10 Feel Good Moments

Every once in a while, my cousin will say, “Let’s play the Feel Good game.” And invariably, it will make whoever plays feel good.  Why?  Simple.  We just take turns saying what makes us feel good.  So let’s play!

Since turns take longer this way, I’ll put up 10.  This isn’t “of all time,” but it’s 10 that I can think of.

1. Waking up warm and refreshed, ready for another day…and then going back to sleep
2. Falling asleep in the sunlight on the floor, in bed, or on the couch
3. Cooking something random and then realizing it tastes good.  It’s like winning the freaking lottery.
4. Winning the lottery.  Well, since I haven’t done that yet, how about winning that game where you have to stop the light on at the top and you win 1000 tickets.  How about winning it 9 times in one night and having random people give you coins to win tickets for them?  Aw, yeah.
5. Two weeks in Canada with your best friends.
6. Making someone laugh.  Making someone smile.  Reversing someone’s bad day.
7. Fixing someone’s problems, or helping someone reach their goals, their dreams, and their aspirations.
8. Completing a Tetris.  Or a sudoku.
9. Getting a new move.  Er, I’m talking about real life, like breakdancing or tricking, but I guess Pokemon counts too.
10. Gathering all 150 Pokemon.  Screw the other three hundred or whatever – Red & Blue forever!

Oh shit! Last Minute Cool!

I have ten minutes to convince myself that this post is “cool.”

I think I will spend the first two minutes putting lotion on my hands, because they are abominably dry.

I’ve been reading a lot of translated Chinese poetry lately.  Perhaps I’ll try some poetry?

Child, do you remember me?
You sat upon my lap some nights
Child, is that spark of life I see
The one I saw so long ago?

Father, do you remember me?
I sat upon your hard-won hearth
Father, the fire of late has sadly dimmed
As the wood returns to earth.

Brother, Sister, call my name
I wander in this darkened forest
And I’ve lost my guiding flame

The Sean Hsu Diaries – Day 2

Dear reader,

I have been given the unique pleasure of being allowed to publish Sean Hsu’s personal diary. As you may know, Sean Hsu was my roommate and a close friend of mine before he graduated and moved on to bigger and better things. Much bigger, and much better things.

Without further ado, I present the real Sean Hsu.

---

Dear Diary,

Last night was a mess.  I was tossing and turning, caught between a blond and a brunette.  Between the blond muttering that she loved me every time she shifted and the brunette molesting me, I got absolutely no sleep.

Regardless, today has already been a success.  After abandoning sleep in the wee hours of the morning, I practiced guitar with Spanish guitar legend Carlos Santana.  He complimented me on my finger picking.  I taught him some John Mayer songs.

On the flight back from Mexico, I successfully held a conversation with a Korean businessman about the location of the washroom.  I also learned how to play tennis on the plane, thanks to the video series that my roommate gave me.  He may have been a pain, but he had some uses.

I expect to take the Roland Garros next year, in between studying for my MD.

One thing still irritates me about my life…but I can’t pinpoint it.  It digs at me.  I am as perfect as any human could possibly be…what else is there?

Bah.  Forget about it.  I will just continue learning Korean.

Signing Off,
Sean Hsu

Forgot to Mention

“Make something cool every day.”

I think that’s my resolution.  Or at least, a resolution I happen to be enamored with at the moment.  Who knows what that will turn into?  Hopefully, it shall result in cool things, but my definition of “cool” is suspect at best, convict at worst.

It appears that I edit video compulsively at around 2am, which is bad because, as so happens to be the case today, by the time 3 or 4am rolls around, I’m starving.  It doesn’t really matter how much I consume for dinner.  Now the real question is, do I feel like eating the twice-baked two day old pasta?  It’s as old as 2010 is.

I am clutching my laptop’s AC/DC power converter box with my right foot for warmth.  At least, I believe that’s what it is.  Another unfortunate effect of being awake at this hour is the blood draining from peripheral body parts like feet and hands.  Thankfully, my productivity enhancing computing machinery emits inefficiency in the form of warm bliss.

Who the fuck talks like this?  I certainly do not, at least not aloud.  I blame the hour of day.

Hopefully, I can maintain creative output for 365 days.  Right after that, I’ll NaNoWriMo every month.

Got my time all queued up for me.

Boy does that word have too many vowels.

The Sean Hsu Diaries – Day 1

Dear reader,

I have been given the unique pleasure of being allowed to publish Sean Hsu’s personal diary.  As you may know, Sean Hsu was my roommate and a close friend of mine before he graduated and moved on to bigger and better things.  Much bigger, and much better things.

Without further ado, I present the real Sean Hsu.

---

Dear Diary,

It is a new day and a new year, but more importantly, it is a new me.  I have decided to keep this journal as a historical document for the peoples of this world when they pause to wonder, “How did Sean Hsu do it?”  Of course, they’ll never really know – the Sean Hsu Effect is indescribable.

I have work to be done and my goals are like arctic hares cowering in an Arctic Tundra, and I am a Soviet SA-7 heat seeking missile.  Let us not take this metaphor any further than; I will blow them into tiny bits.

I am in the midst of mastering the Korean language.  Those Koreans, so smug with their peninsula of pop stars and R&B crooners.  Little do they know, Taiwan is both smaller and mightier.  In order to prove that beyond a doubt, I, Son of Taiwan, will descend upon their peninsula from heaven, held aloft by a nimbus cloud, and conquer their popular music scene with my sublime guitar and voice.  Once they have gifted me their country in awe and stupefaction, I will claim it in the name of Taiwan.

But first, I need to know how to ask for directions to the bathroom.  Important things must come first.

I fear I must go.  Being penned up with those savages in that miserable apartment and having had to fight claw and tooth for food and sleep has weakened me.  I may not be able to clear the hordes of lustful women from my resting place as I am now.

Signing off,
Sean Hsu

Looks like I’ve won.

There’s a quiet in my heart.  A stillness.  A complete sense of satisfaction that no howling will properly express.  It’s like watching a pond at night, watching the moon slowly dip into its own reflection and disappear while crickets chirp.

Not knowing when it ends until the sun rises tomorrow.

Until then, it’s a watching the moon and the stars, and smiling like you’re among them.

Good night.

I’ll miss you until tomorrow.

Fin.

Sense Derivation

I am the fallen operator in the singles bar
with the sullen look and the crossed out hart
Gotta different kind of look every time you check the books
cuz I’m banking on the money and the money’s with the crooks

tell me another story
my sensuous
I’m looking for a story with a moral
and every floor is a criminal mastermind morass
of minds melding in a high dive fashion

I’ve got eight different people saying what I can and cannot do, and I’m lifted by the fact that I can’t voice or act a bit

You’re not the one
let’s face it
I can’t have you
first of all
and I’m not sure I want you
my heart’s not on the market
I have to find someone else to focus on
and I would prefer that one be me

you can’t have my heart
because I’m worried about the consequences
you can’t have heard
because I’m seriously differentiated
I’m partly hearted seriously started down the middle
and I cannot worry about the third if I’m still unheard
I’m working on the way to my heart and it’s a path for one
I cannot single stun I’m working on ginger rum
and I’m burning up my candles in the middle of the night
it’s quite a sight, can’t you see? I’m the light in the dark
and this glow’s kind of stark, I got flow with my tart
tongue in your mouth, dim the lights in the house
we’re on fire, I’m a liar
I want you right now

That said
I think my instincts are dead
I’m working on zero
a little less known than liero
so jump start my mind
I hope you chuck all the rind
and whatever you find
I’m starting to wonder
if a mindset of thunder
gets passed this all blunder
my rhyme scheme’s asunder
as I break the mold I made
I fold I set the curve with that old pen and paper

And it all, it all almost makes sense
when you look at it this way.

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Silver baboons watch
quietly in the moonlight
fire engulfs the plains

I think I’m back.

This is a hesitant hi lifted from lips left bereft of air

(I just went running.)

A daily mail from a recluse banished to sunlight in a world of night

(I’m a morning person.  Nobody else is awake right now.)

Given up on pity and sacrificing dignity, the electrical outlet is my only out.

(You, my imaginary online reader, are the only one I can talk to.)

Guess I’ll compose my daily haiku here:

River water flows
Over small humble pebble
Aging centuries

Today’s Doorly Haiku (Busy today, sorry)

Wet tree frog croaking
Sun rises, sun sets on him
singing lullabies

*EDIT* croaks -> croaking for proper syllable-age *EDIT*

Rustic Fried Rice

I did not make this. I made something far humbler. Though I do wish I had a wok.

Had some rice and random veggies, so I fried them together for my first what-the-hell-it’s-not-even-4pm-yet home cooked meal.

I cut up some carrots and potatoes, tossed a few handfuls of pre-cut onions into a hot pan of oil.  After frying the onions separately for a bit, I tossed in the carrots and potatoes and basted everything by splashing in some water and lidding it.  Potatoes and carrots need to be softened up with some aquatic action, otherwise they’re too crunchy.

I got burned slightly when the oil splashed my stomach.  Ouch.  So shirts do have a purpose.

Right, I also washed the potatoes after I cut them.  They’re incredibly starchy.  I’m not sure if that was the right methodology, but I hoped to wash out some of that starch.

With the veggies done, I put ‘em in a bowl and lidded it to keep it warm.  Probably not necessary.

What rice I had had been made in the morning, so it was still wet and not ideal for frying.  Not that I know what I’m talking about – I just feel like wet rice would stick together.  So I broke it into chunks and tossed it in the freezer for a bit to chill it out.

Oiled the pan again (probably used too much oil in this little experiment) and threw the rice on when it was hot enough.

I got burned again with hot oil.  I never claimed to be the smartest person you ever met.

Tossed in some soy sauce, stirred it around, added the veggies, stirred it around, and scrambled two eggs into it.  Called it a day.

Actually, I called it Rustic Fried Rice.  Nick called it Western Fried Rice – if Chinamen were cowboys.

It was a a good effort, but a little plain. Lop chiang would have made the dish…rawr!  I need my Asian grocery!