cündebaz

must be something in the water...

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 18:06:53 +0300

I resemble Boris Yelnikoff in Woody Allen’s Whatever Works in many ways. He isn’t a likable guy. Me neither. He hates most people. Count it done. He was considered for a Nobel Prize. I, too, feel like there is a Nobel Prize out there, waiting for me to get it one day. So, in any other world, we could have easily been born as Siamese twins; it wouldn’t surprise me. But we aren’t living in an ideal world, right? (That also explains why there are lots of girls out there who like Robert Pattinson.) And that’s why that old grumpy guy can live on his own without having to share his flat with someone else while I can’t - well he could have not accepted Melodie if he didn’t like her. It isn’t fair to be obliged to share my room with a roommate just because I can’t afford it otherwise.

I can see you guys chomping at the bit wondering why I’m talking about this. Well, that is because if everything works out fine, I will be in Portugal next semester as an Erasmus Exchange Student. So for that, I’ve been looking for a place to stay. I’ve joined a website that enables you to find a flat or a roommate (or both) according to your criteria. It’s a simple website; you create a profile with the necessary information, which is, in my case, something like this:

Roommate’s Info: Cüneyt, 21 years old, Male, Student.
And wait until any offers pop out; which is, in my case, something very much like this:

Area: Odivelas
Rent: €180 per Month(s), €42 per Week
Roommate’s info: Maria, 33yrs old, Female, Professional

I know, I know, my name doesn’t make the first impression of a Brad Pitt, but I’m not looking for an Angelina Jolie either (plus, I wouldn’t break up with Jennifer Aniston anyways). But I think I deserve something better than that. I mean, 33 years old, come on!

The generation gap that Portuguese people seem to ignore isn’t the only problem we have. Take, for example, this one:

Area: Encarnação
Rent: €400 per Month(s)
Roommate’s info: This user is a landlord and doesn’t live in the property
Comments: Alugo quarto grande com janela por a 2 jovens colegas estudantes de preferência rapazes? Mobilado com 2 camas individuais, enorme roupeiro de parede, cómoda, estante e secretária. Apartamento com…

I don’t understand any of the comments above but wonder: it says “comments,” right? Why do you ask a question then (I’m assuming that they have the same punctuations as we do)? Who are you? Socrates?

Area: Ajuda
Rent: €275 per Month(s)
Roommate’s info: This user is a landlord and doesn’t live in the property
Comments: - apartamento totalmente mobilado e remodelado - vistas fantasticas sobre o rio Tejo - persianas electricas…

Obviously, people who invented the Portuguese language were inspired by Olympic Flag, because I haven’t seen as much “o”s anywhere else. Still, I don’t understand any of the comments, though some look familiar. “Apartamento,” hmm. A party? Then that explains “fantasticas” too. Someone should tell Portuguese people that there are other languages on earth other than Portuguese, like English. Some of them, actually, seem to be aware of that fact, like Joao, but they do have problems too. Have a look:

Area: Graça
Rent: €300 per Month(s), €69 per Week
Roommate’s info: Joao, 26 yrs old, Couple, Student, Non Smoker
Comments: We are a young Portuguese couple (23 and 28 years old) with a very nice room to rent in the center of Lisboa! Within 5 to 10 minutes walking distance you have Bairro Alto, Baixa-Chiado, Rossio…

You might be a nice, young couple but I can see where this is going. … So no, thanks.

All I expected was something like this:

Area: Closest to Universidade Nova de Lisboa
Rent: You don’t have to pay anything at all
Roommate’s info: Phoebe, 21 yrs old, Female, Student, Non Smoker
Comments: I love Friends too.

Is it too much to ask for someone like that?

Like there weren't enough quizes already...

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 18:02:25 +0300

The day will come, sooner or later, when you ask yourself; “Do I really belong in economics? Really? Are you sure?” So here is a quiz I’ve prepared for you to not make any irreversible mistakes. And hey, you are welcome. Really. And I’m sure.

1. Here in the Department of Economics, we need smart people. You should, at least, look like one. Do you think you can do that? Oh, yeah? How come?
a) I keep my mouth wide open during classes, as if the things instructor says hypnotizes me. I might even sometimes drool, but that’s another story.
b) I wear glasses, and so there you go: I am a know-it-all. That works even in 2010.
c) I occasionally talk to myself out loud, and it really helps.

2. Speaking of smartness, is it okay for you if someone from EE department applies for a minor in economics to your department?
a) Yes, please.
b) No, thanks.
c) If she’s a girl, why not?

3. You have a date tonight but no money in your pocket. You would:
a) Borrow from your roommate and pay him back later with an interest rate.
b) Steal from your roommate instead.
c) Want your date to pay it tonight, and just before you have to pay her back, break up with her.

4. What does the following number look like: 1.95?
a) An exchange rate.
b) What? What is an exchange rate?
c) Millions of dollars of your personal wealth (If so, please give me a call).
d) Your future CGPA.

Check Next Week for the Answers. Or Don’t. Whatever.

Distribution of Talent

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 18:01:02 +0300

I really wonder sometimes what it is God takes into account when distributing talents among human beings, and if it is possible to dodge incompetence through a bribe. Because obviously it is something I’m lacking, and that’s why I have ended up on Earth without any musical talents, except for the weird noises I make when I’m asleep - but I’d really appreciate it if you don’t call it snoring.

Of course, it is okay to be incapable if you are lucky enough to be friends with other Incapables, or if you are Lady Gaga, that works too. But in other cases where most people around you can at least play Nothing Else Matters on the guitar (Hello Metallica, it is me again!) - and thus your incapability is magnified - then you have a problem. And what Lena Meyer-Landrut did was that exactly; but my recent problems with my talents can be traced back to more than Lena - to Kings of Leon to be exact.

The only thing you should know about Kings of Leon is that it is an American band consisting of three brothers and a cousin. When I discovered this, I was kind of disappointed because I, too, have two brothers and the number of my cousins exactly equals Estonia’s population. The money Kings of Leon makes, however, probably exceeds the money my brothers, my cousins and I make, plus Estonia’s GDP. And I’m not even mentioning the music that we make, but it is something similar to the noise I make when I’m asleep. I guess this is genetic - but again, please don’t call it snoring.

On the other hand, Lena Meyer-Landrut is an 18 year old girl who will be representing Germany in the Eurovision Song Contest 2010. On Eurovision’s website it says, “Lena Meyer-Landrut from Hanover is actually right in the middle of preparing for her high school exams. She’s doing Biology, Sport and History and she’s got a lot of revising to do.”

Simply put, she does whatever I couldn’t when I was 18. She sings (in fact I’m 21, and I still can’t do that), she is good at sports (and you might recall my column about fitness), she is good at history - and I’ve just noticed that I got my birthday wrong. And worst of all, she does biology while I can’t (why do you think my genes suck?).

When someone uses the phrase, “Why do bad things happen to good people all the time?” I accuse him of being the reason why the unemployment rate in Turkey is so high. But when it is me saying this, it seems like bad things really happen to good people, to people like me. And the worst part is that they might come in any shape. A few days ago it was a macroeconomics midterm; four years ago it was pimples; last summer it was Jay Leno; yesterday it was Kings of Leon; and today it is an 18 year old girl, namely Lena Meyer-Landrut. But no, it has never been and will never be Justin Bieber. Because I don’t really regard him as a threat, given that he is 16 years old and has chosen Usher as his mentor instead of Lady Gaga. Just wait until puberty hits him, his music will sound like snoring, too. Oh, no! I did it, I called it snoring!

PS: I’ve just learnt that this will be the last column of this year but this wasn’t really how I planned it to be. So if you have anything to say, you got my e-mail address up there. I got stuff to tell you, too, but unfortunately I don’t have your e-mail addresses, so you will have to wait until next year.

No, I'm not Crying.

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 18:00:33 +0300

No apartments are designed teen-friendly, especially ours. If teen-friendliness was graded on a scale of 1 to 10, I’d rate our house a 3, just as a token of my gratitude for all those years I’ve lived in it. And I think if an architect could come up with such an idea - an innovation if you will - not only would it be a huge step forward for the human race, as Apple’s iPad is nowadays - but in so doing, we could also ensure that now Turkish celebrities have something else to Tweet about.

So far, no architect has been wise enough to think of placing teen rooms far away from the living room, which is funny, because even though I’m not an architect, I’ve been able to do it. In my opinion, apartments should be priced with respect to the distance between teen bedrooms and living rooms. The ones that take maximum effort for parents to interact with their kids should be priced the highest. The walls of the house should be so thick that in case of an emergency a president can easily find sanctuary in it.

Because otherwise, the odds are that you will be interviewed by all of the guests visiting your house, which does nothing but cause the breakout of more pimples. To make it clear, here is a sample scene I’ve prepared (be careful, it’s a sample, not for use).

I’m in my own room, done enjoying the first days of Spring Break by procrastinating the writing of this week’s column. My mom yells my name for a few minutes, but I prefer not to hear her. So my dad realizes it is time for him to take things into his own hands, and he does something that I don’t want to call “yelling,” because there is something different between what my mom and dad did, something that causes me to teleport to the living room.

Me: Sorry, I was playing Guitar Hero.
Mom: Do you remember Aunt Rose?
Me: Uhmm, not really.
Aunt Rose: How come? You’ve always enjoyed my toasted sandwiches and used to say “My Mom really doesn’t know how to make toast, she always burns it.” Remember those times? Haha.
Me: (Somebody poison her or I will do it.)
Dad: Aunt Rose wants to ask you something. I told her that you attended Bilkent University to study economics.
Me: (“Aww! Here come the waves!” I say to myself.) Ok.
Aunt Rose: I’ve got some savings, but I don’t really know how to invest them. And I know that this is your third year in the university, so I thought maybe you could suggest something for me, huh?
Me: (Well first, they don’t teach economics at BUSEL, aside from the attendance limit they give, so it’s my second year in economics.) Well, ummmm… (keeping it as long as possible), there are, umm, several ways to do it (of which I don’t know any, but shh!). Is this the first time you are investing?
Aunt Rose: Yes.
Me: Well then you better wait for a while, because this isn’t the best time to invest (In such cases, blaming the timing is the second best option, but still shooting yourself in the head is the best).
Aunt Rose: (You can see the look in her eye as if Spiderman has just saved her.) Yesss, I knew it.

This is one of the many types of dialogues I occasionally have with Generation X’ers, but they can get worse by saying why I should have chosen to study law instead of economics, let alone the questions about what exactly it is I will be doing after I graduate. And that is the point in my life where I really admire the pioneers in economics and wonder how they could resist all that parental advice.

I mean, what if Adam Smith’s parents didn’t let him study economics and forced him to study medicine instead, where people with invisible hands aren’t welcomed? Or what if Arthur Laffer had to study law instead of economics? Would he still be as successful in an area where you aren’t supposed to have a funny surname (not that I know what Laffer means)?

Here at Bilkent, there have been many that I’ve hankered for home. But on my way back from spring break, I promised myself not to feel homesick anymore. Not until architects get wiser. Sorry, Mom, Dad and pioneers of architecture.

How to Survive When You Aren't the Fittest

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 17:59:13 +0300

I like the fact that Mother Nature has finally decided to put an end to all those problems she had with us, namely winter, and go plague people in the southern hemisphere. On the other hand, the bad news is that as the rest of the northern hemisphere enjoys the first days of spring, I have something else to worry about: my poor physique.

Normally, I don’t have any problems regarding my body. Therefore, usually a dialogue between a friend and me very much looks like this:
A friend: I’m heading to the gym after Micro class. Do you want to come?
Me: No, thanks. I’ll go get some sleep at the dorms.
OR
Me: I’m going to Burger King after Micro class. Do you want to come?
A friend: No, thanks. I’ll go to the gym.

But the peace agreement between my skinniness and I has lasted until a few weeks ago, when my humble department announced the good news that I was accepted as an Erasmus student for Portugal for next year. And like any other good news, it came with a piece of bad news, too. Erasmus means a scope of students from all countries, of which Americans I am scared of most. On account of the Hollywood movies I’ve seen so far, there are two types of guys in the USA: obese hackers and derivatives of Brad Pitt. The first type of guys don’t prefer Exchange, instead they simply hack the site of the university that they would have gone to. Brad-Pitt-derivatives, in contrast, are those who go abroad for Exchange and are those I’ll be in competition with.

So yesterday, I went to the gym at the Main Campus Sports Center, where I’ve only been to once three years ago. I could remember the schedule the trainer had prepared for me three years ago, and I knew I haven’t been through any major changes at all, so I decided to do it on my own.

As I began stretching, I realized that my body wasn’t at the same state of mind as I was. I could understand that, because that was the slot on my schedule where I’ve either eaten or slept so far. Therefore I switched to the treadmill since I knew I could always trust my legs. However, the gym is designed so that you can observe the effect of your workout minute by minute through the walls covered with mirrors. Most athletic guys seem okay with this. But for me, as if watching my skinny body getting close to tearing itself apart at every step I took wasn’t bad enough, I was obliged to watch other guys who looked like Olympic racers when compared to me. Thus, I gave up again and shifted to other gymnastic tools that I thought I’d remember how to use. But it turned out that as the trainer taught me how to use those tools 3 years ago, all I did was shake my head, not as a sign of understanding, but rather a hope for the end. I couldn’t use any of them, and I had even managed to injure myself at the end of my so-called training session.

And so my interest in bodybuilding has ended. I have come to the conclusion that bodybuilding requires so much commitment that those people who do it should be paid for that. The good news is that for people like me, fortunately, there are other ways to draw people’s attention and other ways of stealing bodybuilders’ thunder. All we have to do is adopt an alternative style off the mainstream. So if you see me sporting a weird style in a few days, don’t panic. I’m trying to survive. You can still head to the gym, though. Me? No, thanks.

Nothing Else Letters

Mon, 18 Oct 2010 17:57:46 +0300

Dear Metallica,

Before I begin, let me introduce myself. My name is Cüneyt, and I know it’s not the world’s best name but in Turkey, you don’t get to choose your name, instead your name gets to choose you. So, you have to learn to live with it. I’m an economics student here at Bilkent University, trying to be as successful as possible, so far by doing nothing. But, anyways.

I didn’t meet you guys until high school. Before that, I was somehow content with Turkish pop music. In high school, I had a classmate, just as any other students on Earth, who loved wearing black T-shirts with pictures on them, pictures that most parents would make students swear like a trooper. And when it came time to strike up a friendship, that guy was no best choice at all, which he was okay with because all he cared about was girls. Therefore I hadn’t really had the chance to have a closer look at you guys. And thanks to him, I was even prejudiced towards you.

The reason why I’m writing this letter is that I’ll have to ask you to do me a favor, well not to me actually, but to the human race. First let me tell you what happened and why I decided to ask for this. My relationship with my 10 year old brother works like this: He saves as much money as he can and then I borrow that money and never give it back to him. However, a little while ago guilt for being so selfish caught up with me, so I decided to do something for him for once. As a result I asked him if he would like to play an instrument. He told me that he wanted to play a piano, something that I couldn’t afford with the money he had lent me during all those years. And to tell you the truth, a guitar came to mind. I thought that would color a kid’s life a little bit and help him channel his creativity into something more useful than Pokémon. I didn’t see any harm in it, until I met Youtube.

If you guys had any chance to read my column before, you would have noticed that I wrote that my parents used to think that I was the smartest kid in the country. That’s why they thought there was nothing I could learn from the internet. Therefore, my exposure to Youtube can be traced back to not long ago, which is, yesterday. And as I’ve spent my entire day on Youtube, instead of studying for an econometrics midterm, I’ve noticed that my parents were right, I got nothing more to learn. I’ve also realized something else, that is, Youtube videos can be put into two categories: “Best Ever Laughing Baby”s and “Me Singing Nothing Else Matters”s. For the former, I’m still working on a column, and for the latter, I can say that is what led me to write this letter. Guys (James, Lars, Kirk and Robert), this song is gaining control over my generation, and you have to stop it.

I’m not one of those guys who live on quotes, but apparently the rest of my generation does. And, for quoters, this song is like China for the world economy. Seriously, look at these lines: “So close, no matter how far/Couldn’t be much more from the heart.” (Probably they met in high school, then she went abroad for university, but he wasn’t that smart so he works for a fast-food restaurant now, and these lines help their relationship work) or “Never cared for what they do/Never cared for what they know” (Her brother doesn’t want her to go out with that guy, and she says “ok,” but never does that, and this is what she texted to him). This is how this song is abused by so many couples all over the world. And guess what I have found out? James wrote that song while he was on the phone with his girlfriend. Is anyone surprised? Nope.

According to some very seriously calculated statistics, right now as I write this column, every 3 guys out of 5 are either singing or playing Nothing Else Matters to their girlfriends on the phone. And that’s no good, not for the music industry, neither for the science world, nor for the econometrics midterms. Therefore, I’ll have to kindly ask you guys to remove that song from the market. Or I will have to find on my own solution to the problem, which may lead to removing Metallica from music industry. I know what Neanderthals guys become when they play Nothing Else Matters on the guitar, and I don’t want my brother to be one of them.

With much love,
Cüneyt.

Subject: I am in America - write to me, we'll meet.

Mon, 15 Mar 2010 09:00:00 +0200

The subject was maybe pleasing to the eye, but the message was definitely pleasing to the hormones: “We were talking on the forum, remember me? I am Maria from Russia!”

Normally, I don’t really get a chance to read spam, because I’m a busy guy. Besides, whenever I try to move the cursor towards that folder, a scream from a friend of mine naturally follows, as if I am preventing John Locke from entering the numbers “4-8-15-16-23-42.” But that very night, I finally got the chance to double click the spam-folder in a deserted BCC-Lab. And Maria’s message made its way to my eyes, then to my heart, not very surprisingly. God knows how long she had waited there for me to come. Poor Maria. Ditto her spam.

In my opinion, to trace back to the first spam, it is necessary to understand the concept of e-mail first (there might be other ways too, but as I said, I’m a busy guy). Though Wikipedia insists that MIT was the first to use it, I personally don’t agree with that. For me, it is more likely that Bill Gates ordered his engineers to create such a system, because he didn’t own a mobile phone company and didn’t want to spend money on one. And thanks to one of my friends who hacked his email account, I got to read the very first emails on earth, which was something like this:

From: bill666@[REDACTED]

To: melinda666@[REDACTED]

Subject: Hi

Message: What’s for dinner?

From: melinda666@[REDACTED]

To: bill666@[REDACTED]

Subject: RE: Hi

Message: Broccoli.

From: bill666@[REDACTED]

To: melinda666@[REDACTED]

After that, Bill decided not to use email anymore because his wife wasn’t a huge fan of recipe books. He prepared a weekly schedule instead, which I’ve copy-and-pasted below verbatim:

Odd days: Broccoli
Even days: Peas

Then one day, a guy in Microsoft, probably one of those guys you can only see in sitcoms who always comes up with new-but-useless ideas, came to his office and said; “Hey! Let’s send Mark from the Marketing Department a junk email and see if he falls for it and replies? Sounds fun, huh?” And this is how the process started. And like a spark resulting in a forest fire, that very first innocent joke led to the invasion of our cyber lives by spam. And by the forest, I mean a gigantic one, like the ones they have dauntlessly destroyed in James Cameron’s Avatar, for which “more than 97% of all e-mails sent over the net are unwanted, according to a Microsoft security report,” says Wikipedia.

The fact that most of the messages in your mailbox are actually spam sounds disappointing to me too, as someone who tends to use sentences like “Sorry, I’m busy.” a lot. Not that I’m encouraging it, but the only thing funny about emails seems to be spam these days. Yes, I know Bilkenters love organizing seminars and letting us know that. And it’s true that professors have a good sense of humor from time to time, especially when it comes to sending homework assignments via Bilkent Webmail. But as a wannabe economist, I can easily say that I will never have a sum of “($10,500,000.00) Ten Million Five Hundred Thousand United State of America Dollars” that “Juliet Komo” inherited from her father, transferred to my bank account, as promised by another spam email.

Plus, as spamming has been a vital marketing method, especially of bedroom life (from the 41 spam messages, I can tell), creativity has concurrently gained importance. Obviously, there are people living off the money they make from spamming. And again as a wannabe economist who cares about world matters (that is, I don’t watch news), I wonder: Why would someone want to exacerbate the unemployment problem by trying to get rid of spam? Thus, I hit the Reply button and write to Maria:
“Sure I do, Maria. How have you been? Long time no see. Lol.”

(Coming Soon: My First Date With Maria)

Eternal Dark Shines on the Teenager's Mind

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 14:04:00 +0200

Let me tell you something that your shrink won’t no matter how much you pay: Don’t let a 13-year-old girl watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I realized how dangerous it can get when I was back home making fun of my cousin’s pictures on Facebook as she told me that she wanted to dye her hair green. Looking at her pictures, I also realized that people-or at least my cousin and her friends-don’t really know how to take good pictures. Therefore here are some basic problems with amateur photographers and solutions I’d suggest:

My Parents Don’t Understand Me So I Better Take a Picture of Myself!

This is probably a 13-year-old girl who, when it comes to taking a picture of herself, obviously sucks. Puberty is a tough process, I know. Even though only thing you do is slam doors in people’s faces for no reason, not all of the guys can make it through. However, that doesn’t mean that you should go and take a picture of yourself. And if you really do need to take one, then follow my instructions: Taking a good picture of yourself depends very much on analyzing the shape of your nose. So before you start shooting, practice several angles in front of a mirror to see which one suits your nose-if any. For instance, it’s impossible for me to do that without the help of an expert. But thank God, I’ve got friends who know how to use Photoshop. If you are having such problems too, then either find an altruistic friend like mine or simply Google “how to fix a nose in Photoshop.” But my advice would be not to bother.

On the other hand, I’m aware of the fact that most of you guys are into your 20s, so what I’d really appreciate is to read out what I’m about to say loudly every time you see a teenager (It would also be a nice gesture if you could e-mail this to all your friends): Guys, please just don’t grab the camera nearest you to take a picture of yourself whenever you feel that your parents don’t really get you and you are an outsider. Instead, do what normal people do, go shopping; because the Web is filled with useless, mass-produced pictures of you, which can easily be reduced to two or three (Scientists are working on this).

It’s A Bird… It’s A Plane… It’s Superman… No It’s a Tourist Who Thinks He Looks Cool!

This one is one of the later stages of the disease that the 13-year-old-girl got where we gradually lose our hope for the patient. What do these guys think when taking such pictures like holding up the leaning Tower of Pisa? Does she think it looks original? Does the guy in brown really believe his co-workers would like it? Does the other guy behind them seriously think that his 7-year-old son would laugh a lot? So what? Anything can make a 7-year-old laugh.

I haven’t checked any statistics but I’m sure it would say that Italy is exposed to thousands of tourists every year who are there solely for taking those pictures. What is even worse is that it takes 5 minutes to take that picture and then those people, to whom I’d like to refer to as pseudo-tourists, have four days more to spend which they wouldn’t be expecting. It would be a good investment if some entrepreneurs could contrive daily tours to Tower of Pisa just to take cliché “holding up the leaning Tower of Pisa” pictures.

The difficulty with the photographs is that there are so many of them that it’s almost impossible to be original. Therefore I don’t really expect any of you to evolve into a Jan Saudek. But that really hurts me when people spend so much money and time on such photos, and what I would do if I really need to look cliché is to call that friend of mine who knows how to use Photoshop. I’d suggest you to do so, as well, or again, you can simply Google “how to take a cliché photo of ‘holding up the leaning Tower of Pisa’ in Photoshop.” And hey, be careful with your nose.

Alas and Alack, Cüneyt Yılmaz Hasn't Become a Fan of Avatar yet. (Sorry, James)

Mon, 22 Feb 2010 20:43:24 +0200

Here at Bilkent, there are two kinds of people for me: the ones that I take lecture notes from and the ones that I pass lecture notes to. As soon as I got back to school from winter break, I tried to contact some of those in the first category to make sure I have notes for the first midterms, but all I got to ensure was that they all had left for Erasmus. And to tell you the truth, it was a real letdown for me. Lesson No.1: Do not trust your friends.

For many years, I’ve thought that disappointment was something peculiar to my parents who would think I was the cleverest student in the country, which is mostly because I was able to reel off the numbers from one to twenty in English by the age of seven. It took ten years or so for them to realize the truth, and we owe that to the ÖSS. But as I left my family for Bilkent University, faith has done whatever it takes to make me feel the way I do at home. And as one disappointment led to another, here we are. Lesson No.2: Do not trust faith.

Now, if you are a second year undergraduate and the registration appointment date and time that Stars thinks you deserve is “January 27, 16:39pm”, you unintentionally get disappointed, right? Moreover, many of the classes I would like to take were either already full or not eligible on the 27th of January by 16:39pm, how cool? Because of my incompetence in anger management, I suppose, I accidentally added a course called “Amer-472: Writing for the Internet Age,” which reminds me solely of Twitter (Sorry Amer-guys). And see what the worst part is: I wasn’t able to drop that course, because I would end up below the required number of courses. Therefore, I tried to change it with a Basic French course, which later on turned out to be added separately, not in exchange for the Amer-472. And no offense, but compared to my classmates who take Chinese classes because of this “growing Chinese economy ” trend that shapes their CV-oriented lives, taking a French course doesn’t seem to me as the smartest of the ideas. Regarding that Amer-472 course, I don’t think I should learn anymore English either. In fact I already feel like I’ve learned more English than I need. Life was easier back in high school, where all I needed to care about was Simple Present Tense. Need evidence? Take, for example, Pokémon. Can you imagine how hard it is for a guy to stand up to the disappointment caused by the fact that Ekans is in fact “snake” written backwards (And please don’t get me started on Ash Ketchum’s Surname!) Lesson No.3: Do not trust Japanese Anime.

Another anticlimactic experience was James Cameron’s “Avatar.” For a year or so, all that many Web sites did was roar to make sure that everyone on Earth (and maybe on Pandora) knows about James Cameron and his gigantic Smurf-like friends (less cute, obviously). That big advertisement campaign, my friends, has led to high expectations, which turned into something else that I call disappointment when we all got out of the theater. Now, I agree that James Cameron was generous when it came to visual effects, but there should be more than that to call a movie the “best movie of the decade” (or “of my life” for some of you), right? A story line that I can’t write, maybe? (Sorry James, again.) Lesson No.4: Do not trust James Cameron.

In fact, there is more to add, like my Power Rangers Nostalgia, or Muse and their latest album, The Resistance. There isn’t enough time or space for them, though. So, instead, here is something that will not only put a perfect end to this week’s column, but will also show you how far I’ve gotten in French: Au Revoir. (Not very harmful for a stray bullet, huh?) Lesson No.5: Do not underestimate my French.

Tim Burton's Not Merry Before the Christmas

Sun, 10 Jan 2010 18:58:28 +0200

At this time of every year, my family and I gather around a table and fight over a stupid problem like why I can’t celebrate New Year’s Eve with my friends. Yes, that is true, back in the kingdom of my father where the concept of democracy is yet to be introduced, a perfect New Year’s Eve corresponds to a dinner with the loved ones. However, unlike what my father would have expected, that night turns out to be a complete fiasco every year. This is what you would expect right? Most of the time things aren’t, in fact, as funny as your father thinks they are.

On the other hand, now that I’m away from home, I can easily fool my father with a fake midterm of a class like ECON297-Introduction to Apocryphal Freakonomics (I usually prefer phrases that my father wouldn’t have heard before). And, as a crucial part of this class, I’m introduced to a new concept that I’d like to introduce you to, too: the anxious indecisiveness caused by an unplanned New Year’s Eve. Yes, you are supposed to actually plan something for New Year’s Eve, and I got that at the eleventh hour. For all those years all I did was to fight with my father and get nothing just as expected from an average pubescent boy and there seem to be a bunch of things that I better be ready for in advance.

The very first thing I should be prepared for is a nice, say-it-even-if-you-know-you-won’t-do-it type of speech to make occasionally on that night about how different I will be in the New Year, why I’m not going to let people abuse me anymore or why I shouldn’t be writing long sentences like this. Another one is that very night I will be the only sober one so I better begin observing some parents to be able to act like one of them. And as if all that wasn’t enough of a punishment, I am also supposed to buy gifts for those whom my father would refer to as “loved ones” as an indicator of my deep love. And, as most of you will agree with me, the worst part of being human is gift giving. You can’t buy a gift for a man because such a thing isn’t invented yet and a woman would definitely hate what you bought for her anyways. Therefore I thought it would be nice if I could come up with something that none of you could resist. After seconds of tireless research I decided that a mixtape would make a great gift. So here is a mix tape I’ve prepared for you guys, which I would love to hear what you think about:

10. Patrick Wolf -Thickets
9. Bon Iver - Skinny Love
8. Belle and Sebastian - Step Into My Office, Baby
7. Camera Obscura - French Navy
6. The Boy Least Likely To - A Balloon On A Broken String
5. Saturday Looks Good To Me - Hands In Snow
4. Decemberists - O New England
3. Travis - Big Chair
2. The Last Shadow Puppets - The Age Of Understatement
1. Muse - New Born

Cüneyt found a lonely Black Sheep on their farm. Oh no!

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 11:17:58 +0200

After technical analysis and legal evaluation based on the catalog crimes of the law no 5651, administrative measure has been taken for this website (zynga.com) according to decision no 421.02.02.2009-272446 dated 02/10/2009 of “Telekomünikasyon İletişim Başkanlığı”

On a sunny afternoon in October, which the World Mothers Association (WMO) has decided to blame for their children’s overuse of deodorant, the auto-message above popped up on Joe Blow’s computer screen. How come, when all he wanted was to get his daily dose of shunning society by playing Farmville, a cyber agrarian experience?

Farmville is a Facebook application where you, the little blonde farmer guy, are expected to run a virtual farm. Basically, all you do is plant stuff, plow land and then harvest. As you earn money and finish levels by selling crops, the scope of available crops to plant expands. To look like more of a middle-aged American guy who would have to think about lots of things before he sleeps, you can also raise weird animals like elephants or strawberry cows and help other people achieve the ultimate aim of being human, socialization.

Joe Blow, on the other hand, is an imaginary character that I’ve created just two minutes ago. Readers of my column would have realized that in my column, I like to call my generation “our country’s hope for the future.” Well, I also would like to refer to Joe Blow as “one of the brightest minds of my generation.” In this respect, he looks very much like me. However, as you will realize throughout the story, we aren’t the same person.

To start with, he is an engineering student, but I’m not. He is a huge fan of Fenerbahçe, while little by little my interest in Galatasaray decreases, which by the way has nothing to do with our recent defeat. Also, he has read that book called The Secret, and I haven’t. However this is not the right time for me to make a critical comparison of us. Instead let’s just go with Joe’s story.

It all began back in the early 2000s, when I was spending most of my pocket money in Internet cafes over games like Counterstrike or Winning Eleven. In contrast, Joe Blow was very fond of some computer programs called ICQ or MIRC.

A few years later, after staring at those weird programs for a sufficient amount of time, NASA scientists announced in their spare time that it was okay for Joe to switch to Youtube and begin plaguing his friends with funny videos. They wouldn’t pay him for it, but Joe was okay with that. It only took a few days for us to call him an expert on Youtube. He knew who would like what kind of videos, when he should laugh or stop the video and repeat the joke. Those were the days when my relationship with many girls would take a turn for the worse because of my squeaky voice, while Joe would only laugh to that monkey video and therefore we wouldn’t actually know how he sounds.

Then again, after a given period, there came Facebook, a platform where I could spend the rest of my life if my basic needs were met. Joe’s relationship with Facebook is very much like any of yours, apparently not like mine, because I’m not a fan of my primary school friends or Farmville, only status updates. However, Joe seems to like the Farmville most. The reason is obvious, actually: Similar to any other typical average Joe, he has always dreamed of a two-story house with a garden where he could raise his own tomatoes and cucumbers. And his compulsive behavior of playing Farmville serves his aim at least for the short run. I might think that Farmville is the stupidest game (although I was once tricked into it by thousands of Facebook requests), that doesn’t necessarily mean I think it should be banned. I guess it isn’t really a surprise for a country where nearly 6,000 websites are banned. Some claim that it isn’t about the game, but the website-but who cares? It is a game that had more than 60 million active users this month; so people (in our case Joe) obviously like it a lot, and it is banned without rational explanation. And I know that this is neither the very first nor the last game to be banned. Tomorrow the victim may be one of those I like most, like Facebook, Gmail or Blogger. Or the Café World game, another application request I’ve just declined.

Türkçe Biliyor musun?

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 21:13:24 +0200

As a typical student who cannot concentrate on what is going on in class for more than 20 minutes, I found myself mocking a professor in one of last week’s classes because he had made a grammatical mistake (or at least I thought he did). Then my automatic self-evaluation system kicked in, which you can easily install, because it works like this: I try to pronounce “curriculum vitae” and if it works out, then I’m at a point where I should be. But if it doesn’t work out as I planned, I conclude that my Indian counterparts are more likely to get the position that I’m planning to apply at a company in the Netherlands. That very day, I’ve failed to impress myself for 16738th time in history and that’s why I’m going to talk about speaking English in this week’s column.

Speaking from experience, if you are going to talk about a phenomenon that the reader might find in an encyclopedia, something like the English language, a brief introduction to that phenomenon would look professional. (Isn’t it what the education is all about?) But whenever I try that, this is what it tends to look like: According to a movie, 10,000 BC, historical roots of speaking English can be traced back to, well obviously, 10,000 BC. However, Ronald Emmerich, director of the movie, doesn’t seem to be the most realistic guy on Earth, as can be easily seen by glancing at his curriculum vitae. (Hint: Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow and 2012.) For information that still tends to be open to question, I better not go into any detail about the history of the English language and wait for Ronald Emmerich and encyclopedia-writer guys to work things out. Instead, I will continue with the problem itself.

I don’t feel wrong when I call speaking English a “pervasive problem.” If asked how he feels, my 10-year-old brother, who claims his English is nearly perfect, goes through a fluctuating vocal cycle. (I hope that doesn’t mean anything special in artistic jargon.) It doesn’t require any special skills to hear him saying, “I am,” but then as his voice level gradually decreases, the only thing you get to hear is him murmuring, or in other words, groaning in pain. On the other hand, I, as a brother 11 years his senior, am no different than him in speaking English. Frankly, my generation, the country’s hope for the future, is even worse at it. In the classes where we are expected to give recitals in English, you would have realized the supposed “interactivity” that every instructor promises at the very beginning fails by the time he begins his lecture. The only thing us students might wonder turns out to be “what is written on the board next to x?” That is because when I’m talking to a professor or doing a presentation, my classmates look like giant TOEFL achievement certificates to me.

On the other hand stands tourists and exchange students. Us Turkish guys, who have always complained about English classes and questioned its importance to daily life, lose our marbles as we see a mouth-watering, ready-to-talk foreigner. In such a case, thanks to delirium, I put on the fakest accent on earth as Jennifer Coolidge did on Friends (in other words, I try to sound like Chris Martin), and go teach a good lesson to that foreigner about speaking English. (When I tried that method on our editor, she found my accent “so thick.”) This might sound familiar to you, because this is what you have experienced while imitating Barney Stinson by calling stuff “awesome,” which you would think sounds cool.

So what is it the solution? Some people suggest that I should spend a summer abroad “working and traveling.” Others think I should insist on speaking English in class and some, by which I only mean my parents, think I am already speaking English flawlessly. I might not suggest a direct solution (neither does anyone else I know), but as someone who has spent his 7 years on Present Perfect Tense, I’m not so sure if W&T will help me improve it. I really miss Eng101-102 classes though. Those were the days when my instructor, God bless him, had to stand me speaking for at least 15 minutes. Those were the days I was graded on my speaking skills. Those were the days that debates existed. “Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end.”

PS: According to my best friend (Google), “curriculum vitae” is a Latin phrase that I’ve chosen to test my English. Was learning English the best decision I’ve made?

PS: Some of you might have noticed that Bar?? Uygur also mentioned “Speaking English” in his column last week. However, by the time I wrote my column, Uykusuz wasn’t released yet, so this subject has nothing to do with it.

Antony, a singing starfish.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 12:19:00 +0200

By the time you think you have had enough of popular culture, a long lasting search inevitably begins for something else, something that would differ from what you have been exposed to everyday, something left off the mainstream, something that today’s teenagers would call “indie.” On the other hand, your obvious indifference toward the latest summer hits might not be welcomed by your best friend who has recently become a fan of Britney Spears on Facebook. He might even go so far as to call you emo or hipster. Luckily, at least for Antony Hegarty, this is worth it.

We have seen enough disbanding to make sure that what is harder than forming a band is to stay loyal to the brotherhood in it. (No, I’m not referring to Oasis.) However, when it comes to a member of the band singing individually, there arises nothing but a feeling of anger inside us. Aware of such a disadvantage, Antony and the Johnsons honestly acknowledge the very sharp distinction between the leading vocal and the rest of the band by the band’s name. When the unjust judgments we have against transsexuals added to this, British-born and American-raised singer Antony Hegarty seems to be too weak for the burden on his shoulders. (Fortunately, we don’t need to take sociology classes to realize that prejudices are no good.) As you listen to him, you would easily realize how much stronger Antony is than he might appear at first sight.

Antony has a smooth, silk-like, divine voice and a tremulous body to go with it. When he is on stage, despite his powerful voice, you can still feel the fear inside of him; not only from the lines “Hope there is someone/Who will take care of me,” but also from the way he acts as he sings. This unexpectedly huge, depressingly white and childishly vulnerable diva-dude looks as if he belongs to another era, where people like him would have sung ballads.

Hollywood’s teenager-oriented movies’ “If I were a boy” cliché (body-swapping comedies), which is also frequently used by singers like Ciara and Beyoncé (You might unintentionally expect it to be used by Rihanna soon), is what Antony experiences without any kind of accumulation of interest. Besides his inborn “otherness,” his God-given talent makes him a lot more vulnerable than most of us as he puts out in his own words: “I need another place/Will there be peace/I need another world/This one’s nearly gone.” Living in a world where everyone must have a dream-a reason to live if you will-I have my own, too. I also need another world where we don’t have to worry about the environment, where prejudices don’t exist, where people like Antony sing more.

The torch singer Antony and his band, Antony and the Johnsons, have released two albums so far: I Am a Bird Now (2005), which they have won a Mercury Prize for, and The Crying Light (2009). Antony has also collaborated with some diverse artists such as Lou Reed, Boy George, Björk, Mark Almond, Rufus Wainwright and sung for movies such as Animal Factory, V for Vendetta and I’m Not There. If you would like to listen to him, I’d recommend you to begin with Cripple and Starfish or Another World. (For those who like Beyoncé, Antony covered her Crazy in Love.)

(Photo by flickr user Simone Pelluconi)

“ama şey. alışmak.”

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 22:56:25 +0200

“ama şey. alışmak.”