endless replica of self

it's crazy, what a little "for" loop can do...

writing the code for this web app that i've been playing with for a little while, i decided to create a log file to monitor system activity. i finished up on the code, opened a browser window and entered the URL of the script on my server [i'm running apache on my local machine]... i expected the process to take a few minutes, so i left the computer to its devices for a bit.

i came back, and the computer was still cranking away; i found that odd since i'm still developing the site -- there's not much data to be parsed. suddenly, i get a system notification that i'm running low on disk space, and i know exactly what's happened. a conditional looping contstruct inside one of my code objects had gone mobius [a.k.a -- a piece of code gone psycho and was repeating itself endlessly]... and i was losing disk space very quickly. not a big deal, i just shut down the server [which actually didn't stop the perl interpreter] and then rebooted the machine. and now i've got a 140 meg text file sitting on my hard drive.

it's funny though -- i've never unleashed a virus on myself before ;)

unintentionally, anyway.
at first, when i entered college, i wanted to study computer science. i felt teachers had too much subjective control over the interpretation of my writings and thoughts, and that the concise logic of computer programming would take out alot of the guesswork as far as grades were concerned. the teachers weren't always right, but the education system gives teachers near-absolute power over the graded outcome of students' work in their classes. the problem lies in the fact that there is very little necessary investment on the part of the teacher -- the teacher can decide that only students who conform to their expectations will pass, and the others will be branded as failures. the teacher naturally perpetuates the system of which he or she is a part.

an analogy: the average office worker is motivated by payment, promotion and prestige. these things give the worker the money to buy his daily bread, to feel as sense of connectedness to his work and a feeling of worth among his fellow workers. the old myth is that the harder you work, the farther you'll go. of course, i have been working in the white-collar world for nearly six years by now and i have seen any number of excuses used to dismiss some of the most hard-working, motivated people i've ever met: bad management, lack of higher opportunities for hard workers, and internal politics, to name a few.

organizations are self-perpetuating. although there is a great deal of merit within the traditional educational system, it fails to rate well as a meritocracy as far as teaching standards are concerned. by teaching standards i mean the standards by which teachers are judged in terms of doing their best to adapt to students' needs. most teachers that i have encountered have a set way of doing things and expect the student to conform to that way. the issue that i take with that approach is that some students have ways of expressing their views that may not conform. if one person views a piece of art as superfluous trash, does it invalidate the work of the artist?

this issue becomes critical in the case of a young person who has relatively little guidance. if a teacher seeks to merely instruct, that is, to set down a curriculum and run pupils through the grist mills of mental exercise, then very few students will emerge from such a system having internalized the information in a meaningful way. cramming for exams is an example of the failure to relate to material in anything other than the most shallow of terms. is this the fault of the student? no. the student is merely searching for an efficient way to navigate through the morass of seemingly meaningless obligations that is being leveraged onto his back by the mechanistic educational system. the representative of this system is the teacher whose main desire is not to teach in a way that is meaningful to the student, but rather to earn a salary.

the key to learning is the relationship of the student to the material being taught. the communicative medium, in terms of the classroom setting, is not the books, the pens and pencils, or the chalkboard. it is the teacher. if the teacher has no personal stake in teaching [ aside from the rare altruistic desire for the betterment of students ], how can the students be engaged by the material? unless there is a prior interest in a subject, very few people - young or old - will submit themselves to the dry, terse language used by the vast majority of textbooks. the creation and sustenance of interest is the key to effective education, and the teacher serves the necessary function of the catalyst. the reaction of the student is a spark of inspiration, or at least vague curiosity. if this is not accomplished, all of the grades in the world will make little difference in the intellectual success or failure of the student. young people are not self-motivating machines, and since profit motive is not an immediate satisfaction, there must be an equivalent sense of attainment to be gained from the educative process. what is this motive?

the desire for knowledge must be the motive.

the role of the teacher must be to nurture that desire in his or her students. an educational system based solely on dishing out grades, detentions and expulsions neglects the fact that not everyone has a primary support system outside of the institution to give and maintain in them a sense of direction and purpose. if the teacher has little incentive to work for the students' benefit other than a paycheck, the qualitative value of teaching is reduced to a game of numbers - how many passed, how many failed, what were the demographics? enter socioeconomic variables into the equation and quite an interesting picture emerges. the difficult students, the ones who habitually think for themselves, the ones who don't fit the mold, are easily swept away. in the world of business, competition is an essential component of a capitalistic economy. in the world of education, competition for grades and egotistical merit is both a false indicator of learning capacity and quite a perplexing darwinian twist. in some sense, the treadmill of standardized learning churns out graduates who are prepared not for creative thought, but rather to more easily succumb to dull existences as lab rats in corporate hierarchies. turn the wheel a bit faster, and you get more a few more grains of food [or better grade, nicer car, bigger house, etc.]. but what happens when you step off and realize that you are not, in fact, going anywhere? what happens when you realize that your potential as a human being has been completely "repurposed" and repackaged into a gray facsimile of the cubicle junkie sitting next to you? it is frightening to me that i have met as may people as i have whose lives have been perverted into the search for a "safe" lifestyle, but the only thing that they find is stress, a lack of self-fulfillment and angst about years wasted in lives they didn't want. whose fault is that, i ask? i believe the core answer lies within the ways that we are taught to learn. the ways that we are taught to think.

i believe that the self-made man is a myth... taking responsibility for oneself is only part of a much larger picture.


rebellion is fashionable.

creativity is something else.
blogger just ate my blog and spit it out all screwed up... i wonder what happened.
Google uses pigeons!

For real, yo.
Google uses pigeons!

entropy versus the microstate: everything is of equal value

i have been reading about information theory in my free time. although not a textbook or a book that i have to read to pass a course, this is by far the most relevant knowledge that i have gained in quite some time. interesting that i have trouble passing a psych 100 class but i absorb information theory like a sponge.

in my readings, i have come across the concept of entropy. entropy is the quantity of information that is generalized into what is called the macrostate of a system. take temperature, for example, as the average measure of the caloric energy produced within a space in time. the temperature is the macrostate - however, there are thousands, maybe millions of molecules bumping into each other to create the agitated state that is expressed by the idea of "heat". the speed of an individual molecule is the microstate.

i write all this as an introduction to a reinterpretation of that idea... life experience, to be exactly vague. so then: in life, there is the mainstream of thought. nine-to-five lifestyle is accepted, gray suits, grey faces, "fun" vacations followed by more drudgery, followed by eventual retirement. being a businessman is rarely frowned upon. that is the accepted norm. the educative path is the same:

elementary->secondary->postsecondary->possibly graduate

stumble through, eyes closed, hands open to what is given, go into debt, let "society" own you. it'll be okay, just leave the thinking to us.

life in greyscale.

on the other hand, you have "alternative" lifestyles: body modification [tattoos, piercings, etc.], artistic expression as a way of life [being an actor, sculptor, tattoo artist, martial arts teacher, etc.], homo/bi sexuality. these lifestyles are outside the scope of the cookie-cutter protestant work ethic that is so falsely attributed to what it means to be "american". self-education is synonymous with "too lazy to go to school". "artist" means "touchy-feely new age never-grew-up type".

life in true color.

we have both sides of the scale, described from the standpoint of mainstream society. the greyscale lifestyle is what is well-known, already explored. most people understand this way of life because it is a routine - authoritative, authoritarian, dry and simplistic. pain is minimized, but then, it is very easy to lose sight of happiness as well. the smell of coffee and a newspaper wakes you up in the morning, and thoughts of unpaid bills and tomorrow's lunch break at an expensive restaurant lull you to sleep [sometimes while still sitting at your desk]. understanding of the microstates involved in this system obviates the need for generalization and negative stereotyping. there is very little entropy, and very little information that is not already categorized and neatly packaged. a life of situational familiarity in which you are moving but always through the same spaces.

life in true color is something very different. having lived outside of situational repitition, basing life on learning and adaptation rather than rote memorization, creates a dynamic awareness that is characterized by primal familiarity - understanding of oneself in the state of consciousness rather than a particular time and place. meditation, sexual climax, and creative inspiration come to mind as states of mental absorption that are all similar in the experience but disparate in outward appearance. without having a direct appreciation for these things, it is a simple matter to prejudge and dismiss them. these lifestyles are symbolic of entropic systems, full of information that is in the continual process of realization. and yet, from the outside, capoeira is nothing more than an elaborate dance. from the inside, it transforms into rhythm, movement, response, and technique.

this concept applies to one's choice of profession as well:

actors? all they do is pretend to be someone else. it looks easy - i can do that. but look a little deeper, study it - you find the genius of stanislavsky, the noh theater, greek drama, and a whole world of skill, craft and artistry.

tattoo artists? all they do is stencil tattoos onto the skin and copy over them with ink. but if you actually sit down and talk to an artist [not a scratcher, but someone with skill and experience] you will see that there is a lifetime of learning, interpretation and refinement involved.

so then: what is truly valuable? is it the opinion of the world or the inspiration of the self? everything can be seen as positive or negative, true or false, good or bad. i am starting to see that perspective means much more than absolute judgment. the problem here is how not to dive into solipsism and declare oneself the arbiter of real and unreal. but how far to compromise before losing sight of the original truth?

it's a beautiful day outside. time to strap on the skates and wear down my grind plates for the first time this season ;)
strange dreams recently....

fist fights against brawny muscleheads, kenjutsu sword-fighting against cute brunette females decked out in full keikogi and hakama...

some phat pants look alot like hakama, btw. i've got a pair of old kikwears that would qualify -- sometimes look down and wonder, "where are my feet?"

lol

anyways.... 3am. sleep now, write later.

if i'm lucky i might wake up and still be dreaming.
odaiko in my mind, tightness in my chest

sitting here. rain outside... a yawn in the back of my throat.

listening to the song "pink spider" by hide [dead japanese rock star, suicided in 1998].

feeling this combination of almost-guilt countered by rebellious impulse. and a sprinkle of procrastination, plus a little frustration.

writing perl for a web app that will catapult me to online fame and realtime fortune. or not.

i told the head of the martial arts school that i was at home, sleeping instead of attending the black belt test. a simple mistake, i said. he told me that he felt disappointed, like a father to a son who hadn't come through at a crucial moment. wrong analogy, kwon jung niem -- my pops and i don't talk, unless there's an emergency. pops let me down once too many. now he's just an old man, a broken father figure. *sob* lol

so the head of the school thought i was some kind of prodigy; he let me attend the school for free. he still does, but now he says there's a sense of let-down when he sees me instead of happiness and expectation. crucial misjudgment: i never perform to people's expectations... that's just not my lifestyle. to me, it's a wasted stress. so i had my own motives for skipping the test, that i have already explained in a previous post. the black belt means nothing to me, and now he knows. he's tried that funny line on me before, "black belt just holds your pants up," but apparently he doesn't really see it that way.

»» the playlist switches to deep dish & everything but the girl - the future of the future.
 back to the conversation.


i work hard in class. actually, no. i work "smart", and as hard as i need to. the training methods are outdated and don't prepare you for a fight, or even a full-contact sparring match. that's why i do my own research outside of class. i have my own methods that i show a few people and practice on my own. that's why the headmaster let me attend for free. i create my own path and i take what works for me. not because i'm a good "imitation artist", like everyone else that follows him and his "instructors".

my advantage [individuality] at some point becomes a disadvantage [rebellion]. but isn't that always the way things go?
at the root of creativity lies frustration. motivation is the fear of mediocrity. the true issue may actually be this: does the positive overshadow the negative?

he says to me that i'm the "student he admires the most, physically," but that's a backhanded compliment. his meaning is that even though i've got skill and strength, my personal growth isn't up to par. i ask him what he really means.

"do you think i'm selfish?"

"i think alot of the time, people who don't have anyone else to help them become selfish... "

yes, i suppose he's right. i look out for myself. i've been manipulated in the past - by my parents, sometimes by "friends". to the point where i decided that i had enough. i would depend on myself, and myself only. fuck pops and his promises. he can start his business, but what about college for his son? he failed in the business as well. on the day that he finally gave up, a couple of old computers appeared at the doorstep of the apartment building. i turned to my mom and said with a laughing, "so this is what's left of the company, huh?" hm. laughing at the absudity.

i remember why i was angry for a while. i suppose "growing up" doesn't mean forgetting. or forgiving. or maybe it does, and i'm just not there yet.

i've become selfish, kwon jung niem? i love my friends. if our paths cross, and we can walk down the road together for a bit, that's great. i don't mind company. if one of us needs to walk away, that's okay too. human personalities inevitably diverge at some point. if the relationship is not natural, i don't force the issue. i love you. goodbye. it was fun.

so i skipped martial arts class tonight. in order to pay for school, i had to forgo health insurance for this semester. the logic: if i get hurt out of carelessness [due to sleep deprivation], the money for fixing my broken body will come out of my pocket. and my pockets are almost empty.

i still see the headmaster; the look in his eyes.

am i selfish or smart? smart or arrogant? arrogant

or confused?

sometimes i wish that the dream would end and i could wake up to something better.

i suppose i'll just have to make arrangements for tomorrow and see what happens.
i have been running up a sleep deficit recently. it feels good - i've started rehabilitating my study habits; the prospect of failing out of school is a great motivator, if you want it to be. of course, there is the obvious downside: i spent my spring break catching up on reading the material that i had been doing my best to ignore for the first half of the semester. the upside: i get to stay in school [or at least keep up appearances for a while] and take advantage of two opportunities... namely, cute females and free capoeira lessons.


as i approached the door of the lecture hall, i noticed a girl standing not too far away in my peripheral vision. paying her no particular attention, i kept walking. i had almost passed her by when i heard someone say,

"excuse me?"

i slowed my pace and turned my gaze to her direction.

"um, excuse me."

"what's up", i said. i recognized her face from another class that i'm taking this semester and i paused, wondering what she had to say.

this girl is not particularly attractive, but she does have a distinctive feature: an unmistakable [?] nasal quality to her voice. her voice sounds almost as if it emanates entirely from her nose. it sounds very close to normal, except for the funny way that she says some words. for her, the phrase "excuse me" becomes "eh-schoos me". i felt like responding with um, bless you -- that was a sneeze, right?

having turned to face her, i have now worked up a genuine curiosity as she tentatively begins again.

"hi," she says shyly. i nod, studying her face.
"um, do you have a girlfriend right now?"

at this point, i feel the corners of my mouth turning upward.

"nope," i respond, amused at the question and wondering where she will take it from there. the grin creeps farther upward and i stifle a chuckle.

"um, well, my friend has a crush on you and i wanted to know if you had a girlfriend right now... so i'll tell her you don't, ok?"

"sure..." i smile openly, the silly crooked grin breaking out all over my face.

walking into lecture, i tried my best not to play guessing games with myself as to who this secret admirer could be, at the same time laughing at myself for even thinking about the whole thing. suddenly i'm a college kid again.

round two, i guess.

after the lecture, i attended my first capoeira lesson in at least three years. we started the lesson in a dance studio on campus, and then went to a nearby park to play the jogo.

jogo: successive capoeira dancing "matches", where all but two of the capoeiristas stand in a circle, clapping and singing traditional songs in portuguese [capoeira is a brazilian martial art]. the two in the middle have a match, spinning, cartwheeling, throwing kicks, etc. the jogo continues until everyone has had a match at least once.

it was fun -- a great break from the serious, "hard" fighting styles that i've grown accustomed to. i can definitely see how people might say that b-boying has its roots in capoeira. anyways, my right shoulder is sore from walking on my hands [!], and the soles of my feet are dirty from jumping around in the grass. i can still feel the warmth of the sun, even though it's deep into the evening and rain is falling outside my window.

time for some more studying, a little meditation, then dreams of secret admirers and solemn talks with mestre bimba.