Tiring, but worth doing

Resolutions slip, but don't give up.  Change the deadline, but don't alter the course.

My favorite chapter of the book:


FIRMLY, LIKE ATTACHING AN ANCHOR TO A BALLOON

 Aomame devoted a great deal of attention to her daily diet.Vegetarian dishes were central to the meals she prepared for herself, to which she added seafood, mostly white fish. An occasional piece of chicken was about all the meat she would eat. She chose only fresh ingredients and kept seasonings to a minimum, rejecting high-fat ingredients entirely and keeping her intake of carbohydrates low.Salads she would eat with a touch of olive oil, salt, and lemon juice, never dressings. She did not just eat a lot of vegetables, she also studied their nutritional elements in detail and made sure she was eating a well-balanced selection. She fashioned her own original menus and shared them with sports club members when asked.“Forget about counting calories,” she would always advise them. “Once you develop a knack for choosing the proper ingredients and eating in moderation, you don’t have to pay attention to numbers.”
This is not to say that she clung obsessively to her ascetic menus. If she felt a strong desire for meat, she would pop into a restaurant and order a thick steak or lamb chops. She believed that an unbearable desire for a particular food meant that the body was sending signals for something it truly needed, and she would follow the call of nature.
She enjoyed wine and sake, but she established three days a week when she would not drink at all in order to avoid excessive alcohol intake, as a way to both protect her liver and control the sugar in her bloodstream. For Aomame, her body was sacred, to be kept clean always,without a fleck of dust or the slightest stain. Whatever one enshrined there was another question, to be thought about later.
Aomame had no excess flesh, only muscle. She would confirm this for herself in detail each day, standing stark naked in front of the mirror. Not that she was thrilled at the sight of her own body. Quite the opposite. Her breasts werenot big enough, and they were asymmetrical. Her pubic hair grew like a patch of grass that had been trampled by a passing army. She couldn’t stop herself from scowling at the sight of her own body, but there was nothing there for her to pinch.
She lived frugally, but her meals were the only things on which she deliberately spent her money. She never compromised on the quality of her groceries, and drank only good-quality wines. On those rare occasions when sh ate out, she would choose restaurants that prepared their food with the greatest care. Almost nothing else mattered to her—not clothing, not cosmetics, not accessories. Jeans and a sweater were all she needed for commuting to work at the sports club, and once she was there she would spend the day in a jersey top and bottom—without accessories, of course. She rarely had occasion to go out in fancy clothing. Once Tamaki Otsuka was married, she no longer had any women friends to dine out with. She would wear makeup and dress well when she was out in search of a one-night stand, but that was once a month and didn’t require an extensive wardrobe.
When necessary, Aomame would make the rounds of the boutiques in Aoyama to have one “killer dress” made and to buy an accessory or two and a pair of heels to match.That was all she needed. Ordinarily she wore flats and a ponytail. As long as she washed her face well with soap and water and applied moisturizer, she always had a glow.The most important thing was to have a clean, healthy body.
Aomame had been used to living a simple, unadorned life since childhood. Self-denial and moderation were the values pounded into her as long as she could remember.Her family’s home was free of all extras, and “waste” was their most commonly used word. They had no television and did not subscribe to a newspaper. Even news was looked upon in her home as a nonessential. Meat and fish rarely found their way to the dining table. Her school lunches provided Aomame with the nutrients she needed for development. The other children would complain how tasteless the lunches were, and would leave much of theirs uneaten, but she almost wished she could have what they wasted.
She wore only hand-me-downs. The believers would hold periodic gatherings to exchange their unneeded articles of clothing, as a result of which her parents never once bought her anything new, the only exceptions being things like the gym clothes required by the school. She could not recall ever having worn clothing or shoes that fit her perfectly, and the items she did have were an assemblage of clashing colors and patterns. If the family could not afford any other lifestyle, she would have just resigned herself to the fact, but Aomame’s family was by no means poor. Her father was an engineer with a normal income and savings. They chose their exceedingly frugal lifestyle entirely as a matter of belief.
Because the life she led was so very different from those of the children around her, for a long time Aomame could not make friends with anyone. She had neither the clothing nor the money that would have enabled her to go out with a friend. She was never given an allowance, so that even if she had been invited to someone’s birthday party (which,for better or worse, never happened), she would not have been able to bring along a little gift.
Because of all this, Aomame hated her parents and deeply despised both the world to which they belonged and the ideology of that world. What she longed for was an ordinary life like everybody else’s. Not luxury: just a totally normal little life, nothing more. She wanted to hurry up and become an adult so she could leave her parents and live alone—eating what and as much as she wanted, using the money in her purse any way she liked, wearing new clothes of her own choosing, wearing shoes that fit her feet, going where she wanted to go, making lots of friends and exchanging beautifully wrapped presents with them.
Once she became an adult, however, Aomame discovered that she was most comfortable living a life of self-denial and moderation. What she wanted most of all was not to go out with someone all dressed up, but to spend time alone in her room dressed in a jersey top and bottom.
After Tamaki died, Aomame quit the sports drink company, left the dormitory she had been living in, and moved into a one-bedroom rental condo in the lively,freewheeling Jiyugaoka neighborhood, away from the center of the city. Though hardly spacious, the place looked huge to her. She kept her furnishings to a minimum—except for her extensive collection of kitchen utensils. She had few possessions. She enjoyed reading books, but as soon as she was through with them, she would sell them to a used bookstore. She enjoyed listening to music, but was not a collector of records. She hated to see her belongings pile up. She felt guilty whenever she bought something. I don’t really need this, she would tell herself. Seeing the nicer clothing and shoes in her closet would give her a pain in the chest and constrict her breathing. Such sights suggestive of freedom and opulence would, paradoxically,remind Aomame of her restrictive childhood.
What did it mean for a person to be free? she would often ask herself. Even if you managed to escape from one cage, weren’t you just in another, larger one?

What the Feb/Mar?

For some reason, I usually envision February and March to be a period of slumber.  This is when human and nature slowly wake up and sound returns to the world.  Not so much this year, it seems.  Besides school, club, and training, there's a smorgasbord of life waiting.

Linsanity: my walls are awash with the second coming.  Spike going off, sneakerheads going off, facebook, twitter, taiwan sites; I didn't realize he was the intersect, my ultimate kevin bacon.

Kingdom of Amalur: if I wasn't so busy, I'd want to play the crap out of this game.  "Felicia Day[9]" did a super funny marathon on it and maybe Spring break needs to be somewhere with a console.

SW: TOR: every once in awhile, my Star Wars spirit is ignited.  This game sets my spirit's fire to the third bar.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars: starts off rocky, but after catching a glimpse of the 3rd season, I'm determined to make it there.  Impressively, it's handled by a relatively new and smallish team in Lucasfilm Singapore.

Tiny Tower: still supporting this title, but amassing vast sums of money only gives you the option to build empty floors.  So very soulless.  And zen like?  Tenants only move in when the screen is on, so play, grasshopper.  Oh, and download dream tower (search Zynga) and down rate it on the app store.

Sandman: Gaiman Gaiman Gaiman.  Bee-keeping, lamp post-building, all black-wearing, Amanda Palmer-loving, delightful Gaiman.  AND you created Sandman?  And other works?  Who are you and how can we make more?

Name of the Wind: book recommended by Clifton.  My kindle book list is starting to grow out of hand.  Must resist urge to amass more.  If 1Q84 was a broth based meal, made with time and patience, I want a hot sizzling grilled dish next.

Street Fighter x Tekken: No D3?  Fine, imma buy me a fight stick and start basement tournaments.  Hah, I kinda wish they remade Fight Club.  Instead of brawling underground, you get a bunch of nerds and they practice hacker skills against each other.  Then the economy crashes, but rises again, under their redistribution. Take it or leave it.

Air Jordan Retro 4 Cement: INSTA-KILL  Man, brothers killing over rubber and leather.  Are all collectors frenemies?

Oops...I spy a neatly stack of Gundam model kits quietly collecting dust...there goes one resolution..TIME FOR BREAKFAST, Tyrion declared!

48Q1

1Q84

The observations in the book were honest, male, and very much aligned with what I pay attention to, on a day to day basis.  Most of the decisions and motivations of the characters seemed to be made earnestly.  As if they took the time, questioned, and weighed each outcome in their minds.  Sometimes it moved the plot alone nicely, conveniently; other times, pages and lines were afforded to the characters to ponder their situation and next step.  Whether Murakami had serious deadlines or page limits, it's hard to tell.  Much like our world, the scale of our experiences depend entirely on our perception.  The book revealed what was necessary, or just enough for the reader to grasp the world of 1Q84 and neatly closed the portal.  I look forward to his next novel.

 

F&F week

F&F Goals of the Week: Forbidden Trail and Fondue!

52 weeks in a year; I wonder if I can assign a fun theme to each week.  Last week was Pestilence & President.  The week before...CNY & Courtship?  Should be fun to draw a visual calendar at the end of the year.

Anyway, Forbidden Trail!  Love the name and the story isn't bad either.  Edgar Allen Poe described it: "Now the Wissahiccon is of so remarkable a loveliness that, were it flowing in England, it would be the theme of every bard, and the common topic of every tongue..."

I saw a few deer, some horses, and plenty of people seeking quiet and solace from the city.  At one part of the creek, I was only three meters away from another man before I noticed him.  He was so still and blended with the scenery, even though he was wearing colorful clothing.

The hot sausage I got from a food truck at the end was lovely too.  Just the right amount of spice.  Ahhh.

Now on to the next challenge of the week!  Fondue~! (say it with a french chef's voice.)

For the menu so far, I've come up with:

Chocolate Pot: Apple, grape, banana, pineapple, marshmallow, cream puff and cheesecake

Cheese Pot: Apple, grape, sourdough bread, cocktail sausage, broccoli, mini potatoes, and mushrooms

Oil Pot (Bourguignonne, hon hon hon!) : Beef (tenderloin, sirloin), lamb, chicken, prawn

Sauces: Mushroom, mustard, black pepper, curry, ginger plum, teriyaki

Oh, and I should probably have two types of wine and side dishes (one salad, one starch) to go with this.  Hmm.

The second challenge seems infinitely harder...

Everything can be simplified

Many changes in life recently, but I'm still digesting/processing everything.

However, on a completely unrelated but unbelievably terrific note,  I can't wait for these Lord of the Rings LEGO sets!  Now I want D&D LEGO.  I guess the Warcraft Mega Bloks will have to do.

The Fade

I need to be okay with old age.

Awhile back, I couldn't stop imagining people growing older.  I'm not terribly good at spatial visualization, but exaggerating/aging a person's looks is, surprisingly, my forte.  Skin sagged, ballooned.  Wrinkles appeared, deepened.

This hearkens back to my first acknowledgement of death.  At the time, I couldn't come to terms with the permanence of another world.

Now, I'm struggling with the multitude of time lines surrounding me.  They still appear and disappear suddenly from my life, but now I can see and imagine the fading.

I want to shake them and ask: "Do you not see?"

But then, maybe they do see.  And there's nothing to be done.

And it's okay.

Today's image borrowed from The Bouletcorp: Darkness

二月

This is going to start out like one of the survivor logs.

Day 9: Still sick.  The cough has gotten worse.  Violent, chest-wracking.  Uninterrupted sleep feels like a life time ago.

I looked out the window today and saw rays of sunshine.  Everything outside looked a little overexposed.  Like the way a patient sees the world.

End melodramatic tone.

The Tiny Towers incident is still leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.  Zynga presented on campus last quarter and I was very nearly swindled.  Glu games followed suit.  Tiny Towers comes free, so I bought $10 in-game transactions today and spent the afternoon in solidarity.

THQ (Toy Head-Quarters, great name) has always done good work regarding the Warhammer, UFC, and Darksider series.  Sad to see them falling.

Pacquiao/Mayweather fight on hold again.  If if this was a manga series, they would both be teleported to a random plane of nothingness and forced to duke it out.  For now, that random plane is called Fight Night Champion (video game.)

Always end on a bright note.  I'm going to eat donuts made from a robot tomorrow.