| Mean Girls 2 |
[Jan. 14th, 2009|05:15 pm] |
|
Mean Girls 2
or
Dr. Phil's How to Lie Your Way Into the Marriage You Deserve
Say there are n men and n women itching to get hitched. Each man has a ranked list of all the woman according to how much he'd like to marry her. Likewise, each woman has a ranked list of all the bachelors. Here's how they go about getting matched: Each man asks his favorite woman whether she'd like to be his wife. If she's single, she's got to say yes, at least for now. However, if she's already taken by some other man, he gets to choose the man she likes better, dumping her current squeeze if the newer one is higher on her list. If a man gets rejected, he's got to keep asking ladies farther down his list. Eventually they all get matched and married and live happily ever after.
Of course no one ever lives happily ever after. Who REALLY wins - the men or the women? Turns out the men always end up with with choices higher up on their lists than the women do.
But suppose the women aren't happy with the status quo. Suppose one woman, in particular, won't settle for less, and decides to play dirty. She lies on her preference list, switching the order of two prospective grooms, in the hope that somehow this system, this maddeningly misogynist algorithm, could be fooled into giving her the man of her dreams. Could she possibly succeed?
Let m_1, m_2, m_3 denote 3 males. Let w_1, w_2, w_3 denote 3 females.
This is their story.
- * -
With short blond hair loosely framing her soft features, Emma had the aura of a gentle girl. When she spoke, she almost always smiled brilliantly, flushing out her dimples and giving the effect that whatever she had to say came out friendly.
Madison, on the other hand, was dark haired, with the striking features of a model. Her eyes were always sparkling, as if there was some cunning plan always on the back of her mind.
Ava, the third girl, was by all accounts female.
Emma and Madison were comparing notes on their future husbands, in the house they shared with Ava. Ava was there, too.
Madison said, ``I think Aiden's got his eye on you Emma. I'm jealous: He's so sweet! Plus he has a body to DIE for.''
Emma shrugged. ``Yeah, if you're in to that kind of thing. But I've got my heart set on Jacob,'' she said with a dreamy look on her face.
``Jacob? That jerk? He's scrawny!'' Madison objected.
``But such sculpted cheeks!'' Emma replied.
Ava, sitting in the corner, spoke up. ``I heard Jacob has a motorcycle. I think that's interesting.''
Emma and Madison stared at Ava, as if surprised to see her there.
``Be quiet Ava, no one cares what you think.'' Madison said, then turning back to Emma. ``Too bad Jacob's got the hots for me. Bummer, huh?''
``Jacob's not the only one after you,'' Emma put in, twirling with her hair. ``I heard Gavin talking the other day about how you're the love of his life.''
There was a pause as Emma and Madison looked at each other, and then they both burst out laughing.
``In his dreams!'' Emma exclaimed.
``He's such a nerd,'' Madison put in.
``Yeah and a loser,'' Emma said.
``I think Gavin is -'' Ava said.
``Shut up Ava, we don't give a shit,'' Emma said congenially.
``When that dork asks me to marry him,'' Madison went on, ``I'm going to reject his ass.''
``Yeah, even if we don't get our first choices, at least we're not going to end up with that dweeb.'' Emma said.
``Yeah...'' Madison agrees, then trailed off as she frowned in concentration. ``Wait a minute, I got an idea,'' she said.
Emma arched an eyebrow, ``Is this like the time you tried to get Aiden to say 'sex'?''
``I think Aiden is very - '' Ava piped up.
``SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!'' Emma screamed.
``Why don't you go tell your thoughts who will listen to you, like your pet goldfish,'' Madison added.
After glaring at Ava for a few more seconds, Madison continued. ``No, this is going to work. Tomorrow, when the boys ask start asking, I'm going to pretend that Gavin is my second choice.''
``Over Jacob? ARE YOU INSANE?'' Emma said, but Madison cut her off.
``Don't worry! When all the asking is done, Aiden will be my husband, and Jacob will be yours,'' Madison said.
``Oooooo!'' Emma squealed, clapping enthuisatically. ``And Gavin?''
``He'll still end up with Ava,'' Madison said with a smirk, and both Emma and Madison chuckle evilly.
Ava, mistaking the previous statement as an invitation to talk, said, ``Well actually I think that plan is - '' only to cut off as Emma raised her fist menacingly.
- * -
The next day, the three men appeared at the ladie's home, bearing flowers. Aiden wore a perfectly tailored suit that somehow accentuated his biceps. Jacob, in contrast, wore a black leather jacket and jeans. Gavin was wearing something he might have found in his mom's room. When they arrived they found the women in their bridal gowns, waiting expectantly.
Aiden went first. Stepping up to Emma, he bowed down low. ``Dearest Emma, will you marry me?'' he asked with a stately air.
Emma smiled sweetly, ``Why of course I will. Until someone better comes that is.''
Gavin went next. Smiling with a sleazy and utterly disgusting smile, he walked up to Madison. ``Will you be mine, Madison?''
``Yeah...sure Gavin. That'd be great.'' Madison said, attempting not to grimace.
Then it was Jacob's turn. He eyed each of the ladies with a baleful air, then, after combing his hair with the black comb he carried around everywhere, he mozied over to Madison.
``Madison, how about you drop that wuss and come home with me,'' he said, holding out his arm expectantly. Gavin gave him a pathetic glare.
Madison, however, gingerly touched Gavin's arm. ``I prefer Gavin over you, Jacob.'' There was an exclamation of surprise from the three men. Gavin had his mouth open in a incredible display of geekdom.
Jacob eyed Madison suspiciously, ``You serious, girl?''
Madison nodded, ``Yes.''
Gavin, who had finally closed his mouth and was looking rather smug, said, ``Yeah, she likes me!''
Jacob said nothing for a moment, then shrugged. ``Whatever,'' he said. ``Emma? How about you and I get dirty tonight?''
Emma squealed, even more shrilly than she had the previous day. ``Yes! Do me however you want!'' she said, running over into Jacob's arms.
Aiden looked crestfallen for a moment, then said, ``Well my father always said, if at first you are not successful, try something similiar yet not wholly unexpected.'' He turned to Madison, and bowing low once again, he said.
``Dearest Madison, will you marry me?''
Gavin, who was looking alarmed, attempted to speak, but was shoved aside into a nearby mudhole by the joyous Madison, who said, ``Yes Aiden, I do!'' Then Madison and Aiden and Emma and Jacob
started walking away, leaving Gavin sputtering in the mud and Ava looking amiable at the doorstep.
Gavin appeared to be in shock. He turned to Emma pleadingly. ``Emma?''
Emma responded without breaking stride. ``Gavin,'' Emma said, her voice like a thousand angelic choirs, ``crawl into a hole and die.''
How could this be? Gavin thought. He had been so happy when Madison had chosen him over Jacob, and he couldn't accept that he had still somehow ended with neither of his first two choices.
``But you said 'yes' to me...'' Gavin objected.
Madison looked back briefly at the pathetic Gavin. ``Actually, I LIED. I really do like Jacob over you. I hate your guts you loser!''
Emma and Aiden and Jacob burst out laughing cruelly.
``Dork!'' Emma shouted.
``Nerd!'' scoffed Jacob.
``Gavin, you are a most pathetic individual,'' Aiden pointed out helpfully.
``You got punk'd, Gavin!'' Madison screamed.
``You suck!'' Emma added.
``You look better with the mud on you.'' Jacob said.
The two departing couples continued to insult Gavin until they were out of earshot, and probably even after that.
As Gavin sat dejected, Ava walked up to him.
``Looks like I'm your wife,'' Ava said. ``Let's go inside and we can talk.''
Gavin stared blankly at Ava for a few moments, having forgotten she was there. Then he grimaced.
``What for? No one cares what you think, Ava,'' he said.
|
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 28th, 2008|04:57 pm] |
Dearest Elizabeth-
We had planned for a trip to the University today, so that the Master could get a head start on his studies, and also attend a swing dancing lesson scheduled for the evening. He had been talking enthusiastically about dancing again since coming back from the "Dawg Days" celebration on Friday. None of us knew that he had planned on attending - apparently a lady friend of his had invited him - but needless to say we were all delighted at his new-found ambitions. Some of us even whispered about the old days coming back again.
Then upon waking today, the Master appeared to have second thoughts. He discovered that his studies could be safely done tomorrow afternoon, and he also noted that the swing dancing lesson was "only for beginners". When he came to the decision to cancel, he said it lightly, as if it was no consequence. Yet as he settled down to his devices, I glimpsed his hand shaking. I believe he is afraid.
Now the household is in a state of nervous anticipation for the coming days. Certainly the master has in the past shown himself to be a very capable person, and we hope tomorrow he will find the energy to get done what needs to be done. I don't really want to think about the alternatives.
Sincerely- |
|
|
| Facebook Profile: Takes 1 and 2 |
[May. 24th, 2008|05:55 am] |
Hello, my name is "Carrot". However, you can call me Andrew if you want.
I used to be an aspiring writer and mathematician. But then I was kicked out of my college. Or was it the other way around?
Anyways, now I go to the University of Washington. I do a lot of Computer Science, and I talk to girls a lot, and sometimes I get to do both at the same time. I recently got hired as a teaching assistant for an Intro to Programming class. I am very proud of this. My parents are proud too, but they would be happier if I stayed with the Zoloft.
I don't like Zoloft very much. Sometimes I forget to take it. Sometimes its hard to get out of bed in the morning.
I swear a lot. This gets me in trouble with my job, because some people don't like vulgarity in their lives, kind of like how I used to be. I don't know what happened to me.
Sometimes I think about writing again. About how my life has changed. About how I've grown and aged. I think there's a lot I could say, if I could just wrap my head around it. But mostly I think I just want attention.
- - - - -
Hello, my name is "Carrot". However, you can call me Andrew if you want. There's a rough correlation between what you call me and the kind of person you think I am. It's really quite fascinating. Maybe someday I'll write a book about it.
Seriously though, what kind of person am I? I used to think I was really really smart, and then once I hit puberty I also liked to think I was attractive and knew how to woo women. Then I got this notion that I could be, you know, GREAT. Like the guys with their names in math books. I'd have been happy with a few laws and theorems named after me. Also a nice, juicy unproven conjecture to keep em guessing.
And why stop at math? I loved the idea of being a polymath: science, writing, KNOWLEDGE. Dreams and ambitions and influence and power and YES. I wanted it all! And I thought I could pull it off.
Man...what was I smoking? |
|
|
| Maybe Some Other (Day) (Girl) |
[Aug. 13th, 2007|06:10 pm] |
"Is there any more rice left?" Natasha said, peering into the small china dish Peter had set out for the meal. The dish reminds us of eating with grandma. It's a nice touch, though I can't help but feel like I'm living in a nursing home like the one she's currently in. Peter cooks these little meals for us, and I eat them. We have a good arrangement, though the second his girlfriend arrives he usually takes off as soon as he can. Natasha and Peter have been going out for several years now, and we've gotten used to her steady presence and absence. Who would want to stay here more than they had to?
So it's a little weird to have Natasha ask about the food as if she was actually going to stick around and eat it with Peter and I, and be social or something. Peter is surprised as well, and he takes a second to respond. "Oh, yeah...there's plenty in the pot," he said with a questioning tone. "You hungry?"
"I was just going to pack it out and bring it out to the car for her to eat. We're both kind of hungry," she said.
When she had mentioned leaving "her" in the car, I assumed that she meant some kind of animal, like one of the chihuahuas she and Peter own. They've taken to naming the dogs, as if they weren't miniature barking machines. But last I checked you didn't feed dogs rice when they get hungry. "There's someone in the car?" I asked.
"Yeah," Peter answered, "Natasha's roommate at Western."
"So why is she outside...ah," I said with sudden understanding, "You don't want to bring her in."
"The less people see the inside of this house, the better," Peter said.
Peter can't stand the mess in our house. As long as we've been alive, our house has been filled with junk. My mom can't resist buying something when its on sale, even if its useless and unwatned, and certainly isn't going to throw away anything that she paid for. Or even anything she got for free. I don't mind all the junk myself, but then again, I guess I kind of fit in. It's been a little while since I've shaved, and my hair is ballooning out. With my glasses and the plain grey shirt I'm wearing, I look kind of like those mad professors on TV, but living at home like a hermit instead of in a laboratory. If I had my act together I'd clean up. Also if I had my act together I'd leave the house sometimes.
Yet I did seem to feel less morose than usual today. Maybe it was the chicken Peter fed me. I peered out the front window. "So there's someone out there?" I said, almost to myself.
"Is she blond?" Natasha asked from behind me, mishearing me.
"No I can't see inside the car, just wondering," I said.
"Ah," she said. "Well she's blond. A blond bombshell."
I had already made up my mind to go outside at this point, mad professor look and all, and I pretended not to hear her. It wouldn't have been good to appear to be too excited.
On my way out I grab the basketball, and I began to lobs some shots at the hoop in our driveway. The hoop faces the street, so when I'm shooting I have my back to Natasha's car, and this mysterious roommate. I tell myself that if she wants to talk to me, she'll come out of the car and say "hi". Sometimes I can get the ball inside the hoop. Maybe if I practice I could become one of those athletes or something. I'm not that ugly.
Yet there's no movement from the car behind us. I don't even really know if anyone is in there outside of what Natasha said. But I'm not about to walk up and take a closer look. That make me seem desperate. Never mind that I am desperate. So I just keep on shooting, even after Natasha comes out of the house and enters the still inert car. When she came out I asked her if she was "good".
"At basketball? Yes, but not with flip flops on," she said, and she kept right on walking to the car without even a pause.
I looked down at my bare feet. Flip flops schmip lops. I couldn't really blame her for not joining me. Peter is notoriously jealous about his girlfriend fraternizing with anyone male besides him. Me especially, but that's another story, and old news anyway. Yet this "bombshell" was supposedly still in the car, so I kept shooting. I kept shooting even after it had been several minutes, while Peter was inside preparing who knows what. Nothing was happening in the car behind me, at least that I can see. Weren't they bored? My conversation isn't that bad.
Peter finally came out, and said, "See you Andy." He didn't stop to shoot some basketball either, though I guess his hands were full. As I keep throwing the ball at the hoop I see them rearranging the car. They were laughing and gesturing and making a ruckus. In between I caught glimpses of that other gal in the car, and yeah she did look blond. She didn't say hi though. Not like I walked up to the car or anything.
When they finished packing, they had to turn into a nearby driveway to turn around. They didn't turn into my driveway. I hear it's kind of steep and hard to navigate, but it would have been nice to say hi. When they start driving away down the street, for a brief second it looks like the people inside are looking at me. I wave, and I see that the gal looks young. I think maybe if the car had been a little slower and she had more time to react she would have waved too, or even smiled. I think Natasha or Peter waved too. They don't count.
At that moment I would have bet you that she had a boyfriend. One of those jealous types, someone who'd make it hard to just go and talk to any other guy. The roommate (she probably has name, but I didn't catch it) probably would have come and talk to me if it weren't for that. I mean, it's kind of risky to just go out of a car and talk to the brother of your roommate's boyfriend. He might be some kind of freak. Or worse, one of those lonely kids, latching on to you. I could see how she wouldn't want to come out, given that she has a boyfriend.
As soon as the car is out of sight I put the basketball down and go back in the house. I'm not really cut out for the sport. In fact, I hate it. |
|
|
| summarily |
[Aug. 13th, 2007|04:45 pm] |
Testing. Hello?
Sometimes, when I'm reading the newspaper, I wish I was cool and had a political journal. One where I had a reputation for witty comments and piercing insights. Everyone would react to my carefully formed opinions, and comment, and some people would agree! I wish I had carefully formed opinions. Actually any opinions at all would be fine.
Sometimes, when I'm whimsically dancing along the depression road, I wish I still wrote about my feelings. And the stuff I wrote wasn't about self-pity at all, but had messages to convey. Something with artistic merit, to get people thinking. Something to get people to talk to me, and make my life a little less empty.
I was planning on writing more, of course, but you see my brother is downstairs and we are going to play Scrabble. If you'd like you can come over too and play. We'd probably beat you but maybe it'd be fun anyway ;-)
-Andrew/Carrot |
|
|
| Pagan at a Work Day |
[Apr. 28th, 2007|05:28 pm] |
Dear Becky-
I liked you better early on, when you smiled at me often. This day of labor seemed meaningful, colored brilliantly by the midday sun and the laughing word games. Affection was everywhere; maybe you would have some for me. Yet later, the curt good-byes and the fading light made me think you won’t miss me. I thought, if you do love, you love Jesus, who I am not.
-Carrot |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 25th, 2007|09:34 pm] |
The birds are singing. The sun is shining! The fabled cherry blossoms of UW have come and gone. Yes, it is spring.
The knowledge is flowing. The classes are happening. The tests are Easy, with a capital easy. Yes, I am doing well.
Life is blooming; I’m well within my renaissance. And in a lot of ways, I’m as good as new. But as you may have realized by this point in the entry, not everything is as it once was. I’m sorry to say that I can no longer write well.
It’s horrible, I know. Yet after several months here back in school, I’ve produced next to nothing in the way of story, or synthesis, or anything literary or visionary. My life spiraled out of control a long time ago and I haven’t been able to grab hold of it again since. But I must try (else? Else what?).
So life is good, but some things are missing. It’s like I’ve become this messy yin and yang. On the one hand, I’m passing my classes easily. On the other, I don’t really care about the material, and I don’t know if I feel any closer to having accomplished something worthwhile in my life.
On the one hand, there are lots and lots of pretty women. Sometimes they talk to me, and smile! They make my head spin in all kinds of directions. But none of them will date me. Not even a kiss. Every night I sleep alone. Every night! Sometimes it gets too much.
On the one hand, I’ve recovered much of my vocabulary. I dazzle people with my fast diction and extensive knowledge of the world. Song pops out of my mouth everytime I find a bathroom or stairwell. Yet I can’t come up with anything to give meaning to my life. Nothing beautiful that I can keep, and point at, and say, look, that’s me!
On the on hand I’m in shape, and mentally fit! I come across almost all of the time as smart, and a lot of times even capable, or, heaven forbid, hard-working. On the other hand, if I go too long without contact with other people, I collapse into a ball and start shaking. At times like these I look like a mess and talk like my stream of consciousness has dried up into small puddles of monosyllabic nonsense. Oddly enough, the same thing happens when I go hungry for too many hours.
Mess! It’s a mess! And I’m trying to tell you about it, not so that you can fix it, but so that maybe it can fix itself into something I can grab a hold of and make my own. Yes I’m writing so that I can learn to write again. Please? |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Mar. 6th, 2007|05:24 pm] |
I'll forgive you for having a boyfriend if you forgive me for staring at you.
That's fair, right? |
|
|
| Preparations |
[Feb. 24th, 2007|12:18 pm] |
12:30 PM Oodegard Undergraduate Library
"Booklet?" A asked.
"Check," Carrot said, holding up the small green packet.
"Sharpened Pencils?" A asked.
B began digging through Carrot's backpack. "Check!" he announced.
"Shaved? Showered? Well-dressed?" A said.
C looked Carrot over. "Beautiful, if I do say so myself"
"Well, I think that might be everything...Oh wait," A paused, frowning. "There's something scribbled here at the end. It says...'Course studying'."
"Oh," C said, looking confused. "What's that?"
Carrot cleared his throat. "Ah well, I figured I'd look over the material a bit beforehand." Everyone stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Carrot blushed. "You know, just to be safe." He held up a scruffy book labeled "Advanced Calculus".
A took the book uncertainly. "Uh...yes...well, Chapter 22.4: Uniform Convergence," A read.
"Check," B said.
"21.1 Radius of Convergence," A said.
"Check," B said.
"21.2, 21.4, 21.5: Differentiation, Abel's Theorem, Lim sup..." A continued.
"Check, check, check," B said. "C'mon this stuff is easy."
"I'm bored," C chimed in.
"OK, OK." Carrot said, grabbing the book from A. "No more studying. But we still have an hour left," Carrot said. "You know what we really need to do is work on my speed. My thinking is far too slow nowadays."
"How will we work on that?" A asked.
"I have an idea!" C said.
* * *
40 minutes later...
"I don't know how he made it past level 9," B said as they walked out of the library.
"It was luck, of course," C looked over and responded. "But you saw how the blocks were piling up afterwards. He would have lost had he stayed."
"I still think he cheats," B grumbled.
At that comment A craned his head around. "How on earth do you cheat on Tetris?" he asked.
"Gentlemen!" Carrot announced, and everyone stopped talking. They had reached the Smith building, and Carrot paused to look at the students streaming in and out. He reached back and pulled the collar of his jacket up, attempting a look of supreme calm.
"We have a test to take." |
|
|
| Happy Ending |
[Feb. 14th, 2007|11:48 am] |
Carrot watched the door close behind VB. He had encountered her leaving her room and on a whim decided to accompany her to her class in Sieg Hall. Now he was alone again, stuck with 2 hours to go and nothing exciting or grand to do in the meanwhile! Carrot was dismayed.
Yet as he left the building, a new voice was heard in his head....
"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" Voice said.
Carrot pauses. "Hmm?" he asked.
"Your stomach!" Voice responded.
Carrot put his hand to his belly and felt that nothing was wrong. "Yes, it is still there," he said.
"Exactly! It's not upset!" Voice exclaimed.
Carrot caught on quickly. "...and I'm not terribly hungry," he said.
"...so you can go for a run!" Voice said.
"More of a jog, really," Carrot said.
"Anything to get you off your lazy butt," Voice said.
Carrot smiled excitedly, startling a nearby stranger."It'll be just like old times!" he said.
"Plus you need a shower."
And Carrot lived happily ever after. |
|
|
| It's Because I Live in a Dream |
[Feb. 9th, 2007|10:38 am] |
I am everything you want
I am everything you need
I am everything inside of you
That you wish you could be
I say all the right things
At exactly the right time
But I mean nothing to you and I don't know why
And I don't know why
Vertical Horizon
"Everything You Want"
Leaving math class today I found myself singing that old Vertical Horizon single, "Everything You Want". It wasn't an aria or anything, just a few lines from the end of the chorus (hopefully no one heard me). And being the sap that I am, I thought to myself, "Hey, I feel the same way." Not about any particular woman, but towards everyone; I try and try to get people to love me, but I never seem to get anywhere. And this isn't because life is cruel or random. There are (mostly) happy people, and there are (mostly) sad people, and I'm sure I share traits with both groups. I firmly believe there are real, good reasons for my plight in life. Yet like the guy in the song, I have no idea what they are - "I don't know why."
But if one, turning towards the window should say,
"You dolt! I do love you. I've told you, many many times. I hold you, I long for you, I seek you out. You mean everything to me. Don't you believe me?"
...OK. Yeah, I believe you. I mean something to you...
"Everything."
Right. So...um...why is it that you mean nothing to me? |
|
|
| Bother |
[Feb. 8th, 2007|10:19 pm] |
|
I swear, romancing ladies used to be so much easier. I don't know whether I prefer it here at the big college where most of the wonderful women have boyfriends, or back at Pomona where most of the women were single, but viciously so. |
|
|
| refinements |
[Feb. 8th, 2007|10:25 am] |
Hello everyone-
I've been in school for a month without anything really terrible happening. It's getting harder and harder to pretend to claim I'm "settling in", and I'm starting to feel the pressure to start justifying my existence. What a bother!
The prickly fact is I've got loads of free time. I was a little slow on realizing that "full-time student" doesn't equate to "standard college load", and so I'm a little low on credits (12 instead of 15). This combined with my lack of student activities/jobs accounts for all of this extra time.
Should I:
-Get a job?
-Study more for classes to guarantee A's?
-Pick up dancing again?
-Somehow become more "social"?
It's the last option that is most vague and useless seeming, but of course it's also the one I'm most inclined for, given my weaknesses/central difficulties. The only thing I really know how to do is try to make myself whole. And that is exactly what I can't accomplish here.
I'll let you know when I make more progress on this. |
|
|
| Thoughts |
[Jan. 26th, 2007|10:49 am] |
|
The only thing separating an optimistic world view from a foolish fantasy is the optimist's will to make his future real. |
|
|
| Hey! You look like someone into Ring theory... |
[Jan. 9th, 2007|01:38 pm] |
I'm not ashamed to admit it, I need help.
Let peace be on earth, let ashes fall to ashes, let R be a ring with every element x = x^3.
Please god tell me why R is commutative.
And no, don't give me a crappy answer, like for every a and b, ababaa = aabab. Because I got that on my own and I really don't think its the same. I need the real thing, ab=ba, and no, no Swedish junk.
Statement, proof, filled in little box.
I've worked really hard and thrown things at the whiteboard and went wandering around my halls looking for help but they're all engineering students and thus kind of weird and did all of my other homework and left plenty of time to ask other people but they all live in other places in the big campuses and I'm new here and the office hours were yesterday and I gave blood today so its all a little woozy.
I'm not greedy, I can take a little hint. I've tried multiplying by a on the left side, and on the right side, and it wasn't enough, but maybe I should do it backwards? Like multiply on the right side first? Or multiply z instead of a? Or...or...in German?
Show me a sign! Even if its negative, because then i can just stick it on the other side of the equal sign. But why would you do that anyway instead of just setting equal to 0 and canceling? |
|
|
| "Of course I'm packed" |
[Dec. 30th, 2006|09:45 pm] |
Wanted: College friend. Preferably a woman, though willing to work on case by case basis. Must be unavailable for dating (for any reason). Needs to be tolerant of constant flirting. Women with jealous boyfriends need not apply.
I've been doing next to nothing in preparation for moving in next week. I suppose part of this is due to laziness, but I've come up with another reason for my inaction: I don't want to make a big deal about the move. I mean, going to college full time (sans gaming computer) is pretty much the opposite of sitting at home, and so really everything about my days is going to change. But my emotional/social problems are the ones that most need fixing, and a solution won't come guaranteed with the move. It's easy to forget that, with all the excitement flying about.
Thus I'm packing light. Pillow, blankets, and sheets. My entire wardrobe and the duffel bag it comes in. Toiletries, my backpack, and I'm ready.
Ready like a fish in a desperate sea. |
|
|
| Next Quarter |
[Dec. 24th, 2006|03:18 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  quixotic | ] |
One week until I move into the dorms. Sometimes I feel like there's much that needs to be done before hand, and the feeling is probably right. But of course there is very little I can actually do. The rest is just imagination.
I do have some thoughts about this quarter:
I'm only moving a few miles but I'm going for a clean break. Playing computer games has been my primary source of entertainment/comfort this past year and I'm cutting that out completely. It's the closest thing I've had to a routine in this house; nothing here makes me feel at home as much as it makes me forget I don't have a "home" (you folks know that Smiths song? It's probably not relevent anyway). I see my moving to the UW as completely throwing myself into a new environment, without any built in support from either existing friends or from my own lack of self-esteem and self-worth. And with this I need to succeed in completing the coursework of a fulltime student, something I've failed to do last time I was in college.
Yet I'm hopeful.
I feel something like a martyr. Martyrs don't have to worry about the future. No need for plans, and the outcome is nothing more than a vague manifestation of belief. Not much concern with the self as much of what the self contributes to some kind of meaningful whole, and all of your life's accomplishments, your unique characteristics, and the qualities your mother most prized in you coalesce into a single leap of faith.
The only difference is martyrs leap to death, and hope for an impact on political or social movements. I don't plan on dying, and I certainly don't have a cause I'm celebrating. Instead of all that, my hope in attending the UW is to woo women.
*End Entry* |
|
|
| No Power - No Livejournal |
[Dec. 17th, 2006|03:24 pm] |
Guten Tag-
A german greeting to suit the German lay out of my Livejournal page. Once upon ago I thought it was a good idea to have Livejournal speak to me in gobbledegook in order to more immerse myself in the language. Now I can't even understand enough to figure out how to change the language setting. Darn!
The power went out at my house on Thursday, and as far as I know, its still out. And since I'm usually so good at writing my livejournal entries frequently, I figured I HAD to get to a library to tell you guys what's up. ;-)
So on a whim I decided to check that other e-mail address. The comcast one that I haven't checked in a year. Also the one that livejournal sends its messages to. (Yes, that is where they went). The inbox was actually most empty, and about 41 e-mails in I realized the year had suddenly switched in the dates. It looks like all of the e-mail I received on that address between Novemeber of last year and November of this year were deleted before I ever saw them. Sorry if you tried to get a hold of me that way. At least now I have something else to blame my (lack of) women troubles on: they had tried to message me all along.
How is it that a year passes without me finding anything worth writing about? I geuss that happens with a lot of people - life just kind of blends together, and before you know it, you're dead! But how could it have happened to mmmmmmeeeeee.
I know what Nick would say. Once upon a time he was a good friend, and even though we lived on polar opposites of the (Claremont) world, we still found the initiative and time to meet for food at Scripps or Frary. We talked about strange things, like cello guitar classical duets, whether or not women were worth the trouble, and the prospect of Good and Wonderful in the future. He kept believing that we were kindred visionaries, and that this depression I claimed would be vanquished soon enough.
I think he kept on believing in me right up to the last time I saw him, in August 2005. He was in Claremont for a few days before he left for one of his worldly adventures. It had been a few months before we had last conversed, and we agreed to meet at the Coop fountain. I must have been in pretty low spirits around that time, because I remember him getting bewildered at my complete lack of optimism towards my life. We talked about the things he'd thought about and discovered on his journeys, and he tried to impress me with the wonder and amazement that filled him. "You'll get better," he insisted.
"Maybe," I replied nonchalantly, as if I couldn't care less.
We said our good-byes that night, and I didn't expect to see him for a while. The next morning, however, I passed him on my bike ride through the Village.
(This computer is telling me I only have 5 mnutes and 20 seconds left. Normally I'd save this as a word file and work on it later, but given my track record recently I really don't trust later will come. So enjoy)
-Andrew |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 12th, 2006|12:14 am] |
Hello everyone. I'm still alive. That doesn't surprise most of you, I'm sure. It surprises me though! Still an emo, yes. Sorry.
I'm also sorry to say the pace of my life has slowed considerably in the year since I left the college life. When you're living at home with your parents...unemployed...and playing computer games for several hours a day, your life tends to be uninteresting. I've barely been able to scrap up enough creativity to write e-mails to selected (random) friends every month or so, let alone actually write something for EVERYONE to read.
Now, however, things seem to be getting better. I applied to the University of Washington to let me in (again), and they did, so I'm officially a UW student, slated for a glorious return to scholarship starting January something or other. I plan on taking 2 math classes, as well as something else. YOu know, something easy. Anyone got any ideas? (Sorry, microeconomics is full).
OK, that's the big news. Other tidbits:
-I have facial hair now. This is really important to me. Also I just got a haircut.
-I'm no longer suicidal (anti-depressants non-withstanding)
-I play World of Warcraft. Not exclusively though. I'm open to Everquest, and Guild Wars. Also real life.
I spend a lot of time on the bus or walking to it. Sometimes I feel like I have an interesting idea about my life, and I think, maybe this time I will write about it! But then the train of thought explodes (fades away) and I'm left to prime factor the address numbers passing by my window.
I go dancing, and often times I end up talking to smiling women. I may be living a mostly empty life, but I can still dance and laugh and be good company, at least until the night is over. Some nights are good, some nights are rather lonely, and some nights are mostly neither, but none of them connect to form any kind of meaning. Maybe tomorrow will be different! Or maybe in January, when I'm more fully engaged...?
I'd better stop before I start thinking I have something to write about it. And, again, hello. |
|
|
| A Small Update |
[May. 14th, 2005|05:56 pm] |
I feel like I'm in one of those movies about the heroic life of some individual or other. This is the kind of movie they try to create a sort of framework around the actual important events: the first part of the film involves some happy-go-lucky no-name who for some reason or other has to spend time with this old man who is really quite boring nowadays. The movie throws big hints at you to make it clear that this old man used to be quite interesting, but when asked about his past life he either gives an obvious lie or is very vague. So the no-name character is really just waiting for the old man to come clean, because the old man's story is probably an interesting one.
So I'm the old man, and I've got to mope and be silent for a little while longer. However, I feel like I should say something about what I'm going to be doing in the next year or so.
- I am not going to study abroad in Budapest, Hungary, next fall. I'm expecting to do it in the following spring instead. It's not at all clear that come August I'll have good mental health, and why waste the study abroad experience when you're depressed?
- I'm going to be staying on campus for most of the summer, up till any time between July 21st and August 15th. I'm going to be doing math research with one of my professors. I'll probably come home after that point to visit for 2 weeks to a month.
- During the summer I will continue with Therapy and Medication, the two pillars of Western treatment of depression (and other mysterious debilitating maladies). I feel like I have made very little progress over the past six months, but then again, I don't really see an alternative.
- I am not having a good time.
-Andrew |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
rampagingcarrot's journal