Passing Time Part II

There are three clocks in the room. This is, by any contrivance of the space they occupy, unnecessary. The small size, the cluttered, but not disorganized, arrangement of dusted furniture; the clocks stand out prominently in their excess. Their ticks and tocks meld discordantly, the once would-be harmony lost to the imperfect minutiae of every mechanically artificed minute. They were set, once, with care and precision, placed with forethought and deliberation in those redundant places. Regarded, admired, by at least one. As much as anyone can conceive of a clock being born, it is born when it begins to fulfill its function, as with any tool: not as a contraption in a shop or a box, but as a timepiece, viewable, on a wall or a desk. These clocks began their lives together. They have been alive for a very long time.

Longer than, for example, their current owner, who had lost any conception of his own function and, perhaps, likened himself to a clock that failed to tell time. Worse, he thought, semi-amused, one created without even a face upon which to display whatever purpose the meticulously placed cogs and wheels of his ticking insides had been designed for. Not merely broken; pointless. It would have been immensely gratifying to him if Zeus or Allah or E.T. or L. Ron Hubbard had simply outfitted a display on each person's forehead, eliciting such useful information as their immediate purpose for existing. Would it even be that complicated? Several billion of them would no doubt be, "Assist in genetic proliferation of species." The majority of the rest would not have to aspire to greater than Fortune Cookie specificity and no more than a few million would take any real, nose to the grindstone creative effort on a superior being's part to pen. It would do a world of good for Him or Herself in terms of public relations and certainly mitigate his own feelings about standing on the ledge of the roof of his office building with a gun to his head.

"Why are you on the ledge if you're going to shoot yourself?", the gentleman asked.

"Pardon?"

"I said, what is the point of coming all the way up here to jump off if you're just going to put a bullet in your head?"

"I couldn't decide which would be more satisfying in my cube, so I thought I'd bring the gun up here and see how I felt."

"So? Any epiphanies?"

"I think I might jump and shoot myself if I get too scared of the ground rushing up at me. Or if I get too embarrassed about causing a scene as I get closer to all those people gathering down there."

"You're worried about what they think?"

"Yes, isn't everyone?"

"Well, have you considered a less conspicuous way of killing yourself? A run-of-the-mill suicide might get an off-cover mention in the daily express, but a jumper who shoots himself on the way down? That's going on the 10 o'clock news, friend."

He sighed. "Nothing I've tried seems to have worked so far."

"That certainly is self-evident."

~~~

I wrote the first paragraph of this over 2 years ago during a break at school in Korea, just to pass the time. I intended to flesh it out a little more and make the compulsiveness of the man living in the house into the main story element, but today I started writing and it took on a, somewhat humorous, life of its own. I think it would be really interesting if someone had a project where a book is written one chapter at a time over the course of 20 or 30 years, perhaps changing styles and tone based on his understanding of life at the time, or even that day. Maybe actual autobiographical notes could be included next to the entries to give insight into the content (e.g. the Calvin & Hobbes 10th Anniversary Edition, one of the most enjoyable reading experiences I've ever had.) Though I'm sure this would most likely be an inadvertent undertaking rather than a premeditated 30-year project. Certainly not a scheme to stake your livelihood on.

Lingering Impressions

The only thing I know is that she was real.

Was she beautiful? That was gone before our lips parted, before my eyes opened, before the first raindrop tumbled down to kiss the grass in the gray morning. Did she laugh? No, never. She smiled. The only smile I ever saw. Coy. Pure. As if she had never truly smiled before. Pure as the joy of finding someone to truly share your joy. Of finding a companion. I guess I remember that, too: we were companions. I'm sure of it. She wore a wig, once. Red. Playfully, poorly affixed. Her brown hair stuck out, gently framing her face as she looked up at me in expectation. Distracting. Mesmerizing.

We were together, and I was changed. For a moment, but in a place where moments are lifetimes strung together. I feel her absence. I know the meaning of longing: to discover what had been missing and to lose it again. A bitter return. A mournful homecoming.

She was real. As real to me as anyone is. As real as you are. So I'll wait. I have no choice.

Until I see her again.

I Live In America Now.

In Washington, DC in a house in a basement in a room with extremely low ceilings. Probably 6'6" in most places, but around 5'8" in others. I have lived here for 3 days, 22 hours, and 36 minutes. I have no job or source of income, although I made $100 for referring my housemate to my temp agency. It comes out to about $85 because she is forcing me to buy her dinner.

A black cat, real, is pacing back and forth outside of my dining room window, which looks out onto my dilapidated back yard, surrounded by chain link fence. It's been at this for the better part of 2 hours. A black bat, stuffed, is hanging from the chandelier above me where we placed him several nights ago. He provides moral support in our ongoing dilemma of whether and which pet to acquire. Both seem to have as much purpose as I do today.

4:16pm. Jen is done with class. I guess I'll make a call.

Don't Worry, I Won't.

I think, as a student, it's easy to think affections or gestures of appreciation for teachers are lost amongst the swirling mass of the student body, enough so that one might think it meaningless to show these things at all. You're just another face in the crowd.

But really, for a teacher, it's the small things- the reminders that you're making a difference, that someone is noticing, that anyone cares at all, that make the teaching experience worthwhile.

"To Jon

Hi, Jon I'm Lee hyunji

Do you remember me? I drawed a you caricature. I'm so sad. Because you leave for America. But I'm okey. I'm very manly. Don't worry. Please drop me a line as soon as you get back here. I will never forget you. Never forget me please ^^* Good-bye!

From. Hyunji
Email: sadclown-_-4@(removed).com"

Thank you, Hyun Ji. And thank you to every other student that has gone out of her way to, unknowingly, make this year a bit more bearable.


...and thanks for the mug!

Brain, Brain, Go Away...

Not to be a complete tool, but (which is a lot like saying "Not to be racist, but..." in which basically whatever follows that statement is going to be blatantly racist) I just took a personality quiz linked off of Facebook and was pretty surprised. The topic was "What should you have done after high school?"

The questions and answers were asinine and contrived, and I'm sure there are about 3 total conclusions, but here's what my test came up with:

"You should have traveled the world after high school. You're outgoing and you like to try new things. You'd do great in a college environment, but you won't be able to focus on school until you fulfill your inner desires to get out and see the world."

HA! Completely off the mark. Who actually believes in these things anyway?

http://www.brainfall.com/test7_1.php

Additionally...

I liked the LOST finale.

Pardon this Nerdy Indulgement.

Can someone maybe clarify for me how the season finale of Heroes didn't completely suck? I went and looked for reviews and whatnot right after being sorely disappointed with the episode and everyone seems to be buzzing about how satisfying and appropriate the ending was... I feel like I'm taking crazy pills here! It was convoluted, disjointed, and thoroughly anticlimactic. For all the clever plot devices that were included in the show, it appears the creativity and wit of the writers proved to be lacking in the end.

Tip #1: If you're going to build up suspense toward a single, major event in a dramatic series... don't resolve it PARALLEL to another, much less significant event that gets the same amount of screen time, especially if no one knows the latter isn't important.

Example: Nicki, DL, and Micah's storyline. Besides Micah being essentially pointless, I'm willing to overlook the fact that we were basically misled for 22 episodes into thinking they were supposed to be major players in the primary story conflict (Peter and Sylar's inevitable faceoff and the "bomb"), because hey, they had their own problems to take care of, and the writers did wrap it up for them. But why not resolve this 3 episodes ago so we can focus on what the obvious nail-biter is supposed to be?

Tip #2: Foreshadowing is stupid if nothing comes of it.

What was the single biggest "oh shit" moment of the entire season? Come on, it has to be the first time we see future-Hiro when he visits Peter in the subway. He's dressed like a motherfucking ninja, has a samurai sword, a badass goatee, and obviously has learned to use his powers with extreme precision. I was positively buzzing after this episode thinking of all the possibilities: this dude can stop time and teleport anywhere instantly? He's got to be the most powerful person on the planet! Not only that, it's a brilliant plot device, because suddenly there's lots and lots to explain about how Hiro acquires these skills, with the added satisfaction that it comes to exciting fruition.

And what do we actually get for all this? Future-Hiro is an ineffectual drama-queen that spends his time making art projects out of yarn in Isaac Mendez's old studio and ultimately gets wasted by a rent-a-cop bursting through a door. The excitement associated with his subplot to acquire the sword disappears when there seems to be no noticeable change in his powers before and after except that he can now do... everything he was doing in the first 3 episodes. How riveting! But wait, he still has to learn how to use the sword. Oh, his dad shows up and suddenly they're both in kendo gear! After what appears to be a single, 15 minute lesson in swordsmanship (just long enough for Ando to get bored and leave), Hiro now has the courage and skill to run Sylar through. Is that REALLY all it took?

More on foreshadowing: why did we spend multiple episodes on Peter learning to control his newly absorbed powers if he never uses them again? Was I the only one convinced that all this was building up to an epic clash between Peter and Sylar, Peter being the only one who can match Sylar's constantly growing power? We were even cockteased by a glimpse of this possibility in the future episode when they meet just after Hiro is killed. Which leads me finally to...

Tip #3: Cohesion and consistency.

All events are converging upon the epic final battle, and not only that... Bennett, who always seems to be the cool-headed, prepared one, arrives at the same conclusion that all of us did weeks and weeks ago: Peter is the only one who can stop Sylar. Finally, finally, we get to see the culmination of all the powers we've seen throughout the series manifested in these two characters. The telekinesis will be a stalemate, maybe Sylar will have to rely on his ice power or that one where he can command anyone to do whatever he wants (Gee, remember that one? You'd think he'd use that one more often.) Peter can read fucking minds or stop time for God's sake.

Instead, we get Peter being choked in the air, utterly helpless. All the other heroes take their turns sucking, especially Parkman... man that one actually made me laugh. And finally Peter resorts to, PUNCHING Sylar repeatedly. 23 episodes of a drama about superheroes and the two most powerful people on the planet are having a fist fight in the last scene. Did he suddenly forget about all his powers? At least turn invisible man, you've been doing that all god damn year! And did he also suddenly forget that he CAN'T DIE? He's been killed twice and survived and everyone's having an emotional crisis as Claire is pointing a gun at his head? I thought that was the whole point when he gave her the gun in the first place. Man, if I had the power to regenerate I'd just sit around shooting myself in the head all day. And if I had a friend that had it too I can't imagine the time we'd waste just coming up with creative ways to kill each other. "Wood chipper?" "Nah, we did that last week. How about boiling oil?" "Sweet."

And last, but not least, can't Peter fly? He'd already done it a couple of times before, right? You'd think this memory would surface when killing his brother is in question. All these characters are standing around in awe of Nathan's sacrifice, I'm looking at my monitor screen wondering why everyone's IQ just dropped below the temperature that day.

This so wasn't worth the time it took to write. Let's just say I'm far from confident about the quality of season 2, to the contrary of the dimwitted masses nationwide.

Korea: Where the Floor is Your Trash Can.

9:06 AM: A male teacher speaks jovially to a female teacher while clipping his fingernails onto the floor of the teacher's office.