It occurs to me that I haven't blogged in a while. And I fall into the trap of feeling some kind of obligation to write a new entry. So much for writing for my own enjoyment. Now it's like AaronJ and Simmons are paying customers.
Btw - Simmons, AaronJ - race to get first comment. The winner gets to have no life. Go!
Current bloggable events include my birthday on the 21st of June and and a martial arts tournament on the 29th. I will blog about neither. Instead, I will recount a couple of amusing anectodes.
At the recent wedding of my cousin Robert, I was asked to be a witness for the signing of the marriage certificate. I replied, "heeell, yeah", but no-one got the Dr. Dre reference. A pity.
Just this afternoon I was in Borders with Huda. He asked me if I had any money, so I took out my wallet and asked an attendant if they accept cards.
"What kind of cards?"
"Keycard?"
"Yep."
"Visa?"
"Yep."
"Go up a level?"
"Nope."
And yes, I did have a 'go up a level card' on me. Munchkin ftw!
That's all for now. I'm gonna watch some Buffy and go to sleep. And before either of you complain about the lacklustre blogging, remember that AaronJ hasn't bolged since the 22nd of May, and Simmons: you don't even have a blog. GTFO, go punch someone short.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
A Question of Vanity
Today it pushed its way to the front of my mind again; that old acquaintance, the question of Vanity.
I went into a hair-loss clinic to have myself checked up, and, irritatingly enough, I am going prematurely bald. I don't look like a mange-ridden tauren just yet, but give old Male-Pattern Baldness a few years and he can do great and terrible things.
The treatment is ridicuously expensive. Something in the order of $4000 for the initial 8-month course and $2000 per year for maintenance thereafter. And so, the Vanity Question shows up.
Is it worth it?
More generally stated: How important are looks? Does substance trump style by merit of its authenticity? Or does the tedency of perception to shape the world around us ultimately bear witness to a state of things in which a solid bluff really is just as good as pocket aces?
I have 2-4 years before the damage starts to become irreversible. If you could figure this one out and get back to me before then, that would be great.
I went into a hair-loss clinic to have myself checked up, and, irritatingly enough, I am going prematurely bald. I don't look like a mange-ridden tauren just yet, but give old Male-Pattern Baldness a few years and he can do great and terrible things.
The treatment is ridicuously expensive. Something in the order of $4000 for the initial 8-month course and $2000 per year for maintenance thereafter. And so, the Vanity Question shows up.
Is it worth it?
More generally stated: How important are looks? Does substance trump style by merit of its authenticity? Or does the tedency of perception to shape the world around us ultimately bear witness to a state of things in which a solid bluff really is just as good as pocket aces?
I have 2-4 years before the damage starts to become irreversible. If you could figure this one out and get back to me before then, that would be great.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
The Joys of Ambush Philosophy
I love ambushing people with philosophy. Why, just tonight I noticed that someone had a personal message on MSN that read, "a wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left".
Like a crocodile hunting gazelles at a Serengeti waterhole, I drifted slowly, almost aimlessly towards my prey . . . then struck!
Yitzi says:
i disagree
Yitzi says:
that's not a wise girl, that's an overly cynical girl
Unsuspecting Victim says:
do you have any experience?
Yitzi says:
one whose joie de vivre is all but sapped
Yitzi says:
in which field?
Unsuspecting Victim says:
in the field of the mentality of women?
Yitzi says:
ohhh
Yitzi says:
my expertise is not so much in female psychology; i'm more talking from the epistemological side of things
Unsuspecting Victim says:
i'm sure..
Yitzi says:
lol
Yitzi says:
i mean to say, a girl who does those things protects herself from getting hurt
Unsuspecting Victim says:
sigh
Unsuspecting Victim says:
why are you still talking about it?
Unsuspecting Victim says:
you're only discussing it with yourself.. i didn't put it up there so that people can discuss it with me..
Yitzi says:
but she also prevents herself from feeling some of the greatest joys of life. the thrill of intimacy, the mellow pleasure of loyalty
Unsuspecting Victim says:
that's your oppinion, you're entitled to it, but you don't have to share it with me..
Unsuspecting Victim says:
i didn't put it up so that people would comment it
Unsuspecting Victim says:
i put it up because it's wise
Yitzi says:
"One seeks a midwife for his thoughts, another someone to whom he can be a midwife: thus originates a good conversation." - Nietzsche
Yitzi says:
i often have arguments with myself; typing my thoughts to others allows me to clarify them
Yitzi says:
how is avoiding the greatest highs of life in order to escape the risk of pain in any way wise?
Unsuspecting Victim says:
for fucks sake
Unsuspecting Victim says:
write your thoughts down
Yitzi says:
i am
Unsuspecting Victim says:
it's kind of annoying having them pop up, when i'm trying to do assignments
Unsuspecting Victim says:
well write them on paper or to someone else
Unsuspecting Victim says:
fine! i'll put them on my blog!
Yitzi says:
so there!
And I did.
Like a crocodile hunting gazelles at a Serengeti waterhole, I drifted slowly, almost aimlessly towards my prey . . . then struck!
Yitzi says:
i disagree
Yitzi says:
that's not a wise girl, that's an overly cynical girl
Unsuspecting Victim says:
do you have any experience?
Yitzi says:
one whose joie de vivre is all but sapped
Yitzi says:
in which field?
Unsuspecting Victim says:
in the field of the mentality of women?
Yitzi says:
ohhh
Yitzi says:
my expertise is not so much in female psychology; i'm more talking from the epistemological side of things
Unsuspecting Victim says:
i'm sure..
Yitzi says:
lol
Yitzi says:
i mean to say, a girl who does those things protects herself from getting hurt
Unsuspecting Victim says:
sigh
Unsuspecting Victim says:
why are you still talking about it?
Unsuspecting Victim says:
you're only discussing it with yourself.. i didn't put it up there so that people can discuss it with me..
Yitzi says:
but she also prevents herself from feeling some of the greatest joys of life. the thrill of intimacy, the mellow pleasure of loyalty
Unsuspecting Victim says:
that's your oppinion, you're entitled to it, but you don't have to share it with me..
Unsuspecting Victim says:
i didn't put it up so that people would comment it
Unsuspecting Victim says:
i put it up because it's wise
Yitzi says:
"One seeks a midwife for his thoughts, another someone to whom he can be a midwife: thus originates a good conversation." - Nietzsche
Yitzi says:
i often have arguments with myself; typing my thoughts to others allows me to clarify them
Yitzi says:
how is avoiding the greatest highs of life in order to escape the risk of pain in any way wise?
Unsuspecting Victim says:
for fucks sake
Unsuspecting Victim says:
write your thoughts down
Yitzi says:
i am
Unsuspecting Victim says:
it's kind of annoying having them pop up, when i'm trying to do assignments
Unsuspecting Victim says:
well write them on paper or to someone else
Unsuspecting Victim says:
fine! i'll put them on my blog!
Yitzi says:
so there!
And I did.
Monday, May 5, 2008
The Fate of Angels
Behold! A mildy heretical argument for the injustice of God.
Compare, if you will, the actions and wages of two prominent angels in Jewish myth: Gabriel and Satan. Both are servants of God. Both do exactly as He commands, to the letter. Yet at the end of days, Satan gets slaughtered (Mesekhta Sukkah 52a), while Gabriel, one assumes, continues to bask in the radiance of the Lord. Which sounds quite fun. Kinda like The Eternal Solarium. I wonder if you can catch cancer from the radiance of the Lord. . .
The challenge here, for the believers, is to justify the vast difference in treatment between two equally devoted servants of God. Non-believers, all you gotta do is try not to swallow your little novelty umbrellas as you sip your pre-ordered victory highballs.
Compare, if you will, the actions and wages of two prominent angels in Jewish myth: Gabriel and Satan. Both are servants of God. Both do exactly as He commands, to the letter. Yet at the end of days, Satan gets slaughtered (Mesekhta Sukkah 52a), while Gabriel, one assumes, continues to bask in the radiance of the Lord. Which sounds quite fun. Kinda like The Eternal Solarium. I wonder if you can catch cancer from the radiance of the Lord. . .
The challenge here, for the believers, is to justify the vast difference in treatment between two equally devoted servants of God. Non-believers, all you gotta do is try not to swallow your little novelty umbrellas as you sip your pre-ordered victory highballs.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
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?
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?
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