Last night, while training home with some friends after watching an incredible performance of classical guitar at a coffee shop in a suburb, it was somehow decided that it would be interesting to hang out with friends while not using verbal communication. I believe this was inspired by Jordan’s comment, “Man, I wish you guys didn’t speak English.” He seemed to feel that our not speaking the same language would help him achieve insanity, which is definitely one of his most solid goals in life.

We discussed the terms of the experiment while walking to get something to eat. We pledged that once we’d procured 40s and ‘za, the experiment would commence. (While we naturally wanted to start it as early as possible, we thought it’d be inexcusably rude to try to order food without using words.) It was decided that sounds were legal, but referencing any phonemes already existing in any established language (of which any of us had knowledge) was not.

There was much debate surrounding the use of gesticulations. Ultimately it was agreed that while nearly every physical gesture is culturally constructed and therefore constitutive of language, a high degree of abstraction of which would imply associations with verbal communication, certain gesticulates should be made legal, as we did not trust ourselves to avoid them: squinting to convey lack of comprehension; a widening of the eyes to mean surprise; and of course nodding of the head to mean “yes” and shaking to mean “no.”

What surprised me about the experiment is how fluidly we four were able to communicate with each other. I made a your-mom joke, and everyone got it—and we were all stunned at how that was possible. A few hours into the evening, I expressed to one friend that our rapidly codifying system of grunts and gestures was for all intents and purposes identical to our regular spoken language. In other words, it didn’t end up feeling much like an experiment at all, once we got into it. We realized that the next step was to attempt to hang out with no verbal communication, and no nonverbal communication.

Naturally that’s a concept we can approach only asymptotically at best, but I’m intrigued at the chance to try. Somehow I’d expected that the language experiment we ran last night would test my motives to hang out with my friends; for example, if we can’t talk to each other, what else is there? What do we do? But talk we could, because, as it turns out, most of the meaning we have of each other is assumed and might reside within ourselves.

We even renamed each other.

So, I feel I’ve learned a lot about how languages evolve. It was like a crash course in memetics. I highly recommend the experiment to anyone at all curious about communication theory, or merely who’s introspective. Maybe someday I can impose it on a class during a 3-hour session. That would be fun.

My good friend Jim, who was awesome enough to visit me twice while I was in Germany and thereby made the acquaintance of Carl and Jesse, drove. The three and a half hour drive up from Philadelphia, through Harrisburg, to State College gave us a lot of time to talk and soak in beautiful landscapes, both of which I feel I sorely needed.

Then, once there, the four of us sat around a table with a marvelous assortment of beer at our disposal (and dispose of it we did, I assure you), and talked for five hours straight. Just talked.

On Sunday we played Risk for an equal amount of time.

I send gladness and fullness out into the world.

We met Jesus freaks. We feasted upon pizza and cheesesteaks. We didn’t check our receipts until it was too late.

We swam in the ocean and got harassed by lifeguards. Built sandcastles competitively and gaped in wounded awe when the tide calmly ravaged them. Makeshift chin towers did little to curb the sense of loss.

At night we headed home in time to try to catch fireworks in Philadelphia. It rained, so we stayed home and got drunk. We watched movies and told stories and slapped each others’ sunburnt backs and appendages.

Two friends practiced poi late into the morning.

And that’s about it. It was a wonderful time. I love my friends.

I warn you, it’s weird.

In a small farming town somewhere in Russia, a family noticed that their cow had gone missing. The men of the family conclude that the cow has been stolen, and proceed to determine the thief. The grandfather says, “Whoever stole this cow must be homosexual. Only homosexuals steal cows.” His son, the father of the farming family, replies, “Then whoever stole the cow must be short, too. All homosexuals are short.” The grandson chimes in with the capstone to their investigation, concluding, “The shepherd that lives at the edge of town is short! Therefore he must be the person who stole our cow.” They all agree to go beat up the poor shepherd.

Upon arriving at the shepherd’s hut, the grandfather declares, “Give us back our damn cow, you faggot.” The shepherd explains he knows absolutely nothing of any cow-stealing incident, and his three accusers decide to take the issue to court.

Once in the courtroom, the shepherd uses as his defense the absolutely absurd chain of logic the men used to accuse him. The judge inquires as to the nature of the reasoning, and the men explain. The judge says, “Well, let’s test the validity of this logic.” With that, he points to a box sitting on a table at the edge of the courtroom, and asks the grandfather, “What is in that box?”

The grandfather thinks for a moment, then replies, “Well, it’s a box, so… it probably has another box inside.” The father says, “A box inside a box would probably hold something round.” The son finishes it off with, “If it’s round and inside a box, it’s probably an orange.”

The judge says, “Just give them back their damn cow, you asshole.”

This joke has become a party classic, and it gets better the drunker Pavel is, because then his English is mangled and newcomers to the joke aren’t sure whether they missed something, or whether the verdict by the judge really is the punchline.

I was inspired to tell this story by reading an article about a Russian doomsday cult that just came out of its cave, evidently having had their doomsday date wrong.

Thirty-five people took refuge in the cave in the Penza region, about 650 kilometres southeast of Moscow, in November, threatening to detonate 400 litres of gas canisters if authorities tried to remove them. The cave dwellers, members of a group calling itself the True Russian Orthodox Church, said they were waiting for the end of world, which they believed would come sometime in May

Oh, yes. What an honor to be a parishioner of the True Hardcore X-treme Russian Orthodox Church, complete with a badly dilapidated cave as demesne and 400 liters of gasoline as a characteristically Soviet tithe.

The story gets better when the cult members explain their decision to leave the cave.

Vice Governor Oleg Melnichenko said more of the cave had collapsed around dawn Tuesday, and cult members told emergency officials that a divine vision overnight had instructed them to leave.

Last Friday seven other cult members emerged as melting spring snows caused part of the shelter to cave in, sparking fears that the entire structure could collapse.

Well I’ll be damned, there’s that comet speaking to you again—you must be a prophet! Just how do you tap into these cosmic messages? What did the comet say this time, anyway? “Get the hell you, you drunken idiots, this shit is falling down!”?

Maybe they’ll get the date right next year.

I know I’ve mentioned this doppelganger thing before, but i thought this bore repeating. It really is kind of odd.

A friend, Matt, has a little brother visiting at the moment, and the little bro arrived in Munich while Matt was still traveling over break. I—among others—made sure to treat the little bro right, and got him right drunk. The next morning, he was describing to Matt the hospitality of a certain lanky fellow with long hair and glasses, and who’s funny as hell. Matt said, “But wait, I thought Alex was working last night.”

Upon hearing this story, I considered terminating my friendship with Matt, but then realized that one of the listed qualities was not “ravishingly handsome,” so it’s understandable that he thought of Alex first.

Yes, I realize that as doppelgangers, people perceive us as pretty much identical. But give me a break here, we’re freaking gorgeous, and I’m funny as hell.

Today I awoke to birds chirping so loudly I could hear them through the shut balcony doors. I braced myself for a gust of cold wind, telling myself the chill would be worth it, to hear those birds better, and jerked open the door. The air outside was warmer than that in my room, and I’d left the heat on overnight.

It was quickly decided amongst those present in the building that a trip to the Englischer Garten was in order. So we gathered up the necessary supplies: a frisbee, an American football, empty soda bottles filled with tap water, and a few blankets. Then we were on our way.

After many hours of cavorting across the rather muddy fields, leaping and slipping and wheezing from a lazy winter, we took a break to see off the few people who had to head home and shower before going to work. The day winded down as the sun lolled about before setting, and we washed the mud off our bare feet in the river running through the Garden.

On the way home, I came across a painted rock and it captivated me.

I hope this rock imparted to you but a fragment of the joy it did to me. I was thoroughly mocked for bothering to stop to take this picture, but I’ve just founded a religion under whose tenets anyone who doesn’t appreciate this rock goes straight to hell. And by “hell” I mean they don’t get to see any cool painted rocks while they’re just walking around.

Other things later. Today was too much fun. Take a look at the full, albeit brief, album.

“If you lived 100 years ago, you’d be a world class adventurer. But since you have a laptop and a ton of bandwidth, you’re just a nerd.”

I find Alex’s ideas intriguing, and find myself wishing to subscribe to his newsletter.

The catch? I need a full suit, which I totally don’t have. Blast.

Idea! I should ask my doppelganger. Who better to ask, really?

So I ask my good pal Alex, and he says he does indeed have a suit. I try it on, and it fits like pinch harmonics in a death metal song. I return to the tip-giving German to show it off, and am told that the job description stated it must be a white shirt. Mine was a very subtle shade of green, that honestly looked quite sharp—blast again.

I ended up borrowing an ill-fitting white shirt and ironing that. Doesn’t look quite as dashing as Alex’s original look, but the jacket and pants are solid enough to make it work.

Now, just what kind of one-time job one would need a suit for, anyway? Turns out I’m lucky enough to be a greeter at the flagship O2 (a cell phone company) store on Marienplatz. That means I stand in the lobby, look dashing, and say “Hello” to incoming customers and “Good-bye” to outgoing ones. Does that rock or what?

I work 10am-3pm tomorrow, and should get about €50 for it. That’s groceries for a whole freaking month. Next on the list: making rent!

I think it would just make more sense to test me on whether I can get these damn partitions in order and playing nicely together. Although I guess I should wait to see whether I actually can do that, before asking to be graded on it.

Well, I need to get going. Ran into Jesse on my way home from the exam, and he said he’d pick up a bottle of “Wodka” for tonight. Then he asked how the exam went, hesitated, and said, “OK, two bottles of wodka.” I said Carl took the exam, too.

Three bottles it is! See you Sunday.

So eventually I do make it into the kitchen, and behold a table full of engineers bent over their diagrams, reams of graph paper piled around them, pens retracing uncertain lines of graphite.

I don’t feel combobulated enough to handle an omelette, so I pour all my ingredients into the pan and then just scramble it. Win.

I sit down with my tea as a spot is politely cleared for me, and listen to the scratching pens and hissing of old-fashioned pencils. To the clacking calculators. To the silent textbooks, which no one opens.

Poring over a diagram of something I’m pretty sure was mechanical, one of the engineers cries out, “How can there only be one degree of freedom?!”

I replied, “Whoa now, that’s a pretty deep question. Let’s just focus on the math, OK?”

Yeah, I’m a jerk like that.

About 20 minutes later he got an e-mail from the company which was his last hope, and they also said no.

I’m skipping a class right now as I write this so I can put in some serious work toward preparing my study materials for Chinese (last review session is tomorrow, final exam Saturday morning), as I want to be free tonight. I talked to the guys around here this afternoon, and we’re going to take Carl out to the bar tonight, drinks on us.

We’ve already sketched out backup plans and a list of auxiliary contacts to make use of. Fortunately for Carl, he and I take a class with the head of the CS department, and I know the guy loves Carl. It will work out. Quite honestly Carl seems overqualified for the internships he’s applied for, and I don’t think companies are willing to pay him what they think they’d have to.

More fun, though. Most of the Americans have received letters from the housing agency in Munich informing us that we have to get the hell out, as our contracts only run through February. One of the guys already went down there and explained we’re here for two semesters, not just one, as the agency must be assuming, and was told to get the hell out anyway because they’ve already signed a contract with another student, who moves in March 1.

There’s possible recourse in our program coordinator, who might be able to harass the housing people on our behalf, but two factors complicate that: 1) She’s our program coordinator only for the duration of our stay as students. It’s her job to get us through the semester, i.e. end of February, and after that, we fend for ourselves. 2) We signed a contract that gives the housing agency the right to kick us out at this date. I don’t foresee any German arguing against a signature.

Add to this the fact that Franzi is still grieving about the recent death of a family member, as well as already about my eventual return to the U.S., and hasn’t spoken a word to me in days.

Only one thing to do when you’re feeling down.

There. I feel better already.

My awesome bros in back home hooked me up with a copy of Team Fortress 2 for the anniversary of my birth, and so I was socially obligated to play it with them. And to bug them to play it with me more because I kind of sort of may be addicted to it. The gameplay is wildly fun, class-based team FPS, so much so that I can forgive it for having a ludicrous artistic style.  No screenshots at the moment because I haven’t installed any screenshot applications on my recently reformatted Windows partition yet.

Between Will, the Philly crew, Cihan in Berlin, and Carl downstairs, I’ve had a delightfully difficult time not gaming. This afternoon Carl and I were pressured by the Germans to organize a LAN tonight, but we both exhibited remarkable fortitude and declined.

Given that I’m at my computer, and not gaming, I’ll try to make one of my “takin’ a break” activities posting to the blog.

I would never answer any of these questions, and it is fair to assume that a smart person ALWAYS has something better to do than participate in a survey that will yield inconclusive results.

Actually, I’d believe first that the intellectual community has an unconscience drive to mislead the general public (aka the norms) into what they like. The fact that statistics about smart people exist only proves my hypothesis.

I’m thinking we may have found the actual first Foundation [...]

I just happened across rather conclusive evidence of this. The evidence requires that one make the (admittedly potentially rather daunting) logical assumption that biologists are in fact smart, but from that point on, it’s watertight.

03:27:45 Jim: yo, so, animals are awesome
03:27:58 I: pretty much yeah, espesh the one with tits
03:28:14 Jim: which is like all of them
03:28:42 I: well, mammals.
03:28:48 I: coral reefs are animals, too.
03:28:48 Jim: yeah
03:28:53 I: I remember 6th grade biology.
03:28:54 Jim: touche
03:29:05 I: I’m sorry but a coral reef is not an animal
03:29:15 I: fuck science and fuck scientists it’s just not an animal
03:29:24 I: I would think that’s obvious, especially if you have a phd, jesus christ
03:29:36 I: but my friend Nick does have a theory that smart people always lie to fuck with people who aren’t smart
03:29:42 Jim: true
03:29:55 I: but applying that theorem in this case would require that we assume biologists are smart
03:30:04 Jim: also true

The debate’s over. It’s obvious. Everybody knows coral reefs are not animals because it would just be so stupid if they were. So it’s proven that biologists are playing a trick on elementary school teachers across the nation (and potentially the world, but I’m not really sure if the whatever parts of the world are outside of the U.S. and Europe have electricity yet). From this I think it’s fair to infer that since the vast majority of smart people play tricks on dumb people, biologists are indeed smart. I mean, they’re so obviously tricking people.

A bit later on the conversation with Jim, this little gem of a discussion cropped up.

03:41:05 Jim: so buffalo roll in their own urine so they can smell even manlier
03:41:22 Jim: before mating that is
03:41:53 I: it works. trust me.
03:41:59 I: I felt way manlier
03:42:11 Jim: i’ll have to try that one
03:42:31 Jim: i wonder why the animal world hasn’t adapted the kick in the balls
03:42:35 Jim: as a defense
03:44:08 I: well animals pretty much just eat and get laid all day
03:44:11 I: and then sometimes fight
03:44:23 Jim: yeah, but goat balls are huge
03:44:29 Jim: you’d think they’d aim for that
03:44:37 Jim: because it also hurts their mating
03:44:40 I: and when you think about it, the kick in the balls must have at one point been a viable technique, given the relatively secluded location of the testicles anatomically
03:45:06 Jim: true, but not in all animals

As one should notice, Jim was crafty enough to note “but not in all animals,” an obvious reference to the coral reef discussion, indicating that Jim is indeed in on the Foundation project.

Am I tricking you right now? You don’t know! (But no, seriously, I probably am.)

We crashed at Cihan’s place last night, because the gamers who were spending the holidays with us have now traveling back to their respective domiciles in Germany, and we no longer have the option of lanning late at night.

However, Cihan’s parents got him a guitar for Christmas, and it only just arrived today, so we’ll be heading back over to his parents’ place for another free dinner and an evening of barely-amplified shredding. If we’re really lucky, there will even be more gaming later on tonight.

So far we’re focusing on C&C3, although we’re trying to find FPSes that will run on both of our computers. Last night Cihan stayed up really late to try to solve a crash bug that was ruining our C&C matches, and when we got up this morning, he told me all was well. He had trawled forums for hours and finally found a bizarre fix, and reports that he hasn’t crashed since. He can even run the game without the disc in the drive, which is a great thing in itself.

Onward with the zocken!

(“Zocken” being the word I most commonly hear for “gaming” or “lanning.”)

Since I’m already here in time for Christmas, and since New Year’s Eve is practically right around the corner, I’m going to stay into early January, so I can experience the famous fireworks above Brandenburger Tor.

The first few days here (Sunday through Tuesday, at the least) will be spent primarily with Cihan’s family, so I won’t often have the chance to post. After that, though, I’ll be at his place and geeking out regularly. I have the chance now to post because there are a lot of young guys here, and they’re laptopping, so I deemed it socially acceptable to whip mine out, as well.

Funny story: Cihan’s grandmother just espied the case for the game Warcraft III: Frozen Throne on the coffee table—one of the guys had set it there while we discussed which games we should all play together—and she turned it over several times, trying to figure out what it was. She lost interest after a minute or two, and laid it back down without even having opened it.

Last night, Cihan drove me and the boys to an internet cafe, where we gamed for 5 hours straight, and could order beers the whole time we were there. We played Counterstrike pretty mu ch the whole time, one of the guys griped when we switched to Battlefield 2. Blast. But 9pm to 2am in an internet cafe in Berlin evidently costs only 4 bucks, which is pretty phenomenal.

But seriously, the rest of my time here will be spent with his family, in a proper holiday family setting.

Tonight we make party. Updates in the future.

Now, no comments about the language skills of engineers. OK? Let’s play fair. Onward.

Jim obviously was trying to avoid having the paper be interpreted as drawing upon or otherwise endorsing “intelligent design.” I told him I thought the edit was ridiculous and he should have left the initial phrasing as it was. This launched a debate about definitions, he opting always for “pattern” and I for “design.”

For example, were I to be going on a stroll (IRL, not along the shoulder of the information superhighway) and pass a rock formation, with all sorts of strange swirls on the surface and between layers of the rocks, I’d probably say to a companion, “Man, check out those crazy designs on that rock over there.” Jim, of course, would say “check out those crazy patterns on the rock.”

Now, in my opinion, a pattern necessitates repetition across multiple instances, meaning that I’d have to see several rock formations before I’d be in a position to identify a pattern. But I understand Jim’s conviction that “design” requires forethought, and therefore nothing natural can be “designed,” given his lack of belief in an omnipotent creating (or designing) entity. Fair enough.

Basically our disagreement boiled down to how much credit we each were willing to bestow about the intelligent design camp. Jim thinks it’s worth fighting against, and actively pre-empting whenever possible. I, on the other hand, prefer the method of acting like it doesn’t exist, because it’s just so damn silly. I look at it like this: I wouldn’t be caught holding a debate on the logical merits of intelligent design, just like I would try very hard not to let anyone see me swatting at faeries as I walk to class every day. Sure, faeries are rad and everything, but, like, they don’t actually exist, and I’m not going to pretend in public that they do.

Jim called me out on grossly misinterpreting the demographics of the great nation of America, and maybe he’s right about that. At least he and I could agree that although the form of something, like a pine tree, with its branches, needles, trunk, and pinecones, might look designed or patterned, there certainly was no entity which said “it must be so” and then it was so. Atheism is in, after all.

While we’re at it, let’s examine some corollaries to this statement.

Well that one certainly holds true in most social circles. But let’s calibrate our testing mechanism, because we need to be sure of the accuracy of the results.

Boom, case closed. Can’t argue with that.

Pictured above is Will’s battlecruiser assault on the enemy base, with the last scattered remnants of my tank battalion on the left hand side. If you look closely at the text in the bottom left corner, you can see Will’s trash talk of “ready for the storm?” just fading out. (Click on image to see it big.)

After much pwnage, Will suggested we switch over to Counter-Strike, as he knows a bunch of the people living with me are all about that game. I said I wasn’t sure, as it was pretty early in the day over here to be gaming, but I would do lap around the dorm to see what was up.

I’m greeted in the hallway by streams of my friends shuffling underneath stuffed backpacks. I ask what’s up, and they say “ISTANBUL!” Riiiiiight, this weekend was the trip to Istanbul. So pretty much everybody I know says “see ya Tuesday” and I head back to game with Will. (I, of course, didn’t tag along because my trip to Italy pretty much broke the bank, and now I’m trying to make rent next month.)

Now Will’s gone for the weekend, visiting Philly for Ace’s birthday party tonight, and the Amon Amarth concert on Sunday. He’ll be back home sometime Monday.

Till then, I’ve got a pretty easy going weekend. I’m staying in tonight, even though Jukka and Ke already asked me to hit up a Christmas market on the Wiesen (where Oktoberfest is). I told them I had some money to save, so I’d b better off spending the evening in chill mode.

This should make it very easy this weekend to get in a lot of studying, perhaps a few posts, and maybe even some more gaming—although, sadly, none of my friends will be able to join me.

I really like the guy—he’s the bro I went to Florence with—so I’m honestly not stressed about it, especially because our presentation isn’t due until next Thursday. So when we see each other in class tomorrow, we can work out details for meeting times over the weekend, and of course, since it’s 2007, I’m sure we’ll get a lot done online.

It’s just funny that I’ve rarely had positive experiences when it comes to groupwork. I know I’m not alone in that, either.

Well, as I told J:

I’m so glad our private university education is preparing us for how much we’re going to hate working in groups IRL.

Fail 4tw.

Sigh.

But seriously, it was a fantastic time, as I’m sure the pictures indicate. The photoset is yet another tortuous series of drunk laughter pictures, but sometimes looking at those are just what one needs. And what can I say? I love to spread joy. I hereby infect you with the effusive gladness that is my existence.

Carl rocks socks, as I think is obvious. Also, for the record, his expression is always that of, “My, is that a camera you have there? And are you planning on photographing yours truly?” That expression has absolutely nothing to do with the presence of a camera in his immediate vicinity. Believe me.

Man, if you think my eyes are haunting in that picture, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

Here’s one of the crew of jerks I typically run with. And don’t comment on the perspective, because I don’t understand it either. We were in an M. C. Escher club or something.

But probably my favorite picture of the whole night is the one that follows, just because it so perfectly conveys everyone’s personality in it. It’s a masterpiece. Dave has a freaking library of party photo faces, and he manages, even while drunk, to tailor them to the situation at hand.

And that’s that, I’m afraid. As ever, there’s a full album up for perusal.

Yeah, so you know how I left Fluid Dynamics early today? Right, I missed the blowing-things-up lab, I know. I had to leave early today because I’m always getting to my next class late, and in the beginning of the period, the prof seems to say a lot of really important stuff. For example, last week I guess he said, “No class next week.” Damn it.

We all had a good laugh at Alex because it would really suck to be him. The story was also pretty well told, to his credit.

Well right now I’m sitting in the classroom for my e-society class, doing nothing. It’s 8 minutes past the hour, which means that the class is cancelled, because I believe the Earth will sooner be swallowed up by the sun than something start late in Germany.

I did indeed call my buddy Fred, who went to the Prato conference with me, and he confirmed that it was cancelled. I lose.

I’m going to enjoy speedy-fast internet here for a while, then trek back home. There’s a concert tonight I may or may not attend.

I hope you like the new place. I sure do. It turns out the two Americans I met live in this building, too, one right down the hall, as I mentioned, the other on the floor below us. I’m in my dorm room right now (remember I have to post these entries long after I write them), but promised one of the Americans–the one who arrived yesterday, and doesn’t not the city well yet–that I’d take him to an internet cafe where he can use his laptop.

Actually, today I bumped into the second American in that exact internet cafe, which is funny, because it’s rather far away from our dorm, and we both just happened upon it. Then, about two hours later, I was sitting on a bench in a different part of the city, just grokking life, and he found me. Cool! So we’ll be getting along quite well, I’m sure. He mentioned earlier that he already stopped by a cornerstore and picked up a case of beer, now that we have a place to live. So, instant friend.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to open the bank account today, because apparently banks in Germany close at 3pm on Fridays. And aren’t open at all on Saturdays and Sundays. Sometimes I think that “vacation” in this country means to go in to work. But anyway. (I know you’re reading this, Cihan!)

I want to try to get to bed early tonight, but we’ll see whether that’s possible, what with it being Friday night and me just having made two friends. I slept in a bit today, and it finally stopped raining around 10am, but it’s already started again. So schlepping around the city in the drizzle isn’t exactly my idea of a nice time. Although I’ve noticed that the heat doesn’t work in my room, and it does in the rooms of the others. Sigh. At least I packed lots of cozy things, like hoodies and sweatpants and brand new socks. I haven’t yet showered today, but I’ll take a scaldingly hot one when I get home tonight, then cocoon myself upon my snug bed.