Thursday, June 30th, 2016
Smog
Unknown
Damn I’m tired today. I stayed up much later than I should’ve because of the TV series “Fargo.” Heck, that show is better than expected, especially since the movie was middling*. “Better Call Saul” is also pretty great, though it’s far, far slower.
Ratting Me Out
In class, the kids laugh whenever I speak Chinese and shout "you said Chinese! Erase stars!" only to immediately take it back when I move to do so. The process of defining words simply is getting more relaxed and fun, somewhere between a game of charades and pictionary. Sometimes I'll try to help with Chinese words, which they'll laugh about. At least they enjoy themselves.
Minor Improvements
Aurora says my tones are getting better, but I seem to consistently miss the downward tones. I can nail the first through second tones (upward) generally. Baby, when you hear me hit my second tones, it'll make you swoon.
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| The Best Lunch at School |
My apartment is roach infested. I kill an average of 3-10 a day. It's so bad that if I see some movement out of the corner of my eye, I automatically wind up to kill it. This leads me to think about pacifism and the preservation/reverence for life in general.
I’m not a pacifist, though the ideology is appealing. I’m more curious about how someone who walks that path would deal with an infestation of vermin. There are groups who follow the logic so far as to wear masks in an attempt to avoid inhaling microorganisms, and sweep the ground in front of them to avoid stepping on insects. Would they just suffer through the horde?
I have no answers, but continue to contemplate it while I mash them, leaving their crushed corpses clinging to ceramic walls as a grim warning to others. This might backfire. What if they eat their fallen brethren?
Where does the sympathy line get drawn? Even when I maim one of these assholes, I still don’t let it suffer, trying to snuff it out as much as possible. I’m a little torn about these sticky traps we have, where they’re left, stuck, until they starve to death. When I’ve checked them, there have often been ones still living, frantically moving their feelers around. I would squash them, but I don’t want to literally dirty my hands.
Where does the sympathy line get drawn? Even when I maim one of these assholes, I still don’t let it suffer, trying to snuff it out as much as possible. I’m a little torn about these sticky traps we have, where they’re left, stuck, until they starve to death. When I’ve checked them, there have often been ones still living, frantically moving their feelers around. I would squash them, but I don’t want to literally dirty my hands.
I guess that’s my line. Between getting their guts and the sticky stuff on my hands and letting them die a slow, agonizing death. How merciful I am. Further irony is that I'll kill them anywhere else with my hands, but the sticky stuff is the part that stops me.
A Strange Dream
In the dream, I had blacked out for some reason, maybe from alcohol. Within this dream, I went to sleep and my consciousness time travelled to (re)live the memory lapse. Then became friends with someone I didn't like and helped him attempt to steal nitroglycerin tanks.
I call it strange, but every dream I remember is at least this weird.
In the dream, I had blacked out for some reason, maybe from alcohol. Within this dream, I went to sleep and my consciousness time travelled to (re)live the memory lapse. Then became friends with someone I didn't like and helped him attempt to steal nitroglycerin tanks.
I call it strange, but every dream I remember is at least this weird.
*Blasphemy! Something about the Cohen Brother's films just draws a fanatic following.
Words of the Day
English - Mandarin [pronunciation]
Die
sǐ
[suh]
Starve to Death
è sǐ
[uhh suh]
(Literally: Hungry Die)
These are pretty hard to write phonetically…
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