Supplemental.

Lightning striking twice.
Yeah sure, maybe around midterms or finals week, when the magic really happens. Maybe, just maybe, my finances can get second bolt that puts me in good standing. Sure, lightning may strike twice in that department.
But with women, fuggedaboudit.

Needless to say, I attempted to recreate Monday's circumstances. Taking the same 7:55AM bus; sitting on the same left window seat, getting to work around the same time. What happened?

She wasn't there.

Fascinating. Where have I heard that one before?!!
Please, folks. Please don't answer that.

You Never Know
Rupee
Thisisrupee.com

The site is finally up!! I suggest you all go check it out, and sign the guestbook. Now.

Dammit! I gotta study!
Must study.
Must study...

Lightning Striking Twice

I sit here, hoping on a miracle
that lightning strikes twice
for long, I've anticipated this morning
scheming & planning my incredible device.
My hope is to finish this dream
for it is only a matter of when...
Ah, the first time I saw your face
As I hope to see that face again.
I recreate my footsteps
planned down to the very last bit
as I speak the words of Bono:
Stuck in a moment... can't get out of it.
The wheels and the clock have been turning
As my shred of hope disappears
Godot of love has forsaken me
And I'm left to face my despirited tears.

Supplemental.

Why in hell am I so shy? I don't get it; I can no longer say I am a victim of circumstance. I had a chance, and in a matter of minutes, I blow it.

Scenario: On the bus heading to work. SSF (Single Sexy Female) enters the bus. She's heading to the L-train station on the Rockaway Parkway, 6 stops away. She stands directly to the right of me, while I sit on the 1-seat left side of the bus. She begins to play with her hair, and everytime I look at her, she begins to look away. Four stops away, I notice she attempts to move in closer and closer to me. I kept thinking, "Naw, I'm seeing things. This really isn't happening." But I look again, she's fingering her hair, and looking away. "Alright," I said. "I got some time. Game on."
Three stops away, one of the GreenPoint-Old-Timers gets on the bus, after dropping her children off to school. Damn, there goes that one. Why, you ask? Because I refuse to kick game in front of anyone I know, especially in front of anyone whose reputation relies on gossiping everyone else's business. And something on me, who she relatively knows nothing about, she would eat it for days. Ignoring the old timer, I continue to play the "checking you out" game with SSF. Next thing, the old timer hits me, and SSF, with her umbrella, mad at me because I didn't say anything to her. That's when I knew.

Game over.

At least I apologized to SSF for my co-worker's behaviour.
I wasn't entirely speechless.

Why the hell can't I not give a damn about other people's mouth? Why couldn't I just say something to her?! I feel like crap right now, and it's not even funny anymore.

This weblog is fascinating! Right now, I'm checking out the October 3, 2003 post, and I must admit, I understand, and relate to, the dude's point of view. While there are limited benefits from being a good guy, there are good benefits. It shows, first of all, that I am not alone in the world.
Second of all, it shows there are people with poise and character. If everyone in the world had the mentality of a mean bastard, then we would all be in trouble, hoping that there is in fact a nice guy. That's the problem. There are not enough of us out there. We feel what we do is unappreciated, because nowadays, it's unheard of. But keep riding, man, and together, we will triumph.

OK. Back to studies...

"Whenever you are asked if you can do a job, tell 'em, "Certainly, I can!" Then get busy and find out how to do it."
Theodore Roosevelt

Hey guys! All Bo-Sox fans need not rub it in; I know the Yanks lost last night. It was a tragedy, especially after all we went through. But I do congratulate the Florida Marlins for successfully winning the World Series. It was one of the toughest battles they've ever had.

This week, instead of my occasional weekly rambling, I decided to have a guest writer; well, sort of. Due to midterms coming this Friday, I won't have all my thoughts available to share with you. So in response to that, I'd thought I would pass on an old freelance; that was until I found an article in this month's Essence Magazine that I thought was really awesome. So awesome, I'll share it with you. It was just an amazing read for me. The similarities were so striking...
In any event, all my respects go to the magazine and the author; no disrespect was intended, but the article was just too deep for me not to pass on. So here goes.

Same Heart, Different Body
by Victor LaValle
Essence Magazine, November 2003

"When you're 350 pounds, it's easy for people to dismiss you. Not in physical ways, of course, because you take up two or even three seats on the subway. Still, you're not really there. There's a fat person in your place.
"At least that's how it always felt to me. People showed their contempt in a thousand ways. They didn't think I deserved the courtesy of an 'excuse me' as they pushed past me in an elevator; after all, it was my big butt blocking the way. And forget about food. It didn't matter if I was buying 15 pounds of cabbage to try a new fad diet, the person at the register always sneered as if I'd just pulled down my pants in the store. People rarely try to hide their disgust.
"I wasn't a fat child, but once I hit the teenage years I worked overtime to gain weight. Some people insisted I was troubled or that I had some moral weakness, but I'm telling you that I just really like cookies and milkshakes. And truthfully, I didn't care that the pounds were piling on. Not until I was about 14 and wanted a girlfriend. That's when I finally understood the benefits of playing basketball or baseball, or swimming. I can't say I suddenly hit the gym four days a week. No, like many people, I got depressed about my situation and did absolutely nothing to fix it - until I was 27, and sheer vanity forced me to join a weight-loss center. My first book was about to be published, and I would need an author photo.
"I did date, though. The most interesting thing about having been almost 400 pounds during college and being down to 200 pounds now is the way women loved me at my different sizes.
"It's not what you think. People assume that women treated me badly when I was heavy, and now it's all hugs and giggles, but this isn't true. I found that when I was fattest, women trusted me most. In some ways I was never loved more deeply. That's because women felt safe when I was pretty damn big, but maybe that would just make it harder for me to sneak around on them.
"Those years made me realize how much feeling safe matters in a relationship. In our twenties there's something romantic about the chase. It's mysterious and exciting, but you eventually run out of energy and don't want to move around as much. When I was fat, my relationships were with women who wanted to make a home. Slim or large, pretty or plain, they were willing to be with me.
"I knew I had the right rap for a fat man: 'I want to take care of you. I want to support you and cherish you. I'll be there for you.' They needed comfort, and I was happy to oblige if they'd stay around and love me. Many men shoot this game, but I noticed my slimmer friends couldn't convince women the sentiment was true. My girlfriends always believed it. They knew I was lucky to have them. No one else was beating down my door.
"Sound like a terrible basis for a relationship, but there were wonderful results. One girlfriend had a young son. As she and I lay in bed, she admitted she regretted having him so young. She cried, ashamed of having those feelings. I just held her tight. She hadn't shared this with her mother or close cousin. But once she realized that I wouldn't cheat and run out, this woman let her guard down.
"Now I'm not suggesting that every woman go out and get herself a fat man. You have to date to your own tastes. But now that I'm more attractive, the old dating stresses arise: Is he trying to play me? How much is she going to try to change me? Before, I was willing to change for women; now I'm much more stubborn. With both sides trying to seem unbreakable and self sufficient, we forget that love, unlike money, makes us richer when it's freely spent."

Supplemental.

The LG VX6000 camera phone has been in service with me for over a month now. This cool gizmo has done so much service in those 30 days than my Motorola TimePort, my v120, or any Nokia or Samsung phone I've seen! It is more than the fact that this phone is a camera phone. But of all the camera phones out there, this one has I believe has the most bang for the buck.
The battery life, first up, is pretty good. In two days, I have managed to take 20 high-resolution pictures, use 2 hours of talk time, and keep the phone on standby before it needed a recharge. Every two days, for the past month, it's been like this. I admit, I am impressed. Next, the main screen is a color screen (a real difference from the Game-Boy spinach color screens I've dealt with in the past). Vibrant, backlit, and clear, sunny or dark, I have no complaints. Adjusting the sounds and graphics did get some adjusting to. But by the first week's end, I was able to get the background screen of my blog on the cover screen of my phone. Cool. The Caller-ID screen, as I refer to it, reminds me of the TimePort 8767 main screen that I liked so much. Similar to that of the MTA buses, but better. The screen will only stay on for up to 3 minutes before it deactivates itself, but I learned to press any button to the left of the phone to reactivate it. Very cool.
Memo, calculator (that calculates tax and tip!), on-line functions that can give you games and ring-tones, calendar, mobile web (which I haven't used yet); even the backlit buttons are awesome! This phone gets a 10 out of 10 from me; this will be the fourth phone out of seven phones I've used since high school that gives me the total package. The other three were the Nokia 8290 for VoiceStream, the Samsung N5101(?) for T-Mobile, and the Motorola TimePort 8767 for Verizon Wireless.

Also, something I've noticed about the Macclear Zip case for the iPod. In time, despite cleaning, the case will look dingy and eventually collect lint. I've went from cleaning my iPod once a month to once a week. And I've had that case...
Since August.


On a personal note, seven months ago, I decided that when I got my next job, that I would never discuss it in any form of detail on this blog. I thought that this time around, business would be separate from everything else. When I think about the fact that they're a lot of New Yorkers out there without work, not even mentioning the number of unemployed nationwide, what can I possibly complain about?

Well, I've got something to complain about.
And, hopefully for the first, only, and last time on this blog, I will vent about my job.

First and foremost, I'm a banker (a.ka. financial service associate, a.k.a. customer service representative, a.k.a. bank teller) at GreenPoint Bank. I've had the job for several months now, and while the biggest mental task is keeping track of tens of thousands of dollars a day, the bulk of the job relies on understanding, and responding, to the needs of the customers. This has never, ever, been a problem for me. I will go out of my way sometimes to make sure that the customer understands that the bank is not the enemy; that the customer must stay ahead of his finances at all times, and that we want to help any way we can. For some, this task can be the biggest, emotionally draining, and tedious 8-hour exercise given to them. And in the branch I work in, it is said that if you can work here for 6 months, you can work in any bank. It will be six months soon, and I don't understand what the big hub-bub is all about yet.
However, I have realised one interesting thing: the problem for me does not in fact lie with the customers, but with the other bank tellers. Which leads me to my beef with my job. My fellow associates (not all of them, but a good 85% of them) I firmly believe make this job stressful; more stressful than it really is. Just the other day, my window was located between two other tellers who have been there for more than seven years; I call these two associates The Female Old-Timers. In the morning, after our meetings about sales goals and such, all they seemingly do is complain about the new rules that take into effect, about the way someone looked at them on the way to work, the conspiracy and jealously against them; it was totally ridiculous. They do this with me in the middle, so they literally vent all their venom at me, making me very uncomfortable. And, this is just the morning. During the day, they have the tendency to stick their noses in my affairs, and tell me how to handle the situation; as if I never knew how to do it. Not one, both of them do this. Then, when I calmly and sharply shoo them away, they throw hissy-fits, saying that everytime they "offer" advice, I snap at them. Then, when I politely ask them for the advice (my policy: when I need it, ask for it, thank them for it. Simple.), they just don't tell me; they talk the advice down to me, as if I had already done it wrong. I ingest it all everytime without fail, but the day will come, and soon, where I will forget how much years they outage me by, and verbally assault at every aspect of their lives, which they love to talk about to pass the time. Does this always happen? It depends on the day. If there are relatively no customers, or if the day goes by smoothly, they'll be nice. But when business picks up, or when a customer wants to tell them that they want 2 $50 bills or one $100 bill instead of 5 $20 bills, even when a customer complains to them (especially when a customer complains at them), they get real nasty. Fortunately, their venom doesn't fly at the customers; unfortunately, it will flip at me, because I work near them about 95% of the time. Requesting teller window changes has crossed my mind, but the questions raised when doing so are not the questions I would ever want to answer. Finally, at the end of the day, these associates all love to appease me. Why? Because I calculate our check figures when I'm there. So, they talk nice to me so, thinking that will help them prove up in the end. Such bullshit, pardon the language. They get even more interesting when they are in a rush; they'll rush me, and annoy me to speed up the process. They want to make sure I did everything right and make no computation errors; but God forbid they do not prove-up; they cry, scream and throw tempertantrums, and all I do is add up everything they do.
Also of note, I found that a lot of siding is done in the job. Because my style and attitude is different, they waste no time whining about it. For example, my usage of the following customer please step down versus everyone else's next customer, or step down has them all very annoyed. As my little way of getting back at them, I would say it repeatedly. Then at the day end, as I go to prove up checks and such, they'll look at me as though I'm some sort of weirdo; as if to say their fate of proving lies now in The Boogieman. Excuse me once again, but I gotta say, this bullshit is completely ridiculous!! I have my way of doing everything, and no one seems to like it. They'll put me down and pull it apart faster than tolerate it. While they obviously get small little kicks out of the jokes they spur, it is at my expense, usually resulting in me getting the smaller end of the stick. Even the new hires are joining in on it! And I've reached the point that since I talk to no one about this, I vent it out on this blog. I have not had one freaking peaceful day since I've been there. I have been late once, and came up short once. But not one day goes by with an associate, not a customer, stressing me out. One day, I thought of showing up with red tape with stress-free-zone written across it, just to let them know that today, you will give me 0 stress. I will leave peacefully on that day. I also imagine that will be the day that a customer will stress me out.
So, what does a kat do? Tolerate it. Tolerate it, say nothing to no one, and leave when da kat's work is done. But these people are getting me frustrated. Every single day I'm there...

Okay, I'm done venting. So, what is your job like?!

Playlists. Everyone has one it seems. I have an iPod, and haven't posted one up yet?!? Well, here's one I listened to on the way home today:

Unstressing Temple
Axel Foley; Harold Faltermeyer; Beverly Hills Cop
Rainforest; Paul Hardcastle; Hardcastle, Volume III
Lily Was Here; Candy Dulfer & David A. Stewart; Pure Moods
Crockett's Theme; Jan Hammer; Miami Vice II
After Hours; Ronny Jordan; Smooth Jazz: The Sax Series
Off Broadway; George Benson; Give Me The Night
Housecall (with Maxi Priest); Shabba Ranks; Shabba & Friends
Murder She Wrote; Chaka Demus & Pliers; Bam Bam, It's Murder
Spanish Dancer; Steve Winwood; Arc Of A Diver
Rock With You; Everette Harp; 1996 Smooth Jazz Awards
This Masquerade; George Benson; Breezin'
Like A Baby; Wham!; Make It Big

I know, I know. Sounds uninteresting, for a 21-year old. Well, excuse me for not having an interesting life. I place all blame on my parental carbon-based units.

Okay, before I go, I did think of a freelance. Hope you guys like it. This one should have been created years ago. But sometimes good things don't come quickly. Like my 40GB iPod, in which I wait until November. In any event, from the other side...

Arrow
No warning could have prevented me
from feeling the piercing of the woman's blow
so innocent, so calm, like an unexpected paper cut
that burns until one puts time on it to heal.
Arrow, I can recall
her foreign eyes, calling me across the room
I crossed an ocean to follow them, and they spoke to me
I responded with unadulterated enthusiasm
she returned with some friendly sarcasm
my cheeks reddening before my ears.
As the hours and the daylight dissipated
I grew a temporary love for a Columbian delight
oh, what I do for love can surprise even me
Though I was so sure, yet so wrong,
the joy of enjoying her was more than I ever imagined
Days upon days gone by
with her hair brushed so trustfully against mine
Word count minimal, possibilities endless.
Without word or mention, she said goodbye
an endless river of mystique turned an enigma disappeared
I fought so hard to find her again
but no such success would prevail
the blood began to shed, and the pain
through every sensitive touch was felt
like the scorpion who stung the turtle
midway into that ocean
She fulfilled her true nature, and lived up to her name.

A Seville.
A 1990 Cadillac Seville.

Could you imagine me riding a 1990 Cadillac Seville?

You have to remember one thing about the will of the people: it wasn't that long ago that we were swept away by the Macarena.
- Jon Stewart, In Politics

Que pasa, from da Kat unda da Kangol cap! And thanks to the unbelievable Game 7 between the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox, I am completely worn out. And judging from Saturday's game against the Marlins, so were the Yankees. But who can blame them!? That win was the most hardest fought victory I've seen in baseball! And besides, 6-0 in the bottom of the 6th inning, the Yanks look very well rested.

So, what else is new? Well, my Fotolog has just been added to the site, with about two/three weeks worth of shots for your viewing pleasure. Also, be sure to check out Bitch-fest, another blog I've added to my blogs of note...

Two typos to address: On the last post, I mentioned that Owen Hart died May 26, 1999. The correct date was May 23, 1999 @ the Kemper Arena.
Sorry about that.
Finally,
...Remember Nedra, whose blog I found some days ago? Well it turns out that she and her significant other just had a baby recently. So big-ups and best of luck to her on that one...
That's wrong as well. The picture I saw on her blog was an old photo of her daughter who's now, as she puts it, "a crazy toddler that babbles constantly in her own language."
My bad...

It's October, baby! And you know what that means! It's time to prepare to end Daylight Savings time, it's time for midterms, and it's Countdown time!! As of today, it will be exactly one month until I can get my hands on a brandspanking new 40GB 3rd Generation iPod!! Now while I just recently celebrated my 10 month-versary of the current 10GB'er I have, the demand for space and upgrades have been too enormous for me to ignore. And not to mention, the new goodies they came out with for the iPod!! Belkin recently released a voice recorder and a media photo-transfer device for all 3rd-gen iPods! And while it is not the line-in recorder that die-hard fanatics such as myself have been looking for, it's a dynamic start. Which brings me to some questions I've been asked. What if they come out with yet again, a newer model? Well, if it doesn't have line-in recording, then I ain't interested. Second, Why don't you just wait and buy a cheaper iPod with the same features? Easy, because like RAM, hard drive disk space prices fluctuate. And right now, 40GB of music player for $500 is not the 30GB $500 model they wanted me to pay for 4 months ago, nor is it the 20GB for $500 a year ago. Even if they come out with 100GBs and 1TerraByte models in the future, ain't no way am I gonna have that much amount of music, nor will I have the hard disk space on my computer to rest it in. Right now as it stands, the iPod I intend to get will have twice as much disk space than my computer hard drive, and four times the amount of my current iPod. And that's enough for now.
Also on Countdown month, in 22 days, Matrix Revolutions will be playing in theaters. I've seen both films, and I strongly believe that this final chapter will be the great culmination of the trilogy. And I can't wait to be proven right, or to be let down. In any event, it will be somethin'. This Tuesday, the Indiana Jones Trilogy will finally be available on DVD. And in December, not only will a certain someone be one year closer to the actual drinking age, but Lord Of the Rings: Return of The King will also be out. Then, I'll be 6 months closer to graduation; which reminds me, I have 12 more days until my next set of midterms arrive, from Econometrics, and my federal income taxation class. So, combine that with work, and I have my months cut out for me.

On the personal note, I just had my cousin Patrick visit us for today; just when I was enjoying the extra space. Whaddamaitalkinbout? Just one week after my Grandmother left for Trinidad, another family member, Aunt Janice from the aforementioned country, came to visit. It was her second time in America, so Pop and I had a time showing her around, and spending her money on everything. That's what happens when everything is so expensive back home. Not that I'm complainin', but da crib feels just a little bit more over-crowded with her here. And now that she's celebrating her birthday (10/18) with a friend who shares her birthdate in Queens, my parental carbon-based units, my brother, and I have time to recuperate, clean up, and prepare for the last week or two that she's here. It's tiring after awhile. And just when I was about to claim peace, Patrick visits, and it's like Aunt Janice never left. Aaargh!

But I love my family. We enjoyed having each other's company, and watching our ears pop. It's a blast.

Scary Movie 3 is coming this Friday! Do I go? Do I not go? I wonder...

I feel like I'm missing something again. This probably will work to my benefit, because it will give me something to blog about later on in the week. But I just hate it when I have all my thoughts together, then next thing I know they all don't wanna come out. Oh well. Perhaps I'll have a freelance or something later on in the week. Until then, I bid you adieu!

I believe in the institution of marriage and I intend to keep trying until I get it right.
Richard Pryor

Ladies and Gentlemen, I, Shy-Guy Version 2.0, and proud to introduce to you...
my fotolog! In addition, I welcome Nedra's BitchFest into my blogs of note.

Still to come, my thoughts of the week, and other shortcomings to the site.

But, on a very sad note...


Stu Hart
May 3, 1915 - October 16, 2003

My God, I was just watching Hitman Hart: Wrestling With Shadows before the Yankees game yesterday, and my father commended Stu on being one of the last real wrestlers of his time; the fact that he outlived two of his children still amazed us. And now, we lost another wrestling legend.
I can only think of watching In Your House: Calgary Stampede at my ole' buddy Lloyd's house; staring at the victors, the Hart family. Past, present, and future. It was a family portrait that I will never forget. And in my mind, the only guy missing from that portrait was Tom "The Dynamite Kid" Billington, who's confined to a wheelchair. Now look at what's left! Brian Pillman died several months after the Calgary Stampede Pay-Per-View. Owen Hart died during a PPV in Kansas City, Missouri, May 26, 1999, by literally crashing down to his death. Davey "The British Bulldog" Smith died just last year. Helen Hart, Bret's mother, died a year before Smith in 2001. Now Stu.

I hope that somehow, Bret will survive this. I mean, this guy idolized his father, and naturally so. This must be right now the most trying time he'll have to go through. My condolances go out to Bret Hart, and the surviving Hart family. I hope they'll see past this tragedy together.

Aaron Booone!!! Aaron Booooooone!!!
Bottom of the 11th, the first Yankee at bat, and Aaron Boone!!!!!!

Meanwhile, poor Ben Affleck must be crying on J-Lo's ample butt, I mean bosom, asking, "Why, Jen? Why?" Well, I'll tell you why:

Because for the 39th time in their history, the New York Yankees are going to the World Series. The killer thriller of a game; 6-5 Yankees! And if you just tuned in, the Yankees win. Thhhhhee Yaaankees Win!!!!!!!!!!

I want to thank God for not giving just an ordinary Game 6 win, but a heart clenching, surreal Game 7 win that only Joe Torre, Mike Mussina, Hideki Matsui, Jason Giambi, Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera, and yep, you guessed it, Aaron Boone, can provide. And thank you Babe Ruth for the "Bambino Curse." That's what Pedro Martinez gets for messin' with us!

Ha! I can't wait 'til Saturday!
More to come later...

A word to the wise ain't necessary -- it's the stupid ones that need the advice.
Bill Cosby

Baby, I'm back...
And Arnold Schwartznegger will be the new Governor of California!! Whoddathunkit?!?!
Also, who would have thought that the Yankees and the Bo-Sox would play for the ALCS title?? I tell ya, tis a great day to be a New Yorker. All I wait for is the end of Game 6, when the announcer sings, "The Yankees win!! Thhhhheeee Yaaannkeeeess Win!!!" Add that to the possibility that Sammy Sosa might see a World Series title run, this year will be the most memorable year in baseball.

Other than that, holla from da Kat unda da Kangol cap! It's been another week, and Columbus Day is approaching; which only means one thing to me: no work on Monday! Other than that, I missed an important day on Wednesday, and right now, I'm frantically finding ways to make up for it. I'd rather not go into specifics now, at least, not until I get things back in order. These last few sentences for me will just serve as a reminder of what to discuss when it's all said and done...

I received an interesting e-mail from a random reader who, in summing up her words, questioned the style of my last freelance, The 4-Train Writer. To all who face similar questions, there is no particular style in that freelance. Okay, maybe that's wrong: as I observed her writings, I found much of her words running across the book, from one page to the next. Some short lines, and some long lines; they all seemed to be incoherent. So, in turn, I crafted my freelance to be as incoherent, so you (the reader of my freelance) can get the vision, or at least an idea, of what I observed in her writings. In other words, the incoherence you find in my freelance is the same incoherence I found in her writing.
And I just hope that explanation didn't confuse you even further...

In continuation of the familiar faces week I've been having, I ran into Shola again last Sunday, this time with another face I haven't seen in awhile: Bernard. Bernard, to quickly sum him up, is a Greek-Mythology lovin', African-dancin', Stevie Wonder fanatic of a momma's boy who is taking a class @ Hunter (Sociology 101 with Professor Battle, the best in the profession), and apparently has new lady friend. And you know, it's a shame to admit this, but already I forgot her name. And she looks like the type who will say something to me just by association. Other than that, Bernard has been holding up his own, and will be graduating next year. So big-ups to him for all that he's done...
On Thursday, I went to Modell's on Chambers Street (yes, the House That I Built), and the only things that didn't change are a couple of the associates, and the overall layout of the store. Other than that, new managers, and new faces everywhere, with more on the way! The manager that is there now coincidentally was the manager @ 42nd Street where I trained, so we traded a lot of conversation between each other, which was good. About half the old faces that are still there recognized me, which was even better than I anticipated. And after the trimming down of staff ended a year ago, nothing new has happened over there. Other than that, it's so good to know that everyone's okay over there. So big-ups to everyone at store 3 Modell's...
After learning that they did not have the most recently advertised Jordan's Brian asked about, I passed through the Modell's on Herald Square. And who do I meet there, Tony from the GAP. Ah, the memories, the stinkin' memories are coming back. The times where the two of us held the fort in the GAP kids department. The night sessions were a trip, and there was never a time the closing manager was not impressed. That was us, me, Tony, and Jose Torres, another kat I remember that worked with us. We defined team work-ethic. And of course, he appealed to all the ladies, so we had very interesting conversations back in the day. Once they realized that by association, I perhaps am as cool as Tony, the ladies started talking to me. And to think, he started a month after I did...
... and left six months after I did.
Well, nowadays he's working as security, while going to college part-time for medicine, or psychology, or something to that effect. The temptation we had to stand there and talk for hours. But he was on the clock. So we traded niceties, and I went on my way. From what he tells me, all the seasonal staff that was with us back in the day relocated themselves throughout Herald Square, and midtown Manhattan. And that's always cool. So big-ups to Tony, and best of luck in all his endeavors...
At that point, I figured I was on a roll, let's continue blasting into the past. After Managerial Accounting class (by the way, 92 on the exam!! Big-up, big-up, and a poom-poom shot!!), I cruised to Crate & Barrel, and purchased a couple of 24oz. cooler cups, these swirled acrylic glasses for $2.50 a pop which will primarily be used for my sugar rushes during midterm/finals week. As for who's there, most of the regular staff from before is still there. Even Martha, who reminded me once again that the CD I made for her messed up, is there. I vow, the next time she mentions it, I will deliberately make her a new one, just cause. Right now, they're currently hiring for seasonal p/t (if anyone out there's interested), and the general question raised was whether or not I was coming back this year. I admit, the temptation to go back is very strong. There's nothing wrong with where I am at now. But I do miss the Manhattan action, the atmosphere C & B brought, and the overall good feeling I get on the way home; I'm not too tired, but after a long day's work, it is satisfying, and therefore, the day is good, and well worth it. And with all due respect, it's not something I've found where I'm at now. Now that I've actually sat down to analyze this rather simple situation, it's just a question of a giving up a regular part-time job, to go to a seasonal p/t job which will only provide more convenience and better atmosphere for me. And while the answer seems very easy, take this into account: by next year, I'll be in a job actually in my field of major, which means a job at an accounting firm, or something of that nature. So I might be where I am now in the year to come. But for now, I've been late only once, and my cash register has been short only once since I've been here. So, all signs will probably keep me here.
But, there IS the possibility that she might come back too...

All-righty-then! In moving on...

I'm Your Angel (Duet with Celine Dion)
R. Kelly
The R. in R&B Collection, Volume 1

My iPod has turned 10 months old tomorrow. Yay! To celebrate, I finally went out Thursday and brought the new iTrip, the FM transmitter which turns your iPod into its own radio station. This iTrip only works on iPods of the first and second generation, by the way; the 3rd generation iTrips aren't available for sale here in NY yet. The J & R cashier was very adamant about that, so to let her know I ain't no fool, I confirmed the compatibility issue with another J&R associate, who while answering my question, processed the order under his name to get the commissioned sale. I gotta big-up that associate, who so nonchalantly put his name under that order, and all he did was say yes in front of the cashier. I came, I saw, I picked up, and he gets lucky. Oh Sears, the memories come flooding by the droves!! And all Davion could ask me was, "can a man feed his family, please?!" In any event, the only three advantages having this thing has are the following: first, it works anywhere there's an FM radio, even my cassette walkman picked up the frequency (which I set to 107.9FM); second, it actually looks like it belongs with the iPod, making it a rather perfect addition to it; and third, it has a cool LED light that lets you know it's working. Otherwise, you might as well buy audio cables to connect it to your house speakers. But if you're like me, the ease-of-use that circumvents having to use cables will appeal to you, which why I rate the iTrip 10/10. Right now, R. Kelly's Greatest Hits goes right alongside Whitney's Greatest Hits, and I have 2208 songs with 1.3MB of space left. November couldn't come any faster...

The fotolog is near completion, and should be ready for viewing by next posting. However, experienced fotologgers will know it doesn't take long to make a fotolog. So what's the delay? A few things:
1- Gold Patron, what do I reallygain by giving them a $5 donation? This requires utilizing all the benefits of being a regular patron before I can really get an answer to that.
2- The pictures themselves. I picked a good time to get a camera phone, because the summer aftermath has given me some good photos to post. And this one-a-day thing allows be to space out what I wanna post. What does this all add up to? I will be able to keep you guys captivated for a little while longer with a fotolog of two weeks worth of pictures.
3- Time constraints. A funny thing too; I am able to fotolog everyday, and I only post on this blog once or twice a week. I guess for me, while it doesn't take long to upload pics, I need to gather of week's load of a-funny-thing-happened-on-the-way-to's to form an interesting post.
But, if you are impatient, just let me know, and I'll link it up to the blog.

One last thing, first Johnny Cash. Then John Ritter. And when last I heard, we lost Robert Palmer. Egad, so many great names are leaving us this year. I mean, it wasn't so bad last year, with Burgess Meredith and all. But now, a lot of good folks who gave me laughter, songs, and tears over the years are gone. It's so messed up man, so messed up.

So, to them I say thanks. Thanks for everything.

Okay, back to school. Til next time, I bid you adieu!

You are Neo, from "The Matrix." You
display a perfect fusion of heroism and
compassion.


What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Cool.

Whoa.

Supplemental:

I'm pretty sure I ran into someone else over this week. I'm trying to remember who, but's it's not coming back to me...

Well, I just remembered.

Recall a few months ago, when my brother and I were victims of the Costco Con's Ride From Hell, and the agonizing wait we had to get our own groceries back?? Well, on Saturday after work, I went to Costco again. And as I put my belongings in the cab, there he was: in a slouched-like stance, his eyes fixed on mine to see if I'd flinch. In maintaining my posture, the memories of speeding down Fifth Avenue at 90MPH came flooding in my brain. It was the Costco Con, and he was back.

"Ah, so you do remember me?", he asked. "Well man, me was tryin' to dodge de police dem, so I hid 'round the block 'til de coast clear. I remember me had your stuff, so I swung back, hoping the cops left...
Yeah man, they won that one. But I here now, so it nah big deal."

Yeah, sure it was no big deal.
By the way, that's his grammar, not mine...

In the sad shape of things, I had a dream about her last night, the night right before my first Managerial Accounting exam, and the ending wasn't happy. I had dreamt that I saw her on the way to school, stopped everything I planned on doing, and explained to her why I such an ass for not saying how I felt 10 months ago. And after literally pouring my heart out to her, she tells me that she was seeing someone the whole time. Before I responded...
It was 6:30 in the morning.
This is not the kind of dream one wants to have before his exams.
And, if you're asking about the exam, it went pretty swell. That's only one advantage of God being on your side.

Aargh!!! My iPod just went out of battery life! Well, next month might see me with a 3rd Gen 40GB'er. I hope.

The Rundown was a kick-ass film!! One that should have come back in August when it was still summer, but it was nonetheless, worth the wait. The premise was pretty straight-forward, pulling no punches. This is a straight up action film, with few foul-language, and lots o' unnecessary roughness. The Rock may have good success as an action star; but his real challenge awaits him when he crosses over to more drama-like material. And that's something I'd like to see. Seann William Scott's role is similar to that of American Pie and Bulletproof Monk, without any surprises. Christopher Walken's explanation of Beck (The Rock) taking Scott's character being similar to that of a burglar taking a child's tooth awaiting the tooth fairy is so hilarious, you have to see it to believe it. He is not a sadistic villian, just a comical and ruthless one. Pretty good mix. And Rosario Dawson's Mariana character was just awesome (yes, I am being unbiased!); she held her own amongs the other lead actors, and was very believable as the head of a revolutionary pact passing as a bartender. All in all, the film was a 10 out of 10.

I'm working on the fotolog as we speak. As soon as I'm satisfied, the link will be available. Promise...

Okay, before I go, I just thought of this freelance. Partially based on actual events, it's so odd, I have to share it with you. So from the other side, I bid u adieu...

The 4-Train Writer

My eyes wondered about the atmosphere looking to view
something that might hinder attention of odd proportions
til it came across a woman focused on a notebook
her belongings scattered across the seats
her apple juice placed on the floor in neglection.
Piercing through her hands, I found what was holding her captive
the words of her life, spread throughout both pages
her eyes flashing from side to side scanning for errors
She never stopped to wonder if she reached
the destination she had to find.
feverishly she wrote what was coming from her mind
her thoughts as cluttered as the material she wrote on
the material she wrote on as cluttered as her belongings
Wait - she stopped.
We had only reached 14th Street.
What could possibly make her cease & desist?
Regathering my senses, one lucid fact remained:
I've wandered too far...
Wait - she writes again! And faster, more rigorously than before
as if a temporary writer's block had come upon her
and her mind in return struck down at it with a hard blow
saying, "Get thee behind me, insipid writer's block!"
Caucassian, well matured, middle-aged lady in the back
train car of the 4-train I'm riding to get home became
the object of my attention span, wondering how it is that she
had no idea of the life that's around her and only cares
about the life she's living in the sentences she's placing on that
cluttered material in which its remnants fell on the floor.
I place them to the side, in which her thank you is the only sign
of emotion she has expressed on my train ride home.
Fulton Street's train doors just opened, and her mind was still
engulfed into the work she's dedicated to 'til her alarm snapped:
This was her stop!!
Egad, losing track of time can be a pain when you have fun
in what you write, but now it hurts because the fun must end.
Still aghast from the suddenness of it all,
she hastily gathered her books and stood in between the train doors.
Her thirst grew louder, and I was the closest to her apple juice.
I handed it to her in thanks, for an experience no one can duplicate.
Her smile, warmer than body heat of the traincar's passengers
remained a painting in my eyes,
as the mysterious 4-Train Writer
vanished into the exit ramp.