obsessions

i have an unhealthy obsession for fleece, string instruments, chamomile tea, and tacos...among other things. so a perfect day just might entail me bundled in fleece, eating tacos and sipping tea, while blasting david garrett, edgar meyer, yo-yo ma, joshua bell, and bond.

what it was like when the whole world was only a two foot radius

i had some extra time in korea so i decided to head over to japan for a package tour. fastforward to the plane. extremely sleep deprived, i decided i'd nap on the flight over. a relatively short flight, the minutes were precious. as soon as we passed crash altitude, i dropped the tray table and passed the heck out. ten minutes in, i woke up to the sound of a shrieking banshee. you think i'm kidding, but had you been there, you would know i'm being modest. satan's reincarnate was one seat front, one seat right of me in the form of a two year old child. tired enough, i soon knocked out again. again, shrieking banshee. i wanted to punch the child in the face, bite his ear off, stick his head out the plane, and then lock him in the lavatory. then this tiny face pops over the seat in front of me. my urge to play whack-a-mole quickly dissipated. cute kid. we'd land, part ways, and all would be well. well, this family happened to have signed up for the same package tour. !@#$

unable to control the child, the parents bought the kid a toy truck. one that would play music audible to the deaf. we were stuck in a bus all day. together. for the next four days. this child pushed the play button on the truck over and over and over and over again. every passenger without fail memorized the tune, and i'm sure it's seared in our memories lest we seek aggressive therapy. we all prayed that the batteries would die. the parents tried to take it away and the child would have roid rage. it was quite an ordeal. i have never seen a person look so consistently fatigued, but the father looked like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to throw himself onto the train tracks or into a boiling pit of lava.

communicate please

one of my favorite quotes is from george bernard shaw. "the problem with communication...is the illusion that it has been accomplished." we haven't quite achieved mind reading yet, but with the progress of bionics, i really do think it'll be possible. but in the meantime, we actually have to open our mouths and verbally convey our thoughts.

imagine that we are mentally on the 5th floor. we chat and shoot the breeze, and go our separate ways. while you are away, something upsets you and it festers and you are on a different mental level...say the 13th floor. so when we reconvene, i'm still on the 5th floor and you're on the 13th floor. i'm like, wtf? we're on two completely different floors and we can't be level with each other until you help me get to the 13th floor or you come back to the 5th floor, or maybe we even meet on a different floor.

the point being, we need to communicate to understand where the other person is at. i would bet my left [insert paired body part] that this is a MAJOR cause of failed business and relationships.

remember, if you're ruminating, you're probably drifting off to a different floor. so for the love of god, please communicate.

proselytizing

proselytizing kids should be illegal until they turn 18.

forever froyo

generally being up throughout the night, i hate that just about everything except foreign stock markets are closed. this is particularly painful when i'm craving certain foods. on countless occasions, i've counted down the minutes till a restaurant opened at 5, 6, or 7am. but i'm slowly adapting thanks to the freezer.

stock up on your favorite foods and freeze em. i just got back from froyolife with a week's supply of healthy froyos to sate my nocturnal needs.

monday morning art project

the need for insight...i mean intelligence...i mean checkups

imagine that you are flying from los angeles to paris. if you're fortunate, you might have made the journey before.

anyway, the trip is about 5,588 statute miles each way. imagine that your pilot is a complete wanker like your typical patient who doesn't go in for checkups. so the pilot sets course for paris and doesn't bother to check the bearings for the entire trip. unbeknownst to the pilot, she has been off by one degree. a single bloody degree. over 5,588 statute miles, this one degree manifests as 97.5 miles off course! all because the tool of a pilot didn't check her bearings, you end up spending your vacay bobbing about somewhere in the celtic sea between london and paris. if you're an optimist, at least it wasn't 9 more degrees, else you might be in the middle of a libyan firefight, praying for hillary to come save you.

don't be a wanker. get a checkup.