Thanksgiving sets a certain precedent that I do not agree with. It seems to me like it is indoctrinated with Leibniz's optimism - that our world is the optimal, best of all possible worlds.
Well... that is an argument that cannot come from anything but pure ignorance. I think the "best" really means "most balanced" - because anyone can see it's not best. People dying is not good. Is there enough love compared to death? Are the Editors right, when they say "In the end all you can hope for is that the love you've felt is equal to pain you've gone through"? Are Rolling Stones right when they say "You can't always get what you want"? Is Buddha right, when he talks about earth being the realm of suffering, as opposed to Nirvana?
Thanksgiving made me realized that the reason why I don't like New Year's resolutions is in fact because people never resolve to do anything great. Otherwise it's a great idea.
Thanksgiving seems to kill motivation to get better. You can't be always patted on your shoulder, even if you fail. That is a major problem of the first world.
I propose to create a new holiday to counter-balance Thanksgiving; The Day of Remembrance of All Utter Failures in Your Life.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Octane & Coffeine
iCouple weeks back I went to see a car show here in Atlanta. It's quite funny, really; every first Saturday morning of every month, rich people completely fill a parking lot of a shopping mall with their four-wheeled darlings.
I took a couple pictures, so I thought I might I share.
the difference between a green lambo and a green mustang is similar to that between a green apple and a green steak.
I took a couple pictures, so I thought I might I share.
the difference between a green lambo and a green mustang is similar to that between a green apple and a green steak.
America is trying to convince me that BMW are cars for the poor and for the many.
The car that looks like a carpet. Huh, car-pet?
Obsession with cars is sometimes pretty dangerous.
This car is groovy.
The Kiss-Car.
It even has a duster in matching color!
Any takers?
Ople got swag.
Which one is more of a trash can?
The Douchecar.
I wish there was a name for this color.
You could make really nice handbags out of these seats.
Someone put a lot of heart into this car. Get it?
When the car fan community decides that a certain color is really fashionable, instantly a lot of veteran cars of that color randomly pop up.
And I thought people buy expensive cars so they could feel "better" or "unique". Well, so much for that.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Play-to.
I've seen a great performance of West Side Story tonight.
Very professional, great acting, superb music, sophisticated stagecraft.
Yet somehow, it made me sad.
It was done by students of Pace Academy, an elite school in Atlanta.
Frankly, this production was larger than almost all commercial plays I've seen.
It was certainly much larger than what me and my friends have done last year - larger funding, larger crew. And more effort put into it.
This makes me rather bitter; I know I've done a lot for my - our - play. But whatever I could've done, it'd never match Pace's West Side Story.
This brings up the question of opportunities and successes and how they affect people, particularly students.
This is not completely unrelated: I've always believed that students should not be able to afford expensive boost. See, rich kids can buy stuff that doesn't give them hangover - therefore, they are not taught a necessary lesson and are more at risk of getting into a problem.
One way or another, this can be applied to a huge number of things. Being told ever since middle school that you're "the future", "the chosen" or simply "the best" is very nice and comfortable. But what elite schools fail to teach you is that you cannot always succeed. And there goes my insignificant yet for me important flaw of tonight's show: when it ends, all the actors get a clap. But what about the band? Nothing! The band stays out of sight. I think it's because the band was actually hired (and paid).
Doesn't this sound like artificially made success, rather than pure talent? No one would let elite kids fail at something. Grade inflation is a thing - whereas average grade in average school is C, on elite schools it's B.
But back to the play: the fact that disturbed me tonight is that even though I can see plenty of flaws in elite schooling, it obviously works. I wish it didn't, because it often creates individuals detached from reality - not actually prepared for a real life like they should be - some of them expect that they will change their surroundings, rather than that the surroundings will change them.
But somehow, they actually DO change their surroundings, for better and worse. In the long run it's usually better for them and worse for others, but that's the way the world, or at least parts of it, work (funny; settlers moved to America because they wanted, among other things, social mobility - the opportunity to change their social status. And now there's less social mobility in US than in many other developed countries.)
I always valued the trial and error method more than simply being told what is right. But the problem is; aren't errors too much of a waste of effort?
I certainly hope I will never have to believe that textbook knowledge is superior to experience.
Very professional, great acting, superb music, sophisticated stagecraft.
Yet somehow, it made me sad.
It was done by students of Pace Academy, an elite school in Atlanta.
Frankly, this production was larger than almost all commercial plays I've seen.
It was certainly much larger than what me and my friends have done last year - larger funding, larger crew. And more effort put into it.
This makes me rather bitter; I know I've done a lot for my - our - play. But whatever I could've done, it'd never match Pace's West Side Story.
This brings up the question of opportunities and successes and how they affect people, particularly students.
This is not completely unrelated: I've always believed that students should not be able to afford expensive boost. See, rich kids can buy stuff that doesn't give them hangover - therefore, they are not taught a necessary lesson and are more at risk of getting into a problem.
One way or another, this can be applied to a huge number of things. Being told ever since middle school that you're "the future", "the chosen" or simply "the best" is very nice and comfortable. But what elite schools fail to teach you is that you cannot always succeed. And there goes my insignificant yet for me important flaw of tonight's show: when it ends, all the actors get a clap. But what about the band? Nothing! The band stays out of sight. I think it's because the band was actually hired (and paid).
Doesn't this sound like artificially made success, rather than pure talent? No one would let elite kids fail at something. Grade inflation is a thing - whereas average grade in average school is C, on elite schools it's B.
But back to the play: the fact that disturbed me tonight is that even though I can see plenty of flaws in elite schooling, it obviously works. I wish it didn't, because it often creates individuals detached from reality - not actually prepared for a real life like they should be - some of them expect that they will change their surroundings, rather than that the surroundings will change them.
But somehow, they actually DO change their surroundings, for better and worse. In the long run it's usually better for them and worse for others, but that's the way the world, or at least parts of it, work (funny; settlers moved to America because they wanted, among other things, social mobility - the opportunity to change their social status. And now there's less social mobility in US than in many other developed countries.)
I always valued the trial and error method more than simply being told what is right. But the problem is; aren't errors too much of a waste of effort?
I certainly hope I will never have to believe that textbook knowledge is superior to experience.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Dilemma
"Intriguing?"
"I don't know... you could probably use any adjective to describe it."
I rolled my eyes. My brain was processing everything I've seen and heard during last couple hours; it was spewing out dozens and dozens thoughts and internal remarks at the time. My eyes were focused on a dark oily spot on the wall to the upper right of me. I quickly removed my stare when I remembered that psychology article I read some while ago - the one about subconscious ocular movements deployed when the individual is concentrated at imagining something.
"Except for simple."
He raised his lower lip to show that he was undecided.
"...And cheerful. Goodnight."
He gave an amused smirk and rolled his eyes to the top left corner. That indicates he's using memory, or so that article said. I hated feeling like a god-made machine that scientists could research, but that article proved useful to me in several previous instances and that triggered a little judge's hammer's clap in my skull, announcing the pragmatic myself has won the case.
"G'nite." he muttered back - a severe case of linguistic economy I thought.
I rolled my eyes to the upper right.
I am an animal in a cage. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. You can apply the Kübler-Ross model at humans and animals alike. Not only have I accepted being in a cage, I even went far enough to get comfortable with it. In my cage, in my space, I was the predator. I would observe my prey (and my capturers, but what's the difference anyway). There was no harming me in the Kingdom of Metalbaria.
to be continued.
"I don't know... you could probably use any adjective to describe it."
I rolled my eyes. My brain was processing everything I've seen and heard during last couple hours; it was spewing out dozens and dozens thoughts and internal remarks at the time. My eyes were focused on a dark oily spot on the wall to the upper right of me. I quickly removed my stare when I remembered that psychology article I read some while ago - the one about subconscious ocular movements deployed when the individual is concentrated at imagining something.
"Except for simple."
He raised his lower lip to show that he was undecided.
"...And cheerful. Goodnight."
He gave an amused smirk and rolled his eyes to the top left corner. That indicates he's using memory, or so that article said. I hated feeling like a god-made machine that scientists could research, but that article proved useful to me in several previous instances and that triggered a little judge's hammer's clap in my skull, announcing the pragmatic myself has won the case.
"G'nite." he muttered back - a severe case of linguistic economy I thought.
I rolled my eyes to the upper right.
I am an animal in a cage. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. You can apply the Kübler-Ross model at humans and animals alike. Not only have I accepted being in a cage, I even went far enough to get comfortable with it. In my cage, in my space, I was the predator. I would observe my prey (and my capturers, but what's the difference anyway). There was no harming me in the Kingdom of Metalbaria.
to be continued.
Friday, November 2, 2012
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