8.30.2005
Charmed, I'm sure...
There are some women who have the ability to enrapture men. Specifically my Mom, but not limited to her. I've always wondered if it was pheromonal, chemical, social - just what combination of criteria make for irresistibility? Over the course of my mating life, I have been described as "intimidating", "overpowering", and a "firecracker" but never "alluring", "exceptional", or "entrancing".
8.12.2005
Have You Ever...
had the feeling that knowledge just aggregates in the brain and all you have to do to utilize it is awaken it with a little prodding? I took my Stats final two nights ago... I don't know about the rest of you, but I have pretty much forgotten all my graduate level stats except for p-values and ANOVA's which really don't matter much unless you know how to interprete them and use them in a sentence, er... equation. And where am I going with this drivel?
After attending the INSC 60013 intro class, I somehow skipped every class until the mid-term, which I took and have no idea how I did but suspect it was miserable, then conducted some psychological self-flagellation for my sloth. Convinced that I would now walk the straight and narrow path to Statistical and Graduate excellence, I awaited the second half of the summer session with renewed expectation. Evening classes came and went and there I sat on my couch, in my bed, out in the park, any place but Smith Hall. And finally, a mere two classes before the final, I pin-pointed my lack of drive... I had normal people depression. Mmmm - weird.
But how was I to rectify this class thing? Too late too drop, too ashamed to attend class, too proud to confess. A brief communique to the prof assured me that no harm done, just finish the requirements. The day, Yes, the DAY of the final, I started to study. 18 Chapters of finance statistics to absorb in 6 hours.
And guess what? I feel quite certain I did.
After attending the INSC 60013 intro class, I somehow skipped every class until the mid-term, which I took and have no idea how I did but suspect it was miserable, then conducted some psychological self-flagellation for my sloth. Convinced that I would now walk the straight and narrow path to Statistical and Graduate excellence, I awaited the second half of the summer session with renewed expectation. Evening classes came and went and there I sat on my couch, in my bed, out in the park, any place but Smith Hall. And finally, a mere two classes before the final, I pin-pointed my lack of drive... I had normal people depression. Mmmm - weird.
But how was I to rectify this class thing? Too late too drop, too ashamed to attend class, too proud to confess. A brief communique to the prof assured me that no harm done, just finish the requirements. The day, Yes, the DAY of the final, I started to study. 18 Chapters of finance statistics to absorb in 6 hours.
And guess what? I feel quite certain I did.
8.08.2005
Nocturnes
The bedroom was beautiful - large, high bed; thick, wooly rugs; dim lights and candles softly glowing. I was struggling to hide the evidence of Steve's visit, cigarette ashes carelessly flicked on the old plank floor, cooled wax. The party would be starting soon and I hadn't even gotten the decorations for the spiral staircase that the kids would use as a play area. Of course the booze was already awaiting the arrival of the costumed guests. As I rushed over to the adjoining complex, I saw that Mom had already done the decorating... all was in readiness.
Suddenly I was in the midst of our party, children clambering, adults marvelling at the interior decor and gushing over my Mom. I felt alone, small and silly. I wanted to shout about my achievements, my successes, my talents, but I knew it would all fall on deaf and charmed ears. After most of the revellers retired for the night and I was a bit high on the booze and my self-righteousness, I cornered my Mom. Intensely, but not loudly, I reminded her that I was valuable, not like one of her turn of the century chintz plates but as a person, a daughter and an individual. She wept but I remained arid. Maybe I had gotten my point across.
An Indian friend noticed our exchange and soflty approached. She invited us to her house for the following day to relax with her large family in their new home. As we arrived she offered us warm chai tea and calmed our frazzled emotions with her soothing banter. Feathers were smoothed and accusations were withdrawn, status quo regained.
While wandering the house I noticed a new ability to move objects, make them appear and disappear, happening only when I wasn't concentrating or wishing but when I just knew it should happen. Each time I used this gift, it grew, becoming easier and more bold. I went outside to play with the dog, throwing a stick and making it disappear/reappear to the dismay of the Lab. I conjured simple things, natural things, things that might be there anyway. Delighted with my treasure, I returned inside to make the ice cubes in drinks appear and vanish. No one seemed to notice.
Later that evening I went out and was delighted when I was approached by Matt Damon and Ben Afleck, the younger versions just off their success with "Good Will Hunting". Ben already had the beginnings of the swagger that would wear thin with fans and keep him in sub-par movies, but Matt still radiated that innocent intensity. Ben had a brazen dark girl on his arm and Matt asked me to join them back to their hotel. First we stopped at a manufacturing plant, laser-machined parts and other metal fabrications were the products made there. Matt demonstrated his skill with a precision metal laser while I watched with fascination. Ben and his woman squirmed in the dark corner urging us to hurry up.
Arriving at their hotel, a grand Las Vegas style affair, we headed up to the penthouse suites. The other couple practically engaged before the locks and doors were thrown. Matt and I retired to his rooms and our encounter was slow, sweet and delicious. He revelled in my experience and I was overcome with his youth and energy - the fit was perfect. While we lay together. Matt confided to me that he thought Ben was somehow spying for the Russians and sending the information from the fabrication plant to their government, but he couldn't be sure how the information was being gathered. He asked me if I would spend some time alone with Ben, try to suss out the means for the deception. God, I would do anything for Matt's angelic face!
Wouldn't you know, Ben was carrying around a small Russian spy, named Fyodor, in his navel.
Suddenly I was in the midst of our party, children clambering, adults marvelling at the interior decor and gushing over my Mom. I felt alone, small and silly. I wanted to shout about my achievements, my successes, my talents, but I knew it would all fall on deaf and charmed ears. After most of the revellers retired for the night and I was a bit high on the booze and my self-righteousness, I cornered my Mom. Intensely, but not loudly, I reminded her that I was valuable, not like one of her turn of the century chintz plates but as a person, a daughter and an individual. She wept but I remained arid. Maybe I had gotten my point across.
An Indian friend noticed our exchange and soflty approached. She invited us to her house for the following day to relax with her large family in their new home. As we arrived she offered us warm chai tea and calmed our frazzled emotions with her soothing banter. Feathers were smoothed and accusations were withdrawn, status quo regained.
While wandering the house I noticed a new ability to move objects, make them appear and disappear, happening only when I wasn't concentrating or wishing but when I just knew it should happen. Each time I used this gift, it grew, becoming easier and more bold. I went outside to play with the dog, throwing a stick and making it disappear/reappear to the dismay of the Lab. I conjured simple things, natural things, things that might be there anyway. Delighted with my treasure, I returned inside to make the ice cubes in drinks appear and vanish. No one seemed to notice.
Later that evening I went out and was delighted when I was approached by Matt Damon and Ben Afleck, the younger versions just off their success with "Good Will Hunting". Ben already had the beginnings of the swagger that would wear thin with fans and keep him in sub-par movies, but Matt still radiated that innocent intensity. Ben had a brazen dark girl on his arm and Matt asked me to join them back to their hotel. First we stopped at a manufacturing plant, laser-machined parts and other metal fabrications were the products made there. Matt demonstrated his skill with a precision metal laser while I watched with fascination. Ben and his woman squirmed in the dark corner urging us to hurry up.
Arriving at their hotel, a grand Las Vegas style affair, we headed up to the penthouse suites. The other couple practically engaged before the locks and doors were thrown. Matt and I retired to his rooms and our encounter was slow, sweet and delicious. He revelled in my experience and I was overcome with his youth and energy - the fit was perfect. While we lay together. Matt confided to me that he thought Ben was somehow spying for the Russians and sending the information from the fabrication plant to their government, but he couldn't be sure how the information was being gathered. He asked me if I would spend some time alone with Ben, try to suss out the means for the deception. God, I would do anything for Matt's angelic face!
Wouldn't you know, Ben was carrying around a small Russian spy, named Fyodor, in his navel.
8.04.2005
Alta Y Baja
A couple of years ago my Grandmother gave me some stock for Christmas. Since then I have set up a little portfolio, watched it anxiously as it quivered and quavered with the whims of the NYSE. However, before I started all this MBA nonsense I was only concerned with the bottom line - How much is this stuff worth?? Ho, Ho,... but now that I am all the wiser in matters of Financial Reporting and the like, the rhyme is starting to jive with the reason. So, last week when my little pieces of paper started climbing the heights, I chortled with delight, but was gradnly dismayed when it took a nosedive based on the slightly revised quarterly earnings.
Ah, that fickle market, how it yanky my midas desires to and fro.
Ah, that fickle market, how it yanky my midas desires to and fro.
8.03.2005
Anti-Evolution
A never-ending supply of stories to further my conviction that a separatist, elitist existence is the only way to avoid the insanity.
What's wrong with this picture?
I'm sorry, but this is just wrong. Yet another vivid example of the dysfunctional standards we live by today and how they circumvent the natural order.
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