not exactly, but still good

when i was little, my favorite fairy tale was the musicians of bremen. so far, i have a horse, a dog, and a cat. next up: a rooster. i sort of had one a while ago - i mean, he belonged to the barn, but i played with him a lot - but he was eaten by raccoons by accident. well, he was left out by accident, and then eaten by raccoons. apparently the carnage was pretty horrible. he just showed up at the barn one day - apparently, a truck full of roosters had somehow come open on the golden gate bridge and roosters were showing up all over the city, and he came to us. he was big and white, so of course someone named him "blanco," and didn't move his head in that creepy erratic way that most birds do and he would chase grapes across the floor and bring them back to you. we got a chicken to replace him, "pearl," but she couldn't be allowed to roam around the yard like he could because she was an idiot. when you put a blanket on her cage, she went to sleep immediately. i'm pretty sure she's still around.

here is the plan for today

dress like a slob.
clean room until i can't see anything resembling a mess that i could be considered personally responsible for from the couch.
sit on the couch and stare out the window and think about king lear without actually reading it until my eyes hurt.
put on glasses.
make a bagel with glasses on so roommates can see that i have glasses.
move to the desk.
play web sudoku for four rounds, about 16 minutes (staves off alzheimer's).
try to think of new idea for writing sample in case king lear is a stupid one.
actually read king lear until i have to leave at 3:30 for my dentist appointment.
i am pretty busy!

Nikola Tesla, Master of Lightning: a report (part III)

At first it seemed that Tesla's joining Edison was destined; both were so obsessed with bringing electricity to the people that they slept only hours every night, Edison taking short naps on the couch in his office and Tesla leaving Edison Machine Works at five in the morning to be back at 10:30 the same day. Their styles, however, were extremely different; Edison was self-taught, and relied on trial and error to perfect his ideas, believing that "invention is five percent inspiration and ninety-five percent perspiration." Tesla, on the other hand, had received a formal European education, and envisioned his inventions whole in his mind and then moved directly to construction. This seemingly effortless process must have irked Edison; when Tesla announced that the improvements Edison requested had been made and requested the money promised, Edison laughed in his face. He told Tesla that he had thought the renovations impossible, and therefore had offered an impossible sum of money in jest. "When you become a full-fledged American you will appreciate an American joke," Edison told Tesla. Tesla, infuriated, resigned immediately and took a job digging ditches to survive.

When Tesla's past and current employment became public knowledge, investors began to approach him, asking him for an improved method for arc lighting. At first he was hesitant because he had come to America to build and commercialize his alternating current motor, but they agreed to finance the Tesla Electric Light Company in return for his work on this project. Tesla set to work and created a new unique method of lighting that was both beautiful and efficient. However, the investors did not believe in Tesla's ideas about alternating current, and after the project they relieved him of his duties at the Tesla Electric Light Company. Although the only money Tesla saw from this was a pile of worthless stocks, the project got a lot of recognition, and A. K. Brown of the Western Union Company agreed to invest in Tesla's idea. Tesla quickly developed and assembled the components for the system of AC generation and transmission that is now used universally. Of the first motors built, Tesla said, "The motors I build there were exactly as I imagined them. I made no attempt to improve the design, but merely reproduced the pictures as they appeared to my vision and the operation was always as I expected." Tesla had finally found someone with enough faith in him to allow him to build the invention he had been holding in his head for years. Now the struggle to introduce it was about to begin.

been a while

mekka lekka hi, mekka hiney ho

the beginning of yesterday was terrific. i had a pretty fun time at work. some laughs, some encouraging people to see the prestige, you know. also, some delicious little cookies. then, i went to the y and had a great swim, and i managed to avoid naked people in the locker room. anyone who has ever met me, even for like five minutes, could probably tell you that i am the kind of person that's made uncomfortable by naked people. where do you look? the ceiling? obvious. your feet? you might trip. their eyes? weird. i also really like swimming. it is pretty much the most low-impact kind of workout you can have, and it gives you a lot of time to think. i'm pretty nervous about getting older. i think deep down i believe i'm just going to fall apart. i set up my 401K a while ago so hopefully i'll be okay financially, i do crosswords every day to stave off alzheimer's, i go swimming because a lot of other activities can screw up your joints and lead to arthritis, and the biggest deterrent to living on sweets (i have an extremely demanding sweet tooth) is the ever-growing threat of diabetes. i've pretty much given up on trying to avoid cancer - you can get it from almost anything, and i really like going outside and eating red popsicles.

i think i might be misusing my swimming-thinking time. here is a list of the things i usually think about while swimming:
ludacris (and not just recently either. this has been pretty consistent for a while now.)
whether or not the other swimmers are looking at me underwater (i don't care)
whether or not the other swimmers are allowing bodily functions to occur underwater (i definitely care)
whether or not another swimmer will want to share my lane with me if the pool gets crowded
if yes: whether or not my strokes will get out of control and i will accidentally tag them, whether or not they will look at me underwater, whether or not they will perform bodily functions underwater and whether or not i will be able to tell
if no: why not?
getting a new swimsuit, like a real swimsuit and not my all girl summer fun bathing suit
getting new goggles, like real goggles that don't leak and aren't pink
getting a swim cap so my hair doesn't smell like chlorine all the time
whether or not there might be naked people in the sauna, steam room or whirlpool
if yes: how can i look in and then walk away and maintain my dignity
if no: then i can use one, what can i read while i'm in there (whirlpool only - no paper in the steam room, gets soggy, no paper in the sauna, catches on fire)
the lifeguard
it is usually this older jewish guy with a terrific moustache. i know he is jewish because he used to lifeguard at the jewish community center when i swam up there because the y was redoing their pool. he is a great guy, the kind of guy you wish was your grandfather. well, not my grandfather, because i'm crazy about him and wouldn't trade him for anyone. but maybe if you had a jewish friend growing up and you were really close to their family and used to go over on friday afternoons and eat challah and he was their grandfather and would tell you stories and maybe pinch your cheek and give you a dreidel on chanukah or something. he is really nice and always tells me it's nice to see me, not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes me feel like both our days are a little better because we chatted with each other. anyway, yesterday we chatted about how we used to see each other at the jcc, and that was part of why yesterday was good.

if you have ever lived or stayed in southeast portland, then you probably know that during rush hour, people who are already almost on the ross island bridge will take turns with people waiting on the on ramp. it's a really nice thing to do, because they really don't have to. it's a very portland thing to do and it always puts my faith back in humanity a little. well, yesterday i was the first one to do it. i let the person waiting go, and then in my rearview mirror i saw the person behind me do it, and then the person behind them. that felt pretty good, like something that should have gotten written up in the paper. then i saw an enormous bird fly over me when i was on the bridge and that just made me feel even better.

then jake and i went to see the illusionist. it was ok, i love ed norton and jessica biel was just fine, but the whole time i wanted it to be the prestige and it just wasn't. i kind of coerced jake into going out to do something with me instead of staying in and renting a movie or staring at the walls because every once in a while i need to do something that makes me feel like i'm not a crappy bag lady. i'm not really sure how going out in public gets rid of that feeling; maybe it's just that when i go out i feel obligated to brush my hair and not wear the falling apart sweatshirt i stole from my roommate that i wear everywhere else. anyway, it did make me feel better. but jake has a terrible habit of behaving poorly in the movie theater, especially during the most important or touching parts of a movie, and then he really did not want to discuss the movie afterwards. i guess there wasn't really that much to say, especially since all i wanted to do was talk about the prestige, and he got kind of touchy when i kept pressing him about it. then he went to the big party and i stayed home. every time we go to the big party, it's disappointing, but every time friday rolls around it's an appealing prospect again. he wanted to get hammered and go see our roommates play, and i didn't want to stand around with a bunch of people i didn't know and see a bunch of crappy bands (our roommates admitted that the other bands would be crappy) and have at most one beer because i was driving. so, my attempt to spend some quality time and not feel like a crappy bag lady was pretty much a bust. i went to bed early and the bag lady feeling is once again in full swing. but today is a new day. i got myself some cookies and maybe i'll go see the prestige again.


next on the list. does this guy look like the genie from peewee's playhouse or what?

jake is in the paper. again.

this time, it's something he wrote.

i edit all of his pitches. that is something that i do. as for my own time, i think it's pretty obvious how i've been spending it.

Nikola Tesla, Master of Lightning: a report (part II)

After his flash of inspiration in Budapest, Tesla worked for various European power companies to improve their direct current (DC) systems. In his free time, he attempted to interest investors in his alternating current (AC) motor, to no avail. Tesla decided that to meet with any kind of success, he would have to travel to America to meet his hero and fellow inventor, Thomas Edison, who had helped introduce electricity to New York in the 1870's.

Edison's New York ran on DC power, carried through hastily erected power lines. Although the streets became so perilous that Brooklyn's baseball team called themselves the Dodgers after becoming accustomed to avoiding electrocution in the street, demand for electricity could barely be met. Edison's time and ideas were in high demand and he was fast becoming a mogul.

Tesla came to New York at the age of 28 with four cents, a drawing of an idea for a flying machine, some computations, and a letter from Charles Batchelor, his former employer and a business associate of Edison's to serve as an introduction. This letter read as follows:
"My Dear Edison: I know two great men and you are one of them. The other is this young man."

Upon introduction, Tesla explained his plans for an AC motor and his reasons for coming to New York. Edison, successful because of the introduction of direct current and ignorant of the advantages of alternating current, saw Tesla and his ideas as competition and declared his lack of interest immediately. He did, however, hire him to make improvements at his DC plant, and offered him $50,000 if he could complete what he requested. Tesla was upset and discouraged at having been dismissed by a man he admired, but the sum of money, the equivalent of almost $1,000,000 today, appealed to him and his empty pockets, so he agreed.

my shoulders are tired

i've realized in the last few weeks that i really hate people who are not funny. well, maybe i don't hate them, but i hate fake-laughing at their jokes because it's the polite thing to do. it just disgusts me that that's what's expected. i should produce a tiny, obviously fake chuckle, maybe move my shoulders a little to try and make it look more real (never successful), rather than just be honest and not do anything? why couldn't i just do what people are supposed to do when something else embarassing happens, like tripping, and ignore it? tripping is usually funnier than stupid jokes and i still keep my mouth closed, so don't i deserve to do the same when someone says something that is completely not funny? i mean, either way no one is really going to get the point because i've been doing the fake laugh thing for years and no one ever stops making stupid jokes.

humor is pretty important to me. all of my good friends are funny, and most of the people that i enjoy interacting with are funny. some of them more than others, sure, and some of them in ways that they're not exactly aware of, but they are all pretty funny. sometimes i consider myself a witty person, sometimes i live in paralyzing fear that i'm losing my sense of humor. i call this "losing the funny." sometimes i do think i'm losing it - an incredibly awkward conversation, a complete lack of interesting topics to blog about, sometimes just a general feeling that i'm not keeping up my end of conversations. sometimes it just takes me a little while to warm back up after some time around people who aren't that funny, and sometimes i just have to walk away and tell myself that someone has no sense of humor, or at least one that doesn't intersect with mine. but sometimes i feel like i'm relying on cheap ideas to be funny. a good sense of humor, which is not the same thing as relentless sarcasm, is a mark of intelligence, and depending on shock value or political satire might make people in the workplace laugh but workplace laughing is not the same thing as being funny. you cannot rely on that as a gauge. i wonder what the best way to sharpen your sense of humor is.


this came up under a search for "funny." a lot of pictures of pugs came up, some of wrinkly dogs next to fat babies, and of course a lot of pictures of butts. i liked this one though. not that it made me laugh out loud or anything, but he replaced the handlebars with a music stand! think about the effort that went into that! he really enjoys this!

Nikola Tesla, Master of Lightning: a report (part 1)

Nikola Tesla was born on June 28th, 1856 in the Austrian Empire to Milutin Tesla, an Orthodox priest, and Djuka Tesla, the daughter of another Orthodox priest and informal inventress of numerous around-the-house-and-farmyard aids, such as the mechanical eggbeater. Legend has it that he was born at midnight precisely at the height of a lightning storm. His genius was obvious at an early age - he could do calculus in his head as a schoolchild, and at one point, after seeing an engraving of Niagara Falls, he imagined an enormous wheel capturing the natural energy of the waterfall. Thirty years later, he accomplished this vision. He was always interested in physics and complex mathematics; his photographic memory made him an ideal student, and he began to dream of being an engineer. However, he felt enormous pressure from his father to enter the church. When he contracted cholera at the age of seventeen and was thought to be on his deathbed, he extracted a promise from his father; if he recovered, he would attend the Austrian Polytechnic School at Graz to study engineering. Obviously, he did both.

Nikola Tesla's obsession with alternating current, a safer and more efficient energy source than Edison's candidate, direct current, began when a professor challenged him to find a better way to power a Gramme dynamo, a machine that can be used as both a motor and a generator when direct current is applied. Tesla thought about it for years, until the answer came to him while walking in a park in Budapest and considering the following Faust passage:
The glow retreats, done is the day of toil;
It yonder hastes, new fields of life exploring;
Ah, that no wing can lift me from the soil
Upon its track to follow, follow soaring!
As he spoke these words, a fully-formed image of the induction motor, an invention that would change the world when Tesla presented it to the American Institute of Electrical Engineers six years later, appeared in his mind. This was how Tesla saw his inventions; they appeared to him, complete, in flashes of inspiration, and he built what he had seen and then presented them to the world, fully functional.

can't ignore my passion for animals eating people food

immortality through monotony or singularity?

ok, so i have this friend. he's a cool friend, we have things and interests in common and we have intelligent conversations. we dress alike, which is often a harbinger of like opinions. we are from the same place and can both agree that it is cold out when other people are still wearing t-shirts and thumbing their noses at us in our parkas. he's very good with people, and has this way of talking to them that makes them feel like he has their number right from the beginning. he will say extremely accurate and surprising things about people, like john edwards. when we first started hanging out, this ability amazed me. i sort of thought he had superhuman friend powers. when people do this kind of thing, it makes you feel like a diamond in the rough; like you are so unique, only certain very rare individuals can recognize how awesome you really are. that's how i felt when i first met him, like he hung out with me for reasons that other people didn't see or weren't awesome enough to understand. but now that's wearing off and he's started seeming pretty cocky, and his supernatural knowledge of what's going on in my head makes me feel less unique and more like everyone is so similar that he can understand me by making absolutely no effort because he knows three dozen people just like me.

this is something that terrifies me; the idea that everyone is the same, and i am one of them - the only thing that makes us think we are different is advertising, or some sort of existentialist need to feel like an individual. or at least, that all boys are the same and all girls are the same and i am one of them (the girls). i vacillate between believing this and believing that most people are so unique that there is no way to really know them. for example, do you think that reading this blog gives you some sort of insight into who i am? guess what, blogging takes up about fifteen minutes of my day, and the rest of the day i am thinking about completely different things. i'm sure in the future there will be a way to be hooked up to a computer all the time from birth and then you can just hand over your data to a person on the first date and they can do the computations right there at the coffee shop and figure out if you guys should go home together, but not yet. there are a lot of existentialist personality psychologists out there who have documented these feelings; the need to avoid the fear of mortality through a. feeling like part of the mob, avoiding death through sameness or b. grandiose claims of immortality because of awesome uniqueness. but no research has actually been done to figure out whether one or the other is true, not in terms of an immortal sense but in terms of whether or not people are the same. we all think we are very different, but think about it; everyone thinks target is cool, the gap is relatively stylish, hip-hop is an incredible and modern form of expression, and new york is the place to live if you want to feel important. maybe living in portland where everyone is my age and thinks the same things about music and authors is getting to me a little.


here is another picture of nikola tesla. i still can't stop thinking about the prestige. my next blog is going to be Nikola Tesla: a Report.

magic is awesome. i saw the prestige.

today, i am doing something that i really don't like. i hate it when people see a movie and then either gush about it or revile it in their blog. i even hate it when they critique it thoughtfully. because you know what? everyone has opinions about movies, and they all want to share them with you. but i can't stop thinking about this movie. i mean, that doesn't mean it's the movie of the decade or anything - when i first saw ninja turtles I i coudn't stop thinking about it. i still think about it. but it didn't win any awards. i remember a work friend of my mom's who thought the ninja turtles were awesome took me to see it. he had all the original comic books, but i wasn't allowed to read them because i think they swear once or drink a beer. then he bought me the movie for christmas. i watched it so many times i dreamt it all the way through. i was raphael for three halloweens in a row. when we lived in the apartment on 14th avenue, the treeline outside my window vaguely resembled the outline of a giant rat's head, and i used to think splinter was trying to send me messages. one day, during a storm, i was sure he was trying to tell me he was in trouble, and i begged my mom to put me on a plane to new york so i could help him. "No way," she said. i was mad, but i'm grateful now, just like she said i would be. what business does a seven-year-old have in the sewers of new york city? the point is, we think weird things when we are little. i think that's why i liked this movie so much.

i love to suspend disbelief, to pretend that i believe in magic or candy mountain or zombie takeovers or whatever. i love to be fooled. it's a great feeling, to think things like that could happen, although now it's just for short periods at a time and it can be a disappointment when they're over. that is what this movie was all about. it was terrific. i know a couple people who have said they were disappointed, some people who i consider to be good friends. i hope they don't take offense when i say that i think that they were maybe temporarily out of their senses because it was terrific. it was seamless, which is always so impressive in a movie. there wasn't a moment that wasn't important to the movie as a whole. i believed in a lot of things, some of which tied in to actual history and made me want to learn about things i'm usually not interested in at all. scarlett johanssen was in it but she didn't even matter. it was amazing.

i guess i feel okay about writing about this movie because this post is less about the movie than it is about how most of the time, i really wish magic was real.


this is a picture of nikola tesla. i can't tell you why i put it on here but you should just see the movie. david bowie is in it.

you go.

dead tree. unicorn. crossed swords.

this is a drawing of a dead tree. i didn't do it, i just found it on the internet. i really like pictures of dead trees - i have a couple hanging around, and they always catch my eye. i don't think i'm the only one, because during my search for "dead tree," i found at least five websites that are dedicated to dead trees. also, nike has an image of a dead tree that you can use to customize a shoe, so it's probably more popular than i ever knew.

i designed these shoes today.

check out the custom crest. yes! it also says my name, and my favorite number, 27. well, maybe that's my favorite number. i'm also considering 18 and 22. 18 is a multiple of a bunch of things and 22 was a really good age for me, probably mostly because of the stooges song 1969. i am not considering 13, even though that is my birthday and if i remember correctly also a really good age for me, because that is a pretty typical favorite number to have because it is unlucky and people like to defy tradition by directly opposing it, which i think is one of the most typical and boring things to do. but i think i will pick 27 because i'd like to have a number on there that's an age i haven't been yet and i'd like to have something to look forward to. i haven't been this excited about a pair of shoes in a long time. when i have enough money, i'm going to buy them. man, i hope they don't suck. that's one thing about the internet; you get really excited about something and imagine yourself having it and how it's going to solve a lot of problems for you, and then you get it and it kind of sucks, but returning it involves sending something in the mail and every time you go to the post office your blind high school english teacher, who has actually had a pretty big influence on your life, is there and you have an awkward conversation with her because what are you going to tell her? that she inspired you? she is a pretty practical person and she would just laugh that off and make you look small. so, you keep it, but never, ever wear or use it because you're ashamed.


this is a dog dressed as a unicorn. i'm going to say it's the funniest thing i've seen all day, probably because the dog looks so unhappy to be dressed up as something magical. also, i think it's pretty funny when people dress up their pets and take pictures or just take regular pictures of their pets and put them on the internet. it's not something i really do, but i think it can provide terrific examples of how much weird stuff is on the internet. maybe i'll start taking pictures of other peoples' pets and putting them on the internet. this came up as a result under a search for "unicorn."

i don't care that the shoes' colors are patriotic, because you know what? i am a patriot. it's lame that patriotism is connected to supporting the bush administration and the war in iraq because america is a pretty great country in a lot of ways. the library system, voting, being a girl and walking down the street wearing regular clothes, saying whatever you want either in the street or on the internet (i have a feeling it's pretty hard to regulate diaries, not that they would be allowed to if they found a way). in texas, they drink coke for breakfast and nobody bats an eye. sure, our president is kind of a jerk on an international level and a lot of people in this country are way into nascar and we pollute more than anyone else, but there are a lot of good people here who don't support that and i for one really appreciate a lot of things about being an american.


this is a statue called "hands of victory," which Saddam had built to commemorate his victory over Iran. at the base of the statues are 5,000 Iranian helmets taken as trophies from the battlefield. this came up as a result in a search for "crossed swords."

fame

jake was in the paper twice in the last two weeks:

for his trip to ethiopia
for the wires

what have i done lately? well, i did start this blog. and i spent a lot of time thinking about rockets. pew! pew! pew!

yesssss

way to rep it. we from your hood are so proud of you. i mean, i guess your hood is technically baltimore, but we in the bay have been living it up under your thumb for a while now and we are proud to see that thumb get way bigger. congratulations, you are now the most powerful woman in the world. i sincerely regret picking dianne feinstein to do my project on for the famous womens' tea in 4th grade. actually, i don't because my mom knew her and it made her feel good and she gave me a signed 8x10 glossy for my poster and i learned a lot about harvey milk, but i am still proud of you.

my kind of party.

being mean, or being awesome?

i have been thinking a lot about being a mean person. sometimes, i am a mean person. i get really passive-aggressive with people who tailgate; i like to slow down until i can see their upset faces in the rearview mirror, and then when they try to pass me i speed up so they can't. eventually, you have to let them go, because they are like a lit fuse and they might just pull a gun or ram you, but not before you flip them the bird. i let my bosses have it when they try to talk to me about work while i am at lunch. the hell! that is my time and i don't care if i am just using it to stare into space or think about rockets, i am not going to talk to you. i made fun of the girl who made out with someone in my roommate's bed during our party, pretty much to her face (to her internet face). but i'm okay with these things. doing them feels good and i don't regret them.

what does make me feel bad, though, is saying mean things about people that i don't really hate that much, even if they have been mean to me. i feel like i complain a lot, and throw little things way out of proportion when people nod their heads at what i'm saying. i also gossip about people i actually like. i think that this makes me a bad person. also, being rude to people i don't know just because i'm in a bad mood. most people are just regular people like me, who are trying just as hard as i am. they just want to get home and play rpgs or take pictures of their cat and put them on the internet or fondle their sweaters or whatever they're into. being polite to strangers can really make everyone's day - that's something you learn when you are a waitress. there is just no reason to be mean to people you don't know (unless they've done something to you, like cut you in line at the india cart). one time i was really nice at the airport and a guy upgraded me to first class. being nice can do awesome things for you. being mean makes you a bad person.

sometimes i will go through a period where i try to be a better person, and it goes really well. i spent like two months like that, saying nice things about people instead of mean things and only gossiping about celebrities (that's okay because they expect it. it still might make them feel bad to know some of the opinions people have about their lives, or maybe a little hassled, but they know it's going to happen when they embark on a career that they hope will bring them fame and money) and then a couple fridays ago i just exploded. i could feel it coming - i had this insane urge to say the sassiest things to everyone. i cursed at the cat and shook my fist at other drivers and told my bosses "no" when they asked me to do things that weren't exactly within the boundaries of my job description. then we had a party, and the cops came twice, so when my roommates disappeared i turned the front yard into a police state. i swore at people and did this really scary fake smile and i even pushed one dude. pushed him! when one roommate approached me and showed concern for my lack of politeness to our 200+ guests, i pretty much told him to stuff it. i feel bad about that, but i do not feel bad for a single other thing i said or did. i relive some of my more glorious moments every day. i really want to be a good person, but i'm just not sure it's possible. being mean can be totally awesome.

please stop thinking you are correcting me

i know this is not urkel. i know it is from a spike lee movie. i even know which one. i am not totally stupid or incompetent at the internet, so please stop correcting me. i will tell you a secret: i know just as much about pop culture as you do, but i let you go on about it because it makes you feel good. there, now you know.

also, you have to admit it looks a hell of a lot like urkel. but it's not. and i know that, and now you know i knew, but i wanted to tell you that i always knew.

today, it did not rain too much.

this is my first blog. i am not going to do a whole "so i am new to this blogging idea, these are the things i'm into so this is what i will be blogging about" kind of spiel. the internet is full of those, so just find someone who dresses kind of like me and you will get the idea.

let's start with some things i have been thinking about. i tutor two kids - one is in 8th grade, one is in high school. neither of them thinks i am very cool. i mean, i'm a tutor, of course i love school and of course i'm a nerd. i'm not exactly pocket-protector material, but nobody wants my autograph, either, least of all the kids i tutor. what am i supposed to do about this? i want them to like me. everyone wants other people to like them. that is the point of interacting with other people. but i also get excited about their math homework. the 8th grader is okay, because at least she still thinks it's cool that i'm way older than her and drive a car. those things are all big deals for someone who is in 8th grade. maybe tomorrow i will tell her that sometimes i eat ice cream for breakfast and go to a bunch of r-rated movies. but the high schooler just plain thinks i am lame. if she were older, i could explain to her that in college the meek inherit the earth and the people who were popular in high school get laughed at, but first of all she is still kind of too young to understand that and it would just make her laugh harder at me and second of all it's not really that true. it's a little true if you are into the music scene, but outside three-hundred level classes and the radio station, it's still pretty much like high school. what's even worse is that she is an extremely stylish high-schooler. she's got this leather bag and a ton of designer clothes and a louis vuitton day planner. so i've been pretty much pretending that i don't buy my clothes at thrift stores and that she thinks my jokes are funny. also, i have been sort of letting her get away with manipulating me into doing her math homework for her. just a little bit though. but then today the solution occurred to me: i could do my job! if i make her do her work and review for all her tests and quizzes and not lie to me and her parents about what is due when and whether she's done it or not, she will get better grades and i will prove to her that it is not about being stylish. it is about being smart, and being smart is being cool. or at least getting good grades means she will not be grounded all the time, and then she can do cool stuff like go shopping for more designer things. i guess i would just be satisfied with commanding a little respect.