Family

Being an excellent brother, I put up with all kinds of demands from my not so baby sister. The latest is to write letters to her while she's at sleepaway camp. This borders on the ridiculous, because she is back every Saturday morning for the weekend. This means that in order for me to successfully get a letter to her by Friday, I have to sprint to the post office as soon as she gets on the bus on Monday, and scribble something mildly entertaining down before their truck leaves. Here's the last one I sent her:

Hi Michelle,

Hope this week is even more fun than last week! While you're away I make sure to practice Stairway to Heaven, do algebra word problems, and watch two movies a day so that you don't fall behind. It's a rough life being both you and me at the same time. I've even picked out some sneakers and a dress for myself, but Mom and Dad are making me choose one of the two.

Did you play guitar at the talent show? Or did you decide to do something else instead? What did other people do? I guess you'll have to tell me at home because by the time this letter gets there you'll have already complained to me in person about not writing.

Dad and I are doing pushups twice a day now, so prepare to see two muscle-bound warriors when you return. I don't want to brag, but our beauty is on a truly meteoric rise.

OK, I don't want to keep you in your tent too long and get your counselors fired, so go pretend you like them.

-Mark "I can barely type cause my muscles are so huge" Vayngrib

P.S.: Here's a cute joke I found:
Teacher: You copied Fred's test didn't you?
Student: How did you know?
Teacher: Fred's paper says "I don't know" and yours says "Me, neither!"

Unfortunately this won't earn me any credit with Michelle. One letter is worse than none, being half as good as the two-per-week she ordered.

Managed to convince my parents to come visit relatives with me yesterday. Going alone means becoming the center of attention, and my inflated sense of modesty abhors such situations. Ergo, I have to take a wingman - in this case two.

Visiting anyone is always most difficult for Dad, especially if it's relatives. The tragedy isn't in the action, but the aftermath. He goes, he plays the social butterfly, he almost makes them believe he still gives a damn, and no one but his roommates - me, Mom and Michelle - see the vomit-laden journey home.

Hmm...I suddenly grow suspicious of his habit of going to sleep last. After all, he does put up with Mom and me, and sometimes Michelle for long stretches of time. He probably has to pump his stomach nightly and self-prescribe obscene quantities of anti-depressants. I half-want to sneak downstairs tonight and throw down the curtain, but it's almost like spying on Santa during Christmas; I'd much rather believe in the gruesome fairy tale than the indubitably more mundane truth.

Good Luck Chun =)

Watched Kit Kittredge today. Finally, a movie that met expectations. Very low expectations. The popcorn, on the other hand, was exemplary. It was so good, we popped the family free refill cherry, and downed the second serving with forty minutes of trite overacted time-filler to spare. You know you're suffering when you begin to miss commercial interruptions.

Michelle is leaving us again. I know I know, I don't deserve it, who else gets two vacations a month? To celebrate, I have a date with Barnes and Noble's and then perhaps some hours of guitar inadequacy. Life is good.

Also going to try and get back to Harry Potter y la Piedra Filosofal which has been gathering dust on my harddrive. Not doing anything useful can be really time-consuming, and I've been neglecting my foreign language studies.

I think I might visit some of my relatives this week. They all suffer from a congenital defect called "family values," and risk getting a heartattack if kin enter their vicinity and don't drop by. I definitely don't want any dead family karma. Those tend to take revenge on you by manifesting as some horrible disease. You can hope it's merely physical like cancer and not truly insidious like "family values."

Less than two weeks left till I get to visit my girl! She's probably fainted twice reading the previous sentence, expecting horrible jokes on her account. If so, I hope today is not the morning of July 10th, and I haven't made her late for her date with the MCATs. Yes, yes, she's one of those - aspiring murderers. Steady hands, loves blood, kills your rabbits for free (I'll never let this one go), and refuses to settle for a lesser profession than sending people's insurance rates through the roof. But...that's all in the faaaaar future. For now, she's a little study-monkey, working her butt off to earn herself debts and slavery for the next X years. Aaanyway, por donde iba?...It's so easy to get distracted when people have ambitions to poke at. What I wanted to say...I think...was: let's all help her with a cheer. Join hands you homophobes...and:

Chun, Chun, she's our man,
Even studies on the can,
Verbal, physics, bio, chem,
Wait a minute...what the hell is she thinking? She's an electric engineer...ahhh!...must salvage the cheer...Good Luck Chun!

Giving Guests What They Deserve

Boris and Natasha came over today to help us put a dent in our groceries, and to give Dad a chance to expound on his favorite topic- "what you're (all of you) doing wrong in your life." This encompasses most things, so there was no shortage of conversation material.

Boris is a fairly quiet guy with a bald head of low to medium shine. He and Dad used to work together. Natasha is Boris's woman, and owns the rights to all of the voiced opinions in their relationship. The conversations at the table were naturally between Dad and Natasha, and occasionally between Natasha and Dad. The others sat back, listened, and restricted themselves to occasional nervous quasi-giggles so as not to deflect the stream of preaching onto themselves. I wasn't present at the sermon, having retreated to my sanctuary upstairs, but judging by the suffocating silence that ensued upon B & N's departure, many wonderful things were said.

Michelle came back today and proceeded to unleash a torrent of camp songs onto my poor ears. Having feasted on 24-bit silence for 5 days, sticking a fork up there probably would have felt better.

Saw a Korean romantic comedy yesterday called My Little Bride, pronounced Eorin shinbu. It was more than less tolerable, and a couple of scenes were quite funny. The main source of entertainment was the extensive repertoire of facial expressions exhibited by the main actress. It also explains why the movie is rated moderately high - white people have a hard time telling Koreans apart unless there's some artificial disambiguation factor - in this case facial antics of a caliber usually reserved for emoticon upgrade packages.

The story is not too elaborate. A 16-yr old high-school girl is forced to marry an older (~25) friend because otherwise her beloved trickster grandpa refuses to have a pulse. The newlyweds then spend the next 2 hours falling in love with each other, while pretending to drive each other up the wall in the neoclassic Korean way.

Home Schooling

I started this book today that's supposed to teach me jazz guitar technique in 20 weeks - rougly 4-5 months. The stated practice regimen was a meager 50 minutes/day so I thought "why not?" Nuh uh. The right answer was "yeah, right! (accompanied by a sarcastic cocking of the left eyebrow)."

Unfortunately this 50 minutes/day claim was another case of false advertising. If you can complete the daily assignments in this book in 50 minutes, you are way beyond needing the book in the first place. No matter. I'm not letting some stupid book, that's not even a real book (it's a pdf), beat me in one sitting. I will give up tomorrow at the earliest.

Came across a couple of funny quotes while surfing GNX3 forums:

"Debugging is twice as hard as writing the code in the first place. Therefore, if you write the code as cleverly as possible, you are, by definition, not smart enough to debug it." – Brian W. Kernighan

and

"Failure is not an option -- it comes bundled with Windows." - Unknown Smartass

Today, I made the true claim that there are more good actors and actresses. Unfortunately, I not only made it, but voiced it. I was in the car by myself, miles from home, thinking I was safe. No sooner than I uttered the fateful words "women suck," Mom materialized and began exercising her Constitutional right to feminism. I was treated to an interminable lecture on Women in Film starting with 1903's The Great Train Robbery.

Dad is calling me to do pushups. I've been obliging him lately. I hope this is what they mean when they say you should give back to your parents for all those years and dollars they spent raising you and teaching you to be grateful.

Thursday

Played some tennis today with Wang, Lee and Bolach. Didn't win, so there's nothing to write about. Did get sunburned though; I now look like the Kool-Aid man.

Michelle returns Saturday morning at the crack of noon, a fatal blow to my sleeping schedule. Weather forecast is positive - sunny, hot. Volume levels inside the house are to double, number of stores visited per day - triple. Yep, it's back to reality.

Learning how to use my GNX3, so my $300 in Guitar Center's vault can feel like they accomplished something.

Saw Hellboy today. Pretty dumb, and pretty long.

To Australians

Ran out of health/dental insurance starting yesterday. Normally this wouldn't phase me, but for the last 22 years of my life I've suffered from a little-known condition called spontaneous rapid dental decay. In English this means that in a couple of months, possible as early as late August, one of the remaining 12 living teeth in my mouth will mutiny. Not having too many ways to wage war, it will commence operation suicide. With dental insurance, I usually catch the little bastards somewhere in the second trimester, and go to Russian dentist #1 or Russian dentist #2, who give the culprits a lobotomy. Now I suppose I shall have to learn to love pain and suffering.

I have an appointment at Barnes and Noble's today at 8 - an unlikely coincidence with today's 8 o'clock yoga lesson chez moi. I'm thinking two servings of Battle Cry of Freedom, a grande hot chocolate, and then a serving of aimless browsing.

...

Back from appointment, and one less national bestseller left to read. I dipped my toes into The Lovely Bones, and didn't feel a damn thing.

Watched an Australian comedy - The Rage in Placid Lake. Not really sure what happened because my tolerance for good movies has gotten so low from lack of experience, the film threw me into an epileptic fit. Nonetheless, there's a good if unorthodox aftertaste.

The film is about a human teenager raised by hippies. His name is Placid Lake. He has a girlfriend - Gemma - who is the brain of a Helga in the body of an Amber. Placid, also a genius, but cursed with the body of a rhesus monkey, is constantly tormented by bully classmates who experience acute withdrawal if they're not molding his face into a new shape. Instead of buying a gun and shooting everyone in school like we do in America, Placid waves a big red figurative flag right in their Aussie faces, and then refuses to move when they charge. After another incident where Placid barely escapes with his life, he decides to make a change - as Gemma puts it - "from fearless to spineless." Apres-metamorphosis, Placid enjoys his newfound job, friends, and lack of principles, while Gemma tries to cope with his slithering, while trying to decide whether to be the next Neils Bohr, Isaac Newton, or Euler (does he have a first name? or is he like Sting?). The rest you must find out for yourself.

To Patriotism

Spent hours today trying to force Pro Tools M-Powered down my computer's throat. Eventually the gag-reflex subsided and persistence triumphed, but let's give a round of applause to the runners up: the evil forces of Windows and M-Audio. Tomorrow, we'll see if a $50 M-Audio USB gadget is enough to make crappy recordings, or if second-rate quality takes a greater investment. Best case scenario for tomorrow - I'll be OD-ing on tutorials - worst case - Mom will be pestering me about fixing the M-Audio-box-shaped hole in the wall.

Before I tuck myself in every night, I usually read for a while. It tends to be something I've already read and that's easy to read. The aim isn't to knock myself out into dreamless sleep, but to treat myself after a tough day of searching for motivation. Currently, I'm rereading the second book of the Vasiliy Yan trilogy chronicling the formation of Genghis Khan's empire. Genghis Khan has already died long ago and his grandson Batu has taken over the reins. I'm at the point where Batu is about begin a Russia-wide epic beating. For the next two hundred pages, he's going to be ripping off Russian heads, boiling Russians alive, pretending he wants to be friends with the Russians and then ripping off their heads and boiling them alive, etc. Here I'm getting to feel like a bit of a traitor. This Batu guy, and especially his commander in chief are so cool, I want them to take over everything - Russians, Americans, Atlantis - whatever will prolong the crusade. I have discovered I have absolutely no patriotism, or in the case of Russia - matriotism, as long as conquest is described in sufficiently romantic language.

I'm beginning to think that these kinds of books are a horrible idea. Romanticizing hundreds of thousands of people getting murdered by Mongols isn't going to teach America's children a damn thing. The government needs to do something about this - this book needs to be rewritten with Americans doing the romanticized killing. The dead Russians may also require some dilution - perhaps a couple thousand dead Iraqis and a couple dozen British corpses - the former for realism, and the latter because they're probably starting to forget who won the Revolutionary War. I somehow doubt Independence Day is as big a holiday there as here.