events happen in real time

to the tune of: Nice Work If You Can Get It by Ella Fitzgerald

One of the nice things about being trained in the art of sleep deprivation, better known by its euphemism computer science, is that you can do things like stay up till 5 AM watching 24 without even blinking. Need I say that Aria and Guy, both non-CS majors, were the first to crack and want to go to bed. And we were just four short hours away from finishing the first season...

I'm finally starting to get over the intimidation factor of the hustle club. I may not be picking up any women there like certain other men but at least I'm not petrified to dance with non-Stanford people. I'm probably still boring follows out of their minds recycling the same few variations over and over again, but it's still so much fun (for me at least).

Friday night was a scary sight indeed: CS geeks outside, under the sun, getting exercise. Yes, Friday Ultimate is a department tradition, and if you happen by the Oval you can see the hardcore grad students playing. Aria and I lasted a scant half an hour before getting completely exhausted (and hungry).

Saturday Guy, Rose, and I went to Macy's for a clearance sale. I felt so dirty. Shopping. At Macy's. Shopping is evil, but Macy's doubly so. The men's store assaults you with overpriced designer clothes; the women's with way too much pink. The $60,000 of plasma screens lined up to show the same psychedlic screen saver in the entrance just screams bargains ahead. But just for us cheap young folk they put on some Britney Spears music that decidedly didn't mix with the classy decor. I never knew how many tacky shirts they carried--and now needed to get out on clearance. Still though, I got some really good deals. Scary...I'm starting to think like a real-world shopper...

Saturday night: contra dancing! We talked Ben into it five minutes before we left. Much harder than it looks, but still if you accept that you just might not know what's going on half the time, so much fun.

just think about going forward...

to the tune of: The Right Kind of Wrong by Leann Rimes

I am so mobile.

This morning, I went to pick up my bike from the Bike Shop. No matter how many times that bike tries to kill me, picking it up repaired is like putting on a new razor blade: so smooth, but you still know it'll make you bleed if you're not careful.

The world seems so much brighter when your tires are fully inflated. Still don't have all 21 gears working again, but it's better than one. And... they fixed my bike seat while they were at it. So while it may still make me numb, at least it won't flip up and hit me in the 'nads while I'm crossing Campus.

The only thing smoother than a working bike is a working Segway. Yes, I finally got to ride the elusive Robotics Lab Segway today. It was soo cool. But not at all as intuitive as Dean Kamen claimed: it does take more than just "thinking" about moving. And this thing turns quickly. But whizzing down the street at a blazing 12 mph is fun, I must say. Perhaps not $5,000 worth of fun, but still fun.

I think I'm going to have to start using a pseudonym at places like Jamba Juice. Hilarity ensues when multiple Mikes arrive at the same time. Though next time I'm with a group of guys we'll have to try taking that to its ludicrous conclusion.

i am too white

to the tune of: Tuxedo Junction by The Glenn Miller Orchestra

...as the red shoulders and back would attest. Funny how you start to notice it sitting still in a chair at work. And, it occurs to me, it might be a problem for swingouts at Swing Central tomorrow night... let's just hope it clears up by then.

The weekend was such a blast though... Friday night a bunch of SCTIers met up for a birthday party at Orme's house in the clouds in SF. Literally. The fog got really dense so we couldn't read the street signs on the way up. Vince got lost on the way, even though he was the one who gave us directions in the first place... go figure. Ohh...so long since I'd had Yebisu. The night ended with South Park and more Naruto Ninja Gekito Taisen, which really needs a shorter name, like, say, "Smash".

Saturday we went on some mad fountain hopping, indocrinating Todd's girlfriend in the tradition by tossing her into the one at Old Union. Making a whirlpool in the fountains is soo much fun... It was warm, it was sunny... and I got burnt. But it was worth it--not only for the joy of the hopping but to see the looks on the tourists' faces as they saw a horde of esteemed Stanford students jumping into fountains brandishing water guns...

Today's trivia: The fountain in front of MemAud with the killer jets is called Tanner Fountain.

and it seems like just freshman year he was, well, just a freshman...

to the tune of: Mr. Pinstripe Suit by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

It's a weird shock reading about a former FroSoCo resident and Stanford student turning himself in on murder charges.

My favorite quote from this:

"There was concern he was going to be heading out your way, because he went to Stanford, had an apartment, his own personal vehicle was out there," Turner said. "Toledo is along I-80, which is the most logical route one would take from the Cleveland area to the West Coast. He didn't get as far as we thought, but he was headed in that direction."

So there you have it. The only reason a fugitive would go to Toledo is to pass through on the way to his alma mater, wo thousand miles away in a stolen car, so he could get his own car. That's some fine police work there. (Thanks to Jason, Nick, and Google News for the links...)

It was inevitable the day I moved in with Dave, perhaps. But today I went to a hustle club for the first time. It was so much fun. Except I discovered that I really didn't know how to hustle nearly half as well as I thought I did. Which was pretty scary. I think the reason it doesn't bother experienced follows like Kelsey is that follows learn a lot from dancing with advanced leads. People like them have no problem dancing something they've never done before because each lead they dance with teaches them a few variations. But if you're leading, you have to come up with all these variations. And very few follows actually teach you anything. Most of them just get this bored look on their faces from seeing your repertoire exhausted so quickly. Which is why I spent much of my evening with more patient partners experimenting and making stuff up. Which is still fun...

what, that was a week ago?

to the tune of: Special Cases by Massive Attack

yeah, that probably means it's time for another update. Our day off last week found us getting completely lost on this hill looking for Los Trancos, despite our nice printed directions. Streets and Trips, it seems, is far better at finding the nearest Safeway than the entrance to a nature preserve. But it was still a nice, if somewhat short, hike.

Friday night more white people than I'd ever gone with packed into a karaoke room and lasted two hours. A far cry from the marathon all-night sessions we used to do in Japan, but a respectable performance, in which Todd, Jim, Jen, Kathy, and I formed our own boy band to croon through the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync stuff that made such better jokes than real songs. It was weird though, the first time I'd been to a karaoke bar without doing any Japanese or Chinese songs...

But fear not, I got my Japanese in for the weekend playing Naruto Ninja Gekito Taisen (Fierce Ninja Battle, loosely). Which was way more fun than I expected. The whole game is nicely cel-shaded, so it looks more like a well-drawn anime than a video game. Think Street Fighter, but with more animated ninjas who can each bust out special moves if timed right: Sakura lets out the raging "inner Sakura", Haku surrounds his enemy with mirrors and shoots them with lasers; you get the idea. And all the while they trash talk in Japanese. So entertaining to watch...a four-person match turns into the Weakest Link. Oh, and Tim turned 23.

We have so many baked beans leftover from our right proper southern cookout it really isn't funny. But, I must say I don't mind the leftover chicken and creamed corn at all. Soo good... real live Southerners Kathy, Kelsey, and Michael came up with some fine impromptu recipes.

I can't stop myself. Today I bought a wireless router and a new hard drive (for storing all those perfectly legal, er, backup copies of movies and music. Yeah, I just need to back up my flatmates' music collections, you know, just in case something happens to their computers...

the british are attacking!

to the tune of: Words Weren't Made for Cowards by Happy Rhodes

Three day weekends are the American way. Really I don't know why we got Monday off but no complaints from me. It's been a nice relaxing (and looong) weekend.

Saturday began the way Saturday morning ought to: sleeping in till (almost) noon. Then it somehow degenerated into Dave sitting around playing video games. Which was problematic, since we needed to do major shopping that afternoon. Power shopping was derailed when we started drooling over things in Home Depot. I've always had this problem with electronics stores, and Safeway runs have taken forever for as long as I've been in college, but this was the first time this happened to me in a friggin' Home Depot...

Saturday night Dave and I ended up at Cheng's apartment and I got the sneaking suspicion that within three years the apartments of everyone I knew would be entirely furnished by Ikea. And then it happened. What may be the beginning of my downfall: my first game of Halo. I sucked, mind you. But after playing for an hour, I sucked a little less. It's insidious. Like maybe if I play it again I'll be a little better. The promise of improvement is an interesting narcotic. Perhaps it's too late--I've already become hooked on the gateway drug of Mario Kart. But I like to think that so long as I don't get any good at Halo I'll remain safe from the evil powers of the Pyramid o' Procrastination.

Sunday morning started off just as it ought: with crepes and the New York Times crossword, courtesy of Helen's parents. We seemed like such a typical family gathered 'round the table. I made it to two 4th barbecues, and won a $10 gift certificate that expires tomorrow. (Or does it?)

Then Ben and I went to SF to meet up with Guy and Helen for the fireworks. As could be expected of SF, there was fog. But that gave the show an eerie surreal feeling, like maybe the British really were firing rockets at the boats in the bay. Or maybe aliens were landing. (More of the seige of the Bay)

We met up with Aria later, and finding Starbucks closed decided to form an impromptu band on the street corner, complete with his guitar and Ben's vocal percussion. No tips, but lots of curiosity about whether the Starbucks was open.

what the devil is up with this music?

to the tune of: Once Upon A December by Anastasia

There's nothing quite like the feeling you get waltzing with a woman who closes her eyes. Entrusting her safety entirely to you, she wants to get lost in the moment and feel the motion and the music. Of course, one way of looking at this is she doesn't want to gaze into your eyes, which is also a fun way to waltz. But it's far better than the ones that get a petrified look on their faces and spend the whole time darting their heads back and forth, as if she really doesn't trust you. Don't get me wrong--it's perfectly natural for follows to contribute to navigation. And understandably, after being crashed into a wall or something by a hapless lead you might have a legitimate right to be suspicious. But really now...

That waltz, plus a few entertaining swings, waltzes, and cha chas with friends (and a couple games of waltz tag) were the highlights of Friday night. The DJing was pretty bad, the music was often awful, and there was this drill sargeant-type who felt the need to bark out each dance and orders for the cross-step mixer. Between him and the dance lesson at the beginning it felt much like a high school gym class. But I still had fun.

This week, for the first time in my Stanford career, I actually went to Green and checked out a book. I had to fight through a gaggle of bathing suit-clad middle school girls emerging from The Ring with big grins on their face. I didn't really have the heart to tell them about Stanford fountains... The book? Harry Potter. Yes, I know. I had to see what the fuss was about and judge for myself. Kathy was impressed, asking me each time she saw me online whether I'd finished it yet. (The answer, sadly enough, is no, because activities with other people--which somehow keeps meaning "video games in the living room"--trump solitary reading.) Yune was not pleased.

This week I got to unlock--and lock--the Robot Learning Lab. With my key. Very exciting. Not quite as prestigious as the offices my friends scored. But then they don't get the pleasing sounds of a hacksaw to code by. I have to climb over various robot innards to get to my desk, and have grad students reaching over me to retrieve parts every hour or so. But... I finally have a place to work, and beggars can't be choosers, eh? I may need to acquire an iPod (or a cheap iPod knockoff) to maintain my sanity at work...