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Wednesday, February 13th, 2008
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1:56 am - LALALJGAHILJDER Growth is out of control.
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It's grow or die in American capitalism, a culture obsessed with opportunity cost and the economic worthlessness of leisure time. In another socioeconomy, you could live out the rest of your days selling jewelry on the weekends and spending quality time with your family for the rest of the week, churning out chores like washing the laundry by hand. But if you want to live here, you've got to pay a premium for rent (or live out in the boonies and pay a premium for gas), which means you've got to have an education, toil as a footsoldier for Corporate America, or pour your blood, sweat, and tears into a small business that the corporations will quash in a heartbeat. Fifty weeks a year we work, in standard 40-hour weeks. That's 120,000 of your 525,600 moments so dear, and keep in mind you spend another 175,200 asleep. So let's say in the end you get 230,400 for yourself, but let's not forget the time you spend in traffic getting to and from that job you probably don't like. Daily commutes on average max out at 1 hour, roundtrip, and even if your commute is shorter, there's still the residual time you lose when you can't find your keys or get all your things nice and orderly in and out of the car. Lose another 21,000 there, and we're down to 208,500, or less than 40% of your life spent living your life. But none of that lost time includes the chores that are part of being a responsible, well-kept individual, like washing the dishes, doing the laundry, making the bed, and showering. And what do you do when you come home from work, tired and miserable that it doesn't pay enough to support the dress code it enforces? You find yourself here, on the Internet, which puts you at an advantage over the millions of Americans that choose TV instead. At least the Internet is interactive. Sort of. And how else do we spend our spare time? Shopping. I love shopping. It's like World of Warcraft; there's always something new, and it never ends! We love shopping so much, making creative advertisements has become a sport. I'm looking at an advertisement right now; it's for the California School of Culinary Arts. I don't know what it has to do with LiveJournal, but that cartoon chef sure looks pretty. Could you imagine a life without advertisements? It would be so empty! Where did all our advertisements go? Now we have nothing to decorate our landscape!
Whatever happened to community, to family and neighborhood? These are the things that enrich the texture of our lives, but I haven't had a plain ol' best friend in years. You can't wave hello to someone from inside your car; at least the weirdos on the bus are reaching out to someone in a physical space where that's marginally okay. All that time spent at work, and where does it get us? For four hundred years, hundreds of millions of black Americans have relived the same story (and have for damn sure worked more than 40 hours a week), and still even upper-middle class black families have a tenth or a fifteenth the wealth of what their upper-middle class white counterparts have. And it's not like those white folks didn't work to earn what they have. All this for an economic model that rewards a growth blissfully ignorant of its externalities and resource limitations--and what's more, our tax dollars have subsidized this growth. Oh my God, I'm going to buy a big plot of land and secede from the United States.
current music: Thrice [The Artist in the Ambulance]
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| Monday, February 11th, 2008
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9:25 pm - On Transvestites
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General trends in people's inclination for cross-dressing reveal some interesting associations between gender and social role.
Excepting certain rare cases, men who cross-dress as women (or choose to identify completely with the feminine gender) decorate and present themselves in an especially sexualized fashion. The drag queen, for instance, is wholly emblematic of this gender transformation, for which a padded chest (or even breast implants) exceeding a size-C cup is almost de rigueur. Even transvestites who do not parade themselves about in public, I suspect, enjoy feeling sexy in high heels and a pair of sheer stockings.
Women who dress as men, on the other hand, pursue a social image diametrically opposed to sexual appeal. While men may certainly be sexualized less often and to a lesser extent than women, the behaviorally and aesthetically sexualized male has an undeniable place in our cultural heritage, and the fact that most female transvestites do not pursue the sexualized images that their male counterparts do must reveal something.
I'm sure there's extensive sociological literature on this subject, so I'll be brief in my conclusions, predicated largely on my own preconceptions.
With the assistance of certain biochemical differences, society assigns particular characteristics and, in some cases, even full-fledged roles to the two sexes, and these characteristics and roles are embodied in what we call genders. Individuals who reject their gender (not their sex, because sex is a biological fact ingrained in each individual's DNA) are rejecting a social role rather than a sexual identity. Our associations between social role and sexual identity are so deeply ingrained, however, that a transformation of sexual identity is the clearest declaration of that rejection. In most spheres of life, many women adopt patriarchal values and readily subordinate themselves professionally to men, whereas a nearly negligible minority of men truly respect most women at face value more than most men. Even in terms of sexual mechanics, there's a tremendous psychological difference between the experience of penetrating and being penetrated, making the feminine social role one that tends toward submission and vulnerability.
I think it all comes together very well in one line from George Gershwin: "Your daddy's rich and your ma is good-lookin' / So hush little baby, don't you cry".
But I think we all knew that heternormative values tell us girls should be pretty and boys should be strong. The point, then, is that that preference seems to be the driving force between transsexuality, as well. Post-op women only wish they were born with a uterus for the symbolic value of the uterus; they want to feel sexy. Post-op men don't want penises; they want respect.
Not that it's right or that's the way it should be; I'm merely making an observation.
current music: Michael Nyman - Big My Secret
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| Saturday, June 16th, 2007
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11:44 am
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I think you should never want to hear about your marketing firm by word-of-mouth.
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| Saturday, March 31st, 2007
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11:10 pm - Asshat.
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I was riding my bike (i.e. bike-cycle, a la 40-Year-Old Virgin) home from work tonight when some unstable asshat tried to cut me off, got out of his car, and tried to start a fight with me because I "wasn't in the bike lane," despite the fact that I was riding the righthand shoulder of the road.
What a douchebag.
Some colorful language was tossed back and forth before I realized that he was pretty serious and that yelling wasn't getting anywhere, so I told him to relax so that I might explain some basic traffic laws, at which point he came up close and gave me a pretty jostling shove. I was still straddling the bike at this point, so this was some pretty blatant bullying on his part.
My biceps are still sore from the impact.
His buddy in the passenger seat told him to get back in the car, and apologized on behalf of his friend. I told him it wasn't his fault, and semi-sarcastically remarked to my aggressor, "Have a good night, man." He drove off in a storm, yelling things, like "Get off the bike and say something, or ride away!"
As I rode home, a flurry of ideas flew through my head--why didn't I stop to get his license plate number? I really wish I'd just gone apeshit on him. Jabbed him in the throat, kicked him in the balls, whatever. Teach him a lesson. What the fuck was his problem, anyway? I could have made some caustic remarks, but did I want to risk fighting two guys at once?
And then, I thought--violence isn't the answer. That's not what my body's for.
And then, I thought--what a load of bullshit. Non-violence works for social justice, but if you refuse to fight and end up left for dead in some alley somewhere, your pacifism pretty much counts for one easy notch on an asshole's belt. I had my bike lock on me, and I really wish I'd used it to bash his face in. A less satisfying but probably better alternative would have been to get his license plate number and report him.
Either way, now I'm just stewing in the regret of taking the path of least resistance.
current mood:  aggravated
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| Wednesday, January 3rd, 2007
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12:55 pm - Unhappiness was when I was young, and we didn't give a damn.
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| Tuesday, December 26th, 2006
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9:11 pm - Men, Women, and Casual Sex, oh my.
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The most widely accepted explanation on this subject is that men are pigs, that women need commitment, and that that distinction stems from biological differences that make those characteristics advantageous for each respective sex's reproductive mechanisms.
I think there's an oft-ignored social component at work here, though. Men are almost universally expected to take initiative in romantic pursuit, which leaves women with the prerogative to aquiesce to or decline their advances. Women are never expected to bare their emotions and risk rejection. Men, on the other hand, have to face rejection all the time (unless they're exceptionally hot), and begin to learn at puberty the motions of proposition and rejection, which leads to emotional withdrawal (because how can you deal with that much rejection if you're emotionally invested in every one?).
But there's a bit of guys just wanting to get laid underlying the whole ordeal anyway.
So why are women who just want to get laid so often perceived as slutty, or expected to have low self-esteem? Why do men always hold the position of power in casual sexual relationships? I think perhaps it's not because of what the person-who-sleeps-around wants, but rather, what the people-being-slept-around-with want. In most cases, when guys make casual sexual pursuits, they end up breaking hearts, and the women they sleep with probably would have rather been in a stable, loving relationship, whereas the men that women sleep around with most times just love that they've found a woman who digs casual sex as much as they do--territorialism not withstanding.
Of course, this is based largely on generalizations. I'm making a lot of assumptions here, but my personal experience speaks to these assumptions in the stead of concrete evidence. Besides, it's not a definitive rule or all-clarifying explanation, just undeveloped food for thought.
current mood:  lethargic
current music: Dave Matthews Band - Let You Down [Crash]
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4:29 am - Sentimental
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The Swedes say that shared joy is a double joy, that shared sorrow is a half sorrow.
How do you shoulder a heartache for someone that you created yourself?
Even a century ago, when bride and groom really meant "till death do us part," adultery was legitimate grounds for a divorce.
If marriage can't persist in the face of adultery, should love be any more forgiving?
Just as soon as I've permitted myself to root myself in San Diego, things start to dry up.
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| Saturday, December 23rd, 2006
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12:51 am - Resilience
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I'd like to make it a point to update this journal at least bi-weekly, if not daily, from now on.
I work two jobs and take classes at the local community college. It sucks, and I see fit to complain on a regular basis, mostly in commiseration with other people who work all the time. Really, though, a lot of people have it a lot worse than I do. Luckily for me, my financial responsibilities are few. No kids or car to speak of, only rent, utilities, and food. And a manageable credit card bill. I can afford to make mistakes (like the $170 I lost at the casino not long ago) and still stand on my own two feet.
For the last week or so, I've had a couple of gashes on my thumbs that hurt something awful. One, I think, is from constant exposure to caustic sanitizer that made the side of my thumb canyon open. It hasn't bled, but it hasn't healed, either. The other resembles the kind of wound you'd have from recklessly tearing off a hangnail, only deeper. It was my own fault; I was trying to modify my makeshift bong, and in the process of jamming two pen barrels together, one cracked and grazed my thumb.
Then, earlier today, I was intolerably constipated. I couldn't understand it; perhaps I had eaten something I shouldn't have (or perhaps not enough of something I should have). My stomach hurt for about two or three minutes, and then it went away. Then I felt like I had to poo for _hours_, and yet every time I retired to the lavatory, I'd sit in vain for ten, fifteen, thirty minutes. It finally happened around seven to eight hours after it started, by my third bathroom break at my second work shift today, and there was blood in my stool.
So, that sucked. In the greater scope of things, though, these really aren't significant problems. People lose their parents and their grandparents, or total their cars; work injuries leave their digits mangled, etc. But when I called into work today to tell my manager I'd be late, if he hadn't said, "We're gettin' murdered here; just get here as soon as you can," I'd surely have told him I couldn't make it.
Do I just inflate my problems because they're the only problems I've got?
As a side note, I think it's interesting that my managers and teachers probably think I have a life much more miserable than I actually do, for all of the lies I've concocted to absolve myself of all of my irresponsible behavior.
current mood: exhausted
current music: Jason Mraz - Winter Wonderland [myspace.com/jasonmraz]
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| Monday, December 11th, 2006
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3:26 pm - Resourceful
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I wish I had documented this process with a digital camera when it had happened. Unfortunately, I did not; these images stolen from the Internet will have to suffice. Please note that the links and images provided do not always match the product I purchased. They were as close an approximation as I could find.
( What an ordeal. )
current mood: exhausted
current music: Barenaked Ladies - Wind it up [Barenaked Ladies Are Me]
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| Thursday, November 30th, 2006
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4:06 am - Why Lesbians are HOT.
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It's become something of a cultural standard among our generation that lesbians comprise a rather sexually arousing demographic. I've touched on some of the reasons why in some long forgotten entry of mine--the idea, I think, was that with lesbian pornography, you get to see interactive sexual behavior without an unsightly penis mucking everything up. But earlier today, it dawned on me that the reason boys go bonkers when women get it on--at least for me--is that we imagine, whether consciously or not, that that intimacy is the product of women so desperately consumed with lust that they'll reach out for the first sexual object available to them. In short, insatiably prurient women are hot with a capital H, and lesbians are one such manifestation of them (even better, two at the same time!).
But that's not fair. Lesbians love women. Really, they do, coital considerations aside. They construct meaningful relationships with one another, completely and in all rights divorced from the notion than lesbian partners are surrogate manlovers in the stead of a suitable penis-equipped partner.
Incidentally, I still find myself hopelessly attracted to a popular lesbian aesthetic: tomboyish short hair, lanky build, girlishly-tight-yet-functional attire (sneakers, jeans/capris, t-shirts). Without the vaguest entertainment of the possibility of a sex change operation down the line, what's a lesbian-lovin' guy to do?
current mood: tired
current music: David Gray - Wave Hello Say Goodbye [White Ladder]
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| Thursday, March 9th, 2006
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11:58 am - 90s! Can you dig it?
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Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like the 90s is a lone flower growing amidst an armpit of crappy decades?
We grew up with afterschool cartoons like Animaniacs and Tiny Toons (I still learn words from these cartoons! Words like "moxie" and "skosh"!), and superhero series that dealt with pressing issues like AIDS (remember that Legacy Virus storyline in X-Men? the one that everyone thought only affected mutants? and then that senator dude struck a deal with Apocalypse and then got infected?) or actually explored heroes' nonphysical capacities (the Batman Adventures, in particular, was perhaps the single greatest mainstream contribution to the Batman mythos)?
What's more, SNL was good back in those days. And so was girl-rock. I mean, what happened to Lilith Fair? I'm not saying Michelle Branch and Liz Phair and Vanessa Carlton are _bad_, but I don't think they compare to Alanis and Sarah McLachlan. And when did Jewel get all weird and do "Intuition"? After the 90s! And what happened to The Cranberries, Sister Hazel, Gin Blossoms, Bush, Stone Temple Pilots, and those dudes who did "Detachable Penis"?
Dennis Rodman! South Park! Bop It! TGIF! the Macarena! I can't get enough of the 90s!
And enough about popular media, what about politics and economy? Bill Clinton (Rhodes scholar with a photographic memory whose greatest political shortcoming was lying about a sexual affair!) and the dot-com boom were what the 90s were all about! When did Bush get (kind of) elected, and when did the dot-com boom crash? After the 90s!
Gas prices? Better in the 80s, but still less absurd than now!
VHS? Far superior to TiVO and DVD combined.
Alex Trebek with a mustache? Hotter!
Life? Simpler!
Man, the only cool thing about the new millennium is kids from the 90s. And craigslist. Let's bring the 90's back.
Whoa, since when does livejournal autosave drafts? There's something the 90's didn't have.
current mood:  nostalgic
current music: pandora.com's Sufjan Stevens Radio
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| Tuesday, December 27th, 2005
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5:26 pm
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Check it out. Last week, my credit limit was $1200, and I was $20 away from maxing it out. Then, I go to the gas station and gas up for $40+, and now my spending limit is $1700.
Can someone please explain to me why this is happening?
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| Sunday, December 18th, 2005
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4:50 pm
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So apparently, southern California brings unnaturally dry winters. I did not know this before, as I've never had a basis for comparison, but after last night, I do very much appreciate them, if only for one reason:
When you wash dishes by hand, they're bone-dry and ready to put back into the shelves in no time at all.
I've never really cared about humidity before, in part because I never understood its effect on anything. We studied its effects on weather systems in sixth grade, and the only practical knowledge that brought me was why condensation occurs on glass or grass or anything else at night. As for why a dry heat is more desirable than a moist heat, I still have no idea, but at least I kinda get it. I think.
current mood: Headachey
current music: Pinback - Fortress [Summer in Abaddon]
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| Wednesday, December 14th, 2005
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12:22 pm
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I find it hysterical that "Anarchy" is a brand name.
In other news, it had occurred to me only yesterday that up until the last half-century, marriage was (most times) a woman's only route to financial and social affluence. Suddenly, I am reminded of all those old stories in which love overcame the absurdity of betrothal. And in statistical and experiential light of all of the failed marriages and relationships that sprung out of some overwhelming infatuation mistaken for true love, I can see why arranged marriage was such a popular tradition. After all, I still cannot find a practical reason to marry in a modern western culture, except for religion (to declare your commitment in the eyes of God), society (because lots of people look down on or question long-term, unmarried couples), or golddigging (or less severely, to distribute the domestic and professional workload). At first, I was under the impression that married couples receive some tax benefit (apparently, they do in the UK), but it seems that working couples with similar incomes actually suffer from some Marriage Penalty in American tax law. And if you would marry for familial reasons, you must admit that you can still have a cohesive family unit with the father and mother as boyfriend and girlfriend, and you must accept the probability that some of those couples are healthier as a family than some families with married parents. Because after all, a wedding is only a celebration of an intention to long-term commitment. And if you don't hold a funeral for your late Uncle Peter, he's still dead in the end, isn't he?
Some would contend that the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" seem to suggest the very real possibility of a breakup sometime down the line. While that may be what "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" suggest for most people, I offer only the following:
Lastly, I saw Say Anything last night. But before I saw it, I hung out with a dude from my fraternity, who detailed his exploits in woman-bagging. What ever happened to true love?
current mood: lazy
current music: Peter Gabriel - In Your Eyes [So]
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| Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
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10:59 pm - Batman Begins
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Although it's been quite some time since the release of this long-awaited film, there are a number of logical errors and inconsistencies with the storyline of Batman Begins that need to be brought to light.
1) Dr. Crane distributes his hallucinogen through the Gotham City water mains; it had worked its way through the water supply for days, or even weeks, before the final execution of Ra's al Ghul's sinister plan of evilness. The reason no one feels the effects prematurely is that it must be vaporized and inhaled. But really, is it even vaguely feasible to suggest that no one in Gotham boiled tap water between the time the drug got into the water supply and Ra's al Ghul came to Gotham??
2) Lucius Fox supposedly developed an innoculation for Crane's psychotropic hallucinogen. But innoculations are for diseases, because really, if you could innoculate against a drug, parents would totally innoculate their kids against weed (and maybe even alcohol!). Nothing but continued exposure can preemptively reduce or eliminate the effect of a drug.
3) Ra's al Ghul activates a microwave emitter and loads it onto a Gotham City monorail, vaporizing all the city's water in its blast radius. But what about humans, which are 60% water by mass? Why didn't they vaporize and die like that dude in The Tuxedo?
4) Batman lets Ra's al Ghul die at the end of the movie, saying "I'm not going to kill you, but I don't have to save you." And yet earlier on in the film, he justified his refusal to execute a murderer with, "[Our compassion] is what separates us from them." What's the deal?
However, I will admit that Batman's cape was pretty cool.
As a non sequitur, I'd like to offer my interpretation of the goings on in Troy (particularly, when Orlando Bloom's arrows pierced through Brad Pitt's body), because most of my friends offered an explanation that seemed weak, at best (the one I remember best is, "maybe the arrow through his ankle broke his invincibility"). I think the point was that Achilles' invulnerability was really just myth, because as he put it, "Otherwise, I wouldn't bother with the shield." The arrow through the ankle just happened to be his first (and last) battle wound, and from that outrageous happenstance sprouted the age-old legend. I don't particularly like that interpretation, because I think that as a myth, it should be treated purely as fantasy, but I think it's an interpretation my friends overlooked. If I'm totally wrong and it was blatantly obvious, nevermind that whole last paragraph.
current mood:  groggy
current music: Barry Jive and the Uptown Five - Let's Get It On [High Fidel
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| Wednesday, November 16th, 2005
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5:31 pm - Hey Everybody!
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I don't know how all of you feel about abortion, but for those of you who believe that it's important that it stays a legal and safe practice (because regardless of whether it's legal, it will happen anyway), check it out.
Judge Samuel Alito is being nominated to the Supreme Court. He's pretty not-OK with abortion, so Planned Parenthood wants to get 100,000 signatures to senators in opposition of his nomination.
http://www.ppaction.org/ct/opAjMKE1gXoS/
In other news, I had never known how awesome Gold Bond is. My feet no longer smell.
current mood: bored
current music: Rage Against The Machine - Bulls On Parade [Evil Empire]
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| Tuesday, October 18th, 2005
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1:26 pm - What I've learned in college
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Now into my second year at UC San Diego, I've learned a few things that I had never known before. Here it comes:
PB&J is a nutritious, vegetarian snack/meal that doesn't get old as quickly as, say, tuna sandwiches.
Jam spreads better than jelly. Make your PB&Js "Peanut Butter and Jam" sandwiches. After all, jam consists of grapes, whereas jelly consists of grape juice.
It is, in fact, necessary to refrigerate fruit preserves, despite the fact that they are called preserves. Making two PB&Js a day and sealing the lid tight on my grape jelly, I found a speck of mold as I neared the bottom of the jar.
That nauseating cheese/grease smell that pizza leaves on the sides of your mouth is all but impossible to avoid.
Three-and-a-half miles from campus is pushing the outer limits of an acceptable radius for housing without a car. Considering traffic in large cities, the car-equipped radius is not much farther.
Oil is the source of feeling grody and smelling weird, not sweat. If I have recently showered and am wearing clean clothes, I can get sweaty and dry off and smell fine; if my body, hair, or face is oily, or my clothes have body soil deposited on them (expected after a day's wear), sweat will only augment the odor of the oil and the body soil.
Except, sweat in the armpits does smell pretty bad. Use antiperspirant (NOT deodorant) and, if possible, carry a stick with you (borrowing someone else's seems unhygienic).
Shave.
Shower before going to sleep. You will not get sweaty or oily enough in sleep to justify saving a shower for the morning. Furthermore, it reduces the frequency with which you ought to wash your sheets. Less laundry = less wasted water.
Use a duvet. Contrary to Tyler Durden's assertion in Fight Club, a duvet is not just a blanket. It is a covering for a comforter. Using one will extend the life of your comforter (without one, the feathers in my comforter slipped out one by one, leaving a dust of feathers around my room), and will allow you to wash the part of your comforter that touches your body.
Keep a pair of sandals handy for when you run out of socks. Dark colors show dirt less than brighter colors. I recommend Rainbows, unless you are inclined to lose footwear. Rainbow sandals are warranted until you wear through the top layer of leather (which takes quite a long time).
Wash your sandals.
Apply for scholarships. Working hard on one application, revising the essay multiple times, is better than sending in a bunch of crappy essays to multiple scholarship contests.
Keep a sewing kit handy.
Introduce your friends to each other. Don't repeat (e.g. "Susan, this is Andy. Andy, Susan."); you're only wasting your breath, and Andy won't be offended that you didn't address him.
Introduce yourself, and strike up a conversation. If it's awkward, you don't ever have to talk to that person again. Unless it's your roommate or your lab partner.
Remember names. If it helps, just keep repeating that person's name when you're speaking to them. For instance, "Oh, man, Robert, that sounds pretty cool! So, what year are you, Robert? Can I call you Bob? Or Rob? Or Robby? "
Join a sport or a club that spends a lot of time together. There's no bond like the camaraderie of sports teammates. Camping club members and the like come fairly close.
Whatever it is that's making you sad, let it go. Don't be the sad face in the Prozac commercial. You have to stop crying. No one will shag you if you don't.
Communicate. Man, your life will be so much easier if you know what you want and you know what the people you're dealing with want, and they know, too. This is especially important of romantic, platonic, and/or sexual relationships.
It's okay to be reckless, as long as you know what you're putting on the line and you're okay with losing it (your virginity, your HIV-negative status, a hundred dollars, the right to tell your kids that you never got a tattoo when you were younger and they shouldn't either, some teeth).
Don't talk about religion or politics. You're not going to change anyone's mind, you probably won't change yours, and you might end up offending someone in the process. And if you agree, you're just preaching to the choir. If someone asks you, make the mildest, most ambiguous response possible. For instance: "What religion are you?" "My religion is to do good."
Once you're making your own money and your friends are making their own money, only talk about how much you have, make, or spend if you can do it without getting competitive. It's good to know, because employers will ask how much you would like to be paid, and you don't want to underestimate just so your potential boss won't toss you out of his office; still, like penis size, it's a very sensitive topic for many people.
Vote. Even if you're in California, Alabama, or any other state where the recipient of the state's electoral votes is almost guaranteed. You might end up with the kind of upset we had in 2000, when Gore won the popular vote and lost the electoral vote, and that can get people talking. It might not change anything immediately, but you could be a contributing factor to big changes.
Tip your waiters and waitresses. Not more or less depending on how hot they are, but on how obliging they are. Be generous; their jobs suck.
Tip your pizza deliveryman (two dollars minimum). Even if he's late, there were half a dozen people involved in the production of your pizza, and you shouldn't punish the deliveryman when the dough-tosser felt like slacking off. Plus, gas prices are going up, and deliverymen aren't reimbursed for gas in full.
Offer to buy lunch for people who drive you places. They'll seldom accept cold, hard cash, but a meal offers a warm social opportunity and a chance to offer recompense for fuel, which is getting very expensive these days.
Don't expect guys to pay for meals unconditionally. For one, you can never be certain she has no financial incentive to be with you unless she has no financial incentive to be with you. For another, that expectation justifies and reinforces certain injustices in our society ("Yeah, she makes less for doing the same job, but she gets support from a significant other"). My way of doing things with friends, strangers, significant others, and potential significant others, is that if the party is small enough, one person will pay in full. Next time, someone else can pay in full. In the end, things all even out, and you don't need to worry about any weird calculations.
Don't make every man or woman you meet a potential significant other. If you can't make just-friends with hot people, you'll never have any consistent, hot friends.
People put a lot into their appearances. I don't. "Presentable," for me, is a much lower standard than with most people: if there are holes in your clothes, make sure they're intentional; don't smell bad (includes breath); shower. Until you enter graduate school or start applying for jobs, the way you dress will affect nothing more than the kinds of social circles that will welcome you. And if that's one of their criteria, you had better be prepared to impose the same. Otherwise, your friends may never be okay with each other.
Take as readily as you will give; give as readily as you will take. Only giving makes you look like a pushover and makes people feel uncomfortable; only taking makes you look inconsiderate. Accepting offers allows people to feel generous, whereas declining them has the potential to leave a very awkward air hanging over your interaction. Making offers allows people to feel cared about; leaving them to ask has the potential to leave a very awkward air hanging over your interaction.
Get STD checks between partners, or on a regular basis, if you have multiple partners. Since it's difficult to anticipate when your next partner will come along, make sure you get tested the moment you're prepared to have sex with anyone other than your current partner. He or she may be cheating on you, so even if you weren't infected yesterday, make sure you're not infected today. The moment you'd consider cheating on him or her, make sure that wouldn't spread anything around to anyone else. Be honest when potential partners ask about it.
It's more hygienic to perform fellatio or cunninlingus with an unlubricated condom (lube tastes awful and is entirely unnecessary for fellatio) or a dental dam. However, it's my personal preference to work without a barrier. Make sure both of you are clean if that's what you decide to do.
There is life after college. Make sure you're ready for it.
current mood:  complacent
current music: Dave Matthews Band - Cry Freedom [Crash]
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| Sunday, August 21st, 2005
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6:11 am
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It's 6:11 a.m. in the summertime, and the sun still hasn't risen over Belgium. I think I'm in a place called "Molenheide," but that's just because an Internet advertisement told me it could help me find a date there. It's weird being so far away from home, and I almost feel bad missing people when I'm with my family, because I know I don't miss my family when I'm away from them and with my friends. Mostly, I miss Yvonne; I think I'd miss her even if I had peer companionship here, but it's worse when the only people you know are nearly twice your age, at least.
Some initial observations about Europe:
There are a lot of bikes. Holy shit, there are a lot of bikes, and they all look a billion years old. They also all look very rideable. I saw a two-story parking garage for bicycles, and almost every bike has one of those 10-lb. heavy duty chain locks. I like the looks of Amsterdam.
The places I've seen so far seem almost utopian, in a quaint sort of quiet-village-not-far-removed-from-the-city sort of way. The reduction in motor vehicle traffic makes for a much more peaceful and inviting city, especially for pedestrians, and all the houses are centuries old, remodeled internally several times over, and still holding up, fragile as they look.
The ice cream is _really_ creamy. It's like the kind you get at McDonald's, the Soft-Serv swirly frozen yogurt-type ice cream, but on a sugar cone, and it tastes like Cool Whip.
In Dutch, it's appropriate to pluralize words with apostrophes. For instance: the menu at Replay Cafe read: "Tosti's". There was another entry that I've forgotten, but apparently, that's the proper way to do it.
Gratuity at restaurants is unexpected in Europe, and I think tax is factored into the prices already, which makes for very straightforward business transactions. Euros in small denominations (i.e. <€5) come in coins, which makes so much sense to me. Waiters, it seems, are simultaneously cashiers, too, with little fanny packs filled with money to dispense exact change on the spot. Very cool, and reminds me of arcade staff back in the day, with the quarter-dispenser belts.
My aunt and her husband own a huge countryside-like summer house where I'm staying right now. It's got three stories and a huge, well-kept yard, a lot of isolation, and a forest right past the end of the property. The place cost him €1.7 million, and according to my grandfather's very spontaneous estimations, an equivalent property in Los Angeles would run approx. $5 million. My grandfather's a landlord, so I trust his opinion.
My aunt's husband owns a Bentley. And a Jaguar. And a Rolls-Royce. And a motorized, drive-around lawn mower. And a grand piano. I'm not sure what he picked us up in today, but it certainly wasn't any of those four. Five. And yet, gasoline (natural gas is what he uses) costs about $7.50 a gallon here. I don't understand how he can afford it.
I should have brought a camera.
The sun is up, but hiding behind many clouds.
That's all for now. More to come!
current mood: jetlagged
current music: Foo Fighters - Best Of You [In Your Honor]
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| Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005
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12:26 am
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For me, there are few things sexier than a woman who appears in a doorway on the morning after, holding the bedsheets up against an otherwise stark naked body.
Even (especially?) if she looks all groggy and her hair's a mess, 'cause that's the way people actually come out of bed.
current mood:  amused
current music: Duncan Sheik - Barely Breathing [Duncan Sheik]
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| Friday, July 22nd, 2005
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10:43 pm
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The first half of this entry is really boring; the second, in my opinion, not so much. Skip the first unless you're really bored, and/or you care about bicycling.
I've never had such a hard time reconciling my philosophies with my lifestyle. For one thing, as gung-ho as I have been about cycling for the past year and a half, I've come to realize that bicycles are a much more limited transportation solution than I had imagined them to be, and that motor vehicles seem to be, in many cases, the only practical solution. I loved riding so much, because I hated driving so much; I hated driving so much, because it's a huge responsibility for which most drivers just aren't prepared, and it's a monstrous financial burden: gas, insurance, registration, tickets, and maintenance in one year can cost more than a couple good bikes that could last a lifetime (if well-maintained). Repairing the damage of collisions, both medical and automotive, is a lengthy process, and drivers stand to face increased insurance rates as a result. Thousands of people die because of cars every year, and as a biker, I'd never have to take responsibility for someone else's life. And even though 25 mph is pretty fast on a bike (in the context of commuting), bikers can keep up with cars, if not leave them behind, during traffic hour. Even if a ten minute car ride takes half an hour on a bike (not likely unless the freeway is involved), a rider can spend an hour (roundtrip) exercising and commuting simultaneously, whereas a driver (if s/he exercises everyday) could spend just as much time doing both separately. Sure, there were problems with biking--anywhere I'd go, I'd end up a sweaty, stinky mess; hairstyle suffers in the interest of saefty (helmet); and cargo space is limited. To me, these only seemed like shortcomings for a new generation dependent on the comforts of modern civilization. Anyone who has grown up chauffeured about to school and birthday parties and karate class in an automobile would expectedly find those aspects of bicycle commuting intolerable. But there are a lot of valid reasons, I've found, to opt for cars: some people need the cargo space. Artists, for example, carry huge supplies and wood blocks and easels and ginormous rolls of paper around, and it's just not feasible to do that on a bike. I've been trying to find a practical solution to hauling my guitar around; I've got one last hope, and it might not even work. The last president of my fraternity had one leg (I think he lost his other in a car accident, ironically enough), so there's really no way he could ever bike. I don't anticipate that the industrialized world will ever make the move back to bicycles, and I think motor vehicles are really necessary for some applications (construction, freight delivery, handicapped folks, moving), but I still think it'd be nice to see bikes used more often than they are now. Cars and the lifestyle they accomodate represent a lot of the priorities in modern American culture that make me really unhappy: conspicuous consumption, for one. It's so important to have a nice car if you want to look good and prosperous, and I hate it. I hate SUVs most of all. For another, male caretaker roles--it's expected, sometimes as early as high school, that you roll up in your own vehicle (again, the prettier and more expensive, the better) to pick up a date. For any girl you've just met, any other course of action is subpar. It wouldn't be nearly as bad to offer or consent to give her a ride if she didn't expect it, but the fact that it's so often a prerequisite of the courtship ritual makes it seem like standing on your own two feet involves pampering her, too. I hate it. What else? Automobile air conditioning. The sad truth of any cooling system is that you can't generate coldness; all you can do is displace heat. So for every car that's stuck on the 405 on a hot summer day, every joule of heat that's missing from the interior of ever car with A/C on is being blown out into the atmosphere. Yes, on top of the heat that the motor of your car is generating from combustion, why not make it hotter outside just to keep yourself at a comfortable 69°? I still hate cars, but now I acknowledge that some people really do need them.
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I saw Pretty Woman for the first time late in my freshman year. Julia Roberts' character says she doesn't kiss on the lips, because she doesn't get emotionally involved with her clients, which led me to the following observations:
Sex has an unambiguous biological function, and our desire to have it is, by and large, the product of that function's utility (coupled, supposedly, with natural selection).
Kissing, on the other hand, is a purely artificial invention. It is usually an expression of interpersonal affection that, in spite of its physically entertaining qualities, represents a patently emotional statement (most of the time), whether that statement is "I love you," "I want you to love me," or "I need your attention" (or whatever).
So, sex is undeniably biologically functional, although we pretty consistently attach some degree of emotional or religious weight to it. Even if you're using contraceptives, you're having sex to satiate the biological urge to reproduce. Even if you're sterile, your body may not know the difference, and you experience the urge just the same. It's still functional.
Whereas, kissing is a pastime created by people, and it is either non-functional (sport) or its function is exclusively communicative (expression of affection).
Sex, at its core, is about reproduction. Kissing, on the other hand, is inextricably bound to some sort of emotional attachment (not necessarily exclusive, not necessarily more-than-friends, but the affection is there). They can both be treated as sports (that is, forms of interactive entertainment), but beyond that, sex is functional and kissing is emotional. So religious restrictions notwithstanding, why does kissing come so unconditionally before sex? Sex was going on long before kissing was invented, but now it seems that kissing is a prerequisite to sex.
I'm not encouraging a sex-then-kiss progression of physical intimacy, by any means; I wouldn't do it, either, but I'm wondering why that progression has become so ingrained in our culture.
Maybe it's because you can kiss with your clothes on.
current mood: tired
current music: Audioslave - Be Yourself [Out Of Exile]
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