The Fun Times (or lack thereof) in My Life

will-has-a-hipsterland-page:

clockwourk:

Pokemon Blue Version

Pokemon Red Version

Pokemon Green Version

Pokemon Yellow Version

Pokemon Pinball

Pokemon Gold Version

Pokemon Silver Version

Pokemon Crystal Version

OH MY FUCKING GOD

This is the most important thing I’ll ever reblog.

(Source: awildpokemon)

Y’know, in college, I’ve learned a few things.

One of those things is that anything is truly attainable - you just gotta want it bad enough. I was talking to a new friend I recently made at lunch over this idea of “drive” and “passion”.  We came to the conclusion that yes, there are people who are more naturally apt at things, and they have to work less than someone else to attain some level of proficiency - but is there a point in which talent becomes a disadvantage?

In my opinion, I think there is a very high chance that talent becomes a disadvantage.  This plays back on the philosophy that my coach etched into my head during baseball: love to be the underdog, love to have something to prove.  It just naturally makes you work harder. I think this year has really proven that to me looking back on it now.  Everyone here on campus has this natural drive about them.  They don’t just naively hope and dream, they work for their dreams, and I think that’s something that some people have yet to realize: you make things happen for yourself.  

Just a little though.

Always keep striving. Stay hungry, stay humble. No such thing as limits, only plateaus.

In college, I have learned a few things.

One of them is that being overly confident can be extremely fun. (In truth, I learned this from Tucker Max while reading his books, but I really wanted to keep the continuity of these openings that I have - so hey, if I read the book in college, I learned it in college - right?)

So I’m with my homeboys - Chop and Leezie - granted these obviously are not their real names, but it’s a lot more fun to use code names (I’m still Richard Tai … or Taifighter - both are equally sexy and get the job done).  

But anyways, I haven’t seen my boys for about 10 weeks now (an entire damn quarter), and we do what we always do when we meet up - eat.  In other words - to the Cheesecake Factory! 

Now, on a side note, Chop and Leezie haven’t been to the Cheesecake Factory before.  I, on the other hand, have had more than my fair share of these devious food factories.  In other words, I was taking the Cheesecake Factory virginity of these two fine gentlemen.  Yes, you read that right. 

So we get there, and after waiting for about 30 minutes on the Macy’s sofas a floor below (anyone who goes to the Cheesecake Factory in SF know what I’m talking about), we get a table with - prepare yourself - the cutest waitress at the entire restaurant.  I say this for a couple of reasons:

• She was cute.
• She had a genuine smile. (In other words, she was cute).
• And, well, you can probably guess the third one: she was cute.

And right now, some of you are thinking to yourselves: what a shallow dick.  To this, my rebuttal:

• We all do it, don’t be a hypocrite (mental scale of hotness)?
• And being a dick is in the name. (If you don’t get this joke, then you are not worthy of talking to me.)

She was an extremely nice waitress, and we all had a connecting moment with her over Instagram.  Y’see, Leezie was talking a picture of his pasta and the waitress talked about how she loved Instagram and something or other - at this point I was either stuffing my face with pasta or daydreaming, so I don’t remember much.  What I do remember is the classic sign of a Cheesecake Factory virgin: Mount Cheesy.

It’s very simple - your server asks you if you want cheese on your pasta, you say yes, they shred cheese until you say “Stop.”  Leezie, unfortunately did not know this sacred rule of the Cheesecake Factory, and, combined with the cuteness of our waitress, ended up with a  kilometric fuckton of cheese on his pasta.  

I’m going to let you think about how much a kilometric fuckton is.  I mean seriously, the cheese to pasta ratio was like the guy to girl ratio at a Stanford frat party.  

I looked at Leezie and said to him what a shitload of cheese he had.  I laughed. Very hard.

There is a reason you have your boys, people. It’s so you can laugh at them, because they are cool enough to take the shit, knowing some day they will laugh equally as hard, if not harder, back at you for some stupid shit you do.

Going back home was a nightmare.  We literally drove in circles trying to get to the 101.  The ironic part was that all we had to do was go straight.

Sometimes, I really do believe that Asians can’t drive.

Whether they can’t or not is irrelevant. I’m still awesome.

In college, I have learned a few things. 

One of those things I have learned is that there is, whether you choose to believe or not, a mental scale of hotness that we all use to judge others around us.  Don’t believe me? Well, take me, for example.  Right now I’m in the wondrous, wondrous coffee shop - the CoHo. 

Before I delve any deeper as to how my scale works, you need to know a little about me.  It’s predominantly Asian where I’m from - I’m talking to the point where I’ve learned to easily distinguish Japanese, from Chinese, from Tawiwanese, from Burmese, from Blackanese, and whatever-a-nese from each other.  My friends from home who know me are unimpressed because they can do this too, but dear friends from home, you would not believe how this skill can easily entertain my white friends.  Now because the racial demographic has changed at Stanford to predominantly white, a lot has changed.  

What I’m trying to say while sounding all fancy-schmancy, is basically, there are a lot more mixed/white people around, more specifically, mixed/white females, hot mixed/white females.

Right, now back to what I was trying to get across.  The hotness scale we all have.  I’m in the CoHo, and next to me is a moderately cute girl.  Based on how she’s acted and the vibes I’ve picked up from her, the hotness breakdown goes like this:

• She is cute. +1
• She is white. +5
• She dresses in a conservatively-sexy fashion. +5
• She is coding right now in XCode. +10
• She is in the same CS class that I’m in. +15
• She laughs at a nerdy CS joke I made. +20
• She snorted while laughing.  +3 (if you think it’s cute), -10 (if you think it’s a turn off)
• She knows a lot more about CS than I do. +30.
• As she leaves, she doesn’t pick up her trash. -50.

Adding this all up, she gets a total score of 39.  What does this total score mean? No clue. I added the numbers for shits and giggles. as you can tell, certain things hold a lot more weight than others, such as not picking up her trash.  I can’t deal with slobs.  Assholes that leave trash around like that are total douches and I lose much respect for them.  Needless to say, after she left her trash she went from looking like a younger, sub-par version of Demi Moore to Oscar the Grouch. 

Does this story have any significance? I don’t know, this is just me putting off a paper I have to write.  I thought I’d try to get the juices flowing, but I don’t think much has been done.

Update: This other white girl has been continuously trying to take sneaky glances at me.  She either:

 a) has never seen an Asian kid before
 b) thinks I’m ridiculously good looking
 c) is trying to see if I’m sleeping or not (curse my wretchedly cute Asian eyes)
 d) thinks I’m ridiculously good looking

I’m going to go with a combination of a, b, and d.  She has just never seen an Asian kid before so ridiculously good looking - and I do mean ridiculously good looking.

I bet her mental scale of hotness for me is something like this:

• Ridiculously good looking Asian kid. +50
• No, seriously, ridiculously good looking Asian kid. +50
• Just the right amount of short for a combination of cute yet manly. +30
• Drinks coffee like a sir. +5
• Looks edumakated reading the Divine Comedy. +30
• Picks up after self. +50

Oh yeah baby, that’s an arbitrarily hypothetical score of 215. 

Take that Oscar-the-Grouch-trash-girl - I’m 5.513 times hotter than you.

That’s right, I did the damn math.

In college, I have learned a few things.

One of the most important is that there are lectures, then there are LECTURES. Lectures are good, lectures are alright, y’know? You learn something here or there, dick around a bit in class with some friends - all in all - a productive hour spent.

Then there are LECTURES. LECTURES are the god-forsaken-why-is-this-class-a-damn-requirement kind of lecture. As I write this, I am sitting in a lecture discussing Gilgamesh, the Divine Comedy, blah, blah, blah. Now, I enjoyed some of the books, but damn, I’m half asleep and that is respectable considering kid next to me is straight laying down on two chairs and sleeping. Lucky asshole. After two quarters of these wretched LECTURES, I’ve learned the following key, key concepts:

1. They hold these lectures specifically in auditoriums with nice and comfy chairs because they know you want to sleep too.

2. Going to lecture and sleeping is better than not going at all.

3. Drawing phallic shapes all over your friends’ notebooks makes time pass quicker.

4. This time is best spent training in Temple Run.

5. Imagining a giant crisis and how you’re going to save everyone never gets old (my favorite is the one where I save everyone through my masculine actions and all the hot chicks are forever in my debt - don’t lie men, it’s your favorite too).

Update: The professor started talking about Star Trek. I’m listening again.

Update 1: Never mind, he related it to the Aeneid. -sigh-

Thankfully, this lecture is almost over. Now I get to go sit on my ass for an hour and listen to Spanish presentations - because let’s face it - knowing another language is absolutely inherent to your social being.

Yeah. Right.

Okay, okay okay… and okay.  So I’m reading a new book - I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by Tucker Max - and needless to say, I’m loving every single moment of it.  It’s sarcastic, obnoxious, funny, crude, and immature.  It’s a good book, and I highly recommend you read it.

Now, I’ve recently decided to revamp my Tumblr for two reasons: 

1. I need a new method of procrastination.

2. I want to tell everyone what happens to me (AKA - my life is important and you need to know about it).

I’ve easily concluded that doing vlogging takes way too much time with college life (whether you believe it or not, I do have a social life).  Reading some old posts - I was one very depressed kid, I mean, jesus, all I did was try to sound insightful - why were you guys my friends? I wouldn’t have been my own friend - but it’s okay, I grew out of that phase now after a symbolic and satisfying deletion of all those horrendous posts.  All I can say, is stay tuned for some fun, fun stories, or lack thereof. (Shameless plug of the new title - mwahaha).