I’m reading the Aziz Ansari’s book “Modern Romance: An Investigation“, in which he accused men of being bozos for asking a girl out by texting instead of calling her. According to Ansari, calling a girl is a sign of courage and seriousness, while “texting facilitates flakiness and rudeness.” His observation is consistent with the advice I often see in dating columns (yeah I’m that kind of girl who reads dating columns), and I think it might as well be the most outdated advice ever, at least where I live.
I have this charming habit of staring at my phone during breakfast. The only reason I’d be inclined to talk before noon is because something bad has happened to me in that 15-minute window from bed to breakfast and I’d like to file a complaint.
When other people delight themselves in small talks and weather discussions, I’d be scrolling through my Google Now cards. Maybe because I have been reading a lot about Brexit, Google has suggested a lot of news about New Zealand. They probably assume I’m a British national who is looking to migrate after their country’s giant farce. At least they are right about me wanting to move there. New Zealand sounds like the best country in the world.
I was browsing the news today when I saw this:
A couple of weeks ago, I was walking around London’s Chinatown with an American friend when we noticed a distinct, pungent smell. I was delighted–I hadn’t smelt that for so long.
“Did someone just poop here? This is disgusting,” my friend said.
“The fruit. We eat them all the time in Vietnam.”
“You eat them? Eww.”
That’s pretty much the generic reaction you can expect from a Westerner who has never come into contact with durians before. I always find it ironic considering that they eat equally disgusting things like cheese.
Today, I had dinner with a really nice guy. Like two adults, we talked about our life goals. There were 6 things I was looking for–yes, I made a list, had it printed out and tucked away in my phone case. But when he asked, I told him only two. I wanted to be healthy and I wanted to make it as a writer and that was all. The other four, I couldn’t tell him. The truth is I hadn’t been able to tell anyone. There is something about admitting to what you want that makes you feel so vulnerable. Isn’t the more you want, the weaker you get? Would people make fun of me, the oh so needy and desperate?
Last weekend, we drove to Half Moon Bay because my idiot of a friend suddenly had that burning desire to see a big body of water. Down at the harbor, we chatted up two fishermen. The captain was a tall, blond, skinny man in his early twenties. He was the youngest captain around so people called him Captain Kid. He was a sweetheart, smiled an I-made-it smile and walked on shore with the same instability he would have on water. Half way into the conversation, we realized he was stoned out of his mind. “Marijuana oil from Oregon guys, the best,” he told us. Continue reading “[Day 4] Why Stanford students are embarrassed of the school they go to”
When I first studied graphics programming, I was traumatized that the coordinate system on a computer’s screen is upside down. The positive x-axis starts on the far left and points to the right as normal coordinates should do, but the y-axis has its 0 at the top of the screen and nosedives straight down to hell from there. Imagine that you have all your graphics worked out beautifully on paper, and then when you try to program it in a computer, you have to flip all the figures and re-calculate all the coordinates. Why can’t computer scientists be normal for once and respect the centuries-old Math? Cartesian coordinates were invented in the 17th century, while the first electronic general-purpose computer (ENIAC) didn’t come out until 1946.