What, Me Worry?

'Why do you worry so much about things that are not in your control?', my friend Dennis asked as I was complaining to him about the possibly insufficient 50-minute layover in Atlanta on my Argentina trip. My immediate, gut feeling response was (and is, and will be), 'That's precisely why I worry, because it is not in my control; if it was, then I wouldn't waste my time worrying and would try to fix what was bothering me instead.' He didn't quite agree, and we argued for the rest of the car ride; the scope of our discussion kept getting wider as we went back and forth until we had to stop because we had reached our destination.

But clearly we both felt we had more to say, as evidenced by this subsequent email exchange (Dennis' messages are in red, and my responses in blue).

You know, the whole conversation could have been skipped if you had just said what you said at the end at the beginning. My comment that started the whole thing was something like "You know, you worry way too much about things out of your control" (in response to you worrying about your flight). If you had just said, like you did at the end, "I'm the type of person that does worry too much, but I don't really intend to change that" The conversation goes down a different path.

Yeah, I agree. But I do think some other interesting points came up in the argument. For example, suppose a close friend or relative is really sick and in the hospital. I have done everything in my power to help them, but the situation is now completely out of my control. Speaking completely rationally, it would be totally wasteful to worry any more. But I think if I wasn't consumed with worry, that would make me a horrible person. If I said OK, I have done everything I could, now it's out of my control, so there is no sense in worrying about this any more, that would be terrible. Just like, if I was sick, I would want my loved ones to be worried about me even if the situation was out of their control.

I think this occasional choice of emotion over rationality is one of the things that makes us human. I think I was trying to argue against the point that all wasteful emotions should be eliminated. In this case - worrying about a sick loved one may be technically wasteful, but I don't think we want humans to be rational to that extent.

I would not consider that wasteful because there is always more research, there are things that one can always do. You may not be able to prevent death but can do things to assist your loved one, make them feel better. Again, worry in this instance, not completely wasteful because it affects your decision and course of action.

Maybe it's our definition of "wasteful". I am not suggesting getting rid of all emotion, nor do I expect everyone/anyone to be able to control all emotion. However, emotion that has no benefit on any scale, should be minimized or one should try to minimize them. The only caveat would be that the effort put forth to minimize them causes more strain than one would gain eliminating that useless worry.

I do agree that part of our argument stems from the difference in our interpretation of the word wasteful. However, going by your statement that 'there are things that one can always do', there would be almost nothing that could be considered truly wasteful.

For example, in my case, because I am worried that my 50-minute layover may not be enough time, I will take a number of steps: I will try to get a seat in the front of the plane (as suggested by you); I will make sure that my carry-on bag is not heavy or bulky; I will do some prior research to make sure that I am familiar with the airport and the gates so I know exactly where to go; I won't go to the restroom during the transit unless absolutely necessary; I won't stop to get any food or a snack even if I am hungry... etc. This list is important because I wouldn't have to take any of these steps if my layover was, say, 2 hours. So I am minimizing the risk of missing my connection as a direct result of my worry, and thus it has value to me. The word 'minimize' is key here - I could never completely eliminate the risk of missing the connection, so that effort would be futile.

So, going by the 'there are things that one can always do' thought process, I am truly at a loss to think of any situation at all where worrying would not lead to at least coming up with some steps that would minimize the risk of an undesirable outcome.

Of course, if your point is that 'Simply worrying about anything without actually making any effort or taking any steps to try and solve the problem & minimize the risk is wasteful', then I am completely in agreement. However, it is still true that there will always be people who tend to over-worry and will do so even when they realize that it is counter-productive - and for whom the effort to stop worrying will actually cause more strain.

Update: Nothing went wrong with the trip. My flight from SFO to ATL was late, but I still had just enough time to get on the plane to EZE; my passport was almost stolen on a very crowded Subte (underground train) in Buenos Aires; and US airport security didn't allow me to bring back a small bottle of coconut milk I had bought in Argentina. But other than that, everything was quite hunky dory.

An I for an I

We kind of joke around here, ‘What is it like to be John Wray?’

I wish I was rich and famous; I wish I was intelligent and attractive; I wish I was witty and charming; these are, I would imagine, fairly common things to wish for, as, I would also suspect, would be: I wish I was a/an <insert your favorite literary or scientific award here> prize winner; I wish I directed the <most successful/best reviewed> movie of all time; I wish I was the <monarch/head of state> of a country of my choice. So far so good, except for the fact that I have just started feeling somewhat more inadequate than usual because I am none of the above, but we are approaching a slippery slope and things can get pretty complicated rather fast.

What is it like to truly be someone else? What would it really mean, for example, if I wished that I was Douglas Hofstadter? Humans are discrete beings with their individual discrete consciousness; we are not the Borg, or, at least, do not seem to be aware of it if we are. Actually, come to think of it, Hofstadter may not completely agree with me here, because his vision of consciousness includes the idea that each human "I" is distributed over numerous brains, rather than being limited to precisely one; however, since he has also been known to constantly stress the concrete while avoiding the abstract, he may not find a further analysis (of what my wish to be DH truly implies) to be absolutely without any merit. Do I simply want to look like him or maybe assume parts of his personality traits and achievements that I feel I lack? Because anything beyond that gets rather tricky: if I were to truly become him, would the me-that-had-wanted-this even know it or care any more? Would only the part of me that wanted this somehow be left intact (possibly to approve of and revel in this transformation), and the rest would be all him? (But in that case either the pre- or the post-metamorphosis me, I don't think it quite matters which at this point, could still split hairs and say that I had not completely become him.) And what of Hofstadter himself - if I became him, what would become of him? Maybe all we have to do is to convince him to want to be me (I understand that this would require a whole lot of convincing, but let's assume it momentarily for the sake of argument and in the interest of scientific advancement and intellectual discourse), and then we could all be happy without having to change anything at all.

In a somewhat unrelated note, what if I had multiple personalities, and one of them wished that it was one of the other ones - how would that work out? Would it be happy that it already was, or miserable that it could never be?

Note: The figure accompanying this post is a slightly modified version of a parquet deformation called "I at the Center" created by David Oleson at Carnegie-Mellon in 1964. It is one of Hofstadter's favorites, and the following is what he has to say about it in Metamagical Themas, his 1985 collection of essays originally written for the Scientific American. At the very center of a mesh is an I - an ego; touching it are other things - other I's - very much like the central I, but not quite the same and not quite as simple; then as one goes further and further out, the variety of I's multiplies. To me this symbolizes a web of human interconnections. Each of us is at the very center of our personal web, and each of us thinks, "I am the most normal, sensible, comprehensible individual." And our identity - our "shape" in personality space - springs largely from the way we are embedded in that network - which is to say, from the identities (shapes) of the people we are closest to. This means that we help to define others' identities even as they help to define our own.

Illusions of Grandeur

It's not every day that someone calls me a Ph.D. and a CFA, and mentions Stephen Hawking, Richard Dawkins and Noam Chomsky in the same breath as yours truly. If only all spammers knew how effective a little flattery can be!

Incidentally, and almost completely irrelevantly, a trio of psychologists at the University of Waterloo in Canada have found that couples are most satisfied with their relationship when partners see each other through rose-colored glasses; mutual delusion & a certain degree of self-deception result in the happiest relationships. (Don't ask. This fact just came up in a Google search I did with the title of this post.)

The Greatest Century

1. This is just part deux of my original Blogger's 100 posting. When I started the first one, I was initially apprehensive that I would never complete it; but I did, and the moment I did, I could already think of a couple more entries that didn't go in it. Thus the sequel.

2. At some deep dark basic level, I am quite convinced that I am totally incapable of being truly loved.

3. At the movies, I always want to stay till the final completion of the end credits. However, I almost never can, since most of my friends don't seem to share in that desire.

4. I find lonely people dining alone in restaurants almost heartbreakingly sad.

5. I am often vaguely intimidated by servers in upscale eateries or salespeople in fancy stores.

6. I don't think I have one favorite color. It usually changes with my mood.

7. Rosemary's Baby is my favorite horror film.

8. I will often do this kind of stay-in-one-place-spot-jump routine when I am really happy.

9. I will sometimes put off doing an unpleasant task till absolutely the very last moment.

10. The following is my most favorite knock knock joke of all time. (My friend Nina told it to me, and it is her mother's favorite joke too.)

"Knock, Knock..."

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow."

"Interrupting c..."

"MOOOOOOOOOO!"

11. I don't really like Italian or Mexican food all that much.

12. I would love to visit South America and Australia some day.

13. Stanley Kubrick is the only English language director that I completely admire. (Of all his films, only Full Metal Jacket and Eyes Wide Shut don't leave me gushing one way or another.)

14. One of my professors in college used to say that we could think of groups as Algebraic animals.

15. I have an undergraduate and a graduate degree in Statistics, and a post graduate degree in Quality, Reliability, and Operations Research. However, I don't use almost anything from any of these fields in the kind of work I do right now.

16. I had to move four times during my first six months in California. During this whole time, I stayed in the same zip code, and just moved around a couple blocks each time.

17. I left my parents' home for the first time after I graduated high school, and have never really gone back to live there for more than at most a couple months since.

18. I don't consider Steven Spielberg or Martin Scorsese to be great directors; I believe they are very competent craftsmen and storytellers, but not great artists.

19. I believe that well designed movie posters and book jackets can be great art.

20. I cannot, for the life of me, parallel park my car. (In my defense, I live in suburban parking heaven, so I have never needed to learn how.)

21. When discussing movies, I want to use terms like mise en scene and auteur or even didactic, but I am never quite sure exactly how to say them.

22. I used to go to high school riding on my bicycle. I had almost exclusively used only public transport till I learned to drive after moving to California.

23. I pooped my pants one time in elementary school; I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, and wasn't found out till my mother came to pick me up after school.

24. I have felt deeply humiliated too many times in my life to even keep count.

25. I would much rather volunteer my time than pay money to a charity.

26. While telling a joke, I occasionally tend to completely murder the punchline.

27. I abhor almost all kinds of jewelery and make-up. However, I find some piercings and tattoos to be secretly compelling and attractive.

28. While I don't much care for the music, there is something that draws me to punk.

29. Your Catfish Friend by Richard Brautigan is one of my favorite poems. So is He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by William Butler Yeats.

30. I can sometimes be obsessively compulsive.

31. Sometimes, when I have too much to do, I will feel somewhat overwhelmed and will do absolutely nothing.

32. I have been told, "Why the fuck don't you belt up?" at least once in my life.

33. When I was traveling in New Zealand our car was broken into and every single scrap of identification I had ever possessed was stolen. (We later learned that most of the other cars in that parking lot were broken into that evening as well.) The police eventually recovered my backpack and the only thing missing was $400 in cash.

34. Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me! and This American Life are two of my favorite radio shows.

35. I have often submitted unsuccessful entries to the New Yorker cartoon caption contest.

36. The Betrayal (#164) is one of my most favorite Seinfeld episodes. All scenes in this episode were played in reverse order with a caption indicating the time frame of the scene in relation to the previous scene.

37. I am a pug lover; I find pugs to be absolutely and completely adorable.

38. Once, in Tokyo, I tried to speak in Japanese with a post office clerk. However, I literally turned around and fled once the conversation turned into something far more involved than what I was equipped to handle with my very limited collection of tourist book phrases.

39. I have recently discovered that I really enjoy going to waterparks.

40. I recently took the SAT and scored 800 on the Math, 750 on the Critical Reading, and 740 on the Writing sections. However, my essay score was only 9 (out of a possible maximum of 12).

41. My friend Claudio used to say that the one characteristic he would look for in a lover was enthusiasm; a deep and varied range of interests and the urge to pursue them eagerly and joyfully, and an openness to always try out new things. I don't think I could agree more.

42. I think falindromes are wicked cool. (For all those of you who cannot be bothered to click on the link, falindromes are fake palindromes: although they cannot be read the same forwards and backwards, their peculiar structure make it appear as if they can.)

43. I have watched a complete full-length feature film on youtube.

44. My coworkers and I sometimes play with a 40-foot long rubber band in our office parking lot.

45. I can think of a few words in my native language that don't have proper English synonyms. (Linguist Christopher J. Moore has published a collection of such words and phrases from around the world in his book In Other Words.)

46. I used to be able to recognize Orion's belt in the night sky.

47. I am not a purist when it comes to cooking; I will happily use substitutes and time and effort saving shortcuts whenever I need to.

48. The fact that I've lost much of the full head of luxuriant hair I used to have upsets me occasionally, but not to the point where I obsess or agonize over it.

49. I think I can be really patient when I have to.

50. I have trekked in the Himalayan ranges while I was still in high school.

51. When my coworker Ryan drew superhero versions of everyone in the office, I was Flash.

52. My favorite vegetable is probably green beans. While I will happily eat almost any vegetable now, there were a couple like pumpkin or bottle gourd that I wasn't too fond of growing up.

53. I often go to the most ridiculous extreme to recycle even the smallest scrap of paper or plastic even though I realize that it is probably not worth the energy and effort.

54. When I was younger I could turn on the charm at will fairly easily and make myself desirable to people if I really tried, getting them to like me and making them want to be my friend, but I strongly doubt if I can do it any more.

55. Pornography doesn't really do much for me. I am usually bored out of my wits after the first couple minutes, and would truly read Playboy for the interviews.

56. Of all movie directors who are actively working right now, Wong Kar-wai is probably my favorite. I also greatly admire Chen Kaige and Zhang Yimou of China, Alfonso Cuarón and Alejandro González Iñárritu of Mexico, and Pedro Almodovar of Spain. I consider all of them to be great auteurs, with consistent bodies of work and distinctive styles that deeply resonate within me.

57. KQED is the local public radio station that I subscribe to, but I will also occasionally listen to KALW.

58. I find it very difficult to say no to people. I also often try to please everybody and, as a direct result of that, get into the most convulsively complicated situations ever.

59. Once, when I was stranded on a particularly rainy night in Tokyo, a homeless man gave me his umbrella.

60. I have figured out the infamous "Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo." sentence, which is a grammatically correct example of how homonyms and homophones can be used to create complicated constructs, attributed to linguist William J. Rapaport. (The Tokyo dogs analogy does help.)

61. For the longest time I was absolutely convinced that 3D stereograms were an elaborate hoax, till the first one popped out at me rather unexpectedly a couple years ago. Since then, I have made it one of my life's mission to convert other non-believers.

62. Salil Chowdhury is my absolute all-time favorite Indian popular and film music composer, and Rahul Dev Burman is a close second.

63. Every time I write the word receive, I am afraid that I have mis-spelled it.

64. The first time I went to a KFC or a McDonald's or a Wendy's was in Tokyo.

65. I don't do well in large groups at all, preferring smaller and more intimate gatherings with close friends instead. At big parties I am usually found sulking in a corner, and this almost certainly comes off as being unsocial and conceited.

66. I find self flushing toilets very unpredictable and somewhat intimidating.

67. I had great fun pissing my friend Sid off by exclaiming "Whoopsie Daisy", an expression I picked up from the owner of a small breakfast place somewhere on the way to Wellington from Auckland, rather dramatically at any and every opportunity while we were traveling in New Zealand. (I tried to do the same with "Sweet, mate!", but that didn't quite stick.)

68. The first music CD I bought in the US was a Joan Baez compilation.

69. I have vertigo. That may be one reason why I have never been good at climbing trees.

71. I believe that the public library system in the US is one of the greatest triumphs of the free world.

72. I have always wanted to write a spoof version of the Beatles song "Hey Jude" that would begin "Hey dude".

73. According to me, "All mimsy were the borogoves" (from Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky) is one of the finest and most perfectly amazing sentence fragments ever written in the English language.

74. If I had to restrict my fiction reading to just one genre, it would have to be science fiction. (Two intriguing authors I would encourage you to explore would be Joanna Russ and Samuel R. Delany. The former brings to the field her unique feminist perspective and voice, and the latter his "outsider" status as a gay African-American man.)

75. I had an almost life-size poster of Madonna (Louise Ciccone, not the virgin) on my college dorm room wall.

76. The literal meaning of my name is 'son of the earth'.

78. Growing up in India we measured temperature in Centigrade, so now I am constantly confused about how hot or cold it really is.

79. I have never had the confidence to approach people I really like, so all my life I have only gone on dates when I have been asked out. A couple times I have actually found out later that someone I had a secret crush on was also very interested in me, but we never connected because neither of us took the first step.

80. I was once told that I have the skin of a twenty year old. (I was way older than 20 at the time this happened.)

81. Life is undoubtedly often extremely unfair; however, I strongly believe that we can choose to be - in fact, almost have an obligation to be - happy nevertheless.

82. I avoid eating fast food as much as humanly and realistically possible. However, I do get the occasional craving for an In-N-Out burger, or a Lee's sandwich, or Popeye's fried catfish.

83. I used to think that Brie was a type of deli meat (probably because it reminded of the word brisket), and I was once quite upset and confused when the Brie sandwich I ordered came only with veggies and cheese.

84. I think I have discovered the perfect no-fuss snack: a generous hunk of Brie on a Nacho Cheese flavored Doritos chip. The contrast of the textures and flavors is quite amazing, even though my friend Sid says that just the culture clash alone would be enough to give him indigestion.

85. The thought that I may become too stiff to cut my own toenails when I am very old really frightens me a lot.

86. I don't know the names of any of my ancestors beyond my grandparents; in fact, to be very honest, I have even forgotten my mother's father's name.

87. Once someone asked me for the phone number to my college's admissions office, and I gave them my aunt's number by mistake. My poor aunt still occasionally gets phone calls asking the odd admissions related question.

88. I can never accept praise or compliments graciously; I start feeling extremely uncomfortable, and never know how to respond in an appropriate manner.

89. In January 1990, during the 13th International Film Festival of India in Calcutta, I watched five full-length feature films back to back in one day. I started with the first show in the morning, and attended various screenings at different theaters all day, finishing off with the last one at night.

90. While I am not even remotely religious, I generally have no problem accepting and respecting other peoples' personal faith; however, very overt expressions of religious beliefs, either individual or communal, do put me off quite a bit.

91. 'Teh' instead of 'the' is the most common typo that I almost certainly make multiple times daily. In my defence, I never really formally learned to type, and as a result, I have to constantly look at the keyboard instead of the terminal and mostly just use one or at most two fingers while I am typing.

92. I very strongly feel that monogamy, just by itself, should not be considered a virtue.

93. My friend Ryan says that fornication and food are my only two vices, but I don't agree with him. I don't think that either should be considered a vice.

94. I have been called both totally cool and totally bizarre. By the same person at the same time.

95. For a little while, my nickname in college was machine gun, but it didn't stick.

96. No one taught me how to masturbate. I figured it out myself, way before I reached puberty.

97. I have seven different e-mail addresses, five of which I regularly use.

98. Even though I know this to be untrue, I still believe that how hard or how many times you press the push button at an intersection determines how soon the walk signal turns on.

99. When speaking to myself, I never actually use my name, but often opt for the second person pronoun.

100. It only took me 73 days to come up with this list. That's 53 days less than what it took me the first time around. I must be getting better!

100 Years of Solitude

1. This is really just my own Blogger's 100. The contents of this post has almost nothing to do with the title.

2. I have an irrational and extreme fear of birds. I sometimes try to explain it by saying that I was attacked by a herd of swans who knocked me down to the ground and tried to peck my eyes out when I was a toddler.

3. I enjoy popping bubble wrap way more than I should.

4. When I was an infant my aunt used to have a dog called Katie and I have been told that I used to feed her (the dog, not my aunt) fistfuls of dirt. I don't remember any of this.

5. I have attended six different pre, elementary, and middle schools.

6. I am mediocre at many things. I think I would rather be really good at just one.

7. I have wet my bed exactly once as an adult.

8. I have been told a few times that I was found sleepwalking.

9. Driving, shaving, and shopping are the three things I hate most in life. And maybe having to wake up early in the morning.

10. I have never owned a house in my life and I am occasionally worried that I will become homeless when I am old.

11. All four of my grandparents are dead. I remember three of them fairly well. My mother's father passed away before I could have precise memories of him.

12. I have the worst allergies in the history of the Universe. My eyes are always watery, I have extreme anosmia, and I cannot remember the last time I could freely breathe through my nose. This is really unfortunate because, of the five senses, smell is my most favorite.

13. I am fluent in three languages: English, Bengali, and Hindi. I also know a smattering of words and phrases in Tamil and Japanese.

14. I find it physically extremely difficult, actually almost impossible, to cry. I remember crying just once due to an emotional reason in my entire adult life. However, I will easily sob at the movies, or while reading a book, or sometimes even listening to a particularly evocative piece of music.

15. I have a friend who used to say that tapioca is better than sex. But he was single then and may have changed his mind since.

16. I don't drink alcohol and drink very little soda. I don't smoke tobacco.

17. I believe that one has to be cleansed of all earthly desire before one can move to the next level after death. This means that you will get to indulge every single one of your unfulfilled fantasies in the afterlife.

18. I am not entirely tech savvy. I don't own an iPod or a digital camera, and my car does not have a CD player.

19. Many of my friends tell me secrets they would not easily tell anyone else.

20. I am excruciatingly self conscious. That's why I almost never sing or dance in public.

21. It is not at all easy to hurt me or make me angry, but I can hold a grudge forever if I am indeed actually provoked.

22. I adore children and am very good with them, but I am not certain if I want any of my own.

23. I think I would enjoy being a stand up comic or a movie director or have my own late night show on television.

24. My favorite cuisine would have to be Thai or Malaysian. I like Indonesian and Burmese food too.

25. I find it difficult to truly enjoy most things if I cannot share them with my friends.

26. I was born in the city that is now called Kolkata and grew up in various small towns. I have also briefly lived in Tokyo and the city that is now called Chennai.

27. I have lost contact with most of my high school classmates.

28. My coworkers and I frequently play the 'would you rather' game with death not being an option.

29. I can browse for days in a good bookstore. For the longest time, that was my idea of heaven.

30. Reading an elaborate recipe will usually lift my spirits if I am depressed.

31. I don't lie very often. I feel that lying requires a lot more effort than just telling the truth and sticking to it.

32. I find physical positions in which I lose my balance deeply unsettling. That is why I get sick on roller coasters and cannot do any inversion poses. My yoga teacher once told me that this is probably because of an experience in a previous life.

33. I think it's perfectly alright to ask for a doggy bag in a restaurant, even if one doesn't have a dog.

34. I cannot whistle or do a somersault, and this will occasionally upset me a lot.

35. I believe that I am anti-photogenic. There isn't a single photograph of myself that I like.

36. When dining out with a group of close friends, I would rather order family style than get individual entrees.

37. I love to cook, but not just for myself.

38. I like taking afternoon naps, but I feel very melancholy if it is already getting dark when I wake up.

39. I enjoy eating almost everything, but for the last couple years I have been making a conscious effort to cut down on meat and eat more vegetables.

40. I sometimes feel that some people take advantage of me.

41. I am quite fond of a good bargain. I may be persuaded to buy something that I don't really need if the price is attractive enough.

42. Every now and then I will have a strong desire to just quit everything and go work at the post office or at a grocery store or at the library.

43. Till recently, I was naive enough to secretly believe that all great artists and authors are also wonderful people. But then, I also believed that love was more important than sex.

44. My coworker Louise has a tiny little Michel Foucault finger puppet fridge magnet and I think it's the coolest thing ever.

45. If I ever went back to school again, I would probably want to study linguistics or social and cultural anthropology or cognitive sciences.

46. There have been a few times in my life when I have narrowly escaped almost certain disfigurement, and these moments haunt me constantly. I would strongly prefer death to becoming physically dependent on someone.

47. I once poured a cup of boiling oil on my hand by mistake. The scars have almost vanished now, but you can still see them if you look really closely and know where to look.

48. I don't remember having a favorite toy as a child. I think I was way more into books than toys in any case.

49. While I was often a very enthusiastic participant, I was never actually any good at any sport growing up.

50. Right now, I cannot even imagine my life without a cell phone or the Internet.

51. When I am driving alone I prefer to listen to talk radio, usually NPR.

52. While growing up in India I would listen to a lot of British and American pop songs, but now I almost exclusively listen to Indian music.

53. I am extremely clumsy. None of my movements are naturally graceful. (I suspect I am socially somewhat clumsy too.)

54. I believe luck is quantized; be careful how you use it because you only get so much. Good and bad luck cancel each other out.

55. I often try to be tongue-in-cheek with a straight face. Sometimes I succeed.

56. My first real relationship was a complicated, protracted, and painful affair. We no longer speak to each other.

57. I have had light crushes on some of my teachers in high school and seniors and classmates in college.

58. I expect my lover to know exactly what I want without my ever having to say a single word. Of course I also realize that this is impossible.

59. I don't believe in saying 'I love you'. I feel that having to actually say it completely defeats the purpose in the first place. The fact that I love you should be abundantly clear from my behavior, and not from my speech. Ditto for sorry. And thank you.

60. I have a burning man poster in my bedroom and a Marc Chagall print (an office-warming present) at work. That's all.

61. Every time I visit a University campus I come away depressed for days, with a strong feeling that I am trifling away my life.

62. I watch very little television, but if I had to watch only one channel it would have to be the food network.

63. I am deeply and constantly in awe of women. I cannot even imagine going through pregnancy and childbirth.

64. Even though I have many good friends, I think I am a loner at heart.

65. Cruelty towards animals and the elderly enrage and depress me.

66. I am fond of Junior Mint candies and Milky Way Midnight bars. I also like Jelly Belly jellybeans. Juicy pear is one of my favorite flavors.

67. Seems like at any given point half the people in my life feel that I am too enthusiastic, and the other half feel that I am not enthusiastic enough.

68. I suck at ironing clothes. That is why I only wear jeans and tee shirts.

69. I can never say the word immediate entirely to my own satisfaction.

70. I always feel that I am talking too loudly when I am on the phone.

71. I am overly fond of making lists, probably much more than I should be. Even though I realize the innate futility of limiting my favorite movies, or books, or songs to just 10, or 15, or 20, I often feel oddly compelled to do so.

72. I usually don't have too much trouble falling asleep. Waking up is not always as easy though.

73. I can make a popping sound using my right index finger and my right ear that some of my friends find entertaining and amusing.

74. People who are constantly completely indecisive irritate me; however, people who always know exactly and precisely what they want intimidate me too.

75. I have road rage. A lot of it. I use profanity and a hand signal involving a certain finger all too often while driving.

76. I have never formally learned to swim, but I can manage to stay afloat by randomly thrashing my limbs every which way in the water.

77. I am severely directionally challenged; it took me more than a year to figure out that San Francisco was north and San Jose was south, and not too long ago I left work in the peninsula one evening to go back home to the south bay but drove into downtown San Francisco by mistake.

78. A friend once told me that he had seen me in a serious mood only once in his entire lifetime, and that was right before our Linear Algebra final exam in college.

79. I have gone kayaking in New Zealand and dog sled riding in Alaska.

80. I absolutely adore the ellipsis and tend to italicize words far more than I probably should...

81. I have an occasional tendency, especially when talking with strangers, to speak almost entirely in impromptu and half-baked aphorisms that I make up on the spur of the moment. A recent example: Oftentimes people insist on a decision when they should be happy with just a possibility.

82. I am inordinately fond of blue cheese. My friend Ryan makes a cornbread crust pizza with Romanesco broccoli topping and blue cheese in every bite that is completely out of this world and to die for.

83. I have, on multiple occasions, been on the verge of complete panic thinking that my car was stolen, when, in reality, I was simply looking for it in the wrong part of the parking lot or even the wrong street.

84. I often wish I had the courage to drop everything and take a year off to see the world.

85. One Halloween, faced with a street full of enthusiastic trick-or-treaters and no candy at home, I turned all the lights out and pretended to be away for the whole evening.

86. I am rather fond of watching James Bond movies. However, I consider them to be somewhat of a guilty pleasure, and would be quite embarrassed to publicly admit that I enjoy them.

87. I was once at a Christmas party that went on till almost new year's day because no one wanted to leave.

88. A couple years ago my then room mates and I decided to go without television for a year, and now I don't miss it at all. (Of course I do have a set for watching movies on DVD or VHS, and the occasional late night Family Guy or Futurama rerun.)

89. I often listen to npr's Song of the Day while at work. (Thankfully, my office mate seems to enjoy it too, and hasn't complained yet.)

90. I try to go to the gym a couple times every week, but I don't enjoy it at all, so it helps that my room mate and I workout together.

91. When I was in elementary school, all of the students were chosen to be extras in a fairly big budget Bollywood movie. For about a week we had no classes; we would travel to location every day, and have to lip-synch with the stars as they sang. As far as I can remember, the picture, when it came out, didn't do very well at all.

92. I am usually always reading a couple books at the same time; that way, I can keep switching between them, and I actually end up finishing them much faster than if I just read them back to back.

93. Even when I know exactly what to get, I always end up spending way too much time just browsing at the video rental store. Or the book store, for that matter.

94. I am not sure if complex thoughts are possible without language.

95. I will very occasionally urinate in the shower if the urge is just too great and I cannot be bothered to dry off and walk to the toilet.

96. I often enjoy (and look forward to) the previews that precede the feature presentation more than the movie itself.

97. Even when things turn out really well, I am faintly dissatisfied that they didn't happen in some other way. The white noise from all the alternate realities are forever distracting me.

98. My fingers are not even the lightest shade of green. I feel that a plant left solely in my care would almost certainly wither and die.

99. I will sometimes turn the subtitles on when I am watching a DVD (even when I know the language the movie is in) so that I don't miss any of the dialogue.

100. This must make me some kind of a pathetic loser, but coming up with a hundred things about myself has been far more difficult than I had imagined it would be. It has taken me precisely 126 days to complete this post (and much of it was written while I was at work), but now I am done!

A Cycle of Love and Longing

Will it work? Or will this day too pass through what, for lack of better words, we call memory, and end up blurry and sepia circa somesuch AD (crumpled and faded, like those receipts in the wallet that went in the wash, the bar codes barely showing, the merchants' names all but vanished)? Will this weekend combine with a dazzling blue sky in an as yet unrealized future and bring tears to the eye and settle uncomfortably in the throat? Or maybe it will work. Maybe we will slip into the domesticity we dread and desire, growing old and fat and bald. And on a wet and gloomy day in an as yet unrealized future we will look at each other and sigh, wondering what it must have been like then to be thinking about what it is like now.

Spamalot!

It is not every day that I open up my inbox to find such entertaining unsolicited commercial e-mail. This guy had me hooked right from the subject line; and the delicate wistfulness conjured up by the combination of his message and the date it was sent was endearing, to say the least. I have to be honest, I am almost tempted to buy something from him...

Sent: Wednesday, February 15, 2006 6:33 AM
Subject: Fucking St.Valentine

What are you to do if you have bad erection? Especially
in the forthcoming Saint Valentines Day???
Don t worry, it is not the last of pea-time...
The most simple way is to visit our site, order the
medication and that is all you are to do!

Do not kill the clock!

Bosom Buddies

What can I say? I just love how, at work, I have the opportunity to do what I do best every day; and there is at least one other person who encourages my development.

The Colours of Dusk

Outside my window
Pink spills into blue and grey
In the horizon.

An Unexpected Rainbow

Between the green and the grey, a sudden muted explosion. Already faded, but persistent; not going away anytime soon. Following me on my morning commute.

Food for Thought

I was quite pleasantly surprised to notice that my lunch order today was in haiku!

Teriyaki bowl,
Hot miso soup with tofu,
Spicy tuna roll.

Isn't it wonderful how two of one's favorite things (food and poetry) can unexpectedly come together? And it was also quite appropriate, given that it was Japanese cuisine.

The Journey

The water is dark, deep, and silent. Be careful picking your way to the boat in the starlight. The sky is overcast, and the waves have died. It's getting chilly; here, let me warm you. The stream looks harmless at your feet, but it has taken many already. I know we have to part soon; but till then, give me your hand. Remember what I told you about the currents and other dangers. You have to make your own mistakes, but never forget, I will be there to hold you if you fall. As you row away, I will be the stars twinkling in the water, the water lapping at your oars, the oars guiding you through life. I will be the wind in your hair, the hair in your eyes, the eyes in your heart. And when all is done, when all your cards have been dealt and played and homecoming tugs at your days, I will wait here to bring you ashore on a future fragrant summer night.

Secret Santa!

I came in to work today to find my desk totally transformed with decorative ornaments, a strategically placed Santa hat, and a Whack and Unwrap milk chocolate orange sitting next to my monitor. This doesn't normally happen every single day, but we are having a lot of surreptitious present-giving going on in the office throughout this week, building up to the actual Secret Santa gift exchange tomorrow for our holiday party. So I made a little thank you note for my anonymous benefactor saying My Secret Santa is the Best. Except I used what I thought would be this really cool font which made it say something just a little different, making Natalie laugh so hard that her contact lens actually popped out.

And I used to think that only happened in movies!

Bittersweet, Redux

So here are some more of my favorite bittersweet experiences, honoring a request in response to my previous post. Caveat: this is completely random and off the top of my head; I make no claims to be definitive.

Wong Kar-wai's Fallen Angels, Happy Together, and In the Mood for Love
Walter Salles' Central do Brasil (Central Station)
Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
Stephen Sondheim's Into the Woods and Sunday in the Park with George

This is almost certainly a list in progress, and I will try to keep adding to it. Suggestions are always welcome, and will be deeply appreciated.

Bittersweet

We were discussing Wong Kar Wai's movies the other day when the word bittersweet was mentioned, and I realized that this was a common theme that characterized many of my favorite works of art (and was even my favorite kind of chocolate). That everything comes to an end is both the best and worst thing about life, and the promise of the future is forever tinged with the pain of having to let go of the past. The life we make is only one of all that could have been, and that is precisely what makes it both worthwhile and heartbreaking. Like this final passage from Winnie-the-Pooh (in which Christopher Robin and Pooh come to an Enchanted Place and we leave them there), one that is particularly close to my heart.

Then, suddenly again, Christopher Robin, who was still looking at the world, with his chin in his hands, called out "Pooh!"
"Yes?" said Pooh.
"When I'm - when - Pooh!"
"Yes, Christopher Robin?"
"I'm not going to do Nothing any more."
"Never again?"
"Well, not so much. They don't let you."
Pooh waited for him to go on, but he was silent again.
"Yes, Christopher Robin?" said Pooh helpfully.
"Pooh, when I'm - you know - when I'm not doing Nothing, will you come up here sometimes?"
"Just Me?"
"Yes, Pooh."
"Will you be here too?"
"Yes, Pooh, I will be, really. I promise I will be, Pooh."
"Thats good," said Pooh.
"Pooh, promise you wont forget about me, ever. Not even when I'm a hundred."
Pooh thought for a little.
"How old shall I be then?"
"Ninety-nine."
Pooh nodded.
"I promise," he said.
Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt Pooh's paw.
"Pooh," said Christopher Robin earnestly, "if I - if I'm not quite -" he stopped and tried again - "Pooh, whatever happens, you will understand, won't you?"
"Understand what?"
"Oh, nothing." He laughed and jumped to his feet. "Come on!"
"Where?" said Pooh.
"Anywhere," said Christopher Robin.

So they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.

To A Sleeping Lover

I think you hate me a little less when you are asleep. You are more relaxed, the lines of slumber combine with the half smile on your face, and I have to control my desire so much that I lose track of my own tiredness. I know you are back in some other time and some other place. I try to imagine your past like it is last night's forgotten dream. I long to walk in your memories and protect you from all the heartbreaks and pain, collecting every shard of sorrow before it reaches you. They say no two snowflakes are alike; you too were a different person with each of your lovers. I look at you and see a multitude, love collects in my breast like milk. I rock to the rhythm of your breath. One life is never enough.

Panama!

Here is a statement that almost never fails to leave me convulsing with hysterical laughter, to the point of occasionally making me physically sick with uncontrollable mirth.

A man, a plan, a canal: Suez!

I can still recall the delicious mix of surprise and joy I had felt when I first saw it in an old dusty copy of Reader's Digest. In certain ways it typifies the kind of smart, but irreverant and completely random and silly humor that appeals to me a lot, and also explains why I adore Monty Python sketches. However, I should confess that while about half the people I know immediately get exactly where I am coming from, the other half probably never will, so any attempt at explanation would be futile.

Incidentally, some minor googling turned up this expanded version of the original: A man, a plan, a canoe, pasta, hero's rajahs, a coloratura, maps, snipe, percale, macaroni, a gag, a banana bag, a tan, a cat, a mane, paper, a Toyota, rep, a pen, a mat, a can, a tag, a banana bag again (or a camel), a crepe, pins, spam, a rut, a Rolo, cash, a jar, sore hats, a peon, a canal, Panama!

In what may not be a completely unrelated aside, a milder and perhaps more accessible version of a similar structure would be what is sometimes referred to as the Polish Knock Knock joke, and goes, simply:

Knock knock
Come in!

A final word, before I sign off, to the reader who may be upset at the frivolity and irrelevance of this post: developmental psychologists study knock-knock-joke usage in younger children, as it provides valuable insight into how children advance their language skills. So, while nothing is just fun and games, there is no reson why most things shouldn't be.

On the Other Hand...

Kevin (my room mate): It's probably not a good thing when you come back home after partying all night and take six cards out of your wallet with names and phone numbers written on them, and you can only at most remember maybe three of the people...

Me (trying to sound perky): On the contrary, I would be happy; it means I met three people that I liked enough to save their contact information in the first place, and now I will have the pleasure of being able to meet and like them all over again!

Thicker Than Water

Umm, well, now that I have finally broken down and pointed out my blog to a couple people at work in a pathetic attempt to increase traffic, I should probably pull out all stops (something I often fantasize about but never actually contemplate seriously doing) and record here exactly how I feel about them. (Actually, I don't think I need to worry; they almost certainly will never want to visit this page anyways). But in the off chance they do, I want them to know that I am honored to count among them some of my dearest friends and confidantes, and they are the closest I have ever had to a family.

Alright. End of occasional obligatory baring of the soul. I guess I can go back to being my regular obnoxious self again now.

He Listens to the Night

Moon and stars, in an Etch-A-Sketch sky
The dark city, wearing its attitude like a jewel
'Maybe next time
You will fall in love with someone
Who fancies you, for a change'
They say.