You see that I complain bitterly. Were I not to complain about this, I'd be complaining about programming assignments (particularly those that ask one to write a class implementing a search method on an instance of an object defined in *another* class, that therefore cannot be called on said instance using the dot operator and can't touch any of the private stuff in said instance. Breaks abstraction in the most gawd-awful way. D00d, if you want so badly to teach this class in C, why don't you just teach it in C and free us from this limbo of passivity-aggressivity? I hope we can all implement a farking logarithmic file in C, by George, it won't break us! Especially since you won't let us use FileReader anyway! I'm still in parentheses, darn it all.)
In general I must complain more about activities I like than activities I don't like. I complain about work unceasingly and feel compelled to do it. Unhealthy. After all translating this isn't much harder than translating my father's prose - which tells you something about my father's prose. -_-; I'm conscripted into his projects every once in a while, and invoking the time-honoured translator's tradition of Stabbing In The Dark is par for *my* course. (Note to self: Stab In The Dark would make a great name for Ashley's sword.) As for his poetry, I only pretend to understand it. I didn't even know my father wrote poetry until about a year ago, when he decided to copy down everything he'd composed in his head since he was fifteen. He has about a book's worth at this point, mostly ci, some old-school octrains, and he's still going at it at the tune of six per weekend evening. I've explained to him how to set tabs and margins in MS Word a bazillion times, but it never seems to take.
And yes, my grandpa writes; and yes, my grandma writes; and yes, everyone in my family writes better and faster than I do and considers it a peripheral talent, to be called upon for amusement or the occasional published article. And people wonder why I majored in Computer Science.
Thursday, October 11, 2001 02:05 a.m.
Reasons I hate the English language
...#297 in a series:
1) There is only one word for "younger brother of one's wife" and "husband of one's older sister". This is patently ridiculous. What if they're talking to each other?
2) There is only one word for jade (two if you stretch for Sailon Moon territory).
3) There is *no* word for a great big truckload of things. >_<
4) Everything takes three times as long to write out, and xemacs didn't do anything cool.
5) There is no 5), I'm just being pissy. But hey, Mari compares me to Sei Shounagon! Maybe that explains why I sound alarmingly like Arthur Waley when I attempt to translate Chinese! ...Or not.
(Post Scriptum: Genji slash is *obviously* the leitmotif of the evening. I was just talking about this - about the canonical Genji m/m, rather. I received the impression from the text that it wasn't a big deal at the time.)
Tuesday, October 9, 2001 11:06 p.m.
God's trying to tell us something
...who else has the disturbing feeling that it's "if I wanted you to fly, you'd have farking wings coming out your shoulder blades"? X_x
Please to not expect too much of me before the weekend. The problem is that I don't have left-brain days and right-brain days; I have left-brain *weeks* and right-brain weeks - if not months. (A generalization of my marked inability to multitask. I can perform several tasks at once, but one of those tasks will be performed well and the rest badly. I have a secret desire to see a reform in higher education that will lead to every student taking one class at a time, for three weeks, for three hours per weekday.) Some combination of programming and Chinese readings has thrown my brain out of gear with the English language. I can't fic; that part of my mind has shut down. I can't afford to reboot at the moment, because I have a great amount of legitimate work, even money to earn, and too-little time in which to complete it. I am certain that the details would be fearsomely tedious.
Other factors. I have a desire to write original work, of late. Or maybe I'll just try to translate another of those Chinese BL pieces I can't get out of my head, and laugh at myself when I fail. Maybe I'll ask my father about the marked coins. It's the sort of thing he'd know about.
Warm front moving in. The evening is surprisingly milder, now that the rain has stopped. It was terribly cold the night before, but clear enough that I could see Pisces from the Wal-Mart parking lot. The moon is waning by more than half, meaning that my cycle's skipped September (it was a few days past full the last time). Not a good sign; I normally only miss exam months. If normally is the word...? ^^;
Tuesday, October 9, 2001 05:22 p.m.
It was, I think, much later
It's raining. Gackt is being imagery-prone in my ears. I slept this afternoon with my head pillowed on a library desk, dreamt anxious dreams in exhaustion, and my sense of passing time is unmoored. Disequilibrium; desire for wine, for escape. It is late, the world is foolish, and safety is illusory. I have to take public transport home.
Sunday, October 7, 2001 01:23 a.m.
Winamp, oh Winamp
"Cruel Angel Thesis" on the Setsuna skin. Oh ha very ha, software.
I have all my anime music on shuffle listen. Whatever happened to all the peppy popsong opening themes, amici mei? I mean, tunes like "Itooshi hito no tameni", "Just Communication", "Yakusoku wa iranai", "Hohoemi no bakudan", "Egao ni aitai"... It's as if someone toggled a switch circa-RK, and now even the shoujo series are on a j-rock diet. Basara, AS, YamiEi, PSoH - not to mention Kaikan and Gravi of course. Not to mention Saiyuuki. I watched a bit of Nightwalkers with Tan-chan the other day (it's sort of downmarket Miyu meets Anne Rice; my vampire fatigue level is *way* high but the design was pretty), and damn me if the OP theme wasn't by Buck-Tick. It's not that I mind, but I have the oddest feeling some sort of deal was cut within the industry.
I'd tell y'all to go hit the 404 page on soulsynth.net to read what it says, but that would be bad netiquette. So, ah, if you ever 404 on soulsynth by accident... ^^;
Erin: Happy Birthday, you wretch - don't *tell* me or anything! ^_^ And... uh... thanks for the cheat! XD XD
Suze: the bulletin board given on AMLA is here; the official archive of Freakjoy's work is this page - I'll have to do more poking through the main site myself. (Any collective that calls itself "tanbi without limits" is good with me.) The Chinese ficcing webfen doesn't quite work the same way as the Western one: I have a fleeting impression of bulletin boards and discussion forums interlinked, a great complex warren... I didn't even get a chance to explore the other day, because the first *other* series of FJ's that I encountered was a yaoiffic Triad epic that ate two hours I didn't have. ^^; It rocked, in that ineffable plot-makes-no-sense-but-pushes-my-buttons-anyway manner.
Heeeey... have you ever seen any of the Berserk anime? ('Amp just pulled a Kuja skin on "Forces", bless its twisted soul. ...And now it thinks it's being cute. Vivi skin on a track from the Card Captor Sakura Christmas Songbook? Bring on the sugar high.) It's sort of the Anti-Shoujo Show, with a gory death factor to make the gorge of a five-season X-Phile rise, but it's smart and never once cops out of a dramatic necessity - you'll wish it did by the end, but it doesn't even know how. Also featuring rentboy generals, kickass grrlfighters, and the biggest sword spotted in anime to date. (I'm not certain it's a phallic symbol, but if it were it would stand for Rocco Siffredi - that's how big we're talking.) If I could sl0re ye on any single series now that you're into AS, it'd be that... if *I* actually owned a copy. >_< Urg.
And belatedly (because it came to me late): you do realise that if Schwartz were pirates, Aya would have to be Horatio Hornblower, right? Okay.
Saturday, October 6, 2001 01:53 a.m.
Haven't been prolix for a while
Don't have the gumption. It's not that my life is terribly complicated, really, because it isn't. There just doesn't seem to be anywhere I can turn to de-stress. Both online and RL friendships are in high-maintenance mode at the moment, and we had better pass over schoolwork sous silence altogether... The responsibility of *caring* sits even less easily with me than the responsibility of work. I can't even read the papers to take my mind off things anymore: it seems not a day goes by without another plane crashing or a madman committing spectacular mayhem somewhere in the world, *not* to mention Nortel. And on top of everything else, I think I'm having some class of a demented delayed reaction to Shoujo Kakumei Utena. (Either that or I *am* encountering more instances of male chauvinist porcinity than usual.) I met Lorraine for a brief but delicious vanilla coffee at Al Van Houtte's today, imbuing my clothes with cigarette smoke in the heure bleue between class and labwork - we agreed that Japanese "parasite singles" know exactly where it's at, barring the "parasite" part which is a function of high urban rents. ^_^ Make me into a Rose Bride, will you? We'll see about that.
On a happier note (well, sort of), Mimi did a brilliant translation of one of the stories I mentioned yesterday - contextualizing introduction and all. :) Aesthe, but you don't need a password, because Chinese archives have to filter out NC17 PWP anyway - along with sensitive political content - no Party pr0n. XD Then again, there's no real equivalent for the word 'cock' in Chinese to begin with. Thinking about it I'd have to say mad props to the Mandarin BL scene just for existing, let alone thriving as it does... Of course, while Mimi is translating Freakjoy's classical-Chinese shounen-ai into English, Freakjoy is translating Mulder/Krycek slash into Chinese. There's a lesson to be learnt there, but my finger keeps slipping.
(And they put up more Baby VOX videoclips! ...Don't look at me like that, I can *so* like manufactured Korean girl bands if I want. Biiii~~~da.)
Friday, October 5, 2001 05:18 a.m.
I just read this series of short stories on a Chinese bulletin board. Short-short stories - about a screen and a half worth of hanzi each. Not a word wasted or out of place. Shounen-ai. In semi-classical Chinese. Plotting to make Poe weep. And poetry. The sort that scans.
...Have you ever felt really incompetent? I mean, *really*?
(OTOH - wow, Montreal's apparently a gay mecca. We're known for something else in the old country besides Celine Dion. Who woulda thunk.)
(OTOH2 - it's not "maple leaves and koalas", milady. Was it intentional? I've gotta wonder.)
Thursday, October 4, 2001 12:48 a.m.
Must to bed; blog answers on the morrow. I'm reading Guy Gavriel Kay's "Sailing To Sarantium". Oh, dear, oh, dear... were I to say for some reason that I did not like this book, I would run the risk of being branded an impostor - and a clumsy one at that. Who are you and what have you done with the *real* Sabina, wretch? ...Not fair to lean on the imperial fetish button, not fair at all. Unsporting. You know that one cuts my knees right out from under me, Mr. Kay-ensconced-in-Toronto.
October the fourth. Canadian Thanksgiving this weekend; snow before the fortnight is out, always. I have learnt yuki ni furikomerareru - I have what amounts to a linguistic fetish for Canadian weather. Yuki ni furikomerarete jugyou ni denakatta kara *sumimasen* (wobbly eyes) may occur too, eventually.
Wednesday, October 3, 2001 03:18 a.m.
Um, all the non-techies can skip over this one
Suze / W2: the thing about Java is that it sucks rocks to write maths in, or anything shorter than a fairly complicated data structure algorithm (which is the break-even point where the information hiding starts becoming useful as opposed to a pain in the arse). I would guess that nowadays a lot of undergrad programs use Java as the default teaching language, because OOP is all the rage and Java is object-oriented from the bottom up, as opposed to C++ which is more of a mish-mash. (*Useful* mish-mash, mind you.) McGill does, meaning that I've been coding Java off and on for 2 1/2 years, keeping the Sun specs open until I memorized some of the handier classes. It's just, y'know, a really stoopid language to write "hello world" in.
And yeah, my java assignment today (4th out of 10) took me about two minutes to do as well. ^^; If you've only gotta code one line, you've only gotta code one line.
Wednesday, October 3, 2001 02:50 a.m.
An obvious update
I archived. The MP3s are up now (astute downloaders will have noticed that the first one wasn't working either). The blog... is vaguely reminiscent of a kale-coloured version of the Drudge Report. But never mind that; all I'm attempting to achieve is a modicum of legibility no matter what school account I'm on. Scroll down for the layout explanation - and to see the strip, which I assure you is the entire point of the enterprise.
Comments :: The anime - I've seen to ep.4 - is Lain done better, supposedly the smartest show to come down the chute since Utena. The song is funky!catchy and American-inflected in a manner reminiscent of Cowboy Bebop. It's also hard to find.
Comments :: I've mentioned this often enough that I *have* to put it up, methinks... This is the "Julia for Rinoa" song, although you'd probably have to understand the lyrics to agree. The tune is Japanese enka; like most of mid-early Faye, it wouldn't sound out of place as a FF theme.
to know that one is living a moment of intense perfection; the
sensation of drowning in beauty. Also, getting a favorable blurb
on your work from a writer you yourself respect *^_^*
that time is slipping through my fingers, that there is nothing
I can do to stop it - and that perhaps it is my fault
Credit for this one goes to Tan-chan and her copy of Ja!Weiss #4 (I hail thee O volume of the unbreakable spine). I'd honour the doujinshika as well, if I had any idea how to pronounce her name kanji: she had about a dozen strips in the book altogether, and I liked her style immediately. It's... offbeat. Pointy-scribbly art, slightly wacked sense of humour. Like a college-paper comic - except with Schwartz. :P I didn't get all the jokes, and I couldn't translate all the ones I understood properly, but what can you do. And for some reason, the image of Schuldich and Crawford shopping for jumbo packs of single-ply at Wal-Mart strikes me as *extremely* funny...