Sorry Mr. King

David Sirlin, video game designer, concludes one of this articles with a quote:

You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or even despair—the sense that you can never completely put on the page what’s in your mind and heart. You can come to the act with your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down names. You can come to it because you want a girl to marry you or you want to change the world. Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page.

—Stephen King

Pssh. Like, I get where you're coming from, Steph, but c'mon, that was a little cheesey. The only part I like is "You can come to it because you want a girl to marry you." Perhaps that's because that's the kind of despair I can sort of understand; the other motivations I find suspect. "Nervousness"? Do you want to read a writer who wrote because of nervousness? A friend of mine once recalled to me that the last time he cried was when he was telling his parents that Speakers should have something to say.

I don't have any papers that professors want me to publish and I certainly don't generate any new mathematical or scientific knowledge at all. Most of my thoughts during most of the day shift between three gears: where I should deposit my body and in what employment in should then be in, wtheck the professor's lecturing on, and if I should hit on girls passing me by.

This is my blog and, paraphrasing another friend in the words of yet a third friend who was makes fun of a commercial thusly, "I do what I want."

They say that oftentimes when a girl relates a problem to a boy isn't in pursuit of problem solving ability, but a friend to lend an ear, to be understood. Well, treat me like a girl.

Speaking of girls, let's get it out there on the table. The idea of Girls is a rather common theme on this blog (at first I was going to say "dominant theme" then "subtle" because subtlety is both fun to type and I'm a big fan of it). It seems there is a necessary minimum of time that is spent thinking about romantic love. The mind's time is spent either considering directly the relationship with one's boyfriend or girlfriend and in what direction that will continue, or if there is no one occupying that position, one spends a great deal of time considering who might next fill it and how that will come to be. Unless one is married. I cannot speak to that. This situation, as it is for me, is simultaneously frustrating and exhilarating. I sometimes don't understand how others go about handling this, though. So much pretending.

I was once lauded for my "blatant honesty."

It probably wouldn't be easy, but I could probably sleep with a girl this weekend if I were really intent on it, which, I'm told, is nothing to brag about. I might be told that, but I'm not sure I believe it. Insofar as nothing should be bragged about, it's true. However, I'm pretty sure there are a fair amount of boys who would like very much to have sex this weekend, but won't be getting any.

I often identify a defect in a person or a negative trend in a group and then jump to concluding that that entity is worthless. This does apply to my self-analytical process. Part of it wanting to be able to conclusively point to x and blame it for everything, which is partly my desire for holistic analytic results, partly due to my own laziness, and partly due to the commonality of factors and pervade an entire system. Let's be aware of this and move on.

So sex. After having labored in physic class or math class or programming with dozens of nerds and an overcompensating AC, I have described to Louis and to Johann, that my reward is to then step out in the 94 degree Irvine sunshine and walk past 100s of students, some wearing short shorts. Right. At one point I thought I should learn to appreciate beauty where I find it. I don't think this is proper mental self-discipline. Problem solvers provide me with a variety of ways for me to get to know these random girls, in place of ogling. It is a tricky problem and provides a considerable challenge, upon which the problem solvers practice their ingenuity and indulge their enjoyment of the absurd. One only has 10 minutes, one is trying to get to another class, iPods in their ears, dozens of people between you and her, some dude walking next to her, and so on. Simple self-introduction? Ask for directions? Then ask what their major is? Bump into them? I offered a girl a tic-tac once. I was rejected.



Oh man. I'm a little tired of this blog post.

Ultimately, this is a nice thing to be worrying about rather than not having enough money for school, having AIDS, being a eunuch, or having to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.