Now More Happier.


Daniel v. World

One of the things I don't like doing on this blog is talking about personal things that involve more people than just me.

That said, if people [my father] could leave their cell phones (the ONLY WAY TO GET IN CONTACT WITH THEM THAT I HAVE) on all the time, that'd be nice.


Slightly Demoralizing


Chronology vii
Introduction xi
Further Reading xxii
A Note on the Text xxiii

The Count of Monte Cristo 1

Notes 1245"


Not All Bad

On a brighter note, there've been some rather cool things happening recently. I'm hesitant to write about it, however, because at this point it just seems like I'm inordinately lucky, and therefore the current situation is so fragile...anything more than a whisper and it would vanish.

Thanks, Gladiator.


I Guess I Should Write About This

I'm pretty sure we're going to have to put my dog to sleep soon. This dog has followed me from one house to another and from first grade to the present. Oft times I have feelings and dislike the English language because I can't adequately express them. This is one of those times. I suppose it's like losing any other long-term pet (as opposed to goldfish), but to me, she's special and this sucks pretty hardcore. She's got lupus, which in canines is when the immune system attacks the rest of the body or something like that. That's how it was explained to me many and many years ago. Now she's also got arthritis and occasionally when I look at her eyes they seem somewhat clouded so I wouldn't be surprised if she's going blind as well. She hasn't eaten in just less than week and she's still got the same bowl of water. I saw some...stuff on the floor and called my mom to see what was up, and she said "She's got an appointment for Thursday ... You might want to start preparing yourself."




7-6 (7-3)

This is the first time since last year's tournament that I've played in sets. It's a ridiculous amount of tennis, but it didn't feel that bad. I definitely feel the effect of a summer of practice and hard labor and am absolutely in better shape. Last year, I'd be in pretty bad shape at the end of a set. I constantly forgot things (like the score and which side of the court I was supposed to be on) and made some pretty bad choices. This, on top of the physical fatigue, was usually not very cool. The sets I played today, though, I was 'in' for the whole time. It was nice. And afterwards, I felt a slight euphoria accompanying the pleasant fatigue. Recapturing this feeling later this year is going to be great, and I can't wait for the season to start.


Read This Book.

"I looked anxiously around me: the present, nothing but the present. Furniture light and solid, rooted in its present, a table, a bed, a closet with a mirror - and me. The true nature of the present revealed itself: it was what exists, and all that was not present did not exist. The past did not exist. Not at all. Not in things, not even in my thoughts. It is true that I had realized a long time ago that mine had escaped me. But until then I believed that it had simply gone out of my range. For me the past was only a pensioning off: it was another way of existing, a state of vacation and inaction; each event, when it had played its part, put itself politely into a box and became an honorary event: we have so much difficulty imagining nothingness. Now I knew: things are not entirely what they appear to be - and behind them ... there is nothing."

Nausea, Sartre. Existentialism. Ugh. I want to write like that one day.



I've discovered, recently, that I kind of enjoy writing short research papers about mathematician/philosophers. I'm writing them for extra credit for math class, but the fact that I enjoy it kind of surprises me. I suppose it shouldn't, however, because it is a combination of a few of my interests: writing papers (I'd have never guessed this, but it's enjoyable), reading Wikipedia, and learning for the sake of learning. The last one I wrote was titled 'Descartes: The Man, The Myth, The Legend'. That's deh-cart, by the way, not dez-cartez. The one I'm writing now has the working title of "Blaise Pascal: Boy Wonder".

There's probably something wrong with me.


I Hate The Way I Read

For someone who reads so much, you would think I'd be better at it. Not that I'm not a good reader, I'm fairly fast and have great comprehension. However, I can not for the life of me stop myself from skipping around aimlessly. I skip or skim entire paragraphs. I set the book down for a moment, then when I pick it up my eyes find some place at random that is entirely different from where I left off. I get lost in thought and turn pages without reading them. Occasionally I'll drop the book and lose my page entirely, and have to guess where I left off through a combination of reading and looking around where the book was roughly open last. This means that sometimes, I'll lose my spot and reread four or five pages without noticing that I'm behind where I was.

This is ok for the fantasy or science fiction I usually read. I'll be the first to admit that most of it is not good. I read it to pass time: in class, (formerly) on the bus, at home waiting for something to happen...whenever. Not that I don't enjoy, I just admit that there are better books I could be reading. I'm ok with that; they're all my dad's, and you can't beat the price (free).

I sort of decided to 'learn' myself a little bit, though, and it all started with the English speech I wrote about a little farther down the page. Basically, I spent a good hour reading about philosophy. Awhile ago, I read Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance at the recommendation of one of my favorite teachers and that experience. The book took a lot longer than normal to get in to and to finish, but it was certainly worth it. About mid-way through, I read reviews on the book to see if it got better. What I read was that the author became obsessed with the term Quality and the book got much worse, then better. I forged ahead, and the part with Quality was actually pretty amazing. Anyway, this whet my appetite. Honestly, if I thought there was any financial future in a philosophy degree, I might go that route. ANYWAY, in the same vein, I've decided to read up on my existential literature. I ordered Nausea by Sartre and The Stranger by Camus. I also decided it was about time I read some Ayn Rand, so I got The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. I'm pretty sure I win some Pretentious Points, which makes me sad.

I've realized that I write a lot like I read. I jump around, and it all makes sense to me, but only because I have all sorts of thoughts and (for papers) research in that help me get from point A to point B that I don't write down. Usually, this means I rearrange things and otherwise edit. When it doesn't, it's usually the literary equivalent of a train wreck.

Maybe I just suck, in general.


A Little Street Wisdom

"A bitch can be your best friend, talking behind your back
About who's fucking who, and who's getting fat"

Ice Cube is a genius, a steet lyrician worthy of any praise that has ever been directed at him.


A League of My Own

English class is now (or will soon be) officially my bitch.

The assignment: Write a 10 minute long persuasive speech.
What I'm writing: A Brief Existential Critique of Essentialism.

I'm pretty sure that, while the teacher referenced Aristotle on his first day of teaching us, he won't be prepared for the proverbial load of Sartre-riddled bullshit I'm about to shamelessly unleash.


Dear World at Large,

If you're going to make plans with me, please keep them.



My bad.

I've just realized that I'm really bad at responding to people when they unexpectedly say hello and I'm walking by. Please accept my apologies if I've ever completely ignored you. Just assume that instead of being a big fat jerk, I'm deep in thought.


When did this become fun? I'm doing my VJAS, which is essentially a program that does fifteen physics equations (thank you, Newtonian Mechanics). And, to my surprise, it's fun. Since I don't really feel like drinking mountain dew or making coffee like a proper programmer, I'm chewwing on some caffeine gum I got for Christmas and the levels of pumpitude are RISING.

Free Image Hosting at

Shyeah, buddy.

edit: And now i'm done. It's 6:30. Buuugh.


Ushering in the New Year

I'll start by taking a look at what I was thinking about at this time last year, and contrasting with how I feel about these things this year:

I was anxious about my friends going to college, and seeing them once they were gone. I learned to deal with this, and while it still occasionally strikes me as odd that I can walk down the hallway and not see some of these people, I've seen them far more than I thought I was going to be able to.

I was worried about college, and wanted to go to one in California. Now that I've put on my Realist Glasses (tm), I'd be happy with just getting into college. I'm not really unduly worried, except about my habit of procrastinating and then turning in things (such as essays) before they're really ready.

I was still smarting, somewhat, from a girl. Not this year! Ha. I also kept a real journal, which I never actually did write in again. It was wonderful when I didn't have this outlet, but having both just strikes me as redundant.

I needed to finish my VJAS project. This year, I need to start it. It's due on Tuesday. I'm going to complete it Wednesday and turn it in for five points off, probably.


All of this, though, doesn't even begin to cover how much I've changed. I used to occasionally muse over the change in myself and my friends from one year to the next, but while those were marked, the changes that I've undergone both physically and mentally in the past twelve months are rather amazing.

Firstly, I started playing tennis in February of last year, going from almost no physical activity on a daily basis to about two hours of running and swinging a racquet and things of that nature every weekday. This, of course, begat a variety of changes in my physique which I am extremely happy with. And, harmoniously, being in better physical shape made me a much happier person. I started dressing differently this year, and some people have told me that I've come out of my shell this year. Nay, I say to them, I came out of my shell some time last year. You just didn't notice.

I also got a summer job at a millwork, which I feel I've talked about more than adequately. Suffice to say, the job had more of a benefit than padding my wallet. I was, at the end of the summer, in the best shape of my life.

But a more masculine physique is not the only way I've changed, no sir. I've become more erudite in nature, focusing on the joys of the English language and also learning for learning's sake on my own time. Wikipedia is, in large part, to blame for this. Free information on almost any topic is amazing and irresistable when I've got nothing better to do than read.

I've become, recently, far more introspective and analytical of my thoughts. Oddly enough, however, I've also come to appreciate company much more. It used to be that I could sit in my room for days with nothing but my computer and a book for company and be perfectly happy. Now I feel like I'm dieing inside if I have nothing to do with other people for more than a few days.

I can drive now, and it is wonderful. Most of my friends can also drive, which leads to us doing far more now than we used to. Unfortunately, there haven't been any decent parties in awhile, but hopefully this draught will end soon and I can go back to enjoying weekends with by pals.

Another, more recent change, is that the amount of people I would call 'pals' has increased steadily since school started. Mostly, I think, because my older friends have moved off to college, leaving a bit of a void. This void was filled with juniors and a few sophomores and even a couple freshmen. Daniel is truly a man of the world, now.

I can't think of a good way to summarize my year. It certainly had its high points, and it certainly had its down points. Over all, I think it went rather well. Hopefully this one will be even better. I've evolved, and I'm happier for it. Now, to take on the world.

And another thing that's different between last year and this year: THIS YEAR I GRADUATE, BITCHES. WHAT WHAT.

edit: And as you've probably noticed, dear reader, there's a new template. I like the colors.