Merry Christmas!

May you find the peace that surpasses all understanding this holiday season!

Person of the Year

TIME magazine's Person of the Year is none other than .... you. That's right. You. And those clever people at TIME even used a reflective mirror on the cover so you can see a warped vision of yourself on the screen. The idea is that it's not Carlyle's "Great Man" theory that holds true today in creating history. It's the common citizen that is influencing journalism, our perception of the world, and creating ripples that are felt on the other side of the globe -- all thanks to the Internet. If you haven't read the section, you should.

Interestingly enough, after I read through the TIME piece this morning, I remembered that I needed to hop online to activate the vacation stop on my Washington Post delivery. While I was cruising through the site to find the membership section, I came across an Internet dialogue called "On Faith," moderated by Newsweek Managing Editor Jon Meachem and Post journalist Sally Quinn. The moderators post a question to its online panelists, who type up responses that, in turn, are responded to by everyday citizens. What's so intriguing to me is how the "normal" people respond -- their posts made me think and they made me weep, not only for the 5th grade English teachers who would be heartbroken by the appalling grammar, but for the rationality and tolerance that this country is supposed to exemplify.

As a person of faith, I like to think of myself as both spiritual and intellectual. I believe that I'm called to be smart about my faith, to understand it, to question it and to recognize that I won't know all the answers. Not in this life, at least. Sure, I know that not everyone will accept my faith or even respect it. But, isn't this supposed to be the country where that's allowed? Here's a sample response from a person named Rob, who responded to a panelist's thought on faith: "So faith is a gift, not the result of intellectual persuasion, or practiced debate. How each of us answers the question put to Peter determines our relationship with the God, now and into eternity. This is real faith. This is the real meaning of Christmas." Rob's response is below, in all its grammatical glory:

Rob says:

A gift huh?

From whom?

Faith is for weak minded fearful children of mind.

It's not a gift, it's a curse.

Truth is beauty, not the supposed King of Kings.

Son of God. Please. There is no God, grow up.

The concept of Jesus is an ongoing fraud perpertrated by the half weak upon the fully weak.

The idea of having faith at all just means that the underlying premise os false.

When the truth is clearly agaisnt you, it's time to roll out the lies, faith being the #1 wool pulling device. Fools.

Wow. Now, Rob has posted quite a bit in this dialogue and all of them sound just like the above quote. I want to know what happened to this man, to make him shrug off so violently any consideration of the existence of faith. And not only that, but to insult the rationality and intelligence of millions of people around the world -- who claim to believe in the existence of some sort of supernatural being. Is it really so crazy to believe it something larger than ourselves? Something more noble and more perfect than humans? If anything, it's not that hard to believe, really. Humans are a messed up, complex group of folks, capable of both goodness and terrible evil. When we see humans at their worst, is it really that hard to believe that there's somthing bigger and better out there?

Perhaps all of us are worthy of being the TIME Person of the Year. But I'm just reminded that we're still works in progress.

The First Semester Wrap Up

Well, Gang, we did it.

We survived our first semester of business school.

We learned about linear regression and we spent the first month regressing to our undergrad drinking days.

We spent the next month working our way out of the pile of work, case studies, and papers that accumulated while we were drinking.

Over the semester, we bonded with each other ... and with The Duck. Who knew it'd become our home away from home? We even managed to perform an inter-breakout room wave.

We picked up each other's habits and idiosyncracies, suffered together through the artic tundra known as Room 151, and scoffed at the itty bitty undergrads running around underfoot.

In The G Unit, we busted our butts for Big Jim, soaked up Gandalf's wisdom, valiently tried to keep up with Doctor Deb, untangled our brains after classes with Pair O'meter, and kept straight faces (most of the time) during the Ramrod lectures.

We succeeded in proving we're better than...oops, I mean, as good as, The Elders.

But more than anything else, I'd like to think that we "learned each other something." I've rarely encountered a group of people who have so impressed, entertained, inspired and humbled me. We're figuring out together that life, learning, and friendships are more important than books, grades and GPA. There's something precious about the short time we'll have together in school -- and the fleeting speed with which the semester's end arrived has made it abundantly clear. We'll talk quite a bit, I'm sure, about what we would have done differently over these past four months, but I hope we also focus on what we will do to squeeze the most out of the time we have left. I am quite certain that this group of 100 people will make big things happen for this program in the next year and big changes happen in the world beyond. What a privilege it is to know such amazing colleagues and friends.

As Cervantes said, "Tell me thy company and I will tell thee what thou art." If his words are true, then I am glad to call myself part of this Gang.

Almost there ....

Three exams, one presentation and two papers down.

One more exam to go.

And I'm a redhead again.

Not bad for a week's work.

Waffle, anyone?

There have been a certain choices in my life that I regard as both wonderful risks and terrible mistakes. Usually, I can accept those past choices for what they were, and keep them as that -- in the past. I learn, I move on. It's just what I do.

But what happens when one of those choices unexpectedly resurfaces in the present? Do you regard it more as a risk or a mistake? It's one thing to look back and see the benefits and drawbacks as they were ... but it's another thing to live with that dichotomy in the present. After all, if the choice was a mistake, you either try to fix it now or you separate yourself from it, right? And if it was a worthwhile risk, you might have another go. At the very least, you tolerate its presence in your current life.

Of course, you can always choose to do nothing. Or stall. Which is what I think I'm doing .... Hooray for indecision!

Hell Week

I'm definitely in the midst of finals week hell. Good news is that I'm done with the Econ research paper, the take-home statistics exam, and the accounting presentation. Bad news is that I still have the big marketing presentation and paper, the accounting paper, an accounting final exam, a human dynamics final exam and the econ final exam.

All in the next week.

So don't expect to see too many blogging entries over the next seven days. To tide you over, here are the long awaited car photos (read the full story). I went to get the car washed on Sunday but couldn't find the cheapo $9 drive-thru wash, so I had to go to the fancy $16 wash. The good news is at least they hand dried the car, vaccumed it and armoral'd the dash. The funny news is that the gigantic SUV that entered the tunnel just before my car and made it all the way through the wash before the four burly men finished scrubbing the yellow bird doo-doo off my car. I should have timed them but I gotta say it took at least 10 minutes for them to scrub my car down. I ate an entire Trader Joe's burrito in the time it took them to scrub.

And there was still residue when it was all done.

Them's some nasty fowl life.

Sometimes you just need to hump a table

I just spent 12 straight hours at The Duck. And I spent 10 hours there yesterday.

Honestly, that's just inhumane, cruel and debasing punishment. Big projects in econ, accounting and stats are still looming over our heads and it's not a pretty sight. It's no wonder, then, that a small group of Gang members became intoxicated yesterday during and after the MBA Holiday Party and started to dance all up on the chairs and tables in the first floor breakout room (which, by the way, has large windows that allow everyone to see everything). The dancing turned a little raunchy towards the end, so it's probably a good thing that the buzz started to wear off. I do believe some Gang members are under the influence again at The Duck tonight. Shoot, I'm even drinking by myself at home, while attempting to finish up a marketing plan. Priorities, you know.

Continuing in the ever-flowing vein of procrastination, I went to MyHeritage.com (thanks, Peach!) to find my celebrity lookalike. Evidently, the site was created to help determine your geneology but then devolved (as so many things do) into a celeb lookalike generator. You upload your photo, it runs some fancy analysis and bam! It spits out your spitting celeb image. Sort of.

The first photo I uploaded gave me Chelsea Clinton as my lookalike. Um. Well. At least it was post-makeover. The second photo I used gave me Shirley Temple. I must be one odd-looking bird. At long last, the third photo gave me Lisa Ling with a 78% match. Now, that seems much more reasonable. Lisa was followed by Aung San Suu Kyi, Camile Velasco (who?), Michelle Kwan and Ellen DeGeneres.

So, in other words, I look just like a lesbian actress/talkshow host with a Nobel Prize, under house arrest, who falls on her ass while attempting a triple axel. Who knew?

Pro/Con Analysis of WMATA

I love public transportation. I do. I love that there's a whole system of trains and buses that can transport me from Point A to Point B. I love that I don't have to pay for parking or fight for meters. I love that I can meet random people and watch random people on the train. I love that I can read through the first section of The Post on my ride to school. I love that signs tell me how long until the next train comes.

On the other hand, here's why I hate the D.C. Metro. It doesn't have a flat rate and you get charged differently depending on where you're going and when you're going there. The escalators and elevators only work about 80% of the time. It stops running at midnight during the week and 3am on the weekends. Random voices keep telling me "see it, say it." (WTF? Is anyone really going to "kindly ask" someone else "is that your bag?") And, most of all, it uses my hard earned loan money to pay for dumbass videos like this one.

The Big Bang

Something exploded on my car last night. I was running late this morning (the story of my life) and had to drive to school, but when I saw my car, I literally stopped in my tracks. I've never done that before. If I had been holding a glass, I would have dropped it and it would have shattered spectacularly, just like they do in the movies. I stared, agog and aghast. It looked like a demented Jackson Pollock had released pent-up artist angst and rage on my car with a bucket of piss-yellow paint. (**Warning: fowl language approaching. I don't normally use it in the blog but, really, no other words can be employed in this particular instance)

I apprehensively approached the vehicle, unsure of what to do exactly. At first I thought that some of the neighborhood kids had enjoyed a fling with a paint gun or two. But then, upon closer inspection, the small, splattered, bright yellow blobs appeared to be bird poop. A lot of it. A LOT. My car was covered in piss-yellow bird shit. "Surely not," was my next thought. "What kind of birds shit in technicolor?" Evidently, the same birds that drink the water that makes a D.C. fish have both male and female organs. Or maybe they were drinking the dayglo. I couldn't even fathom what else that stuff could be. All I knew was that a liter of yellow bird shit had been loosed upon my car.

I looked to the car in front of mine. Clean as a whistle. I looked to the car on the other side. It shimmered back at me. I looked at all the cars all along the street. THEY WERE ALL CLEAN. How is it that I managed to park my car under the one tree that an entire flock of yellow-shitting birds decided to camp in for that one night? I have parked in this same spot countless times before. This has never happened.

Never, ever in my entire life have I ever been embarrassed to be seen driving a car. I had to drive my yellow-shit-covered car into the District in stagnant traffic that refused to move more than five feet a minute. I started to surmise that my newly decorated vehicle was causing part of the traffic. For the duration of the drive, I ran my wipers and wiper fluid and could not, for the life of me, pry that shit off the windshield. And then I had to park the car on a very public road. As I scrambled for quarters to feed the meter, I saw a student walk towards me, stare, walk away and look back, staring some more. I wondered if he knew me and I just didn't recognize him ... and then I realized with that sinking feeling that he had been staring at MY CAR.

The worst part is that I can't even take it to the carwash until Friday, which allows for plenty of time for that shit to cement itself to my car. Or, given the state of the Potomac's waters, time for that shit to eat its way through the metal.

You have to see it to believe it. Watch for pictures tomorrow.

UPDATE: Pictures available

US Citizenship Test Questions

Sample questions from the U.S. citizenship test (posted by ABC). How did you do? I got 7 of 9.

More on the new test here.

Pandora

I have this habit of not realizing that I'm singing out loud. I used to do it when I waited tables. I did it while in my cubicle at Big Red. And I busted out with "What's love got to do with it, got to do with it" today while studying for statistics. Not that there's any love lost between the Gang of 100 and chi squared tests. I spent nearly six hours studying statistics today. ew.

But while I was studying, at least I had the soundtrack of life in the background, provided by Pandora. It's fabulous -- you tell Pandora what artists or songs you like, and it sets up a radio station that plays similar music, based on a rather complicated project called the Music Genome. It even will tell you why a certain song is playing, e.g. minor key tonality, horn section, dominant vocals. Pretty cool stuff.

Way cooler than statistics.

Choices and a lonely road

Perhaps it's the two glasses of wine, or perhaps it's just the events of the day but I'm about to wax philosophical.

The Gang of 100 was supposed to have a workshop today on "total integrity management." That's just a fancy business-school way of saying ethics. Unfortunately, there was a scheduling mishap and we got kicked out of the auditorium and our speaker held a quick, 10-minute session with us in the hallway of the Duck. (Which, by the way, was a sauna today. You'd think they could figure out the temperature control in a $50 million building). Anyway, the speaker is a professor at the school and teaches what sounds like a pretty amazing business ethics class. He was a little quirky, which means he'll probably be a fantastic professor, and did a great job promoting the class.

Afterwards, I was chatting with some Gang members about the class and about ethics in general. The conversation was intriguing -- I was somewhat surprised at the different values, attitudes and codes towards ethics that we all held. What I thought of as so clearly black and white was a grey area for someone else. For example, what if you run your own company and you need to make payroll so your employees can take care of their families and you can do it by making a decision that lies in your ethical grey area. What do you do?

I'm not saying I can perfectly answer that question for everyone but I found one answer in a rather unexpected place when I got home tonight. My roommate, her fiance and I watched the most recent Harry Potter movie -- you know, the one with the Tri-Wizard competition and the fabulous, ultimate middle school hellishness of finding a date to the dance. Anyway, at the end of the movie, Dumbledore and Harry are talking and Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, says to Harry, "Difficult times lie ahead. And you'll have to choose between what is right ... and what it easy."

That's often what it comes down to, isn't it? The decision that we suspect we should make ... and the decision that is just more convenient, that doesn't require extra work, that doesn't force us to face that squirmy place of admitting failure or standing alone. What a paradox. How come the right decision frequently is the toughest? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't integrity be easy? What a fallen world we must live in. Maybe one day, we'll find some sort of redemption for the craziness we've build around us.

If not in this world, perhaps in the next.

Democracy, Cake and Covert Agents

Today, I attended an event where a guy named Lynn spoke. That's not so much important to this story as it is an odd name for a large, bald man. Anyway, I'm not sure what the main point of his remarks were, but he has a really interesting background as a political consultant and now a strategic management consultant. And he gave us some really striking pieces of information about our democracy, the good and the bad. Take this, for example:

If there were only 10 people in America:

3 of them aren't registered to vote.

Of the remaining 7, only half will show up to vote (on a really, really good day)

That means only 3.5 people are voting.

And of those 3.5, we can assume that just over half of them voted for the person who won the election.

Which means that only about 2.1 people actually want to follow the elected leader.

The saddest part of that story is that it's not far from the truth. That's just plain pathetic. Not so much a democracy as a democrazy.

In other news, I've been trying to keep myself to less than 20 Weight Watcher points a day, in order to stay slim for the ho-ish dress for Saturday's prom. But I could really go for some cake right about now.

Last note of the night -- I went to a career info session for the CIA earlier this week. One of the CIA employees had been a covert agent for more than 20 years in the field. He was pretty cool but kinda freaked me out with the way he kept scanning the audience when he wasn't talking. And he kept moving around the room. I found myself wondering how many of our country's secrets he has in his head. And then I started wondering what the CIA knows about me. And then the recruiter started telling us what NOT to do if you want a job with the CIA -- the list included illegal drugs, criminal activity, and illegally downloading music. Honest to god. She actually said illegally downloading music and included it as a bullet on her powerpoint slide. I kinda feel like that automtically eliminates 80% of the college student population.

By the way, the CIA has posted its very own personality test. I've been diagnosed as a Curious Adventurer.

I think I'll go watch an episode of ALIAS now.

100 Greatest TV Quotes and Catchphrases

TVLand will be airing a special on the 100 Greatest TV Quotes and Catchphrases, starting Monday, Dec. 11. It'll only appear online and over five days, the series will countdown TV's most quoted lines and give us the story behind them. Thank goodness. I've always wanted to learn the depth behind "Norm!"

I'm ruining the surprise for you, but really, are you going to watch all five installments? (Don't worry, I'll watch them all in bed for you. I love wireless internet). An alphabetical list of the 100 phrases follows:

-"Aaay" (Fonzie, "Happy Days")

-"And that's the way it is" (Walter Cronkite, "CBS Evening News")

-"Ask not what your country can do for you ..." (John F. Kennedy)

-"Baby, you're the greatest" (Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden, "The Honeymooners")

-"Bam!" (Emeril Lagasse, "Emeril Live")

-"Book 'em, Danno" (Steve McGarrett, "Hawaii Five-O")

-"Come on down!" (Johnny Olson, "The Price is Right")

-"Danger, Will Robinson" (Robot, "Lost in Space")

-"De plane! De plane!" (Tattoo, "Fantasy Island")

-"Denny Crane" (Denny Crane, "Boston Legal")

-"Do you believe in miracles?" (Al Michaels, 1980 Winter Olympics)

-"D'oh!" (Homer Simpson, "The Simpsons")

-"Don't make me angry ..." (David Banner, "The Incredible Hulk")

-"Dyn-o-mite" (J.J., "Good Times")

-"Elizabeth, I'm coming!" (Fred Sanford, "Sanford and Son")

-"Gee, Mrs. Cleaver ..." (Eddie Haskell, "Leave it to Beaver")

-"God'll get you for that" (Maude, "Maude")

-"Good grief" (Charlie Brown, "Peanuts" specials)

-"Good night, and good luck" (Edward R. Murrow, "See It Now")

-"Good night, John Boy" ("The Waltons")

-"Have you no sense of decency?" (Joseph Welch to Sen. McCarthy)

-"Heh heh" (Beavis and Butt-head, "Beavis and Butthead")

-"Here it is, your moment of Zen" (Jon Stewart, "The Daily Show")

-"Here's Johnny!" (Ed McMahon, "The Tonight Show")

-"Hey now!" (Hank Kingsley, "The Larry Sanders Show")

-"Hey hey hey!" (Dwayne Nelson, "What's Happening!!")

-"Hey hey hey!" (Fat Albert, "Fat Albert")

-"Holy (whatever), Batman!" (Robin, "Batman")

-"Holy crap!" (Frank Barone, "Everybody Loves Raymond")

-"Homey don't play that!" (Homey the Clown, "In Living Color")

-"How sweet it is!" (Jackie Gleason, "The Jackie Gleason Show")

-"How you doin'?" (Joey Tribbiani, "Friends")

-"I can't believe I ate the whole thing" (Alka Seltzer ad)

-"I know nothing!" (Sgt. Schultz, "Hogan's Heroes")

-"I love it when a plan comes together" (Hannibal, "The A-Team")

-"I want my MTV!" (MTV ad)

-"I'm Larry, this is my brother Darryl ..." (Larry, "Newhart")

-"I'm not a crook ..." (Richard Nixon)

-"I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV" (Vicks Formula 44 ad)

-"I'm Rick James, bitch!" (Dave Chappelle as Rick James, "Chappelle's Show")

-"Is that your final answer?" (Regis Philbin, "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire")

-"It keeps going and going and going ..." (Energizer Batteries ad)

-"It takes a licking ..." (Timex ad)

-"Jane, you ignorant slut" (Dan Aykroyd to Jane Curtin, "Saturday Night Live")

-"Just one more thing ..." (Columbo, "Columbo")

-"Let's be careful out there" (Sgt. Esterhaus, "Hill Street Blues")

-"Let's get ready to rumble!" (Michael Buffer, various sports events)

-"Live long and prosper" (Spock, "Star Trek")

-"Makin' whoopie" (Bob Eubanks, "The Newlywed Game")

-"Mom always liked you best" (Tommy Smothers, "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour")

-"Never assume ..." (Felix Unger, "The Odd Couple")

-"Nip it!" (Barney Fife, "The Andy Griffith Show")

-"No soup for you!" (The Soup Nazi, "Seinfeld")

-"Norm!" ("Cheers")

-"Now cut that out!" (Jack Benny, "The Jack Benny Program")

-"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!" (Stan and Kyle, "South Park")

-"Oh, my nose!" (Marcia Brady, "The Brady Bunch")

-"One small step for man ..." (Neil Armstrong)

-"Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?" (Grey Poupon ad)

-"Read my lips: No new taxes!" (George H.W. Bush)

-"Resistance is futile" (Picard as Borg, "Star Trek: The Next Generation")

-"Say good night, Gracie" (George Burns, "The Burns & Allen Show")

-"Schwing!" (Mike Myers and Dana Carvey as Wayne and Garth, "Saturday Night Live")

-"Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy" (Lloyd Bentsen to Dan Quayle)

-"Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids" (Trix cereal ad)

-"Smile, you're on `Candid Camera'" ("Candid Camera")

-"Sock it to me" ("Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In")

-"Space, the final frontier ..." (Capt. Kirk, "Star Trek")

-"Stifle!" (Archie Bunker, "All in the Family")

-"Suit up!" (Barney Stinson, "How I Met Your Mother")

-"Tastes great! Less filling!" (Miller Lite beer ad)

-"Tell me what you don't like about yourself" (Dr. McNamara and Dr. Troy, "Nip/Tuck")

-"That's hot" (Paris Hilton, "The Simple Life")

-"The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat" (Jim McKay, "ABC's Wide World of Sports")

-"The tribe has spoken" (Jeff Probst, "Survivor")

-"The truth is out there" (Fox Mulder, "The X-Files")

-"This is the city ..." (Sgt. Joe Friday, "Dragnet")

-"Time to make the donuts" ("Dunkin' Donuts" ad)

-"Two thumbs up" (Siskel & Ebert, "Siskel & Ebert")

-"Up your nose with a rubber hose" (Vinnie Barbarino, "Welcome Back, Kotter")

-"We are two wild and crazy guys!" (Steve Martin and Dan Aykroyd as Czech playboys, "Saturday Night Live")

-"Welcome to the O.C., bitch" (Luke, "The O.C.")

-"Well, isn't that special?" (Dana Carvey as the Church Lady, "Saturday Night Live")

-"We've got a really big show!" (Ed Sullivan, "The Ed Sullivan Show")

-"Whassup?" (Budweiser ad)

-"What you see is what you get!" (Geraldine, "The Flip Wilson Show")

-"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" (Arnold Drummond, "Diff'rent Strokes")

-"Where's the beef?" (Wendy's ad)

-"Who loves you, baby?" (Kojak, "Kojak")

-"Would you believe?" (Maxwell Smart, "Get Smart")

-"Yabba dabba do!" (Fred Flintstone, "The Flintstones")

-"Yada, yada, yada" ("Seinfeld")

-"Yeah, that's the ticket" (Jon Lovitz as the pathological liar, "Saturday Night Live")

-"You eeeediot!" (Ren, "Ren & Stimpy")

-"You look mahvelous!" (Billy Crystal as Fernando, "Saturday Night Live")

-"You rang?" (Lurch, "The Addams Family")

-"You're fired!" (Donald Trump, "The Apprentice")

-"You've got spunk ..." (Lou Grant, "The Mary Taylor Moore Show")

The Prom approaches

Yes, this is another shallow posting but I'm so tired. Tired of being admired, tired of love uninspired, let's face it, I'm tired...oh wait, that's Lili von Schtupp. Right then.

The latest Gang of 100 update -- the G Unit invaded my house last week for a potluck dinner and, I gotta say, the international students were the life of the party! By the end of the night, they were talking dirty, taking shots of beer out of the spoonrest on the stove, and acting all rowdy in the kitchen. No holding back! I love it. And once again, we successfully proved that many Chinese are missing the alcohol processing enzyme.

And the MBA prom is on Saturday. (yep, that's right. Prom. Or as the planners say, "The Winter Formal." There's some talk among the G Unit about getting corsages but I'm not sure if we'll actually go that far. Summer is pushing for it.) I've decided to wear the somewhat ho-ish red dress that has remained hidden in my closet for years because it's a tad too scandalous to wear to the church prom or business dinners. While the prospect of getting dolled up and finally putting this dress to use is appealing, it's most unfortunate that the conversion of hot dress to makeout session isn't likely. Most of the men in attendance will be Gang of 100 members or Elders, and the ones not in the program are only there because their women dragged them. Too bad. Maybe I'll wear the dress to an upcoming wedding ... since I have to go stag and hang out with the cutesy couples, I might as well try to add to the wedding hookup statistic. I don't think I've ever done that before. Not that hooking up with a stranger at a wedding is on my Top 100 List of Things to Do Before I Die, but it could be fun and at least make me feel happy face.

Speaking of happy face -- I gotta say that my sister always makes me smile. She arrived to Thanksgiving dinner with her hair all curled, highlighted in red, wearing a puffy black jacket with a fur-lined hood, a Roca-wear shirt, and talking on her Verizon chocolate phone. hee. I LOVE my sister!! And I get a kick over how different we are sometimes. She wants to move to Baltimore, I want to live in London or NYC. She loves living alone, I gotta have roommates. She's Rocawear, I'm Banana Republic. She just got a raise and a promotion, I'm still a broke grad student. hm.

Hope you all enjoyed turkey over the break!

Guaranteed to make you laugh!!!

purple haze

One of my favorite sites is OneWord.com

The idea is that you get one word and 60 seconds to write something. It's a free-flowing exercise; you just write what's on your mind, on your heart. And it's fun to see what other people have written.

Today's word was BALLET.

Not something I generally have a close connection too but went with it anyway. Here's what I wrote:

dancing alone in graceful flowing movements. pink slippers that seem so delicate but show a toughness beyond. and yet what fragility exists in the dance. one fall and it's over. learn to follow, learn to co-exist, learn discipline and focus, learn to pick yourself up, to smile for the audience, to not look foolish, learn confidence and humility

It's funny how your subconscious can connect any two random items. I don't know much about ballet, but I know about performance. And I know about being strong and being fragile at the same time. I know about how one piece of news, one situation, one person can rattle you more than you ever imagined it would.

Doncha just hate when you can't run fast enough? you can move to a new city, find new friends, start a new life, make new memories to override the old ones and yet those pesky shadows from the past keep up with you. and not only do they slow you down, they make the present all fuzzy too.

All-TIME 100 Albums

The folks over at Time magazine have compiled a list of the 100 most influential albums of all time. Organized by decade, the list only includes nine albums from the 2000s -- and it includes re-releases or compilations from four dead artists. What does that say about the state of music in today's age!?! No Brit, Xtina or Justin albums, I'm afraid.

Check it out for yourself.

The Fall Funk

Yep, it's right about that time. That time when the novelty of being in a new city with new friends starts to wear off. When you start to miss the people and the things you left behind. When the new life isn't so easy anymore and you question whether coming here was the right decision. And on top of it all, the weather turns crappy.

The Gang of 100 is definitely in the Fall Funk. First off, the workload is simply overwhelming -- we could work 18 hours a day from now until the end of the semester and still have stuff that remains undone. Second, I think folks are starting to get a bit "homesick." The Chaos, for example, recently returned from a trip back home, where he saw old friends and family. I think he was surprised (even a bit shocked) by how much he's missing back home. And for the folks who are in long-distance relationships, this is about the time that the strain really starts to take its toll. We all tend to understate how much the world goes on and changes when we leave, you know? Third, well, the weather is just grey and uninspiring. The leaves are almost all gone, collecting in wet, dirty clumps along the curb, colors faded and dull like a shirt washed too many times. It just feels like the weather said, forget it, I'm sick of trying to be sunshiney all the time. It's too hard. I'm going on strike. Like the Boston nurses.

Even yours truly, the ultimate optimist, is suffering slightly from this inescapable state. There's no doubt in my mind that coming to Washington was the right decision. And even if I went back to Boston, my life would be radically different from what it was before. Which depresses me even further, since I rather enjoyed that former life and can't ever have it back again. And then I start to miss that old life, plus the life that could have been had I stayed, and the friends I left behind and the stories I only get second-hand and a few days late, and that all prevents me from enjoying the life I have now, which frustrates me because I like this life too, and thus begins the vicious cycle. Funny how one's brain can operate in circles.

But when I think back to all the times that I moved and left friends behind (and there have been plenty!), this is about the time when the new location starts to lose its luster. The first two months immediately after a relocation are always exciting and adventurous. The third month starts to plant questions in your head about your decision, especially because the old friends who used to call all the time aren't calling as much anymore and you start realize that your lives are starting to become more and more separate. It's not necessarily good or bad, it just is. And then when the fourth month rolls around, you're really stuck, trying to live your current life but keep hold of the vestiges of the old life. As the old Chinese proverb goes, the man who stands in the middle of the road gets hit from both directions.

However, life goes on, and eventually you get over the funk. You figure out how to make the most of the present while keeping the best parts of the past with you. And usually time spent at home with family and tryptophans and cranberries does the trick. Or at least gives you enough of a boost to get through the next month until Christmas. Hang in there, Gang -- this first hellish semester is nearly over and we certainly can't give in to those ratty professors who are trying to break us!

What exactly is cheating?

Cheating.

We all think we know what it means. But Gandalf, a professor of mine, told us on the very first day of class that he defines cheating as one student's refusal to help another student learn something. In his molasses-smothered voice, Gandalf recounted a tale in which he discovered one study group had refused to lend a hand to another study group when aid was requested. So, he dragged the unhelpful crew to the Academic Ethics Board and demanded they be written up for cheating. They couldn't figure him out so they threw out the case.

Now, in addition to that being a fabulous story from a very wise man, it gives us opportunity for pause. I mean, we're all supposed to be collaborating as a team, right? In the "real world," no one has to take a test by herself, write up a memo by herself, create a powerpoint presentation by herself. Of course not! We all seek out input from smarter people. Why on earth should the academic world measure us by some other construct?

Unfortunately, in The G Unit, the collective wisdom ain't really all it's cracked up to be. Here I am, thinking I'm in the smartest, funnest, wittiest, bestest cohort of the Gang of 100. So, in accordance to Gandalf's definition of cheating, we took our first (open book) quiz collectively. That's right, we split up the questions so each study group answered five questions and shared the answers with each other. We had a great time, arguing over a couple of tough questions, laughing about this new way of taking quizzes, and relieved because most people hadn't read all five chapters.

We collectively scored around 70%.

Boy, we're lame. Even with an open book/open note, collaborative quiz we answered 30% of the questions incorrectly. So much for teamwork and the future of corporate America. You'll be glad to know, however, that we've scored slightly better on subsequent quizzes.

But the cheating story gets better. Last week, the integrity of The G Unit was put to the test when we had to run through an exercise in class that required collaboration and trust. The idea behind the "game" was to tempt teams to cheat. On the surface, it looked like if your team screwed over the other teams, you would earn the highest payout. Except that at the end of the day, the game was set up such that all teams had to collaborate in order to win the maximum payout. A cheating team could "win" but not as much as if they had collaborated.

Unfortunately, The G Unit failed. The teams negotiated, came up with an agreement, but when push came to shove, two teams went against their word to "cheat." It completely destroyed the trust and suddenly the dynamic in the room turned contentious and suspicious. It was actually pretty remarkable that a group generally so collegial, friendly and trusting could dissolve into such behavior. There was a moment in the negotiations where I thought trust could have been restored, but when the "non-cheating" teams decided to confer together, the "cheating" teams immediately assumed the other teams were out to get them -- and again, the trust vanished.

What a lesson in building trust, in negotiation, in human nature. And this example was only between folks who know each other and generally like each other! Imagine what these sorts of talks are like between warring nations or antagonistic parties.

A whole lotta ugly

About a month ago, one of my roommates (I'll name her Duck) told us that she was going to inherit a free sofa from her boss. This was greeted with much enthusiasm, since our current sofa is indescribably uncomfortable. Seriously, I wanna know who designs these things -- who conceives of a piece of sitting furniture that is ill-suited to sitting??

Anyway, Duck went off with her new beau to pick up the sofa. Since her boss has impeccable taste and deep pockets, she assumed the sofa would be tasteful, expensive, and modern. Unfortunately, the coach was none of the above. Duck discovered that the unwanted sofa was not only the ugliest thing she had ever laid eyes upon, but it was only a loveseat and it was the very first piece of furniture that her boss's wife had ever purchased. Wifey was so sad to depart with it, but ecstatic that it was going to a good home.

In Duck's words:

"I didn't know what to do! I was so caught off guard that I couldn't say no. I should have just told her that it was the wrong size, but I couldn't do it! I just couldn’t! I was speechless!"

How often is one rendered speechless by a sofa? In a haze of confusion and disorientation, Duck and the beau actually loaded up the thing into the truck and tried to fit it into the house. Then they decided it was so ugly that it had to go. So they left it on the side of the road with a "FREE" sign. And then they left the house.

I came home later that evening to this sight on my driveway:

Y'all, it has BUTTERFLIES on it! Who puts BUTTERFLIES on a sofa? I don't even think Mariah would want it. It's not just ugly, it's FUGLY in every sense of the word. It’s pink. And blue. And yellow. And green. With flowers. And it's worse in person. When Duck came back to the house, hours later, the POS sofa was still outside. No one even wanted it for free. Not a living soul. Then, she got worried that the dew would completely ruin it, so we had to drag it back into the house at midnight.

The next day, I left for class and returned in the evening to find the fugly sofa neatly covered by a sheet, which was duck-taped into place to cover all its garish parts. My other roommate, Chestnut, calmly explained that she was trying to do work in the living room but the fugliness was so distracting that she had to cover it up in order to concentrate.

That’s quite an accomplishment for a sofa. Anyone want it?

Ditka diversifies

Ditka does wine.

The "Ditka Kick Ass Red" is a powerful wine with a nice, pleasant pepper finish. And it's going to cost you $40-50 at Costco. The most bizarre part of this story is that all of it is actually for real. Ditka is doing wine.

What's next? A Deion Sanders fashion line?

Republicans are depressed today

Okay, so I might be an uber-politico-nerd, but it was rather fun and exciting to watch the Virginia senate returns last night. I was totally hooked -- and so glad that I registered and voted. For the first time in years, my vote actually mattered. Not that it was a waste of time to vote, but I was registered in Texas throughout college and then registered in Massachusetts afterwards. Neither one of those states will see a close national election anytime soon. (Although, the MA governor's race this year was electric!)

I'm mad at myself for not even thinking about heading out to the Capitol Hill bars to watch the returns. Gotta get used to being in WDC for these sorts of things, I suppose. I wonder what it was like over at Casa Blanca last night...

The moral of this year's midterm elections, though, is to watch out for those squirrels.

----
Editor's Note: Shoot, I totally forgot -- Britney's back on the market, kids.

Mobilizing the Masses

Now that's a motivated-looking crowd. Thanks, Mr. President.

Readers, I hope you have taken the time to register to vote, filled out your proxy, or will be at the polls tomorrow!!!

Need to improve my dating karma

Yep, it's official. No more dating. I was absolutely dreading going out with SpeedDateBoy tonight – and this is after I had postponed the date for two weeks (or 19 days, as he so politely corrected me). That parenthetical really should be enough said, but no, there's more.

For all you guys out there, here are a few tips, courtesy of The Lady V. First, try hard not to call her seven times in one week. Even if you think she’s really cute. Even if you met her on a random night and bought her a drink while she was speed dating. Seriously, seven calls in one week is kinda aggressive. And it makes you seem desperate. Both are major turnoffs.

Second, don't invade a girl's personal space on the first date. Specifically, don't try to squeeze into the same revolving door section. Believe or not, it’s not cute.

Third, if she has to leave because she’s dog-sitting and didn’t get a chance to walk the dog, it’s usually best if you don’t offer to “come with.” Who DOES that?

Lastly, don’t ever, ever, ever wear a sweater vest. Ever.

sigh.

Now I see why Washington D.C. was rated No. 9 on the Best Cities for Singles list.

Maybe I should take the advice of Gang of 100 member GFiddy (that was his choice for a code name, don’t look at me). I gave him the recap of the night and he scolded me for not coming up with a better lie – “If you’re gonna date, you gotta learn to lie,” he sniffed. Specifically, learn lies that make it impossible for the unwanted date to join. Can’t say I fully agree with GFiddy. Lying seems pretty cold, unfeeling, oh and unethical. But hey, GFiddy is also the guy who attempted to reassure me by saying there are plenty of fish in the sea and not all of them are floating on top.

Oh lordy.

I heart Borat

Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that Borat is taking America by storm. This blog entry is devoted to the comedic genius of Sacha Baron Cohen. A nod to Jon Stewart, as well!



Need another fix? Borat talks with Conans O'Brien.

More? Watch Matt Lauer interview Borat on The TODAY show.

And if you want to know what Sacha Baren Cohen is like in real life, check him out with Jon Stewart a few years back.

Satan strikes again

Any predictions on how the Ted Haggard scandal will play out? Sure, the whole gay sex this is only an allegation. Still, the man has admitted to buying meth and a male-on-male massage but nothing more.

I suppose regardless of whether Haggard is innocent or guilty, the real issue is what happens next. How will the church respond? How will individual Christians respond? How do evangelicals react in a way that is appropriate, humble, and restorative of the public's faith?

I wonder as I wander

For those of you who have asked about my faith and how it influences my life, my views on politics, my activism, I point you in the direction of Sen. Barack Obama. He recently gave the keynote at the Call to Renewal conference and you can read an excerpt from that speech here.

If we truly hope to speak to people where they’re at—to communicate our hopes and values in a way that’s relevant to their own—then as progressives we cannot abandon the field of religious discourse. Because when we ignore the debate about what it means to be a good Christian or Muslim or Jew; when we discuss religion only in the negative sense of where or how it should not be practiced, rather than in the positive sense of what it tells us about our obligations towards one another; when we shy away from religious venues and religious broadcasts because we assume that we will be unwelcome—others will fill the vacuum, those with the most insular views of faith or those who cynically use religion to justify partisan ends.

Not too long ago, I had a conversation with Gang of 100 member, Autumn, about this very same topic. She's spiritual, although tends to stay away from organized religion. We were chatting about the pro-life protestors that came onto campus that day, complete with huge poster boards depicting bloody, chopped up, aborted babies. They were lined up along one side of the street and some pro-choice students were lined up on the other side, chanting things like "Get off our campus!"

We bemoaned how useless both groups were -- from the offensive posters and chants, to the physical lining up on different sides of the street -- and somehow started talking about how "religious" people defend their positions by quoting the Bible. Her main complaint was that Bible quotes don't mean anything to someone who doesn't believe in the Bible. And I have to agree with her -- I may be motivated and inspired and called to action by what's written in the Bible, but nothing is accomplished if I use it as ammunition. Why don't more Christians (including me!) take the extra step more often to make their faith relevant to people of other beliefs? I wonder, is it because we're lazy? Or because we don't know how to do it? Or, even scarier, is it because we're just so used to being told what positions a Christian is supposed to take and we're more concerned about making noise about those positions than winning hearts and minds?

Halloween is over ...

...and not a moment too soon. My costume consisted of an all-black outfit with an orange hat and a saltshaker around my neck. I was dressed as a Duracell battery, so my costume in full was "assault and battery." Evidently, that took too much thought because most people couldn't figure it out.

Anyway, the hardcore members of The G Unit met at Winter's house and headed to Steve's Bar where the DJ spins kickin' music. Seriously, this guy gets it DONE and I can speak with authority since I've now twice witnessed what happens on the dance floor there. By the end of the night, I had danced/grinded with a law student, two Jamaican men and all the G Unit males present, befriended a Peruvian tequila salesman named Guillermo who kept giving us free shots, polished off a rum and coke, a gin and tonic, an Irish car bomb and a Jaeger bomb, felt up a man wearing fake boobs, broken three glasses, and fallen down the stairs. I have the nasty bruises to prove it.

By all means, it was a successful night.

Whitney, is that really you?

I'm pleased to announce that one of my childhood heroes has finally beaten back her demons of crack cocaine and a drug-dealing husband that used to front Public Enemy. That's right, folks, Whitney Houston is back and lookin' mighty fine, I might add. It's amazing what divorce can do.

In other mindless gossip, it seems my beloved Studio 60 is on the chopping block. Aaron Sorkin, how could you have failed me so?

Oh, and for you New Yorkers out there, hurry up and buy your Kevin Federline tickets for this Saturday! Believe it or not, if you don't buy your ticket, the show might be (gasp!) cancelled due to poor sales. And the tickets are only $20. I wonder what would happen if they gave the tickets away?

(um. can you tell that i'm procrastinating? or rather, that i'm looking for inspiration as i finish my application to be a summer intern at the state department?)

God is a Chicago Bears fan

Life doesn't get any better than sunshine, clear skies, Chicago stuffed pizza and your very first, live and in person Bears game at the venerable Soldier Field. I can now die in peace.

God actually wanted me to be at this game. I can prove it.

Reason #1 -- I was in Chicago to attend an MBA student conference. And it happened to be a weekend where the Bears were playing at home. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Reason #2 -- These are the hardest tickets in town. When we told people on the bus to the stadium that we didn't have tickets, they literally laughed at us. The whole bus. No joke.

Reason #3 -- The scalpers were getting arrested. Turns out, the Bears are not only having their best season since 1985, but an article in this week's Tribune about fake tickets brought the police out in full force. On horses too. My friend Ohio saw the police snatch tickets from a guy who bought them from a scalper and then saw them chase after and arrest the scalper. We also only met about 4 scalpers -- who ever heard of such a thing? There's usually a freakin' army of scalpers!

Reason #4 -- The whole arrest thing kinda freaked us out, so we gave up after more than an hour. As we were walked away from the stadium, we ran into a season ticket holder who wasn't going to the game and had two tickets that he was willing to sell within our price range. And we were far enough from the action that no cops were present.

Reason #5 -- Not only did we avoid the cops, getting arrested in Chicago, and the long box office line, we found our seats before the end of the first quarter and were sitting in the front row of the top section, right around the 10 yard line.

Reason #6 -- God knew I needed to end my weekend on a high note, after a mildly awkward but thankfully brief run-in with the ex. Seriously, there were 500 people at this conference and I just had to sneak into a breakout session and unknowingly sit down only 4 people away from him?! God evidenly has a sense of humor too. Or maybe tormentor tendencies.

But at least He's a Chicago Bears fan. 7-0, baby, and a team record 41-points on the board before the half. Aw yeah.

There's beauty in the breakdown

One of my favorite symbols in life is the lotus flower. (Random Lady V Fact: The lotus also happens to be the only thing I would ever get tattooed on my body). The reason why I love this flower (other than the fact that its seeds are yummy) is its symbolism -- the lotus flower is a picture of true beauty that grows out of the murky, muddy waters of the earth. What a truism in life -- we have to go through the shitty times to arrive at a place of purity where we can reflect the beauty we've come to appreciate.

I think I'm having one of those very moments. I received some rather unsettling news yesterday from a friend and had a mini breakdown, while driving through the streets of the District. Yeah, bad combination but at least it was only a mini breakdown. Anyway, I was feeling pretty awful about myself -- angry at choices I've made, appalled by my stupidity, disgusted by my naivete. As though having two midterms and an economics presentation in one week wasn't bad enough.

But there is beauty in the breakdown. I just had to look up and away from my dark and twisty self-criticism to see it. Within hours, I had friends from Boston to Saskatoon giving me pep talks, offering words of encouragement, stroking the crushed ego. The real beauty is how it all fell together -- first the phone calls, then emails, then a Beantown friend happened to be in town tonight and, when I got home, a random letter of encouragement awaited me. It's like I was set up to be broken down, but whoever set it up made sure I had all the right resources to be lifted again. I'm not fully recovered from the breakdown but at least I'm a work in progress. Yeah, you need to go through the shitty times first, but you don't always have to do it alone. If you're blessed enough, you'll have people to lean on and learn from.

Thanks, ladies.

I was determined to know beans

I love the folks in The G Unit. We managed to cobble together a quick study break trip to the Great Falls National Park and a whole bunch of people showed up! When you're so used to city living, you kind of forget how important it is to venture into the country every once in awhile. It's good fo r the soul to enjoy the natural world, you know? As Henry David Thoreau says, "On tops of mountains, as everywhere to hopeful souls, it is always morning."

Well, we didn't exactly make it up to the mountaintop today but we did enjoy a leisurely hike through the woods and an intense, physically demanding game of wiffle ball. Nothin' like wiffle ball to r efresh a tired mind and stir up a healthy competitive spirit. We played girls against boys -- the girls started strong but quickly fizzled. Summer was in charge of pitching and, I gotta admit, she struggled a bit. No, Summer, the ball is supposed to go OVER home plate, not 5 feet to the left! Of course, it didn't really help that all of our fielding skills piled together couldn't have filled Thumbalina's pinky nail. We even tried to cheat, attempting to infuse some tackling into the game but that didn't work so well either. In fact, the whole game was so ridiculously funny that we even had an audience -- the girls were being cheered on by other park guests, but luckily, the crowd dispersed before we started embarrassing ourselves (much like the Detroit Tigers ...)

I wonder what it is about nature that brings people together, even if they aren't outdoorsy types. Maybe there's just something about fresh air, beautiful scenery and a shared activity (e.g. hiking or wiffle ball) that encourages people to be more open with each other. I had a chance to bond with a few more Gang members today and if it hadn't been for this activity, I'm not sure we would have had much in common. Hopefully the weather will hold up a little while longer and we can do this again. Here are a few more photos of the park and the intrepid adventurers:

My new obsession

The best thing to happen since Sydney Bristow first donned a hot pink wig is network TV's decision to replay episodes online. Since I can't seem to break away from studying in time to catch my favorite shows, I catch up online. It's the most wonderful thing EVER -- and I don't have to pay for Tivo or DVR either.

If it wasn't for the Internet, I never would have met my new obsession, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. There are a number of reasons why I love Studio 60. Chandler and Josh are convincing, funny, charming and electric together. Can't say the show always has me laughing on my ass, but hey, you gotta start somewhere. Aaron Sorkin made up for the lack of laughs this week by having Sting on the show. Any show that features Sting earns an A+ in my book. S60otSS also portrays a non-crazy Christian as the lead female character, Harriett. I appreciate that. One of my favorite lines in the show so far -- "Jesus must have been funny in order to have had so many people listen to him." Everyone knows God has a sense of humor. We all know people he must have created while in a fit of hysterical laughter.

So, yeah, my newest friends are Matt, Danny, Harriet and Jordan. I love them.

And now I'm about to hang out with my other friends, Meredith, McDreamy, Cristina, Izzie, George and Alex. Shame on you if you don't know what I'm talking about. Would it make me too big of a TV dork if I subscribed to the their podcast?

Dating and football

Speed dating is a lot like a live fantasy football draft.

1. Things move so quickly and it can be a bit overwhelming, especially if it’s your first draft.

2. There are a lot of men to choose from and you can’t always keep their names straight.

3. All the men are assigned numbers.

4. You really want to give the sleepers a chance, but sometimes you just can’t stomach the risk.

5. No matter what, there are always picks that you steer clear of.

But, on the upside, if it’s a live, in-person draft, there’s also plenty of beer, food, some good-looking men, and sometimes, just sometimes, you get really lucky even in the most unexpected ways.

Such was my first speed dating adventure. And since I was accompanied by three other Gang of 100 girls who have become my regular partners in crime, I think they have earned Prophecy nicknames. Now, there aren’t many well-known things that come in 4s…I mean, the four horsemen of the Apocalypse doesn’t really strike me as an appropriate way to refer to this group. We’ll go with “The Four Seasons.” Here, then, are the highlights and lowlights of The Four Seasons’ speed dating extravaganza:

We (that is, Winter, Autumn, and Spring) started with drinks at Winter’s house (a bit o’ liquid courage never hurt no one) and headed into The ‘Ginia to meet up with Summer for a hectic evening of “hurry up and find your hookup.” Within 30 seconds, I was on a first-name basis with our server, Red, who provided food and more booze. Way to start the game!

But speed dating is freakin’ hectic. First, the ladies sit down. Then the men file in and home in on the girl they first want to meet. It almost feels like fifth grade gym class. You have four minutes to get to know the other person before the hostess blows a rather lame-sounding whistle. It all moves rather quickly and I could barely keep all the men straight. Some had the same name, some were rather forgettable, others were sweet but not so cute, a lot of them are IT consultants… and, sadly, I can’t say there were any hotties present. Oh well.

Remember my reference to fantasy football and how you want to find the sleepers but sometimes can’t bear to pick them over a sure thing? Yeah, well, there’s a lot of that in speed dating. This one guy, #35, seemed nice but had a wonky eye. And there was a sort of latent awkwardness to him. I just couldn’t mark him as a “yes.” Speaking of wonky eyes, we had two wonky eyed men and one wonky ear’d man.

And then there’s the pick you steer clear of. In our case, it was #42. He sat down, hushed me, pushed a blue gift bag toward me, and ordered me to pick a card. No joke. For some unknown reason, I obliged and found myself having to tell him where we’d go on a road trip, what I’d pack and who would drive. This was also the same man who fondled Winter’s hand under the guise of a palm reading. Ew.

And then Red came to my rescue. About halfway through the evening, he came over with a business card and a beer that I hadn’t ordered and told me it was compliments of a regular customer who thought I was cute. That’s bold, y’all. Sending a drink to a girl who is in the middle of a speed dating evening? I figured this guy definitely deserves 10-minute make-out session …. I mean, a hello. But then I got worried he had a snaggle tooth or was missing a lip or a nose or something and maybe I wouldn’t want to make out with him anyway.

Well, turns out, Red looked out for me – Mystery Man turned out not only to be Super Cute Man but Super Genuine Man and Super Sweet Man. He told me he had seen me through the window as he passed by on his way out of the office, got to his car in the garage, drove it up two floors, then promptly parked it again because he just had to come say hello to me. I think I blushed. Then he asked me if he could take me out to dinner. I think I blushed again. Hee.

Anyway, The Four Seasons ended up staying at the bar for at least another 2 hours, drinking and hanging out with Mystery Man, Red, the hostess, the bartender, the bouncer, and two other Speed Dating fellows. This night definitely scores in the top 5 DC Nights I’ve had so far. As an added bonus, Red didn’t charge us for 2/3 of what we ordered and a Speed Dating man picked up the tab that was left. Who needs to cram for an accounting midterm, a stats midterm, and an econ case presentation when you can be meeting random men in strange bars?

Yes, we do more than drink. Sort of.

A small cadre of Gang of 100 members went off on a mini bike adventure this past weekend! We made sure to take a picture, just so we could get a non-alcoholic photo posted to the website. It was a great ride -- maybe 10 miles or so, pretty easy. Surprisingly, I wasn't even sore the next morning. I love when that happens -- maybe that solitary game of squash paid off.

Thanks to a certain, newly-engaged Boston friend, I'm currently listening to a Time music compilation called "Body Talk." Yep, that's right -- a whole collection of love songs, spanning eight CDs, at least two decades, and a maple tree forest's worth of sap. But it's strangely addicting. A middle school mix tape of love songs couldn't top this -- Greatest Love of All, All by Myself, Don't Let Me be Lonely Tonight, Dream Weaver, Let's Stay Together, Back in the High Life Again, Total Eclipse of the Heart. That's only a small sampling.

Speaking of love and newly-engaged friends, I just received yet another engagement announcement email from an old high school friend from the Lone Star state. When did engagements become an epidemic? And when did I get the vaccination shot? Engagement is the perfect relationship phase. You get the bling, you get the spotlight, you get most of the benefits of marriage, but you get to keep your own bank account and house. Sweetness.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's blog -- speed dating takes place tomorrow evening around 7:30pm....

Time trashes all trophies

A wise man I know recently shared a story with me. It went something like this:

"A former track star was invited to speak at his highschool, where he had graduated a number of years earlier after setting a number of track and field records there. But as he walked through the old gym, reminiscing about years gone by, he noticed that his old highschool trophies were conspicuously missing from the display case. Confused, he looked around the backroom, only to find that all his medals and trimmings of victory had been unceremoniously dumped into the trashcan to make room for the new record holders."

How many of us still bask in victories from days past? How many of us strive and drive and persist, only to find we're chasing the wind in vain? What is it all supposed to be about, anyway? I certainly don't claim to have the answers, but here's another story for you:

"There was a certain man without a dependent, having neither a son nor a brother, yet there was no end to all his labor. Indeed, his eyes were not satisfied with riches and he never asked, "And for whom am I laboring and depriving myself of pleasure?" This too is vanity and it is a grievous task. Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up."

I think we were meant to have a spirit that calls out to spirit, that yearns for eternity and love, that extends mercy and an open hand, that reaches beyond for something more grand and noble than we can possible fathom. Cool. I hope we all find it.

Squash the thirst!

I recently enjoyed some one-on-one time with a Gang of 100 member, who I'm calling Sourdough. I had mixed feelings about him back when I met him in March -- thought maybe he exhibited meat head/frat boy tendencies, although he was probably a nice one. Luckily I was wrong. We talked about our families, our thoughts on religion and spirituality, stuff that's actually meaningful and has nothing whatsoever to do with school. Made me realize how many quick judgments I've made about other Gang members. Why do we always DO that? Hmmm. I wonder what kind of snap judgments they've made about me?

Anyway, finally, I'm at a place where Gang members are more than just people I go to school with, alkeishas who I drink with, or smartypants that I call up when I can't figure out economics. Folks have more or less settled into their own social groups or closely knit clusters and we're really starting to get to know each other now. In Club5, for example, we're getting comfortable enough with each other that our meetings are starting to get a bit more tense, now that we don't feel the need to be extra careful with our words and opinions. I think it's a good thing, provided we still maintain respect and honesty in the Club, because more thoughts are being expressed. MBA students would probably make a fascinating psychological or sociological study. I should quadruple major.

I played squash today. For the first time ever. And if you had seen me, you would have known it was my first time ever. While I completely understand the need for goggles, I want to know why they can't invent fog-free goggles. And I want to know why the squash ball is so small. And I want to know what real squash players do to strengthen their other arm. My right forearm is sore and I'm worried that if I continue playing, my left arm isn't going to develop and I'll be lopsided.

So, yeah, I opted for physical activity and roommate-bonding tonight with Grey's Anatomy, rather than obscene drinking with the Gang in Clarendon. However, as much as I love Grey's Anatomy and my roommates, I'm wondering if obscene drinking would have led to a different kind of physical activity and I could have foregone Grey's and the roommates because, dammit, y'all, it sucks to be single and not getting any when you used to have regular access for nearly two freakin' years. I had a bit o' fun way back during the first week of classes (which was, like, eternity ago) and wouldn't you know it, that well seems to have dried up. I tell you, this girl is thirsty! Good thing I'm off to do speed-dating for the first time ever on Tuesday ... heh.

Top 5 reasons why MBA students are dorks

5. We use words and phrases like "diversify," "joint probability," and "decision trees" in everyday conversation.

4. We refuse to be seen in public without our laptops, cell phones and business cards.

3. We want to know why the school building is closed on Sundays, preventing us from working there on the Sabbath.

2. We call our Thursday night happy hours "IPOs" -- short for "informal public outings."

1. We listen to rap songs about the Sarbanes-Oxley Act in our accounting class.

Dammit, I am a freakin' MBA student. If you have other reasons to add, please feel free ... lay it on thick. We deserve it.

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Oct. 27 -- I'm in Chicago for an MBA conference, staying with a friend at GSB. She was just looking at some of the goodies that we brought back from the Career Fair and jumped at the pen with the built-in post-in note flags. And she says "oh i love these pens!" That's Reason 6 why MBA students are dorks.

My heart is smiling

Over the weekend, about 10 members of the Gang of 100 went out to Virginia to help fellow member "The Chaos" move into his new apartment. Now, The Chaos has earned this name for reasons which are too numerous and overwhelming to explain in full. Suffice it to say that I've been keeping his car at my apartment for the past month because it's currently boot-eligible in The District. He's been living rent-free (and kitchen-free) with a 60-something old broad because he moved here without first finding a place to live. On the day that tuition payments were due, he was calling the bank for a loan. He tried to get me to pretend to be his current landlord because he didn't get around to telling the old broad that he was moving out. I think the evidence speaks for itself. But, he's a good (albeit frenetic) guy. Endless entertainment.

Anyway, The Chaos recruited some of the Gang to help him unpack the UHaul trailer that he, his brother and bro's girlfriend drove from the Midwest. Not only did we all show up, but we had his boxes pretty much unpacked in just a few hours -- and I'm talking dishes in cabinets, books on shelves, even pictures hung on the walls. It just made my heart happy that after only knowing each other for a month, we do this sort of stuff for each other.

And I got to thinking ... I've been so obsessed with studying and getting my career in order, that I might be forgetting other, more important things in life. So, I've added a new element to the blog -- Today's Three Sparks (look over to the right). Each day, I have to come up with three things that spark my imagination, passion, thoughts, or inspiration. They might be little things, they might be big things. Who knows. All I know is that I want to find three things every 24 hours that inspire me and remind me that I'm part of a big world.

Scorsese says Whitey is dead

Went to a 9:45pm showing of "The Departed" tonight with the Gang of 100. Scorsese nailed this one. No joke. Everything, from the brilliant use of music, the camera work, and the acting, to the adaptation of the original Chinese screenplay and the complexity of the characters was impeccable. While I know this film was adapted from the Asian hit flick, it was eerily reminiscent of the Whitey Bulger story....hmmmm....Beantown boys Matt Damon and Mark Wahlberg had the best Boston accents, although Leonardo DiCaprio's was pretty impressive. All three men looked great. Leo was fabulous. Go see it.

I left the theater, still shaken up and desperately wanting a cup of steaming herbal tea to soothe the nerves and slow down the heart rate. Then I couldn't find my car. Figures. So, tea-less and car-less, I walked the streets with a Gang of 100 guy, since I had made a deal to drive him home if he walked me to my car. Finally found it, drove him home, got home and found brownies that my roommate had made earlier today. Nice. Still no tea but brownies will suffice.

Of course, I'm now exhausted. Too many late nights this week -- including last night, which happened to be my very first Washington DC date, as well as my very first post-breakup date. We did the jazz club and dance club thing all in one night. Not bad, eh?

And, yes, I've changed the look of the blog. Was getting tired of the old one and really wanted to play around with the beta blogger.

Okay, I resolve to be highly productive tomorrow.

Rumor has it ...

... that Thursday night was an evening of debaucherous conduct among MBA students at a certain school in the Washington DC area. While there might be photographic evidence (Flickr, anyone?) of such slovenly, shameless schmoozing and snogging, I don't have access to it (yet) and you'll have to entertain yourself with words for the time being.

I hear the craziness began at Lucky's Bar around 6pm and continued on at Steve's Bar until about 2am. At least one of The Elders' men finally scored with a Gang of 100 woman ... there might have been more but when one is overwhelmed with a room spinning with more booze and bawdiness than a bordello in Bangkok, it's rather difficult to keep track of everyone and everything.

But let's not leave out The Elder women -- one of them repeatedly infringed upon the personal space of a Gang of 100 man by removing and replacing his belt while on the dance floor. Multiple times. Hell, who needs subtlety when the drinks are free and the music is pounding?

And, oh, the lascivious, lecherous liplocking! At least four members of the Gang of 100 were captivated with a game of tongue-twister ... some of them with each other. Scandalous. And I loved every salacious, slovenly second of smut. The night definitely hit its low point when one desperately-seeking Gang of 100 girl sucked face with Random Penis #1 on her right, only to turn to her left and entertain Random Penis #2 with the same methods.

Granted, it was a stressful week for all the aforementioned individuals. No wonder we had engaged people engaging in some rather raunchy dancefloor cavorting. I've not seen anything quite like it since Simon Smooth Money hit the pavement in a badly calculated attempt at the worm. As for me? I stayed sober and in control the entire night, all the better since I could observe and ogle the obscenities taking place before me. Not that I wasn't tempted. There was Justin, the brother of the bartender, and Random Big Black Man, who kept trying to cop a feel. Then again, nevermind. Temptation wasn't even an issue.

Is this really the future of corporate America? 'Fraid so, comrades.

Only in The District, kids. Only in The District.

Random Thoughts

A few things that amused me today:

Presidential Player. That's Bolivian President Evo Morales to the left. The President's team played the International Correspondents and won 11-1.

Beauty don't equal grace. I tripped on my own feet this morning while simulataneously walking to the Metro, reading the Post, and adjusting my iPod. That's nothing compared to this model mishap at Paris Fashion Week. Why is it so darn amusing when people fall?

Curiosity killed the cat. Derek Jeter continues to be the lust of my life (at least in October). Send those little pussycats back to Detroit, boys.

Dishin' Fashion. Project Runway gossip!! Looks like we'll have to wait until Oct. 18 to find out if Jeffrey Sebelia actually cheated. In the meantime, check out how he responded to a PR fan on MySpace.

Rex Kwan Do. The Chicago Bears are 4-0 this season. I love them. With a little bit of luck, I'll actually go to my first-ever game at Soldier Field on Oct. 29. Can anyone help my luck??

Give it up, Screech. First, he was selling tshirts to avoid foreclosure on his house. Now he's doing sex tapes, with titles like "Saved By the Smell." Ew.

Isn't life already in 3-D?

For a sweet, funny, playful, imaginative, charming, surreal good time, be sure to check out "The Science of Sleep," starring Gael Garcia Bernal (of "Y Tu Mama Tambien" and "Motorcycle Diaries" fame). Directed and written by Michel Gondry, who also directed "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and a multitude of music videos (e.g. The White Stripes, Rolling Stones, Kanye West, Bjork, Chemical Brothers)

You'll enjoy this movie if:

1. You've ever blurred the lines between dreams and reality.
2. You have a vivid dream life.
3. You've made a fool of yourself while pursuing a boy/girlfriend.
4. You like the idea that love is creative, romance isn't always sickening sweet, and eccentricities are the best part of us.
5. You just want to ogle Gael Garcia Bernal.

Clearly, I loved the film :)

I'm just like a pill.

Given that I am enrolled in five MBA classes, what is the probability that I currently have unsatiable alcohol needs?

Well, I'll tell you, since I'm learning so much in my statistics class.

If we represent classes as "C" and my alcoholic needs as "AN", we can therefore express the above probability as: P(AN | C)

Which is essentially what I'm doing. Sober. (unfortunately)

Between the two statistics papers due today, a big economics quiz on Tuesday, a marketing quiz on Tuesday and the fact that I feel behind in statistics and haven't even cracked open my organizational behavior books, I'm slightly panicked.

Which is why I've chosen to take a break and do a little googling and blogging. Hey, why get stressed out when you can just procrastinate and avoid? Since I've already googled many of the people in the Gang of 100, I thought I'd google myself, under the name The Lady V.

To my sheer and utter delight, here's one of the descriptions I found:

Since its introduction, Lady V has been taking the country by storm!

Nice, huh? Just keep reading. It gets better:

The perfect female “pleasure pill” has been created and you don't even need a prescription. Lady V is the world's first pleasure pill scientifically designed for women. Lady V is an all-natural proprietary herbal blend of prosexual nutrients from around the world synergistically blended to naturally stimulate neurotransmitter endorphin signals. This magical combination increases targeted blood flow, unleashes natural stimulators for maximum stimulation, triggering pleasure responses quickly. Lady V is safe, natural and doctor-recommended. Since its introduction Lady V has been taking the world by storm! From Malibu to Miami women are enjoying the most intense pleasure of their lives!

Aw man, that freakin' ROCKS! I'm a pleasure pill! I am a blend of pro-sexual nutrients. Hear me roar! Who needs an MBA anyway? Ima startin' the "new sexual revolution"! There's even a picture. I love the Internet. Even if I'm at The Duck, freezing my ass off, struggling with statistics and economics homework, panicking about my workload, and suffering from sobriety, I now have the energy to keep plowing ahead.

Anonymity

There's a song in the musical "Chicago" titled Mr. Cellophane. For those of you who aren't Great White Way buffs or Richard Gere fans, it's sung by the oft-ignored husband of a 1920s celebutante. In the song, he basically whines about and bemoans his inconsequential, undistinguished self.

I always hated that song. I hated the way he victimized himself, the passive attitude with which he sings it, and (as a woman who loves the spotlight) I hated the way he'd fade into the background and let everyone else walk all over him.

But I'm starting to change my mind. There can be something truly precious about anonymity and I believe that we all value a certain degree of obscurity for ourselves. In my marketing class today, I just learned that the Experion credit agency has information on 99% of the population in the United States. And not just their credit score -- they have scores upon scores of marketing data on you, like your purchasing habits and spending patterns, what magazines you subscribe to, what Web sites you visit. That means there is only one percent of the U.S. population that has managed to keep their lives private! One measly, little percent. This is disturbing, folks! Not that I've made any purchases I'm not willing to 'fess up to, but I find it rather unsettling that some credit or marketing firm knows that much about me!

Still, I admit that I'm a fairly open person. I might even be known to overshare after consuming a few drinks. But I value my anonymity. I want to respond to Craigslist postings without the recipient knowing my real name or what I do. I want to shop at Trader Joe's without Whole Foods finding out about the affair. Blogs do that. They let you share without identification (SWI, if you will). And it means that thanks to code names, I can SWI about my friends, Craigslist postings, my ex-boyfriends, the Gang of 100, etc.

Speaking of the Gang of 100, I feel like I should devote more blog estate to certain members. Mostly because only a handful of them know about this blog and I can be shamelessy honest in this venue. But also because these people and school have consumed my life and they entertain me. Some more SWI is definitely on the docket. Every member is free game, but of course, will have codenames, since I ought to protect their anonmity to the same extent that I protect my own.

Let's start with a guy I'll call The Sourdough. Nah...I'll save that for another night...