Yes, I know that it's actually numerology. I was referencing Boondock Saints. Mad props if you caught it. If you didn't, your mean for assuming that I'm dumb. That hurts.
Okay, so anyway, I watched a movie called "The Number 23". It's a little bit of a strange movie, a psychological thriller if you will. Overall, the movie was... alright. I'm not a fan of Jim Carrey (who played the lead) but I'll allow that he did a decent job in this film. The thing that got to me, though, was the ridiculousness of part of the premise.
Basically, the main character things the number 23 is haunting him. He sees it everywhere he goes and everything in his life can be turned into 23 somehow or another and he eventually goes crazy and becomes a murderer. The movie plot much more involved and a little twisted up, so I'm not going to try to explain it, but the idea of everything turning to 23 just struck me as silly. Not because it's impossible but because it's so utterly normal.
My friends and I started looking around the room and picking random objects and turning them into 23. It's really not hard. You just have to twist the numbers around until they do what you want. You can do it with pretty much anything. The thought that that'd be enough to drive someone crazy was a little far out there. Then again, some people are crazy.
I started thinking about numbers people notice, though, and I was reminded of one of my friends from Wheaton. His name was Joe Michalka, but we mostly called him Joe Pi, because he loved the number pi.
For you non-math-wizards, pi is the ratio of a circle's diameter to its circumference. It's really long, because the calculations to get it don't terminate. In simple people speak, that means it's a number that's infinity digits long. Mathematicians have calculated the first zillion digits or so, though, which is all anybody needs. Important part: the first three digits of pi are 3.14, cause most of the time you don't need to be much more exact than that.
Anywho, Joe would pick out 3.14 from random places all over his life. The number of a hymn, the length of time it would take us to finish a game of Super Smash Brothers, you name it. It's interesting to see how often it pops up when you're looking for it. Instead of going crazy, though, Joe once explained that he thinks of it as seeing little reminders of God's presence around him. I'm not sure exactly how he phrased it, but it seems much better than going crazy and becoming a murderer.
So if you keep seeing a number all around you, I'd suggest handle it using the Joe method, not the Jim method.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Ninja Mah-jeek!
Some of my friends and I went out to one of our favorite swimming holes late tonight. This place really is the classic example of a "swimming hole": it's hardly more than a pond but it's clear and deep and it's got an awesome rope that you can use to swing out into the water.
One of my friends is able to a backflip off of the rope, which is about the coolest thing you've ever seen. I was curious to see if I could do it so I asked him to teach me how. He ran me through how to swing and tuck yourself to do it properly, so I decided to give it a go.
I climbed up to the highly specialized rope launch pad. It's a log. My friend and instructor handed me the rope and I prepared myself, mentally running through the technique in my head a few times. Either that, or I was trying to overcome the puss-out factor.
But I was up there, and there was no way I was going back after having come this far. So what did I do? The same thing any man does before he's about to do something stupid, dangerous, and potentially harmful. Nuts up and does it.
Grit teeth. Jump. Swing. Reach top of arc. Tuck legs. Throw head back. Let go.
The world spun like a mad beast. There were stars and ground and water and trees flying every which direction. All of a sudden I feel myself coming upright and my feet hit the water. Glorious splash! Bubbles and water and darkness. I swim back towards the air and am already whooping and screaming when I break the surface. The people having a fire close by probably thought I was crazy.
But who cares? I did an epic backflip off of a rope swing and it was sweet. Now I just need to perfect it before I move on to the backflip-and-a-half or the double backflip. Or, you know, death.
But before I die doing something stupid, I've included this handy-dandy tutorial (possibly influenced by Hyperbole and a Half) to teach all those interested how they too can do a backflip off of a rope swing. See below:
One of my friends is able to a backflip off of the rope, which is about the coolest thing you've ever seen. I was curious to see if I could do it so I asked him to teach me how. He ran me through how to swing and tuck yourself to do it properly, so I decided to give it a go.
I climbed up to the highly specialized rope launch pad. It's a log. My friend and instructor handed me the rope and I prepared myself, mentally running through the technique in my head a few times. Either that, or I was trying to overcome the puss-out factor.
But I was up there, and there was no way I was going back after having come this far. So what did I do? The same thing any man does before he's about to do something stupid, dangerous, and potentially harmful. Nuts up and does it.
Grit teeth. Jump. Swing. Reach top of arc. Tuck legs. Throw head back. Let go.
The world spun like a mad beast. There were stars and ground and water and trees flying every which direction. All of a sudden I feel myself coming upright and my feet hit the water. Glorious splash! Bubbles and water and darkness. I swim back towards the air and am already whooping and screaming when I break the surface. The people having a fire close by probably thought I was crazy.
But who cares? I did an epic backflip off of a rope swing and it was sweet. Now I just need to perfect it before I move on to the backflip-and-a-half or the double backflip. Or, you know, death.
But before I die doing something stupid, I've included this handy-dandy tutorial (possibly influenced by Hyperbole and a Half) to teach all those interested how they too can do a backflip off of a rope swing. See below:
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Furred Friends
Today I sprawled out on the carpet in my living floor. When you're gargantuan tall like I am, you learn to appreciate wide spaces in which you can sprawl. Anywho, as I was laying there and enjoying a good spread eagle, my dog came wandering over to say hi and flopped down next to me. He even rested his head on my arm and put a paw on my chest. Add some big ole puppy eyes to the equation and there's really no way that I could resisted petting him.
I don't know how long I lay there on the floor, but it was a while. And he wasn't moving as long as I kept scratching his back. I was content. He was content. The sunshine was warm on the carpet.
It felt good to simply sprawl on the carpet with the reassuring presence of another being. Even better, this being didn't require anything except a scratch behind the ears. No human social constructs. No conversation.
That's one of the reason's I've always liked dogs, especially bigger ones. There's something to be said for having a furry buddy who is willing to just sprawl with you, enjoy the sunshine, and not demand anything in return.
I don't know how long I lay there on the floor, but it was a while. And he wasn't moving as long as I kept scratching his back. I was content. He was content. The sunshine was warm on the carpet.
It felt good to simply sprawl on the carpet with the reassuring presence of another being. Even better, this being didn't require anything except a scratch behind the ears. No human social constructs. No conversation.
That's one of the reason's I've always liked dogs, especially bigger ones. There's something to be said for having a furry buddy who is willing to just sprawl with you, enjoy the sunshine, and not demand anything in return.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Robin of the Hood
Woo, three posts in one night. Such are the results of having lots of time on your hands where the only thing you can do is sit still with your head tilted back and wait.
So tonight Steve and I went to go see the new Robin Hood movie that came out starring Russell Crowe. I'm kinda a Russell Crowe fan. He definitely ranks near the top of my list of "Most Awesomest Actor Dudes Ever". Needless to say I was excited to see the movie.
In many ways, it delivered. It didn't exactly follow the lore of many of the other Robin Hood stories. Of course, the original (namely, everyone is a jerk and then everyone dies) is hardly a charming story. And there have been so many off shoots and reinterpretations that I hardly held it against the director for changing and reinventing the characters a little bit. And if he changed many of the events, many of the characters shared the same quirks as previous renditions. And of course, Robin Hood was a pro archer.
If you didn't gripe about the differences between this plot and others, the movies was really quite enjoyable. I only really had two gripes with this movie, but I've had the same grips with other movies, so I think it might just be a trend in the way movies are being made these days. Allow me to elaborate.
The first was Prince John. Prince John has never really been portrayed as a good sort of guy. This time around, though, he was a spineless cretin kind of guy. Power hungry, pathetic, and the most worthless leader ever seen. While I can appreciate having a character who is written to be weak, Prince John made it seem as though he was still a bratty teenager at best. His childishness didn't really seem to fit with his character. In fact, it wasn't even his childishness that got to me. It was that instead of being pathetic, he was just straight up laughable. I'm just not a fan of having bad guys who are laughable or who are supposed to be comic relief. Bad guys don't always need capes and cowls, but if all I want to do is laugh at them, they aren't convincing.
The only other part that pulled me out of the movie for a bit was a story thread regarding Robin Hood's father, who was apparently a reformist and philosopher who died for his beliefs. Liberty and power to the people, etc. For a few minutes of the movie, Robin Hood seems to take up the banner and become William Wallace. In a way, Robin Hood was a freedom fighter too, but the plot thread was just to underdeveloped to make much sense where it was and just kind of left me scratching me head.
A lot of movies try to throw in little speeches about freedom and liberty these days, a habit I find annoying. Sometimes it works and it's incredibly powerful, but just saying "freedom is great!" doesn't do it, especially when it lacks context. Show me the depth of this person's beliefs by their actions and spare me the canned speech on liberty and freedom. I've heard it before, and I don't need to hear it again.
Despite those two things, though, I really did enjoy Robin Hood. I thought Both Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett (the actress who played Marion Loxley and the same one who played Galadriel in LOTR) did great jobs in their roles. The romance between Robin Hood and Marion Loxley was especially well done. Above all, I appreciated the fact that they didn't just pile into bed the moment they realized they loved each other. Most movies do that so quickly that I've just begun assuming it's a given. But I was pleasantly surprised by the slow growth of their love and respect for each other and by the way it didn't instantly culminate into animalistic rutting.
Final review - well worth seeing. If you have the chance, I wouldn't pass it up.
So tonight Steve and I went to go see the new Robin Hood movie that came out starring Russell Crowe. I'm kinda a Russell Crowe fan. He definitely ranks near the top of my list of "Most Awesomest Actor Dudes Ever". Needless to say I was excited to see the movie.
In many ways, it delivered. It didn't exactly follow the lore of many of the other Robin Hood stories. Of course, the original (namely, everyone is a jerk and then everyone dies) is hardly a charming story. And there have been so many off shoots and reinterpretations that I hardly held it against the director for changing and reinventing the characters a little bit. And if he changed many of the events, many of the characters shared the same quirks as previous renditions. And of course, Robin Hood was a pro archer.
If you didn't gripe about the differences between this plot and others, the movies was really quite enjoyable. I only really had two gripes with this movie, but I've had the same grips with other movies, so I think it might just be a trend in the way movies are being made these days. Allow me to elaborate.
The first was Prince John. Prince John has never really been portrayed as a good sort of guy. This time around, though, he was a spineless cretin kind of guy. Power hungry, pathetic, and the most worthless leader ever seen. While I can appreciate having a character who is written to be weak, Prince John made it seem as though he was still a bratty teenager at best. His childishness didn't really seem to fit with his character. In fact, it wasn't even his childishness that got to me. It was that instead of being pathetic, he was just straight up laughable. I'm just not a fan of having bad guys who are laughable or who are supposed to be comic relief. Bad guys don't always need capes and cowls, but if all I want to do is laugh at them, they aren't convincing.
The only other part that pulled me out of the movie for a bit was a story thread regarding Robin Hood's father, who was apparently a reformist and philosopher who died for his beliefs. Liberty and power to the people, etc. For a few minutes of the movie, Robin Hood seems to take up the banner and become William Wallace. In a way, Robin Hood was a freedom fighter too, but the plot thread was just to underdeveloped to make much sense where it was and just kind of left me scratching me head.
A lot of movies try to throw in little speeches about freedom and liberty these days, a habit I find annoying. Sometimes it works and it's incredibly powerful, but just saying "freedom is great!" doesn't do it, especially when it lacks context. Show me the depth of this person's beliefs by their actions and spare me the canned speech on liberty and freedom. I've heard it before, and I don't need to hear it again.
Despite those two things, though, I really did enjoy Robin Hood. I thought Both Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett (the actress who played Marion Loxley and the same one who played Galadriel in LOTR) did great jobs in their roles. The romance between Robin Hood and Marion Loxley was especially well done. Above all, I appreciated the fact that they didn't just pile into bed the moment they realized they loved each other. Most movies do that so quickly that I've just begun assuming it's a given. But I was pleasantly surprised by the slow growth of their love and respect for each other and by the way it didn't instantly culminate into animalistic rutting.
Final review - well worth seeing. If you have the chance, I wouldn't pass it up.
SO MUCH STUFF!
Every time I move to or from college, I feel like I have WAY too much stuff. I don't really thing this is true. In fact, I probably have less stuff than your average college student. But still, it's way too much stuff to make moving easy or enjoyable.
I spent most of Saturday morning furiously packing and piling stuff into my car. My car is a '93 Plymouth Sundance. It's approximately the size of a shoebox. Don't get me wrong, I love my little car, but heavy lifter it ain't.
Therefore, trying to pile all of my stuff in my car (even after dropping off a few things at my sister's apartment and storing the big items in the basement of my dorm) is a bit like trying to fit a lot of stuff into something really small. A good metaphor escapes me at the moment. I'll pretend for the moment that when I think of one I'll come back here and put it in. But I know I won't. I blame my nosebleed (see the next post down) for my lack of creativity. The laziness if totally my fault, though. Anyway, I'm tangenting...
Back to the issue at hand. Lots of stuff. Little car. A couple of my friends were skeptical that I could pack all of my stuff into my car. Silly them. They obviously don't realize that all matter is about 99% empty space. There's always more room, you just have to apply enough force. Such is the case with my car.
I actually did manage to get my car loaded without resorting to collapsing the constituent atoms of my possessions. It did require a lot of careful packing and stacking, though, as well as a little dark magic. You do what you have to.
Even so, I wish there were some way to make moving a little easier. If anyone ever invents transporters ala Star Trek, I'm totally starting a moving company using the technology. Want to move? No problem, we'll set up pads in your old and news rooms and presto, job finished. Best. Idea. Ever.
Until then, I guess I have stick to doing things the hard way. Such is life.
I spent most of Saturday morning furiously packing and piling stuff into my car. My car is a '93 Plymouth Sundance. It's approximately the size of a shoebox. Don't get me wrong, I love my little car, but heavy lifter it ain't.
Therefore, trying to pile all of my stuff in my car (even after dropping off a few things at my sister's apartment and storing the big items in the basement of my dorm) is a bit like trying to fit a lot of stuff into something really small. A good metaphor escapes me at the moment. I'll pretend for the moment that when I think of one I'll come back here and put it in. But I know I won't. I blame my nosebleed (see the next post down) for my lack of creativity. The laziness if totally my fault, though. Anyway, I'm tangenting...
Back to the issue at hand. Lots of stuff. Little car. A couple of my friends were skeptical that I could pack all of my stuff into my car. Silly them. They obviously don't realize that all matter is about 99% empty space. There's always more room, you just have to apply enough force. Such is the case with my car.
I actually did manage to get my car loaded without resorting to collapsing the constituent atoms of my possessions. It did require a lot of careful packing and stacking, though, as well as a little dark magic. You do what you have to.
Even so, I wish there were some way to make moving a little easier. If anyone ever invents transporters ala Star Trek, I'm totally starting a moving company using the technology. Want to move? No problem, we'll set up pads in your old and news rooms and presto, job finished. Best. Idea. Ever.
Until then, I guess I have stick to doing things the hard way. Such is life.
%#&@#& Nosebleeds...
So it's two in the morning and I'm sitting up with a Kleenex shoved up my nose and a nosebleed that's cousins with Niagra Falls. Sigh.
Nosebleeds are frustrating in that they kind of kill your ability to do much except sit there and try not to get blood everywhere. Cause bloodstains are about the worst thing ever to try to clean.
They're also kinda gross. I'm not really a squeamish person, and blood doesn't usually bother me, but when it's leaking out of my nose at a rate that makes me wonder if I'm having a stroke and I can feel it in the back of my throat, it doesn't quite sit right with me. Grumble.
Regardless, I'll probably be up until this stupid thing decides to stop. For now, I'm going to abort this rather gross post and write another one about something a might more interesting and fun to read about.
Nosebleeds are frustrating in that they kind of kill your ability to do much except sit there and try not to get blood everywhere. Cause bloodstains are about the worst thing ever to try to clean.
They're also kinda gross. I'm not really a squeamish person, and blood doesn't usually bother me, but when it's leaking out of my nose at a rate that makes me wonder if I'm having a stroke and I can feel it in the back of my throat, it doesn't quite sit right with me. Grumble.
Regardless, I'll probably be up until this stupid thing decides to stop. For now, I'm going to abort this rather gross post and write another one about something a might more interesting and fun to read about.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
When Your Life Comes Crashing Down Around You
Today I had a final. That alone should be enough to tell you that this story will not be a good one.
Today I had a final. It's for my circuits class. I needed an A on the final to pull an A in the class, so I had been studying hard for it (by my definition of "studying hard" anyway). Last night I had a bit of a weird sleep schedule, though. No matter, though. I woke up on time.
I had planned ahead to get up early and go eat some breakfast because I've heard it's good to take tests awake and with something in your system. Makes the brain juices flow real good or something like that. Also, they were serving bacon in the dining center this morning.
Mmmm, bacon.
After eating some delicious breakfast, I went back to my dorm. Instead of studying like I had planned, though, I decided to take a nap. Yes, you know where this is going.
I woke up two and a half hours later, having slept my alarm and my circuits final. I knew as soon as my eyes snapped open that I had missed my final. So I did what any rational person would do.
Next, I catapulted into action and began furiously running for my professors office in the hopes that I could beg him, bribe him, threaten, him, or do whatever else I had to do to him to get him to let me take the final. I arrived to find his office vacant for the moment. Freaking out redoubled as I asked one of the nearby profs if he was about. Apparently he was. Then I remembered that I had forgotten to grab my calculator, so if he would let me take the final I would have no way to actually take it.
More running back to my room. More freaking out.
All throughout these back and forth trips, my mind had been going wild with the possibilities of what might happen if I missed this final. I would fail circuits, which would probably drop my semester GPA below a 3.0 which would probably mean I would lose some serious scholarship money which would probably mean I couldn't go to college which would probably mean I couldn't get a job to support myself which would probably mean that I'd end up a beggared bum curled up on a hard bench in a dark corner sucking cheap alcohol out of a brown bagged bottle. You get the idea.
Luckily the story has a happier ending than my imagination. I got to his office just as he got back and he was in a good mood and didn't even bat an eye at letting me take the final. I took it and it was actually pretty easy despite my scrambled brain state.
Still, take it as a lesson. Don't take naps right before important tests. Bad idea.
Today I had a final. It's for my circuits class. I needed an A on the final to pull an A in the class, so I had been studying hard for it (by my definition of "studying hard" anyway). Last night I had a bit of a weird sleep schedule, though. No matter, though. I woke up on time.
I had planned ahead to get up early and go eat some breakfast because I've heard it's good to take tests awake and with something in your system. Makes the brain juices flow real good or something like that. Also, they were serving bacon in the dining center this morning.
Mmmm, bacon.
After eating some delicious breakfast, I went back to my dorm. Instead of studying like I had planned, though, I decided to take a nap. Yes, you know where this is going.
I woke up two and a half hours later, having slept my alarm and my circuits final. I knew as soon as my eyes snapped open that I had missed my final. So I did what any rational person would do.
Next, I catapulted into action and began furiously running for my professors office in the hopes that I could beg him, bribe him, threaten, him, or do whatever else I had to do to him to get him to let me take the final. I arrived to find his office vacant for the moment. Freaking out redoubled as I asked one of the nearby profs if he was about. Apparently he was. Then I remembered that I had forgotten to grab my calculator, so if he would let me take the final I would have no way to actually take it.
More running back to my room. More freaking out.
All throughout these back and forth trips, my mind had been going wild with the possibilities of what might happen if I missed this final. I would fail circuits, which would probably drop my semester GPA below a 3.0 which would probably mean I would lose some serious scholarship money which would probably mean I couldn't go to college which would probably mean I couldn't get a job to support myself which would probably mean that I'd end up a beggared bum curled up on a hard bench in a dark corner sucking cheap alcohol out of a brown bagged bottle. You get the idea.
Luckily the story has a happier ending than my imagination. I got to his office just as he got back and he was in a good mood and didn't even bat an eye at letting me take the final. I took it and it was actually pretty easy despite my scrambled brain state.
Still, take it as a lesson. Don't take naps right before important tests. Bad idea.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
I ARE POET! RAWR!
So the other day in my creative writing class, my teacher was handing back some of our work and I got a couple of poems back that I had written. Now before I go any further, I need to preface this by saying that I've never thought of myself as a particularly good poet, nor do I usually like the poetry that I write. So I wasn't really expecting anything good when I looked at her comments.
Paint me surprised.
She actually really liked what I had written. She even suggested that I submit one of the poems somewhere, which took me completely by surprise. When I saw everything she had written, I kinda wanted to jump up and down and giggle like a giddy little boy.
Since my teacher liked them, I figured they might actually be fit for reading by other people and decided to put a few of them up here on my blog. Hopefully you'll enjoy them. Therefore, without further ado...
I________________________Painted On
was____________After reading Tar, by C.K. Williams
I like to look around at the world we have built;
forced_ smooth and beautiful,
but this world isn’t; there are only skins, masking over what
to_____ we don’t want to see:
paint and wallpaper covering dust sheetrock and splintered studs with rusty nails
put____ driven through them,
steel and glass and carbon fiber encasing dirty black oil and grease caked tubes
white__ and smog spewing fire,
plastics and polymers to wrap and organize and disguise the truth
text___ of what we buy and eat and play with.
Yet how very appropriate this we world have built is for us, creatures so similar to their
here___ toys and cars and houses.
Blood and mucus and sinew and slime and gristle, all
to_____ sheathed in smooth skin.
Fiery hate and searing pain and aching grief, secreted away
make___ behind a winning smile.
But even as I see these things, I do not hate them, for this is what we are; our nature
the____ cannot be escaped.
And perhaps life is such that what beauty and order exist is worthy, even if it does not
blank__ run to the core.
spaces_________________Delicate Fingers
From time to time, as I stretch out and rest my head on the unyielding ground,
floating aimlessly within the dim silence,
good_________________I miss the delicate fingers that played with my hair.
job______________Onto Your Own Shoulders
Pain is a rainbow, made up of the reds of loss and blacks of despair
But the strongest color by far
is that suffering which you are helpless to soothe;
the cerulean of tears that no number of tight hugs or kind words can stem.
Only time, that infernal, unstoppable master of humanity
can cleanse such a colorful stain,
if he so chooses.
And you are forced to sit on the sidelines,
wishing their misery onto your own shoulders.
finding the hidden text
Paint me surprised.
She actually really liked what I had written. She even suggested that I submit one of the poems somewhere, which took me completely by surprise. When I saw everything she had written, I kinda wanted to jump up and down and giggle like a giddy little boy.
Since my teacher liked them, I figured they might actually be fit for reading by other people and decided to put a few of them up here on my blog. Hopefully you'll enjoy them. Therefore, without further ado...
I________________________Painted On
was____________After reading Tar, by C.K. Williams
I like to look around at the world we have built;
forced_ smooth and beautiful,
but this world isn’t; there are only skins, masking over what
to_____ we don’t want to see:
paint and wallpaper covering dust sheetrock and splintered studs with rusty nails
put____ driven through them,
steel and glass and carbon fiber encasing dirty black oil and grease caked tubes
white__ and smog spewing fire,
plastics and polymers to wrap and organize and disguise the truth
text___ of what we buy and eat and play with.
Yet how very appropriate this we world have built is for us, creatures so similar to their
here___ toys and cars and houses.
Blood and mucus and sinew and slime and gristle, all
to_____ sheathed in smooth skin.
Fiery hate and searing pain and aching grief, secreted away
make___ behind a winning smile.
But even as I see these things, I do not hate them, for this is what we are; our nature
the____ cannot be escaped.
And perhaps life is such that what beauty and order exist is worthy, even if it does not
blank__ run to the core.
spaces_________________Delicate Fingers
From time to time, as I stretch out and rest my head on the unyielding ground,
floating aimlessly within the dim silence,
good_________________I miss the delicate fingers that played with my hair.
job______________Onto Your Own Shoulders
Pain is a rainbow, made up of the reds of loss and blacks of despair
But the strongest color by far
is that suffering which you are helpless to soothe;
the cerulean of tears that no number of tight hugs or kind words can stem.
Only time, that infernal, unstoppable master of humanity
can cleanse such a colorful stain,
if he so chooses.
And you are forced to sit on the sidelines,
wishing their misery onto your own shoulders.
finding the hidden text
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