The opening ceremonies were interesting, I wish I could have been in the stadium to see it.

I’m telling myself that I’m boycotting the rest though.

Yes I am stressed out.

Stress stress stress. It’s not financial. It’s not health related. Those fronts are wonderful.

Career stress. Presentation in front of the whole company stress.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I just need to get into it. Sunday. Tomorrow needs to be productive in terms of laying out the presentation. If everything went wonderful, I would have a draft to show to people on Monday for feedback. I need to do that. Maybe I’ll get a massage tomorrow. If I’m tense and stressed still. It’s 7:12pm. I need to write my Emily and Hiroko emails.

I hate that I have to do this. I hate that I have to live like this. I wish I was passionate about my work. I hate that I’m not amazing or terrible at anything.

I’m in a good mood today. 🙂

2025 me here: This was such a transitional phase of my life. I’ve made almost all my old posts public now, but some around this time are just too personal to share.

I have a wonderful Murakami book to read. I don’t understand why it is so difficult to actually sit down and enjoy it though. I know it is a pleasurable thing to do. Why do I do things that I know are unfulfilling wastes of time instead?

Online news and video sites. Video games.

I never feel like reading a novel is a waste of time, even the throw-away fiction. It still feels like I’m exercising an important cognitive muscle. I feel the same about writing.

I screwed up my sleep schedule over the past two days. Waking up at 4am to get the GITR presentation/summary ready. Then last night, staying up until about 1:30am then waking up at 6:00am to get the lab presentation done. Being tired at work makes it difficult. It makes the day drag. I feel less productive. This afternoon it was torturous.

Writing and reading. I still am not doing enough. The Murakami book I have is wonderful but it is difficult for me to sit down and read it even though I know it is pleasurable. Why do things I know, are not as satisfying draw me in. Like online news and video sites. Video games. I know I would feel better after reading for an hour or two. Or writing. I never feel like reading a novel is a waste of time, even the throw-away fiction. It still feels like I’m exercising an important cognitive muscle.

I need to ask *** out on Saturday night. The comedy club is my first idea. Other ideas include, just a drink or two out at a bar somewhere. Maybe a Jazz club or something. Or a place where some band plays. I need to send her the details for the comedy club tomorrow. What else is there?

I’m actually feeling kind of tired, maybe I could sleep now. Maybe I should draft the email to *** here. She liked how I write in my little notebooks.

Why do people believe in God?

Today I let myself shift from agnostic to atheist. Why am I drifting this way? Why not the other way towards faith?

The people that believe… it can be explained with evolutionary theory. A church, mosque, temple, and their associated communities provide a social support structure that helps the people in it have greater survival than those not under their umbrella. Religion encourages and accommodates children and families. I believe that throughout successive generations the people resistant to religion tend to have less children than the religious. That’s not a controversial view. So there are a lot more people today with genes predisposing them to believe.

So then, what about people like me? My grandmother believes… I share 25% of my genes with her… but I get the sense that she doesn’t believe very strongly. I don’t even know if she goes to church anymore. She took me when I was little. I was baptized. I had first communion. My mother made an effort. I hated going. The school made efforts. I went to a Catholic grade and high school. There were school masses. Catholic studies classes. In junior high, grade 8, when it came time to be confirmed into the church I balked at the idea. My mom wanted me to do it. Guilt, and installation of a sense of obligation were applied from all directions. I remember how stressed out I was at the time. I ended up lying about when the ceremony was and skipped it. She was upset but got over it. I think she lied to my grandmother and said I was confirmed.

My father came from a protestant upbringing and never went to church. He and his family are not religious at all. I don’t think I have the mix of genes that predisposes me towards belief.

I think we are complex learning machines. Machines can learn. There is a whole programming field that uses neural networks. It’s based on the concept that thousands of small units working together, making yes or no decisions can learn and adjust to problems. It works because when sensory input is channeled through the incredibly complex network in a way that produces a positive outcome these pathways are reinforced, and will be used next time a similar input is seen. This is how our brains work, except in a more imperfect way. When we think of things in a way that we or others reinforce positively, these neural pathways are developed. This is where our personality comes from, how we respond to what we sense in the world, this is what allows us to imagine and dream, everything.

So what happens when you die? Non-existence? It’s not very comforting to think that this short run of life on this small solitary planet is all we get. I just can’t convince myself that anything else is likely.

What is reality then? How should I know? I’m just an imperfect machine that can’t comprehend… maybe dwelling on this is the the path back towards agnosticism.

I’m getting Xanga rage right now. I want to change the way my page looks but can’t figure out how to do it anymore.

What is all this extra shit on here now! Fuck!

Isn’t this a blogging service? Why is it a labyrinth to just find how to change my page layout? Can I just have an edit layout link? Really, that’s all I fucking need right now.

I’m a computer science major and can’t figure this garbage out.

I think intelligence is as much in the eye of the beholder as beauty is.

I lost my glasses yesterday somewhere downtown in Boston. Probably the drug store.

Iron Man was my favorite comic growing up. I spent so much of my paper route money on it. There are over 200 Iron Man issues in a big rubbermaid container in the basement of my mom’s house. He was my superhero. I never align with the front runner, the popular choice. The shadow’s more attractive than the spotlight. The movie was well done. I snuck into Speed Racer after. It wasn’t well done.

my computer overheated and burned out. It’s quiet now . Better now. Little wireless Device. Red cup of licorice tea. My little notebooks all fill up with my fleeting thoughts. I love the voice in those notebooks. He’s hopeful, optimistic, bright. Time is moving too fast. This more than anything else lately makes me feel sad.

Time is flying.

Sometimes I can find moments where everything slows down. This morning I was sitting alone on the cold porch after a long run along the Charles river. My body rapidly decelerating in early morning silence. Enjoying the natural high. Only 10 minutes but wonderful. That feeling is the antithesis of the one I get sitting at my computer.

But then I get reflective.

I’ve dated four women post-******. Crystal. Rachel. Mary. Ashley. and soon Amy.

Crystal the programmer. I was nervous and am sure I didn’t come off well. She was so amped up and I wasn’t ready for it. One date and that was it. She was a video game nerd. I’ll ask to play Spore with her when it comes out later this year.

Rachel the social worker. Rachel really liked me. It’s too bad I didn’t feel it back. Two dates and that was it.

Mary the lawyer. Our first date went well enough, my inexperience showed though. I didn’t realize the impact a martini and Manhattan would have on me. Still we tried to plan a second but it fell through. Her schedule seems insane.

Ashley the advertiser. This is the first one I didn’t put much effort into. I was extremely scruffy. Actually it goes beyond scruffy. I had a godawful scraggly terrorist beard. I wore a crazy looking dark green hoodie adorned with strange forest creatures, and I took her to an Indian buffet. hahaha. ahhhh. What is wrong with me? I don’t think there’s going to be a second with Ashley.

Hopefully Monday with Amy goes better.

I’m terrible at this.