, covering our faces to protect our eyes from the shining, all garbed in dark clothes and holding EIP property.

I was incredibly tempted to just yell "RUN FOR IT! I'LL DISTRACT HIM!"

I opened my mouth.

But Tim said, "We work here. I'm Tim __g___."

The security guard said, "Oh yeah! I recognize you two!" He looks at me. "You were helping them move in June, right?"

No.

"No."

Why didn't I just say yes?

Mr. Security became suspicious again.

"Who's the owner?"

Tim responded: "Duncan _a_______."

That clicked with the security guard, and he left us there.

In retrospect, one might wonder where this particular security guy was two nights ago, when EIP really was being robbed instead of last night when it just looked like it. But more of the story awaits you, if you have been of the nature to read thus far.

Armed with a drill, we returned to the girls' house. Tim walked over to the wall, which looked disappointed with us, but helpless.

Or so we thought.

Tim employed my idea of drilling the screw into the wall without the bracket to make it easier to screw in a second time. He turned on the drill.

He applied even pressure to the screw.

The screw went in.

The wall came out.

Yes, the wall came out. A thin layer of wood separated from the true wall all the way up to the ceiling, much to our surprise and chagrin.

Tim said something, and then unscrewed the nail.

In turn, the layer returned to its proper place as part of the wall, as if it were on a fulcrum.

We thought, and Tim told me to apply firm pressure to the layer while he drilled the screw in a second time.

I was apprehensive. "What if the drill slips?" I ask frankly.

"Oh, it won't slip!" he assured me.

I placed my hands on the wall and applied pressure.

Tim began to drill.

The drill slipped and made a little hole about a half-inch from my hand.

I looked at Tim, but he was intent on not looking back.

He drilled again, and again the drill slipped. This time I felt the bit brush ever-so-gently against my skin.

But I trusted Tim so much that I kept on pressing firmly against the wall.

We finally get the second and third brackets mounted, and the blind installed. Then Cait looked appreciatively at us and said, "Now for the other one!"

Tim looked back at her, with just the slightest signs of fatigue. It was clear that he was done blind-bracketing for the day. But he was happy to insist that the girls try while he laid on the bed and consistently poked them in the heads with a tape measure, and decided that Cait and Kathy were 85 and 74 inches tall, respectively.

While the second blind never got up, we did get to eat cookies and see a wall come away from its proper place and learn how to get a chuck unstuck and how to look very guilty while being totally innocent and find out that Tim's clothes matter more than my face.

All in all, it was a wonderful night.

Too bad Andrew was in bed.

[his loss]
brian!

Too Absurd to be Fabricated

2005-08-08T13:46:00.000-07:00

Today, I saw a sign for a water purifier and cell phone shop. Not two signs for two shops, or even one sign for two separate shops, but one sign for one water purifier and cell phone shop.

That's like a light bulb and ham sandwich store.

Or billows and camera shop.

Or ice maker and cinder block repair company.

Goodness.

[slightly bemused]
brian!

apple jacks

2005-08-03T02:14:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the Apple Store. I must make this clear: I did NOT go to get a new iPod. I went armed against that idea. Why get a new iPod when I have one already?

I love my iBook and iPod. I would never betray them. They have served me well over the last year. But... they both seem to like breaking at the same time.

I have a 3rd Generation iPod which is supposed to look like this:

but which instead tends to look like this:

You see, my battery is dead. When I turn my iPod on, I always see the Apple logo... something you see only when [a] your battery is dead or [b] something else has gone horribly, horribly wrong.

I know that little guy is supposed to be reassuring and friendly, but its affirmation has long since worn off. Now it scares me... I have come to dread turning on my iPod for fear of seeing it. It's like my mp3 player is haunted by an apple I ate when I was a kid, and now it is seeking some sort of evil revenge upon me by taking what I hold close to my heart: my MUSIC!

"That apple will get his," I thought.

I was right about the battery, but wrong about the price to fix it. At first I thought it would be about $60 to get it serviced, then it was $85, and then it was all the way down to $00. Yay for that!

But then there's a $30 fee to "test the battery." You mean, flip the switch to see the apple logo pop up and then fly away to eat more of my music? I see how the labor justifies the price.

But at the end of the day, it's a $30 discount against the $60 I was prepared to pay. Wahoo.!.!?

However, it takes 2-3 business days to get an iPod tested [again, it's a time-consuming process], and another few days to get a new unit sent in [mine is no longer sold in stores]. So I was told that I would be iPod-less for at least a week.

No iPod = no music. No music = no music, and we all know what that means!

It was a horrible prospect. But a prospect that would save me money. Besides, what was I going to do? Buy another iPod? I remind you, I had NO intention of doing any such thing.

Moving on.

The second reason I went to the Apple Store is because of this:

my pride and joy, my iBook G4 12". I love this little guy. He and I have been through a lot together this year. But instead of looking like this:

it often looks like this:

For you see, the screen flickers and dims and gives me a scare. I think that my monitor is going away, and I don't want it to. Especially not in the middle of the semester. It needs to be fixed before midterms are upon me.

I realized as I entered the store that there were important files on my machine that I had forgotten to back up. And there's always a chance that your hard drive will be wiped when you send it away for service. I do not know why this is... do the technicians just do it for fun? To see how much trouble they can cause?

Seeing as how these files were the only copies I had, and that they were important, I would need to get something to transfer the data to. I asked if they had any thumb drives, and they did: 256mb for $35.

The Apple Store Guy tried to push this on me:

an iPod shuffle 512mb for $100. I said, "Pass. That price is too high."

For you must remember, that I had NO INTENTION of getting another iPod.

But that sneaky old Apple Man, he said to me, "We MIGHT have an open-box model that would be cheaper..."

And I said, jokingly, "Well, if it's $70 or less, then I'll buy it!"

And I grinned merrily. There was no way that would happen.

But Apple Man said, "Hold on." And he went in back, and he grabbed a box, and returned to the counter. The following words issued forth: "$69.95."

My heart leapt. Now, I must remind you that I had NO intention of getting another iPod when I went to the Apple Store. I know that two friends of mine each got one in as many days, and I know that they look nice and I want another one for no good reason. But... now I had a good reason. I needed SOMETHING to get my files, and RIGHT THEN. And this iPod Shuffle was only twice the price for twice the storage, but it had the ability to PLAY music too! How could I not NOT not say yes?

So I said, "Yes." And bought it.

In one stroke, I managed to save stuff from this:

and replace this:

by way of this:

so that I have music and files while both my older products are out of commission.

I still had to seek help for my iBook. I went to the Genius Bar and got a technician after a two-hour wait. My screen flickered the entire time that I waited.

When it came to be my turn, I looked at him and said, "My iBook's screen is flickering!"

And he said to me, "Show me."

I turned the iBook over to him.

And guess what? It stopped flickering as soon as he looked at it.

"It's not flickering," he made clear to me.

"I can see that. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't flicker," I made clear to him back.

"Yes, but it's probably the software," he suggested.

"The software," I replied skeptically.

It must be noted here that the Genius Bar's online appointment scheduler was down. The Apple Store's computers weren't working correctly, which is why I waited two hours for service instead of thirty minutes.

I say this only to point out that perhaps not every technician at the Genius Bar is what the name implies. They can't fix their own computers--why should they be able to fix mine?

It was humbling to have to accept the word of a man whose own computer wouldn't work, but I swallowed my pride and did a software restore off of their external hard drive. We shall see if this also updates the worn wires in my screen joints with new coating.

At the end of the day, I ended up spending $75 on an iPod shuffle to give me a music fix while my regular old iPod is in the shop. I thought I needed it for more, but my justification was swept out from under my feet by the words of a man whose computer doesn't work. Now I had the iPod Shuffle for no good reason, and thought about returning it.

But my mind said, "It's so shiny though..."

And I couldn't argue with that. It WAS so shiny. And a sort of technological wonder... 12 hours of battery life with 120 songs in something the size and weight of a pack of GUM? It's amazing! And amazing things need to be owned by SOMEONE, and that SOMEONE might as well be me...

And by the time I was done thinking this through, I was at home telling my mom about what I had gotten.

Live and learn. And buy.

Apple wins again. Damn you, Apple!

[but in a good way]
brian!

THE TENTH PLANET

2005-07-31T16:34:00.000-07:00

In case you've been living in a closet or just don't listen to science news, a tenth planet has been discovered in our solar system. There's a chance that there are more planets out there, but this one is a certainty. I would have posted something witty and clever about this development, like a letter to planet X, but Kathy beat me to it and did a superb job. So I turn to its name.

Scientists have yet to name this newfound planet [other than UB313] so I took the liberty of coming up with a few suggestions, of course taking into account its location and probable environment, and the Roman Pantheon.

Here's your list.
-Cardea: goddess of thresholds and door-hinges
-Cloaca: goddess of sewage systems and drains
-Februus: god of ritualistic purification
-Fufluns: god of the growth in plants
-Mefitis: goddess of miasmas and sulphuric vapours
-Dispater: [another] underworld ruler of the dead

And the number one candidate:
-Caca: goddess of Latrines and waste disposal [i'm not kidding].

[go TEN!]
brian

Heap Big Typos

2005-07-29T01:31:00.000-07:00

I find these tidbits from my parents' lives to be hilarious. Maybe you will too.

My mom went to trial today. No, she's not a criminal. She is fighting the good fight to receive payment for medical expenses from an injury she suffered on the job. It's a pain, because the insurance company is suffering from a severe case of pedalo-impedimentia.... also known as "dragging of the feet."

Anyway, at the Riverside County Courthouse, my parents saw this sign emblazoned on the entry to a court parking lot:

"No In & Out Priviledges."

Now, there is something very wrong with that sign. I searched long and hard to figure out what a priviledge is. But alas, nobody knows. I thought that it might be a "private ledge," but that doesn't make much sense in context. No in and out private ledges?

It is with great sadness that I have to opt for the following [and more depressing] alternative. What the Riverside County Government meant was that there were no in and out immunities/right-of-ways on this particular lot, but that they forgot how to spell "privilege."

Lord save us if these are the people who have been set in place to litigate our cases and protect our rights.

The second stupid-but-funny happening came in the form of a letter to my father at his workplace. If you don't know, my dad is the Risk Manager for San Manuel Indian Reservation, a wealthy tribe which runs one of the biggest casinos in the state [among other things].

Anyway, Myron, Inc., [reportedly the leader in personalized business gifts] thought that they would try and get my father's business with a sample personalized day planner. This is what they sent him.

There were a few problems with their pitch. First of all, this mail should have been sent to HR, not Risk Management. My dad has a job which deals with disgruntled employees, not a job which tries to make them happy with shallow truisms like "Teamwork: together we can achieve the extraordinary."

Secondly, the letter was addressed to "Ms. Risk Management." My dad's name is not Risk, it's Gregg. And for the last time, he's not a WOMAN!

To explain my frustration with this common misconception, I must go back some years. In the late '90s, somewhere deep in the bowels of the junk mail industry, someone decided to re-christen my father with the middle name "Lynn." And, oddly, it has stuck so well that almost all advertisements coming to my house are addressed to "Mr. Gregg Lynn _____." My dad doesn't need to be given the title of "Ms." on top of Lynn. His gender has been confused enough by these dimwits already.

The final nail in the coffin for this day planner company was that they put a new company name on the front of the sample planner that they sent to Ms. Risk Manager:

Maybe they thought that there was something wrong with the current title, "San Manuel Mission Indians." It is always a risky venture to change the name of your company, but to change the name of someone else's company [without consultation] is an all-around bad move.

But it is no worse than changing a man's name, as the junk mail industry has done with my father. Maybe he can now look forward to a whole new wave of junk mail, addressed to "Ms. Risk Lynn Management, of San Manuel Mission Industry." And, knowing my dad, he will patiently and quietly file all of this mail away...

in the trash can.

Thank you, Myron.

[we CAN achieve the extraordinary]

10 Things to Do When Bored

2005-07-27T18:12:00.000-07:00

Here's a list of ways to pass the time when really bored and mischievous.

10. Buy a giant 10 lb. bag of salt and pour it all over the kitchen floor. When asked why you would do such a thing, say "I was trying to protect YOUR kitchen from SNAILS!" and run off into another room with your face in your hands.

9. Go to the mall with an old, big cordless phone. Stop someone and ask for directions to the nearest GAP, then start shaking the phone in your hand, claiming that it's on "vibrate" and that you have to take this call, but thanks for their time.

8. Get in the elevator of an office complex. Just as the doors close, inform everyone that you have a psychotic fear of heights which makes you very violent. Then grip the rails as the elevator starts to move, rubber-legged and groaning with fear. People will fear you back.

7. Glue a Scotch tape dispenser to the ceiling of your house/office. When someone asks what it's doing up there, sigh and say with a guilty tone, "I know they SAY never to refill them with a generic brand, but I never knew that THIS would happen!"

6. You need a department store for this one. Grab a stylish outfit from the racks, put it on, and then go stand in a hip pose for an extended period of time. It helps if you can go without blinking. When a sales associate asks you what you are doing, tell them, "The mannequins are threatening to strike and Corporate hired me to scab."

5. Go to a bar and attempt to go behind the counter. When the bartender stops you and asks what the [expletive] you think you're doing, just say, "Oh. Don't worry, I'm with the band." There's a slight chance he might hurt you, but the look on his face will be worth it.

4. At a MacDonald's drive-thru, place an order for chicken nuggets. When asked what kind of dipping sauce you want, say "Blue Sauce will be fine." Every time the drive-thru clerk insists that there is no Blue Sauce, laugh as hard as you can and say, "Oh, you're a riot. But the blue sauce will be fine then." Enjoy.

3. Go to an appliance store, secure the help of a clerk and look into their washer/dryer selection. When he or she tries to sell you their best model, feign deep interest. As they drone on, start to climb into the unit. When they ask you what you're doing, reply matter-of-factly, "Well I have to make sure that they'll FIT in here, don't I?" Leave them to wonder who "they" are.

2. Go to the 99 cents store. Acquire an item, take it to the counter, and proceed to try and "trade them for it" for five peppermints. If they persist to say no, go up to six, but definitely no more than seven.

1. Put on white shorts, white shoes, white socks, and a white shirt. If you have a white hat, throw that on too. Go to the hardware store and pick up a small 2x4. Next, look for one of those sign-spinners, those people who are hired out by real estate companies to bring awareness to new housing developments. Go and stand next to them and start imitating their tricks with your board of wood. When they ask you what you're doing, challenge them to "battle" for pink slips--your board against their sign. See what they do next.

[enjoy]
brian

Ring Tonez and Hot Shades

2005-07-25T12:42:00.000-07:00

This weekend proved very lucrative for me. First of all, Tim provided me with a very nice Sanyo camera phone with flipping action to replace my previous Nokia with a far less convenient feature called lobat. "Lobat" is, in short, a unique battery which lets you talk for up to five minutes before requiring that you plug your phone into something... a wall, a carjack, a stray bird... you know, any conventional power source.

And the Nokia's back plate slid off when hit with even the slightest breeze. I'd get a call, pull it out, and watch as the back end of the phone sailed away with the force I exerted to casually pull it out of my pocket.

Nokia: thinking ahead.

Anyway, many thanks to Tim for the new cell. But I had to make it my own, and I thought to myself, "What better and more original way to express my individuality than to download a band singing one of their songs as a ringtone?! Goodness, I'll be so unique that people will have to love me!"

So I surfed over to Vision, Sprint's ostentatiously-titled phone-based internet service. The interface was clunky and slow enough that I began to haggle with my cell phone. Basically, I proposed that it would behave and I wouldn't throw it into an empty field. I slowly browsed through thousands of bands of whom I had never heard in search of anything that I thought would even remotely make a good ringtone: Sasha, Death Cab, Frou Frou, even David Bowie.

But, much to my chagrin, none of those bands were available. I finally settled on Incubus, downloading "Agoraphobia" so that all passers-by would know that I too wanted to stay inside for good whenever anyone called me.

It cost me 2.50 + tax + whatever they charge for the bandwidth. But, I thought it worth it.

That is, until I opened the ringtone to test it out. Words cannot entirely communicate exactly what it sounds like, but I will try and cover the basics...

"Fifhsingind I wanna-fshhsh-stay ins---de, I wan-a-shhhzt stay asdhf-side for good..."

It sounded like Incubus recorded this piece in front of an airplane taking off, and just like the intakes, it sucked. I guess I'll have to find some other band to help me express my individuality through the medium of a ringtone.

Anyway, I said this weekend was profitable and it was. Not only did I get a cell phone from Tim, I also got some cool stuff from my parents. They went to NYC for a vacation last week, and came home with quite a few gifts for my sister and me.

I got a novelty Statue of Liberty lighter, two pretty fashionable tee-shirts which mislead people to believe that I've been to the Big Apple, and my favorite gift of all... and I mean ever...

a pair of hot Oakley sunglasses.

When I say "hot," I don't mean in the sense that they are incredibly fashionable. They are--they're Oakleys, after all. But I mean hot in another sense.

I will leave you to parse that and move on.

My Oakleys [or "Oaks" as I like to call them] don't hold a candle to what they got for my sister... girls, are you paying attention?

They got her a genuine Louis Vuitton bag [complete with lock, leather tag, and "LVs" covering the face of it] for... are you ready?

50 dollars.

I must say, that's a hot handbag. As hot as my sunglasses.

God bless my parents, and God bless NYC. I've heard that there are a lot of very nice shopkeepers on the street there.

[I heart NYC]
brian

Potter: Narcissist?

2005-07-21T05:13:00.000-07:00

A man named Spengler wrote an article about JK Rowling and the supposed philosophy imbedded within her Harry Potter books. In short, Spengler accuses Rowling of closet narcissism and short-sighted individualism.

It is not only Spengler who says thus. Thousands of pastors, Bill Myers... even the Pope have spoken out against Harry Potter and his crew, claiming that they teach subtle evil to fragile minds and that Rowling would have us all become egotistical, self-centered maniacs if she had her way.

But that just doesn't flesh out, in my honest opinions.

I posted on this issue once before, but I have more to say in direct response to Spengler's article.

I think Spengler [and all such critics] miss the real point of Rowling's work. Harry may be emotionally aware, and Rowling may spend a lot of time writing about how Harry and his friends emotionally respond to situations. But this serves as a starting point for Rowling's philosophy, not as the end of it.

Take Harry and his battle with the dementors. Harry is instructed by Lupin that, in order to defeat the dementors, he must find the happiest memory that he can to summon his Patronus [Latin for "guardian" or "savior"].

Harry's first attempt is to recall a rather fluffy memory of the first time he flies a broom in order to call on a Patronus. I'll admit, this is a pretty shallow happiness. If this were all that Rowling wrote, then accusations about egotism may well indeed be founded.

But she wrote more.

Such a shallow happiness yields correspondingly shallow results in routing the dementors. Harry is immediately defeated. Lupin instructs Harry to try again, with a deeper and happier memory, and Harry turns to memories of love.

Harry's first attempt accessed the introspective love of a hobby. But for his second try, Harry recalls the faces of Ron and Hermione and the friendship he shares with them. While this love is enough to form a sort of silver mist, it is not enough to bring about a Patronus. Even a reciprocal and mutual love is not enough to vanquish the dementors.

For his third and final attempt, Harry delves even deeper, down to the deepest love which he remembers: the love which Harry's parents showed for him when they laid down their lives to save his. This alone is a powerful enough memory to facilitate a Patronus.

Sure, Harry does go into himself to find strength to defeat dementors. I will give a point to Spengler. But Harry's introspection actually leads him to a source of power which is beyond himself: love.

One more point for Rowling.

It is worth noting that the love powerful enough to overturn despair [for that is what the dementors symbolize] is not a shallow love, like the love of riding a broom. It is not even a mutually beneficial love, like the love which friends show for one another when life is easy.

It is, in the end, only the self-sacrifical love of charity which allows Harry to repel an army of dementors. The love which would give itself away to another is the only force powerful enough to summon a Patronus. His parents gave everything for the one whom they loved... and Harry in turn exhibits that same, selfless love to save others.

Sirius is saved by Harry's love in The Prisoner of Azkaban in three ways: Harry believes in Sirius' innocence, Harry actually goes to face death in order to protect Sirius from the dementors, and Harry ultimately summons the Patronus to protect Sirius from the kiss of death. I do not believe that egotism is the prevalent philosophy seen here, but something far more mysterious and powerful.

Spengler's claims about narcissism fall short again when I study the nature of loyalty. Loyalty is a powerful force which, by definition, looks outside the man to a higher authority. And it is this force which saves the day in The Chamber of Secrets. Harry's declaration of loyalty is what brings Fawkes [the Phoenix] and the Sorting Hat to Harry's aid in The Chamber of Secrets. It is only through their aid that Harry can save Ginny from the baslilsk and the ghost-soul of Voldemort. His loyalty to Dumbledore is what prevents Harry from being used by the Ministry of Magic. It is what moves Dumbledore to tears, and Fawkes to sing. Loyalty is a beautiful and humble power... a power foreign to the egotist, not close at hand.

Finally, Spengler seems to ignore how Rowling deals with death. Anyone who has read through The Half-Blood Prince knows that Harry has seen death many times. Many of the respectable characters in the books not only meet death, but face it willingly and bravely. It has to be remembered that one of the most important lessons which Dumbledore imparts to Harry is that death is not the worst evil that a man can face--

Hold on. If Rowling's teaching narcissism, then this doesn't make any sense. What could be more horrible to a narcissist than his own death? That would be the end of all which he knows and loves, for it would be the end of himself. It is only the charitable who can face death with bravery, because the charitable know at least something of the divine... they know sacrifice.

No, I think that the obvious Narcissist in the Harry Potter books is Voldemort, and he is to be hated. One of his Death-Eaters even bears the name Narcissa. Voldemort's love is only for the self. His quest is to procure only his immortality, and that at the cost of thousands of lives. Voldemort rips his soul to remain alive forever, not Harry. Voldemort is the friendless one, the one who wants to become like a god. Voldemort is the true Narcissist.

Harry, however, sees Dumbledore as an authority, risks his own life for his friends countless times, devotes himself to a cause greater than the sum of its parts, and will face Voldemort even though Harry may be killed. That is not a narcissist, but a hero.

I don't know. Maybe I'm reading about a different Harry Potter than Spengler and Co., but given that we're not in different universes, I'd say that the final score was something like this:

Rowling-462
Spengler-1

[expecto patronum]
brian

emergence

2005-07-17T01:22:00.000-07:00

i have just realized one of the more peculiar side-effects of my summer job [night-watchman for a housing development].

for only the third time in my life, i am regularly awake for the sunrise. the other two times were when i was attending 5.30 a.m. swimming practices in high school. the second time was when i was going to a zero period class called "theory of knowledge."

the startling difference, however, is that i am seeing sun rise at the end of my day instead of at the beginning.

still, i am growing in appreciation for the beauty of the morning. i can see now why many people enjoy awakening before the sun is up.

for me, it's because the sky does weird things. it turns from black to deep blue, and then the eastern horizon diffuses into a deep green which progressively lightens. the clouds turn from black patches on a dark sky to eerily illuminated dark grays, and then to purples, and then to lilac.

then, as the sun emerges to illuminate the day, the bright white stars begin to fade into the deepening hues of blue which the sky displays.

truly a glorious sight.

[to sunrise]
brian

children's literature and one of its amazing values

2005-07-15T21:11:00.000-07:00

there are two kinds of literature to which i am especially drawn. one is the essay, because i really like to see the logic of a particular idea presented in a systematic fashion. it helps me to cultivate not only a more informed opinion about a subject, but also a more general comprehension of logic and its uses.

the second kind of literature that i find myself enjoying is chilrdren's literature, namely fantasy. if i were to draw up a list of my ten favorite authors, you can rest assured that Macdonald, Lewis, and Rowling would all make it onto that list for their amazing works. i have been reading the Harry Potter books over the last two weeks and devoured them.

there are many things about children's literature which appeal to me. but i will speak in brief only about the power of the metaphor. as i have read Rowling's story, striking sets of imagery have become prominent within the story arc. the three forbidden curses are imperium, cruciatus, and avada kadavra. the first gives the cursing party tyrannical control of the cursed's will. the second immerces the afflicted in excrutating pain, and the third is instant death [kadavra=cadaver].

knowing very little about Rowling's personal faith, i am still hard-pressed not to buy into a very Christian set of morals running in the background of this author's mind. the three most evil powers are tyranny [the removal of freedom], torture [the infliction of pain upon the innocent], and death [the taking of life]. these all smack of sin. we are born in bondage, we live in pain, and we--who were meant to live--die.

this will not come as a shock to most of us. but at the same time, Rowling's embodiment of these depravities inculcates within me a fresh horror and mortification towards them.

Lord Voldemort's employs these curses in the enslavement of the wizarding world. he uses them on Harry Potter, who manages to survive all three, but in a climactic encounter in book 4 Harry endures a very prolonged exposure to the cruciatus. i hurt for Harry, and really hate Voldemort for doing such things.

and i think that this is Rowling's aim.

when i withdraw from the narrative, i may leave cruciatus behind, but i do not leave behind an abhorrence for torture. i come back to the world with an awakened sensitivity to the impact of evil upon us humans, and not only despise it in others, but despise it in myself. i want nothing to do with tyranny, affliction, or murder in any form.

it is not just my sensitivity to the darkness which is magnified, but also my sensitivity to the light. Potter serves as a Christ-type in many ways [cruciatus=crucifixion, anyone?]. he is the only wizard who can defeat Voldemort, Voldemort tries to kill him at his birth, he afflicts and tempts Harry through life, but Harry continues to prevail. Dumbedore also serves as a Christ-type in the books. there's a moment in a battle where Rowling goes so far as to say, and i quote, "Dumbledore stood in front of the golden gates." if that's not a shout-out to heaven, i wonder what is.

it's not only rowling who does this. lewis and macdonald both do it very well too, that is, use imagery to awaken my heart and mind to reality a little bit more.

there are loads more where that come from, but i've said enough already. but pick up a kid's book and read it sometime.

[until ever after]
brian

begin the madness.

2005-07-15T02:25:00.000-07:00

so if you've come this far, you're probably at least curious, or maybe just lost. if lost, i encourage you to click the little button that says "blogger" up on the toolbar... it'll get you back where you're comfortable.

if you're curious, i'll start out with something safe enough.

i'm brian, and i'm a born-and-raised californian. my heart belongs to the mountains, where i was born, but my mind belongs to the city, where i live. it makes for some interesting contrasts in the way that i live day-to-day.

i'm a work in progress. i used to think that i had arrived at the top, that i had only a little bit more to go before i could call myself "genuinely me." but the closer i come to my goal of becoming who i was born to be... the further away it seems. i wonder if i'm alone in that experience, or if others are discovering the same thing.

something i've been thinking about a lot lately is the way that people relate, and then more specifally the way that i do. i think that there's an unwritten rule that when you first meet people, you keep most of your genuine personality back and provide a nice and safe face, something which makes you look like the people you're meeting. but as relationships deepen, the room for difference grows--we get past the front to the real, where no two people are ever exactly alike. common ground becomes less important in many ways... after all, does anyone really want to intimately know somebody who's just a clone of his or her self?

here's the difficulty for me--for whatever reason, i like to jump the gun to try and get to know the "real" person, the one behind the mask. i want to skip step 1 and get right to the heart of things. but you've gotta earn the other person's trust--you have to show that you're not totally foreign.

you have to invest in putting up a good show.

it's not a bad thing, it's just a simple safety precaution which almost everyone employs. and the ones who don't... well, they end up getting hurt a lot.

nobody likes to get hurt. so investing time in your face, i think, is a good idea.

easier said than done for some, like me, though.

[eh]
brian