Wednesday, January 07, 2004
But, Photoshop, I ... love you
... and I also love mk12, so much so that I daydreamed away at work today while, ahem, 'between projects' (read: answering the phones) and ended up with this. Oh, to be urban and design-y. Hell, I'd settle for a Thai restaurant in town, no offense mk12. I still love you. Make more pretty.
Now that it has finally changed from summer (72°F January 3) to winter (17°F overnight January 6), I long for my petite, tolerable packet of Arkansawyer summer when things are already hot but everything is so vibrant and verdantly alive that one just doesn't care.
Now that it has finally changed from summer (72°F January 3) to winter (17°F overnight January 6), I long for my petite, tolerable packet of Arkansawyer summer when things are already hot but everything is so vibrant and verdantly alive that one just doesn't care.
Orléannais are so cool
Pourquoi blancher les cheveux? / Comment? / Pourquoi blancher les cheveux? / Moi? J'sais pas, j'aime le look, c'est intéressant je suppose. C'est une change. Pourquoi, tu ne l'aimes pas? / Non, c'est pas ça, c'est que... le look n'est pas la probleme... je n'sais pas, c'est que l'idée me frappe comme trop stereotypique. On sait que les premières impressions sont de souvent loin de la réalité, mais ça n'importe quand le monde tout juge de l'image instantanée, c'est clair? / C'est clair, oui, bien sûr, je suis gay, donc la stéréotype semble vrai, non? Donc, c'est à dire que tu les aimes, mes cheveux.
I love that he didn't even pose the last line as a question, it was simply a statement of summation of the limby American rhetoric that I put into making a non-offensive comment.
I love that he didn't even pose the last line as a question, it was simply a statement of summation of the limby American rhetoric that I put into making a non-offensive comment.
8,844
In going back over all of my old tax information I stumbeld across my last year's adjusted gross income: $8,844. Goodness, it's less than I'd thought. In my mind it had been something like twelve or fifteen thousand. It doesn't shock me that I earned so little (in fact, I'm tempted to finally reply to those silly Alumni Association where-are-our-happy-grads-now surveys by just scrawling "AGI: Under $10K" in red paint all over the fucking thing); I am more shocked, much more shocked by how little I know (or even care to know) about my own finances. I started thumbing through this article on MSN about the national condition of credit and debt in America, and it only made me feel good by comparison. Some shocking details contained therein: 43% of households spend more than they earn annually/ American consumers owe approximately two trillion dollars, not including mortgage debt (that's roughly $19,000 per household)/ on average, we spend $1.22 for every $1 that we earn. Shudder. As much as I wish I could exclude myself from the ubercredited hordes, I can't. I think I still owe a solid ten thousand on my car (ugh...) and the last time I checked I still have about $950 in outstanding medical bills. That puts me squarely in contention with the best debtors, a healthy contributor to that two trillion dollar consumer debt. Party.
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Tuesday, January 06, 2004
92nd percentile
A minute ago I was so convinced that someone was in my house that I silently stalked into every room with a serrated knife in each fiercely tensed hand. It's sad to admit, but I haven't felt that much focus in a long time. Congratulations, Jeff.
Megan's version probably has to do with the fifth graders she's having to teach as of yesterday. She's studying art education, right, and the only materials she requested for her first few lessons (on color theory) were the most simplistic basics: red paint, yellow paint, and blue paint. Showing up for her first class at seven thirty Monday morning, she noticed what she had received: red paint, orange paint, and blue paint. Congratulations, Megan.
Steven probably felt pretty focused going into the LSAT. He found out yesterday that he scored in the ninety-second percentile. Goddamn... at least I won't have to worry about finding a lawyer in the future. Congratulations, Steven.
Back to FAFSA.
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Megan's version probably has to do with the fifth graders she's having to teach as of yesterday. She's studying art education, right, and the only materials she requested for her first few lessons (on color theory) were the most simplistic basics: red paint, yellow paint, and blue paint. Showing up for her first class at seven thirty Monday morning, she noticed what she had received: red paint, orange paint, and blue paint. Congratulations, Megan.
Steven probably felt pretty focused going into the LSAT. He found out yesterday that he scored in the ninety-second percentile. Goddamn... at least I won't have to worry about finding a lawyer in the future. Congratulations, Steven.
Back to FAFSA.
Monday, January 05, 2004
1040X
Amended U.S. Individual Income Tax Return.
This was my welcome-back-to the-regular-workweek gift from the Internal Revenue Service. Oops? I sincerely hope I haven't committed some error that's going to result in my having to pay exorbitant fees or anything I think my gross income last year was hovering right around the $12K mark. Not too impressive, but the IRS has no qualms.
So yes, as I mentioned I am now back at work. It isn't that I ever really left, it's simply that now I have to observe a rigid schedule again, a kind of observation that I haven't had to do for the last two weeks. I swear that, until today, I hadn't gotten out of bed before ten in the morning this year. At only four days it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It's truly odd being back in the office in some respects. The stark juxtaposition of my holiday sloth (yesterday) and my early-morning office demeanor (today) is drawing me into an analysis (awareness?) of my own behavior as I have adapted it to the workplace. What I have learned thus far: a) I have a contrived ability to force myself into alertness, b) I am abnormally cheery on the telephone, c) I answer every call before four rings.
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This was my welcome-back-to the-regular-workweek gift from the Internal Revenue Service. Oops? I sincerely hope I haven't committed some error that's going to result in my having to pay exorbitant fees or anything I think my gross income last year was hovering right around the $12K mark. Not too impressive, but the IRS has no qualms.
So yes, as I mentioned I am now back at work. It isn't that I ever really left, it's simply that now I have to observe a rigid schedule again, a kind of observation that I haven't had to do for the last two weeks. I swear that, until today, I hadn't gotten out of bed before ten in the morning this year. At only four days it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It's truly odd being back in the office in some respects. The stark juxtaposition of my holiday sloth (yesterday) and my early-morning office demeanor (today) is drawing me into an analysis (awareness?) of my own behavior as I have adapted it to the workplace. What I have learned thus far: a) I have a contrived ability to force myself into alertness, b) I am abnormally cheery on the telephone, c) I answer every call before four rings.
