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I tried imagining a conversation I might have with my grandma if I ever got myself to speak Bangla. It would be the first conversation in…15 years? Just a simple exchange of words that I should've had years ago.
It got me thinking of how I lost my chance to talk to my grandpa. He knew English, but it wasn't the same. Words didn't flow as freely.
And that led to wishing my family was closer together. Within a physical proximity. A lot of my mom's side lives in Dhaka. She got to see her cousins often, and they grew up as an extended set of brothers and sisters. It must've been nice.
Then I thought about living in Bangladesh. It's another world altogether. Laid back in some sense. Poverty. The corrupt policemen.
I thought about killing the corrupt policemen. As a message. And how that would start a trend where people revolted by killing cops. I'm surprised it hasn't happened yet. People are scared to, I guess. Being caught and whatnot. There would be more killings in the world otherwise. (Yeah, it's hard to imagine just how much more killing is possible.)
So, I want to be fluent in Bangla. I have to start speaking this break. I think I'll be more communicative with my parents this way.
A pigeon did this to my brother back in 1993. We were in Bangladesh, at the airport. I don't remember if we were arriving or leaving.
I accompanied Asma to the airport not too long ago (courtesy of Andrew's driving). We discussed the perils of flying and almost calculated the time it would take for a plane to drop from the sky and hit the ground, and revelled in how some things are just terribly designed, with no common sense exercised, over a not-so-good piece of cheesecake at the airport ‘diner’. (The menus there are so ugly that I'd gladly design a new one free of charge.)
And, she let me borrow a Googoosh CD! How awesome is that? Googoosh. It's a cute name.
(I also saw Jim Edgar waiting for his baggages. Not sure why I felt star-struck.)
I took the new bus route from the airport to campus to get back home – only person on the bus. I talked to the bus driver, standing in front the whole time. I kind of wanted to not talk, but I didn't want to come off as mean. Not like it was killing me to do so, either.
He mainly talked about this route, how today has been slow (30 people so far, compared to the usual 130 a day), and that the university only lets him make specific stops along the way (since they're paying for the special route), and that he retired from air conditioner repair to Champaign since two of his sons and two grandchildren live here. Small talk, easy talk.
He reminds me of Chuck, a bus driver I'd talked to freshman year. Oddly enough, I asked Chuck if there was a bus route to the airport, to which he replied no. But he actually offered to drive me if he was off-duty when I needed to get there.
It's all full circle in a way. Another four-year cycle starts? Vaguely so.
I'm going to work on a magic spell that will either transport the UMD campus next to UIUC or create a portal between the two, for instantaneous travel. It could work.
Hot water all over the dresser. Steam shooting out. Distressing sounds.
Toby had a mind to play with my espresso machine yesterday, turning the steamer control switch around in different ways. I'd never touched the control yet, but assumed that nothing would happen until I actually activated the steamer (there is an on/off switch for it, according to the icon next to the switch).
Well, this morning, as I waited for my little teleconference to start, I decided I had time to make a cup of coffee. Everything was set. I turned the machine on. Water and steam started spitting out. I was confused.
It took me several attempts before I could work the switch in such a way as to shut off the steamer, and by that time I'd moved the machine next to the kitchen sink to save me the trouble of repeated clean-ups.
So, I shake my fist at Toby. And at Betatasters.
My mom doesn't like my short hair.
I was talking to her last night, and she mentioned that I should wear a skull cap or something to my friend's wedding next Sunday. Because she thinks it looks good, she says. Less so for the fact that my hair is .25 in long. (Earlier this week she asked how the hair was growing.)
It's not like I don't know she doesn't like it. I just thought it was funny how she was being indirect about it and tried to play it off as a stylistic thing.
I miss my long hair, though. Sort of. Propecia wasn't made for my type of thinning. I might try Rogaine. That's going to be annoying.
It's necessary to share a couple of links.
‘The Elegant Universe’, courtesy of Klara.
grouphug.us, courtesy of Ryan.
I never go to class and I sell the plasma from my blood to buy weed. My dad would kill me. (!)
The head of a big sperm whale can be 25 feet long and take up a third of the animal's length. Much of a sperm whale's head is occupied by the spermaceti organ, a huge fibrous cask containing a milky, waxy material that was highly prized as a lubricant and lamp oil, and which to Nantucket whalers looked like nothing more than gallons and gallons of semen – hence the name. “I've never been able to figure out how they rationalized females having spermaceti too”, Cranford says.
—‘Blast from the Vast’, Discover (Dec 2003), pg 52
Does this lend credence to the Man from Nantucket as well?
I'm not exactly in the mood to be as mopey as I once planned.
On the way to Borders, a van at a red light proceeded to go forward because the driver thought the green left arrow signal was a normal green light. Until cars from the opposite direction started turning. The car behind the van almost rear-ended it. Cute.
This month's Discover has a story on dark matter. I will forever associate dark matter with Dan. It really does matter. I bought it.
Tonight's defensive driving course was fun. Bill Emery, the instructor, is a good guy. I would go to his classes without fail if he was a CS professor. I read a news story aloud, and thought myself to have done a good job. Not quite Garrison Kieller, but the tone and flow were above average.
Regardless, I actually learned a few things. Such as: implied consent [in taking a breathalizer] when receiving your license (when stopped for DUI-related suspicions); tow trucks and construction vehicles are considered emergency vehicles when parked on the side of the road and with hazard signals on.
(The above paragraph is beautifully justified, I think. Not intentional.)
She was created during a video on how Princess Di could've survived had she worn a safety belt:
My depiction of a goddess? Or a cool alien princess.
Most websites have poor leading. It's sad.
A friend has seemingly disappeared. It's worrying me.
It's been raining since yesterday evening. Pouring right now. If it was warmer I'd go out for a walk and maybe get soaked. But no; it's just nice soundscape now.
Isn't there a famous song called ‘November downpour’ or ‘Late autumn rain’? With Axel something… Axel Diesel? Diesel Rose? Vin Diesel? Some group long fallen from grace.
I'm finally attending a driver safety course for my speeding ticket from July, after coming back from seeing Stella in Chicago with Paige and Pete. I hope it isn't too late. There was a certain time I had to take the course and send in my certificate of completion. I want to say two weeks before the six months from which my ticket was issued… I should call the Watseka traffic clerk.
Yesterday was actually a bit productive. Moreso than usual. Betatasters might be done – I'll know later today what, if any, work I need to do before I'm off the project. That makes me happy.
I need to carry that productive momentum into today. Make it grow. Even if I am staying at the same mass and speed, I can defy physics. Things feel glum though. I'd rather knit. Or work on my site. Or…write maybe? Maybe. I hate studying.
I received one of the ten lowest grades (out of 293 students) for last week's ECE exam.
Party hats and streamers.
Refreshed. Gums bleeding from somewhere after teethbrushing. Cloak. Pending: cereal, coffee, work, et cetera.
xcopy is my most favorite DOS command. It's a shame Windows doesn't have anything similar. (Unless they've hidden it well over the past ten years and I just haven't explored enough.) And WinZip needs to be able to accept a textfile with a list of files to include in the zip. Like the original PKZip.
Target has surprisingly ‘stylish’ commercials. And they're kinda fun.
Diligence exercised, I will be finished with Betatasters once and for all before the week ends. Break.
It's eerie out… There's sun and +50° weather. And it's quiet. But pretty.
Hello. I feel caught between the dream world and school. The dream world has a soft smile.
(Oh yes, Derek, Asma and I went to see Ted Leo and the Pharmacists last night. They were surprisingly good. Good times. Asma introduced me to the joys of Gravy Train!!!!, and downloaded a million albums I didn't have onto my computer. This week will be a marathon listening session.)
Shouted to Asma and I as we're walking down Green Street under my umbrella (with radius of 26 in): ‘That's a huge umbrella!’
Mandarin Wok's General's Tso's chicken isn't as good as Empire's. The sauce tasted better, I thought, but the chicken itself was a bit tough. And the texture wasn't as pleasant. Empire has good balance. Ryan assures me that no one has yet to beat Empire after visiting +10 Chinese restaurants.
I normally take the leftovers home, but not tonight.
It was worth it, though, to watch Asma try to pick up rice with her chopsticks. (The rice, coincedentally, isn't as good as Empire's. Not as fluffy or cohesive. To her credit, it was the rice's fault.)
Time to watch Master Killer. The caption on the back reads, ‘HE WAS THE BEST… SO HE KILLED THE REST!’ The description also assures me it's ‘one of the most impressive martial arts films since Bruce Lee's death’.
I've seen a Chinese guy with a [thick] back-length rat tail at Espresso Royale for the past three years now. I saw him today for the first time this semester.
He didn't have his rat tail.
I wanted to ask him why he cut it. Maybe next time?
Krypton and Iridium go way back.
I feel tired and a bit sore. But I feel good. Peaceful maybe? (Enough so to take a nap maybe.)
Dark eyes. I like watching them. And the fingers dance.
And other things that are nice.
Whenever the veggie misters are about to spray, ‘Singing in the rain’ plays.
Gardettos and Stone & Sours are an invincible combo.
Dan spotted me in the dark from several yards away and called my cellphone to tell me to turn around. He was standing near a door in front of ISR. I've always wanted to do that or have that done to me.
A bit bored right now. Not in a bad way; it's more of a ‘I don't want to work just yet and would like to spend some time doing unfruitful things’.
So, I'm browsing through old emails from freshman year. The following email is the first of several floor emails. It was sent by Adam – our RA – on September 5, 1999:
Hello all,
Email is the easiest way to communicate with everyone so I created a floor email list to pass on info. Once agian this week we will play laundry lotto in the OG 10 study lounge. Last week's record setting pot of $4.50 was won by Toby. Just bring a quarter and your Student ID to the lounge at 9pm on Wednesday. Also, the whole building will be playing X games from the 7th to the 11th. There are flyers up explaining the game, but what is important is that the people in rooms 1001-1014 keep your doors open as much as possible so you can see who is walking down the hall. We will win a pizza party if no X's are placed on my door.
That's about all,
Adam
That's right, Toby won!
Some of these emails are just flat-out crass and funny. Good times? Debatable for me… It could've been worse, I suppose. And there were countless fun[ny] moments. Just easygoing.
Also, it's the only set of friends I've made. (As far as I can see, I've made only two friends in class throughout the years, and I don't really keep in touch with either anymore, unless we happen to run into one another.) Most other friends are through a Friendster-like connection rooted at Ryan.
So yeah, good times overall, I guess.
Ok me, work you.
Get your Beltone,
Get your Beltone,
Get your Beltone,
Get your Beltone,
Get your Beltone,
Get your Beltone,
Get your Beltone.
Got it? Good. Good work.
Something swipes at you from the dark. You lose all your hitpoints.
Toby has the hearty cackle of a witch watching Family Guy.
OK, Ok, ok. Studying should be done for me. Not by.
Yeah.
consequences dictate
course of action, and it
doesn't matter what's right
it's only wrong if you get caught
if consequences dictate
my course of action i should
i should play god and just
shoot you myself
I think I've quoted that before somewhere around here.
Not really.
Your wish is granted.
I meant to get you a birthday present one of these days; given the potential visual abuse that may result from this, happy birthday.
‘;]’
We went from pleasant days to cold, windy days to relatively warmer, more humid days to today.
Today is gorgeous. It's the best of late summer and early autumn. You might be tempted to spread your arms out like wings in hopes that the wind will lift you away. (It's all an open center.)
Of course, leave it to some of the cast of Once Upon a Mattress to ruin the mood with their lame melodies. I witnessed this once before – two years ago – with another musical promotion.
Musicals rank as the lowest level of cultural events. Nevermind my roll in Hello, Dolly! (which was started off as purely business). I just don't like the singing/acting combo. All the songs have that same upbeat, cheesy feel. Or so it seems.
It's not for me. Hindi movies come to memory.
Another knife in the heart is that Medeski Martin and Wood are playing tomorrow night at The Canopy. For $20. Why does it have to be so expensive?
Oh, the cookies are done and have been half-eaten already.
