oh kiwi!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdUUx5FdySs

borat...sigh

I was dragged to see Borat today. All I can say is that the movie supported my theory that men should wear as much clothing as humanly possible. Period. Especially if their legs look like hairy sticks or if they weigh 500 lbs and are covered in about 10 layers of surrounding insulation. I cannot describe how much I wanted to puke after I watched that scene. Probably more than when I finished my 7 hour extended happy hour tonight in an effort to forget the image of hairy stick and lardo locked in the 69 position. Yeah...

Having never watched the Ali G show or any of Cohen's other brainchildren, I still knew what to expect (Hanging out with guys for lunch every day will do that to you). Sure, the jokes were crass and offensive, but this scene was just horrendous. I like some innocent humor and slightly off-color humor once in a while, but this was just over the top. The fact that some people rated Borat as their favorite movie of all time and its more than favorable reviews disturbed me just a little bit. Is America moving in a new direction that I'm simply not aware of? How can stuff like this possibly be inspiring? Borat was rated higher than Gladiator on IMDB and Rotten tomatoes. WTF?

How can we possibly live in a culture that rates racist jokes and fat naked men higher than soldiers getting their faces chopped off with an ax and wearing short skirts? What has America come to? Why must we exchange gratuitous violence and incest for Jewish jokes, female jokes, and more incest? What happened to blood and honor? Ah well. I suppose it's all for the people.

politically flavored cheesesteaks

The most hilarious cheesesteak place ever...deep in the heart of South Philly and across the street from Pat's, an equally famous place.

Walking along Geno's, the first thing you notice is entire walls covered with police badges from every town, city, and cornfield in the country. Smack in the middle is a picture of some police lieutenant who was killed by Ali Mujahedeen or Muhammed Jafar or whoever in 1981...I really wonder which way the owners voted in the midterm elections. Geno's is famous for putting up a sign that stated: We do not serve customers who don't speak English...talk about neoconservative.

The cheesesteaks themselves are slightly dry, with no sauce. I can't say that I was too impressed. Try ordering in the Philly lingo. Default is wiz. There's wiz with/without, American with/without, and Provolone with/without. Glory to cheese wiz and onions...Then again, since Oprah, Nsync, Michelle Kwan, and various other celebrities have been to Geno's, maybe this dry rendition of sad cheesesteaks ought to be right.

gelato heaven

I have never had such scrumptious, mouth-watering, divine gelato in my life. CapoGiro Gelato Artisans have two spots in Philly and more than three hundred flavors...since I'm going to be here for five years, I should be able to taste all of them if I try one every five or so days:)

On Friday night, I got the Chocolate Scuro, which is the dark, rich, and bittersweet chocolate. It is the best chocolate I have ever had in my life. I was groaning so much while I was eating it that my friends got slightly worried...it was better than anything I've ever experienced...

Anyway, it's a must visit place in Philadelphia. Here are some of the intriguing/mouthwatering flavors:

Pear with Bourbon
Avocado
Honeysuckle
Caped Gooseberry
Mexican Chocolate
Burnt Sugar
Pomegranate
Apple Cider with Clove
Blood Orange
Mascarpone and Fig

losing my head and everything in between

Oh dear God, what the fuck is wrong with me? I went to the bookstore an hour ago to look around. In front of the cash register, I reached into my bag and realized that my wallet was missing. More frantic groping came up with nothing. I raced back to my room, swept over everything in my desk, only to find no wallet. Then it was a mad dash to the bookstore and realizing that someone must have stolen it.

Back in my room, I promptly cancelled all of my credit cards and ATM cards, then called my dad to deal with my missing driver's license. I guess I sounded like I was on the edge of a gigantic breakdown, because he was ubernice and supportive. I tried to figure the stupid DMV stuff for ten minutes, then my dad asked me if I had looked on my bed and around the room. Of course, my wallet was in the second drawer from the top of my desk. Then I did have my mental breakdown and started sobbing like there was no tomorrow because in my utter stupidity, I keep my brass rat in my wallet and I thought I had lost it. Apparently men don't like hysterical and teary females because my dad told me that he wanted to go back to watching his basketball game.

I have never felt so relieved. or stupid. ever. Jesus Christ. Maybe I'll even find that swimsuit that I lost a few days ago. I'm just beyond annoyed because I'm so careless with everything. It was even worse when I was little. Sometimes, it seems to me that my subconscious wants to be careless . I could fill a mausoleum with everything that I've misplaced over the years (if I could find them). Good God. And maybe I should appreciate my parents more for putting up with me.

getting over tv

TV is bad...really bad. There's no really good show on, but I watch anyway. I've even branched out into romantic dramas. I basically watch Grey's Anatomy and Six Degrees on ABC, and CSI:Miami, NCIS, and NUMB3RS on CBS.

Grey's Anatomy is a new thing for me...it's ultra ultra sappy, and I'm really starting to get tired of pouting Meredith, indecisive Meredith, stupid Meredith, and all of the other Merediths. I guess I like the show because there's decent acting all around, and there's slightly more depth there than I'd normally expect from so much pointless drama. The Cristina character is fun too...sometimes I wish I were more like her. Six Degrees is a new show on ABC. While it's not groundbreaking, it's not bad either. The stories weave together better than expected, and the substories with Campbell Scott and Bridget Moynahan are really good. The whole show itself is slightly kitschy and sappy, but it's not bad. I like watching shows that pretend to be realistic without actually being realistic, because reality is not all that great and exciting.

Haha...I laugh when I watch CSI:Miami, because I basically watch it because it's so trashy. As many of my friends would say, it's just eye candy. The filters are impossibly bright yellows and oranges, so the show is a overly bright and happy and fake version of Miami (Miami so does not look anything like that in real life). To be on the show, apparently you have to have score at least a 9 out of 10 on the beauty scale of life and look good in either a) swimsuit if you're female or b) flamboyant suit if you're male. It's just a lot of fun to watch. There's a lot of slo-mo shots to enhance the drama and utter stupidity as well as fancy split screens and the like. It's all about what's on the surface.

Anyway, I watch these shows even though they're not that good. It's almost like a fake alternate reality that I can immerse myself in for 45 minutes. That's not good either because let's face it, nothing on TV is real. It's just so much easier to watch imaginary people going about in their imaginary lives instead of actually thinking and doing things in my real life.

the other side of the fence

To supplement my average stipend, I've proctored a few times the past week. On Tuesday, a professor desperately needed a proctor at the last minute and I happened to be there. Unfortunately, I thought he was a graduate student. I guess he thought that it was a compliment, but he still laughs at me every time he passes me in the hallway. There were only two students, so that was fine, and what was even better was that they weren't allowed to ask questions (weird), so I just sat there and did my homework.

On Thursday, I proctored two sections of another exam. This time, the students did ask questions. 99% of the time, they were just too lazy to read the entire question themselves and wanted me to explain. What the hell is up with that? MBAs. Go figure. At first, I was absolutely terrified about answering questions since I didn't TA the class and I hadn't even looked at the midterm. Then I realized that either they hadn't read the question properly or I couldn't give the answer, so that made things much simpler.

Afterwards, the professor was extremely nice and took us out to eat at an even nicer place. It's one of those places with exorbitant prices that serves miniscule portions. Apparently he'd been a professor here since 1985. Ha ha ha. I guess there is some feeling on superiority when I'm standing in front of a class and I'm the youngest person in the room...it's something that I've thought about before and joked about with other people. Entirely weird, but maybe fantasies do come true.

horrible pick up lines

Courtesy of bald guy in bar:

A) So...my best friend is still really good friends with his ex-girlfriend...would you ever date him?

B) My best friend broke up with his ex a few months ago. Do you think he should throw her stuff away or keep it?

To other Asian girl I'm with (3 inches taller and 30 lbs lighter) and me:
C) Are you guys best friends or something? Because you both look exactly the same.

thank god for friends

More times than not, I don't believe in God. But I do believe in friends. Sometimes, you just feel like absolute crap, like there's absolutely nothing in the world that will drag you out of bed in the mornings. There's this sinking feeling that slowly moves through your body and finally settles in your stomach. You need to talk to someone so desperately that you can't think about anything else at the moment (do guys ever feel this?).

It's good to talk to someone who'll listen, laugh, and know all of the things that you can't bring yourself to say. It's someone who's been there for you more times than you can count and vice versa. It's a relief when you don't have to think about what you have to say and there's no need to sugar-coat anything. You can count the number of people who you've cried in front of on one hand, and they've comforted you when you were the most vulnerable. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

the women of 24

There are a lot of reasons why I'm utterly obsessed with 24. I especially appreciate the fact that all of the main female leads on 24 are both strong and feminine characters. Unlike so many other TV shows, 24 assumes that the viewer is at least moderately intelligent (average IQ) and not just breathing.

The female leads that I really liked were Teri and Nina. Although I don't particularly like Kate, Kim, Dina, Sherry, and Audrey, they've all got backbones of steel. I'm ambivalent about Michelle and Chloe. It doesn't matter if these women have ever shot a gun (most have). They are the best at their jobs, or they have moments where they go above and beyond. Sure, sometimes they need rescuing, but these women never become the helpless damsel in distress.

There aren't that many women on the show (compared to men), and while some of the men are portrayed as weak, the women are never so. Part of the reason probably stems from the fact that they have to act in scenes with Jack, and he would probably shoot someone for incompetence.

I like the fact that all of these women are competent and many are as good if not better than their male counterparts (Michelle and Chloe). It's something to have your best computer programmer be a woman and something again to have your lead agent as a female who goes into a hot zone infected with biological weapons without protection in order to take control of the situation. It's also amazing for a mother to allow herself to be raped in order so that her daughter would be spared.

The scenes that I really enjoyed were those where the girls went out into the field and their husbands, fathers, whatever protested...but they went anyway and no one could stop them. Michelle and Kim basically told Tony and Jack: Look, this is my job. I'm the most qualified person, and I'm going to do it whether you like it or not, so deal with it and focus. In season 3, I had so much more respect for Michelle than for Tony becuase she was the one who kept her head many times while he let his emotions take over. She made the right decisions (Has Michelle ever been wrong?) and he didn't.

I've also watched extensive interviews with most of the cast and crew. I was surprised by how intelligent and eloquent the actors and actresses really were and how well they fielded the questions (I don't think they received the questions beforehand). There are a few people who seem ill at ease (Kiefer Sutherland, Carlos Bernard (Tony Almeida), and Mary-Lynn (Chloe)) when they're in an interview, but the rest were great and they all take everything very very seriously. It's fun to watch these amazingly witty and funny people put on a poker face on the show.

24 - Obviously

I really disliked Season 4. I don't know why except that it suddenly felt a lot more impersonal (I know, I know. It's a TV show) and convoluted. The story just felt loose.

Part of the problem is that there is 'another family'. This time, it was a nice and cuddly terrorist extremist family. Similar to the focus on the Warner family in Season 2 (also a season that I didn't particularly enjoy), it felt out of place and not as satisfying as the rest of the story. Season 1 started, continued, and ended with action, which gets people hooked and establishes authenticity for the characters. Suddenly, there's a nice family sitting at a table whom you know nothing about, which is also stupid.

I don't know whether or not I've watched too many of these shows, but certain parts of season 4 seemed utterly predictable to me. Season 4 also seemed bloodier than past seasons (if that's possible, or maybe I'm reaching my saturation level). The season just felt heavy and not that inspirational. I never thought that I'd say this, but this season missed Kim Bauer. While she's extremely annoying over 90% of the time, she brings lightness to the show that just isn't there in the midst a group of stern, harsh middle aged and almost middle aged men and women trying to save the day and who are literally breathing the word gravitas.

I don't like the fact that Tony Almeida and Michelle Dessler are still running around at CTU in this season. The producers shouldn't have listened to the fan boards and should just have killed them off at the end of season 3. For some reason, I've never found Tony's character appealing or interesting. For all of his dark and brooding looks, he comes off as relatively insipid.

Michelle has potential, but the acting is more or less inconsistent. There are times when she looks uberfeminine, then she takes over and shoots people. Pick one and stick to it. Yes, yes...the love story is cute, but wouldn't it be cuter if they had died in each other's arms 24 hours ago? However, I do like the fact that Michelle is given the same difficult decision that Tony was given last season and actually makes the right choice.

I also don't like the whole Jack/Audrey pairing. Except for the crying, she seems cold and businesslike. And when he's cold and businesslike (all of the damn time), that makes for a vey icy relationship. OK. I understand that he likes strong women, but Teri and Kate and even Nina seemed better suited for him than Audrey because they actually reminded him that they were female.

For all of its importance, I don't really remember the storyline too well, and I don't know how I feel about the ending. One problem is that I just hated the entire Chinese consulate twist. It seemed so irrelevant and stupid. It seemed even stupider that they would decide to kill Jack. It seems very unlikely to me that an invasion of a foreign consulate would be on the same page or even more serious than the possible meltdown of over a hundred nuclear reactors. I know I'm supposed to suspend disbelief, but I can only do it if the story's really good or if it's not blatantly stupid.

Thankfully, Season 3 was amazing and my favorite season to date (I haven't finished Season 5 yet). It reminded me of a better paced Season 1. From the very beginning, this season was bewitching. We find out that Jack has a heroin problem (some extremely talented acting on his part). Unfortunately, it makes heroin looks good (like every other TV show and movie awash in drugs). The only inconsistency is that his heroin problem completely disappeared in the latter half of the season.

It's always good to have Nina Myers on hand and good to have her die before she wears out her welcome. I'm not the greatest fan of Chase. Too young and too earnest. I really liked Kim this season. Instead of having her customary bouts of stupidity, she really grew up. It's always amusing (and well done in this case) to reflect some of the parent off the child. It was obvious in this season that she was Jack's child, that she had an overinflated sense of honor and duty (just like him), and that she was more than capable of defending herself (racking up a body count). I especially liked the part when she was going on assignment with Jack in the helicopter and he told her that when they were in the field, she had to listen to him. You see Jack in the dual role of father/commander, which is very intriguing. The only part of Tony and Michelle's relationship that I like is the fact that they have to work together and to deal with the same command issues as before.

I skipped over the Sherry Palmer parts, but they looked decent and better than her role in the first season and Ann's role in the second. I'm also glad that she's no longer with us. Saunders was an amazing villan (probably only equaled by Marwan). The story flowed well this season, with the hotel episodes being especially good. I only started to like Michelle when she went to the hotel and afterwards. There were just more good scenes in this season than any of the others with the exception of season one. However, season one was like a roller coaster while this one felt much more enjoyable, like a nice 80 mph drive through the countryside.

looking back at behavioral economics

I went to a seminar on Thursday about CEO compensation and how it has increased by 500% from 1980 to today. The only reason why I went was because my old 14.13 professor came from Boston to deliver the seminar. I was curious to as how I would feel. Would I suddenly see him and be transported back to his class? I have a vision of myself staggering out of bed at 8:45, frantically throwing on clothing, brushing my teeth, and barely making it to my 9AM class in E51-147. Sitting in the front row next to Amy and Julia and trying desperately to stay awake. The required trip to ABP after class in the two and a half hour break between 14.13 and 15.437. The routine cheese, egg, and sausage (or bacon) toasted bagel. Watermelon for Amy. Oatmeal for Julia. Large peach iced tea for me.

As expected, the professor didn't recognize me at all, and I felt nothing when I saw him standing at the lecturn yet again. There was just a lot of nothing. He looked the same as always, neatly dressed, the grin, the intense stare from under the dark eyebrows. He did seem more nervous than usual, drinking simultaneously from a nalgene bottle and a Dasani at the same time. The paper itself had much less math than I had expected (Generally not a good sign), and he tried to finish instead of fielding questions more professionally, which is very bad for a seminar.

A slight digression here. The seminar is almost like a trial (except that people are generally on your side, even when they seek to humiliate you by asking questions that you can't answer). The worst thing that could possible happen is if you're twenty minutes into your presentation and no one has asked a question. It means that your paper sucks beyond belief. Generally, the questions start, and they don't stop. Every miniscule point (if it's not strong enough) gets picked apart. Most assumptions are just massacred, and questions are raised about the main points as well. Nervewracking would be a minor term. It's literally a trial by fire. A good seminar is one where everyone tries to cream the speaker and the speaker manages to answer questions sufficiently and to show some humility at the same time.

This professor simply addressed most questions with the statement that it would be addressed in a later slide. He supressed questions three times and repeatedly stated that he had to get through his presentation. This is totally acceptable if he were teaching an undergraduate class (Maybe he was confused), but less so when presenting to his peers. Ah well. Not that it matters to me anymore.

stand by me

Yesterday night, I was watching random episodes of NCIS and decided to watch Stand by Me as well. Surprisingly, I liked the movie, despite the fact that it was about a bunch of twelve year olds on the search for a dead body. The acting was pretty amazing, considering how young they were. It amused me to no end to see Jerry O'Connell as the overweight, slow, and sniveling kid whom everyone picks on. River Phoenix was amazing as well.

Although the movie feels awkward at times (there's no way in hell that twelve year old boys are that introspective), it was really enjoyable despite the relative lack of violence and gore. Somehow, the boys in the movie seemed more innocent back compared to pre-teens of today. Life seems simpler. More crisp. More real.

It's obvious that the major reason why I watched this movie was because you-know-who was in it. I'm not trying to go through all of his films because some of them really suck, but Ace Merrill was pretty good in this film being the neighborhood bully (Something that Kiefer Sutherland had seemingly perfected in his youth). My favorite line follows from when he listens patiently to two of the other guys in his group of losers, and says softly, "Okay... okay... you've stated your position clearly, now I'm gonna state mine: GET IN THE FUCKING CAR, NOW!" Talk about real leadership qualities.

the mysteries of couture

Obviously I'm procrastinating and not doing my probability and statistics homework...so I decided to look at couture instead. All following images are from www.style.com.Exhibit A is from Valentino. Snakes, anyone? I do believe that is a real snake on her head, and I'm not sure what it has to do with fashion whatsoever except that I'm freaked out just by looking at the poor model. I hope she got paid something extra to have a snake wrapped around her head, not to mention some free shampoo to get the snake feeling out of her hair.

Exhibit B is from Christian Dior's 2004 Spring show. I'm not sure what to say except that I know the exact probability that I'll ever see one of those designs ever again. All fashion designers, not to mention Queen Elizabeth, must be rolling around in their graves. These dresses make sweatpants, suspender straps, and other items look positively sexy. I know! If aliens ever invaded, we can greet them with these women who look like they came from a 17th century royal tea party gone wrong, and they'll be so scared that they'll immediately abandon any plans of universe domination.

I finally figured out what couture is...a combination of fear factor, the circus, and the secret defense weapon that the pentagon has been working on all of these years.

math-impaired

Life sucks for the math impaired when you're in finance. New projects to date: Relearning implicit differentiation, figuring out which way signs go in an equation, and learning how to prove things.

Today I was working with three other guys in my department in the computer lab. I don't know why, but I just feel like I have something to prove. Having never worked with these people before, it's almost like I'm testing the waters. I think I came out of today having given the impression that while I'm not completely brain dead, I'm definitely proof-impaired.

I really don't know. I've never been one of those people to get a problem set and just crank through the whole thing for hours and hours at a time. I have never looked at a problem and stared at it for hours (apparently this is more common then I thought). Now, it feels dumb asking for help, especially since I don't really know the people in my program very well and it's just a stupid perception thing. I really should get over this fear of being perceived as (god-forbid!) unintelligent and just ask for help (though I'm not sure that this is something that guys do either).

It's definitely different to go through the day interacting with primarily all guys and occaisonally the other girl in my program. The guys in my program are surprisingly funny and nice (so far). I think I have this metastable status that wavers between being one of the guys and some strange and foreign entity. I just sit there and laugh when they hit on undergrads and feel some misguided sense of superiority. Anyway, time to get some sleep, wake up early, and tackle order relations and countable sets before meeting at 10:30AM.

squareheadbuttface

Brownie points to whoever can identify said person:

X: You, my dear, can call me whatever you like.
Y: Really? Anything?
X: ok, ok, I meant anything within reason.
X: No reason to call me sqareheadbuttface or something.
Y: what?
X: I was poking fun at myself.
X: My chin is shaped like a butt.
Y: ???????????????????
X: It is a little. There's a crease in the middle.
Y: What?
X: So when I squish my chin
Y: Um...
X: It looks like a buttcrack.

the wonderful brain

While perusing mytube, I found an artsy questionnaire used in an interview and proceeded to try it out on some of my friends. Pain...lots of pain.

Here are the questions and my responses:

• What's your favorite word?
• numinous. duh.
  
• What's your least favorite word?
• c***
• What turns you on?
• integrity
• What turns you off?
• arrogance
• What's your favorite sound or noise?
• water running
• What's your least favorite sound or noise?
• chalk scraping across a blackboard
• If you had to choose a profession other than your own, what would it be?
• it's pretty obvious
• What profession would you never ever choose?
• lawyer

Here's another set of responses:

What's your favorite word?
A: word for what?
A: ion think i have one
A: ok ill go with moop

What's your least favorite word?
A: y would i have such strong feelings about words???
A: i never did like the supercalafragilisticespialadotious word

What turns you on?
A: like on or onnnnn
A: ion understand these questions
A: so on as in sexual or on as in u like it a lot
Me: you're supposed to answer spontaneously
A: like the first thing to pop into my head when u asked it?
A: well monkies came to mind
A: but ionno y
Me: I give up
A: nooooo
A: i wanna know my fortune!!!
Me: it's just random questions
A: so what doya get at the end of it?
A: a wish?
A: aww thats crappy

What turns you off?
A: what?!?!
A: this is so confusing

and on and on...It was painful. Person B didn't fare much better...

What's your favorite word?
B: inarticulatable is a good word
B: as is schreuengthed
Me: what?
B: it's the longest one syllable word in english
Me: what does it mean?
B: nothing
B: it doesn't really exist
Me: I'm confused
B: it's a dumb word i made up a long time ago
B: cuz i needed a really long one syllable word

What turns you on?
B: hm?
B: i dunno

What turns you off?
B: hm -- murderous ax-wielding lunatics?

What's your favorite sound or noise?
B: plink.

What's your favorite curse word?
B: swounds!
B: it's from shakespaear's time
Me: oh dear god

If you were standing before the gates of heaven, what would God say to you?
B: you really should look both ways before crossing the street, you know

If you had to choose a profession other than your own, what would it be?
B: Media mogul

What profession would you never ever choose?
B: Toilet cleaner

one hundred days of solitude

I haven't had a personal life lately. Looking back at college (I know, it's only been three months since graduation), it might actually have been a really good part of my life. I miss the people a lot. Over the past month, the only person I've talked to on a regular basis is me, and that's not very healthy. Talking to myself is fine and dandy. I have lots of things to say, but it's slightly difficult to expand my horizons when there's only one viewpoint.

There've been people that I've met here, but I haven't been able to discern a strong connection (ok, so Rome wasn't built in a day). I feel like I'm past acquaintances but not quite to the friend stage yet. Maybe it's harder because 95% of the people that I interact with now are guys. It's harder for me to pick up guy vibes.

Following are random thoughts about Philly.
Things I enjoy about Philly:
- Cost of living compared to Boston...almost nonexistent
- Pretty campus
- Food truck that sells fruit salad
- More than 10 food trucks on campus

Things I don't enjoy about Philly:
- It's dirty
- It's more dangerous to walk here during the daytime than in Boston at night
- It's got multiple personalities (neighborhoods)

war and politics

Politics is simply a less crude and unbastardized cousin of war. In both cases, there are two opposing sides working against each other for the sole aim of power. The difference is merely in the approach. All too often, war is protected under the waving cape of politics. Take suicide bombers. There's a prime example for you. After blowing innocent people to shreds, Hamas and Hezbollah claim that they were freeing their own people from oppression. Immediately, group members begin running for government positions and take the initiative of rebuilding communities that they indirectly destroyed.

Unfortunately, by its very definition, politics breathes legitimacy. Government officials are assumed to be acting in a higher capacity than the everyman. Hence, the suicide bomber supporter turned cabinet member and the militant turned peace corps are given legitimacy, and by natural extension, their actions are given legitimacy as well. As soon as the protective mantle of politics is donned, we cannot help but acknowledge righteousness. Once a kidnapping is proclaimed to be in the service of helping the oppressed masses, the war is already won through politics. By turning the spotlight away from themselves and onto the wronged, the defense has not only been proclaimed innocent, but the prosecution has also been ordered to pay damages to him on top of this.

Illegitimate war is terrible, and politics is as often wrong as it is right. The horrific happens when we put the two together. We are not just unable to respond to illegitimate actions of violence, we are endorsing it through our silence. What can we do? If we do nothing, they win. If we retaliate, then we are clearly the aggressors and their assertion that we are oppressing their population is true. Where is the solution? Where is conscience? Where is morality?

first bank, second bank, first exchange

Today, per my dorkiness, I went to visit the first bank, second bank, and the first exchange of the United States.

The First Bank of the United States.


The Second Bank of the United States, modelled after the Parthenon.

The first Exchange of the United States.

I'm trying to foster a passion for finance that will sustain me for the next five years. I'd be lying if I said that I'm going into my program with perfect confidence and composure. Going into undegrad was so easy because there were no expectations. I was seventeen and stupid. There were good things and there was crap. It's was all fine and dandy because I was enthusiastic. I was cheerful, and I took things in a stride.

Now I feel like I've decided which way my life is going, which is frightening as all hell. There's no more innocence, only the knowledge that I've dedicated myself to this, and this is what I am going to do.

fish eyes

The great thing about having a father who drags you fishing is staring for hours at a time at the boats passing by and the water rippling ever so gently on the surface, while smelling the combination of salt, fish scales, and deep-fried seafood.

During these father-daughter bonding sessions, my job is to fish for small bait fish (baby bluefish), which he then puts on the hook to lure bigger fish. Wonderful concept. My line has five little hooks with pieces of silver plastic, so when I jerk the line, it looks like a minature school of fish is jumping (very clever).

The part that I find most difficult is extracating the hook from the fish. It's easy when the hook is simply caught on the fish's lip and I can just work it out. It's much more difficult and becomes torturous when the fish swallows the the hook entirely (greedy fish) and it gets caught in the gills. Then I'm elevated to the position of a surgeon without skill or anesthetics. There's usually a lot of fishy blood involved, and occaisonally pieces of gills and other parts coming loose. The most memorable incident is a fish who got the hook caught in his (or her) eye. The hook wasn't just caught in one eye. It went through it's skin to loop around the other eye as well. With my non-surgical fingers, I tried to inch the hook out, and the fish was free after one minute, sans one eye. One eyeball, oozing red-black blood, was left on my hook. It was mildly disgusting at the time, and upon reflection a few hours later, it was really gross.

Besides baby bluefish, I've also caught baby barracudas (nasty sharp teeth), sea robins (they actually moan), and shad. My dad mainly catches fluke (A relative of flounder) and occaisonally striped bass (huge monsters). Regulations say that only those above 17.5 and 28 inches, respectively, can be taken home. Out at sea, there's massive bluefish and tuna.

Our fanaticism struck at 5:30AM Saturday morning, when we went to fish in the premordial mist and watched the sun rise. The ocean was teeming with bluefish. There were so many that they could barely swim around each other. I caught ~80 tiny fish that morning and promply broke all of my hooks from the wear. That was fun:) Anyway, back to the poor one-eyed fish. It went half-crazy from the pain and leapt between the boards of the deck to rejoin its family...so every story does have a happy ending, after all.

penn

I'm in Philly for today and part of tomorrow. UPenn is gorgeous, although the rest of the city is questionable. UPenn is just like Harvard but bigger and prettier.

I walked to Chinatown with Adam and had Pho...We walked about 6 miles total. Center City is nice with pretty shops (Ann Taylor, BCBG Max Aria, Arden B...), but far far from campus.

It's back to RI for two weeks, moving my stuff down to UPenn, then starting grad school...

Not that much else to say. School startes after labor day. Nine people total in my class, seven men and two women. Many more than previous years of four or five. I've met seven of the other eight people, and the other girl is also an MIT alum.

If this entry sounds so uninspiring, it's probably because I got up at 5:15AM this morning to get to Philly. My brain is shutting down.

fun at the range

Yesterday, I had a world of fun at Blue Ridge Arsenal in VA. Besides seeing Coriolanus in London, it was the highlight of my summer. I was shooting a P220 Sig Sauer, 9mm (~.357), which was fantastic, since I've only shot the Smith&Wesson .22 before and air pistol. Ok, so I have to mention that Jack Bauer uses a P228 Sig Sauer (.38) in seasons 1 & 2 of 24...

In Virginia and some other states, you can openly carry weapons (You do need a license for carrying a concealed weapon), but I think that's cool (not that I can afford a weapon or need a weapon any time in the near future).

At the firing range, it was 80% men, a few old grandmas (that was freaky), a family including teenage children, and me. Yup. Yay for demographics! I fired around 100 rounds, and my arms were screaming at me, but it was supremely fun. There's no adrenaline rush, but something very satisfactory about it. Firearms is really about 90% concentration and 10% strength (the reason for the MIT pistol team's success). Everyone's hand shakes, but you have to have the strength of mind to will your hand to shake less or even to stop shaking until getting off the perfect shot.

I came out of there sweat-covered with powder all over my shirt and a few on my face where the empty shells flew (doesn't hurt). There's also the sweet taste of powder (or lead) in the back of my throat:) Unfortunately, my arms were too short for the M2 carbine, the machine gun. It was loads of fun.

summer part II

Books to study very very carefully:
Principles of Mathematical Analysis /Walter Rudin or Lecture Notes
A First Course in Optimization Theory /Sundaram

Briefly review probability and statistics

Weeks at work: Uncertain

Books to read:
Middlemarch /George Eliot
Arena /John Jakes
Fountainhead /Rand (Reread)

Other sundry items:
Organize pictures of Europe
Sort music
Continuing to exercise ~4-5 times per week

Movies/TV shows:
Preferably None

People visiting:
Andria & Shuai /7.14 – 7.16
Anita & Emily /7.21 – 7.26
Tiff Chen? /8.3 –

summer part I

Books I’ve read:
The Manchurian Candidate /John Marks
The Count of Monte Cristo /Alexander Dumas
Girl With a Pearl Earring /Tracy Chevalier
We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families/Phillip Gourevitch

Movies/TV shows that I’ve watched:
X3
Pirates of the Caribbean II
Monster-in-Law
Bewitched
What Women Want
2 episodes of 24
1 episode of NUMB3RS
1 episode of CSI: Miami
1 episode of NCIS
1 episode of Without a Trace

Weeks at work: 5

Restaurants/Stores/Other:
Cheesecake Factory: 1
Old Ebbitt Grill: 1
Haagen-Dazs: 1
Smoothie Place: 1
Barnes&Noble: 4
Borders: 1
Apple Store: 1
City Sports: 1

Other sundry items:
Started and finished journal of trip to Europe
Cleaned out room at home
Exercising ~4-5 times per week
Cooking dinner every night

News that I read daily/weekly:
Arts & Letters Daily
NY Times
BBC
CBS
CNN
MSNBC
The Independent
Newsweek
Slate
Time
The Economist
The New Yorker
Boston Globe
Chicago Tribune

eulogy for my laptop

Last weekend, I almost had a heart attack when my laptop obstinately refused to start. After twenty minutes of emergency laptop CPR, I gave up and decided that my poor black machine had beeped its last. I was ready to compose a heartfelt speech of rememberance - and then my dad came in, pressed the on button (which I had pressed about fifty times) and it came to life again.

I don't think I'm a bad person, but I secretly hoped that my thinkpad R32 had chosen to rest in peace before it got replaced with a newer, faster, sleeker, more powerful T60. Anyway, here are some of my thoughts:

Thank you for being there for these four hectic years, and dealing patiently (and not so patiently) with some of the abuse that I have heaped upon you. You must understand, I never meant to drop you from four feet high onto a cement floor freshman year. I simply tripped over your cord. Also, I never meant to download viruses (It was all Eudora's fault) and corrupt your system (But as they say, in sickness and in health:))

By the way, what is up with the passive-aggressiveness (Or I should say: What was up?). You know what I'm talking about. Things like your CD-ROM drive failing to work after a year and the monitor shutting down completely in the middle of running regressions last year (Maybe more on the side of aggressive)? I'd like to believe that this is an interdependent relationship, not a collection of vindictive, petty squabbles.

No matter. The past is the past. I do salute you for getting me completely and utterly addicted to Google and the Internet, my bread and butter. Maybe not directly, but you're a tricky one. I am now a sophisticated creature dependent on instant gratification and one-click shopping. I will miss you dearly, and since you are still around, I'll probably abuse you until the very end. Don't complain. It's mutual.

more cake, please

Oh boy, oh boy! This is the only time in my life that I have been reduced to a quivering, giggling, jumping, and completely loopy fan girl (See the manical grin plastered on my face). The young gentleman in the center is Jonathan Cake, who plays Caius Marcius Coriolanus in Shakespeare's Coriolanus, which Janet and I saw at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre when we were in London.

The theatre was open-air, and we opted to stand for the three hours. The play was performed in a way that was amazingly interactive and engaging (though I make no claims about the authenticity or my level of understanding of Shakespearean English pronunced with British/Cockney accents). Some of the actors were interspersed among the audience and leapt up when they had their lines. They ran through the audience onto the stage and there was even one scene where Coriolanus came into the audience to beg for their approval.

After the play, I was so thrilled that I asked the attendants if I could possibly get some autographs (probably the most daring thing I've done in the past four years). Janet and I rushed through the building and asked two more attendants before we found the stage door and started squealing. A few people came out, including my personal favorite, Sicinius Velutus, who was so dry that it wasn't possible for him to be more dry. Then Jonathan Cake came out, and we got a picture with him! All 6'3" of him! Sir Cake is apparently one of Britain's finest actors and was even on Empire, a dismal mini-series that aired on ABC last summer (I actually saw the first episode before I decided that it wasn't worth watching). But, but...he was a gladiator on the series!!!! I have a special space in my heart reserved for gladiators.

Fewer and fewer actors came out, but Janet and I were on a high, so it was all right. The lady manning the stage doors kicked us out to lock the door, and with our infallible logic, reasoned that the only way that the actors could leave would be through the main door, so we went and stalked the main door. Then this guardian angel (aka security guard) saw two little Asian girls standing outside with bright faces and took us to the cast party in the pub garden next door!

We went up and met all of the actors, and found out that one of them (Joseph Marcell) actually played the butler on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air:) Now I wish I had watched that show when I was younger. Margret Leicester, who played the wicked and ambitious mother in the play, hugged us so tightly that I thought she'd choke me. The little boy (~15) who played Coriolanus's son and whose only role in the play was to look sad and hold out his hands beseechingly was shooting pool and very embarrassed that two girls wanted his autograph (I told him that he did an amazing job looking sad). Coriolanus's wife (Virgilia) was amazingly pretty in the play and even prettier in jeans rather than a sack dress. The only reason why I mention her is that she and Coriolanus shared a kiss onstage that made a huge popping noise, probably as loundly as I can scream. That was amazing.

Enough digressions and back to Jonathan Cake. What made the play so great was that Coriolanus is a heroic general with so much pride that it was literally spilling out of his ears. And he was a total momma's boy. Cake was very fiery, and had he been on the screen, would have completely overacted. But the acting was solid all around and quite marvelous. Afterwards, when we met him, he just seemed like such a preppie, with a slight whiff of that I'm hot and I know it attitude. It was hilarious. But he was really really nice, not to mention that Janet thought that he had nice legs.

the poisoned apple

I broke my record of eating apples. For the past four days, I have eaten one medium-sized fuji apple as part of my lunch. That's a whopping FOUR apples. Before that, I haven't eaten four apples in the last four years.

Freak. No, I just have an extreme distaste for apples that might even be called hatred. What bothers me so much is the crunchiness. Don't get me wrong. I don't like mushy or soft bruised apples and I'm certainly not against the actual apple taste (though I don't think there's anything amazing about it). It's just the sound and sensation of teeth sinking into the crisp red flesh that makes me want to cringe. It reminds me of chalk scraping on chalkboard. No, it's more like teeth grinding sharply on a scratchy surface.

Once you get through the apple skin (chalkboard), there's the actual flesh, which I almost dislike as much as the skin. It's not soft or soothing. Rather, the white grainy flesh has a sandy, rough texture with juice trapped inside its pores and only released upon more crunching and scraping. To avoid any misunderstanding, let me tell you that I like soft juicy fruits (all popular fruit except for apples fall into this category) that don't make whining noises when I try to eat them. It's beside the point that oranges, peaches, bananas, watermelon all taste better than apples, in my humble opinion.

Why did Eve choose to eat the apple? When she touched the hard, unyielding apple on the tree, how could she have not sensed that something was wrong? Instead, she picked it off the tree, gave half of it to the man she loved, and ate the other half. Dear God. Why couldn't she have stuck to her oranges and peaches?

I could go on and mention Snow White, but I'll refrain. It just escapes me why the apple has been exalted and glorified throughout history and still occupies a large chunk of everyday life. I brought an apple to work today, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't make myself take a bite out of that hard, rosy surface and hear the accompanying crunch.

Hello from DC

Yup...I've been working for a week again, and I actually have a project this year, which is a massive improvement over last. There's just something very nice about working in DC and on Independence Ave.

Everyone seems to be enjoying their jobs (Or at least living in gorgeous places). I'll definitely try to post more over the summer and let you all know how things are going.

Lots of love.

jump start

There's no better way to jump start a morning than getting frantic calls on my cell phone at 8:23AM. Panicked freshman proceeded to first call and leave a voice message at 8:15AM, then called again at 8:23AM. Apparently, his life was ending because he didn't know which sloan classes to bid for or what he should take next semester.

I'm almost never in a good mood and certainly never at such an obscenely early hour. However, I tried to be helpful and invited said panicked freshman over so he could pre-register for classes on his laptop while I provided ground support from mine. While his enthusiasm is endearing, he could spare a bit to find that the information is all online. Good grief. Clearly, the point is to get as many required classes out of the way as possible so we can move on to bigger and better classes in the future.

Maybe I never took my classes seriously enough to have a full-fledged panic attack (I only started having those this year). Maybe I was still in EECS at the time and therefore dead to the rest of the world. I just don't understand why registering for classes qualifies as a national emergency for some people. I also don't understand why he would assume that I was awake at 8AM, considering that the majority of people here go to sleep around 3 or 4AM. Oh well...I guess it's cute that I can help out, but please, please don't wake me up in the future.

L's birthday

Yay! What a fun Friday night, where there was just the right amount of people, food, alcohol, movies, and general happiness:) Congrats to L on her birthday...it was fun and special and probably one of the last celebrations before graduating from college.

I learned many invaluable lessons, like how to cook a wonderful swordfish in tomato sauce (complicated), and how to cook an absolutely scrumptious appetizer of mushrooms rolled in bacon (easy)... and took my first tequila shot (liked the salt, hated the tequila, liked the lemon). Something else including ~three glasses of wine, one rum and coke, and a Smirnoff's.

Along with all that, it was just plain fun having a good night with four absolutely wonderful girls whom I've known and admired and loved for four packed years. Cheers!

the meat market

It's strange how young Americans have fun nowadays...going clubbing. Granted, once young people begin working, it's difficult to meet people that aren't your co-workers. But clubbing exists solely to get ass. Any guy who tries to have a meaningful conversation in a club is beyond creepy and should be avoided at all costs. Clubbing is just an orgy of gratuitious groping and grinding. It's basically like making out with random strangers while standing up.

We went to the Avalon in Fenway, which is the largest club in Boston. There were lines and lines of people flooding out of the door. The dance floor is a crowded, sweaty pit with fake mist everywhere (not sure how the mist helps). Some people really did go to dance and danced pretty damn well. Some guys just migrate from girl group to group, trying to dance as many people as possible. Others stood in a ring on the edge of the floor, picked out specific girls in the crowd that they wanted to dance with, and went after them. Honestly, it's like prostitution except that everyone pays the cover fee.

As one of my friends mentioned, it's brutal but honest because there's no pretense. Just by being there, a girl's going to get treated like a piece of property and get hit on. It's understood. The strange thing is that it doesn't feel uncomfortable at the time but sure as hell feels wrong later. At a club, you can just leave your brain at home and just go with the flow...

stupid stupid people

It really annoys me when people drill outside of my room at 4AM in the morning and turn on bright searchlights. It's ok up to 2AM, but not ok at 4-5AM. I was really pissed off because I had an exam today and I slept 3 hours because people on my hall were procrastinating and building the stuff for the prefrosh today.

If I had moved to my dorm as a freshman, it would've been fine. I would build things and stay up 'till odd hours of the morning and socialize. Now, I don't think that way anymore and I wouldn't do many of the things that I would have four years ago.
Each hall has a different mentality and a different feel about it. My floor is fairly normal, no cats, few druggies, but a bent towards operating chainsaws and sledgehammers. 4W is the druggie floor, 3E and 5E are the scary floors with black and red tape over all of their lights. 2E and 5W are fairly normal, 4E and 3W are fairly normal, quiet, and dorky. I don't know anything about 1E and 1W but assume that they're not terribly weird.

When I moved onto the hall last year, I really wanted to live in a place where everyone on the hall talked to each other and had this bond. It never materialized. I have three really good friends on the hall, and two other friends that I talk to. Everyone else is nice, but I've never sat down with one of them and started talking. It's like I have nothing in common with them. People in this dorm are fairly open and original, but sometimes they're irresponsible and childish. It's something I wouldn't even have noticed freshman year. I don't think I'm the most responsible person in the world and I sure as hell make crappy decisions sometimes, but I try. Sometimes, that's all that matters.

classroom squabbles

Whenever I deal with Complex Variables, I always feel like there's a war going on. An insidious guerilla war. Here's the scoop: Prof. B is an extremely young professor (Early 30s) who's lecturing this class for the second time, and Prof. T is a not so young professor (Early 70s-80s) who teaches recitation and had previously been the lecturer for many semesters before B took over.

In the first recitation, T taught various little methods that B covered in his next lecture...and B was probably surprised as to why everyone looked bored...T is a master of the sly, teaching everything his own way and making occaisonal subtle remarks such as "This problem on the problem set was actually mine." B is not unaware and comments, "I had intended T to cover this in recitation, but I guess I'll go over it again." There's a not-so-subtle power struggle going on.

One problem is that neither one lectures particularly well. B has problems teaching such a low-level class, and has a tendency to mumble at the end of his sentences. He also apologizes incessantly and has frequent sign errors (not uncommon among math professors). It's this apparent lack of self-confidence on the outside that bothers me. Since he's a professor here, I fail to see on what grounds he could possibly lack self-confidence. Clearly, B is quite brilliant, but he's nervous and just not fun to listen to.

T speaks and gesticulates loudly, although he also has the tendency to speak too quickly. He is fond of doing arithematic on the board, and dumbing concepts down. He does get a point, because I don't fall asleep quite as often in his recitation as I do in lecture.

For young professors, they always feel like there's something to prove. Case in point: writing a retarded problem set that is pretty impossible to do. Older professors are sometimes too complacent, too sure of themselves, too stuck in their own way. Everything's a struggle. Between you and someone else. Between you and the problem set.

moodiness and roses

I'm not in the mood to study anymore for my 14.13 midterm tomorrow morning (~10 hours from now), and even less in the mood to start my 18.100A pset (due ~35 hours from now). It saddens me that spring break seems so far away (~37 hours from now).

The beginning of spring break will be spent finishing up part of my urop (the non-crazy, non-regular one) so I can get to the fun stuff (women entrepreneurs) the second half of term. I'll probably stay for a day or two in Rhode Island with my dad, then go down to DC for the rest of the week at my mom's with two of my other friends.

Washington DC is one of my favorite places. It's beautiful and sweltering in the summer, and I love going into all of the museums and strolling through Arlington national cemetary. I'm not into cemetaries in general, but Arlington is so beautiful and peaceful. Of course, there's also the dying for your country/heroism part that I'm a huge fan of.

Another thing that I love about the Smithsonian are the roses growing outside...I love pure white roses and deep red roses. They're so vibrant and absolute. In a world of no absolutes (except for the fact that I'm not dead, as Amy so generously pointed out to me), it's nice to see such beauty.

I also like irises because of their unique shape and impossible blueness. I realized that everyone loves blue because all shades of blue look wonderful, whereas there are so many shades of green that make you want to puke, despite the fact that certain shades of bright crystal green and deep green are stunningly gorgeous.

I've been to most of the good spots in DC already, but I definitely wouldn't mind seeing some of them again. I also want to explore Virginia. Shenandoah valley and Fredericksburg are on my list for the summer.

swords and spies

When I was seven years old, I wanted to be an American Plains Indian. There was something appealing about living in a teepee and shooting at buffalo with arrows, tanning buffalo hides, and smoking strips of meat.

At eleven, I wanted to be an F-15 fighter pilot and be chased by Russian MiGs (fed by a Top Gun obsession). A year later, I wanted to be a CIA agent and shoot at people. I always had these weird fantasies of being the best CIA agent in the world and being married to the second best CIA agent in the world. That would probably be awkward, considering that it would be weird to know exactly what your partner did every day but not to know anything at the same time. Also, I'm not sure that we would even be allowed to work together, considering how hard it is to juggle between two personas.

Years later, I became more management-oriented and decided that I would be the director of the CIA and my husband would be the director of the FBI. Rewind a few decades to when presidents and governments actually cared about other countries (and staged coups in other countries), the president had daily morning briefings with his top advisors, including the DCI (the most powerful person in intelligence at the time) and the director of the FBI. Those meetings would be "family time", because I have no doubt that we'd both be busy putting out fires and starting new ones the rest of the time. Obviously, we'd both meet in the FBI (because we're both workaholics), he'd be my boss, and I'd eventually transfer to the CIA and the fun and games would begin.

Of course, there are sound reasons why married people should not work together in intelligence, and there is a 0% probability that the DCI and director of the FBI would ever be married to each other. Of course, the marriage would collapse and it would be hard if the FBI ever needed information from the CIA and vice versa and...

If I were to ever join the FBI or CIA or some other intelligence agency (which I won't), I would want to be in ops (stupid risk-seeking side talking). It's not glamorous and is downright drudge and danger, but better than pushing paperwork all the time (as opposed to 90% of the time). The problem is that I have too much empathy for people. I wonder if I would have the balls to really do things and not regret them later. Ah well, it's a good thought experiment.

the lost art of intuition

It's funny how some people seem to gain more intuition as they get older, and others bury what intuition they have under miles and miles of rubble. There are always two dilemmas: should one think from the head or from the heart? And should one act from the head or from the heart? The great thing about watching most little kids is that the second between thought and action is almost instantaneous. It's later in life that we tend to think too much and act too little, or vice versa.

There are always so many expectations to deal with. Expectations of who you think you ought to be. Expectations of who others think you ought to be. It's true that some people ignore this and just do their own thing. It's also true that many other people lose the real 'I' or cover it under layers of self-doubt and extreme risk-aversion. In some way, we all want to go back into our childhoods because we were so carefree and blindly happy. Converesly, we're also pulled in the other direction to make something of ourselves, to posess wisdom and sophistication.

Change is difficult, and I'm not sure that change is good. Is it right to force yourself to be someone who you think you should be, especially if you think there are parts of the original you is flawed? Or is that just tampering with cogs in a machine that rotates perfectly naturally without a helping hand? If we just leave it alone and go with the flow, are we going to be happier and better off? Or are we just going to be bums lying on the sidewalk under cardboard boxes?

We (Most of us) want to be better people and better at what we do. But if all we do is make small steps in improving things and everything is relative, then what's the point? Am I ever going to have a moment where I feel completely satisfied with who I am and what I've accomplished? Am I going to suddenly feel the piece that controls every other piece click into place? Or am I just going to keep on asking questions my entire life? That's not entirely a bad thing, but am I ever going to be satisfied?

my non-fantasy

I'm sitting at my desk running regressions on my laptop. My dream man throws open the door, rushes in, tears the laptop away from my hands and declares, "Honey, you can finish those regressions later." I swoon while he throws me on my bed...

No, I'm kidding. It's almost impossible to get into my dorm. First, he has to get through the main door, then through the locked door on my hall. Finally, my door is almost always locked, so he'd probably have to knock (In the unlikely event that he got to my door in the first place), in which case, I'd have to get up and open the door, thus making it impossible for me to be sitting at my laptop...

Actually, I'd settle for a cup of tea and a pastry at ABP.

my true love

My true love is doing psets...no, seriously, my true love is au bon pan. I spend approximately half of my waking hours at abp, working/sipping an iced peach lemonade/munching on a shortbread cookie/slurping broccoli-cheddar soup/gulping down a cobb salad wrap/talking/motioning frantically/giggling...it's my home.

It's wonderful because abp is at the border of campus and off-campus. The music is eclectic, and it's a cozy place where Amy and I spend a lot of time chatting. Amy, Julia, Tom, and I had lunch there today.

Julia and Amy looking cute for the camera.

Tom, Julia, and I smiling slightly for the camera.

*************
Tom: I'm not your TA anymore and I will never teach you again.

Amy: Mimi wants septuplets.
Mimi: Grrrrrrrr.
Tom: You could have blue-eyed, genetically engineered septuplets.

Amy: I see that all men at MIT have lost touch with their razors.
Tom: -------------

Julia: So can you do something bad in one state in the US that isn't a crime in another state?
Mimi: Yes, but you go on trial in the state that you committed the crime in.
Julia: Interesting.
Amy: Most states have capital punishment, but some don't.
*Pause*
Mimi: I'm scared now.

Mimi: Just because I'm vertically challenged doesn't mean that I wear stilettos...
*Amy stares at her very stilettoed feet*
Tom: Stilettos...like that whole dominatrix thing.
Amy, Julia, Mimi: -------

Mimi: When I go away on break, I use an automated fish feeder that lasts about two weeks...
Tom: I can see Mimi's kids with an automated feeder.

Julia: What animal would you be?
Amy, Mimi, Tom: ---------
Julia: What? Have you never heard of this before?

Tom: I'd be a 3-toed sloth, fumbling to climb up a tree, then falling to the ground when I got somwhere, and then getting up and climbing again...
Amy: A sheep dog.
Julia: A bear and a hummingbird. A bear for when someone interrupts me from hibernating and I become exceedingly grumpy.
Mimi: Um...I'd like to be a tiger.

Tom: A tiger and an electric cage...are you saying I should go for aggressive women?

Tom: So how's my roommate as a TA?
Julia: She's great, very organized.
*pause*
Julia: I didn't mean it that way!
Amy: I'll bet she can draw straight lines as well!
Tom: That's just hitting below the belt.

Tom: Why is everyone picking on me?
Mimi: I'm just naturally like this.

Mimi: I would slap you, but I don't know you well enough.
Tom: So I have a free one-day pass to make fun of you?
Mimi:-----------

The Classic:
Mimi: If grad school doesn't work out for you, you could always be a surgeon or something.
*Tom holds out shaking hand*
Tom: I'd make everyone look like Harry Potter.
**************

the unbearable asianness of being

Melodrama aside, I guess it's not that terrible to be Asian, despite the unbecoming title of this post. On Chinese New Year's (a month ago), my parents and I went out to dinner with about ten other families = 40 people = >10 children = 4 tables at an Asian restaurant. I distinctly remember that there was a time when we'd all pile into someone's huge house, and the unfortunate hosts would cook the entire dinner. Now, eight years later and much lazier, we all pile into cars and vans and head towards Happy Garden or Lucky Star or something like that.

It's strange to me that we would go to a Chinese restaurant, considering how horrible the food usually tastes. However, it's not so strange once I realize that besides my dad and I, no one else likes American/Italian/other non-Asian types of food. We get to the restaurant late, and I get the dubious honor of sitting at the table with the grown-ups. Everyone ooooohs and aaaaahs over me while I smile politely and fleetingly wish that I hadn't come home this weekend or that my parents didn't feel the need to be social once a year.

When I was little, I would remember that all the little kids formed a little clump, our parents sat in a separate group, and the parents' parents would be in yet another group. As I got older, I wondered when I could join the big people's table (the parental table). First, it seemed obvious that I needed to have at least one kid, then I could happily join the adults. Then, I realized that when I had kids, my parents would migrate to the grandparents' table, so that was futile. Alternating layers of water and oil.

The kids aren't as loud as I thought they'd be, probably because they're all four years older than when I saw them last. The little boys 'share' a nintendo game, and the teenage Asian girls troop in late, having been at the shopping mall. I continue sitting with the adults. Meanwhile, my mother pokes me and tells me to pour the tea, because I'm at least twenty years younger than everyone else sitting at the table. I go around and everyone mentions how responsible, wonderful, etc. I am.

A young couple whom I don't recognize come in with a young baby girl in their arms. The set of grandparents at my table (I think I know who they belong to) immediately go into predatory mode and swarm over the young mother and hold her baby until the poor thing starts crying. They sit down again, and I can't helping that this must be the best day of the year for them. Everyone comes over to our table to greet them and shake their hands. If nothing else, we are very polite to those much older and much younger than us. All the attention is split between the children and the grandparents. I'll refrain from commenting on this system.

After dinner, we head over to a religious center at Brown to sing karoake. All the little kids go off and play tag. Honestly, I don't know whether to join them or the adults. I decide to join the adults. I wander around and talk to a few people, then eat persimmons and clementines for the rest of the time. Although I don't blend in seamlessly, I don't feel completely out of place. It's that awkward feeling of not being a child anymore but not exactly feeling comfortable in my adult skin, either.

The men play Chinese poker and listen to the women sing karoake. A few of the more adventurous/americanized women attempt ballroom dancing to non-dance music. I look around and realize that they're limited to the waltz. There is one American guy there. He's dating (married?) a Chinese woman that everyone sort of knows. He doesn't look uncomfortable, which I would be had I been in his place. To his credit, he learns Chinese poker very quickly and is soon beating all of the men at his table.

I practice my horrible Chinese with a woman who wants to know how her son can get into a good university. She's not nearly as strict as lots of parents I've met, and I try to give her some advice, emphasizing extra-curricular activities and steering away from academics. She's pleasant and listens to me intently. My mom sits down next to me during a breaking in singing, and I tell her that I want to go run around with the little kids. She tells me to go ahead, bur I wisely decide to remain sitting.

At the end of the night, my parents and I drive home and I'm exhilarated at being included in the adult world, if only for a few hours. Honestly, being Asian isn't too bad.

my eclectic room

This is a slice of a beautiful corner from my retro teal/white heaven. Right angles are boring...but diagonals are fun. My fish tank is actually in my closet (Yes, there is a huge hole in the wall where the fish tank fits). The story is that the inhabitant of my room was extremely trashed a few years ago and knocked off a part of a chunk of the wall with a sledgehammer. For aesthetic and safety purposes, there's now a fish tank there.

I have a molly, two gold dusts, and one non-functional algae eater. I did have a swordtail and a huge Japanese goldfish, but they succumbed to old age. Only guys have lived in this room before me. Apparently the fish are good for luring girls into the room (like that'll help me), who swoon over the cuteness of a sensitive man taking care of fish.

amsterdam encore

What most of Amsterdam's streets look like. Amsterdam is composed of 100 small islands.

The street where the Anne Frank house is located. The graffiti is courtesy of Neo-nazis who believe that Anne Frank and the concentration camps never existed.

The Anne Frank house is the second building on the right.


Anne Frank: Transported to Auschwitz on September 3, 1944. Died at Bergen-Belsen in March of 1945.

The central square in Amsterdam. The royal palace is on the left.



Tulips...what is Amsterdam without them?
Rembrandt: Along with Van Gogh, one of Amsterdam's gifts to fine art.
Dutch soldiers: Also at Rembrandtplein.

Amsterdam

How I spent Tuesday-Friday of this week: Touring the wonders of Amsterdam and interviewing for Optiver.

slices of pie

I was talking with one of my friends yesterday at 2AM in the morning (what normal person wouldn't be holding deep conversations at 2AM?), and she compared an individual's social network and personal connections to a pie. Her pie seemed to be divided into fewer slices since she doesn't have close family except for her parents and a few good friends. For those of us that are fortunate or unfortunate enough to give everyone large slices of our pie, each connection and each person seems more important. For people with extended families and large groups of friends, there are so many slices to keep track of and each person gets a smaller slice...

But then again, it's not like everyone's pie is the same size to begin with, and not everyone belongs on the same pie. Personally, I like pumpkin pie. Apple pie is also good, but sometimes too sweet. Chicken pies are good too and fantastically easy to make. The only downside is that the chicken pies I make are very heavy (maybe I need to go lighter on the flour). Mince pies annoy me, but cheesecake...mmmmmmmm. Or ice cream...cookie dough, or especially Hagen Daas's Dulce de Leche. Or Toscanini's...If it weren't 2AM in the morning, I'd go get myself a scoop of mango. Never mind that the temperature outside is probably a good twenty degrees lower than the actual ice cream itself. It's never the wrong season for ice cream, nor is ice cream ever too sweet.

much ado about nothing...

Stupid 18.04 pset. I couldn't do it on tuesday, and I still couldn't do it today. Go figure. Why is it that 18.04 is harder than 18.100A? At least I could get through 80% of my 18.100A pset. But 18.04 is just about stupid imaginary numbers. It's 1AM, and I don't anticipate getting more done in the next 11 hours.

There's just so much to learn...so much insanity. Looking forward to a weekend of work, UROP, and interview preparation. Wheeeeeee.

work work work

So...I've been doing my UROP for four days straight. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. I've been running regressions and creating Excel tables all of Saturday and Sunday and part of the time on Monday and Tuesday. My UROP supervisor is on sabbatical, but doing research at Stanford University (how does that work?). I'm convinced that she sits in front of her computer 24/7, becuase she responds to my emails instantly. That might be a good thing, because she's keeping me on my toes. I also sit with my eyes glued to the computer screen. Seriously, my butt hurts from sitting so much.

As a woman in academia (or in lots of fields), I guess you need to be a hardass (note for future reference). Or, as one of my friends put it, it's a self-selection process. It's hard to get to the top and there are just so many sacrifices that you have to make to get there. Allowing yourself to feel or regret or doubt makes it all the harder, which is why the women in academia seem tougher than men. Moreover, there's always the issue of sexism, which I desperately hate and don't see the point of discussing. Women in academia are seen as more extreme because they move further away from the perceived average. I wonder what brought this on?

Roses are red, violets are blue...

The following is courtesy of a friend/fellow humorist:

Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.

But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

I thought that I could love no other

Until, that is, I met your brother.

Kind, intelligent, loving and hot

This describes everything you are not.

I want to feel your sweet embrace

But don't take that paper bag off of your face.

I love your smile, your face, and your eyes

Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:

Marrying you screwed up my life.

I see your face when I am dreaming.

That's why I always wake up screaming.

My love, you take my breath away.

What have you stepped in to smell this way?

My feelings for you no words can tell

Except for maybe "Go To Hell".

What inspired this amorous rhyme?

Two parts vodka, one part lime.

For all of you young lovers out there, I'm not bashing Valentine's Day. I just thought some of these rhymes were clever/cute.

ihtfp

And so it is...my last semester at this place. I spent the first week shuffling and reshuffling classes. I dropped Developmental Economics and Intro to Java and kept Economics and Psychology, Complex Variables, Analysis I, and Options, Futures, and other Derviatives. I'm also thinking about adding an advanced graduate class in corporate finance. I've also started on two UROPS. I should also look for jobs in case I don't get into any graduate schools (Unlikely, but who knows).

I'm not sure what I feel about these last 3.5 years. Some part of me wants to go back in time. Another part of me just wants it to be over. I just wonder who I'm going to be in 5, 10, 15, 20 years and whether I'd be any different if I hadn't been here for these last few years. Who knows. Let me live to the best of my ability and keep my head above the waves.

v.v. belated birthday pictures

Thank you Yun for the lovely pics!

The duel of P&Ps

If you're wondering if I spend all my days in front of a tv screen and munching on popcorn and pretzels, I can tell you plainly that it's not the case. I'm just behind on quite a few posts, so...

I finally watched the BBC miniseries of P&P with two friends of mine. The running time was 5.5 hours. Seriously, it was a piece of cake. As an ardent fan of Pride and Prejudice (along with ~50M other females in the US and probably over ~1B other females throughout the world), I wasn't disappointed. The BBC version was extremely faithful to the book, down to the ugly empire-waisted gowns that made every girl pregnant regardless of her age.

Colin Firth was an admirable Darcy...I felt his transition from jackass to moderately pleasing to adorable most strongly. Futrhermore, Jennifer Ehle played Elizabeth extremely well, managing to smile and be sarcastic at the same time. She was quite lovely and didn't look quite as pregnant as her sister Jane.

The acting was extremely good, and the movie, although not lavish, conveyed Austen's sentiments well. After I saw this version of P&P, I immediately realized where 80% of the material came from. I am convinced that the producer and director of the recent P&P sat the crew and cast down in a darkened theater and made them watch the BBC version at least ten times each.

Keira Knightly probably had to watch the BBC version at least twenty times. Her mannerisms and way of speaking imitated Ehle's Lizzy extremely closely. Or maybe it's a British thing. The current P&P has gorgeous scenery and is a more dramatic version of Austen's novel. I really enjoyed this movie as well as the BBC series.

Matthew Macfadyen was wonderful as Darcy. He and Keira Knightly had so much more passion than Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle (The only complaint of the BBC version). He's so gloomy and passionate and dark and moody...except for the last few scenes, where the whole thing dissolves into a puddle of sappiness. The last scene (US version) was positively vile in its sappiness.

On the whole, I loved the BBC version, adored the current version, and am still deeply in love with the paper version.

24 Part II

Hmmm...I guess I can be described as a critical person. It seems irrational for me to actually invest 18+ hours to watch a show (not to mention recovery time) that I'm critical of. Don't get me wrong, 24 is the best TV show that I've seen to date, and it is vastly superior in its ingenuity than anything else to date (Lost comes in at a distant second). Unlike Lost, 24 is self-contained within a single season and is significantly less convoluted. It's also a long action movie that doesn't pretend to be anything else.

The second season bothered me a bit because the cast and the writers became infected with a mild strain of that insiduous bug known as self-importance. Nuclear weapon threatening the lives of over 2 million Americans? Check. A president threatened to be impeached? Check. Starting a potential war against Middle Eastern countries suspected of harboring terrorists? Check. I wonder if the Bush administration watches TV? The writers are quite clairvoyant, considering that the second season aired in 2002.

I appreciate the importance of all the issues that are brought up in the show, but it was too heavy on politics and too light on Jack Bauer. The man can act and rightfully should be at the center of 24. As to all the critics about Kim and the cougar and Kim and the boxes and on and on...It wasn't clear to me that Kim was more stupid than she was in the first season. On the contrary, she seemed stronger. The problem was that her storyline wasn't connected to the main plot. When a nuclear weapon is set to denotate, the trials of a girl in the wild might just be a bit trivial.

Nevertheless, the acting ranged from decent to good, and the story was much better paced than last season. This season was more solid than last season and retained the quality of acting for the most part and the constant surprises that makes 24 tick.

more 24 goodness

Yayness! I devoured the second season of 24 last Sunday/Monday. ETA: 18.5 hours. 12:00PM-6:30AM. This little show has definitely replaced an entire class of TV shows to become my new obsession.

Season 1 was better than season 2. However, I have to admit that I'm far from being an unbiased observer. Considering that I had never seen anything like 24 before and I didn't know what to expect, the first season was a really good surprise. For season 2, the characters were already known, and I was expecting the unexpected (To be fair, I already knew some of the plot lines as well).

Compared to season 1, season 2 was definitely more polished. Whereas season 1 started out with a bang and lost some momentum halfway through, season 2 started out with a slow burn and slowly worked its way up to the climax (Or several climaxes, as is the usual fare of 24).

Once again, Kiefer Sutherland carries the entire show through his dramatic persona of Jack Bauer. The rest of the acting is still above par, with David Palmer reprising his stoic, moral compass-like guiding role, this time as the president of the United States. Kim Bauer continues to get herself into impossible situations, though really growing in maturity (and balls) in the last episode. Sherry Palmer was better this time around. Instead of the one-dimensional bitch that she was in season 1, she shows some small amount of empathy and good-will in season 2.

Nina Myers also returns in this season, and I am of the firm opinion that this woman needs more screen time. She has amazing chemistry with Jack Bauer (especially in the interrogation scene where she collapses). Paula and Michelle Dessler are nice, but extremely bland when compared to Nina. The other development I liked were those in George Mason's character. The comic relief that he provided with a dry wit was precious, as well as his exit.

The Warners were relatively weak, with Kate doing an average job (just compare Kate Warner and Nina Myers) and Marie trying especially hard. However, Marie was just too instable and weak for the audience to believe that she was really a dangerous terrorist. Furthermore, I don't understand the obsession over Tony Almeida. Although he's easy on the eyes, Tony is about as interesting as the metal tables positioned in CTU's interrogation rooms.

The second season of 24 focused more on government politics than Jack's personal struggle to rescue his family. I didn't enjoy this shift as much, although I recognize that it would be stupid for Kim to get kidnapped again and again. There were more episodes in season 2 that were weaker than the episodes in season 1. Granted that some of the melodrama in season 1 was absolutely ridiculous, season 2 seemed relatively flat by comparison.

There were some golden moments in this season. Scenes that come to mind are all of Jack's scenes with Nina, Jack piloting the plane, and Jack instructing Kim how to shoot the gun in self-defense. It would've been more enjoyable if there had been more of these moments.