You're Selfish

SPOILERS AHEAD. You'll have to read on to find out what's being spoiled. Don't say I didn't warn you though.

I've got about thirty pages left of Wonder Boys. The book. Snape kills Dumbledore. Aeris dies. Gollum is Frodo's father. Darth Vader is a thinly-veiled symbol for Jesus Christ.

Oof. Sorry, spoiler-Turret's.

Anyway, Wonder Boys has merited that rare award I bestow only on good books: I will finish reading it. It also has the wonderful quality of having a great movie made based on it. And that's all the summary you get.

Today, I have decided to become charitable. I've noticed that people love sympathizing with people in/with pain/grief/depression/handicaps. Nothing makes a person happier than cheering up a depressed comrade, the more depressed, the better. It fills you with that feeling of Mother-Theresa-ness and spiritual accomplishment, it makes you feel like you're contributing to society, and best of all, it makes you feel completely selfless.

OK. Obviously all of this is illusory (a good euphemism for the more obvious word). You think it works one way, but we all know deep inside that it's exactly the reverse. People help the needy because of intrinsic selfishness not because of acquired selflessness. I'm willing to concede a Jesus and a Buddha and a couple of others who I haven't heard of personally because they didn't become such prominent Hollywood icons, but the rest are just lying to themselves. And why wouldn't you lie to yourself? It makes you feel almost as good as if you had just carried a legless old lady across a ten-lane intersection.

Cynicism? Nah. This is actually a good quality of the human race. If we had to depend on selflessness to get help to those in need, then we'd definitely be cynical.

Anyway, the point is, I've decided to help people be happy. On request, I am willing to act depressed for at least a couple of minutes, and accept some consoling. Come over at any time and I will pretend to cheer up from my pretend sorrow. You won't regret it.

Note: the best way to console me is through my stomach. Tootsie Rolls and pizza will do just fine. Actually, go ahead and just leave them outside the door. You have my guarantee that I will feel better upon consuming them.

Mario, earlier today: Can you imagine being Chinese? That's the admirable thing about Chinese people, they deal really well with being Chinese.

I just asked Mario if he had anything else funny to say, and he failed to come up with anything. Disgusting. That is certainly no way to keep your few remaining friends.

Long Day

Mom's looking over my shoulder, so I can't unleash my full writing potential. Half will do.

Went to Hana's house today. They were definitely unprepared to entertain me. I was counting on at least some singing, money showering, and "we're not worthy"'s accompanied by heads banging against the floor, but all I got was a good meal and an even better serving of boooring. They all camped out in the den and watched a recorded Turkey-Germany soccer match, and no amount tears or begging succeeded in making them tell me to shut up and go home. I don't understand, if you have a match taped and can watch it any time, why would you ever watch it? Especially when I'm around waiting to be entertained.

Mom's learning Stairway to Heaven so she can go to Guitar Center and piss them off - all guitar stores have Stairway to Heaven on their blacklists. Luckily for them, she only practices once every couple of months, usually in different and not always consecutive years.

Chun studying for MCATs is reflecting poorly on my self-esteem. Every now and then, she'll come at me with a "hey, I've got a really easy question for ya...," just to make sure I feel like a moron when I can't even understand what it's asking. I of course proceed to do just that, and she has her fill of laughs. Then she leaves me and returns to her career-building, while I frantically shake my computer upside down so my tears don't short its circuits.

Michelle's having a sleepover today, so there are suddenly two Michelles in the house (her friend is also a Michelle). This is pretty much your classic domestic nightmare. Right now they're upstairs and judging from the sounds, they're either mudwrestling, practicing dropkicks, or sacrificing an uncooperative goat. I hear thud after thud, and lots of giggling that'll soon make its way downstairs, meet Mom, and seamlessly become sobbing if not screaming.