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Author Archives: Toph Beifong
Haiku, boredom assassin
good first try
Most art styles often take years of training to do well, but it’s not difficult to achieve a mediocre haiku. Haiku is my preferred weapon in the battle against boredom in meetings or during class. They’re easy to do in a short period of time; they don’t rhyme and they’re super short (three lines, 5-7-5 syllables), plus I look like I’m paying attention and taking notes (which, in a way, I am). I lean toward critical or humorous haiku, usually regarding the people around me, but occasionally about myself. Like so:
It hurts when I poke
myself in the eye, like this:
ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.
See? I just wrote that. Just now. Super easy.
I’d like everyone to give it a shot just to see what a fun creative outlet haiku can be. I keep asking my coworkers (and Dad) for them when they’re bored in meetings (and my coworkers definitely are), but to no avail.
I’ve taken to writing haiku about my classmates and sharing it in the classroom group chat. My professor really enjoys it, so whenever there’s a technical issue or a delay of some kind, the professor (and sometimes my fellow students) will ask for a haiku about it to keep us entertained. I keep it light at try to be funny. It passes the time, and I like to see the smile on people’s faces after they read my little poems.
On Christopher Jordan Dorner: We might’ve been friends
An ex-cop named Christopher Jordan Dorner wrote an 18-page manifesto that I felt compelled to read for some reason. He’s killed three people so far.
The majority of the suicide letter (let’s not mince words here) lists the specific people who have wronged him and acted unjustly in the past (including a high school administrator who lied to him in 1996). A lot of it sounds legit. He discourages anyone from coming after him, saying they will not survive if they try to pull him over or arrest him. He talks about his experiences with racism, and the need for better gun control laws: “Who in there right mind needs a fucking silencer!!!”
pictured: murderer, victim, human
Then at the bottom of page 12, he starts thanking people for being good friends, honest politicians, talented doctors: “I’m sorry I’ll never get to go on that moose and bear hunt with you. I love you bro.” At this point, I wondered how many people had written letters just like this, and, upon realizing that the list of wonderful people in their lives they would miss spending time with was surprisingly long, got up from the computer, called one of them and made plans instead of going on a killing spree.
Like most manifestos, this one goes off track once he stops being quite so angry, and starts lauding the people he admires (“Off the record, I love your new bangs, Mrs. Obama”) and the things he loves (“Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” is the greatest piece of music ever, period”). While it’s fascinating to see inside someone’s head without a filter, I can’t give this guy too much credit. He’s killing people. Some part of his brain is broken. Still, I can’t help but think of Shan Yu, the fictitious “warrior poet” quoted for claiming that we can only really know a person when they are pushed to the brink. I wonder if manifestos like these seem crazy because we never really know each other; as a result 18 pages worth of raw honesty and what this man considered truth comes across as proof of insanity.
In the order they appear, here are the parts of the manifesto that jumped out at me for their candor and silliness. I am shocked by how much I agree with him on so many topics:
Thank you for the superb surgery you performed on my knee… I never had the opportunity to thank you for allowing me to live a life free of knee joint pain. Thank you.
I thank the unnamed women I dated over my lifetime for the great and sometimes not so great sex.
It’s kind of sad I won’t be around to enjoy the Hangover III. What an awesome trilogy… World War Z looks good and The Walking Dead season 3 (second half) looked intriguing. Damn, gonna miss shark week.
Hillary Clinton. You’ll make one hell of a president in 2016… Chelsea grew up to be one hell of an attractive woman. No disrespect to her husband.
Gov. Chris Christie. What can I say? You’re the only person I would like to see in the White House in 2016 other than Hillary. You’re America’s no shit taking uncle. Do one thing for your wife, kids, and supporters. Start walking at night and eat a little less, not a lot less, just a little. We want to see you around for a long time.
Wayne LaPierre, President of the NRA, you’re a vile and inhuman piece of shit… You are a failure of a human being. May all your immediate and distant family die horrific deaths in front of you.
Ellen Degeneres… You changed the perception of your gay community and how we as Americans view the LGBT community… Oh, and you Prop 8 supporters, why the fuck do you care who your neighbor marries. Hypocritical pieces of shit.
[Redacted] Church, may you all burn slowly in a fire, not from smoke inhalation, but from the flames and only the flames.
Cyclist, I have no problem sharing the road with you. But, at least go the fucking speed limit posted or get off the road!!! That is a feasible request. Livestrong you fraudulent assholes.
Cardinal Mahoney, you are in essence a predator yourself… May you die a long and slow painful death.
Charlie Sheen, you’re effin awesome.
My opinion on women in combat… Many want to see you fail. Remember everyone of you is a pioneer. There was a time when they didn’t allow blacks to fight the good fight. This is your civil rights. Don’t quit!!!
It’s time to allow gay service member’s spouses to utilize the same benefits that all heterosexual dependents are eligible for.
Mr. Bill Cosby, you are a reasonable and talented man who has spoken the truth of the cultural anomalies within the black communities that need to change now.
This is racist, right?
Racism isn’t always marked by a burning cross on a front lawn, or a bunch of dudes in bed sheets marching around holding the Union Jack aloft. Racism can be subtle, it can call on unspoken assumptions (read: prejudices) that we’re not even aware of. Until, of course, some idiot in the marketing department for a new TV show decides to use those very assumptions to sell their product. Observe:
preeeeeetty racist
“Is this the face of a THIEF?” The unspoken answer is: No, of course not! She’s a white, female, well-fed member of the middle class. Judging by looks alone (which is what we’ve been tasked to do), members of the dominant culture (of which I am one) would say No, of course this woman doesn’t look like a thief, and not only because she’s looking away in a typical “Why no, officer” style, but predominantly because white ladies don’t steal shit. Which begs the question: What does a thief look like? The unspoken answer is, of course, someone with traits unlike this woman’s: dark-skinned males.
So we’re being compelled to watch this show based on the novelty of white people breaking the law, because that’s just so crazy, right? Which is racist. Right?
Winter break debacle: Success edition!
Boyfriend and I have been dating for almost 5 years now, so I’m glad to report that I finally made it to the east coast to visit him during winter break. I even managed to keep it a secret!
some woman almost forgot to take her dog out of the x-ray boxes. I was ready to spring into action and rescue him, though, which would have been REALLY fun.
If you’re new here, you might not recall that I’ve attempted this trip before: said attempt was marked by a tragic lack of success (as you can see here). This time, though, the whole thing went off without a hitch. I got a redeye flight to avoid any delays during layovers (which is part of what screwed me last time). Once I arrived one of his friends, Coppertop, drove me to his place, then dropped me off at a mall where I needed to find a way to surprise him with some kind of subtly spectacular display of love.
I bought a pretzel (hadn’t eaten in over 12hrs) and wandered around the mall, chatting with attendants, feeling out who would be game to help me do something ridiculous. I settled on an employee with whom I had a brief conversation about tea selection at William Sonoma. She seemed nice, and their uniform is just an apron, so I figured if I asked nicely, she would let me wear an apron for a few minutes and hand out samples until Boyfriend came around, at which point I would treat him like any other customer and offer him one (and only one) sample before drifting off to help someone else.
This, however, did not pan out. I got a text from Coppertop: We’re here. Shit! I texted STALL!, scarfed the pretzel and asked the lady at William Sonoma if I could borrow an apron for a loving prank. She winced. “You need to ask my manager,” and pointed to the most stressed out woman in the mall: apologizing over the phone to an irate customer, ringing someone up, then dashing into the back room, she clearly wasn’t about to get on board with any shenanigans.
pictured: inspiration
I hustled out of the store, and wracked my brain for new ideas while scanning the very thin crowd for Boyfriend and Coppertop. Then I heard it: toot toot! The mall had a children’s train that made a circuit around the mall. I got in line and fidgeted, eyes darting around, waiting to get caught. The train pulled into the “station.” Kids got off, kids got on, but there wasn’t enough room for all of us. I stayed in line with two more families in front of me while the train pulled away. I texted Coppertop I’ll be on the train in a few mins, and waited anxiously while the soft toot toot! slowly grew softer then louder. As I glanced around, excited that I had almost made it onto the train without being spotted by Boyfriend, I noticed a sign: “$2 to ride.” I froze. I dug into my purse knowing exactly what I would find: one dollar in quarters. I had spent my last three dollars on that damn pretzel.
Now I had a choice. I could wait for the train to come back and throw myself at the mercy of the “conductor,” or beg for a dollar from the mother in line in front of me.
I chose the latter.
I explained how we’d been together for so long, but I had never been able to visit him, and the last time I tried it all fell apart, and now I was only a dollar away from a fantastic surprise, and would she be so kind as to loan me a dollar for the train ride? “My boyfriend will pay you back, he’s a sweetheart,” I explained, but she was already nodding and reaching into her purse, as was the mother in line in front of her, who had over heard my sob story. The train pulled in just as I said my twentieth thank-you, and we all piled on. I pulled my ponytail out, put on some chapstick. I was ready to wow Boyfriend.
We choo-choo’d around the mall for a minute before I spotted them. Eventually we pulled right up alongside them. As we idled by, I sat up straight, waved like the Queen and called, “Hello, peasants!” He and Coppertop laughed as I pulled away. Then I became that weird adult on a kids’ train ride without a kid to legitimize my presence. So that was awkward.
The ride (finally) ended, and Boyfriend couldn’t stop smiling and laughing as we followed Coppertop around (he had some actual errands to run at the mall). He loves his friends, family and me so much. It makes him giddy when we’re all together. He’s a good person. I’m glad I got him.
When people walk up behind me at work
ADRENALIN
My desk at work faces a wall. I have two coworkers whose offices open to the area behind me. As soon as I decide I deserve a mental break, I start checking out Facebook or reading LA Times, and I hear, “Hey, quick question,” but it sounds more like, “HEART ATTACK TIME, MOTHER FUCKER!”
Dracula, my love
The original Dracula is my favorite ghost story. It’s easy to see that it’s not the ultimate literary novel of its time, but it’s a fun read and a creepy story set in a time where if you were stranded somewhere, you were totally fucked. If you get sick in a foreign country, you’re screwed. If you don’t know how to kill the thing that’s coming after you and your loved ones, get your affairs in order, because it might be time to die.
nice job, google
Obviously I’m not a fan of how prominently Christianity comes swooping in to save the day (of course the Count can’t enter a tomb that’s been sealed off using putty mixed with the holy sacrament, DUH), but that’s sorta part of the charm of this story; it’s full of silly superstition and stolid, antiquated reliance on the impregnable defense afforded to the faithful. It’s pretty cute.
And the action! Fight scenes! Storms! Abandoned vessels washing up on shore! Giant wolves! Hypnosis! Seduction! Hidden treasure! All this and more! Written in the style of the turn of the century, who wouldn’t want to read it?
SPOILER:
The part on the ship is what makes this a truly horrifying story. It’s the strongest part of the story in my opinion. If that part doesn’t hook you, you have my permission to stop reading, and continue your inevitable march toward the end of an unfortunate, unremarkable life. You schmuck.
READ ME, PUNY MORTAL
Shades of no-wait-nevermind
I almost died when I saw how Draw Something dealt with the 50 Shades of Grey craze: “shades of red, shades of yellow, shades of blue… GRAYSCALE PACKAGE” LOL
alternate: shades of light-ish black
Be Random, Be Clear 