If you've ever wondered how many syllables Tom Cruise become when transliterated in Chinese, it's 5. Ta mu ke lu si. One of the peculiarities of the Chinese language is that there are no syllables with two consonants in a row. Same goes for Japanese, which is why their speech sounds so machine-gunnish. That means words like schlargleclpctple (a rare dinosaur, even rarer than the other extinct 100% that are extinct) takes 3-4 times longer to pronounce in Chinese. So when we're reading together about Jesus' adventures in India and words come up with two consonants in a row that Yuan Yuan doesn't already know, she'll liberally sprinkle them with vowels. When I stop her and demand patronizingly if there's a vowel after the 's' in swill, and if there's not, why she's pronouncing it 'seewill,' she just bats her eyelashes at me innocently. When I'm well hydrated, I'll ask her how the consonant is pronounced on its own without a vowel before or after it.
Me: how do you pronounce the letter 's'?
Yuan Yuan: ess?
Me: no
Yuan Yuan: suh?
Me: no
Yuan Yuan: see?
Me: no
Yuan Yuan: suh?
Me: no, you've already tried that one!
Yuan Yuan: so?
Me: so it's still wrong!
Yuan Yuan: no, I mean it's pronounced 'so'!
Me: it most definitely is not
Yuan Yuan: then what is it?
Me: keep trying. Don't put any vowels after it, just give me the naked consonant.
Yuan Yuan: ooh, naked...
Me: don't get distracted!
Yuan Yuan: ugh...suh?
Me: no!
Yuan Yuan: I don't like this game.
Me: it's 'sssss'!
Yuan Yuan: suhwill?
Me: no! It's swill!
Yuan Yuan: swill. Got it. "He took a swill of his drink and suhpatuh it back out."
Me: spat!
Yuan Yuan: I know, I was just testing you
Somehow, despite the multitude of rather thick hints, it never occurred to me that Yuan Yuan simply didn't know how the consonants were pronounced on their own. I thought about teaching her, but then I got scared. Is she too old to learn? If I teach her, will her brain restructure itself completely? Is this ignorance what keeps her so childlike and lighthearted? How do I prevent her from figuring them out on her own one day? This must have been what Johnny Cash was talking about when he wrote I Walk The Line.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Blogging to procrastinate
I'm being a complete slacker with respect to my sketching. Each day I'm brimming with optimism from the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed, thinking about how I can't wait to sketch, and saying positive affirmations to get myself in the mood, and not thinking about how I currently suck and that it takes at least 5 hours of practice to achieve mastery of a skill and that I still have 3-5 hours to go. So there's no shortage of positivity. The only thing there's a shortage of is actual sketching. I haven't touched a pencil in ~5 days.
Enjoying being terrible at something is a skill I would love to have. But even the great Mario, who can will himself to enjoy red bean paste snacks, is very hit or miss in this respect. He'll be fine with sucking at one thing, as long as he's already addicted to it and doesn't have to do it in front of other people, but then inexplicably refuse to even take a second strike on another.
Over the years I've created this self-image that I can learn to be awesome at anything in 5 minutes, or on the first try, whichever is faster. This self-image, while completely inaccurate, sometimes performs a magic placebo effect and everything clicks. But this self-image has its limits. Sketching, dancing, at one point singing, and a couple of other things seem to be in its Achilles heel, or off its grid, or in its blind spot. I don't know how it works, it's a very hand wavy science.
So the lesson is that I'm good at rationalizations and I'm using it against my sketching. Go. Sketch. Now!
Enjoying being terrible at something is a skill I would love to have. But even the great Mario, who can will himself to enjoy red bean paste snacks, is very hit or miss in this respect. He'll be fine with sucking at one thing, as long as he's already addicted to it and doesn't have to do it in front of other people, but then inexplicably refuse to even take a second strike on another.
Over the years I've created this self-image that I can learn to be awesome at anything in 5 minutes, or on the first try, whichever is faster. This self-image, while completely inaccurate, sometimes performs a magic placebo effect and everything clicks. But this self-image has its limits. Sketching, dancing, at one point singing, and a couple of other things seem to be in its Achilles heel, or off its grid, or in its blind spot. I don't know how it works, it's a very hand wavy science.
So the lesson is that I'm good at rationalizations and I'm using it against my sketching. Go. Sketch. Now!
Monday, July 29, 2013
Yuan Yuan the bear
My plank-holding times are steadily improving, but Yuan Yuan, whose body is some kind of mystery of science / voodoo, is gaining on me quickly. When we started out a few weeks ago, I could do 2 minutes and a bit. Today I hit 3 minutes 45 seconds, but then I had to lay there and drool on the floor for a while, until there was enough of a buoyant force for me to get up without popping an absicle. Yuan Yuan started out at a max of 40 seconds or so, and hit 2 minutes today, though she was whooping like a Native American at a scalping for the last 30. In a few weeks she'll catch up and overtake me. She could always do handstands longer than me (1 min 24 seconds), she can hold a bridge for 3 minutes, and she holds the record for jump-roping - 650 in a row. Mario would just shrug and say "that's impossible, I refuse to believe it," when she would beat us both at some new exercise. I often call her bear-related affectionate names, but I'm starting to think she might really be part bear. She sleeps a lot, 15 hours a few days ago, 10-12 regularly, she's super strong but she can barely do 5 push-ups, she can eat twice as much as me easily and being full is no deterrent, she's got a big head and her yawns are closer in shape to a banana (vertically) than an apple, she runs uphill faster than downhill, and she's covered with 3-inch long thick brown fur all over her body. The only thing not in her favor is that she's completely indifferent to meat. Maybe that's the only thing standing between me and a bloody puddle of me-leftovers.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
The feminism / cheeseburger correlation
I think I might be going to hell. I'm getting a C on a 30-day trial and I don't think Jesus would accept a mere confession or 3 "Hail 30 day trials" as penance. Today we made the decision to sacrifice a piece of our no-sugar trial to the devil. In exchange for the ability to eat one sweet a day (you get 10 consecutive minutes to eat it, then you turn into a pumpkin), we've signed up for an extra 30 day trial. Yuan Yuan will do 10 minutes worth of planks / wall sits / handstands, and I will do 5 minutes of wall sits / horse stance. Why do I get away with 5 minutes while she has to do 10? You see, in China we have this wonderful thing called gender inequality. It's a time honored tradition. Back when America was young and still on track, before the great invention (the cheeseburger) vanguarded the Renaissance of our midsections and set our national inertia so high, that at the enormous speed we had amassed, we flew right off the serpentine tracks of the Transtranscendental railroad, before all that apple-bottomed glory, men ruled the world and women sat at home tending to the children and waiting for Jane Austen to come along so there would be some proper motive for learning to read. And God saw that it was good and rewarded us with Amendments to the Constitution and feminists. That's called divine irony, because there's nothing God loves more than to throw everyone completely off balance with the introduction of balance. Meanwhile, China hasn't even gotten to the cheese part of cheeseburger, so their women aren't going to be voting any time soon. What I mean is that it was Yuan Yuan's idea, was it my fault I snatched up the opportunity when the first 5 minutes of my wall-sits came out of her mouth and didn't wait for the next 5?
Getting sidetracked aside, this might end up being harder than not eating sweets at all. I've already stifled most of my urges, and though I can't eat 99% of the edibles in any store on the planet, I've accepted my fate and hung my head and set up a little tent in the eggs and produce aisle of life. Finding myself in this new permissive world, I'm bound to be completely miserable, where before I was only hopeless. Now when I go to the store I have to wander around the mountains of sticky treasures and pick one thing to sate my mutinous appetite. It's Sophie's choice all over again.
Getting sidetracked aside, this might end up being harder than not eating sweets at all. I've already stifled most of my urges, and though I can't eat 99% of the edibles in any store on the planet, I've accepted my fate and hung my head and set up a little tent in the eggs and produce aisle of life. Finding myself in this new permissive world, I'm bound to be completely miserable, where before I was only hopeless. Now when I go to the store I have to wander around the mountains of sticky treasures and pick one thing to sate my mutinous appetite. It's Sophie's choice all over again.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Vysotsky can only show you the door, it's up to you to hit someone in the ear with it
Haven't written a song in a while, and I was listening to Vysotsky today and felt a bit inspired. The song turned out pretty cynical and didn't really go in the originally intended direction, but I think it turned out decent anyway. I've borrowed (heavily) from his song "Мой друг уехал в Магадан" (My friend left to Magadan), but I don't feel too guilty about it because apparently a lot of Vysotsky's song melodies borrowed heavily from the "standard" folk melodies. So it's not like I'm stealing from the rich, I'm stealing from poor, it's ok.
Here's a decent translation of the Vysotsky song My Friend left to Magadan:
(translated by Margaret & Stas Porokhnya)
My friend has moved to Magadan
Play him a fanfare, play him a fanfare.
He went himself, his own free man;
He wasn't sent there, he wasn't sent there.
It wasn't that his luck turned bad
Or done to make somebody mad;
It wasn't part of some big act:
He simply packed
If someone asked him: "What's it for??
Why just abandon your life at random?
That place has killers by the score
That's where they crammed "em, that's where they crammed' em!"
He'd shrug - "Whatever people say
There's more in Moscow anyway"
Then pack up everything he can
For Magadan
I wouldn't say my race is run:
I'd jump the night train like in the old days
But I won't go to Magadan
Leaving my old ways, starting a new phase
I'll sing, my guitar on my knee,
Of all the things he's going to see
Of all that's left unseen, undone,
Of Magadan
My friend had nothing left to lose
It's his decision, it's his decision
He won't be beaten by the screws
He's not in prison, he's not in prison
But God made me another plan...
Or should I go to Magadan?
And like my friend just go to ground
And make no sound
If you don't speak Russian, Vysotsky can be hard to appreciate because he's not translated, nor is he easily translatable, so you'll have to take my word for it that he is an absolute genius lyricist and performer. He wrote 800+ songs/poems before he drank himself to death at age 42, and they range from hilarious, to mysterious, to romantic, to cynical anti-establishment provocations. He has tons of songs about the criminal element, songs from the point of view of inanimate objects and animals, songs about love, science, war, love, betrayal, sports, the mentally ill, you name it. Most of his songs he performs with just his slightly out of tune guitar, but some have been pretty well orchestrated and might be easiest for the non-Russian-speaking crowd to appreciate. You can try these:
Дом Хрустальный (Crystal House)
Белое Безмолвие (White Silence)
Баллада о вольных стрелках (Ballad of the free archers - a song he wrote for a Russian movie about Robin Hood)
Песня о вещей Кассандре (Song about the clairvoyant Kassandra - not for the faint of heart)
Every once in a while I try to translate one of his songs for the benefit of Mario or Yuan Yuan and I'm always disappointed with what comes out. It's mostly lost on Yuan Yuan, but Mario seems to appreciate it, either out of the goodness of his heart, or maybe because he was enamored with Russian previously and subconsciously adds colors to my grey translations.
The song I wrote today is tentatively titled Compromise
Am Dm
you started out pure, of intention
Dm6 E7
you were never gonna be like them
Am Dm
your life, (your own), your invention
G C B
you'd be damned if you'd be someone else
Am Dm Am
but then a splash of milk fell in your coffee
Dm Am
you said alright, but just tonight
Dm E7
and then one day you pushed away the cream
Am
and your coffee's white
you said, you wouldn't age a day
you'd never let yourself get fat
you'd stay sharp as a tack
you'd be the blackest black of cats
but you were young, you didn't know
and now your hair's seen its first snow
you've learned another word for lies
it's compromise
it's not that you, lost your ideals
you just lost your baby teeth
they thought they had it all figured out
before they ever had any meat
you shouldn't be so hard on yourself
that optimism comes off the shelf
you're still a wonderful guy
some day drop by
If you think the last chord sounds dissonant, it is a bit. It's a Am6, with the 6 not in the key of the song. Vysotsky loves to throw in at the end of his songs, just in case you thought you had his song figured out. And when Vysotsky says drink yourself to death, I jump off the bridge without a second thought.
Here's a decent translation of the Vysotsky song My Friend left to Magadan:
(translated by Margaret & Stas Porokhnya)
My friend has moved to Magadan
Play him a fanfare, play him a fanfare.
He went himself, his own free man;
He wasn't sent there, he wasn't sent there.
It wasn't that his luck turned bad
Or done to make somebody mad;
It wasn't part of some big act:
He simply packed
If someone asked him: "What's it for??
Why just abandon your life at random?
That place has killers by the score
That's where they crammed "em, that's where they crammed' em!"
He'd shrug - "Whatever people say
There's more in Moscow anyway"
Then pack up everything he can
For Magadan
I wouldn't say my race is run:
I'd jump the night train like in the old days
But I won't go to Magadan
Leaving my old ways, starting a new phase
I'll sing, my guitar on my knee,
Of all the things he's going to see
Of all that's left unseen, undone,
Of Magadan
My friend had nothing left to lose
It's his decision, it's his decision
He won't be beaten by the screws
He's not in prison, he's not in prison
But God made me another plan...
Or should I go to Magadan?
And like my friend just go to ground
And make no sound
If you don't speak Russian, Vysotsky can be hard to appreciate because he's not translated, nor is he easily translatable, so you'll have to take my word for it that he is an absolute genius lyricist and performer. He wrote 800+ songs/poems before he drank himself to death at age 42, and they range from hilarious, to mysterious, to romantic, to cynical anti-establishment provocations. He has tons of songs about the criminal element, songs from the point of view of inanimate objects and animals, songs about love, science, war, love, betrayal, sports, the mentally ill, you name it. Most of his songs he performs with just his slightly out of tune guitar, but some have been pretty well orchestrated and might be easiest for the non-Russian-speaking crowd to appreciate. You can try these:
Дом Хрустальный (Crystal House)
Белое Безмолвие (White Silence)
Баллада о вольных стрелках (Ballad of the free archers - a song he wrote for a Russian movie about Robin Hood)
Песня о вещей Кассандре (Song about the clairvoyant Kassandra - not for the faint of heart)
Every once in a while I try to translate one of his songs for the benefit of Mario or Yuan Yuan and I'm always disappointed with what comes out. It's mostly lost on Yuan Yuan, but Mario seems to appreciate it, either out of the goodness of his heart, or maybe because he was enamored with Russian previously and subconsciously adds colors to my grey translations.
The song I wrote today is tentatively titled Compromise
Am Dm
you started out pure, of intention
Dm6 E7
you were never gonna be like them
Am Dm
your life, (your own), your invention
G C B
you'd be damned if you'd be someone else
Am Dm Am
but then a splash of milk fell in your coffee
Dm Am
you said alright, but just tonight
Dm E7
and then one day you pushed away the cream
Am
and your coffee's white
you said, you wouldn't age a day
you'd never let yourself get fat
you'd stay sharp as a tack
you'd be the blackest black of cats
but you were young, you didn't know
and now your hair's seen its first snow
you've learned another word for lies
it's compromise
it's not that you, lost your ideals
you just lost your baby teeth
they thought they had it all figured out
before they ever had any meat
you shouldn't be so hard on yourself
that optimism comes off the shelf
you're still a wonderful guy
some day drop by
If you think the last chord sounds dissonant, it is a bit. It's a Am6, with the 6 not in the key of the song. Vysotsky loves to throw in at the end of his songs, just in case you thought you had his song figured out. And when Vysotsky says drink yourself to death, I jump off the bridge without a second thought.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Vovochka strikes again
Looks like some of these 30 day trials I'm on have to get restarted. Several of them died horrible deaths. The ones still going to strong are the vegetarian trial and the blogging every day.
The others, may they never rest in peace but get revived until they are completed are:
1. Pushups / planks. Sadly around a week ago, when I got sick, my arm also started hurting and not at all in that nice way like when you're getting scratched or a pretty girl is lightly biting you while you're trying to work and you give her dirty looks but don't punish her just yet because maybe if you don't, she'll keep going. But then of course you have to punish her so that she wants to keep doing it. Anyway, where was I? My arm hurt, and it wasn't from the sin of Onan, although if God were to pick one arm to go to Hell for that sin, it would be the same arm. Which reminds me, I read a great joke today about the apotheosis of Russian childhood mischief - Vovochka.
In case you don't know, Vovochka is a cornerstone of Russian joke culture. He is an irreverent reprobate, whether he happens to be age 5 or 30 in the joke, and he thrives on tearing down teachers, parents, and other grown-ups that stereotypically demand respect. Vovochka is also extremely sexual, which renders all innocent classroom questions dangerous territory:
"What does your daddy do?"
"How many watermelons could you carry and how?"
"Any questions?"
(Note: If you can't think of a filthy answer to all of those questions, you've probably never heard a Vovochka joke, or graduated from elementary school.)
The teachers typically know this and only call on Vovochka when completely exasperated with the other children's demented answers. Then Vovochka of course makes them regret it for the millionth time.
In this joke, probably one of the cleanest Vovochka jokes, Vovochka is inexplicably attending Catholic school:
Teacher: Remember, those children who get A's and B's are going to Heaven, and those who gets C's D's and F's are going straight to hell! Yes Vovochka, you have a question?
Vovochka: does anyone leave this school alive?
Here's one more:
Vovochka brings home an F in math.
Dad: why??
Vovochka: she asked me, how much is 2x3? I said 6!
Dad: but that's right!
Vovochka: then she asked me, how much is 3x2?
Dad: what the f*** is the difference?
Vovochka: exactly! I mean, that's exactly what I said!
Classic. Next time I'll tell you my favorite Vovochka joke of all time. Sadly I have to translate all of these from Russian into English by way of Chinese, so they lose some of their juice. Just don't tell Vovochka I said that.
So the pushups / planks trial is getting restarted officially tomorrow. I've been warming up for it during the last two days and the looks like my arm is back to full health.
2. The no eating sweets trial. This trial was actually going really well. Then I got sick. Usually when I get sick, I try to up my vitamin C dosage, even if just as a placebo. So I drank this just-add-water vitamin C orange mix for a few days. No worries, the craving is mostly gone, so this trial got restarted 3 days ago.
3. Reading with Yuan Yuan in English for 30 minutes every day. This one just didn't work out, Yuan Yuan went to Korea, and then when she came back she went on a tour around Beijing for a few days, coming home and crashing immediately every day. But we'll try to get it going again...though she's off to Korea in a couple days again.
4. Stretching. Restarting? Fine, I had to beg myself to restart it, but I agreed. Restarting this one today.
The others, may they never rest in peace but get revived until they are completed are:
1. Pushups / planks. Sadly around a week ago, when I got sick, my arm also started hurting and not at all in that nice way like when you're getting scratched or a pretty girl is lightly biting you while you're trying to work and you give her dirty looks but don't punish her just yet because maybe if you don't, she'll keep going. But then of course you have to punish her so that she wants to keep doing it. Anyway, where was I? My arm hurt, and it wasn't from the sin of Onan, although if God were to pick one arm to go to Hell for that sin, it would be the same arm. Which reminds me, I read a great joke today about the apotheosis of Russian childhood mischief - Vovochka.
In case you don't know, Vovochka is a cornerstone of Russian joke culture. He is an irreverent reprobate, whether he happens to be age 5 or 30 in the joke, and he thrives on tearing down teachers, parents, and other grown-ups that stereotypically demand respect. Vovochka is also extremely sexual, which renders all innocent classroom questions dangerous territory:
"What does your daddy do?"
"How many watermelons could you carry and how?"
"Any questions?"
(Note: If you can't think of a filthy answer to all of those questions, you've probably never heard a Vovochka joke, or graduated from elementary school.)
The teachers typically know this and only call on Vovochka when completely exasperated with the other children's demented answers. Then Vovochka of course makes them regret it for the millionth time.
In this joke, probably one of the cleanest Vovochka jokes, Vovochka is inexplicably attending Catholic school:
Teacher: Remember, those children who get A's and B's are going to Heaven, and those who gets C's D's and F's are going straight to hell! Yes Vovochka, you have a question?
Vovochka: does anyone leave this school alive?
Here's one more:
Vovochka brings home an F in math.
Dad: why??
Vovochka: she asked me, how much is 2x3? I said 6!
Dad: but that's right!
Vovochka: then she asked me, how much is 3x2?
Dad: what the f*** is the difference?
Vovochka: exactly! I mean, that's exactly what I said!
Classic. Next time I'll tell you my favorite Vovochka joke of all time. Sadly I have to translate all of these from Russian into English by way of Chinese, so they lose some of their juice. Just don't tell Vovochka I said that.
So the pushups / planks trial is getting restarted officially tomorrow. I've been warming up for it during the last two days and the looks like my arm is back to full health.
2. The no eating sweets trial. This trial was actually going really well. Then I got sick. Usually when I get sick, I try to up my vitamin C dosage, even if just as a placebo. So I drank this just-add-water vitamin C orange mix for a few days. No worries, the craving is mostly gone, so this trial got restarted 3 days ago.
3. Reading with Yuan Yuan in English for 30 minutes every day. This one just didn't work out, Yuan Yuan went to Korea, and then when she came back she went on a tour around Beijing for a few days, coming home and crashing immediately every day. But we'll try to get it going again...though she's off to Korea in a couple days again.
4. Stretching. Restarting? Fine, I had to beg myself to restart it, but I agreed. Restarting this one today.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Protect your invariants
Ah, programming...
"You must program defensively, with the assumption that clients of your class will do their best to destroy its invariants."
--Effective Java (Joshua Bloch)
That is the world I live in. This is what they teach little SkyNet children in school today, so that when they grow up they'll feel benevolent towards the human race.
This book (Effective Java) and all books on writing better code have more violence in them than a season of 24. Other programmers, malicious and/or incompetent, are always conspiring to violate your classes, objects, invariants and other violable violabilities. Every other paragraph you get admonished to trust NO ONE, to code defensively, lest the converging hordes mutate your code's internals and then exploit those mutations to gain access to the Zion mainframe. Writing safe code is an extreme sport. Here are some other gems:
"Second attack on the internals of a Period instance."
"This would give the attacker free reign over all instances."
"Classes containing methods or constructors whose invocation indicates a transfer of control cannot defend themselves against malicious clients. Such classes are acceptable only when there is mutual trust between the class and its client or when damage to the class’s invariants would harm no one but the client."
The last sounds like something a lawyer might have me sign after I pretended to read it very carefully for 3 microseconds.
My new roommies and I are getting along famously. Monday to Thursday they're quiet and friendly, not asking me any coding questions, not zooming around like trapeze artists and shaking the walls with heavy Tomcat tomes and leaving bloody streaks of mosquito and human soup all over the apartment, not making soup out of spoiled vegetables. The last I see of them every week is Thursday night. The next I see them is Monday night. For 3 days and 3 nights a week, I am roommate-free. Mario, you have a lot to learn. About programming of course, the roommate stuff's irrelevant.
"You must program defensively, with the assumption that clients of your class will do their best to destroy its invariants."
--Effective Java (Joshua Bloch)
That is the world I live in. This is what they teach little SkyNet children in school today, so that when they grow up they'll feel benevolent towards the human race.
This book (Effective Java) and all books on writing better code have more violence in them than a season of 24. Other programmers, malicious and/or incompetent, are always conspiring to violate your classes, objects, invariants and other violable violabilities. Every other paragraph you get admonished to trust NO ONE, to code defensively, lest the converging hordes mutate your code's internals and then exploit those mutations to gain access to the Zion mainframe. Writing safe code is an extreme sport. Here are some other gems:
"Second attack on the internals of a Period instance."
"This would give the attacker free reign over all instances."
"Classes containing methods or constructors whose invocation indicates a transfer of control cannot defend themselves against malicious clients. Such classes are acceptable only when there is mutual trust between the class and its client or when damage to the class’s invariants would harm no one but the client."
The last sounds like something a lawyer might have me sign after I pretended to read it very carefully for 3 microseconds.
My new roommies and I are getting along famously. Monday to Thursday they're quiet and friendly, not asking me any coding questions, not zooming around like trapeze artists and shaking the walls with heavy Tomcat tomes and leaving bloody streaks of mosquito and human soup all over the apartment, not making soup out of spoiled vegetables. The last I see of them every week is Thursday night. The next I see them is Monday night. For 3 days and 3 nights a week, I am roommate-free. Mario, you have a lot to learn. About programming of course, the roommate stuff's irrelevant.
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