| Why Does Everything Seem Like Such A Waste Of Time's Journal |
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Why Does Everything Seem Like Such A Waste Of Time
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| NOT! |
[12 Mar 2007|08:22pm] |
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mood |
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 embarrassed |
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Oh well.
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| I'm back |
[23 Feb 2007|10:15pm] |
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mood |
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 determined |
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With a vengeance.
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| Like, Whoa |
[27 May 2004|02:03am] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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I've said it before, I'll say it again. Boston is the smallest fucking big city on the planet. Tonight I met up with Kristophe for the first time since November, and I end up meeting through him the girl who lives across the hall from me. I kid you not. I just met my neighbour for the first time tonight through him. Unfreakinbelievable.
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| Fuck this shit, I'm just keeping it real |
[18 May 2004|11:16pm] |
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mood |
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 blah |
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I was in SoCal for a few days, for zorronarahari's graduation. I had applied to his school back a few years, but never got my application in order. Things have worked out since, but I'm sure I could've had a great time there as well. It was nice to get away from Boston and just chill in the California sun and shade. Fun times. Call Girl Barbie, mayonnaise, etc... Now I'm back and it's same old same old.
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| Absolutely Smitten |
[01 May 2004|11:07pm] |
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mood |
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 giddy |
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I am a very happy new owner of a DigiDesign MBox and an Audio Technica 3035. Simply fucking awesome.
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| The Vicious Cycle |
[28 Apr 2004|10:17pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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It amazes me that people reproduce to the point that not only is the human population on this earth stable, but it is geometrically increasing as well. Seriously, I can't comprehend how women are attracted to 99% of the men out there. Sure I can understand women being interested in a Brad Pitt or even a Bill Gates type of guy, but I can't fathom what women find attractive about your Average, Smelly Joe. My theory is that it all comes down to whether or not a woman can "do better". I do know this holds true for the guys- heck, us guys would fuck trees if it came down to that. Therefore, for most of us dudes, searching for a mate means finding a girl who couldn't possibly do any better in her own search. Unfortunately, in my case, if a girl can't do any better than me, odds are she's not worth it to begin with.
Then again, I probably couldn't do any better either.
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| Ka-Ching. |
[15 Apr 2004|12:11am] |
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mood |
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 relieved |
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So I filed my tax return electronically and am all done with that except for mailing off the two checks for the money I owe to the states of New York and Massachusetts. I owe NY 15 bucks while to Mass I have to pay 38 dollars. Meanwhile, my federal income tax refund is 300 bucks, so it was worth it. I do feel proud of the fact that the ammounts that were spit out to me by the online e-file service were exactly the same that I had calculated on paper. Though in the end I decided for online tax return filing because I had botched the NY state form... I'm bad with pens, really.
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| With A Taste Of A Poison Paradise |
[10 Apr 2004|02:01am] |
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mood |
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 dorky |
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You all know I'm not the type who takes pop music very seriously, neither do I listen to top 40 radio alot, but I have to say, the new Britney Spears song "Toxic" is fucking awesome. I can't get that song out of my head. I tuned in to the radio at work today, and it was the third song I heard. I only turned the radio off when I heard it again. I mean, it's the complete package. It's got the catchy melodies, the contagious beat, the slick instrumentation. It would easily crack my top 20 songs all time list.
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| I Went To Montreal And All I Got Was A Sore Throat |
[07 Apr 2004|11:49pm] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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I'm back in Boston, after a quick weekend trip to Montreal. My competer and cable internet have also finally been installed here at home, so this is why I had the time to write this extra jumbo size entry. Don't get used to it, though.
DAY ONE: I took the Chinatown bus friday morning, met up with Leon and his Panjabi friend Preek in Brooklyn, and we drove up to Ithaca for the first night of partying. We got into Ithaca just in time for dinner, and the three of us joined Matheus, Josh, and their roommate Mike for dinner at Maxie's. Josh and Mike kept swallowing most of the Oysters that came our way, and in the end we had eaten 80 dollars worth of Oysters. After dinner we went barhopping as usual, peaking as usual at Dino's, where we ran into several familiar faces like Daniel, Remy, and Simone. After a while things got blurry. I remember we lost Matheus and Mike, and only finally found them back at Matheus' place. He had stumbled back home in the arms of a random chick he had just met on the streets. She didn't stay for long, and pretty soon Matheus and Mike started getting REALLY smashed. They smoked up, then proceeded to trash the house. Mike threw the house vaccuum cleaner against the wall and smashed into a million pieces. They then tried to make iced tea using those Lipton dry powder mixes. When that turned out more like sherbert than tea, they tried making "mustard soup", a culinary invention of Mike's that consists of a packet of ramen noodles with half a can of mustard. Out of boredom or revolt over the failed recipes, they started throwing noodles, knives, pots all over the kitchen. Mike threw a chair into the gorge and Matheus broke a broom over his knee. Fortunately they settled down and everybody was able to finally get some sleep, which was important for us since we would be on our way to Canada the next morning.
DAY TWO: After getting up we went to Dino's for breakfast (I'm telling you, we practically lived at that place). On the way out, we ran into Remy again, which was just my luck. The previous night, convinced I would never see her again, I had told her she was the most beautiful girl I had ever known. Unfortunately I wasn't drunk enough to not remember it, so it was a bit uncomfortable. Yet we soon stepped on it and made our way to Montreal. Driving through Quebec was awesome, seeing everything in French, but as soon as we got to our hotel downtown that shitty Canadian customer service was once again very evident. The "valet" parking was nothing more than your standard "take-the-ticket" garage parking. The phone card Leon bought didn't work. I'm telling you, Canada is a second-rate country. They want you to believe they are just as developed as the US, but in reality they're nothing but a cheap imitation. If you want hardship, you might as well go the distance and travel to a bona-fide third world country like Brazil or Egypt.
It was evident that a whole day of being cooped up together in Leon's car had sort of stressed us out. We argued over something stupid at dinner, and we were caught off guard by the local "aggressivity" when it came to tips. Yes, thanks to a combination of taxes and pay structure, waiters and waitresses in Canada will ask you for tips or ask you for a bigger tip. The way I understood it, expected tip values hovering at nearly 25% are deducted from their pay (and calculated towards their taxes), which means that if you tip below the expected value, the tipee is actually losing money. Sure, I guess it's understandable and you probably get used to it after a while, but all of a sudden people demanding to our faces a tip came across as like an insult. We walked into a "gentlemen's club", and the ogres checking IDs asked for a tip to let us in. The waitress bringing us drinks offered to give us change in case we didn't want to leave a 10 or 20 dollar tip on top of a 7 buck order. Anyways, the club was cool, plenty of top of the line girls, but then we decided to go bar hopping some more. We watched UConn beat Duke at this cool Irish pub, then danced a bit at a bar/club just up the street. Yet our night was cut short by the daylight savings time switch thing, so we went back to the hotel.
One thing we noticed right away was that there so many tourists. I was so stoked thinking we would be talking to some girls in French, but we were surrounded by Americans and English-speaking Canucks. We asked where the natives hung out, but we were warned to not go there, since we wouldn't "fit in". It's like apartheid. The Americans/Canucks studying at McGill or just visiting hang out on one side of town, and all the genuine Quebecois hang out on the other.
DAY THREE: We woke up and decided to risk it and wander through a more Francophone neighborhood in search of brunch. We were a bit weary of going into one of the chic bistros full of nicely-dressed peeps lining the streets of the Quartier Latin, so we ended up going to a self-service buffet place instead. Of course, the sweet young gal who served us coffee and nothing else still reminded us to leave a tip. We then walked up to the top of Mont Royal, the hill smack dab in the middle of the town that gave Montreal its name. The day had started off nice and not too cold, but it soon started raining and got colder, and the dumbass here (raises hand) forgot to bring his jacket to Canada. Okay, so I didn't forget, I just naively thought I wouldn't need it. After taking some cool panaramic pics at the top of the hill we took the bus then the metro all the way to Vieux Montreal. By then it had started snowing. I was freezing my ass off while Preek was looking for a fast food joint where he could "grab a bite" since he hadn't had much more than french toast and some home fries at the buffet place. Hello? It was 5 PM and we were in Vieux Montreal, an upscale touristy place full of steak houses and fine French restaurants- what was he thinking? That we were in but we decided to grab dinner at one of the steak houses. Leon and Preek, the two med school students, then proceeded to chicken out (no pun intended) and decided to eat the chicken plate rather than risk getting mad cow disease from the local beef. I said "fuck da prions" and had two filet mignon medaillons. It was good, but not worth the price. According to Fodor's, Quebeckers take their dining out very seriously. Moi, I'm more casual.
After dinner, Leon and I relaxed in the hotel sauna, then the three of us went down to the hotel bar for some drinks and appetizers. There we talked about the research I was doing at work, and Leon is very interested in coming here for the summer to something in the lab. I told him to definitely look into it, and that I'd put in a good word for him. With our spirits renewed thanks to the common ground we had discovered (love for molecular biology), we all went to the same touristy bar scene we had visited the first night in Montreal. It being a Sunday night, there weren't too many people around. We sat down at one bar, and after a couple of Irish car bombs and LOTS of gin-&-tonic, we were smashed. I cried, as a result of discussing our "psychosocial standings" in life, but it was all good. We danced on an empty dance floor, then walked back to the hotel in the snow. We slid around in the snow, made snow angels, sung the Canadian national anthem at the top of our lungs through the deserted, snowy streets of downtown Montreal. I'm surprised we weren't arrested.
DAY FOUR: The next morning, we woke up late and rushed to get out of Montreal in time. Leon had to get back to NYC by sundown (for Passover), while I had to take the 4pm bus to Boston out of Albany. I made it just in time, but I have yet to hear from Leon. All in all it was a cool trip, thought emotionally and physically exhausting. It wasn't all I expected it to be, seeing as how, due to the linguistic wall dividing the town, I didn't get to speak a word of French. It definitely was very cool seeing all the signs around in French, and I didn't have any trouble understand them either. We came back with a theory about why the Montreal natives are so rude or at least removed. Unlike their more progressive French cousins, Quebeckers are actually hanging on to their distinctive French heritage exactly because they are being encroached by America and British Canada. Furthermore, to them Montreal is a cultural center of the World, while to the rest of us it's just a popular tourist destination. Montreal was destined for big things, but today it has become more like Las Vegas, chock full of tacky souvenir shops and tourists getting drunk (ahem). They are in conflict, they are in a crisis of identity. Their livelihood and economy is growing ever more dependent of tourism, yet they would rather the roles be reversed.
For those of you interested in going to Montreal, I recommend you don't do the touristy stuff, don't try to live it up. I think it'd be best to go without the intention of doing the nice things you would do in NYC, Paris, or London. Go on with you best scowl and just blend in.
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| Road Trip |
[01 Apr 2004|08:58pm] |
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Back on Tuesday. Au revoir!
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| Under Penalties of Perjury |
[30 Mar 2004|09:10pm] |
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I fucking hate taxes. No, I don't mind giving up the money, I just really, really, really fucking hate all the bureaucracy and math involved. First of all, I had no clue about what I had to do in order to "file my tax return". I didn't even fucking know what that expression meant. Where am I "filing"? Who returns what? So I go over to irs.org, and after a half-hour browsing the website I know no more than what I knew before. I manage to locate the actual form I have to fill out in order to "file my tax return", buried in the middle of hundreds of other forms, from "report of suspicious activity: casinos" to "profit or loss from farming". Of course, when I actually see the form, I give up ever trying to fill it out myself.
To make matters worse, the tax return covers the entire year of 2003. 2003 was a transisition year for me. The first half I was getting money from my parents and paying out tuition. The second half I actually had an income. Do I count the 2000 bucks my mom sent me in order to pay the deposit on the apartment as "income"? Can I basically deduct the 5000 or so dollars I paid Cornell, under "tuition and fees deduction". Heck, in the end, my guess is that the money I made in the second half covered all the money I (well, my parents) lost in the first half. That means I don't owe any taxes since I had no income, right? Sheesh.
Well, since I am not one to confront adversity, I'm thinking I'll just sit on my ass and wait for the IRS to show up and interrogate me in case I owe any money. Maybe they can figure out the math themselves. Seriously, would it be that hard if the fucking government just TOLD me how much I actually have to pay? They should give us the option of paying our taxes with or without bullshit. I would have zero problem with just paying what they tell me to, without nitpicking for deductions and exemptions. And before you even mention it, I don't want to go through a tax filing company for this because it makes me sick to see people making money off this fucking bullshit. The IRS website was full of ads for "e-filing", but you had to do it through a private company since the IRS are "not allowed" to compete with private enterprises. Fucking corporate America.
Now I know why those militia nutjobs are always complaining about taxes. This stuff can drive you crazy.
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| Out Of My Shell |
[28 Mar 2004|06:44pm] |
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mood |
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 sore |
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Mike's sister was in town so we decided to meet up. We had dinner at il Panificio on Charles street. I walk by that place everyday and I had always wanted to give it a try, and only now I had a good excuse to do so. It was actually my first social outing since mid-November, so it was cool to get out of the cocoon for a change. She invited me to go to this Latino nightclub called Sofia, but the trauma from the first/last/only time I went there was still fresh in my mind. So after some potato gnocchi and Sierra Nevada, I was ready to go back into seclusion.
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| Landed Gentry |
[23 Mar 2004|08:37pm] |
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mood |
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John Kerry's house, which is just around the corner from my apartment, has been heavily guarded by Men in Black sitting inside spotless, jet-black SUVs with tinted windows ever since he became the front-runner for the Democratic nomination. Francois, the Lebanese-Brazilian who works at the corner convenience store, said they're actually secret service agents who regularly stop by the store for coffee and breakfast. I was going to take a picture of the Kerry home for you all to see, but I guess I'd probably be interrogated or at least profiled if I did so.
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| Move Bitch, Get Outta The Way |
[08 Mar 2004|09:31pm] |
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mood |
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I was on my way back home from the lab when, at the Kendall T station, some old geezer I remember seeing around campus started talking to me, seeing as how we were the only people on the platform. He started asking all these questions about my education/career and, since I didn't want to be rude, I answered them but didn't ask anything about him. He then said I was "stupid" and "boneheaded" for not trying to get a job through networking with my professors, but I let it slide because hanging around scientists all the time I've learned that they constantly try to put you down and make you feel like half the twit you really are. Anyway, the dude got off the Charles MGH stop with me, and for a moment there I thought he was following me. But luckily we parted ways after a block. Turns out he's some hot-shot professor emeritus with appointments at Harvard, MIT, MGH, Mass Eye & Ear, and several institutions in China. Still, the guy was incredibly annoying, and if he comes over again to bother me again I'll make it clear I don't want to talk to him. I know I should try to be more open and social and friendly and whatnot, but really, I shouldn't have to be polite with people who insult me.
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| Ae manu saka soh... |
[04 Mar 2004|09:14pm] |
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mood |
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 ecstatic |
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In the seemingly endless stream of junk mail I've been getting, I happened to come across a census form sent out by the city of Boston. I casually glanced at the form (which was addressed to the previous tenant), and then skimmed over the "instructions", which came in a mind-boggling 11 foreign languages. The usual French, Italian, Vietnamese, Portuguese were all there, but I was surprised to see Somali on the list too. On the other side, I was stoked to see that they included Haitien too, but right above that was what made my day: Cape Verdean.
All I can say is, Wow. I knew from linguistics books that there were some similarities between the Portuguese creole they speak on the islands and the spoken "Portguese" used in Brazil, but the spelling and grammar used by whomever prepared that particular translation on that form really struck a chord with me. It was eerily very similar to the "wacky" Portuguese used by internet-savvy kids in Brazil these days. For a moment it brought a tear to my eye and the sudden conviction that my native tongue is not Portuguese, but rather a Portguese Creole that had been undergoing constant "de-creolization", up until now- now that the internet has provided a forum where Brazilians can express themselves in writing that resembles the spoken language much more closely. Here is the entire Cape Verdean translation, for all you Language Nazis out there who just dig this stuff as much as I do:
"Tudu anu Sidadi di Boston, di akordu ku Lei Stadual (M.G.L. CH 51 sec. 4) tem ki faze sensu di tudu rizidentis di Boston ki ten 17 y o mas anu di idadi. Es informason e nesesariu pa pruteje bu direitu di vota y pa ten midjor sirvisu di Munisipiu. Pur favor tira uns minutus pa bu prenxe es furmulariu inpurtanti y divolve-l pur kurreiu na envelopi ki nu manda-bu na um prazu di menus di 7 dia o tilifona 617-635-3767 y da-nu informason pur tilifoni.
1- Reve y verifika si informason sta kurretu. Es furmulariu deve refleti tudu argen ki ta mora na bu kaza. Riska y tira fora kualker informason ki ka sta kurretu y screbe informason kurretu.
2- Skreve nomi de kualker rezidenti adisional na mesmu kaza ki ten 17 o mas anu di idadi apartir di 1 di Janeru, ki ka sta skrebedu na furmulariu.
3- Es furmulariu ka ta rejista-bu pa bu vota. Si bu kre rejista pur favor tilifona 617-635-4635, y nu ta enviabu pur kurreiu furmulariu di rijista pa vota.
4- Pur favor lenbra di inklui numeru di bu apartamentu, data di nasimentu, jender, okupason, si bo e sidadon y/o bu ta vota y nomi konpletu. Obrigadu."
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| You And Me Baby Ain't Nothing But Mammals... |
[20 Feb 2004|08:26pm] |
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mood |
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Ain't love beautiful? I had to do a little matchmaking today, setting up breeding mouse pairs in new cages today. I'm telling you, those mice up in the animal facility have it fucking made. Where else can a rodent not only live his whole life free from predators and disease, but also have exclusive breeding rights over one or more mates? Shit, I'd rather be a mouse...
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| Bought For A Song |
[14 Feb 2004|07:24pm] |
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Thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) grubi for the idea.
1. Your favorite song with the name of a city in the title or text.
"Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle" Nirvana
2. A song you've listened to repeatedly when you were depressed at some point in your life.
"Simplicity Is Beautiful" Juliana Hatfield
3. Ever bought an entire album just for one song and winded up disliking everything but that song? Gimme that song.
"Day-O" from the Beetlejuice soundtrack
4. A song whose lyrics you thought you knew in the past, but about which you later learned you were incorrect.
"Drain You" Nirvana
5. Your least favorite song on one of your favorite albums of all time.
"Outsider" from Juliana Hatfield - Only Everything
6. A song you like by someone you find physically unattractive or otherwise repellent.
"My Iron Lung" Radiohead
7. Your favorite song that has expletives in it that's not by Liz Phair.
"Dumb Fun" Juliana Hatfield
8. A song that sounds as if it's by someone British but isn't.
"Daddy Wasn't There" Ming Tea
9. A song you like (possibly from your past) that took you forever to finally locate a copy of.
"December" Ivy
10. A song that reminds you of spring but doesn't mention spring at all.
"Live On Tomorrow" Juliana Hatfield
11. A song that sounds to you like being happy feels.
"That Thing You Do" The Wonders
12. Your favorite song from a non-soundtrack compilation album.
"Only A Fool Would Say That" Ivy
13. A song from your past that would be considered politically incorrect now (and possibly was then).
"Like A Virgin" Madonna
14. A song sung by an overweight person.
"North Bronx French Marie" Stew
15. A song you actually like by an artist you otherwise hate.
"Ugly" Jon Bon Jovi
16. A song by a band (whose members actually play instruments) that features three or more female members.
"Cannonball" The Breeders
17. One of the earliest songs that you can remember listening to.
"Bad" Michael Jackson
18. A song you've been mocked by friends for liking.
"This Kiss" Faith Hill
19. A really good cover version you think no one else has heard.
"Iron Man" The Cardigans
20. A song that has helped cheer you up (or empowered you somehow) after a breakup or otherwise difficult situation.
"Lucy Doesn't Love You" Ivy
Extra tracks, if you have more room:
21. A song you've listened to while fucking and/or masturbating.
"Wolf" Veruca Salt
22. A song not in English—preferably a foreign-language version of an English-language hit.
"Anna Julia" Los Hermanos
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| As I Down Kentucky Bourbon... |
[02 Feb 2004|08:32pm] |
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mood |
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hungry |
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I picked up a copy of "Welcome Interstate Managers", the latest album by Fountains of Wayne. Seeing as how co-band leader Adam Schlesinger is/was in Ivy, one of my favorite bands, and also wrote one of my favorite songs, "That Thing You Do", from the soundtrack of the movie of the same name, I decided I should at least give his newest endeavor a listen. It was also curiously the first CD I've bought in 6 years that features male lead vocals. I dunno, I just think the female voice is so much more suited for power pop. Ivy uses female vocals, and needless to say I enjoyed WIM but not as much as I enjoy Ivy. At least the old Ivy. The track on WIM that most resembles vintage Ivy is "Hackensack".
Overall WIM is a good album, and a "non-stopper" in the sense that one does not need to skip any downright unlistenable tracks. Yes, even Ivy has some of those occasionally.
WIM again proved to be a wise purchase the following day, when it was used to drown out the ridiculous "battle cries" of Pats bandwagon fans screaming like a bunch of friggin' idiots on the streets outside.
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| Ki masa, vey! |
[24 Jan 2004|02:21pm] |
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mood |
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 geeky |
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??|ce I left Brazil, I have kept in touch with my friends through e-mail written in our distinctive dialect of Portuguese, with somewhat creative spelling and grammar. With each e-mail, I tried to further distance our way of spelling from the standard Portuguese. I thought that in this respect, I was unique. For instance, let me loosely translate the above paragraph into my dialect:
Desdjikih eu saih du braziu eu iskrevu puz meuz amigu nu djaletu kanpineru, kaz ortografiya mey kriyatxiva. Kada veyz may eu tentava hadikaumentx mudah a mya iskrita. Kwanu eu morava nu braziu eu iskreviya nu djaletu tanbeyn, may eu pensava ki eu era u uniku.
I remember when I lived in Brazil, that people would write weird shit every now and then, but I thought it was nothing compared to how I wrote. At least that is what I thought. I know I am wrong now. If you search for Brazilian web journals, you'll notice they are written in something that superficially resembles Basque or Indonesian, not Portuguese. Check out the following link and exerpts:
http://www.miazinha_pco.blogger.com.br/
"Ow Genty ki SACO tipow oji eu toh malz tah...num aguentu maix ngm ...Teim um monty di genty mi enxenu kra u Mun du intero resolveu kai nas minhas costas tipow kiki eu posso fazeh ...todu mundu axa ki eu posso resolveh tudu max eu num posso vai se FUDE todu munduuuu tah"
In standard Portguese, it would go like this:
Ô gente, que saco tipo, hoje eu estou mal, tá... não aguento mais ninguém... tem um monte de gente me enxendo, cara. O mundo enteiro resolveu cair nas minhas costas, tipo, o que que eu posso fazer? Todo o mundo acha que eu posso resolver tudo mas eu não posso. Vá se fuder todo o mundo, tá?
Though her style is not as consistent and radical as mine, it nevertheless shows some distinct and universal features such as:
"h" to designate stressed final vowels: resolveh = resolver
"k" for "qu": kiki = que que
"w" for "u" in diphthongs: ow = ou
"u" for unstressed "o": enxenu = enxendo
And that's just scratching the surface. Amazingly, writing totally fucked up Portguese has become a widespread phenomenon, especially amongst teenagers on the internet. I can't help but feel somewhat proud for helping spread this rejection of grammatically correct, standard Portuguese, which is quite archaic and removed from the spoken language in Brazil.
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| What will they think of next? |
[18 Jan 2004|05:04pm] |
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mood |
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amused |
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Check out this e-bay auction.
Now before you get too outraged (or excited), let me point out that she is not selling herself, but rather selling the act of pretending to be your long-distance girlfriend.
IMHO this seems like a great way to make money. Why didn't I think of this? I could easily send out a letter and some photos each week over an 8 week period. And for at least 80 bucks? In a heart-beat. If you get 10 guys aboard you could be making nearly a grand a month working out of home in your spare time. All I'd have to do is download some digital pics of hot girls- though my cursive sucks. It works both ways: I could pretend to be a handsome, desirable guy as well, as hard as that may seem. :P
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