| Debaise-moi |
[Jul. 4th, 2009|01:46 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | acetone, brattleboro, cousin, date, desperation, girls, heterosexuality, joelle, klaudia, pixies, sex, thoughts, wedding, yvonne | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  happy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Doolittle - Pixies | ] |
One of the stranger things that's happened this summer is that I've been assigned an undergraduate student who works under my supervision. Her name is Klaudia, and she's intelligent, hard-working, interesting, funny, careless, outrageous, selfish, attractive, and talkative. We generally get along well and spend a lot of time making fun of each other.
I sometimes perceive that she may be attracted to me. Examples:
"Hey Mooney,
Have a good trip!! I'll miss you very much!
Klaudia"
- text of a recent e-mail.
"I love spending time with you"
- quote from two weeks ago
Also, she frequently suggests that we do things together. Examples include all-you-can-eat sushi and a yoga class. We've done none of these things, but the point remains.
Then again, she's a generally friendly and boisterous girl with a tendency to exaggerate, so this may simply be how she treats everyone. I'm not sure what to think. I'm of two minds.
On the one hand, as Andrew Yaksic ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) peopleyak verily points out, the opportunity to enjoy the body of a 20 year old girl without it being creepy is one that will soon be lost on me forever. Also, it's been a long time since I've been in a relationship, I wouldn't mind spending more time doing social things, and I've been feeling strangely heterosexual lately.
On the other hand, I have absurdly high standards for relationships. As anyone who's read my journal knows, I love to reject people for no good reason. At the first sign that someone is not perfect, I tend to generalize any negative information I have into an overarching complete picture of the person and conclude that they are unworthy of my affections. Hence, the negative adjectives above (really only "careless") make me wary. Relationships have a serious effect on people, so a lack of caution can produce a very negative effect. I feel it's better to be too careful.
Perhaps it doesn't help that the person I feel closest to in life, Joelle, is the most compassionate and trustworthy person I've ever met. I love her deeply and feel that no-one really compares to her, so it's difficult to want to get close to someone else.
Speaking of Joelle, I traveled to visit her a few weekends ago. It was an excellent trip. I met Ben and we spent a while together. I really like him. Joelle and I watched "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose" and Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters together. Mishima had some really beautiful scenes and it really stuck in my mind. Considering the viewing material, we later joked that it had been our weekend of death.
Overall, I was reminded of why I care so much about her and also of how strong my feelings toward her are. I'm not sure it's entirely healthy to feel so connected to someone who I'm not and will never be in a relationship with. It's kind of frustrating sometimes; I wish things could be different. And yet I really feel that we have a interaction that can both extend beyond friendship and yet have no physical or sexual component. Maybe this isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it should be commonplace, but we're sort of instructed that it's impossible. I don't know.
Ok, so I wrote all of the above right after Acetone/Reflux but didn't feel like it was right to post it. Since then, I feel a lot better about my life, and I liked what I had written, so it's coming fresh off the presses.
Ok, now...
Klaudia. I essentially said everything I had written above about her to her. I also mentioned that when I was first working with her, I was worried that my initial reaction upon meeting her ("Oh my, this girl is very attractive") would make working with her very difficult. We both laughed. She's always trying to set me up with other girls and making suggestions about what I wear, and sometimes seems a bit jealous when I flirt with other people. I often inquire about what's going on in her life and flirt with her. I expect that there is and will be some degree of tension between us and that we each hold a very specific and kind of limited appeal to each other, but I feel like it is and will remain a subtext to our interactions. This makes me happy and I like it.
Joelle. One of the things I worry about with Joelle is that I tend to treat our relationship as something sacrosanct and completely separate and unique to all other relationships in my life. This can be nice and good sometimes, as it's nice to be able to share certain things with only one person and to know that there is something special about your relationship. And when I'm happy it's fine and this is how it works. But when I'm not happy and I'm mad at the world and the people around me and I'm feeling generally misanthropic, it can be bad. It leads me to idolize her and expect (define?) goodness from her and to look at everything and everyone else in the world as unworthy, inferior, and insufficient. This can be bad. It's sort of like how some Americans treat 9/11 or how some Jews treat the Holocaust. There's something to be said for separating and blessing and showing deference and respect for something extraordinary and unique (bad things in this case, good thing in the Joelle case). But when taken too far and used to justify questionable things and when it leads to a loss of rationality and perspective, it's not so good. So, I must remain happy at all times.
There are some other things in my life I've thought about a bit recently.
(Name removed) metro_ride sent me some pictures in the mail quite unexpectedly a while ago. That was a nice surprise. After reading her journal for a short while, I concluded that she was unstable and irrational but also charming insofar as we shared some of the same neuroses and unreasonable expectations and perspectives (about, for example, sex). So I thought we might get to know each other. But nothing yet. We'll see.
I went on a date with a girl, Yvonne, who I met at my cousin's wedding. It's quite strange. We met and talked for a bit at the wedding. I found her attractive, but not extraordinarily so. We got along and joked around for a bit, and my family pressured me into getting her number. I'm glad I did though. We went out for lunch (I've been traveling to MA a lot lately). It was very pleasant and lasted for about an hour. I think I'm going to call her next time I'm back in the US. It's very weird. I think this is the first time I've gone on a date without either a) ending up really emotionally invested or b) concluding that the other party is unscrupulous and unworthy of my affections. Conversely, in this case, for the first time, I feel sort of like, "Yes, she's nice. I'd like to get to see her again. If we do, great. If not, that's ok too." It's very sort-of Zen and present-minded of me. I like it but it freaks me out a bit. This isn't me.
I think I ought to have my first heterosexual relationship sometime soon. |
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| Acetone/Reflux |
[Jun. 26th, 2009|10:48 pm] |
Work this summer has proven interesting. I'm working with a device called a cryostat. It is an instrument that can cool samples down to very low temperature (77 K with the liquid nitrogen we use). Unfortunately, it takes a long time to achieve that level when measurements must be taken every 10 K on the way down (room temperature is ~300 K). Thus, experiments tend to last a long time. One weekend, I did a "full experiment". I started on Thursday, and stayed until 9 PM on Thursday and Friday night taking measurements. I then spent Saturday and Sunday working from ~10 AM to ~5 AM the next day. This was slightly less than fun. But that's a complete experiment. I was happy to get all the data and have something to analyze.
As it turns out, there's a fundamental flaw in the machine. The vacuum seal that insulates the machine is flawed, so it needs to be repaired and all the data I took is kind of useless. Finding that out was frustrating. Fortunately, the manufacturer of the equipment is located close to my home in Massachusetts. Seeing how expensive it would be to ship and insure the cryostat via a standard shipping company, I resolved, with my supervisor's blessing, to rent a car and drive the instrument down myself to drop it off. The trip would be covered by my supervisor, and I would get to see my parents for the weekend.
I called customs in advance to ensure that I'd have no trouble at the border (the cryostat is worth ~$18,000). I had read online that I might have to file a Temporary Importation under Bond entry form and obtain a Customs bond from a surety company. All this would take time, effort, and money, none of which I had. But I had also read that NAFTA agreement allowed certain duties to be waived. So I called Customs to find an answer. I was told that since the cryostat was manufactured in the U.S., I would have no problem at the border since it would be considered "Goods returning to the United States". I was told I would not have to fill any forms out and would simply be let in after declaring the goods and their manufacturing origin. I rented a car this morning and left with great confidence and happiness.
I left at 10 AM and told the manufacturer that I would be there between 3-4 PM. It was Friday, so I was a bit concerned about time, but I've done the drive in under 5 hours, so I figured I'd be ok. I arrived at the border at 11 AM (right on schedule), but found that there was a rather long wait. Chagrined, I entered what looked to be the shortest lane. I was very, very wrong, and ended up what was easily the slowest-moving late. I didn't arrive at the questioning booth for another half-hour.
I began to worry a bit about time, but confidently presented my identification and explained the situation. I was directed to the cargo building. "A routine inspection," I wondered. Again, timing concerned me, but I figured I'd be out quickly. I entered a small office. In the adjacent cargo area, I heard an increasingly disturbing conversation.
"Sir, you need to open the trunk."
After waiting a few minutes, I was approached by an officer.
"I've been waiting here for twenty-five minutes. You've already inspected me, twice. I'm NOT going to open the trunk."
He told me that I had been misinformed by the Customs agent I had spoken to on the phone.
"Sir, open the trunk NOW."
Indeed, for equipment worth under $10,000, items manufactured in the United States can re-enter the country, provided it is explicit stated on the item that it was manufactured in the United States (I thought this was surely not true for the cryostat), AND provided that a form is filled out.
"Hey, get away from me! Get the fuck away. I've had enough of this. Don't you fucking touch me!"
For equipment worth more than $10,000, a surety bond is needed in ALL cases, several forms need to be filled out, and the entire process can only run smoothly if the party importing the goods contacts the surety agency in advance and has everything prepared before arriving.
"Sir, get down on the ground. Drop to the ground."
He offered to give me the contact number of a surety agency. At this point I figured it was relatively certain that I would have to return to Montreal. No way would I arrive in time to deliver the cryostat if I had to go though this process, which I really didn't want to.
"Sir, listen to me. Get down on the ground. Get down on the ground!"
He summarized, "You were definitely misinformed. This is going to be an issue."
"My words: Get down on the ground! On the ground! ON THE GROUND. ON THE GROUND NOW!!!"
Imagine my chagrin.
I realized that the only way I was getting into the United States was by somehow altering reality such that the device would somehow be worth less than $10,000. I recalled that I had left some equipment which contributed to the cost of the cryostat behind. I think I had already accounted for this in the $18,000 figure. I pointed it out anyway. I also pointed out that the basic cryostat unit itself was only worth ~$11,500. This was technically true, and it said so on the invoice, but it conveniently neglected a few multi-thousand dollar upgrades that had been made to the device. I argue that since the cost was now fairly close to $10,000, AND that the device was broken and thus had depreciated in value, the actual market value of the device was now LESS that $10,000. The officer looked skeptical, but agreed to contact someone at the manufacturer to verify my claim. I directed him to contact a guy there who had been very helpful to me in the past. This guy not only verified that what I said was true, but pointed it out that all the costs quoted were in Canadian dollars and thus that the device was surely worth less than $10,000. I think that both the officer and I knew that this was patently not true, given the number of conceits. But I was being very respectful and charming, and he was a nice guy. And, miraculously, the device said "Made in U.S.A." right on it. So he let me fill out a form and I was on my way. That was at 12:45 PM.
I arrived at the manufacturer at 4:15 PM.
"We weren't expecting you at least another hour."
"I'm an efficient driver."
At some point on the way home I realized that what I had witnessed at the border was likely a training exercise. This brought some relief to me. And so, the cryostat was dropped off, the Jonathan made his way home, the horses returned the fields, and the crops bore fruit again. |
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| I rue the fall of the British Empire |
[Feb. 22nd, 2009|01:36 am] |
This week has been a disaster.
I own about 1000 shares of Bank of America. Market volatility can be fun, but it's a lot more fun when it benefits you than when it doesn't. Latlely, it has not benefited me, though I managed to scoop up 150 shares around $3. Here's hoping against nationalization.
I ride my bike in the winter, regardless of the amount of snow. This has generally gone well, but occasionally the actual chain and gears are frozen, and that's annoying. Also annoying: when your bike lock freezes and you're far from home.
I'm taking a physics course in optics, which is mildly interesting. But the professor is disorganized, which is sometimes very frustrating. Also annoying: when 33% of Friday's midterm covers material that was covered on Wednesday.
I planned to do an extensive experiment this weekend, but the displacement of a copper wire prevented it. This does not bode well.
I'm spending a lot more time socializing with my labmates than I did when I previously worked at McGill. There's Sam, who is simply an awesome guy. I feel bad for everyone who hasn't had the privilege of hanging out with Sam. And I'm talking to Sam more, which is nice, though he'll be leaving soon. *sigh*
I'm also talking more to Bob and Vance, who work in the Siwick lab. They're pretty fun people to talk to. I'd say that they're very "chill". But I always enjoy conversation with them.
I also spend a lot of time talking to Pooja. Or, as I like to call her, "Pooji" or "Poo-ya" or "Ooji Pooji" or "Ooja Pooja". Pooja's from India, and we joke around a lot. Everyone in the lab likes her, and we all enjoy some of the outrageous things she says (she claimed that Vance was sexist for being more willing to kiss a girl than a boy).
TAing is fun. I don't know if it's the nature of McGill or what, but I spend a lot of time joking around with the students and I find them to be a lot more talkative than the students at Toronto. This is nice.
I need to find a larger variety of food to consume. As it stands, I have minestrone soup for lunch almost every day, though I sometimes substitute pasta salad with tomatoes, cucumbers, and chickpeas (actually quite good). I have pasta or veggie dogs for dinner almost every night. It's been a long time since I've had something else, unless you count nothing.
I've been putting a fairly substantial amount of effort into my various websites lately, which I think has served to improve their quality substantially. I'm also tutoring a few times a week, though nowhere near as often as I was last semester, when I was literally using the money from tutoring as the only income I had (I had no official status in Quebec so couldn't be paid...).
I think I'd like to buy a condo in Montreal, partly because of my intense love of the city, and party because my monthly "housing" cost would actually go toward something for the next few years instead of disappearing into the ether. It depends on how much money I can save up and market conditions. Though it's hard to beat a 4% interest mortgage rate. I just need to save up $40,000 for the down-payment. Anyone have an extra 20 grand to spare?
Halas' wake was pretty nice. I went with Chan and Yaksic. We spent some time talking with Mr Arria, and I also got to talk to Mrs. Halas a few times. She's a lovely woman, and told us how much Mr. Halas looked forward to the various lunches I and other MC students would go to with him. I also learned that the conversation I had with Mr. Halas on the Sunday before he died was perhaps the last lucid conversation he had. It's funny. I kept putting calling off because I could never wake up early enough, and then that Sunday I did. I'm quite glad I did.
Lucas is in South Africa on a medical internship. He's having a great time and exploring the various cities. I'm slightly jealous. I may go there for the World Cup (I'm not a big fan, but he is, and if David Beckham plays for England there I'll enjoy it just because he told me there was no way it would happen).
It's been a long time since I've been in love. My life is very sedate. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 12th, 2009|01:29 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | "Head Over Heels" - Tears for Fears | ] |
When I was hope, serveral time I heard the song "Head Over Heels" by the Tears by Fears. I though mabye time, "This is a poor 80s songs." But now I like it. Life is good. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 12th, 2009|01:15 am] |
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Jonathan is more drunk than he's ever been in his life. Praise Jesus! |
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| Rapture |
[Dec. 14th, 2008|07:11 pm] |
Convalescence is a wonderful thing.
The weakest part of my body is my ear-nose-throat region. I got sick very often as a child in this area, and ear and throat infections still visit upon me at least once a year.
I hate being sick more than anything else in this world. Perhaps I have a low tolerance for pain, or perhaps my illnesses are particularly painful, but I absolutely abhor life when I am sick. It's not just any sickness I'm talking about though; stomach viruses I welcome and deal exceptionally well with, and stuffy noses I have no issues with; but an ear or throat infection is, to me, death.
Around Thursday of this week, I came down with what I believe to be strep throat. I don't know because I didn't see a doctor. I normally see a doctor the instant I suspect I have a bacterial infection and demand antibiotics based on my history of infection. However, I have no insurance due to my semi-legal status in Canada! Woe is me!
Thankfully, one of my antibiotic-demanding visits left me with a prescription which ended up not needing to fill. I was a bit surprised when the pharmacist filled a nearly year-old prescription, but mainly I was happy. It's penicillin, which isn't my favourite, but it's working.
For much of this weekend I felt like death incarnate. Despite ibuprofen, this morning I found the pain very nearly intolerable, so I reluctantly took one of my old friends, Vicodin, which I'd been saving for a rainy day. Why an oral surgeon would prescribe an 18 year-old nearly fifty Vicodin is beyond me, but I'm thankful nonetheless. I've so far only taken two of them over the course of five years, so I think I'm still in the clear as far as addiction goes.
By now I'm finally starting to feel better. I find recovering from a fairly serious illness to be an almost religious experience. I feel reborn, rejuvenated, motivated. I feel young. I have been given new life. It's a great feeling.
Why am I so happy, in general?
I attribute it largely to living in Montreal and being part of a more social research group.
Montreal is a phenomenal city.
I recall a few years ago I was searching for an apartment. I found a room in a shared apartment (5 or 6 people) with its own balcony. The place had two bathrooms and a kitchen with all the amenities. The room was a bit small but it was fine. The rent was $200/month $200! You can't find that in other places. I ended up not taking it when I found a better (much larger and a bit more expensive) place, but the point remains. Also, look at tuition. If you're Quebecois (or a Ph.D. student!), you pay $2000/year to go to one of the best universities in North America. Imagine that. Everything's cheap in this city, and that's wonderful.
The architecture here is great. It's just the right combination of Old World beauty and New World practicality. Compare to Toronto, which is a series of boxes. Also look at the culture. Toronto is a roughly 50-50 mixture of boring white anglophones and people who weren't even born in Canada. And there's not all that much mixing, so the culture is either essentially American or utterly fragmented. In Montreal, people from all over the world actually mix, plus there's the French element, which makes everything a bit nicer. Oh, and the politics are different too. People from the rest of Canada are essentially moderate-liberal Democrats (really, regardless of party). But a lot of Quebecois are committed socialists (why else would everything be so cheap?). People are really active in that way here (even if I don't always agree with them, it's nice to see). Compare to Toronto. If you want culture there, you go to Kensington Market, which is a gathering place for washed up hippies and street people. Yeah, culture.
In summary:
Montreal - good
Toronto - bad
Why else is life better? I attribute it primarily to the new research group I'm in. They're social, interactive, active, funny, motivated, and good to be around. When I was in Toronto, I only ever talked to one other member of my research group, and that was because we shared an office. True, I was working in theory then, but I imagine it's possible for a theory group to be far more interactive. Really, I suspect it was because we were in Toronto. When you're in Toronto, you don't interact; you long for Montreal.
It also helps that my new supervisor is younger and more active.
I also have a far better living situation. My place is larger and my roommates are better. My old place was small, a bit ... untidy. And some of my roommates were...pathetic. Yes, that's the word. My new roommates are active yet clean and respectful, and my new place is larger, newer, and cleaner.
It also helps that I have more friends. I obviously know more people in Montreal, but I also find it far, far easier to make new friends here. People are happier and more social. Then again, when you live in Toronto, you don't make friends; you long for Montreal. To imagine Toronto, you must imagine New York City ('cause it's really big), but then take away everything that makes New York City good. To imagine Montreal, you must imagine Paris ('cause it's really similar), but then take away everything that makes Paris bad (expensive, crowded, touristy, old, cramped). Life is better in Montreal.
In summary:
2007-2008 - bad
2008-2009 - good
Life is good. |
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| City of Death |
[Dec. 6th, 2008|12:51 am] |
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I haven't been this happy in years. |
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| Numbers |
[Oct. 21st, 2008|12:18 am] |
- 2100 km traveled
- 653.96 $CAD refund from Quebec government
- 460.00 $USD in poker winnings
- 3 old MC friends
- 3 old Toronto friends
- 3 flirtations with random Bostonians
- 2 trips to Brighton
- 1 German wedding
- 1 failed attempt to see Repo! The Genetic Opera
- 1 long lost relative
- 1 absentee vote for Obama/Biden
- 1 near-refusal of re-entry to Canada
- 1 awkward blowjob
- 0 studying for quantum mechanics
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| Return to ... Montreal? |
[Oct. 11th, 2008|08:28 pm] |
I moved back to Montreal, in case any of you didn't know. I'm transferring to McGill as of January (currently I'm an illegal immigrant with no official status), and I'm very happy with the group I'm joining.
More later.
I'm in Boston now, if you happen to be there.
I like people.
Contact me. |
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| Better in Every Way |
[Jun. 3rd, 2008|04:57 pm] |
Jonathan wants to become a Canadian.
Jonathan learns how to apply for permanent residency in Canada.
Jonathan becomes sad when he learns that a criminal background check is part of the application process.
Jonathan reads more and talks to immigration representatives.
Jonathan becomes hopeful when he learns that, since he was arrested once in the United States but not convicted, his application may still be accepted.
Jonathan learns that he must request a copy of his criminal record from the FBI, which maintains a database of all arrests in the United States and their outcomes.
Jonathan learns that his request must include his fingerprints.
Jonathan has his fingerprints taken by a trained professional and pays him CAD $30.00.
Jonathan sends his request to the FBI via express mail with delivery confirmation.
Jonathan sees that his request has been delivered.
Jonathan sees that his credit card has been charged the USD $18.00 cost of request processing.
Jonathan soon receives a package in the mail from the FBI.
Jonathan eagerly opens the package.
Jonathan reads the notice: "Please note the stamp on the back of the enclosed fingerprint card indicating the results of the search of the FBI Criminal Justice Information Services Division's files."
Jonathan turns the card over.
Jonathan reads the notice:
"No arrest record"
WHAT?!? |
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| Faster than a breadbox |
[Apr. 26th, 2008|10:35 pm] |
Well, I don't frequently have the opportunity to write in this journal from another country (Canada or the US, depending on your perspective, I think we all can agree, don't count), so I'm taking it.
I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Barcelona. Weird thing: my parents booked a hotel at the edge of the gay district of Barcelona, so I end up walking through a large part of it to get here. It's kind of fun.
Vacation has been good. Paris was the balls. Marseille was nice. Barcelona is absurdly crowdy but it's grown on me a lot. It's like Toronto, except it's grown on me a lot.
What else? Yes! It's interesting to go on vacation. The vacation itself I don't enjoy so much. It strikes me as absurd to spend the kind of money my parents have spent just to do the things we've done. But being here, in addition to giving me some time with my parents (this is a rarity) has allowed me to think about my life in Toronto. I've drawn about two conclusions.
1) Habits are extremely powerful. In a sense, when I was in Toronto, I knew that sleeping until 1 PM everyday, doing nothing but schoolwork, useless surfing of the internet, obsession over the past and the future and the French boy, watching DVDs with Lucas, and sleeping was one of the primary sources of my discontent. I knew that if I did other, different things I would be happier. But only by actually being away from all that, from all those habits, have I realised just how much I'm suffocating myself with them. Here, I get up at 8:00 AM, I derive pleasure from just walking around the city, from eating, from talking to people, from exploring, etc. etc. I can and should do these things in Toronto, but I don't. I knew this before, but I didn't really *see* it. Now I do, and I hope I can change.
2) "What shall we do about Claudius?" Oops, I mean, ¨"What shall we do about French boy?" Answer: the question is misleading. The question shouldn't be relevant. I should have enough other sources of joy and pleasure in my life that I don't need to fill all my time with obsessing about one person (or, indeed, have the unoccupied time there to be able to do it) and pinning all my hopes on making him dependent on me. I should have enough in my life to fall back on regardless of what happens with respect to my relationship with French boy that I'll still be happy. That's the solution. I still have strong feelings for the boy, something I tend to be reminded of every time I start to forget it (does this happen to you?), but these feelings are not the whole of me.
Ok, so what do you think? Are you a slave to bad habits? What do you do to break them? Does it work? Are you ever placed in a situation where you feel you can see all these bad habits more clearly than before? This happened to me here a bit, and it also happened when I met my Peabody friends. It tends to happen following a major change and forced breaking of habits (different country here, end of high school there). And, also, do you think that developing an really obsessive and consuming crush on someone is a reflection of lack of readily available sources of joy and support (readily available I say here because I have them (you) but not in Toronto) in one's life? Or is that just crazy talk?
Also, I wonder how much all these seemingly helpful and productive thoughts will actually lead to changes when I return to Toronto. I hope they do. |
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| I'm actually disturbed by normalcy |
[Apr. 3rd, 2008|01:34 am] |
Let's start at the beginning.
A few months ago I started talking to a guy who was in some of my classes (no, this isn't going there). Or, am I?
Anyway, we decided to hang out sometime. This was a Very Big Deal for me since, though I'd met people and made friends in Toronto, it was all in the context of school and I'd never spent time with them outside of school. We ended up going to a restaurant together, eating, and speaking French for about half the time. It was a great deal of fun for me, and we decided to repeat the encounter at irregular intervals. It became known as "French night."
Oh, wow, that's funny. I didn't realise that.
You have no idea what I'm talking about. Or do you?
Anyway, this was all very enjoyable for me since I was finally getting to know someone and hanging out with someone other than Lucas in Toronto. Also, speaking French was a great deal of fun.
Also, I really liked this guy, who, in communication with other friends, I refer to as "French boy." He's like me, except more normal, more intelligent, and more attractive. We make jokes at each others' expense (most often in French, and at my expense) and are able to discuss and share attitudes toward a variety of subjects, from school, to money, to Toronto. This was all very good. The only problem was that I kinda wanted him, and he has a girlfriend. (I want to insert a great quote that I think I read in Matt Ryan's journal tildescence here, but I can't find it).
This is bad for a lot of reasons. It's bad because straight guys should be able to be friends with gay guys without having to worry that their gay friends want them (at least, worry any more than for their female friends, which they probably do). I feel kind of like I'm violating this.
It's bad because it might damage or weirdify the one new relationship I've made in Toronto.
It's bad because I have few if any straight male friends who I met outside of Boston, and I'd like some.
It's bad because if I don't say anything, I'll end up acting weird and he won't know why.
It's bad because if I do say something, that'll be weird.
It's bad bad bad bad bad.
So, I take stock of the situation. I have four options.
1) Goodbye. This is a pretty weak one.
2) Say nothing and try to minimize weirdness. This could work for a while, and might be best if my crush dissipates.
3) Say something. This could end up helping or being very weird.
4) Corollary of 2) and 3): Do what I always do in situations where I'm attracted to someone but sexual orientation or lack of attraction prevent my desires from being satiated. Launch an long term plan of extended observation and trust-gaining and endeavour to manipulate the situation in order to get what I want.
Option 4 is definitely (from a moral and simply realistic standpoint) the worst option.
When I found out Ava was gay, the rational part of me said, "It's over" since I was well aware that sexual orientation does not change. But when you're in love with someone, you don't listen to the rational part of yourself. The "I'm in love" part of me said, "This girl has never been in a relationship before, and you're one of the closest people to her. Given the right circumstances, you could form a (extremely transient and somewhat "false") romantic relationship with her." And, just my luck, the finals schedule that year meant that all her friends other than me were leaving before her. Mary left, Liz left, Judy left, and there was Jonathan, in the middle of cold December in Montreal far from home. Around this time I had a conversation with her in which I explained all the things about her I found attractive. This was really a masterstroke. It was all absolutely true, and because she'd never been in a relationship before, she was (her words) "swept off [her] feet". And for about three days she thought she might be able to enter a relationship with me. Those were three of the most difficult and splendid and stressful days of my life. Because we were both hurting each other. I was hurting her by manipulating her feelings and trust in me to get what I wanted. And she was manipulating me by flirting with me and expressing a desire to engage in a relationship that we both knew would never work. Best thing to come out of all that:
We're at a bowling alley.
Her: "I'm really bad at bowling."
Me: "I haven't been bowling in a long time so I'm not going to do much better."
Her: "You're going down, Jon"
Me: "You're going down!"
Her: "We're both going down."
(awkward laughter).
Of course, this all evaporated after a couple of days, as it always had to. And I think it made everything worse for both of us. When I think about it today, I'm not sure whether convincing a lesbian that she might be able to love me was my greatest accomplishment or greatest outrage.
With Anna King, our relationship has gone beyond verbal sparring and has come to include real, serious conversations with each other. I've also met up with her twice in Toronto. I think she's totally surprised that I can be a serious, caring person, and she now actually appreciates my advice. Of course, in many of our conversations I remind her that I'm doing all this to win her over. And I always ask what progress I'm making. And in one of our more recent conversations she said, "My feelings about you have changed so much, I don't know what could happen." Case closed. I win.
So there's option 4. There's always option 4. The wheels are always turning. I'm always observing and considering what I can do to get what I want. But option 4...option 4 is very bad.
Last weekend, I met up with French boy. We ate, went to an "Earth Hour" concert and went back to his apartment after that. We talked for a long time, and it was one of the best conversations I've had recently. We talked about our disillusionment with graduate studies, science in academia, statistical mechanics/quantum mechanics, living in a city, and, most potently, the meaningless "surrogate goals" (a term he got from Kaczynski) people have to set up to have something to work toward in modern life. He talked about his difficulties in his relationship with his girlfriend (wheels within wheels). I came out to him (this was the first time I've done that in a long time). We shared a Belgian beer. It was good. I wanted to cuddle with him.
Tonight, I saw him again. I hung out with him, his brother, his brother's girlfriend, and his brother's friend from work. We played pool and drank beers (I still think "(verb) beer" sounds better than "(verb) beers"). It was so...normal. They were such normal people. It was so subdued. I was totally weirded out by it.
Anyway, that's about it. I suppose it's not very good of me to ignore factors like "I'm not attracted to you" or "I'm straight/gay" when I'm attracted to someone. I guess it's just difficult because I'm attracted to nearly everyone and, while I can understand someone not being attracted to me, I find it hard to understand that the potential itself does not exist. I fully recognise the immutability of sexual orientation, but most sexual orientations aren't 100% one way or the other (think: Kinsey). I'd like to imagine that, given the right circumstances, anyone could find me attractive. But maybe that's just my ego talking.
Still, it brings up an interesting point. I often wonder whether I would actually do anything were I able to get someone who previously did not to find me attractive. In the case with Ava, I didn't "press my advantage", so to speak, when I had the chance, which is why that story didn't end with me putting a bullet in my brain. I'm not sure I would actually do anything in most of these cases. I guess I just want the recognition of the possibility; that's what's most gratifying to me.
Étrange. |
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| People named "Max" |
[Jan. 24th, 2008|01:19 am] |
Julia...Let me count the ways.
I ended up thinking about Julia a lot over the early part of my winter break. I think it was the wave goodbye that did it.
I was initially unsure about when to e-mail her. I figured that too soon would seem too eager. But I figured that waiting until just before I returned to Toronto or until just after might cause her frustration in case she were expecting an e-mail or thinking about me.
I sought advice from Joelle, Christina, and...Anna King.
I know! Anna King?
Shockingly enough, Anna King has made consistent efforts to retain and develop a friendship with me. We speak on the phone fairly often. She even visited me when she was in Toronto in December. I said, "Anna, I wouldn't go through all this trouble unless I wanted to have sex with someone." Nonetheless, she has demonstrated a degree of sincerity and concern I thought she was incapable of, and we have become...friends. Isn't that disgusting? I keep telling her that she should be careful, that if she keeps what she's doing up, sometime several years in the future, I will win her over. We make lots of jokes about that.
Anyway, I ended up e-mailing Julia for the first time on December 26.
H'm...I just read through all the e-mails we exchanged. I thought of posting them here, but I don't think it would be quite right. I think it's better to post excerpts.
My first e-mail:
"I've been thinking about you over break...I really hope we can get together."
Her first reply:
"I was surprised to see that you had emailed me today because I have also been thinking about you was just about to send you an email...I look forward to seeing you sometime when you get back."
My second e-mail:
"You know, I find it difficult to express interest in a person without seeming too...forward. This is especially true in e-mail. Do you know what I mean? ... I was at the music store [and]...decided to check out their selection of Decemberists albums...I picked up Picaresque...[and] was pleasantly surprised to hear the song you'd play for me as I listened to the album."
Her second reply:
"...I do know what you mean by finding it hard to not be too forward through
email. But don't worry about it....you're definately not too forward. Plus,
I think it's better when people are completely honest."
My third e-mail:
"... I guess I'm just finding it a bit weird to be thinking about and wanting to spend time with
someone I only me for, like, an hour. ..."
Her third reply:
"...As for only meeting for an hour..it is a little strange....at least you
didn't end up taking the taxi...."
My forth e-mail:
"...I'm glad I didn't take the taxi too. :-)"
Her fourth reply:
"...Well my friend, Maxence, goes to school with me ... I'm really excited. I'm sure you'll get to meet him, hes amazing."
My fifth e-mail:
"...I'd be very happy to meet him ... Hey, we might even be able to actually see each other again not too long from now. Yippie!"
Her fifth reply:
"...I love going to the Distillery District with Maxence and looking at all of
the photography and artwork. Have you ever been there? Theres also a really
good coffe place in the Distillery called Balzacs...it's free trade. I love
going there in the spring....Yes, I do hope to see you soon..."
My sixth e-mail:
"Balzac's coffee...sounds very French...and literate. Actually it sounds like a pretty
cool place. I generally like the ambiance of coffee places. Perhaps we could go there...How was the trip back to Toronto? Meet any interesting guys? :-)"
Her sixth reply:
"Enjoy the rest of your break, hopefully I'll see you soon.
Oh, Balzac is a French author....smart boy.
...
No...there weren't any interesting guys on the bus....but there was one a
couple of weeks ago..."
My seventh e-mail (n.b. I was drunk when writing this):
"I've been spending time with my friend in town and as such have not until now found an opportunity to reply to your e-mail, although it made me very happy to read. Actually, receiving and reading all your e-mails is a pleasant experience...You are very kind to me, Julia. I look forward to our next meeting with bated breath!"
Her seventh reply:
"You're going to Toronto tomorrow! Well actually....today, since it's already 1:30 am
...
Well Jonathan, have a safe trip back and maybe I'll see you soon!"
Needless to say, I was very pleased by this turn of events. It seemed to me that we were able to express mutual interest in each other via e-mail and also develop a discussion and learn more about each other. We also discussed my rather odd and generally abstemious attitude toward alcohol, and I think we found a good understanding with respect to that. But I was happy that she indeed was interested me, and I thought that her desire for me to meet her friend was also quite positive. I returned to Toronto quite hopeful, and not quite as stressed and obsessive about the situation as I had been at the beginning of the break when I'd needed to seek my friends' advice.
In the early stages of our e-mailing process, I expressed the great concern that I had to my friends that I was beginning to develop feelings for someone I didn't know well. I think that much was clear from some of my earlier e-mails. This bothered me. I view sexual attraction as something inherently irrational. We are not attracted to other people based on whether we share the same values, are compatible, or are similar; we're attracted based on appearance. That's why, I feel, it's important to assess soon after any attraction begins whether the person you're attracted to is rational, intelligent, moral, careful, etc. This ensures that, whether things work out or not, you'll be investing a someone who's worth investing in and you'll minimize the potential damage.
That's why it was particularly frustrating to find myself thinking about this girl when we were hundreds of miles apart. It made it very difficult to assess whether she were "good". I was slightly concerned that she consumed alcohol more freely than I did. I began to fear that she was a "party girl". But my friends told me that I was being irrational and that I ought to get to know her before making any decisions. The Jonathan of the past (think: Ruth) would likely have ceased contacting her based on this very scant evidence leading to mistrust. But the Jonathan of today decided to try to be more mature and open-minded about it. And, based on the progress of our e-mail communication, I was pleased that I had decided to do so.
I returned to Toronto on January 6.
I called Julia on January 8.
We decided to get coffee at Balzac's on January 10.
We did. If I recall correctly, we met up at 3 PM.
My immediate reaction upon seeing her was disgust. She was wearing makeup. Now, for a normal person, that would not be a problem; it might even be a bit flattering.
But I am not a normal person. For me, the wearing of makeup is not rational and thus it indicates some degree of poor-decision making on behalf of the wearer. I know; this is insane. But it is the way my mind works. I use a tiny bit of evidence to make a vast judgment. For such an apparently intelligent person, I have an extremely narrow worldview.
In any case, I got over it. We walked. We talked. We arrived at the Distillery District. We got coffee at Balzac's. I made her let me pay.
We walked around. It was a bit odd, we walked around the Distillery District for about a half hour, often visiting the same areas time after time. I'm not sure whether she expected me to provide some kind of direction (though I had never been there before). I'm not sure if she wanted me to kiss her. I really don't know. Eventually, we sat down on a bench outside. We talked a bit about our lives and our families and our pasts. Just a bit.
Oh! And she smoked a cigarette. Once again, I grew a bit concerned. But, I resolved to be the Jonathan of today instead of the Jonathan of yesterday and resolved that I would wait, discuss it with her later, and not let something so insignificant be a deal-breaker.
We then visited several of the art galleries in the area. This was quite enjoyable.
This went on for about an hour. We observed art. We talked. We observed art. It was nice.
She mentioned that she wanted me to meet her friend Maxence and that he was planning on showing up a bit later. This did not strike me as odd. However, I know from talking to friends of mine who are more normal that it's a bit unusual for two people who are dating to meet each others' friends very soon after they begin dating. So, while it did not strike me as odd, I recongised it as objectively odd and accepted it.
I met Maxence. He was gay. It was a huge relief. Do you know what I mean?
All three of us visited a few galleries. We joked, we talked, we had fun. It was enjoyable. We then got tea. We talked about music. That was good. Max asked me about quantum mechanics. I attempted, somewhat poorly, somewhat well, to explain it to him. Julia seemed bored during this discussion. I apologised to her several times.
By this time, it was 6:00 PM. Is it normal for dates to last this long? In any case, I had planned to meet Lucas at 6:30 PM to get dinner and see a movie (perhaps this was a mistake). So I said that I had to return home. They decided to walk downtown with me as I journeyed home.
And...they followed me all the way back to my house. Now, this I recognised as odd. From here, everything went to hell.
Put yourself in my position. On your first date with a girl, do you want her to meet your ex-boyfriend who's still emotionally attached to you? The answer is "no".
They met Lucas, who seemed very confused and not particularly happy. I asked them if they wanted to join us for dinner and the movie. They said that they would eat dinner separately but meet us for the movie.
We departed. Lucas and I got dinner. Unfortunately, by the time we were done, 20 minutes of the movie had elapsed. We tried calling them during dinner but could not get through.
We decided to travel back to my place.
On the way, we passed Maxence and Julia, who were both smoking cigarettes (oh no!).
Julia said, "There's an interesting note on your door."
I said, "Goodbye!"
Lucas and I returned home and watched some DVDs. Lucas left.
I read the note.
It said,
"JONATHAN!
Sorry, didn't see the time, went to the teatere and tried to call but no one answered.
Hopefully I'll see you again soon, give me a call. xx Julia"
Yippie skippie.
Perhaps, I thought to myself, the date was not an unmitigated disaster.
Two days later, on Saturday, I called Julia. I suggested that she, Maxence, and I try to see the movie (Sweeney Todd) again before Maxence left for Europe (how wonderfully accommodating, eh?). She agreed and we decided we would see it on Sunday.
On Sunday, I got a phone call from Julia at 1 PM. She said that she had been at a ballet company party the night before and ended up staying up until 8 AM and as such needed to sleep and would not be able to make our date.
I said, "Why don't you call me sometime after you've recovered and we'll reschedule?"
That was eleven days ago. I e-mailed her two days ago to ask what was happening.
I haven't heard from her since.
This is very frustrating for two reasons. First, I had to overcome a lot of reservations and uncertainty to even try to engage in this relationship. It involved compromise and serious self-doubt and was really quite difficult for me. Second, I have no indication at all why she doesn't want to see me again. Everything she did and said indicated continued interest. I'm really curious about what exactly went wrong, and I will probably never know. I think I may deal with this my inviting Jesus misogyny back into my heart. |
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| A thousand ways to lose |
[Jan. 24th, 2008|12:00 am] |
Let's talk about Julia.
Julia is, of course, the attractive female ballet dancer who I met on the bus from Toronto to Buffalo.
But before we talk about Julia, let's talk about Ruth.
Ruth was the first person I ever went on an official "date" with. It's funny; I've been in relationships, and I've been in love, and I've expressed great affection for other people, but in all those cases, I never went on an official, formal "date" with any of the people involved. I just got to know them, and things happened. I don't think I've ever gotten close to someone through what is, I guess, the "normal" process; that is, by "dating" or setting up occasions to see each other and get to know each other with a view to a relationship. It's always been more natural and organic. Or at least more bizarre.
In any case...Ruth.
In early 2005, I was trying to get over Ava, since that wasn't going to go anywhere. I didn't want to get into anything too soon, because I didn't think that would be right. But by the end of the semester, I was beginning to move on. And, as it happens, there was an attractive girl in one of my history classes. On the very last day of class, I caught up with her as she was leaving class and asked her for her number. Much to my surprise, she gave it to me.
I called her, and we set up a date. It was kind of intimidating. I felt very adult and kind of disgusting about the whole thing. I don't know; I just felt that this was the kind of thing that older and more mature and less scrupulous people do. Ruth was an interesting girl. As it turns out, she wouldn't be able to make our date because she found out that she had to play at a concert with her band on the same night. However, she had no way of contacting me, so she ended up getting my e-mail address from the professor of the class we had together. Quite impressive, I must say. She invited me to the concert and said I could bring friends, so I took several of my floormates (Irina, Mary, Chelsea) and Christina from chemistry.
The concert was...interesting. It was in this old warehouse somewhere in way south Montreal near Autoroute 10. Bizarre place. The people there were *very* artsy. Forty-year-old lesbians and rastafarians...quite an eclectic group. Eventually Ruth showed up to play the harp with her band (isn't that very sexy and feminine?). And she wasn't wearing glasses, and her hair was different, and she was wearing this lovely blue dress with a very low back. And she looked *very* attractive. And my female friends just sort of looked at me like, "Jonathan, how did you manage that?!?" And I was thinking the same thing.
After the concert was over, Ruth approached me and asked if I wanted to go out then and there. I replied, with total sincerity, "Actually, I'm scared." We decided to go out another time instead. Mary commented, "Jonathan, you're ruthless."
The next week, we decided to meet up at a bar, the St Elizabeth, at Ruth's suggestion. She ordered alcohol; I drank orange juice. We talked for two hours. I realised that she was far, far more artsy and outgoing than I was. She had spent several months living in a tent in the Yukon. I had spent several years at a Catholic all boys high school. You get the picture. We chided each other based on these differences, and the interaction was generally very positive.
After about two hours, I noticed that her legs had made contact with mine under the table. I wasn't sure whether this was intentional or unintentional, so, being me, I ignored it. However, this contact became increasingly more noticeable. Soon, she leaned in from across the table and said, almost in a whisper, "So, what do you want to do next?"
The implication was that we ought to have some kind of sexual contact. On the one hand, our date had gone very well, and she was attractive, so indeed this is what I wanted to do. On the other hand, I became convinced then and there that a relationship between us would not work. For me, if someone suggests that we have sex after literally just two hours of interaction, it means that we will never have sex. I just felt that we had very different perspectives on sex and relationships and that these differences would make any relationship unworkable.
I said, "Let me think about it."
We went outside. She began to unchain her bicycle. She kissed me.
It was very enjoyable.
I said, "We ought to have tea. Tea calms me. You have disrupted my homeostasis. I need to recover equilibrium."
We laughed. We spoke of our mutual attraction to Patrick Stewart / Captain Jean-Luc Picard. We got tea. We spent another two hours talking. I felt far more comfortable and had a very good time. We departed. I kissed her on the cheek. I said, "I guess I will call you in the next few weeks." I never did.
I need a new entry for Julia. |
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| Backward evolution of the density matrix |
[Dec. 26th, 2007|10:08 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | ballet, ballet dancer, border, bus, girl, plane, quantum mechanics, school, statistical mechanics, toronto | ] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | 24 Susan Drive, Saugus MA 01906 | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | cheerful | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The Holy Bible - Manic Street Preachers | ] |
My most interesting day since I arrived in Toronto was the day I left.
In a very real sense, that is sad. I would describe my life in Toronto as "happy" but not very exciting. This is, of course, ok, but I feel something is definitely lacking.
Montreal is a better city than Toronto.
The University of Toronto is a better university than McGill.
Strange.
In any case, the last semester essentially consisted of me watching a bunch of TV shows on DVD with Lucas and getting 70s on graduate statistical mechanics tests despite working very very hard. Apparently this kind of performance is not unusual or even below average for that class, but wow! I don't think I've been in a situation where I feel that I simply lack the talent necessary to get the grades I want since I started university. It's humbling and necessary.
I left Toronto on December 18, 2007. My plan was to catch a 10:15 AM bus from Toronto to Buffalo. It would arrive in Buffalo at 12:45 PM. I would then take public transportation for 15 minutes to the airport, where I would catch a 3:00 PM flight. Simple, right?
I didn't want to fly out of Toronto because it cost $150 more.
In any case, I arrived at the bus terminal at 10:11 AM for my 10:15 AM bus (this is not at all unusual for me). I boarded the bus.
What do you do when you board a bus and find that none of the sets of two seats are empty (i.e. they all contain at least one person)?
I asked three of my closest friends this question.
They all said, "You, Jonathan, you would pick the most attractive person on the bus and sit next to that person!"
Am I that predictable?
I am. In any case, I walked about 1/3 of the way back into the bus, observed an attractive female on my left, asked if I could sit down, received an affirmative reply, and took a seat.
I don't know about you, but every so often when I'm riding public transportation, I notice someone and end up wondering what would happen if we started talking. Does that happen to you? In any case, I never end up starting the conversation because that would be potentially weird and certainly too forceful. So I am left wondering, every time. This happens a lot.
After sitting down next to this attractive girl, I did what any suave young man on the prowl would do: I pulled out a copy of Quantum Control of Molecular Processes and began reading.
I actually did.
It's difficult to read on a bus in general, and it's even harder when you're sitting next to an attractive girl. I read off and on but without great devotion.
I noticed that she had a book out and was engaged in the same cycle of reading without great attention and then putting the book down as I was. I wondered about her to myself: Are you doing this because you are distracted for the same reason that I am. Certainly it is a possibility.
I think things like this a lot while distracted by people on public transportation too.
In any case, finding my entire situation frustrating, I leaned back and closed my eyes for a long time.
Seemingly soon after, we arrived in Niagara Falls. The driver said that we had the option to get off the bus for five minutes before continuing on our journey
At this point, I said the first words to the attractive female since the ultra-sexy "May I sit here?" from the beginning of our journey. They were, *motioning with hand to bus exit* "Did you want to...go?"
True suavity.
She said, "No."
Really, things were going remarkably well. And remarkably similarly to all the times before.
We departed Niagara. A group of Amish people had boarded the bus. Recalling what the bus driver had said about the border upon our departure from Toronto, I informed one of the Amish men that his ham sandwich would be confiscated at the border.
That was a great phrase.
Sometime later, to my astonishment and delight, the attractive female to my right motioned to the book that I had with me and said, "That looks pretty intense."
Remarkable. From this point forward until the end of the trip, we were engaged in conversation. Isn't that something?
I learnt that she was a ballet dancer from Pennsylvania who was a student at the National Ballet School in Toronto. How am I doing so far? We talked about life in Toronto, the kind of music we liked (finding many similar threads), and our respective careers. It was...very enjoyable.
We soon arrived at the border. We disembarked. I made several jokes about my ignorance regarding crossing the border at this particular station. We entered the border station.
Based on my experience in Montreal, I expected crossing the border to take approximately 20 minutes.
Strangely, at this crossing, only one officer was assigned to process all of us. This was unusual, but not without precedent based on my Montreal experiences. However, this man was astonishingly slow. He spent at least 10 minutes processing each person, but there were more than 30 of us on the bus. It was...absurd.
Several of the people from the bus became upset. I distinctly recall one man from California. When I first observed him on the bus, I thought to myself, "This man is crazy." He was constantly looking around and just seemed like the kind of person who could easily snap. It wasn't quite so. Instead, he was one of those people who complained incessantly when delayed by perceived incompetence on the part of officials and fellow travelers. It was kind of frustrating, but I responded to him in a calm but agreeable fashion as he complained about the wait. There was also a fairly imposing ~60 year old German-Canadian woman in line. She joined our (now-4-way, including attractive female ballet dancer) conversation. I learnt that she was on the same flight as I was, and we agreed to share a taxi from the bus station if the delay continued. I practiced my paltry German skills with her and we both got a laugh out of it.
While I found the delay frustrating, I enjoyed the odd conversations that came about from it, and I certainly couldn't complain considering it gave me a chance to talk to the attractive ballet dancer for longer. However, once the clock struck 2:00 PM, I began to worry that I would fail to make my 3:00 PM flight.
At about 2:15 PM, after hours of waiting, a second border official began processing people. Unlike the first official, he took ~50 seconds to process each person.
Très bizarre.
Soon after, 90% of our group was back on the bus. Back on the bus, the attractive female ballet dancer gave me one of headphones to her iPod and told me that she wanted me to listen to a song by the Decemberists. How happy I was! I listened, and I enjoyed, and I expressed to her how pleased I was that she had shared the song with me. We smiled. As I considered the coincidences of the day, I resolved to be bold and determined that I would ask the attractive female ballet dancer for her contact information at the conclusion of our trip.
Just as I had made my resolution, the stern German woman boarded the bus and said, "Jonathan, we must get off the bus now and take a taxi directly from the border station or we will miss our plane!"
How crushed I was (in so many ways). I grudgingly departed the bus. How close I was, and yet how far away!
Soon after departing, however, the bus driver arrived. He informed us that the people who remained to be processed would be joining us momentarily and that we should get back on the bus, as it would be leaving soon! How overjoyed I was!
I re-boarded the bus and sat next to the attractive female ballet dancer. I decided that the time was now to ask for her contact information. I felt around my pockets and through my book but was horrified to find that I had placed the pen I brought with me that morning in my bag under the bus! As the bus made the short journey from the border to Buffalo, I noticed her going through her small bag looking for something. She spent about 45 seconds doing this. She apparently could not find what she was looking for. At this point I decided I could no longer ignore the opportunity I had been presented with. After thinking for a short while of exactly how to phrase what I wanted to say, I said to her:
"I don't want to be presumptuous, but I was hoping that I could get your e-mail address."
How very clever, eh?
She said,
"I was just looking for a pen."
Oh my!
I turned around and asked "Does anyone have a pen?"
To the rescue came...crazy Californian man! He handed me a pen, I ripped one of my Royal Bank of Canada receipts in half, and we exchanged e-mail addresses. I told her I would e-mail her and that I hoped to see her again in Toronto.
Moments later, the bus arrived in the station. I said goodbye and ran off the bus, hoping to catch a cab with the German woman. After retrieving my bag, I ran into the attractive female ballet dancer again on the way into the bus station. As I passed her, she smiled and did this very subdued, feminine wave. I don't know why, but that image in particular has really stuck with me. I was of course very happy by the the turns of events this day, but I really didn't expect to think about it that much over the break. But, and I think maybe just because of that final moment, I have not been able to stop thinking about her since.
To conclude the story of my journey home, I shared a cab to the airport with the German woman. Unfortunately, I didn't have any American currency on my, so she had to pay my fare. I arrived at the airport at 2:30 PM and proceeded to pick up my boarding pass. I was told that I would never be able to make it through security in time to make my plane, and I was given a boarding pass to the 7 PM flight. Ack! After speaking at length to the ticket agent about my situation, I was told there was nothing he could do; I would have to take the 7 PM flight. As I departed, he mentioned to me that if, by some chance, I could make it though security on time, I would be allowed on the 3 PM flight. Thanks!
I moved quickly though security at the small and very efficient Buffalo Niagara International Airport. At 2:45 PM, I arrived at my gate. I saw no-one who could help me, so I spoke to what looked like a crew. They said that they were the crew for the the 3:00 PM flight to Boston, which was going to arrive a few minutes late. What joy!
I found a ticket agent and asked that my boarding pass be changed back to the 3 PM flight. After about 5 minutes of tapping her computer keyboard, she informed me that, unfortunately, since I was late, my seat had been given up and that all the seats on the plane were now booked. What sadness!
Dejected, I wandered around the boarding area. I noticed a mostly bald, important-looking man with a US airways label on his coat. Deciding that I would lose nothing by talking to him, I explained my situation to him and asked if there was anything he could do. He spent about 5 minutes typing things into a computer. At the end, he printed me a boarding pass and said that I would be able to board the flight. At about 3:30 PM, I boarded the plane. As I boarded, for a moment I honestly thought, considering the improbabilities of the day, that the plane was going to fittingly crash on the way back to Boston. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 14th, 2007|03:20 am] |
What's up?
Today I was walking to class, and, as often happnes, I observed an attractive female walking toward me on the street. As usual, I continued looking at her until she noticed, soon after which I looked away, so as not to disturb her.
Around the time we passed each other, I glanced back in her direction, and noticed that she had also looked back at me and was smiling.
This pleased me.
But I just continued walking to class. I thought afterward that perhaps I should have stopped and talked to her.
Tonight, I travelled via metro (Oh yeah, here it's called the subway. How boring.) to a movie theater screening of the orignal Star Trek episode, "The Menagerie". I was quite pleased by it (especially the first half) and only slightly annoyed by the blatant advertising for new DVD releases that accompanied the introduction.
The screening of "The Menagerie" is a fairly odd thing. If you're interested in seeing what is in my view one of the best original Star Trek episodes in theaters, they're showing it again (for the final time!) this Thursday. Check out http://www.startrek.com/startrek/view/news/article/2308573.html if you want to see it.
I've been watching episodes of Lost and Oz recently, along with my regular viewings of Star Trek: TNG and DS9 plus Farscape. On the "regulars" front, season six of TNG was very interesting and quite fresh and innovative, season three of Farscape was fantastic, but season four is quite rough, and seson one of DS9 was really bad, but the last two episodes were great and kickstarted a new direction which is making season two more promising. Lost season one was really, really good; season two started out very strong but then seemed to lose all focus. And Oz. Well, it's not quite what I expected but I definately like it. I mean, if you watch the first episode, they break a very fundamental convention of television drama. It's pretty bold and I think I enjoy it.
What else? Well, many of my friends and, in a very responsible way after retiring and reaing something like 30 books on the subjct, my father, enjoying playing Texas Hold 'Em. I'm actually quite proud of my dad. He likes math, which is why he worked in financial management. So he enjoyed the statistical side of poker. He decided, after doing a lot of research, to deposit something like $50 and start playing. And, he had almost nothing to do since he had retired, so he played onling for like 4-6 hours a day. And he made somehting like $20,000 over a period of two years. Pretty impressive. Anyway, he talked about it all the time for a while, so I decided to try it out. I put in $70 and I now have $150. Not bad. Of course, I play in 18 peson sit and go tournaments at the little $1 tables. It's not too serious. But it's fun. I'm not sure whether I'll continue or how much (time, of course) I actually want to invest in it. We'll see.
What else? Oh, have you see the stock market lately. Yikes. I'm glad I ended up withdrawing about half of what I'd invested. But I'm still taking a beating, although today (yesterday) was very good to my portfolio. Yeah, in related news, I have to save $500 of the $1700 I make each month in order to pay tuition. I think I may have to stop eating out 4 nights a week.
Oh, research and stuff. Well, I just had my last day TAing first year organic chemistry lab on Monday. Wow, what great fun. I'm not an organic chemist, but the stuff is easy and it's so fun being a TA. I'm realling looking forward to that part of my job for the next five years.
I also realised that I have a strange affection for statistical mechanics. It's not what I'm studying but it's just, I don't know, really really nice. Of course, it's pretty hard, but I really do like it.
And, quantum mechanics (which, you may know, I decided to do my Ph.D. in because I never understood it well (or, at all)) is finally starting to make some sense to me. Professor Brumer (my supervisor)'s course in time-dependent quantum mechanics has clarified some things and introduced me to other things that I find intereting. I may have picked the right topic for research. Professor Brumer has also been quite good. I just started reading about his research and what I'll be doing, and I definately like what I see so far. It's basically about controlling the outcome of chemical reactions with lasers. Cool, eh?
Yeah, so, life is cool. Nothing terribly interesting lately. But things are good. That's all. (Is it good to always end that way? It's what I'm thinking...)
p.s.
My contact info (I recently found out that "coordinates" is not Canadian, but Anglophone Quebecois. If you spend too much time around the French you start making up stuff in English!):
Jonathan Mooney
5 Ross Street
Toronto Ontario M5T 1Z8
647 346 2865
J.Mooney@utoronto.ca
p.p.s.
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=284965
Cheers, |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|08:52 pm] |
Canadian dollar > American dollar
Also, I'm getting my Ph.D. in theoretical quantum mechanics.
That's all. |
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| Return to Jesusland |
[Aug. 29th, 2007|01:51 am] |
My recent ~10 day stint in Massachusetts was definitely one of the more informative and enjoyable such trips.
But let's start with some quotes from just before I left Montreal.
"We could use different positions"
(barely audible) "Like...forward and reverse cowgirl?"
"You know what they say about stewardesses who work together for too long."
"No, I don't."
"I am not going to be some...person that you conquer."
Just before I left Montreal, I carried my ~55 year old 190-pound British quantum mechanics teacher 30 meters, and he had rocks in his pockets (which I wasn't aware of). I won ~$8.
I broke up with Lucas. I hope we remain friends in Toronto.
Back in Massachusetts, I found myself extremely happy.
Much of my time was spent consolidating and strengthening my financial situation.
I spoke with a loan officer at Hanscom Federal Credit Union and learnt that my credit score was 777. She advised me to open more lines of credit to improve my score. I increased the credit limit my first credit card and applied for a second card, heeding her advice. She also told me that I could get a personal loan for up to $25,000 in a few months at ~5% interest if I wanted to. But I don't.
I discovered that ~$1325.00 was being kept in trusteeship for me. I had no idea of this and was quite pleased by the news.
Financially, this was an excellent trip.
However, I also spent a lot of time gambling.
I lost $120 at Foxwoods Casino.
I won $7 in a poker game. It was the best game I ever played.
I lost $50 in a poker game.
I nonetheless derived enjoyment from these happenings.
I watched Chinatown, again.
I had an awkward but enjoyable experience, which was more pleasant than not. I am curious to see what happens next.
My self-confidence increased ~20%. I have no fear of the future.
That is all. |
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