E tenebras, lux dormiens

I'm getting annoyed at the tripod web service, which is undermining the overall looks of this site, as well as the pages I've created. I'm transferring everything to a new site ASAP. Bear with me awhile.

I may change this page to redirect to the new site, or just leave it there with a link to the new place so that people know where they're supposed to go.

I have a thought question. If we were all capable of erasing a person from the face of existence, wiping any knowledge and any trace that shows that that person once lived, where is that person's soul/spirit/ghost?

So that fact would disprove the existence of a soul in humankind. Or, the alternative belief is that no one can retain his or her characteristics after death. Many movies we see attempt to portray people as continuing their appearance after death. That is, if you die as an old man, as a ghost, you will look like an old man. If you die a child, you will continue to look like a child after death.

It seems wrong, doesn't it? If I happen to die when I'm 60, why can't I look 20? or even 14? Should I not be able to modify my looks?

Since you cannot retain your characterstics, you shouldn't be able to retain either what your DNA or your surrounding give you. If your genome, your Y chromosome, made you very ravenous, then without it, you have no need to be gratified. Thus, this is the inherent error in the Muslim terrorist's belief that he will enter paradise where seven [nbr?] virgins will be available to serve his every needs.

If your surrounding was not a nurturing environment, such as abusive family members, for example, then when you die, all that experience is left behind.

What is left, then? The inscrutable spirit that is not touched by life or by biological information?

Now, since it isn't possible to wipe people's existence off, all the arguments are simply unprovable. So if you've read this far, just demand, when you die, that you be given back five minutes you've wasted. Every minute that you're able to squeeze from Charon, use it to the maximum extent possible. Love it, even if it is a biological process, it still feels good!

I was browsing through the archives of LYD when I came upon an interesting article with a link to The Truth About GAM. I have imbued my mind with more knowledge, making me less happy than before. Now, I know what is a rice queen, a sticky rice, and a potato queen.

I already dealt with this, but I don't know how. Anyway, I already had a predominant attraction to caucasian, but I'm now more open-minded to Asians that are sexually attractive (or at least, I hope I am). I suppose it depends on the personality, the atmosphere, what he exudes. I don't know if I'm going to eat these words, but I can envision myself with anyone, depending on whether I like him as a person, not on whether he is attractive.

Okay, if anyone sees me, tell me whether I've put my foot in my mouth. Do I lie?

|

Today and yesterday were balmy, hot, humid, and uncomfortable.

I overslept, and was 20 minutes late for a political science class.

I have a headache now, maybe stress- or heat-related. It's on the left side of my forehead, the left temple. It hurts when I view the screen, so I better turn off the computer soon.

|

I don't know whether this means anything bad, but I'm seeing this peculiar C-like image in the left area of my eyesight. It's shimmering, like something radiating, like beautiful water waves.

Normally, I wouldn't be bothered by anything shimmering, but as this seems to be in my eyes, it is interfering with my eyesight. I try to read, but it blocks some of my direct line of sight, so I can hardly read anything. I have to go back so that I can see the words to the left of my eyesight line. (This is proof that the human eyes read by taking in the whole, not by reading each individual letter.)

I wonder if it's a sign of an onset of blindness, or that my eyes and brain are resetting itself. I know this happened before, once. It's in exactly the same place.

Now the "C" is expanding! Before, it was only a small dots that directly impeded my eyesight. Now it is large, but at the very least I can read a little bit now. The image that once block my vision is now blocking the more peripheral vision. I feel like something is moving in the corner of my eyes, including the top and bottom.

Is it glaucoma?

Why is it that I always have some health problems? Am I hypochondraic? I would not like to think so.

Now it's in the corner of my eyes, the top and bottom seem to be gone. But it's a little bit uncomfortable. The sensation feels like I have a foreign object in my eyes, blocking my vision. And the sensation seems to be coming from my left eye, my right eye doesn't seem too shabby.

Now, the image is gone, but I'm still seeing a possible after-effect. Rather than blocking my vision, I seem to be seeing through the "ghost" image. It's like the image that you get after playing a game for long period of time, when you close your eyes, you still see pictures from the game.

My peripheral vision apperas to have returned to normal. The image sensation took place for half-an-hour, maybe longer.

I checked WebMD, but I could find nothing except possibly "curtain" or "flash of light" that could explain my dilemma. But the symptoms are primarily that the vision change is permanent, or at least half an hour. I won't call a health professional, but I'll be sure to mention this to my optometrist.

Now, I have a slight headache, and a little loss of appetite. Is this migraine? Migraine caused my stress?

|

Okay, I have a somewhat bemused news to tell you.

I signed up for GMail. Yes, the first ever free one-gigabyte email address! I know, it seems weird since GMail is in a testing session, and that nobody can sign up unless you have permission to do so.

So when I logged onto Blogger, I saw a message that said that because I blogged frequently and used Google frequently (though the Google Bar, I guess), I am eligible for signing up for GMail.

But I don't want the responsibility of checking yet another email addresses. Now I have ten email addresses, ten! I'm near to fainting with exhaustion! So what the hell am I supposed to do with another email address? I've already categorized the functions of all my emails, be it business, academic, social, or protectionist (I know the four words are not parallel in sentence structure, but bear with me).

I'll have to see what I can do with it, perhaps . . . just forward what I think are important for now, so that I can store some emails that I don't want to delete. And then, what to do after that? I don't know how often I have to check the Gmail to keep it online.

|

Isn't it interesting the emotion I get when people I know fade away? I mean, I read posts online, and I can see some people who post repeatedly, and greatly, for a period of time from the first day they sign up. Then, they mysterious vanish.

Where do they go? What do they do?

I'd love for Total Information Awareness to be made available so that I can find out anything I need. I mean, I can find out the people who graduated from high school (I still have some attachment, even to people I don't know. Maybe if I knew them, then I'd be less attached. LOL.)

The superfluous three-letter word stems from reading some posts funnily littered with them.

Anyway, I know that perverts can use TIA for stalking people, and so I'll say no, I don't want to find out more information, especially if someone don't want me to know. It would be weird, perhaps a total invasion of privacy if someone were to come up to me and say "I know everything about you."

Ew. Unless that person's nice, but usually, not so.

So where do people go? They seem to enter, then vanish back into thin air. I can tell that they are visiting less frequently, have less to say.

I imagine they have their special worlds, true to themselves. They need to work, they need to shop, they need to go on vacation, they need to study, they are in a relationship, they are bored, they are satisfied giving their two cents, they are scared, they are confident, they are with their friends, they've no longer interested in what drew them there in the first place, they're doing drugs, they're living abroad, away from the Internet, they're lonely, their disappointed, their trapped, their cold, their . . . im being 2 abstract, rite? i no that i shudnt write like this, but if u read it out loud, your goin to get what im sayin.

Okay, Possible Case #1: They're getting a driver's license for the very first time. They're driving around, and got into a car accident. Now they're recovering, but the accident provided an experience for them to turn their life around.

PC #2: Someone is going to college, and 'ey's (derivative singular of they) so happy, but college life is consuming 'em (derivative singular of them, see how non-sexism works out).

PC #3: Someone is taking a acting lesson, and 'ey is performing before the audience. 'Ey loves to act, and wants to pursue an acting career, but 'eir (derivative singular of their, sounds like air) bf/gf may not want 'em to go.

My personal experience is that I started this blog two years ago (wow, has it really, really been that long?), but I didn't post regularly until one year later, approx. Now, I post semi-regularly.

The reason I didn't post for so long is probably because I didn't feel comfortable talking about myself (I still don't). Then, when I did, I jumped innocent in all intents into the habit. And in doing so, I did sacrifice writing in my personal journal (I still write, but my energy's more in this now).

It's very possible that I will eventually stop posting here, not because I've gotten bored, but because there's no more that I can say about myself. I, in effect, may have found my true purpose in life, a bliss, a contentment. Or, I may be just going back to the journal again, because I want to wring my hands writing on the paper, than just putting my hands over the keyboard, and clacking away.

Well, if I leave, I probably won't forget.

If I leave, I probably won't tell you guys at all, because telling you seems to have a jinx in which I break my oath not to post anymore by posting more.

My birthday is on May 29. I will be twenty years old, and one year closer to death.

I have to say I've forgotten to celebrate the more than two years of starting this blog. I know I've neglected many months between February 2002 and March 2003, but hey, I didn't really feel--y'know--that open. Now I'm wondering whether I should just delete some embarrassing posts from the first several months. "It was a deep moment of sexual unfulfillment." Hah! Well, I'll just let bygones [sp?] be bygones. It's forever a part of the Internet. I'm sure someone has backed up everything. If not, then it's exactly like magic, it will dissolve, whose art is long lost, irrecoverable.

Some people take extraordinary relief in such an easy dissolution of information, that everything disappears because it was meant to do so. If one bit is out of place, so goes th' oblivion. I wonder sometimes how it is that we can be so keenly aware of our own destruction, that we seek to preserve ourselves by any means available to us. But importance in perception is only to ourselves, not to any other animals. For we must admit that were all the consciousness and intelligence and reasoning, i.e. human beings that harbor such capabilities, to vanish from the earth. It is unlikely that earth will evolve another entity that will be capable of understanding what we have created. Moreover, moreover, it shows the uselessness of self-preservation. What can we admit of making ourselves last forever, when there is no one to see it? It brings up a certain nilly-willy quote about a tree in a forest.

Just because it's there doesn't mean that it will be of any use except to one that recognize it.

I have bought two games, one for PS2 and one for PSO. The PS2 game has gotten mostly good review. The PSO game has gotten mixed review. I saw the review after I bought the game, so it in no way influenced my purchase decision.

Anyway, here's a snapshot of my room. You can see how paranoid I am by how I've, uh, smudged some words from the picture.

PLoS Biology: Open-Access Journal: The winner of the Wired Rave Award

I'd been meaning to post this, but I kept forgetting. Anyway, this is a scientific journal dedicated to publicizing the results of the experiments the scientists have conducted open-source style. All of the scientific experiments will be freely available for viewing to any individual, not just the elites, or college libraries, etc. Of course, it depends on whether you know how to read and interpret the results.

I'm spending some time updating the other areas of this website.

But that time spent is also procrastinating against what I have due next week: Biology (mid-term), Biology Lab (quiz and paper), English (paper).

Give me some words, please! (That means letting me know you're reading this, and where you're from.)

|

Daily Kos :: Political Analysis and other daily rants on the state of the nation.

Let us be modest, for we should not rejoice over another's loss. Let us be humble, not pained at another's gain, for that will risk antagonizing the other half of the population that is not yet prepared to deal with what has happened in the USA.

There's this website, which I think fits parts of my interest totally. It's gamers.experimentations.org and it's a place for gay gamers to discuss common interests. It's straight-friendly, so people who don't really care about labels can join too. It's kind of nice that they have this kind of things. Not that I thought there wouldn't be a group that includes what I'm interested in, but apparently, there it is!

Then I'm wondering, if I should post a topic about whether games have subtitles for me to hear what's going on. It would be a great help if other people can tell me, "yeah, this game's have words that show up on the bottom and let you know what's going on."

I'll wait, first. It's best that I read more before I post thoughtlessly.

It starts out like a fairy tale. King Lear, who would like to retire, asks his three daughters to tell him how much they love him so that he can divide his kingdom into three, one for each. The first two princesses, Goneril and Regan, shout out their love to Lear and in doing so, pleases him. As usual, there's the third daughter, Cordelia, who says that she can offer not all of her love, because half must be given to her husband, as well. She believes that her father already knows she loves him best, but Lear, blinded by rage at Cordelia, divides his kingdom into two instead, one for Goneril, one for Regan, and none for Cordelia. Kent, a loyal servant of the king, pleads with him to forgive Cordelia and to think with common sense. In madder fury, Lear banishes Kent from his kingdom, ordering that should Kent be found, he will be killed.

After dividing the kingdom, and transferring all his power so that Lear can retire, Goneril and Regan, conspiring together, betrays him by not giving him any respect that a king is due. Oswald, steward to Goneril, makes fun of Lear, who is angered that he should be treated less than the title of a king.

Kent, who was banished, disguised himself as a stranger offering his service to Lear, so that he may continue serving him. The King's Fool, a jester of the court, appears to make wise jokes that gently reprimand the King for making such a foolish choice. His duty, more than anything, is to drive the King to madness. The King's madness, as well as a storm, begins to grow as he realizes his mistake.

Cordelia, knowing that Goneril and Regan had no love for his father, works with her husband, King of France, to fight Goneril and Regan.

Edmund, the bad guy, and Edgar, the good guy, are sons of Gloucestor; Edmund is a bastard child, and bastard child, born out of wedlock, is never good. Edmund tricks Gloucester into believing that Edgar is trying to kill Gloucester for money. Then, Edmund tells Edgar to run away, armed, because Gloucester is so angry that he could kill Edgar.

Edgar, running away, decides to assume another identity as poor Tom. Poor Tom ran away to sleep in a hovel, upon whom chance the Fool, King Lear, and Kent. After a bit of dialogue, the Fool mysteriously vanishes from the play after going to bed at noon, never to return again.

Edmund then told Regan and Cornwall that Gloucester was being treacherous. Regan catches Gloucester and has her servants tie him up. Then, she puts her boot in one of Gloucester's eyes and blinds it. Cornwall proceeds to blind the other eye by using his sword. Gloucester has now been blinded. He cannot see. Regan and Cornwall reveal to him that it was Edmund who accuses him. Gloucester finally realizes that Edgar has been the good son all along. One of the servants who binded Gloucester, tried to stop the torture, but fought with Cornwall. Both managed to wound the other. The servant died. Cornwall also dies later.

Gloucester later is led out of the palace into a heath, where Edgar also is. As poor Tom, Edgar pretends not to know his father because he is still unsure of his intention. However, Gloucester expresses his misery that he has done wrongs to his good son, Edgar. Moreover, since Gloucester is blinded, he does not know that Edgar, his son, is right in front of him. Gloucester begs of poor Tom to take him to Dover, to the cliff, from which he can fall, committing suicide.

Cordelia, thinking of her father, does not want to stay in France. She seeks to return so that she can find her father and keep him in safety from her vile sisters. With her doctor, they go to Albion (the old name for Great Britain).

Edgar, though requested to lead his father to the cliff of Dover, instead leads him to a bank. Edgar tricks Gloucester into believing that they were already there. Gloucester leaps, and falls onto the floor.

Edgar, then changes his identity again, and speaks with Gloucester, who wants to be left alone to die. However, Edgar convinces him that for some reason, Gloucester has not been killed despite falling from the summit.

Lear enters, his madness nearly eclipsing his sanity, and meets Gloucester. They remember each other. Edgar changes identity to speak with a Gentleman delivering some information, and finally reveal to his father that he is his father's son. Cordelia's Gentleman and Attendants catch Lear and bring him to the camp.

A battle is now occurring between the army of France, led by the King of France and Queen Cordelia, and the army of Regan and Goneril.

Oswald finds Gloucester and tries to kill him for treachery. Edgar, changing his identity yet again, speaks English with a French accent and kills him.

Kent, Cordelia, and the Doctor talk among each other. Cordelia thanks Kent for protecting her father and asks the Doctor how her father is.

Cordelia sees her father wakes and talks to him. Lear sees Cordelia weeping a little. He blames himself for being so foolish. He says that Cordelia did not love him, and therefore deserves to mistreat him, but Regan and Goneril, despite saying how much they love him, spurn him aside. But Cordelia denies that she had ever not loved her father. They go for a walk.

Edgar and Kent, along with the soldiers, fight a great battle and then must retreat. King Lear and Cordelia are both captured by the enemies. Edmund tells the soldiers to take the prisoners Lear and Cordelia to prison.

Goneril and Regan compete with each other for Edmund's love. They eventually kill each other. First, Goneril poisons Regan. Edgar comes and wounds Edmund, his brother. Edgar explains to Albion about how he manages to survive, and about Kent, who remains ever-loyal to the King that had proclaimed him to be his enemy. A gentleman comes explaining that Goneril has stabbed herself and confessed her poisoning of Regan. Edmund eventually dies.

The battle is won finally by the good guys, but they nearly forget about Cordelia and her father.

Lear enters, with Cordelia dead in his arm. He explains that he killed a slave that had hung Cordelia. King Lear eventually goes so mad that he believes he sees Cordelia's lips moving, and dies of a heart attack.

The last lines of the play are from Kent and Albany:

Kent: I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
My master calls me, I must not say no.
Albany: The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

|

Nothing has been worthy of notes in the past four days. Life can be quite boring, having its lull that seems as if it should not exist, but perhaps I should be grateful for what did not happen to me.

I feel as if I can control my dream, but it's not like lucid dreaming entirely. It seems more like, I can direct what happens, just few minutes before I wake up. Of course, the few minutes might have been half-an-hour, and I don't know because I can never tell whenever I dream.

|

[alert! long post ahead]

I just saw a documentary on PBS at 6:00 today Sound and Fury, an emotional documentary that divides myself (again). As you, who have read me before, do know, I am very often divided by choices. If only I could illumine the future to learn which course I should travel for a better existence. I do fear suffering so, and wish that I would never be hurt or be disillusioned.

I know that even now, there are people who are firmly against cochlear implants, and people who are firmly for cochlear implants. I am in the unfortunate third group, firmly ambivalent to the implants as the phospholipids are to water.

There is no doubt that hearing people are superior to deaf people in many ways, and other ways for which I am glad that Deafness exist. I am not hear to antagonize anybody. I am hear to show that I can argue with anyone, except myself.

Here's the synopsis on the documentary: There are two hearing parents and two Deaf parents. The hearing parents are well-versed in American Sign Language; the mother works as an interpreter and has Deaf cousins, Deaf Aunts and Uncles, etc. She has given birth to a deaf boy, and she wants to cochlear implant-ize him to give him the best opportunities that the world can offer to a hearing person. However, she has faced significant opposition from her Deaf family members.

The two Deaf parents have a daughter that is already four-year old and has a Deaf identity. But the mother wants to explore cochlear implant in the hope of giving her daughter a good start in life. However, in her exploration, she has found disappointment that children who had cochlear implants spent their days in speech therapy and didn't know they were deaf. She didn't want her daughter to forget that she was Deaf, first and foremost, and that being able to hear was simply a way to work with the hearing world. She and her husband face a multitude of heated arguments with their hearing families who did not understand them, or why they were ambivalent toward "normalizing" their child.

It was very sad to watch the documentary, because I knew that I was watching a process that is leading the Deaf community to potential extinction.

That which unites, deafness classifies them;
When a choice is given, now divides them.

To me, it strikes twice. If given a choice, would I ever be straight? If given a choice, would I ever be hearing? Someone proud would say never to these questions. But where one is proud, I humble myself. I am meek where one is strong.

If for one day, I could be attracted to a woman's hair, her eyes, her breast, her legs, her booty, her vagina, her teeth, her tongue, her hands, her everything in everything of divinity, I would try it. If for one month, I could be sexually attracted to her, I would try it. If for one year, I could marry a girl, a woman, a [insert synonym here], I would. If for a decade, I could fall into romantic love, have her cuddle into me and I enjoy it, I would. If for a century, I could have children, and raise them with her together, play catch with a son, see a daughter's ballet performance in school, have years spent in perfect contentment, I would.

But, as I am gay. A boy, a man, a [insert synonym here], has such an indelible arousal for me. There is no doubt which sex, which gender, I am sexually attracted to. There is no doubt who I would want to hold in my hand, who I would want to cuddle with, who I would want to walk with, talk with, go bowling with, play video games with, spend time of contentment with, merge souls with, read poetry with, go partying with, dance with, learn with, travel around the world with, go shopping with, be in love with, be with.

There is no doubt about that at all. No doubt. I have but one life to live.

The same idea could go for my deafness. If I could be hearing for a day, a month, a year, a decade, a century, I would do so. More likely than not, I would prefer to be hearing and be able to hear what the announcer is saying, whether from the radio, from the loudspeaker, from a sports game, or from the news sites like cnn.com. There are so many things on which I'm missing out. I mean, I'd love to have a choice in music (though I like the classical and electronic anyway).

I realize that if I did not know what music was, I would not have cared. But living in a hearing world with hearing parents, I am constantly reminded of what information I've lost. Ignorance is a blessing sent from hell, for if Adam and Eve knew not what they had lost, would they have cared for God or heaven?

I am inclined to believe that the vociferous debate that people are having speaks truly to the great variety, the endless complexity, of the human race.

It is a debate truly to be had. If to end all wars, and bring about everlasting peace, it was necessary to chemically castrate all men, deprive them of testosterone so that they would have no needs to sports, no needs to fight, no needs to watch violent movies or play violent games, no needs to invent, no needs to create poetry, play extreme games, skydive, climb mountains, swim to the deepest depth of the sea, feel competitive, feel aggression, would you (the man) do it? Come on, speak up!

Chemical castration is just implanting a bug underneath your skin. It releases estrogen, which would lower male aggression. There is no vasectomy or castration (pet-style) involved. Chemical castration has proven effective in lowering the tendency of sexual molestation in sex offenders.

Would you do it? All males of all age, gay and straight. Would you consent? This could effectively end poverty, end wars, end killing. After all, it was male CEOs that got greedy and brought Enron and Worldcom to ruins, it was male competitive drive that causes doping and steroids-pumping. Without the testosterone from which the males derive the stately pleasure of victory, what are they?

Would it not be great, would it not be better for the world, if world peace could be achieved? And if you learned that that is possible by modifying human beings, would you do it? Would you believe that human beings are inherently doomed to make mistakes, to do evil things, to be unable to achieve a state of perfection, a utopian society, that only by modifying them could world peace be achieved?

I mean, we can stop pornography completely. We can stop the celebration of the male and female body parts, simply through chemical castration! We can even stop people from breeding so much, making so many babies every minute! There's no needs for condoms, for birth control, because the sexual desire isn't there! It's like, a Brave New World or The Giver! How wonderful, how terrible, how human.

So my deafness, I do have a choice to open up my head and insert a piece of metal. But would any guy like me, if they know that I have something plastic behind my ear? It's not like piercing your nipples, it's a piece of machinery that isn't designed to look good. I would have a wire. But if I could hear, wouldn't that be something?

I mean, now that I'm old enough, I would still see myself as Deaf/hard of hearing. I would continue to use ASL, because I still like to sign. I would still interact with the Deaf community. I would, but would something in me fundamentally change such that I now would not like, but it's too late to change?

So far, these are all the Deaf bloggers. I found the links through Mandarin Design Daily: The MEG Blog or the blogging site itself, Mandarin Design, which I found through Reflections: Sifting Realities, which I believe I discovered through either googling or another blog that I can't remember. It may have been SwimPC. I think I googled Deaf Blogs, or some other variations that led me around the cyberspace until I stumbled upon them. Good to give credit where credit's due.



It's nice to know I'm not the only one who's deaf/Deaf/Hard of Hearing and blogging.

P.S. It does get creepy that there's a picture of me. I'm now looking through everything in my site that I haven't updated since I was mainly focused on blogging, and I see that I have to update and remove some things that I'm just embarrassed about now. Time to grease up the old self-learned and self-forgotten HTML elbows, along with the help of a AceHTML, a WYSIWYG editor.

|

I'm really excited to tell you all this, except some of you probably won't understand. I got my very first interpreter for class!

It's for the biology lab only, not for any other classes, because I'm taking it slowly and I'm a little apprehensive about whether the interpreters are going to be too fast for me to understand. But so far, it hasn't been too bad. I did catch myself daydreaming a little because I found myself spending so much time translating the signs back into English, so that I could understand it, that I didn't catch the entire meaning, so all the words were simply disconnected from each other.

It's either that, or I simply haven't been able to pay attention in class at all. Let's see. It may mean I have some form of information unretention disorder. It's not that I don't understand what's being said, but that everything that has been conveyed to me is quickly forgotten.

In all cases, the interpreter was really fun. I knew her from last year, when another hard of hearing student had her, and I couldn't understand ASL at all. I also have a classmate who knows American Sign Language, and one who knew ASL before, but forgot some six years ago. We were all chattering about ASL and about the biology experiment that we have to do. It was cool.

|

Why does italicizing this make the space so wide?
Does using Times make the font better? And italicizing, does it cause the space to be far apart as well? Testing

[update: I can see it's only Opera's problem. IE has nothing wrong to me.]

|

I tried to go to a Deaf GLBT meeting, which was quite near the Castro. I didn't do it. I had the panic attack that made me choke, unable to breathe.

"Do or do not. There is no try."

I had been planning for days to show up, but I took too many things as signs that I should not go to the meeting. I went to San Francisco by BART, and got off at Civic Center, ready to go to Church St. by Muni.

Then I found that the machine for putting quarters in had a paper blocking it. I thought it was a sign that I shouldn't do it. I ignored the machine, but I didn't want to try to enter the Muni station without paying for the ride. What if someone stops me, find that I don't have a proof of payment, and then they arrest me and I'm sent to court? Too much trouble!

I mulled around and thought, Why don't I try to walk over there? Alack the day, it was but one hour mine; before the sun would go to sleep. As I walked, I grew more nervous, and more nervous. I knew that I was treading into an unknown territory. And what I did not know, I most highly fear. I walked, each step to bring momentum to the next. How far is it anyway? I didn't know how far it was . . .

I took a muni bus, and I was bemused to see that it didn't go in the direction I expected, so I got off. I walked further. Then I saw the trees of palm. Am I close? I saw the words Gay & Lesbian on some building. Then I saw the cars.

Oh, no! Too many cars, too many people! People that I cannot see behind the windshield. I turned around. I definitely do not like to walk alone. I decided to go to a different kind of meeting, but disappointed that I missed an opportunity for another month, I returned home nonchalant.

To wake up early, I must sleep early.

|

I'm glad this S.F. distraught man is over. It's terrible for those people trapped on the freeway, though. I would feel panic if I was stuck in traffic moving slowly, over the San Francisco bay. I would be hyperventilating, while also feeling a sad sorry for myself for driving a car, ruining the environment.

Actually, it was rather lucky for me. I went to San Francisco on that day, after school. My mom suggested that I drive over there. I didn't want to drive over there. I drove there only once, with her, and going up and down the mountain as well as finding parking are both unpleasant experiences. S.F. is just not a city for cars. If it could be like New York, it'd be great for public transportation. But S.F. is still a troubled city, so it'll have to get over some issues, such as homelessness, and some deprecated areas of Market Street. It'd also be good to convert some suburban places into urban apartments with markets and good walking area. I mean, maybe I'm envisioning an idealistic place, but what I imagine is that there will be a place where people can't drive, they must walk. And there are markets nearby that people can go to shop. It'd be good. And people would be less fatter.

What was I doing in S.F. anyway? I wanted to do something there, but I chickened out. Not only that, I felt nervous in that city because I was going there alone. Next time, I have to bring someone with me so I don't have to feel so nervous. It's just that there are so many there, and instead of being in the safe confine of a car, I felt dangers everywhere. I was paranoid. I mean, I haven't lived in a city since I was 9, and even that was a very isolated experience. I didn't feel safe because it was such a big place and I could get lost there. Maybe not as lost as I would have been in N.Y., but still S.F. is a place where crimes happen, like theft, murder, rape, prostitution, etc.

Maybe it's because of this experience I had. I'll summarize. I was in London, walking out in the early morn, when suddenly a nasty hooker propositioned me for a "fuck." Sure, it's funny now. Definitely not funny at that time, because I was frightened. It was a first. Plus, she reminded me of a lab assistant I had for Chemistry a year or two ago.

So, I was scared. What would happen to me? Because I'm deaf, and naïve, and still don't know what's going on in my surrounding. I had a small brush with a possibly homeless man. And surprise, surprise, I was capable of doing something I never thought about before. I point to my ears and shrug, which was to signify that I couldn't hear, that I was deaf. I mean, before, I would just lean up to that person, asking "What? What did you say? I heard you said . . . but I couldn't hear." Now, with perfect stranger, I know full well to just point to my ears and pretend I hear nothing. And in reality, I don't understand anything!

If I heard, I wouldn't be leaning toward some perfect stranger to try to hear what he or she is saying. If I lean toward someone, I'm putting myself in a vulnerable state to be robbed! In America, it's respectable to maintain an equanimous distance with a stranger.

So, I learned something. It's from observing my ASL professor. He's Deaf, and I observed him doing that, and I thought, "What a great idea! I don't have to go through so much misery simply by not conforming to what my broken ears have denied me. Instead, I just be deaf."

But I still felt threatened when I walk in S.F. It's probably those weird people pushing carts, or just walking around speaking nonsense. Without a car, I can't lock up the doors. So I'm just there, and there's this person two feet away and I'm ready to run out of fear. What if she has a knife and is ready to stab me seven times? What if he's diseased and trying to give me cancer? I'm being melodramatic and paranoid. I don't like to walk down a street alone, because there's so many people ready and able to jump out and attack me. Every house has someone living there. Every day, at every hour, there's someone walking around. There's a bunch of adolescents, or young adults slashing tires, starting up car alarms, breaking windows, venting frustration, etc.

Especially at night. People sleep, but the clubbers, the muggers, the cops still rock on. I truly do admire their fortitude.

I so totally hate my computer. It just crashes for no reason. I mean, I can understand that people do something to make it crash. Maybe they were using a program and a bug caused it to crash.

But for what reason would a computer crash of its own accord? For what reason would I need to restart my computer seven times in order for it to stay "un-crashing" for longer period of time. I mean, sometimes this computer would crash many times during its first fifteen minutes of being turned on, then after that, it works unperturbed for hours afterward.

That makes no sense. If it was a hardware problem, it would not work at all after crashing. If it was a software problem, all I need to do is not use that software. But one minute I'm using it, perfectly content to read a news article, the next thing, I'm pressing the reset button repeatedly, waiting for it to turn on. It's like some kind of disconnection between the CPU and the input devices, or something.

What I just did to stop that, was to shake the computer and bang it on the floor. Seems to be working now, no crash. Maybe not, I don't know. I'm typing this as fast as possible. Anyway, my mom felt the bang through the whole house and lectured me on why I should not be banging a desktop computer, because it will crash and never start up and work again. But it was crashing before. Some people might accidentally drop a laptop, but that laptop was working before, but mine is not working now. So what should I do with a faulty computer that will suddenly not work? Maybe I need to figure out a connection problem. Anyway, after that annoying Scandisk message telling me to shut down my computer properly, I'm going to leave this computer and see if it's still working after a couple of hours. Maybe if it's not, then I'll try to find out why. See if it's the motherboard or something.