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Getting Drunk
Thursday. 7.21.11 12:57 pm
During my internet-less but fun times in Beijing, I (regretfully) got drunk.

Alcohol is bad for one's mental congruence.

The (solo) drinking spree was incited by a story about a classmate. It was a woeful tale, but no worse than many I have heard before. Yet, somehow, my apathy melted away without warning, and I found my eyes brimming, and my heart wretched with pain. Well, a 1/3 bottle of vodka was handy.

According to my friends, I committed a case of drunk dialing, sexual harassment, and two instances of vomiting.

Note to self: alcohol is bad for oneself

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Of Rats and Glue
Thursday. 6.16.11 8:43 pm
In Canada and America, we're familiar with the spring-loaded mousetrap, a cruel but usually OHKO instrument for eliminating rats. The downsides of such a trap is that it can only capture/kill one rat at a time. The Chinese, suffering from usually quite severe rat problems, opt for a more efficient device.

Introducing the Glue Trap. Just put bait on the book-shaped trap and come back the next morning. The rats will be stuck to the trap, rendered immobile by a sticky concoction; simply close the trap so that the rats are glued to both sides, and throw the mess into the trash, savouring their eventually ceasing squeals.

I'd normally say that this set-up is rather ingenious - both cheap and effective. My office has a rat infestation - after sunset, one can hear the rats scramble about in the ceiling (an excellent time to try to scare my female colleagues). But as I witnessed two rats (Rattus Norvigicus), squirming to be free of the contraption, I found that efficiency may not be humane.

If you know of any way to dissolve glues, please say so in the comment.

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Thursday, June 9, 2011
And under the pressure of my recently acquired colleagues, I revive this long-buried blog.
Yes, I¡¯m working (for the summer). My colleagues are mostly 22-25. Oddly enough, they¡¯re also mostly female.
Perhaps I should start from a while back.
I am currently in À¥Ã÷ , China. A cool oasis amidst the many humid and hot destinations that I could have gone to. After two weeks of being a tourist (to various beautiful places, whose pictures I shall upload at a later date), I landed a job as an English teacher in À¥Ã÷¡£
My colleagues are friendly and... teasing. I have been dubbed as a shota (you know, the male equivalent of loli?). My indignant response has slowly given away to acceptance though, frankly, I'm being influenced by them (expectation theory).
I've also experienced a number of firsts:
1. Clubbing. It was not particularly fun, but one of my (cute) colleagues dances wickedly.
2. Bars. I went to a bar. The singer was good; the Long Island Ice Tea was not.
3. Kareoking with excellent singers. All members that attended are excellent singers (barring myself). I stared at them for most of my time there.
4. Acting moe. After imitating one of my colleagues, I gained certain... unmanly expressions.


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All Fired Up
Thursday. 8.6.09 1:46 am
watching: K-On
listening to: 开不了口
mood: Intellectually deficient

For no reason whatsoever, I was really fired up this afternoon, so I began, out of the blue, to write an essay.

It appears that the sloth of summer has rendered me depleted. I have truly lost my edge, no longer to even complete an essay that would have been so easy two months. And I have SATs in October.

I'm so screwed.

If anyone is interested, the partially-completed essay is pasted below. If you see any grammatical mistakes, prompt warning to the inept author is encouraged.

Arbitrarily Sacred
Humans have an innate need for order stemming from our wish to have mastery over our environment. We like to plan our cities in geometric shapes, have buildings whose contours are either straight or easily modeled by first-year math. Paradoxically, this “need” also brings about the arbitrary nature of many mundane aspects of human lives: names are often listed alphabetically; street cleaning occurring on the first Wednesday of every even month; a week has seven days… Of course, these are, after all, mundane subjects, and surely not of any great consequence. Yet even what we consider “sacred” is rather arbitrary.
The Anglican-Protestant dominated country of America has two distinct factions, “pro-choice” and “pro-life”. These two factions fight over the right of an unborn baby versus the freedom of the parents. The two hold one thing in common though, they believe in the difference between the pre-birth fetus and the post-birth “baby”. Of course, there are major differences between these two fragile entities. As the diminutive creature takes its first breath, the foramen ovale closes, the ductus venosus becomes obsolete, and the umbilical blood vessels cease to function. These changes are biologically important, but does it really affect the “life” of that entity? That tiny offspring was as self-conscious a few minutes before the birth and after the birth, so why the dividing line? The offspring isn’t any more “alive” inside the womb than out. If indeed the “life” itself is sacred, then the fetus should be considered sacred at all times; if that were true, then wouldn’t all other animal lives be sacred, because our fetuses are so similar? One might argue it’s the potential to become that amounts to the “sacredness”. Another problem arises, where exactly do we end the measurement for this “potential”? Shall contraceptives be outlawed, or should our offsprings only be “alive” and “sacred” when it makes the transition from an embryo to a fetus ? With the concept of “potential” involved, the argument becomes endlessly complicated. On the other hand, if that issue is ignored, then the next non-arbitrary turning point would be when a child could pass the Mirror Test. Surely self-awareness is where we can draw the line between “abortable” and “otherwise”. However, as most humans would cringe at the “abortion” of a baby several months of age, such is not practical. The debate of abortions shall continue on an arbitrary line.

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Tuesday. 8.4.09 2:11 pm
watching: K-On
listening to: 亲爱的是你把我宠坏
mood: apathetic

It's Tuesday! Which means tomorrow is Wednesday! That's what I remembered when I woke up, exhilarated a day early about going to see fireworks. Only to remember that they're over.

A brief summary of Vancouver's Celebration of Light:
An annual display of fireworks by 4 countries competing for an unknown prize. For 4 nights a year, Vancouverites lie on the beach and watch metal burn. It's really fun.

Last last Wednesday was Canada's performance. I love my country; it is beautiful: lakes, mountains, plains galore. But man do we suck at, well, most things. The fireworks themselves were not impressive, and furthermore, not synchronized to the music.

Last last Saturday's fireworks by South Africa, on the other hand, was the best I have ever seen out of over 30 firework displays I have observed in my life. Rain poured, saturating the air; electricity arced through the sky, exorable, but nonetheless potent; a backdrop of human sparks ignites the night, feeble in nature's might, yet not diminished in beauty. The atmosphere was oddly romantic, but honestly, that is not particularily helpful when you call the beautiful girl next to you "sister".

Last Wednesday's display was by the UK. A traditional firework display, perfectly synchronized, and perfectly executed. Funny how I have nothing else to say for such an excellent performance. The interlude of traditional Chinese songs (well, at least songs with traditional Chinese scales and progressions) kind of surprised me.

The finale on last Saturday was by China. There were about 3 minutes of excellence, where China did a perfect low-altitude firework display that was in every sense Chinese. I nearly spat at the radio today when the commentator stated that China played "traditional Chinese music" and a rendition of "Kung-Fu Fighting". The so-called "traditional Chinese music" contained no trace of scales typical to Chinese songs, and the rhythm of said music was more suited to rock. I suppose it would be like an African hearing that "traditional African music" meant rap. Ignorance should be cursed and tossed into metal bins with a biohazard sign and labeled "lethal and contagious".

Disappointingly, China won.

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Monday. 8.3.09 1:10 am
watching: *just watched: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
listening to: 慢热-许茹芸
mood: Lethargic
Oh dear.. I have not updated this since.. grade 10. Hm, m.. and I'm taking 2nd year math next year, please let that mislead you.

A great thanks to Lakey for his revamping of my site from this horror to my site's current condition.

Any suggested tweaking?

Today I finally went to watch Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince! I must give a rather ambiguous review. The Harry Potter books are appealing to children for their fantastic plots and appealing to adults for their accurate display of human natures. But the movies? The movies are meant to make money, so it was a different experience.

The movie is filled with hormone crazed teenagers. "Oh to be young again, and feel the keen sting of love". Honestly, that's what the first half of the movie consisted of, regularly interrupted by plot advancements. Only the last part of the movie seemed to pertain to the plot, giving a rather odd feeling to the viewers. After all, who expects comments regarding Ron's acceptance of Harry and Ginny's relationship after Dumbledore's (rather epic) swift descent from the balcony?

On the other hand, this pheromone-tinged atmosphere made the movie humourous, and added something that the majority of the teenage populace can relate to and enjoy. Especially the parts with Ron's absolute denseness, because we find other people's mistakes funny.

Must curl up into bed now, it's 1:33 here in Richmond, British Columbia, Canada.

Good Night to the members of NuTang!

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