The Handyman's Secret Weapon

We're going to use the handyman's secret weapon...duct tape.
-Red Green

Duct tape is like the Force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it holds the Universe together.
-Carl Zwanzig

Greetings and welcome to the Un-Zone, the site for all things Un and a handy source for information relating to alien invasion plans and inevitable world domination. If you would like to know when you'll be assimilated, please check this site on a regular basis. It's now running Mind Control/Reading Language(MC/RL). After two or three visits, you'll be able to see these plans on the site. They're hidden like the word "fnord" in newspapers, magazines, news broadcasts, etc. I'm not that stupid. Like I'm going to type them and show them to anyone...

Now that you know I'm the leader of an alien invasion force, let's go on a strange and wonderful trip through the recesses of my mind. This journey will be on the Duct Tape Express. This post is all about duct tape. It is, quite possibly, one of the most useful substances ever. From taping things to patching bullet wounds to the chest, duct tape is a multi-purpose tool. You just can't leave home without it.

Patching bullet wounds to the chest? You can't use duct tape to patch a bullet wound. Or can you? If you read any EMT/first responder textbook, they tell you how to patch a sucking chest wound with duct tape and a plastic bag. Of course, calling 911 and getting the person to a hospital is the best course, but in a pinch, this might keep a person alive long enough to get them there or at least until an EMT gets there. Military medics keep several rolls of duct tape handy in their first-aid kits. If you run out of bandages or surgical tape, duct tape will work. It sticks and it is waterproof. I use it to keep Bandaids on awkward places like ankles, elbows, and fingers. Those pesky places where they seem to fall off no matter how hard you try.
Most people don't get shot in the chest. That is an extreme example on the usefulness of duct tape. There are many everyday medical uses for duct tape. For more common uses, blister prevention and emergency splints. If you are an outdoors-type of person, you get blisters on your feet from all the hiking and walking. You could buy shoe inserts or moleskin, but one of the best things to use...duct tape. Just wrap a couple layers around your heels and the balls of your feet. You'll be able to walk for miles and miles. If you already have blisters, they're painful when they pop. Use a sterilized needle to release the pus and then wrap in duct tape. Polar expeditions use this method.
Got a sprained ankle? Wrap with a towel and apply several layers of duct tape. Got a broken finger? You immobilize it with a popsicle stick, and wrap with several layers of duct tape. Cracked or bruised ribs? Wrap with duct tape. Even doctors use duct tape. It works, it's cheaper, and it's found everywhere. Surgeons know that razor blades are sharper than surgical scalpels. They have a machine called a blade cutter that cuts razor blades for surgical use. Bet you didn't know that. Duct tape is an HMO on a roll, but a whole lot cheaper. Of course, professional medical help is the best. However, if you are in the middle of nowhere and you don't have a doctor nearby, duct tape is a good thing.

The United States Army. The most advanced and well-equipped military force in the world. Multi-million, multi-billion dollar equipment loaded with computer chips, lasers, and Lord knows what else is in there. When something breaks down or doesn't work that well, what does the Army do to solve these pesky problems? They use duct tape. What? They use duct tape? It's not just any kind of duct tape, but green duct tape. Lots and lots of duct tape. It's scary to think that the Army, let alone the military would not be albe to function without a steady supply of duct tape. A list of several military uses for duct tape. Some of them, quite surprising.
1. Blindfolds, gags, and restraints. This is the classic use of duct tape. Criminals, thugs, and terrorists use this method. Of course, a military built of professional solidier can't be caught using duct tape like common criminals. Some may argue that being stuck on old methods may be detrimental as it develops into stagnancy. Yes, they have newer methods of restraint, but few things beat this classic method.
2. Grenades. If you need firepower in a small package, you can't beat a hand grenade. They're useful, as long as the arming pin isn't pulled prematurely. You have five seconds to throw it as far as you can, or you will become a human pin cushion. Those pins get snagged on clothing real easily. To solve this problem, you wrap the arming pins in a layer or two of duct tape.
3. Bullet holes. Medics using duct tape for bullet wounds, but what about shot-up equipment? Well, you patch them up with duct tape. Some soldiers call green duct tape as "100 MPH tape" because you can fix fabric wings on old planes and fly up to 100 MPH. One person writes of fixing a gas tank with duct tape and some other stuff. He managed to drive 250 miles with this jury-rigged system.
4. Biohazard suits. Remember when Homeland Security told everyone to buy duct tape? And everyone laughed. You won't be laughing after you read this. People involved with biological and chemical weapons use duct tape to prevent themselves from getting infected with deadly bacteria and viruses. The CDC uses duct tape. USAMRIID(United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases) uses duct tape. It's almost scary. To ensure a proper seal on biohazard and chemical weapons suits, they use duct tape, but a brown-colored one. You wrap several layers around the joints to make sure your suit doesn't leak. You also wrap tape around your ankle just in case. If you get a leak in the field suit, you use the duct tape wrapped around your ankle to seal the leak. After all, getting anthrax or some Level Four disease due to an improper seal would be bad and all because you didn't use enough duct tape.

That was just a short listing of what you can do with duct tape. There are many more uses for duct tape. So if you got a problem to solve or something to fix, just reach out and grab the roll of duct tape. You'll be surprised at what it can do.

That's all for now.


The Duct Tape Guys Site
http://www.octanecreative.com/ducttape/index1.html

Medical Uses of Duct Tape
http://www.octanecreative.com/ducttape/hmo/

Military Uses of Duct Tape
http://www.octanecreative.com/ducttape/PX/index.html

A Random Poem

Greetings and welcome to the Un-Zone. I now have found some time to go and post an update today. Don't expect to see me update on consecutive days any time soon.

I had a Samuel Coleridge moment last night. For those not English-major inclined, Samuel Coleridge, while in an opium-induced haze, had a vivid dream that turned into a poem. When he woke up, he started writing "Khubla Khan." Supposedly, it was a massive 300 line poem, but in the middle of his transcription, an insurance salesman knocked on the door and interrupted him. Which shows that even a hundred years ago, door-to-door salesmen are quite annoying. Sad to say, he only could get down about 50 lines. He forgot the rest.

Anyways, I had this dream involving a guy walking down a riverside path. It's a gray, cloudy day, with a heavy mist/drizzle. He has his hands stuck deep inside his pockets. And as he is walking, a sad song plays in the background. And the words...

When I woke up in the morning, the words were still in my head. Luckily, no insurance salesman interrupted. It has no title and it seems a little stilted in some sections. And so, without further ado, here it is...


Before you came along
I was singing a sad song
A song filled with regret
Of things I can't forget
And it's a sure bet
I'll find myself asking
Who are you

As strange as it may seem
Meeting you felt like a dream
The sparkle in your eyes
With nothing in disguise
I wasn't surprised
To find myself asking
Who are you

Oh, I'll never forget
The first time that we met
You took away my breath
When you wore that black dress
And now I confess
I found myself asking
Who are you

For it must have been fate
When we met again on that date
We played a silly game
I never felt the same
A I have no shame
To find myself thinking
Who are you

Chances slipped through my hand
Like a thousand grains of sand
Before you went away
I saw you every day
I never got to say
The simple message of
I love you

And sad as it may seem
You can only be a dream
We're always far apart
Someone else stole your heart
I knew from the start
Someone said to you
I love you


Where that came from, I'm not all too sure. All in all, it didn't turn out too bad. That's all for now.

Spiritually Lacking

Greetings and welcome to another post to the Un-Zone. It's been a long time since I have posted here. Well, several day. That's a long time for a person who was regularly posting four or five times a week. There might be even more significant gaps when school starts again. Man...just when I was getting used to doing very little, I have to go back into doing more.

Anyways...this post will combine creative writing and televangelists, two topics that make for strange bedfellows. Actually, the combination isn't as strange as it seems. It does take quite a bit of creativity to come up with a sermon every week. But, the kind of creativity I'm thinking of, well, is more on the side of satire than sainthood. If you get the drift of what I'm saying.

The following piece was inspired by a writing assignment for a Humor Writing class I took at Harvard. The original piece I wrote was a parody of a funeral speech. The ones where the friend of the deceased go on about how great the person was in life. How kind they were...that stuff. So, taking that as inspiration, I wrote a mock televangelist sermon, complete with promos to giving "love gifts" to the ministry. And some other little surprises. One could consider it my satirical and pessimistic view to organized religion. Don't get me wrong. I find the principles and teachings (loving others, being moral, etc) to be good, but the actual practice by some of those who claim to be "religious" to be spiritually lacking.
If you are easily offended or just plain offended by material that makes fun of religion, I suggest you go to a different website. There are many fine websites out there. For everyone else, read on.

As a world renowned evangelist, people have asked many questions of great importance like "How do I accept Jesus into my life," "Does God really forgive all my sins," and "How does the defendant plead to the charge of tax evasion." Yes, these questions are important, especially the last one. The ideal answer to the last question is to plea "Guilty," but only after you make a bargain. I answered "Guilty" once before making a plea bargain thinking that I would get a light punishment, but I didn’t. That was WAY off topic, but it is an important lesson to learn, because I never made that mistake again when I was charged with embezzling millions from the last church I was pastor at. Whoops. That came out wrong.
As much as I would like to give legal advice to all the other liars, cheats, and religious figures out there, this column is for spiritual advice. The number one question that I have been asked is "How do I divert church funds to off-shore, tax-free accounts in the Cayman Islands?" Just kidding. That is not the number one question asked. It’s only number two. The number one question asked is "How is it possible to be a ‘false’ Christian?" Yes, how can a person be a "false" Christian? As an unrepentant sinner, I should know what being a "false" Christian was like, before I turned to the all mighty dollar…I mean God. However, the dollar is quite mighty when it comes to helping Olive Branch Ministries meet its financial goal of five million dollars this year. So, if you believe in Jesus Christ and that this ministry is sending out an uplifting, powerful message, shout out "Hallelujah" and please make a "love gift" to Olive Branch Ministries, PO BOX 273, Topeka, Kansas, 66601. With every generous donation of $100, you will receive an autographed copy of my book, Making Money by Using the Name of God. This book is an excellent guide on how to make money by using the IRS loophole for non-profit organizations, namely religious organizations. It’s as easy as sinning! I should know. Yes, I am wandering off subject. What was it? Ah…who will win the Dolphins-Raiders game today at four? I say Raiders by 10. Put $500 on the Raiders. Sorry. We were talking about "false" Christians. How can someone be a "false" Christian? Let’s use a story.
For instance, let’s say that there is a person named Paul. I know that this is my name, but remember, this is a story, and that stories, sometimes, are not real…just like me being an ordained minister. Got you! It was just a joke. I am an ordained minister…well…I did receive my Divinity degree and I did pass all of the tests and stuff. Wait…shoot. My twin brother took the test for me and he put in my name and information on the tests. I paid him to take my tests for me, since everyone at the Divinity school knew that I was…damn. I knew that I should have never drunk that bottle of Jack Daniels…or was it that $3,000 bottle of wine I bought using church funds? Well…now that I have confessed to everything, well nearly everything, you now should know what a "false" Christian is. Before I write my resignation letter and drown my sorrows with booze, drugs and easy women…not necessarily in that order…I would like to say a quick prayer before God strikes me dead because I did not cheat you out of…wait…raise twenty million dollars today.
Dear God, I know that I do not deserve to be a minister. I am, however, a very rich sinner, since I have stolen all the money from the congregation. I electronically transferred the money in their bank accounts to my Swiss bank account. Please tell them that if they wish to have me transfer their funds back, each and everyone must "donate" half of their money to the ministry. In your name we pray…and I steal, Amen. Before I leave, I must tell my faithful listeners and viewers that they are part of my congregation; the same applies to you. May the Lord bless and keep you…SUCKERS! HALLELUAH and AMEN!

Now, didn't that fill you up with the Holy Spirit of God? Remember, God LOVES you, just as long as you give your 10 percent. That's all for now.

Information

It's time to take another trip into the Un-Zone, where truth is stranger than fiction, because fiction has to make sense in the end. Well, most of the times. Unless you deal with the surrealistic or the magical-realism genres. Nothing make sense, which is the entire point. Making little or no sense is making sense. At least with fantasy, there's a perfectly logical reason for everything. Like powerful wizards. Or elves. And you cannot forget the hobbits. I digress.

Today's post is about gathering information and how easy it is. After you read this post, you might look at things a little bit differently. How you respond, well, that depends on what type of person you are. All of the stuff written in this post is based off of information available online and in other forms. Including listening. This is going to be an interesting post.

We all have information. It takes different disguises depending on the situation. For instance, take a look at your birthday. On most occasions, it is just that. An important date in your life, but something it's information you freely share with your friends, acquaintances, Department of Motor Vehicles, credit card companies, employers, well, nearly everyone you meet in some way. In these situations, giving out your date of birth is something you will do freely. You might even use it for a password, a practice that you should not do as it makes it infinitely easier to get at truly SECRET information. It might be used to verify you are who you claim to be.
On the other hand, what about your Social Security Number? It could possibly be called the closest thing to a universal identification number in the United States. You might freely give it for employment purposes or on important forms, but you would never tell some random person your Social Security number if they asked. Or would you?Obtaining someone's SSN is one of the hardest things to do. It's a common test to give to spy trainees. Actually, they're not called spies, but "intelligence officers" or something similar. You only have the normal things found in wallets like driver's licences, money, credit cards, etc. Normally, the ID and other stuff is fake. Only the money is real. No other props. Few obtain this information. Even as a trained spy, it is hard to get. However, it is possible.
The best ruse is the "The Numbers" ploy. You go to a bar, have a few drinks, then engage in a conversation with a person near you. Then you say, "Hey, I found out something cool today!" The chosen person will follow along and ask you what is so interesting. You mention that Social Security Numbers follow a pattern. Pull out a Social Security Card. Go through the actions of "This group means I was born in and this means I was born in this year..." and so forth. After you do this spiel, you say, "Show me your Social Security Card. I bet you a dollar (or any suitable sum of money) that I can tell you where and when you were born." After you give a wrong answer, most people will prove you wrong. How? By telling you their place of birth, their birthdate, and their Social Security Number. Some might even show you their card also.
As with anything involving gaining the confidence of a person, attitude is everything. You can have a believable story with all the right supporting material, but if you don't look the part, it will not work. You must look and sound believable. Many credible stories have fallen apart due to a betrayal of some sort. The nervous twitch. Wrong emotions. Funny looking clothing. The Mossad (Israeli Intelligence agency like the CIA) in the 1970's used to send agents as businessmen, but they were always spotted. Every single time. Why? The agents wore sneakers with their business suits. That and they were excessively anal about receipts for everything. A former Mossad agent said this was also due to the agents being Gallicaners (Eastern European backgrounds) instead of "outsider" Yekkes (Western European and everywhere else). They weren't cosmopolitan enough. Another digression.

OK...so you want to find out other stuff. Where and who do you go to? The underground information broker? The common informant? Nope. You go to the local bars and clubs. What the...? You go to bars and clubs. The bar is where everyone who hates their job goes to for therapy. It's best if you work as a team. This will be made apparent.
First, you locate your target--military base, defense contractor, criminal organization, etc. Give yourself sufficient time to get acquainted with the location you are in. A week or so is good. Ask questions on where the best bars are. Places to eat. Find out where people at target location go to. The tourist persona or "new person" always works well in most situations. Visit the bars once or twice to see what the vibe is like. Level of dress, what sort of people frequent there. You don't want to look like an outsider once you start gathering information.
Second, you follow people at said target after work. Preferably Friday night. It's Happy Hour and odds are, they're going to a bar. Note what cars they are driving. This will prove to be helpful much later.
Third, you enter bar and fit in. Have a drink. Chat with the people there. At least with some of the people you have followed. You will note that after a few drinks and a little attention, they will blab. What they're working on. Gossip on secret projects. Stuff that they're NOT supposed to be talking about. While they're distracted, some other team members are snatching IDs and other usefull items. They open briefcases and take papers. It's amazing what people put in their purses and briefcases and wallets. Plans. Passwords. Supposedly "secret" stuff.
Fourth, while the people inside are sufficiently distracted, a group of people are in the parking lot. They are swiping license plates (and numbers) off of cars. Stickers, parking passes, and other useful things to gain access to said target. One person should be near the exits to tell others if targets are leaving.
Fifth, after an hour or so, you leave with the goods. This depends on several factors. But an hour or so at a bar is long enough not to look suspicious.
Sixth, depending on the time schedule for the mission, repeat a few times.

Um...what if you don't like bars and you have qualms about being dishonest? Don't fret. Do nothing and just listen to conversations. Like everything else, you have to be convincing as to why you're there. At a bar? Buy a drink and sip it. If you're in a store, walk around and every so ofter, stop and look at an item. Look like you're shopping. Look like you're a tourist. Or stand outside and pretend you're smoking. Who hasn't seen a person standing outside smoking a cigarette? It's natural to see people if you're standing outside an apartment, house or a building of any sort. Any way you do try, you'll hear enough conversation to make out what's happening with people. Just remember to fit in and not bring too much attention to yourself.

Well, I think I've been reading too much. Hope you've enjoyed this post. That's all for now.

Single Mode

Greetings and welcome to yet another update to the Un-Zone. The weather in this corner of the world is hot and humid. Supposedly, it will be "cooler." Considering how accurate the weather forecasts are around here, I don't think it will be cooler. I think KMBC changed their weather forecast at least three times yesterday. You would expect them to be a little more consistent. Anyways...

I used to be a computer science major in college. After two and a half years of going crazy looking at endless lines of code in multiple languages, I realized that I did much better with poetry and prose than with Perl and programming. So I switched over to English and History, two subjects that I found much more to my liking. I enjoy technology; I find the structure and logic inherent with computers and code to be fascinating. But not good to normal sleep patterns and "monitor tan" is not healthy looking.

I've retained several aspects of the CompSci/Engineering lifestyle. Or maybe it is just me. I enjoy using hacker slang--the old school used by the MIT/Stanford guys as well as the more modern versions. An interesting book is the Hacker's Dictionary, available online as well as in print. A highly entertaining read.
I'm in perpetual single mode. For those not used to the "Engineering lifestyle," being involved with Engineering or anything related to computers generally means being single. There is a sad lack of females in Engineering/CompSci/CompEngineering. While I was there, I could count the number of females on two hands.

About single mode. It's not that bad. I guess. No tricky emotional attatchments. Lots of free time to do what you want to do without someone disapproving. Very little need to follow certain social niceties that are, for the most part, outdated and pretty foolish once you actually think about them. On the other hand, there are drawbacks. One, you are alone. Two, you are alone. Three, you are alone. There are many good things about companionship. Emotional attatchment can be a good thing. Sometimes, social niceties can be fun. Well, at least some of them. And you can't beat a female when it comes to understanding the finer points of color coordination and the female mind.

Why this digression? Apparently, my parents(actually my mother) think I have spent a little too much time in single mode. My mother wonders if I'm actually heterosexual. Just because I haven't found a nice girl and I don't talk about girlfriends, I might be gay or something. It can be a pain, as Asian mothers are well...infuriatingly annoying sometimes, especially when it comes to their children and marriage. That is another subject.
Another thing. I've told people that I am single. That I haven't been on a date or had a girlfriend since....well...a long time ago. They find it hard to believe. Then comes the inevitable questions of why not? Some have even gone to "Are you gay or something?"

Actually...only my parents have asked me that. Um...wait. Only my mother has asked me that. Apparently, because I don't talk that much about dating or girlfriends or if I have seen a nice girl to marry, I must be gay. Asian mothers are like that. It's a cultural thing. NO ONE can beat the Asian mother in the "Why aren't you married/dating?" department. I mean no one. Which makes me wonder why I never hear "Are you a lesbian?" from an Asian mother. It must be the cultural thing. It's a male dominated world out in Korea. Then again, it's like that nearly everywhere you go.

If you have read my posts, you can see that I like females. I've talked about finding a nice girl to date and have a meaningful relationship with. I've blathered on and on about things I like about them. It's too bad my parents are technologically impaired. If only they could use the Internet and read these posts. I tried teaching my mom how to use a computer and she forgot the next day how to turn it on. It's hopeless.

I guess my mind is like that of the old MIT hackers at Tech Square in the 1960's. I've focused everything on what I'm doing right now. Law school, technology, etc. They're ranking higher on the list. Unlike those at Tech Square, I do notice females, especially attractive ones. The only problem, I have problems interacting with them. I either am too afraid to approach them or if I do, I act like a fool. Like "Oh my God. I am a total klutz. I can't say or do anything except seem standoff-ish." It is indeed a rare occasion when I can act like a well-functioning person. One of these days, I'll put "meaningful relationships" higher on the priority list. Either that, or a female will unexpectedly enter into my life, whack me on the side of the head, and captures my attention. I predict it will be the latter. Yes, I am that clueless about females.

Well, that's all for now.

Double Vision

Fill my eyes with that double vision
No disguise for that double vision
Ooh, when it gets through to me, it's always new to me
My double vision gets the best of me
-Foreigner, Double Vision


Greetings and welcome to The Un-Zone, the only site that gives an insight into the mind of a KU Law School student. I haven't updated as much as I normally do. This is due to, well, circumstances beyond my control. I feel tired mentally. As much as I enjoy updating, I have little motivation in doing so. Oh, some might note the lyrics aren't appropriate in context, but the words seem appropriate for this post. Don't complain as I have already done it for you.

Anyways, I recently went to the eye doctor. It's been about two years since I last went. I really needed new glasses. Once the spring hinges don't spring and you notice the gold frames are now silver, well, it's way past due. Yeah, that and when you start to cannibalize parts from old glasses because you're missing a part. Curses to my bad vision.
I'm blind without my glasses. I've worn glasses since the age of five. I'm very nearsighted. I can't see a damn thing without them. I've gone beyond "blind as a bat." I'm seriously thinking how great it would be to have echo location. Some days, I think I need the Hubble Space Telescope to see anything.
I'm very sure the eyeglass industry is happy that I have lousy vision. I can't get normal lenses. Oh no. I need the special lenses made from advanced plastics. If I got them in regular plastic, the lenses would be several inches thick, possibly more. Because of the technology needed to make and shape these lenses, they cost more. One would suspect these lenses are used for military applications like spy satellites and exotic weaponry.
"We've made this material that's practically unbreakable! Let's use it for bulletproof windows! And then make a huge profit by using it in eyeglass lenses!"
Come to think of it, the materials used to make these lenses probably was originally made for the military. Things like GPS, laser pointers, and good ol' Tang were developed for the military and became a part of the average consumer market. The old version of advanced eyeglass lenses were made of polycarbonate plastic. Interestingly enough, this is the material they use for bulletproof windows in armored cars for the "important people" like Presidents and other rich and powerful people.
For this privilege, lenses cost about $200 on average. Just for the lenses. Add the price for frames. Then add the cost for the eye exam. Pretty expensive. I can expect to pay about $300 for glasses. So the credit card people will be happy also.

My mind works in a funny way when it comes to eye exams. When the doctor tells me NOT to do something, I do it. If the doctor tells me to DO something, I don't. Which really annoys the doctor. I manage to piss them off after a few times. It's not done on purpose. I just can't follow the pen or not look at the light. I have to focus on something and odds are, it won't be what you tell me to look at.
"Look at the pen. I said, look at the pen. LOOK AT THE PEN! We can't continue if you DON't LOOK AT THE PEN!"
A few minutes later: "Don't follow the light. Look straight ahead. DON'T FOLLOW THE LIGHT! DON'T FOLLOW THE LIGHT!"

After a few minutes of struggling not to look at the light, the doctor tells me that I am very nearsighted. (-8.5 in my left and -10.0 in my right. Scary, isn't it? Damn. One of the few times I get a 10.0 on a body part and it's not a good thing. Plus it's a -10.0 and not a +10.0) Hmm...I would have never guessed that. My right eye is worse than my left, which isn't a surprise as every eye doctor has said that. However, the comments about retinal detatchment perked my attention. Apparently, my right eye is so stretched out due to horrendous astigmatism and amazingly bad nearsightedness that the retina in my right eye might detatch. Which will not be a very pleasant experience physically or financially. Just as long as I don't see random flashes of light and/or numerous "floaters," I should be fine. OK...another eye problem to worry about. As if my vision situation could get any worse. At least the eye specialists will be happy to have me as a future customer.

So I get a pair of glasses. They should be coming in a week or so. Then comes the requisite fitting and making sure the nosepads don't crush my nose and everything fits right. And my vision will get worse and probably next year, a new pair of expensive eyeglasses.

Yeah! Hopefully, I won't go blind in the near future due to detatched retinas or my slowly advancing nearsightedness. That would just suck. Reading, drawing, and other activities using sight are very important hobbies that keep me sane. Well, until I see you next time. That's all for now.

Beauty

Greetings and welcome to The Un-Zone, probably the best number two website on Yahoo Search. Well, at least in my personal opinion. Well, some might consider the lovely sites about the UN zone in the Middle East more interesting. Geopolitics is an interesting subject, but it kinda makes for dull reading. Anyways, I'm number two.

It's time for me to go on a philosophical bent today. After having some fun with the song parodies, I think it is time for something more serious with a few little interesting bits added in for flavor. You wouldn't want to read a dull treatise, now would you? Yes, I do write with long sentences. I was an English major, and after having word limits imposed by the law school writing classes, I say to hell with word limits! Today's post is about beauty. Where this will end up is anyone's guess.

I like drawing. The subjects I draw usually end up in three major categories: women, monsters, and everything else. For some strange reason, I have this weird trichotomy, if that is a word, which it probably isn't. The monsters I draw are grotesque, bloody, evil, malevolent, ugly. Large claws, teeth, physical deformities. However, to balance out the grotesqueness, I draw females. Inevitably, they turn out to be attractive ones, well, at least physically. I take time to get them as perfect as possible. I take time to shade them carefully, making sure that every detail is just right. The "everything else" category is everything else. Samurai, weird pictures, etc. Everything that is not a female or a monster. Like all the pictures I draw, I take time and effort to make these look nice. But I find the most pleasure in drawing the females. It must the innate liking for beauty in the traditional sense of the word.

Beautiful women. Of course, like many males, I would be a liar if I said that physical attractiveness didn't matter when looking for a girlfiriend. It's one of the first things people notice. Great looking hair is good. Attractive eyes are a plus. A bright and real smile is better. It isn't the only thing that I look for. If it was, then I would be a very shallow person. And I would also be a total moron. Physical beauty is a poor guide for judging personality. It's a poor arbiter for anything. It is an excellent arbiter of nothing or danger or death.
On a related side note, there's an animal called the seacone. It has a beautiful shell. But the animal inside defends itself by shooting a barb. This barb injects a deadly poison that can kill a human in minutes. The outside beauty hides death. Like people, beauty can be a shell that hides less desirable things. One cannot totally judge by exterior looks.
I want someone who has other redeeming features. Things like intelligence, kindness, a sense of humor, someone capable of intelligent discussion, a touch of class, a joy for life. If you are attractive as well, even better. If you are good looking, but you are mean and have no sense of dignity or class, despite being beautiful, no way. I can't tolerate people who are rude and who treat others poorly.
I've had those moments where I see a beautiful woman and I want to follow her. I'm sure that everyone has had that urge. Male and female alike. And then you follow them. You lose them in the crowd of humanity in a busy street or in a crowded room. And then, when you just think you will meet them, they disappear, never to be seen again. With those kinds of fantasies or dreams, what else is there to do? And when you do follow them, what occurs? Well, pretty much nothing. You end up disappointed at a lost chance. And the memory remains, lingering in your mind.

The search for beaty. Whether it is flowers, cars, women, etc., the joy in the search for beauty is in the actions of the search, more than anything else. You look high and low, analyzing, scrutinizing every aspect. And when you find beauty, you recognize it. The search may be complete, but there are ever more things and people to look at. It is never complete. Just when you find the epitome of it, something else catches your eye. In a way, it is an endless search, but one that people find enjoyable. And yet, when we do find it, we wish to extend that moment for all eternity. But we can't. So we look for another moment. The search continues until the next moment is found.
Sometimes, we get to keep that moment for a little longer. But, like many things in life, beauty fades. It becomes less enjoyable for some. Some might find beauty in the changes. Others will discard and throw away. And we look for a new moment to hang on to. The search goes on again.

I don't know. Maybe I am being too cynical about this subject. Maybe I am being way too philosophical. I'm not sure. Well, whatever it is, I hope you have enjoyed this.

That's all for now.

Modern Makeovers

It's time for another update to the Un-Zone, a site dedicated to the random thoughts that live inside the mind of a law school student at the University of Kansas. Uh oh...I just mentioned the three deadliest words in the English language..."law school student." These three words do not bode very well as there are some people out there who consider law school students to be stuck-up and pretentious people who consider everything they say to be the word of God. Like everyone else in this world, some law school students are like this, and some just aren't. I know quite a few good ones. Anyways...

Today's topic is about remakes. Many people have complained about the lack of "good" movies this summer. They're unoriginal. If you think about it, every movie can be broken down into several basic plots. It's just the little details that make everything look different. Well, it is true that a lot of the movies this summer are remakes. The never ending Batman series, the Herbie the Lovebug series, Bad News Bears, The Longest Yard...yup. Hollywood has run out of new ideas, as if they ever had any.
OK...what about music? Now music...unoriginality is originality. All you do is take a song, change the words and modify the beat, and you got a brand new song. Then you sell it to a gullible public who will buy it and make you millions. Hillary Duff did a remake of "My Generation" but modified the verses. Instead of "Hope I die before I get old..." she does "Hope I don't die before I get old." This changes the entire meaning of the song. What about Gwen Stefani's "If I Were a Rich Girl"? Sounds familiar? It should if you listen to musicals. Where have you heard it before? How about Fiddler on the Roof, the musical about Russian Jews during the Czarist era? What? Yes.
I don't blame them. They gotta sell CDs and make a profit. I make song parodies. I'll be really helpful. So what if you took some "old" songs and gave them a modern twist? Like Eminem doing a Broadway musical like The Producers and the song "I Wanna Be a Producer." It wouldn't be all too bad. Come on. Mel Brooks made fun of Broadway, Hitler, and God knows what else in his movies. So Eminem in a musical would be nothing:

I want to be a white rapper…no Vanilla Ice wannabe.
I want to be a white rapper…one with street credibility.
I want to be a white rapper…make my million bucks today!
I want to be a white rapper—gotta team up with Dr. Dre!

Or maybe a real classic Rogers and Hammerstein musical like Oklahoma. Yes, that venerable musical about the Midwest. All those cornfields, square-dancing, clean living. Nothing even remotely related to Eminem and his image. Remember "Oh What a Beautiful Morning?" A new version of it:

The critics do not like my lyrics…
I bash on women and gays.
I’ve been called crude, rude, and obscene…
But I don’t give a @$%& any ways!

Could you picture a musical like The Sound of Music if Alyssa Milano played Liesel? I can see the changes that they would make. For those who can, do you remember the scene underneath the gazebo when it rains? The one where Liesel and Rolf sing “I am Sixteen” and in the end, Liesel gets her first kiss. Ah, nothing like seeing a girl get her first kiss…budding romance. In the new version however, you can kiss that scene goodbye. Instead, Liesel would sing about her former “Who’s the Boss” costar being homosexual. One must wonder how any guy would become gay after being around her...

I am sexy, totally sexy—Danny Pintaro’s gay!
How can he go queer…when this is all here
Right by him every day?
It is crazy, totally crazy—this is some quirk of fate!
There are many…very sad girls…
That wish that—he would turn out—to be STRAIGHT!

No little “What If” on celebrities would be complete without the master of doing remakes on old songs…Puff Daddy, AKA Sean Jean Combs, Puffy, P. Diddy, etc. Who can resist crying when they hear “I’ll Be Missing You,” especially if you were an 80’s child? It is a remake of a Police song called “I’ll Be Watching You”? I couldn’t help doing air guitar to “Come With Me.” Maybe it was the awesome guitar solo from Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” and the solo was done by Jimmy Page.
Puffy helped another rapper, Mace, with his showy music video, “Bad, Bad Boys.” Mace couldn’t resist himself from copying off of Puff Daddy. I’m not talking about the sexy girls, the hip clothes, or the conspicuous flashing of money and wealth. Mace sampled just like Puffy. The song that he “used”, interestingly enough, was also called “Bad, Bad Boys” and it was sung by Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. Need I say more? As one of his songs go: “He takes hits from the eighties/And make them sound so crazy”.
Now, as the king of remakes, what better musical to do than The Sound of Music? An apt title for this rapper/clothes designer/producer who changes his women, persona, and his artist name as well and as often as he remakes songs. What better song from this musical than “The Hills are Alive?” With a little lyric re-engineering and some quick modifications to the beat, this melody can sound fresh. Imagine as we do a panoramic sweep of the Vegas Strip, the neon aglow and shiny convertibles drive by. We zoom onto the roof of the MGM Grand and we see Puff Daddy standing, arms stretched, dressed in flashy clothing and the requisite amount of diamonds and gold and platinum. The camera focuses on him, the music building to a crescendo. Then we hear the lyrics:

My CDs are filled—with sampled music.
I know you have heard…this song before!
My wallet is blessed…I use sampled music.
I’ll reuse…once more.

There aren't that many original ideas out there, at least when it comes to entertainment. Even this is probably an imitation of something. That's all for now.

Dating Reptiles

Greetings and welcome to the Un-Zone. It’s Un tested, reader approved. Apparently, on Yahoo Search, my blog is second on the result list. All you have to do is type in “The Un-Zone” and poof, my blog is a result. I find it interesting that I barely get a mention on Google. Oh well. I can’t complain too much.

I like online tests. Personality tests, trivia tests, IQ tests…I just have to take them. It’s a weird urge I have whenever I am online. So I find this neat test, but you have to register on the website to take it. It’s free. My “privacy” is paramount according to their site, so I sign up. Five minutes later, I’m registered and I take the test.

This site also does online matchmaking also under the guise of “meeting new friends.” No, it is not an adult website with links to porn. I’m not into online dating. Hey, if you like online dating, whatever floats you boat. Go ahead. I'm just not that into it.
Despite being a technology freak and a person with social-avoidance issues, I like meeting people face to face. Human interaction does have its benefits. You can actually tell if they are being honest. An online interaction lacks seeing nonverbal cues like eyeball rolls, lip purses, and body angling. If you’re online, you can type whatever the hell you like and no one can really tell if you are lying. Unless you Google their name, assuming it is their real name. You see what I’m getting at?
This site claims to have a “scientific” method in making these matches. They take the answers you give to questions, assign them a point value based upon how important the answer is, take the answers other people gave, and by sticking everything into a formula, they will tell you if the other person is right for you. This compatibility rating is given in the form of a percentage.

So I answer those questions for fun. Just to see what they are like. Most of them are pretty basic. Things like dating style, political views, etc. Some of them were very odd. Actual question: “Would you date a large reptile-like creature?” What the hell does that have to do with finding a match?
"Sure. Why not? Of course I would like to date something resembling a crocodile. I'm a big fan of the T-Rex in Jurassic Park. My last ex was a lying snake, anyways..."
Hell no. If an attractive person licks their lips and looks at you, that’s good. However, if a walking python licks their lips, it might mean you're dinner. It puts new meaning on being good enough to eat. "That smile is really sexy. Wait...or are you hungry? I can never tell.... Honey, put the salt shaker down. I'm not food. Honey...AUGHHH!!!" Why not tattoo some cooking instructions on my forehead and paint a bulls-eye on my chest? Maybe some flashing lights too. Why waste time? Might as well prepare the pan also.
And the “matches” that I got. What the...? I have conservative values about relationships, drugs, alcohol, etc. I’m also looking for a smart, witty, kind, funny, and interesting girl who doesn’t mind a guy with very odd quirks and who shares those values. If she’s attractive, hell, even better. And despite plainly answering these questions in a conservative manner and stating that it’s very important the other person’s answers match mine, I keep getting a person who is a “self-described slut” who has had sex with all of her friends. She also wants to meet people to have sex. And she is also engaged, according to her profile. And a drug user. And a heavy drinker. Um...no thank you. Some might like that, but not me. I’m beginning to wonder how many “friends” she has. That and if their formula is messed up. It must be some sort of joke they play on people.

Um…if you like what you see on my profile and on what I’ve written in this blog…give me an e-mail at…just kidding.

Anyways. I think I shall just stick to online tests on that site. That’s all for now.

The Jungle

Greetings and welcome again to the Un-Zone. Many of you will notice that I begin my posts with the same intro, or at least a relatively similar one. I think it is time for me to go and change it. But, then again, it conveys a sense of greeting to this blog. Some might leave after they read this post.

Lately, there have been several stories about strange and disgusting objects found in food. The fingertip found in Wendy's chili. Unidentifiable objects found in icecream, hamburgers, pizza, etc. You can find hundreds if not thousands of stories like this online and in papers. It reminds me of The Jungle by Upton Sinclair.

How many of you have read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair? I'm pretty sure that many of you have read it/ were forced to read it at one point or another in high school. If not, some time in college. If neither of those choices, then you really should. It will have you thank the government for imposing all of the laws it does, at least with respect to food safety. The descriptions of what used to be done to food in The Jungle are stomach-turning. It has been said Teddy Roosevelt, after reading a paragraph in the book, stopped eating breakfast. Interestingly enough, he was eating sausage. Then came the Pure Foods Act of 1906. And food became less disgusting due to these laws.

You may now be thinking, "Food today is pretty safe. It surely doesn't have human parts and other weird things like they did in more unscrupulous times." Well, you would be correct in most instances, but the regulations they have now, well, let's just say the government regulations...well...they could be updated. They haven't been changed since the mid 80's. Robert Choate, who used to be a government nutritional consultant, said that there might be more protein in the INSECTS inside breakfast cereal than in the cereal itself. It's very likely he was exaggerating, but there might be a grain of truth in that statement. Let's just say that what is still going into food is not that appetizing. How do I know? I've seen the FDA technical regulations. You could buy a copy for about $60, but I will give you a few regulations for free.

But first, a few words of warning. The following may make you very sick if you have a weak stomach. It may still make you sick if you have a strong one. Also, you might not want to read this if you have eaten or will be eating. Oh yeah, if you though what are acceptable levels of contamination in food was bad, you should see what goes into things like lunch meat. It's not human parts or rotten flesh or maggots, but it does get bad. Now that you've been properly warned, let's take a look into the government regulations on food contamination.

1. 250 milliliters of orange juice (about a cup, for those not metrically inclined) can contain up to 10 fruit fly eggs, but only two maggots.
2. You like coffee? I know a lot of you do. Ever wonder where it gets that great aroma? It might be from roasted insects. Up to 10% of coffee beans can be infested with or damaged by insects. Like Maxwell House says, "It's good to the last drop."
3. Peanut butter and jelly. Greatest sandwich ever. All the protein in peanut butter may not be from the peanuts alone. And those chunks in chunky peanut butter...some might not be peanuts. It is interesting to note that insects are an excellent source of protein. There can be up to 50 insect fragments per 100 grams. Oh...another thing. Hair is made of keratin, which is a protein. Yup. Your peanut butter can contain 1 rodent hair per 100 grams. The FDA is very picky about what type of rodent hair is in your food. If it is rat hair, then the level of sanitation is not great, but considered normal. Yeah, like I want to eat food that the rats have taken a few bits from... Squirrel hair, however, is never allowed, as it shows extremely poor sanitation standards. As if rat hair wasn't bad enough.
Like apple butter? Some people like it. It must be from all the insects in there. You can have up to 5 insects per 100 grams, which equals to about 25 in a 16 ounce jar. However, little insects like mites and aphids do not count, as all fruit have them. They have to be larger. If that wasn't gross enough, most apple butter is made from the wormy apples. The less-infested apples go to market. At least those apples don't have worms. Aphids, yes. But worms...no.
4. Spices. Now those are rife with insects. Apoparently, it is absolutely normal for spices to contain insects from the moment they are planted up till the time they enter the jar and into your food. You can't do much about this problem, but rest assured that there are no live insects allowed in your spices, just dead ones finely ground up into fragments only identifiable to experts. Though you might find some larger ones in a few bottles.
5. Frozen vegetables. In some cases, up to 200 thrips and aphids can be found in a one-pound package. You probably won't be able to find them, but the experts can.
6. Wheat. Many things contain wheat. Bread, pasta, flour, etc. At this point, where I am going should be getting obvious. Those pesky rodents. A kilogram of wheat (about 2.2 pounds) can average up to 9 milligrams of rodent excreta pellets or pellet fragments. Just so you know. So, if your food tastes like crap, it probably does...well...at least rodent feces.
7. "Foreign Matter." This is the catch-all term for stuff that just couldn't be classified. It's like the term "artificial colors and flavorings" on ingredient lists. Now those things are weird. Did you know that some cheap wines contain eggs, gelatin, preservatives, and isinglass. The last term, isinglass, is a jelly made from fish bladders. All of that is needed to make wine clear and last long. The wine lobby convinced Congress that the things needed to make modern wine palatable and acceptable to the consumer are unappetizing to list on the label. They were right. Drink up!
Anyways, the most common "foreign matter" is metal. All processed food contains metal. Most fragments are unnoticable. These companies buy specially designed metal detectors just for this job. They're set to catch packages that contain too much metal. Have you ever had a raisin that crunched when you bit in it? You thought is was a seed, right? You were probably wrong. It might have been lead shot. Hunters like walking through vineyards.

That's just a small listing of the regulations found in FDA Technical Bulletin No. 1. There are a lot more that I could not list, but this is a good overview of what is allowed in food today.

Anybody hungry? Bon Appetit! That's all for now.

Online Version of The Jungle
http://www.online-literature.com/upton_sinclair/jungle/

FDA Technical Bulletin No. 1
http://www.aoac.org/pubs/pubcat83.htm

Fruit

The scent which comes from the fruit, and from the spray that is diffused over the green leaves, kindles within us a craving to eat and to drink . . . .
-Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio, Canto XXIII


Greetings and wecome to the Un-Zone, the official site of all things Un. It's been a while since the last update. I wouldn't want to deprive all you constant readers your fix of the random thoughts that run through my head put into a semi-coherent form. Lately, the posts have taken the general structure of "This is X, where X is some inanimate object. X is sensual/sexy. Here is the science behind it." Well, I am liking where this is going, so I shall continue on a similar tangent. Or at least find a tangent and write about it. This reminds me of "Connections" on PBS where the host goes from one subject to a wildly different one. An example would be DNA testing to Sherlock Holmes. And in between, you would hit on topics like DNA, Honduras, the Pinkerton Agency, and bananas. So...what will I write about today?

Today' s post is about fruit, in particular, strawberries and peaches. Yes, probably one of the most mundane topics ever. I would have written about Hawaiian shirts, but that just didn't interest me enough today. It will most likely be later this week. Why this topic? Well, I am reminded of what my 12th grade AP English teacher once said during class. We were reading Song of Solomon and everyone was looking bored. To perk up interest, he mentioned that "fruit is sexual." And then he went on for several minutes rambling about English literature and his favorite movie scene from Tom Jones. This scene involves the sensuality of eating, in particular, pears. Though he commented that it would have been better if it involved strawberries.

I've really never thought about this subject that much, well, until about two hours ago. And after musing on this question and going through the reserves of random stuff that I have stored in my head, I have come to the same conclusion. Fruit is sexual. This is based upon four years of a college education, many movies, many books, an afternoon looking at various paintings, some time on the Internet, and some imagination. So, I guess that spending tens of thousands of dollars for a piece of paper was well worth it.

Let's take the literature view on fruit. If you read the Bible, in particular the Songs of Songs, you will note that certain passages can get quite sensual and most involve fruit. For instance, you have: "Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love" or "May your breasts be live the clusters of the vine, the fragance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine." We also have Tom Fielding's Tom Jones with the passage involving the sensuality of eating. They are gazing at each other, feet intertwined, feeding eachother morsels of food, with the juice of ripe pears dripping down their chins.
For fine arts, we have many paintings. Take Manet's Dejeuner sur l'Herbe or Picnic in the Grass, and you will see right by the nude female various ripe fruit she has brought to the picnic. All that is sensuous and arousing are placed in that corner of the painting.
And who can forget multi-ethnic cultural studies. Every culture has foods it considers aphrodisiacs. What better food that fruit? It's ripe, sensuous, fragrant, and tasty. It embodies everything that is considered glorious about the female. Well, at least a lot of the more positive aspects of the female.

And now, the two most sensuous fruits there are. The peach and the strawberry. There is something about these fruits that make them so...so...well...damn. I can't come up with a very good way to describe them in a few words.

The strawberry is the most sensual fruit ever. Even more than bananas. There is nothing better than a perfectly ripe strawberry. Not one of those supermarket copycats that are a poor imitation, but one freshly picked. When at the height of perfection, the strawberry is red, a red that makes lipsticks and lip glosses pale in comparison. And it is red all the way through. The skin is bright and shiny.
The texture...mmm...it should be soft but firm, not hard in the center like most store-bought ones. The best strawberries will have an almost voluptuous mouthfeel when you bite into them. And when you bite into them, your mouth should be filled with juice. It should burst in your mouth. Sweet with a hint of tartness, just enough to make your tongue dance in delight. The experience should bring you close to esctasy. If not, you are just not eating the right strawberries.
But the best part of the strawberry eating experience should be the aroma. The fragrance should knock you out. The Romans called strawberries fraga due to their intense aroma. It is so pleasing that males find it appealing and females find it very feminine. As you can probably guess, I like strawberries.

I like peaches, almost as much as strawberries, but it is a pale second. The Chinese considered the peach to be a symbol of immortality as well as a symbol of ripe sexuality. The skin is silken and fuzzy like human skin. On an unrelated note, this is not sadly so with modern varieties as hybridization has removed this trait. The skin color is red, almost like a blush. The flesh, when fully ripe, is soft and juicy and succulent. When you bite into a peach, it is nearly impossible to stop the rush of sticky, fragrant juices. The juice will run down your chin. It will run down your hand. You must wipe it off or, if you really like them (or you don't care if people look at you), you will lick the juice off your fingers. And the aroma of a ripe peach. It is a heady aroma, one that fills a room. In fact, there are peaches that the French call peche de vigne that will literally fill a room with peach fragrance. They grow in wine vineyards; have flesh that his cream in the center, but turns to a bright red; are very fragile; are never constant when it comes to production and are very expensive. They sell for about $5 each. But when the trees do fruit, it is an interesting experience. Most are used to flavor and color peach ice cream. A tragic use for such good peaches. I digress.

To accurately describe the chemistry and science behind why strawberries and peaches, and for that matter, why fruits are so sensual, would take forever. One could write several books, papers, and other reports on these subjects. So, I will give a very condensed and watered-down version.
Fruits contain several things that make them so tasty. One is flavor compounds. The strawberry has the most flavor compounds, about 300 of them. Two, there are aroma compounds. They have very long and complicated names, but put simply, these give foods their characteristic odors. Fruits have many that are very mouth-watering. Three, fruits contain sugar, the backbone of flavoring in the American diet, in addition to salt and fat. Sugar is a thing we all naturally like. Yup. we've had a sweet tooth for millions of years. Humans supplemented their diet with fruit and our teeth changed. Thank our ancestors for this or we would have just eaten insects and meat.

And so, look at fruit differently. Especially strawberries and peaches. That's all for now.

Lip Service

Kiss me as if you made believe
You were not sure, this eve,
How my face, your flower, had pursed
Its petals up.
-Robert Browning, In a Gondola

Won't you smile awhile for me?
-Hall and Oates

Welcome and greetings to the Un-Zone, a look into the mind of a student at the University of Kansas. I would like to begin by thanking all of those who have posted comments. It is nice to know that people are enjoying what they are reading here. So, for those who are reading this blog, please post comments. I actually read them and take into consideration what you like or dislike about what I write. I would like to make reading this blog as enjoyable an event as it is for me writing to this blog.

I've decided that I will write about lips. Yes, it may appear that I am now on a one-track mind. After all, I've written about eyes and hair. What's next? Knees? Actually, someone has written about why knees are sexy, but for a magazine. I have to admit, it was a well-written article. And it did make knees sound a whole lot sexier that they are. Think about it. If you lightly touch a person behind their knee, it can be...um...exciting. Well, anyways, I just hope this post is as entertaining as the others.

I'd like to begin with a personal story involving lips, hair and eyes, the three things that are, quite frankly, very sensual parts of the body. More so than the other much more glorified parts of the female anatomy. They are nice to look at, but they lack a certain something that these three parts possess. I think that they communicate much more and on a deeper level. We naturally focus on these parts from birth, whereas, the other more well-known parts, much, much later. And most likely due to societal values.
I like doing impressions. I can do a decent Elvis. I can do an eerily good Louie Armstrong, though I can't play the trumpet. My Woody Allen cracks people up, especially when I talk about the joys of adoption. Plus several other, ones you don't expect an Asian guy to do. Things like Dave Matthews, Scarlett O'Hara, and Macy Gray. Yes, I can do females. Girls like the Dave Matthews one alot. It must be the lyrics from "Crash Into Me." Have you listened to the lyrics? My God, they are freaky-deeky. And the way he sings them? Girls will sing along and get turned on. It's scary. "Ooh...Crash Into Me. Must sing along. That guy singing it...mmm." Honest to God.
Anyways, this has gotten to be somewhat of a problem. People will ask me to do an impression at the most inopportune times. Like in the middle of class. Or when I am frantically trying to read sixty pages of material that I should have read the night before, but didn't because I was playing games on the Internet and lost track of time. Yeah. And when I do perform, other people will ask me to do one. Or if they are female, they want to hear it again. And again. And again.
There's this girl I know. She likes my impressions. Well, one day, she asks me to do an impression. You guessed it. Dave Matthews. I'm trying to finish this research I should have done last week. I refuse her request. She does the lip pout and the "injured puppy dog" eyes. The sad look. Did I mention that she has wonderful brown eyes? I refuse again, stating I am busy, but will gladly do it when I am done. She seems surprised at my refusal. After all, no one says "no" to the sad look. So she purses her lips. Then she does an immediate change in facial expression. If the sad look won't work, then by God, she will use the heavy weapons. After a calculated hair flip(she also has long, sleek, brown hair), she does an intense stare. The one with with a glint of impishness. Almost wanton. The same pout. And a repeated refrain of "please." She is way too good at this. How could I refuse? So I do the impression. She leaves satisfied. And I'm wondering why the hell I am doing research and how the hell did she manage to do what she did so successfully.

Like the hair and eyes, it's all hardwired into our brains. If you map out the human brain, significant portions of the cortex are occupied by the lips, the eyes, and the hands. It's no wonder why so much of our nonverbal communication involves these body parts. Human learned to speak somewhere between 4 million and 200,000 years ago. But nonverbal communication is in what sicentists call "smart parts." As our motor skills refined, our lips became more refined in their movement. Hence, their ability to nonverbably communicate so much.

People can show their affection with their lips in many ways, but the most popular ones are smiling and kissing. With kissing, this may seem very unromantic, but it evolved from the mammalian instinct of the sucking-reflex. Well, all this means it is an extention of the maternal instinct. Mammals all show some form of "kissing." Dolphins nibble. Cats playfully bite each other. Dogs will lick and nuzzle. This explains why kissing and other forms of labial excitement are universal signals of love. It also explains why most people consider this a form of foreplay. In addition, kissing is pleasurable because the lips are located in the most sensitive area of our face. There's a direct nerve connection. You're hotwired to get excited.
Smiling. That's another form of showing affection with lips. You can notice a smile from 300 feet away. Impressive. Like kissing, the act of smiling is hardwired also. This trait has stayed with us from the days of primates. Smiling shows friendliness and harmlessness. Real smiles are hard to fake. The true 1000 watt grins that light up a room. We start noticing real smiles when we are babies and show real smiles at the same time. Only to known people. Fake smiles are shown to strangers.

So, give someone some lip service when you meet them. No, not a verbal rant, but with much happier currency. A smile is the second best use of your lips. A kiss, however, is number one. I will gladly accept both.

That's all for now.

Eyes...The Window to our Soul

Those true eyes
Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise
The sweet soul shining through them
-Edward Robert Bulwer-Lytton

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine.
-Ben Jonson, To Celia

Greetings and welcome to all who visit the Un-Zone. Some of you are repeat visitors, and some are new to this part of the Internet. But to all, please come again. Enjoy your visit and tell your friends to visit, if you so like, whether or not you liked or disliked what you have read. Post comments. This update is brought to you by the letter "E" and the number "5".

Today's post is all about eyes. Yes, eyes. Some might consider these posts to be rambling and random, but that is the way I write these things. It's how I naturally do these things, though most of the time, I am pretty organized and things are planned out in a rational order. If this were for a grade, I would be a lot less rambly.

I like drawing. It is one of the few pleasures in life that I try to do on a regular basis. That and reading and listening to music. If I could focus really well, I can do two at a time. I've been drawing females. One of the hardest things to draw, well for me at least, are eyes. You automatically notice when they look weird. Something just does not look right. (As a side note, look at Egyptian tomb drawings. They never drew the eyes in perspective, always as if you were looking at them head-on. All they had to do was draw half an eye to get it done right. A little art history, and for much less than what they charge at major universities.) They're crooked, shaped funny, not as good as you would like them. But when drawn correctly, they make the enitre picture look complete. I'm probably being a little too obsessive with this. I once drew eyes correctly once, and I never achieved this again.

American culture puts a high level of importance on eye contact in communication, but when you ask a person to tell what color eyes someone has, most can't tell without looking. Suppossedly, we put so much effort on reading the signals the eyes send out, eye color doesn't register. I seem to notice eye color a lot.
I know a girl who has the most amazing eyes. They are crystal clear, cool, and blue. It is like looking at a clear, summer sky without a cloud in sight. Or, for a more aquatic figure of speech, one could swim in them. Another girl I know has green eyes. A peculiar shade of green. Depending on what she wears, one might think they are a greyish-blue or a greenish-hazel or just green. This is only if you are not observant. As an interesting sidenote, one can also use French eyedrops to make your eyes seem more vibrant. Spies and others in fields that need secrecy use them, in additon to colored contacts. Another girl I know has eyes of an interesting shade of blue, almost purple, like the sky at twilight. They're very beautiful, very mysterious. And I can't forget the brown-eyed females. Eyes that are bright, warm, friendly, intelligent. Some were smouldering and intense. I like eyes. I could write a lot more about the eyes I like and the girls who have them. I digress again.

Despite what people say, we notice eyes first. Yes, and that includes other parts of the anatomy. In the beginning stages of courtship, people will take brief glances at people that they like. It tells people, "I am man/woman. Do you see me?" We notice when people are looking at us, well most do. Some people are just clueless, myself included sometimes. Once contact is made, and there is some mutual liking between them, the pupils dilate. They become larger. European women used to add belladonna drops in their eyes to mimic arousal. Belladonna is a poison derived from deadly nightshade. It also means "beautiful woman" in Italian. The writer Ambrose Bierce would say these two definitions are not mutually exclusive. As the relationship becomes more serious, there will be only mutual gazes between the two people. Everyone is excluded and there are subtle signals that tell others to keep away.
Your eyes cannot lie. We've come up with phrases and quotes about eyes throughout history. They reflect the importance of eyes and how we see the world. If you like someone, you can't take your eyes off of them. Good looking people are "lookers" or "eye-candy." You might have something that people call "bedroom eyes." You also can show the "come-hiter" look. Women are very good at this. Maybe a little too good. If you dislike someone, you look away. Your eyes squint. Even at an early age, we show like and dislike with our eyes. We blink when we are nervous or being deceptive. We also blink when we see something or someone we like. When we are afraid, we have eyes that look like a deer in headlights.

Yes, like everything else, it's all hard-wired into our brains, something that evolution has left in from our primate ancestors. And all you Kansas State School Board members can argue all you want and try to de-emphasize evolution all you want. We're enthralled at them by the time we are six-weeks old. We're programmed from birth to like eyes and to put meaning into what others eyes are doing, though there are people focus on...um...other noticable aspects of the human anatomy which shall be left unnamed and unmentioned.

Eyes. We see the world through them. Others notice them and make decisions on what they do. We're all fascinated by them. At least I am. That's all for now.

Musings on Hair

Greetings and welcome to the Un-Zone, the official site of all things Un. Not only is this the official site, but it is the only site. This post is brought to you by the letter "H" and the irrational number "pi," a number I know to the 100th decimal. I'm feeling pretty good today. I slacked around, watched some TV, read some good books, and got a hair cut. Ah...today's post is all about hair.

My hair is something that defies description. When it is cut short, it behaves like normal hair, although it possesses a texture that some people find, well, interesting. This girl I know at KU Law rubbed my head and gave me the nickname of "Fuzzy Bear." This is due to my hair. For some reason, she must give everyone she knows a CB radio name. Why, I have no clue. It's just weird.
When it is long, my hair exhibits odd properties. It defies the laws of nature and accurate description. Yes, I did grow my hair long. I once grew it so long that you could not see my eyes when I combed my hair down. Ah...combing my hair down. Damn near impossible. I woke up every morning with a case of bed-head that would make Don King's hair pale in comparison. You could literally stick a comb in there and it would stay in place. Birds had the odd notion my hair was a nest. They would land or climb onto my head and sit there. Someone once described the texture as shag carpet. Which perked the interest of a girl standing next to me. She had to make sure the description was accurate. Honest to God, she said, "You're right! It does feel like shag carpet!" She had the oddest look on her face when she felt my hair.

There's something magical about the power of hair. There's also something quite sexual about hair. It shows who we are and a little bit about our values. We spend large amounts of time looking at hair, commenting on hair, touching hair (on ourselves and other people), and grooming hair. We can't stop noticing other peoples and our own hair. We find hair attractive. It's biologically hard-wired into our brains. We can't stop our passion for hair. The cingulate gyrus is the section of our brain that controls grooming, nuzzling, and cuddle cues, as well as our impulse for maternal caring. It mediates our nonverbal cues for those whom we care and truly care for. This includes sexual behaviors like flirting.
Have you ever noticed that if you like a person, you just want to run your fingers through their hair? Assuming they have hair and it is of sufficient length and some other factors that determine whether or not you want to pursue such activity. Especially if you are a guy and you like a girl? There's nothing like that feeling. Soft, silky, shiny, glowing tresses. Straight, curly, wavy, it doesn't matter. You brush the hair away from the face. You run your fingers through. How your fingers linger and you don't want to stop. The indescribable tactile sensations. The scalp rub. That warm, tingling feeling. Mmm... Sorry. Got carried away.
Or if you are a girl and you like someone, you do the little hair flip or you run your fingers through your hair. The come-hither look. You might not notice when you do these actions, but you do this every single time. It's noted in every single body language book ever published. And it works every time. It gets them going. It is the most effective nonverbal cue a woman can ever use.
In either case, it's your cingulate gyrus working. You can't stop it form working. It will do what it feels it is natural. All mammals have it hard-wired into them. We will cuddle, groom, and show signs of affection for all eternity or at least until we evolve and find such things unnecessary, which at this moment, is highly unlikely.

Ahh...the power of hair. That's all for now.

The Concept of Race

Good evening. And another update to the Un-Zone. It's a fine day to post up an update, as it is the Fourth of July holiday. An interesting historical fact. America did not declare its independence on July 4th. It was July 2nd. Honest. Anyways...

I recently filled out a registration form on the Internet. It asked the basic information like name, age, address, etc. and it also asked for racial identification. This question pops up everywhere. You fill this question for the census, for IDs, for nearly every single questionaire you will fill out in your life. I've never understood why they even bother with this question, other than for statistics.
From a scientific viewpoint, there is no such thing as "race." If you analyze DNA, there is nothing to suggest that there are differences between Asians, Caucasians, Native Americans, or any viable racial identity a person can possibly conceive of. All of our DNA is the same when analyzed structurally. We all have the same genes. At the most basic genetic level, we are all the same.
How about superficial features like skin color or physical characteristics? This is the most common form of "racial" identification. Of course, using physical characteristics, it is obvious "Asians" have the squinty-eyed look(this is called the epicanthic fold), have the yellowish-tinge to their skin, and their hair is coarse and black. Given that logic, Native Americans must be Asian. They're not, of course. What about the Ainu, the aboriginal group of Japan? Being from Japan, they must be "Asian." But they don't look Asain. They have very pale skin. Some lack the epicanthic fold. If you just glance at them, they have Asian features and Caucasian features, plus some other features that aren't Asian. So what are they? What about the Aborigines of Australia. They have hair that resembles those from supposed "African" people, eyes like "Asians," and features from Caucasians. So what are they? Others? Caucasians, the "white Europeans," are the hardest to classify solely by physical characteristics. Their skin tone can range from pale-white to swarthy brown; their height can vary greatly; eye color can range from gray, green, blue, brown, etc. Skin color is a lousy way to identify. Any sort of physical characteristic is a bad way to classify people as a "race."
Race is only a social context, one invented by people to separate "us" from "them." It makes "us" feel superior in some way than the savage "them." Europeans used this reason to conquer distant lands and to impose their rule on them. We used this reason to turn certain groups into slaves and claimed this is why their race was inferior. An anthropologist names Carlton Coon proposed Caucasians were "genetically superior." This theory has a long past, the most famous use of racial superiority was by the Nazis.
The idea of "nationality," being French, Korean, South African, Venezuelan, etc. is another social context. What makes a person a certain nationality is belonging inside some imaginary borders drawn on a map. There is no actual physical representation of borders between countries except those built by man. No dotted lines in the middle of mountain ranges or rivers to say this is Canada or this is Zimbabwe. There is no distinct culture that makes us whatever nationality we claim to be. It's all socially decided. People invented it as a form of identity, one that is not really needed.
In the United Stated, it is never enough to be an "American." We have to be "Texan" or "Californian." Or we have to be Asian-American, Hispanic-American, or African-American. Even those descriptions are never enough. We have to be Latino, Chicano, Korean-American, Chinese-American, Black-Caribbean American. We have to specialize. We take it to preposterous extremes. It's like we have to say we are an American of "Irish, Welsh, German, Norwegian, and French descent with a hint of Italian from my mother's side" as if it is a damn coffee from Starbucks. And one can find people who takes this even farther, like it is a badge of distinction. One can never be American, but one must have ancestors from a culturally distinct group like Lapplander, or Basque or Tagalog. If I really delved deep into researching my family tree, I could consider myself Chinese-Korean, or to be politically incorrect, as well as a smartass, a "Chink." It's possible I could have some Japanese ancestry, plus some Mongolian, plus some little bits of Southeast Asian.

What's to point to this? We've used everything to identify ourselves and to separate ourselves from others. Religion. Nationality. Skin color. Everything. And yet, when you look at it closely, we all belong to one race. And that is the human race.

That's all for now.

"We Are Each Our Own Devill"

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell"
-Oscar Wilde

I recently had an IM comversation with a girl I know from law school. Her name is Megan. She remarked that I was very good at noticing the bad and not the good things that happen in life. I guess that when you've had the experiences that I've had, it gets really easy to notice the bad. It got me to thinking, something that I am also good at.
That night, I found out the ending to that weird dream I've been having. When I was given the chance to see what was beyond the edge of the world, I turned around. Just as I did that, a voice said, "Just like everything else. Stop looking behind you." At that moment, I realized what this dream was all about. I've been embracing the past and letting it take control of who I am now.

Wendell Berry once wrote, "The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it." For me, the past will always shape who I am. It's just that I've been embracing it too much. So much that I can't let go of it, despite it being spike-covered and the embrace is slowly killing me emotionally and socially.

I only have to ability to shape my one life. To live it how I want to live it. To do what I want to do with it. To make myself happy and to be happy doing it and to love life honestly, despite all the painful things that have happened in the past. And what have I done with it? Nothing very constructive. I have to ability to make life how I want to live it, and I have done the exact opposite.

I shaped my life into something negative. I've made my life, as Elbert Hubbard once said, "one damned thing after another." I'm burning inside with violent anger, making it my motivation. I've become bitter at everything, seeing the inherent corruption. I'm making my life Hell on Earth. I've isolated myself form everyone. I've built up walls to isolate myself so I will not get into the same situations that have hurt me in the past. Loneliness and solitude has become a refuge from the world, a bitter poison that destroys me, and something that makes me want to bang my head against the wall, wondering why the hell I am living and feeling this way.

And the price I've paid for this behavior, this insane clinging to the past, allowing it to shape my life into this living hell? I've let too many things die inside of me. Death is not a great loss. What dies inside of us while we live, that is the greatest loss.

I don't trust people; I'm suspicious of them. Even when I genuinely like a person, a small part of me wonders if they are hiding something. I dislike being touched. I find anything resembling affection towards me to be a sign of suspicion. I literally cringe from physical contact. From everyone, including girls. Even when I genuinely and truly like a person and find them attractive and want to be closer to them, I can't. I've built up so many emotional barriers that I find it hard to tell anyone that I like them or even love them. That I have genuine feelings toward them. People say that most people find saying "I love you" to be the easiest thing to say and showing how much you genuinely love them to be the hardest thing to do. Not for me. I find both hard to do. Maybe I'm naturally that way. Maybe I'm not, and I've just allowed the anger and bitterness to kill it off.
That's quite impressive, though something one does not want to happen. Love just doesn't die a natural death. You have to kill off the source from where it comes from. It dies of blindness and betrayals. It dies from illness and multiple wounds. It withers, it tarnishes, it wearies. And when it does, it takes a long time to refill it.
It's so hard for me to tell people how I truly feel. I've become reserved. It is hard for me to tell people that they are near and dear to me. What gives me some sort of pleasure in life. Even when I like them and I want to be closer than close to them, to share how I feel about them. God only knows how many times I wanted to say something to someone and lost all courage to do so, only because a part of me was afraid to say "I love you" to someone. I've lost so many opportunites to do so, only because I have put up all of these barriers and walls so I would not get hurt. It's painful. You want to say things to them, but you can't. And all because I've embraced a painful past and can't let go of it.

And it's hard to let go of it. It's really hard, despite knowing that embracing it has caused so much trouble for me on a personal level. If I do let go of it, what will remain? It's given me an identity and if I do let go, what identity will I have? I guess I will have to find out sooner or later. It will probably be for the better.

That's all for now. Later. Until we meet again.

Physical Contact

Hello. It's me again. Time for another update to the Un-Zone. I have managed to depress several people yesterday with yesterday's reflection on my past. Wait, it's not "I guess," it's more of "I know" I depressed them. I've become good at noticing all the bad stuff that happens in my life and I fail to find the good stuff that happens. Once you've gone throught what I have, you probably would have this outlook on people and life in general.
I can now add one more name to the "I Understand What You Meant" list. Welcome aboard. It's going to be one hell of a ride. The Un-Express is now travelling to a new destination. There are many more stops on this journey. Some of them good; some of them bad. If you do decide to leave, you'll leave as a different person.

I have an aversion to physical contact. I'm not a very touchy-feely person. Most of the times, I do not like people touching me in any way, shape or form. I particularly dislike physical contact of a more affectionate nature. There are several people in which I do allow this to happen, but they are people who I have known for quite a while, and the list is very short. I literally cringe when people touch me. Some times, I get cranky and lash out at them. Most of the times, I do a good job of hiding my discomfort, but sometimes, people notice. They say I look "unhappy" or "uncomfortable." Then they ask why. I don't answer. They know who they are. And there is a very long list of them.
This causes problems, especially with females. Body language does not lie. I can like a person and it can be a pleasurable contact, but a part of me just does not like it. I become withdrawn and it shows. The results of these encounters are obvious.

You know that phrase 'That which does not kill me, makes me stronger"? It's true in a way. All of those encounters where people have manipulated affection and kindness to get what they want have just made me build stronger walls to hide everything in. I've become a person where I don't get into those situations by avoiding people and having actual relationships with them. I think I should have become stronger in more constructive ways emotionally and socially.

That wasn't as sucky as yesterday, now was it? That's all for now.

130 McCall Road, Manhattan KS

Hello and greetings from the Un-Zone. It's time for another update on the mundane things that are part of my not-so-average life. Today, I'm going to talk about the place I used to call home, Manhattan, KS and the address in which I used to reside, 130 McCall Road #217.

Well, the address I used to live in was not an apartment, as the #217 might suggest. No. It was a mobile home in a mobile home park. Yup. Your's truly used to live in a mobile home. I still think that most people don't know that. Even the ones I knew in Manhattan. I never told anyone. You all now can say a couple of jokes about Jerry Springer, white trash, and other ubiqitous jokes about things concerning mobile homes. I've heard them all. In a way, where I used to live fit in with the Jerry Springer jokes. It made Desparate Housewives seem tame, almost like the Brady Bunch.
If you do visit Manhattan and try to see this address, you'll notice that it doesn't exist anymore. Gone. Completely gone. In it's place is an industrial park with lots of asphalt and concrete. No trees. No basketball court. No field. Just asphalt and concrete.
I've always known this since the summer of 1998. It just never really hit me until I used Google Maps and typed in the old address. It's kind of sad to see concrete where your former house used to be. I almost wish I never typed that address in.
How it got to this state is an interesting story. It makes me a firm believer on why Kelo v. City of New London is a bullshit decision. If you haven't read this case, you really should. The following is probably a poorly done and stilted interpretation of the decision. "Public use" now includes tearing down residential areas if replacing them will bring in more "tax revenue." In simpler terms, if it brings in more money, then you are screwed if the city you live in will allow this to happen. Blight means anything. If it is "underdeveloped," it is blight. Supporters of this decision will use this to promote it as "good." They say that WalMart won't tear your house down, unless your city wants to. Ain't that nice. You own a home and your city says WalMart wants it. Here's fair market value. Sounds fair. I guess they didn't consider other things. I digress.
A bit of history. The owner of said mobile home park put it there before the zoning commission called that piece of land commercial use. The city couldn't do jack squat. The mobile home park would stay until the owner decided to sell. It was a residential zone.
Well, one day, the owned did decide to sell for an undisclosed amount of money. Of course, someone found out how much (several million dollars is a rough estimate). Why this sudden change? It so happened that the city of Manhattan had a change in heart with the designation of the land and their views on it changed greatly when a land development company said they could develop it and make it very profitable. Hence, the visions of increased profits came into the picture. Before this time, Dillons left and moved to a bigger store just across the street. It became easier for the company to persuade the owner to sell.
So, everyone had to move out by August. If you left something there and you didn't pick it up by August, it got bulldozed. Of course, you still had to pay August's rent and utilities. It got increased by the way. Did I mention that a substantial portion of the people there were elderly, and nearly all of them were low income. Yeah. You got it. Poor. It was the classic "Love, smooches, and screw you all later, cause I'm going to Europe" maneuver. Oh, I forgot. The owner DID go to Europe with the cash he made.
Considering the situation at hand, and how much we were hating Manhattan by the minute, this was the final straw. We moved to Lawrence.

You know, people will say that this is a really nice sob story. Too bad. Make the most out of the situation. Some might say that "I'll be able to look at this and laugh." Well, those people are fucking idiots. I still ain't finding this amusing. I never will. I still remember the people I met there. I remember shooting hoops. I remember lighting firecrackers on the Fourth of July. I remember playing hide and seek in the field behind my little piece of Manhattan. I have pictures that I look at from time to time. Still doesn't cut it. I spent over 16 years of my life there. It was my childhood, as if I had any. That's another story. I had a really bitter one. One that shaped my life and made me who I am.

I'm reminded of "Big Yellow Taxi" sung by the Counting Crows:
Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what youve got til its gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot

I admit. It wasn't the greatest place to live in. Most would find living there to be depressing. In a way, it was. But it was where I spent a substantial part of my life. It was my home. Those early years where I should have been a child, but for some reason, skipped over due to events beyond my control. That is another story and another post that I might write about.

Most people won't be able to say that the address in which they used to live doesn't exist any more. I'm one of the few who can stand in some random building and say "This is where I used to live. Before they paved it over with asphalt and concrete." That is, if I ever decide to go to Manhattan. I seriously doubt I will any time soon. I can say that with a straight face and know it is the truth. Those bastards paved over my childhood. And I still hate them for it.

Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what youve got til its gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot

That's all for now. Later.

Conjunctivitis and Life

Hello. It's the regularly scheduled update to this blog. As I write this, the lights are dimmed from their normal brightness. Apparently, my left eye has become sensitive to bright lights and looking at such lights cause my eyes to water and causes temporary blindness.

I have bacterial conjunctivitis in my left eye. My right eye is perfectly fine...well, it's somewhat pink, but not as bad as my left eye. I am now taking eyedrops that burn like hell when I put them in. Apparently, it is becoming quite common this time of the year with college students. And they thought their red eyes were caused by excessive drinking and partying the night before.
My left eye looks really creepy, though not as bad as this morning. When I woke up, I thought something like a capillary burst, as my entire eye was an even shade of red. Gross. I finally went to a doctor this afternoon and it took just a few minutes for him to diagnose what was wrong. If I had waited until the next day or later, it probably would have gotten worse, as he noted there was something in my eye. Great. That would have sucked even more. That and it would have cost a lot more. I only had to pay $7 for the eyedrops.

Anyways...I tend to ramble when I write as I like finding tangents and tangents to tangents. I just have too much stuff crammed in my head. Which really confuses people when I explain how the PCR test used for DNA sequencing is related to Sherlock Holmes and bananas. Which, by the way, is a pretty interesting connection.

I like collecting quotes. I also find my life to be somewhat routine. I like my life to be well-ordered. I like many things to be well-ordered, to progress in a logical manner. Which is why I hate the grading system used by law schools, as it tends towards randomness. It still doesn't explain why I ramble off on tangents. Nor does it explain why I am finding this routine life to be dull and tedious. I really need to spice up my life, at least socially. It might help with the social issues I have. I digress too much.
An quote I ganked from the Internet:
"Live life fully while you're here. Experience everything. Take care of yourself and your friends. Have fun, be crazy, be weird. Go out and screw up! You're going to anyway, so you might as well enjoy the process. Take the opportunity to learn from your mistakes: find the cause of your problem and eliminate it. Don't try to be perfect; just be an excellent example of being human."

I think I might live my life a lot differently. It's time for me to experience the world.

That's all for now.