Given its name, the Old-Fashioned is unsurprisingly among the most venerated of cocktails. I was initially discouraged by my spectacular failure at making them early last summer (using an abridged form of the IBA recipe). It wasn't until I went home for Christmas break and my Dad made some for the family that it felt like I had even the remotest understanding of the drink.
There are intense debates concerning what constitutes a "real" Old-Fashioned and recipes vary wildly. Some call for many citrus fruits, some call for just a lemon twist for garnish. Some specify that you muddle those garnishes, most not. Some include sweet vermouth, but most only have Maraschino for color. Some demand adding soda water while others damn to hell those infidels who would do so. Bitters are used for most recipes and the whiskey choice varies considerably from Canadian to American Sour Mash to Bourbon to Rye.
My father's recipe included a juiced slice each of lime, lemon and orange, with liberal application of maraschino juice, Jim Beam, and diet 7up. The result was rather confused and watery for my taste, but it did impress on my mind the importance of citrus fruit, the lack of which had doomed my first attempt at the drink. I surveyed the various online recipes and came to understand the ins and outs of making this classic cocktail. The defining principle is the balance of liquor, sour, sweet and bitter within the drink. The resulting drink is too well-rounded to be edgy, but too beautiful to ever truly go out of style.
I put together my own recipe using Meyer Lemons, a citrus fruit that I adore in general and that is particularly suited to Old-Fashions. I found that Rye works better with Meyers' floral aromas and I decided that muddling is deliciously Californian because of the emphasis on fruit. As always, my regards to the Apple House Taste-Testing Team (aka my roommates).
1 large slice Meyer lemon
1 teaspoon granulated white sugar
1 Maraschino cherry
1 teaspoon Maraschino cherry juice (you can substitute the sugar with a couple more teaspoons)
2 dashes bitters
ice
1 shot Old Overholt Rye Whiskey
Add lemon, sugar, cherry, juice and bitters, then muddle ingredients, juicing and crushing the lemon and dissolving the sugar. Mostly fill the glass with ice, then pour whiskey over the concoction and stir till ingredients are mixed and ice equilibriates. Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The California Aggie
UC Davis is not a school with a reputation for journalism. It shouldn't be expected to have a stellar student periodical. Yet it is slightly embarrassing that I myself am a better writer than most of the California Aggie's staff. And it's not just me. Guest editorials and letters to the editor consistently outshine the general staff's contributions.
Two Aggie columnists have something interesting to say and are more-or-less capable of articulating it. Michelle Rick works the sassy/clever approach for her column. Though the approach is deeply cliché and sometimes interferes with the actual content of her articles, she otherwise executes it well and, let's face it, it's a medium whose principle objective is to entertain rather than to inform. While I appreciate her talent, her flippancy and posed coolness have earned her one of my friends' undying hatred. Lior Gotesman on the other hand is a solid, if stereotypical, advocate of philosophy. He's hostile to thoughtless consumerism and passionate about the meaning of life. It would put me to sleep if it wasn't interestingly written.
The columnists have improved since last year to the point of consistent mediocrity (except columnist/editor-in-chief Richard Procter who is an excellent writer). There is no low hanging fruit for me to pounce on. The same cannot be said of the Aggie's editorial section.
Zach Han is the worst writer I have ever seen published. He generally chooses topics immediately after they have been beaten to death by mainstream media. He then manages to demonstrate misunderstanding of even TV news' terribly oversimplified explanations of current events. It's as if he took a fractured understanding of a Fox news report, applied some ill-conceived restructuring and then imposed some asinine moral summation he'd heard from a passerby. To add insult to injury, he goes out of his way to use big words and complex sentence structures beyond his apparent reach. The result is a series of syntactical and logical errors that confound the flow of his insipid conclusions. I am appalled by Zach Han's writing on so many levels that just thinking about it makes me see red.
In diametric opposition to Han is the finest Aggie writer I have come across, one James Noonan. There is no minority perspective so persecuted or valuable at a liberal university as the intelligent conservative's and James Noonan is living proof. He writes articulately and fearlessly, exposing hypocrisy and waste in our university and country. Noonan is no partisan hack, though. One of my favorite articles was his caustic assault on Bill O'Reilly.
Unfortunately, Noonan and Procter are in the stark minority at our campus paper. Most Aggie readers pick it up for the Sudoku rather than its bumbling calendar section, comic strips, articles, columns or commentary on world events. I find myself reading it more to mentally shred the writing than for information. Instead, I've taken to scrounging the faculty and staff's weekly periodical, Dateline UC Davis.
In contrast to the Aggie, Dateline UC Davis is interesting, competent, informative, coherently structured and unobtrusively written. It is especially good for finding seminars, guest lectures and Mondavi Center events. It also finds fascinating campus research to report and thoughtfully probes into campus trends and occurrences. By trying for less, Dateline is ultimately more useful to students than the paper the students directly fund.
Dateline is produced by the full-time UC Davis News Service, so its professionalism shouldn't be surprising. I just have trouble legitimizing the university staff having access to higher quality campus information than students. Furthermore, I have trouble understanding why the Aggie can't tap into the student potential that letters to the editor assure me exists.
Two Aggie columnists have something interesting to say and are more-or-less capable of articulating it. Michelle Rick works the sassy/clever approach for her column. Though the approach is deeply cliché and sometimes interferes with the actual content of her articles, she otherwise executes it well and, let's face it, it's a medium whose principle objective is to entertain rather than to inform. While I appreciate her talent, her flippancy and posed coolness have earned her one of my friends' undying hatred. Lior Gotesman on the other hand is a solid, if stereotypical, advocate of philosophy. He's hostile to thoughtless consumerism and passionate about the meaning of life. It would put me to sleep if it wasn't interestingly written.
The columnists have improved since last year to the point of consistent mediocrity (except columnist/editor-in-chief Richard Procter who is an excellent writer). There is no low hanging fruit for me to pounce on. The same cannot be said of the Aggie's editorial section.
Zach Han is the worst writer I have ever seen published. He generally chooses topics immediately after they have been beaten to death by mainstream media. He then manages to demonstrate misunderstanding of even TV news' terribly oversimplified explanations of current events. It's as if he took a fractured understanding of a Fox news report, applied some ill-conceived restructuring and then imposed some asinine moral summation he'd heard from a passerby. To add insult to injury, he goes out of his way to use big words and complex sentence structures beyond his apparent reach. The result is a series of syntactical and logical errors that confound the flow of his insipid conclusions. I am appalled by Zach Han's writing on so many levels that just thinking about it makes me see red.
In diametric opposition to Han is the finest Aggie writer I have come across, one James Noonan. There is no minority perspective so persecuted or valuable at a liberal university as the intelligent conservative's and James Noonan is living proof. He writes articulately and fearlessly, exposing hypocrisy and waste in our university and country. Noonan is no partisan hack, though. One of my favorite articles was his caustic assault on Bill O'Reilly.
Unfortunately, Noonan and Procter are in the stark minority at our campus paper. Most Aggie readers pick it up for the Sudoku rather than its bumbling calendar section, comic strips, articles, columns or commentary on world events. I find myself reading it more to mentally shred the writing than for information. Instead, I've taken to scrounging the faculty and staff's weekly periodical, Dateline UC Davis.
In contrast to the Aggie, Dateline UC Davis is interesting, competent, informative, coherently structured and unobtrusively written. It is especially good for finding seminars, guest lectures and Mondavi Center events. It also finds fascinating campus research to report and thoughtfully probes into campus trends and occurrences. By trying for less, Dateline is ultimately more useful to students than the paper the students directly fund.
Dateline is produced by the full-time UC Davis News Service, so its professionalism shouldn't be surprising. I just have trouble legitimizing the university staff having access to higher quality campus information than students. Furthermore, I have trouble understanding why the Aggie can't tap into the student potential that letters to the editor assure me exists.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Davis Rain
My freshman year at college I wasn't sure that it was possible to get sick of rain. It probably isn't in Southern California. That winter it rained for a month straight and in a brief moment of weakness I yearned for the sun's glare.
It's been raining for about three weeks now without indication of letting up. I'm still enjoying it. My favorite place in the house has become our bathroom because it's the only room with a skylight. You can hear each raindrop hit the glass and gaze up at the mottled grey sky. Never has pondering on the throne been so prime.
I photographed a drippy faucet at work in the Chem Dispensary. Davis water is so hard that most faucets on campus have an impressive encrustation around their taps. This one was particularly spectacular.
The soil in Davis is completely waterlogged. Every pore seems to be oozing moisture and green has been sprouting in unusual places. The weather's starting to warm in spite of the relentless rain, some trees are blooming and in between rainstorms I'm noticing some telltale signs of the Davis spring.
We're not there yet, but the hints have gotten me thinking wistfully of the coming season's heady atmosphere and raucous enthusiasm. It's the time when we revolt against winter's heavy cares and stop giving a shit about school. It's the time when possibilities stretch out. Indeed, spring is the season of Picnic Day.
I won't, as is fashion, be getting wasted this Picnic Day. My mother's visiting. Surely we can appreciate Picnic Day as a multifaceted event that can be enjoyed in many ways? I'm crossing my fingers for sunny weather, though. That KDVS parade I participated in a couple of years ago turned out to be a death march.
It's been raining for about three weeks now without indication of letting up. I'm still enjoying it. My favorite place in the house has become our bathroom because it's the only room with a skylight. You can hear each raindrop hit the glass and gaze up at the mottled grey sky. Never has pondering on the throne been so prime.
I photographed a drippy faucet at work in the Chem Dispensary. Davis water is so hard that most faucets on campus have an impressive encrustation around their taps. This one was particularly spectacular.
The soil in Davis is completely waterlogged. Every pore seems to be oozing moisture and green has been sprouting in unusual places. The weather's starting to warm in spite of the relentless rain, some trees are blooming and in between rainstorms I'm noticing some telltale signs of the Davis spring.
We're not there yet, but the hints have gotten me thinking wistfully of the coming season's heady atmosphere and raucous enthusiasm. It's the time when we revolt against winter's heavy cares and stop giving a shit about school. It's the time when possibilities stretch out. Indeed, spring is the season of Picnic Day.
I won't, as is fashion, be getting wasted this Picnic Day. My mother's visiting. Surely we can appreciate Picnic Day as a multifaceted event that can be enjoyed in many ways? I'm crossing my fingers for sunny weather, though. That KDVS parade I participated in a couple of years ago turned out to be a death march.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
On Waste and Creativity
Happy One Thousand Views to my remaining loyal readers out there. I wish the Dilettante had arrived at this auspicious occasion in better shape. I wish my posting wasn't so infrequent as of late, but I assure you that my priorities are honorable and well-considered.
Today John Lazur and I sparred over the concepts of wasted time and uncaptured creativity. I will confess, the conversation struck a nerve in me.
It came to a head because I was in a bad mood. We humans are essentially empirical beings. Our actions generally follow trial and error rather than active thought. Moods are consequently essential for dislodging our path from false minimums. So though John had been harping on me for awhile, it wasn't until today that I brought the issue to a head.
One of the most haunting aspects of my college experience has been the dogged feeling that I have neither grown nor improved upon the flawed person I arrived at Davis with. This is partly a product of the wholesale romanticization of the college experience perpetrated by our elders. Many people recall their college years being formative ones that combined crazy adventures with dizzying intellectual growth.
There was nothing so depressing my freshman year as reflecting on how much I must have been missing. It was consequently with considerable joy that I discovered and embraced KDVS and music the next year. Having an organization to identify with and access to amazing resources, I felt that KDVS was the first thing in college that I was doing right.
The crash in my grades precipitated by this newfound outlet seems in retrospect to have been inevitable. The boundless possibilities that I was so keenly aware of suddenly came crashing around my head as I was forced to recognize my own limitations. This was exacerbated by my realization that Davis was short of interesting, intelligent people. Apparently those with the big ideas, those that could get themselves past the bullshit and hang-ups of pseudointellectualism, had been handily whisked away to better colleges. I knew such people existed because I had known them in high school, but I found that Davis students were overwhelmingly either depressingly stupid or depressingly tunnel-visioned.
I found exceptions, though. One by one I cobbled together a collection of outliers that transcended the Davis norm. These people were about as smart as me and nearly as unique. Leo Protas was witty and affable, though we never completely connected. Adam Kendall and John Lazur were hung up on their brand of militant atheism, but were otherwise fascinating individuals. Allison was of course perfectly stimulating, if inaccessible. The two girls I've dated in the last couple of years, Kylise and Jill, also were dynamic discoveries of mine as well as a few other individuals that I never capitalized on. These exceptions ended up being impossible to congeal into a group, but my essential needs for thoughtful conversation had been fulfilled through patience and a keen eye.
That said, it has been remarkable how few hijinks my roommates and I have gotten up to considering that we have no shortage of ideas. We never formed a band. We never got anything to grow but a bit of sad garlic in our double-size plot at the Experimental College Gardens. We never started a bike repair shop out of our apartment. We never syndicated a "modern art" chain museum with forged art by fictional artists. We never hosted a clandestine bike race. We never used the library computers to fake ad hits for revenue on Howard's blog. We never fixed the stable of abandoned bikes that we "reclaimed" from campus. We never dressed up as each of our favorite Starcraft units for Halloween. We never killed and ate a duck from the Arboretum. Verily, our active minds have been sorely wasted through our years at college.
I started this blog as an outlet for my creativity, but for every post on here there are two unused post ideas. The truth is that a terrifically low percentage of my creative ideas are ever brought to fruition. The process of creation is a painful, abortive one. Partly, it forces me to only try the most worthwhile among them, but there is also no process that reeks so desperately of waste as creation. Every nougat of inspiration that fails to connect, every plan too oversized for real life and every idea that doesn't receive due time weighs heavily on my mind.
I suppose that we must in hindsight content ourselves with the best we can do rather than the best we think we can do. However, I will be the first to advocate setting one's aim continuously above one's capabilities. Discontentment is the price we pay for productivity and it seems a minor one-- usually. When discontentment overwhelms us we must remind ourselves of the calculus we once made so carefully in plotting our life approach. We must remind ourselves that some variation in fortunes and morale are to be expected along the way, and that if we only trust to our former selves we will ride them out successfully. If we did our calculus correctly, there will be no bright sunlight on the other side, simply a manageable cloudiness. We will continue to take what solaces we may and we will march on into the future, bearing our continuing frustration as our continuing pride. Satisfaction is for the weak.
Today John Lazur and I sparred over the concepts of wasted time and uncaptured creativity. I will confess, the conversation struck a nerve in me.
It came to a head because I was in a bad mood. We humans are essentially empirical beings. Our actions generally follow trial and error rather than active thought. Moods are consequently essential for dislodging our path from false minimums. So though John had been harping on me for awhile, it wasn't until today that I brought the issue to a head.
One of the most haunting aspects of my college experience has been the dogged feeling that I have neither grown nor improved upon the flawed person I arrived at Davis with. This is partly a product of the wholesale romanticization of the college experience perpetrated by our elders. Many people recall their college years being formative ones that combined crazy adventures with dizzying intellectual growth.
There was nothing so depressing my freshman year as reflecting on how much I must have been missing. It was consequently with considerable joy that I discovered and embraced KDVS and music the next year. Having an organization to identify with and access to amazing resources, I felt that KDVS was the first thing in college that I was doing right.
The crash in my grades precipitated by this newfound outlet seems in retrospect to have been inevitable. The boundless possibilities that I was so keenly aware of suddenly came crashing around my head as I was forced to recognize my own limitations. This was exacerbated by my realization that Davis was short of interesting, intelligent people. Apparently those with the big ideas, those that could get themselves past the bullshit and hang-ups of pseudointellectualism, had been handily whisked away to better colleges. I knew such people existed because I had known them in high school, but I found that Davis students were overwhelmingly either depressingly stupid or depressingly tunnel-visioned.
I found exceptions, though. One by one I cobbled together a collection of outliers that transcended the Davis norm. These people were about as smart as me and nearly as unique. Leo Protas was witty and affable, though we never completely connected. Adam Kendall and John Lazur were hung up on their brand of militant atheism, but were otherwise fascinating individuals. Allison was of course perfectly stimulating, if inaccessible. The two girls I've dated in the last couple of years, Kylise and Jill, also were dynamic discoveries of mine as well as a few other individuals that I never capitalized on. These exceptions ended up being impossible to congeal into a group, but my essential needs for thoughtful conversation had been fulfilled through patience and a keen eye.
That said, it has been remarkable how few hijinks my roommates and I have gotten up to considering that we have no shortage of ideas. We never formed a band. We never got anything to grow but a bit of sad garlic in our double-size plot at the Experimental College Gardens. We never started a bike repair shop out of our apartment. We never syndicated a "modern art" chain museum with forged art by fictional artists. We never hosted a clandestine bike race. We never used the library computers to fake ad hits for revenue on Howard's blog. We never fixed the stable of abandoned bikes that we "reclaimed" from campus. We never dressed up as each of our favorite Starcraft units for Halloween. We never killed and ate a duck from the Arboretum. Verily, our active minds have been sorely wasted through our years at college.
I started this blog as an outlet for my creativity, but for every post on here there are two unused post ideas. The truth is that a terrifically low percentage of my creative ideas are ever brought to fruition. The process of creation is a painful, abortive one. Partly, it forces me to only try the most worthwhile among them, but there is also no process that reeks so desperately of waste as creation. Every nougat of inspiration that fails to connect, every plan too oversized for real life and every idea that doesn't receive due time weighs heavily on my mind.
I suppose that we must in hindsight content ourselves with the best we can do rather than the best we think we can do. However, I will be the first to advocate setting one's aim continuously above one's capabilities. Discontentment is the price we pay for productivity and it seems a minor one-- usually. When discontentment overwhelms us we must remind ourselves of the calculus we once made so carefully in plotting our life approach. We must remind ourselves that some variation in fortunes and morale are to be expected along the way, and that if we only trust to our former selves we will ride them out successfully. If we did our calculus correctly, there will be no bright sunlight on the other side, simply a manageable cloudiness. We will continue to take what solaces we may and we will march on into the future, bearing our continuing frustration as our continuing pride. Satisfaction is for the weak.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Craft Beer
I have a new hero and his name is Ken Grossman. He just finished giving a guest lecture at my Introduction to Beer and Brewing class and he is the cofounder and owner of Sierra Nevada Brewing Company. He's handsome too, a true American Hero. He sits on the right with Sierra's since-retired cofounder Paul Camusi.
This instigated the following recounting of my beer discoveries:
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale- With it's consummately American "Cascade" hops and striking bitterness, this beer played a major role in forging the style known as American Pale Ale. Though there are many close contenders for the best beer of this category, my house's taste-testing has firmly set this classic at the top of the heap.
Pilsner Urquell- I'm as much of a fan of drinking local as the next person, but you can't ignore the rest of the world and you certainly can't boycott a drink so self-assured and likeable as this. It's sweet yet balanced and perfectly approachable.
New Belgium's Skinny Dip- As is the tendency with New Belgium, the makers of Fat Tire, the malt has a fair bit of caramel, even bordering on subtle charring. It was that element in this summer ale that blew my mind with it's grilled vegetable undertones.
Gordon Biersch's Marzen- Another California beer institution, Gordon Biersch's Marzen is more accessible than Sierra's Pale Ale. It's sweet and fruity and malty. Recommended for those of you not yet entirely won over by beer.
Leffe- This Belgian beer completely baffled me at the get-go. It embodied everything I disliked about beer. It's corn syrupy and has a back-of-the-mouth bitterness that seems plain sneaky. Over the course of drinking it my assumptions underwent a paradigm shift. It's so bad it's good and it's so deliberately carried out that I can't help but admire it. That said, it's not the sort of thing I expect to buy much of.
Jill, who is no beer enthusiast, was elated at the beer and bought an entire six pack. Then she realized she didn't love Leffe as much as her memory had built it up. Take this as you will.
Shiner Bock- A lecture about various types of beer left me most excited about the existence of dark lagers, particularly Bocks. I went to the store and bought the only Bock on the shelf and it was glorious. I can't say anything about the merits of the brand due to my limited experience, but what a great style of beer.
Kirkland Beer- Howard came home from winter break with a selection of Kirkland beers. What will they think of next? Howard reported paying seventy five cents per bottle. As you might imagine the product was quite good but not definitive in any way. It's a great way to drink distinctive beer a greater proportion of the time.
As it is, our household vascillates between craft beer and mainstream lagers. I have nothing bad to say about domestic lagers, except that they taste much better if you haven't had them for a while (PBR in particular). My professor, Charles Bamforth, is always talking about how they are extremely finely made beers, though they have very little flavor. He explains that companies have little incentive to skimp on ingredients because ingredients compose a minor component of a beer's wholesale value and that the beers lack flavor because demand favors inoffensive beer. You silly, silly people.
This instigated the following recounting of my beer discoveries:
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale- With it's consummately American "Cascade" hops and striking bitterness, this beer played a major role in forging the style known as American Pale Ale. Though there are many close contenders for the best beer of this category, my house's taste-testing has firmly set this classic at the top of the heap.
Pilsner Urquell- I'm as much of a fan of drinking local as the next person, but you can't ignore the rest of the world and you certainly can't boycott a drink so self-assured and likeable as this. It's sweet yet balanced and perfectly approachable.
New Belgium's Skinny Dip- As is the tendency with New Belgium, the makers of Fat Tire, the malt has a fair bit of caramel, even bordering on subtle charring. It was that element in this summer ale that blew my mind with it's grilled vegetable undertones.
Gordon Biersch's Marzen- Another California beer institution, Gordon Biersch's Marzen is more accessible than Sierra's Pale Ale. It's sweet and fruity and malty. Recommended for those of you not yet entirely won over by beer.
Leffe- This Belgian beer completely baffled me at the get-go. It embodied everything I disliked about beer. It's corn syrupy and has a back-of-the-mouth bitterness that seems plain sneaky. Over the course of drinking it my assumptions underwent a paradigm shift. It's so bad it's good and it's so deliberately carried out that I can't help but admire it. That said, it's not the sort of thing I expect to buy much of.
Jill, who is no beer enthusiast, was elated at the beer and bought an entire six pack. Then she realized she didn't love Leffe as much as her memory had built it up. Take this as you will.
Shiner Bock- A lecture about various types of beer left me most excited about the existence of dark lagers, particularly Bocks. I went to the store and bought the only Bock on the shelf and it was glorious. I can't say anything about the merits of the brand due to my limited experience, but what a great style of beer.
Kirkland Beer- Howard came home from winter break with a selection of Kirkland beers. What will they think of next? Howard reported paying seventy five cents per bottle. As you might imagine the product was quite good but not definitive in any way. It's a great way to drink distinctive beer a greater proportion of the time.
As it is, our household vascillates between craft beer and mainstream lagers. I have nothing bad to say about domestic lagers, except that they taste much better if you haven't had them for a while (PBR in particular). My professor, Charles Bamforth, is always talking about how they are extremely finely made beers, though they have very little flavor. He explains that companies have little incentive to skimp on ingredients because ingredients compose a minor component of a beer's wholesale value and that the beers lack flavor because demand favors inoffensive beer. You silly, silly people.
Monday, February 2, 2009
25 Facts About Max
Like so many things, my first reaction to the "25 Things" meme was haughty but after a few weeks continued exposure to people's various lists I came around. Without an obvious route to entertaining the audience I think writing about oneself is poor form. That may come as surprise considering my particularly intense self-love and the very fact that I write a blog. However, I feel that, properly done, blogs manage to entertain while simultaneously wallow in self-absorption. It's become apparent that "25 Things" share that quality. Thus, I present 25 Facts About Max:
1. I am didactic. I'm always explaining things to people whether or not they're curious, because if they aren't curious, they ought to be. I'm enriching their lives!
2. I am a critic. Like a movie critic, except of everything.
3. I love to argue. Or at least I have a hard time not instigating arguments and a hard time extricating myself from them. I enjoy the exchange of ideas and the friendly competition.
4. I love getting schooled in an argument. Of course I'm disconcerted at first, because that rarely happens, but it's nice to be reminded that I still have things to learn. Props to Aaron Robinson for schooling me in history this past October.
5. If I thought I had the talent my ideal job would be writing.
6. I'm so sick of hearing about and seeing Obama everywhere. Stop beating him to death! Nobody can hold up to these obscene expectations. He is not Jesus.
7. I bicycle everywhere and almost always take the stairs. This is motivated by impatience rather than by health or environmental considerations.
8. Apparently I have a bit of a lisp. I had no idea until this past summer when I was listening to a recording of my radio show and I mentioned to Brandon that it almost sounded like I had a lisp, and he was like, "Yeah, you do a little."
9. I'm an Eagle Scout. Everyone seems surprised to hear that one. Go figure...
10. I was taught to try anything once. I think my parents meant food, not everything. My dad was pretty disconcerted when I took a puff of his friend's cigar when offered, like I'd transgressed some bond of trust. I'm just extending the rule he taught me so well.
11. That said, addictive substances scare the crap out of me. It has only recently occurred to me that a coffee addiction might be a net positive.
12. I approach my life very analytically. I approach my politics very analytically. People tell me it comes off cold when I approach lifesaving legislation as a numbers game, who knew?
13. That said, I believe logic to be a flawed system. Socrates is a douche.
14. I am a moral relativist and do not believe that any principle is absolute.
15. I consider creativity to be a major component of intellect and I consider intellect to be the most important quality in a person.
16. I grew up in a household culture where we constantly made fun of eachother's quirks and flaws. I love people who can take that sort of abuse and I love still more those who can also dish it out.
17. In the early stages of my music obsession I sold my soul to allmusic.com for it's wisdom. Even now, you'll find my opinions of albums and artists to suspiciously mirror star ratings found on the site.
18. I'm fascinated by the androgyny of glam rock. I think it'd be totally badass to dress like the New York Dolls.
19. Four staples compose the majority of my calorie intake: frozen pizza, potatoes with cheese, chili with rice, and beer.
20. Freshman year I was named "honorary asian" by a group of asian kids on my floor, cause I was better with chopsticks and ate weirder stuff than they did. Later they revoked it, but it was for personal reasons. They just didn't like me anymore. Or maybe I sucked too much at Smash Bros...
21. I grew up helping my dad make wine, yet I prefer beer. Oh the shame. But wine is such a heavy drunk.
22. I own 31 vinyl LPs because it's trendy, but I don't even have a record player.
23. I think we are in the midst of the greatest golden age the world has ever seen.
24. The justification for every financial corner I cut (and I rarely buy required textbooks) is that I am saving up to travel.
25. My first kiss was within the last six months.
1. I am didactic. I'm always explaining things to people whether or not they're curious, because if they aren't curious, they ought to be. I'm enriching their lives!
2. I am a critic. Like a movie critic, except of everything.
3. I love to argue. Or at least I have a hard time not instigating arguments and a hard time extricating myself from them. I enjoy the exchange of ideas and the friendly competition.
4. I love getting schooled in an argument. Of course I'm disconcerted at first, because that rarely happens, but it's nice to be reminded that I still have things to learn. Props to Aaron Robinson for schooling me in history this past October.
5. If I thought I had the talent my ideal job would be writing.
6. I'm so sick of hearing about and seeing Obama everywhere. Stop beating him to death! Nobody can hold up to these obscene expectations. He is not Jesus.
7. I bicycle everywhere and almost always take the stairs. This is motivated by impatience rather than by health or environmental considerations.
8. Apparently I have a bit of a lisp. I had no idea until this past summer when I was listening to a recording of my radio show and I mentioned to Brandon that it almost sounded like I had a lisp, and he was like, "Yeah, you do a little."
9. I'm an Eagle Scout. Everyone seems surprised to hear that one. Go figure...
10. I was taught to try anything once. I think my parents meant food, not everything. My dad was pretty disconcerted when I took a puff of his friend's cigar when offered, like I'd transgressed some bond of trust. I'm just extending the rule he taught me so well.
11. That said, addictive substances scare the crap out of me. It has only recently occurred to me that a coffee addiction might be a net positive.
12. I approach my life very analytically. I approach my politics very analytically. People tell me it comes off cold when I approach lifesaving legislation as a numbers game, who knew?
13. That said, I believe logic to be a flawed system. Socrates is a douche.
14. I am a moral relativist and do not believe that any principle is absolute.
15. I consider creativity to be a major component of intellect and I consider intellect to be the most important quality in a person.
16. I grew up in a household culture where we constantly made fun of eachother's quirks and flaws. I love people who can take that sort of abuse and I love still more those who can also dish it out.
17. In the early stages of my music obsession I sold my soul to allmusic.com for it's wisdom. Even now, you'll find my opinions of albums and artists to suspiciously mirror star ratings found on the site.
18. I'm fascinated by the androgyny of glam rock. I think it'd be totally badass to dress like the New York Dolls.
19. Four staples compose the majority of my calorie intake: frozen pizza, potatoes with cheese, chili with rice, and beer.
20. Freshman year I was named "honorary asian" by a group of asian kids on my floor, cause I was better with chopsticks and ate weirder stuff than they did. Later they revoked it, but it was for personal reasons. They just didn't like me anymore. Or maybe I sucked too much at Smash Bros...
21. I grew up helping my dad make wine, yet I prefer beer. Oh the shame. But wine is such a heavy drunk.
22. I own 31 vinyl LPs because it's trendy, but I don't even have a record player.
23. I think we are in the midst of the greatest golden age the world has ever seen.
24. The justification for every financial corner I cut (and I rarely buy required textbooks) is that I am saving up to travel.
25. My first kiss was within the last six months.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
New Year's Update
I've got a girlfriend. I've been dating Jillian Miller for a couple of months now and things are going very, very well. Those counting will realize that that makes Jill my first girlfriend, so on top of absolutely adoring her I am also flushed with the elation that comes when everything is brand new.
I'll be doing a lot of reading this quarter due to my humanities heavy course load. Good literature always makes me want to start writing. Not blogging, mind you, I've always wanted to write the next great American novel. I will too. I've already got the plot outline so now I'm just fleshing it out. It occurred to me that the basic outline is a straight rip from the Star Wars saga, but no worries, most literature is anyways.
After two months of riding Brandon's bike while I procrastinated fixing a simple flat, I'm finally back on the Ash Maiden. After Brandon's beautiful monstrosity, the Maiden feels like a toy in my hands. I forgot what it feels like to fly.
I'll be doing a lot of reading this quarter due to my humanities heavy course load. Good literature always makes me want to start writing. Not blogging, mind you, I've always wanted to write the next great American novel. I will too. I've already got the plot outline so now I'm just fleshing it out. It occurred to me that the basic outline is a straight rip from the Star Wars saga, but no worries, most literature is anyways.
After two months of riding Brandon's bike while I procrastinated fixing a simple flat, I'm finally back on the Ash Maiden. After Brandon's beautiful monstrosity, the Maiden feels like a toy in my hands. I forgot what it feels like to fly.
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