A blog about anything I want. I don't need to explain myself.

Category: Uncategorized (Page 4 of 5)

Hwæt!

I’ve been struggling to write. I am not proud of my last couple posts. “Weeb vs Walt” and “Wapanese” are not my greatest works.

Anime is trash.

So are those posts.

What is my greatest work?

First off, let’s stop calling them works. I don’t have works. They’re not published or anything. They’re not critically acclaimed. They’re hardly acclaimed at all.

In fact, most of my “works” have been ripped to shreds by college English teachers.

Looking back, I had some rough teachers. I know I said I can be a difficult student sometimes, and that might have caused the colorful remarks on most of my essays, but I also think it’s hard to improve your writing when you’re constantly being told “you’re a bad writer.” I had a few teachers tell me that. I’m no expert, but I don’t think that’s productive.

I wasn’t especially fond of my teachers in college.

I liked one of them, though.

I had one teacher I absolutely adored.

I want to leave names out of these posts, so I’ll call her Doctor.

Dr. W.

Dr. W was probably the smartest, most interesting person I’ve ever met. She is the reason my English major had an emphasis on British Literature.

Dr. W was also straight out of an Indiana Jones movie.

Dr. W was a woman in her late 60’s maybe early 70’s. She had long platinum blonde hair and often wore a large trench coat with a pant suit underneath. To each class, she rolled around a large suitcase which I can only assume was filled with ancient Egyptian manuscripts or fossils of Germanic runes.

To each class, she carried a big, ear-to-ear smile.

I took three of her classes: Medieval Literature, Beowulf, and Arthurian Literature.

I loved all her classes. Arthurian literature was especially wild.

This is not to say Dr. W was an easy person to get along with. She was strict and stubborn and eccentric and more tangential than an 8-year-old with ADHD.

But she was passionate about medieval literature. She had the same tenacity for Beowulf as I do for animated television. And her passion was contagious.

And she was real and I respected the hell out of her.

The first time I walked into Dr. W’s Medieval Literature class, she was screaming at a student. This student thought it was ok to be on her laptop.

To be fair, that’s how most college classes are. You take your laptop out and surf the internet while pretending to take notes for an hour to an hour and a half. I’ve done this. We’ve all done this.

Dr. W has not done this.

Dr. W has a bachelor’s degree from Stanford University, a masters and doctorate degree from the University of Washington, and a Juris Doctor degree from Santa Clara University. Dr. W is fluent in several languages including Old English, a language not spoken since the 12th century.

Dr. W takes learning very seriously and when that student took out her laptop, she prompted a 20-minute rant about the degradation of our youth and how the use of modern technology in the classroom is the equivalent of an intellectual holocaust.

She almost made that student cry.

It was awesome and I loved every minute of it.

The point was made: no laptops in class.

The rest of class involved 20 students rigorously taking notes on her lecture, afraid of being scolded.

The student who was scolded for taking out her laptop, along with a few other students, dropped the class the next day.

I came back. I was curious and excited.

Her classes instilled in me a love for medieval and British literature. But they were also fun because of her tangents. She always had an opinion on something.

Dr. W had some interesting opinions. During the 2016 presidential election, she told us she always votes for a write-in candidate on her ballot.

Who does she write in?

Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor II.

The Queen of England.

She told us she thought the American government was incompetent and she wanted to, and I quote, “rectify The Declaration of Independence.”

She wanted a “Declaration of Dependence.”

She also believed in magic and fairies.

Well, she didn’t actually believe in fairies, but she said she wasn’t going to rule them out.

She believed in magic, though.

She believed that words have power. This wasn’t a metaphor. She believed that if you spoke certain words with enough candor and emotion, you could change the physical world around you. She said the Vikings did this.

Everyone in my class thought she was crazy.

I loved her.

I’m not trying to say Dr. W was pompous or mean spirited or disrespectful. I don’t think she was being disrespectful when she screamed at that student for taking out her laptop. I think she just really hated laptops. She had taught enough classes to know she needed to set a precedent early.

She wasn’t disrespectful. In fact, she was extremely respectful to her students. When referring to us, she didn’t call us students, she called us scholars. She would say something like, “What do you think of that, scholars?” She treated us like we were part of the conversation, equals, learning something together. She never talked down to us.

A lot of other English majors said they hated Dr. W. I think this was because of how much she cared. Most students took her classes because they were English requirements. But she didn’t treat the classes as a requirement. She treated them as an intellectual journey. She treated us like equals and had high expectations. When these expectations weren’t met, she would be incredibly disappointed.

Despite her deterring a lot of students, I loved her classes. And she liked me for some reason.

What is my greatest piece of writing?

I don’t know.

But I do know Dr. W never told me I was a bad writer.

She told me I was a bad rower compared to the British.

But never a bad writer.

And I thank her for that.

She was a good teacher.

Wapanese

In my last post I used a word in the title.

Weeb: a derogatory term for a non-Japanese person obsessed with Japanese culture.

Dictionary.com

Also called a weeaboo or wapanese.

I write about anime quite a bit. You know, Japanese cartoons. Some would say I’m a weeb. I wouldn’t, but some would.

A weeb flaunts their infatuation with Japan. I hide it away, never to be revealed in public at the risk of being called a dirty weeb.  

The term “weeb” represents a culture that hates anime and anything Japanese.

Anime is hated so much that it has created a self-deprecating subculture within its fan base. I am part of this self-deprecating subculture. If I overhear someone talk about anime in public, I cringe. I immediately betray them. I almost want to make fun of them, call them a “weeb.”

Because I also hate anime culture. It can be obnoxious and toxic.

Most anime fans will tell you anime is hated because people don’t understand it. I believe anime is hated because its fans have this pretentious opinion. Most anime is trash. Absolute garbage. And I still watch it. I must admit that too. I love it for its trash. Most anime is filed under the category of “guilty pleasure.” Much in the same way people watch ABC’s The Bachelor or CBS’s Big Bang Theory or listens to Nickelback.

(Everyone hates Big Bang Theory. They say it’s not funny and cliché. I understand why, but I still loved the show. Another guilty pleasure of mine.)

(And if it was so bad, why 12 seasons? Bing!)

Most anime is trash. It’s hated because most of its fans can’t admit this. It’s nonsensical and corny. Most of the time anime is full of plot holes and character stereotypes so cliché you’ll want to taste your breakfast a second time.

But every now and then you find a gem. A diamond in the rough. You find something captivating and profound. That’s why I watch it. It surprises me. Anime is built to defy expectations.

I sit through trash to find these hidden gems.

Am I the only one guilty of this? Can you honestly say you have no guilty pleasures?

I watch trash and I have grown to love the trash too.

But I will never call the trash a diamond.

Because it’s not.

Anime is nothing special.

But Disney is special.

Everything Disney makes is special.

They can do no wrong.

Weeb vs. Walt

Here’s a question:

Do you know what the highest grossing media franchise in the world is?

Pokémon.

Yeah, the Japanese video game your 8-year old cousin played where he caught weird little creatures and made them fight.

The video game equivalent of a tyrannical zookeeper grossed more than $90 billion.

Yes, you read that correctly. Billion. With a B.

Let’s put that into perspective.

Pokémon has made more money than the Lord of the Rings franchise, the Harry Potter franchise, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe franchise combined.

What is the second highest grossing media franchise?

Hello Kitty.

The Japanese cartoon character of a female bobtail cat living as a perpetual 3rd grader has grossed $86 billion.

Here’s another question:

Why Japan?

Five of the top ten highest grossing media franchises are from Japan.  

Pokémon ($95 billion), Hello Kitty ($86 billion), Apanman ($60 billion), Jump Comics ($40 billion), and Mario ($38 billion).

I believe the answer has to do with Japan’s rapid economic growth after World War II, often referred to as the “Japanese post-war economic miracle.” Despite the nuclear bombardment of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, Japan grew to be the world’s second largest economy in just under 20 years.

This was mostly due to the economic interventionism of the Japanese government and assistance from the U.S. after the war.

Against all odds, Japan in the 1960s grew to be the one of the wealthiest and most cultured countries in the world, second only to the United States.

This economic miracle allowed Japan the cultural proficiency to create five of the top ten wealthiest media franchises.

Although, this pales in comparison to the other five media franchises.

The other five are all owned by one guy

Some guy named Walt.

(Bing!)

Chaos

There’s a meme I enjoy. It involves someone recording google translate. They translate a word to French, sometimes a pop culture character’s name, then listen to it using the google generated French accent. This is usually followed by a poorly photoshopped photo of the character with beret and baguette. The photo is also accompanied with stereotypical French music. Here are some examples.  

This meme makes me chuckle.

They also involve other languages which I think is fun.

Recording the French google translate voice became so popular, it eventually spawned a new meme making fun of the language.

There’s a viral video of someone finding French homophones and putting them in a sentence to show that the language is ridiculous. Homophones are words that sound the same but are spelled and defined differently.

English: “A green worm pours a glass towards a glassmaker around eight o’clock.”

French: “Un ver vert verse un verre vers un verrier vers huit heures.”

English: “But granny even liked my dishes.”

French: “Mais mamie a même aimé mes plats.”

English: “Your uncle mows your tuna.”

French: “Ton tonton tond ton thon.”

Here’s some more examples.

The French eventually responded making fun of the English language which I think is long overdue.

French: “Minerai ou rame?”

English: “Ore or oar?”

Here’s the video response.

Well done. Slow clap for the French.

But I also think the English language is a lot more ridiculous. We deserve to be made fun of more.

Have you heard of the buffalo sentence?

The first buffalo sentence was written in 1967 in Dmitri Borgmann’s book Beyond Language: Adventures in Word and Thought. Dmitri Borgmann was a German-American author known for his practice in linguistics. This is the buffalo sentence:

“Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.”

Unlike the French translations above, the buffalo sentence is grammatically and logically correct. It uses homonyms, words that are spelled and pronounced the same but have different definitions.

There are three definitions of the word buffalo:

  1. n. Bison.
  2. n. Buffalo, New York.
  3. v. To outwit, confuse, deceive, intimidate, or baffle.

The sentence uses a restrictive clause meaning the relative clause does not need a comma. It also uses a reduced relative clause omitting the word that. All of this is grammatically correct.

If the relative clause weren’t reduced or restricted, and if we replace the words with their alternate definitions, the sentence would read as such:

“Bison from Buffalo, that other bison from Buffalo bully, also bully bison from Buffalo.”

English is kind of stupid sometimes.

If you want to have some fun with heteronyms, words that are spelled the same but have different pronunciations and meanings, read a poem called “The Chaos” by Dutch writer Gerard Nolst Trenité.

The title is appropriate.

English is absolute chaos.

Scrum

My brother and I had a conversation yesterday about sports, specifically which is the hardest sport. I immediately said ice hockey. Matt said water polo.

We realized that both are difficult in their own way. We had some other contenders: Rugby, Tennis, Boxing, MMA.

I still think there is no comparison to ice hockey.

I’ve never played ice hockey, but I’ve played roller hockey and I’ve skated on ice.

The technical proficiency required in hockey is tremendous. Imagine trying to skate on razor blades while five other players are looking to take your head off.

And on top of that, while you’re skating and handling a small rubber disk with a stick, you also need to know how to fight.

Fighting is almost always involved in hockey.

It’s technically prohibited, and penalties are enforced, but when the gloves drop officials let it happen.

Ice hockey is basically rugby on ice with a boxing match every now and then.

And if you think skating while being head hunted is hard, try swimming. There’s a reason we don’t have fins. We aren’t meant for the water.

Water polo is basically rugby in water.

Matt and I realized that our definition of difficult sports revolved around rugby. I think this is because the idea of rugby is scary.

I believe rugby was the first difficult sport and all other difficult sports derived from rugby. I have nothing to back this up. I just like to imagine it this way.

Bleacher Report ranked the toughest sports. They ranked each sport based on their difficulty in 6 categories: endurance, speed, strength, agility, skill, physicality.

According to Bleacher Report, ice hockey is the 5th hardest sport. Rugby, boxing, and Aussie rules rugby, also known as footy by Australians, place 4th, 3rd, and 2nd respectively. The distinction made between rugby and footy was interesting. Besides rugby there were three other rugby related sports in the top ten: Gaelic football, hurling, and footy placing 10th, 7th, and 2nd. American football, which I always thought came from rugby, was also included placing 6th. It seems the only sports having nothing to do with rugby on this list are gymnastics, basketball, and boxing which placed 9th, 8th, and 3rd respectively.

What’s the hardest sport?

Water polo.

Aka rugby in water.

It seems the hardest sports are just different forms of rugby.

New Shoes

Books? Check

Aruarian Dance? Check

Rowing? Check

Animation? Check

I guess it’s time to talk about Esports.

“Esports? What are Esports? Sports for the letter E?”

No no no my conveniently uninformed friend.

Letters don’t have legs.

But then again, they wouldn’t need legs to play Esports.

And that’s the whole problem, innit?

Why did I just go British?

“Oi mate, Esports is just a buncha wankers playing the telly, innit? What happened to blokes playing the beautiful game on the pitch?”

Esports: A form of sport competition using video games.

Google definition

“That’s bonkers, that is.”

You’ve either never heard of this or you’re rolling your eyes at the slight mention of the word or, on the off chance this blog has more readers than I thought, you’re a fan of Esports.

Or you don’t care.

In which case, fair.

But let me tell you where I stand.

I am involved in an 8-year long bet. In 2018, I bet one of my friends $1,000 that Esports would be in the Olympics by 2026.

“Youse a bit daft, mate.”

No, I am not daft my tea drinking friend.

I am just proud and stubborn.

Before you go off telling your mates how much of a wanker I am, let me tell you why I am confident enough to bet $1,000 on this topic.

“1,000 quid? Blimey! You got yourself in a proper jammy, bruv.”

Moving on.

The idea of Esports is controversial due to the different interpretations of the word sport. The definition of sport, however, has been argued long before video games.

Sport: an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment.

Google definition

This Google definition is terribly written by the way.

Wikipedia also defines sport as:

All forms of competitive physical activity or games which, through casual or organized participation, at least in part aim to use, maintain or improve physical ability and skills while providing enjoyment to participants, and in some cases, entertainment for spectators.

Sports wikipedia page

Now, as you might have already assumed, I don’t agree with the two definitions above. I think Esports are sports. It’s in the name, so I assume most Esports fans think so too.

But I get why this is controversial. Esports do not require physical activity or exertion.

I still think they’re sports.

But I am not here to argue about what is and isn’t a sport. I’ll admit, sports are generally physical. I’m not trying to convince you otherwise. I’m not trying to take anything away from the sacred word that is sport. A word that defines peak athleticism and camaraderie. Hoorah!

But, just like video games, sports don’t really matter. In this sense, they are both the same. At the end of the day, they’re just games.

But let me tell you why Esports will be in the Olympics by 2026.

The IOC (International Olympic Committee) is in charge of regulating and admitting sports into the Olympics. The IOC has changed its definition of sport over the years. The first Olympic games in 1896 held 43 events. The 2021 Summer Olympics will hold 339 events. Due to the overwhelming popularity of the games, everyone and their uncle wants their made-up sport to be included.

This is not satire.

Shuffleboard on ice is in the Olympics.

And don’t try to tell me curling is a serious sport for serious people.

The idea of curling could only be realized between 4 bored and cold drunks with a few big rocks and a broom.

“Dude, yeah this is totally a sport. This should be in the Olympics, man.”

The IOC has a specific process in picking sports. They have developed seven criteria to judge whether a sport be included. They are as follows:

  • History and tradition of the sport.
  • Universality.
  • Popularity of the sport.
  • Image.
  • Athletes’ health.
  • Development of the International Federation that governs the sport.
  • Costs of holding the sport.

What does the IOC define as a sport?

All events sanctioned by an international sport federation, a definition that may differ from the common meaning of the word “sport.”

Olympic sports Wikipedia page

The Global Association of International Sports Federations (GAISF), formerly SportAccord, defines a sport with the following 4 criteria:

  • Have an element of competition.
  • Be in no way harmful to any living creature.
  • Not rely on equipment provided by a single supplier (excluding proprietary games such as arena football).
  • Not rely on any “luck” element specifically designed into the sport.

Esports qualifies with the GAISF criteria.

Competition? Check.

Harming creatures? Nope.

Single supplier? Technically no.

Luck? Depends on the game.

Esports also qualifies with the IOC criteria.

While universality, image, and athlete health are debatable, the following facts about Esports cannot be denied:

The first Esports competition was in 1972. It was a game called Spacewar and it took place at Stanford University. This gives it a rich 48-year history.

This year, Esports have 495 million viewers worldwide. Global revenue surpassed $1 billion. Esports are popular.

The International Esports Federation (IESF), founded in South Korea, has 56 member nations. Its mission is to have Esports recognized as a legitimate sport.

With these facts, I’ll let you come to your own conclusion.

Will I be $1,000 richer?

As of right now, the IOC does not recognize IESF as a legitimate sports federation, despite it qualifying the IOC’s criteria.

But that’s not to say they haven’t considered it.

In the 2018 Winter Olympics, there was a showcase of popular Esport Star Craft II. Five South Korean Esports athletes were part of the Olympic torch relay. Star Craft II wasn’t technically in the Olympics as they were competing for prize money, not medals.

The 2021 Olympics in Tokyo will also showcase Esports. They will also be competing for prize money.

It seems the IOC is interested but hesitant.

Here’s the most recent development on the topic:

“The organization committee for the 2024 Summer Olympics in Paris were in discussions with the IOC and the various professional Esport organizations to consider esports for the event, citing the need to include these elements to keep the Olympics relevant to younger generations.”

Esports Wikipedia Page

I could do a lot with $1,000.

New gaming computer? Some nice headphones? Aruarian Dance on vinyl?

But I think I’ll start with some new shoes.

On Saramago

What if I wrote like this, continuing the same train of thought, endlessly and forever, not seeing an end in sight, exhausting the same sentence through the clever use of commas, to make my point seem somewhat more intellectual, and, god only knows, more annoying, because after about the 3rd comma it becomes mind numbingly excessive, and, when you read this in your head, at this point, the point you are at right now, reading this post in your kitchen, or on the toilet, or near your bedroom window, where you spy through binoculars on your neighbor, who you suspect is a murderer, but you’re in a wheelchair due to a broken leg, a leg you broke in an adventure photography accident, that of which won’t allow you to walk to your neighbors door, who you suspect of murder, and ask what, in fact, is the big idea, so you instead spy creepily from your ominous window, a window that is located in your bedroom, and, to be clear, a bedroom that is located at the back of your house, or apartment, that is to say, a rear window, where you read this post, or wherever you’re reading this, you are exhausted and out of breath, almost as if you’re running a marathon, but that’s incorrect, in this sense, it’s not really a marathon, in the most basic sense of the word, a word, which in fact, is not just a word, but a place, because, reading this post, it’s actually worse than running a marathon, in which most people, most people who run marathons, voluntarily run marathons, the exception being that of Pheidippides, the Greek soldier who ran the first marathon, in which case, he was not voluntarily running a marathon at all, because, the fact of the matter is, marathons, in the modern definition, did not exist, and his marathon was not meant as sport, but rather, and I cannot stress this enough, it was meant as a message, its contents being related to war, that is to say, a war message, about Greece’s victory, therefore being a Greek victory war message, to be taken from Marathon, again, not just a word, but a place in Greece, to Athens, another place in Greece, the mileage of the journey being 26.2 miles, at the end of which Pheidippides died, exclaiming tragically and dramatically that Greece had won the war, in which reading this post is not like most marathons, but rather like Pheidippides’ marathon, that being you are forced to read through this agonizing style of writing, much like Pheidippides was forced to run between those two places in Greece, he could, however, have probably quit, and, that is to say, you can too, but you won’t be able to say you finished and saw the end, that is to say the metaphorical end, that being Athens, Greece, but, then again, neither can Pheidippides.

This is how Jose Saramago writes. Jose Saramago is a Portuguese author who won the 1998 Nobel Prize in Literature. His works include The Gospel According to Jesus Christ, Blindness, and Death with Interruptions. I just recently finished Death with Interruptions.

I am not saying that I didn’t enjoy the book. In fact, I loved it. The story was well put together and, although generally unnamed, the characters were fun and fleshed out.

I loved the book; I did not like his writing style at first. But I’ll admit it grew on me. He’s a lot better at it than I am and at a certain point the long sentences blend nicely making it read like a person telling a story. It’s conversational. It’s also convoluted and repetitive and recursive and confusing, but so are most conversations when listened to. When you really get into the story, the flow seems natural.

I personally love periods. I hate commas. You’ve probably read enough of my writing to know that I enjoy short, terse language. I think it’s more powerful. Explaining something clearly in the shortest sentence possible is something that I was taught to be important. It’s a skill that I’m still working on. I always wanted to emulate writers like Ernest Hemingway or Mark Twain.   

However, I struggled trying to parody Saramago’s writing style. It was difficult. And your enjoyment of reading the long sentence above, or lack thereof, can attest to how terrible I am at it. I found that there’s also something powerful about Saramago’s writing style. Because every now and then, he’ll hit you with a short sentence. That one short sentence seems more impactful. His sparse terse language is that much more meaningful.

The parody above is not an accurate representation of Saramago, but it gets close.

But go ahead and give Death with Interruptions a read. It’s a good book that is extremely relevant with the current pandemic and quarantine.

As for me, I’ll stick to emulating Hemingway. Despite growing to appreciate Saramago’s writing style, you won’t find me writing like him any time soon.

It Doesn’t Make Sense

In the morning, you walk into your kitchen half asleep. You smell the earth. It’s the coffee you just made. You touch the white mug to your lips. It’s hot. Too hot to drink. You wait for it to cool watching the smoke billow from the top. The phone rings. You don’t want to answer it. The rising sun doesn’t permit conversation. The phone stops ringing. Your coffee has cooled. You sip. It’s bitter. You’re out of milk.

This story contains the five senses: sight, taste, sound, smell, touch. The human experience can be broken down into these five categories more or less. Probably more. There’s also the emotional and spiritual part, but let’s ignore those for now. These five senses quantify the physical human experience.

Sight consists of colors. There are so many colors, right?

Wrong.

Remember the rainbow? There are only seven colors. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Violet.

None of this magenta, burnt sienna, aquamarine, baby sky blue, mango tango, chartreuse, rain forest green, sad puppy brown crap.

There are only 7 colors. In fact, let’s go even further because orange is just red and green is just yellow and indigo and violet are just blue.

There are 3 colors: Red, Green, Blue. Also known as the primary colors.

“But Jason, what about white?”

Easy. White is all the colors.

“What about black?”

Black is the absence of color. But I like to think of it as a color we can’t see, much like a locked character in a video game.

Your entire life consists of 3 colors.

Kind of pathetic if you think about it. I mean, what are you even doing? Did you know mantis shrimp can see 12? A little shrimp can see 4 times as many colors as you. Your eyes suck. Step up your game human.

What about taste? How many tastes are there?

There are 5: sweet, bitter, salty, umami, sour. Sweet is when you bite into that 3rd, 4th, 5th cookie you weren’t supposed to have. Bitter is when you realize the cookies have dark chocolate chips. Salty is when you realize that the 5th cookie wasn’t a cookie but a saltine cracker. Umami is the cheese you found on the saltine cracker. Sour is the acid reflux you get due to the cracker and cheese being 2 years old and from the couch cushion.

What about smell? How many smells?

Smell is the sense most closely linked to memory. We have a lot of memories, so there must be an equal amount of smells.

Again wrong. How do you not know this? Do I have to teach you everything?

What’s that? You didn’t ask?

Well, I’ll tell you any way.

There are ten smells: sweet, fragrant, woody, fruity (non-citrus), chemical, minty, popcorn, lemon, decaying, pungent.

All of these make sense (pun intended) except for one.

Popcorn. Why is popcorn its own smell?

I like to imagine a bunch of scientists in a room testing different smells and categorizing them. There are a bunch of beakers and Bunsen burners and microscopes and… stethoscopes? You know, science stuff. One guy, let’s call him Steve, goes, “Phew! I think that’s all of them. We did it guys. That’s all of the smells. Every smell ever can be put into these 9 categories. You heard it here first. There are only 9. There are no others. I can’t think of any. We spent years researching this and I’m glad we’re finally done. We all worked hard. I think it’s finally time to submit our research.”

Then Jerry comes back from his 7th “bathroom break” munching on a bag of popcorn. With his mouth full, Jerry says, “Oh, are we done?”

Everybody in the room sniffs the air. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. All the tired and weary scientists look angrily at Jerry. Steve almost cries in desperation.

Mouth still full, Jerry goes, “What I do?”

Steve mumbles to himself, “I’m so sick of this I just want to go home,” as he impatiently writes down the tenth smell.

The last two are hard.

Can you quantify sound? It’s not infinite. There’s definitely a range we can hear. But when in musical form, there’s another dimension to sound: time. It’s the only sense that doesn’t occur in a singular instance. It can be played with rhythm and melody. Rhythm and melody need time. Different sounds evoke different feelings when played over a duration of time. In this case, sound can’t be quantified. How do you quantify music?

Quantifying music and sound is too ambitious.

What about touch?

I want to say it’s binary; either it is or it isn’t.

But that’s wrong.

Because there’s rough and smooth and hard and soft.

Is taste included in touch?

What about your insides? Is a tummy ache a touch sense?

What about pain?

I don’t know.

Let’s leave it for now.

What’s amazing is that we all experience these five senses. They all make us human.

Yet we often argue about them. We don’t see eye to eye.

“I love the taste of broccoli.”

“Broccoli is gross and you’re an idiot.”

We all experience these senses differently. We all have our preferences. Our favorite colors and tastes and songs. But the senses never change. These senses are always the same.

What’s different is us. We are different. We all experience the same human senses, but our favorite ones define who we are.

Our taste in senses make us special.

I think that’s awesome.

A Word I Like

Babel is a free and open-source JavaScript trans compiler that is mainly used to convert ECMAScript 2015+ code into a backwards compatible version of JavaScript that can be run by older JavaScript engines.

Wait, that’s not right.

Babel is a psychological drama film made in 2006. I wrote a 26-page paper on the movie for a class called Chicano Literature. Terrible class; hated the teacher. The movie is good, but this is all that should be written about it: Humanity is connected including Brad Pitt.

That’s wrong too. Let me try again.

“The Tower of Babel” is a biblical story. The Babylonians built a tower. The tower was too tall. The tower was cramping God’s style. God said, “You Babylonians are cramping my style. Now you speak different.” The Babylonians were like:

“Parlez-vous francais?”

“Gesundheit.”

I can’t seem to get it. One more time.

“The Library of Babel” is a short story by Jorge Luis Borges. In this story, there’s a fictional library said to contain all possible books with all possible orderings of the 25 basic characters (the 22 basic letters, the period, the comma, and the space). The library must contain every book ever written, every book that will ever be written, and every possible permutation of those books. Despite this wealth of knowledge in the library, most of the books are gibberish. Every possible permutation includes the permutations that mean nothing. There are an infinite number of books; most of them mean nothing. Some would say all of them mean nothing. Hence the “Library of Babel.”

That’s close, but I don’t know. Another one.

The Library of Babel is a website that made Borges’ fictional library a reality. The website uses an algorithm to generate every possible page within 32,000 characters. From the website, “If completed… (the library) would contain every book that ever has been written, and every book that ever could be – including every play, every song, every scientific paper, every legal decision, every constitution, every piece of scripture, and so on. At present it contains… about 104677 books.”

Nah. Not quite. Something else, but what?

Oh wait.

Here it is:

Gibberish. Rubbish. Balderdash. Poppycock. Hogwash. Mumbo Jumbo. Baloney. Malarkey. Gobbledygook.

Babel.

It means a lot.

Yet it literally means nothing.

Why soup?

I took a journalism class last fall. My teacher asked all of us to define journalism. I said something like, “pretentious news.” I can be a difficult student sometimes.

He appreciated my definition but continued to tell us his. One of those “I asked but I don’t really care just listen to me” types. Don’t you hate people like that.

Teachers, I guess.

His definition was interesting though.

Journalism: Soup of the day.

My journalism teacher

I immediately felt ashamed of my combative and ironically pretentious response. And I felt bad for making fun of him because I genuinely liked his definition more.

It was fun.

Jour in French means day. The word jour reminded my teacher of soupe du jour which translates to “soup of the day.” He said journalism always reminded him of soup.

To him, journalism means daily soup.

That stuck with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Writing and soup. Its weird but it fits.

I’m not sure why.

“Writing isn’t soup, you silly.”

Why not?

When I think of soup, I think of thick broth. Potage, if you will. It’s warm and nutritious. And it took a long time to make.

All those things apply to writing. Thick. Warm. Nutritious. Time consuming.

Am I crazy?

Maybe I am, but if it hadn’t been for that talk about soup, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed the class as much. I could tell he meant what he said. It came from years of teaching and a deep understanding of his subject.

I got all that from soup.

If it’s any consolation, I haven’t enjoyed a class that much in a long time.

I think that credits solely the teacher.

And because of that teacher, I now write soup.

Acceptable soup.

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