Friday, October 21, 2005
Women's Studies 234A Paper
If time is money and hours were equivalent to dollars than I’m on a $168 a week budget. This week I walked around with my budget as a map to aid with the smart spending of my life. This definitely wasn’t a natural process for me and it had some drawbacks. On the flip side it does prove to serve as a good tool to find a better and more realistic uses of my pay.
This week I sort of felt like a kid whose parents said, “We aren’t gonna tell you what to do with your allowance anymore. It’s up to you to make the best of your money.” Saturday’s class was like direct deposit I get from my work. I was told here’s your money and now plan how you are going to balance your wants with your needs. This daunting task proved to be very cumbersome. After all, I never planed what I was going to do in 15 minute increments every day of the week before. I look at this schedule before me and it’s so inorganic and lifeless. My plan of attack was to put in all the things I know I had to do, like work, school and commuting, first. Then I looked at the gutted out chunks of 15 minutes intervals I had left and arbitrary penciled in what I thought would be the best use of my time. This was a hard map to follow for the week and if felt contrived. I had scheduled study breaks at work which meant I could not visit with my sister during those times. I had given her a copy of my schedule for the week so when I would accidentally walk to her cube she would kindly remind me that she wasn’t penciled in for that particular break. That felt inhuman to me as I’m sure it felt inhuman for her. So this week I was unsuccessful at balancing the human element into my budget.
Although, this was a very unnatural process for me it did serve as a useful device. Having a tangible schedule gave me a mitigating tool and was sort of a second conscious that allowed me to say no. My buddy James called me and asked me to go out tonight but I realized I did not have time because I looked at my schedule and I saw that I had this paper to write and was also brutally reminded that I have a class at the crack of dawn tomorrow. The map gave me the foresight of why I should not go out tonight. Without it being right in front of my face I might have neglected to remember.
This weekly allowance plan also gave me a tangible visual aid to see what I didn’t accomplish in the week. I saw that I neglected to organize my cube and to read an article that I was interested in. These were both important “being” tasks that I wanted to do during the week and by seeing how I cheated myself out of those things I can make them bigger priorities next week.
This budget gave me a way to correlate why I wasn’t successful at executing some of my plans. For example, I scheduled to get ready for work and school the night before. This included putting out my clothes and packing my lunch before I went to bed. When I followed that plan Sunday, it set me up to play my guitar and write in my journal before I went to work. I saw the nights that I didn’t follow that plan it lead to my inability to practice my music and write in my journal before work.
It’s was interesting to see what suffers in my life when I don’t execute things in a consistently planned manner. I always seemed to follow through with the “production” part of my schedule. I made it work on time everyday, I met my work deadlines, I made it to school on time and I met my school deadlines. I always cut my budget short when it came to the very important “being” aspects of my budget like my writing or my music. It’s sort of weird how my life models the society I live in. When schools need to make budget cuts, due to poor planning, they first gut all the arts and humanity programs (“being”) while maintaining the math and science programs (“production.”)
Overall I felt that this was a helpful tool that is perhaps unnatural and cumbersome for now but with a little practice I could learn to use it better. It gives me tangible insights into how I get things accomplished and shows me where my weaknesses lay in not accomplishing things. Up until now I felt that I did an O.K. job of balancing my “being” and “production” but now I see that that is not necessarily the case. When it comes to this whole time budget thing the positives outweigh the negatives so I think I’ll try doing it from now on. After all, this is my $168 (hours) and at 24 years of age I don’t need anyone but myself telling me how to spend it.
If time is money and hours were equivalent to dollars than I’m on a $168 a week budget. This week I walked around with my budget as a map to aid with the smart spending of my life. This definitely wasn’t a natural process for me and it had some drawbacks. On the flip side it does prove to serve as a good tool to find a better and more realistic uses of my pay.
This week I sort of felt like a kid whose parents said, “We aren’t gonna tell you what to do with your allowance anymore. It’s up to you to make the best of your money.” Saturday’s class was like direct deposit I get from my work. I was told here’s your money and now plan how you are going to balance your wants with your needs. This daunting task proved to be very cumbersome. After all, I never planed what I was going to do in 15 minute increments every day of the week before. I look at this schedule before me and it’s so inorganic and lifeless. My plan of attack was to put in all the things I know I had to do, like work, school and commuting, first. Then I looked at the gutted out chunks of 15 minutes intervals I had left and arbitrary penciled in what I thought would be the best use of my time. This was a hard map to follow for the week and if felt contrived. I had scheduled study breaks at work which meant I could not visit with my sister during those times. I had given her a copy of my schedule for the week so when I would accidentally walk to her cube she would kindly remind me that she wasn’t penciled in for that particular break. That felt inhuman to me as I’m sure it felt inhuman for her. So this week I was unsuccessful at balancing the human element into my budget.
Although, this was a very unnatural process for me it did serve as a useful device. Having a tangible schedule gave me a mitigating tool and was sort of a second conscious that allowed me to say no. My buddy James called me and asked me to go out tonight but I realized I did not have time because I looked at my schedule and I saw that I had this paper to write and was also brutally reminded that I have a class at the crack of dawn tomorrow. The map gave me the foresight of why I should not go out tonight. Without it being right in front of my face I might have neglected to remember.
This weekly allowance plan also gave me a tangible visual aid to see what I didn’t accomplish in the week. I saw that I neglected to organize my cube and to read an article that I was interested in. These were both important “being” tasks that I wanted to do during the week and by seeing how I cheated myself out of those things I can make them bigger priorities next week.
This budget gave me a way to correlate why I wasn’t successful at executing some of my plans. For example, I scheduled to get ready for work and school the night before. This included putting out my clothes and packing my lunch before I went to bed. When I followed that plan Sunday, it set me up to play my guitar and write in my journal before I went to work. I saw the nights that I didn’t follow that plan it lead to my inability to practice my music and write in my journal before work.
It’s was interesting to see what suffers in my life when I don’t execute things in a consistently planned manner. I always seemed to follow through with the “production” part of my schedule. I made it work on time everyday, I met my work deadlines, I made it to school on time and I met my school deadlines. I always cut my budget short when it came to the very important “being” aspects of my budget like my writing or my music. It’s sort of weird how my life models the society I live in. When schools need to make budget cuts, due to poor planning, they first gut all the arts and humanity programs (“being”) while maintaining the math and science programs (“production.”)
Overall I felt that this was a helpful tool that is perhaps unnatural and cumbersome for now but with a little practice I could learn to use it better. It gives me tangible insights into how I get things accomplished and shows me where my weaknesses lay in not accomplishing things. Up until now I felt that I did an O.K. job of balancing my “being” and “production” but now I see that that is not necessarily the case. When it comes to this whole time budget thing the positives outweigh the negatives so I think I’ll try doing it from now on. After all, this is my $168 (hours) and at 24 years of age I don’t need anyone but myself telling me how to spend it.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
That a Boy Slacker?
One eight hour day and that’s all it took. One women’s study course and I had been altered enough to be a metaphysical guru. After all, man is only three small letters dwarfed by the importance of what two more powerful letters make. Just look at what two letters can do…WO-man. (It’s sort of sounds like a moral voice of conscience most of us mortal men are not instinctually born with…WO-Man pay attention to what you’re doing.) What would we be without these smelly good, kind creatures? I have been exposed to just one Saturday class and I had enough fill of estrogen to have a lasting effect for the entire week (and I swear my boobies are larger.) I have found myself being less pedantic, logical and overbearing. I haven’t been feeling that guilty tinge that too often accompanies a slip of living up to my over hectic schedule. I’ve been slacking so I can spend less time producing and more time being. It’s weird how this metamorphosis has happened. I find my pace a little slower so I can enjoy the lively view of a park. I find my coffee gulps going down smaller as to enjoy every drip of my mocha’s vibrant broth topped with a creamy cloud of whip cream. As I type this, I feel all warm and fuzzy? My god what’s going to happen to me after this Saturday’s class??? As a testament to my new found solace of producing and being, I offer up my two slackified fake leads I wrote in today’s journalism class. They emphasis less with rigidy and more with creativity and imperfection.
Some might think 57 women’s shirts, 28 women’s polo shirts, 32 men’s polo shirts and 20 pair of men’s shorts sounds like a typical day of inventory for an outlet store. It wasn’t. That list worth $3,788.63 in merchandise is what was stolen from a Tommy Hilfiger store in broad daylight during a busy shopping day last Sunday.
Have you ever met a frustrated doctor? Then you probably watched as he lost all of his patients/patience. The National Board of Medical Examiners is attempting to better train physician’s people’s skills by giving medical students a test that will measure their patience, communication skills and listening skills.
One eight hour day and that’s all it took. One women’s study course and I had been altered enough to be a metaphysical guru. After all, man is only three small letters dwarfed by the importance of what two more powerful letters make. Just look at what two letters can do…WO-man. (It’s sort of sounds like a moral voice of conscience most of us mortal men are not instinctually born with…WO-Man pay attention to what you’re doing.) What would we be without these smelly good, kind creatures? I have been exposed to just one Saturday class and I had enough fill of estrogen to have a lasting effect for the entire week (and I swear my boobies are larger.) I have found myself being less pedantic, logical and overbearing. I haven’t been feeling that guilty tinge that too often accompanies a slip of living up to my over hectic schedule. I’ve been slacking so I can spend less time producing and more time being. It’s weird how this metamorphosis has happened. I find my pace a little slower so I can enjoy the lively view of a park. I find my coffee gulps going down smaller as to enjoy every drip of my mocha’s vibrant broth topped with a creamy cloud of whip cream. As I type this, I feel all warm and fuzzy? My god what’s going to happen to me after this Saturday’s class??? As a testament to my new found solace of producing and being, I offer up my two slackified fake leads I wrote in today’s journalism class. They emphasis less with rigidy and more with creativity and imperfection.
Some might think 57 women’s shirts, 28 women’s polo shirts, 32 men’s polo shirts and 20 pair of men’s shorts sounds like a typical day of inventory for an outlet store. It wasn’t. That list worth $3,788.63 in merchandise is what was stolen from a Tommy Hilfiger store in broad daylight during a busy shopping day last Sunday.
Have you ever met a frustrated doctor? Then you probably watched as he lost all of his patients/patience. The National Board of Medical Examiners is attempting to better train physician’s people’s skills by giving medical students a test that will measure their patience, communication skills and listening skills.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
WD-40 Kind of World
That’s the beauty of life or at least for someone like me who allows himself to be so bewildered by it. Just when a person thinks he has something figured out things like context, perspective, and intentions come into play. Fighting these daily values but not being rigid against them and merely gleaning what can be insighted from their varying point to view is essential. (Can I be anymore vague than that? To immediately answer that question…I don’t think so.) Things change, am I open to them? Ideas get filtered through, am I man enough to try those lenses on and not stay pedantic and trite? My Spanish professor made truths with me today. It was yet another unexpected turn of events…one in which yet again I feel blessed and thankful for. One thing that came out of our very important conversation was…an understanding of the goal of college education. It’s quite simple goal. College is meant to prepare you for a scholarly endeavor. I complained about the mechanical inanimate nature of my fellow students. How they have a superficial knowledge base and are able to perform excellent on tests while not having a clue as far a the true nature of solving the problem. I will make C’s and B’s they will make strait A’s then I will be the one who gets the clerical job at their firm and they will come to me when a problem needs to be solved. At the end of the day they will gain the esteem, maintain their high-falutent title and have the fat pay check mailed to them. I’m in school to prevent this scenario from happening. This is a package based world. I’ve got to learn to gift wrap and sell my soul. I’m in school to learn the pedanticisms and pragmatics…I’m really trying to adapt to this culture, I am. In fact as I type this I’m applying a fresh coat of WD-40 on my creaky limbs, only problem is the skin irritation but I’ll do it if that’s what it takes to make the transition. So until next batty charging…
That’s the beauty of life or at least for someone like me who allows himself to be so bewildered by it. Just when a person thinks he has something figured out things like context, perspective, and intentions come into play. Fighting these daily values but not being rigid against them and merely gleaning what can be insighted from their varying point to view is essential. (Can I be anymore vague than that? To immediately answer that question…I don’t think so.) Things change, am I open to them? Ideas get filtered through, am I man enough to try those lenses on and not stay pedantic and trite? My Spanish professor made truths with me today. It was yet another unexpected turn of events…one in which yet again I feel blessed and thankful for. One thing that came out of our very important conversation was…an understanding of the goal of college education. It’s quite simple goal. College is meant to prepare you for a scholarly endeavor. I complained about the mechanical inanimate nature of my fellow students. How they have a superficial knowledge base and are able to perform excellent on tests while not having a clue as far a the true nature of solving the problem. I will make C’s and B’s they will make strait A’s then I will be the one who gets the clerical job at their firm and they will come to me when a problem needs to be solved. At the end of the day they will gain the esteem, maintain their high-falutent title and have the fat pay check mailed to them. I’m in school to prevent this scenario from happening. This is a package based world. I’ve got to learn to gift wrap and sell my soul. I’m in school to learn the pedanticisms and pragmatics…I’m really trying to adapt to this culture, I am. In fact as I type this I’m applying a fresh coat of WD-40 on my creaky limbs, only problem is the skin irritation but I’ll do it if that’s what it takes to make the transition. So until next batty charging…
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Little Things
Today was crazy and quit uncharacteristic of the unfolding of the past month. I had one of those cheesy 80’s movie moments. I was in the fluorescent angst of my cube and I received an e-mail from my contact to one of my company’s outside venders, let’s call her Berry. Basically this Berry is nuts. She’s this homely 30 something year-old women who lives in a Lord of the Rings alternate-universe and still listens to gut wrenching hair metal. So it’s safe to say she is not the easiest person for me to relate to but I’ll admit there was a time that I too listened to metal and would have probably been seduced by the special effects, Hollywood make up, and lovely attire from something like Lord of the Rings…That time is no longer with us. By nature I’m not fascist. I admire people with convictions and love for embraces I just turn suits against those who regularly try to breach upon my life. So Berry sent yet another classic e-mail attempting to slant my efforts as weak by saying I was testing something incorrectly. The e-mail wasn’t that offensive but perhaps due to the long tolerated ridicule of Berry against my endeavors the director of my department came up to me and said Berry was not going to be disrespectful to me any longer. (???) Then my director leaves the comfort of my cube and heads off to her office. At this moment I hear Peter Gabrielle playing in the office’s background or was it that, You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling song? (Take your pick of maudlin 80’s movie songs.) Then I see an email strike across my Microsoft office embedded screen, “Is it necessary to be rude to Nic we were only doing what you ask.” Just then I heard the Goonie-esque voice reverie-ing in my head…”Goonies never say die.” My director made such an uncalled for statement but it was done all in the vein of me. That is the most kind thing a person could do for another and it does something that is the most import thing a person can do…it shows not tells a person’s feelings for another. It goes without saying that I receive my daily dose of love from my girlfriend. I know without question that my mother loves me and my grandmother adores me. I can un-equivocally express my profound, unconditional, and profound love in which I have for those women…but oddly enough it’s these people we take most for granted. Like the expansion and depression of our lungs or the sun rising from those far off eastern plains of Colorado…We expect it. But it’s these 80’s-framed moments. It’s these emotional surprises we receive out of the woodwork of the mundane that seem to have the most profound effect. It’s like a Freud subconscious necessity. It’s the unexpected car that lets you change lanes, the stranger giving the rest of the spare change required for completing a haste-ful monetary transaction, it’s the spontaneous laugh at one of your jokes from your professor, or perhaps it’s the professor who falsely accuses you of cheating on your paper because he does not believe in your talents. It’s the small things in life often done by those least expected that seem to have the biggest impact. I just want send a cyberspace THANK YOU to the director of my department. These are words she will never see or hear but I thank her for her sweet actions and gesture of sticking up for me.
Today was crazy and quit uncharacteristic of the unfolding of the past month. I had one of those cheesy 80’s movie moments. I was in the fluorescent angst of my cube and I received an e-mail from my contact to one of my company’s outside venders, let’s call her Berry. Basically this Berry is nuts. She’s this homely 30 something year-old women who lives in a Lord of the Rings alternate-universe and still listens to gut wrenching hair metal. So it’s safe to say she is not the easiest person for me to relate to but I’ll admit there was a time that I too listened to metal and would have probably been seduced by the special effects, Hollywood make up, and lovely attire from something like Lord of the Rings…That time is no longer with us. By nature I’m not fascist. I admire people with convictions and love for embraces I just turn suits against those who regularly try to breach upon my life. So Berry sent yet another classic e-mail attempting to slant my efforts as weak by saying I was testing something incorrectly. The e-mail wasn’t that offensive but perhaps due to the long tolerated ridicule of Berry against my endeavors the director of my department came up to me and said Berry was not going to be disrespectful to me any longer. (???) Then my director leaves the comfort of my cube and heads off to her office. At this moment I hear Peter Gabrielle playing in the office’s background or was it that, You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling song? (Take your pick of maudlin 80’s movie songs.) Then I see an email strike across my Microsoft office embedded screen, “Is it necessary to be rude to Nic we were only doing what you ask.” Just then I heard the Goonie-esque voice reverie-ing in my head…”Goonies never say die.” My director made such an uncalled for statement but it was done all in the vein of me. That is the most kind thing a person could do for another and it does something that is the most import thing a person can do…it shows not tells a person’s feelings for another. It goes without saying that I receive my daily dose of love from my girlfriend. I know without question that my mother loves me and my grandmother adores me. I can un-equivocally express my profound, unconditional, and profound love in which I have for those women…but oddly enough it’s these people we take most for granted. Like the expansion and depression of our lungs or the sun rising from those far off eastern plains of Colorado…We expect it. But it’s these 80’s-framed moments. It’s these emotional surprises we receive out of the woodwork of the mundane that seem to have the most profound effect. It’s like a Freud subconscious necessity. It’s the unexpected car that lets you change lanes, the stranger giving the rest of the spare change required for completing a haste-ful monetary transaction, it’s the spontaneous laugh at one of your jokes from your professor, or perhaps it’s the professor who falsely accuses you of cheating on your paper because he does not believe in your talents. It’s the small things in life often done by those least expected that seem to have the biggest impact. I just want send a cyberspace THANK YOU to the director of my department. These are words she will never see or hear but I thank her for her sweet actions and gesture of sticking up for me.
More Fictitious Leads
Go directly to jail, don’t pass go and pay $25 is what Denver police are saying to alleged criminals by charging them for their mug shots and fingerprints.
A marriage of 62 years ended in murder when an 81-year-old man shot his wife and then backed out of his plan to kill himself.
Go directly to jail, don’t pass go and pay $25 is what Denver police are saying to alleged criminals by charging them for their mug shots and fingerprints.
A marriage of 62 years ended in murder when an 81-year-old man shot his wife and then backed out of his plan to kill himself.
The Futurheads
Futureheads clack-el
Cacophony blast like a
child’s messy room
Futureheads clack-el
Cacophony blast like a
child’s messy room
I was walking through my campus’ grounds today and I cut across the grass which greeted my feel like an artificial carpet amongst this concrete metropolis.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Shoot Me
I used to live in the delusion that if work can’t go right at least school can. Naivety. My Spanish professor basically accused me of cheating on my Spanish essay. He didn’t go as far as give me a zero but hey who knows? A lot can happen between tonight and Wednesday. The one thing I get right in the semester was this paper in which I spent two hours writing 13 lines. Today is just one of those days and now those days seem to be multiplying. Since he knows my girlfriend is a Spanish major and he pigeonholes me into this idea of a mediocre student, he thinks I didn’t write this paper myself. Now I have to submit my rough drafts to him before I can submit final papers. I would complain some more but I have a feeling I should wait for the intruder who is going anally butt rape me tonight to mention that he forgot his KY Jelly but at least my girlfriend forgot to take the keys out of front door (like she so frequently does) that way he got this chance to so kindly partake in my virgin ass. At least then I‘d have something to complain about. I work 40 hours a week for bosses that don’t have a clue what they want from their work force. Their idea of motivation is fear tactics, rigidy, and excuses. I could accomplish 50 more things in a day and they would still ask me what I was doing with my time. Then I write a paper I’m proud of and my teacher questions my integrity. So, now I’m going to have to spend the time I already don’t have making multiple drafts to prove my legitimacy. There’s no bastion for this downward spiral…just work more hours which frustrates the artist side of me (not to mentions I couldn’t even figure out a simple Dillinger 4 chord progression in the 20 minutes I allowed myself to practice guitar tonight.) I then stay up late not getting anything accomplished. I then suck at work. I then lose all time and drive to study. My art, my school and my work suffer. I don’t have one friend one person I can just say hey let’s grab a beer and vent. I guess if I did I wouldn’t have time for him anyway. I need to get some sleep before I shoot myself. Life sucks.
I used to live in the delusion that if work can’t go right at least school can. Naivety. My Spanish professor basically accused me of cheating on my Spanish essay. He didn’t go as far as give me a zero but hey who knows? A lot can happen between tonight and Wednesday. The one thing I get right in the semester was this paper in which I spent two hours writing 13 lines. Today is just one of those days and now those days seem to be multiplying. Since he knows my girlfriend is a Spanish major and he pigeonholes me into this idea of a mediocre student, he thinks I didn’t write this paper myself. Now I have to submit my rough drafts to him before I can submit final papers. I would complain some more but I have a feeling I should wait for the intruder who is going anally butt rape me tonight to mention that he forgot his KY Jelly but at least my girlfriend forgot to take the keys out of front door (like she so frequently does) that way he got this chance to so kindly partake in my virgin ass. At least then I‘d have something to complain about. I work 40 hours a week for bosses that don’t have a clue what they want from their work force. Their idea of motivation is fear tactics, rigidy, and excuses. I could accomplish 50 more things in a day and they would still ask me what I was doing with my time. Then I write a paper I’m proud of and my teacher questions my integrity. So, now I’m going to have to spend the time I already don’t have making multiple drafts to prove my legitimacy. There’s no bastion for this downward spiral…just work more hours which frustrates the artist side of me (not to mentions I couldn’t even figure out a simple Dillinger 4 chord progression in the 20 minutes I allowed myself to practice guitar tonight.) I then stay up late not getting anything accomplished. I then suck at work. I then lose all time and drive to study. My art, my school and my work suffer. I don’t have one friend one person I can just say hey let’s grab a beer and vent. I guess if I did I wouldn’t have time for him anyway. I need to get some sleep before I shoot myself. Life sucks.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Goal No. 1
I was reading my journalism textbook and it was talking about this story done on some women’s basketball coach. The article said the most important thing the coach owned was a crumpled up piece of paper which he carried in his back pocket. On the paper the coach had scribbled his life’s five goals. 1st was to live a long healthy life. 2nd was to be a loving and caring father and husband. 3rd was to make a million dollars. The last two goals on his list constantly changed as he progressed with age. Going back to the 3rd idea sort of puts things in perspective for what I want to accomplish in life. I don’t want to work for no stinkin million dollars. I want to win over $10 million playing powerball…Now that’s a goal.
I was reading my journalism textbook and it was talking about this story done on some women’s basketball coach. The article said the most important thing the coach owned was a crumpled up piece of paper which he carried in his back pocket. On the paper the coach had scribbled his life’s five goals. 1st was to live a long healthy life. 2nd was to be a loving and caring father and husband. 3rd was to make a million dollars. The last two goals on his list constantly changed as he progressed with age. Going back to the 3rd idea sort of puts things in perspective for what I want to accomplish in life. I don’t want to work for no stinkin million dollars. I want to win over $10 million playing powerball…Now that’s a goal.
