"That's my philosophy"

Alternative Social Sites

2012-01-13T09:15:00.004-05:00

A friend recently brought my attention to two social sites that I had not yet seen or heard anything about:

www.ning.com

This could be the Facebook "alternative", in that it allows users to create a free profile, gather groups of "friends," (anyone they know who also subscribes to the site), and interact with them via the web. It provides users with similar capabilities - allows you to create events, invite specific "friends" within groups as you choose, post comments, participate in discussion boards, etc. Ning takes what started as a way for college kids to connect with one another and orient themselves to their new environment away from home (Facebook), and puts a business/marketing spin on it. Ning allows users to create networks within their networks (very "Google+" -esque) and send direct-to-email mailings to specific groups, run branded ads, sell merchandise directly to a specified group of users. It seems like a great way to communicate internally with coworkers, externally with clients and soon-to-be clients, and sell, sell, sell! It is a platform for building additional revenue and monitoring customer relationships. Being a new tool, I think Ning will face some difficulties breaking into the mainstream. People of all walks of life are comfortable with Facebook and other mainstream sites, and don't want to leave those calm waters to try something new. I'll be watching this one to see if it catches on.

www.ryze.com

The LinkedIn "alternative". It doesn't look like it's quite fully developed from the website (I can't get a feel for how it differs from LinkedIn), but I'm curious - has anyone been successful with, or tried this?

Check 'em out! Are there any other social "alternative" sites that you know of?

From Gecko to Caveman

2009-09-21T15:44:00.004-04:00

At DQ earlier this week, I was blown away as I realized just how effective Geico's caveman marketing campaign has been. I went out with my boyfriend to get an after-dinner treat, and the man behind us in line had a physical appearance, which to be frank, was not even close to the spitting image of the neanderthal from the commercials. In fact, the only attributes that were remotely close to the caveman were his long-ish hair and casual clothes. Yet, immediately when I saw him, my mind went to the caveman in a TV commercial during which neither Geico nor car insurance were even mentioned. All that played was the song, "Let Me Be Myself" by Three Doors Down and a loop reel of the caveman running in slow motion towards the camera. What an awesome thing, Geico. I applaud you.

My memory brought me back to an image of your all-too-well-known icon and a catchy song that will be stuck in my head (again) for the next week. All this, because some guy in line behind me at Dairy Queen had long hair. If every long-haired man in jeans and a t-shirt made me think of Geico, I can't imagine what it's doing to the rest of the world. Geico is the fastest growing consumer auto insurance company in the U.S. with over 9 million auto policyholders. With results like that, the marketing gurus working for Geico have got to be wondering: "What recession?" From Gecko to Caveman, someone's doing something right over there at Geico.

"Viral Marketing"

2009-09-14T22:01:00.002-04:00

"Viral Marketing" is a scary phrase. People hear "viral" and think they'll contract a disease if they get involved. So, they tune out. How do we immunize so that we can go about our business of spreading the "disease" of our good name, brand, and products? Educate.

Wikipedia defines "Viral Marketing" as:
"A marketing technique that use pre-existing social networks to produce increases in brand awareness or to achieve other marketing objectives (such as product sales) through self-replicating viral processes, analogous to the spread of pathological and computer viruses. It can be word-of-mouth delivered or enhanced by the network effects of the Internet."

Twitter is one of the fastest-growing tools for viral marketing today. It enables individuals to share their lives, beliefs, thoughts, and work with people they've never met in an instant. That's a powerful thing. There's a lot of skepticism around Twitter, as there is around Wikipedia, since anyone can post anything to the sites. Yes, it's true that you can't trust everything you read on the internet. But, for the most part, people want to help others, not hinder them. Unlike Wikipedia, however, Twitter gives users a personal brand, by which they can build the trust of their followers. When I began using Twitter, I followed only the brand names that I already knew and trusted - CNN, Time, Digg, my family, my close friends, celebrities I respect. The more I participated in conversations on Twitter, the more I was exposed to other people, who I don't "know" per se, but who I've spoken with over the web and learned to trust information from. We tweet and retweet each other, and our networks have expanded as they have recommended their friends and followers to me, and I to them. Now, I have over 400 followers reading my thoughts, commenting on articles I've read or written, providing constant feedback of my work and my ideas. A business could do a lot with a system like that.

"Viral Marketing" in my own words is one person sharing a good idea with another person, who shares that idea with another two people, each of whom share it with another two people, and so on and so forth. That idea spreads rapidly this way, through trust relationships. For marketers, this is a beautiful thing, but viral marketing is difficult to track and measure results of a campaign. How can we realize the results of a word-of-mouth marketing campaign if it's all done in people's homes over dinner table conversation, or at coffee shops? There are tools out there that can do some of the measuring for us, for a hefty fee. There are surveys that we can pass on, asking our prospective clients how they heard about our ideas. But, our current clients are more likely to pass the idea on if there's something in it for them - an incentive.

JumpReach is a viral marketing tool that allows you to encourage your existing customers to share your ideas with their contacts (using incentives), makes it easy for them to do so, and tracks the results of your word-of-mouth marketing campaign, so you can easily see that the money you put into it was well worth it. We want your campaign to work. We want the business that you draw from that campaign to pay for our relatively inexpensive tool and much more. We are excited and passionate about this tool and what it can do for you; we are after hearts and minds, not just eyeballs. We want you to take a look at what we have to offer, and we want you to see how great it is, how affordable it is, how unique and valuable it is. We want your feedback about how we can make JumpReach better for you and your campaign. Follow/DM JumpReach on Twitter @JumpReach or check out www.jumpreach.com for more information about this amazing new tool that could transform your marketing dollars spent into dollars earned.

"The Game"

2009-09-03T19:08:00.003-04:00

Sophomore year I decided to major in philosophy. I took an introductory course with my soon-to-be college advisor, who was inspiring and passionate about her subject. She had a way of explaining the material and prompting discussion that made me want to do the reading and participate in class discussions. But I had further motivation for my hard work in the class - a game.

Katherine, a friend and sorority sister of mine, sat beside me and we quickly befriended two boys who sat nearby. Early in the semester, the four of us began playing "the game" and as a result, we became the star students and key contributors to class discussion. I don't remember whose idea it was originally, but "the game" became a fascination for us.

Just before each class, we agreed on a word to incorporate into discussion, as well as chose a score-keeper for the day. Throughout the hour, each time the word was used without giggles, the user received a point. The scorekeeper deducted points for laughing and awarded extra points if the professor used the "word of the day" during your turn. After using the word, you had to wait for someone else in the group to use it before you could take another turn. This kept the game interactive and moving.

We selected words based on how they sounded, how challenging it would be for us to incorporated them into the discussion (and it was meant to be a challenge), and how often we used the words on a regular basis in our daily lives (the less frequent, the better). We used: "terrifying," "tiger," "quintessential," and "oblong," among others.

My favorite use of the word of the day was when we used "tiger". The class was discussing applied ethics. To support her main point (I don't remember now what that was), Katherine gave an example that compared human interaction to the relationship between a tiger and an antelope. The example was drawn out and awarded Katherine and all four of us lots of points for the day, since that one example stayed alive for a good 30 minutes of class-time.

"The game" was something that kept us motivated and entertained through sometimes slow-moving subject matter. I still wonder if our professor knew...

I Used To Think...

2009-08-21T11:51:00.002-04:00

that all married people loved each other. that the best things in life are expensive. that healthy foods are healthy in any portion. that good, hardworking people have no trouble finding employment. that bad things don't happen to good people. that God works in mysterious ways. that grandparents are always nice. that the home team is going to win. that "gay" means happy. that effort is appreciated. that people always try to be good, even if they sometimes fail. that when something is broken, you replace it or hire someone to fix it. that the cranberry juice at the grocery store is made from cranberries. that my friends and I would grow up to be astronauts and ballerinas and firefighters.

"Investigative Reporting"

2009-08-20T14:58:00.004-04:00

I was recently offered a position as an Investigator for the United States Investigation Services, a former US Government agency, which was privatized in 1996, and performs roughly 90% of background checks on new government hires. As a recent grad who's been looking for work in the Public Relations/Marketing industry, it often comes as a surprise to people when I tell them that this is the way I'm launching my career. Allow me to explain.

As an investigator, I'll be traveling all over the DC Metro area conducting interviews of family, friends and former employers and co-workers of people aiming for positions in government, or where a clearance is needed. I'll also be visiting courts and collecting all the information I need in order to present a detailed report that will give an adjudicator the required knowledge to make judgments regarding our nation's security, and potential risks to it.

It may seem a far stretch, but in actuality, I'll be performing a task similar to what journalists do, but with more at stake. Based on what I find in my investigation, and what I write in my reports, people will either be getting hired or losing their candidacy for a job; they'll either get past the security system, or they'll hit a roadblock. What I'll be doing has tremendous impact on United States security.

It's an important job, and I'm enthusiastic and energetic to get started with my training so that I can get out there in the field and start working. USIS is an exciting place to be working these days. The company is undergoing a lot of change, including a transition to a new brand, that of Altegrity, as it switches hands. The website already has a new look and I'm sure I can look forward to some interesting and innovative thoughts in the way of marketing there.

Gen Y's Undeserved Reputation

2009-07-13T19:00:00.005-04:00

"Generation Y", the population of nearly 70 million 20-somethings born in the mid-1980's and later, the "Millennials" are the fasted growing segment of today's workforce. Yet, Gen-Y has somehow formed a terrible reputation for itself. Young people today are known for being arrogant, attention-craving, and entitled. How did this reputation form? I do not know. And I wish it were not so.

As a member of this "plugged-in", ambitious generation, I too was coddled by overprotective parents who wanted nothing more than for me to have a healthy, successful life without making the mistakes that they did in theirs, nor having to struggle as they did. Instead of getting a paper route at age 15, we were sent to summer camps and joined soccer teams and school orchestras and did volunteer work in our communities. Instead of starting our professional lives at age 15, we, as a generation, generally were not expected to think about a career until 18, when it was "time to go to college". My parent's generation was much more focused, as far as careers go, than mine; my grandparent's generation even more so. When graduation from high school came, and money was tight, families seriously considered the pros and cons of sending their child to college. If the kid didn't have a good idea of what they would use their college degree for after the fact, then the kid didn't go to college. They went to work. The purpose of a college degree was to prepare oneself for the working world.

What I'm finding out now is that college did not prepare me for the working world at all. When I entered the College of William and Mary as a freshman, I had no clue what I wanted to study when I got there, or what I wanted to do for a living after school. I didn't know who I was, really. College helped me to explore myself, and find out what I'm truly passionate about. As I was trying to decide on a major, adult mentors in my life gave me this advice: "Major in something you love. Don't worry about how you will use that in your profession. Most likely, you'll go on to grad school anyway, and you can focus on your career goals then. Don't waste this great opportunity to learn about something you're passionate about now." How I wish I did not take that advice.

Alas, I did. I became a philosophy major, or as I like to think, I got a degree in something that covers all bases. I learned to think deeply about a myriad of subjects. Since I was having such a hard time deciding on just one subject to focus on, philosophy allowed me to explore them all. I took classes in the philosophy of language, the philosophy of science, social and political philosophy, ethics. Philosophy professors and students engaged in discussions about current events, while we read great literature by brilliant minds such as Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Locke, Hobbes, and Kant. I enjoyed it, mostly. And I consider myself a well-educated young adult, with a true appreciation for learning and profound thought.

My recent graduation from college and thus deposit into the vast world of job-seekers has proved rather difficult, without a professional background in my education. I'm not only lacking that experience, but I also lack professional work experience in my fields of interest. My personality, interests and passions do not point me in the direction of professing philosophy at a college or university, and my internship experiences while I was in college were at an investment bank. Although a great working experience and environment, in which I learned new skills and met fantastic and enthusiastic hard-working people, through that two-summer long internship, I also learned that I do not wish to pursue a career in investment banking.

So what now? It's a buyer's job market, and there are plenty of laid off workers who have years of experience, glowing recommendations from previous employers, and are willing to take jobs for which they are overqualified, just because those jobs are available. Employers are happy to have proven, experienced workers on their staff, working for entry-level salaries. They seem nervous about considering Gen-Y people for their open positions because of this reputation that the Gen-Ys have for needing constant attention and close watching over, and guidance, while feeling entitled to immediate professional respect, high salaries and paid vacations. If I really thought that all "Millennials" fit that description, I would understand their hesitation. But, as an active entry-level job-seeker in Generation Y, I am offended by this large-scale generalization.

Generation Ys have a lot to offer businesses. We understand our fellow Gen-Ys, who are fast becoming the largest target audience and buyers for the majority of businesses. We quickly adapt to new technologies, and are constantly looking for new solutions that make life easier, effective and more productive. We are confident and ambitious, achievement- and team-oriented. We are not beyond asking for help, and as far as I can tell, that and those listed above are good qualities to have.

Here's my plea for help: I wish more Generation X's would take on a role as mentors to young adults, share their experiences and sentiments, so as to increase understanding and communication between the generations, and to break down that "bad rap" of Y's in the minds of X's everywhere...

The Power of Twitter

2009-07-09T16:43:00.002-04:00

Twitter's applications and value become more and more apparent to me daily. My first impression of this new social media tool was "This is nonsense. No one cares that you ate a grilled cheese sandwich at 2:32 on June 16th and even included a link to a photo for it." I joined Twitter just to scope it out, see what all the hype is about. At first, I used it in such a way that my prophesy was a self-fulfilling one. I followed my friends and a few news syndicates. I learned very little in real-time, other than the second when my buddy had found some new, time-wasting youtube video. The more I explored Twitter, the more I learned of its applicability and the more I liked using it.

I started by following all the people on the list of Twitter-recommended followers. A few followed back, but mostly, it was ineffective as far as keeping me interested and getting my own tweets seen. Then, I started running some searches for things that interested me: music, marketing, PR, health, food, wine, philosophy, school, careers, networking, etc. I looked through seemingly endless lists of tweets on those or related subjects, as people had used hashtags (#) to document them for this exact purpose. And so, I learned the value of the hashtag. I started following some of the people who had posted tweets that caught my eye, and before I knew it, I was off and running with quite a few more followers.

This became a continual process for me. Every day, I make a point of running another search for a topic of interest, and following a few more people. It may be a slow process, but it's one that I am enjoying, and it's setting off all kinds of fireworks in my mind. Now, I have a dashboard application that unobtrusively shows me incoming new tweets in the corner of my screen, without interrupting whatever I'm working on. I am learning about all sorts of different things that I never would have had access to or time to dig up otherwise. I am contributing to conversations and getting my own questions answered, or at least discussed.

Recently, I've become a "Twitter Strategy Intern" for Careerealism.com, an online career resource center. As an intern, I'm working as part of a virtual team to promote Careerealism, and to give job-seekers, like myself, a little bit of hope and guidance in a lonely, desolate job market. In the past six months, Twitter has changed my life, and the way I communicate with strangers. It is set up so that it feels personal and intimate, yet I'm talking to people I've never met, who live all over the world. Twitter is empowering.

I recently came across EventManagerBlog with a video post called "Tweetcamp '09 and Unconferences", and it really got me thinking about the possibilities that Twitter opens up. Can you imagine going to an industry conference, where a speaker stands up at the podium, behind him a large projection screen showing a Twitter feed. Everyone at the conference has their iPhones and Blackberry's in hand, typing away to contribute to a larger conversation, and to give immediate responses to what the speaker is saying. This conference has become an educational forum, a discussion, and increased the efficiency of what can be done there. As they say, "Two heads are better than one." Well, imagine what 400 heads, all with extensive industry knowledge and experience, could do. Twitter is a powerful tool, and it is at everyone's fingertips, if they choose to let it be.

Got Joy?

2009-07-05T10:26:00.003-04:00

The covers move beside me and I feel myself being jerked from a peaceful sleep. Annoyed, I slowly open my eyes into slits to glare at the creature that has disturbed me. It's still asleep, but morning is upon us. That won't be the last rustling. I slowly stand, stretch my arms, arch my back, make my hairs stand up so that cool, fresh air rushes in to my skin. As I walk past the food and water on the floor, I feel a pang of hunger from within, and stop for a small snack. Then, I find a cozy place to doze uninterrupted until it rises.

These people make so much noise when they move around, it is impossible to miss one. She gets up and stumbles to the bathroom, clanging around, running water, brushing teeth. I watch her walk past and downstairs, and slowly follow her, watching, watching. She goes to the desk first, as always, sits at the computer for a few minutes. Like an alarm clock ringing, the beast within her growls and she gets up and heads to the refrigerator. When I see her pull out a brand new gallon of milk, my mood lightens. Nervousness and excitement are upon me at once as I watch her slowly remove the blue plastic piece that allows her access to the milk. I am sitting on the floor at her feet now, attentively looking up in anticipation. I do my best to make myself known without seeming overanxious. I ask politely, "Mine?" She looks down at me, smiles, says good morning, and tosses the plastic to me.

Joy! The object of my desire is in my possession. I toss it, hold it, watch it, run with it, stalk it, pounce on it. The person is back at her desk. I daintily carry my prize to her and lie down at her feet with it, gazing up at her longingly. She looks down. My muscles tense, ready to protect. I see her hand move toward me. My head is close to the ground now. She reaches for my piece and grabs it. My heart is racing. She flings it away from her, and I go flying with it. My body moves with this little piece of plastic. I can't control my movements until it is back in my possession. I allow my heart rate to slow as I make my way back to her, toy in teeth.

Meeting Goals That I've Never Set

2009-06-26T13:40:00.008-04:00

I read an article today that inspired me to think hard about what I have improved about myself in the past month, in the past six months, and in the past year. This article asks you to be honest with yourself - have you set realistic goals for self-improvement, and have you met them? Or are you going through the motions of life, living day-to-day, and not thinking about such things at all?

By setting goals, and writing them down, you're more likely to achieve those goals. We've all heard this before. Yet, often when I set goals, I neglect my own self-improvement. I suppose I do, to some extent, make myself better, I grow as an individual and a professional, by achieving the goals I have set for myself. But, my focus has never been on myself, and my own personal development.

When I got to college, I decided to relax a bit, not involve myself in so many things as I did in high school, have a social life, and balance it with my schoolwork so that getting A's was not something I ever stressed about. As a result, I had an enjoyable college experience, I didn't always get the A, but I made great friends, and did some important things. I made a difference in the lives of the people who were closest to me, and in the lives of people I'd never met. I felt fulfilled by my life there. That is, in every area of life except my "career". I began my philosophy degree with a positive outlook, I enjoyed the few classes I had taken in the discipline before, and I looked forward to contemplating large and unanswerable questions further and learning how to answer them. What I didn't realize I would miss, however, by choosing a philosophy major, was everything else. I enjoy a variety of subjects, and I thought I was doing good for myself by picking a major that covers topics of all sorts. I took a Philosophy of Science course, and a Philosophy of Language course, and an Ancient Greek Philosophy course. I learned about all sorts of different disciplines by making philosophy my chosen subject. However, the manner in which I learned them was not my style.

As a philosophy major, one is required to think critically and analytically about questions that are impossible to answer correctly or incorrectly. You read and read and read these profound works that philosophers have written to try to answer these questions, and then you discuss in class how they haven't actually answered them at all. It may be a cynic's major, and a cynic I am not. I would have preferred a more "useful", practical major, as it turns out, that allowed me to think for myself, and get the answer correct occasionally, if not all the time.

Regardless, here I am now, a fresh graduate of the College of William and Mary, searching for employment in fields in which I have no prior experience, and competing with the rest of the largely unemployed world for those few spaces. Now is a good time to think about how I've improved, and to start setting goals for myself.

Here's where I think I've been in the last year or so:

- I have grown as an individual. Throughout college, I have learned to communicate with people in a way I was never able to do in high school. I have grown from someone who was buried in her books and her music, as an awkward high-schooler, into a well-balanced, informed adult.

- I have defined my religious, and political beliefs. I have moved out of my mother's Catholic house and found that the world makes more sense to me and I am a happier person without the guilt and threat of hell that Catholicism put upon me. I have become a listener of NPR and engaged in discussions with friends and family about political beliefs, and adapted my own ideology based upon what I've seen and heard.

- I have realized what is most important to me in life. I have ranked my priorities, my values, written them down, and acted accordingly to reflect where those values stand.

- I have striven to be kind and caring to everyone around me, and to be patient. I have made conscious efforts to stay positive, and to expect the best from people, but not to let disappointment take over when they don't always deliver.

- I have defined my strengths and my weaknesses, and I have asked my friends and family to help me with it. I have gotten them involved in my life, and my search for self-fulfillment, and happiness.

What will I aim for next? That's something to think about. These things listed above just happened. They were not planned out, they did not come about through thoughtful examination. It will be interesting to see what that extra thought does to accelerate my personal development, my self-improvement.

What has worked for you? Any suggestions?

We're Not All Spocks

2009-06-09T17:12:00.003-04:00

According to this article on npr's website, the city government in Greensboro, NC is paying teenage female students $1 for every day that they're not pregnant, in an effort to reduce teenage pregnancies. As a result of this plan, the teenage pregnancy rates in Greensboro have dropped dramatically. Some economists and psychologists explain this as a phenomenon that traditional economics cannot explain. Traditionally, economists have built their models based on what the perfectly rational person would do. Since experience has proven that these super-human rationalists do not exist outside of the Vulcan world, liberal economists are suggesting that we (and our government) should "nudge" the irrational away from poor decision-making.

While I'm all for "nudging", I fail to comprehend why certain American tax-payers, who are just doing their part to make a living, provide for their families, and maybe help a few other people along the way (by their own, direct choosing), are responsible for providing the "nudge" - in the form of their own hard, and well-earned income. Maybe this "nudge" should be implimented in a more positive way for the government, and for its hard-working, honest, clean, and mostly rational citizens. Say, for instance, instead of giving teen girls money for not getting pregnant, the government could enforce a law that pregnant teens should be imprisoned, and then educate them of this law. That's basically what they're doing to themselves anyway by "allowing" themselves to become pregnant. They are committing themselves to a lifetime of strife, and committing their child to the same. That is, if these young mothers choose to carry their fetus to term. If it was common knowledge that teen girls under the age of, say, 18 got sent to institutions for the rest of their lives, I think the effect would be similar to giving them money. Maybe the way to knock some sense into people is by empowering them to make rational decisions based on their fear of the consequences for them not making those good decisions.

I can hear the argument now: For a teenage girl, the consequence of having a baby at their young age is already a fear. They already know they'd be trapping themselves in a life that is much more difficult than they had planned, where their dreams will be that much harder to achieve. I haven't been a teenager for years, and the thought of becoming pregnant at this stage of my life is terrifying to me. For some reason, however, I can think rationally about this, and stop those hormones from taking over my life, and use my brain. These teenage girls are not all stupid. They may come from backgrounds that are not the best influences, that have not molded them into perfect little future lawyers, doctors, etc. But that doesn't make them stupid. We should be giving these girls more credit for their smarts, not money to bribe them into not having unprotected sex. Young people who grew up in 'bad' neighborhoods, in poverty, with poor education systems often end up having better common sense and street smarts than those who have been pampered from birth. But, I doubt you'll see too many city governments passing out checks to teenage girls at the country club. Why is that? Because their parents protect them from boys? Because they don't have the people skills to interact with a member of the opposite sex, let alone sleep with one? Because their teachers told them not to have unprotected sex? Are we really expected to believe that less-well-off cities have teachers who promote their students engaging in such activities? I don't think so.

Put on your thinking cap, Mr. mayor, economists, and psychologists, because this one doesn't sit well with me, and I have a feeling it's not going to sit well with a lot of other folks out there either.

On a more extremist end, earlier tonight, Andrew posed this simple solution to the problem: kill all pregnant teens. That's a bit more than the "nudge" that would likely be most effective - more like a wallop.

Thanks to @GuyKawasaki for tweeting the link out to his Twitter-following world via npr.

Transitioning to a New Watering Hole

2009-06-08T11:41:00.003-04:00

A few weeks ago, Andrew and I moved to Tysons Corner following my graduation from William and Mary in Williamsburg. I grew up in Clifton and thought I knew the surrounding suburbs well. Andrew lived in Fairfax Station for 4 years, and is familiar with DC, but has spent very little time exploring the 'burbs. Together, we should have been a fantastic team to move in together in Northern Virginia. Alas, I do not know the area as well as I thought I did. The truth of the matter is that whenever my mission took me as far as Tysons from Clifton, I was going shopping at the mall. Tysons Corner shopping is fantastic, but it is such a small part of the place where we now live and work.

Coming from Williamsburg, we were both very expectant. We had high hopes for what this area could offer us. Williamsburg is a beautiful town, with a lot of history, but for a young couple with unending energy, Williamsburg moves very slowly. Still, we have our favorite places there to eat, to get drinks, to see a movie or to buy a pair of jeans. Tysons presents us with many new and exciting things. I told Andrew yesterday as he expressed his feelings of detachment from everything we knew and were used to, "I'm glad for that. This is our home now, and that gives us a million new and urgent reasons to make new friends and to explore our surroundings."

Tysons has a lot to offer us. However, the one thing we have been unable to replicate from Williamsburg, that we wish we could, is our favorite "town watering hole" - The Green Leafe. There aren't exactly 'bars' in Williamsburg, per se. The college students refer to the trio of pubs on the corner of Richmond Rd. and Scotland St. as "the delis". This trio is comprised of The Green Leafe, Paul's Deli, and The College Delly. During the day, these places are normal small, quaint restaurants. The Green Leafe is a traditional pub, Paul's is a sports bar, and College Delly is...well, it's a bit of a dive. At night, the delis come alive with activity. The flow of students and townies into the delis is slowed only by the bouncers, checking IDs as people enter.

What made the Green Leafe so special for us, and different from other bars that we have tried out in Northern Virginia?

The Green Leafe was so close to us. For the majority of the time we lived in Williamsburg, we could walk there from our residences. Inside, the place was filled with friendly people, who were open to meeting people, and not afraid to act silly. The bartenders knew our names and we knew theirs. They took care of us, and we took care of them. If we had a moment of introspection, they would draw us out of it and back to the public scene, where we were surrounded by friends and laughing. Every 21st birthday celebration was held there, and for that matter, 22nd, 23rd and 24th birthdays as well. The food was good, the prices were good, and the beer selection was incredible. 30 beers on tap, and tons more in the bottle. Drink specials every night of the week. We're not alcoholics, but we enjoy to go out occasionally for a drink or two, and if we have the urge to do that on a Tuesday night, we know that the Green Leafe is having "pint night". Or, if we've been buried under a pile of work and need to get out for some air and some stress-free laughs, we can build ourselves up to attend "mug night" on Sunday. Some might say the Green Leafe became the center of our social lives in Williamsburg.

Now, nothing seems good enough in Northern Virginia for Andrew. I've found places around us that seem comparable, and we would get used to them as we were to the Green Leafe if we spent some more time there. We'd get to know the bartenders, and find "our table" and learn the weekly specials. But the one thing that these local Northern Virginia pubs will never have that the Green Leafe does is the memories of our college days.

Why Can't More People Be Like Gandhi?

2009-06-07T12:39:00.002-04:00

"Maybe I'm gonna have a petite moment"

2009-06-02T18:28:00.004-04:00

Recently, I was watching re-runs of The Real Housewives of New York City, when Kelly said something that made me laugh, and then got me thinking. She had a stylist come in to her closet to pull everything that was old or unnecessary (which turned out to be a LOT) to donate to charity. While her stylist was going through this 6-foot tall, former model's closet, she pulled out a cardigan, looked at the tag, and said "Kelly, this is a petite medium. You are not petite. You are never going to be petite. Get rid of everything that's petite." To this, Kelly, without hesitation replied, "Don't tell me I'm not petite! Maybe I'm gonna have a petite moment!"

I was struck by this, since so often I have moments when I'll pick up a piece of clothing in a store that I think is great, and might buy. But then, I have to stop myself, and say, "Wait a minute. This would not fit your body-type in a million years. You were just not built to fit into this. Someone was, but not you." Why is it that we so often fool ourselves into thinking that we have a body that we simply do not? And is there a way to target train areas of our bodies to change our so-called "natural body-type"? Or is there necessarily a limit, of which the upper and lower boundaries are weight? This is something I'd like to explore more in the future, as I hone my diet and exercise plan to fit the kind of figure of health that I wish to exude.

My College Wardrobe Needs Some Serious Updating

2009-05-29T18:59:00.003-04:00

I just graduated from college, and I've spent the past four years wearing an everyday style of jeans, t-shirts and flip-flops. Now that I'm done with that undergraduate phase of my life, I need a new, professional wardrobe for work, and a casual wardrobe that includes pieces other than torn, stained, sorority t-shirts. How do I get myself on "What Not To Wear" so I can afford the wardrobe I need?

What's Next?

2009-04-30T22:27:00.003-04:00

My planner is completely booked until May 17th - graduation day. That's when I hit empty. Page after page is filled with white space, and it's terrifying. As I approach "G-day," I'm excited to be finished with this stage of my life, ready to move on, but not sure exactly what I'd like to move on to. The real problem: I have too wide a variety of interests to narrow down my future into just one field. I've been studying a combination of business and philosophy over the past four years, interning at an investment bank, blogging, learning about new technology, defining the perfect diet and exercise plan for myself, learning about advancements in health-related science, cooking, baking, following my favorite baseball team (NYY), teaching piano lessons, exploring different religions, gardening, budgeting, etc. The list goes on and on. So, how do I apply the skills that I have acquired over my (rather short) lifetime, along with my talents and passions to a career path that will be the next step for me on my path?

I've thought through many options, among them (and what I've essentially narrowed it down to):

1) Journalism - I love to write, I am interested in following current events, sports, technology, and all the latest trends, and I thrive in fast-paced environments.

2) PR - Again, I love to write, I have developed communication skills, and a passion and interest in social media/networking. I love to explore new technology, and would be good at finding new and creative ways to utilize that technology to help a company to grow and communicate with its customers, past, present and future.

3) Marketing/Advertising - Similar to PR in ways. [Again] I love to write, since I was a kid, I've been memorizing ad jingles and reciting back TV and radio ads to my parents and friends. Long car trips were a blast for me, and a nuisance for my older brother, who spend much of them with ear buds in, and metal music blaring. I am the marketer's dream customer - I watch commercials on TV and immediately go out to buy some Hershey's Bliss chocolates or a "Snuggie". I could have a lot of fun and be really productive in this arena.

4) Social Media - Fits into PR (probably). I have a sincere interest in communicating a message to the world. I'm a world-class blogger (clearly), (fairly) newly-initiated Twitter-er, Facebook-er, LinkedIn-user, TokBox-experimenter, etc. I see the potential for many (if not all) of these applications to be used to make a positive change in a company's reputation and "branding". The internet makes it super easy for corporations and individuals to reach a HUGE amount of people in a split second. It's a powerful tool, and these social media tools are making it just that much easier. My experience with those tools makes me valuable to companies who are looking to expand by including them in their marketing plans.

So, I've narrowed down my search a bit. What now? Looking for jobs is not proving to be the simplest task. More and more, I'm using social media to get the word out that I'm on the job-hunt, and hoping that my connections can help me to find something that fits for me and an employer. I'm exhausting CareerBuilder and Monster, as well as the W&M Alumnus site. LinkedIn has been possibly the most helpful of tools that I've made use of, but I am still searching and applying, with little to no luck.

Any comments, suggestions, etc. are welcome, and much appreciated!

Spring Break: When care-free college students find out what their empty-nesting mothers have been up to all semester

2009-03-22T14:25:00.005-04:00

My last Spring Break from my undergraduate career at William and Mary was primarily spent at home in Clifton, Va. When I pulled into the driveway at my mother's house, Mom came running out to greet me, straight out of the shower, in a ball gown and barefoot. She gave me a big hug, opened the trunk of my car, and said, "Is all of this dirty laundry?" as she looked up at me uneasily. "Yes," I said. "Is that a problem? I didn't bring any clean clothes home with me. I'm trying to save myself the $6 in quarters that it costs to do laundry at the laundry room for my apartment complex. What's going on, Mom?" Her facial expression changed suddenly, like a newscasters, from that of a sympathetic observer of a tragedy, into a wide grin and sparkling, smiling eyes, as she said, "Oh, just wait! Come on inside and see!"

As I walked with trepidation through the garage and the door I had used to enter my home through the laundry room for the past 14 years of my life, I began to understand the sheer magnitude of the situation. From the moment I stepped inside, there was no floor, there was no laundry room, there were frames of walls, the washing machine was sitting out in the middle of this empty space, not plugged into anything. Oh Lord, I thought. Mom was tiptoeing around this construction site, wildly explaining to me the vision she had for this new and improved room of her house. When I had absorbed a bit of this, it occurred to me that my mother had wet hair, was wearing a floor-length gown and was barefoot. "What are you doing, Mom?"

"Oh, I'm going to a formal dinner tonight with Chuck and his friends for Army Veterans. We actually have to leave here in a few minutes, so I can't talk to you anymore right now. If you want, I'll call the neighbors and see if you can do your laundry there."

Um, no thanks, Mom. I'll just bring it to Dad's.

I followed my excited mother into the living room, attached to the construction site, to find a continuation of the construction in the kitchen. All the cabinets that had once hung out of the ceiling were missing, had just been ripped out of the room. The plans for the new and improved kitchen, laundry room, and the addition of a powder room were spread out over the kitchen counter. I looked them over, brought a few items to my bedroom, found a good book, and headed to Starbucks.

So another week at home in Clifton begins.

On My Own Two Feet

2009-02-22T21:28:00.000-05:00

Thoughts go flying through my mind, at the speed of light.
I'm thinkin': why am I here?
Who am I supposed to be?
Why do I think I need you?

They say "men think about sex every 30 seconds",
How do they know that's true?
Maybe that's just men who are addicted,
The way I'm addicted to you.
It scares me that I love you, scares me that I care,

'Cause all I want's to be a rock star,
Stand up on that lonely stage and
Sing about other peoples' problems.

My friends say "it's all a part of life,
and what are the chances of you
makin' it big in this sea of misfit non-talents?"
I tell 'em, "Dependency's a bitch, my friends,
and why can't you just believe in my dream,
the way that I believe in yours?"

I want to prove to the world that I can do everything I wanna do,
Without anybody's help,
because I'm strong, brave and stable on my own two feet.

I

2009-02-17T18:32:00.003-05:00

She felt nauseas, bloated, uncomfortable, emotional. It was unbearable. She went to the hospital to be treated, where the doctor had her pee on a stick and leave the room without a word, hurriedly. Young, waiting anxiously and terrified in the sterile hospital room, she waited for the doctor to return with her test results. The moment the 30-something, beautiful, dark-haired lady doctor opened the door to the hospital room, Jennifer exploded into tears. Dr. Marx rushed to her side and grasped the back of Jennifer's head, pulling it into her chest, as a mother would with her upset child, to calm her. Jennifer was relieved to have such a sympathetic and compassionate doctor when the unknown was her source of despair.

When Jennifer had calmed herself somewhat, Bethany Marx, PhD, said in an airy, angelic voice, "Jennifer, I'm sorry. The pregnancy test came back negative, which means we don't know what is wrong with you. We'll have to do some more tests. You should rest here, and a nurse will be with you in a few minutes to take some of your blood. Please, try to stay calm." *bzzz, bzzz* Dr. Marx got a page, and Jennifer could see her precious doctor's shoulders tense with stress. "I have to run, but I'll be back in to check with you shortly, and a nurse will be with you soon. Don't worry just yet. This could be something as simple and harmless as PMS." Bethany sped out of the room.

Left alone again, Jennifer's mind raced with worry for herself, for her small child, who she left with her brother for the afternoon, without giving him an honest reason for her need of an emergency baby-sitter. She didn't want him to worry, after all. Her anxiety built up and built up, as sand pouring through an hourglass making a small mountain of nervous helplessness within her petite, fragile frame. Time passed, although she had no idea how much, and a cold-looking, hefty nurse walked in, with a domineering, no-nonsense air about her. Jennifer's shoulders tensed with stress, adding to her physical symptoms.

In the West wing of the hospital, Dr. Bethany Marx stopped short in front of the small catastrophy that was unfolding before her. She watched as stretchers came pouring into the ER, carrying a man after man, all about her age. They were friends, coming from a private dinner, giving these stay-at-home dads a break for the evening, where their food had been poisoned, and they lay writhing in pain and discomfort. Dr. Marx moved from father to father, lifting his head, as she had done with Jennifers, only this time, to administer a serum which would induce vomiting. The poison had to be removed from their systems or they would die.

When all the poisoned men had expelled the fatal substances from their bodies, Bethany sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders, relieved that she would be able to go home knowing that she had saved the lives of 12 fathers whose families needed them. Sitting down with a glass of water for a few minutes, Dr. Marx dialed the telephone number for the other side of the hospital, where Jennifer sat, once again alone and scared, awaiting the results of the latest test that had been done. The hefty nurse had taken a liter of her blood by then, and was moving through a series of tests which had all returned a negative result. "Dr. Marx here. Has testing been completed on patient Jennifer Howard in room 6661? Status report, please." Dr. Marx demanded from the nurse on duty at the desk on the East side of the sixth floor of the hospital. After hearing what she needed to know, Dr. Marx sighed again, and began walking the distance of the space between herself and Jennifer.

When Bethany entered 6661, Jennifer was sitting straight up, staring at the wall in front of her, looking terrible. She hadn't slept in 32 hours, but then again, neither had Bethany. Her frightened, on edge face, impulsively flicked towards Bethany when the door opened, expecting to see the hefty nurse again with another inconclusive test result. She was relieved to see Dr. Marx standing in the doorway. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. This was someone she could trust and who cared about her. "Dr. Marx! Thank goodness! What's wrong with me? Do you have any ideas yet?" She pleaded with Dr. Marx.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. We don't know yet. We'd like for you to stay overnight for observation, while we run some more tests. We will keep working on this until we find out what's wrong. If you'd like to call a family member or a friend to have them bring some personal items for you, there is a pay phone down the hall, or you can use your cell phone in the designated areas."

Jennifer's heart sunk with this news. She would have to explain to her brother what had happened, and ask him to take care of Ethan for the night. The phone rang. It rang again. "Hello?" her brother said, questioning. He did not recognize the hospital's number on the caller ID.

"Tony? It's Jen. Don't freak out, ok? I'm in the hospital. I didn't want you to worry, so I wasn't honest with you earlier when I asked you to take care of Ethan for the day... I'm ok, Tony. But, they're doing some tests, and they want me to stay overnight...No, Tony. Please, don't tell Dad. I don't want him to worry unless there is something to worry about. Would you mind stopping by my place and picking up a change of clothes and a toothbrush for me, and bringing them down here? I'm in room 6661... Thanks, Tony...I love you, too. Goodbye."

She hung up the phone, and thought of Ethan. A boy of 4 years would not understand this. He would be more upset than anyone. She could not avoid it, though. She needed Tony to take care of him, and to bring her things for the night.

Making a Dent

2009-02-08T14:58:00.003-05:00

Stream of consciousness:

Sometimes I find myself losing focus on whatever I am doing, and falling into a deep, intense, miserable contemplation of all the problems and sadnesses that exist in this world. I think about all those people who are less fortunate than myself, and my heart goes out to them. I wish there were something I could do to assist them in the plights that often they have created for themselves. What can I possibly do to help them all? Can I even make a dent?

After discussing this very topic at length last night with Andrew, we came to the conclusion that this is not just a "me" or "him" thing; it seems that our generation has a common desire to do more with our lives than just work to put shelter over the heads and food on the tables for our families. We want to change the world. We want to make it better for those who have less than us, and for our children, who will (hopefully) have more than us.

We began with a simple analysis of the "great men" who came before us, and the techniques they used to make themselves so "great" in our eyes, and to make their world (and ours) better. President Abraham Lincoln was our starting point. He was rather miserable in life, knowing that many needed help and that he had the power to help them. Even through all his workings and helping others, there was still much to be done. The question then became: can we, in our lifetimes, make enough of a difference that we can feel good about ourselves and what we're doing?

My answer to that is: no; we can't. The effects of Lincoln's acts were not fully felt during his lifetime, and (it can be argued) are not fully felt even today. We cannot know the "great" effects that our life's work will produce in our lifetimes. Posthumously, so much happens in the world. Today, racial prejudices still exist; yet they are much improved from Lincoln's day, when slavery was first abolished. If Lincoln could see us today and the effect that his work made on our world today, how would he feel about it? Would he be awed by our progress? Or can we even call it progress? In moving forward, and advancing scientifically, and technologically, we have also created new problems for ourselves. It's a vicious cycle of solving problems only to find that in so doing, we have made new ones for ourselves.

Is this so-called "progress" really "progress"?

It is certainly a question I'll be pondering for a while. If you've got an answer, I'd love to hear it.

Passion Fruit

2009-01-17T18:20:00.008-05:00

It was early spring in Ocean City, MD when I first realized the passion I feel for food. Actually, my dad helped me to realize it. The trip was nothing particularly special, but it's one I will never forget, for several more reasons not to be delved into here.

My dad's cousin, Tom and his "significant other," Cheryl have a trailer in a little neighborhood right on a canal up there. We were staying in the trailer for what was to be (little did I know) our last "family vacation" that included both of my parents together. Tom and Cheryl were there, along with my dad's sister, Sue, my mom, dad, and myself. Brother Stephen was away at college and our school breaks didn't line up at the time.

One night the six of us were out to eat at a great little restaurant right on the water, where we could watch the sunset. We were sitting outside on the wooden deck, overlooking the bay and enjoying some laughs as we reminisced about past family vacations and silly times we'd spent together. While we were eating, I began to tell my dad about the newest addition to the little historic town of Clifton, Virginia where we called home: The Clifton Coffee Mill, or as I came to refer to it, "The Clifton Coffery". Readers should understand the excitement felt by a regular coffee drinker to learn that the one-street, 4 family-owned-businessed town was gaining a coffee shop on it's Main (and only) Street. Anyway, I began to excitedly describe the shop to Dad, telling him every detail of the inside of the shop and what made it unique, along with a rather thorough description of their menu and of the barristas who found their employment there.

Dad asked me how the "Coffery" compared to a place like Starbucks, and without hesitation I told him that it was better. How was it better? Well, when I order my tall skim cafe mocha from a Starbucks store, I get a lovely cup of coffee, mixed with a little bit of chocolate, with a big dollop of whipped cream straight from a can on top. It is delicious, and satisfying. But, when I order my small skim cafe mocha from the "Clifton Coffery", I get a lovely cup of coffee, mixed with a little bit of chocolate, with a big dollop of freshly, by-hand whipped cream, lightly sweetened and delicately placed on top so that it begins to melt into my drink the second it hits the heat. As I described this subtle albeit important difference to my dad, he grinned widely at me and waited until I had finished to say, "Do you realize how much your eyes light up just from talking about a little bit of home-made whipped cream?" I felt as though the point I had been trying to make had been missed. "That, Jen, is a true passion you have. A passion for food," he said.

I used to think of my passions as those things which I most enjoy in life. However, it dawned on me at that time, that the things I am most passionate about are those things which I not only enjoy; they are the things which light up my eyes when I speak about them; they are the things which energize me and light up my soul when I think about them or act on them.

I have always loved food. I come from a big family of Greek eaters. It's what we do at family gatherings. All life, all activity orbits the central reason for our being there together: food. It has always seemed a normal part of life to me. That is, until I met Stephanie. Stephanie was the pickiest eater I had ever met. She ate very little variety, most of which was frozen or came from a can, and whatever she did eat, she smothered in Heinz ketchup. Her eating habits both appalled and disgusted me. They also made me realize that loving food is not a universal trait. In fact, most people, when asked to list the things they dislike most will have some sort of food on their list.

My dad pointed out to me that night at dinner that I had a special love of all food that is uncommon in today's world. I love to think about the combinations of flavors that I can create in the kitchen with simple, fresh ingredients. If I am ever found watching television, I am usually tuned in to the Food Network. Food is always an adventure. There is always something new to taste. There is always a new combination of flavors that haven't been tried together yet. It requires an open and creative mind, and one with which I've been fortunate enough to been blessed.

As a result, my friends and family get to experience food in a different way than most. They are my guinea pigs and my repeat customers. They inspire me and motivate me. And at the end of the day, and a great meal, they eat cake with me.

The fruit of my passion for food is not just the delicious concoctions I put together daily, but the people I've brought together with my cooking and with my love of food.

The "IB Effect"

2008-10-20T21:36:00.001-04:00

Looking forward to my future beyond college, I think it's important to remember the things that got me to my first day as a scared freshman at William and Mary. I want to define the things I've learned, and the things I've accomplished so that I may be better prepared to use those learning experiences in the future both in job interviews and at jobs, in new relationships and in life.

In high school, I was a hard-working student. Until my junior year, however, my focus was not on receiving that perfect A+ (although they mattered to me, grades were never something I allowed myself to stress out over), but on obtaining as much knowledge as I possibly could. I grew up in a wealthy area; wealthy not only in the material success of my family and those around me, but Fairfax, Virginia has a wealth of resources. The people who live there are successful and knowledgeable. I had great teachers. My goal through high school was to make the most of the resources that had been put before me. I was curious about life, and overwhelmed with the uncertainty of what I'd do with mine. I used the skills that I had developed up until that time, and I talked to teachers and students around me. I talked with counselors and my friends' parents about their lives and how and why they'd gotten to where they were. I absorbed everything I could. I learned to listen.

By the end of my sophomore year, I still didn't have a clue what I wanted to do with my life. I knew that I wanted to go to college, and that doing so would afford me a little more time to think about it and continue my "research". In trying to leave as many options open as I possibly could, I decided to challenge myself by entering the IB program. I wanted to make myself the best candidate as a college freshman when the time came to apply to schools, so I took on a heavy workload. Entering the IB diploma program was one of the best decisions I think I've ever made. I truly challenged myself. I learned a lot. In comparison with the AP classes I took alongside IB, these classes were designed to increase cultural awareness, to teach critical thinking, build study skills, and most importantly, to make high school students extremely aware of the world that exists outside of their close clique of friends, the walls of their high schools, their town, their country, their continent, even outside of their planet, or universe. When you're 17 or 18 years old, it's hard to rationally think past Friday night. IB teaches students to realize that they can make positive, long-term changes in their communities and in their world. In order to receive an IB diploma upon graduation, students must have completed 150 hours of community service, and written about the personal effect each hour had upon them. Playing the piano for a local assisted living community brought joy both to the residents there and to me. Working to help clean the grounds of my elementary school made me appreciate the time I spent there and my youth. Painting murals on the walls of an area pre-school brought me closer with a colleague and put a smile on my face to see the enjoyment the children who attended school there got from my work. Weeding the gardens at a church near my home made me aware of the diversity that lies within religion and the love and hope that is constantly surrounding us. Without hesitation, I can say that the most valuable of the hours that I put into my IB diploma came from CAS hours, and specifically those devoted to counseling at vacation bible school. Most of the people I worked alongside in the program were complete strangers when I began. I learned about their characters, about their lives, about their passions, and I shared mine with them. I was surrounded by children, and though it's cliche and said far too often, it remains the truth: "kids say the darndest things." Although I've never been very religious, the experience of completing my CAS hours made me a more spiritual person and fed the flame of religious curiosity that I'd already had.

In addition to CAS hours, IB required that I complete an "extended essay", in my "spare time" on a subject of my choosing. The process of writing the paper was to be guided by an advisor, also of my choosing, preferably within the most relevant department for the subject of my essay. The subject of my paper was The Effect of Protest Music During the Vietnam War, and I "carefully" selected my teacher of IB Math Studies as my advisor. Maybe it wasn't the best selection of an advisor, but since I was already close with all the music teachers in the state (or so it had sometimes seemed), and with my history teacher, I chose to make this an opportunity to discover something new about the teacher of a subject which I knew would never be my favorite. While learning about the Vietnam War and the impact of Crosby, Stills and Nash's political activism, I learned that math teachers can have interesting lives, even if their passion for their subject cannot be transferred unto me. I learned that what I choose to do right when I finish school may not be the path that I will continue on for the rest of my life. I learned that everything I learned throughout my life could be a potential conversation piece. I learned that the challenges that I had chosen for myself were merely stepping stones to the next challenge I would take. I learned that a career was not the destination I sought out, but the means to live a contented life, and another challenging stepping stone to take me to my next challenge.

I've never been more stressed out about an exam since my final IB exams. Even once I reached college, exams were never so daunting as at the end of my high school career. It makes such a difference to know your grader, to have a personal relationship with the teacher who will be reading and evaluating your thoughts on what you've learned. IB does not afford its students that luxury. All IB exams (both written and oral) are mailed away for grading, often to other countries, mostly to ensure fairness among students. After working so hard and stressing out way too much, it's agonizing to wait for those scores to be sent home. It's also incredibly gratifying to receive the scores and to know that you earned every point, and that there was no bias because a grader may have or have not "liked" you. I learned to be patient. I learned that to achieve great and gratifying things, I needed to work hard, and that by working hard, the pay off would be that much sweeter.

When people ask me why I chose to do IB versus AP, I cannot answer for my 16-year old self, who was the actual decider of that action. All I can respond is that if I could, I would never go back and re-do it, substituting AP for IB. The program was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life thus far. I worked hard, and although I suffered sometimes because of it, I also grew through that suffering. They say, "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." I don't know if this is true always, but in this case, it most definitely is true. It was tough, but it didn't kill me, and I am a stronger, more mature, well-educated 21-year old today because of it. That's the "IB Effect".

Refrigerator Toss Day = Friday, August 15, 2008

2008-08-11T09:44:00.011-04:00

It's my last week here as a summer intern for Updata Advisors. Looking back on the experience, I have both fond memories and some things that I wouldn't mind forgetting, but probably never will. It's been a learning experience from day 1.

I came into this job without knowing what I would be doing, or even what the rest of the people here do. Totally in the dark, my goal was simply to get out of my neighbor's basement, where I had been working as an executive assistant for her home appraisal company. The job was a lonely one, which is not something I handle well. I sat in Diane's basement, day in and day out, alphabetizing, answering phones, and playing with her arthritic golden retriever. I was paid well, but spending so much time alone was driving me to insanity, and that's a short trip. So, when I received the call from Chase, informing me that he'd received my resume and would like to have me come in for an interview, I jumped on the opportunity. I saw this as a chance to get out of the basement, be around people in an office environment, learn about a business that I knew next to nothing about, and pick up some skills along the way, as well as work on some networking that might potentially help me out once I graduated from college with not much of a clue what I'd do with my Philosophy BA degree.

My first day at Updata was a bit unsettling, to be honest. Karen introduced me to everyone in the office, and got me set up at my desk. Then, she left me to "work". Only, I had not been given any work to do. I sat, and sat, and walked around, asking people if they needed help with anything, or if they knew what I was supposed to be doing. I went back to my desk, surfed the web a bit, read cnn.com... I had never had a job before where I was being paid hourly, and allowed to sit around doing nothing on the company's watch. I didn't know what to do with myself. Normally a fairly productive person, I had a hard time dealing with the fact that there was no task for me to complete there, and no way I could think of to be productive doing something else while I sat at this new desk in front of this new computer in Reston, VA. I gradually began to accept that sitting there doing nothing was better than sitting in the basement alphabetizing with the dog.

I read everything I could find on the web. I became an avid blog reader. I found Fake Steve and McSweeney's. I was entertained and I was learning at the same time. Before my final year of high school, I had begun my own blog, as a way to share photos with friends and family (before Facebook added that feature). The "real world" of blogging was opened up to me, as I began to explore what other people had done with theirs.

In my first week at Updata, I had learned a lot, though nothing really about how Updata Advisors operates on a daily basis, or what I'd be doing for the next two months with the company. When I was finally given my assignment for the summer, Chase called me into his office to describe what he seemed to think was a horribly tedious task which he was damned glad was not his to complete. I kept an open mind and began to make my way through a list of about 10,000 technology companies to find potential clients for the bankers to make cold calls to. I went to every company's website, read about them, was redirected to different pages, led down different paths, and ended up learning about the company I was meant to be looking into and a lot of other things as well. It's what I like to call "the Youtube effect": Have you ever searched for something on Youtube, watched a video, and then been led through a series of other "related" videos until you're watching something that has nothing at all to do with your original search? My research at Updata was very much like that, during my first summer with the company. I'd start with the company's website, read a little about what they do, what they're selling, run into an acronym I didn't know the meaning of, Google that, see a search result that looked interesting, go there, read about that a bit, go back to the company's site; and on and on this would go. Don't get me wrong, this didn't happen for every search. In fact, it didn't happen for the majority of the ~10,000 companies. If it had, I never would've gotten through the list. But the amount of information (some might call "useless") that I picked up while surfing and researching the companies is just huge.
The point is, I suppose, that what Chase perceived as a really icky, tedious, and time-consuming project, was, for me, a fascinating window into a world of companies that made things or provided services that I didn't know existed.

Occasionally, this task of building a list of descriptions for the companies on the list was a bit slow, and yes, tedious. But the monotony was often broken by a somewhat more "creative" task, assigned by one of the analysts at the bank, usually Akshay, who had me helping out with the occasional pitch book here and there. Or, sometimes I'd be called in to a meeting on the "Partners' side" of the company to get a peek at how Venture Capital works.

The office environment and relationships between employees at Updata are amusing, to say the least, and it seems that as time goes on, the "quirky-ness" of the place grows exponentially.
I guess that means I'm getting quirkier as well.

Last summer, I sat at my desk facing Amber, real-deal California girl who somehow landed with Updata Partners in Reston, VA, graduate of UVA-Darden business school, sexy, confident, vivacious, kick-ass woman who's got places to go, people to see, and a party to attend somewhere, I'm sure. Amber kept me awake at my desk when things were slow, brought me flowers one day, and recommended to me one of the best "how to" books I've ever read: The Manual. Amber has since left Updata to pursue whatever she'll kick ass at next. I miss her spunky attitude and bright personality. It's much easier to fall into a spacey zoned-out glare into my computer screen without her around.

Akshay was in an office next door to my desk (before he moved on from Updata), with a notable slinky on his desk, which I could hear slinking away throughout the day, as he toyed with it while he worked (there is still a slinky in his old office - now Andrew's office -. Was it left here or do all bankers carry around slinkies, I wonder). I never realized until I worked here how much I really love that sound. Sometimes when I meet new people, I ask them what their three favorite sounds are...I think I may add that one to my personal list of favorite sounds.
Akshay is a fun-loving kind of guy, who used to eat Twizzlers, until I showed up to work and made the mistake of telling him they are made of wax.* Now he's doing his own thing/vacationing to make up for the lack thereof in his 2+ years at Updata, and waiting for me to buy him a Jack Splash at our next meeting. Of all the people I've met and worked with at Updata, I think I've learned the most about what investment banking is really about from him. He always gives me a straight answer, and I never suspect him of lying to me to try to make his chosen profession seem like more fun than it was.

This summer, Amber is gone, and my desk has moved down the hall. Directly across from me is the personal office of a man who has requested to be referred to in this posting as "Cash". "Cash" is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin, cheese curd enthusiast, "I have a new favorite song every week"-kind of person. "Cash" can be found on a next-to-daily basis slapping his keyboard, stomping his feet and yelling profanity at ECAP, our online server here, which frequently shuts down for no reason and with no warning, breaking the "flow" of his particularly efficient Microsoft Excel spreadsheet-ing skills. Often, this leads to the slamming of his office door, so that he can more discreetly (I think) slam on his keyboard some more, before asking Jaine or Karen to call and yell at Network Alliance employees for cramping his Excel-ing style. "Cash" started the tradition known fondly here as "Wegman's Wednesdays," a weekly lunch break taken to Wegman's grocery store to get a few of us out of the office and talking about something other than numbers. "Wegman's Wednesdays" made the mid-week hour commute to Reston a bit more bearable since I had a great lunch to look forward to. Props to you, "Cash" for inventing that one. "Cash" is a good guy, as far as I can tell from the experiences I've had with him here, and the profanity coming from his direction is amusing for me and Karen, if it serves no other function.

Karen sits at the desk beside me. Once a cheerleader for her high school, Karen has a lot of pep in her step and in her speech. She lives out in Leesburg farmland (where I house/dog-sat for her one weekend - see: "Some Days You're the Bug...")
Out in farmland, as I learned while staying for a long weekend, there is not much to do, so Karen and her husband, Chris, spend a lot of their time fixing up their house, falling into new projects, adding a deck, tiling their kitchen, etc. when they aren't working. Thus, when Karen is working, I get to hear all about it. Her husband, her dogs and her house make up her universe outside of Updata, and as her "cubicle-mate", I am her outlet to tell all of this to. I see paint samples, I see architectural designs, pictures of her three dogs, and everything else you can imagine having to do with life in BFE (just replace the E - Egypt - with an L - Leesburg-). It's thrilling on a daily basis. Plus, there's always the delightful "Refrigerator Toss Day" alerts we receive every Friday from Karen to give us a head's up that she's about to throw out our old stuff in the Updata fridge.

Rumbi arrived as an analyst at Updata shortly after I did last summer. She is from Zimbabwe, where all of her family still resides. She tells fascinating stories about life there, which lately has been pretty horrible, with the political mess that is currently there. Rumbi is a runner and a home-grown vegetable kind of girl. From my desk, I sometimes hear her speaking in Shona (I think is the language) on her cell-phone, which has a popular hip-hop song set as her ringtone. She has strong opinions of men, as a gender, and makes them well-known in an industry which is mostly made up of men. As I learned last year from Rumbi, "All men are pigs," followed by an in-depth analysis of how they are so, as a gender, and how we, as women, cannot escape it.

Dave's office is beside "Cash's". Dave is a baseball fan, married, all around nice guy. He is easy and enjoyable to work with/for, since he is always sincerely appreciative of whatever I do to help him out, and good at giving clear and concise directions for what he needs. He is somewhat quiet, but not anti-social, and hardworking.

Andrew is "the new guy". I don't know much about him really, other than what I've gathered from our short outings every Wednesday to Wegmans for lunch. He has his dry cleaning done down Freedom Drive, in walking distance of the office. He drinks "extreme" Starbucks coffee, and reads non-fiction books, informing himself and others that 10% of children are not raised by their actual fathers. Andrew's roommate is a communist, from what I hear.

Jeff is the other intern. He's on the exec board of his fraternity and constantly on his blackberry, for reasons unknown to me. He takes the metro into work from U of Maryland, where he is a rising senior. He plays "Brick Breaker" (on his blackberry) during his commute. On Wegman's Wednesdays, we often hear about his weekend plans to go to a club in D.C. or NYC.

Robin is the marketing director for Partners side of the company. She has tons of energy, and contagious smiles to go around...and an awesome wardrobe. She'll soon be leaving Updata to do her own thing, so her time at the office here has been limited this summer, but I've enjoyed the time that I've gotten to spend with her here, and have found her to be a great source for "future" advice.

Heather is the EA for a bunch of the Updata Partners guys. She is a runner, hiker, outdoor enthusiast, environmentally friendly, triathlon-training girl. She sends everyone in the office emails telling us to remember to recycle our granola bar wrappers and to clean the rings off the inside of our coffee cups before we put them in the dishwasher. Heather also enjoys updating the dry-erase calendar next to Karen's desk, and writes in unimportant events, after the fact, like, "Blackout for 6 hours" or "Big thunderstorm" on the days that they occurred.

These are the people I've interacted with daily (or nearly so) at Updata.

In the 6 months (combined) that I've worked here, I have really gotten a feel for what investment banking is all about. I've learned a lot of "useless" information that may come in handy during a future game of Trivial Pursuit, but that I will otherwise likely never use. I've learned a lot of "useful" information that will come in handy as I move on from full-time student to full-time employee, and perhaps one day to "boss".

Overall, it's been a great experience, I've met some really interesting people, and I've been exposed to a lot of new.

Thanks to all those who have helped me along here at Updata, shared their lives with me, and maybe a tequila shot or two...

*After looking into it, at Akshay's request, I have found that there is no wax in the ingredients list on Twizzlers packaging. However, due to the texture, appearance and taste of the "candy," I still have reason to suspect otherwise.

Baseball Reveries

2008-08-08T13:39:00.004-04:00

"Back then, my idol was Bugs Bunny, because I saw a cartoon of him playing ball - you know, the one where he plays every position himself with nobody else on the field but him? Now that I think of it, Bugs is still my idol. You have to love a ballplayer like that." ~Nomar Garciaparra

Manny = big pain in the ass for just about everyone involved... I was so close to escaping involvement, too. Poor Joe Torre. It'll be interesting to see how he handles the high-maintenance handful as time goes by and Manny gets bored with LA.

A-Rod = family man? uhhh, no, no, not really.

Derek Jeter = still beautiful; still "my husband".

Girardi = Optimistic for the rest of us spooked by baseball curses of old and those yet to befall on us. Gotta love him for that.

The Anaheim Angels - wtf? These are the ANAHEIM ANGELS...I'm confused. Remember that really bad movie about how they lose all the time? ...yeeaaaahhh, so, anyway....

Joba - you're killin' me Smalls!

David Ortiz - I still hate you.

My Dear Jorge = will be missed by many (that's "many", not Manny; Manny doesn't care about anyone but himself), including myself.

Placido Polanco - If you took all the vowels out of his full-name, his first and last names would be ridiculously similar.

Molina - I'm totally impressed. Never thought you had it in you.

Xavier Nady - Ok, I can deal.

Mets...freakin' Mets. I have nothing to say about the Mets.

A final thought = If I have to hear about another addition to the DL, I will surely hurl breakable objects at my television/computer screen. Are players getting wimpier as time goes by? Keep it together, guys! It's only August!

2008-07-25T10:12:00.004-04:00

"There is no reciprocity. Men love women, women love children, children love hamsters." -Alice Thomas Ellis

Eucalyptus and Harmony

2008-07-24T13:53:00.000-04:00

Liz let me borrow her "Eucalyptus and Harmony"-scented Febreze. My first reaction: What does "Harmony" smell like?

Just because it's a noun doesn't mean it smells like anything. It's not like "meatloaf", or "fresh baked cookies", or..."eucalyptus". Harmony is not a scent. Some genius in the marketing department over at Febreze decided that if they put the word 'harmony' on their packaging, it would draw stressed-out Americans in. What perhaps they didn't realize, though, was that they might sell more Febreze with the scent 'harmony' just because curious minds want to know what in God's name 'harmony' actually smells like.

When I'm at the grocery store, looking for cereal, or Febreze, or whatever else, I tend to get easily overwhelmed. Yes, the grocery store can be a source of stress for me. There are so many options for basically the same thing. How do you choose? They all have similar, if not equal, prices, ingredients, etc. But, there are about 400 options for breakfast cereals. Not so many on the Febreze isle, but still. There's lots of variety there, in size and shape of container, as well as about 30 different scents to choose from. So, if I'm walking down the Febreze isle, and staring (as I do) for a few minutes at the array of choices before me, which one am I going to pick? Here's the process I can picture myself taking (as I've done it many times before -- usually without 'harmony'):

I read each individual scent name, and imagine what that might smell like, and how it will change the atmosphere and aroma of my living space, which will soon be receiving a dousing of the stuff. As I'm scanning, I get to "Eucalyptus and Harmony". I stop. I shift my stance. I put a hand to my head, and I think aloud, "What the hell does 'harmony' smell like?!" A customer down the isle (who is equally indecisive and has been staring down the hand soap section for a while) overhears my distressed conversation with the Febreze section and walks over. He picks up the Febreze in question, reads the label, and says to me, "That's bizarre. I didn't think 'harmony' smelled like anything!" Now, I start thinking to myself, so it's not just me. This guy has never smelled 'harmony' before either. Maybe what we think we have experienced as 'harmony' really isn't 'harmony'. Maybe what we thought we were experiencing as harmony is something else entirely, and 'true harmony' has a pleasant and potent smell! The only way to truly know what my life will be like once it smells of 'harmony'? Buy the product! Spritz it in my bedroom, in my living room, kitchen and anywhere else I want to feel 'harmonious'! Rinse and repeat.

It's truly baffling how easy I am for marketing execs to get "into bed with", for lack of a better phrase at this moment. This has got to say something about my personality, right? I am indecisive, yet adventurous; willing to try new things; curious; open-minded,...easily persuaded. Just from that one trip to the Febreze isle in the grocery store, I've learned so much about my own personality. Those guys over at Febreze are good....real good.

"I've changed my mind about them...I don't think they're going to be historically bad anymore."

2008-07-21T16:11:00.004-04:00

...says an AL executive about the Baltimore Orioles, during an interview on "The Colbert Report".

Thursday, July 17th, 2008

Another year, another MKS, Inc. I/O Kick-off Event at Camden Yards in Baltimore, MD.
This year, I brought along "The Nicks" (later to be accidentally - in a drunken outburst, or maybe not - changed to "The Dicks") - Nick Haynor and Nick "Kittens" Smith came along to keep me company and enjoy the day with me and my dad and employees of the InterOperability division of MKS. We boarded the bus at about 12 o'clock in the afternoon to head up to Baltimore's gorgeous inner harbor for lunch and to hang out until the game, which began at 7:05 that evening. The bus ride included two coolers full of cold sodas, water and beer, a cardboard box full of individual packages of chips, and 20 soon-to-be-rowdy, excited to have the day off work employees of my dad, my dad, myself, "the Nicks", and Caitlin (GMU student, daughter of Rick - friend and co-worker of Dad).

When we arrived at the inner harbor, the four of us (myself, Caitlin, and "the Nicks") strolled around a bit along the water, siked ourselves up to get a dragon-shaped paddleboat after lunch to spend our afternoon in, and found our way to the M&S Grill for lunch with the MKS crew. After a delicious, yet hot, outdoor lunch with friendly conversation going around the table, we headed out to fetch our dragon boat. When we got to the boathouse, we read the disappointing news: Dragon boats, 3 Adults, 1 Child max. Seeing as how there were 4 of us adults, we skipped the dragon boat and headed for ESPN Zone, where we'd hang for the majority of our down-time prior to the game.

We bought a card to play games with, and Nick and I left Kittens and Caitlin at the air hockey table to go find some beer. When we had finally navigated past the 3 closed bars to find the only one that was open, we learned that they had a very nice beer selection. We each ordered a 25 oz. mug of Magic Hat #9, and headed proudly back upstairs, with our heavy, 6 lb glass mugs of beer. Kittens and Caitlin had strayed from the air hockey table, so we had to search for them a little. We played all sorts of games, from the wave-runner (4-person) race to virtual ping-pong, to hockey, to white water rafting, to basketball. When we'd run out of points on the card (used to play the games), we moved to the bar to finish those beers, and on to the next activity.

We didn't have much time left before our suite opened at the stadium, so we walked across the street to do some shopping, and in the meantime, got assaulted by an "almost homeless" couple. They asked us to buy them a soda and sandwich to share from the McDonald's around the corner. We walked and talked with them for a while, and then realizing that there was no McDonald's in sight, I gave them $8 and said "good luck".
We did our shopping at Filene's Basement and headed back towards the harbor to meet up with Rick and Wendy, to walk to the stadium.

The Orioles played the Detroit Tigers at 7:05. We got to the suite at about 5:45, and watched the Tigers warm up, much to Kittens' delight (he is a big Detroit fan). The suite was packed with appetizers and drinks when we got there, later to be replaced by a buffet dinner including crabcakes, sliders, and shrimp (which weren't discovered until we were leaving). In the box to the right of us, there was a group of people (probably in their 30s) who dared their friend Dave to walk down through the stands to an older (as in 70's or 80's maybe) woman who was sitting alone and keeping score. When he went down and starting talking to her, Dave's friends in the suite beside us began heckling: "Gimme a D - D!, Gimme an A - A!, Gimme a V - V!, Gimme an E- E! What's that spell? Dave!" Dave won the bet...I think. The team's mascot, Oriole bird made an appearance in the next box over; the box with Dave and his friends. It was a great game which ended poorly for the O's, as the Tigers took the lead in the 6th and the Orioles just couldn't make it back. Final score 6-5, Detroit. Towards the end of the game, in a nice touch, a tray of chocolates was brought to our seats to give us a sweet ending to our meal and day.

We boarded the bus again post game, to head back to the office, and the Hyatt hotel, where Wendy was having a slumber party in her room for all the girls at the game. The Nicks and I went home.

It was a great day, a fun escape from the monotony of the middle of the week, and a good opportunity to catch up with old friends and new.

(Unintentionally) Crashing an Engagement Party

2008-07-15T10:14:00.004-04:00

After much debate about which "light-eating" type restaurant we would be patrons of Sunday evening, Andrew and I ended up at Star Thai in Fair Lakes for dinner. **Note: not as "light" as we'd planned** What we didn't realize until we walked through the doors and were greeted by super-friendly Asians was that we had just stumbled into "cute-white-guy" Brian's and "didn't-catch-her-name-Thai-girl"'s engagement party, and that we were the only others (outside the wedding party) who would be dining there that night. In addition to the crowd of Thai people and Brian, there was a live musician (also Thai) performing American love songs of the 70s, 80s and 90s...and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," to his "fake-back-up band" synthesizer which was blasting out of an amplifier at his feet.

The place was quite a scene. As Andrew put it, "This is like 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding', except more like 'My Little Skinny Thai Wedding'." The Thais were showing off engagement gifts and taking photos of every second so that later in life they could forget they'd ever taken them. Brian looked overwhelmed and a bit terrified. Inevitably, his fiancee would be recapping, in a frame-by-frame account, the night for him on their drive home and probably continue once they had arrived home that evening. Andrew and I recapped the brief piece of what we'd seen of it on our drive home, and it didn't make for bad dinner conversation either.

This morning, I woke up with Rod Stewart's "Have I Told You Lately" stuck in my head, playing like a broken record in my mind. Only, all I could picture was that little Thai man from the night before belting it into the microphone in English-with-a-Thai-accent, while his "band" played back-up. I'll never be able to hear it the same way again.

Mamihlapinatapai

2008-07-14T10:52:00.001-04:00

Mamihlapinatapai

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Mamihlapinatapai (sometimes spelled mamihlapinatapei) is a word from the Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego, listed in The Guinness Book of World Records as the "most succinct word", and is considered one of the hardest words to translate.

It describes a look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start. This could perhaps be translated more succinctly as "eye-contact implying 'after you...'". A more literal approximation is "ending up mutually at a loss as to what to do about each other".

The word consists of prefix ma(m)- reflexive/passive (second m before roots beginning with a vowel), root ihlapi (hl pronounced as /ɬ/, though in Yahgan it has also been described as similar to sl) which means to be at a loss as to what to do next, followed by stative suffix -n- and achievement suffix -at(a), and finally dual -apai, which in composition with ma(m)- has a reciprocal sense.

_____________________________________________

This is why I love language.

Road Rage by Radio

2008-07-09T14:31:00.000-04:00

Have you ever listened to a song and felt as though the singer were singing about recent events in your life, or exactly how you feel, like you can relate to what they're saying at that moment perfectly?

This morning, during my commute, the song "Natural Woman" came on the radio, and I was listening, and I mean really listening to what Aretha Franklin was saying through her song. It was drizzling a little outside when the song began,

Looking out on the morning rain,
I used to feel so uninspired.
And when I knew I had to face another day,
Lord, it made me feel so tired.

So far, she's captured my precise mood. This is the point where I start singing along.

Before the day I met you,
Life was so unkind,
But you're the key to my peace of mind,
Cause you make me feel, you make me feel, you make me feel like a natural woman!

By this point, I'm so completely absorbed in the song and my own singing that I have no clue who "you" are that makes me (or Aretha) feel like a natural woman, but damn it, I do. And I feel great!

When the song ends, the DJ starts talking about the history of something or other, and then about the weather, and then, with no warning whatsoever, he breaks that beautiful moment of zen that is running through this natural woman when he hits me with the next song on his playlist: "She Hates Me" by Puddle of Mudd.

Now, nothing against Puddle of Mudd, and nothing against the song (it happens to be one of my favorites, if I'm in the right mind-set), but come ON.
I should become a disk jockey. I could take the position at that radio station after Mr. "Good-Mood-Killer" gets laid off for making happy people feel like shit. And then I could devote my life's work to NOT destroying normal peoples' lives by killing the incredible vibes they get from good, happy, inspirational, life-changing music which is only so because I've played it through radio waves for them to hear as they sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic in their own personal "American Idol" audition room, where they're their own judge and they're moving on to Hollywood!

On the other side of my driver's side window, inside that blue Prius, there was probably a man glaring at my gas-guzzling SUV, judging me for killing "his" precious environment before reminding himself that it's ok, because he's voting for Barack Obama, and that once Obama wins, global warming and all of our country's environmental and economic problems will somehow magically disappear. That guy; that angry, disillusioned Democrat in his little hybrid vehicle, which despite the fact that he thinks is helping the environment, it's still doing the same thing that my big ass SUV is (just on a smaller scale); I'll bet he was pretty siked when "She Hates Me" started playing. I'll bet he was singing along by the third line, and shooting me glares while he screamed at the windows between he and I, "She fucking hates me!"

And you know what? He's absolutely right. I do. So thanks, Mr. "Good-Mood-Killer" DJ guy. You've just sparked a bit of road rage, which although not acted upon, could've ended badly if I were a pure Republican with a shotgun on my passenger seat.

Playing Black and White

2008-07-08T22:00:00.001-04:00

College Essay (Sept 2004)

The warm rays from the spotlight are filtering down through the dust particles to brush my right arm, cheek and ear. I can feel the suddenness of the pupil of my right eye contracting when the bright light reaches it. Room quiet, heart pulsing, and adrenaline rushing, my hands float up toward the black lacquer encased instrument. My arms tense as I bravely take the upbeat and bring my hands down violently to make my first note. The audience shudders at the unexpected burst of sound coming from the stage. My fingers dance over the black and white ivory keys, taking unexpected turns and leaping over one another. They play this game each time I sit on this flat black bench; a race to the finish. Pulling my entire body with them, my hands run up and down the eighty-eight keys to hammer the strings, which only I can see clearly. My heart beats out the tempo of the music, giving my foot no need to tap. Instead, it takes a different path from beneath the bench, emphasizing the importance of certain sounds.

With each sound, the notes become sensory memories evoked within me and my audience. A series of chords come crashing down the keyboard and flash a brief vision of my mother’s near fatal brain aneurism, when, as the chords, my life came crashing down around me. My mind flickers to times of hope, prayer and family unity that I experienced during those four long months and my eyes tear up. Each audience member has his own memoir which comes to mind at one particular sound that my hands methodically and rhythmically create.

The music continues to move forward, and although my hands never slow down, the violent thrusts with which my body moved before have become gentle, gliding phrases of soft, peaceful melodies and harmonies. Again, a memory is awakened. I am lying on my back in the grass, just as the sun has fallen from the sky. Staring up at the infinite number of stars in the universe, this easy feeling rushes through me as the faithful canine friend beside me has fallen asleep. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, taking in the aroma of fresh cut grass and pollen of springtime. When I open my eyes again, the smell dissipates, and I am back in the spotlight, dancing for the entire world to see on my stage.

Suddenly, the tone changes again, and my left hand leaps blindly, risking hitting a wrong note, but sets down firmly upon the correct keys. The many hours of practice spent at this very spot have prepared me for that leap today. My mind wanders to my short-lived career as a campaign manager for a friend who was running for secretary of the student government at my elementary school. Instead of a speech, I wrote a song about her, and sang it a capella in front of the entire student body. As I return to the piano, my stomach muscles remain tense from reliving that nervousness, and the corners of my mouth creep up towards my eyes at the fond memory. The audience feels the nervous shock of it, as the piece draws to a close. My hands roll off of the keys one last time in a circular motion. Silence begins to steal back into the room as my hands descend into my lap, but the audience tries to catch the sounds before they wisp away like a thin fog. In a moment, the room is on its feet, hands waving in the air, and a resounding “thanks” is given from the applause which responds to my performance.

I stand up, and my black dress slinks down as it hangs from my shoulders towards my feet, the folds changing direction. I slowly move one foot behind the other and bend from the waist, acknowledging the “thanks” with a simple “you’re welcome”. Hearing the gratitude in their closed lips and open arms, I silently make thanks of my own to my parents for enticing me to attend my first piano lesson, and buying me the piano which has become my favorite listener. I awake from the daydream to find myself in my own living room, sitting at my own piano, with an audience of stars listening and twinkling outside the bay windows.

Some Days You're the Bug, Some Days You're the Windshield

2008-07-08T08:58:00.000-04:00

Beginning Thursday, June 26, 2008 through Monday July 1, I house/dog-sat for a co-worker at Updata (her name is Karen). The house was about 20 min North of Leesburg, in a fairly new neighborhood, of mostly farmland - very flat, large empty spaces, etc. Karen has three bichon-frises. I took on this responsibility knowing that I'd be alone in this house for 3 nights and 4 days, and that I wouldn't be seeing much of my friends or family in that time.

Thursday morning, I got up, packed a bag and went to work. When I got to work, I realized that I'd forgotten my cell phone charger at home, so decided that I would drive home to get it before heading out to Karen's house that night. I left work that evening at the usual time, met Dad for a sushi dinner, drove back home to get my charger and then began the hour and a half trip out to Karen and Chris' house. I fed the dogs, got myself acquainted with the house, put on my pajamas, locked up for the night, and got comfy. Then, I called Karen to let her know that everything was good and to tell her the progress that the workers had made on the deck they are installing behind their house. Karen asked me to take some dog treats outside, just to make sure that the dogs were using their dog-door, which opened onto the brand new decking. The dogs had never used this deck before, so Karen was unsure whether they would know how and be comfortable with using it. So, I slipped on my flip-flops and walked out the garage door with some treats, around the side of the house and onto the new decking. I tried to get the dogs to come out through the dog door, but they were scared. I pulled one of the dogs through the door, by force, to show him that it was safe. After that, he was gleefully running in and out of the door, as if to show off his new "trick". The other two remained inside. I walked back around the house, got one of the dogs from inside, and tried to show her from outside that she could get back in through the dog door. She got back in, and stayed there. I stayed outside.

I had locked the garage door behind me when I walked outside with the treats. Now, I was locked out, in my pajamas, at 10:30 at night, in a place I didn't know, with no cell phone, no car keys,...nothing. I looked around the neighborhood for a house with lights on, but there was none. So I walked to the nearest neighbor's house and knocked on the front door. I woke up Nazima and her two sons, who were 14 and 11 years old. I told them the situation, and asked if they had Karen's cell phone number, but the people in this neighborhood are not friendly with each other. They didn't have Karen's phone number. Nazima sent the boys back to the house with me to look for an open door or window, and to see if her 11-year old could fit through the dog-door at Karen's house. He didn't, and there were no open doors or windows. We walked back to Nazima's house, where I used the phone to call a locksmith. The locksmith told me he'd be there in 25 minutes. Three hours later, he was still not there, and as we found out later, had no intention of ever coming. Dad came out and waited with me for the locksmith, and finally, when we had given up, he took me back to his house to sleep for what was left of the night, so that we could handle this in the morning.

The following morning, I got up and called my office. Heather (the receptionist) gave me Karen's cell phone number. I told Heather I wouldn't be in on time, and explained the situation, and then I called Karen. I told Karen what had happened, and had her call her dog-walker, who had a key, thinking she could let me back into the house. The dog-walker did not answer the phone. Plan B: Karen called her friend Stacy, who had a spare house key, but was on vacation. Stacy's mother was staying at her house, and would give me the key if I stopped by. Dad drove me out to Stacy's house, where her mother, Dory, gave me the spare key, following which Dad drove me back to Karen's house and I was able to get into the house. By this time, it was nearly 12:30pm. Dad had missed his morning appointments to help me, and I was very late for work.

I showered, got dressed, met the dog-walker, who showed up at about 1:00. I got to work by 2, to lots of laughter from those who hadn't needed my help that day, and lots of annoyance from those who had. I will never live this one down at the office nor with my dad, who had been my life-saver once again.

Some first night, huh? The rest of the weekend was relatively less eventful, and went much smoother.

Music & Lyrics

2008-07-07T22:29:00.000-04:00

Here are some lyrics that I'm working on putting some music to. I wrote this a little over a year ago, but the music is just starting to come now. Maybe by the end of this summer, I'll be able to post the whole thing, music and lyrics.

This one's called
"Where did the nothingness go?"

Years and years,
meaningless chit-chat over coffee and cake
It meant so much, even though it was nothing
It gave us hope, companionship, made us think we were "normal" kids
Since we had nothing real to say.

There is too much to say
We keep it bottled up because
If it is audible, it will be real.
Things we never wanted to see,
didn't expect, or maybe we did.

She was just 18.
Went off to college with big dreams
Found alcohol, drugs to fill her empty, lonely heart
Jumped off a bridge when they weren't killing her fast enough.

There is too much to say
We keep it in because
Once we speak it, it will be real.
Things we never wanted to see,
didn't expect, or maybe we did.

After 30 years of marriage,
2 children born and raised,
3 houses made homes, and they can't go on.
They separate, a family torn apart.

Father moves away,
Son avoids it all
Mother is angry, hates a man she's claimed to love for so long
Daughter is broken, unhappy, alone.

There is too much to say
We keep it all inside
We don't want it to be real.
Things we never wanted to see,
didn't expect, or maybe we did.

We wake up, another day, go to work, go to class, go back to bed.
Someone else had different thoughts for this day, has been scheming.
Thinks by hurting someone else, he can hurt less himself.
But, it's not a "hot potato" game.
Pain is a parasite that spreads, grows, consumes.

There is too much to say
We keep it within ourselves,
to hold back reality, to stop the truth from being true.
Things we never wanted to see,
didn't expect, or maybe we did.

Where did the nothingness go?

df. Sister (n.)

2008-06-30T11:36:00.000-04:00

"Sister."

As fraternity (sorority) women, we use this word often without truly understanding its meaning. It's like saying "I love you" now a days. You may as well say "I cheese sandwich you," since it contains about as much meaning as the word "love" does considering how lightly and free of care people tend to throw around the word. Having no sisters by birth myself, I joined the "sisterhood" knowing very little about what to expect. I guess I assumed that since I was joining as an "adult," or almost an adult, at least, there would be less "sibling rivalry" to endure than I experienced during my childhood with an older brother. I was wrong.

It's truly amazing. When I was little, Stephen and I used to fight about everything. It became the only way we knew how to communicate with one another. "I call the front seat!", "No! I want to hold the remote!", "I'm older, so I have seniority and I get to pick first." These are all lines that were used interspersed with flailing arms and legs throwing punches and kicks in an effort to get the other to "Stop touching me!" Even now, when we've matured and learned to interact with one another in a civil manner, that old habit is revived occasionally. Maybe one day we will laugh about all the stupid arguments, fights, and pulling of hair that occurred. For now, we're still in the exit-stage.

I never had a sister before I joined Delta Gamma. So what did I expect? I expected less abusive behavior, less malice, fewer irrational arguments, and less rivalry than I'd had as a child with an older, somewhat rough boy as my only sibling. What did I get? Something very different than what I expected. Sure, we're not tearing each others' hair out, nor are we yelling at each other nor are we throwing punches. It's like I've said before: girls fight differently. We scheme, we gossip, we spread rumors that can ruin our sisters' reputations for college careers and beyond. We are "adults". Yet, we still have rivalry. We love each other, yet our closeness sometimes serves as the tipping point to push us over the edge and lash out at one another.

One of the terrible and great things about a family is that no matter what you do or have had done to you to or by a member of your family, they must love you and you them. You are stuck with them forever, and in good or bad times, they will be with you, even should the sight of them make you physically sick. Doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? This is one of those concepts to which I have some opposition. Some people I know would disagree with this brief description of how a family should treat its members and what the dynamics within a family should be like. I have heard people denounce their families and run away, never to speak to certain family members again. It is devastating to watch. Like demons in The Golden Compass, being torn from their children, it is a bond which should never be broken, yet some people find breaking that bond an attractive course of action. To me, one's family holds the key to one's soul.

How does this translate into how I treat my fraternity "family" and how I view my "sisters"? Delta Gamma is a beautiful organization, with "stellar" (to use a sister's favorite word) goals and ideals. The women who are selected to join this organization make it or break it. Upon pledging, these women choose to become a family. Not the kind of family that comes from birth, but a new kind of family; one that brings all sorts of backgrounds and life experiences together to learn from one another and love one another with that same sort of infinite determinacy as we do our blood relatives. We become a family for life when we are initiated into the fraternity, and make a choice to take on the responsibilities of a real family network. Because we have chosen this, it should not be an obligation, but rather a desire to be with one another and love one another as sisters.

Why do I think this ideal image of what our sisterhood should be doesn't always pan out? Part of it, I believe, is our sheer numbers. There are so many of us that cliques tend to emerge. A small rivalry between two sisters does not end there; it spreads like wildfire through the chapter until we have two groups of sisters. You're either for her or against her. If you choose to abstain, you are alienated and participate less in "family" activities in an attempt to avoid dealing with the conflict and being forced to pick a "team". Perhaps the way to break this tendency is to do some educating within the chapter concerning conflict resolution; to build up womens' self-esteem and assertiveness so that they can resolve problems on a one-to-one basis calmly and rationally, without involving the whole chapter in a brutal whisper war that goes on for months.

Anyone know a good conflict resolution specialist?

"You Say You Want a Revolution"

2008-06-11T14:44:00.001-04:00

So, we’re not content with our leadership. Now what? How does a group of women that is struggling to keep it together when corruption has seeped into their ranks change things? How do they expel the corruption? There are several different approaches one can take in this situation.

1) Violence: By considering violence, the group is acting on their emotions, which can, in some cases, be useful. These women are angry. And when women get angry, they can be really mean. As Eric Idle so delicately put, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will make me go in a corner and cry by myself for hours."

Beginning in elementary schools, girls fight the nastiest of battles; seek revenge on their classmates. When boys have conflict, there is almost always a physical fight involved. A punch or two is thrown, and the conflict is resolved. They expel all their emotional energy in that punch, and the blood flows back into their more reasonable parts, allowing them to solve the problem. When girls have conflict, they do more damage. Little girls are taught from a young age not to fight. It is “un-lady-like” to hit another person. Girls, like boys, by human nature, seek ways to get revenge. Instead of fighting it out physically, girls taunt one another. They spread rumors; they gossip; they do everything in their power to tear down the self-esteem of their opposition. Unfortunately, this form of fighting often does not lead to a resolution of the conflict. These battles between girls, and eventually between women can last indefinitely, and are often the cause of long-term insecurities.

This trend continues throughout womens’ lives. Once boys reach a certain age, they realize the stupidity and barbarity of participating in physical fights to resolve conflicts (with occasional exceptions). Girls, however, fight their verbal battles behind closed doors. Girls can get silent revenge. So, they continue to get away with it, and in some cases, never grow up and out of this immature method of conflict resolution.

Looking at how fighting is imposed on different gendered children, how can this exposure be used to model our women's organization revolution?

Pros of violence:

· Emotion is put aside after violence, and reason takes over.

· Conflicts are resolved more quickly.

· Lessons are more likely to be learned if there is an incentive as strong as physical pain.

Cons of violence:

· Risky - could cause short/long-term physical harm

- Inexperience within the group in question - these are women, who have little to no experience using physical violence to solve problems.

- Immature

- Frowned upon by society in general, and by the group as a whole

- Will most likely lead to further conflict

2) Non-violence: Non-violence is, in my opinion, the best way to make changes and keep the organization from reverting back to its old ways. With M.K. Gandhi as our role model, we can solve the problem by communicating effectively while maintaining our poise and respect. This takes great patience and open minds, but as history has shown us, it works.

Pros of Non-violence:

- No one gets physically hurt

- Has great potential to solve the problem, if carried out

Cons of Non-violence:

- Time - can take lots of it

Ok, maybe this is not a situation that requires such extreme acts as Gandhi performed during his revolt. We need not fast for months, give up sex, or wear nothing but a loincloth in order to make a statement. But there is something to be learned from his extremist ways. The question now becomes: What would be "extreme" enough for us?

The group generally is very "nice". As women who have pledged to the same values and ideals that the founders established back in 1873, we see commonalities and can relate to one another, if in no other way. We are pleasant to one another in public, and mostly pleasant to one another in private. We have weekly meetings to discuss the general day-to-day happenings of our group and inform members of upcoming opportunities to get involved.

The group has a set of by-laws. These by-laws, although distributed, have not been read by most members. The by-laws tell us what is expected of each member and what each member can expect of her elected officers. The by-laws set the rules for the chapter's governance. Unfortunately, since so many are uneducated about these by-laws, members do not know what to expect from their officers, and tend to simply "go with the flow" and let things happen that should not.

Here's my "game plan":

The first step to this non-violent conflict resolution is education. Members must be educated of the by-laws and fully understand their place within the group, as well as what to expect from the other members of the group.
Should a member experience/witness misconduct according to the by-laws, she should act accordingly by:

Bringing the misconduct to the attention of the officers and the entirety of the chapter.
Requesting either appropriate punishment and/or change to ensure that such misconduct does not recur.

Should officers and/or members at large not respond appropriately to these actions, any of the following can and should be permitted as acts of protest:

Walking out of meeting
Contacting chapter advisor for additional aid
Attending EVC/Honor Board/CMT meetings to express discontent
Any other means of non-violent protest of misconduct

It is a member's responsibility to stand up for what she believes and to be actively involved in the selective group of which she is a member. This is not "just a club". This is an organization with a governmental system. We would not let our country's national elected officials take advantage of us as a collective unit, or allow corruption to remain in the highest, most powerful branches of our government. We live in the greatest, free-est, most powerful nation in the world; we have a democratic government that allows the average layman to speak his mind and contribute to how our nation is run. We have freed ourselves from monarchical rule in the past through revolution. We can even impeach our president, should we find it necessary. Why don't we acknowledge this organization and take part in it's governance with such fervor?

2008-06-05T11:06:00.001-04:00

"Imagine a world in which every single person on the planet is given free access to the sum of all human knowledge." -J. Wales, founder of Wikipedia

The US Election, from a British's Woman's Perspective

2008-06-03T12:50:00.000-04:00

**To see the full article, visit: http://blog.disappointment.com/**

This Was Supposed To Be Fun
Why have you stopped my election from being excellent

Facts are great, but after a while they stop being fun. Say, you’re enjoying a game of Swingball with your best friend, who is a vet. Suddenly, someone rises from a nearby deckchair, and informs you that over the course of his career, he has negligently caused the death of over two hundred Springer Spaniels. An unwelcome distraction, for sure - but then, if you’re easily distracted you have no place playing Swingball. Far worse, would be the sense the you’re playing a kind of rotary tennis against a man who doesn’t know his way around a Spaniel. A stupid, irrelevant fact has just ruined the game.

The less basic and rudimentary a fact, the less fun it is. Take my imaginary friend, the vet. That simple fact is lovely : he has probably seen a cow’s fanny, and I can draw pictures of him squinting at a giraffe and saying "I’m Sorry, It Has Got Very High Mumps". The more information I find out about his job <> every fact I learn takes me into a world that’s more complicated than I care to learn about. The fact that it’s important to him just makes it annoying.

With this in mind, here are the facts that I know about the American Election, in ascending order of whatever, get over it, Jesus.

1. A black man and a woman are going to have a fight, and as far as everyone can tell, it looks like they mean it.

Hillary Clinton is a woman! That means she has cables running to her big, tanned nipples that are capable of firing out milk. If you don’t think the idea of someone running the world with lasers of milk pissing from their chest isn’t awesome, then I honestly don’t know what to say to you. Legislation brought in for approval would be dabbled with an approving squirt, and evil budgets would be obliterated by a machine gun burst of white staccato squirts.

This is all old and stupid hats to us Brits though, we had Maggie Thatcher. We remember when she took the free milk from those poor schoolkids, and poured it into a mechanised tit that she used to rush through the anti-union legislation of the eighties. But even in her most unpopular moments, we - the British People - would never have asked her to fight a black man. Who can imagine the special powers that each candidate could draw from their respective stereotypes during the final rounds? It’s an excellent and probably racist scene to imagine. It’d probably climax with Barack channelling the powers of the Omegahedron through his Burundi Wand, while Hillary straddles his neck and tries to strangle him with her fallopians.

At this level of understanding, anything is possible, and the American Election is possibly the second most exciting thing in the world, after walking into a zero-gravity chamber full of St Bernard puppies, all rotating on a different axis.

2. Another man says he wants to fight the winner.

This is the first fact you’ll encounter in the American Election that is boring. His name is so unremarkable that you might as well simply let your mouth hang open instead of saying it. I can’t think what he looks like, I don’t know anything he’s said, and if you want me to feel something about him then you’re barking up the wrong tree. Everything’s already 40% less fantastic.

3. Super-delegates are being used to reinstate the smoky back rooms and hidden decision-making processes that gave the Democratic party a bad name in the past.

That clattering sound was the pan lid of my interest. First, it made me think "Typical! Politicians!" which is the single least thrilling thing a person can think. Secondly, they’re called super-delegates, but their only superpower appears to be the ability to vote for who they like, and even we’ve got that. Finally, though, it’s rubbish because it ruins the first, excellent point. If you’re going to fix the fight, do it in a cartoon fashion. Put horseshoes in boxing gloves, use suits of armour and massive magnets. Not in some pervasive, creeping and utterly reliable way that would make the public feel a bit shocked if they didn’t already assume that everything was already fundamentally broken.

4. The winner gets to rule the world.

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was watching Highlander. If you’re going to take the piss, I won’t bother.

Somewhere, Beyond Optimism and Pessimism

2008-06-02T14:51:00.000-04:00

One day, someone showed me a glass of water that was half full. And he said, "Is it half full or half empty?" So I drank the water. No more problem. ~Alexander Jodorowsky

It seems that French guys have all the answers. Here we have a classic philosophical problem: Either way we answer the question, we are, in a sense, correct. So, how do we know that our answer is the best one? Is it more realistic/practical to be an optimist or a pessimist?

Let's look at both sides of the story here. Those who are perpetual optimists have sparkles in their eyes and are enthusiastic about life and everything in it. They brighten others' days and inspire people who are perhaps not so consistent with their optimistic habits. Optimists can find the bright side of any situation, regardless of how much that situation really sucks at the time. They believe that only good things are to come in the future, because they think they've got no control over it, and it doesn't make sense for their moods to consider the negative possibilities of life. Maybe they even believe that they do have control over their future, so by thinking positively about it, they are molding it to be positive. These people have a tendency to be disappointed when things don't work out, yet find something good about those situations that don't work out, or attribute it to the "grand plan" that God has for us.

Pessimists, on the other hand, have a firm grasp of every negative possibility, and assume those possibilities to become realities. This way, when something good happens, they can be happy (momentarily), and not disappointed, since they had no expectations for good things to come. However, they also live in what some might consider "constant drear", always thinking negatively and allowing that contagious negativity to spread (as it does) like wildfire through friends, family and coworkers.

It is true: bad things happen. People get disappointed if they're expecting something good and it never comes. People are disheartened by terrible events that they hadn't even considered were possibilities in their and others' futures. Let's face it - life can be pretty friggin' depressing.
However, that doesn't mean that the best way to live is in a state of constant depression. On the contrary, it seems better to me, at least, to live with a sense of optimism always, but also to prepare oneself for the worst and consider all the options with an open mind.

Leave your expectations at the door, and drink the whole glass of water. Now, don't you feel well-hydrated and amazed by the great and terrible opportunities that this world affords us?

The Cheshire Cat Proves Insightful

2008-06-02T14:46:00.001-04:00

Alice came to a fork in the road. "Which road do I take?" she asked.
"Where do you want to go?" responded the Cheshire cat.
"I don't know," Alice answered.
"Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Today I got to asking myself some questions:

What do I want to do with my life?

What career path is the best choice for me?

What do I want to accomplish? Who can I help? How can I help them?

Then, I remembered this chronicle from Alice in Wonderland. Since I do not know the answers to any of these questions, it really doesn’t matter that this point which road I take. Perhaps following my intuition and living in the now is the path to travel down. Take each day as it comes and make the best with whatever hand I’m dealt.

I recently read an article about following one’s own intuition, which in turn led me to a book, Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking”. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it. It’s amazing how accurate our own human intuition can really be.

A Word of Advice from Steve Jobs

2008-06-02T13:05:00.000-04:00

This is the text of the Stanford University Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

It's Almost Friday

2008-06-02T12:21:00.000-04:00

When I was in high school, every weekday morning, Mom would open my bedroom door at 5:30 to wake me up for school. Mom, a morning person, seemed to be filled with joy at doing what I perceived at the time as a horrible thing to me. She’d bound into my room (occasionally singing), and say “Good morning, Jen! It’s a beautiful day [even if it wasn’t]!” I usually groaned, rolled over in bed and asked her to turn the light out and shut the door. Cheerfully as ever, she chose to hear “Shut the door” instead as the French, similar-sounding phrase, “Je t’adore”, which means “I love you”. She’d always reply either, “I love you too, sweetie,” or occasionally “Moi aussi.”

When I’d finally made it out of bed, and to the breakfast table, she had lovingly made me soft-boiled eggs and toast daily, which I never truly appreciated until I got to college, to find that a granola bar on my way to class was my most realistic and best option for breakfast. Junior year in high school, much to my dismay, Mom delighted in taking my photograph each morning as I ate my eggs, so as to document my growth over the year. I sat at that table every morning, questioning my very existence, asking myself why I was putting myself through another day of stress at school, band practice, running several miles on a treadmill to keep in shape, and beginning my homework which would keep me up until 2 a.m. only to wake up at 5:30 a.m. to do it all again. Mom saw my daily look of discouragement and lack of energy to go on, and on a daily basis would say, “Cheer up! It’s almost Friday!”

At the time, I found this incredibly annoying, since on Monday morning, Friday was looking pretty distant. Looking back on it now, I realize what an incredible person Mom is for having put me through that “torture”. Mom can find the silver lining on any cloud. She has a gift for optimism, when it’s needed. And she has a desire to help those in need, whenever and wherever they are in life. I think about that phrase often, especially as I begin a work-week or a school-week that I know will be filled with more work or studying than usual, tests, papers, etc. “It’s almost Friday,” I tell myself. Even on Monday morning, the phrase makes me feel like I can make it through the week. It reminds me of how quickly the last fun (and thus, fast) week went by, and that if I can keep my spirits high, this week will be just as quick. After all, there is the same amount of time in this week as there was in the last; the same number of hours, minutes, seconds. How I choose to spend each of those moments will determine for me how good I feel by the time it actually is Friday.

Back in high school, I couldn’t see past my own disheartenment. Now, I understand. So, thanks, Mom. Lesson learned. It’s almost Friday.

An Excerpt From My Journal (Tuesday, August 7, 2007)

2008-06-02T11:34:00.000-04:00

"I've dealt with and adjusted to living in a "broken home," as it is just Mom and I in Clifton now. I've gotten used to seeing Dad only occasionally, even when I'm home from school, and to being the one who's supposed to worry about him when I haven't heard from him in a couple of days, or he's feeling sad. I've seen a lot of bitterness, a lot of hope, and a lot of confusion. I've seen negative thoughts and feelings change into positive ones. I've seen good days and bad.

I continue to listen and learn from everyone and everything around me.

At the end of the day, I still have a lot of faith in people. I trust that everything will work itself out, that the stove will be fixed (eventually), that my family's heart will be fixed (eventually), that friendships will hold on and support themselves, that baseball games will still be played on even the hottest days of the summer, that rock & roll and jazz will always have fans, that one bad day does not determine a lifetime, that my piano will forever be my solace, that the weather doesn't have to determine my mood, that the world will keep turning, and that happiness lies within."

We're Friends for a Reason...

2008-06-02T11:27:00.000-04:00

On the night of Saturday, August 11, 2007, I received the following in an email (from someone who will remain nameless to the readers of this Blog):

"I also like raspberries and blackberries and how they can be just a little bitter and sour. I love old houses, glass doorknobs, brick fireplaces and cast tin ceilings. I love old railroad tracks with daisies and Queen Anne’s Lace growing in between, the way paint peels off old buildings, the smell of the coming rain, the sound of locusts (I call them meemer bugs because of the sound, though they apparently sound different in some places) on summer evenings, crisp, clean sheets and the constant buzzing of a ceiling fan. A freshly mown lawn is one of the most beautiful pieces of artwork, the pounding of rain on a tin roof a symphony and the intermittent glowing of lightning bugs is like watching fireworks. I love the way a dog is always happy to see a person, the way a cat doesn’t care and the way that children will say anything. I love the crackling of a fire, the rustling of leaves in the wind and the constant chirping of birds. I think that squirrels have got to be the most graceful wild creatures, that deer are actually huge rodents and that raccoons are much smarter than people think. I love the secrecy of a wink, the way it can mean anything and everything, depending on the person and the time. I love the feeling after a first kiss, the way mud squelches between my toes and washing my feet off really fast after playing in mud. I love the warmth of a fresh towel, the safety of bedtime covers, the hunt for the right piece in a jigsaw puzzle and the sparkle in the eye of someone who loves me. I love a quick double-play, holing out from 90 yards, and a long touchdown run. I love clean and simple fonts, scribbly handwriting and flowery signatures. I love the smell of boxwood in the Williamsburg humidity, honeysuckle during the musty evening and flowers in the morning. Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies are God’s gift to moms and moms’ gift to children. I love it when people cry and laugh and sigh when I’ve made them happy. I love the sound of church bells, or any large cast-bronze bell. I love staying up late, waking up later and reading until I drop. I love grandfather clocks, watches of all kinds and sealing wax. I truly enjoy singing along to songs, especially when they are songs that most people wouldn’t think I knew or that involve talent, which I haven’t had since my voice changed. A game of cards is better than a video game (the other team can actually think), a book is better than television (it doesn’t have commercials), and listening is better than talking. Hugging is almost as good as cuddling, which isn’t as good as kissing, and there are many types of kissing; I love the kisses that talk without words. I love the feeling of someone I love falling asleep in my arms, I love stroking their hair, I love carrying them to bed and I love kissing them goodnight, whether girlfriend, wife or daughter (not that I’d know on the last two). I love old poems, new gadgets and ancient buildings. I love driving with my arm out the window, playing in the rain until I’m soaked and holding hands with a sweetheart. I love candles. I love songs. I love flowers. I like jazz in the morning, big band at lunch, indie/emo/rock in the afternoon and classical in the evening. I love pictures of places I’ve been almost as much as pictures of places I want to go. I love small ears, big grey/blue/green eyes, soft lips and a hand that fits in mine. The perfect beginning to a day is a crisp, clear morning with a cup of coffee, warm apple strudel, a bowl of fresh, cool strawberries and cut bananas, a glass of milk and a rocking chair on the porch. The perfect end to a day is the same, except the milk is wine and the rocking chair is a wingback by the fireplace. And I love goodnights, because they include – or should – good hugs, warm eyes and the second best type of kiss."

"When You Come to a Fork in the Road, Take It!"

2008-06-02T11:26:00.000-04:00

Everybody's got fear. Everybody's afraid something bad is going to happen sometime. That's life. But what's important is that you don't let it stop you from doing things, taking risks. Every decision is a risk, every choice leaves a choice behind. You can't let yourself get paralyzed by the fear of what might go wrong.
Fear is a big part of everything we do. There's fear of failure, fear of flying, fear of getting hurt, fear of doctors, and so on. When I got my knee replaced a few years ago, you could say I had a little fear. What if something bad happened? What if the doctor screwed up? Thing is, I knew I wanted to walk without pain and play golf pretty bad, so I went through with it, a little fearful but I went ahead anyway. Fortunately everything worked out pretty good, and the harder I worked in rehab, the better I felt. Now my knee is great; they say I won't have to replace it for another fifteen or twenty years, but that's OK because I figure they'll have to replace me first while the knee keeps on going.
There's a lot of people with phobias, that's just the way it is. Phil Rizzuto was - and still is - one of the great worriers; he's afraid of everything that moves. Mice, insects, snakes - anything that crawls he's afraid of, which is why he was a great target for pranks. Guys would put worms in his glove and he would jump ten feet. Phil also had a real fear of birds, and once Johnny Lindell put a live bird inside a drawer where Phil put his valuables when he dressed for the game. He put his hand in the drawer and felt the bird move and tore out of the room like crazy. I don't think he ever used the drawer again.
My biggest fear is probably death; I know I'm going to die, but I don't especially want to be there when it happens. If I have another fear, maybe it's more a dislike, it's public speaking. I don't mind answering questions in front of a large group, but giving speeches is something else. It just makes me uneasy; it's one of the best things I hate.
I guess we all have some kinds of fears. The trick is to overcome them. It comes down to confidence and concentration. Baseball's a real good example: A lot of young kids have a fear of getting hit by a ball. Why? Because when it hits them, it hurts. The main thing is to teach them how to hit properly, and how to get of the way of an inside pitch. Using a tennis ball to practice is a good help, because you can gradually build up the confidence and lessen the fear.
It's funny, but a lot of kids think they can really get hurt playing baseball. They don't worry about getting in a fight or falling off a skateboard - but they're still afraid of a little ball. Truth is, the chance of getting hurt by a baseball is really, really small. But the fear exists...even for the big-leaguers.
Reggie Jackson never lacked confidence, except when it came to Nolan Ryan, who he said was "the only guy who put fear in me. Not because he can get me out, but because he can kill me." I think Randy Johnson scares some guys in the same way, too. He's so big, throws so hard, I think there are many guys just plain afraid to hit against him. That's not good for your confidence.
As a hitter, I always thought I had the advantage: I had the bat in my hand. I hit against some guys who threw real hard - Bob Feller and Herb Score were real fast - but I honestly never feared anyone. Maybe the one guy who made me a bit nervous was Sandy Koufax when he first came up. We'd see him in spring training and he had no idea where the ball was going. That wasn't good for your confidence either.
President Roosevelt said there was nothing to fear but fear itself, and that makes sense to me. Whenever someone goes to a hospital or has an operation, I always try to cheer them up. My granddaughter Lindsay is a fearless kid, real athletic, but she had to get a hernia operation and was pretty worried. When I asked her what the heck she was worried about, she looked at me like I was crazy and reminded me how nervous I was before my knee operation. So maybe the truth is you can't get rid of people's fears, but you can help them go on despite them.
Not everybody's always helpful. Looking back, I feel kind of bad when I think about Jackie Jensen, who was a good player and briefly a teammate on the Yankees, and was terrified of flying. We'd be asleep on a plane, and Billy Martin would grad an oxygen mask and yell, "Jackie, we're going down!" and it really shook him up. Jackie never overcame his fear of flying and it cut short his career.
You have to appreciate people who struggle to overcome their fears. Jimmy Piersall was a real good player for the Red Sox, but he had a nervous breakdown because he had all sorts of paranoid fears - they even made a movie about him called Fear Strikes Out. The good thing was that Jimmy eventually got better, got his confidence back, and played a great centerfield. He always stayed a bit flaky, though. How many guys used to take bug spray to the outfield?

-Yogi Berra, What Time Is It? You Mean Now?: Advice for Life from the Zennest Master of Them All

My Thoughts on Sorority Recruitment (pulled from my "other blog")

2008-06-02T11:11:00.000-04:00

Title: "Recruitment 101"
Entry Date: Sunday, September 2, 2007

Recruitment training began on Saturday morning, to open up a whole new season of Rush. All day Saturday, followed by another full day on Sunday, practicing singing, and conversation, and "trust circles". My enthusiasm for such events is diminishing as time goes by. I love my sisters, I want to spend time with my sisters, I want to have fun with my sisters; but let's face it: 6 hours of sitting on the parlor floor in a room meant for something like 20 people, yet there are 70 squeezed in...it's a bit much. There's only so much energy and so many smiles I can exude in a period of 6 hours.

Rush will eat up my life for the next two weeks, and I already know that I'll look back on it, and feel good, and know I've accomplished something; I'm passing on a legacy, letting others experience what I have found in Delta Gamma. For now, I'm exhausted. I don't care what anyone says, this recruitment stuff is hard work. The saddest part about all of this, is that I'm going to have to do it all over again next year. One more time, I will sit on the floor of the parlor and listen to the same speeches, and participate in the same conversation exercises. I would've thought by now, I could have a somewhat normal, functional conversation with someone I don't know, to sell them an idea. Apparently, I am wrong, according to Greek life. I need more of the same training every year. Maybe if they keep beating that dead horse, it'll spring back to life.

Well, now that it appears I've become little miss Negative Nancy, here's the good stuff:
Every moment I spend with my sisters, I learn new things about them, and realize what an amazing group of women I'm a part of. We are so diverse, there are so many different interests, different talents that translate into achievements for us. It's absolutely phenomenal. Finding out where everyone was this summer, what jobs they held, what research they completed or participated in, has been just incredible. Pre-recruitment is a great time to get back in touch, and get to know sisters better. It's fun, it's hard work, it's enlightening, it's mentally and physically exhausting, but we do it because we care and we want to be the best. What could be more rewarding?

Naturalist? Atheist? Beer?

2008-06-02T10:53:00.001-04:00

"There is room to wonder whether any philosophy ever has been purely secular, that is, had no religious roots. Socrates, whose work shaped philosophy as we know it, understood his life in philosophy as a religious mission. Even Epicurus sought to give mortals an analogue of the tranquility he saw in the gods. Tillich argued powerfully that such apparently secular philosophies as Marxism and Nazism actually rest on and express "ultimate concern," an attitude indistinguishable from religious devotion. Perhaps at some level, philosophy is always the theology of some ultimate concern. For all philosophy is written in the service of a particular world view and set of values. Almost always, something in a thinker's world picture or values calls forth a nearly religious awe or attracts a supreme, quasi-religious loyalty. This is true even of the naturalism, materialism, or scientism that are the self-proclaimed orthodoxy of today's academic philosophy. For these too have beliefs about what deserves awe or devotion, though they are rarely articulated. Catch the naturalist in a reflective mood, feed the naturalist some beer if necessary and you may hear sentiments like these:

"Humanity matters most, and philosophy ought to just help make our sorry years a bit more bearable."

"Justice matters most, and what gives our brief lives worth is devoting ourselves to realizing it in a classless society."

"Truth matters most, and we redeem ourselves from our utter insignificance by serving it."

"The universe dwarfs us, and the best thing we can hope for is to understand and accept our place in it and feel (as we are) a part of nature."

Naturalists do have such thoughts, though they rarely utter them. They draw them from Stoics, Epicureans, Spinoza or Marx. These arguably are propositions of the atheist theologies that naturalists live by."

-Brian Leftow, from "God and the Philosophers"

If I occasionally have these thoughts myself, with or without the beer, does that necessarily make me a Naturalist? an Atheist? I don't exactly know what I believe with conviction as far as organized religion goes. Maybe there is a God; maybe there isn't. There are times when I can look around me, even when I'm troubled, and I think to myself, 'there is an infinite amount of beauty all around me. This could not come from nothing. The design of the world we live in is too intricate and fits together so simply perfectly for there to be no God.' I suppose if put on the spot today, I'd probably call myself a theist, and use a combination of the Teleological & Cosmological arguments for the existence of God to back up my 'belief'. But, who can really call that a belief anyway? This is a problem that I am constantly trying to work out, and changing my mind about. I could be wrong, and I acknowledge that I might be wrong, and that there is some alternative that my limited human understanding cannot grasp. Maybe there is no God. Then again, maybe there is. Who's to say which is "right" or "wrong"?

Becoming Wise in Love

2008-06-02T10:49:00.001-04:00

by Muriel Moton

One of the greatest yearnings in life is to be loved. Since it is greatly yearned for, it stands to reason that it's missing.

Perhaps the reason it is absent from many is because its true characteristics are not quite understood nor is it clear where it should begin.

If you are someone who wants to have true and unconditional love, then you need to adhere to wise counsel. True love is a behavior powered by specific beliefs, attitudes and behaviors that begin with self-application and self-demonstration.

So what are these specific beliefs, attitudes and behaviors that should begin with you? Here are a few:

You will not give up on yourself. Love suffers long.

You are a protector, nurturer, cultivator and preserver of your mind, body and soul. Love is kind.

You do not speak, think or behave in ways that reflect self-hate, inferiority or lack of self-respect. Love does not envy.

The negative words or actions of others are not effective in making you question your own worth or value. Love is not provoked.

Despite your hardships or challenges you are continuous in your courage, encouragement and perseverance. Love endures all things.

You build inner resilience as long as the application and capacity for loving yourself grows. The love you have deposited is reflected in your expression and treatment to others. You know the power in being loving is greater than being loved. You will love yourself even when it seems no one else will. Love never fails.

So, if you are yearning to be loved, take a lesson from the wise and take ownership for making sure you begin applying love to yourself first. Experience its power and the law of attraction will begin to manifest the quality of love from others that you require. This is how you become wise in love.

Political Musings

2008-06-02T10:43:00.000-04:00

**Note: This story says nothing about my own personal political preferences, nor for whom I plan to vote come November.**

A teacher in Lafayette , Tennessee asked her 6th grade class how many
of them were Obama fan.

Not really knowing what an Obama fan was but wanting to be liked by
the teacher, all the children raised their hands except for little
Johnny.

The teacher asked Johnny why he has decided to be different........again.

Little Johnny says, 'because I'm not an Obama fan.'

The teacher asked, 'why aren't you an Obama fan.'

'Because I'm a republican,' Johnny replies.

The teacher asked him why he was a republican.

Little Johnny answered, 'Well, my Mom's a republican and my Dad's a
republican, so I'm a republican.

Somewhat annoyed by this answer, the teacher asked, 'if your Mom was a
moron and your Dad was an idiot, what would that make you?'

With a big smile, Little Johnny replied, 'that would make me an Obama fan.'

Facebook “Microstatus” Feature Draws Fire

2008-06-02T10:39:00.001-04:00

by Erin Barkley in News / November 25th, 2007

Online social meeting site Facebook.com faced increased pressure Sunday to remove a new feature it has been testing for the last week, which allows users’ friends to see exactly what they are doing at all times, day or night.

“The problem with the Microstatus program is that you can’t turn it off,” said Josh Maxington of Intoper Systems. “Sure, sometimes it’s nice that they know when I’m tired or going out for a bite to eat… but when I wake up in the morning and my status history is filled with things like ‘Josh rolled over in his sleep’, and ‘Josh stretched his ass and yawned’… that’s going overboard.”

The feature, which was developed in conjunction with Google’s Street View service, keeps tabs on each and every user of Facebook at all times with infrared and satellite imagery, as well as phone taps and advanced email parsing. Every time the “target” performs an action, a Facebook employee known as a Mobile Status Updater (nicknamed “stalkers”) writes an account and posts it to that user’s status feed. In addition, if there are any purchasable items involved, those are linked to an affiliate’s online store so “friends” can easily purchase the same product.

“At least with the old ad system, you could claim you were buying the thing for a friend,” said Marcy Wilburry, 20, of Camden, NJ. “But when it says ‘Marcy is clumsily applying the gonorrhea ointment’, there’s not much you can do but change your name and start a new life somewhere else.”

But sources inside Facebook say even that won’t work, since the Microstatus stalkers will report any name or address changes to the feed as they happen. And while some users have managed to opt out of the program, anti-Facebook forums are filling up with complaints that not everyone has “a first-born’s immortal soul” to trade for freedom from constant supervision.

Still, others think the service isn’t as bad as it seems.

“It’s like totally great,” said Mandi Harper, 17, of Bellvue, CA. “It’s like, before, when I was like totally hammered out of my mind, like, I couldn’t hit the buttons on my phone to like update my status! I know! So like now, when I’m puking in the toilet, like all my friends can see how totally awesome my afternoon was! LOLZ!”

No Facebook employees would comment for this story, citing “there is no such thing as ‘off the record’ anymore”.

thanks to blog, "Push the Third Button Twice" for posting this entertaining piece.

Epistemology in a Courtroom

2008-06-02T10:38:00.001-04:00

A defendant was on trial for murder. There was strong evidence indicating his guilt, but there was no corpse. In his closing statement, the defense attorney resorted to a trick. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," he said. "I have a surprise for you all - within one minute, the person presumed dead will walk into this courtroom."
He looked toward the courtroom door. The jurors, stunned, all looked eagerly. A minute passed. Nothing happened. Finally the lawyer said, "Actually, I made up the business about the dead man walking in. But you all looked at the door with anticipation. I therefore put it to you that there is reasonable doubt in this case as to whether anyone was killed, and I must insist that you return with a verdict of 'not guilty.'"
The jury retired to deliberate. A few minutes later, they returned and pronounced a verdict of "guilty."
"But how could you do that?" bellowed the lawyer. "You must have had some doubt. I saw all of you stare at the door."
The jury foreman replied, "Oh, we looked, but your client didn't."

- Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar

"Better to be without logic than without feeling"?

2008-06-02T10:34:00.000-04:00

Lately, this subject has been occupying my mind: my passions, other peoples' passions, how they affect the way we live, and how they should be affecting the way we live. These last few years have been interesting, during which time I've been forced to reevaluate what is most important to me, and to realize what I am most passionate about. My method for doing so has, for the most part, been observing others. I've been watching and listening to everything around me, for some kind of a glimpse of what makes people so passionate about what they do; or not, and why.

So many people in the United States today hate their jobs. I've seen it in family, friends, and complete strangers. Americans are over-worked in jobs that they hate, making them only hate their jobs more, and building stress levels to inexplicable levels, which only creates more problems for them. Living "the American dream" is just not what it used to be. Americans don't just want to make a living to sustain their families. They want to make a difference. They want to live to work. So, how does one find something that they can be passionate about over a period long enough to give them the time to find the resources they need to pursue that passion while making a decent living? For someone, like myself, who has found a deep-seeded, long-lasting passion in something as economically unstable as classical piano performance, it seems like an impossibility.

I've recently observed the "rise and fall" of a passion in a close friend of mine, which has taken my curiosity. This friend, let's called him/her "Sam," for practical purposes, was passionate about...let's call it... "olives". [I work well with food analogies.] So, Sam loved olives. Sam wanted to have a hand in every part of the olive-tending process. He grew his own olives, he picked them, was a very talented cook with olives, and made a daily snack of tapenade, which he had produced on his own land, in Greece. He had big ideas for the "future" of olives and how olives would change people's lives and make the world a better place, in the long run. He shared several of his fascinating and innovative "future-of-olives" inventions, which I agreed truly would make peoples' lives better. Talking about olives with Sam was what drew me to him, and led me to be such good friends with him in the first place. I loved his passion. I loved his creativity. One day, Sam was offered a high-paid position at an olive farm. It was his dream-come-true. He started work, loving his job, thinking how lucky he was to have landed such a great job. He met all kinds of other young people, like himself, who were passionate about olives and filled with more great, new ideas. Talking with Sam about olives was entertaining and engaging because Sam knew his stuff, and he loved his stuff.

After a few months working at the olive farm, Sam began to grow tired of working there. He missed his own olive trees, and his brilliant ideas for the "betterment of the world by olives" were sitting motionless in the back of his mind, while he mechanically went about doing his job. More and more, Sam began to realize that this olive job was just not for him. And more and more, Sam began to think that perhaps olives were not really for him at all. Sam eventually got out of the olive business to pursue another interest of his. Within six months, Sam entered a new field. He became a "park ranger, in America". This job paid much less, but was more exciting and rewarding, as Sam saw it. He started a new life for himself, and is content...for now.

After watching "Sam's" passion lead him in one direction, only for him to end up somewhere completely different, I have to wonder, 'Is it worth it to pursue one's passion to an extreme as Sam did, risking every ounce of enthusiasm he had for olive-tending, and losing it all? Or should one find a job from an interest that is not fueled by the fire of passion, but could lead to a content life in the long-run?' Should I be searching for a "content" life, or a passionate life, regardless of the risk involved? It's hard to say. There's certainly something to be said for taking a chance, and pursuing one's passions, and sticking with something until the end. But, if you lose, is that loss worse than the merely "content" life you would have to lead otherwise, had you not taken that chance and risked your passion?

Take, for example, Billy Joel. This is a man who is clearly passionate about what he does. He has a lot of talent, and a love for music, as he does music. He is an older man, but his passion provides a certain sex-appeal that cannot be replicated, even by those with younger, or naturally more appealing features. It's his passion that drives people to him. It was "Sam's" passion for "olives" that drew me in. I wish I could just find that "Billy Joel" kind of passion, and stray away from the "Sam" type. I want to make a good "investment" with my passions. And, I want to change the world, as is so stereotypical of my generation.

Was my decision to not pursue music in college a good one? I highly doubt that I would have made it in any kind of a performance career, which is what I would have wanted most from that. Although the passion is there, I think I would most likely find that my skills are not honed enough and I would not be able to compete with the incredible talents around me in a music conservatory. Had I followed that dream of mine, would I have inevitably met failure, only to lose the passion that I feel most strongly about, as "Sam" did? Or would I have found a different path, keeping my fire alive, and leading a happy, healthy life? I cannot know for sure. All I know is that I let my fear of losing a passion guide my decision when I chose to attend this college, and my passion is still with me. I know, and have accepted that I will never be a great concert pianist, or any concert pianist, probably, at that. Yet, every time I sit down at a piano, I feel calm, and collected, as though I have my act together, even when I clearly do not. Every time I look into the eyes of a listener, or I saw my dad asleep on the couch while I played, I've felt peaceful and happy. I can vividly imagine myself sitting on stage at Carnegie Hall, playing to thousands of listeners. It is a fantasy that is so real to me, I can smell the mustiness of the hall, hear the deafening silence of the room as my heels click on the hard-wood floor to the piano bench. And because I refuse to risk it, I will always have that fantasy.

Will I find something that I am just as passionate about to pursue? Have I already found that? And with that new-found passion, will I forget about the old? Will my dreams of playing at Carnegie fade into a new dream, that is just as vivid, or even close to being as crystal clear in my mind? Are these questions, like so many, ones which I will never find answers to?