09
May 10
16
Apr 10Rain
I like rain. I like the way that people crinkle up their faces when they are forced to walk through it. I like the way that they hunker down, believing that if they could only make themselves smaller, they would be able to dodge the water droplets. I think that people tend to be even more encapsulated in their own individual worlds. There are fewer conversations. Everyone just looks at the ground and grimaces.
On a completely different note, I just looked at my visitor counter. Who are you? I haven’t really advertised this site in years. I am not writing anything of significance. I mean it’s on the internet, so I obviously don’t mind, but I am curious. I’m just surprised that people are actually looking at it. I need to do a lot of work on the site. Right now it is in lazy mode. I would never have thought that I would be using a theme created by someone else. Oh well. That can wait until exams are over.
Oh I just figured it out. Hi Mom and Dad.
14
Apr 10Today
public Graph reverseGraph(){
Graph revGraph = new Graph();
for(Node node: nodes.values()){
revGraph.addNode(node);
}
for(Node node: nodes.values()){
if(getAdjList().get(node.getLabel()) != null){
for(int i=0; i < getAdjList().get(node.getLabel()).size(); i++){
revGraph.addEdge(getAdjList().get(node.getLabel()).get(i), node);
}
}
}
return revGraph;
}
Today is the day that I officially stopped liking programming. I’ve been working on this assignment for a week, and it is going to be late, because it is due in 3 minutes. That bit of code counts for 1/5 of the assignment. It took me forever.
28
Mar 10Passion
I’m only passionate against things. I want to be passionate for something.
I enjoy many things, but I don’t love anything.
26
Mar 10Live the Question
I wrote this two years ago. I have never pretended to be a writer, but I still want this to be a part of my blog. When I read it, I get uncomfortable. I worry that it may appear false and fake, but whether it appears that way, it is not. Or it wasn’t.
Sometimes I worry that it doesn’t apply anymore, that I am losing that faith, that spark that I had. I am so much more cynical than I used to be. Somedays I adopt that “arrogant strut.” Then other days I remember and I wonder. I buy sandwiches for strangers, give them a smile. I don’t know who I would rather be. It’s much easier to just ignore people.
“At present you need to live the question.” –Rainer Maria Rilke, translated from the German by Joan M. Burnham
I am the narrator. That girl is I. Or is it really that simple? I get the privilege of analyzing my actions, so I can give them deeper meanings, when, originally, they were as simple as human nature. I can look back, and I can look forward, but for now, all I see is a ceaseless question.
That girl walks down a street, showing what some would confuse for naiveté. Maybe she is an easy target, one that would stand out to a rapist or a murderer. She does not carry the walk that most people do these days, their arrogant strut. Maybe their walk is actually smart, not arrogant. Maybe their arrogance is really that confidence she wishes she had.
She smiles at those who walk by her. Some return the smile, their eyes brightening just a little. Others continue on, unbroken. They have to be somewhere. They do not have time to falter from their stiff projections. There is work to be done. There is money to be made, people to please. That is, after all, how the world keeps turning? Right?
Instead of ignoring the homeless man sitting on the curb, she looks him straight in the eye, giving him a weak smile. Maybe with time she will learn that her smile does nothing but mock. But for now, she has to ask in silence:
Does my smile brighten your day?
Or shake you to your bones?
Are you angry at me?
Do I remind you of someone?
Or do I make you hurt?
Do I look like an easy target?
Are you really that far from humanity?
Or are you closer than most?
Does my approach just annoy you?
No, I do not think so. I believe that behind your distressed exterior, you are another person craving attention, friends, love, compassion. I believe that my smile reminds you that there is hope for us.
Sometimes he does return a smile, that man sitting on the curb. Other times that man gets up, with a mad look in his eyes. He follows for a while, the girl keeping her distance. But every now and then, he thanks her with his expression. He thanks her for acknowledging his existence, for knowing that he is a human being. He thanks her for not being quite so cold.
That man keeps the question going, so she continues to the next street corner.
The men are all part of an experiment. The girl wants to know whether she has any power in the world. Sometimes she feels so small. When someone looks back at her, thanking her with their eyes, she knows that yes, she does have some control. Yes, she is just a small part of something greater than herself, but she has some power. She improves the world just a little, when she treats the men like fellow human beings. Maybe, if she keeps doing this, she will find her own cause and will know that it can be done, that she can do something about life’s injustices.
Maybe this is all just silly optimism. Maybe she has not helped. Maybe someday she will give up and accept that she is powerless in a world of never ending maladies. Maybe humanity is at the heart unfriendly (not evil, because good and evil are all so subjective). Maybe she should accept this and move on, reduce her trusting innocence.
She cannot. I cannot. I keep looking to see whether people are good, keep trying to disprove my worst fears. I look not only at the homeless, but also at the rich, the mean, the spoiled. At myself. I question them in the same way, with the same look.
Will you return my smile? Will you show that you care? That you feel?
Will you prove that I am not crazy?
That there is hope for this deteriorating world?