And another thing...

We are discouraged from being online with Instant Messenger at work. (also, we're not supposed to use the internet overmuch, but that's a different story). Anyway, AIM: discouraged, at work.

So, I half-heartedly attempt to keep it low-profile, as you who have my screenname know, I'm online from 10:30 in the morning until I leave at night. And mostly, AIM helps out. The preferences are pretty good; things like hiding the taskbar button when AIM is minimized, Hide windows when I'm away. So, when I'm away and minimized the only detecable evidence of AIM is a tiny icon next to the clock. No flashing buttons, no pop up windows, it's pretty well hidden.

That said, it's not like a lot of people are IMing me during the day anyway. I can expect a "Hey when's lunch" IM about 12:30, and I know it's coming so it's easy to hide. But everyone else is at work all day, and they're actually working, so I don't get a lot of traffic. It's at the point where I don't even have to put up an away message to hide the windows, because there aren't any.

UNLESS MY MANAGER HAPPENS TO BE STANDING OVER MY SHOULDER. It's uncanny. I can leave for an hour and a half lunch, without putting up an away message, and no one IMs me.
I can sit here at my computer for three hours doing nothing and no one IMs me. Hyper-coffee manager steps into my cubicle and says "Hey, open up the Yield workbooks I have to show you how to change something" and BAM! IM window. And now I'm like, crap, Alt+Tab! Alt+Tab! get off the screen! I get back to excel and BAM! another window! How the hell does this happen? We're talking coworkers usually swamped with work and have a three minute break just to say hi, we're talking little cousins home from school who are IMing me and can't even spell "hi" conversations popping up only when my manager is in my cube.

I tell ya, I think I'm getting a reputation.

But, as the guy in the next group over said of me one time "why are they giving you a hard time, you're online all day and still get your work done...as opposed to other people around here, who can't even get their work done."

anyway, that was one more thing.
-Tom

recommended download:
Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody (you'd be surprised how many people don't actually have this song)

So here's how it lays out

I think to myself sometimes, "I'm a little bit different than everyone else." Specifically because I'm looking forward to marriage. That's right, marriage. Run, screaming for the exits you twentysomethings. Cover your ears and sing "La la la - La la la" you recent college graduates. Dive back down under the covers you faithful blog readers. Marriage. I said it - what.

I blame my parents. Well, I blame my parents for a lot of things, being a Red Sox fan (thanks dad), artistic ability (thanks mom), good morale compass (thanks guys) and so on. I blame them too for providing a stable and loving home life for me. It's all their fault.

Were I raised in a dysfunctional environment maybe I'd be of the mindset that seems so stereotypical of the adult-college-male: score with chicks, don't look back. But no, happy home life, great family. All their fault. My whole life is directed by one driving force. Everything I do is for the girl I'm going to marry. I haven't met her yet, or don't know it, but there it is. Everything I do is for that girl. The decisions I make go something like this, in my head: "if I do this, what person does that make me, and is that the person I want to be for my future wife?"

There are, of course, other questions I ask myself, but they fall subsequent to that one big one. It's internal, automatic.

But I haven't met the girl, or I don't know it yet, or whatever. So in the meantime, after that question has been answered I'm mostly concerned with my own well-being, with my own contentment. Selfish? yes. but if it makes me happy, I'm ok with that.

On an unrelated note, my coworker has just delivered me a gatorade from the vending machine. Thanks coworker, you're pretty cool.

-Tom

ps (on a related note) you really should download Breakthru by Queen, it's good.

cabbage head, artichoke heart

well, donny's online. way to go donny.
donny's also in town. sweet.
You know, I've been having a good time going out and drinking with the old gang, but I can only imagine how it's been for donny - a marathon session of meeting up and talking and running around and meeting more people and catching up and talking and running around and meeting even more people etc etc etc. and he's gotta work tomorrow morning. in another state. in another time zone. tonight's trivia at our house. we're gonna kick some butt. so everybody bring your a-game. we're talking sopwith camel, sergei federov, the green hornet, bands from new jersey, queen of crap, a-game. our house'll never know what hit em.

ok, now work stuff:
as I came in today I saw a coworker, mary, entering the building right in front of me. she went through the doors, onto our floor, and before even taking her coat off or putting her bag down headed right for the vending machines. she got herself a diet coke and headed over to her cubicle. meanwhile I'd taken off my coat, started up my computer and shut off my ipod. then
snap. pop. opened diet coke!

Now, I'm no nutritionist, but I'm pretty sure a diet coke isn't the best way to start your morning. ignoring the "balanced breakfast" touted by major cereal producers everywhere is one thing. but I don't think sugar, or nutrasweet, or splenda, or whatever the sweet tasting substance, natural or artificial that you've got in that carbonated beverage can be good for you. plus there's the caffiene, not that I don't indulge in a coffee every once-in-a-while, but, well, that's a social norm! at least it's accepted.

Has anyone else heard the rumor that diet coke is addictive? or at least creates a dependence? something about the artificial sweeteners building up in your system, affecting your brain, you need more to feel normal. does that worry anyone else? it worries me that my supervisor is turning into a coke-head right here at the office, under her bosses' very noses

but you know, I probabyl wouldn't be bothered by this as much if she'd also had a bagel or an orange with it. at least that looks like breakfast. :-Þ

-Tom

recommended downloads:
Queen, Breathru
Dave Matthews Band, Two Step
Eve 6, Nocturnal

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

mightygirl update:

From: Margaret Mason [maggie at mighty girl dot net]
To: Endicott, Thomas
Cc:
Subject: Re: too little too late?

Thanks, Tom. I'm flattered. Except for the "too old" part, that is. Otherwise, its a sweet sentiment.

-Maggie



wow. that totally made my day. that might have made my whole weekend!

voodoo

I like being comfortable. Good mittens. Hooded sweatshirts. Warm gloves. Jeans, not dress pants. I think mostly comfortable is about being warm when it's cold - on the couch, with a girlfriend, under a blanket. That's comfort.

My coworker is urging me to become a teacher. "you graduated with a math degree? screw this place. you should be a teacher, go to private schools you put in 5 years you'll be making more money. and its so in demand now." I don't think it's a bad idea. I'm not super enthusiastic about teaching, though I've never completely ruled it out. I think probably after a year or two here I will be in a better position to decide if that's what I want to do. I doubt jumping ship after four months to test the waters is not the best idea in the world. I do wonder, though, if coworker is so frustrated with this place and looking to get the hell out why he doesn't try teaching. Embittered employees. (embittered might not be a word, I like the alliteration).

Also today at our group meeting the excessive use of instant messenger and the internet was addressed. I think they were talking about me. I'm ok with that though. As long as it doesn't interfere with my work I won't alter my online time. And unless a manager comes over to address the problem personally, one-on-one I probably won't even acknowledge it. However, after the meeting I did hide AIM for a while, maybe to make them feel better. In the meantime I started bending paperclips. It's sculpture. I'm going to stage a one-man art show. Modern art made up of office supplies. Composition in metal: "Bent Paperclip," Ink and toner on post-it: "Despair," and my piece de resistance Telephone, superglue, and lead-free pencil: "Pincushion"

I'm working on a name for the show. I'll let you know when my work is ready to be unveiled to the public.

-Tom

recommended download:
Godsmack, Voodoo

lunch

Today I am taking lunch at my desk. I am cruising around online, perusing archived blogs, looking for out of print thurber books, and munching on a gigantic turkey sub from al capone's. I realize that my normal work day, when I'm not eating lunch, is exactly like this. except for the gigantic turkey sub.
-Tom

recommended downloads:
Phantom Planet, Anthem
Fountains Of Wayne, Barbara H.

a letter to mighty girl

Dear Mightygirl,

I have been catching up on your archives. I think you are clever and very funny. I would like to ask you out. However, I have just read your entry for 9.13.02. You are engaged. I am dissapointed. Dissapointed that I did not know of you before Septmeber 2002. Dissapointed I live in Boston, so far away from California. Dissapointed because, well, it turns out you're also 28. You are much too old for me. And very far away. And also engaged.

Rats.

Well, I enjoy your site very much anyway. Say hi to bryan for me.
-Tom

September Grass

Why I love music? because when I leave work late (again) because the PAs booked trades wrong (again) and I missed talking to the girl (again) and when I'm generally not as effervescent as I normally am and then I get stuck behind the two most annoying girls in the office (you know them, the ones that collect a dollar for wearing jeans on "casual friday" and order the pizzas for big meetings) walking slooooowly and bitching about snow accumulation that's when the opening chords of James Taylor's September Grass just take me to a whole new place. Away from the drudgery. so, Thanks, music. I appreciate it.

-Tom

oh, on an unrelated topic, I had a 24 oz. bottle of Pepsi today at lunch, and just opened a 12 oz. can of Pepsi right now. That's more Pepsi I've had in one day than since before those crazy bears danced through Main Street in the Superbowl commercial.

Did you lose the monkey?

So, it's snowing again [aside: woohoo!!] but the commute in to work was a piece of cake. Because after 3 feet of snow monday, 3 inches on wednesday is nothing.

I get in to work. I tie out my funds, and Jonathan is on the phone. Here is an excerpt that I almost laughed out loud at:

J: "So the cars are stopped, the bus is there and I'm like halfway in the middle of the street. And this guy keeps going. You know? Clearly I'm trying to get on this bus. So I slammed my hand on the back of his car as he drove by. I was wearing my glove so no real damage. But I wanted to pull him out of his car and beat the shit out of him like I do in my game."

GTA is redefining an entire generation.
Ok, just wanted to share that.

-Tom

recommended download:
Fountains of Wayne, Radiation Vibe

Redemption

So I finally saw The Life Aquatic: with Steve Zissou. It was awesome. Hilarious. I highly recommend it.

I will tell you though, that I didn't like it at first, unlike some of the other Wes Anderson movies (bottle rocket, rushmore, royal tenembaums). The other three films started slowly, and were just quirky enough to be amusing. This one? much darker.

The center of the film is Steve Zissou played by Bill Murray. The character is arrogant, conceited, self-centered, selfish. It seems now that this is the same sort of character that Gene Hackman played in Royal Tenembaums. But in Tenembaums it was always sort of aparent that Hackman really enjoyed the role, he played it tongue-in-cheek and did it with style and humor. Bill Murray doesn't. He plays Zissou to the edge, and it turned me off the movie from the begining. Aquatic is much darker than the other films (in turn about petty crime, love/high school, and child geniuses) this movie seems to be about a life shot to pieces, a man with nothing left to live for. And that's when it gets good. All of a sudden it starts getting funny, and funnier, and even funnier. Laughing out loud at the insanity of the expedition (like david bowie in portugese) the tour of the ship is a highlight. I loved the sets and the wardrobe. And you laugh until the end. You forget about whether or not you liked the opening, you don't pay attention to the theme. It's "what's steve gonna do next?" that keeps you going. Until the end. And then you realize. This movie is about redemption. Forgiveness, closure, and redemption. All of the Wes Anderson films are, but none more than this. Steve Zissou and his journey to redemption.

along the way there are hijackers, engine fires, burglary, interns, reporters, illegitimate children, fortunes lost, and lots of really...interesting...fish.

five stars. out of five and a half.

wes anderson, well done.

-Tom

A very good morning

Well, we all figured the commute would be tough. I've got three people in my group coming from the hardest hit parts of the state, they're probably not going to be in today, and that's why I'm going in. I know I'll be covering seven or eight funds today, working with a skeleton staff, making-do. But man oh man, what a commute.

So I get to Oak Grove on the orange line at my normal time of 9:20-ish. There is one train sitting in the station, disabled. The platform is packed and I mean packed at least one trainload of people on the platform, plus another two cars worth of people inside the station most of whom were in line for dunkin donuts. There are people here that arrived at 7:00AM, and have been waiting next to (an aparently) disabled train, in the cold. I make my way down to the platform. It's not very cold out, it's actually pretty nice in the sun. So anyway, here comes another train. The doors open. Commuters pile in, on top of each other. The doors close. We are now in the train, almost full-up sitting in the station. The train doesn't move. Aparently there are problems with the brakes. We stay in the train for twenty minutes. No luck on the brakes. The conductor gets on the PA and tells everyone to please get off the train, move to the other train that is now abled. So we do, some groans, some laughs, mostly normal commuter grunting and shoving, nobody is really uspet (yet). The doors on the first car don't open. Our trainload of people have to pack into five cars instead of six. No problem, it's just a lot more crowded than normal. And then the late commuters appear. You know them, rushing to the train as the doors are shutting as it pulls out of the station on every other morning. They appear now, rushing as always and hitting a human wall of resistance as they try and claw their way onto the train. The passengers already on board near the doors are striving to keep them out, thinking "Hey buddy, I've had to wait, I've had to stand in the cold, I've had to switch trains...you don't get on that easy." But some make it anyway. The train is filled to capacity. The doors shut. The train doesn't move.

Five minutes. Groans, yells, complaining. The train starts...and rolls....and stops. And then, the train starts to pick up a little, we're gaining momentum, we're moving! A small relieved sigh escapes the throng. (sorry, almost wrote "thong" there, that would have changed the narrative).

We pull into Malden Station. Stop number two on the normal orange line route. The conductor applies the brakes, and we slowly sliiiiiiide right through the station. The folks waiting on the platform can't believe it. Here's our train, packed, I mean packed and they greet it with an amused cheer. "of course it's full, we've only been here two hours in the cold, and we were sort of expecting this." but now, to not even offer them a chance to cram their way onto the train? They can't believe it. I'm not sure but I may have seen an elderly gentleman in a business suit and overcoat throw a snowball at the train. The train continues to slow, past the station, and comes to a halt with the last car still on the platform. Our friendly conductor informs us we will be backing up to the station. Slowly. The doors open, no one can fit in. But wait, the last minute commuter in front of me who'd pried her way in at Oak Grove sees a friend on the platform! She yells "Misty, give me your hand! I'll pull you in!" Ah. If only everyone tried to be as helpful as Misty's friend. Commuting would be a joyous time of day. Last Minute stretches across the six people at the door and grasps Misty's hand, and pullllls. She's in! We're at least one person over capacity now, and don't forget to take into account everyone's big giant winter coats, at least doubling their personal volume. The doors close.

The next three stops are a joke. The train stops, the doors open no one gets on, no one gets off. No one could if they wanted to. Misty's friend starts yelling to the people on the platform "There's another train right behind us" The conductor announces to the waiting crowd at each station "The first car is disabled, please move to the second car" after the third station she adds "The second car is also pretty full" A woman next to Misty is starting to get disgruntled and mutters "No room. We're full." even as we travel between stations. The conductor begins to grow angry with the waiting masses on the platform. She begins yelling "Back away from the doors, the doors are closing! Back away from the doors, in english!" The folks on the train get a chuckle out of that, and then they fall silent again.

We make it to Community College. This is the first platform we've seen with less than a trainload of people waiting. In fact, there are only about fifty people. They look cold. They've been there since at least seven o'clock without seeing a train. They can't fit on, none even try. They watch us pull out slowly, and huddle back into their winter coats.

At long last, North Station, the first of the underground stops. Some people get off! A lesser number (or possibly an equal number of smaller people) get on. We have room to breath now. Still no room to move our arms or feet, but breathing is good. I see my friend Steph, who trained with me. We have a lovely chat, I never see anyone I know on the morning commute, this is turning into a pretty nice train ride. We pull into Haymarket, six people depart. We pull into State, ten more people disembark. We pull into Downtown Crossing, and it's packed, but it's ok because this is my stop. A rush of people empty the train and flow toward the exits, pushing the waiting crowd back and to the side, the pressure fills the platform and spews out the turnstiles into the street. I get spun around, disoriented, but I find the stairs, and climb them to the exit.

And it's beautiful. Gorgeous. White snow everwhere, hardly a car to be seen. Storefront gates and barricades, normally a rusted metal, now covered in snow with a crystal sheen. The air smells clean, there are no shoppers bustling about. The quiet is hypnotic, I stand on the sidewalk for a moment to take it in. My hands are warm in my new mittens, my feet dry. My hair, hanging in my eyes (since I'd foregone the winter hat). I crossed the street to my building, and felt totally invigorated.

-happy monday.
Tom

recommended download:
Good Charlotte, The Innocent

Blizzard warning in effect.

Blizzard warning in effect here in good ol' Massachusetts. I love the winter. Things getting cancelled, phone and cable service interrupted, etc etc. Tomorrow I'm going out in the snow to help build a snowman with my brothers but really I'll just be pelting them with snowballs the whole time. I got new mittens for Christmas to keep my hands warm, I've got eighteen hats I can wear to keep my head warm, and last year's Christmas gift from my grandmother was a hand-knit scarf about as long as I am tall. That came in really handy during last year's cold snap, something like fourteen days of below zero temperatures, walking to class and back to West would have been dangerous without it (due to the frostbite). It'll help now too.


And when I get back inside, my whiskey will keep me warm ;)

-Tom

Daphne

I feel like I'm a supporting character in a hit sitcom involved in a running gag. This is the date that never happens. Really, this could be scripted. First couple of episodes, I meet the girl, I talk to my friends about her, "I think she's pretty" "I think she's nice" that sort of thing. Next few episodes I resolve to ask her out, and funny distractions and impediments ensue. I think we're having a nice conversation and then realize she's on the phone. The day I decide to ask her she's out sick, etc etc. Maybe about sweeps week I'd actually ask her for a date, and she'd agree. But then something would come up. Date's postponed, she had to fly home for the weekend. Date's postponed, she's got two jobs and has to work overtime. Date's postponed, she's invited to a conference in Phoenix. All of a sudden, the writer's get this great idea. Why not script it so that the date never happens. Then, for the next three or four seasons the excuses get more ridiculous and more subtle. Seinfeld-esque storylines start cutting in on the date. Three friends involved in a crazy scheme totally independent of me, somehow wind up stopping the date from happening. George and Kramer decide to go into the Utility business and start an independent gas company by pumping natural gas from Kramer's stove through a really long hose to local resturants. Jerry meanwhile is having car trouble, because he lost his parking space. By the end of the episode Kramer has blown up the resturant the date was supposed to take place at, and Jerry took the last parking space available in the city so the whole evening of the date we basically drive around looking for a spot to park until someone say "you know it's really late, and I have that thing tomorrow, maybe we should just call it a night" and on and on...maybe for the whole run of the sitcom. Fans will joke with each other "are they ever going on that date? ha ha"

Well, that's what it feels like. It's really only been like a week.

-Tom
recommended download:
Seinfeld: George's Answering Machine

just another guy with an axe

Look, if this is the way it's gotta be, this is the way it's gotta be. I mean, I didn't want you turning into a zombie, I'm pretty sure you didn't want you turning into a zombie either. But here we are, you and me, you, a zombie, me, just another guy with an axe out to kill all zombies. You just can't go around eating people's brains, it's not right, and I wish we could change things, you know, be the frist zombie and zombie hunter to set aside our differences and live in harmony...but I just don't see that happening, you know? I can leave my axe right here, but you'll only think that I'm weak and you'll come attack me and turn me into a zombie or crack open my skull and start digging into my brain. I wish we could change things, but now isn't the time. With all your zombie brethren laying waste to the countryside we zombie hunters have a duty to protect the innocent women and children out there. So I hope you understand. I'll make it fast, really, you won't feel a thing - not that you could feel any more anyway. Sorry, Brady, you were the best zombie-hunting dog a zombie hunter could ask for...See you in hell, pal. Goodbye.

recommended downloads:
Aerosmith, Dream On
Pearl Jam, Porch

I'm doubly glad I wore the tie today because...

She said she really liked my tie.

-Tom

recommended download?
I've got Pearl Jam, Other Side stuck in my head, that's good enough.

After an afternoon

All of a sudden I'm busy. Out of the blue it seems my funds have taken on a life of their own. I'm getting adjustments every fifteen minutes from my manager, it's nuts. Maybe it's just because it's a short week, maybe it's just because hyper-manager is back, maybe it's just because I'm a little distracted this week, so my funds only seem to be more active than they usually are. Whatever the case, I'm busier than normal.

The iPod is now hooked up to my desktop, I am currently trying an experiment with the iPod to see if I can charge it while simultaneously running it on the computer. If so that's a good thing. I rode to work today without music because I had inadvertently left the iPod running last night. If it charges succesfully here at work, then that mean's I'll never have to go more than one leg of my commute without tunes. Which brings me to an unrelated topic. Pip, in Great Expectations, has a vocabulary altogether too prolific. In the opening chapters we have no trouble at all believing that Pip is an uneducated peasant; his descriptions are coarse and limited. However, it seems that as soon as he learns of his beneficiary he begins to sound more educated, as if learning comes automatically with wealth. Indeed, even before he leaves his villiage to travel to London the storytelling is flooded with big, giant words, words with which even I am only passingly familiar, how could a poor blacksmith's apprectice who can only write his own name know so many words, and how to use them appropriately? You may argue that the story is being told from the perspective of Pip-grown up, that he is applying his learning to tell the story of his childhood. That may, in fact, be the case, in which case I argue poor storytelling. Shouldn't the author try to put us in the place of the subject of the story? Speaking like an orphaned peasant with no education in the first chapters does that, we feel empathy, maybe pity for Pip, but then, to switch over to the educated vernacular as soon as he dressed in a new set of clothes we are suddenly set apart. Perhaps this is Dickens' intention, that money and education do in fact go hand in hand, that Pip may not actually be educated, but the existence of a fortune is a sufficient substitute. If so I'd like someone to verify that. Because that can work as a storytelling device, and if that is the case I shall pay more attention to exactly where and when the narrator narrates with which style.

-Tom
recommended download:
Fountains Of Wayne, It Must Be Summer

Just when I think I'm out

Augh. They sucked me in. And I didn't even see it coming. (I got ripped off by a little old lady in a motorized cart!)

Here we were, us cubevilleians, chatting about movies. That's a nice safe topic, right? I thought so too. Jonathan, cute girl, and their manager chatting away, me too, about Hero, The Villiage, Napolean Dynamite. I thought this conversation had some potential. Then BLAM! blindsided by The Surreal Life! I mean come on! You were thiiis close to a great conversation about humor in contemporary cinema, you could have compared Dynamite to Fockers, independent movies to studio blockbusters, you were this close! No. You ruined it. Surreal Life? The discussion turned to why ex-pro wrestler Chyna has changed her name? Because the WWE is going to sue? boo-urns. "What happened to you China, you used to be cool. What? China still cool! You pay lata! Lata!" Obviously I have not wielded my influence enough. My new year's resolution? Raise the level of debate in this workplace. And let that be our legacy.

gah.

-Tom

recommended downloads:
Cake, Satan Is My Motor
Fountains Of Wayne, Leave The Biker

I am now writing a series of unrelated items because I'm bored.

My back hurts. I believe this to be the fault of my mattress, and/or the support for my mattress. Lower back aches are not anything more than a distraction, and I can certainly use disctractions.

I've got a security that's been missing a rate since last week, this will be a big deal once we finally get that rate because I will have to take an adjustment on the security, and nobody likes taking adjustments. I've checked three times already this morning and sent two messages to Bloomberg, so far, no response.

My simpson's calendar has stumped me yet again. I appreciate the open-ended questions more than the multiple choice questions because they make me feel more like I'm playing a trivia game than just making an educated guess.

I've not drawn any celtic knots lately, and actually, having just written that I'm going to start again.

Hyper-manager is back from vacation, which usually means problems with the funds...it's not that he causes problems, because he doesn't, it's that he sees problems coming three weeks off, and adjusts the funds now to fix them. But we almost never understand how exactly he's adjusting the funds, which lead to problems, which he fixes. It would be easier for us to just fix them as they come up, but I don't know what HM would do with himself.

No talk radio this morning, thank goodness. Pretty soon I'm going to hook up my iPod to my computer and blast music at Jonathan until he is forced to ask me to stop. I'll start with classic rock, because everybody likes classic rock, and then move on to folk music and punk, I'm open to suggestions.

It's cold out today, really really cold. I love the cold.

Cute girl is cute, but why would today be any different.

Everyone has had their hair cut over the long weekend. Crew cuts, wiffles, high-and-tight, everybody but me. I'm bucking the trend. Who says you have to look neat and presentable to work in finance? Well, whoever it is, they're wrong. Judge me by the quality of my work, not the length or (lack-of) style of my hair.

I got some new shirts over the weekend, I'm wearing one today, and I look pretty good.

I've no idea what to do later this week for dinner. No idea. I've received some good suggestions (thanks john) but don't know if that's the way I'm goign to go (though that's probably the smart direction) I may throw out the game plan on the grounds that it's too thought out and not spontaneous enough. I'll know when the time comes. By the way, snow on thursday, I'm staging a snowball fight. Have you read the calvin and hobbes strip where calvin opens up his thermos full of snow in the cafeteria and starts making snowballs? the line is "in three minutes every kid in this lunch room is going to wish they thought of this" Now all I need is a thermos.

Ben Lee, Cigarettes Will Kill You
Matt Nathanson, Wings
No Use For A Name, Beth (Kiss Cover)
Flogging Molly, Laura

-tgme

Fitting the pattern

Who the hell out there let me walk around with my hair the way it is? Honestly, I look ridiculous. Mop-top, fly-away, poofy hair. Just simply ridiculous. I feel like I really need to get it cut. On the other hand, I really don't think I should. I said earlier (december?) that I was letting it get long, real long, you may remember. But now that it's like, 2/3 the length I was going for I'm thinking about cutting it all back. What do I do? (I'll tell you what I'm going to do...let it grow, you know why? because that is the path of least resistance...it's free, I don't have to go anywhere special...) I'm lazy, so I guess I'll just look goofy.

Also, I'm not sure if this is related or not, but a few nights ago I had a dream I was going bald...ok, that I was very bald. Not that I minded, but I think what I was thinking in the dream was "oh man, I never really let my hair get super long, and now I don't have any hair left" So you know what they say...Regret haunts forever. Unless it comes down to an either-or ("Either the hair goes, or I go"), the hair stays. :)


ok, recommended downloads:
Avril Lavigne, Things I'll Never Say
Phantom Planet, Always On My Mind
and shut up about the artists. I can like avril lavigne if you can like the killers

because I said I would

Man, I'm an idiot. Really. Let me try to explain...

Many of you who read this web log on a regular basis, or have perused the archives, are familiar with cute girl, who sits near my desk. She is no more or less cute now than she was when I first started working. She now, however, knows my name and has spoken to me on at least one occasion. What you faithful readers do not know is that there is another girl on the floor, a girl I've never mentioned here, a girl I choose to mention now, for the first time.

Her name is Ashley, she sits near the trade terminal, and the best part of my day is checking trades, because she might look over at me. I can hardly make eye-contact, I'm nervous around her, I worry that my hair looks stupid (it does) or if my belt matches my shoes (nope) and she dresses so well, and looks so good doing it, I can't match up...but, she has very pretty eyes.

I still feel like I'm new, like I've only been working a few weeks. It's not the case, I was hired in September, I've been here for months, I've just been through a year-end managerial review (and. no surprise, passed with flying colors). I'm only just now starting to feel comfortable here, it just doesn't feel like it's home turf, like I have any sort of claim here.

About three weeks ago Ashley got her hair cut and straightened. And I had to say something. Just had to. It took me all day, but I finally got up some nerve, walked over to her desk and said something like "Hi, my name is Tom, I just wanted to say I noticed you changed your hair and that it looks very nice." Well, that's what I meant to say anyway, I don't actually know, because I have very little memory of what actually happened. I was so nervous all I can remeber is stammering something about hair and then beating a hasty retreat (damn near running) to my desk in the middle of her "um, thank you...?" The hit-and-run complimenter, that's what they'd call me. But I wanted to say it, and it was said. I declare moral victory.

That was three weeks ago. Since that time I have had occassion to speak to Ashely in a professionaly capacity, as she is the PA responsible for booking trades to two of my funds. "Tom there's a problem on oh-nine, I need to rebook something" or "Ashley, can I get a copy of the trade ticket for Bear-Sterns?" No one brought up my random compliment, no one mentioned my hasty retreat. But you know what? It's been a long time since I've asked anyone out. Anyone in the same time zone anyway - but that's another story. I decided to ask her out.

To me, this was a big deal, and it's because I lack confidence. Plop me down anywhere on the four mile stretch from Kenmore square up through Harvard ave. and I'm home. Spent four years there, got drunk there, fell in love, almost failed out, broke some hearts, helped some people, had some fun. I'm home there. I can ask out any girl there anytime, no fuss, no bother, supreme and utter confidence. I lack that confidence at work....and yet, I decided to ask her out.

It took me two days, I needed two days to psych myself up to approach her. I walked by her desk three or four times, to the printer, to check trades, for no reason at all. A day and a half longer than I needed just to say I noticed her hair. But I did it. I asked her to dinner. And she didn't say no.

She's very pretty. And I don't know anything about her. She might be 27 and engaged (though if that's the case I doubt she would have agreed to dinner) But it doesn't matter. This date could go to hell. This could be the worst-case scenario first date, the date used as an example of what not to do on a date with a pretty girl. But that is immaterial. Victory. I overcame my nervousness, I asked, though I was on unfamiliar ground. I am more because of that.

Thanks for reading,
-Tom