I *hate* yams

Yesterday was one of those days where the most common phrase to run through my head was, "Aw, crap."

On Sunday, I had finally achieved the critical mass of moxie to ask this girl on a date, and she actually said yes. But apparently, that was only because I had caught her off guard and she panicked. She followed up with an email yesterday to make it abundantly clear that she thinks I'm an idiot. Reading the thing kinda gave me the same feeling that you get when you're driving, and you look in the mirror and see cherries flashing, and you know it's because of something you did. Except maybe multiplied like 20 times.

The real problem here isn't so much that this particular endeavor didn't pan out. The problem is that I'm 0 for my last 5 in engineering *relationships*. It begs the question, "What the hell is wrong with me? How did I become a real-life Charlie Brown?"

Some thoughts:
If I were a subatomic particle, I'd be a rejectron.
If I were a fruit, I'd be a rejectarine.
If I were a shape, I'd be a rejectangle.
If I were a flavor of Hi-C, I'd be rejecto cooler.
If I put both ports of a nine-volt battery on my tongue, I'd probably wish that I hadn't.

Okay, now for some adventures in statistics, such that I'm kind of studying for finals while I'm comlaining to cyberspace. Let's assume that if I ask a girl on a date, the probability of her actually going on the date with me is 10%. What is the probability that if I ask five girls out, none of them will say yes?

This is a classic binomial problem, with parameters p= 0.1 and n=5, and x= 0 sucesses. So, the probablity that this occurs is:
(n!/(x!*(n-x)!)* p^x * (1-p)^(n-x)
Which becomes : 5!/(0!*5!)*(0.1)^0*(0.9)^5 = 0.59, or 59% of the time.

So, that fact that I'm disappointed means that somewhere inside, I think that my chances should be greater than 10% when I ask a girl out, becuase that particular outcome of zero takers in five tries will occur more than half the time.

So maybe lets estimate a little higher, saying that my chances are 20%. How many times should I expect to get turned down again before I actually hit pay dirt?

This is will follow a geometric distribution, which has a "memoryless" property. Thus, the expected number of attempts needed is E(X)= 1/p = 1/0.2 = 5. Which fits with the theme of today (Aw, crap!) pretty well.

The very confused optimist inside of me keeps trying to point out that there could be something else going on, though. Like maybe I have some sort of mental power that turns normally intelligent girls into total dumbasses who make terrible decisions when I attempt to date them.
Or perhaps there's some way that I can consciously locate and dispose of THE STUPIDEST SELECTION CRITERION EVER, which is only trying for girls who are going to deny me.

We all know that they say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But what about when life gives you diarrhea? At that point, you should just leave life's little present alone. Don't do anything with it, and don't even think the word "smoothie". So, is this the first case or the second? I've been trying to think of some positives, which would imply that the first is correct. Here's what I have so far:

-I don't have to clean my car out anymore
-I don't have to pay for a date with money that came from a student loan
-I don't have to shave until Christmas
-I have one less stupid present to buy
-Denial helps me study

Which is what I should be doing now. Alrighty then. Next entry from Texas! Woohoo, or something.

The robot war has a brief armistice.

So last week I was in my shared office, cramming for something or another, and had one of those moments where you all of a sudden realize that you've been staring at something for a while that has nothing to do with your coursework. Not the staring at something with intent to glean information kind of staring, more of the "I'm looking off into space and anything that is technically in my line of sight will stay there for awhile" kind of staring. If you know what I'm talking about, then you also probably know that coming back to reality can be a weird experience because you haven't been seeing whatever it is your eyes were looking at in your head, but you still know something about it. In this particular situation, the thing that was in the way of my gaze was this health advisory poster from Boynton:

Signs of chronic stress
Physiological
*Headaches
* Insomnia
* Gastrointestinal problems
* Weakened immune systems
* Fluctuations in eating patterns and weight
* Fatigue
Psychological
* Irritability
* "Low" moods
* Impulsivity
* Inability to concentrate
* Low motivation
* Emotional tension
* Behavioral and attitudinal Perfectionism
* Procrastination
* Avoidance
* Dissatisfaction, disenchantment, or cynicism
* Isolation or disconnection
* Overcommitment or feeling pressured

And then, as I came out of my trance, it dawned on me that in the past couple weeks I've had all these symptoms (except the GI problems, thank God) at some point.

Therefore, if this that stupid poster is worth anything, I guess I've been a little bit stressed out. But, I have some questions about the matter. Aren't these really common symptoms, that everybody is going to deal with to varying degrees? Can we just say that life is stressful?

Then again, there's a chance they could know what they're talking about. I mean, I have a right to be happy about the 4-day weekend that starts tonight, but probably not *this* happy. I admit, I was gettin' my dance on at the bus stop this afternoon; every now and then you find yourself in such a situation and I think are morally obligated to act on impulse (which, i suppose, is a sign of chronic stress). What's the worst that will happen in that case? That someone you've never met before and won't ever see again might enjoy seeing you do something out of the ordinary?

This might be another entry where my conclusion ends up being "whatever", but as such, I don't care. Thanksgiving rocks and that's mostly what I wanted to say anyway.

Nevermind, one more thing: As part of my expected thanksgiving rumination about my various blessings, again I'm really, really thankful that farts aren't socially contagious like yawns are. Just imagine it, you observe another person fart, and then all of a sudden you have this incredible urge to pass gas, too. In a room of 500 people, there would be a toxic gas buildup in less than an hour unless there was awesome ventilation going on. Although that would be a barrier to the formation of the megachurch... hmmmm....

And the apathetic will disco down

Today marks the start of the political offseason. Finally. This is the beauty of representative democracy to me: I only have to think about the issues once every couple of years. And, now that I've lost any sort of power I had until the next election, *they* (and we know who they are) leave me alone. No more crap flyers under my wiper blades. No more TV commercials about how the other candidate enjoys shooting at children with a pellet gun. The advertising gets so ridiculous that it almost makes me wish we lived in a dictatorship, where all you see are positive ads for whatever despot is at the top of the food chain.

Okay, maybe that's overdoing it, but still, don't you just wish the powers that be would give you some credit? Now we have, like maybe a 2-week window where you're not being screamed at about what you should do. Then, the consumerism season hits and instead of being told how to vote you get told where to spend your money (your family needs this piece of crap that we're vending or they will think you hate them!).

So I guess my point is go watch TV, while the ads are still harmless and inane? Or, maybe it's that life is too valuable to be spent throwing poo at others, metaphorically to be sure, but please not literally either. Or, it could be that Amy Klobuchar should celebrate her victory by getting some orthodontic work done, for the people, Amy, for the people.

This woman sold crack to your children!
Paid for by the campaign to re-elect Mark Kennedy

Question Marx

Man, this blog is lame. Really, lame and square. Not at all what I intended. I don't really see the point in getting rid of it. Or even trying to reform it. But not just ignoring it either, I can't do that. Know this though: things will change. Bet on it.

However, I think a side project is totally what I need right now. One that's more of a social event than this. So, I proposed starting a team blog, and there's at least an outside shot of everything actually coming together. A lot still needs to happen, mostly recruiting and such, but if it does, I suspect that most of my creative energy will go into that and most of my complainage will go into this. Because obviously, I'll still need a whining pedestal, ya know?

A few weeks ago I was (evidently, if you read motive soup) wondering what the point of doing this experiment in bloggery was, and since then I've decided that it could be both just for me and to be more connected to other people, but the balance was probably shifted more toward the second one of the two options. So, in achieving that end, it makes less sense than I'm comfortable with to be doing this as a solo act.

Furthermore, despite my best efforts to be real, I'm discovering that the me that occurs in isolation is really just a substandard imitation of the me that happens in a more social context. So, why not use the good version of yourself to do your self-expression when you have the choice? It's basically the same decision as putting gel in your hair, and we do that all the time without fear of condemnation.

Part of humility is not constantly running to cover up your faults. Hence the non-deletion of things I don't entirely know about anymore. But on the other hand, we owe it to each other as people, and even to the one who created you to, as cheesy as it may sound, be the best freakin person you can be. Hence the goal of writing better stuff in the future.

And, if it applies, sorry about any tuna contamination that I might have accidently introduced to the community mayo.

Riding a unicycle off the deep end

You know what's really fun? Winding down from midterms. I think that my mind tries to make up for the hours of intense focus spent studying beforehand by letting various schemas and social conventions slide a little bit more than usual. Which is great. When I'm not scaring people, that is. I think I'm about, we'll say five times more likely to talk in a weird accent for no explainable reason. I am all of a sudden much more susceptible to random dancing. And, blowing bubbles in my milk. *Chocolate* milk. And hiding behind the couch. And probably more stuff...

Now here's the most beautiful part about it all: the midterm I took was in my regression class.

I'll probably be back to normal by tomorrow afternoon, which is almost a shame, because even though there's a decent chance I bombed the exam, I'm still in some kind of euphoric state.

I suppose I should be making the most of this. Time to go fight the giant rocket turtle, I guess. Freakin' Gamura. Or take my medicine. Which is also imaginary. Hmmm.

Motive soup

Influence.

About a minute ago I was thinking about the word itself and I may be onto to something.

'Fluence' is simply some derivative of the latin for flow, right? I'm looking up the root right now.

Apparently, a webpage from some secondary school in Washington state will back me up.

So then influence as a verb is the act of flowing into something. To influence someone, you flow into them. And to be influenced by someone, you let them flow into you. And to succumb to influences, all one must do is go with the flow.

What brought this all up is that I've been wondering what role I'm playing or I'm even trying to play in the lives of the people I know. The whole bit's kinda frustrating, really. Is my desire to alter the trajectories of friends and fam, supposedly for the better, really just another form of the chronic attention-seeking that I've always suffered from? If it is, what do I do about it? Seriously, it's a burning moral question, is it possible for me to be visible and humble at the same time? It seems at first that there's a simple answer, but then you think about what it would look like when you're just living life, shootin' the breeze with some people in a random entryway in a random building and you come up with the best damn joke in the world. On one hand, you know that your motives for telling the joke might not be up to code, but on the other, if you hold it in, you're depriving your fellow participants of gut-wrenching laughter, literally stealing that amazing moment from them.

Maybe for me, my problem isn't the wanting to be seen, my problem is the terms and conditions that I attach. Because sometimes, I really don't want to be seen. Last week was an academic pressure-cooker for me. It might be the thing I hate most about school: the constant realization that any person, pick any person, from my circle of friends or acquaintances is great and all, but they sure as hell won't help me rock my stat theory midterm. That's up to me and the empty seats on either side of me as I study in the SPH student commons, conveniently sitting two stories underground where cell-phone reception is completely implausible.

So here's the hypothesis: if people were more important to me, I would be more important to them. I'm not saying I should give up on my master's degree, that's all good and everything. But it's unreasonable to ask for a larger share of the hearts of those around you if you plan to vacate whenever is most convenient for you. To bring this full circle, influence is a giving of oneself, in some form or another. And constant influence, in the form that I want anyhow, means constant self-giving.

And the rest is best left undisturbed for now, I think.

Bubble Tape was cool once too

I’m not going to pretend this entry is at all normal within the scope of society as a whole. But, you don’t read my entries because they’re normal. You read what I write because I’m the twentysomething with suspect mental stability that still slides down railings.

Submitted for your edification:

Campus Bannister Sliding Report, 2006-07

Coffman union, stairs from patio to Delaware St.

-This railing is a good long slide, but has one of those flat parts at the end that might hurt a bit if you don’t jump off in time. Rating: ☺☺☺

Moos tower, Washington ave. exit to 2^nd floor

-There are three great railings to choose from here, all of which are good for a joy ride. Absolutely useless between classes, when people going up the stairs actually use them as intended. What a bunch of squares. Rating: ☺☺☺

Walter library north interior stairwell

- It’s a huge, marble railing that’s super fast with a convenient landing step at the bottom. The only problem is that a balance error will probably land you in traction at Fairview, if you’re lucky. Rating: ☺☺

Moos tower 2-620 auditorium

- A bunch of little mini-rails going down the aisle of a stadium-seated auditorium. None of them really provide enough incident angle for a decent ride. A great way to look stupid. Rating: ☺

Ford hall, west interior stairwell

-The best I’ve found yet. The paint that they used in the early 1970’s must cut down on rail-to-pants friction. Also, seldom being used by anyone else.

Rating: ☺☺☺☺☺

Hasselmo hall, church st. exit

- Short and sweet, a good ride to be sure, but again, a timely dismount is required to avoid getting owned by the flat part of the raling at the bottom of the steps. Rating: ☺☺

Cancer center, river road exit

- Twenty angled feet of solid cement surface. Impossible to slide upon. Good for anyone who hates himself. Bad for anyone who is trying to enjoy life. Rating: um…

Mostly harmless musings

Editor's note v2.1, 10/04/06
There's no way around it. I am a blogtard. I'm way past being able to look smart with this last post and now I'm just trying for not completely stupid. Frickin pictures, frickin margins, is it really that hard to understand what I want without me telling it in html?

I've fixed and republished this thing sooooo many times. I know there has to be somebody watching this unfold, and I'm sure they are laughing at me.
--------

I was thinking last week that I should probably get to writing another entry in this thing before I'm waist-deep in fall semester and too preoccupied with the, um, magic of everyday activities to bother with keeping thoughts that aren't answers to some problem. Also, it won't hurt to bury some of the last entries I put into this thing with some fresh material. I'm looking back on some of the crap I wrote last month and seeing the merit of taking the link to this McBlogg off of facebook.

For some reason that may or may not have to do with three of my classes, I've been thinking about statistical significance lately. Is 95% confidence enough for the amount of results that we're taking as gospel? If you've read about what one hundred studies have just found every year (that are significant on the p<0.05>level but not on the p<0.01 level), you can expect 1-5 of them to be bunk. So, don't believe everything you read. Including this, I guess.

Speaking of questionable findings, one of my roommates somehow convinced the other six of us to take the Myers-Briggs test and send him the results back, because it would be fun or something. Ah, the Myers-Briggs. Fascinating stuff; too bad it's horribly overrated. I think there's definitely something that's widely appealing about getting all the stuff that is personality boiled down to four binary variables. But we're totally fooling ourselves if we think we're even remotely consistent in attitude or behavior from situation to situation. I can be really laid- back or completely driven, it just depends on when and where I'm being looked at. I know people who really love the test, and I'm sure they'd try and defend it by saying, "But it just tells you what your general disposition is- the way you're hard-wired." Nay, I say. Not that test. The MB asks specific questions, that people are most likely answering with specific instances and past events in mind, and getting general results back. It's totally skewed to give more weight to recent actions, too. My roommate Phil Hintz thinks he's a fieldmarshal because he took the test after coming back from work as a shift leader at Pizza Hut. Yeah, sure. Phil Hintz is the most diplomatic, happy-go-lucky, don't-worry-about-it-I-might-pull-through-it's-just-a-flesh-wound kind of guy I know. And this is just one of many examples where the MB misses the boat. Now, if there was a way to make people take the thing the right way, I might put some more stock in it. But as it stands, there isn't, and I'll continue to think of it as horoscopes for the educated.

BTW, I have to point out that my roommates are all great, every last one of them. It's amazing how little conflict we have for having seven dudes in not that much space. Having seven dudes sharing one bathroom is a setup that's almost too ridiculous for a reality TV show. Technically, we have a downstairs bathroom too, but none of us is really brave enough to use it regularly. I call it the penalty box. There's talk of a home improvement project, and for once in my lifetime I'm actually interested, even if it is empirical evidence that I'm getting older. I don't know if this is a good first thing to try though. Behold the challenge:

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. And even though I think 'they' are idiots most of the time, I'll give them that much. So, having defined the problem thoroughly, it's time to move on to formulating a solution. This is where I'm stuck. I can't just move on to the experimentation phase; I'm afraid I might buy $400 dollars worth of stuff that *might* do something for it, and then break it in installation or find out it doesn't work like I hoped it would. Thus we learn that the scientific method CRASHES AND BURNS when it comes to improving your rented space.

I saw a random banana peel on the ground today, and initially I wasn't sure if I should look at it as a safety hazard or a potential comic moment. After pondering this question for maybe five or ten seconds I decided that I had never actually seen or even heard of anyone slipping on a banana peel before, and there was a nonzero chance that a squirrel might choke on it if I just left it there. And so inertia won out at that point, backed by the rationale "unless we come up with some awesome plan, we only have about thirty years to choke squirrels with banana peels, because some rather useless fungus is driving the Cavendish banana into extinction." Click on me if you care.

Last on the docket: I really hate planning events. I realize why I don't ever initiate things that involve lots of people. I'm working on trying to organize a night of prayer for my church(es, I suppose), and just feeling swamped by it. It's gonna involve a lot of being an adult to finish that job, which is another way of saying I'm going to have to do some stuff that I don't feel like doing. But, my prediction is that it will be worth it (which makes sense seeing as how I haven't thrown in the towel yet). I've heard way too many clever ideas lately for how we can make the Church a more loving place, but sadly none of them involve giving more individual and corporate attention to prayer. I mean, look at what we as Christians are- do we honestly think we can think our way around the problems that continuously sideline us? What we really need is actually for God to do something, folks. So, my point here is that you should help save the world and come to the night of prayer, 6:30 PM, Hope Community Church, 707 10th Ave S, Minneapolis.

Reflections on a personal object lesson

When I was younger in my faith, I would read passages like 1 Corinthains 12, when Paul says "earnestly desire the grater gifts", and then pray something like, "God, please make me a prophet!". Before I really knew what was in the prophetic literature of the OT, I just kind of assumed that prophecy was some guy in a robe walking around doing miracles. Then I actually read the Old Testament, and saw that it was a lot more than that, that a common way for God to give a message to the covenant people was through an object lesson, which often came at the expense of the prophet. For instance, God told Ezekiel, to lay down on his side for several months, then bare his arm and prophesy against Jerusalem for their iniquities.

On Saturday, as I was driving back from St. Cloud, trying to make sense of some recent events, it occured to me that I may be an object lesson to some people in my life. I'm not claiming to be a prophet, but I think that God may still use events in a person's life to serve as warnings to others. And, if that's the case, please learn from this.

If you've read any of the previous entries I've posted on this blog, you'd probably have pieced together that this summer, I decided to pursue a girl who I had been friends with for a while. Long-ish story short, she turned me down, but insisted that we should still be good friends. It's been less than fun to live through, but it's a great illustration of what Christ goes through with us regularly. He comes to us, offering intimacy. We then counter-offer, saying, "Jesus, I like you, I have a great time with you, and I love what you do for me, but I'd like to keep getting what you give me from a safe distance. I'm really just too busy for something serious with you." He must just have to shake his head, thinking, "Don't you understand? You can't get all that I want to give you if you want me an arm's length away!" Seeing this analogy takes away from some of my anger, but adds to the grief that I'm feeling. Here I am, a flawed and evil man, completely bitter about being strung along and then shot down by another human like me, when I've done the same to the God who gave me life. Not only am I a reject, I'm a hypocrite on top of that.

What a wretched man I am! Who will set me free from this body of death? Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord! (Rom 7:24-25)

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe the real reasons that the way this summer played out for me are way over my head, far too complicated to understand. That's a distinct possibility. Or on the other hand, maybe this will still make sense in the long run and I'll find out that my learning this lesson was the only reason for this paritcular unfolding of history. But either way, I still hold these truths: Behold, Christ stands at the door and knocks. Draw near to him, and he will draw near to you. You're as close to God as you want to be. It's high time to take his grace.

Love your enemies, kids

Today, this is my greatest challenge. God, it seems impossible. I understand why I should, that makes perfect sense. In the words of Derek Webb, "My enemies are men like me". It's the execution of this principle that I have the trouble with. When I hurt, I find myself wanting others to hurt too, even though I know that I'm not redistributing the load of pain on myself, I'm creating a fresh load for someone else. That makes me a big dink. I try to emulate Christ, but if I got crucified today, would I be praying for the folks who did the deed?

Probably not. Which is exactly why Christ was up there dying for me in the first place. Because I am completely incompetent and worthless on my own. All I have is the hope in the truth of God's words when he says that his grace is enough. And if the best thing that I can ever be is the prodigal son, then dammit, that's all I ever want to be.

Your own life and opening lines to Dickens novels

I've been a fan of Chuck Dickens since I read Oliver Twist in junior high. However, it recently occured to me that the way he started A Tale of Two Cities has kind of lost its poignancy now that we all seem to think our lives are melodramas and soap operas. "It was the best of times , it was the worst of times..."- isn't that all the time? When I say that, I'm assuming that a lot of other people in 21st century America share my problem of expecting thrills from real life, and getting, well, real life, and ending up disappointed. Don't think I'm entirely pointing the finger at movies here; I don't want to sit through two hours of the stuff that a real human should actually expect to encounter as they go through life, the waiting, the irrelevant details, the complicated people. What I want is to personally change in such a way that I totally believe this: it's better that I'm flesh and blood and spirit, and not someone's intellectual concoction that exists for the sake of entertainment.

I think I've gone back and forth from feeling really frustrated to having an eerie and surreal peace about a hundred times in the past two weeks. Perhaps not the best or the worst of times, but they get honorable mentions or something. Dare me to summarize?

First of all, there's the single most important relationship I have, me and God, and we've been getting along well lately, except for maybe today so far. But, when that's going well, there's really nothing that can run you off the road. Second, I'm still making easy money at UPS. What a sweet job, they pay me to keep a truck on the interstate for an hour and a half, get a workout for 40 minutes, and then stay awake for the drive back. It's just like stealing. Lastly, I've probably just lost a war that could have turned into my own personal Vietnam.
Sometimes I wonder what we'd be like as a nation if we had given up in Vietnam in 1965. Definitely, things would be different; maybe, things would be better. Certainly, we would not know what we know now, and certainly, hundreds of thousands of Americans and Vietnamese would still be alive. I think most would do well to see what happens if they ever get a chance to change the way we did things as a nation back then.

Right now, I'm still kinda hung up on the losing part. Rejection sucks. There's just no way to make it easier to handle. It's for real this time. I saw a winnable war ahead, she sees Vietnam. I'm going to be sore for awhile because what I realize that she doesn't seem to is that the only way to know what kind of war it is is to fight it. But whatev, I guess. If courage came easily, they wouldn't call it a virtue. So now I guess it my turn again to show my own.

Right after this angry poem, that is.

Dearest Cheslie, to what shall I compare thee?
Thou art like the sun
Because you burn careless idiots like myself.

Dearest Cheslie, to what shall I compare thee?
Thou art like I-494
Because youre always too frickin busy to take anywhere during peak hours
*and* I can count on you to make me 30 minutes later than I should be.

Dearest Cheslie, to what shall I compare thee?
Thou art like Qwest
Because when I try to settle something with you, you put me on hold for a long-ass time
and then hang up on me anyway without giving me an honest chance to negotiate.

Okay, break is over, I'm ready to be an adult about this again. Over and out.

The world is a big enough place where you can always find someone who will put it better than you can. And today, whoever masterminded this demotivator really hit the nail on the head for me.

So the issue I'm dealing with right now is at best a case of garden variety disappointment with the situation surrounding my fave girl, and at worst a case of flat out rejection. Not that I'll be able to know for sure where it falls anytime soon.

There's an internal argument raging within me from various corners of the Wesleyan quadrilateral. The voice of scripture tells me that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life and that everything else I know is secondary. Then there's the voice of reason, telling me to cool down. After all, I live in a fallen world; who am I to demand exemption from its effects?

Opposite this is experience, which hasn't yet learned to use an inside voice. "CAN I JUST CATCH AN F'IN BREAK?! JUST ONCE?! AM I ASKING THAT MUCH TO HAVE SOME GIRL LOVE ME LIKE I LOVE HER?! WTF."

God, help me listen to what is right and not what is loudest.

Um, in other news, we have answers to some riddles from last week:

Beginner level: The sun.

Intermediate level: (V/Vw)•ρ, where V is the volume of the bag, Vw is the average volume of a woodchuck, and ρ is the unitless compressibility factor for woodchucks.

Awesome level: You cannot, under any circumstance, get a cat to perform that operation.
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Addendum, 8/7/06

Upon re-reading this thing a few days later, I have decided that 1) The penguin is my favorite flightless bird, 2) my formatting for some of this entry kinda stank, and 3) I definitely have the spiritual gift of overreacting. I think this post might really be funny in a few years when I look back on it. First of all, a little clarification, I don't think I got rejected on Wednesday night anymore. I did get a really confusing answer, to be sure, but if I was a little more careful with my equals signs, I could have saved myself a lot of grief. I was assuming "not yes" equals "no", which honestly to me still makes sense, even though other things imply it isn't as true as I might want to think. The whole"not yes" operator is a tricky one to interpret because coming from some girls, it means "I'm reaching for my mace" and from others it means "Ask me again later." Seems that Chels is the second type. So maybe my thespian antics of crying "Woe is me, Woe betide me, I am vanquished!" were a bit out of place. I might just have to add that to the pile of evidence that shows I'm human.

Closing note: I love my mom. She's one of my favorite people. I have never for more than a few seconds doubted that she loves me. Overall, she's come out way ahead of the curve, as far as moms go. But mom, I really don't appreciate the predisposition to paranoia that I inherited (that I *know* didn't come from dad). It makes a lot of work for anyone who's trying to get to know me, and it also makes me write blog entries when I should be sleeping. Don't take this the wrong way, mom. I love you a lot. I just want to stop being a turtle.

Random goods make you happy!

Sometimes, you say what has to be said, and sometimes, it's best to just stop thinking and laugh. Hence, an assortment of stuff that I find funny.

1. You have my guarantee that this dinosaur is dumb.

2.








This is probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. Anyone want to buy it for me to wear to parties?

3. Here are some riddles of various diffilculties, for those of us who like challenges.

Beginner level: I'm 186,000,000 miles away and really, really bright. What am I?

Intermediate level: How many woodchucks can you fit in a bag?

Awesome level: ĦœЏФ βηњ Ώй↔ ẫỚ βηњ ۞ ‮‮‭‡ ?

Answers next week? Until then, all I'm gonna offer is something cheesy, like, "You'll know it in your heart when you've solved the riddles."

4. God help me, I'm awkward. That's why I have these pre-packaged one-liners to resuscitate(sp?) my conversations when they fizzle into dead air:

-"So I stopped taking my meds today. If people die, they die."
-"Well, at least *I* didn't have anything to do with that mess of oil being spilled all over prince William sound! Poor shorebirds..."
-"I demand your gold in exchange for my solid waste!"
-"I guess there's nothing left for us to do here except swallow whatever we have in our pockets!"
-"I recently decided that pig fart and manure makes the best fuel."
-"Has anyone started their taxes for this year?"
-"So I *finally* figured out the math behind predestination."
-"I think that in most situations, I'd rather be respected and well-liked than on fire."
-"This is what it was like when I was aged in an oaken cask for six months, to develop a more mellow flavor."
-"Your face looks like road kill."
-"I don't mean to pry, but where do you fall on the whole 'wax paper' issue?"
-"That bear owes me a popsicle!"(This one works best when preceded by a sneer and muttered in an angry tone)
-"Sometimes, I like to just guess at the total volume of urine that humanity produces every day."
-"I know I haven't known you that long, but I can tell that if you were a keyboard character, you'd be an ampersand."
-"I think we should call Cleveland 'Pearl of the rust belt.'"
-"Little known fact: a horse poops six times a day, on average."
-"Can I just apply for German ethnicity, or aam I going to have to bribe someone?"
-"Should cows fly airplanes? They might not always make it to the bathroom on time, but darned if they don't stay cool during hostage situations!"
-"It's fun to criticize, but I know without a doubt that if I was el presidente, my foreign policy would be carpet bombing."
-"Besides talent, all our band needs is a name. How 'bout 'Star Duck and the head squishers'?"
-"Sure, you can stare at whatever you're staring at, but it won't make you any less boring." (don't try this one until you've tried a couple others from this list in the same exchange)

5. I have a poster of the procrastinator's creed that I meant to put up in my old apartment, but I moved out before I ever got around to the task. After all, I only lived there for nine months.

Irony is beautiful when it doesn't hurt.

6. I would wager that the University of Minnesota is the only place on earth that people have seen a squirrel die of natural causes.
7. I just had the letter O from a scrabble game fall out of my shorts, and lack a satisfying explanation.

8. If you're interested in turning this planet into spacedust, this link might help. Very witty, methinks.

Personally, I never understood why people would want to do something like that. What is their motive? Yet for a few years, we were totally dependent on Cpt. Planet to foil the schemes of Sly Sludge (on yonder side of page) and Doctor Blight.


8. I have recently come to the conclusion that it is no longer fashionable to talk about Darwin awards.

9. LOL, ROFL, Creed got sued for sucking.



Um, other stuff too, but, uh, big gulps, huh? That's great. Welp, see ya later!

Several short treatises amounting to madness

Hey, good to be back (picks cobwebs out of hair). I'm going to stop promising things like "I'll blog more regularly". It's been bunk when I said it before, and I believe one of the definitions of insanity is expecting different results from the same action every time it's completed.

That said, it's thursday night, and I'm bored, and I think I've accumulated a critical mass of random thoughts. Behold as they spill before you into convenient categories.

Sports
Are they the opiate of the masses for the 20th and 21st century? I won't pull the trigger on taking a stance. If that hypothesis is somehow valid, I would in fact qualify as a druggie via my penchant for Major League Baseball.

With regards to the twins, their goose is cooked unless Terry Ryan can pull the trigger on a blockbuster trade. Most people say Torii Hunter to the Yankees, but I say Rondell White to *anyone* in exchange for a pack of crayons. He's a DH, but his thing is hitting into double plays. Sorry pal, you gotta go. Francisco Liriano will be the best pitcher in baseball someday; his stuff is absolutely filthy. But he can't save the team on his own.

The physical universe
In other news, I no longer find any practical relevance in Murphy's law. Contrary to popular belief, it is not an inherently pessimistic montra, but simply states, "given infinite time, anything will happen that can." However, infinite time is not something that the universe has to work with. Being a theist, I think the universe is not a permanent fixture. As stated in Psalm 45: "The heavens are the work of your hands/ they will perish, but you remain/ they will wear out like a garment/ you will roll them up like a robe". But even my more materialist friends agree that because of the 2nd law of thermodynamics, the universe is drawing toward a state of heat death, in which all energy will exist in a form that is useless for any chemical reaction or mechanical work. Bummer. This severely limits the plausibility of the condition for Murphy's law being met. Hence my conclusion, Murphy's law is valid in the hypothetical realm, but worthless to those of us stuck in a physical reality.

Infestations
There are mice in my house, and there are rats in the building where I work, which is a pain. But it makes me think, what if buildings were commonly infested with larger animals? People would be totally desensitized to the humor involved in buying a goat trap (really just a freakin huge rat trap), smearing some peanut butter on the lever, and finding a crushed goat on it the next morning. Maybe even a live goat, struggling to get free.

My problems
Girls want guys who appear really tough, but are actually really nice on the inside, or something. That's what my friend Sarah said, anyway. If that's true, it would explain a lot about why I'm single, because I'm a total panzy, but kind of a jerk once you get to know me. From the outset I've lost the idealist "He might be okay underneath" or "I can change him" girls. But down the road, I lose the more pessimistic "well, at least he'll be nice" crowd. My solution to this dilemma? The 5:00 shadow. I checked my attributes, it adds toughness +5.

Life would be a lot easier if it were like an RPG, because everything I owned would be accessible from an off-screen inventory whenver I needed it. It makes me wonder why you find so much stuff in chests in those games, because why do people need to store stuff if they can just carry it around with them wherever they go without any movement penalty?

Lameness
That is the only category to put MN state Highway 297 in. Here's a visual aid to help me state my case:
If you look really closely, you can see the sign that says "Speed Limit 25" in the background, as well as the end of the road. The really sad part is that I'm standing only a few hundred feet from the beginning of the road. It's 1/4 of a mile long.

Music
I'm listening to the alblum Funeral, by Arcade Fire. It's really good, and you should get it or something.

Until next we meet, fare thee well.

Calling your own bluff is tougher than you might think

Ciao, friends. Qwest sucks, but despite this well-known fact I finally have internet again, which means I can make good on my commitment to blog more. I admit, resolution is really the wrong word for the thing that I made around new years. It was more of a proposition. Even without resolve, reasonable propositions might still count for something, am I right?

Anyone reading my last post probably assumed that I was being tongue-in-cheek or something when I promised to chart my sleep habits for all of cyberspace to see. You can laugh or cry, and you can judge me for wasting 60 minutes of my life, but all those who doubted me can go ahead and SUCK GRAPH!

"Great!", you might say, "But what does it mean?"

(On second thought, nobody I know would actually respond that way)

I intend to use heinous overgeneralizations and basic techniques taught in high school math to reach a nonsense answer to this question. So, when we assume linearity, we can see that the points fall around the best-fit line of y= 0.0104x+0.2968. This allows us to declare the following by extrapolation:

1) I got up at 7:20 the day before I started recording data points.
2) 67 days from now, I will be waking up shortly before midnight

The future looks bleak for me, friends. Or, maybe it's not so bad and I'm making some feeble point about jumping to conclusions or offering simple solutions for complicated situations.

In other news, I decided that if I had to choose a favorite book of the bible (and I don't have to choose one, so there), it might be Hebrews. That may be partly related to why I forced Hope On Campus to look at this last night:

"1Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

I think this is a good word for anyone, but especially those people who see alot of text (as found, for instance, on this post) and then skip to the end and try to just catch the concluding point. No, brother, that's what perseverance is about.

It's now late, and decent thoughts are getting harder to come by. Thanks for playing!