Archive for February, 2010

It’s come to my attention in these past few days that a lot of people have no idea what the point of curling is…and for that matter, why it should be an Olympic sport. Sure, there are those that genuinely love it. But really, I think I know the reason why curling is such a necessity for the Olympics.

It gives the normal people hope.

Seriously! Just as Pandora left hope in the box and all was not lost, curling is the hope in the box of aspirational athleticism. You have those waif-like girls who are 16-years-old or those completely fit and toned men and women of skiing, snowboarding, speed skating, etc. that just make you feel…well, klutzy, inept, lazy and borderline gross. And beyond those sports that are just ageist, how many of us are really going to go out there and try to become masters at maneuvering an icy track with speeds up to 90 miles-per-hour? I know my own mother gets nervous when her car hits 75 mph.

My point is, curling is the sport that you think to yourself (or mention in passing to your friends) that if you really, REALLY wanted a medal or at least a chance to compete, curling would be the way to go. It doesn’t seem like one of those sports that really requires brawn or hours of endless training that results in pain and suffering.

Heck no.

Curling is the icy relative of shuffleboard, the stereotypical sport of the elderly and retired. You think shuffleboard, you think cruises. You think curling, you think…hey, I could be an Olympian! And I can wear nifty pants!!

I give you, exhibit A (nifty pants):

Does anybody know what goes into becoming the world’s best curler? Does it involve hours and hours of grueling practice to perfect the art of…sweeping? Even if it does, it sure beats a lot of the other sports where when practice goes wrong you could seriously maim yourself.

So there you have it - curling. The eternal hope for those with secret ambitions of athletic world renown. Deceptively accessible to the masses but…c’mon, let’s face it: how many people are really mobbing the ice rink to capture America’s heart in curling?

And to inspire some of you future Olympic curlers out there, here’s a re-post of a graphic that describes the art of curling from The Good Blog. Enjoy. And good luck.

I’ll be honest: I’m a wuss. Really. As I tell most of my friends and people who have just met me, I tend to have a fairly solid memory and after watching a particularly horrific show or movie, I end up re-creating the scene in gruesome detail in my own room. In short, I end up scaring myself all over again even after said program.

The Ring? Yeah, couldn’t stand being near a TV, especially a TV in my ROOM for the longest time. Could hardly stomach The Blair Witch Project (not just because of the crazy camerawork) and yes, when I read ghost stories sometimes my overactive imagination gets pumped on fictional steroids and then I can’t sleep.

The point of my rambling? I avoided Stephen King like plague for the longest time. After all, given my penchant for scaring the bejesus out of myself, it only makes sense that I would stay away from a guy who has carved a hefty niche in the horror fiction world.

Of course, despite my own misgivings, I do have to say that my curiosity bested my own sense of self-preservation (at least when it comes to sleep). I figured I’d give his fantasy series a try. So I went to the library and picked up The Gunslinger.

Now, I think Stephen King is a great writer. A prolific author, and a pretty masterful storyteller…my first book by him was actually ABOUT writing and I greatly enjoyed it. But with The Gunslinger? Mmmm…not so much. I had a brief chat with a colleague of mine about this, actually - it’s not that his work is too densely populated with obscure vocabulary words. It’s not even that he writes in a boring, pedantic way (quite the opposite). But for some reason, I really just didn’t like the first book in his dark tower series.

I thought it would have promise. After all, in his foreward he mentioned how he was inspired by J.R.R. Tolkein’s intricate world of Middle Earth. I like Lord of the Rings. Heck, I read all of them and thought they were, you know, nifty. And I’m pretty cool with cowboys too, not just because I’m from Texas. I enjoy the mashup genres like Firefly, with a little bit of sci-fi and a little bit of good ‘ol fashioned Western flair.

With The Gunslinger…it felt like there were too many things unexplained and things that were meant to be symbolic…but just ended up boring me. There was talk about KA, and katet, and High Speech and … I don’t even know. It reminded me of this chart from xkcd:

There were brutal, violent scenes and background that just didn’t connect for me. In fact, while I was reading this book I started to drift off quite a few times and ended up skimming most of it. Would I recommend this book? Erm, no. I really wouldn’t. In fact, it almost dissuades me from reading another Stephen King book…almost. We’ll see how the next one goes.

The current book I’m working on now has taken on a completely different direction than any of the other books I’ve read. It’s even (dare I say it?) NONFICTION. Dun dun DUN….

I thought of writing a blog post but I got distracted. So I decided to make use of the last few minutes of my evening by watching another episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I still remember when this series was aired on television…and how I balked at it because it seemed like another poorly written and illustrated anime-wannabe (think Teen Titans).

Surprisingly, it hasn’t been all that bad. I do admit that I’m a bit of a sucker for those “coming of age” shows where the protagonist slowly evolves his or her skill level … from being badass to even MORE badass. I was also pleasantly surprised when the third season had quite a few twists. Sure, there are moments when I cringe because of the one-line cheesiness and the exaggerated humor (that doesn’t come out quite so funny) but all in all, it caught my attention. And hey, I managed to even ramble on about it!

Moral of the blog post? Watch Avatar: The Last Airbender, especially if you’re an anime fan. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised…just make sure to keep expectations pretty low.

You know that saying…”you don’t know what you have until it’s gone?”  Unfortunately, that statement is extremely applicable to me right now.  As many people may or may not know, I’ve never really had a fancy phone before.  From high school through college and beyond, it was always some dinky thing that could only make phone calls and receive text messages…at best.  I think a lot of my phones weren’t even in color until I graduated from college.

That being said, a little over a year and a half ago I had my first smartphone.  It was like driving a beat up Oldsmobile my whole life and suddenly being handed a Lexus.  It was sleek, beautiful, and…I’m ashamed to say, my gadget baby.  Suddenly I could not only text, I could CHECK EMAIL.  I could play games.  I could check into foursquare and yelp…the world was at my fingertips.  In short, I was hooked.

There were moments where I took it for granted or got mad at it, like when it wiped out all my contacts.  Of course, I admit I wasn’t that faithful. I would eye the other latest phones, ponder existence with something new like the Nexus One…but nevertheless, my iPhone was my faithful and useful companion.  It helped me out in so many ways, especially with the GPS capabilities (I tend to get lost a lot).

And this past weekend, as I was snowboarding and took a few falls…I realized that my iPhone had slipped away from me, another artifact claimed by a Tahoe mountain amidst the lost gloves, goggles and other things lost by fellow boarders.

I was really upset, and still upset now, but I didn’t realize how dependent I was on the phone until I instinctively reach into my pocket.  Earlier, when I was waiting for someone, I realized that I could no longer idly pass the time by with my phone.  It’s as though a part of my body was missing, and I didn’t think about it until I needed to use it. For the few friends that read my blog - yes. I need your number again. Bah.

Sigh.  It’s back to the basic phones for me now…at least, luckily until my contract is up.

Goodbye iPhone, I will miss you.

Book five!  Finished!  Finally!  Well, okay.  I didn’t mean to write it that way, as if it were a chore to finish the last book: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.  But I certainly did slow down the momentum a bit.  In any case, I had no idea what to expect from this book when I first picked it up.  I read the back, which simply said that Oscar was an obese super-nerd who has a rough love life.

But that’s just scratching the surface.

I wasn’t too keen on the beginning at first, mostly because I didn’t understand what the author’s point was.  As I continued on, I came to appreciate the different character voices and the way he unravels the story through the eyes of Lola, Oscar, and Yunior.  The three of them tell the tale of the unspoken hidden curse of the family, and it ties together historical events that occurred in the Dominican Republic.  Quite honestly, before this book I really never gave the Dominican Republic another thought.  Afterward, it really opened my eyes to some things, not all.  The horror of the regime, the way people lived, the harsh brutality and violence.

This book does a great job of taking you through the emotional wringer.  I felt, so many times throughout, absolutely sad and horrified at what occurred.  Likewise, I cheered for the small victories and mourned the losses, and grimaced at some depictions and scenes.  In the end, I felt hopeful. Why? I can’t explain without giving it away.

One complaint is that he goes into great detail in his footnotes, sometimes to where I don’t even have the patience to sift through it.  His footnotes are quite anecdotal as well.  Truth be told, I ended up skipping big chunks of them to move on with the story.  Another small issue of mine is that … well, despite taking AP Spanish, I could not understand most of the Spanish interlaced throughout the book.

So is this book recommended?  Um, yes and no.  It’s recommended if you’re curious, have an open mind, and all around just like to read interesting prose.  Probably not if you’re a die-hard “I only read Tom Clancy or Dan Brown” type.  Yup.

Next on the list?  The first book in The Dark Tower series by Stephen King.  This is horrendous to admit but…I’ve never read anything by Stephen King.  Other than his book On Writing, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  Except for the part where he hates on adverbs…but that’s another rant entirely.

Neon orange puff

Fake cheese, fatty oils, stuff

I can’t get enough

I know that a lot of people hate reading posts from someone in their twenties about how old they feel. Yeah, I know. It gets a little obnoxious.

When I think about it, being in my exact mid-twenties isn’t old at all. In fact, it’s definitely not as old as it sometimes seems in my head. I can still go out to bars two nights in a row without any raised eyebrows (three is pushing it for me, I admit) and I believe that my college-esqe ways of eating poorly (ramen noodles or spaghettios, anyone?) is acceptable. Heck, I can even put on heels, dress up and go to a club and not grouse about it TOO much…even though I do grouse about it. I can even somewhat run half-marathons!

But despite all the things I tell myself about my prime years in my twenties, I can’t help but feel a little decrepit when I look at the television during the Olympics, comment off-hand that some guy is good looking ….

and then realize he is nineteen years old. Oy. Nineteen. Nineteen was when I was still a sophomore in college, barely figuring out what I wanted to do as a major. I didn’t have a job, I didn’t have anything in the bank, and … I WAS STILL A TEENAGER.

Sigh. Add “warning signs of pre-cougardom” to the list of “things that make me feel old” along with “people my age getting married and having babies.”

Oh, and on a side note - I wonder if I’ll be able to handle eating poorly like tuna fish sandwiches for dinner twenty years into the future. Is it an age thing, or am I just really good at being cheap? Sometimes I wonder.

Ah, Tuesday. It’s still a little hard to get oriented to this new week, especially after a three-day weekend.  After sorting through my “blah” moments during Valentine’s Day and taking it fairly easy on President’s Day, it was actually quite nice to get back to work.  In addition to getting back to the ‘ol 9 to 5 (and many times beyond 9 to 5) job, I decided to finally jump back on my task of reading as many books as possible.

I’m still in the midst of reading The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, but I did get sidetracked by a new library book - A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon.  I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this book.  In fact, one of the reasons I was so keen on reading it was because of the title.  I know the old adage goes: “Don’t judge a book by its cover” but I fail to see any reason why I shouldn’t be able to judge it by its name.

The basic premise is that a neighbor’s dog is killed with a garden fork.  Christopher, the narrator and main character, has decided to get to the bottom of this.

At any rate, I was pleasantly surprised.  Although there were parts that I skimmed over a little bit (the main character is autistic, and a mathematical savant) overall, I love how the story unfolds through his eyes.  The protagonist’s voice is no nonsense, factual, yet human and full of unspoken simple longing.  Although he can’t explain the reasons why the people around him act the way they do, it’s enough for the reader to understand the depth and breadth of the people that love him.  It’s not a sappy happy ending, but it’s still one that makes you feel good.

I think another reason why this book really spoke to me was because I read Born On A Blue Day last year, a rather autobiographical book by a real mathematical savant, Daniel Tammet.  Because my brother is mildly autistic (albeit not a savant) I can in some ways empathize with how the main characters feel.  It’s feels as though I have a little window into understanding what makes my brother tick, especially when it was difficult to fathom when I was growing up with him.

Definitely an easy read and highly recommended to someone who enjoys fiction or has a personal connection with autism.

I started my fourth book, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao.  Unfortunately, I set it aside these past few days to enter in a cake competition at work for Valentine’s Day, celebrate Chinese New Year and a friend’s birthday.  Although a part of me does feel a tinge of guilt, I decided to make a trip to the library this weekend to pick up another book — just in case.

As I was skimming through the first chapters of A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, I realized that a lot of the characters in my book are rather tragic.  In their own flawed way, they seem to have a difficult time.  Oscar, in my first book, is obese and an uber-nerd with failed attempts at love.  His mom lived a life where she aspired for more but ended up (as far as I’ve read) in a sordid affair with a shady gangster and then dying of cancer.  Christopher in the current book obliviously lives his life trying to reason out humanity…but has a difficult time because of his autism.

Although I can appreciate that good characters have color and flaws, it made me realize why fantasy and fairy tales often appeal to me.  In a world where you run into complexities like how you can’t explain why you’re unhappy with someone, or why someone rubs you the wrong way, or why you simply just want to be alone - I find a bit of solace in escaping into a world that is black and white.  There’s not analyzing or deeper meaning and understanding in some books: Heroes and villains, protagonists and antagonists.  That’s all you really need to worry about.  You naturally cheer for the good, boo for the bad.

On a tangent, today is Valentine’s Day.  Although I’m normally one for holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving, sometimes Valentine’s Day just rubs me the wrong way.  As a kid, I didn’t mind it.  In fact, strangely enough, I don’t mind the days leading UP to Valentine’s Day.  But for some reason, unlike the climactic joy of Christmas, when Valentine’s Day finally arrives I just get grumpy.

via Sister72 Flickr page

Maybe it’s the blatant commercialism, the unspoken message that material objects are a true expression of love or perhaps it’s the whole feeling of forced obligation.  I guess it didn’t help that today was a beautiful day and I ended up wasting most of it because I slept in, sat in a car, dodged the touristy crowds at Fisherman’s Wharf, waited forever for a bus and now I’m doing nothing but waiting for an overpriced dinner that’s supposed to make me feel happy.

I’ll just be glad when the chocolates end up being discounted by 80 percent tomorrow.

Whew.

It’s late. I know it’s late. But, on the other hand, I’m quite pleased that I managed to finish my third book, Snow Crash, just earlier tonight. I’ve heard of this book before from people who made vague references to the Internet, avatars and the like, but I never really understood what all the fuss was about. First of all, I have to say that it was quite the departure from my first two books.

It was a little tougher for me to get into, mostly because Neil Stephenson’s writing is…for the lack of a better word…dense. It’s jam packed and full of imagery and Japanese-inspired mutant English slang. Kouriers, Burbclaves, Nipponese…it’s a very interesting dystopia that sometimes doesn’t feel too far from an actual possible future.

Basically, Hiro Protagonist (apt naming, to be sure) is a hacker in the Metaverse (Internet). He was one of the first to program the infrastructure, knows how to wield a sword and is an overall badass that delivers pizzas. Yes, you read that right. Pizzas.

As the world slowly globalizes and the United States starts forgoing tasks to other countries and sharing intelligence (leading to an economic collapse), the only bragging rights we really have left are entertainment and pizza delivery. The pizza delivery is only the very tip of the iceberg, and are quickly thrown down a digital rabbit hole where a strange drug/virus emerges and threatens to wreck havoc on things. The characters are colorful, the scenes and explanations very detailed. Add in a few maniacs, a badass, a spunky 15-year-old female courier and thoughts on religion, politics, philosophy, and some programming and you have yourself quite a ride.

Word of advice for some less-technologically inclined people that are similar to me: though some of the lengthy discussions on mythology and the like might be dull, it really is quite interesting and worth trudging through.

This is the type of book where you don’t want to ruin the plot for anybody, and you sure as heck will have a good time talking over a glass of wine (or two). For me, I found it even more fascinating to read now, especially when it was written over 10 years ago. Mad props to Mr. Stephenson. I want an avatar now, thanks.