More work, and then flowers

Still at work around 2030, working on those stupid calculations. Went over them with my boss, who suggested a completely new and INCORRECT way to do calcs. Of course, I was so afraid of her yelling at me (her, er, moodiness is notorious) that all I could do was nod and smile. When she left and I double-checked her work, I said to myself "WTF?! This makes no sense!"

Tomorrow I'll have to show her the correct way, after which she'll be like, "Ummm why didn't you tell me this yesterday during the HOUR that I was doing them incorrectly in front of you?"

To which I'll reply,
"Because I'm SCARED of you. You FRIGHTEN me. I have this BAD habit of just wanting to get away from your room whenever we dicuss calculations. Because you have a New Yorker way of talking so fast that I, already encumbered by my nervousness, start drawing a blank slate and blubbering whenever you start peering over your glasses and ask me a hail of questions. Because at the same time I ADMIRE you and want you to think you made a good investment in me! So I just nod and smile like an idiot and waste your time and forget to pay attention to anything while you do things incorrectly."

Of course, this entire speech will be entirely in my head.

*Sigh*

On a happy note, I went down to the Farmer's Market and took some pics. I snuck the company camera out and quickly downloaded the pics when I got back. Hehe I am soooooo sneaky.

This pic was funny. There were LIVE animals at the market (besides the requisite and annoying squirrels, pigeons, and rats). Two sheep! They were there for some promotion of one of the veggie stalls. Those poor things were huddled in the corner the whole time, probably traumitized by lack of grass and all the big grey structures blocking the sky. People were crowding around it and were like, "oooh! can i touch it?!" I was like, "Good Lord, these are SHEEP, people! Stupid old sheep." Nonetheless, I still took a pic=)

.

.

.

See the pple crowding around? Haha.

.

.

.

I never said I was a good photographer. But here is a bad pic of pple staring at flowers. I don't know why I took this. I was trying to take photos as quickly as possible, since I used to get dirty looks taking pics of pple, and I was reeeeeally stretching my lunch break.

.

.

.

Again. Not sure why I took this. I guess I liked seeing flowers amidst the parade of gray. People were buying them left and right, but I'm not really a flower girl so I passed.

Ahhh spring weather. Finally.

Dirty Nerd

Tired again, because I've been holding off on showing my boss a set of calculations at work. Trying to avoid someone the WHOLE day can be tiring. Keeping an ear out for clickety heels headed towards my cubicle, turning my third eye towards the back of my head, thinking of other things to talk about to avoid reminding boss of said set of calculations. Tiring. Ahhh, tomorrow will be judgement day.

Today I had a hilarious conversation. For those of you who don't remember your physics:
F= force
m= mass
a= acceleration
v= velocity
p= momentum

If you still don't know what I'm talking about, the rest of this won't make much sense. For the rest of us, hehe.

Bwoy: hello

me: vats up yaar

Bwoy: i'm fucking tired

me: awwww
r u done for today?

Bwoy: hell no
i kinda want to take a nap
but i think that may be dangerous

me: hmm ya
i think not
don't lose the momentum
p=mv

Bwoy: well, problem is
v = 0

me: awwww no
should i provide some a?
haha

Bwoy: ass
hell yeah

me: no! "a" as in acceleration!

Bwoy: provide some "a"
and you'll get some F
F = ma

me: EWWWW
haha


I love being a nerd. A dirty one.

Getting almost run over

Woah. I'm tired. It's been a long day. I don't know why this blog always posts the wrong time. It's actually 9 at night. I'm so pooped that I've plopped in front of the TV and am watching Seventh Heaven. Yes, that show. I'm so tired, I can't look for the remote (or go upto the TV) to change the damn channel. I'm watching Seventh Heaven. Why is this show still on? Although I must admit, that curly-haired girl is pretty cute. Right now she is talking to her stupid twin brothers about why they went through her stuff. Her twin brothers are supposed to be around 7 or 8 but they sound like they're 2. I can barely understand what they're saying. Wow, I'm hating on 7-yr-old actors. That's how tired I am. I can't think of anything to hate on except what's directly in front of me. Then again, these 7-yr old twins (who by the way look NOTHING alike and sadly are supposed to play identical twins- I guess the show expects us to be as idiotic as them) make more money than I do. Isn't that sad? After 4 yrs at a prestigious top school, after 4 yrs at a nerdy magnet school, after many yrs of training my brain to think as efficiently as possible, being the only girl on math team, at science fairs, etc., 7 yr olds who recite lines as stiffly as wooden pencils and manage to even sound retarded (pardon the French) make more money than me. Welcome to Earth.

This is my story for today: Today I tried an experiment with a friend of mine. I love this friend to death, but she has an annoying habit of standing a bit to close to me. I mean, she stands REALLY close to me. Like her arm-touching-my-arm close. Sometimes I'll be talking to someone and she'll come behind me and join in the conversation. That's fine, but must she attach herself to me like a freaking leech? When speaking to her, I often have to slowly lean backwards so that I can actually see her face. Today I decided not to be discreet.

We were standing at a crosswalk and having a nice conversation. Unfortunately this lovely conversation was only a few uncomfortable milimeters apart. I mean, our arms were touching. Sacrilege.

So I took a step backwards. She continued talking, and took a step forward. I took another step backwards. Without missing a beat and still talking about her boyfriend, she took a step towards me. I took another step backwards and she took another step forward. It was like a mini tango. This weird little dance went on until I was way beyond the cross walk and in the freaking street and then almost got run over by an angry truck driver!!! That's the only reason why I stopped moving backwards. The threat of DEATH. That's how much I value my personal space. And through it all, she never noticed a thing.

Anyway, as you can see, the experiment was a miserable failure. I suppose I'll have to live with the fact that she's a "close talker" and I'm a paranoid New Yorker. Welcome to Earth. =)

Riding cabs in the rain

There's nothing like taking cabs in the rain. I like it when it rains; it's calming, soothing, and feels nice on the face. Plus it gives me a good excuse to snuggle up inside with a good book or a good DVD or just a good pair of PJs to nap in.

Today I rode a cab from Bwoy's place to mine. I like to stare out, snug and dry, at the wet cars, wet buildings, wet people. The city runs by the windows and the rain gives it a steady beat. Sometimes when I ride cabs, I chat with the drivers. We talk about movies, how my parents came to this country, etc. Sometimes we start talking but then the talking ceases as we get lost in our own words and thoughts. They are usually the ones who start the banter, and I just try to keep up. Bwoy tells me I leave way too much tip, but the way I see it, they put up with enough obnoxious passengers in a new country; why not help a brother out.

This morning I was the driver's first passenger of the day. Rain came down in sheets today and I ran from the apartment building to the cab. The ride was smooth and quiet, just the way I like it.

Why I love Eduardo Galeano, Part I

Eduardo Galeano was born in Uruguay in 1940. He is a writer who sometimes writes his books in a combination of poetry, fiction, autobiography, history, fantasy and political commentary. The result is a conglomerate of these categories in one book. For someone with a short attention span like myself, it is TONS of fun to read him and keep jumping from short blurb to short poem to short blurb and so forth; plus some his stuff doesn't make sense, just like my brain.

I got into Galeano through a friend of mine who was reading it. We went out to dinner in Queens, and went she went to the bathroom she pushed the book towards me since there was a line to the bathroom; it was a better alternative to me staring into space or calling someone on my cell while she left me. I started reading it and got hooked.

I was reading Galeano last night before bed, and then fell asleep to it. I had the CRAZIEST dream afterwards with bits and pieces of my reading in it! It was one of those dreams where your alarm clock rings and you keep hitting snooze because damn it, you wanna finish up that crazy dream and see how it ends. And then your backup alarm clock starts ringing and you get up, turn the damn thing off, and like a zombie head back to bed trying to remember the last thing you dreamt to get back into the dreaming groove. Yeah....

I got a little late to work as a result this morning. Hmmmm, maybe I'll see if I can re-dream it today if I read the same exact things I read last night! Okay, that sounds like a stupid idea.

Anyway, here are 3 pieces on random stuff. That's how cool he is. Any topic, and he'll have written something on it. Plus the fact that his shit is translated from Spanish to English and is STILL so much fun for me to read it. Gives me incentive to brush up on my Spanish...


Indians

On Vancouver Island, Ruth Benedict tells us, the Indians staged tournaments to measure the greatness of their princes. The rivals competed by destroying their belongings. They threw their canoes, fish oil, and salmon eggs on the fire, and from a high promontory, hurled their cloaks and pots into the sea.
Whoever got rid of everything, won.


The Land of Dreams

It was huge camp out in the country. Singing heads of lettuce and lumnious chilies sprouted from magicians' top hats and there were people all over bartering dreams. One wanted to trade a travel dream for a love dream and another offered a dream to make you laugh for a dream to give you a good cry. One man wandered around in search of the pieces of his dream, shattered by someone who had got in his way. He was picking up the pieces and sticking them together to make a multicolored flag. The dream water boy brought water to those who got thirsty as they slept. He carried the water on his back in a clay vessel and dispensed it in tall glasses. There was a woman in a tower wearing a white tunic and combing her tresses, which reached down to her feet. The comb shed dreams replete with all their characters: the dreams flew from her hair into the air.


The Night

I can't sleep. There is a woman stuck between my eyelids. I would tell her to get out if I could. But there is a woman stuck in my throat.



There's more and better stuff, but that's for another day.

Allergic to NYC

The other day I picked up the local Metro newspaper (the ones people give out for free before you hit the subway) on my way to work, and I saw a headline that said something to the effect of, "New York is Worst for Allergies."

So NYC is one of the worst cities for allergies. Hmmm, I did not need a newspaper article to tell me that. My own personal experience points to that- growing up in NYC, I had a few asthma attacks. Then I moved to another city for college, and pronto! ashtma disappears. Then I move BACK to nyc and hello! asthma returns. The last two years I've been in this dirty crazy city I've had three asthma attacks! Now I know that is not as bad as some of my friends have it but it's still tough when each time I forgot to bring my inhaler. I had a slight attack last night when I went running; I kept wondering why I was so out of breath. Now I can blame it on the asthma and not the fact that I am out of shape=)

I went to another meeting today and chatted a bit with a colleague. She just recently graduated from college and told me that she, too, has had bad reactions ever since she moved to the city. She went to have an allergy patch test the other day and the poor girl is really feeling it. Apparently, you can't bathe for 3 days when you have the patch! Supposedly it itches like a mother. Since she had the patch on her back, she kept surreptitiously rubbing herself against the chair, or wriggling in her shirt (which only made it worse) at the conference table. I love the girl to death, but she did look funny=)

Voila. Here is the evidence. Apparently, nyc jumped from 88 to 11 in terms of worst cities with spring allergies!

Oh, and this study. How sad. I saw this on the nyc dept of health website.

Some choice quotes:
- "...the hospitalization rate was... down 38% since 1995... despite this decline, this rate is twice the national rate...."

and, a disturbing observation,

- "....Persons living in low income neighborhoods were hospitalized for asthma at more than 3 times the rate as people in the most affluent neighborhoods..."

*Sigh*
Guess I have to go find an inhaler now...

Random Conversation at Work

I had a weird conversation with a janitor today. I had to go to a meeting in a building downtown- a building I usually go to monthly. Sometimes I run into the janitor who thought I was Puerto Rican (I once had an entire convo in Spanish with him; I realized all I needed to do was nod, raise my eyebrows, and make grunting noises). I eventually told him what I really was (once he caught onto my poor Spanish), but I guess he mistook what I said and now thinks I'm "indio," i.e. Native American.

Anyway we were talking about prices of the condos in the building (millions of dollars apparently, not surprising in nyc) when he said something which I didn't hear.
"What?" I said.
"I don't like yous," he said.

Woah, I thought, isn't that sort of a bad thing?

But then he started talking about Germans and I realized he had ACTUALLY said, "I don't like Jews." *gasp* I guess I couldn't understand some of what he said because of his thick Puerto Rican accent. Anyways then he started saying other things, like..

"Y(j)ou know the Germans? They killed millions of Jews.... Millions!" he said.
I nodded and gave a very troubled face. I opened my mouth to say how unfortunate this was, when he spoke before me...
"But they [the Jews] are not finished yet!" he said excitedly, shaking his head.
My jaw dropped (mentally).
"If they ever come to my country, I'm going to kick them out!" he cried.

Anyways then he proceeded to assure me that I could kick them out too, since I was "Indio" and basically almost Puerto Rican.

Oy vey.

Reminds me of the time the same said janitor tried to convince me that Bush is a Jew. Now, Bush can be many things, but I think he's make it clear that he's less of a Jew and more of an evangelical. Of that I'm sure.

I have a lot of funny conversations with random people I meet at my job. Like Chuck, the big Irish guy on the west side. I met Chuck at a site that I was overseeing. He liked to talk to me and the other guys about how women keep their men on leashes. His Own Woman. His Own Woman, he said, was a fiery one who kept him on a leash but she had good qualities to make up for it- like her independence, and her ability to make a mean meatloaf. Haha. He was a funny one. He also liked to talk about how he would feel about a woman boss. He would ponder what he'd do if he had to get ahead by pleasing her in a, let's say manly, way. After some deliberation, Chuck concluded, "Hey! You gotta do what you gotta do to get ahead, huh? Yeah, I'd do her, depending on how hot she is" *Sigh* Men never change. I have no idea why he would talk to me about these things; I was overseeing other pple! But I mostly laughed.

That was the extent of this blog. A crazy conversation with a crazy janitor. And Chuck the Entertainer.

***************************

Okay, last one! I swear!

What's Your Porn Star Name? Your Porn Star Name Is...

Nurse Naughty

Funny. I HAVE been a naughty nurse in the past ;)

Online Quiz Addiction

Normally I think online quizzes are dumb and girls put too much stock into actually BELIEVING them. But with quizzes as adorable as these... awww, come on now. So I wasted time checking out this little website... it's so fun and SHORT! The quizzes are ubereasy to do.

What Goddess Are You? You Are Artemis!

Brave, and a natural born leader. You're willing to fight for what you believe in... And willing to make tough decisions. Don't forget - the people around you have ideas too!

Hmmm. SOOOO not true. Better luck next time?


Let's see.....

What Superheroine Are You? You Are Trinity

"Touch me and that hand will never touch anything again."

Hehe. I dig Trinity, although not necessarily the Matrix movies she was in...


Besides being a superheroine and goddess, I'd like to see what kind of bikini I am. Hehe. Just saying that aloud makes me crack up.

What Kind of Bikini Are You? You Are a Boy Shorts Bikini!

You're a sexy girl, but you don't have to let everything hang out to prove it.

Hey! I have those!


Okay, for my love life:

What Kind of Girlfriend Are You? You Are A Professional Girlfriend!

You are the perfect girlfriend - big surprise! Heaven knows you've had enough practice. That's why you're a total pro. If there was an Emily Post of girlfriends, it would be you. You know how to act in every situation ... to make both you and your guy happy.

Okay, that is hella funny. HAHAHA! please. =P

Fake Foodies

Friday night I ate with my favorite person in the world- Bwoy. We went to a hole in the wall place nearby, populated by cabdrivers and uncles from the motherland.

So this hole in the wall place. It was funny to go there, and see all the non-brown pple come in confused. I think a lot of people come in expecting a chic, posh, tabla-music-playing-in-the-background place where everyone speaks English and they can get their chicken tikka masala. Instead, they see a tiny, bustling single room with a TV playing Pakistani satellite television, lots of kebobs stacked like enticing dollar bills behind the counter, uncles scarfing down biryani rice, and "waiters" (if you can call them that) shouting at each other in Urdu over the television set.

Anyway, based on my observations, I've very un-PC-like characterized the non-brownies into two groups: the Scared Ones, and the Brave Ones.


The Scared Ones:

The Scared Ones come in. I think they wandered in by accident. They- the women especially- look startled at all the din and testosterone around- they squint at the faded menu above the bustling counter, circumvent the tiny space with wide eyes, and whisper among themselves. A few go to the counter hesitantly, asking a million questions to the sweating brisk owner behind the counter. Eventually they motion to the owner that they're going to keep deciding (among the 5 things on the menu!), retreat to a dusty corner, whisper again, and eventually slink away without ordering any of the yummy food. Some of them didn't even get to the counter!

The Brave Ones: The Brave Ones, however, took a different route. They too looked around with apprehension at first (dude, where are we??), but then the glow in their eyes went from worry to excitement- especially when they started staring, fascinated, at the Pakistani satellite TV. They ordered food, asked a million questions (out of curiousity not fear), smiled at the owner who grudgingly smiles back, sat down cheerfully at the dilapidated tables, gobbled their yummy food like the rest of the customers, and in general embraced the situation. I LOVE the Braves Ones. They're mad cool.

.

.

.

.

I've done it too (many times =P) :

I like to think that when I go into a random place of a culture I have no idea about, I try to be brave too. It can be scary, I can look foolish ... like the time I kept ordering bibimbap at a Korean place, but for months kept pronouncing it "Beep-Beep-(pause)-Pop." hehe.

*Oh Beep-Beep-(pause)-Pop, how I love you! *

I mentioned the place once to a coworker of mine (Miss Prissy- the one who's getting an office) and she wrinkled her nose and said it looked "sketchy." Ahhh, Miss Prissy. Miss Prissy who claims she loves ethnic food and likes to say things like, "There's this great place with good bibimbap nearby..." and likes to drop names of all kinds of food she has eaten. For someone who pretends to be so liberal when it comes to food, she is pretty classist when it comes to who is making it.

That's the problem with some people, even in this great multi-ethnic city. They're not racist, but they can be pretty classist. *In my mind, those two are pretty close. *

My first yoga class

Yoga is something I have been wanting to try for some time. What prompted me to finally get off my lazy ass and actually try it was a combination of one of my closest friends' getting into yoga, and another friend talking to me about it. It's funny how much your friends can really influence you.

So I finally signed up for some dirt-cheap intro yoga classes near me. Yesterday was my first class. The class was filled with young women my age in their 20s, and older women in their 50s-60s. The teacher looked ANCIENT. She was tiny and looked like freakin Tinkerbell's grandmomma. Honestly, I was surprised to see her to do some of the moves fairly well.


Analysis:

Anyway, several things bothered me about the class. Firstly, it was mostly just phyical and stretchy moves. I guess I was looking more for the spiritual side of yoga (including more meditation). Maybe since I am a beginner I am not appreciative of the physical side of yoga as much; I am sure that the physical and mental side are linked together. I'll give the class a bit more time and see if these moves really "move" me.

[That made me think about why I wanted to do yoga in the first place. Why? Some people like to be flexible. Some like meditating. I guess I am more in the meditative camp. I'd like to have it calm my mind, bring me some peace, really affect my life. hmmm, guess I have to really practice it for more than one day to get to that point at some stage of my life =P]

The second thing that annoyed me was the watered-down and commericialized version of the class. We chanted "Om" in the beginning of the class and it bothered me when she said that the word had no meaning. Uhhh, hello? habla espanol? Hell yes it does. It's an ancient word in Hindu philosophy and has a variety of meanings. It would have been nice to talk about the types of yoga, the history of yoga, and the meaning of yoga. We didn't talk about how yoga can affect other aspects of your life- it was as if it can be contained in that hour and a half of doing "cow and cat" poses. *sigh* Maybe, again, I am being overcynical and overimpatient.


The Real Deal:

I visited my best friend this weekend and hung out a bit with her family; one of her cousins has been practicing yoga for many years and told me how yoga "saved her life," and I thought, "wow." that really moved me.

However, she warned me about these watered-down commercialized versions of yoga and suggested I do some extra-cirricular reading about yoga to REALLY learn about the philosophy and lifestyle of yoga. She told me about how it really has helped her focus her mind, deal with life in a more relaxed and logical way, improved esteem.

She also said there are so many TYPES of yoga out there, and it is really important to find the type that fits you. Apparently, there are various yoga institutes all over the place that give lectures, seminars, and sell books on how to learn more about the traditional and all aspects of yoga!

The Future:

Save me! Does something really have the power to do that? I'm uber-excited about checking out lectures in the yoga institute, reading more about yoga, finding my "fit," or type of yoga, and learning about what it means. I'd really like to improve my life, and it seems like- if taken seriously- learning about the philosophy can really do that. That's what I want. And that's what I look forward to learning.

A typical day at work

Waking up

0645 ~Woke up, put on workout pants and t-shirt, brushed teeth, fell back asleep.
0700 ~Woke up, put on socks, turned ringing cell alarm off, fell back asleep.
0830 ~Woke up, cried "&^%%$ goddamn &;^%&^$ oy vey!" jumped out of bed, stripped, ran naked to the bathroom to get into the shower.
0840 ~Ran to catch the train, grabbed heavy coat despite 70 degree weather, stunk up the car, slept on my way to work.





*so much for working out*







Work

Today was "review" day so I observed each employee's face as they entered and - an hour or so later- exited the conference room and their "review" meeting. I had mine early- 2 wks ago- so I knew how they felt.

0920 ~ Bought some overpriced chai at Starbucks, sprinted to work.
0930 ~Got work on creating maps, which was much fun. Rocked out to music with my headphones in my cubicle in the meantime.
1200 ~SUSHI!!!!
1300 ~Discussed good eats with coworkers; emailed some pple about discoveries on good eats.

[Tangra Masala is my new favorite target. Indo-chinese food, here I come! I love food.]

1330 ~Peeked inside conference room after Secretary's review and observed a box of tissues on the table. *Gasp* *Who cried during their review??*


1400 ~Spent rest of the day learning triangulation, which given my nerdiness, was una fiesta grande.
1710 ~Had veeeerrryyy interesting convo with coworker about why a certain Miss got a promo over the rest of us, despite her lack of seniority.

[I hate favoritism. And people who suck up and like to pretend they have no idea why they got those "special" profit cuts, "Who, me?? I get an office? Gee whiz, thanks, boss!" And I hate bosses who give us bullshit reasons as to why the said suck-up got that special bonus. I'm not stupid. Please respect my intelligence.]

1800 ~Determined to myself to talk to boss about the "favoritism" to boss. Hell. I'm leaving in a few months anyway.

... .... Have a lovely weekend, folks. It's drizzling a bit in New York, but it's finally warm enough to stop wearing my worn out long underwear =P....

NYTimes and shoes

Wow. I made a blog. This is weird. I never thought I'd succumb to this level of narcissm, although I haven't told anyone about this (yet). I especially feel guilty since I was about to write a webpage, but that never happened. Maybe this blog can be about the travails of html and my inability to get my lazy ass to write some basic code. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. I have made the homepage of my website- that was pretty exciting. Although I made it a while ago. I'll work on it a bit this week...

Now for today's thoughts (because that's what blogs are about, right? yes, I'm a fast learner)...

I read the NYTimes religously (not because it's particularly good, but because I like reading feature articles; they're amusing the NYTimes is chock full of them).


I read the fashion and style section, mostly because I like to chuckle at the funny things pple will do for the sake of "fashion." I live in New York City, for chrissake. Trying to be fashionable here is like being a splatter of vibrant red paint on one of Jackson Pollack's paintings- you're cute, but you ain't nothing special. (ya terrible analogy, but I never said I was an expert).

So this fashion and style section comments on trends that are only known to a certain crust of society (I guess the one that they deem "hip" and "trendy" unlike the rest of us poor slobs), like articles about expensive-as-hell oxygen treatments or dog salons that the Upper East Side rich take their pampered pooches to. And then amidst the elitist shit the newspaper publishes, they'll randomly throw in an article commenting on a trend that is really DECADES old--- I love how the NYTimes is like, "Blogs! It's the new thing among the youngsters!" Anyways I like to try to stay afloat the trends but I don't go all out like some of the women I see. I mean, what's the point? AND what's the point of these crazy shoes?
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/13/fashion/thursdaystyles/13HIGH.html

Who would wear shoes like that? WHY?? WHY??!! If men don't have to wear them, why do women do it (in the paraphrased words of the great Kyoko Mori)? I mean, I understand you've got to play the game- and trust me, I can play it as well as anyone- but outside of the game, I'm down for some jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt, and a good book. Hallelujah. Instead I see women tottering around in these ginormous heels, getting them heels stuck in the sidewalk gratings of the city (also hilarious), and emerging years later with feet that look like... well really really really blistered toads.