Saturday, June 25, 2011

Nash Equilibria And Dominant Strategies

I know I don't go to class much, but surely I'm not the only one who can't understand this:

"Middle weakly dominates Bottom for Center weakly dominates Right"

It's 1am or so. (I plan to stay up until 4 or so lol).
Last exam is tomorrow.
Afterwards I'll probably have lunch, buy a pair of white docs (maybe), drop in at work, read a book, go to my moms and play piano.

Oh and, yeah, dye my hair.

I kid not. : )

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Really Hate Internet Explorer 9

Why on earth is the favourites button all the way in the corner?

Statistically, one's mouse is on the left side of the screen more than the right, and - although this is just conjecture - surely I'm not the only one that navigates the internet almost solely by my favourites bar?

In other news, less than 36 hours to my Econ exam, and I've done 0 hours of preparation. I'm serious, I haven't even opened the book and I've been to three classes all semester.

I have been a bit of a shit about this studying business, haven't I?

Not to mention I have a Japanese exam the day before the Econ exam as well.

Let's see how well I can bullshit my way out of this mess, shall we?

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Passionate Life.

The passionate life.

It is a life defined by emotions, by impassioned engagement and belief, by one or more quests, grand projects, embracing affectsons.

It is also terms of frenzy, vaulting ambition, "sickness unto death". Essentially insatiable goals, impossible affections.

Philosophy is, or should be, a kind of magic.

-Robert C. Solomon, The Joy of Philosophy.

Monday, June 20, 2011


できることをしますが、 ほかのことをちょっと手伝ってくれない? 

いつも自分でがんばるのはやさしくないから、 手伝ってくださいませんか?

今の感じは「空」し、 何をするもわからない。
外で雨が降ったでも、 傘がこわれてった。

それでも、 明日はあたらしい日です。

Arimura Ryutarou - Plastic Tree.

Friday, June 17, 2011




Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Dearest Finance Department....

As much as I understand my opinion doesn't rank very highly, being an undergraduate student - not to mention one that shows up to 4/36 lectures, I'd like to make a few suggestions.

Firstly, thank you for recording your lectures. You have freed up a lot of my time during the semester, in which I did far more enjoyable things - such as wasting time and eating lunch - instead of attending classes.

Now, I know what I'm about to say is probaby down to exam stress (since the exam is indeed, tomorrow), but I would nonetheless like to point something out that may have skipped your attention.

1. Please don't use pencils when making notes, it's impossible to decipher, whether its a recording or in the lecture.

2. So maybe people did show up to the Monday morning 8am tutorial, but I bet they didn't after the tutor tried to answer a question for 15 minutes, crossed out his answer then asked "so what do you think?".

Actually, overall, it hasn't been that bad. I mean, it's been pretty bad, but I'll let the student evaluations speak for themselves. From what I gather about the general comments in the evaluations, you're going to have a hell of a year trying to reorganize the course next year.

Lastly, as a parting note, please..
for the love of god and all that is holy

It doesn't make any SENSE.


Yours sincerely,
An extremely irate student.

ps. Loving the random 3 minute total silences in the lecture recordings, because I know they aren't technical faults.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

The Hours, Days, Weeks, Months.

I want to dye my hair purple.

I think I'm wasting too much time. If there was a countdown for one's youth, in the form of a ticking clock, it'd be strapped to my back and I'd be flattened by its weight.

It's like time has been broken into "manageable pieces"; hours, days, weeks, months, but why is it that hours pass like days and days pass like months and the months pass like seconds?
And the years are trickling through the gaps in your fingers.

I want to play music and short-circuit the speakers.

Would you believe I have a book of Emerson's poetry on top of my amp? I like that kind of thing. Juxtapositions.
Next to that, sketchbooks filled with drawings of smoke and profiles, and profiles smoking.

This room is filled with me. The black guitar by the mirror. The chrysanthemum tea cans in a line. The band tshirts folded in perfect stacks.
I know every inch of this place, every contour of every item.
I want more books. I'll stack them on my amp.

I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm wasting the hours, days, weeks, months. I don't want to ask. I can't handle advice. Times like these, I "look like an only child" don't I?

I'm too stubborn. Won't listen. Don't waste time learning that, learn this. Become an architect. Become a banker. Should be like her. Should be like me. Should learn some philosophy.
Oh how the irony in that last part burns.

I want to run away most nights.

I wish I had wings, but a plane ticket will do. I'd pack just one bag and bring my guitar, like those ridiculous teenage movies. I'll climb out a window (and break my neck), making it to the airport just as my gate closes.

I'd like to migrate like the birds but escape summer entirely. I'll circle the globe clock-wise and go to Zurich on a whim. I don't want to be an architect. Or a banker. Maybe one day I'll learn to whistle.

I'm afraid I'll forget what it's like to be young.

So I write lines every day to remember each hour, day, week, month.
Maybe I should take photos.
I don't want to grow up.

Picture credits: Reita, The GazettE

Saturday, June 11, 2011


Hair bleach and
Buses and smoke like

Lights on a bridge
where there used to be trees.

[I want to love organic.]

Picture: mine.
"I want to love organic" from Closer - Plastic Tree.

死の青いスクリーン - Google Translate It. Do It.

My laptop just contracted the mother of all viruses, as well as the lovely Blue Screen of Death.

I'm on safe mode with networking - and may stay this way for the forseeable future, since I keep crashing after two minutes every time I restart. Sigh.

I turned on my computer this morning to see "your computer did not shut down properly". Hmm, weird. *two minutes later* "stop error blah blah blah" - it went too quickly to read.
But who doesn't cower in fear at the bright peacock blue that is the Blue Screen of Death.

So I turn it on again, schedule a boot-time scan, and it finds the MOTHER OF ALL VIRUSES absolutely everywhere! 3 hours of deleting and repairing and "moving to chest"-ing later...

*Blue Screen of Death*

Next, we restore it to about two weeks ago.
*Blue Screen of Death*

Restore it to a month ago.
*Blue Screen of Death*

Scheduled a disc check for (C:)
*Blue Screen of Death*

Another boot-time scan. (Which takes another 2 hours). No viruses.
*Blue Screen of Death*

Uninstalled a corrupt file and deleted it
*Blue Screen of Death*

Nearly 9 hours later
*Blue Screen of Death*

Screw this shit. And don't ask me to format, because I don't have the installation CD and clearly I'm an idiot for not making a system rescue cd. Which I will do at the next opportunity when mr.laptop DOESN'T have an emotional breakdown.

Seriously, up until this point of my life, the most I've ever had to do is click a button to run a virus scan. Then click another button to delete.

Clearly my laptop is having jealousy issues. It's watching me use Ipod and Phone (read: not Iphone) and the computers at uni and it's getting upset because I don't lug it to uni like every other business student.


But really it's probably the virus has gotten too far into the system and I'll have to format and buy another copy of Windows 7.

Or a new laptop.
If only they made macbooks in black again...

(Please don't get mad at me and explode, I was joking about the new laptop, really!)
((No I wasn't.))

Thursday, June 9, 2011

If I Could Be Anyone

If I had a thousand lifetimes to chose from, I would choose this one.

If I had one day to live, I could spend all of eternity remembering each moment.

If I could, I would live a single moment as you, and a lifetime as me.

Just because I'm curious, you see.

Draw Me A Map

Draw me a map to a place I can't name

Forget how and why, we're too young to care, too careless to heed

Take a photograph, to remember each not-line

In twenty-three years, let's look back on our glory days

Send me a message in a bottle, washed out to sea

No one is home, but the thought counts at least

Write me a bedtime story with fairies and wolves

With no good or evil, no plot or lines

And sing me a song with words from a tree.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Meet Me On The Star Ferry

Don't fly me to the moon
But instead, wait with me by the stars

They're just pretty words
But the lights from my window count, right?

A tiny speck
But so what

Let's not give up
But throw our backs into it like Sisyphus.

Meet me on the star ferry
To reach the stars outside my window.
("Meet me on the star ferry" is a nail polish color from OPI lol)

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

"On The Roof Of A 13-Floor Building, I Closed My Eyes And Talked With God"

In a brash and loud and colorful way, that fades when the numbers pile up

But if for example, we were reckless
nothing would change
because we're quiet rebels.

Why is it that I like high places
and the smoke curling from the end of a bad influence.

It's not like I believe in anything

I want to stand on a rooftop
and watch everything move

Maybe I'd find
"On the roof of 13-floor building, I closed my eyes and talked with God"
It's just me, talking to myself.

Based on a quotation from
Panorama - Plastic Tree

Monday, June 6, 2011

I'm Falling But I Can't Decide Which Way

I want to reinvent myself again. To hide behind another name.

Sometimes being alone messes with your sensibilities.
But being with others messes with your sense of what you are and who you want to be.
To what end do I want to be who I think I am?

It's that vague feeling of, I'm not quite fine and the world isn't all great - but hey, what's the name of that problem and why is it here at all?

I've broken two picks and I've broken my skin.

I want to record my youth in the sounds of piano keys.
With the notes of the one and only song I can (and want to) play.

If I push the sustain, maybe I can make things last longer here too.

I want a purpose and I think I know what it is.
But it's all down to me and I can't remember who I want you to be.

Let's sit inside while it rains and play until our bones break apart
Only, I can't quite see who you are in this dream and maybe you're not there at all.

But I guess it's ok, if I could switch "normal" off and on.

Find me so I can lose myself.

Aoi / The Gazette