So It's pretty much been the shittiest mosy dysfunctional week ever (for this month). It's like this entire week has just blurred into one soupy continuum of lame procrastination vs productivity, all dissolved in isolation with intermittent sleeping at the most bizarre and inconveniant hours imaginable. And sadly, from the look of things, it won't be over until the middle of next week, weekend included. I might be sounding a little too JVish here, but seriously, this lifestyle is bad for the soul. Correction-muderous for the soul.
But Blogging is good for the soul, so I'm going to take a break here to talk about one of my favorite blog topics: [just guess] (If you're getting sick of these, please let me know. They're not gonna stop, but I'm curious)
People are very much like protons. (Here of course, I'm referring to hydrogen nuclei in hydrocarbons) For any given hydrogen in a compound, there are hydrogens that are chemically equivalent, and others that are not. When two non-equivalent hydrogens get too close (say, bonded to adjacent carbons) they affect each others magnetic fields in a phenomena known as "Spin-Spin Coupling." Essentially, because the protons have different magnetic properties, they end up splitting each others' signals. These two protons are referred to as "Coupled Protons," and for every neighboring proton that's actually equivalent to one of these protons, the more the signal becomes split.
They say opposites attract, so lets look at a pair of coupled protons like a pair of coupled people. When two people are a little extra interested in one another, it's easy enough for them to literally split each others signals. For example, one party might become shy, so the other party mistakes this for a total lack of interest, or even dislike. In another case, one party could really put an effort into getting the other party's attention, but the other party could just interpret this as an inherent part of that person's personality, or just being friendly. If equivalent protons are like peoples' friends, the analogy still holds. The more friends a person goes to inorder to gain insight on their problems, the more possibilities they come up with for what a signal actually was intended to mean. After the friend group has been consulted, one often finds oneself even more puzzled, now with multiple interpretations at hand. (Unlike real multiplicity, they usually don't neatly follow Pascals Triangle, but you get the idea. I suppose that would just make life too easy.)
But equivalent protons never split each others' signals. So here's the issue: what happens when two friends, once considered equivalent protons by every means, are attracted to each other? Does the analogy still hold? Are they forever blessed with perfect fluency in each others signals? Or perhaps, through some bizarre physical phenomena, the chemistry between them is strong enough to cause a reaction of sorts, which ends up changing one's equivalency, causing problems, and bringing us back to square one. And if something like that could happen, there's always the question of entropy. That is, once this equivalency changing reaction has occured, can the two protons ever really go back to being perfectly equivalent friends?
Seriously, who needs Psychoanalysis when you have NMR....
Friday, March 07, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Confessions of a Rankings Junkie
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200109/flanagan
It's called "Confessions of a College Councilor" and definitley worth the read. I can't really remember how I came across it, but it's pretty thought provoking, and brought up a lot of good old application frenzy nostalgia.
It gives some interesting perspective on college applications, and just what makes some schools more appealing than others (Yes, parents want the best for their kids, but a lot of them also want to brag about their children's days at Princeton like it's a country club. And if education is so important, state schools often have five times the number of truly well qualified professors than flashy places like Duke or Yale.) It also points out how colleges sell themselves, trying to get as many applications as they can soley so they can reject them just to look more prestigious. (Jerks) There was something else odd about reading it too. The paper referenced and criticized a lot of big name institutions, especially a certain neighbour of mine. You'd think that I would revere this institution, idolize it and be slightly fascinated by it's students who found a way passed its daunting admissions odds. Nope, not really. I've been there, it's sorta the same. (I've also heard they're suckers for ED apps, maybe that explains it)
Hitting more close to home, it talks about a book written by a Yale student who fell in love with the campus on one visit after five minutes, and then worked his as off like no other to get in. (Hmm...sound familiar? Though the infatuation only took about that long, I had known the place since I could walk.) That's another thing colleges seem to really be cashing in on these days- a sortof legitimate romantic attachment hormonally driven teens develop with their top choice. Student faculty ratios and excellent facilities are rarely our real top reason for choosing a college, they're just side bars we can add in to reassure ourselves that we're making a responsible, grown up decision. Oh no, It's "the feel." It's being able to picture yourself on the campus enjoying happy (often overrated, if you ask me) collegiate life. In short, they're selling the dream.
I know about this better than anyone, because I fell for it hook line and sinker. I put up with a prep school that I (at the time) detested, I became an overacheiving, perky, freaked out caffiene addict, I did everything I could, and I still didn't get the thick envelope. Should I be ashamed, then? That I let myself be played by an industry? That I was one in a sea of thousands of brighteyed, hardworking hopefuls who just really, inexplicably wanted to go to Harvard or Brown? Should I have been more savvy than the rest of society and their psycho-obsessive parents? I suppose it's too late for that. Hey, I wanted something, I went for it best I could, there's no shame in that. No one's never a fool. (Though maybe that extra essay was a mistake...) Maybe it's because it's the only I've actually wanted the same thing as a certain unnamed parent, for essentially just the same silly reasons I often criticize him for using with everything else. OK, maybe I should be at least a little embarassed.
As you might have guessed, I didn't get into my top choice college. I love where I am now, and on a recent visit to a certain unnamed Cambridge instituiton I'm hella glad I didn't get in, But I'm still sorta bitter. When I recieved my acceptance to the school I'm at now I opened the package, unfolded the letter half way to glimpse at the first word, then threw it on my bed with the rest of my crap before going to eat lunch. Enthralling moment, really. I actually feel more like I was deprived of that awesome moment everyone should have than heartbroken by the actual rejection letters themselves. (Which, oddly enough, didn't bother me at all last March, but will probably become the major focus of a shrink session when I'm 35.)
Oh Now I remember why I had this all on my mind today. I was in the Career Development Office watching them tear my beautiful sappling of a resume to shreds, when I eyed a "Pre Law" magazine and picked it up. I read that though 80,000 students will apply to Law School in the US, only about 40,000 will get in. Anywhere. I was just entering a mild panic mode and wondering how to incorporate LSAT studying into my sophomore routine when I thought to myself "Oh Crap, are we seriously going through this again?"
It's called "Confessions of a College Councilor" and definitley worth the read. I can't really remember how I came across it, but it's pretty thought provoking, and brought up a lot of good old application frenzy nostalgia.
It gives some interesting perspective on college applications, and just what makes some schools more appealing than others (Yes, parents want the best for their kids, but a lot of them also want to brag about their children's days at Princeton like it's a country club. And if education is so important, state schools often have five times the number of truly well qualified professors than flashy places like Duke or Yale.) It also points out how colleges sell themselves, trying to get as many applications as they can soley so they can reject them just to look more prestigious. (Jerks) There was something else odd about reading it too. The paper referenced and criticized a lot of big name institutions, especially a certain neighbour of mine. You'd think that I would revere this institution, idolize it and be slightly fascinated by it's students who found a way passed its daunting admissions odds. Nope, not really. I've been there, it's sorta the same. (I've also heard they're suckers for ED apps, maybe that explains it)
Hitting more close to home, it talks about a book written by a Yale student who fell in love with the campus on one visit after five minutes, and then worked his as off like no other to get in. (Hmm...sound familiar? Though the infatuation only took about that long, I had known the place since I could walk.) That's another thing colleges seem to really be cashing in on these days- a sortof legitimate romantic attachment hormonally driven teens develop with their top choice. Student faculty ratios and excellent facilities are rarely our real top reason for choosing a college, they're just side bars we can add in to reassure ourselves that we're making a responsible, grown up decision. Oh no, It's "the feel." It's being able to picture yourself on the campus enjoying happy (often overrated, if you ask me) collegiate life. In short, they're selling the dream.
I know about this better than anyone, because I fell for it hook line and sinker. I put up with a prep school that I (at the time) detested, I became an overacheiving, perky, freaked out caffiene addict, I did everything I could, and I still didn't get the thick envelope. Should I be ashamed, then? That I let myself be played by an industry? That I was one in a sea of thousands of brighteyed, hardworking hopefuls who just really, inexplicably wanted to go to Harvard or Brown? Should I have been more savvy than the rest of society and their psycho-obsessive parents? I suppose it's too late for that. Hey, I wanted something, I went for it best I could, there's no shame in that. No one's never a fool. (Though maybe that extra essay was a mistake...) Maybe it's because it's the only I've actually wanted the same thing as a certain unnamed parent, for essentially just the same silly reasons I often criticize him for using with everything else. OK, maybe I should be at least a little embarassed.
As you might have guessed, I didn't get into my top choice college. I love where I am now, and on a recent visit to a certain unnamed Cambridge instituiton I'm hella glad I didn't get in, But I'm still sorta bitter. When I recieved my acceptance to the school I'm at now I opened the package, unfolded the letter half way to glimpse at the first word, then threw it on my bed with the rest of my crap before going to eat lunch. Enthralling moment, really. I actually feel more like I was deprived of that awesome moment everyone should have than heartbroken by the actual rejection letters themselves. (Which, oddly enough, didn't bother me at all last March, but will probably become the major focus of a shrink session when I'm 35.)
Oh Now I remember why I had this all on my mind today. I was in the Career Development Office watching them tear my beautiful sappling of a resume to shreds, when I eyed a "Pre Law" magazine and picked it up. I read that though 80,000 students will apply to Law School in the US, only about 40,000 will get in. Anywhere. I was just entering a mild panic mode and wondering how to incorporate LSAT studying into my sophomore routine when I thought to myself "Oh Crap, are we seriously going through this again?"
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Juicy is: too cool for the South couch!
Just as Adam and Eve before them, there comes a time in everyone's life when they realize that they have too much self respect to submit themselves to conditions that they previously deemed bearable. Enter the room of any non-OCD college student, and you will surely find month old pizza boxes, moldy utensils, bacteria ridden cups and cans, and a smelly pile of laundry to rival the Sears tower. All of these living conditions are acceptable to us now, but probably wouldn't fly for anyone above the age of 28. Today I had a similar such epiphany. Yes, this is a prime time for adventerous wanderings into the night, but I don't know how much longer I can (soberly) take sleeping on a common room couch, out in the open, subject to the judgemental glances of any random passerby. (that is, of course, assuming I can get to sleep, what with the snowplow, random generator noises, and lights that don't turn off.) And even if I have the privellege of sleeping in the privacy of someone's room, there's something sortof unsettling about waking up on the floor of a friend of a friend of a friend's place, no matter how many times you've done it. (Especially the ones you've only known for about 5 hours.) I must admit this is a bit of a shock to me, as I surely thought I had at least 3 years of this left, but apparently not. Or at least not regularly and sober. (Yes, drunk is another thing. For that I figure I have at least until my mid 20s.) Till then, lesson learned: if theres nothing happenning, you might as well just go home. And only in rare conditions will you allow yourself to be allured to stay by the ultimate evil. (That, of course, is food delivery until 4am. Spoiled fuckers.)
*sigh* another tiny bit of childhood, lost forever....
*sigh* another tiny bit of childhood, lost forever....
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Conquoring The Great Divide (The Footnotes Are Priceless)
Who said the Humanities and Sciences were so different anyways? You know, I think they were deeply mislead. In fact, I am currently reporting to you live from my room at around 4am where I can assert to you that I am, in the great style of good English students everywhere, completely bullshitting a lab report. Yes, slinging the old bull for dear life as far as it will go. Maybe this is all substantiated, maybe not, but what do we really know about science anyway? Yeah we can prove theories with numbers and experiments but we never actually get to see it (at least at the 200 level). There is absolutley no reason why Unknown sample E can't be whatever I assert it to be. Further more, who said you needed multiple chromatograms anyway? I have one, it's pretty. In fact, it's symbolic of my monogamous relationship with the subject (at least as far as it knows). The fact that it took me two tries to get a good strip parallels my own personal development as a Chemist: I had to take two chemistry classes to realize how much I enjoy the subject. The strip itself also happenns to be part of a process abbreviated as TLC, which is an allusion to the common saying "TLC" as in "Tender Love and Care" which is what Chemistry and I need to give each other if our relationship is going to suceed. To add a third layer of meaning, it is also the name of a pop group who wrote a song about waterfalls. What better way to bring both Chemistry, love, and chemsexuality into the mainstream than hydrogen bonding and fluid dynamics?*
Yes, if all else fails, I will turn that in. (after you've cited CVS.com more than two times, I don't think you can really stoop much lower...)
*Wow, I didn't even do that on purpose....
Yes, if all else fails, I will turn that in. (after you've cited CVS.com more than two times, I don't think you can really stoop much lower...)
*Wow, I didn't even do that on purpose....
Monday, February 25, 2008
One Of Those Mornings
I walk in to my room to grab the remains of my homework, jealous of my comfortably dozing roomate illuminated by the earliest of pink pre-dawn light. I didn't actually have that much to do, but there was the sleeping late, then the oscars, then the me losing my concentration around 2am, but most of all, there were the documentaries...
heres part 1, the rest is on you tube too...
http://youtube.com/watch?v=UIhTXQfiENI
9/11- a corporate conspiracy? Could it have been prevented? This documentary was actually pretty intruiging, then again that comes with the nature of the material. I always thought there was something odd about the footage: plane crashes into tower, tower remains standing, then proceeds to crash floor by floor to the ground. If it was the velocity of the plane that caused such a mass of troubles in the buidling, wouldnt it act more like a domino falling down sideways than crashing downwards? The theory given, of course, is that the steel was so overheated that it either bent or broke, allowing the building to implode in on itself. This documentary claims that the steel was tested to temperatures well over those the fire could have maximally burned to in the building, (and wouldnt this have happenned immidiatley with no pause? wouldnt heat only subtract with time?) along with mentioning some bizarre construction occuring about a week before the attacks, and the random explosion building 7. Overall it was a very convincing documentary, at least until the end when they were like "come down the rabbit hole, welcome to the new wave, its OK..." Creepers. Way to kill a quality program, plus the website screams "send us money." And there are some other questions too- like if it was a corporate demolition, why even bother with planes in the first place? if a jet plane couldn't get that hot, what's to say chemical explosives could? Anyway, they make some good points, and I consider it my responsibility to spread the word just in case they are on to something. (which it seems like they might be) I bet all the fishy things are just people being bought off from AlQaeda. I doubt the US govt's intention is to go that far for a war and authortarian shits and giggles, but who knows. It's worth a peek.
The second one wasn't so mindblowing so no link. It was pretty much everything we already know about how the music industry is comprised of profit driven corporate robber barons who will only sign artists who would rather sell alot quickly than invest in quality acts that could do well with the same amount of pushing but who won't get the support simply because they don't fit the mainstream bracket of what corporations know will sell. (Yes, OSK, I was thinking of you)They also went on to explain (and essentially criticize) how large corporations will group together to promote an artists through every company under its umbrella. (eg. record label does record, artist promoted in partner subsidiary magazine, sell their cd at correlated chain store, etc) Honestly, I don't have a huge ethical problem with this. People wouldn't develop "mainstream only" music if people didn't like it. People are easily bought idiots with poor taste, but essentially the companies are really just profiting off of making them happy. It's a win-win situation between the seller and the consumer. Furthermore, using a profitible aspect of one of your companies to increase the value of your other companies or only doing buisness with artists you know will be successful isn't ethically wrong by any standard, it's good buisness. If you want to be into music because you like the art form and want to take risks, sign with an indie label and be happy with a small cult following. If you wanna be a big star, dress like P Diddy, and be on TRL, sell your creative soul to the devil. The idea of being famous is a corporate entity within itself- not a hard core indie one. You can't really have both, at least not in the same way. It's capitalism, we have a choice. If Indie labels didn't exist that would be another story, but they do, embrace their awesomeness and stop complaining just because the rest of the world hasn't caught on yet. They're also complaining about TV commercials using music. Dude, it's good advertising for both the product and the song simultanously. What's not to love? I know if you're an artist you don't wan't to forever be "the song on the [insert brand here] commercial" but it's a great gateway, and if you're any good you'll out grow your commercial reputation soon enough. I personally consider commercials a prime way to hear good songs. Maybe I am a corporate dominated Zombie, but hey at least my music makes me happy.
But they did make one point- even big names get treated like crap from a mainstream label. Did you know that a band on average has to sell 300,000 records just to break even after what they owe their label/producer from doing a record and video? let alone make a profit...OK, the guilt got me, I'm never illegally downloading ever again. It's also watching things like that that make me incredibly proud to live in the day and age that we do (despite my musical bitching and complaining) because there are now actually a bunch of internet record labels helping lesser known artists promote themselves. Yay technology! Yay globalization! Yay equal-footing on a world-wide platform! Yay Friedman! Yay blogosphere! I am excited to see what the future holds, especially considering that the "in" thing now is really alternative and bazarre stuff (then again, that might just be because I go to a women's college in Mass)
wohooo post 111. Oh, and in the style of Gavrich, I was listening to this song earlier today and couldn't help but add it in:
Hooker with a Penis by Tool
I met a boy wearing vans,
501 s, and a Dope beastie t, nipple rings, and
New tattoos that claimed that he
Was ogt, From 92, The first EP.
And in between sips of coke
He told me that he thought
We were sellin out,
Layin down,
Suckin up
To the man.
Well now Ive got some Advice for you, little buddy.
Before you point the finger You should know that Im the man,
And if Im the man, Then youre the man, and Hes the man as well
so you can Point that fuckin finger up your ass.
All you know about me is what Ive sold you,
Dumb fuck. I sold out long before you ever heard my name.
I sold my soul to make a record, Dip shit, And you bought one.
So Ive got some Advice for you, little buddy.
Before you point your finger You should know that Im the man,
If Im the fuckin man Then youre the fuckin man as well
So you can point that fuckin finger up your ass.
All you read and Wear or see and Hear on tv
Is a productBegging for yourFatass dirtyDollar
So...shut up and Buy my new record
Send more money Fuck you, buddy.
heres part 1, the rest is on you tube too...
http://youtube.com/watch?v=UIhTXQfiENI
9/11- a corporate conspiracy? Could it have been prevented? This documentary was actually pretty intruiging, then again that comes with the nature of the material. I always thought there was something odd about the footage: plane crashes into tower, tower remains standing, then proceeds to crash floor by floor to the ground. If it was the velocity of the plane that caused such a mass of troubles in the buidling, wouldnt it act more like a domino falling down sideways than crashing downwards? The theory given, of course, is that the steel was so overheated that it either bent or broke, allowing the building to implode in on itself. This documentary claims that the steel was tested to temperatures well over those the fire could have maximally burned to in the building, (and wouldnt this have happenned immidiatley with no pause? wouldnt heat only subtract with time?) along with mentioning some bizarre construction occuring about a week before the attacks, and the random explosion building 7. Overall it was a very convincing documentary, at least until the end when they were like "come down the rabbit hole, welcome to the new wave, its OK..." Creepers. Way to kill a quality program, plus the website screams "send us money." And there are some other questions too- like if it was a corporate demolition, why even bother with planes in the first place? if a jet plane couldn't get that hot, what's to say chemical explosives could? Anyway, they make some good points, and I consider it my responsibility to spread the word just in case they are on to something. (which it seems like they might be) I bet all the fishy things are just people being bought off from AlQaeda. I doubt the US govt's intention is to go that far for a war and authortarian shits and giggles, but who knows. It's worth a peek.
The second one wasn't so mindblowing so no link. It was pretty much everything we already know about how the music industry is comprised of profit driven corporate robber barons who will only sign artists who would rather sell alot quickly than invest in quality acts that could do well with the same amount of pushing but who won't get the support simply because they don't fit the mainstream bracket of what corporations know will sell. (Yes, OSK, I was thinking of you)They also went on to explain (and essentially criticize) how large corporations will group together to promote an artists through every company under its umbrella. (eg. record label does record, artist promoted in partner subsidiary magazine, sell their cd at correlated chain store, etc) Honestly, I don't have a huge ethical problem with this. People wouldn't develop "mainstream only" music if people didn't like it. People are easily bought idiots with poor taste, but essentially the companies are really just profiting off of making them happy. It's a win-win situation between the seller and the consumer. Furthermore, using a profitible aspect of one of your companies to increase the value of your other companies or only doing buisness with artists you know will be successful isn't ethically wrong by any standard, it's good buisness. If you want to be into music because you like the art form and want to take risks, sign with an indie label and be happy with a small cult following. If you wanna be a big star, dress like P Diddy, and be on TRL, sell your creative soul to the devil. The idea of being famous is a corporate entity within itself- not a hard core indie one. You can't really have both, at least not in the same way. It's capitalism, we have a choice. If Indie labels didn't exist that would be another story, but they do, embrace their awesomeness and stop complaining just because the rest of the world hasn't caught on yet. They're also complaining about TV commercials using music. Dude, it's good advertising for both the product and the song simultanously. What's not to love? I know if you're an artist you don't wan't to forever be "the song on the [insert brand here] commercial" but it's a great gateway, and if you're any good you'll out grow your commercial reputation soon enough. I personally consider commercials a prime way to hear good songs. Maybe I am a corporate dominated Zombie, but hey at least my music makes me happy.
But they did make one point- even big names get treated like crap from a mainstream label. Did you know that a band on average has to sell 300,000 records just to break even after what they owe their label/producer from doing a record and video? let alone make a profit...OK, the guilt got me, I'm never illegally downloading ever again. It's also watching things like that that make me incredibly proud to live in the day and age that we do (despite my musical bitching and complaining) because there are now actually a bunch of internet record labels helping lesser known artists promote themselves. Yay technology! Yay globalization! Yay equal-footing on a world-wide platform! Yay Friedman! Yay blogosphere! I am excited to see what the future holds, especially considering that the "in" thing now is really alternative and bazarre stuff (then again, that might just be because I go to a women's college in Mass)
wohooo post 111. Oh, and in the style of Gavrich, I was listening to this song earlier today and couldn't help but add it in:
Hooker with a Penis by Tool
I met a boy wearing vans,
501 s, and a Dope beastie t, nipple rings, and
New tattoos that claimed that he
Was ogt, From 92, The first EP.
And in between sips of coke
He told me that he thought
We were sellin out,
Layin down,
Suckin up
To the man.
Well now Ive got some Advice for you, little buddy.
Before you point the finger You should know that Im the man,
And if Im the man, Then youre the man, and Hes the man as well
so you can Point that fuckin finger up your ass.
All you know about me is what Ive sold you,
Dumb fuck. I sold out long before you ever heard my name.
I sold my soul to make a record, Dip shit, And you bought one.
So Ive got some Advice for you, little buddy.
Before you point your finger You should know that Im the man,
If Im the fuckin man Then youre the fuckin man as well
So you can point that fuckin finger up your ass.
All you read and Wear or see and Hear on tv
Is a productBegging for yourFatass dirtyDollar
So...shut up and Buy my new record
Send more money Fuck you, buddy.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Mailbox Usage: 69%
Ever since I started doing work at the library, I got into the habit of taking little study breaks on the public-use computers in the foyer. After about a month of doing this, I realized that the same guy (old, balding, never takes off his coat, fanny pack, odd strap around the back of his eyeglasses) is on the same computer all the time. I'm assuming he doesn't actually have any affiliation to the school, because if he did he could just log-in on a computer in the lab like everyone else does when they're planning on being online for hours on end, as he often is. This didn't really seem too odd to me until finals week. Usually the library closes at 12, but during finals week it's open till 2 AM. Yes ladies and gents, 1:30 AM on a weeknight, and he's still there. What is his job exactly? Lord knows. What's even wierder is that every time I look over his shoulder, he's always reading something in Russian. Now I don't actually have a problem with random people using my college's computers (even if they might be commies) so long as another student doesn't need one, but last night, he crossed the line.
You see, the most notorious aspect of this man is this: he wreaks. I'm not just talking about post-gym bad BO, oh no, this is a legitimate stench. Perhaps he's one of those people that needs to carry around a bag to pee in or wears diapers or something? I am almost tempted to get a little closer simply because it is by far the most pungent smell I have ever encountered on another human being in my entire life. That is, until I remember it's friggen gross. How did he cross the line exactly? Well, usually I only have to bear light whiffs of this perfume if I happen to be using the adjacent computer, but last night it was too much. By some extension of his super human powers of aromatic radiation, I could not only smell it as I walked by him, but I had to walk down another computer or two, across the main lobby, and then use the computers in the other half of the foyer inorder to evade the stench. Really, if you're going to mooch off of facilities that you in all probability don't pay for at least be subtle about it. And just when I thought that he couldn't have out done himself, it gets worse. I'm leaving the library at 1 AM (yay, extended hours this semsester! I'm so lame...) after they've kicked most other people out (including our friend) and the room still smelled. Ouch.
How does he do it?!?
You see, the most notorious aspect of this man is this: he wreaks. I'm not just talking about post-gym bad BO, oh no, this is a legitimate stench. Perhaps he's one of those people that needs to carry around a bag to pee in or wears diapers or something? I am almost tempted to get a little closer simply because it is by far the most pungent smell I have ever encountered on another human being in my entire life. That is, until I remember it's friggen gross. How did he cross the line exactly? Well, usually I only have to bear light whiffs of this perfume if I happen to be using the adjacent computer, but last night it was too much. By some extension of his super human powers of aromatic radiation, I could not only smell it as I walked by him, but I had to walk down another computer or two, across the main lobby, and then use the computers in the other half of the foyer inorder to evade the stench. Really, if you're going to mooch off of facilities that you in all probability don't pay for at least be subtle about it. And just when I thought that he couldn't have out done himself, it gets worse. I'm leaving the library at 1 AM (yay, extended hours this semsester! I'm so lame...) after they've kicked most other people out (including our friend) and the room still smelled. Ouch.
How does he do it?!?
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Yay! Procrastination!
Please, if you find yourself with 10 minutes to spare, humor me....
http://www.quizilla.com/score/display.php?item_id=6677760
let me know what you get!
http://www.quizilla.com/score/display.php?item_id=6677760
let me know what you get!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
If This Blog Had Any Credibility, I Think I Just Killed It...
Here it is, Mango Addicts, Juicy's first, last, and only, attempt at a rap. I'm not sure whether to be sorta proud or a little embarassed...Tell me what you think. The working title is 'Life Lacks Epic'
Chorus:
Life lacks epic
Its like an epidemic
people all around me
kept down by the TV
kept down by the police
kept down by the fears of what's comin to be
I swear its the end of the last generation
sometimes wish I was around before the age of information
its like im waiting for some soulful detonation
or at least an excuse to get loose and make a little mayehem
that wont show up on my record when i need to get a job
sick of living for my future life all day long
The other day I went to buy my friend some cigarettes
I had the money and the license but they carded her instead
I said woman this is crazy im 18 and theyre for me
she said sorry honey thats the way it gotta be
Now they wouldnt have pulled that bull back in our parents day
clerk might ask you youre age, but took your word it was Ok
I had a teacher once said he need to 'pologize
i said why you aint done no wrong in my eyes
he says i grew up in the 70s doin all crazy shit
thanks to my generation every thing you do gotta be much more legit
once i heard of a girl goin to school and workin hard
wanna be a lawyer, take the LSAT, pass the BAR
on the weekend shed relax toke some weed with her friends
once the cops busted a party, yah you bet it was the end
one spot on your record they wont never let it go
now she cant be a lawyer and who's to blame? the popo!
[chorus]
Every now and then in highschool id be gettin pretty bored
id say hey lets go out but theyre all playin' 64
then i got to college it was pretty much the same
all itunes and you tube and internet games
now i love a cozy night being lazy just as much as any other
but everynow and then i say come on lets blow this mother fucka
theres a whole world out there and theres stories to be told
crazy fuckas to meet and were only gettin more old
back in the days when you was bored you would make your own joy
get out and about, go on adventures, maybe make a little noise
but today all you need coming to you on a screen
via sattelite and cable and your ISP
now i respect all this has done to make things more comfortable and nice
but i have to wonder what were losing when its all we ever do in life
[chorus]
Once i met a man interviewing me for college
went to Harvard i thought wow bet you amassed a lot a knowledge
he said oh there's not much to say, 'fact I pity you kids today
back when I was accepted I took just 1 AP, barely passed, infact i got a 3
my science project was a bean sprout, and Iwas pretty proud
but nowadays its nothing that would stand out in a crowd
I've interviewed kids taken ten APs, writing their own books, volunteering good deeds
kickin ass on the now 10 section SAT
I've seen everything that was most impressive but I still had to say
you just ain't gonna cut it in this age and day
And you think it's bad here?
Go on East it gets worse overe there
my friend been drinkin coffee every day, skimpin sleep since she was 12
doing standardized test prep, being tutored, and trying to do well
another little girl, she was only six
killed herslef because the pressure wanna make her call it quits.
[chorus]
Yeah, sick of living in this future life all day long...
Chorus:
Life lacks epic
Its like an epidemic
people all around me
kept down by the TV
kept down by the police
kept down by the fears of what's comin to be
I swear its the end of the last generation
sometimes wish I was around before the age of information
its like im waiting for some soulful detonation
or at least an excuse to get loose and make a little mayehem
that wont show up on my record when i need to get a job
sick of living for my future life all day long
The other day I went to buy my friend some cigarettes
I had the money and the license but they carded her instead
I said woman this is crazy im 18 and theyre for me
she said sorry honey thats the way it gotta be
Now they wouldnt have pulled that bull back in our parents day
clerk might ask you youre age, but took your word it was Ok
I had a teacher once said he need to 'pologize
i said why you aint done no wrong in my eyes
he says i grew up in the 70s doin all crazy shit
thanks to my generation every thing you do gotta be much more legit
once i heard of a girl goin to school and workin hard
wanna be a lawyer, take the LSAT, pass the BAR
on the weekend shed relax toke some weed with her friends
once the cops busted a party, yah you bet it was the end
one spot on your record they wont never let it go
now she cant be a lawyer and who's to blame? the popo!
[chorus]
Every now and then in highschool id be gettin pretty bored
id say hey lets go out but theyre all playin' 64
then i got to college it was pretty much the same
all itunes and you tube and internet games
now i love a cozy night being lazy just as much as any other
but everynow and then i say come on lets blow this mother fucka
theres a whole world out there and theres stories to be told
crazy fuckas to meet and were only gettin more old
back in the days when you was bored you would make your own joy
get out and about, go on adventures, maybe make a little noise
but today all you need coming to you on a screen
via sattelite and cable and your ISP
now i respect all this has done to make things more comfortable and nice
but i have to wonder what were losing when its all we ever do in life
[chorus]
Once i met a man interviewing me for college
went to Harvard i thought wow bet you amassed a lot a knowledge
he said oh there's not much to say, 'fact I pity you kids today
back when I was accepted I took just 1 AP, barely passed, infact i got a 3
my science project was a bean sprout, and Iwas pretty proud
but nowadays its nothing that would stand out in a crowd
I've interviewed kids taken ten APs, writing their own books, volunteering good deeds
kickin ass on the now 10 section SAT
I've seen everything that was most impressive but I still had to say
you just ain't gonna cut it in this age and day
And you think it's bad here?
Go on East it gets worse overe there
my friend been drinkin coffee every day, skimpin sleep since she was 12
doing standardized test prep, being tutored, and trying to do well
another little girl, she was only six
killed herslef because the pressure wanna make her call it quits.
[chorus]
Yeah, sick of living in this future life all day long...
Thursday, February 14, 2008
How Exactly Do You Talk Dirty in IUPAC?
Now at first, I wasn't sure if I really should be publishing this on the internet, especially with so many eager minors reading...
Oh, and if you're wondering, the technical name for that, Alex, is [insert Jeapordy Music here] ...3-methyl-2,3-dibutene-1-al? OK I have no clue. Effing double bonds. Happy V Day everyone, and remember to use some (1-methylethyl)benzene!!!
Oh, and if you're wondering, the technical name for that, Alex, is [insert Jeapordy Music here] ...3-methyl-2,3-dibutene-1-al? OK I have no clue. Effing double bonds. Happy V Day everyone, and remember to use some (1-methylethyl)benzene!!!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Love and Lies
My lover lied to me. It was horrible. Truly horrible, as if my world was turned upside-down in an instant, and my stomach wished only to do the same. I couldn't belive it. Ever since we were but wee children in middle school and even only mildly acquainted, with no need for lies and deception, I always knew that if there was one thing about Chemistry that I could count on, it was the Octet rule. Sure, any elements beneath the 3rd row can expand octets, and Nitrogen (with its annoying odd number of valence electrons) is better off having less of a full octet than too many, but I always knew that if I wanted to draw a legit Lewis structure, I had to make sure that every atom had 8 electrons associated with it in order to be "happy." Well apparently, that was a lie. All my time spent trying to please my beloved and it was worth nothing, NOTHING! Hmph! All these years I've been decieved, lied to, mistreated, it's really quite unfathomable. To think that you have to draw out almost every possible resonance structure regardless of satisfying the octet rule or holding to the same formal charge, and to think that these could be considered legitmate and add to the stability of an atom. And the worst bit? They can even be counted when trying to determine the most stable product of a reaction. LIES! HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE LIES!
It's times like this if I really wonder if we have the strength to go on. I mean, can an infatuation, even one so deep and passionate as ours was, really make it in the real world beyond a few semesters? And the falsehood....Oh God, I can't even think about it. I have been betrayed, truly betrayed. But perhaps there is some hope for us after all, as if the Fates have stepped in to rescue us from our dishonest past and give us a new chance. Yes, a horrible truth was revealed this week, but it's also the week of Valentine's Day, and then we are finally starting nomenclature. Nomenclature: the reson I fell in the first place, the reason I strove so hard to get us here. It might be a quick fix to a long term problem, I know, but nomenclature, Oh Baby....
It's times like this if I really wonder if we have the strength to go on. I mean, can an infatuation, even one so deep and passionate as ours was, really make it in the real world beyond a few semesters? And the falsehood....Oh God, I can't even think about it. I have been betrayed, truly betrayed. But perhaps there is some hope for us after all, as if the Fates have stepped in to rescue us from our dishonest past and give us a new chance. Yes, a horrible truth was revealed this week, but it's also the week of Valentine's Day, and then we are finally starting nomenclature. Nomenclature: the reson I fell in the first place, the reason I strove so hard to get us here. It might be a quick fix to a long term problem, I know, but nomenclature, Oh Baby....
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Mama, I Love You...
A not so famous psychiatrist once told me that in our romantic relaitonships, we are striving to correct problems we had with our relationships with our parents. (that's probably where Freud comes in.) I would just like to say that I honestly think that that is a load of bull crap. Yes, your parents are the first members of both genders you encounter, and from that you will learn what you like and don't like. But as you meet more people you will gain a more complex understanding of people, and you will gain a more complex view of what you want in a person. Freud says that we look for a partner that is either very similar to or the exact of opposite of our mother or father (depending on your gender and perhaps orientation) but surely this only works on a quality by quality level. Some qualities you might wish to be the same, others the opposite. To make a vast generalization for all of them is completely wrong. (OK i've met my fair share of guys with mommy-complexes, but that's not everyone. Thank God.) In addition, I don't think that people who were abused as children are into S&M, but that's just a hypothesis.
However, someone abused as a child might choose to not have kids so that they never become the evil parent they once had. I think that is the place where we truly seek to rectify the relationships we had with our parents: the relationships we have with our own children. Personally, the only time I find myself wondering about my future offspring or even wanting to create them is when I'm pissed at my 'rents, and I think this makes sense. For starters, how many times have you sworn under your breath that you'll "never do this to my kids." Furthermore, every parent wants to "give their kid what they never had" often times whether the kid wants it not. For example, a parent that felt their parent never gave them enough freedom will give their child far more freedom than they ever had. This child might then grow up to wish they had stricter parents in the long run, be strict with their kids, and the vicious cycle continues. It's like interlocking puzzle pieces of well intentioned compensation and overcompensation all forming the leaves of the family tree.
But back to the topic of relationships. Yup, it's that time of year again, peaches. It was about a month ago when I first took a stroll in target only to see everything from heart-themed dinner wear and kitchen utensils (wouldn't you only use them once a year anyway?) to candy packs from every decade to pretty much any product you could ever imagine in pink and red. I was just about to sigh and start the traditional oh-so-fabulous wallowing in self pity that goes along with the holiday when I realized: "Wait a minute, I really have no reason to be doing this, wtf?" Well that was an indicator if there ever was one. Bummer. (But maybe the mommy complex should have been a red flag after all?) Anyway, till then we can always celebrate Anti-Valentines Day (the 13th before the dreaded day for many) and revel in the color scheme and candy on the day itself just for kicks. Truth be told, I think this is going to be least eventful Valentines day I've ever had. I'm not emo about being eternally alone but there's really no one to make the holiday a total landmark occasion either. (And I already got into college, not that that wasn't fun last year) Oh well, I have a current fling going with all MA radio stations (seriously, they're amazing!) and TRUE Love lasts a lifetime....
Tomorrow bitches! and they BETTER still be dressed like that!!!
Sunday, February 03, 2008
WWTvBD?
Perhaps I'm breaking the silence on some sort of unspoken truth amongst nerdy gamers everywhere, but you can tell a shitload about a person by thier Dungeons and Dragons character. The type of creature they are, each added little quirk of personality, the powers they choose, their weaknesses, all reflect (conciously or not) facets of major personalities in the creators own life, hyperbolized and made even more whimsical on the Fantasy RPG playing field.
So just who is Trixie "VonBadass"? I shant bore you with a long, deep, introspective rant. (As I essentially already have, though if you're in the mood OSKs blog will not fail you) but this is a question worth pondering. Come to think of it, I know alot about Trixie, she's been around for awhile. But who are my other characters? And furthermore, which one of them leapt up, cracked her back from lying low for so long, and started to dance around when I found myself sitting around a table of "mostly n00bs, but a few hardcore fantasy geeks and gamers" playing Dungeons and Dragons. Yes, I admit it, I played Dungeons and Dragons. And fuck you VH1, I loved it. Infact, I wish I had discovered it when I was nine (then again, coming up with your own fantasy world is ten times more fun than following someone elses rules, but if I was ever looking for something a little more surprising...and hey, maybe there's a direct correlation between D&D and math skills? I so could have used that.)
Oh, and for the record: Amelita Shinestone was born into an above average, very well to do clan of Pixies. She was a smart and talented young pixie, although a bit bizarre at times. She was unusually skilled with sharp weapons, which she practiced despite her placid parents' frightened disapproval. Her parents quickly grew concerned over her inherently violent nature and quick temper, turning her hair and eyes into a flaming vermillion hue unseen in any other of her kind. In addition, she had no sense of society's laws, morales, or values, especially those of the Pixies. Though she did not torture the weak for amusement, she took pleasure in a well earned victory, and definitley took no pity on those who could not keep themselves up to par. As she grew older, her small clan's persistant, good-intentioned concern for her well being only further agigtated her. When she was 15, after her dozenth brawl with one of her poor peer pixies, her parents sent her to the local PixieShrink. Just before he could utter his diagnosis from what little conversation he could glean out of her, he found himself knocked to the ground. Just before he lost all conciousness, a towering flame buzzing in the air over him in heated rage quipped "I don't need to put up with this shit." That was the last seen of Amelita by any of the clan. A few days later, news of a brawl in a neighbouring area came back to the group. No one knew exactly who was invovled, but when rumor spread that a Pixie had cleverly tricked the unfortunate loser only before attacking him in fiery rage , none of the clan were surprised, despite such an unbeleivable description of one of their own kind. And so she was, nolonger Ameltia Shinestone, but simply that violent trickster Pixie. Trixie: Pixie Barbarian.
So just who is Trixie "VonBadass"? I shant bore you with a long, deep, introspective rant. (As I essentially already have, though if you're in the mood OSKs blog will not fail you) but this is a question worth pondering. Come to think of it, I know alot about Trixie, she's been around for awhile. But who are my other characters? And furthermore, which one of them leapt up, cracked her back from lying low for so long, and started to dance around when I found myself sitting around a table of "mostly n00bs, but a few hardcore fantasy geeks and gamers" playing Dungeons and Dragons. Yes, I admit it, I played Dungeons and Dragons. And fuck you VH1, I loved it. Infact, I wish I had discovered it when I was nine (then again, coming up with your own fantasy world is ten times more fun than following someone elses rules, but if I was ever looking for something a little more surprising...and hey, maybe there's a direct correlation between D&D and math skills? I so could have used that.)
Oh, and for the record: Amelita Shinestone was born into an above average, very well to do clan of Pixies. She was a smart and talented young pixie, although a bit bizarre at times. She was unusually skilled with sharp weapons, which she practiced despite her placid parents' frightened disapproval. Her parents quickly grew concerned over her inherently violent nature and quick temper, turning her hair and eyes into a flaming vermillion hue unseen in any other of her kind. In addition, she had no sense of society's laws, morales, or values, especially those of the Pixies. Though she did not torture the weak for amusement, she took pleasure in a well earned victory, and definitley took no pity on those who could not keep themselves up to par. As she grew older, her small clan's persistant, good-intentioned concern for her well being only further agigtated her. When she was 15, after her dozenth brawl with one of her poor peer pixies, her parents sent her to the local PixieShrink. Just before he could utter his diagnosis from what little conversation he could glean out of her, he found himself knocked to the ground. Just before he lost all conciousness, a towering flame buzzing in the air over him in heated rage quipped "I don't need to put up with this shit." That was the last seen of Amelita by any of the clan. A few days later, news of a brawl in a neighbouring area came back to the group. No one knew exactly who was invovled, but when rumor spread that a Pixie had cleverly tricked the unfortunate loser only before attacking him in fiery rage , none of the clan were surprised, despite such an unbeleivable description of one of their own kind. And so she was, nolonger Ameltia Shinestone, but simply that violent trickster Pixie. Trixie: Pixie Barbarian.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Task Force: Soul Exile
Mail voter registration form, fill out health insurance form, buy food, order medication, go to chiropractor, make ATM deposit, get printer ink, get cord for camera, get paper and pick up packet from copy store, go to the gym at some point, wash towel in preparation for guest, get shoes mended, plan out transtportation for next week, call nagging parental, and about 10 more tasks to boot. No ladies and gentlemen, I'm not a soccer mom, I'm a college student. (so at some point at the end of that list I have to add "work") I was just walking (grr, I am no longer a proud pedestrian, I want a car for this shit) to get some of this done when I had a slightly unpleasant revelation: When did I become my mother? It was fun enough when I was three, sitting in my booster seat in the back of the car while she went to the bank and Stop and Shop and ran countless other errands on a nice sunny day in the summer when I didn't have school. Now it's not that it's too much of a pain in the butt- it's nice to get off campus, and I firmly beleive that a solid to-do list can help give life more direction and focus, but this is taking over my life! Every day there's at least two other things that I add to the running task list I've had for the past month, and it never goes away! Being productive and accomplished is one thing, but this is seriously just stupid menial tasks that for some reason or another need to or should be done. This leads me to my theory: Remember how I associated errand running with my mother? You see at first, I liked running errands. I felt accomplished, like I was taking responsibility for my own life, and this was a good thing to a certain extent. But now errands are starting to consume my life, as the list gets bigger and bigger and more overwhelming. The ultimate result- the souless adulthood we all dread. As we get older, instead of focusing on things that give us great joy or put meaning in our lives, we become preoccupied and consumed with all these menial, "necessary" tasks. The result: Hey honey, how was your day? OK, dear, I ran to the bank, met with the kids' math teacher, got some of that pudding you like from the store and [insert suburbian soccor mom list here] Oh and did you call and thank the Jones' for that lovely dinner? How was your day at your dead end cubicle job? Oh sorry honey I forgot I'll do it first thing tomorrow. Well I finished the assignment that was overdue from last week, called up to get the copier fixed again [insert corporate peon to do list here] Oh and I forgot to pick up my dry cleaning, bummer! I like that cornflower blue tie!
*SHUDDER* This needs to change....Now!
*SHUDDER* This needs to change....Now!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Twizzlers
99 Juicy filled posts on the wall, 99 Juicy filled posts.... But I am not just writing to commemorate that. You see, many years ago, a battle was fought between Juicy and a horrible Dragon, referred to by many as "The Dragon Most Vile." This infamous Dragon Most Vile pwned poor Juicy, as Juicy knew deep down within herself that she was not ready to conquor such a beast. Ergo, the Dragon Most Vile laid on her a strong and most frustrating curse, chaining her eternally to those around her who had conquored the Dragon, and limiting her movement accordingly. But over time Juicy matured as a fighter, training herself even within these ramifications, becoming even sharper and more alert. She knew that one day she must prove that she could conquor the beast once and for all, and finally win her freedom. Today, ladies and gentleman, was that day.
Today, after two brief glimpses at the possibility of prolonging the curse (mainly because her armor and sword were not registered properly) and two quick escapes to compensate, Juicy knew the time had come. The duel began. Juicy could have no help this time. No, this was an old score to be settled once and for all. It was just Juicy and the Dragon Most Vile, one on one, their purest powers raging against each other and undiluted by wavering external influences of chance. She was shaking with nerves, and almost turned back on several occassions, but she knew this had to be done.
She got off to a winning start, and stayed strong throughout the battle, but she knew the worst was yet to come. And then finally, it was upon her. The Dragon Most Vile suddenly stopped, paused for a brief moment, turned, and spoke. "Juicy," It bellowed, "The time has come...Choose a space and back in." Time froze. Juicy shuddered at the thought of her last battle, the deep disgrace of failure that was realized at this very point. But no, she could do this now. She was ready. No more dependency on others, no more waiting around, no more lack of respect. She looked around, gripping her sword even tighter, slowly aligning herself with the target. Deep, rhythmic music played in the corner of her mind as she gripped the sword's R symbol. And then, all in one swift defining motion of practiced perfection, she turned, checked, straightened, and parked. After straightening again just to be safe, The Dragon Most Vile said nothing. All of a sudden it let out a whimpering growl: "Get out of your armor and come inside."
Alas, joyous unrestricted Victory. (with a cute picture)
Today, after two brief glimpses at the possibility of prolonging the curse (mainly because her armor and sword were not registered properly) and two quick escapes to compensate, Juicy knew the time had come. The duel began. Juicy could have no help this time. No, this was an old score to be settled once and for all. It was just Juicy and the Dragon Most Vile, one on one, their purest powers raging against each other and undiluted by wavering external influences of chance. She was shaking with nerves, and almost turned back on several occassions, but she knew this had to be done.
She got off to a winning start, and stayed strong throughout the battle, but she knew the worst was yet to come. And then finally, it was upon her. The Dragon Most Vile suddenly stopped, paused for a brief moment, turned, and spoke. "Juicy," It bellowed, "The time has come...Choose a space and back in." Time froze. Juicy shuddered at the thought of her last battle, the deep disgrace of failure that was realized at this very point. But no, she could do this now. She was ready. No more dependency on others, no more waiting around, no more lack of respect. She looked around, gripping her sword even tighter, slowly aligning herself with the target. Deep, rhythmic music played in the corner of her mind as she gripped the sword's R symbol. And then, all in one swift defining motion of practiced perfection, she turned, checked, straightened, and parked. After straightening again just to be safe, The Dragon Most Vile said nothing. All of a sudden it let out a whimpering growl: "Get out of your armor and come inside."
Alas, joyous unrestricted Victory. (with a cute picture)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
BFTSOBWUI
...Yeah, bet you can't figure that one out! Haha actually you totally can. You, yes I'm talking to you. No no, not you, you. Wait, I guess I was just talking to you, I mean, having addressed you directly and all to tell you that I'm not talking to you.
Once upon a time Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow. Actually, she had the lamb of God, who contained both a shroud and a soul that were supposedly all white. (Though probably not all the time, what with dirt and the rough adolescent years and the sex. But hey, sex isn't a pagan sin, so it probably wasn't a sin back then either.) Yes, I totally just came up with that. Wow, I'm probably still so far behind.
Actually wait, I think I came up with that like 5 years ago and forgot, oh well.
Anyway, So do you want to hear about my life or not? No? Fuck you! I wasn't even talking to you in the first place! You do though don't ya? Yeah I knew it, you...OK. (It's funny of course that I was just talking about a little lamb, which is synonomous with the word Ewe and homophonic with both you and you.)
So today I found the coolest thing to do this summer ever (assuming it doesn't turn out to suck), then I ran errands and got my kickass new artsy sneakers (%5 of the profits went to some poor kid with malaria! Awesome! That's a whole like, $2! Go Corporate Converse! They're so self righteous about it too. The box was totally flaunting the chairty thing....How much did you pay the designer to come up with the funky look anyway? and add a bag and fancy metal studs? The box even said that it "deserved the chance to hold another pair of Converse. Recycle" Ha! So being cocky about your noble interests is one thing but that's just over the top, not that I can blame them for praising some pretty awesome shoes. But still.), then I bought books, and I was deeply scared by my orgo chem workbook. I openened it and though I knew I would someday deeply understand the scores of interlocked benzene rings before me there then came only a rush of deep, nervous panic. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? Anyway, long story short then I napped and talked to the parentals and had fantasticful mexican food for dinner, while I pwned a round of 20 (but no real limit) Questions with the answer "is it that guy who was with that girl with the thick eyebrows? Yes!" (Diego Rivera apparently...just demonstrating my kick ass knowledge of Art History and random details in Time Magazine) The rest of my day was good , involving pranks and Pink Floyd and sex novels and other things I don't want to waste space on.
Back to the Article in Time magazine. It was about Love, chemical aspects, developmental aspects, statistics, darwinistic approach, etc. Essentially came to the conclusion that even if we could scientifically figure out the exact details of love, we wouldn't want to believe it, and would always want to beleive in something special, destined and drawn by powers above us. Honestly, I thought it was a pretty crappy article. I mean, yeah I do a shitload of self analysis but I'm not that special, but I already guessed like everything in that article, they just backed it up with fancy names for areas of the brain and statistics. Hell even a Britney Spears song I once heard offered up essentially the same pieces of information as a section. Perhaps that goes to show that when one takes the time to analyze scientifically human emotions, etc. The science starts to fudge over into the humanities. In fact, come to think of it, the Humanities are just a really large chunk of science. I mean, they all seek to further understand the human experience by means of describing it. While science seeks to understand the human experience by drawing conclusions from numbers and observations, the Humanities are simply these observations, but beautifully elaborated. They can describe chains of events in humans like the path of energy flow during a chemical reaction. So really English (the main Humanity) just falls under the category of deeply detailed Sociology and Pyschology with a little History (the other Humanity) on the side, except there's so fucking much of it it managed to get its own major.
OSK mentioned song lyrics about being sick of being in love, and I get that. I wonder if there are any song lyrics about the frustration of not being in fucking love at all. (Come to think of it there
are and I probably own like half of them.) I shouldn't say that though, it's far harsher sounding than the truth. God I'm a bitch sometimes. I love my walls. What? Yeah, of course I sorta mean that too, you pervy english prodigy reading this. It pays to be picky for just that reason. Wait, that's you spouting ideas? I thought I lost you ages ago! Oh so now you care to listen, hmph. Well guess what? maybe I don't think you deserve to hear what I have to say after the way you treated me 3 paragraphs ago. Goodnight.
Sorry, you, we'll just have to find another time.
Once upon a time Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow. Actually, she had the lamb of God, who contained both a shroud and a soul that were supposedly all white. (Though probably not all the time, what with dirt and the rough adolescent years and the sex. But hey, sex isn't a pagan sin, so it probably wasn't a sin back then either.) Yes, I totally just came up with that. Wow, I'm probably still so far behind.
Actually wait, I think I came up with that like 5 years ago and forgot, oh well.
Anyway, So do you want to hear about my life or not? No? Fuck you! I wasn't even talking to you in the first place! You do though don't ya? Yeah I knew it, you...OK. (It's funny of course that I was just talking about a little lamb, which is synonomous with the word Ewe and homophonic with both you and you.)
So today I found the coolest thing to do this summer ever (assuming it doesn't turn out to suck), then I ran errands and got my kickass new artsy sneakers (%5 of the profits went to some poor kid with malaria! Awesome! That's a whole like, $2! Go Corporate Converse! They're so self righteous about it too. The box was totally flaunting the chairty thing....How much did you pay the designer to come up with the funky look anyway? and add a bag and fancy metal studs? The box even said that it "deserved the chance to hold another pair of Converse. Recycle" Ha! So being cocky about your noble interests is one thing but that's just over the top, not that I can blame them for praising some pretty awesome shoes. But still.), then I bought books, and I was deeply scared by my orgo chem workbook. I openened it and though I knew I would someday deeply understand the scores of interlocked benzene rings before me there then came only a rush of deep, nervous panic. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? Anyway, long story short then I napped and talked to the parentals and had fantasticful mexican food for dinner, while I pwned a round of 20 (but no real limit) Questions with the answer "is it that guy who was with that girl with the thick eyebrows? Yes!" (Diego Rivera apparently...just demonstrating my kick ass knowledge of Art History and random details in Time Magazine) The rest of my day was good , involving pranks and Pink Floyd and sex novels and other things I don't want to waste space on.
Back to the Article in Time magazine. It was about Love, chemical aspects, developmental aspects, statistics, darwinistic approach, etc. Essentially came to the conclusion that even if we could scientifically figure out the exact details of love, we wouldn't want to believe it, and would always want to beleive in something special, destined and drawn by powers above us. Honestly, I thought it was a pretty crappy article. I mean, yeah I do a shitload of self analysis but I'm not that special, but I already guessed like everything in that article, they just backed it up with fancy names for areas of the brain and statistics. Hell even a Britney Spears song I once heard offered up essentially the same pieces of information as a section. Perhaps that goes to show that when one takes the time to analyze scientifically human emotions, etc. The science starts to fudge over into the humanities. In fact, come to think of it, the Humanities are just a really large chunk of science. I mean, they all seek to further understand the human experience by means of describing it. While science seeks to understand the human experience by drawing conclusions from numbers and observations, the Humanities are simply these observations, but beautifully elaborated. They can describe chains of events in humans like the path of energy flow during a chemical reaction. So really English (the main Humanity) just falls under the category of deeply detailed Sociology and Pyschology with a little History (the other Humanity) on the side, except there's so fucking much of it it managed to get its own major.
OSK mentioned song lyrics about being sick of being in love, and I get that. I wonder if there are any song lyrics about the frustration of not being in fucking love at all. (Come to think of it there
are and I probably own like half of them.) I shouldn't say that though, it's far harsher sounding than the truth. God I'm a bitch sometimes. I love my walls. What? Yeah, of course I sorta mean that too, you pervy english prodigy reading this. It pays to be picky for just that reason. Wait, that's you spouting ideas? I thought I lost you ages ago! Oh so now you care to listen, hmph. Well guess what? maybe I don't think you deserve to hear what I have to say after the way you treated me 3 paragraphs ago. Goodnight.
Sorry, you, we'll just have to find another time.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
The Dolphin's Cry?
So My roomate has just informed me about her hypersensitivity theory- that when you're high you have "hypersensitivity"- the ability to see people for who they really are. If this is true then we've learned two things: 1. My true persona is based on my not giving a shit about society's judgements and 2. I really need to start smoking more to attain said wisdom. Anyway, you know, it's a funny thing: beer. It either tastes fantastic and refreshing or it tastes like shit, and half the time this doesn't even depend on what kind of beer you're drinking.
Back on the topic of attaining wisdom. My general (soberly devopled but hopefully just as clever) theory is that people will spend the rest of their lives trying to relearn everything they were taught in kindergarten- you know, be nice to people, share, find inner peace and joy in life without being greedy and obnoxious, enjoy the now as a child does, be zen. I feel that I used to be far more in touch with this wisdom, my inner child too. Nowadays, it seems I could use a little more wisdom at every turn (though perhaps I'm less self-assured and not less savvy?) What should I do this summer? No fucking idea. How can I best find enjoyment in life, and feel less ennui and wafting lonliness? Should I go out in search of the next "big chunk" or has it been right here all this time? What should I focus on? Again and again, blank. Mmm...smells like adulthood. It's a pity when you think about it really- you only get one today, only one year this age, no redos. Before you know it, you're gonna be six feet under, and those short 70 odd years of singularities divided into several general chunks were all you had to define your entire life. Just one of each.
But why do people really want answers? People want the future read and cheat on tests because they're afraid of taking risks, and they want to maximize the best possible outcome for themselves without having to deal with harsh consequences of illy-informed decisions. The truth is, no matter what grade you get in the end, everyone knows the kid that really knows the material better is the one that did the reading and studied, and didn't just cram an hour before while peeking over as many shoulders as they could. Does all that knowledge really come in useful in the end? Again, fuck if I know. But hey, I guess it can't hurt. (And everyone knows the former feels so much more satisfying.)
"Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that ... shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass."- Ray Bradbury
Yeah, that's the spirit. Damn, Juicy, have more balls, what's happenning to you anyway? You know it's all about the experiences, you have no need to fret. Or maybe life is best lived like the crappy door to my room that keeps sticking: In order to open it, you have to push and pull at the exact same time. Some guarantees and cheat sheets are OK, so long as they don't exceed the amount of effort you're really putting into opening the door.
I know this much: This is the awkward stage, as it should be. I always question that which comes to quickly, and it has never failed me. Embrace the perspective, it will make the future that much more sweet and intruiguing. Yeah, I sound pretty trippy right now, but hey at least I'm not calling people up at 4am to talk about breaking down emotional walls Pink Floyd style. (Not that I didn't enjoy it. Epic? Arguably.)
Back on the topic of attaining wisdom. My general (soberly devopled but hopefully just as clever) theory is that people will spend the rest of their lives trying to relearn everything they were taught in kindergarten- you know, be nice to people, share, find inner peace and joy in life without being greedy and obnoxious, enjoy the now as a child does, be zen. I feel that I used to be far more in touch with this wisdom, my inner child too. Nowadays, it seems I could use a little more wisdom at every turn (though perhaps I'm less self-assured and not less savvy?) What should I do this summer? No fucking idea. How can I best find enjoyment in life, and feel less ennui and wafting lonliness? Should I go out in search of the next "big chunk" or has it been right here all this time? What should I focus on? Again and again, blank. Mmm...smells like adulthood. It's a pity when you think about it really- you only get one today, only one year this age, no redos. Before you know it, you're gonna be six feet under, and those short 70 odd years of singularities divided into several general chunks were all you had to define your entire life. Just one of each.
But why do people really want answers? People want the future read and cheat on tests because they're afraid of taking risks, and they want to maximize the best possible outcome for themselves without having to deal with harsh consequences of illy-informed decisions. The truth is, no matter what grade you get in the end, everyone knows the kid that really knows the material better is the one that did the reading and studied, and didn't just cram an hour before while peeking over as many shoulders as they could. Does all that knowledge really come in useful in the end? Again, fuck if I know. But hey, I guess it can't hurt. (And everyone knows the former feels so much more satisfying.)
"Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that ... shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass."- Ray Bradbury
Yeah, that's the spirit. Damn, Juicy, have more balls, what's happenning to you anyway? You know it's all about the experiences, you have no need to fret. Or maybe life is best lived like the crappy door to my room that keeps sticking: In order to open it, you have to push and pull at the exact same time. Some guarantees and cheat sheets are OK, so long as they don't exceed the amount of effort you're really putting into opening the door.
I know this much: This is the awkward stage, as it should be. I always question that which comes to quickly, and it has never failed me. Embrace the perspective, it will make the future that much more sweet and intruiguing. Yeah, I sound pretty trippy right now, but hey at least I'm not calling people up at 4am to talk about breaking down emotional walls Pink Floyd style. (Not that I didn't enjoy it. Epic? Arguably.)
Saturday, January 12, 2008
God, I Am Such A Whore For Nostalgia and Friendships...
There's something reassuring and pleasantly sound about waking up somewhere you've woken up countless times before, no matter how long ago the last time was. The other day I slept over with my best friend in 1st grade, whose house was essentially my weekend residence for the majority of grade school. We've since been out of touch, of course, having totally different circles in junior high and me going off to "the evil conformist prep school," but somehow despite our growing apart she has remained a fantastic friend and conversationalist. Of all my friends she is also the least likely to look like one of my usual friends too- Uggs, Coach bag, you get the idea, but it only makes the relationship more intruiguing. As is the case with another friend I once blogged about, we are no longer "joined at the hip" the way we were as kids, but I'm starting to think that that's more a product of age than detatchment. (Silly kids, why do they get all the fun?) Anyway, I guess it's nice to know that no matter how far away you get from a place, there's always a small way back. It won't be the same place you were before, but you can still approach it, and get just close enough to at least remember how nice it was.
A similar phenomenon happenned this week with the local diner. Twice, I found myself with different company but in the exact same booth, in the same diner that has been in my town for as long as I can remember. It's such a diner too- Greek, probably owned by immigrants, bright neon lights on mirrored surfaces remenant of the Art Deco of the 1980's, a counter for coffee, booths with cheap cut glass dividers. We used to go there after church all the time before my dad decided he liked to cook. Now I guess it's a popular hang out spot for my would-have-been classmates, or at least it provides food 24/7, which is always good. It's not that nothing's changed about the rest of our lives, God no, but the diner is still there, and ergo, so is one of the epitomes of my hometown.*
On the topic of friendships, another thing has been on my mind recently. What is it about the number four? With Friends being the only exception I can think of, it seems every sitcom based on the metropolitan lives of 20 or 30 somethings contains exactly four main characters: Four most tightly bound friends who live in the same vicinity and around whom the plot of the show revolves. Think: Sex and the City, Seinfeld, Will and Grace, Big Shots, Cashmere Mafia, Frasier (sorta), and countless others. Even my friend from the first paragraph proclaimed herself to be part of a foursome. While I highly doubt that life actually imitates art (or in this case, an over-used albeit sucessful sitcom plot formula) as time goes on and I approach this dream age myself with an ever growing pool of old and new relationships, I can't help but wonder who will make it to my "final four" (or I guess 3 if I'm one of em, whatever number it turns out to be) in life: The true buddies one eternally hangs out with in the last days of the prime of friendship, before marriage takes over, and before one sees the shadow cast on youthful living by a large white dress, even if it is a beautiful one.
But until then perhaps that could be a reality show within itself? Who Will Make It To My Fiinal Four?: Survivor meets real world meets sitcom. haha genius...NOT!!! (Even if I was somehow cool enough to attract that many fifteen-minute friends, I respect no one who follows too far in the footsteps of Tela Tequila)
* Another of these is the mall, which scarred me for life when I saw that Hot Topic had traded in its goth entrance that used to scare me as a young child (black gates with preserved insects in glass) with a peachy white brick exterior and bronze window, but hey, what can you do.
A similar phenomenon happenned this week with the local diner. Twice, I found myself with different company but in the exact same booth, in the same diner that has been in my town for as long as I can remember. It's such a diner too- Greek, probably owned by immigrants, bright neon lights on mirrored surfaces remenant of the Art Deco of the 1980's, a counter for coffee, booths with cheap cut glass dividers. We used to go there after church all the time before my dad decided he liked to cook. Now I guess it's a popular hang out spot for my would-have-been classmates, or at least it provides food 24/7, which is always good. It's not that nothing's changed about the rest of our lives, God no, but the diner is still there, and ergo, so is one of the epitomes of my hometown.*
On the topic of friendships, another thing has been on my mind recently. What is it about the number four? With Friends being the only exception I can think of, it seems every sitcom based on the metropolitan lives of 20 or 30 somethings contains exactly four main characters: Four most tightly bound friends who live in the same vicinity and around whom the plot of the show revolves. Think: Sex and the City, Seinfeld, Will and Grace, Big Shots, Cashmere Mafia, Frasier (sorta), and countless others. Even my friend from the first paragraph proclaimed herself to be part of a foursome. While I highly doubt that life actually imitates art (or in this case, an over-used albeit sucessful sitcom plot formula) as time goes on and I approach this dream age myself with an ever growing pool of old and new relationships, I can't help but wonder who will make it to my "final four" (or I guess 3 if I'm one of em, whatever number it turns out to be) in life: The true buddies one eternally hangs out with in the last days of the prime of friendship, before marriage takes over, and before one sees the shadow cast on youthful living by a large white dress, even if it is a beautiful one.
But until then perhaps that could be a reality show within itself? Who Will Make It To My Fiinal Four?: Survivor meets real world meets sitcom. haha genius...NOT!!! (Even if I was somehow cool enough to attract that many fifteen-minute friends, I respect no one who follows too far in the footsteps of Tela Tequila)
* Another of these is the mall, which scarred me for life when I saw that Hot Topic had traded in its goth entrance that used to scare me as a young child (black gates with preserved insects in glass) with a peachy white brick exterior and bronze window, but hey, what can you do.
Friday, January 11, 2008
MooLovin
So I was eating today, like most humans do, and I realized just how horribly deprived life would be if Cows didn't exist. I don't think people realize just how critical this fantastic animal is to our daily existance. Think about it: If we did not have cows or any of their bovine relatives (eg. Buffalo) we would not have Beef. If we did not have Beef, we would not have burgers (American classic), beef burritos (Mexican classic), Brownstuff (my mother's own fantastic concoction), most types of chili (Spicy Food Lover classic), chili hot dogs, sloppy joes (Damn Tasty), filet mignion (Haute Cuisine classic), and most types of stew (Winter Classic). Those are easily some of the best, most popular, and most satisfying meals known to man, not to mention the majority of my favorite foods.
Now if for some reason you are under the impression that something cannot contain Beef but still be considered real food (psycho...) we find ourselves lacking another staple food source: Milk. This means no chocolate milk (sad deprived children) and far more importantly, no Cheese. No cheese means no Pizza (Student Classic, plus no job for JV and a starving triangle), fondue (Alpine Skiing Classic), cream cheese (making bagels worthless), cheese and crackers, cheese in a can, any other cheese based snack from kraft (there are hundreds), rather uninteresting pasta and sandwiches, and essentially denies us all italian cooking ever made.
And we owe it all to the Cow...I won't even get started on Leather products and pop culture (Cowboys). Long story short, the Hindus have it right. Yay Cows, you rock!
And now for some lovely photos:
Bovine Pride:
Lovely Sensuous Lady Cows:
And who could forget, Cow Parade!
Now if for some reason you are under the impression that something cannot contain Beef but still be considered real food (psycho...) we find ourselves lacking another staple food source: Milk. This means no chocolate milk (sad deprived children) and far more importantly, no Cheese. No cheese means no Pizza (Student Classic, plus no job for JV and a starving triangle), fondue (Alpine Skiing Classic), cream cheese (making bagels worthless), cheese and crackers, cheese in a can, any other cheese based snack from kraft (there are hundreds), rather uninteresting pasta and sandwiches, and essentially denies us all italian cooking ever made.
And we owe it all to the Cow...I won't even get started on Leather products and pop culture (Cowboys). Long story short, the Hindus have it right. Yay Cows, you rock!
And now for some lovely photos:
Bovine Pride:
Lovely Sensuous Lady Cows:
And who could forget, Cow Parade!
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Now Only Four More Years Until The Apocalypse!
I was going to tell you all about the many ways I plan on improving the quality of my existence in 2008, but I doubt that would make for too fascinating reading material. (Not to mention the list itself has not solidified yet. There's something very unsatisfying about trying to scribe a life-changing document on a post-it note, which is all I have available at the moment.) I can however, guarantee you that this list will be put into effect. Though I do not think I have ever really kept any of my resolutions ever in life, hopefully the lingering feelng that I have essentially wasted an entire semester as well as a few precious months of my youth will give me the kick in the ass I need to live a more meaningful life. Note that this time I don't care how this relates to "productivity" per se, so long as I can find greater meaning an enjoyment in life instead of ennui.
Is it bad If I can only visualize things to/enjoy classical music if it was on Fantasia?
So anyway, I'm going to talk about something else that's been on my mind alot latley, and could possibly be considered relevant- this summmer. After all, it is the summer of '08. I know for a fact that this summer is going to be awesome, I just havent quite figured out how it will go about it yet. This is not, however, for lack of options. Sure, my dad giving me $2,500 bill come next september is not the most prime of situations, but I can make the best of it. (And the same goes for him being under the false assumption that he can still control my life as he has done in summers past)
Option A: Spend half the week in Sim town doing tech for OSK's play and practicing in hypothetical band, the other half working one or two jobs (one of which would be bartending- my dream summer profession that I am now legal for!) at home to pay for my car insurance. (but hey, at least I'll have a car) When the play ends, continue to work at home and hang out both with the triangle and old time friends. Perhaps travel with former roomate.
Advantages: deep triangualar bonding, being in a band (!), doing fun techwork, not at home for at least half the week.
Disadvantages: finding living arrangements in Sim town (after a certain point I'd really owe parents a little rent, it's rude to stay too long, plus things could get awkward if me or someone hosting me finds themself amidst a summer fling...though perhaps not) Also, as much fun as it is to hang with said geometric shape, could I really stand life in a never ending trek marathon? I'd like to say so, but we don't really know...Or perhaps weekdays are generally uneventful?
Option B: even though this idea was thought to have died due to lack of funding, it's back with a new twist. According to the parentals, hotels (especailly desperate Nantucket ones) are some times willing to offer lodging to their workers. (though I'm not sure if this applies to just chambermaids or waitresses or what) the point is, it is now possible to move out and get a guaranteed job without having to worry about paying rent, and actually make money. Also, so long as one can afford a plane ticket, the continental US and Canada may not limit our options. In the past, I have heard, friends have gotten jobs together and also lived together while working for hotels, and spending leisure time in whatever vacation spot they have chosen. This would last for the majority of the summer, though perhaps take a week off to travel with former roomate if possible.
Advantages: fleeing the effing nest already, could possibly be great to live in a vacation hot spot, did I mention fleeing the effing nest and no more being told what I can't do?
Disadvantages: the friends I choose to go with (if I can recruit them, that's another issue. I'd need serious canidates) are the friends I would be seeing all summer, and no one else. Given their ages, Koops and OSK are also immidiately out of the question (tear).
Any thoughts?
Is it bad If I can only visualize things to/enjoy classical music if it was on Fantasia?
So anyway, I'm going to talk about something else that's been on my mind alot latley, and could possibly be considered relevant- this summmer. After all, it is the summer of '08. I know for a fact that this summer is going to be awesome, I just havent quite figured out how it will go about it yet. This is not, however, for lack of options. Sure, my dad giving me $2,500 bill come next september is not the most prime of situations, but I can make the best of it. (And the same goes for him being under the false assumption that he can still control my life as he has done in summers past)
Option A: Spend half the week in Sim town doing tech for OSK's play and practicing in hypothetical band, the other half working one or two jobs (one of which would be bartending- my dream summer profession that I am now legal for!) at home to pay for my car insurance. (but hey, at least I'll have a car) When the play ends, continue to work at home and hang out both with the triangle and old time friends. Perhaps travel with former roomate.
Advantages: deep triangualar bonding, being in a band (!), doing fun techwork, not at home for at least half the week.
Disadvantages: finding living arrangements in Sim town (after a certain point I'd really owe parents a little rent, it's rude to stay too long, plus things could get awkward if me or someone hosting me finds themself amidst a summer fling...though perhaps not) Also, as much fun as it is to hang with said geometric shape, could I really stand life in a never ending trek marathon? I'd like to say so, but we don't really know...Or perhaps weekdays are generally uneventful?
Option B: even though this idea was thought to have died due to lack of funding, it's back with a new twist. According to the parentals, hotels (especailly desperate Nantucket ones) are some times willing to offer lodging to their workers. (though I'm not sure if this applies to just chambermaids or waitresses or what) the point is, it is now possible to move out and get a guaranteed job without having to worry about paying rent, and actually make money. Also, so long as one can afford a plane ticket, the continental US and Canada may not limit our options. In the past, I have heard, friends have gotten jobs together and also lived together while working for hotels, and spending leisure time in whatever vacation spot they have chosen. This would last for the majority of the summer, though perhaps take a week off to travel with former roomate if possible.
Advantages: fleeing the effing nest already, could possibly be great to live in a vacation hot spot, did I mention fleeing the effing nest and no more being told what I can't do?
Disadvantages: the friends I choose to go with (if I can recruit them, that's another issue. I'd need serious canidates) are the friends I would be seeing all summer, and no one else. Given their ages, Koops and OSK are also immidiately out of the question (tear).
Any thoughts?
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Beach Blogging
Thank god I have internet this vacation. I can't imagine how I once survived for a whole fortnight without the joys of facebook and the blogosphere to keep me amused in between hour stretches of extensive nothingness (albeit the best kind). But things are different this vacation, different in a way that makes me wonder how long it will be before I simply opt out all together and just spend New Years at home freezing cold but happy in the company of friends.
Where am I exactly? I'm on the quaint, somewhat agrarian little Island of St. Croix in the USVI (This is fortunate, because I left my passport at college. Thank god for my Card Of Shame) where my grandpa owns a condoe in a nice little complex on the beach. It is on this beach that there resides a beach shack, and this is where our tales often begin.
But dear Bobby (canadian man who owns the place, bitchy and fabulous in the best way, actually witnessed Studio 54 in the 70s!) passed away over the course of last year. My bartender buddy JJ (great to talk to, grew up in Saudi Arabia, speaks funny possibly from all the drugs he used to do) has been MIA for at least 4 years, perhaps learning to be a gunsmith on the mainland. The cook Dawn (former hippy, always wears tie-dye greatful dead shirts and pigtails) was also nowhere to be seen today, but there is still hope for tomorrow. The shack was still open, run by some other people we know at the complex, but I doubt I will ever again spend my afternoon hours bonding with the shack crew.
This leaves me with Maggie. We apparently used to play together in the pool as toddlers, but I have no recollection of this. I do however, remember that the first time we re-met as pokemon obsessed 5th graders, we insisted on spending every moment together and actually cried when we had to part. Each year since (excluding last and maybe one or two others) we have remet again, and it's always been an interesting progression. The first year she was a hardcore tomboy, and we both just hung out obsessivley and played gameboy and pretend games on the beach. A year or two later she had opened up a bit more to skirts and purses, looked down on video games, and enjoyed talking to trees (spiritually) and running barefoot in the woods even in winter. Another year or two, her parents had seperated, and her mom had come out of the closet. The last time I saw her two years ago, she gave me a mind opening talk about gender expression v. gender, hinted at being bisexual, and stopped shaving. Today we picked up just about where we left off: sitting under a tree debating the real v. mythological nature of the female vaginal orgasm.
But once the catching up was done and the intellectual conversation lost its cause, I wondered exactly how far we had come from our inseperability of five plus years ago. Though we still both seem to genuinely enjoy the others companionship, even if it's simply for walking on the beach or reading, things may well never be the same again. When we first re-met in 5th grade, our lives seemed to run parallel to each others, making the thread that bound them even stronger and many times closely wound. But now we've both branched off and developped in about 10 different directions, and like I said, we will probably never be as close. I've seen this happen to many of my friends over the years: some things never change, some do. Reunions are always welcome and great fun, but unlike our early gradeschool friendships- we are no longer bound at the hip and have become all too seperable. And with what little wisdom I've acquired over the years I can't help but wonder- Will this happen to the friends I have now?
It's a scary thought: Only seeing those I now consider as part of my extended family only once or twice a year for a brief catch up session over coffee. I'm sure I'll have made new friends, but to think that years of quality times and deep bonding could be reduced to that. It's almost sad.
But until then I do have some good news to speak of. When Maggie has left in two days I will simply spend more time doing what I did this afternoon, and what the tropical vacation was truly engineered for: getting drunk on the beach. (shout outs to the beautiful sign at the beach shack telling anyone under 18 they cannot consume alcoholic beverages) And when that gets old, well, I guess I'll see you back home in the snow next New Years, and we better not just be catching up over coffee.
Where am I exactly? I'm on the quaint, somewhat agrarian little Island of St. Croix in the USVI (This is fortunate, because I left my passport at college. Thank god for my Card Of Shame) where my grandpa owns a condoe in a nice little complex on the beach. It is on this beach that there resides a beach shack, and this is where our tales often begin.
But dear Bobby (canadian man who owns the place, bitchy and fabulous in the best way, actually witnessed Studio 54 in the 70s!) passed away over the course of last year. My bartender buddy JJ (great to talk to, grew up in Saudi Arabia, speaks funny possibly from all the drugs he used to do) has been MIA for at least 4 years, perhaps learning to be a gunsmith on the mainland. The cook Dawn (former hippy, always wears tie-dye greatful dead shirts and pigtails) was also nowhere to be seen today, but there is still hope for tomorrow. The shack was still open, run by some other people we know at the complex, but I doubt I will ever again spend my afternoon hours bonding with the shack crew.
This leaves me with Maggie. We apparently used to play together in the pool as toddlers, but I have no recollection of this. I do however, remember that the first time we re-met as pokemon obsessed 5th graders, we insisted on spending every moment together and actually cried when we had to part. Each year since (excluding last and maybe one or two others) we have remet again, and it's always been an interesting progression. The first year she was a hardcore tomboy, and we both just hung out obsessivley and played gameboy and pretend games on the beach. A year or two later she had opened up a bit more to skirts and purses, looked down on video games, and enjoyed talking to trees (spiritually) and running barefoot in the woods even in winter. Another year or two, her parents had seperated, and her mom had come out of the closet. The last time I saw her two years ago, she gave me a mind opening talk about gender expression v. gender, hinted at being bisexual, and stopped shaving. Today we picked up just about where we left off: sitting under a tree debating the real v. mythological nature of the female vaginal orgasm.
But once the catching up was done and the intellectual conversation lost its cause, I wondered exactly how far we had come from our inseperability of five plus years ago. Though we still both seem to genuinely enjoy the others companionship, even if it's simply for walking on the beach or reading, things may well never be the same again. When we first re-met in 5th grade, our lives seemed to run parallel to each others, making the thread that bound them even stronger and many times closely wound. But now we've both branched off and developped in about 10 different directions, and like I said, we will probably never be as close. I've seen this happen to many of my friends over the years: some things never change, some do. Reunions are always welcome and great fun, but unlike our early gradeschool friendships- we are no longer bound at the hip and have become all too seperable. And with what little wisdom I've acquired over the years I can't help but wonder- Will this happen to the friends I have now?
It's a scary thought: Only seeing those I now consider as part of my extended family only once or twice a year for a brief catch up session over coffee. I'm sure I'll have made new friends, but to think that years of quality times and deep bonding could be reduced to that. It's almost sad.
But until then I do have some good news to speak of. When Maggie has left in two days I will simply spend more time doing what I did this afternoon, and what the tropical vacation was truly engineered for: getting drunk on the beach. (shout outs to the beautiful sign at the beach shack telling anyone under 18 they cannot consume alcoholic beverages) And when that gets old, well, I guess I'll see you back home in the snow next New Years, and we better not just be catching up over coffee.
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