I'm Bad at Parties

Last night there was a Springfield social (Springfield is the organization I'm a part of that raises money for Penn State's THON charity) at the apartment of Gabby, our social chairwoman. I thought it would be a good way to meet some of the new people joining Springfield and see if there were any particularly cool newbies, but I knew there would be dancing and drinking and loud music and stuff, so I figured I'd try to go early before any of that started.

It was supposed to start at 11pm, and I showed up at about 10:40pm, which I figured was safely before any real partying would begin. However, as soon as I got to the third floor of the building (where her apartment was), I could hear the party coming from all the way down the hall and around the corner. I thought it was another party at first, but no, it was the party I was headed for. There was loud music, people were drinking, there was alcohol set up outside for people to take, and there was a game of beer pong happening. Some people started dancing a little bit later.

I said hello to maybe two or three people, including one of the RAs in Simmons, who had to leave early because she didn't want to be seen drinking/partying in front of her residents. Meg saw that I was just sitting/standing around and not really digging it, and made a sad a face at me. As Dana put it a long time ago, "Meg has this disease where she has to make sure everyone around her is happy." It's not a bad disease to have, but it sucks when you're in a situation like "At a party with Jeff," where it turns out I can't be happy. I left after maybe 15 minutes. Most of those 15 minutes, I had this image in my head.

I was sort of frustrated with myself when I left. I just sort of realized that back in high school, I could totally work the social scene. Whatever kind of party kids in high school were having (at least ones I was invited to), I could find a way to make myself happy and I think even help other people have a good time, too. I honestly don't think that's happened once at a party at college. I just thought through all the parties I can remember, and I still believe that it's accurate. I've never enjoyed a party at college, ever.

That sort of sucks.

I wish I liked the things that people did here. I want to like it and I want to enjoy being around people while it's happening. But I just don't. I just want to leave and play piano or draw or drive or listen to NPR.

Peace out.

Another Great WHYY Quote

"Nazis-in-hiding must be high-fiving each other because genocide is being rebranded as a benefits program."

Robin Young on Here and Now commenting on the current health care coverage.

Peace out.

This Problem Will Keep You Awake at Night

Say there are 5 guys at a party and they're all wearing silly hats. They decide to trade hats, and so they all throw their silly hats into a pile in the middle of the room. Then they close their eyes and randomly all grab a silly hat from the pile at the same time and put it on. How many ways can these 5 guys pick hats such that none of the 5 guys have picked their own hat?

How about for 10 guys?

How about for n guys?

The best part about this is that there's pretty much no way to Google the answer, or even to Alpha the answer, or even Maple the answer. Doesn't it feel a little weird to be asked a question like this where you can't just say "I don't know, but Google does?"

Peace out.

[[ It took me about two hours to figure this problem out, just sitting and thinking. Major props to you if you figure it out faster than that - you should consider a math major ]]

GED

I took my second actuarial exam (financial mathematics) on August 13th of this year at the Curtis Center in Philadelphia. Believe it or not, I actually didn't use my own Pilot G-2 .5mm mechanical pencils this time because I was afraid of them saying I was cheating. I was also forced to leave my cold sore medicine (for what, I believe, was not even a cold sore) outside, and had to leave my test for a minute to put some on with about an hour left.

Well anyway, after I left, I had a bit of trouble finding the bathroom, and decided to just forget about it for a while, and headed for the elevator back down to the first floor. There was a man in the elevator with me, who I believe was taller than me, with a little bit of paunch, older, whiter hair and balding. He saw that I was holding something like a study manual in my hand (the Actex manual that I had been using) and asked me if I had just taken a test. I said yes, and he asked me if I passed. I told him yes, and then I asked him if he had taken one too, and he said yes, he took the test for the GED, and he had passed. He seemed very, very content to have passed. He even gave me a high-five when we stepped out of the elevator and wished me the best of luck with everything. It made me extremely happy to see how happy he was that he'd passed his test.

Peace out.

Molly Bloom

I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

//

I would kill for a book filled with something like this. Maybe someday I'll just read the last chapter. And that one other chapter that's supposed to be really good...

Peace out.

Text Messages

I always feel a little bit sad when I delete the inbox on my phone because it's full. I feel like I'm losing something.

//

I hate that I had to spend all my summers in my childhood at the beach away from all of my friends. I almost feel some resentment about it. I remember that my dad would stay at home all week and only come down to see us on the weekends, so he was alone all week from Sunday night until Friday night. I wonder if he feels resentment about that. I think that would probably be even worse.

Peace out.

Pope-ourri

[This entry has nothing to do with the pope]

I think it's silly when people think I'm attractive/cute/hot/etc. Not because I'm flattered by it and don't know how to handle it [though that is true when it happens], but because I seriously think they're wrong. I always thought that I was just-average looking and not a bit above. And still do, pretty much. Also, I'm always afraid that I'm gaining weight.

When I was in 8th grade I had to write a paper in response to talk radio or talk TV for Dr. Castefaro's Social Studies class. He specifically made me respond to Rush Limbaugh, although I think I encouraged him in that selection a bit. I remember listening to the show and taping it upstairs on the floor of my parents bedroom with our crappy old radio/tape player and hate-hate-hating Rush Limbaugh when I was finished with it. He was talking about Iraq and Saddam Hussein and probably WMDs at that point. I would love to see that paper, but I can't find it at the moment. More importantly, I would love to see Dr. Castefaro again, or have him be my teacher again. I can and probably should make the first one happen, though I don't know if I can swing the second.

I've been sleeping way more than usual lately and it makes me feel unproductive, but I just don't know what else to do after 11pm when I have to be in my house and can't make noise.

I'm really lucky that all my passions/desires are within the bounds of social acceptability. Nobody every calls me a freak or criminal because I play piano for hours every day or basically drool at any mention of number theory, roller hockey, or Krispy Kreme doughnuts. But some people aren't so lucky and they just so happen to be into disabled people or crossdressing or even just people of the same sex, and they have to spend their whole damn life feeling like an outcast because of it. It's not like they choose these things! I wish society didn't judge things like that.

I think there exists at least one person who does know or to whom I could comfortably tell every "secret" that I have. I think that's a good place to be. Although I wish I didn't have to have secrets.

I've worked on keeping my cool over the past while, and I think I've done a good job of it. I never really get angry, I'm becoming much more patient, and I never lose my temper. I typically feel good about all of that, but sometimes I wonder if it's really for the better. Maybe people should get pissed off.

The kid in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close always said that he pet his cat "to show him that he loved him." I used to think of it like that with my cats, too, although I hadn't for a while. I'm starting to again after reading said book.

My senior year of high school, I would always tell people: Every day you see me, I'm probably having the best day of my life. I don't know if that's true anymore and it makes me uncomfortable. I know that there's tons of potential for me to go back to a monotone increasing amount of awesomeness in my days, but I worry that somehow it just won't happen.

I'm slow to take up new technology. I never got an iPod, I never use .mp3 players, I never got a "smart phone," I never update my versions of AIM or Adobe, I hate finding my homework assignments online.

I don't know where I stand on the Will-You-Ever-Have-Kids issue currently. I still think that I would hate the first like 13 years or so of raising each kid, but after that I'd probably like them. Like, when they have their own personality and independent thoughts and actions and interests in stuff. It would be awesome to raise some kickass kids and feel like an awesome father and die proud of my incredible children. But what if I don't like the things I make? Scary.

But then again, I always regret the things I don't do more than the things I do.

When I found out somebody is really religious, I have a much harder time developing a friendship/good relationship with that person. There are exceptions of course - Rachel M is very religious and also a great friend of mine. But I still have that prejudice. It's definitely because of The End of Faith. I think I have been getting better about it recently - separating the religion from the rest of the person.

My brother mentioned my blog [HATE THAT WORD] in front of my parents the other day and I wanted to strangle him. Not to death, just to make it hurt. I don't want my parents to read this. I hate the fact that they know it exists. [Hey Mom and Dad! Hint: Never mention this ever]

The other day in Genuardi's, the cashier commented on my shirt. It was the middle-aged blonde woman, and I was wearing my "Wednesday is hump day" shirt, featuring a camel. She said it was very true. I don't think she realized the innuendo, but maybe she did. Viv's mom also commented on my "Friends don't let friends vote Republican" shirt tonight when I went to visit her.

I had a very exciting week, although it's to remember everything. Sunday I saw Keith's band called Hessian at Mojo 13, Monday I watched Dr. Strangelove with Chloe, Tuesday Chloe/Matt/I went to Dorney Park, Wednesday I walked w/ Kristin and saw Christie H, Thursday I looked for ladders, ran through corn, and saw DCI w/ Chloe, Friday I went to First Friday. Saturday I studied. Sunday I saw Viv.

I have still never taken a drink of alcohol or ingested any drug that was illegal for me to take. I don't think I want to - especially not after this summer. I might be interested in going to a frat party at some point just to see what it's like, but I imagine that I'll be extremely uncomfortable, and probably want to leave after a few minutes. On a mostly unrelated note, apparently plastic bags really aren't too terrible for the environment (but I still avoid them anyway). Furthermore, a solar tower is in operation in Lancaster, PA. Go sun!

I don't know what I want to do with my upcoming summer. Options include (a) Insurance internship, (b) NSA internship, (c) Academic program TA or RA, (d) Non-academic program TA or RA, (e) Drum corps, (f) Become a long-haul trucker.

I didn't even start texting until Gina basically made me, just by virtue of her texting so frequently. I remember I got a new phone right before I went to Brown and traded it in the first week I was there because it's T9 Word didn't learn new words. The battery also died within like 6 hours every time.

Loving people is definitely the best part of my life. It makes me happier than anything else I can think of - to know that there exist people who I think are that awesome. The only thing that comes close is writing a song that I know kicks ass. But nothing else.

There are a lot of layers between people now. There was a picture recently where five people in my family were sitting on the couch in front of the TV, and each person had a laptop in front of them. I count that as six layers inbetween the people and a conversation. Add in cell phones for an additional five (although they're not in constant use). Even right now, my brother and I are sitting across from each other at the same table, but we're both on our laptops, not talking, hardly even communicating at all. I wonder what would happen if I closed my laptop and just sat here.

I should write my Nana a letter. Soon. I was supposed to do it when she sent me money on my birthday last year - she hardly even has any money to send me - but it just kept getting pushed off. Partly because I don't really know what to say. But that shouldn't matter to me, dammit, she wouldn't care what the hell was in there, really, just that I sent something to her at all. I hate that I haven't done this yet.

Graveyards are like libaries, full of people and all their stories, but you can't check them out anymore. Imagine all the secrets that are taken to the grave. God damn. I wish that I were one of those people that could start a conversation with anyone with ease. I'd love to get to know/love more people. Everyone if I could. But I never feel like people want to be bothered, and I also fear that I have an angry default face that would make people not want to talk to me. Maybe I just use that as an excuse and I'm afraid they wouldn't like me. Not sure.

One of my friends attempted suicide recently. I couldn't understand it. They were smart, had loving family, a great home, a good school, good grades, a significant other, athletics, looks. They looked perfect on paper. I don't know what drove them to try it exactly, I don't think I could every really understand, but it's scary and makes me feel like no one is safe.

I worry a lot recently about my friends staying safe. I wish I could make sure everyone were safe all the time somehow.

Leroy showed me the paragraph in The Catcher in the Rye where Holden actually uses that exact phrase. I found it once, looking through a copy of the book in Trish's room at Brown. I never liked the book, but I really like that paragraph, and I relate to Holden in that sense.

I'm taking my actuary exam on Thursday morning at 8am. I'm pretty sure I'm already overprepared for it, which is a nice sentiment to have.

We were running low on all my favorite awful foods recently, but we got some Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Tastykake doughnuts now, so I'm set for a while. Except for I'm still afraid I'll get fat. Eh. I'm going to go have some cereal right now.

Peace out!

Streetcorner

I went to Philly to see First Friday. The whole group ended up being myself, Chloe, Vickie, Emily, Jaffe, and Scott, but at the beginning it was just myself, Chloe, and Vickie. A little after the three of us met, we decided to walk to a Wawa nearby to get some food. At one of the street crossings on the way, while we were waiting for the pedestrian light to turn, a man approached us from behind and said to me, "Hey-man-can-I-see-your-penis-I-mean, can I borrow a cigarette?"

It was really strange and I don't think I said anything at all in response. I put my hands over my pockets so he couldn't reach for anything from them, just in case. He was maybe in his thirties, with longish wavyish brownish hair, wearing a tan coat, and holding a paper cup is his hand. Then he asked Chloe if he could borrow $2 so he could get to Lancaster. Then he asked Vickie if she danced, specifically if it was salsa dance. I should point out that Vickie is part Puerto Rican and pretty dark-skinned. She called him racist as we were walking away, and I think some f-words were exchanged.

All in all, it was an incredibly weird experience. I might try that line as a pickup/introduction though.

Peace out.

100 points if you can decipher the lyrics

What I've been able to get so far, some of which I'm not sure about:

You washed your feet in the ocean and they became clean

The bits of sand on my hands, now watch it all leave [?]

The wrecking ball before you kissed me on the mouth

We rolled around in the sand, you better [ ?? ]

We lost a lot in the hurricane [?], till everything came back again

Floating in, floating in, floating in, floating in

Thanks if you are able to help?

Peace out!

Submarines

I wonder how many foreign submarines there are trolling along America's coasts. I'd like to see a map of it, I think it'd be pretty interesting.

Peace out.

The Next 1000 Words

“shaking up up 630”; a cat laying in your lap at the computer, or laying on the computer so that you have to give her attention instead; the plane rides to and from Providence (one time I saw a cloud that was colored through by a rainbow); Genuardi’s doughnuts; the way Mr. Ricci’s kids climbed on him like he was a jungle gym; the time Mr. Ricci yelled at Alex for looking at the wrong side of the board on the first day of class; Alex’s “game show” hair circa 3rd grade; Dan Perrino is going to survive; people still post on Christine L’s MySpace to say that they’re thinking of her and they miss her; I wish more than almost anything in the world that somehow, anyway at all, you didn’t have to be sad about Dave anymore; giving ridiculous answers when Dana asks hypothetical questions; I learned how to play The Luckiest by Ben Folds for Dana M and sang it to her on my brother’s keyboard once in our basement and she loved it, I don’t think I’ve learned a song for a girl since then but I have written many

My brother and sister and I used to listen to To My Brother Whom I Slept With in Bed by Bill Cosby on cassette in a little circle around the player and laugh so hard we couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore, my dad brought it home and had it listen to us once and we’ve loved it ever since, I don’t think he expected that much of a response; I will never figure out what makes my brother and Connie happy together, I asked my dad if he knew what it was and he said, “Jeff, I don’t understand what makes any two people happy together” ; when we lived on Federal Farm Drive I used to go out of my bed at night to go lay with Jessica in her bed and talk, my bedtime was earlier than hers but I never remember her having the light on, we talked about it in front of Mom and Dad once and they said to stop; I used to daydream about taking my brother’s room and turning it into a water tank and having a Waverunner in it, I think it’s because there was blue carpet; there was a nice old guy named Mr. Fritz who lived beside Federal Farm Drive, his wife wasn’t as nice, but they had tons of cats and he always let us visit them, it’s been a long time since I’ve thought about him, and I’m sad to think that he is probably not okay

I don’t know if I should take my favorite blanket with me on Semester at Sea, I’d like it to go all around the world but I’m not sure it’s strong enough; the World War II memorial is amazingly pretty, the last time I was there two girls from Asia were sitting a bit down from me and we made eye contact and smiled but never talked, maybe it was the language barrier; I have played hockey in front of the White House; I went to Barnes and Noble my last days in DC to get a notepad to write down ideas and a girl about my age was looking in the journals section too and she was pretty in an offbeat way, I thought about saying hi and asking what her journaling was for but instead I rationalized the familiar

Google’s making an operating system; Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, This American Life, News & Notes, The World, On Point, On The Media, Radio Lab, All Things Considered, Marketplace, Fresh Air, Morning Edition, the background music of Shadow Traffic, “I’m Robert Segal” “And I’m Michelle Block” *picture of a seagull and a block*, what the hell would I be without NPR; the way Leiha breathed out between thoughts; once I threw up because I swam too hard the first day back in the pool, and once because I tried really hard on all the physical fitness tests, I’ve since learned not to make that mistake; the SomethingAwful forums; I used to be one of the cool guys on GameFAQs when I was like 13, I really appreciate what all those people added to my life, but I could never ever go back; Joel McHale and that tiny little dog from E!’s The Soup; you know what, popping pimples and picking my nose can feel good sometimes, okay, there, I said it; when my dad has something in his ear he puts his finger in it and shakes it so hard the whole room shakes, my sister picked up on that somehow, but no one else; my mom gave me her jawline and I’m thankful for that; my dad sneezes really loud, which was annoying when I was young and trying to sleep, when he thinks something is really funny his laugh is very loud and high pitched, I never thought much of it but my sister told me it always made her happy to hear it when she was falling asleep because she knew it meant Dad was happy

When people update their blogs; when there used to be appropriate words to use instead of blog; how well Jenny J and I were able to talk about our past, I never knew that both of us made an almost-conscious decision, I think it would have been fine even if it had only been one of us; the time Corky and I tried to explain the butterfly effect to her in her comment s section; god am I going to miss having Corky at PSU, I already missed having him down the hall so I could bother him every day, I don’t think I’ve ever known a guy my age that I got along so well with, the post it note to-do lists on his desk that said, “DON’T kill yourself,” “To my biggest fan”

Peace out.

Note to Self

1000 words isn't as long as you think it is.

Peace out.

The First 1000 Words

The time at Kevin D’s pool party when I pushed the lifeguard into the pool, he was the best swimmer in the high school, he might have been in the Olympics, I think kids played Spin the Bottle in the woods that day but this was middle school and I was definitely not okay with that game with those kids; I still call both of them kitten; we were talking about the alarm in our house and my dad said “it’s only for people. if someone breaks in and takes all the TVs, you know, that means nothing to me” ; I don’t know if I’ve ever cared so intensely about anything as I did the nights I wrote you that letter, and I wonder sometimes if I ever will again or if I ever could again, if it’s even possible for me to care in that way anymore, or for someone else, or maybe I’ve just ruined it, or maybe I’m too old; watching last night’s episode of The Daily Show at work, Brett came over to join me one day and we watched it together, we never did that again but I wish we had; I’m surprised that Matt liked all those stories as much as he did, I hope I can figure out a way to order The Moth, I don’t want to let him down; getting a text from Glenn - can you play tonight at 8? Love to! What time and color jersey? 8, white should do – and playing two games, planning on leaving at 9 and getting caught in conversation until eleven; kneeling down to be eye-to-eye with you, hugged you, I wanted to kiss you so badly right then and I can’t place exactly why but I was more alive for it

Sneaking to Kristin’s back porch on graduation night at 11pm, I think it was the first time I hugged her, her parents thought it was weird but it was definitely worth it; the first time we had circle time I had thought about saying “by the end of this year, everyone here will love everyone else here,” I didn’t say it because I thought it was too much, but it was almost true, I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of anyone or anything in my life; her mom went upstairs, or outside, I forget which – “is your mom outside?” “no, she’s upstairs” [leaning over] “…may I help you?” “can I kiss you?” “Oh. …sure,” I’m sorry that I handled everything so poorly beginning with that exchange right there; the science of choice: keep asking questions, keep learning, keep being the best self I have ever been, or go to sleep because I have drumline tomorrow, fuck the law of declining marginal benefits, damnit; a broken neck would be an improvement to the condition I would find myself in if I ever did break your heart

Sneaking into the neighbor’s pool around 11th grade with Beth, I should have kissed her then; Bill Maher on the weekend, I can’t remember what nights it was on anymore, just we watched it together and she would always hold me, not the other way around; The Half-Hour News Hour, who the hell thought that was a good idea, well us, because it was another excuse, and it was on a Sunday; Perfect Timing by Orba Squara; the times when your parents didn’t think we were going out, your dad called me your fifth son (did that mean you were his fourth son?), god, he used to like me, what the hell went wrong; walking barefoot, going to all the stores barefoot, one time I went for a walk all the way around Fox Hill Farms with Kristin with no shoes on, I thought I could take it but the stones were pretty painful actually; the time my Aunt Jenn used the word sauce as the answer to every topic in Scattergories, and the time I used ham in every answer this year at the beach; running into the water in May when it’s freezing cold; talking until 3:00 in the morning except that the clock is 20 minutes fast and telling the kid at the gas station that I’m the guy from Fallout Boy; the night we had the bonfire, just the two of us, and Jack came to see us; I can’t believe that you were the one that took my hand, god, so wonderful

Everything in the world about Mr. Kerrigan – the bottles of Coke, the terrible puns and jokes, homework is homefun, the way he handled us all, the Brown kid, and we learned so damn much; XKCD; on the dock with Meg: “do you want to jump in? in our underwear. Right now.” You said we could do it later and we never got to it, and no, I’m not upset at all, but next time let’s jump in; For Good from the Wicked soundtrack; wordplay; I saw the movie Wordplay in theaters twice, both times in Pittsburgh, Jon Stewart was in it; I didn’t think I would like Libby S at first but it turns out she’s pretty awesome, and I was thankful for the surprise; Jenna’s kissy faces, the time she pretended to be a dog with her head out the window in the passenger seat of my car, and I was afraid she’d get me a ticket; the days when I wasn’t afraid of speeding tickets; my mom didn’t want me to leave for the summer because she wanted to watch The Daily Show with me at night, but said it wouldn’t be right to keep me here; my cats always climb in boxes and that’s adorable; my sister used to sit outside my dad’s door at night and listen for him breathing to make sure she was alive because she was constantly terrified that anything might go wrong with him; Mr. Longo knew even before I did, I guess he figured out from the handwriting

Peace out.

Stairway Waterfalls

I got a haircut last Thursday, the day before my last day of work, at a place called Bubbles on Connecticut Ave. It was the first day that it had rained in basically all of July, and it was coming down in intense bouts. It had rained very early in the day, around 6 or 7am, and then again a few times in the afternoon. My appointment was initially for 6pm, but the salon called later and asked if they could move it to 6:15, which I said was fine. I washed my hair in that time so I wouldn't have to pay for it there.

At 6, I figured it was time to start walking, except that another intense bout of rain had started coming down. I thought I might be able to wait it out, but realized that was probably a bad idea, and instead started looking for an umbrella. I found one right near the staircase, where I had looked earlier, but hadn't noticed. I was wearing my sandals because my shoes always get soaked anyway. I was also wearing pants rather than shorts like I always do. I don't know if I thought that was a good idea or something, I guess I just do it.

It was pretty windy too and the umbrella got blown around. I saw that there was one in my car when I walked by it, but I didn't bother to go put the other one back and grab my own. I still got wet, and my jeans got dirty/muddy, and I threw some extra water on them later to try to make sure the dirt didn't stain itself into the fabric. I probably looked like a crazy person doing that.

When I was walking on the right side of the road, after I had crossed the street, there were a few houses that had staircases outside. Just built of stone or cement, something like that. The rain was so intense that it was streaming down the streets and the sidewalks, and streaming down these staircases too. The water would always go to whichever side was less elevated, of course, and then it would fall down the set of five or six stairs, making a waterfall on every level. It was really nice to look at. I thought about taking a picture, or a video, but felt pressed for time, and was afraid of my camera getting wet.

I thought I'd walk on a little bit futher and see if any more staircases came up after I saw that first one. There was one more, and the same waterfall sequence was happening, but I was still afraid for time, and water. I told myself if I see one more, I'll take a picture/video of it.

I kept walking, but there weren't anymore. I thought, if it's still raining on the way back, I'll take a picture or video.

I was pretty soaked when I got to the salon. The receptionist, a younger black woman, asked me if I needed anything, if I was thirsty, if I needed water. I wondered if it looked like I needed water. I laughed (not at her) in my head, but just said "No, I'm good" in the real world.

They took my name down as Jesse rather than Jeff. Even when my sister isn't around, I can't get away from having my name mistaken for hers.

There were no waterfalls happening when I got back. I will probably think of them during ever intense rainstorm for a while. Maybe I'll see another one sometime.

It's raining very hard right now. My cat was outside. I let her in, and she's still crying a little bit.

Peace out.

Surprisingly Refreshing Quote from Work

In a paper about wellness programs at work and how to design one correctly:

"Not all choices leading to illness are counted alike. Those that are targeted tend to be sins - sloth, gluttony, lust, to use their old-fashioned names - or to be behavior, such as drug addiction, of the marginalized."

//

I am filming today for my summer documentary. I'm filming this right now.

//

Last night I began my journey to track down the poem Real Men that I heard in a WORD practice sometime in the fall of 2007 when I was at Brown. I wrote on my left hand:

REAL
MEN

ASKTO
NIGHT

and outlined it with four lines of red as well. It was strangely effective motivation, even compared to other things that I've written in such a manner on my hand. Janine H, who was either a Minority Peer Counselor or Women's Peer Counselor, already wrote back to me. She said that she remembers the poem that I'm talking about, but doesn't know the man's name, and suggested I talk to Phil K or Laura B. I'll try them tonight, I think. I think I'll retrace the letters on my hand, too, actually, even though they might end up in my hockey glove if I go play after work.

//

My capital-letter handwriting is in Arial.

Peace out!

More Reasons I Hate the Business Whirled

One of the projects that I'm working on right now is to help the company develop age curves and gender curves. Basically what that means is we want to take a male at birth and a female and birth and see how much they cost to insure for each year of their life. We decided to do this by looking at the premiums that different sexed age groups would have to pay in 6 * 2 * 3 * 3 types of plans. And there were 27 age groups. And I needed to find the cost for different parts of the plan, as well. And initially, I had to do it individually, setting up a plan type, and then going through each of the 27 age groups. So altogether I would be filling out 6 * 2 * 3 * 3 * 27 * 2 cells, which is 5832 cells total. That's a long time. I mean, even if you could do six every minute (which you couldn't), that's still 100 hours roughly. Which would cost them $2100 in labor costs to me alone.

So I wrote a program to do it for me, and it basically reduced the number of cells that I had to work on to 120. Because I'm awesome. Which meant that I could do it in approximately 2% of the time that they had initially planned to set aside for me. One fiftieth. And of course, I finished it way ahead of time, with way less hours than expected.

So I got to the meeting on Wednesday or whatever, which had been severely pushed back, and I bring out the age curves I'd found. All 5832 cells were filled out, which was a pretty impressive feat in and of itself.

Didn't mention it. Instead they look at one of the headings that my team leader had come up with. "Poor plan vs. Rich plan? No no, I think... no, you mean lean plan rather than rich plan, right? Like, one with reduced benefits and such? Yeah, typically it's rich vs. lean in a situation like that." As if it meant anything at all what we called the plans. We could have called them a happyface plan and a sadface plan. Or X plan and Y plan. Or squiggly plan and squirrely plan. It didn't make any difference at all. It's not even like we were showing this to a client who would have to understand precisely what we were talking about.

And then she asked about the standard plan. "Why isn't the plan definition on this page?"

"Hm?"

"Why isn't the plan definition printed out here?"

"What? I mean, I... on everyone else's I'm sure I wrote it in on the bottom - it should be written in on yours, too. It is, isn't it? [I look; it is written in] Yeah, okay. I mean, that was just how it printed. I mean, it just could not fit one more line on the printer, so I wrote it in."

"Yeah well, you should have come to me to see how to print it."

No, I shouldn't have. She never has time for anything, first of all, and she wouldn't have time for this. Not to mention that it doesn't make a bit of difference, since the plan definition was there for her to see.

Not one mention of the fact that I completed everything in 1/50th the time they expected.

Just formatting issues.

Later we were talking about filling in the gaps between the years. Of course we knew how much it cost to insure someone exactly at the boundry of the age group - we had some data points - but what about inbetween those data points? She suggested doing linear interpolation. I couldn't believe what I just heard. Quietly,

"Linear interpolation?"

She looked at me. "We could do cubic splines, whatever."

"Why stop there? You could get a 10th degree polynomial..." She had already moved on.

So she really really cared about getting lean plan correct instead of poor plan, and making sure it was printed on the page rather than written in, but once it came to actual math - you know, getting something perfectly accurate to the 10th derivative rather than, oh, maybe getting the 1st derivative right - no no, don't worry about being exact. It's no big. Not like that's actually going to make any difference, or make our work less accurate, or potentially cost our clients hundreds or thousands of dollars. Just draw a straight line, like a four-year-old. It's not even like polynomial interpolation is hard.

//

"So do you know what you're doing next summer, err... you think you'll be coming back here?"

No.

"I don't know, I was thinking about maybe trying plain old insurance..."

//

Peace out.

Recent Daze

I had to send a letter on my way back from Glen Mills to DC. I had to put it into a public mailbox because I couldn't let my parents know I was sending it. I mean, I probably could have, but I didn't feel like it. I went to see Bobby and Stefan and Raj and the older Rotter kid (I forget, Sean?) play volleyball at Kid's Dream first, and asked them where a mailbox was on the way. Raj said there was a post office near the Arby's on 202 South on the left, so I went for that.

I turned left and went into the post office. I saw a FedEx box, but no, that's not what I'm looking for. I saw two large blue things right next to each other in the way back, all the way past all the parking. Are those mailboxes? I don't know. They may well have been dumpsters. Although they did have the USPS logo on them. Maybe it was just what they did to protect their property, I don't know. So I drove to them, and they were mailboxes, and I parked my car. I still had some final touches to make to the letter, so I parked my car in front of the mailboxes, which seemed totally cool since it was 5 on a Sunday, the place was TOTALLY deserted, and who would ever get mad at me for that anyway?

Well, the old guy that got mad at me would, that's who. He drove up in a smaller two or four door car, I think reddish/brownish in color. He looked sort of funny, like Milton from Office Space, but thinner. He seemed really introverted, and bitter. He had funny tufts of curly hair, and I think big glasses. He seemed angry at me for being there, and as he got out of his car to drop his letter in the box he said, "There's an entire parking lot over there you know" without any punctuation, halfway to me and halfway to his feet.

I wasn't in any mood to be accosted by an old strange man in a car for probably a not-so-good reason, especially when he didn't know the circumstances of what was happening, and probably would have left me alone if he had known. So I said "Yup" without any punctuation or tone, and he said, "That's what I expected you to say" without any punctuation or tone, and I said, "Yup" in the same way as he was getting into his car, and he drove off.

I was a little upset he would do what he did, but it made me think. A lot of times I get angry at people right away without thinking what their circumstances are. I bet they get pissed at me. So I'm going to add that to my list of things that I think about in regard to my relationships with people and try to get better at it from now on.

//

I was driving to hockey on Monday around 7 or 8 at night. I forget exactly the situation, but I was still on Wisconsin Ave, right near the house. Someone had stopped in front of me, or was cutting into my lane hard right in front of me, and I had to slow down. Somebody in a black jeep/SUV honked their horn at me and held it down because I had stopped. What the hell was I supposed to do? Hit the guy in front of me? Whatever. I didn't know. So I held up the finger in my rear view for a few seconds to return his favor, and he threw his hands up in the air as if to ask "What the hell, man?"

That made for a very awkward side-to-side glance when he ended up beside me at the next light. He was older, maybe 40, and possibly hispanic, although his skin was light. He looked very angry at me, and I just shrugged and made a "Meh, oh well!" facial expression, and looked away. He turned left.

I didn't understand why he was honking at me. I shouldn't have gotten pissed with him. I should have just chilled. Mistake #1. I'm working on it. I've been making a conscious effort to be even more relaxed in traffic than I usually am since that incident.

//

Beth's sort-of-boyfriend, Connor, was visiting from Minnesota recently. On their last night together, they were in Beth's bed and kissing. Rena and Jenna sleep in the same room. Apparently they got really really upset about it, and couldn't sleep. They had both done similar things in the past. Reportedly to a further degree, but I digress.

They went outside to our porch, in the front of the house, Rena and Jenna, and chalked the word "f**k" (with all letters present) into the stone of the porch more than a hundred times, in a somewhat passive-aggressive slight toward Beth and Connor kissing in their room. I thought that was pretty mean. Not to mention extremely inappropriate. Bridget, the girl Beth babysits, couldn't come to the house... because she can read, you see...

Another housemate had written "Erase the f**ks" on the chalkboard near the door. No one did anything to clean it up. I wrote "Seriously" underneath it. Still no one did anything, even though they had no where else to be and nothing else to do for the most part. I took buckets of water and put them all over the porch to get rid of some of it, but not all of it, to maybe make it easier when they would clean it up. I wrote "Or I'll clean it with your pillow cases" or something to that effect. Leiha suggested that I also tell them that the water I put was also just a head start, not the whole thing, so I wrote that too.

Jenna went out later and said that "Someone put suds on it!" and that it was bubbling when she sprayed it with water. This was certainly not the case at all, but I couldn't say anything about it, except for that I doubted it. I think she may have ended up cleaning it off, but I'm not sure, I haven't looked yet.

I probably should have been more grown-up about the whole thing. I talked to both sides of the story, so I think I understood what was going on, but still.

//

I am so excited to leave my job next Friday.

//

I think the calendar date Saturday, July 11th, 2009, might have been my perfect day, like the one I would describe when people ask you late at night what your perfect day would be like. I mean, I didn't play hockey or eat Krispy Kreme doughnuts all day, but it was so close, it might as well have been. I'm extremely glad that I got to see all the people I did get to see, although there were a bunch of others that I wish could have been there as well, and that I still miss, and missed that day.

Peace out.

Bred Winner

Today when I went to get the bread and peanut butter to make myself lunch at work, I reached down into the cabinet where I store the bread, pulled out the loaf, and realized that the bread-tie was still on there. Not a twisty tie, but one of those thin, rectangular shapes made entirely of plastic except for a little hole at one end with two prongs to hold something inside the hole. I think you know what I mean.

I thought to myself, "Hm? Didn't I open this bread yesterday? I guess not." And I took it off. The bag inside the bag (for extra freshness? I don't know) was already opened, and the loaf end (with all the crust) was already gone, so I knew I must have opened it yesterday to do those things. Which meant I also must have put the bread-tie back on...! I never do that! I was pretty amazed with myself. For a few seconds, I definitely felt some measure of pride because I put the bread-tie back on, rather than doing what every other male in the world does: spin the bag a lot and then put the cord of breadbag underneath the loaf, and tuck it away. Which is also what I do 99% of the time.

I mean, this whole thing is ridiculous, but I just thought I'd share those two seconds with you.

Peace out.

Too-Weak's Notice

I put in my two-weeks notice at works today. It's not that I couldn't take it; it's that I wasn't taken. I had been waiting and waiting for Margaret, whom I thought was the HR head, to return from vacation, but she'd been away since July 2nd and kept taking days off or working from home. Finally I just told Connie, who's basically the manager of the office. I got a little nervous when I was walking to her office for some reason and stopped to consider it. Control. I walked up to her door - doors are always open in our office - and just said, "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the 24th was going to be my last day, so whatever we need to do to make sure all of that goes over okay, just let me know."

She's fine with it. She asked me if I knew when Matt (the other intern) was staying until, and I told her that I was pretty sure it was August 14th, right before school starts. I didn't know when the other intern from Carolina was leaving, though. I asked her if I should tell other people - my "team leaders" or work assigners, basically - and she said yeah, I should probably let them know. I told her I just wasn't sure if she would do that or if it was typically up to the person who was leaving. We went and told David, who said he thought I was leaving at the end of the month. She said, "The 24th isn't the end of the month..." but didn't seem too upset about it, and he didn't seem upset about it either. It makes sense. I'm just an intern, it's not like the company is going to fold without me. I haven't told Tony or Karen yet, I think they both think I'm leaving August 1st.

More about this later, possibly.

Peace out!

Relius

"Computer, I'd like you to make this file American."

Peace out.