RANDOMNESS

Do not click here. There is nothing here.

I was just thinking today about Mr. Glausser (my 8th grade chem teacher), probably because I was talking to Talya online. Once upon a time he told us that he wanted to die of spontaneous human combustion, just because he thought it was a good way to go...up in flames, literally. I remember in 8th grade I thought it was really cool. Now I just think it's very random, and therefore worthy of this page.

Speaking of Talya and random, I think that some of the things that we wrote together--or inspired by each other--in 8th grade are also worthy of this page. Even if everyone other than the two of us derives no amusement from this, it's still worth posting. Click here for those wonderful odes to absurdity.

Speaking of absurdity, here is an essay that Andrew Lee wrote. Don't read the whole thing. It is long. Just skip around and read some of the end. Make sure you do not miss the reference to Shamu, or you will be missing something truly "special."

Sep 9, 2001--I'm in the most awful, inexplicable mood. I woke up at three thirty. It's awful; nothing seems right. It seems as though some impending sense of doom surrounds me in everything i do, although I know the notion is ridiculous. I'm tired of not knowing what tomorrow will bring, I'm tired of the monotony of novelty, tired of dealing with people who float so undeliberately through life. I don't know what happened to me that made me wondrous towards so little. Life itself is so great; I don't know what is wrong with me today.

On a lighter note, here is my Stanford essay, posted in response to Sean posting his, and to someone asking me to. I wrote it the night before it was due and revised it only once, so its overall quality is not that wonderful. I think Stanford liked me more because of what I said about myself in this essay and in my Short Answers than because of my actual writing ability...but then again, they took me, and surely not because of my exemplary 630 on the math section of the SATs. Bleh, there I go, overexplaining myself again...I'll stop now.

I have a lot of other random things I may as well post on here. Read my Ode to Soap, The Fundamentals of Me-ness, some more Hole Child stuff, and a random story about Abe Lincoln. I was thinking of posting my infamous "PsychoANALizer" story, but then I re-read it and realized how bad, tasteless and long it is. While badness and tastelessness have not stopped me from posting anything in the past, the sheer length of this story would put anyone to sleep.

September 12, 2001 -- I feel like I have to say something about the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. In short, it is awful, and everyone responsible for it, as well as anyone (particularly in government) who is sympathetic towards it needs to be punished and stopped from doing anything similar. To those who advocate negotiations, you are being ridiculous. To those who seek to "forgive" or "understand" the terrorists, you are beyond help if you think that the "way of life" they were willing to die for was in any way valid or worth preserving. To those who say that we can't risk killing innocent civilians, well...we're going to have to, if those civilians inhabit an enemy nation. This is all surreal. It's kind of weird that I said on the ninth that I felt a heavy sense of doom in the air. Now it's not just me.

October 10, 2001 -- I used to joke about the world being out to get me, but now I really think I was right. Moved by a sense of cynicism towards the puwer of human rationality and volition, people who seem harmless at first then proceed in fighting to break me. The greatest offense is the claim that we must pass no judgment--essentially, that all value systems should be regarded as equal, save my own: that one must take a stand and declare the existence of an objective morality, and that it is right to feel disgust towards Eastern religions that glorify annihilation.

October 12, 2001 -- Go to the following site if you'd like to see rather frightening pictures of psychotic Stanford kids in San Francisco. I don't know if all of them are here; if not, I'll make my own link as well. Maneesh's site has the pictures if you click on "photos," not like it would be hard to figure that out.

October 26, 2001 -- One particularly unbearable day in SLE lecture, Megan and I spent the whole time thinking up very god-awful SLE puns. Now that I have several pages of them, I have decided to post them up on my site...a place that is friendly to that kind of ridiculousness. Here is a list of those glorious SLE puns. Feel free to somehow send me more if you think of them, but I don't think my guestbook is working for whichever reason.

November 14, 2001 -- Today, in SLE section, we were talking about Plato's philosophy, so naturally it got me thinking about my own philosophy. I started writing a mini-treatise while I meditated bitterly over the fact that I have to write my previous SLE essay all over again, seeing as I didn't follow the prompt at all. OH, THE HUMANITY! Anyway, because this is the kind of thing that I'd do, here is that pseudo-treatise. It is very Randian, but it represents my little waffle brain trying to make sense of Objectivism and integrate it into what I know. Speaking of waffle brains, here is a brilliant poem written by some random person. When I say "brilliant," I mean "devoid of actual brilliance, but particularly funny, especially when set to 'music'." Along the same lines, here is a dictionary of Kenny-isms, which would very much like to be spread into common usage. So help me God.

December 18, 2001 -- There is a chair suspended in the middle of our dorm room. I think Erin took it down for the purposes of room inspection, but it will definitely go back up when we return. I will probably make a point of erecting it even before I bother putting the sheets back on my bed, but who needs sheets anyway? Besides, this chair is wonderful. We decided that it represents Plato's Ideal Form of a chair, because it is ideal and wholly impractical. If anyone tried to sit in it, it would surely self destruct, and thus wouldn't any longer be the ideal form of a chair. Here is a page dedicated to our wonderful suspended chair.

December 19, 2001 -- It's so hard for me to believe academia's hatred for everything that Ayn Rand stood for. Sure, there are some tenets of objectivism that are questionable, but not nearly as questionable as those that are held by many widely accepted philosophers. (This becomes a lengthy rant. Because I am frugal, I have preserved it and placed it on this page.)

December 27, 2001 -- Last night, to help me sleep, I took sleeping medication. I happened to be writing when the medication took effect, and the result was increasingly delirious rambling that I recognize as my own only by default:

"I drift into sleeplessness [I meant sleepfulness], my pen feels heavy (or perhaps light) my head falls to one side and I feel as though I am somebody else, somewhere else, with other people, like a woman wearing a bonnet on a British shyre [I don't know what a British shyre is], with a house with a meadow, and I hear voices, or sense them, see colors that are not there and voices voices, i was another person on a hil of re[cuts off] and i read, aloud, so all could see (and hear) what I read, (and to Christian fundamentalists it was drivel) but it was a perfectly good victorian novel ~ Tess of the D'urbervilles, oh yes, fine fine like that [for the record I hated Tess of the D'urbervilles, and I'm surprised I spelled it right in my deliriousness] but it was so bizzarre this has nothing to do with anything"

...Then there were random little snippets of randomness and little messy "drawings" in the margins:
1) "allllllllldie" [scribbly picture of god only knows what]
2) "I feel there are many (this is a trespassers) many far too many"
3) "silence but not science" [weird picture that looks like a bad hairpiece]
4)"and felt like Moulin Rouge"
5) "and i felt so detached from the aapoject [I think I meant 'project']"
6) "this is my guilt" [arrow pointed to a little picture of a diamond with two circles in it]
7) "and something about Cal Tech"
8) "it was so absurd so many people but really just just this"
9) "THIS HAS BEEN one of the bizzare most things that have ever happened"
...and then finally, scribbled in back [I definitely don't remember turning the paper over]:
10) "And I, with no idea about how to assemble so much power it sounds like a nucler (sic) war in my ears the sounds we make:" [weird picture that looks like a circle with lines coming out of it]

This is obviously where I passed out, which I likewise do not remember. I wonder if these ramblings represent my subconscious talking, or if it was just the sleeping medication...

December 30, 2001 -- I feel like posting something about Radiohead, because they are a truly great band. I wrote an essay/speech for my Art vs Pop seminar comparing Radiohead to T.S. Eliot, so I suppose I will post that here. Unrelated to that, I'll share a random thought that requires some explanation. A young immigrant couple lives in our trailer with their little boy. Last year, around the time of the boy's birth, they came to own a little yellow kitten that I became fond of during the winter months, uniformly the least enjoyable months of the year. In the beginning of spring the kitten succumbed to coyotes. My first night home this year for Thanksgiving break, I heard a familiar mewing beneath my window and the next day went outside to find a little yellow kitten identical to last year's. Again, the winter months have been the darkest, and again the kitten has served as somewhat of a buffer between myself and that darkness...
I cannot help but entertain ideas of endlessness. My life, trapped in this endless cycle, defects and begins to imitate itself in ways that too clearly betray its eternity.

December 31, 2001 -- I needed ideas of what else to post on this site, because posting on this site is just about the only thing that makes me feel productive, I suppose because it is somewhat like actual work. Sean mentioned making top ten lists. Perhaps I will dream some up and post them here.

January 2, 2001 -- I go back up to school soon. When I left to come back here, it was like I was entering a far off world. It took me a while to adjust to it, to adjust to people's vastly different senses of humor, to adjust to living alone in my room and having vast blocks of silence (both a blessing and a curse), and to adjust to time's tendency to move at a much lazier pace. But now I have adjusted, and now I am of this life, and now it seems so bizzarre that I am going back...not necessarily bad, just bizzarre. It seems so wrong that, for a while now, I will be caught in this limbo between two lives, never belonging to one nor the other. Although both are good in their own respective ways, I feel this intrinsic need to establish myself only in one, adopt it fully, leaving the other one to continue with its business without me. I know this notion is absurd...and that's why I put it on this page.

January 23, 2002 -- I haven't contributed for a while because I'm back at school now. For some reason, everything seems profoundly different this time around. My classes are better, for what it's worth, but socially speaking I want a sort of tabula raza that I can't have. Last night I had a strong desire to read and do work. I've been staying in my room with the door closed. Sometimes I eat by myself, and it's not necessarily depressing, just a bit empty. I don't really know why.
Anyway, on a lighter note, I have been meaning to post the second bout of my ambien-inspired ramblings, so I will do that now. It's rather long, so excuse the fact that this entry will take up lots of space on the screen.

"I don't know when they took effect or really when they should have, or even if it has happened or will happen at all. Maybe it's the placebo effect that makes me write somewhat differently than I usually do, and in my absurdity, ascribe each line to somebody else, who insists on talking in that ridiculous, vaguely English accent that inhabits only the more frightening places of my mind. This notebook does go by the laws of the art dudes, the lines practically meet at the end, somewhat like some crazy race to see who (mere) will first reach the end in legible script as well; I do think it's been done.

But Really Eaaaasy riders

But everyone's talkin' bout the same ole thing...
i don't think I hallucinate the outer world (although I must admit, the way I look at the board is aided somewhat by distorition. (I think theres distortion coming your way) Because she cut our sentence off--YEAH, I was about to admit that all hallucinations are in my own mind. It's much like dreaming, the difference being that we are still awake. For example, I feel that there are many voices in my head, and for some reason when I write something, it is always in somebody's voice or is the (voice) << [someone said this she is cute] of the group, perhaps from there I saw/heard my voices, and then worked with those voices until I recreated the natural state of that voice, and the natural state of the perfect man should be absolutely perfect.

The world outside is the same, but the way I percieve it has drastically changed. To me at this moment there are many voices, mostly internal and localized, but each ascribed to a different personality, or to a point on the page, or behind me. In that sense I feel as though I'm the queen of this fated expedition, because I am the only person here and that gives me the natural right to rule my own words, my citizenry, and tell them not to hack each other, and to suspend the Objectivism letters to the editor,

And I wonder if it is even effective, now, that we have a whole team to regulate (but I must announce that it may not work"

...At this point, again, I lost the ability to write linearly and I'll write down all the random little phrases separately. One thing that was sort of bizzarre is the fact that phrases are written in different handwriting styles.

1) "Whalen transports bags of animal fat"
2) "We want to fight, we lose the point of taking them. If we can effectively rally against its influence another 10 min. troops" -- here I was talking about the ambien, then I lapsed into ridiculousness. Also, the more sleepy I get on ambien, I start referring to myself as "we" because I think I start regarding the voices in my head as separate entities.
3) "Arnold safety helmet"
4) "sounds like a FANTASTIC!"
5) "lancaster model sun?"
6) "(apparently our studio is lucky) they giggle"
7) "Some say 'all' them, I suspect."
8) "I dont want the cat to die"
9) "I remember he came to me in a dream and he told me not to fear, then walked on. Yosemite I think."
10) "this is ridiculous, you know that, children? But there are no children, despite the voices, it's must me writing in response to But really these voices are just in my imagination and EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST ME"
11) "[shouldn't I be asleep not schizophrenic?]"
12) "Seems somewhat more deliberate (french accent servant)"
13) "we have to hallucinate we have no right not to"
14) "woman singing: ' bla bla bla east LA, and someone tried to steal my girl'"
15) "posting stuff online DUH"
16) "and I don't know the state of human affairs By law should I not"
17) "That's what I miss about the outdoors, it's what I'm missing in life-- I want to meet in some obscure woodlands trail and I want to save my soul"
The End.

February 22, 2002 (2/22/2002, if you will) -- On a fantastically different note from what I was writing about a month ago, I am inclined today to post a whole bunch of Objectivism stuff. So, ladies and jellyspoons, click here for more random Objectivism stuff! Yeah, how I love to tick off all those Anti-Randians floating around in the Wild Blue Yonder. Ideally, they would all come to my site and be so convinced by my stirring words that they begin to see Objectivism as at least a worthwhile philosophy, but realistically speaking that doesn't happen. In fact, I doubt that anyone really visits my website. I've been absent from the online scene for so long that people have probably begun to forget my very existence...ah well, If You Build It, They Will Come. Okay, I'll be silent now, and maybe if I post enough Objectivist propaganda I'll beat myself into an essay-writing mood on this enchanted Friday night. Go SLE!

February 25, 2002 -- My roommate, "Carlos," is making a CD of "good music" for a Russian girl who doesn't know any music in English...so of course, I am inspired to write a long and painful list of "good music" for anyone who cares, or perhaps more accurately for my own edification. Also, this is much more interesting than reading Locke, who uses very long sentences. Click here for this tiresomely long list.

May 7, 2002 -- A lot has happened and I haven't posted for a while, so although I don't have anything pointed to say I am posting anyhow. So what's happening...at this moment I hurdle quickly through the remains of 3rd quarter; find it amazing that the year is coming to a close so soon, just when I was getting into the drift o' things. My classes this quarter are great, although the combination of taking 19 units worth of classes and being dedicated to them takes up most of my time that isn't spent sleeping or cooking for myself. So the result is generally this: I'm becoming the mythical SLE dork which upon arriving here I had concluded did not exist.
On the "up" side, I'm enjoying myself academically speaking (perhaps a bit too much ), and I'm planning to go to Europe this summer with a group of Stanford students and my SLE section leader in order to excavate Roman and Celtic ruins in the Alps. Whether this will be my sole European experience or whether I'll get to wander around France and Italy with Joanna is up to my parents right now, but hopefully things will end up in my favor. Otherwise, a big stressor right now is this horrific Stanford institution called THE DRAW. It involves students forming "draw groups" and meditating extensively upon the probabilities of entering such and such housing with such and such draw number with a draw group of so many people...terrible stuff. Not only do people become disillusioned upon finding where their friends' loyalties lie and upon growing jealous of good numbers, but also they end up having to read 110 pages worth of literature on the infernal thing in order to fully understand its workings and thusly not get themselves screwed. That was a long sentence. I am sorry.
Finally, I think I might start another page specifically for posting stuff like this...a latter day Asteroid, if you will. Not that anyone visits this page (as far as I know), but it seems a bit weird that I'm posting my personal updates here. I also note that the combination of not signing on to my screen name and not having recuscitated the fated Asteroid cuts me off from the rest of the world. But even if no one else posts on this theoretical message board, I can at least post my own thoughts for my own sad edification.

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