Coming Soon To Your Friendly Nearby Internet

I've been writing and recording music lately, trying to get enough songs together to get an album up on iTunes. Quantity has finally reached its goal, and I've been sneakily testing quality on various so-called friends and family. The reviews/reactions so far have been pretty mixed. My friends in China generally give me at least one thumb up, partly because their culture doesn't allow them to voice criticism, and partly because of the One-Person-One-Thumb policy in China.

My family is generally supportive, though they express this support in very different ways. The "generally supportive" average is reached primarily thanks to my sister, who lavishes praise with a heavy hand regardless and especially irregardless of quality. (Somewhere Perry is getting very very angry about my word usage. Lucy, do what you can for him). "Mark! You wrote that!?" she shrieks. "It's soo good! You're amazing!" My guess is that up till now she thought I was clinically retarded, because I can literally play one chord and elicit that response.

My mother, the most musically inclined of my subscribers, is eager to listen to my creations but only has time to do so on the 32nd of every month. Never fear, my supreme patience is holding stong.

Gene, who now runs out of the house if you call him "Dad," gives a two-for-one deal: reserved praise and vague criticism. "Hey! That's...pretty good...but something's missing...I don't know what," is his well-rehearsed response. He is as consistent and oblivious to quality as my sister, though in a different slice on the spectrum.

Grandma and Boris never say a single word about the quality of the music. They react, but I haven't decided how to interpret their reaction yet. Usually it goes something like this:

(a three course meal is shoved down Mark's throat to lull him into a false sense of security and a very real sense of nausea)
Grandma: sing us one of your songs! You never sing to us!
Mark: ugh...I only sing to my microphone. But you can hear my computer imitate me. Want to?
Grandma: you didn't eat anything today! Do you want some strawberries? Plums? Chocolate? Herring? Pickles? I know! Let's drink a shot together!
(If you're wondering about the exclamation points, Grandma lives at around 130 decibels)
Mark: no thanks, I only drink with Michelle.
Grandma: well at least have some bread. Nuts. Potatoes. Want me to make you a steak? Pancakes? Why aren't you playing your song to me!?
Mark: uhh...good point. (Turns song on)
Grandma (listens for 5 seconds): BORIS! GET OVER HERE, MARK'S PLAYING US HIS SONGS!
Boris (from the kitchen): meh? You say something?
(They arm themselves with megaphones and yell into each other's earpieces for the next three songs. Boris finally comes over. Mark writhes in pain on the carpet; he is congenitally incapable of habituating to sonic warfare)
Grandma: is that your song playing?
Mark: ye...e...e...s.
Grandma: Boris, listen! Don't fall asleep, you old goat!
Boris: I'm not sleeping, I'm listening!
(5 seconds pass)
(Mark quietly gets up, negotiates the two blissfully snoring geezers, packs his things and drives himself to the hospital)
(scroll down three days and repeat)

Neither Grandma nor Boris has stayed awake for the duration of a single song, which is 3.5 mins on average. Good? Bad? I don't know but I'm going to be optimistic. At their age, if they don't die of something, it's probably really really really ridiculously good.

Mario is the only one who gives constructive feedback. Unfortunately, by some crazy coincidence, he's the one person whose advice I never listen to. Can't do anything about it, the decision was made a long time ago.

Chun is busy 758 hours a week so she has no time to give feedback. My turn to be the object of her attention was coming up, but then a little thing called Daylight Savings Time stole my spot. Now she's back in her exercise wheel, dancing her way into medical school. Don't stand in her way, she has a mean left pirouette.

And finally, there was one person outside the usual circle who got a taste of this album (that's coming soon to your friendly nearby Internet). That was my aunt. Around Christmas, she demanded I send her a song. Being an obedient little nephew, I obliged...and that was the last I heard from her. I should really go check if she's OK. Hmm...nah, I'll just wait till next Christmas. If she doesn't show up, then I'll know something's wrong. Never too late to call 911.

Q & A

Morning meditation:

Oof. Today was one loooong hour-long hour. I was really impatient for some reason, even more than usually. Maybe it's because today I meditated at ~11:30AM instead of the usual 9:00AM, and my brain had already had time to sink into the afternoon mindset, apparently one of ADD. Also, there were lots of distracting sounds today. Planes, trains, automobiles, humming refrigerators, ringing cellphones, garbage pickups, the walls crackling from minute changes in temperature, pretty much everything you could ask for except for the ice cream truck and carolers. And Santa Claus.

I did have a couple of interesting moments when I felt curiously misaligned with my body, as if I had drifted over a couple of inches, but was also simultaneously in the original spot. It was a tricky feeling to hold onto, because the moment I'd notice it, I'd snap right back into place. The day I can hold it I'll probably end up blaming it on excessive calorie intake.

I was thinking yesterday that God is a lot like the Placebo Effect. It doesn't really matter whether he's a sugar pill or an antibiotic or a big jolly bearded guy in a cloud, riding a dinosaur. If you manage to believe in him, even if you're tricked into doing so, you can extract benefit for yourself. Or harm of course. Let's forget about God for a second, and just think about the Placebo Effect. Basically it says that whatever you believe, happens. Like, if you take a sugar pill thinking it's a cancer cure, you have a 99.99% chance of being cured (Note: figures are not to scale). Or if you jump out of an airplane and believe you have a parachute, but you really don't, then you're totally screwed. Actually...ignore that last one. OK, if you believe in Santa, your parents will give you presents addressed from him. If you believe in a wrathful and vengeful God, I will come shoot you in the head. If my physician tells me my lymph nodes are OK, I will believe her, and they'll stop spraying fountains of blood. So you see that the Placebo Effect is very powerful. And now I forget where I was going with this.

A joke my friend Pei wrote about me:

It happened as mark was in primary school...
teacher : mark, how come u r late again!!
mark: I met a lost 3 year-old kid by the railway on the way here.
teacher: come on... pls use a better story next time.
mark: I did send him home.
teacher: where is his home?
mark: ya when I asked him that, he was pointing to the railway. So I put him on the rails.
teacher: .......

(my reaction)
Mark: that's good!
Pei: when I was thinking of u, I thought, mark, he is a baby-killer... here we go...

A joke I wrote about my friend Pei:

Pei: talk dirty to me, I love it when you talk dirty to me.
Mark: mm...your apartment's so dirty, so dirty, I'm going to go clean it right now!
Pei: yea baby! you know what turns me on!

Yea...that may take some background to understand.

And one more about Pei (we're collaborating on a joke book that only the two of us will understand):
Pei is walking down the street. She sees a 5 year old kid and his mother. The kid must have been misbehaving, because the mother is beating the crap out of him, spanking him like there's no tomorrow.
Pei: ah...I wish I had a kid.

(today, in the kitchen)
Mark is peeling a clementine. Michelle walks up and puts her hand out, demanding some. Mark shoves the whole clementine in his mouth.
Michelle: Mom! Mark stole my clementine!

I tried writing some more jokes today, but in a different style. I tried posing a question and then thinking of responses from different people, with the responses caricaturing the answeree. I can't really tell if it's funny, and you'd have to know the people reasonably well to understand what I'm getting at, but it made me crack up when I wrote them:

Question: You have 24 hours to live, what do you do?
Mom: 24 hours...that's 12 movies!
Dad: 24 hours...that's eight 3-hour meditations. No, wait! Twenty-four 1-hour meditations!
Mark: 24 hours...can I at least get an extra half-hour to blog about it after?
Grandma: 24 hours...do you know what happened in Israel in only the last 3 hrs? No? Well let me describe it to you in gory detail for the next 24.
Boris: 24 hou...(snore)
Pei: 24 hours...that's enough time to try 240 new sex positions!
Manlin: 24 hours...how fast do they deliver chocolate?
Zhang Xiao Yi: 24 hours...damn, my parents are going to kill me when I tell them!
Chun: 24 hours...OK, first 5 minutes - call my Mom and Dad to tell them the news. The next 23 hours and 50 minutes - plan out the remaining 5 minutes. Aha! Not a minute gone to waste!
Tina: 24 hours...wow, life sucks.
Mario: 24 hours...that's time enough to learn 3 new Chinese words, forget 5 Russian ones, and start learning three new languages!
Igor: 24 hours...Renata! What am I doing for the next 24 hours!?
Frank: 24 hours...no problem. I have a business plan just for the occasion! It's a franchise. We're going to have 12 stores open within the first 10 hrs and we should be up to McDonald's scale by hour 24.
Serge: 24 hours...that's enough time to build a successful family, right?
Perry: 24 hours...convert as many Christians as I can to antheism. Now that's time well spent.
Lucy: 24 hours...bull. I bet I can live longer than that.

Question: What will you do when your son's begging you for a new toy he doesn't deserve?
Mom: don't give it to him, but then cry myself to sleep at night.
Dad: don't give it to him. Instead, make fun of him till he develops a serious psychological disorder.
Michelle: I have a son? That means I had sex! EWWWW!!!
Grandma: buy him every toy in the store. Oh, wait! Did you say son or grandson?
Mark: my son? Did the condom break? This is a completely unrealistic situation! Fine, I'd probably go get a DNA test then, see if he's really my son. There's no toy in existence that a son of mine wouldn't deserve. Ah, he's already so much like his father.
Chun: tell him he can have the toy in installments. Get him planning his life early on!
Mario: how old is he? 5? Trade him in for five 1-year-olds. No! Half of a ten-year-old!
Pei: give it to him. I love him, so why wouldn't I buy it? Wait, that's not how you raise children?
Zhang Xiao Yi: Chinese children know better than to beg for toys. I knew I shouldn't have married an American. They're inferior!
Manlin: play mind games with him. "You really want that toy? You don't not really want it? You wouldn't want not to not want to want to not have it?" Hehe.
Tina: toys? Yay! Mine mine mine mine! Phew, OK, sad now.
Igor: oh Christ. Renata!
Frank: wait, how did he get out of his cage?
Serge: buy myself a new car. And a new house. And then work harder and earn more money so I can buy the toy. Man, where does the money go!?
Perry: you know those noise-canceling headphones? What did you say? I can't hear you.
Lucy: beat the little devil half to death. Studies show it's optimal for his development.

Question: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Mom: because we're vegetarian.
Dad: it's a reincarnation of a nomadic tribesman, come on dude, ask me something harder.
Mark: I told you ten times already! Don't tell me any news unless it's good news! I've heard this all a million times. People are dying, there's war and povery, blah blah blah.
Michelle: a chicken? Where?!? I'm scared. Wait, are chickens dogs or insects?
Grandma: a chicken? Do you know that ten people were blown up in Israel today?
Igor: Renata, didn't we discuss this the other day? What did we decide?
Chun: aha! All part of my plan for getting into medical school! Check!
Frank: I don't know, but someone grab that chicken! The chicken/turkey exchange rate is climbing faster than my blood pressure!
Paul: hahaha! Someone saw a chicken! That's so crazy, man, that's so crazy!
Mario: I don't know, but I trust it. I'm getting outta here.
Pei: chicken? Who cares about chickens? Ask me about fish.
Tina: crap, I had this at my Google interview...and I remember getting it right...what was it!?...ugh!
Manlin: mmffhhahmm...sorry, was eating chocolate. Umm... (pause) did you get that? My MSN died. No? I said "maybe there's better Internet connection over there?"
Serge: a chicken crossed my road!? Where is it? Give me that chicken, we have some words to say to each other if you know what I mean. Quickly, before I forgive it!
Perry: don't even get me started. And no, chickens were not created by Jesus, they were created by a little thing called evolution, heard of it?
Lucy: did you know that chicken blood is green? I swear. It's true. Fine, look it up nay-sayer. It's not true? No way!

Adventure Relay

Morning meditation:

I did the same meditation this morning as yesterday, so not too many details are available for retrieval from my long-term memory. I do remember having a plate of light attached to my head at some point, which was pretty cool. It was maybe 5 feet wide, looked like a small UFO, and had a boredom-canceling force field. Hmm...I'll try to remember more things tomorrow, this is crap.

Today was a day of small adventures.

First, I went to see my physician. Let me tell about this woman. She is a miracle. You come to her with your problems - flu, AIDS, an amputated leg (what haven't I had?). She invariably tells you to open your mouth and say "ahh." You do so. Then she rolls her eyes, smiles, and tells you to stop pretending, you're as healthy as a...a healthy person (isn't there some expression for this?). And curiously, as soon as she utters those magic words, you feel cured. "Wow," you think, "my leg doesn't feel amputated at all anymore! And maybe I didn't go to that Free Love party and share a needle with that girl who shared it with everyone else first. And my nose is no longer stuffed!" And then you go home and hit your head against every wall, because doing that doesn't hurt anymore either.

Anyway, last time I visited my physician was three years ago, and for the first time, she broke protocol. A few months before that, one of the lymph glands on my neck decided to upgrade its space requirements, and enjoyed the new freedom so much that it never shrunk back down. My physician fondled it and decreed that I should go try some antibiotics, and that if those didn't bring it down, I should go get a biopsy. I did the first part as she said, but the antibiotics changed nothing. Then I decided to wait three years to see what would happen.

Scroll down to today. Since my rebellious lymph node still hadn't subsided, I figured I'd go get that biopsy, but decided to give wonderwoman a chance to redeem herself. And this time she didn't let me down. As soon as I stepped foot in her office, my lymph node became a figment of an overactive imagination, and disappeared. I got sent home immediately, with orders not to be an idiot and get biopsies for imaginary swellings. See? Good things come to those who wait. Either that or metastasis. Can't remember.

On the way back, I stopped at ShopRite to get some groceries. ...Eh, never mind. Short version: someone stole one of the five boxes of Coco Puffs I had in my cart, before it was even my turn at the cashier's. What kind of a lame crime is that? They could have at least waited until I paid it for it.

Then blah happened for a bit...nope, a bit longer than that...

And then I visited Grandma. Oof. Grandma has an even worse opinion of my memory abilities than I do. Every time I visit her - roughly twice a week - she'll tell me one new thing, and also every single thing she told me the week before. Her stories have no expiration date. Today she was feeling especially energetic, so I got to hear about everything I already know at least twice. She wouldn't stop talking even when I made the usual getting-ready-to-leave motions - stand up, put on my coat, get in the car and drive away. I paused for a couple of minutes between each two steps, but she kept on chattering from her rocking chair without so much as taking a breath. I'm pretty sure she knows circular breathing. Anyway, I guess she wasn't completely oblivious; she did increase her volume as I drove farther and farther away from her apartment.

Actually, now I remember that Boris managed to distract her for a moment a couple of times. The whole time I was making my escape, he was trying to nap on the couch while Grandma ran on. And then, when he finally succeeded and emitted a victorious snore, Grandma turned to him like usual and yelled "Boris! Go to your room and sleep!" Boris, taking this in stride, completely ignored her. Five minutes later, I heard his voice coming in to intercept one of Grandma's sentences. It was a "why?" or a "what?" or something...no, definitely a "what?" because Grandma instantly pounced on it with "What what!? Shut up and sleep!" Ah, gotta love mixed signals.

Gene: when I had scarlet fever as a kid, it was still considered a dangerous disease, so I was allowed to do ANYTHING I wanted. It was awesome.
Mark: cause they thought you might die?
Gene: yep. Though of course I had to stay in bed all day. And not move. And sleep 24/7. And I wasn't allowed to have any ice cream.
Mark: wow. Good thing I'm not allowed to do anything I want.

Oh those naughty Chinese

Had a weird dream today during a power nap. There was some insect buzzing around, and Mario picked me up with one hand by one of my ankles while he swatted at the insect with the other hand. I found myself being shaken as a side-effect of his efforts, and suddenly there were all kinds of things sticking out of the wall, making what was already dangerous even more so. I remember a drawer and a doorknob being the main objects of my anxiety. I yelled down to Mario to put me down, but he couldn't hear me. It was frustrating but hardly surprising; he listens to music so loudly, that if we both have headphones on, I can hear his music better than mine. Anyway, I managed to work up enough apprehension at being shattered against the drawer and doorknob to wake myself up. Thank goodness, because another couple of seconds, and I would never have had to wake up again.

Read a funny Chinese joke today. In Chinese. It was really short though, so you're not required to leave extensive praise. Goes something like this:

Yi1ge4 bing4ren2 zai4 ta1de bing4chuang2 shui2de hen3 xiang1. Hu4shi2 ba3 bing4ren2 yao2 xing3 shuo1 "kuai4 xing3 xing3, ni3 hai2 mei2 you3 chi1 an1mian2yao4 ne!"

Compare that with the English version: A patient is lying in his sickbed, sleeping soundly. A nurse comes up to him and starts shaking him, saying: "Wake up, wake up! You haven't taken your sleeping pill yet!"

Later today, my Chinese Palabea friend and I exchanged dirty jokes, and I came to the shocking realization that Chinese people have made very big advances in the area of perverse humor. I thought Russians were experts, and Americans were getting there(though with more a benign style), but Chinese people are waaaay ahead of both. No subject is sacred to them. Anyway, initiation is tough, but don't worry guys, I'll pull through.

Talked to grandma on Skype today. She's computer illiterate, so to her, talking through webcam is like using a magic mirror. Now that she's using computers though, I better be careful what I say about her here. So...yea...

Bad Movie

Saw Wall-E today. Blah.

The first 6 hours of the should-be trilogy were almost bearable. There were cuteness, silly music, and cockroaches - apparently a recipe for success judging by IMDb's thousands of satisfied fans. It used to be that when prompted for my opinion on a movie, I could safely defer to IMDb; this saved the trouble of later defending said opinion. But now IMDb must be in league with the movie companies because the average rating for a crappy movie is around 8. Wall-E is rated an astounding 9.3. I would have been happy to agree if I hadn't watched it. Unfortunately I did, and even the IMDb-sponsored professional applauders in the theater couldn't convince me of a single point deserved above a "5 for special effects."

"It's OK, it's over, you made it," I thought, as I made my way back to the car with my parents and my little sister. Wrong! My dad, though he claimed the movie had bored him into a stupor, would not stop reenacting the aforementioned boredom, with such skill that I fell asleep at least 8 times behind the wheel on the 2-mile ride home. Bored my ass! Now the traitor's probably voting on IMDb to infalte Wall-E's rating to an even greater obscenity.

Just heard from Chun, she loved it of course. This is good intel - she is not to be trusted.

Showed grandma our music today. Can't say she loved it. I showed her ~5 songs, and when I mentioned Mario was still finishing one of them, she asked "why finish? They all sound the same." Ouch. No worries though, grandma's been discredited. I grabbed a piece of apple pie as I left her house, and it smelled like cheese. When she shoved a tomato under my nose to smell the divinity, it smelled like the fish she'd been slicing. Hey, if she can't tell the difference between those...

Guests

My cousin and grandma from Baltimore dropped by yesterday on short notice. My cousin is a business guru with grandma's thuggish good looks. We skipped the usual midnight movie showing, and talked in bed till 3 AM. He told me some wild stories about taxi drivers and hookers, and I reciprocated with my own wild tales of sitting on the couch in our lounge. He was so impressed, he passed right out, so I went to sleep as well. In the morning he was gone, but he'll be back for more stories. They always come back.

I've been breezing through The Time Traveler's Wife - an extremely easy and entertaining read. It is drawing near the end, and my magic 8-ball is growing increasingly pessimistic. The level of drama, nostalgia, sentimentality, and inevitability has gotten so high that my tear glands are begging for an interlude. I've been drinking a lot of Gatorade to replenish my fluids. The only thing that cheers me up is thinking about how hard Chun'll be crying when she's reading it. Other people's tears always provide for quality entertainment, and Chun also has excellent delivery. (Don't worry Chun, the fall of my reputation as a dry-eyed stoic will protect yours.)

Watched a sappy Russian movie from the 80's today, a close relative of my worst enemy - Les Parapluies de Cherbourg. Watch it (the French one) if you're ever feeling more than usually sadomasochistic. The Russian movie was entertaining in comparison, despite being a colossal bore.

Michelle has volunteered me for a set of pushups with dad. I miss my couch.

Wednesday

I've been losing consciousness a lot lately. I find myself waking up at any given time of the day in front of the open door of the refrigerator with high expectations of finding something.

I had a dream today where yet another girl fell for my charms. If girls are anywhere close to as easy in real life as in my dreams, then I've missed out on college life more than I thought. Unfortunately my conscience is also much less dormant in the dream world, and wouldn't let me do a damn thing before talking it over with Chun.

Another unreported case of stomach abuse happened today, and sadly, no one will ever know. I had a dinner appointment with grandma, and those are not broken without consequences (Grandma has a collection of brass knuckles). However, I hadn't told Mom of my plans, and just as I was about to go, she called me to the dinner table. I stuttered something or other in my defense, but she grabbed my by the figurative nape of the neck and fed me till she deemed me full. Meanwhile, grandma called me on my cell, and demanded to know why I wasn't there when the food was hot and already on the table. I told her I'd be there as soon as I could but she demanded to know why I couldn't leave the house immediately. I bleated something about being there soon and hung up hoping everything would just blow over. It did eventually, but I had to suppress many a gag reflex, and Mario had to eat about half of the food on my plate while she wasn't looking.

On another note, "nasal septum" has vacated its spot on Google Trends as #37 most popular search. #37 is now occupied by "thong injury" - a rather radical jump in interest content. I am eagerly anticipating tomorrow's winner.