Jungle Fever

I'm getting an error when I try to post my Girl-talk videos from the summer, so iIll talk about this instead:

My roomie just admitted until recently he thought that Jungle fever was a legit medical thing... When his friend told him she had jungle fever, he asked "What are the symptoms? Are you ok?" But seriously, jungle fever is the new pink - it's hott. Go for it! Why get caught up with fear, worry and other silly things? Brown skin is sexy. You know you want to...

Flakes, bookshops and Camus

Visited a great little used bookstore in Harvard Square the other day. One of my friends opened Camus' "The Plague" and found a tax return check for $475. She takes it to the counter and the man there breaks out laughing. "She works here," he says. "She's such a flake!"

I thought about it. That is ridiculous, but exactly the kind of thing I would do. She placed her check -probably as a bookmark - into the book, and somehow, without remembering, shelved it in the bookstore and then - responsibly - filed for a new check, but still...

That woman, is me . I love her, with all her flaws.

Acutane

My roomie is going on acutane for her acne and brought back this huge reader that she has to go through before she starts the 5 month course. Supposedly we have to watch her for depresison and crying spells while she's on the pills. More than that though... Apparently you SHOULD NOT GET PREGNANT while on the meds. So the reader has a whole set of sections trying to dispel the myths around sex and getting pregnant so that the patients don't accidently knock themselves up.

My favourite myth of all:

" 'Sexually active' means that you move during sex. If you don't move, you can't get pregnant."

I have no words

Retired confessions... that is all.

I got paid yesterday. Kaching!!! So I am DETERMINED to retire this confession:

" I don't know how to manage money. I spend too much. Where did I get these expectations for the kind of life I want to live? Perhaps I have illusions about who I am. "

This check is going to last a looooong time - if I can help it. I'll let you know when I decide who I am. In the meanwhile I have a new confessions, based wholly in my job, my anger and my frustration:

"me hate authority. Authority hate me."

This is in part in honour of the pallindrome that is now Na's age. Welcome to 22 Na and thanks for the shoutout. You boosted my mood. With the crap that's been happening, I'm due for an upturn in life.

Lessons from The Fountainhead, part 2

It seems that this book is still haunting my existence. I am playing with ads by google and one of them popped up about ayn rand. So it seems I should return to my little reflection on The Fountainhead.


My other posts on it are under the 'literature' tab. So here's another installment.

"It was not malice. It was not judgement passed upon his merit. They did not think he was worthless. They simply did not care to find out whether he was good. Sometimes, he was asked to show his sketches; he extended them across a desk, feeling a contraction of shame in the muscles of his hand; it was like having the clothes torn off his body, and the shame was not that his body was exposed, but that it was exposed to indifferent eyes." page 99.

So many things come to mind. The most immediate is the art of blogging. You always have the choice of making these thing public. What is worse than people hating you... people not caring. Almost makes me want to shut down on those privacy setting and make it for my eyes only. But then, how would I ever discover if I was good. How would you?

But on a larger note... It's true that people usually don't give you the chance to show that you are good. Many people usually dont care. Few people are willing to take a chance on a stranger. Thats why, in my PSCI class on Social Capital, I thought that sometimes, social capital is a bad thing. It encourages nepotism and closed-mindedness.

Why dont we all take a chance on someone and something new today.

My Company

pic courtesy of the bbc:

My company is approximately 3% black. Of the 10 people in that 3% about 2 are African American, or rather, American at all. How does that make you feel?

In other news, the economy went to shit today. What the US need was a good Finsac-king. Jamaican style. Omar Davies style. Ah well.

I found out today that in about 2 years, people in my position usually do an externship with another company/organization. I wonder if I can get a job in Jamaica... in the government somewhere. I guess I can start planning from now eh...

Girl Talk

This guy is hott. Check out his stuff. You can get his latest CD for free! (although you should probably pay him)

He layers the most incongruous samples, to create pure danceability. Will I see you NYC Nov 15th?

Passion

"In the context of passion, the brain's judgment and fear centers are on leave." reference upon reference

Judgement and fear...? Check! Still there. Maybe I haven't encountered passion yet.

Cool Runnings

So, every Jamaican who has ever left the island has had to encounter the world's obsession with certain Jamaican things. They play Bob Marley in McLeod Ganj - a small Northern Indian city near the Tibetan border, home of the Dalai Lama. They fake Jerk Chicken in Williamstown - a small one street town in the bushes of Massachussets. But everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY has watched and LOVED Cool Runnings.

Yeah it's a heart warming story. Sure, I'll give you that. And those fake Jamaican accents are so cute and charming. But really... can the world get over it please? The actors werent even Jamaican! Did you know that they show Finnish children the movie and have them send money for the Jamaican bob-sled team.

Either way, I came face to face with this odd phenomenon yesterday when my co-workers insisted that we have a bonding cool-runnings party. They did it in good faith and in good taste. Maybe I'll play along this time...


Today I retire today's confession : I am lazy. Instead let's confess something else: I don't know how to manage money. I spend too much. Where did I get these expectations for the kind of life I want to live? Perhaps I have illusions about who I am.

My work place

Is this a bad sign? What does it say that my work-place is across the street from a Nieman Marcus?

It takes about 50mins for me to get to work from home. Shittastic...

I'm here Bitches!

The other night when i was out on the town, some old white guy stared the shit out of me. I have officially arrived in Boston!

Love is Blind, right? - Newsweek

"Not surprisingly, love also engages a whole lot of brain. Areas that are deeply involved include the insula, anterior cingulate, hippocampus and nucleus accumbens— in other words, parts of the brain that involve body and emotional perception, memory and reward. There is also an increase in neurotransmitter activity along circuits governing attachment and bonding, as well as reward (there's that word again). And there's scientific evidence that love really is blind; romantic love turns down or shuts off activity in the reasoning part of the brain and the amygdala. In the context of passion, the brain's judgment and fear centers are on leave. Love also shuts down the centers necessary to mentalize or sustain a theory of mind. Lovers stop differentiating you from me." reference here...

Love is blind, eh? But to get someone to love you , you still have to go through that thorough period of close investigation, right? You have to earn or win it, right?

And if love is blind, how do we ever manage to fall out of love?

BOSTON!

Well folks.... I moved to Boston. Still don't know much about it yet. I haven't really explored. I don't even have furniture in my room yet. Last night was the first glorious night sleeping on my bed.

I had the weirdest dream though. I was traveling with friends. I was broke, but I scrounged together some money and went back to India and then Russia. There was all kind of scandal happening and so I decided to go back to India from there, while some of my friends continued on - to China I think. Sometime during the dream, my dream-self lost consciousness. I weirdly just attributed it to the fact that I was dreaming. But on the way back to India someone sent me a package. It was a box. Inside the box was my gall bladder. Someone had knocked me unconscious, opened me up, taken out my gall bladder and then mailed it back to me. I think I was set to find/ meet up with this person in India back at school.


How messed up is that? What does a dream like that even mean?

...

The Root of All Evil

My granny told me that the root of all evil was actually ENVY.

That's an interesting idea. The old adage says that the root of evil is 'money'. But fighting tooth and nail for money implies that one has a goal. To use money, one needs ideas, things you want to do, stuff you want to buy, actual desires! But lacking even that most basic sort of creativity, perhaps the average person falls back on envy of those who want and live and desire and achieve. Ayn Rand would call it... second hand living...


(In case you were wondering. the picture is the personification of Envy from Full Metal Alchemist. He had the power to assume anyone's shape. fitting no?)

This Shit... and it's anniversary

"Gone Abroad" is approaching it's 1st anniversay and I'm still trying to figure out what this blog should be. I hope I have become a better writer since it began. Regardless, most of my hits come from 'colonial girl school' (I post I did ages ago. might have been my first), and my only non-relative comment was prompted by Ayn Rand. Perhaps some more focused content would help. I have to give all this some thought but in the meanwhile...

This shit is about to get illustrated... bitches!

get excited

Olympic understatement and the Economist

"At the Beijing Olympic, Michael Phelps won his eighth gold medal at the games, beating the record of seven set in 1972 by another American swimmer, Mark Spitz; Jamaican runners won the men's and women's 100-metre races; and Britain chalked up its best medal tally since 1908 by dominating the cycling events. Liu Xiang, China's hurdling hero, apologised to the nation for an injury that caused him to withdraw from his race." Economist August 23rd - 29th 2008, page 6

Ok, so we can tolarate all the silly arguments about who is the better athlete, Phelps or Bolt. (Talk about apples and oranges!) But how can you possibly have an olympic 'report' without even mentioning Bolt's name? No mention of the stunning new world records! No mention of Jamaica dominating the Birdnest! Not even a peep about Bolt's Rogge-baiting dancing antics! But there is more than enough detail about the American and British victories and they even (helpfully) included a little historical data to let the readers know how monumental their achievements were. 'Bias' is a bitter-tasting word, but sometimes it has to be said.

Let's end this rant with a little bit of sillyness

Catchin Up...

wow, third confession for the day... I guess I have a lot of catching up to do. Right now I just want to retire today's confession and make a reminder note for things I must write about:

Let us set aside old confessions: "I don't know if I have the strength for real change"

and face our new bits of self-discovery: "I am lazy"


To write about:

Jamaica and the Olympics

Bisexuality

Grandma

Visiting Home

Saundrene's wedding - and meeting the fiance

Cooking


maybe I can tackle these in groups...

The Souls Of Black Folk

I figured I should find something out about black americans since I am going to be lumped in with them when I move to the States.

A non-black friend of mine was reading this book - I can only imagine to understand his black girlfriend - so I picked it up when I saw it on sale at Strand Bookshop off Union square.

When Saundrene saw me with it, she said that I should be reading some Marcus Garvey - who back in the day considered (and called) Dubois a roast breadfruit (read oreo, coconut, uncle tom). To tell the truth, the first chapter was rather passive and speaks from a point of view wholly outside the direct black experience.

Marcus Garvey is the next read I suppose. Why does it always come back to Jamaicans? :) Maybe our vanity is a little bit justified.

Fun fact : it was a Jamaican Obeah man (boukman ?) who instigated the Haitian revolution. Too bad France made Haiti pay for it's independence (25 billion gold francs) or else they would be the proud beacon of black spirit that they should be.

(all facts taken from my dad the recreational historian. Must remember to fact-check later.)

Boston and Hospital Haikus

Written just before my ultrasound:


Pain sings like echoes
stuck rebounding between these
narrow pelvic walls


I move to Boston on the first of September. I'm kind of pissed actually. I am in Jamaica now feeling that olympic frenzy. I arrived on the 20th and only planned to leave on the 30th so I could make it to Boston in time to move in with the roomies. Turns out the boys struck a deal and are moving in on the 30th. In response, Didem is moving in on the 31st. I will be last to arrive and last to pick a room. What portends! Is this what is to come? Am I ready for Boston and this new life...

Than again, things have always had a stunning way of working out in my favour. Maybe Boston is not ready for me... :)

Give it a listen

music

and pass it forward...

Lessons from "The Fountainhead", part one

I read the Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) recently. I must say, that I loved most of it. The end got a bit preachy, but either way the book has a lot to offer, philosophically and otherwise. So now that there is some distance between it and me - having read some other books - I will return to some of my favourite quotes/lessons. I hope you enjoy...

"He wondered whether he really liked his mother. But she was his mother and this fact was recognized by everybody as meaning automatically that he loved her, and so he took for granted that whatever he felt for her was love. He did not know whether there was any reason why he should respect her judgement. She was his mother; this was supposed to take the place of reasons." page 35

Replace "mother" with any relative you like and it still applies. Even better, if you can, replace "mother" with some relative you don't really know or particulaly like but you are expected to respect. What is this odd combination of dependence, admiration, guilt, debt, trust, obligation ...whatever, that we feel for them? Is this love? Is it that special brand of love that we can only feel for family - blood being thicker than water and all that? Or do we just assume it is because we don't want to be that crass bastard who doesn't love his mother? Is it taboo to even think that your father, your brother, your ageing homely grandmother has to -God forbid! - earn your love? When these same relatives mistreat you, is it petty and premature to just say, "Wow, that person just doesn't love me."

Can we accept this? Is this too hard to bear?

Union Square

I was walking through Union square looking absent-mindedly at the people playing chess. I caught the eye of an older kind-looking fellow who was at a table alone.

"Come here baby! Let me teach you how to play chess." He said.

I just smiled, shook my head and kept walking. Everybody in earshot started cracking up as he shouted at me across the park:

"Listen to me!!

You won't be cute forever!

You WILL turn 50!

You've got to get INTELLIGENT!!!"

Ha!

BTW... today is my birthday! yay!

Kafka

If you look back at my old entry Church Bells on the 28th of June I mention retiring one of my 'todays confessions' - found in the sidebar

It read: "I am restless. I am looking for something I cannot name. Is this unhappiness?"

Imagine my surprise when I read the forward (John Updike) of my Complete Stories of Franz Kafka:

'Karfa epitomizes one apsect of this modern mind-set : a sensation of anxiety and shame whose center cannot be located and therefore cannot be placated..."

Jesus. Literature is a beautiful thing. I guess "modernism" is something I should look into. Perhaps it can help me understand my current moods.

But I have only read The Metamorphosis" so far... and I hated it.... all except the ending. I hated every character. I hated the unshocked lightness of the tale. I am sorry that Gregor had to become physical manifestation of his family's pointless, lazy, self-absorbed existence, but I guess we are meant to feel a relief at his awful death. At least,by and through his death his sister, father and mother became real and vitalized people. Being a scapegoat sucks. He should never have returned or visited home, but more than that he should have never facilitated their previously useless existence. I'm no good at analyzing literature, but this is what the story meant to me and I suppose that is all that matters.

Maybe I can make myself read some more.

My Father

My grandma had her operation and we went to visit her in the hospital. I stood over her and looked into her face while she spoke to me of life, sickness and her children.

"Sickness is not a good thing. Neither is having children"

"Then why did you have eight?" I rebutted.

"Because I love them. You love children before you see them. Do you know why I love your dad?"

"No."

She explained to me - as she had in the past - that it was her hardest pregnancy. That a priest had visited her everyday and had given her a book on St Francis of Assissi who, in turn, gave my father his name.

"And you know what else?" She asked

"What?"

"He is a good man. When he sets himself to do something he does it. He isn't afraid of hard work. He is an honest man - no underhanded business. And if he is your friends he is your friend."

When I look at my dad I look at a very small period of his life and I look from a certain angle. It is beautiful to hear the angle of his mother. For the first time I thought I could see the man my mother fell in love with and married.

The mystery of Business Casual

Business casual attire is required for my job. What the hell IS business casual? For guys I can imagine the uniform: the khaki pants and those blue button-down shirts. Add some obsequiousness and you've got the perfect entry level I-banker or undergrad interviewee. But for women, it seems like a god-damn free-for-all. It's the kind of thing that you'll only know when you walk into the office and become painfully aware that you are inappropriately dressed and it's too late to save your dignity and salvage all those precious first impressions.

Oh Lord, I'm angsting again.

I'll see you tomorrow and let you know what I discover. Goodnight

The Professor's Daughter - Emily Raboteau

I guess I have a lot to say tonight. So for your reading ease, I present the subsections:

Liteature:
...reading this book I found on my grandma's bed-side table. While I was riding the Q one line really stuck with me.

"That's a bullshit word. 'Shy.' That just a pretty word for selfish."

Interesting. Is that true? I always thought that the a shy person was just secretly wracked with fear. What if they are just secretly hoarding all the beautiful insightful things they could be giving us. Everything going in, nothing coming out.

Friends:
A guy friend of mine just admitted something he has been struggling with alone. I don't want to write about him, but I just wanted to say that if he had told us, we would have taken care of him. Some people would say he was dumb for letting it go so long, when it was an easy fix. But he's not dumb, he's proud. I would have done the same in his situation. I wouldn't have liked him any less for caving. I like him all the more for not.

Family:
Anyway, It turns out that my cousin in actually going to have her wedding at my house in Jamaica. Imagine that.

Here in NYC, my grandma is having her operation on Wednesday. She is removing her gallstones. Somehow, it's not going to be an invasive procedure. We prepare for the Hospital stay tomorrow.

Next time I'll try and write a little about The Fountainhead. Today I went to a dance class at the New Dance Group place on 38th and 8th. I love getting sweaty, don't you? I really don't care how unattractive it is. Those endorphines do crazy things to me.

I...

I straightened my hair. My grandma is pleased; after all, I'm going to start real work now.

I might cry.

Church Bells

I think my dad and grandma are trying to get my cousin to get married in a church.

Today I retire this confession: "I am restless. I am looking for something I cannot name. It this unhappiness?"

compromising your morals... mmm, delicious

I was talking to a friend about a friend of hers whose father happens to be something like a rich government official type person in China. My friend was telling me that her friend's father was one of those people who ate panda.

Let's think about that for a second. Even if you don't know much about pandas, you know that they are pretty cute and pretty rare. I personally have beef with pandas but let's put that aside for now. The point is that they are very close to extinction and everybody knows that.

You may be wondering 'does panda taste good?', which exactly what I asked. But this is besides the point also. How good does panda have to taste for you to eat an animal so publicly in danger? I thought about it and figured there are three possible reasons.

1. Panda tastes really good

2. Some people are just douches who eat panda as a delicacy simply because it is rare

3. This guy must be around the kind of people who want to know if he would compromise his morals for them. 

Whether it is true or not, this third is the most interesting to me. Maybe eating panda is a signal that he is willing to follow the crowd no matter how distasteful the activity.He will keep their secret because they  are keeping his... This seems like the kind of bond that would come in handy as a business man or  Chinese government official.

There are many things people try to get you to do, not because the activity itself is intrinsically fun or meaningful, but because it signals the kind of person you are. Most people are more comfortable knowing that you are like them. So you can't judge them, perhaps. Like when drinkers feel uncomfortable around non-drinkers. They love getting that person to take a drink. Or streakers wanting other people streak... or anything really. It's interesting. 

He's really not that into you...

I was hanging out with some people who's names are not important right now. Either way, there was a particularly entertaining part of the discussion that I enjoyed listening to even if I couldn't fully take part. The two boys were talking about relationship self help type books and how they are  woman's domain. The thing to read right now apparently is "He's really not that into to you", but there is no equivalent for guys because guys just don't read shit like that.

One fellow proposed, a dvd series where a guy and a girl act out a  potentially romantic scenario and at some point the viewer has to choose the next move - whether it is to do a certain action or say a particular sequence of words. Depending on their choice, the guy would either reach fourth base - Bow Chika Wow Wow! -  while the viewer watches,  or would only go so far and end up with various forms of rejection.  This is a perverted goose-bumps choose-your-own-ending type of thing where the key to success/victory/scoring is to learn not to be a douchebag. 

They said that it is interactive, helpful, fun and combines the two things that appeal most to men - video games and porn. But, would it  sell?

Ha! This cracks me up!

Getting married in the morning

My cousin is getting married and moving back to Jamaica ( in that order). Congratulations my darling!

At one point she told him (she was telling me) that he was not going to find a better woman than her - prettier maybe, younger possibly, but as a whole woman, not a chance! This was at the mild hinting from grandma that she should tell the man that if he wasn't going to marry her he should go about his business so she could go about hers. I didn't know these kinds of ultimatums worked in real life.

She is 28 and my grandmother had a good talk with me yesterday about how worried she had been about her grandniece. Grandma then had a good talk with the husband-to-be and when she passed off the phone the first thing out of her mouth was, "So, when are you getting married?" I believe, she was talking to me.

My dad had a talk at me along the same theme the day before my graduation.

Is it that time of my life or is my family just bat-shit-crazy? I do not hear the premonitory ticking of any biological clock.

Anyway, if "Fomerly Known As" would aswer his damn phone I could tell him the good news...

The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand

So I picked up a copy of the Fountainhead at the Barnes and Noble at Union Square. I was sitting in my friends room keeping her company, reading and eating cheesecake (delicious). She saw what I was reading and asked why I decided to pick it up.

I said something like "I heard it was really good - and it is- and I'm interested in her philosophy." It was perfectly true, but not even half of the real reason. It was a side reason, incidental, icing on the cake when I saw that book in the store and snatched it up.

When I was 16 or 17 I asked my guy friend how you could ever sleep with someone you hated. I was naive at the time and confused at the torrid love affair that was happening between two overly artistic, philosophically and appropriately angsty acquaintances who ostensibly hated each other. My friend turned to me, took me to a bookshelf - we were in the library - pulled down The Fountainhead and said that I should read this and I would understand. Years later I found the book in that bookstore and decided it was time.

I'll let you know if the book enlightens me. Either way, that was the real reason I was reading it. I have no idea why I didn't tell my girl friend that. Was it too personal? Maybe we just arne't that close and I didn't know it until then. Was I sounding the other answer off her? Did I not want to get into it? Is this caught up with me pretending to be other than I am - because I am now sure that I have been doing that?

I have a way of not telling a lie but not saying the thing that is most true. There are so many true things. No reason is ever the full reason. I am large, I contain multitudes. But why did I feel like I was cheating this time when I gave her that harmless answer?

She said that she thought that Ayn Rand's philosophy was impractical and selfish. "Well ... yes. "

Just more angsty food for thought.

P.S. Im going to the premiere of Hancock!

i like your body

I discovered one of my old paper journals and it reminded me to look
up this poem.  It is honest. It is almost obscene. It is beautiful,
and  reading Ayn Rand's Fountainhead I feel in a particular mood
to appreciate it. So... for your reading pleasure:

i like my body when it is with your - E.E. Cummings

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

No longer a College Student

I am here in NYC waiting for it to hit. I'm here in limbo, waiting until I can legally work in august, waiting to do things and meet people, waiting to feel the true weight of what it means to graduate. I am an adult I suppose. Should I bemoan my wasted college years? The guys I didn't jump, the classes I didn't take, the time I filled with nothing much this last year. I was ready to graduate, but I don't think I'm ready for life. Maybe I can become a new person in two months.

puddles of lust

From sage francis:

"Falling in love, this time, was like stepping into a puddle you didn’t think was gonna be as goddamn deep as it motherfucking turned out to be."

How about falling in lust?

I should be starting college now... maybe I would actually make a move.

In my Honesty Box

I take issue with the fact that people find it so difficult to be honest with each other. Even worse, is when they can't be honest with each other even when they are honest with themselves. Nevertheless, we must deal with this fact. So I placed an honesty box in my facebook profile where the shy, the confused, the cowards and the secretly supportive can send their anonymous messages to me. It's a little piece of virtual space that somehow empowers people to tell the truth. This was posted in my box at about 3:02 one morning. I assume he was a little drunk.


"A certain secret admirer freshman who is sad to see you leave because he thinks you are pretty sexy and seem to have it going on and if you weren't leaving in a few weeks and he weren't a youngun he'd be asking you out on a date and dear god he hopes your not a lesbian, if you were he'd have no issue of course, especially if you liked both cindys and tommys, but anyhow back on message he just had to let you know what could have been if you weren't a million years older than he and ya know leaning towards soon being in a wheelchair and depends. Your cool, your hot, and you will be missed."


Sweet.

How should I reply?

Vogueing and the Female Mind

Call: Twisting Twirling!
Response: Spining Swirling!

Call: Twerking!
Response: Jerking!

Call: Really Working!

All: OWWWWW

Call: I'm talking 'bout eating it up
Response: What?

Call: I'm talking 'bout serving it out
Response: Yeah?

Call: Booyaka Booyaka Booyaka
Response: Bitch !

All: Chaa Chacha Chaa Chaa Chaaaaaaa!


Went to a vogueing workshop. It was awesome!! I had only seen this kind of dance on madonna and youtube videos and it was a good exercise trying to do a new style of dance that I completely and utterly sucked at.

It was good for more than that though. I am constantly frustrated at dance parties here at school and have previously not been able to put the why into words. The guy who ran the workshop said that when voguers hit the dance floor, they bring it all, they give it their ten out of ten and this often results in fights, and beautiful challenging dancing. I end nights here with tons of energy still in my veins. I need a place where I can give my ten without feeling alone.

The chant above must be said with attitude, loudly. The dancing itself is constantly a challenge, a battle and imposition of one's female self - unapologetically - upon the world. But we have to remember that this is a dance done by men. What can they truly know about femininity? Can a female really push hers femaleness so violently forward for display?

Right now I sit with a friend. She has balls of solid brass and last night put herself forward and asked a guy out. Today she has given up on guys and openness and bravery. I, with only half her courage, sit deciphering nonsensical and meaningless phrases that guys throw out at me to see if I can find some hint of real interest. "You rock!" What the hell??

Our approaches are very different. Passive and active we are confronted with a world of sexuality where we just don't run the show.

All: Chaa Chacha Chaa Chaa Chaaaaaaa!

Guy advice from a guy

Guys don't like girls who can talk

endquote

Back to school

Spring break is over and we are back to the grind stone. 6 weeks until the last day of undergraduate education... I am so ready.

In the meanwhile my friend waits on her new beau-to-be to make his move. He apparently has until Friday before she shows up at his door and takes what she wants.

Guys are interesting creatures; secretly fragile, easily distracted, simply adorable, delicious to behold, inadvertently hurtful, stupid...

The question is... where can I find one of my own?

Should I give in to the sketchy and not so sketchy older men who trail their intentions up and down my body? Should I give in to the young ones who - with less finesse - try to use their hands? Can't some normal, intelligent, good looking guy about 22 and 6' 2" show up and worship me?

A few Maxims

It's funny how these things work....

It's like that British friend of mine. He said that when he is high he loves listening to music because he feels like every song has been written and played just for him.

It's like walking into church late and being greeted with a Homily that speaks to the very problem you were having that week.

It's like today, getting one of those obnoxious cell-phone horoscopes that I don't know how to stop getting and having it say:

"Whatever you do today don't let your temper get the better of you. The biggest problesm will relate to travel complications!"

...just when I'm having a devil of a time planning my trip to NYC tomorrow.

So I stumble onto these lame quotes from Oscar Wilde. And suddenly the trite rings true... so bear with me

"Friendship is far more tragic than love. It lasts longer."

Maybe that's why my friends girlfriend hates me so. Even as I back away and spend less time with him, she seems ever more desperate , because she knows that distance (shockingly) has not affected the depth of our relationship. Maybe if they get married she would finally be secure enough to not be threatened by my harmless existence.

"One should never listen. To listen is a sign of indifference to one's hearers."

When I'm in class I often don't participate... thinking I am granting airtime to others. I am learning from them. I am not boring them with my useless ramblings. But I should be a bit more honest. In part, I just don't want to be there. Maybe I could be teaching someone something....

"It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information."

I really want time to learn the things i want to learn. Not for my job, or my classes, but the things that interest me. My profs say that that's why they become professors - for the research time in the things that they love. But wow, what a journey for something so simple. Maybe I should quit whining and make time.

"Education is an admirable thing. But it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."

AMEN! God, I am so ready to graduate. I suddenly feel the urge to do something big, like these kids I went to school with who are LITERALLY off saving the world... They started a children's home in India. Holy Shit! Look them up, they are called the Ashraya Initiative for Children

that's my little bit of cheese and self indulgence. Hope you enjoyed it.

Just do it

http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1079

Update... long time no see

So Jack from the "Think like a man" failed miserably. He now says that he is done with games and scheming. He is simply going to jump on whatever floats his way.

I am still single and the thesis still needs to be written...

...but I am now back on board for the blogging. So if you are out there reading... you can rest easy now.

Stay tuned for recipes for my fav alcoholic drinks.

Free Custom Music Station

www.pandora.com

you're welcome

Ill-timed Confessions and Bitter-sweet Ego Boosts

So I was in the bar again last night. There was this Junior guy who had dropped into campus for one night to pick up his stuff. He was leaving the next day for study abroad. 

So he came by, hugged me. We said our goodbyes and I said I would see him at home-coming next year when all the seniors make their drunken return. 

But after the goodbyes he just stood their awkwardly looking at me, and while I willed him to walk away he grabbed my arm, leaned in and told me that he has been crazy about me since the day we met. 

....

I'm not interested in him that way. And even if I was what did he expect? That I would jump him right then and there taking advantage of the only chance we ever had together. Maybe - as my guy friends later told me - he just wanted closure on this crush of his that he has been harbouring for no reason. Either way, it was ill-timed and didn't get the best reception.

"You can't say that shit to me right now." and then he walked away.

How much courage does it take to act on a crush? How much more does it take to straight up talk about it? How much of a coward am I?

 

Think like a man

Yesterday, I popped into the bar and made a new acquaintance. He was on his fifth drink - four of which were in shot form - so I'm sure he was more talkative than he normally would be. He first caught my attention when, while giving a friend of mine advice, he told her that she needed to think like a man. Intrigued, I turned to him and said 

"Think like a man? Do tell..."

In the story that follows I shall call my new acquaintance Jack and the girl in question (you will be later introduced) Jill. 

"Yeah! Think like a man!" He said. apparently, men are stubborn and go directly after what they want. If my friend was to resolve her problem, she needed to be direct and get to the point in conversations,  instead of beating around the bush. 

This  seemed like reasonable advice in content, though not in name, so I kept listening. However, at this point a girl came by - this is Jill - and he put out his arm. She hugged him, they flirted a little and then she continued on her way. 

He continued to talk. "You see, you have to play the game." When a girl is  trying to get a guy or a guy is trying to get a girl, they follow certain patterns of behaviour. To succeed you have to know the rules and play. Girls pretend they are not interested in the people they are interested in . Guys always go exactly for what they want and that will never get them any. 

This was beginning to sound decidedly like bullshit. But then mildly-drunk Jack began to back up the bull with some incredible empirical data. 

"You see this group of girls behind me?" I look over his shoulder, and there, on the pseudo-dance floor was an awkward group of girls mildly swaying to the inappropriate-for-dancing bar music. "There is no reason for them to be there, but *Jill* just wants to get my attention." And lo and behold, there was Jill, swaying awkwardly in the middle of the gaggle.  "Now I turn away," He turned more fully towards me so that his back was firmly to the girls,  "and this is going to drive her crazy!"

You see, to get laid, the guy has to think like a girl. He has to pretend he is not interested, until the girl, in frustration/exasperation, starts giving much more overt signs. She becomes so invested, so obsessed! Then the guy can make his move because he knows that he is in!

And surprise, surprise, after a few minutes of the cold shoulder, Jill sauntered over and flung her fluffy white scarf around his neck. They flirted outrageously and I , nauseated,  went to go find some other acquaintances. 

Later in the night, Jill left without Jack and i went over to him to tease him about his failure. But he said, that 100% guaranteed on the night he returns, he is going home with Jill. I have a buck riding on this. I'll let you know whether he succeeds. 

I wonder if this only works for women and men who are utterly full of themselves or whether it rings with a deeper truth. I know I have, on more than one occasion feigned disinterest. But a cold shoulder would deflate and repel me rather than insight me to more overt shows of affection. 

Hmm... food for thought.

Thesis update

Alert : I don't care if you don't understand what follows. If you do understand it, leave me a note, we should talk.

The Thesis room for math students is a depressing little closet with no windows, no comfy chairs and no joy. I guess that also means no distractions because I have been getting my thesis done like a beast.

So far however, I am stuck because the variety i get from the groebner basis of my ideal of interest is larger than the projection of intersection of the curves that generate the ideal. The intersection is what I am after! not all this extra junk information!

What I need to do is find the groebner basis test for intersection of n curves in m-dimensional space. I think that whichever dude figured that out, must have already dealt with my problem.

Here I go

Carpe Diem

http://souljerky.com/_media/swf/alan_watts_life.swf

The Unconscious and Entonophobia

Went to the gym today for the first time with a friend. At around the 22nd minute I  was mortified to realize that I had been jogging directly in front of an old interest of mine. Not to be all giggly and girly, it just brought to my attention the perhaps meaningfulness of the things we do unconsciously  and the great self doubt it can create. Did I do that unconsciously? Or did he come in and set up shop behind me?

Self-doubt is a dangerous thing,  because your fears can never truly be affirmed or denied by someone else.  Yet it keeps you up late at night, colours everything you do, makes you react strangely and sets the stage for some serious angsting. 

Then again, being a tropical black girl of college age in a competitive university in rural white america leaves many real fears to have; Racism, exclusion, undesirability, failure, stupidity, fear of the future etc, etc. 

The sensible neurotic in me tells me to attack them one at a time.  For the time being I will focus on the one fear that is keeping me out of the state of minnesota.... ticks!

Word of the day : ENTONOPHOBIA

Angst and Friendship in the Brave New World

 "One of the principal functions of a friend is to suffer (in a milder and symbolic form) the punishments that we should like, but are unable, to inflict upon our enemies." Brave New World,  Aldous Huxley

Had a massive mood-swing last night. It started out as such a mediocre night, then went to excellent in a heart beat. Then some time around midnight one of my friends was inexplicably angry with me about something - who knew what because the level of anger did not match up with the supposed trespass. I really need to get better at deflecting other people's moods. They end up being my unhappiness way too often. 

On the other hand, I have a good opportunity to avoid that particular set today - until they cool off I suppose - because to day is another friend's happy day:

It's her birthday! But it get's better! She recently found out that she got into Stanford,  Harvard and MIT for grad school. We, her friends, expected nothing less, but it is a great thing to have it all on paper... And so many choices!

Tonight we celebrate! I only hope I can work up the appropriate mood.