So I had this dream where I met Randolph Carter, and he was telling me about the nature of dreams, and how sometimes you're sure something is true in a dream, but it really isn't.

But I don't remember anything about the dream itself at all, so it's rather strange.

Political Indoctrination FTW

Because there's nothing better for a children's book than an elephant trampling over a homeless man.

I had the recurring dream about my teeth falling out again two days ago. Since I have written about it three times I know for sure that it officially qualifies as a recurring dream.

I may be sick over spring break, but that's not keeping me from writing up fake Wikipedia articles.


"In medieval Europe, charismatic, itinerant preachers travelled between cities, delivering fire and brimstone sermons at religious revivals. Spectators would congregate from miles around to hear these rousing speakers, working themselves into frenzies. Wealthier listeners had the opportunity to find seating in wooden grandstands, but landless peasants had to stand during the entire spectacle, frequently for hours on end, and often fainted with rapture when "moved by the Holy Spirit." Because the audience was so densely packed, there was no way to carry anybody out through the chaotic mob, so bystanders would lift the ecstatic worshipper over their heads and pass him on to others standing nearby, without the person ever touching the ground. In time, this practice became known as 'serf-crowding.'"

USC Board Votes to End Controversial School Program

PITTSBURGH — School board members in a Minnesota district call it anti-American and anti-Christian. In New Jersey, members of one school board argue it’s a waste of money. Now, a suburban Pittsburgh school district is abolishing it over questions of politics and cost.

Supporters of the increasingly popular college preparatory curriculum known as International Baccalaureate are firing back with some of the same arguments — saying efforts to quash IB are about the beliefs and politics of the program’s opponents. ...

I had no idea we were that liberal.

My alternating loathing and respect for the IB is matched only by the utter dickishnes of these school board members.

One of my friends was reborn a few months back, and all I can do is watch his mental deterioration. I met him shortly after he was reborn- half a year later, I regret not having met him before; what a person he must have been! I see an inquisitive mind dimming, a wry sense of humor dimming, a love of music dimming into an opaque fog. We used to talk about video games and bands and tv shows, normal things, and now there's hardly a conversation without the mention of God. It's like he's losing what made him his Self, like my grand-uncle with Alzheimers, or someone slowly possessed by the Borg. He's amiable, generous, and thoughtful still; I pray to whatever God that stole him that this will last.

The words on his blog aren't his own, just quotes from the Bible, with him as a hollow vessel. His love of mathematics and physics is endangered by his recent denunciations of evolution. His musical compositions were born in sin; they were beautiful and made him proud, so he purged them from his computer and his hands. He joined a Jewish history class with an eye to understand new cultures and current events, a goal hindered by his attempts to convert the professor. The things that made him a wonderful person to know are being destroyed by this jealous demon in his head-

this insidious thing which is not content to let people be happy
as they must suffer too because He suffered,
from the sinful moment their evil little baby bodies breathed life,
to the sinful moment they die.

I am not religious, but on my honor, I will not suffer to see a physicist consumed by the fog of superstition. I will not suffer to see creativity of the spirit shackled. I will not suffer to see that which I have suffered to see; a man dying slowly, quietly, with none knowing.

I know I shouldn't take it personally, but this is a war of souls. Those that say athiests and agnostics lack conviction should witness what righteousness rises from resignation and despair.

New Animal Resembling Furry Lobster Found

Aw, so cute!

Yay! My baby pet tarantula molted for the first time! Isn't he cute? Awwww..

Me and Jeremy are keeping a collection of its shed carapaces in a little tin.

It'll be like a scrapbook, but for spiders!

(I gots an avincularia avincularia, which is considered a "Noob spider" by hobbyists, but I like. It was a Valentine's day present for Jeremy. Whenever I tell girls this, they're like, "gross!", but guys are like, "Cool!")

Nerdiest quote ever, courtesy of Eric Hamilton!

"In the present active indicactive emphatic of 15th century English, is it colloquially acceptable to separate the do from the rest of the modal auxillary?"

I saw a rant which is indicative of a usual rant among anti-feminists.

"If all women flaunt their bodies to manipulate men, men shouldn't be criticized for enjoying and making use of women's bodies."

This always struck me as silly, acting like it's some sort of equivalent trade between the sexes.

If a woman acts slutty, it's okay to treat her like a sex object^*. By this logic, if a woman sells drugs, it's okay to buy from her.

LAME.

--

The actual, and much less coherent, post is here, in response to a female commenter saying that small breast size was a refreshing change in fantasy artwork.

First, a woman saying that she likes something to be different every once in a while is hardly controversial radical feminism. That's like saying: "Hm, today I'll have the baked potato instead.." ... "YOU FEMINIST NAZI BITCH!"

Second, there is the huge logical fallacy in grossly generalizing about one half of the world's population. Do severe burn patients, agoraphobics, female bodybuilders, nuns, lesbians, lesbian nuns and this idiot's grandmother flaunt their body to manipulate men? Hmm.. no. Those extreme examples aside, what our male guest is complaining about is "the type of clothes you wear, all the make up you trowel on, the type of heroes that you worship in the media," which he cites as proof that womankind is out to manipulate and leech off of men.

Hmmm. For the most part, women dress up to please themselves and other women. When I buy a stylish necklace, I think "Ooh, this is cute," not "Ooh, this will make men do my yardwork." Women like Jennifer Anniston are popular with other women because they're stylish and glamorous trendsetters, not because they have huge bazongas. (And if you can't differentiate between stylish and "huge bazongas," I hope the police are there to pry you off as you uncontrollably hump a pair of Prada shoes.)

Do men care about the color of your nailpolish? Do men care whether your shoes match your purse? Do men care whether you put on moisturizer or curl your eyelashes? ... Well, some men do, but they're gay.

(Not to mention the good number of women who don't dress up at all)

Women dress to impress men as much as men get spinning rims to impress women. Which is to say, a little, but not much.

As to "the type of heroes that you worship in the media," the women that other women idolize are different from the women men idolize. Who's a hot, busty woman? Jessica Alba. What movies was she in that made her popular? ... Fantastic Four, and Sin City. Who watched those movies? Men. Who is Kate Beckinsale in tight leather popular with? Men. Who is Jennifer Garner popular with? Men. Who is Angelina Jolie popular with? Men. Who is Pamela Anderson popular with? Men.

Who's popular with women? Oprah.

I rest my case.


--
*I make a distinction between being slutty and looking good. When I say I'd like some video game women to not have giant gravity-defying boobs, tight leather catsuits and high heels, that doesn't mean I want video games starring withered hag-women and cement bricks. I like boobs of all sizes, actually. It's the ridiculous outfits I dislike. After all, men like to play as attractive men, but you don't see avatars in World of Warcraft wearing butt-thongs and giant codpieces, do you?

Holy crap!

The Ayn Rand Dating Service

Oh, btw, the weekend previously, I had another one of my teeth falling out recurring dreams.

Since I am going on on the topic of dreams, I will note that last night, the night of January 16, I had my recurring nightmare about my teeth falling out. (In short; I feel that my teeth are loose in my gums... they begin falling out one by one, to my horror. I try to put them back in or keep them from falling out, to no avail.) Except this time, I was aware that I was having a recurring dream, so I pinched myself.. in the dream. Having not "waken up" (in the dream), I was then thoroughly convinced that it was real. I also was confused, since I'd seen the dentist recently and was quite sure my teeth hadn't been that bad, and felt remorse for not having better followed his advice. I also thought he'd be quite pissed when I went to him to have my teeth put back in. This is when I woke up.

("Brush more often or your gums will recede," says my Dentist. Note that I've been having this dream since before I saw the dentist. Whether this means my gums have been trying to tell me something, or I subconsciously processed concerns I had over whether I was brushing enough, none can say. For example, if you dream about having cancer, does that mean you have cancer, or that you're worried about it?)

I have had this dream at least three times before, though I Don't Remember When.

I record this dream for the purpose of proving that it is indeed a recurring dream. Should I have it again, I will record it again. That way instead of saying "I Remember I've Had It Before But Don't Remember When," when at parties I brag about how prescient or creepy my dreams are, I shall have it explicitly on record.

*(like those retarded feelings of deja-vu where you aren't sure whether you're actually repeating an experience, or are just being mindfucked)

Needing pscyhological analysis

Is it normal to have nightmares when you're awake? Because I just did, and I don't smoke pot.

When I was eight, I was sick once, and had a variety of fevered nightmares. What distinguished them from other nightmares is a) their intensity, b) that the fear was not a fear of the situation dreamt about, but a completely irrational fear, and c) that the feeling induced did not fade after waking.

My dad tried to reassure me then saying, "Yes, when I was little and had a fever, I dreamt about angry people chasing me."

However... my fever dreams were different from my dad's sort of dream (I will explain shortly).

Tonight, I had one again, but I a) don't have a fever, b) I'm an adult, c) I was awake d) I was fully aware of what was going on. That's what worries me

I am going to, to the best of my abilities, describe my dreams, so that I can correctly be diagnosed.

When I was 8 with the fever:

The dream: For some reason, I am picking up sticks which are scattered about the floor in my parents' bedroom. As I pick them up, there are progressively more and more sticks on the ground, that appear faster and faster, faster than I can pick them up. I begin to panic because I can't pick up the sticks fast enough, I try to pick them up faster, but the sticks begin spinning around me, faster and faster, soon I am surrounded by a hurricane of sticks that goes faster and faster, and I can't pick them up, and they're spinning around me and I can't pick them up.

(This is what I mean by "the fear is not a fear of the situation dreamt about, but an irrational fear." Because seriously... picking up sticks?? Oh, terrifying!!!)

Second dream: I go into the bathroom. There is a robot there, vaguely resembling a person. Now normally, I like robots, they're pretty cool. But in this case, the sight of the robot filled me with terror. It begins spinning or something, its body, its parts, all whirling, moving, rotating at higher and higher speeds, and this whole time it was just staring at me, and I'd never been more terrified in my life.

Third dream: I am on the stairs in my house. My aunt, who I normally adore, is there as a disembodied staring head. She is talking to me, just chatting, but the words take on a sinister rhythmic chanting, and she chants faster and faster and faster and the words make no sense, and I am with her, helpless and paralyzed.

Not a dream: I wake up, screaming to my parents about these nightmares. They comfort me, listening attentively, expecting to hear all the usual childrens' nightmares of monsters and bogeymen. I try to explain it to them but they don't really understand what's so scary about a bunch of sticks, a robot, and my aunt. I'm eight, so the only thing I can get across is, "Going very fast, can't stop, can't stop." My parents notice that my heart is beating dangerously fast, so they try to get me to calm down. I do, but over the next two days, I can't stand to be alone, or that pounding, racing fear comes back to me for absolutely no reason. My parents say, "Oh, your heart was beating very fast, that must be causing all those dreams about things quickening. So you should keep your heart rate down."

The same day, I'm playing the piano, you know, the scales, something simple to relax my mind. As I play, my fingers begin going faster and faster, and I begin to panic because the faster I go, the more I mess up the notes, and something compels me to play faster and faster and faster but my fingers can't keep up, and it's just like the dream, but with no sticks, and I start to panic and my heart hammers. I realize this though, and what my parents told me about keeping my heart rate down. Unlike the dream, I am awake, and I am in control. I count to ten slowly, in calm, measured intervals. I force my fingers to play the scales slowly and deliberately, at a controlled rate, and soon, my heart rate falls, and I'm calm again. My parents have no idea that anything is wrong.

I'm hesitant about going to bed again that night, but I hold in my head visions of butterflies frolicking in a meadow as the sun sets. I count to ten calmly. I have no nightmares of the sort that night, or for the next twelve years.

Tonight: I lying in bed. I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep. Suddenly, that feeling of quickening panic draws over me (no sticks, robots, aunts, pianos, or any scene, just the feeling) and I open my eyes immediately, recognizing it at once. I'm puzzled. I haven't experienced this type of panic since childhood, I don't have a fever, and unlike that time, I didn't have a nightmare to accompany it, just the sensation. I brush it off and try to go to bed again- I'm not a frightened eight year old, there are no stick hurricanes and spinning robots for God's sake. Again, it happens, but my mind pulls away, the mental equivalent of flares and warning signs and a hand on a hot stove. My eyes snap open. After I cease to be frightened, I'm a bit annoyed at myself. Seriously, what is it that's causing that effect? This time, I'm going to close my eyes and keep them closed, even if I begin panicking, even if the panic rises, because I'm a goddamned grown-up, I can deal with it, and I want to know what's going on, and I can't know what's going on if I don't ride it out. I close my eyes, drifting towards sleep, but with part of my mind awake and observant. I am beginning to sleep, my sensations, my consciousness fading into oblivion. This is usually a pleasant sensation, but this time, it's different - I feel the sensory darkness creeping over my limbs, I feel acutely aware of my unseeing eyes staring into the vast unshaped chaos that is sleep, and I'm frightened, and fighting it, fighting for wakefulness, and there I am again, awake. WTF, goes my brain.. I sleep 365 days of the year, why is it different today? I try to sleep again, willfully ignoring the Unshaped Oblivion, forbidding myself from conceptualizing it as separate entity. This works for a little while, but the more you think about not thinking about it, the more you think about it. A chanting rushes through my head, but a soundless chanting without words, rhythmic, all-consuming (I can hardly think about anything else). It's not really a sound, though it can only be described as such, in the same way that pain is not really fire, love is not really warmth, knowledge is not really light, and death is not really darkness- these are things so far beyond their linguistic and sensory metaphors as to be impossible to truly describe. It's the "sound" of my heart beating, my brain pulsing, the blood surging through my veins, the sound of sheer chaos and terror and oblivion and wildness without end, this all-consuming roar that goes faster and faster and faster... by now I am quite awake. And it will not stop. I put my hand to my chest, but don't feel any difference in heart rate. If it is not my heart that is the physiological cause of this panic, what is it?

I have had my share of nightmares, but the fear in those comes from something. For example, last night I dreamed I was being chased by a demonic T-Rex. I was frightened of the T-Rex of course, but when I woke up I realized I wasn't being chased by a T-Rex in reality, and was immediately unafraid. Obviously, it was the T-Rex causing the fear. But this? There is no T-Rex, or any other monster.. it is almost as if it is the fear that is causing the fear.

Tell me what I fear, so that I may be unafraid.

The Economics of Warcraft

Now is a good time own shares of copper, tin and other common industrial metals. No, not in real life, silly... in World of Warcraft. Apparently the Ahn'Qiraj quest line has raised the demand for common wholesale materials, raising the prices on Auction Houses from Ironforge to Everlook.

You could ...

Whine about rising prices of raw materials for manufacturers:

---
"The economy is totally upside down right now. 20 linen went for 15-20 silver now goes for 2-3 gold. Thorium bars are up almost 1g-2g a piece now. This goes for leather and other materials needed by the so-called 'war effort'. Craftsmen who buy and sell items off AH are just screwed until this war effort is over."
---

Call for price controls:

---
"1.) Without governmental controls (i.e., rationing and price caps) prices will clime dramatically on the war effort goods. If Blizzard is smart they'll come up with a voucher program and AH price caps for the war materials in next week's patch."
---

Refute that argument by extolling free market values:

---
"Blizzard isn't forcing anyone to pay or list those prices. Blizzard didn't create this - the players did by paying. It's that simple. Simple supply and demand. I can't believe how many people can't grasp this concept."
---

"The general rule of thumb is when the costs of your goods outweigh the cost of the product produced, you don't produce said product."
---

Sell goods for ridiculous amounts:

---
"People need to think of the economy as now being on a wartime footing. The price of certain items will go up as there is a new need for them. I think it shows how dynamic a MMORPG economy can be. And once this event is over, prices will settle down again. But for now, this is an opportunity for war profiteers who manage the temporary changes to the economy well to make a lot of money."
---

Moralize about the military-industrial complex:

---
"You're encouraging war profiteering? Whoever said ethics were dead in Azeroth was right."
---

Decry the triumph of capitalistic self-interest over common unity:

---
"The whole server COULD have banded together and said... "Let's open AQ first!!! DROP ALL PRICES TO NOTHING!" I'm sorry to say however, in a capitalist run world in which nearly all of us exist in...we're programmed to respond differently."^*
---

Worry about post-war recessions:

---
"However, Blizz did affect the supply in the fact that thousands of people had god knows how many stacks of runecloth saved up ... Now that these stockpiles are gone, it will be interesting to see the price of runecloth after the event is over."
---

Just not give a damn:

---
"'Casual gamers' don't launch tirades about the awful burdens Blizzard puts on their video game commodities market. They don't complain bitterly about the going rate of bear skins in video game land."
---

-Fin!

----
*(I don't see that the prices are deterring people from donating to the war effort, since the demand is mostly price inelastic. Say the quest requires 90,000 bars of copper to be donated to the war drive to trigger the world event- if the price is low, a lot of newbie players will purchase the 90,000 bars, whereas if the price is driven up, a small elite guild of level 60 ubergamers purchases the 90,000 bars. Equity and distribution are irrelevant in this case. Overall quantity demanded is more or less the same.)

My attempt at being a Googlewhack

Pirahna skateboard!

I pondered the greatness of cultivating a school of pirahnas. They make for great attack pets, I thought. But!

They are very limited on land. (Flop. Flop. Flop.)

No matter!

Give them skateboards!

But!

How will they move?

The answer is obvious.

Telekinesis.

For those of you who aren't aware, Penny Arcade is organizing the Child's Play charity again this year, where video gaming fans buy toys for childrens' hospitals around the world, just in time for the holiday season. It was basically started by Gabe and Tycho to show the world that not all video gamers are violent, anti-social assholes, and of course to help sick kids.

It's a really good cause. Plus, one of the hospitals you can donate to is our very own Children's National Medical in D.C. I had surgery there when I was ten. They help you not feel scared, and they're good people.

(E-mail to Steve aka Theodrek: December 2nd, 2005)

Hey Steve, I had a dream about you last night. It was really weird; there
were like tattoos all over your face, and you were on fire. It was pretty
badass.

Anyway, how was your Thanksgiving? It snowed for the first time this year
on Thanksgiving night, but it all melted by morning. My holiday was pretty
boring; I went home and basically spent like the whole four days trying to
put together a 900 piece jigsaw puzzle. I still haven't finished. I got to
see my nephew Nathan again- he's two, and he's starting to talk, though
not anything coherent. According to my roommate it snowed again this
morning too, but I missed it.

My apartment is all Christmas decorated now. It's pretty sweet. We
actually still have like this foam skeleton from Halloween hanging from a
noose. We can tell everyone it's Jesus rising from the dead..

(Dang, wrong holiday) Oh well.

Catch ya later,

-Angie

Why I Love the West

America gets the shaft a lot, by her own people. We like saying how culture-less and devoid of moral value we are, but I think that's only because we don't notice what we have. We're like cultural fish- do fish know what water is? I've been talking to Matt a lot; the implicit assumption being that he finds Eastern theology and philosophy to be superior to Western thought, though he never says as much. But you wouldn't convert to Buddhism and be pissed off at capitalistic society if you didn't pretty much reject Western thought, no?

I happen to like the West a lot; honestly, I find it a lot easier to be jaded by America (and her ideals) when you live there. Duh. Maybe if you lived in China you'd find being Chinese a real drag. This isn't to rag on anybody, I just think everybody finds everyone else's culture cooler than their own. So: here's my semi-facetious List of Things that're cool or unique about America and/or Western civilization.

- black people. Yeah, Africa also has black people. But only America has African-Americans. Take that, Africa!! Jazz is ours!

- John Locke's social contract

- separation of church and state

- The premise that all citizens have a right to due process, and equal rights under the law

- The concept that the law is a separate entity from the person administering it.

- Representative government.

- Counter culture. In countries over 400 years old, people actually care about respectability, social standing, family honor. I bet in Japan even the Goths are polite. While in other countries, like China, defying social mores is seen as criminally subversive and disgraceful to your family, here, you're just mocked and ostracized. Go tolerance!

- Suburbia. Suburbia has a reputation for being mundane and soulless, but in actuality, it was born from a beautiful dream. Millions of families, weary soldiers, factory women, and resolute immigrants, dreamed of single-family homes with hardwood floors and spacious gardens where their children could play and live a better life. Flowers would be planted, trees climbed, the air fresh in the morning with the birds singing and at night filled with a thousand stars. Did it happen? Well.. like all dreams, for some people, yes, for some people, no, and for some people, they got what they wanted but still weren't happy, and for others, they didn't get what they wanted but were. Nonetheless, suburbia is our soul, and no one else's.

- Cafeteria tater tots. Only in America!

- Social mobility. In China, you knew your place and were content with it. Thus, "All Is Right Under Heaven." In the U.S., it's hard and nearly impossible, but you can claw your way to the top, you greedy bastard.

- John Maynard Keynes: the concept of the government providing economic opportunities for the poor

- The idea that God Loves You (every person infinitely and equally).

- Newgrounds, and other pointless, juvenile, humor.

- Christmas. We are so the best Christmas partiers.

- Modern medicine. Your illness is due to a directly observable cause that could in theory be replicated in a laboratory, not an "imbalance of yin and yang."

- Computers.

- Star Wars.

- embrace and acknowledgement of constant social change

- Tex-Mex. Can you get good Tex Mex in Britain? Well, CAN YOU???

- I have the right to riot.

- Civil Disobedience.

- Dungeons and Dragons.

- What an individual does is fundamentally his/her own decision.

- Romanticism : the pursuit of extraordinary experiences, strong passions and flights of imagination above all, and the Heroic Individual.

- An ideal person is well-rounded, one who proficient in the ways of art, literature, politics, war, natural sciences, ethics, sports, and music. In China, a good person... studies. And works hard.

- love of rebellion and challenging authority. My parents are Chinese, and they get upset whenever a comedian makes fun of George Bush, not because they like Bush, but because making fun of a national leader is "Unseemly." See... see.. this is why Chinese people aren't funny.

- perspective in painting.

- fiction is valuable because it is a representation of general truths, even if the characters act immorally. Art and free speech are forms of expression and should not be censored.

- The concept of news media as an impartial entity separate from a ruling government or other powerful organization.

- The insane idea that good urban planning will somehow improve the masses.

- National identity as a matter of citizenship and obedience to the law, not ethnic or religious background.

- Shopping as a passtime.

- Tourism, the family vacation and roadtrips as a passtime.

- cheese steaks.

I believe that humans are born rational and noble, and that everything we do should enhance the happiness and virtue of people. I believe in the march of progress that was dreamed of in the Great Enlightenment, that slowly and surely, through rational science and the pursuit of knowledge, through contemplation of beauty and love of goodness, the world is becoming a better place, and that one day everyone will live in perfect happiness. Through civic involvement, public works and charity, bit by bit we better humanity. I believe that through the cultivation of art, music, and literature, I can become a better and more virtuous person.

They call me "agnostic," yet as sure as the ground beneath me, I know that all these things are true. A God may guide us in our development, may create us, may take us when we die. Yet all the things I say above are true, or lightning strike me down.

We are not born evil. We will not be thrown into a fiery Hell. We do not sin for loving the world that we were born to love. I embrace God as my god, but not Jesus Christ.

I am not Christian, but my faith is strong.

(Now stop giving me Jeebus pamphlets, people!!)