Today was a pretty nice day. I woke up at 11:30 and at 12:30, I went with Gramma to my favorite Flushing restaurant - roughly transalated, it's "South North River." We had deep fried crullers, soy milk and beef noodle soup. Yum! Afterwards, Gramma wanted to just walk around a bit, so I suggested we explore the stores going up Roosevelt since we both always walk past them and never enter. One store sold home goods - mugs for $1, plates for $2, relatively cheap furniture. Another store sold accessories. All the girls that worked in there were Japanese and they kept following us around telling us about the 20% discount on all purses. Gramma bought me a nice new bag to put my sketchbook in, and with the discount, it was $9.50. Then we looked at a store that was filled with lingerie and Gramma-esque clothing, except the sound system was blasting Shakira. I don't think Gramma appreciated the choice of music. Then we went home and sat around a bit, reading and napping. Then we made jiao zi (dumplings). Hundreds of them. Gramma's hands have been giving her a lot of trouble. Since she usually complains no one pays much attention. Today she told me she split the skin just under her index finger open this morning, right where she grips the knife when she chops things for cooking - I told her she should wash dishes less because it makes her hands too dry. After dumpling making, she amazingly let me wash the dishes. Then we sat around all day some more and then she started making dinner. While she did that, I fixed the string thing that makes the shades open and close with the use of my trusty paperclip. Right before dinner, she was talking about how much her hands hurt and I told her she ought to put some anti-bacterial ointment on it and a bandaid, since all her fiddling around rubs it off. So she went and put on some ointment and I insisted I help with the bandaid.
And then I realized what horrible condition her hands were in. For the most part, her hands were whispery dry and badly in need of lotion. The lower half of her left index finger, front and back, as well as a sizable portion of her palm is covered in blisters. Not like the normal big puffy ones. There were hundreds, and they were all below the skin and the way her skin was torn away makes me think that not very much is keeping the top layer of skin attached to the rest of her hand. I'm not sure what it is, but it looks more like some sort of extreme eczema. Needless to say, I had trouble eating dinner. She said that she got it recently, and it comes and goes. But it's always just in that one spot. Which has me profoundly worried. So, under the pretense of asking about my sister's fabulous new living quarters, I called daddy and explained about Gramma's hands in English so she wouldn't be worried and I told him just how worried I was. I think he got a bit of an idea of how much this is bothering me, so he promised he'd look at it tomorrow. I really think she should go consult a dermatologist.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Walking
On one hand, living with Gramma sucks because she feeds me too much and I get fat. On the other, her food is yuuuummy. I also think it's nice that I get to talk to her. I wonder if May or any of my other cousins ever really talk to her. I know Jon does, occasionally, but recently Gramma's been a tad upset with him because he spoke rudely to her (which goes completely against our upbringing involving "Xiao," a.k.a. filial piety). I wonder if I should mention that to him or just keep my nose where it belongs.
In order to try to lose all the fat I've gained from all the good eating, I'm walking around more. Instead of taking the subway down two stops, I'll walk from 27th St and Broadway to 18th and 5th. I really like it once I get past 23rd St. Something about the people above that and below 33rd get me really nervous. I think its the fact that when I walk by, I get a "how you doin?" or a "hey, what up?" and occasionally a "hey, asian!" or "hey, Chinese!" Yes, I'm asian. Yes, I'm Chinese. I'm well aware of the fact. Now get out of my face.
Still, the more I'm here, the more uncomfortable I feel about it. At first it was flattering, no one besides by boyfriend ever notices me in CMU. Here, it's everywhere, and I when I go out for lunch, I find myself practically running back to the office to hide. I even rolled my eyes yesterday when a whole group of guys started whistling. For the most part, though, my eyes stay on my feet, I think less people notice me that way.
Still, it is nice that some people notice me...
In order to try to lose all the fat I've gained from all the good eating, I'm walking around more. Instead of taking the subway down two stops, I'll walk from 27th St and Broadway to 18th and 5th. I really like it once I get past 23rd St. Something about the people above that and below 33rd get me really nervous. I think its the fact that when I walk by, I get a "how you doin?" or a "hey, what up?" and occasionally a "hey, asian!" or "hey, Chinese!" Yes, I'm asian. Yes, I'm Chinese. I'm well aware of the fact. Now get out of my face.
Still, the more I'm here, the more uncomfortable I feel about it. At first it was flattering, no one besides by boyfriend ever notices me in CMU. Here, it's everywhere, and I when I go out for lunch, I find myself practically running back to the office to hide. I even rolled my eyes yesterday when a whole group of guys started whistling. For the most part, though, my eyes stay on my feet, I think less people notice me that way.
Still, it is nice that some people notice me...
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Long Lost Cousin
Mom randomly called me today at work. Apparently while in deep discussion with my uncle, she found out that I have a distant cousin also attending CMU. She's half English, half chinese, came from Hong Kong and is studying chemistry and history. She's also super skinny and way prettier than I could ever hope to be... I also neglected to tell mom that she was holding up a pink sign that very clearly read, "SEX!"
I've never met her, but we seem to know similar people. I'm not one to hang out with that particular crowd - probably why I've never met her. It'd be strange to meet her one day and say, "Hey, you're my sort of cousin!" And then everyone will give me funny looks while I try to explain the distance of the relationship. I'll bet she'll never guess.
I think one day, my fear of marrying anyone asian will be founded. I'll be about to walk down the aisle when an uncle will step up and say, "Angela, sweetie, I have something to tell you. That man is your cousin." Well heck, I don't even know who half of my family is and I already work around toxic chemicals. Why marry an asian guy and make the risk of having demented babies higher?
On another note, I had to tell the poor girl who was going to move in that she couldn't. If she'd only been a few days faster in signing the sublease, she could've had the place. But now she can't, and I feel terrible... At least Christi didn't seem to mind too much...
I've never met her, but we seem to know similar people. I'm not one to hang out with that particular crowd - probably why I've never met her. It'd be strange to meet her one day and say, "Hey, you're my sort of cousin!" And then everyone will give me funny looks while I try to explain the distance of the relationship. I'll bet she'll never guess.
I think one day, my fear of marrying anyone asian will be founded. I'll be about to walk down the aisle when an uncle will step up and say, "Angela, sweetie, I have something to tell you. That man is your cousin." Well heck, I don't even know who half of my family is and I already work around toxic chemicals. Why marry an asian guy and make the risk of having demented babies higher?
On another note, I had to tell the poor girl who was going to move in that she couldn't. If she'd only been a few days faster in signing the sublease, she could've had the place. But now she can't, and I feel terrible... At least Christi didn't seem to mind too much...
LIAR
Guess what? You'd never guess it! Mummy called Adria today (I can't because if I ever hear her voice again, I'll murder her - sniper rifle atop Cyert and everything) and she said that they don't have enough room in housing and they'd like me to leave!!! That lying B****!
So now I have to tell poor Helene that I'm kicking her out because I'm moving back in and completely reorganize Christi's life and basically turn all her efforts into time wasted.
O well...at least I get a room to myself.
So now I have to tell poor Helene that I'm kicking her out because I'm moving back in and completely reorganize Christi's life and basically turn all her efforts into time wasted.
O well...at least I get a room to myself.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Long Weekend
I'm home again this weekend. Mostly because several families of cousins are over at Grandma's apartment this weekend. I think I've got pretty much all of my stuff put away so it's not too bad.
Working in New York makes me really really wish that I'd end up going to school there. So darn close, darn it. But then, I really like certain parts of CMU. I really like how we don't have some sort of scary feral competition going on between the archies like I hear they do up in Cornell. I like the way the teachers are teaching things. I like how Pittsburgh's a city, and yet not really, so I can still get around and still have relative quiet when I want to sleep - that is, of course, if I ever manage to drown out all those noisy neighbors. Pittsburgh also has actual houses, unlike most of New York. I think that "when I grow up," I really want a house. One that I design. An apartment is great, sure, but you're still designing in a box. I think I'd like to go somewhere, find a disgusting little raised ranch, knock it down until no one can recognize it and resurrect it as something just as efficient and much more original in every which way.
Speaking of architecture, mommy dearest found the most interesting little architectural magazine called Dwell Magazine, which features modernist architecture and design. I quite like it. If it's still around "when I grow up" then I think I'll subscribe to it. As it is, I was looking at magazine subscriptions online, and they really aren't so expensive. Maybe when I have a stable year round address, I'll subscribe to a few.
Top picks for design related magazines include in no particular order:
1) Dwell magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
2) Metropolis magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
3) W magazine ($1.40 a copy w/ subscription)
4) Architectural Record ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
5) Interior Design ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
Those last two are pretty expensive - I think I'd have to wait till I was really, really "grown up" to get them.
O yes, and as you can tell, I've been thinking lots about adulthood. As an adult who makes her own money, shouldn't I technically be allowed to go where I want so long as I use my own money? My parents seem to feel that as "an adult," I still have no say in how I can run my own life and that I'm still too young and naive to know what I'm doing. Financially, I completely agree - boy have I botched a few things up, and I don't even know where to begin when it comes to taxes. But the whole thing about where I am and what I'm doing, who I go out with, who my friends are, shouldn't that be my choice? It's not like I've blown off school to go smoke and drink with the worst of them...
Working in New York makes me really really wish that I'd end up going to school there. So darn close, darn it. But then, I really like certain parts of CMU. I really like how we don't have some sort of scary feral competition going on between the archies like I hear they do up in Cornell. I like the way the teachers are teaching things. I like how Pittsburgh's a city, and yet not really, so I can still get around and still have relative quiet when I want to sleep - that is, of course, if I ever manage to drown out all those noisy neighbors. Pittsburgh also has actual houses, unlike most of New York. I think that "when I grow up," I really want a house. One that I design. An apartment is great, sure, but you're still designing in a box. I think I'd like to go somewhere, find a disgusting little raised ranch, knock it down until no one can recognize it and resurrect it as something just as efficient and much more original in every which way.
Speaking of architecture, mommy dearest found the most interesting little architectural magazine called Dwell Magazine, which features modernist architecture and design. I quite like it. If it's still around "when I grow up" then I think I'll subscribe to it. As it is, I was looking at magazine subscriptions online, and they really aren't so expensive. Maybe when I have a stable year round address, I'll subscribe to a few.
Top picks for design related magazines include in no particular order:
1) Dwell magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
2) Metropolis magazine ($2.50 a copy w/ subscription)
3) W magazine ($1.40 a copy w/ subscription)
4) Architectural Record ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
5) Interior Design ($4+ a copy w/ subscription)
Those last two are pretty expensive - I think I'd have to wait till I was really, really "grown up" to get them.
O yes, and as you can tell, I've been thinking lots about adulthood. As an adult who makes her own money, shouldn't I technically be allowed to go where I want so long as I use my own money? My parents seem to feel that as "an adult," I still have no say in how I can run my own life and that I'm still too young and naive to know what I'm doing. Financially, I completely agree - boy have I botched a few things up, and I don't even know where to begin when it comes to taxes. But the whole thing about where I am and what I'm doing, who I go out with, who my friends are, shouldn't that be my choice? It's not like I've blown off school to go smoke and drink with the worst of them...
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Tripe
In today's newspaper, I found out that the Bolivian equivalent of the WWF is very different. Whereas the US WWF is consisted of disturbingly buff men with shaved heads, grimacing with their veins popping out of their bullnecks, the Bolivian WWF consists of very healthy sized women, resplendant in braids, pumps and national garb of shawls and skirts. I think I'd watch that, just because it's always interesting to watch properly dressed ladies beat on each other...maybe not...
So this week has been very leisurely, as compared to last week where I worked way past 6 everyday. I've left pretty consistently on time this week. Well, I left around 7 on Tuesday. I stopped by my boss's apartment to drop off his laptop and tape measured. I got to see the apartment which previously only existed in blueprints, and got to meet the wife that calls every so often. She's very into different cultures - I asked her a bunch of things about Italy and she asked me a bunch of things about Chinese culture. Most of my answers might be somewhat off, since my parents aren't exactly what people call traditional Chinese parents. Talking about Chinese culture made Lauren want Chinese food, so we ordered Szechuan. Or rather, they wanted to see what real Chinese people would order, so they had me pick. I must say, that's some good Szechuan food - I have to ask them the location so I can drag my dad and my sister over. Real spicy stuff, I drank a ton of water. And the best part is they weren't shy about trying really different foods, so I ordered the ox tongue and tripe, which mom and dad always get, and the ma po tofu which we sometimes get. If I wanted to go all out and get wierd wierd food, I'd have ordered duck tongue except 1) I don't eat it, 2) I doubt they would either, and 3) it wasn't on the menu.
And then I took my first lone cab ride ever, all the way back home. The cab driver drove quite nicely and we chatted real estate. An aspiring grocery store owner, Fa-something-or-other got a 15% tip and a good luck before I practically sprinted back to the apartment at 11:30 at night.
And then I talked to Ben until 2 am. And then I overslept the next morning by two hours. And last night Ben called at 11:30 and we talked until 12:30. I really must stop staying up so late...
So this week has been very leisurely, as compared to last week where I worked way past 6 everyday. I've left pretty consistently on time this week. Well, I left around 7 on Tuesday. I stopped by my boss's apartment to drop off his laptop and tape measured. I got to see the apartment which previously only existed in blueprints, and got to meet the wife that calls every so often. She's very into different cultures - I asked her a bunch of things about Italy and she asked me a bunch of things about Chinese culture. Most of my answers might be somewhat off, since my parents aren't exactly what people call traditional Chinese parents. Talking about Chinese culture made Lauren want Chinese food, so we ordered Szechuan. Or rather, they wanted to see what real Chinese people would order, so they had me pick. I must say, that's some good Szechuan food - I have to ask them the location so I can drag my dad and my sister over. Real spicy stuff, I drank a ton of water. And the best part is they weren't shy about trying really different foods, so I ordered the ox tongue and tripe, which mom and dad always get, and the ma po tofu which we sometimes get. If I wanted to go all out and get wierd wierd food, I'd have ordered duck tongue except 1) I don't eat it, 2) I doubt they would either, and 3) it wasn't on the menu.
And then I took my first lone cab ride ever, all the way back home. The cab driver drove quite nicely and we chatted real estate. An aspiring grocery store owner, Fa-something-or-other got a 15% tip and a good luck before I practically sprinted back to the apartment at 11:30 at night.
And then I talked to Ben until 2 am. And then I overslept the next morning by two hours. And last night Ben called at 11:30 and we talked until 12:30. I really must stop staying up so late...
Monday, July 18, 2005
Books!
This is the first time in god knows how long that my books were overdue. Fortunately, it was only by a couple days. I didn't really register that July 16 was Saturday. Oops.
I also didn't realize that the library is closed Sundays, so I didn't get to take out any more books. Which led me to walk all the way to Barnes and Nobles to buy myself a couple more fantasy novels. Speaking of fantasy novels, I hate to say it, but I feel awfully ashamed of myself because they seem to be the only things I really read. Occasionally I read something else. Just recently, I read "A Picture of Dorian Gray." But in a way, that's almost like a fantasy novel, except the speech and mannerisms are horrifically old fashioned. And I felt annoyed by Dorian because he sounded like a petulant little brat the whole time. I couldn't even imagine him as a good looking guy, which is what he's supposed to be. Extraordinarily handsome in fact. But like I said, all he seemed to do the whole novel was whine and pine and guilt people into doing things. Still, the overall story was quite interesting. If I felt more like engaging my mind, I could do a whole English paper on it. Or, I could just pick up my usual mindless sci-fi/fantasy novels.
On the way to the Barnes & Nobles, I happened to notice my semi-co-worker walking sort of next to me. We talked a couple times and he seems nice. We've established the non-attracted part of our "relationship" already as he has his fiancee and I have my bunny - ahem, boyfriend. Today, I learned half his name. The rest of it got lost with the sounds of traffic. So his name is either Mark, Martin or Marvin. I keep leaning towards Martin, but I am not positive. I'll have to surreptitiously ask Michelle, whose name I had forgotten until I heard the little old lady of the office call for her by name. So, yes, I'm bad with names. Well, not really. I'm just a bit hard of hearing and too polite to ask people to repeat themselves. Must work on that.
Anyway, on the way to the bookstore, Mark/Martin/Marvin suggested that I read "Devil in the White City" or something along those lines. For some reason, my brain interpreted it as "Demon in the City Lights." I really, really need to work on my listening. Anyhoo, I looked the book up online, and it's about the Chicago Worlds Fair in the 1800s. Apparently some psycho pretended to be a doctor and ended up murdering a whole bunch of people. It's a true occurrence, though I don't doubt the author probably dressed the whole shabang up a bit to give it a bit more of a..well..bang. It sounded interesting enough, so I looked at the library catalog, and what do you know, Danbury has eight copies. Woohoo!
But until then, I'll be reading my "Royal Assassin."
I also didn't realize that the library is closed Sundays, so I didn't get to take out any more books. Which led me to walk all the way to Barnes and Nobles to buy myself a couple more fantasy novels. Speaking of fantasy novels, I hate to say it, but I feel awfully ashamed of myself because they seem to be the only things I really read. Occasionally I read something else. Just recently, I read "A Picture of Dorian Gray." But in a way, that's almost like a fantasy novel, except the speech and mannerisms are horrifically old fashioned. And I felt annoyed by Dorian because he sounded like a petulant little brat the whole time. I couldn't even imagine him as a good looking guy, which is what he's supposed to be. Extraordinarily handsome in fact. But like I said, all he seemed to do the whole novel was whine and pine and guilt people into doing things. Still, the overall story was quite interesting. If I felt more like engaging my mind, I could do a whole English paper on it. Or, I could just pick up my usual mindless sci-fi/fantasy novels.
On the way to the Barnes & Nobles, I happened to notice my semi-co-worker walking sort of next to me. We talked a couple times and he seems nice. We've established the non-attracted part of our "relationship" already as he has his fiancee and I have my bunny - ahem, boyfriend. Today, I learned half his name. The rest of it got lost with the sounds of traffic. So his name is either Mark, Martin or Marvin. I keep leaning towards Martin, but I am not positive. I'll have to surreptitiously ask Michelle, whose name I had forgotten until I heard the little old lady of the office call for her by name. So, yes, I'm bad with names. Well, not really. I'm just a bit hard of hearing and too polite to ask people to repeat themselves. Must work on that.
Anyway, on the way to the bookstore, Mark/Martin/Marvin suggested that I read "Devil in the White City" or something along those lines. For some reason, my brain interpreted it as "Demon in the City Lights." I really, really need to work on my listening. Anyhoo, I looked the book up online, and it's about the Chicago Worlds Fair in the 1800s. Apparently some psycho pretended to be a doctor and ended up murdering a whole bunch of people. It's a true occurrence, though I don't doubt the author probably dressed the whole shabang up a bit to give it a bit more of a..well..bang. It sounded interesting enough, so I looked at the library catalog, and what do you know, Danbury has eight copies. Woohoo!
But until then, I'll be reading my "Royal Assassin."
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Commentary
Reading the news has turned me into a horrible blogger in that I read something and I want to talk about it. Terrible, terrible blogger I am. But then, there's nothing to read, as I'm out of books and the library's closed tomorrow, so I must read the paper and write boring blogs until the Harry Potter craze is over and I'm no longer afraid to approach the nearest Barnes & Nobles.
Today's reading (I do wish I read more in the art section, but it just doesn't catch my attention as much as things that have to do with social issues) included a very disturbing article, a link I won't include since I just read Maddox's rant about how people who put links in their blogs are stupid. I've only put in links once anyway, when my friend showed me a site about a horrifically ignorant college out in redneck territory (and yes, if they're that ignorant, I will call them rednecks). Er...drifted again. Well, the article is about an organization called Love in Action, which is a "Christian" organization down in Memphis where gay teens are sent in order to be reformed into "normal" functioning heterosexuals. From what I gather, it doesn't work. People come out just as they always were, or they're so emotionally distraught from the experience that they end up asexual and alone. Maybe one person came out with the intended results and he's running the place now. The article had a link to a myspace blog, a gay teen whose username is "specialkid" who recently stepped out of his closet and into the nightmare. His parents up and told him that he was a horrible person and they raised him wrong, and they took away all of his things, and now, he's currently finishing up being brainwashed at the camp or whatever they do there. Of course, a lot of people are outraged - I know I am. Even my mom was when I told her about it - "Those are very stupid parents" is a direct translation of what her opinion is.
And of course, my usual pessimism springs up and whispers to me, "What if they succeeded in changing him? Then all of this will be for nothing." I think I'll just ignore her for now and see what happens first.
Either way, my opinion (for those that actually care) is that if a person believes he's what he is, then we should let him be. Everyone has a reason for being what they are. And look, it's not like he's a homicidal maniac, he just has..a different expression of love.
Maybe I should stop reading the paper. All it seems to do is upset me and make me write terribly because there are just too many things that need to be said and all that comes out is garbled.
Today's reading (I do wish I read more in the art section, but it just doesn't catch my attention as much as things that have to do with social issues) included a very disturbing article, a link I won't include since I just read Maddox's rant about how people who put links in their blogs are stupid. I've only put in links once anyway, when my friend showed me a site about a horrifically ignorant college out in redneck territory (and yes, if they're that ignorant, I will call them rednecks). Er...drifted again. Well, the article is about an organization called Love in Action, which is a "Christian" organization down in Memphis where gay teens are sent in order to be reformed into "normal" functioning heterosexuals. From what I gather, it doesn't work. People come out just as they always were, or they're so emotionally distraught from the experience that they end up asexual and alone. Maybe one person came out with the intended results and he's running the place now. The article had a link to a myspace blog, a gay teen whose username is "specialkid" who recently stepped out of his closet and into the nightmare. His parents up and told him that he was a horrible person and they raised him wrong, and they took away all of his things, and now, he's currently finishing up being brainwashed at the camp or whatever they do there. Of course, a lot of people are outraged - I know I am. Even my mom was when I told her about it - "Those are very stupid parents" is a direct translation of what her opinion is.
And of course, my usual pessimism springs up and whispers to me, "What if they succeeded in changing him? Then all of this will be for nothing." I think I'll just ignore her for now and see what happens first.
Either way, my opinion (for those that actually care) is that if a person believes he's what he is, then we should let him be. Everyone has a reason for being what they are. And look, it's not like he's a homicidal maniac, he just has..a different expression of love.
Maybe I should stop reading the paper. All it seems to do is upset me and make me write terribly because there are just too many things that need to be said and all that comes out is garbled.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Freedom!
Finally, I can relax. This whole entire week seemed to be spent at work - I leave the apartment at 8 and I leave work at 8, practically everyday. Now that Nestor's in Texas, things are a little more relaxed as his minions over there are doing all the work now. I still find myself looking around expecting more documents to magically appear and demand to be worked on. We'd better win that competition, or else I'm going to have to fly down to Hendersonville where heads will roll. Well, not really.
Still, something I realized from all of this - well, more of an affirmation rather than epiphany. I really love architecture. I actually have a bit of a say in the design process so I think that I'm somewhere in the realm of close to what it will be like to be an architect and it's just awesome. The professors really don't realize - it's not that we don't love architecture, it's that all the other classes bog us down so much that we can't enjoy it to it's fullest extent. O and Sol Lewitt's work is being exhibited in a gallery a couple of blocks over from my office. I'm going to go check it out on a lunch break next week. Fun!
--
So, I just got back from getting lunch - today it's Japanese beef curry. It's a lot stronger than I thought it would be, smell-wise. I hope no one yells at me for bringing it into the office. Something about Japanese curry, it tastes way better than Indian curry. And for $7, I get a hell of a portion. If I wasn't going on the train right after work, I'd bring the rest home for dinner. I'll compromise by thoroughly gorging myself.
Also, it's just insane how much attention I get in New York. I got hit on by no less than three people in 15 minutes (the time it took to buy lunch). I don't know what it is about New Yorkers, but they're a lot more...um...friendly than CMU students. I doubt most guys at CMU look twice at me. Or maybe there are just more desperate people in New York... O yes, and getting hit on makes me really really paranoid, but even my nervous/hostile glare doesn't seem to keep people from commenting.
Still, something I realized from all of this - well, more of an affirmation rather than epiphany. I really love architecture. I actually have a bit of a say in the design process so I think that I'm somewhere in the realm of close to what it will be like to be an architect and it's just awesome. The professors really don't realize - it's not that we don't love architecture, it's that all the other classes bog us down so much that we can't enjoy it to it's fullest extent. O and Sol Lewitt's work is being exhibited in a gallery a couple of blocks over from my office. I'm going to go check it out on a lunch break next week. Fun!
--
So, I just got back from getting lunch - today it's Japanese beef curry. It's a lot stronger than I thought it would be, smell-wise. I hope no one yells at me for bringing it into the office. Something about Japanese curry, it tastes way better than Indian curry. And for $7, I get a hell of a portion. If I wasn't going on the train right after work, I'd bring the rest home for dinner. I'll compromise by thoroughly gorging myself.
Also, it's just insane how much attention I get in New York. I got hit on by no less than three people in 15 minutes (the time it took to buy lunch). I don't know what it is about New Yorkers, but they're a lot more...um...friendly than CMU students. I doubt most guys at CMU look twice at me. Or maybe there are just more desperate people in New York... O yes, and getting hit on makes me really really paranoid, but even my nervous/hostile glare doesn't seem to keep people from commenting.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Working
There's four more days till the first draft of our Hendersonville presentation is due. That's why we're in such a rush. That's why I worked all Sunday, and worked for a straight twelve hours yesterday (but overtime is glorious!). Pretty soon I'll have enough hours racked up that I can take another day or two off, and perhaps visit my Ben. I wonder if I should bother telling mom this time, since she forgot last time, despite my reminding her three times.
Today on the way to get lunch, I was standing at a stop light and saw the funniest/strangest thing. A lanky teenanger-looking fellow in black jeans, sort of torn, baggy but not too baggy in an annoying way, big floppy hair and a trashy black t-shirt sporting Van Halen or something on it. Sure not too strange, in the way on New York. What was really bizarre was that he was very enthusiastically playing air-guitar. He had his walkman, yes walkman, not discman, and those dinky little iPod earphones that let me hear the cacophony he was listening to, and there was the air guitar, complete with zealous riffs and unrestrained head banging. I wonder if he noticed how I ogled him as we crossed the street, but most likely he didn't, since he head-banged his way across.
On another note, I realized today that the odd voice I hear every morning isn't some guy yelling, "What's up, Freddy!" It's a short, old hispanic man yelling, "What's up, pretty!" at me. I should probably take a different route to the office from now on...
Today on the way to get lunch, I was standing at a stop light and saw the funniest/strangest thing. A lanky teenanger-looking fellow in black jeans, sort of torn, baggy but not too baggy in an annoying way, big floppy hair and a trashy black t-shirt sporting Van Halen or something on it. Sure not too strange, in the way on New York. What was really bizarre was that he was very enthusiastically playing air-guitar. He had his walkman, yes walkman, not discman, and those dinky little iPod earphones that let me hear the cacophony he was listening to, and there was the air guitar, complete with zealous riffs and unrestrained head banging. I wonder if he noticed how I ogled him as we crossed the street, but most likely he didn't, since he head-banged his way across.
On another note, I realized today that the odd voice I hear every morning isn't some guy yelling, "What's up, Freddy!" It's a short, old hispanic man yelling, "What's up, pretty!" at me. I should probably take a different route to the office from now on...
Thursday, July 07, 2005
London
I just read the headline in the New York Times. A bunch of bombs went off during rush hour yesterday morning killing a whole bunch of people. It's sad that people would resort to this sort of stupidity. What was the whole point of it? If you make a demand, you make a demand. You don't punish people for things they didn't do, and you can't expect anyone to be able to read your mind and anticipate your wishes.
It sounds terribly selfish, but I hope no one does that here in NY, since I'm on the subway during rush hour, and I pass through all three major transportational hubs to get to work (Grand Central, Times Square and Penn Station).
It sounds terribly selfish, but I hope no one does that here in NY, since I'm on the subway during rush hour, and I pass through all three major transportational hubs to get to work (Grand Central, Times Square and Penn Station).
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Curious
Maya's so fun for silly things. I named this "Curious." So the question is, is the big happy sphere looking at a little fairy flying about? Or is he wondering why the nuclear power plant meltdown caused his acne to glow in the dark?
The Secret is Kertenkelellerimizde
Today and yesterday, my cousins visited. Lots of cousins. It's fun to hang out with cousins, most of them. It was fun right up until the point where I offered to put on "the Incredibles" being that I owned it since I spent $25 on it. And then my sister said, "O, I lent it to some other cousins." Cousins that don't make me so happy. Cousins who leave their CDs and DVDs lying out on the ground, face down, whether or not it belongs to them or that they're borrowing. These cousins don't make me too happy. The fact that my parents lent them the DVD doesn't make me too happy. The fact that when I asked them about it, and they had no recollection at all - that makes me REALLY unhappy. I really need to rescue my DVD as soon as possible. Why couldn't they just take, well, Center Stage or something? If they scratch that DVD, they're buying me a new one.
Today was still pretty fun though. Sylvie is reading the "His Dark MAterials" series, which I just finished reading too. I've been nagging May to read it, but as usual, she is ever resistent to any of my suggestions. I also helped with her morphology homework. I've decided that linguistics is lots and lots of fun, maybe I should take an introductory course of some sort after next semester, right between figure drawing and costume design. Today I think I figured out how, in Turkish, to say "to your friend," "in our lizards," and "it is in my little house." They might be, respectively, "dostine," "kertenkelellerimizde," and "zild3ikimdedir." Next round, Swahili!
Today was still pretty fun though. Sylvie is reading the "His Dark MAterials" series, which I just finished reading too. I've been nagging May to read it, but as usual, she is ever resistent to any of my suggestions. I also helped with her morphology homework. I've decided that linguistics is lots and lots of fun, maybe I should take an introductory course of some sort after next semester, right between figure drawing and costume design. Today I think I figured out how, in Turkish, to say "to your friend," "in our lizards," and "it is in my little house." They might be, respectively, "dostine," "kertenkelellerimizde," and "zild3ikimdedir." Next round, Swahili!
