Onward Ho

15% battery life!

The first productive day of the month.

Morning meetings, school visits, lunch, and most surprisingly of all, Econ Work Done!

Admittedly, not very much. But it’s a good start.

Part of me ponders the wisdom of doing research, especially since it seems that overreach is likely and will eventually result in strained brains and shattered egos. But the deed is done. Now is not to ask Man why; now is the time to do or die.

In the meantime, plans are afoot. Dota proceeds apace, Genting trundles along, with detours and diversions in it’s rocky road, but hopefully onwards and upwards! (literally). Exercise plans are up and running, and flights to Singapore and taking off.

Nature is restless

Flight in Hell

They say hell is other people. They must have been on a MAS flight to India.

This is literally the worst and most agonizing flight I have ever experienced in all my years of flying. Surprisingly enough, it’s in no way the fault of the crew. In their place I would have crashed the plane into the sea and called it a blessing.

How do I hate my other passengers, let me count the ways?

Directly behind me sits an odious couple that spent the first half of the flight taxing me to the point of no return with loud, obnoxious and absolutely grating laughter. You might think it was something more than a polite giggle, this laughter. Or maybe a slightly-louder-than-usual chuckle. Let me disabuse you of that notion. This was UNRELENTING SIDE-SPLITTING LAUGHTER as they cackled like stupid fools with no regard for the rest of the plane.

They’ve finally stopped laughing, and have now proceeded to grip plastic cups in their simian-like paws and crush them. Or so I assume from the sounds emanating from behind my seat.

But that’s not all. Already we’ve had two altercations on this plane. The first was before we took off, with some fat idiot shouting about how he’d sue the air crew over something. The second is occurring as I speak. The air-hostess (one of the nice ones, I’ll add) is trying to persuade some gap-toothed idiot woman that her phone needs to be switched off, and the shining example of stupidity is playing hide-and-seek with her retarded phone. They’re telling the captain now. Maybe they’ll throw her out with no life jacket and save us all some gas, what with rising oil prices and all.

These scenes of pure misery and stupidity are being played relentlessly, one after the other, against a backdrop of crying babies (disproportionately high number of them on this plane, just goes to prove the rule of thumb that birth rates are have a negative correlation to development and civilization); and most FUCKING IRRITATINGLY OF ALL, somewhere on this godforsaken plane there exists a human being, maybe two, who thinks that the call-button is a sort of doorbell that needs to be pressed once every 2 seconds in order to summon attention to his/her insistent needs. I thought myself overly sensitized when it first started becoming intrusive. But it’s been ringing non-stop now for the past 10 FUCKING MINUTES and its starting to edge beyond ridiculous into the insanity-inducing.

I sure hope we don’t crash on the Lost island, because I’d give these people over to the others with pausing from clipping my toenails. It baffles me as to how they can be so crude and disgustingly uncivilized. Latest update: One of the bathrooms has been declared out of order. Maybe a curry overdose.

And I thought the Chinese were bad enough.

Fantasy Four

The first time I watched Orange County, I couldn’t take in more than two episodes. While everyone around me was rampaging through upwards of 10 episodes a day, I could barely absorb and deal with two. Emotional turmoil, intrigue, betrayal… I seem to have a very low tolerance level for dramatic excitement.

The Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobbs is the literary equivalent of the OC, though with less beautiful people.

As I was browsing through my library and wondering which books deserved a rereading (having read the all 10-plus books in the Dune series nearly five times), I chanced across my entire collection of Hobbs. I have almost everything she’s ever written, except for the newer Soldier Son series. And in the dim recesses of memory, I tried to recall: Why did I stop reading Robin Hobb?

Two days, one book and way too much drama later, I finally remember why.

The Farseer trilogy, and all the books after that, is unique in my experience of fiction in that it makes you FEEL too much. A poorly written story is like a bad movie: The dialogue is stilted, the acting is bad and you can’t wait for all the characters to die a gory and painful death so that their misery ends. More on such exhibits later. Excellently written books need no description since they speak for themselves. But Robin Hobb seems to move into a new category of writing: An excellent series that delights in hurting you by hurting the characters she makes you care about. She draws you into the story and into the main character, constantly dangling success in front of you/him before snatching it away. Witness, for example, the part where Fitz figures out that he’s being set up to be caught in the act of assassination. He reveals everything to his target in a stunningly debonair passage, leaving me exultant that he had finally outwitted Regal. Hobbs plays it up by writing as though the story is over, evil is about to be punished and the just will prevail.

Then two sentences later, it turns out that both Fitz and his supposed victim are poisoned anyway, with the victim dying, Fitz paralyzed, and all blame falling on him.

Maybe the problem I have with reading Hobbs is that her stories all too closely mirror life. Reading is supposed to be an escapist fantasy. Yes, her protagonists suffer. Yes, the villains are always foiled in their evil schemes. But she conspicuously avoids awarding her readers with the overwhelming wins usually claimed by heroes and champions of other fantasies. She gives us Pyrrhic victories – the villain is beaten, but still he is in power, and the hero is poisoned, palsied and petrified of further punishment. All this is further exacerbated by a constant inner monologue that reinforces the sheer depression of seeming as though you had won something, but really gaining no pleasure out of it. Her work is a literary marvel, but a little like looking at Goya paintings for a week: Depressingly thrilling.

What of the other three? Well, two of them will receive nowhere near the (mixed) praise I have for Hobbs. Another series lurking on my shelves, Terry Goodkind’s Sword of Truth series, has also surfaced. I’m usually attracted to series that span at least five books, so I have something to really sink my teeth into. The Sword of Truth is probably one of those series I chose willingly to stop reading. Again, memory eluded me as to why until I picked one up to read last week. Then the distaste came back full force. Remember what I said about stunted dialogue? This dialogue isn’t just stunted: It’s an African pygmy desperately in need of some growth hormone. It’s so awkward reading what the characters are saying that you can’t wait for them to die so they can shut their ever-yapping traps. Their speech reminds me of golden oldie movies, where the hero proclaims that there is nothing to fear, Mistress Sanderforth. Gar is not a pet. He is my friend, and he would never harm you, which in turn evokes an equally eloquent reply of If you tell me so, Richard, then it surely must be true. I am no longer afraid of Gar, as I have seen him protect me.

Someone kill them now.

Sword of Truth resembles another shitty series: The Wheel of Time. Speak no ill of the dead, because I recently found out from Haoxiang that Robert Jordan had passed away. But seriously, both SoT and WoT use the exact same plot device of bitchy, irritating magical women forming some sort of weird Sisterhood where they claw and screech at each other in the midst of trying to control magical men. Doesn’t sound as bad as I say? Try reading it. I can’t figure out if the writers are misogynistic or just extremely skilled at creating completely unlikeable female characters. Probably both, and by the end of it you wish they would just go back to knitting instead of forming all sorts of nefarious plans to ensnare Richard/Rand while being more supercilious than AJC administrative staff. The worst part is that I read the Wheel of Time all the way to the penultimate book, figuring (wrongly) that it couldn’t get any worse. Here’s to hoping whoever finishes off the series will focus on the magic and Forsaken rather than the whiny, bitchy Aes Sedai. Maybe they’ll be extinguished in a grand Kool-Aid binge a la Jim Jones. I’d frame up that book.

The fourth? Iain Banks’ Culture series. I think I’m finally beginning to understand it. Banks uses a signature flashback timeline in all of his stories, one that I’m only just now starting to appreciate. My main beef with Banks was probably the fact that he did what Hobbs does, except to a lesser degree. While Hobbs nurtures and kills hope in every chapter, Banks will lead you through an amazing adventure that explores human failings and emotions, especially remembered guilt, against a backdrop of high science fiction. And then, just when you expect the most impressive ending that’ll do justice to the experience you’ve just had, he deliberately ends with a sort of nonchalant flip of the hand; as if everything you’ve just read is inconsequential, and the ending exists by itself and really has no relation to the story. Bits and pieces are perfunctorily tied up, as if he couldn’t be bothered to do it, and triumphant conclusions do not exist for Banks. I used to be incredibly irritated with these, until I began relishing the Zen-like experience his endings create.

It’s like listening to an enthralling tale about the quest for a Sacred Artifact unlike any other artifact to save the world/a loved one/himself. The hero braves dangers and mazes and death-dealing assassins to scale the highest mountain in the universe of the Sacred Artifact, finally dueling against the Guardian of said Artifact. The Artifact is of course, nothing like the physical object we expect, but is instead a Sacred Piece of Wisdom that can only be wrested from the expiring body of the Guardian. As the hero stands victorious, carefully alert and all senses primed to receive the Magic Words that will expand the limits of his consciousness and vanquish his enemies/tell him where the alien homeworld is/explain the mystery of the black-body object creating a ripple in time and space, he discovers that the secret is…

Just this.

¡Ya he vuelto!

Writing is less wine than it is milk… some things don’t age well in storage.

After a few gentle prods by various luminaries, and a recognition that this term’s predominant focus on Economics has caused the slow and gentle neglect of my blog, I thought I would pen a quick update.

It’s been a very exciting and challenging 6 months. The winter I spent in Spain will probably go down in memory as the best term I’ve ever had in Dartmouth/with Dartmouth. A full 3 months of speaking Spanish, hanging out with some of the coolest and funniest and most lovable people I have had the pleasure of knowing, while traveling through Spain and having various adventures. Jon, Esmond, Lawrence, Farid and Herman also came to visit while I was fermenting happily in Spain, and I think I can confidently say it was an excellent experience.

Coming back to Dartmouth over spring, I was brutally reminded of the less-than-temperate weather Hanover tends to enjoy 9 months out of 12. Biting winds, driving snow, sunshine teasers followed by more rain, wind and snow were there as usual to welcome me home. The term started off poorly with me scrambling madly to procure myself some semblance of gainful employment over summer, with rather regrettable results. I was also grubbing after professors and walking door-to-door with resume in hand to persuade them to take me on as a research assistant, with equally mixed results. Coupled with the International Residence housing crisis in the middle of the term, the debate travel scandal and Nationals preparation, my 12 hour job at Rocky and the incessant amounts of work from Econ 21 and 26, and it was all in all a very challenging term.

But to resurrect an old bugbear of mine: In this new life, unlike the misery of a certain place, challenging need to be mutually exclusive with amazing!

It’s been a wonderful and fulfilling Spring term. We created several institutions which were sanity-preserving, notably Spanish LSA Canoesdays and the much-touted but rarely-attended Dirt Cowboy Mornings. It was the first term I got to really spend time with people, and hanging out with the gang and listening to Cindy and Michelle complain about various traumas was very relaxing. I also expanded my cooking repertoire dramatically, a trend which unfortunately died a premature death in face of all my commitments towards the middle of the term. I took up the piano again, and while at times it may have seemed like the stupidest thing in the world to do, it ultimately was one of the more enriching activities I have done on campus.

Naturally, this term will remain in memory for 2 reasons. The first will be a decision I made, which was one of the best I have ever made in recent memory and continues to reap dividends every single day. The second is a bittersweet rejuvenation of the soul that reminds me that maybe not all who wander are lost.

Now I’m back, with a newfound desire to immerse myself in Econ as I once did Bio! To work out and shed 6 months of tapas, sangria and chicken cordon bleu! To prepare myself for a Fall term that will dwarf this previous term in scope, intensity and potential for disaster! To conduct my research, work at my job, and extract every unit of value from my brief time here in Malaysia. And maybe, recalling the long-term dormancy of my writing, to start churning some of that milk and turn it into high-quality cheese

Huckahuckahuckabee

Man.

I don’t usually venture an opinion on US politics, but I really have a bee in my bonnet with this man.

Ever since day one, when he charged out onto the nomination field brandishing his Bible and garnishing himself with pithy but ultimately meaningless Biblical platitudes, I have detested him.

Mr Huckabee, who had failed to win anything since Iowa, crowed that his five victories on February 5th showed that he is the only man who can beat Mr McCain. As usual, he found Biblical analogies. “Sometimes one small smooth stone is even more effective than a whole lot of armour,” he said (translation: “like David, I can topple giants.”). And “we’ve also seen that the widow’s mite has more effectiveness than all the gold in the world,” (translation: “Mr Romney is rich but God prefers me.”).

Thankfully, I’m apparently not the only one who fears a Huckabee reign. A few things which irk me:

1) Biblical phrases do not an answer make. It’s wonderful that he can produce a quote for every occasion, but I am unpersuaded that they provide a viable alternative to actual policy responses.

2) Biblical faith does not a policy save. Flat taxes and plainly uninformed policy is not made more appetizing to rational minds with the addition of biblical seasoning.

3) Biblical elitism does not an election win. What irritates me the most is Huckabee’s unfailing belief that somewhere along the line a miracle will appear to push him ahead of McCain and win him a nomination, then a presidency. My question is this: What makes him think he’s God’s chosen? It’s like the athlete praying before the competition for God to help him win, never wondering whether everyone else is praying for the same thing or if he’s even the best of God’s options at that point in time. I would have imagined that a man who claims to be a man of God would be slightly more humble regarding his predictions of God’s will.

I’m wondering how he’s going to react when his campaign stumbles, stutters and stalls in the dust. Which biblical phrase will be adroitly deployed? Here’s a suggestion:

The LORD detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will
not go unpunished.

Proverbs 16:5

Thoughts For A New Year

“Well I don’t know if it was the wine or my own silliness or the warm air or the lemon tree or whatever … But it gradually seemed to me that I’d made myself believe something that wasn’t true. I’d made myself believe that I was fine and happy and fulfilled on my own without the love of anyone else. Being in love was like being in China: you knew it was there, and no doubt it was very interesting, and some people went there, but I never would. I’d spend all my life without ever going to China, but it wouldn’t matter, because there was the rest of the world to visit.

…

“And at half past nine in the evening at that restaurant table in Portugal,” Mary continued, “someone gave me a piece of marzipan and it all came back. And I thought: am I really going to spend the rest of my life without ever feeling that again? I thought: I WANT to go to China. It’s full of treasures and strangeness and mystery and joy. I thought, Will anyone be better off if I go straight back to the hotel and say my prayers and confess to the priest and promise never to fall into temptation again? Will anyone be the better for making me miserable?

“And the answer came back - no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no one to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven was empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there had never been a God at all. Either way I felt free and lonely and I didn’t know whether I was happy or unhappy, but something very strange had happened. And all that huge change had come about as I had the marzipan in my mouth, before I’d even swallowed it. A taste - a memory - a landslide.”

… “Later on we went for a walk along the beach in the dark, and the warm night breeze kept stirring my hair about, and the Atlantic was being very well-behaved - little quiet waves around our feet…

And I took the crucifix from around my neck and I threw it into the sea. That was it. All over. Gone.

As I re-read His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, I think there are a few things that immediately rise to mind.

Will the producers of the movie pussy out and omit the central theme of the book - the falsehood of religion and the destruction of God?

But more importantly, even as someone who no longer holds interest in Christianity and, like Mary Malone, has also removed his crucifix, I wonder if perhaps Pullman maligns Christianity too deeply. Surely there are more layers of meaning to scripture than an injunction against building relationships outside of Christ. True enough: many of the teachings are ugly and contradictory; many more are just plain stupid. But it is the manner in which the teachings are interpreted, and the method by which they are executed, that is truly irritating and annoying. The content itself is only as offensive as you make it out to be.

Religion should only be frustrating if you believe in it; it is a set of psychological chains created by your mind to shackle your thoughts.

Simulation

I thought I’d record down what was probably the most interesting exam I’ve ever taken.

Basically it was a huge, 40-person simulation of international politics. Each of us was assigned a role in a particular country, so yours truly was Prime Minister of Israel.

Day 1:
Scenario: The United States got hit by a hand-mounted missile attack, launched by terrorists from the League of Shadows.

So this round, while the US basically swept and threatened all countries with possible terrorist connections, the rest of us immediately started about building economic alliances. Collect money, just like in dota. Had to farm out the good stuff. Israel immediately formed connections with Germany, who were probably the only 2 people in the class I could trust.

Day 2:
Far more interesting day. Right before class, I got a call from China and Russia, so I popped over to their room and sat down for negotiations. It seemed that China and Russia were in control of Middle Eastern countries’ finances, so effectively they controlled the purse strings of terrorists.

The deal on the table was this: I would sell Israel’s F-35 technology which we got from the United States to China. In return, they would guarantee that we would suffer no terrorist attack till the end of the game.

This was an incredibly attractive offer. Anti-terrorist security is like the equivalent of an Aghanim… incredibly expensive and only useful for one thing. So I mulled and pondered it, and eventually we figured out how to make sure everyone followed through on their deals.

I signed a contract saying that on the condition of suffering no conventional or terrorist attack over the period of the simulation, F-35 technology would be granted 5 minutes before the simulation ended. We also agreed to share information if the US tried to use Israeli bases to strike Syria or Iran. The way it would work out, was that if USA came to talk to me about that, and forced my hand, while talking to them I would give a secret hand signal to China who would then immediately protest the action through the media, absolving me from possible guilt of betraying the US.

Russia and China fucked up though. Israel got hit by a bio-bomb, apparently because the messages to the terrorists didn’t get through. Was pissed as hell… because I didn’t buy my security and thus got attacked.

Spent the rest of the night wondering if I should just go out in a flash and nuke the Middle East, or launch air-strikes across the region. But the simulation director gave Israel so little money, it was impossible. The US wasn’t really keen on helping us out, apparently because they had bigger fish to fry.

Ultimately, I decided to finish off Middle east peace. Which kinda sucked though, coz it was the boring thing to do. How much cooler if I had blown everything up

Day 3:
At midnight, I finally managed to grab all the Middle Eastern countries. Saudi Arabia was a staunch ally after I agreed to create a Palestinian state. Egypt as well. Syria was recalcitrant, and Iran showed up drunk. We horse traded for 3 hours, but amazingly after all that time, we actually signed an agreement creating Palestine, recognizing Israel, signed non-aggression and defense agreements, formed the Middle-East 4 and basically created peace in the Middle East!

OMG. This was amazingly cool. Now I know how leaders feel when they get shit done.

Even better, I sold the same deal to multiple people. I was already willing to create the Palestinian state, but I got paid by the USA to do it. I also got funded by Germany, who paid for all our security sweeps. I also got paid by China, who said they could offer us money and weapons. At the end of the day, I basically sold the same product to multiple people. w00ts to secret info haha.

Today, Japan also tried to swap us nukes for Aegis destroyers. And terrorists offered to stop attacking Israel if we renounced US military imports, which we did in a very sneaky and subtle way, by saying that our new Middle Eastern allies had asked us to do it as a measure of good faith.

Best of all, Iran dropped by and asked to be admitted into the ME-4, after they had rebuffed me yesterday. While drunk. I was very amused by their statements.

“We’re willing to sign a non-aggression treaty with you now. What incentives can you offer us?”

Lol.

I was like, we don’t need you, bitch. Why should I sign an NAT with you when I have defense alliances with everyone else? If you even touch me, I’ll squish you. And it has to be ME offering you incentives? I’d have thought you’d be offering me bjs to get into my alliance.

It drives across the fact of how little some people understand structuralism or realism.

Ahh… tiring but fun

Moving On

What if I quit debate?

Oh man it feels so good to say it.

What if I quit debate?

What if I spurned it?

Disdained it!

Shunned it?

Avoided it!

Erased it, killed it, denied it, ostracized it, ignored it, silenced it, stopped it, emasculated it, terminated it, eradicated it!

QUIT IT!!!

Wow.

Would I be happier or would I languish in boredom and the nagging sense of unfulfillment one gets when challenge is absent?

What if I can’t get a job because I don’t have a major activity anymore?

How will I define myself if I stop debating?

Feedback is welcome on this prickly problem.

Random Rant

NUUUUUUUUU!

Fuck!

Argh!

Damn!

NUuuuuuuUUUuuUUUuuuu!

I bought the wrong charger for my Acer online.

2 weeks have I awaited the arrival of this charger so I can once again play with Hamachi, Yawle and various gross little Windows programs.

I bought the wrong charger!

NUuuUuuUuUuUUUuUuuOOoOOOOOOoooOoOOO

T.T

$30 gone.

No Man

No man is an island.

What is a statement? Is it a description of reality or the assertion of an ideal?

That it would be the former and not the latter.