As listed as one of my lessons learned in my adventure RPG writeup for Game Design:

always remember to bring dice

And also:

the player is not like me!

My friend now at UW several months ago was caught between a dilemma of living in Boston or Seattle. One of the major factors (besides the academic potential of the programs) was Will I find love?

A romantic sentiment, of course.

Yesterday was another moment when I seriously considered living somewhere else besides the Bay Area. Namely, New York City. I last visited last spring break. Did a lot of touristy stuff (partially against my will) and still did a lot of electic things. Yet the city didn\’t capture my attention the way Boston did. NYC reminded me of the constant bustle of San Francisco minus California weather and the laidback attitude. Yet, I liked the fact that something was always happening. That I could walk downstairs, find a cafe, people-watch, all within 5-10 minutes of walking.

We\’ll see. I often shy away from unfamiliarity, but so what? I should never ignore a great opportunity.

And as they say, if I don\’t like it, I can always move back.

I got new Kenneth Cole shoes yesterday out of a sudden urge to buy flats. A friend made me feel guilty about going somewhere and walking out empty-handed. And I rationalized my purchase thinking that such expensive shoes should be well made and worth it.

On a side note, do Jimmy Choos or Manolo Blahniks really make the feet feel better?

I now own 6 pairs of shoes. And also, walking around, I just had this very same experience (less gory today though). Now in $75 shoes.

What does it mean to be down to earth? What does it mean to be ditsy?

I have this irrational fear of falling down the stairs. When I was younger, I often would go down the stairs…slowly, right foot…forward each time. Making sure that both feet were on the stair before proceeding. Over the years, I discovered that this was quite abnormal practice and forced myself to adopt how everyone else walked with one foot on each stair, alternating with each side. Still, I never could speed up my going down the stairs.

Just like cows maybe. They can climb stairs but they can\’t go back down.

As I was gathering my things (to catch this awesome opera of Noye\’s Flodd and the Jackleg Testaments), I got a phone call telling me they were outside to pick me up. So I rush downstairs ready to run out the door (I had made them wait already 10 minutes), in the darkened stairway, I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs. No broken bones this time, but just achey knees. Outside, I realized that there was something wrong with my right shoe. Stupid cheap boots from Kaufman\’s.

I guess that\’s what they call going weak in the knees.

What\’s amazing about instant messenger is that nobody can ever tell whether you\’re truly sad, upset, angry…etc. Words are disguised. Exclamation marks, periods are used. We can hide our true emotions behind the screen. I truly appreciate that.

One of the safest methods of communication. A low barrier of entry. But it\’s also one of the wimpiest ways to talk about something serious.

Interestingly, I get a chance to write essays in the same style I write my blog. The topics are freeform and naturally about the observations I make everyday. At first, I found it fantastic and exciting that I could do something I loved doing, thinking that I could write so easily.

But now, it\’s the third essay. And for some reason, I am hitting a writer\’s block. I find myself procrastinating–writing this entry, organizing my photos, writing in my lyrics text, writing in my journal, checking e-mail, sending e-mail. Everything but writing the essay.

All I can think of is…I want to sleep.

It\’s always like that, isn\’t it? When something you love doing becomes your job, you lose almost complete interest in it. It\’s something you have to do rather than something you take interest in on the side–a hobby. Why is it so difficult to do?

One day. Waking up regularly at 8:15 am would be normal.

Hand socks. The next fashion statement.

Yes, I bought socks and cut holes in them. Oddly comfortable and so much better than the socks they gave me at the hospital. Now for both hands!

After 4 weeks, I am getting irritated with having a splint. And a broken right hand that I can\’t do too much with. I am too naturally independent.

Yesterday, I wanted to take out the garbage (because nobody else was). So I pulled the bag out of our plastic kitchen trash. The bag wouldn\’t budge. I pulled again with my left hand, but my balance was off and it toppled over. I spent the next five minutes struggling, just doing all the work with my weaker left hand. Then I dragged it over to the dumpster in the parking lot, realizing that I couldn\’t lift the bag up with one hand while opening the dumpster lid. I was frustrated. I was about to leave it there next to the dumpster, not willing to sacrifice my right hand just for garbage. Eventually I was able to lift the bag to one side of the dumpster. I lifted the lid with my left and clumsily pulled the bag with as little force as possible with my right. Sigh.

Boxer\’s Fracture, they call it. Too bad I fell while skiing not when I was punching someone out. For the latter, at least I would have a nice consequence.