A short note on the acquisition of 1337 skillz

I learnt how to ride a bike this week. And not just any bike. One with two wheels. I felt that I'd like to move past tricycles before I turned 20, and time was rapidly running out.

Riding a bike is pretty fun. I felt like I was six again. I often feel like I'm six. Apparently, it's noticable to observers too.

It was a big step for me, and I'm happy my dad played a part. He came out of the house to scream at me for riding too close to parked cars. He later claimed that a more appropriate verb would be 'advised', but I think it's a trick.

Big props to my friendly neighbourhood Gavriel for helping me out. The guy knows more about bikes than Chuck Norris. And to qualify an ambiguous sentence, I mean that Gavriel knows more about bikes than he knows about Chuck Norris. No-one knows more than Chuck Norris about anything. Ever.

Sleeplessness

I have had trouble sleeping of late. Truth is, I've never been a good sleeper. Unless I am brutally exhausted, I usually lie awake for ages before I drift off. This gives me an inordinate amount of time to think.

Thinking, it must be said, is a double-edged sword. When things are up-up-up, you can lie there for hours with a grin on your face, running through wonderful events in your head, and planning in infinitesimal detail glorious plans for the future. Those are the good nights.

The bad nights are somewhat curious. It's not so much depression that gets to me, as restlessness, boredom, and a vague sense of disappointment.

Tonight, in my mulling, I discovered all at once the source of all my troubles, the core problem from whence all my irritating cognitions stem.

You ready for this? I wonder if I should charge. The reason for all my unhappiness, very possibly all your unhappiness, is quite valuable. How do four installments of $49.95 sound? Really? How about if I threw in some steak knives? Where the sun don't shine, you say? Dear gods, that would be painful. Alright, alright, I'll tell you.

Impatience. Cool, huh? That's it. The frustration that I feel at not being exactly where I want to be subsides as soon as I realise that someday I will be there. I'm but a youngster. There is so much in front of me. Someday I will have that talent, I will have that fame, and I won't feel so lonely. So the only reason I have to feel bad is that I don't have all that stuff today.

And really, a little impatience is nothing to lose sleep over.

Is impatience the source of all your worries?

Soulja Boy - a defense

Soulja Boy - no other hip hop artist in recent times has so strongly polarised opinion. On the one hand, you have the 16 year old girls, who like the dance. On the other, the rest of the world's population, who have little patience for another talentless shmuck with a repetitive chorus who makes far more money than they do.

First off, I give him mad props for putting the dance tutorial up on Youtube. Sure anyone could have done it, but he's the one who did. In the same vein, any eccentric Italian with fetishes for electricity and dead frogs could have discovered bioelectricity, but Galvani was the one who went out there and did it, so he gets a battery named after him. Do you have a battery named after you? No? Good. So shut up.

I have zero respect for him as a linguist; he certainly can't compete with the lyrical genius of most rappers, East and West. But his music is FUN, and I don't require ALL of my pursuits to be intellectually stimulating.

Only most.

Sex n Scrabble, anyone?

An Introduction

Testing . . . testing . . . is this tha intarwebs?

This is my second attempt at blogging. My first atrophied from lack of readership. This time, I'll write because I enjoy writing. I also enjoy reading what I wrote. I tend to get the in-jokes.

So this time I won't quit, even if my only reader is AaronJ. Big shout out for my #1 creric!

I have grandiose plans for posts involving philosophy, history, comedy and why everyone I raid with is a ninja asshole.

But I shall begin, more ignomiously, with a defense of Soulja Boy.