to love you and leave you
I'm finally back in the sweetly-scented comfort of my flat after a long but brilliant day in London. My feet hurt. My legs ache. It was worth it.
The day started off with a tube journey east to Blackfriars, at which point I got off the train and pretended I knew exactly which way I was going (I didn't). Somehow I miraculously ended up in the Tate Modern, which, strangely enough, was where I had intended on being. Housed in quite possibly the ugliest building in central London ('Gherkin' aside) were some of the most fascinating pieces of modern art I've seen in ages - God, I love modern art - including a disturbing hour-long film about the 'position of the reproductive organs during the embryonic process of sexual differentiation'. It was quite...artsy (and not at all like those dreadful high school Biology videos), to say the least.
Lunch at the Tate was delicious. Following that, I wandered all the way down the Thames riverbank, snapping photos like a mad photographer, and ended up at the London Aquarium. It is no Sea World, but it was fun nonetheless, and the white sharks were especially brilliant, especially during the feeding.
Then it was more walking, this time across the Westminster Bridge which passes under Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, up Whitehall, past Downing Street, into Trafalgar Square, onto the Strand, and into Covent Garden at which point I did a bit of retail therapy. Decided it would be virtually impossible to walk back, so I took the tube to the flat where I literally collapsed onto the bed. Met up with A, A and M for dinner at a funky Thai place and then had desserts in the basement of a smoky coffee shop, lounging on leather sofas and catching up. Topics of the day: Freddie Ljungberg. Chopsticks. Royalty. The British national anthem. Kess (*cough*). And erm...Arses (in capitals). Brilliant day. Knackered, though.
This city never ceases to amaze me, and I never get tired of it. It has an indescribable effect - almost magical, and the feeling transcends words. 'Everyone needs a place to think,' read the plaques on the city benches overlooking the river, and I couldn't agree more. Much thinking was done as I sat on those benches, feeling the fresh river breeze in my hair and hearing little else except for the water upon the shore. At one point I was lying on a bench, directly under the London Eye, and the perspective was dizzying but completely otherworldly and, well, surreal. I could have stayed like that for ages.
It must be the weather, but it certainly makes British men horny. I can count on more than one hand how many men were clearly on the pull today, and one of which was a little more direct than the rest. I shall not say where we crossed paths, but the encounter ended with him giving me his mobile number, asking where I live, and what I was doing this evening ('not spending it with you' was what I should have said). I gave him a mobile number that was, well, not mine. Pity the Londoner at 0----------, as they shall be receiving a phone call this evening from a random bloke wanting to 'go out for drinks' (i.e. a shag).
Right. I am sad to announce that I will have to love you and leave you shortly, as I am currently caught in the whirlwind of packing and leaving this place that I've called 'my flat' for the past months. It's odd how phases of one's life seem to start and end with boxes and luggage. I don't like putting away photographs for some reason; it's as if I'm afraid that I will have no recollection of certain memories. Currently my walls are completely bare; it almost feels as if there's a chill in the room.
But brighter, sunnier places await - beautiful sights, great food, and foreign men. As it is doubtful I will be able to find a computer on which to post updates whilst in this locale, I expect that the next major post will arrive sometime two weeks or so from now (although for the next two days, I will respond to short comments). Do keep on sending questions, comments, what have you - but I cannot guarantee a response until I return to my other home.
And on that note, a mini-break is in order. Drink wine. Eat chocolate. Be happy.
to 'everyone [i] know'
I would like to express a sincere 'thank you' to whoever wrote the anonymous comment in response to a recent post. I do appreciate it.
That being said, I do want to make one thing clear: my post was not meant to finger-point (except perhaps in the case of the perpetrator of that oh-so-considerate MSN message) and I am genuinely sorry if you feel this way. That wasn't the intent of my message, but I reckon funny things happen to a person when they're stressed to the nth degree, knackered, and just wishing certain relationships felt more like a two-way street. Although I certainly expect much from those I am close with, I am far from being a perfect friend, or a perfect person for that matter. Forgiveness comes easily to me and I try to be as understanding as I possibly can. So to 'everybody I know', your message said a lot - thanks.
Onto a lighter note. Here follows an excerpt from a recent Messenger conversation:
22/05/2004 23:46:19 Me Him Honey
22/05/2004 23:46:38 Him Me do you want that movie?
22/05/2004 23:46:43 Me Him What movie?
22/05/2004 23:46:56 Him Me honey.
22/05/2004 23:46:58 Him Me LOL
22/05/2004 23:47:01 Him Me you are the nerd!
22/05/2004 23:47:32 Me Him Honey, as in with Miss Lips herself, Jessica Alba?
22/05/2004 23:47:40 Him Me she's not miss lips.
22/05/2004 23:47:45 Him Me she's Miss Hot!
I beg to differ. Not that she
isn't attractive - and since I am always being told that I look like her - she's alright. I suppose I have slightly unconventional choices of who I find attractive:
Scarlett Johansson - has the most amazing style, body, and facial features. She's gorgeous even with the mullet, and not many people can pull off a mullet
Liv Tyler - classically beautiful, but never boring or stuffy, with amazing features and naturally beautiful hair and skin
Fernanda Tavares - forget about Gisele - this woman is absolutely stunning and has an amazing body. Brazilians are beautiful. And unlike most models, doesn't drink, smoke or do drugs. Impressive
Marlon Brando - he was
absolutely gorgeous when he was young. God. Unfortunately endless tubs of peanut butter and excessive amounts of ice cream consumption don't exactly do wonders for the figure
Elijah Wood - he's not 'good-looking', so to speak, but I find him so attractive for some reason - he's charismatic, well-spoken, magnetic and vivacious
Mel Gibson - those eyes *sigh*
Viggo Mortensen - has such a kind soul. However, I don't ever fall for blond men, and he is no exception. I much prefer him dirty, scruffy, unshaven, with long brown hair, a la Aragorn
There are more, but these few stand out at this moment in time.
Well? Who else have I missed out?
(And just to make things clear, Jessica Alba
is Miss Lips. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, mind.)
tomorrow, tomorrow - i love you, tomorrow
Getting one's hair cut and generally lazing about are not the sorts of things that you would expect someone with a massive exam on Monday to do at the weekend before it. But after having exams for an entire month now, I deserve to be finished. Oh do I ever look forward to 12:30 p.m. tomorrow! Pub crawls starting from 12:30 p.m. may be a
bit much, but then again, this is Britain. Actually, I look forward to a bit of shopping and eating out, art galleries and exploring the city, and best of all, never letting those dreadful binders of notes see the light of day ever again. It's only a day away...
Ever try arc welding?
...Eh?
To be more specific: what type of flash mp3 player, rhyming with "Clio" should I purchase?
I don't know. It would help if I actually knew what a 'flash mp3' player was, as opposed to a regular mp3 player, say.
Why do people administer stupid tests?
Ah. A valid question, and one that crosses every poor student's mind at least 47 times whilst sitting one of these 'stupid tests'. If we had the answer to this question then we'd all be better off, now wouldn't we?
Why do they ask things that are so obscure???
See my response to the above question. If it makes you feel any better, I was thinking the exact same thing whilst sitting the Probability and Inference exam on Thursday.
Not a good feeling.
Passed the test??? I think maybe 65%?
If I'm not mistaken, you've already answered your own question right there. It's all relative, though - I mean, 65% is shite if you've been accustomed to getting 90%s on your coursework. But if you're the type who gets grades more like 35%, then 65% doesn't seem all
that terrible really.
Is there anything I could possibly ask that would lighten the mood??
Ah. I shall keep my mouth shut for this response, methinks.
Ah yes...what kind of tape are you going with? Masking, duct, electrical??
Certainly not Scotch Tape. What would you suggest? I'm also curious to know what you're going to be using. Somehow I reckon tape won't be enough - layers of rope might however.
say something - anything
Why are people so selfish?
It has become so apparent to me that many people in my life have increasingly little regard or concern for people they supposedly 'care' about. I posted a similar topic about this awhile ago about certain friends who disappoint me, and this has only become more obvious as the month wore on.
Don't get me wrong - I love my friends, and I will be forever loyal to them, but it also appears as though I will be forever disappointed by them. Do I want to subject myself to that? Those who have taken the time to get to know me, always remark that I am one of the most giving and soft-hearted people they know. This means a
lot to me and it's something I'm very proud of - being able to give friends as much as I can. But this can also be a very thankless and frustrating job.
I have friends who I haven't spoken to in ages, and who don't care about how I'm doing (strangely enough, I'm always the one having to e-mail them first). There are friends who refer to themselves as 'close' friends of mine - and yet only talk to me on MSN if I have a screen name that somehow manages to pique their interest. I have friends who are well aware of the stress I've been under for the past month, and who haven't asked a single question about how my exams have gone. I have friends who couldn't care less about what I'm doing this summer or what's happening in my life. Do they ask? Ever? No. Incredible. The other day, a friend signed into Messenger, wrote me a message saying 'Hahaha! I've finished exams! You haven't right? I don't have to think about exams anymore! HA!', and then promptly signed out before I could respond, and without even bothering to ask whether I've managed to get through sitting four exams in a row, intact. (If I got the chance to respond, mind you, I would have written, 'That's nice. So what are you getting up to tonight then, you little twat?') There are friends who I've never heard utter a simple 'How are you?' (Right, I forgot - it takes too many breaths to utter three syllables.) In short, most people I know (should I start putting 'friends' in quotes?) love to talk about themselves and themselves only. I've gotten used to indulging that behaviour, and I ought to get even more used to being the one who's always having to ask the questions and putting all of my strength and energy into relationships. Normally, I don't mind, but right now - when I've got a lot on my mind and am terribly exhausted - I don't think I'm asking too much to want to be able to talk to someone and feel as if these people called 'friends' actually warrant being called friends. This is taxing. 'Lack of time' is yet another overused excuse. I try so hard, and always endeavour to give 110% of myself to my friends, often only to be bitterly disappointed in the end. I have had enough.
There are exceptions - the precious few who aren't like this at all and to them I will be forever grateful - so thanks. Apologies for the nature of this post. I'm just hoping that someone out there is listening. Anyone.
randomness
The people living in the flat a floor below my room are playing bongo drums or similar exotic-sounding instruments. I love that word.
Bongo. I don't love the hour at which these bongo drums are being played however.
Saw TF queuing at the bus stop outside my flat - adorable. Lol.
Time to start thinking about the massive final-year Statistical Project, worth 100% of the module (and I thought 80% was bad). Suggestions? I have obtained a list of suggested topics and the topics do look interesting. Courses for next have already been chosen and I'm quite happy with the outcome - Project, Inference, Actuarial Science, Decision and Risk, Forecasting, Computing for Practical Statistics, and Medical Statistics. Yes, I am a nerd, but I am looking forward to next year's subjects.
The trick to writing finals is to study sufficiently enough, that you just stop caring.
Oh, indeed. You see, I discovered this about...oh...a month ago?
At this point, you can merrily turn on the television and watch some playoff hockey!!!
Telly? Hockey? This is Britain, you know. Ice hockey is uncivilised here - only barbarians in remote, far-off lands play ice hockey. (Who's winning?)
Maybe I should've been more clear: what type of flash mp3 player should I get?
Forgive my stupidity but I have no idea what a flash mp3 player is. Can you please be even clearer?
Subtleness is no match for being direct!!!
So long as you think so (!!!).
Tomorrow night I am meeting with a lecturer to discuss continuous-time Markov chains for the exam on Monday (which, by the way, approximately two people managed to pass last year). I wonder if she will accept a generous bribe...
not a good time to be brain dead
Where does time go when one clearly needs more time in which to complete tasks?
Here I am, on the eve of the most nightmarish five days of my life thus far. Some even unluckier souls have examinations on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Monday
and Tuesday so perhaps I shouldn't complain (but as you know, I will anyway). I can assure you that if you had exams one after the other like this, and each exam was worth 80-90% of your module, I wouldn't be able to shut you up either.
At this point, it doesn't even matter if I know anything about Cramer-Rao bounds or joint generating functions, CSS style sheets or Apache servers, orthogonalisation or vector spaces, continuous-time Markov chains or matrices of transition rates. My brain is so saturated from revising that what I know, or more accurately, what I
don't know doesn't quite matter anymore. Not a good sign of things to come, that's for sure.
Due to several rather unsubtle comments from one of my readers about the alert windows popping up upon accessing this webpage, they (the windows) will be removed for the time being. An advance warning: when the fancy strikes, I will have alert windows again, although perhaps not in such excessive quantities. If they cause issues with your browsers, do let me know. Muse: always working towards a happier cyberspace.
1984 = cinematic masterpiece of our time, followed by Animal Farm (the cartoon!) in second.
I wasn't aware of a cartoon for Animal Farm...
What brand of mp3 player should I buy?
Honey, you are asking the
wrong person. I was going to suggest an iPod, but even I don't know if that qualifies as an mp3 player. The iPod Mini would be an intelligent choice, in the silver colour, or better yet the original, if silver is too last-year for you.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/4971361/
I don't even know what this article is about, as I have enough to read at the moment. But here is the link for those who are interested, and don't blame me if the content is dodgy...
Edited to add: In case any of you are oh-so-interested, Linear Models was a piece of cake. Almost literally. The man always includes loads of questions related to food - cakes, bread, wheat, cookies, biscuits. Linear Models is almost always a foody exam. If Statistics involves food, then me and Statistics are a perfect match. God bless you, TF, for setting such an enjoyable exam, and I'll forgive you for making my tummy grumble and crave for chocolate chip cookies in the midst of it.
so it begins - the great battle of our time
So calling it a 'battle' may be exaggerating a wee bit, but that's what it feels like. The week I've dreaded the most officially starts an hour and 13 minutes from now. Those responsible for giving me this horrendous examination timetable - those sadists in the Registrar's Division - ought to be sued. Who came up with the idea of putting Linear Models, New Media, Probability and Inference, Maths, and Applied Probability, back to back, in that sequence, all in the span of seven days? I've been sitting exams for three weeks, for God's sake, and I've only sat three exams. Right. Breathe in...breathe out.
Yup...there it is, turning more communist by the second!
I'll just pretend I understood that.
What song am I listening to right now?
Ooooh, give me three guesses. Actually, one will do.
Give up?
Not quite. My guess is that it's a cover of Nirvana's 'In Bloom' by NME Within.
It's a cover of Nirvana's "In Bloom" sung by NME Within.
Bloody hell, I'm gooooood.
2+2=5...that's doublespeak! Off to the Ministry of Truth for you! LOL. Orwell rulez!
Indeed. 'Rulez' he does.
Signing off now. Wish me luck - actually, a miracle would be more appropriate right now. Is that too much to ask?
just wait till the kid goes to school
Right. So Gwyneth Paltrow and Coldplay's lead singer, Chris Martin, have just had a baby girl.
Her first name is Apple.
Well, at least they get points for creativity.
Martin: 'My wife's macrobiotic diet has gone to her head. But our next child will indeed be named Watermelon.'
Pssst. I think Mango is more exotic.
room with a view
The view from my bedroom window is a rather ordinary one. It overlooks a narrow alleyway and faces another block of flats, whose kitchen windows I can see from here. Let me tell you about some of the people who live on the second and third floors of the opposing block of flats - although I have never met them personally.
The Students. Two, male, 19-21 years of age. Characteristics: massive house parties on the last day of each academic term. One has a particular liking for loud, thumping, German techno. The other seems to prefer Red Hot Chilli Peppers.
The Italians. Two, male, 25-26 years of age. Characteristics:
very Italian. Both enjoy cooking up a storm in the kitchen whilst singing (loudly) and displaying their vocal talents in Italian opera. They have a propensity for dropping pots and pans on the floor. Constantly.
The Never-Heres. Who knows? Characteristics: they are never home. The lights are always out, and the answerphone is placed right by the windowsill. It is ridiculously loud. 'Hello, you've reached ********. Please leave a message after the tone. Beep beep beep.' It beep-beep-beeps hourly.
The Microwavers. Possibly 20-somethings. Characteristics: a love of the microwave. I don't think they have ever cooked a proper meal. Every night, it's ready meals in the microwave. A loud hum for two minutes followed by a long beeeeeeeeeep. Then, forks and knives on plates.
The Couple. Female, 26. Characteristics: constant break-ups with the boyfriend. Screaming, yelling matches. The other night: 'GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! OUT! NOW!' followed by 'FUCK YOU, BITCH!' and then 'OUT! OUT!'. Doors slam.
The Family. Two young boys (8-9 years of age), a harried mother (30 years of age). Characteristics: screaming, shrieking boys, and a mother who shrieks even louder. These residents scare me the most. The boys sound like pure evil, and the mother is worse. The childrens' screams are always followed by screams and long rants in a South Asian language by the mother. Then an impossibly loud smack. The momentary silence that follows is disturbing. What follows is unbearable: the crying. I wish she'd stop.
for the men, part three
This is an unexpected continuation to my posts a few days ago about men talking to your chest. As it occurred today, the man was talking to my face, about my chest. Same difference.
I was on my way home from Sainsbury's carrying two bags of food when a male, walking towards me, said as I passed by, 'Excuse me.'
I stopped walking and said, 'Yes?'
'Nice titties.'
I stood there gaping at him for a split second, unsure if I had actually heard correctly. Then he grinned and I blinked at him, once, twice maybe, and promptly dashed off. I can assure you that I was not dressed provocatively in
any way; in fact, I was wearing a sensible and rather dowdy turtleneck top with no sleeves, and a pair of ratty jeans (ahem - my typical day-off outfit), carrying groceries for God's sake.
My point is this. Women - if unfortunate accidents like these ever happen to you, get the hell away. Fast.
Men - please don't. Just don't.
a thousand words
Every day we are bombarded with increasingly disturbing images on the news. Images that disgust us to our core and make us re-evaluate our beliefs in the administration. In the past weeks, pictures have certainly been worth more than a thousand words.
Has this war accomplished anything? Are problems not escalating, getting worse and worse, becoming more appalling and shocking, increasingly sickening and horrific? And yet, strangely, are acts like these becoming less surprising? Will they one day (God forbid) become...well...expected? It has gone too far. The Bush administration are so deep in the forest that they cannot see the trees. This war has created more problems than it has solved, and this will undoubtedly continue.
As the saying goes - blood cannot be washed off with more blood.
the matrix
There comes a point in every poor student's life when we question the necessity of solving systems of excessively complex matrices. Bloody, bloody matrices. It's enough to make this woman cry. For comfort I turn to the wailings of Sir Yorke himself. Thank you, Thom, for all of your non-sensical warblings in these times of desolation and grief.
Speaking of being volatile...does this type of behaviour occur once a month? LOL
Amusing. The answer is no. I am very fortunate to be one of the few women who are not afflicted with (shhh!) P.M.S. I'm very lucky. And so are the people around me, for that matter.
Am I the only one NOT in the midst of finals?
No - I am the only one currently sitting them. There are six people who I've released this web address to (some better publicity would perhaps be welcome). Of those six, one visits infrequently, two visit moderately frequently, and the two who visit very frequently have seemingly disappeared from the face of this planet. And then there's you.
How else would you explain the fact that 5/11's questions all seem so familiar?!
Hm...I wonder whose questions they were?
What movie should I rent?
Apologies but this post has probably come too late. Rent
City of God.
Not really a question: http://game.panlogic.net/
Brilliant. Is that what you do at work?
things you don't really need to know
You have freckles?
If you paid closer attention to a woman's face, you may notice that many of us do have freckles. Myself included, especially in the summertime.
You say Blogger doesn't track IP addresses...the next question is, do you have some sort of applet that recognizes IP addresses? C'mon, fess up!
A woman can't give away
all her secrets.
How are you liking Floyd's "Time?"
Pink Floyd are brilliant - that song is enough to tempt me into buying Dark Side of the Moon, but I have purchased too many CDs recently!
Right. Onto the main post, as the title suggests.
* I love perfume - the way the skin drinks it in and the way body chemistry melds notes together. 'Skin scents' are sexy.
* Basic manners (helping seniors, holding doors open, letting women in first, saying 'thank you') will get far with me. This seems to exist only in Britain.
* Nothing is more irritating than when people start dressing like me, speaking like me, or listening to the music I listen to. This means you are uncreative and boring. Get your own interests.
* I love very deeply. I have so much love for certain people that it can consume me entirely.
* The texture of food interests me more than the taste. Melted chocolate, mushrooms, shellfish, and succulent fruits all feel nice in the mouth.
* The people who think they know me best are usually those who know me the least.
* Sex is a healthy topic of conversation, a subject which I am very liberal about. People are surprised to know that I can also hold very traditional views about it.
* Films I love include The Godfather, The Lord of the Rings, Apocalypse Now, A Streetcar Named Desire, On the Waterfront, and Finding Nemo.
* I never get along with men who are weak, whether physically or emotionally, and who lack personality or imagination. To think that I spent a year with someone like this bewilders me nowadays.
* No doubt I can appear cool or aloof. Know me better and you may understand that every emotion, be it happiness or sadness, I experience very fully and more intensely than most. Yes, it can also make me seem volatile.
* My dog is the most adorable, charismatic dog in the world. Do not argue with me about this. We know where you live.
for the men, part two
Who talks to your boobies??
Men. It's as if they have nothing else to look at. Come on, the freckles on my nose are surely more interesting.
Does this website track "anonymous" questions by IP address??
Blogger doesn't, no.
All these questions! You keep me so busy. I love it. For now, though, it's back to analysing the distributions of normally-distributed variables. God. Radiohead is so trippy - I feel like I'm in a trance.
for the men
Notes.
- Re: Optimisation Algorithms examination. I don't think I did spectacularly poorly as I'd first envisioned.
- The women reading this blog would be amused knowing that the above examination involved Supplementary Answer Books that were - and I quote - Peach (Salmon) coloured.
- I would greatly appreciate it if the men did not talk to my breasts. In case you haven't noticed, they do not talk back.
What is your advice to live a happy and fulfilled life?
1) Surround yourself with people you love and care about.
2) Place objects of beauty nearby.
3) Develop your interests - do new, exciting things to continuously expand your horizons.
4) Stimulate your mind and imagination. Keep your mind fresh.
5) Nurture and be gentle with your body. We take our health for granted too often.
What is the worst feeling in the world?
For me, it's regret, and the pain of missing someone.
What are some tricks for getting to sleep? Warm milk and counting sheeps don't work for me.
...And me neither. God, I wish I had this question figured out - I'd be a lot better off right now. I suggest taking a hot shower or, better yet, a bath, half an hour before going to bed. Warm showers/baths will wake you up, but hot showers/baths make you sleepy. You can try spritzing your pillowcase or bed linen with a lavender scent - lavender is supposed to induce calmness and sleep. Failing that, a touch of Vicks Nyquil will knock you right out.
Why are the majority of my e-mail undeliverable, today???
They were perhaps eaten up by cyberspace. Actually...I did eventually receive your e-mails...at about 4 a.m. your time.
Oh yes...why did MuchMoreMusic show Enemy of the State? Where's the musical influence in that?
I see your point. A killer soundtrack, perhaps? At least you won't have to spend 2 quid at the video store.
Do you know why testicles are outside of the male body?
Yes, I do. And
why am I being asked this?
smells like teen spirit
I don't think I've been this knackered in
years.
WTF are optimisation algorithms? And don't make me sorry I asked.
Right. In plain English, optimisation algorithms are computational mathematical methods used in Operational Research to find the optimal choice of component variables, subject to constraints, that maximise or minimise an objective function. An example of a widely-used formula for calculating the optimal value of a Markov stochastic programming problem with actions is as follows:
V*n(i) = max a(n) { Rn(i, a(n)) + sigma jESn (pij(n)(a(n))V*n-1(j) }, where Rn(i, a(n)) = sigma jESn (pij(n)(a(n)) rij(n)(a(n))
Makes sense, huh? That formula looks even nicer when written out
fully.
Given limitless money, what runs out first - life, or the desire to live?
I'm tempted to say that life does. Certainly not all individuals will be happier with lots of money. Anyone, regardless of financial status, will feel the same set of emotions when put under conditions of extreme sadness or grief. The common denominator underlying individuals, rich or poor, is human emotion - it transcends ethnicity, culture, gender, age. Most of us will have already experienced this, but losing a loved one can make life pointless and unbearable to live. Some people will argue that money does not equal happiness, but heck, having a stable financial backing will generally prevent you from worrying about basic human necessities - food and shelter. I mean, I'd be pretty unhappy if I lived in a bus shelter, starving and/or freezing cold.
What was your biggest act of teenage rebellion?
What are you implying? Lol. I was a pretty good kid. Being 'pretty good' put my parents through enough stress that I cannot bear to imagine what state they'd be in, had I
not been such an angel. Ahem. The biggest act, however, shall remain undisclosed between me and my partner-in-crime.
If the world's a subway, then where's the subway?? Under the world??
Crikey - you make me think
way too hard. First optimisation algorithms, and now this. I thought about this one for much too long. I don't know the answer, and it's bothering me. If the world were a subway, then it would be under something. Technically subways are 'under the world'. But since the world is supposedly a subway, then doesn't that imply that the world is under the world?
Don't think about that one too much.
Edited to add:
Speaking of living in bus shelters and similar establishments...
brasil 40C
This year, Selfridges' May festival was inspired by the beaches and sensual atmosphere of Rio de Janeiro. When did Brazil become cool again? The atmosphere was electric. Bright butterflies, tropical palms, havaianas, football, and samba - totally hot. At noon there was a 15-minute fashion show up and down all floors from top to bottom on the central escalators, which was a pretty bloody ingenious use of space in my opinion. It was the highlight of today's events - half-naked models, dripping with glitter, poured into bikinis or (for the men) beach towels, parading up and down the escalators, illuminated by pink, green, blue and purple spotlights, against backdrops of Sao Paulo's skyline. The weather outside might indicate otherwise, but it feels like summer in London already...
What does ubiquitous mean?
It's a fancy S.A.T. word that means omnipresent, or seeming to be everywhere at the same time.
If a prostitute is willing, and the man wants to pay, who's the victim?
Why, the prostitute would be - if the man were ugly, fat, old, bald, spotty, reeking of body odour, with long and dirty toenails, hair in all the wrong places, and absolutely unimpressive nether regions. (if you want to get technical about it, the word 'victim' can (and does) mean something else entirely in the industry which we are discussing, but I'll leave it at that.)
What's the most efficient way to waste company resources?
Here are some to start, but don't blame me if you get in trouble. Surf the web. Surf the web constantly. Check your e-mail. Write an e-mail. Write multiple e-mails. Send spam. Nick some nice pens. Or possibly Post-It notes - those are bloody expensive in shops.
My questions don't seem to be very anonymous...got any tips for anonymity?
No. Big Brother is watching.
back to the future
First things first. There have been a few subtle changes to the look of this website. Stick around - there will be more in the coming days and weeks.
I'm too knackered to post anything coherent, but this is for the man (yes, I know who you are) who seems to be rather impatient about the fact that I don't update this webpage every - oh I don't know - three hours.
Haven't you learned anything from 'The Apprentice?'
Probably not, as I haven't a clue as to what The Apprentice is. But if it's one of those ubiquitous reality shows, then I would be even less interested. Why aren't there any good shows on North American telly anymore?
What would you do if you didn't know what you wanted to do (in life that is)?
This is a question I've been trying to answer for a long time, and I will probably still be trying to answer it five or ten years from now. To be honest, I don't know what I'd do. But I'd certainly take each day as it comes. I've learnt a harsh lesson over the past few months - that the more time you spend thinking too hard about the future, the more time you waste of the present - time which you'll never get back. There are people who already have their lives planned out for them, but to me, that's dull and not necessarily right. I don't live that way, and I don't think you do either. There are people who spend their whole lives figuring out what they want to do. They may dabble in many things. There is nothing wrong with this. These people are often the most interesting people you'll meet, who have the most colourful personalities and the most enriching life experiences. I have met one of these people every time I've sat on countless flights back and forth across the Atlantic. They were all adults, most of them had secure careers, and all were highly successful in whatever craft they pursued. But yet...they were always still searching for...something.
I don't think you can plan out your life. Things will happen for a reason and when you least expect it, and there will come a day when it all falls into place. I would take each day at a time, and use the things you learn each day to guide you closer to a decision about tomorrow. But I do think you ought to take a year off and travel to that country you mentioned you'd perhaps want to visit. Travelling enriches people like nothing else. In that time, I think you'll be able to see things more clearly. You just need the right time, space, and environment to do so. And where you currently are may not be the best place in which to do it.
One of my friends always says, 'Plan A is to win the lottery.' I wonder who that could have been. But if this isn't realistic enough for you, buy a hammock. Borrow books from the library. Read about interesting things and inspiring people. Then sit back and relax. Hey, it's life, whether you know what you're doing or not. Don't worry about the future. Just take it one day at a time.
How come this site isn't updated yet? I mean, it's been over 8 hours!
You're hilarious. Oh yes, keep on checking back here every three hours. Go on, make good use of valuable company resources - they didn't hire you for no reason ;)
a few more things
All I can say about today's Business in a Competitive Environment exam is that frankly, my dear, I do not care about foreign direct investment by multinational companies and their effects on home and host countries. *Sigh*
Do you have a musical guilty pleasure? Something/someone you listen to that would be (somewhat) embarassing to admit to liking?
If you know me well, then you'll know that I have a massive aversion towards pop music. Which is surprising, considering that I've been to a few boy band gigs myself when I was a wee little girl (I'm not naming which band. Too shameful). These days, if I'm not listening to what I normally listen to - rock, indie, electronica - you may catch me secretly singing (loudly) along to either Robbie Williams or Kylie Minogue, the King and Queen of Camp.
Why does it always rain on me?
I'm not sure, but I'm also not sure why it always seems to happen to me as well. I reckon being a Londoner has something to do with it - I ask that of myself almost daily. Today, I was also asking, 'Why does it always hail on me?' Buggered-up island weather. I never realised how frightening it actually is, being outside in a massive hail storm with only a wee little brolly. The sky was white! Bloody hell. Never again.
Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?
I don't know - is it? Possibly. I don't know about you, but I lied when I was seventeen. To myself. It involved a boy (as these things usually do). But it didn't make it rain.
Doesn't anybody ever know that the world's a subway, a subway?
...And doesn't anybody ever know that Superman's dead?
Did you cross lines you shouldn't have crossed?
I
always cross lines that I shouldn't. It gets me into trouble. But I still do it. Why? Because observing how an individual reacts to this reveals a great deal about the strength of a person's character.
the good old naughty days
Bloody hell, the internet postman has been busy as of late.
What's the point of it all?
Hmm - a very good question indeed, and one I do not have the answer to. If you're referring to exams, you don't want to get me started. If you're referring to glass dildos, then read on.
I don't think they were glass. Perhaps plexiglass? Or an alloy? Wait...alloy is for metal right? Yunno what I mean though. =) I mean. Unless you picked it up...how would you know they were glass? Maybe plastic? See through plastic?
I seem to have (finally!) struck upon a topic that people are interested in. Glass dildos, of all things! (What can I say - sex certainly sells.) In response to your question, ohohoho, they were most certainly
glass. And of course I picked it up. You know that distinctive tinkling sound that glass makes if you tap your fingers on it? Ohhh yes, it was definitely glass. An alloy is a type of metal indeed, and a metal dildo would be even more disturbing, actually. One would prefer a glass dildo to a metal one, but above all,
plastic is the way to go, people. *Sigh* Metal and glass dildos...the things people do to their orifices.
What type of store openly displays glass dildos?
You guys are really interested in this topic, aren't you. What type of store do you think sells them? As I said, I am not apt to frequent dodgy establishments or shops of questionable taste. This was, in fact, a lingerie shop. Well, it looked like a lingerie shop until I went inside, at which point it began looking more like an elaborate Victorian bordello, complete with - how shall I put this - antique replicas of various restraining devices and an entire back section full of books on the so-called 'art of spanking' and Japanese bondage. I never knew that bondage was particular to a country, did you? Is there such thing as, I don't know, Canadian bondage? Can we further regionalise it? How about Minnesotan bondage? The horror. Somehow that doesn't sound as exotic.
Maybe they were contemporary vases?
Your guess is as good as mine. I can tell you, however, that upon handling the object in discussion, one end of the object was shaped in such a way that would not exactly allow the object to stand upright on, say, a table. Well, technically it
was upright, but you get the idea.
You wanna make one of these for me?
Ahh, a 'boring' question. One of what? A glass dildo? Erm...no thanks, honey!
Is it difficult to set up a blogging page?
Hmm. It's not 'difficult', per se, but more time-consuming and occasionally tedious, depending on the extent you want to go to. Luckily Blogger is quite user-friendly and the preview button provided is extremely helpful. Because the aesthetics of your page is one of the most important parts of a blog, it is also often the most tedious part of it. The templates that Blogger provides are often standard and very basic, so it helps to know HTML and to have some idea of using div syntax and the technicalities of stylesheets. Before this site went live, it took two full days to work on the template, and it's definitely still being worked on now. Often you learn as you go along, though, and certainly if you want a basic blog, it's very easy. It's not so easy when you have final exams and a million and one other things to do. Trust me, you
will be diverted from your work. And you
will be tempted to update the page almost daily (I'm guilty!). As I say to people - and forgive me for sounding extremely superficial - blogging is like getting your hair highlighted. It's easy, it's time-consuming, but the level of upkeep is extremely high. But it's also fun. I'd definitely set one up.
It's back to work now. But if I'm ever out of things to write about, I certainly have a few ideas of what people are actually interested in. Naughty, naughty, naughty. Just don't blame me for bringing it up in the first place.
does this make me look fat?
(April - don't read this post. I'm not joking.)
Right. Today I was in a shop, doing my thing, minding my business, when I noticed a massive assortment of glass dildos on a shelf. You read that right.
Glass dildos. Right. There are several problems with this. There is nothing wrong with dildos. Rubber, I can understand. Any other sort of plastic would be reasonable. Glass...okay. Maybe it imparts some sort of sensational feeling but... But the fact that these were
glass really troubled me. Of all materials! I once had a friend whose gas permeable contact lens shattered in her eye, and that scared me enough. Glass dildos are something else entirely, and it creates quite a nightmarish scenario in my mind which I do not want to spell out here. Do those things come with safety precautions?! Hmmm. Thinking about this some more, perhaps those were not meant to be used in the (ahem) traditional sense. Maybe they were home decor items? Centrepieces for dining tables? You know - something that prompts a post-dinner discussion, drawing sighs of 'Oooh, how lovely!' and 'It's better than a flower arrangement!' Just a guess. Turned upside down, they could have even been test tubes, but unfortunately, Chemistry class isn't
thaaaaat interesting. Glass
dildos, though. Oooooargrghghgh.
Moving on. I then went into another little shop that sells cosmetics. I was happily blending an assortment of colours onto the back of my hand, right in front of the sales lady at the counter, when I heard a bunch of footsteps come up behind me and heard a voice (presumably a woman's) beside me.
'Excuse me. Do you have any eyelashes?' he/she asked the sales lady. (This is a cosmetics shop, remember.)
'Of course we do,' she replied, and pulled out a box of false eyelashes from underneath the counter.
It was at this point I looked up and realised that the he/she who was speaking, wasn't a woman as I'd first imagined. It was a man. Well, I think it was a man. He had arrived with two of his best mates, who were dressed in the same style. He was wearing a smart pinstripe suit (women wear these too), complete with a very Hugh Grant-esque pale pink shirt underneath, and pointy shoes.
My pointy shoes. His hair was quite fashionable as well - sort of a grown-out shag (think Dido. No, not dildo,
Dido) with impeccable highlights. Now as some of you may know, I have a tendency to stare when something intrigues me. He had
the most stunning makeup I've ever seen! Flawless, unbelieveable skin, contoured cheek colour, beautiful multi-tonal shades of colour on his eyes. Shit. His makeup was better than mine!
Now listen. I'm extremely liberal about these things. I was totally obsessed with how he got makeup to look that perfect. Especially on himself. No denying that now - it was a man indeed.
He held a set of gold-tipped false eyelashes to his face and peered, squinting, into a mirror. Then he took a step back and faced his friends, still holding up that set of eyelashes.
'Would I look pretty with false eyelashes?' he asked them.
'Oooohhh yes, lovely, dear, lovely,' they cooed and trilled in unison.
There was an all-important moment of contemplative silence.
'But do they make me look like a
tranny?!' he squealed.
'Oooohhh, a tranny, a tranny!' his mates giggled.
Then they giggled some more. And more. Until they couldn't stop and had to leave the shop.
Me, the sales lady, and the other customers, stared speechlessly, amused, as they pranced out of the shop, heels clacking away and perfectly highlighted hair swinging with each step.
And no, I do not frequent dodgy establishments, if that was your next question. But this is London. And anything, truly anything, goes. Even glass dildos.
