July 12th, 2002

southpark

Life At The Mall

*DISCLAIMER*
The sync cradle that came with my Kyocera Smartphone is not compatible with my computer, so I can't get any of the Palm OS LiveJournal programs. These have been written in no particular order since Sunday. Try to read all of them. I'm also not in the mood for using weird time travel posting since I like the date to reflect when I actually posted something, not when I started thinking about it. I usually start thinking about posts years before I can express them coherently enough to write them out.
*DISCLAIMER*

The Mall is tiresome. The people wander in and ask all sorts of stupid questions - including and especially asking how much a clearly-labeled item costs. People are constantly surprised that I've never used any of this crap. The only places I know of that require their personell to know thie rwares are fancy electronics stores and The Cheesecake Factory.

I am usually the only person at the store for the entire day, so the only time I get to leave is when the store is empty and the guy who runs the mall cart(s) outside can cover for me. He is one of those middle-aged immigrants who discovers only too late that America is not all it's cracked up to be. Still, he is friendly even when he doesn't sell anything all day. I just hope he only *works* at the cart. He reminds me *way* too much of G-Fresh. The only stores here that still carry any interest for me are KB (I'm keeping an eye out for the new transformers that just started appearing) and Chesapeake Knife & Tool (where a friend of mine works). Sometimes, I suppose, I am kind of interested in what the Food Court has to offer, but I should really start bringing my lunch to work as I can make something much healthier and nicer.

Sigh. I sometimes feel like I work in a wildlife refuge for yuppies.

And Unless I just got grifted for $70, the Trinidad equivalent of a Navy Seal just returned one of the crappy Digital Cameras we sell. At first I thought maybe he didn't know English very well as he kept speaking in the second person (we). Then I wondered if he was insane. Turns out that it was really a group of people who bought it along with four others, but they were only allowed to bring four home.

Final thought: Why do parents constantly insist on making "petulant child" the only way I can think of to describe them?
  • Current Music
    Digitally Imported Trance
autobot

Party and Other Things

*DISCLAIMER*
The sync cradle that came with my Kyocera Smartphone is not compatible with my computer, so I can't get any of the Palm OS LiveJournal programs. These have been written in no particular order since Sunday. Try to read all of them. I'm also not in the mood for using weird time travel posting since I like the date to reflect when I actually posted something, not when I started thinking about it. I usually start thinking about posts years before I can express them coherently enough to write them out.
*DISCLAIMER*

Saturday was interesting. Thankyou everyone who told Sami to talk to me - you made my day. The party was also cool, but not nearly as much as knowing how much esteem you held me in.

Parties are usually really difficult for me - people who don't seem interested in me in the slightest during the reast of the year flirt with me hardcore. But are they really interested, or are they just using me? Most parties I just end up crying in the corner at the confusion and the sheer existential horror of the whole thing. Perhaps the fact that I didn't had something to do with how ill I got on Sunday. Something about bad humours. Of course, it could be that I got struck down with my first major case of food poisoning or something from Noah's mouth (nice teeth, by the way).

Went to see fireworks with the fambly on Sunday. They didn't even seem to notice how shitty I felt. Maybe they just assumed I'd be hungover after Saturday night. My parents were kind of amused that I didn't even try to pretend I would be doing anything at the party other than what I did.

Next time the summer comes around, I need to remind myself of two things I love :
chairs and fireworks. Blanket + Concrete + Me = Cranky.
  • Current Music
    More Digitally Imported Trance
autobot

The Neverending Story

*DISCLAIMER*
The sync cradle that came with my Kyocera Smartphone is not compatible with my computer, so I can't get any of the Palm OS LiveJournal programs. These have been written in no particular order since Sunday. Try to read all of them. I'm also not in the mood for using weird time travel posting since I like the date to reflect when I actually posted something, not when I started thinking about it. I usually start thinking about posts years before I can express them coherently enough to write them out.*DISCLAIMER*

I read the novel on which one of my favourite movies was based. It is a clear example of why I usually prefer dubbing over subbing in Anime (though The Neverending Story has nothing to do with Anime). The book is a much more direct translation of the words the author was using to say what he thought. But it is choppy and difficult to read. The movie is a more artisitc endeavour, which does take more license, but it better captures the meaning of those words and the story actually fits together coherently. But the movie only follows the first half of the book, and it is the second half that blows me away. It is only when you lose yourself in a book that you can grow, and this isn't really accomplished in either of the movie's half-assed sequels.

PS - Please tell me there's another way to interpret "a stag with golden antlers who walked erect and wore a Prince Alber."
  • Current Music
    Even More Digitally Imported Trance
decepticon

Tutoring Woes

The more time I spend near my tutoree(!?)'s mom, the more I wish she would leave the two of us alone so we can accomplish something. Her constant nagging is grating on my nerves and is keeping her daughter from concentrating on the work. But the worst part is that not once has she brought up whether or not I am a good tutor. She seems utterly convinced that when a problem takes a while to do, it is the daughter's fault and never mine.

I am, to be honest, a rather poor teacher. I am okay at explaining, but am not very good at finding the tiny errors that cause our efforts to go awry, I lose focus when trying to do the more difficult problems, and have none of the Discipline or Patience necessary to allow her to struggle through the parts of the problems that need to be struggled with.
  • Current Music
    So Much More Digitally Imported Trance!