Deviantly Warped

I swear I had no idea this was coming

2007-01-25T15:13:00.000-08:00

Don't you just love it when you find out that you find out that your research project is due up tomorrow and you've at best, only vague first draft?

Oh yes. At dinner, a casual "Oh, the coursework's due tomorrow, have you done it yet?" I overhear this and I desperately pray that they're talking about economics. Fat chance, my hopes shatter in the next 3 seconds. I think of their 5000 - 7000 work essays complete with pretty pictures and random equations tossed in to get some marks and I shudder. All I have is a gawky block of text with scribbled remarks done by my physics teacher that are hardly decipherable. I am so screwed.

To be fair, this is entirely my fault. Oh well, I'm sure there will always be a fellow comrade in the exact same situation tomorrow, not that I plan on just leaving it like that. Time to prepare for another late night.

When you know you really should be rethinking your survey pertaining to race and racism

2006-08-31T09:45:00.000-07:00

This is best illustrated when you obtain data from a caucasian individual and proceed to pronounce it as "cow-car-sian"... Further symptoms include wondering which exact country a "cow-car-sian" comes from.

Well to be honest, I really shouldn't be laughing at this as I don't really know why a caucasian is well called a caucasian. I just have a general link that caucasian=white person. Drowning in boredom as always, further research ( 5 minutes spent looking up a wikipedia entry) reveals that: " The term Caucasian race, Caucasian or Caucasoid is used to refer to people whose ancestry can be traced back to Europe, North Africa, West Asia, Indian subcontinent and parts of Central Asia."

In the event you find yourself as bored as I am, you can either think of what goes on in this fictional land of "cowcarsia" where cows drive cars / cars are made of cows, or find out what the caucasian race really is. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caucasian_race

Random disturbing quote of the day

2006-07-29T09:47:00.000-07:00

"You can sit on my lap then..." - Random guy sitting next to me on the bench

Strewn with papers, books, unused pens and whatnot

2006-07-01T04:57:00.000-07:00

You know you're messy when the only time your room starts to look like everyone else's is when they start packing up and pile their belongings in a slew of disorganized heaps and stacks.

Well, at least it looks as if i've already started...

Over, but not really complete

2006-06-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

Exams and whatnot are finally over... Yet i'm actually more busy than i've been.
Teachers are way too anxious to get on with more new stuff. Breaks are unheard of.
And now the fun part, UCAS. Yay.

We're all sadistic really/ Lime cokes are bad for you/Sponsor me!!!!!

2006-05-17T16:03:00.000-07:00

I recently did a 14.4 mile walk in shoes that were stiff as hell, all because my trainers were missing. I don't particularly enjoy pain. Yet the walk was supposed to raise funds for children in need, so I just did it anyway. I've raised 8 pounds so far, much less than the lofty target of 20 set by our in house organizer. Well, apparently, he's got over 50 pounds, which doesn't mean that if he can get 50 pounds I can. Rather, it's more of since most people have already donated that much, they're much less likely to donate again and sponsor me. Wonderful. But then, I digress. (Yes, there's actually something behind this mindless rambling and whining)

Anyway, donating money to save the children being abused by alcoholic parents, constantly living in fear of the next drunken fit of rage and so on is good and all. But why consider donating only after I tell you how many miles i'm doing? "Are you doing the 9 mile or the 14 mile course?" Really, this just implies that the only reason for donation is that you somehow get a warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart as you picture people running, panting, getting stung by nettles. Pure sadistic enjoyment. Granted 14.4 miles isn't really much, but the same applies for full marathons...

Alternatively, I suppose that people don't ordinarily get much oppurtunity to donate, and conveniently, people doing marathons or swimathons come along. I do appreciate that you might think that if someone is willing to run 14.4 miles or 30 miles, then they must have a really great cause. Well, if you're thinking along those lines, you are so in denial. Yes, you're actually feeding that little sadistic creature in the dark recesses of your heart. The warm and fuzzy feeling in you heart that you get when donating isn't because you think:" Oh, with this 50 pence, I've just saved a child's life..." That dark little creature is actually the one giving that feeling.

So remember, the next time someone asks you to sponsor them for a marathon, think of that little malnourished guy in your heart and just donate.

(If the entire post above made no sense to you whatsoever and appeared as incongruous blabering jiberish, it's probably becuase it actually is. The writer of that atrocious article is currently on his 9th can of lime coke and is torn between regret for his bio practical and resignation for the chem practical in 8 or 9 hours. If however, you do feel inclined to have that happy sappy feeling, contact me and sponsor me... only 12 pounds more to go)

... and that was something I could have gone without knowing....

2006-05-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

You'll never watch an anime the same way again, probably.

http://www.riuva.com/?p=111

Waiting

2006-04-20T09:09:00.000-07:00

Like an echo her figure fades into the distance,
So subtle and yet so harsh! Her stance.
Slow steps so soft, never to be heard again.
Leaving me alone once more to wait in vain.
Waiting for someone who will never return.

Yeah, crap poem. Time to share spontaneous bursts of so called "creativity" with anyone who can be bothered.

What do you want to be?

2006-03-08T12:09:00.000-08:00

Growing up, something we all can't stop ourselves from doing.* I'm not going to stay a student forever and thus will have to think about my future occupation. That being said, I do know of some people who give the idea of studying every degree in existence...(A nicer way of putting "staying a student forever") more thought than they should.

What do I want to do when I grow up? I seriously don't know. Do I want to become a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a serial killer... the list goes on and on. Career tests don't help either. Where other people would get only one or two high matches in their final results, I get a whole bucketload... Natural sciences:100% match, Psychology:100% match, Philosophy and theology:100%. And yes, there's more, but i'll spare you the agony of having me rattle on about them. I kinda wonder what it was that gave me such "helpful" results.** At any rate, the questions were blatantly obvious. 500 questions, 500 ways to rephrase: Do you want to be a doctor/lawyer/serial killer*** Now, if I could actually answer those questions, I wouldn't even be taking the darn test. To think that you actually have to pay... a lot... to take this sort of stuff. At least the report had pretty looking graphs, that told me zilch.

But then, how do other people decide what they want to be when they grow up? Is it a spur of the moment when one realizes the sadistic pleasures involved in dentistry****. All those sharp, sharp tools and drills, so polished, always so clean...Or perhaps you decide after careful analysis: Current trends indicate that in approximately twenty years time, people will dread the coming of gargantuan cockroaches. If I start practising swatting with my rolled up newspaper now, I'll be able to make a killing!!! *cue the little kid running off with a rolled up newspaper* Either way, hopefully I won't end up spending the rest of my life droning on, and then die.

Maybe I should have attended those career talks...or not. They never ever give me my first choice and just stick me to some " The joy of digging up ancient stuff from millions of years ago " talk. Or, dare I type it, this is some not so subtle nudge towards my True Calling. Somehow, They, have mysteriously seen the potential in me that has yet to be dug out. Either way, I'm getting my shovel out, those giant cockroaches won't go down with just a rolled up newspaper...

* unless you impale yourselves with a really big and pointy stick in your chest, jump off a tall building or get inspired by the book of bunny suicides...
**Blitzing through it in 6 minutes at 2 in the morning.
***Ok.. i just made that one up
****I in no way endorse the taking up of dentistry for aforementioned reasons.

Winter Solstice

2005-12-21T08:22:00.000-08:00

Winter solstice is here! 冬至!!!

Let's all be excited over sticky flour balls in ginger soup...汤圆...

Reincarnation

2005-12-06T14:13:00.000-08:00

Do you believe in reincarnation?

Well, today I came across someone who appears to have been a dog reincarnated into a human.

I was walking down the street this afternoon and all of a sudden I heard a shrill beep of a car horn, immediately followed by barking noises.

I shall admit that for a brief moment I had thought that I was being chased by a dog. This thought was instantly shot down when I saw some nutcase um, I mean, reincarnate with his hands gripping the windows. I'm not quite sure now, but reflecting back, it's highly possible that his tongue was sticking out as well. For those with little or no imagination, here is what i saw... more or less...

Well, at any rate, it's obvious his ears weren't THAT long. But still, the resemblance is striking.

Of course, I might have been mistaken. He might not have been a dog reincarnated into a human. He might have just been innocently glancing out, looking for chinese people like me. And when he did see me, the icy temperatures caused his hands to spontaneously freeze to the window. Due to this and his highly emotional state, he barked instead of crying for help. The sneer on his face was probably due to him not being to express himself well enough. The mildly sinister chuckle after that was likely caused by the immense relief at finally being able to remove his hands from the window.

But then again, it's all speculation. I'm sticking with the reincarnation explanation. It rhymes...

I saw a dead bird today

2005-11-21T06:57:00.000-08:00

I saw a dead bird today.
Reeking of death and decay.
A sorry mess of ruffled feather,
trodden upon by shoes of leather.

Just then a figure who was passing by,
perchance he glanced and there the dead bird lay.
A single swift sweep and the bird flew high.
A dull thud on the ground, O the poor jay.

I blinked and walked on.

A poem attempting to divulge the bitter nature of humanity, the "I see it but I don't care" stance that we so often adopt in our lives...

Who am I kidding... ignore the pathetic attempts at making a random scribble look good. If, in the extremely likely event you gouge your eyes out or puke your guts out, take care not to get it on your keyboard. I will not be blamed for dirty keyboards and the like.

Mourn for the fallen

2005-11-14T07:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Rememberance Sunday. For those of you who don't know, it's the second Sunday of November that people in Britain use to remember the brave and valiant who have given up their lives so that others may enjoy theirs.

And, as I stood in the war cloister, surrounded by the names of the fallen, I realized that mere etchings on stone is all that will ever state that they were here. Nothing more. Death was their final gift to us. And yet, wars still go on. How many more names shall there be to provide a testament to the gruesome fate of wars? I don't know.

Mourn for the fallen.

Irony

2005-11-13T07:37:00.000-08:00

Recently, I have been entasked with writing about a material as part of my physics coursework. Wood was my choice. Why wood you ask? Because as I was thinking of a material, clouds parted and a beam of light shone upon me. And a Being, (obviously with grandiose power so as to be able to part clouds in England) Spoke to me.

He said nothing.

Fine, fine. I chose wood because I picked the "wood" card out of a hat. There. No awesome spiritual revelations.

But I digress. Anyway, choosing wood meant that I had to preach about its strength, it's stability. I had to quote mechanical data showing that wood was strong, paint a picture using mere words and numerical data analysis of gigantic wooden structures standing tall in the background, silhouettes of immense proportions.

On the way out, I slammed my wooden door into bits of oblivion....

Ok, maybe not, but I slammed a crack spanning half the length of the door... That was some wood...

Oh moral dilemma, oh conundrum. How am I to go on and on about the unyielding might of wood when my simple slam has sewn a not quite so subtle slit in the door? Shall I lie? Deceive my teacher and all other people who might potentially read my work? Nay, I shall come to the undeniable truth.

I possess superhuman strength!

How else am I to explain it. How else would I have been able to break, more or less, wood, with an ultimate tensile strength of 40 MPa?

And now the hardest question reamains... what superhero name shall I come to be known by?

A treatise on existence

2005-11-12T08:54:00.000-08:00

Existence. This concept has been comtemplated upon since millenia past. By intellects far greater than my own. As such, dare i touch upon such a weighty topic?

No, at least not on an empty stomach...

To be continued... quite a bit later.... really....