One of the greatest joys of life is to see someone begin to love something as much as you do. A week ago, Isaac came into my room and shuffled through the books on my table. He then asked me if I had any books that he could read. Glancing over, I had my pick of The Supremacy of Christ in a Postmodern World, The Idiot by Dostoevsky, What Color Is Your Parachute (A job-hunting guide), Above All Earthly Powers by David F. Wells, and The Godfather, so naturally I handed him the Godfather. He then headed over to his room to start the book. A few days later, Isaac woke up from sleeping and without doing anything else, grabbed the book, headed over to my bed and started reading. A few days after that, James told me in conversation that he and Isaac were waiting at a bus stop the day before and with the few minutes they had, Isaac took out the book and began reading. What a kid. We even rented the Godfather and he started referring to himself as the Don. "I'm the Don fool".
There's a great line from from High Fidelity that says "it's not what you're like, it's what you like". How could that be any further from the truth. I remember watching You've Got Mail (fyi- I was forced to; ex-girlfriend's high school obsession), and remembering Tom Hanks's character stress the importance of The Godfather in modern life. It's like a male rite of passage. I don't want to sound like an elitist film buff with a stick up my ass, but I have a hard time respecting any guy that hasn't seen the Godfather. Two reasons why:
1. It's just an incredible film (I could go on and on about the subtleties). While I haven't seen many, there are more than a few incredible films in my mind. But very few that fulfill both criteria. Casablanca is an incredible film, but realistically, all it taught me was: 1. Ingrid Bergman 2. "Here's looking at you kid" 3. "Penny for your thoughts".
2. It teaches you life (notice, I didn't say "about life", just "life" which is far more meaningful)
They say there are two types of gorillas in the wild. You're either an Alpha or a Beta. Same goes for humans. Alpha or Beta. Everyone's criteria may be different, but you can't be an Alpha in my book unless you can understand me when I tell you "I'll make him an offer he can't refuse", and that's a simple one.
Who the hell doesn't like The Godfather?
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Who loves the suburbs
On our recent trip to Davis, I remember Rich saying something along the lines of "if I had gone to UC Davis, I would have a 4.0". Now to put this into context, he wasn't dissing Davis as an academic institution, more as a place in general (Rich does not like Davis).
Needless to say, we agreed it was a pretty boring place. And to go back to what Rich said, what he was getting at is how little there was to do. Now having lived in Diamond Bar for the better part of this month, I can honestly say the same about DB.
For the past 4 weeks, I've lived in quiet desperation in a room where the lights don't even turn on (really, they just don't turn on). And by desperation, I don't mean the kind that keeps you worrying about what you'll do about that last final or paper. This is a different kind of desperation altogether. This is the kind of desperation that has you wondering when you'll see another human being again.
If you don't buy it, let me tell you what I resorted to once reading, writing, internet surfing, and TV exhausted themselves. For the past 5 or 6 years, I've kept a small-sized notebook in which I would write every single word that I didn't know the definition of. Whenever I'd hit a word I didn't know, I'd write the word and however many definitions it had in this notebook. Sometimes I'd just want to know the OED definition of a word I already knew just to have it. It was exhausting and time-consuming, but I did it nonetheless. I just needed to.
So you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Well, going back to how boring DB is, I've resorted to copying this notebook into an excel spreadsheet. Word by word. Definition by definition. This is my desperation.
On another note, Steatopygia is by far the funniest word I've come across so far. What could I possibly have been reading?
Needless to say, we agreed it was a pretty boring place. And to go back to what Rich said, what he was getting at is how little there was to do. Now having lived in Diamond Bar for the better part of this month, I can honestly say the same about DB.
For the past 4 weeks, I've lived in quiet desperation in a room where the lights don't even turn on (really, they just don't turn on). And by desperation, I don't mean the kind that keeps you worrying about what you'll do about that last final or paper. This is a different kind of desperation altogether. This is the kind of desperation that has you wondering when you'll see another human being again.
If you don't buy it, let me tell you what I resorted to once reading, writing, internet surfing, and TV exhausted themselves. For the past 5 or 6 years, I've kept a small-sized notebook in which I would write every single word that I didn't know the definition of. Whenever I'd hit a word I didn't know, I'd write the word and however many definitions it had in this notebook. Sometimes I'd just want to know the OED definition of a word I already knew just to have it. It was exhausting and time-consuming, but I did it nonetheless. I just needed to.
So you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Well, going back to how boring DB is, I've resorted to copying this notebook into an excel spreadsheet. Word by word. Definition by definition. This is my desperation.
On another note, Steatopygia is by far the funniest word I've come across so far. What could I possibly have been reading?
Friday, June 26, 2009
If
By Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Putting the Recess into Recession
You know, there are a lot of reasons to be spiteful in times like these. Having just been birthed out of the college bubble that I inhabited at Berkeley, I've begun to realize that my seemingly endless line of credit and extended bouts of doing as I please won't be there for much longer. But hey, at least I have the summer.
I once told my roommate Ezra that whenever I was consciously entering a new phase of my life, I would let out a huge sigh, you know, like one of those douchey audible ones. I guess as of right now I'm letting out a long extended summer-long douchey audible sigh, one that encapsulates both the past four years and the rest of my life.
The big question for me has always been "what the hell are you going to do with your life". After four years, I'd like to think that I've come full circle back to my freshman pipe dream. But upon closer introspection, I realize that's just my hindsight bias kicking in. It's time to commit (let out intentional douchey audible sigh).
"Relationships are meant to end"
This is what a close friend (who shall remain nameless) once told me after I had just broken up with my girlfriend. And while they may not be the most comforting words of wisdom. I understood what he was getting at. For everyone, there are relationships that you're glad you maintained and cherished and there are those that you regret you hadn't (there are other types, but for the sake of brevity and keeping this post a positive one, I won't expound).
Sadly, I've been realizing that many of the relationships that I hoped would continue simply aren't. But I guess that's just a natural part of life. Just before leaving Berkeley for probably the second to last time, I stood staring at my empty apartment and began to think about all the memories. I guess there are some things that you can never keep with you no matter how hard you try. Relationships are much like memories in that regard. But one thing you can keep with you is how you felt. For me at least, a lot of the time memories are just feelings. Certain feelings come to mind when I think back upon relationships that no longer exist. It's unfortunate, but that's life I guess. To all, here's to the rest of our lives and thanks for the memories.
I once told my roommate Ezra that whenever I was consciously entering a new phase of my life, I would let out a huge sigh, you know, like one of those douchey audible ones. I guess as of right now I'm letting out a long extended summer-long douchey audible sigh, one that encapsulates both the past four years and the rest of my life.
The big question for me has always been "what the hell are you going to do with your life". After four years, I'd like to think that I've come full circle back to my freshman pipe dream. But upon closer introspection, I realize that's just my hindsight bias kicking in. It's time to commit (let out intentional douchey audible sigh).
"Relationships are meant to end"
This is what a close friend (who shall remain nameless) once told me after I had just broken up with my girlfriend. And while they may not be the most comforting words of wisdom. I understood what he was getting at. For everyone, there are relationships that you're glad you maintained and cherished and there are those that you regret you hadn't (there are other types, but for the sake of brevity and keeping this post a positive one, I won't expound).
Sadly, I've been realizing that many of the relationships that I hoped would continue simply aren't. But I guess that's just a natural part of life. Just before leaving Berkeley for probably the second to last time, I stood staring at my empty apartment and began to think about all the memories. I guess there are some things that you can never keep with you no matter how hard you try. Relationships are much like memories in that regard. But one thing you can keep with you is how you felt. For me at least, a lot of the time memories are just feelings. Certain feelings come to mind when I think back upon relationships that no longer exist. It's unfortunate, but that's life I guess. To all, here's to the rest of our lives and thanks for the memories.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Writing Music
Lately I've been on a song-writing binge. Malcolm Gladwell says there's a 10,000 hour rule for anyone that wants to become an expert at something. I guess you can say I'm on hours 10 or 11 of my journey to be a good songwriter. Regardless it's been helping me get through my days.
My theory is if I can just crap out all the, for lack of better word, crap right now, hopefully I can write something worth listening to later on. I think my adolescence was and is dominated by the idea that I could get off without practice or hard work and just succeed off my own God-given talent. Unfortunately, personal experience has forced me to drop this theory.
So since Malcolm Gladwell tells me that everyone needs to be a work-horse in order to be good at something, I guess I have a lot of work to do. A lot of work.
I've always been my toughest critic, especially when it comes to music; so I guess it'll take a lot more than just a few more songs.
Here's to someday posting something that I won't inevitably hate. Growing pains are the worst of necessary evils.
My theory is if I can just crap out all the, for lack of better word, crap right now, hopefully I can write something worth listening to later on. I think my adolescence was and is dominated by the idea that I could get off without practice or hard work and just succeed off my own God-given talent. Unfortunately, personal experience has forced me to drop this theory.
So since Malcolm Gladwell tells me that everyone needs to be a work-horse in order to be good at something, I guess I have a lot of work to do. A lot of work.
I've always been my toughest critic, especially when it comes to music; so I guess it'll take a lot more than just a few more songs.
Here's to someday posting something that I won't inevitably hate. Growing pains are the worst of necessary evils.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
USA Basketball
I'm not going to go into details. You all know what happened. All I'll say is whenever my mom says something like, "Kobe Bryant deh geh jahl hahn dah" (translation: Kobe's a mighty fine player), you know the guy transcends the game. Kobe transcends the game to the point where even a non like my mom knows just how damn good he really is. Kobe transcends the game to the point where I've resorted to using pathetic sentences like the previous. He's that damn good.
As far as the Olympics go, other than Phelps, Basketball, baseball and a few other incredibly defining moments that'll all go down, they were a disaster. More on this later, but for now I'll say the IOC needs to grow a backbone and Jacque Rogge needs to grow a pair.
Apologies in advance for the sophomoric language and vulgarity, but I've got jury duty this week and I'm running on 2 hours sleep.
As far as the Olympics go, other than Phelps, Basketball, baseball and a few other incredibly defining moments that'll all go down, they were a disaster. More on this later, but for now I'll say the IOC needs to grow a backbone and Jacque Rogge needs to grow a pair.
Apologies in advance for the sophomoric language and vulgarity, but I've got jury duty this week and I'm running on 2 hours sleep.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Happiness
In the midst of my toils writing my final papers, I thought I'd waste more time than I already have and update.
To me, happiness is...
...being unable to watch Nadal and Federer in the French Open final, only to find that it really wasn't worth watching.
...then watching Nadal beat Federer at Wimbledon and realizing it most definitely was worth watching.
...Yankee stadium with the siblings.
...New York with loved ones.
...being in awe for whatever reason.
...my sister one-upping me at Harvard (also see: screaming at the top of my lungs as my sister walked up the podium only to find that she was the one person who didn't hear me)
...the best pizza I've ever eaten.
...Cal Football diehards (Rich belongs in this).
...GFC family growing up together.
...these punks.
...this punk.
...true friends (we actually hate each other, or so they say)
...George Clooney.
...ruining pictures (see right)
and, of course, being a punk while I still can.
To me, happiness is...
...being unable to watch Nadal and Federer in the French Open final, only to find that it really wasn't worth watching....then watching Nadal beat Federer at Wimbledon and realizing it most definitely was worth watching.
...Yankee stadium with the siblings.
...New York with loved ones.
...being in awe for whatever reason.
...my sister one-upping me at Harvard (also see: screaming at the top of my lungs as my sister walked up the podium only to find that she was the one person who didn't hear me)
...the best pizza I've ever eaten....Cal Football diehards (Rich belongs in this)....GFC family growing up together....these punks.
...this punk....true friends (we actually hate each other, or so they say)
...George Clooney....ruining pictures (see right)
and, of course, being a punk while I still can.Tuesday, August 5, 2008
20/20
People are always saying that hindsight is 20/20, but I disagree. I'd say most of the time, hindsight is clearer than 20/20. I mean how many times have you ever looked back on your life and said something along the lines of "Why didn't you just..." or "What the hell was that?". People love to rationalize and beg the question, but in reality, I think we just have a hard time realizing that we can't foresee the future. It really is that simple.
I guess this entry then is somewhat of a supplement to the last. What I regretted to mention about that quote is that Miles Davis wasn't in the middle of making some broad existential statement about life or the human condition, he was talking about music. And how appropriate that Miles Davis would say something so incredibly profound without ever realizing it.
God knows that I've improvised. And God sure as hell knows that I've made mistakes. And they've never been aberrations or anomalies. They've been, and always are, consistent and uniform in every sense the word.
Sometimes I like to trick myself into the delusion that I'm really trying my hardest to live according to Him. But this is inevitably followed by the violent realization that I'm a sinner. And by definition those two thoughts outline the most frustrating oxymoron that we as Christians are forced to live with. It's not a paradox no matter how much we try to twist it. It's nonsensical. That's the gospel. That's God. He defies logic.
I'm always reminded of Sisyphus when I dwell on the gospel. Sisyphus was limited to say the least. Condemned is a better word. He had every right to be frustrated/angry/suicidal even. Yet he was happy. He was content to repeat the same chore without end in sight. Fixity at it's finest.
We should be so lucky.
I guess this entry then is somewhat of a supplement to the last. What I regretted to mention about that quote is that Miles Davis wasn't in the middle of making some broad existential statement about life or the human condition, he was talking about music. And how appropriate that Miles Davis would say something so incredibly profound without ever realizing it.
God knows that I've improvised. And God sure as hell knows that I've made mistakes. And they've never been aberrations or anomalies. They've been, and always are, consistent and uniform in every sense the word.
Sometimes I like to trick myself into the delusion that I'm really trying my hardest to live according to Him. But this is inevitably followed by the violent realization that I'm a sinner. And by definition those two thoughts outline the most frustrating oxymoron that we as Christians are forced to live with. It's not a paradox no matter how much we try to twist it. It's nonsensical. That's the gospel. That's God. He defies logic.
I'm always reminded of Sisyphus when I dwell on the gospel. Sisyphus was limited to say the least. Condemned is a better word. He had every right to be frustrated/angry/suicidal even. Yet he was happy. He was content to repeat the same chore without end in sight. Fixity at it's finest.
We should be so lucky.
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