....I'm legally allowed a single post on this thing per year.
*whistles innocently*
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Well then.
[insert incredulous comment about not posting in this blog for over a year]
I have some catching up to do, it seems.
I have some catching up to do, it seems.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Deep Thoughts after a Glass of Red Wine, by Wilson Lin
Garrulous Thought #1:
Nothing gets me drunk faster than red wine. I honestly do not know why this is, but it is why I never have more than a glass of red wine in any sitting. I can pound down 6 glasses of Guinness and feel absolutely nothing. 4 or 5 shots of 151, and I'm still sitting handsome. But ask me to throw down a glass of red wine in under 5 minutes, and I'll be the most honest man you'll ever meet for the rest of the night. It is like injecting truth serum right into that little space between your toes, just like any good junkie.
Of course, if my brothers happen to be around, I'll likely launch into an annoying wail about how I'm setting a bad example for those blokes, and that I'm not doing a good job as their big brother. You are forewarned.
Well, then again, maybe not. We Lin brothers...well...we can take in a lot of alcohol. I've witnessed their intestinal fortitude (or rather, [insert fancy medical term for liver] fortitude) firsthand, and I've heard enough of their exploits to know that we likely could pound out three cases worth of Taiwan beer and still remain sober enough to run down the streets of Taipei while flexing our biceps manfully, thereby reducing all those skinny Taiwanese chaps into little mounds of quivering pudding from the sight of our American-Dairy-bred muscles.
So maybe, just maybe, the next time you manage to get me drunk in the presence of my brothers, you might bear witness to such stupendous flexing-of-muscles, as opposed to just hearing me lament about the state of my morality. I'm sure you're all quivering in anticipation.
Loquacious Thought #2:
Love is a very, very strange thing. Hell, let me take it back a few steps. How many of you have ever that electric buzz from meeting someone really interesting? Isn't it a wonderful feeling? The best part of it is the internal excitement that builds up from wanting to know what could come of it. It's all about the hope, you see.
I have to tell ya, I didn't think I'd really get a chance to feel that sort of "hope" again so soon after my last big-time relationship. But see that? I used the word "soon", but in reality, my perspective is all skewed. It's been two years since my ex and I broke up. Two years! You'd think I would be more than ready to get myself back into the game again! And it's not as if I'm still holding on at all - I was over her over a year ago, and we still remain on good terms. It's hard to ask for more than that, really.
It's mostly because I made a resolution, my own miniturized version of the Declaration of Independence, to really learn how to take care of myself first. If there's anything I've learned from past relationships, anything at all, it's that one must love oneself first before they can truly appreciate the love from someone else. You hear that silly cliche all the time, but it's not until you've sorted yourself through some rough times that you understand the truth of it. It's a fucking axiom, really. Think about it - if you're knee-deep in with someone who tells you that they love you true, it's very difficult to appreciate how wonderful that is if you constantly undercut that feeling with your own notions of inadequacy.
"How can she really love a schmuck like me?"
"I don't deserve this!"
"There are so many things wrong with me, this can't be true!"
Looking back, I find those thoughts to be incredibly..oh, I don't know...emo, for the lack of a better term. It's immature thinking. I am of the firm belief now that once you have the confidence to stand on your own two feet as an actualized individual, everything else will fall into place. Don't be afraid to stand up for your beliefs in any situation! There is a strong nobility in one's unique individulism, in one's humanity. It's only when you've peeled away the layers to express that truth within you that you can expect the same level of reciprocative honesty in a relationship. I know it sounds all New-Agey - as if I were smoking pot and balancing on one foot in a complicated yoga position while spouting these little tidbits of supposed wisdom - but it's what I believe, so take it however you will. It's my really fucking long way of saying "be yourself". You'll have plenty of time to learn how to compromise once you've found the right person.
Anyways, I'm slowly rebuilding that confidence again. I wanted to finish my undergrad degree. ( Check.) I wanted to get a decent full-time job and move into my own place. (Forseeable within the year.) I wanted to have some preliminary plan in place (whoo, alliteration!) in regards to my future. (Heavily leaning towards MBA.) It's all starting to come together, and boy, does it feel good. I know what I want, you see. I'm not a very ambitious man. It's simply not in my nature. I have always valued my personal life over my career ambitions. I want to find the right girl, and raise a family. I would be very happy toiling away at a middle-management position as long as it afforded me the means to support my burdgeoning family. I'd be happy supporting my wife if she wanted to put in the long hours to shoot to the top of the company ladder. I don't have any desire to be super-rich - I don't want my kids to be raised with a silver spoon in their mouths. I feel that there's an honesty to be found in the middle-class, because you get to appreciate the integrity of the blue-collar work ethic while still creating more opportunities for advancement. (And I don't necessarily mean career-wise, either.) I view it all as a means to an end, with the end being a wonderful social life, filled with love and laughter and likely a large cellar full of good wine futures.
The world isn't full of roses and talcum-powder-smelling baby bottoms, but damned if I'm not going to carve out my own little Eden inside of it.
Furthermore, with all this talk of finding the "right" girl, I now have a strong idea of what I'm looking for in a woman. Oh hell, I know what I want in a woman. I'm not going to delve any further because, well, my buzz is wearing off, and I just might start saying some silly things that'll likely get me in trouble later on. If anything, I'm incredibly thankful for having experienced First Love, because that experience has molded me to be ready for the real deal.
Oh geez, look at all of this text. What an utter mess. I think I will have to consult the little red book before I go on another extended blog post - otherwise, Chuck won't be very happy. (Heh, there's only one person in the entire world who would get this reference.)
Anyways, peace out.
Nothing gets me drunk faster than red wine. I honestly do not know why this is, but it is why I never have more than a glass of red wine in any sitting. I can pound down 6 glasses of Guinness and feel absolutely nothing. 4 or 5 shots of 151, and I'm still sitting handsome. But ask me to throw down a glass of red wine in under 5 minutes, and I'll be the most honest man you'll ever meet for the rest of the night. It is like injecting truth serum right into that little space between your toes, just like any good junkie.
Of course, if my brothers happen to be around, I'll likely launch into an annoying wail about how I'm setting a bad example for those blokes, and that I'm not doing a good job as their big brother. You are forewarned.
Well, then again, maybe not. We Lin brothers...well...we can take in a lot of alcohol. I've witnessed their intestinal fortitude (or rather, [insert fancy medical term for liver] fortitude) firsthand, and I've heard enough of their exploits to know that we likely could pound out three cases worth of Taiwan beer and still remain sober enough to run down the streets of Taipei while flexing our biceps manfully, thereby reducing all those skinny Taiwanese chaps into little mounds of quivering pudding from the sight of our American-Dairy-bred muscles.
So maybe, just maybe, the next time you manage to get me drunk in the presence of my brothers, you might bear witness to such stupendous flexing-of-muscles, as opposed to just hearing me lament about the state of my morality. I'm sure you're all quivering in anticipation.
Loquacious Thought #2:
Love is a very, very strange thing. Hell, let me take it back a few steps. How many of you have ever that electric buzz from meeting someone really interesting? Isn't it a wonderful feeling? The best part of it is the internal excitement that builds up from wanting to know what could come of it. It's all about the hope, you see.
I have to tell ya, I didn't think I'd really get a chance to feel that sort of "hope" again so soon after my last big-time relationship. But see that? I used the word "soon", but in reality, my perspective is all skewed. It's been two years since my ex and I broke up. Two years! You'd think I would be more than ready to get myself back into the game again! And it's not as if I'm still holding on at all - I was over her over a year ago, and we still remain on good terms. It's hard to ask for more than that, really.
It's mostly because I made a resolution, my own miniturized version of the Declaration of Independence, to really learn how to take care of myself first. If there's anything I've learned from past relationships, anything at all, it's that one must love oneself first before they can truly appreciate the love from someone else. You hear that silly cliche all the time, but it's not until you've sorted yourself through some rough times that you understand the truth of it. It's a fucking axiom, really. Think about it - if you're knee-deep in with someone who tells you that they love you true, it's very difficult to appreciate how wonderful that is if you constantly undercut that feeling with your own notions of inadequacy.
"How can she really love a schmuck like me?"
"I don't deserve this!"
"There are so many things wrong with me, this can't be true!"
Looking back, I find those thoughts to be incredibly..oh, I don't know...emo, for the lack of a better term. It's immature thinking. I am of the firm belief now that once you have the confidence to stand on your own two feet as an actualized individual, everything else will fall into place. Don't be afraid to stand up for your beliefs in any situation! There is a strong nobility in one's unique individulism, in one's humanity. It's only when you've peeled away the layers to express that truth within you that you can expect the same level of reciprocative honesty in a relationship. I know it sounds all New-Agey - as if I were smoking pot and balancing on one foot in a complicated yoga position while spouting these little tidbits of supposed wisdom - but it's what I believe, so take it however you will. It's my really fucking long way of saying "be yourself". You'll have plenty of time to learn how to compromise once you've found the right person.
Anyways, I'm slowly rebuilding that confidence again. I wanted to finish my undergrad degree. ( Check.) I wanted to get a decent full-time job and move into my own place. (Forseeable within the year.) I wanted to have some preliminary plan in place (whoo, alliteration!) in regards to my future. (Heavily leaning towards MBA.) It's all starting to come together, and boy, does it feel good. I know what I want, you see. I'm not a very ambitious man. It's simply not in my nature. I have always valued my personal life over my career ambitions. I want to find the right girl, and raise a family. I would be very happy toiling away at a middle-management position as long as it afforded me the means to support my burdgeoning family. I'd be happy supporting my wife if she wanted to put in the long hours to shoot to the top of the company ladder. I don't have any desire to be super-rich - I don't want my kids to be raised with a silver spoon in their mouths. I feel that there's an honesty to be found in the middle-class, because you get to appreciate the integrity of the blue-collar work ethic while still creating more opportunities for advancement. (And I don't necessarily mean career-wise, either.) I view it all as a means to an end, with the end being a wonderful social life, filled with love and laughter and likely a large cellar full of good wine futures.
The world isn't full of roses and talcum-powder-smelling baby bottoms, but damned if I'm not going to carve out my own little Eden inside of it.
Furthermore, with all this talk of finding the "right" girl, I now have a strong idea of what I'm looking for in a woman. Oh hell, I know what I want in a woman. I'm not going to delve any further because, well, my buzz is wearing off, and I just might start saying some silly things that'll likely get me in trouble later on. If anything, I'm incredibly thankful for having experienced First Love, because that experience has molded me to be ready for the real deal.
Oh geez, look at all of this text. What an utter mess. I think I will have to consult the little red book before I go on another extended blog post - otherwise, Chuck won't be very happy. (Heh, there's only one person in the entire world who would get this reference.)
Anyways, peace out.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I think I have an Expelliarmus. In my pants.
So I've thinking about the latest Harry Potter movie lately, and I'd honestly have to say that it's been my least favorite one out of the entire series. I'll not get into the many gripes I have about it, because, face it, it's a fucking Harry Potter movie. Getting worked up about Harry Potty movies is a hop, skip, and a spastic twitch from getting into arguments about whether or not the frackin' Lord of the Ring movies were an exercise in traditional Christian religious imagery. (And yes, it's happened. And yes, I overheard this at a party. And yes, those guys did not go home with anyone that night.)
To be fair, I shouldn't hate on anyone getting geeked out over something so esoteric, because Buddha knows I've geeked out over some silly things as well. But I digress.
The one thing I thought suitable to bring up in this medium was the casting decision regarding Cho Chang. For those of you not in the know, Cho Chang is supposed to be this ridiculously hot Chinese girl that Harry develops a crush on in the book-movie. So this, of course, is a particular point of interest for your average Asian dude and all Jewish guys with yellow fever out there. Yes, there is a bit of the Young-Britney-Spears-creepiness factor involved - after all, we're talking about 15, 16 year old kids here (call SVU!), but there was always the strong possibility that they'd go all Dawson's Creek on us and cast 20-year olds into the role, which would neatly disarm that particular moral landmine.
So this is the girl they decided would best exemplify the hotness that is Cho Chang (Note that this hotness is something that Rawlings emphasizes in the book, so it's not like I'm creating my own fantastical delusions here):
Granted, Katie Leung is cute, the kind of cute that I wouldn't mind asking out for a cup of coffee were she five years older than her eighteen years of grace. (That sound you just heard was the sound of a million uncomfortable men breathing a deep sigh of relief.) And granted, her Scottish accent is quite exotic. But I wanted some eye candy with some middling acting ability, not someone who was actually fitting for the role talent-wise! Come on, Newell, just do what you're supposed to do and pander down to the lowest common denominator in the American demographic.
May I humbly suggest an alternative? :
My name is Harry Potter, and I approve of this message.
To be fair, I shouldn't hate on anyone getting geeked out over something so esoteric, because Buddha knows I've geeked out over some silly things as well. But I digress.
The one thing I thought suitable to bring up in this medium was the casting decision regarding Cho Chang. For those of you not in the know, Cho Chang is supposed to be this ridiculously hot Chinese girl that Harry develops a crush on in the book-movie. So this, of course, is a particular point of interest for your average Asian dude and all Jewish guys with yellow fever out there. Yes, there is a bit of the Young-Britney-Spears-creepiness factor involved - after all, we're talking about 15, 16 year old kids here (call SVU!), but there was always the strong possibility that they'd go all Dawson's Creek on us and cast 20-year olds into the role, which would neatly disarm that particular moral landmine.
So this is the girl they decided would best exemplify the hotness that is Cho Chang (Note that this hotness is something that Rawlings emphasizes in the book, so it's not like I'm creating my own fantastical delusions here):
Granted, Katie Leung is cute, the kind of cute that I wouldn't mind asking out for a cup of coffee were she five years older than her eighteen years of grace. (That sound you just heard was the sound of a million uncomfortable men breathing a deep sigh of relief.) And granted, her Scottish accent is quite exotic. But I wanted some eye candy with some middling acting ability, not someone who was actually fitting for the role talent-wise! Come on, Newell, just do what you're supposed to do and pander down to the lowest common denominator in the American demographic.
May I humbly suggest an alternative? :
My name is Harry Potter, and I approve of this message.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Some thoughts about 24.
A few observations made after watching the first two seasons of 24:
1. Never, ever, live in LA.
2. Trust no one. Don't be surprised when it turns out your mom is a terrorist in the 4th hour.
3. If a fairly attractive black woman is sent from division to check on your ass at CTU, 10 bucks says she wants your job. You are forewarned.
4. Everyone at CTU is an IT expert. "Socket-talk" is the new "Trekkie-babble".
5. Speaking of which, if you're female, homely, and specialize in IT, don't work for CTU. Just trust me on this.
6. It is no small bit of irony that at any given time, there is at least one terrorist working inside of CTU posing as an employee. Osama bin Laden could walk right in and people would ask him if he brought the donuts for breakfast.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
4th Podcast!
Trust me, the fact that this audio monologue contains no rapping is a very, very good thing.
In other news, my final semester at Rutgers is coming to a close, and after so long, I can start to see the finish line. It will have taken me, oh...what...only 7 years to complete my degree? I find myself spending all too much time wondering how my life would have turned out if I had maturity, and frankly, the balls to finish college on time.
But it is what it is (a phrase I find myself saying all too often lately), and yes, I know, I am still a dashing 25 years old, with many years of life experience ahead of me. The proper notion would be to not spend any more time dwelling on the past, and certainly feeling a bit sorry for oneself is counterproductive, but please. Admit it. Regret can be a vile monkey on your back, at one time bowing your shoulders under its weight, and at other times useful in reaffirming the person you want to be. You just can't help but feed it a banana from time to time.
Except for those monkeys with the red buttcheeks. Fucking things.
In other news, my final semester at Rutgers is coming to a close, and after so long, I can start to see the finish line. It will have taken me, oh...what...only 7 years to complete my degree? I find myself spending all too much time wondering how my life would have turned out if I had maturity, and frankly, the balls to finish college on time.
But it is what it is (a phrase I find myself saying all too often lately), and yes, I know, I am still a dashing 25 years old, with many years of life experience ahead of me. The proper notion would be to not spend any more time dwelling on the past, and certainly feeling a bit sorry for oneself is counterproductive, but please. Admit it. Regret can be a vile monkey on your back, at one time bowing your shoulders under its weight, and at other times useful in reaffirming the person you want to be. You just can't help but feed it a banana from time to time.
Except for those monkeys with the red buttcheeks. Fucking things.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Create Your Own Caption contest!
The winner gets a free drink next time we head out. It's open hunting season, so feel free to go for the jugular.
(Thanks to Pik for the intentionally embarassing picture.)
I have been known to be a flake, it's true.
So I really don't have much of an excuse for not finishing this 3rd audioblog on time, aside from saying that I'm a big dork. Not that this says very much, since this fact has been established with great consistency over time. I decided to cut things short and just put up what I had so far, so here goes:
3rd times a charm, except when you like committing felonies.
Apologies for being over a month late, everyone.
(I am sorely tempted to make an accidental pregnancy joke here, but I shall refrain. See? I do have self-control.)
(Except when it comes to chocolate and certain computer games. Said offending games have since been erased from my hard drive, and Project Hey-Geek-You-Actually-Have-A-Good-Social-Life-Stop-Wasting-It-You-Putzwad has since commenced.)
(Parentheses are fun. So are asides.)
3rd times a charm, except when you like committing felonies.
Apologies for being over a month late, everyone.
(I am sorely tempted to make an accidental pregnancy joke here, but I shall refrain. See? I do have self-control.)
(Except when it comes to chocolate and certain computer games. Said offending games have since been erased from my hard drive, and Project Hey-Geek-You-Actually-Have-A-Good-Social-Life-Stop-Wasting-It-You-Putzwad has since commenced.)
(Parentheses are fun. So are asides.)
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