Concavities and Venn Diagrams

Concavities!

I'm subbing in for the Calc teacher at Maths School on 02-Feb and 09-Feb. He wants me to cover Concavity. As soon as I finish with a proof of concavity, I'll post it up here.

For now, you get this Venn Diagram as I ponder over Necessary and Sufficient. ...Again. Augh!



I'm not sure who else got taught this way, but I was taught that the rectangle (in this example) is "The Universe", so label accordingly! Put a title on The Universe! Label things that aren't in the circles!


Mm, tired.

--Charissa

Margaret Cho and Me

Margaret Cho

I've been watching some of Margaret Cho's performances on YouTube lately.

I think Margaret Cho is my hero now.

I was watching "I'm the One That I Want", and so much of it resonated within me. Expectations, Asian mother, bisexuality, low self-esteem, more expectations, uncertain identity...

(Aside: I find the way YouTube displays "Related Videos" on the side of a video to be terribly annoying in the way it truncates the title, so if you're looking for "Part 7/10", it usually gets cut off. So, I've made quick tables for myself and others to use!)

"I'm the One That I Want" (YouTube)
Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4	Part 5A, 5B
Part 6	Part 7	Part 8	Part 9	Part 10

"Assassin" (YouTube)
Part 1	Part 2	Part 3	Part 4
Part 5	Part 6	Part 7	Part 8

Me

I'm finding myself lost again. I had my best friend come over last week (or so). It was...good, but also frightening. We still have this thing, where we just know what the other is saying, or is trying or wanting to say, even if the other is stuck on the word or whatever. And we still have the ability to surprise eachother--we tell jokes, which are maybe five words long, and the other can't stop laughing!

At the same time, he'll be moving to either Hartford or Miami for school, which is sad and... I don't know what the word is.

In my graduating year, I wanted to be an Acoustical Engineer. I was actually considering going to Hartford for my education, too.

I'm not sure what happened, though.

And that... sort of scares me. I'm not sure what happened.


I was chatting online with an old classmate from high school. She's into some of that "New Age" stuff, like homeopathy, and has pretty radical but forward ideas.

We talked--inevitably, about me, because I'm such a windbag sometimes. I'd said something about having no motivation, and she said that lack of motivation comes from repressing what you want. And this struck me as true.

The unfortunate side of this, is that I am a First Generation Canadian, and my parents have "Old World" expectations of me:
- go to University
- become a "professional" (ie: letters behind my name, a job that requires an expensive education; eg: doctor, lawyer...)
- support them until they die

Aside from these, are more implied and less action-oriented:
- marry a nice man; having kids would be very nice (my two older brothers are not married)
- have a license, drive a car
- don't be fat
- be pretty
- be proper (polite, etc)
- achieve things that have documentation (eg: awards, certificates, grants, scholarships...)

Reminds me of something Margaret Cho said in ITOTIW. A reporter had asked her whether or not it was true that she had been made to lose weight, to play the part of herself, on her own television show.

Sometimes I feel I'm being pressured to [do this] because it's "who/how I should be".

I should be assertive. Sure, no problem with that one.
I should be world-wise. Ennh, maybe, sometimes, maybe.
I should not get upset over other people's problems. Uhh...
I should not trust people. Okay, shut up.

Sometimes I wonder what it means to live as a Christian. Sure I know why I can call myself Christian--that's on a personal level. What do Christians "look like"?

This is one of the reasons I don't want to be "wise in the ways of the world". Whenever I feel that way, I also feel... out-of-character and as though I don't fit or belong that way or belong in that "worldly" world.

I'm very mental. ...By which I mean, things happen in my mind more than anywhere else. This is why I love doing math problems or proofs--I see through to the other side, and while I'm doing it, I'm writing down a physical record of it.

But because I'm very mentally active, that is the first thing I try to shut up when I'm trying to relax or calm myself down. Thus, I rarely get anything finished. Thinking gets me excited, sometimes upset. I'm pretty passionate in that Scorpio way.

I feel--sometimes I just have to hate. Not so much that "it's okay to hate", but "it is natural to hate things". And my first reaction to this is always, "No, hate is bad!" However, I find, that as soon as I allow myself to be angry, I'm no longer angry.




This post has carried on pretty long and I should sleep. I wanted to upload Strip Calc v. 2c, but it'll have to wait, I guess
--Charissa

Beeswax

Months upon months ago, some buddies and I went for lunch or something, and ended up walking through the various stores on this very bohemian part of town. While they looked at jewellery and clothes, I found myself picking up a pamphlet on beeswax candles. Ever since then, I've wanted a beeswax candle. It was only recently, having gotten my room back and wanting to light candles, that I actually got one.

Beeswax is amazing!

Most obviously, I love the honey smell in my room. Also, I like playing with fire and burning my fingertips; and I do feel different. Maybe it's the negative ions sticking to the positive ions and falling to the ground, cleaning my air. I'm not sure. It feels very inspirational--I mean, for a candle.

I got these Pheylonian Phloat'rs from a gift shop. I was upset they didn't have any pillars, but these are nice, too. I have one floating in a rice bowl right now.

At the advice from a shopkeeper, I looked in the phone book for "Religious Goods", because they often carry beeswax candles in all shapes and sizes! This one place has three inch diameter pillars, which is what I'll probably get in March (when I have money to spare).

Also interesting from Pheylonian is bee pollen. I just might try that out when I have money!


That's all for now. I'm trying to finish up "Stip Calc" version 2c. Sigh.
--Charissa

Interviewing

Work

The market research gig is pretty great. I got my first racist comments on Sunday, and that was a little disheartening. For me and most of my generation (who got the "stereotypes are bad and false!" lectures in grade school), it's always a shock to see that the stereotypical people do in fact exist.

Also, one of my supervisors, let's call him Don; we like to chat! It's great! And I told him I'm queer today! He seemed shocked; but he also defended himself with the, "Well, we're not supposed to ask" blurb. Hehe.

I've been telling him a lot about my parents, lately, it seems. Don had actually monitored me on that particularly bad survey, where, instead of just hanging up, decided to stick around and finish the entire survey, which is normally five minutes, in 15 minutes.

I ended up telling Don about stuff:

Last year, my other supervisor wanted me trained on this specific type of customer satisfaction survey ("c-sat" for short), but it meant that I had to be put on other c-sats first. Unfortunately, several things were going against me.

First, you have to understand, that c-sats are usually completed with people who don't necessarily like surveys. They're just completing it because you're representating a company they use or like or at least, deal with or own something from. So they don't understand the "unwritten" rules (they're actually written, on this end) that go with saying, "Okay, I'll do your survey."

One question went something like, "So, how did you find out about [company]?" The fellow on the other end said, "Yellow pages." The next question was, "And how did you find the phone number for [company]?" He hung up profanely.

Second, earlier that day, my father had said something pretty stupid and careless and it would have been abusive had he said it on purpose, but I just can't tell if he's that dense, or if he actually realizes what he's saying. It was something along the lines of, "I love you, even if you're not in school", or more basicaly, "I love you, even though you're flawed!" Gee, thanks. And I guess I take those things pretty badly. I hate being called worthless. I'm tearing up even now, with at least one year's distance, just writing this all.

Anyway, I had to leave work crying that day.

Eventually, I got trained on the specific c-sats that is one of our biggest clients. I'm pretty good at it! Just, on Sunday, I got my first two racist fellows.

First guy couldn't understand what I was saying. We were calling into the States--the deep south, too! He couldn't understand me. Just before he hung up, I chould hear him say, "God damn foreigns!"

Wow.

Next guy stuck around for fifteen minutes. He made me spell out my name, the name of the company I work for, and then asked me--get this--"Where were you born?"

"Canada," I told him, rather forcibly. "Ca-na-da." Do you know where that is? It's up. Up. North. There. Yeah. Good for you!

Apparently, he (let's call him Billy) had called [company]'s call centre, and had gotten a fellow with a strong accent. And Billy just needed a number from the accented fellow, so that was all Billy understood, and it was all Billy needed. But Billy's biggest concern was that [company], which is a good ol' American company was putting call centres in this, that and the other country. Why should a good ol' American company have call centres located in other countries?

I was quite tempted to tell Billy that there are people who live in America who have accents. And I really wanted to suggest to Billy that, "Hey, maybe it would've been better had no foreigners come to America at all!" But I don't think he would have understood that.

Ah well.

Well, Don had monitored that call, and we chatted, and I talked about my parents and stuff.


Past experiences with supervisors

On my first actual day of work, I was supervised by, let's call him Bob. This was summer of 2006, I should add.

Well, Bob introduced himself to me, since I was new, and, for some reason, suddenly asked how old I was.

"Seventeen," I told him.

"Oh," he said. Then, "When do you turn eighteen."

Uhh.... Well, I told him my birthday, and then he made some comment about Scorpios being passionate. I think I just excused myself from any further conversation.


[post abandonned, unfinished]

Math Porn!

Excerpt kinda, because I haven't written anything beyond it

There are times I feel his sweet, calloused hands gently across my face, my neck. He whispers something intangible as he presses his lips quickly against my cheek. We kiss; wet, sweet and breathless; kiss again. I can feel him radiate heat; the smell of sweat mingles fancily in the warm air. Soft satin, cool to the touch, stretches beneath our forms. I run my fingertips down his chest; the hair curls slightly more from moisture. His broad chest, exquisitely muscled and blanketed in textured but pliant skin; it feels wonderful beneath my touch.

It's usually at about this time that I must look up, breathless, into those brilliant blue eyes; brush some hair from his face; feel the curves of his jaw and the dimples of his smile.

"Sometimes I wish you were a woman," I breathe into his face. We kiss again.

Writing

Sometimes, I write math porn. And, what's cool: I'm not alone! Joey Comeau writes math porn, too. His is different from mine, obviously.

Also, there's this gallery.

My math porn is different, because I know of at least three very attractive people who are proficient in Math, and it drives me nuts. There's one idea that I keep trying to make into a finished, polished story, and publish it, dang it!

I have at least four versions of Strip Calculus running right now. Not one is finished; and I doubt any will finish soon. However, I have been working on version "2c" lately, and it seems the most likely candidate.

With any amount of luck, I'll be uploading it soon.

--Charissa

Maaaath

Relationships

Based on private entry, 13 Jan, 2008 at 13:08 on bus

Been thinking.

Had lunch with James. Was strange. He talks more, though. But, either Istill make him nervous, or he's still that way--at least, around me.

Yet, I find, ... physically ... I think we fit together.

We still have a weak relationship. He talks about things I don't understand; and I talk about things he can't comment on. When I ask him to explain, he usually can't, or, not very well.

Maybe our roles are too loose. If it were a planned or structured get-together / event, maybe it would flow better.

I think that's the biggest issue: we have nothing to talk about. I ask about him, and he doesn't say much. I ask a little more, and then he talks more; but of course he'll start talking about programming, and I won't understand much of it. I ask him to explain, and he becomes hesitant and stumbles over the explanation (or maybe I'm just difficult to explain to?). When I talk about myself, he won't be interested, or won't comment. I guess, the other thing: I jump from topic to topic, and he likes to stay on one topic at a time.

It's so strange to have that physical connection, yet no other connection. I can read his body very easily; but not his mind or heart. And it may be that his body has very contrary "thoughts" from his mind/heart. Afterall, he has much self discipline.



Math

At work, I got bored. So, I figured out that, for each area code, there are 4,251,528 possible phone numbers (8*9*9 *9*9*9*9). Assuming there are 60 people working on that area code at any given time, and each worker can make 90 calls per hour; it will take roughly 13 hours to dial an area code.

Of course, I was at work at the time, so my numbers were totally wrong. It's very hard to find 9⁷ when you can work on it only 20 seconds at a time, with 70 seconds in between, which are spent doing something completely different.

(Just for comparison, I got: 5,373,459 possible numbers, and 1.15 hours, assuming 60 workers and 80 calls/hour. I was 21% off on the phone numbers, and a whole order of magnitude off on the hours--but I think that was just stupid messy-writing error.)

My next task will be to find out how many possible phone numbers in the US and Canada. I've made a list of all area codes that don't exist. It'll be a matter of finding:

(729 - [number of area codes that don't exist]) * 5,373,459

Woo!


Teaching

I mentioned, last post, that we've started transformations. I think, most of the kids don't get it.

Well, I want to make a bonus question on their next assignment:

1. Determine algebraically whether y = f(x) = sinX is even, odd or neither.

2. Determine algebraically whether y = f(x) = cosX is even, odd or neither.

I'll even do this right now, off the top of my head!

1. f(x) = sinX
Step 1: Find f(-x).

f(-x) = sin(-x)
= sin(0 - x)	Trig ID: sine sum-angle identity.
= sin0 * cosX - cos0 * sinX
= 0 * cosX - 1 * sinX	Simplify.
= - sinX	Which is also....
= - f(x)	Therefore, this function is odd. Hoorays!

2. f(x) = cosX
Step 1: Find f(-x).

f(-x) = cos(-x)
= cos(0 - x)	Trig ID: cosine sum-angle identity.
= cos0 * cosX + sin0 * sinX
= 1 * cosX + 0 * sinX	Simplify.
= cosX	Which is also....
= f(x)	Therefore, this function is even. Hoorays!

If we do this in class, then we've just taught them another trig identity, which is always good.

I really want to show the kids the process of how to solve those "Even, odd or neither" problems. Augh. It's so frustrating, the way the teacher teaches... Sigh.


Okay, sleepy time.
--Charissa

Mistaken Sex, Diagrams, and Everyone is Quitting

I got mistaken for a man today!

Well, maybe, sorta, I dunno. I went to get doughnuts and wanted to use the washroom, but you needed to get a key, and the cashier handed me the mens' room key. Woots.

Also, when I went for lunch with James, I had to use the washroom because I'd walked too fast and had started sweating. Two elderly ladies came into the washroom, separately, and had extremely puzzled expressions on their faces! I had taken off my inner shirt so I could dry it using the blow-dryer, and the first lady eyed me so strangely. I smiled back. I dunno, what else could I do? I suppose I could have declared, "I'm a lady!" but maybe that would've been too odd.


Teaching

We started the Transformations unit today. Some kids aren't quite sure what this whole "negative f of x" or "f of negative x" or "inverse f" is, so they're not sure what the whole "even, odd or neither" thing is, too. THERE'S EVEN A HANDY-DANDY CHART!

One of my favourite ways of explaining things is through the use of charts and diagrams, as you may have noticed. Maybe. I love how it's very graphical and intuitive--or maybe it's just intuitive to me. Flow charts are one of my favourites, though.

I decided I'd make another flow chart:

Mostly, I made this because one student has already e-mailed me asking how to do the assignment. Sigh. Sometimes I wonder what they do in class!

As a side-note... I noticed the kids tend to get very restless around 16:00. I should keep this in mind.


Army

Augh. We started off with four untrained Privates. In a few weeks, there will only be two. Few weeks after that, maybe only me.

C-- had a series of personal tragedies, and, next to me, I'd say she was the least "army" of us four. So she left.

K-- is the most "army" of us all. She tried doing Reg Force BMQ several times, but, each time, a few weeks before completion, she'd get sick or injured. She just advanced in her Civi job, though, so she won't have any more time for Army from now on.

And, F-- is thinking he might switch over to Reg Force. He'll decide by Tuesday, but he seemed pretty gung-ho about it already.

AUGH! Why?! WHY?? If I had balls, I'd say this was like a kick in the balls. The person in charge of us is pretty intimidating (although, one of the new Officer Cadets said, "Oh, you're cute!" to her face and stayed un-punched). I would not like to be left alone with her.

Sigh. Well, at least I can do BMQ, and sooner, now that I've talked to my employer at the Maths school. Wooo...


Okay, sleepy time.
--Charissa (or is it Charles?)

Reminiscing

I found my old poetry box from grade twelve English.

I carved it from an old Nintendo system. Heee. My brothers weren't exactly thrilled about that.

But now, two years later, it's amazing.

Mostly, it's amazing what I could write and...create back in those days...

Charissa Reminisces About Highschool

When I was in highschool, I was totally arrogant. I thought I was da shizz. I was invincible; omnipotent; amazing stuff. I wasn't afraid of anything. Whatever I wanted to do was justified by my wanting to do it.

Not so anymore. I don't know what caused that; was it James, was it the Army, was it the lack of school; my desk job reading scripts... I can't talk anymore. I stutter, I stumble, I have no vocabulary. I doubt myself, I'm noncommittal, I'm lethargic.

And I have no social life.


Reflections on the Poetry Box

I made a poetry box in grade nine, too. It looks like a "hat box", people keep telling me, and it's covered in red fabric. On the top is a large piece of white paper with the small-written word "PRETENTIOUS". Hah!

I like the Nintendo box, though.

I was going for a sort of "It is past, but it is to come" or "The past will meet up with you again soon" or "You'll remember me in (fifteen) years."

Contents

Editorial - "FREE Rolex, Viagra and Designer Handbags!!!"
about spam and ham and e-mail stuff.

Short Story - "Alex's Art"

• horrible, horrible piece of crap I squeezed out just before the due-date.

Monologue - "Banquo's Descent"

• portrayed as a typical blog, complete with profile picture, "biography" and calendar of updates.

Narrative Poem - "Stipper and Jo"

• stuffed into the sleeve for a 8 + 1/2 inch floppy disk.

Cinquain - "I hate spam"

• in the pink "e-mail" envelope

Note Poem - "I just wanted to say..."

• in the pink "e-mail" envelope.
  
• our teacher really liked this "I just wanted to say..." concept; as though a poem could be a note left somewhere--or a note left somewhere could be a poem. I have no love for this "poem".

Sonnet - "Sonnet no. 1"

• this really was my first sonnet. I'm so happy it turned out almost exactly as I wanted. My only annoyance is with "Thus, twenty born in time soon die in dearth" which is supposed to mean, "Even though 20 infants are born at the same time, they die in a bad / unfulfilling life.
  
• it is attached to a Lego flying-vehicle, which is a toy of something that doesn't exist yet. I wanted to be sort-of representative of "something from your youth will meet you in the future" and have a sort of "You were once happy--purely and innocently happy. That was called Joy" to fit with that last couplet. Mm.
  

The "Your.Blog.Net" is a monologue. Monologue can be read here; snippets of it can be viewed here (Flash).

Stipper and Jo can be read here, with an explanation at the bottom.

Inside that pink envelope are two poems:

I hate spam, a Cinquain

>>OPEN

Get a FREE car!

Your Diploma Awaits!!

Miss Tiffany Wants to Meet You!!!

>>Delete

and

I just wanted to say...

I have longer hair now
and I'm
some two inches taller.
Mom says I'm getting fat.

I still like Chopin and Ellington
but I've started on Radiohead and
Orbital.
I found your Pink Floyd collection.

see you this summer.

Attached to a Lego^TM ship is a sonnet. It can also be read and appreciated artfully (pfft!) here.

Sonnet no. 1

Wild, screaming and bloody was I at birth,
Where nineteen other mothers might share screams.
Thus, twenty born in time soon die in dearth:
Our lives, all substance, wealth--no thoughts, no dreams.

We're beaten gently by nurses, sometimes
If our independent lungs refuse air.
We cry, bewildered, not knowing our crimes,
Suck in air to cry--we breathe unaware.

We grow, we learn to love, live, and commit;
Somehow, our brains can overcome all frays:
Nights unsleeping; throes of death's counterfeit,
'Til all giv'n effort untangles ablaze.

How'ver wraught with pain and with griefs to cloy,
It is life and I live and it is joy.

In other news

I tried to donate blood again today. Augh, disaster! The nurses poked around my left arm a bit, trying to feel for usable veins/arteries. That took ages. They finally found one, but it was deep down and they were a bit worried. I'm not sure if it was foolish, but I told them to go ahead anyway.

OUCH. She hit a nerve, and it sent a bolt right up to my thumb--like when you "hit your funny bone", except there's a 2mm metal tube sticking into your arm. Ooooch! Out of all the times I've tried to donate, that was the ONLY PAINFUL experience! She withdrew.

After some ice and a brief cool-down, I suggested they try my other arm. My blood-test-doctor is very good and can always get blood out of this one, very visible vein off to the side. Unfortunately, the nurses couldn't feel the vein. Since the alternative was to blindly poke into the centre, I mentioned that, at least you could see this vein!

Well, seeing wasn't enough. They tried, but it just wouldn't bleed fast enough.

I ended the day with a very, very, FRUCKIN' SORE left arm (still hurts when I move too much), and a few millilitres less blood. Fruck!


Sleepy time!
--Charissa

Nickels and Trig IDs

I'm bored and was trying to explain Trig IDs to a student. One analogy I came up with was trying to make 25 cents from pennies and nickels. If you know that a nickel is five cents, and a penny is one, you can make 25 cents.

And then I got bored so I made this:

Twenty-five cents:
penny, nickel, dime, quarter.
= 25p
= 20p + 1n
= 15p + 2n
= 10p + 3n
= 5p + 4n
= 5n
= 3n + 1d
= 1n + 2d
= 1q


Recently, my brother had asked me what is the process for writing out all the combinations of elements in sets? For example...

Set A consists of these elements:
a₁, a₂, a₃.

Set B:
b₁, b_2.

Set C:
c₁, c₂, c₃, c₄.

and I want to write out every combination possible; so:

a₁, b₁, c₁;
a₁, b₁, c₂;
a₁, b₁, c₃;
a₁, b₁, c₄;
a₁, b₂, c₁;
a₁, b₂, c₂;
a₁, b₂, c₃;
a₁, b₂, c₄;
a₂, b₁, c₁;
a₂, b₁, c₂;
a₂, b₁, c₃;
a₂, b₁, c₄;
a₂, b₂, c₁;
a₂, b₂, c₂;
a₂, b₂, c₃;
a₂, b₂, c₄;
a₃, b₁, c₁;
a₃, b₁, c₂;
a₃, b₁, c₃;
a₃, b₁, c₄;
a₃, b₂, c₁;
a₃, b₂, c₂;
a₃, b₂, c₃;
a₃, b₂, c₄.

What is the process my brain goes through?

My brother wanted to know the process, because he was writing a computer program, and wanted to make it shorter--fewer lines of code. I'm not a programmer, so I don't know/remember exactly what his code says, but it does something like this:

For every a₁,
for every b₁,
write out an element of Set C.

For every a₁,
for every b₂,
write out an element of Set C.

...

Something terrible like that. And he doesn't just have A, B and C; he has about fourteen of these, so his code gets pretty dang long!

I thought; and thought; and thought about this, but I couldn't simplify it.

And then, I realized, no matter how many (few) elements in each set, there will be more rows than columns (assuming it's organized this way). So, instead of filling out the "chart" one row at a time, maybe it would be shorter to fill it out one column at a time! You'd just have to tell your program how many times to write each element before moving to the next element in the set (eg: how many times to write "a₁" before writing "a₂", etc), and when to stop, I guess, if programs require that.


But what is the method to write all the combinations of coins needed to make some amount of money? Wooo, Canadian monies.


Man am I tired,
--Charissa

New Year

Extract from private journals, 26-Dec-07 03:06

I feel ... inspired. I think, from now on, I'll make my "bed" properly: roll up the sleeping and mattress; fold up the blankets neatly; pile away everything ... Do more push-ups. Definitely do more push-ups. And running. ... Maybe a gym pass to that place in [neighbourhood] wouldn't be so bad... It's nearby, and it can't be so expensive...

"New Year Resolutions"? (plans/goals)

- lose tummy fat
- pass next fitness test easily
- take driving lessons from Mark (informal)
- get a social life (start one)
- possibly get a sweetheart who'll stick around through Summer
- redecorate downstairs room
- BMQ

I went to a New Year's Eve "party" tonight. We didn't do a countdown, though; we were too busy playing Settlers.

This was at the Math school's principal's house. He's an engineer. I think everyone there was an engineer, or in swing dance (that's inclusive-or). Woo! Man, do I need to meet more people like that! One of them, let's call him Wayne, was especially fantastic; he reminded me of the Dean of Music (few years back): powerful, playful and brilliant all at once!

Sadly, I realized, I was the youngest person there by five years. Everyone else had graduated and was going into careers--steady, getting ready to settle down.

People are beautiful--absolutely beautiful. I'm re-realizing this.


Excerpt from private journals, 27-Dec-07 23:22 bus

On the way to the bus stop, I saw a lady walking. She wore a skirt and no stockings. High-heeled boots. I couldn't tell if she was young or old. I walked about twice as fast as her and was beside her shortly. She turned around; a little scared or surprised, and then quickly asked which way to [street]. I told her it was up ahead. Here. She said she was scared by downtown--heard too many "horror stories". I said it would help to cover up. She said she wasn't cold. I said it's more than warmth. I could not tell if she was 12 or 40. Old (physically) features, but a youth... Well, pre-teen-ness to her. She spoke as though she'd made up her mind about downtown.

...

On the bus, there was a black man at the very back. He asked someone for a pen. His voice was intimidatingly big; loud. Accented. Deep. I liked it. He asked the other man where he came from; said something that sounded like, "We're the same brother," or "We have the same brother". Asked if he had "keeds, cheeldren, faminy". I missed the rest. As he left, he said, "Take care."

That last sketch isn't explained very well.

The man said the words "kids, children, family" with his accent (Jamaican, perhaps?) so that they sounded more like "keeds, cheeldren, faminy", but the words came deeply from him: meaningful and potent. He and the other man were engaged in quiet conversation up until the first man left. The way he said, "Take care"--it was with love, as though the man had no shortage of it; a free and abundant well. I loved it.


"New Year's Resolutions"

Physical:

- Get fit.
- Stay fit.
- Lose tummy chub.

Social:
- Get back in touch with friends--get a social life.
- Make new friends and buddies--get a social life.
- Maintain social life.
- (Optional) Find a sweetheart who will stick around through Summer for once!

Career Path:

University:

- Go back to University.
- Learn French.
- Take Calculus; if possible, take Honours Calculus!
- Take English / "written requirement".
- (Long-term) Work toward a degree in Mathematics.
Army:

- Take Basic Military Qualification in May-June.
- Frickin' learn yer frickin' drill!
Income:

- Earn a wage increase (market research) this time.

Tada!

... More to follow later.

--Charissa