Back to school! It seemed so far away and unlikely while I was doing my internship; but now that it's begun, it's very real. Oh, yes.....very real indeed!! A bit too much....it was rather overwhelming attending school for the first time in over three months yesterday. I hopped onto a UT shuttle, the bus itself making me feel that I was back in academia for the first time in a long time. The shuttle went through the streets of campus -- streets that had been deserted as little as two weeks ago, and now teeming with students. It finally halted at 23rd near the Littlefield fountain, and I got off.
I walked over to Taylor Hall, which is the administrative building for the Computer Sciences building, and into the graduate lounge. It was like coming home. The three terminals at the table opposite the door, the rows and rows of mailboxes, the couches and lounging chairs strewn about the room, the chipped and cracked foosball table, even the microwave and coffee maker in the corner -- all old and familiar. The internship was already starting to look like a distant (and pleasant) dream.
I walked out some time later for my first class, Artificial Intelligence. I'm not registered for it, but we can take classes -- "audit" -- at least till the 12th class day to make up our minds as to what courses to take finally. The outside world was a profusion of white teeth, shining hair and tanned limbs -- the undergrads were back. I was almost taken aback at the sheer volume of people on the streets -- though I was expecting it. They all laughed (hence the white teeth), talked, argued, or walked along silently, some even glowering, the tell-tale white wires of the iPod earphones trailing from their ears. The squirrels ferreted about for nuts, and scrambled nervously past the numerous thundering feet. School in all its full glory!
The first course was AI in Welch Hall, which is across the street of Speedway from Taylor. I walked in, dodging a bunch of giggling undergrad girls, and boisterous young men trying their hardest to land punches on each other -- interesting greeting ritual. The classroom was across the great hall of Welch, in a rather small room. I entered, and found a bunch of first-years looking around nervously -- first-year grads, that is. I love how important I feel around them! The class in itself wasn't bad. The professor cracked a lot of jokes, most of which were too sad to be laughed at, but I laughed hard, all the same, if nothing, then at the sheer absurdity of them.
The next thing on the agenda was the "tea party" in Taylor's Faculty Lounge. This tradition, which began I don't know when, is highly cherished by us grad students. We get free coffee, donuts and samosas, which are a great favorite. Often, it is the Americans who polish off the samosas, while we're left looking! It's fun seeing the sight when the box of samosas is delivered. The moment the box is lifted, there is a sudden explosion of hands around the box, and in under five seconds, the box is completely empty. I once almost broke a nail grabbing a samosa. I've pioneered the term "strategic positioning" -- sitting at the table where the samosa box is kept, so you can block the others while you grab as many as you want, even thought the rule says you can take only one. It's great fun.
The next class was undergrad Programming Languages. It was, for some obscure reason, in the Pharmacy building, in a tiny, dingy classroom with no windows and narrow doors -- and too many students. It's a popular course -- there are 30 students on the waitlist for it, the professor offering the course informed us -- but I didn't enjoy it much. For one thing, it is way below my level -- the only reason I had to take it up was because UT didn't accept the programming languages courses taught at the University of Mumbai, my undergrad institution. I was almost gasping for air by the time the class came to an end.
And, that was how the first day back at school ended. It's nice to be back at school, and I'm enjoying the atmosphere; but there is tension simmering in the atmosphere, and I know in a few days I'll be gasping for breath, wondering why on earth I ever took such-and-such course!! But, while it lasts, I'm gonna enjoy it to the fullest!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
Lost
I had to go to a Microsoft Silverlight presentation today. I had registered for it while I was still an intern at Dell, and didn't want to give up on it -- I genuinely wanted to learn more about Silverlight, besides which -- my main reason for going -- I'd get to meet my old team from Dell :) The presentation was at 3001 Bee Cave Road, and I accordingly took the 30 to Barton Creek Square Mall to get there. I got off at Walsh Tarlton and Bee Caves, and began walking.
I'd investigated it exhaustively the previous day on Google Maps, looking at the street map, the satellite map, as well as the hybrid map, making little notes to myself as to where the road curved, where the streets went, what direction I'd have to walk toward to get there....every little detail I could think of. And yet I managed to get completely lost.
I crossed Walsh Tarlton and then Bee Caves after a long bout of dodging the vehicles whooshing past at high speeds. I forced myself not to get distracted by the beautiful views at the place -- all mountains, exactly the way I like them -- and began walking along Bee Caves Road. Or thought I did.
The road seemed to get progressively narrower as I walked. I looked at the massive mansions with some foreboding -- the maps I'd seen the previous day had not indicated such a profusion of wealth. It had looked like a normal commercial complex on Google Maps. Still I walked on.
The number on a mailbox was what gave me an inkling that I might not be on the right path. It read 5110, and I looked at it uncertainly. Surely I didn't have to walk all the way to 3001 on this road? Cap Metro's trip planner had announced a walk of 0.5 miles. This looked like it might be 5 miles. I shook my head, and walked further. It was a very pleasant morning, all cloudy and cool. Ideal for getting lost.
Further ahead, two perky dogs that looked like Dobermans looked at me suspiciously through a gate, their pointed noses pointed toward me accusingly. I scuttled ahead nervously. A showdown with man-eating dogs was the last thing I wanted. I walked and walked, and walked some more, and then finally found a signpost, which read: Rollingwood Drive. I looked at it with dismay. Where was Bee Caves Road?? I looked back the way I'd come uncertainly. Maybe Rollingwood Drive was another name for Bee Caves? Just like Capital of Texas Highway is another name for Loop 360. I wavered between turning back and marching ahead, and finally, after a lot of humming and hawing, decided on the latter. Though I didn't really march. There was a lot more hesitation in my footsteps than there was before.
I walked further and further ahead, crossing even 4901, before I finally forced myself to admit that I just might be lost. I tried to remember the part of the road that the bus had passed through -- it passes through a part of Bee Caves Road. The road that I saw ahead of me didn't resemble it from any angle. I was in despair. The three other Rollingwood Drive signs I'd passed on the way couldn't be wrong. I was lost.
But how? I asked myself in anguish. I'd walked straight -- just as Google Maps had suggested. Finally, vociferously cursing the search company, I started walked back toward Walsh Tarlton. At least that was a known point, a place I could get a bus from. I looked at my cell phone, and looked tantalizingly at the phone number of one of my ex-teammates, ready to call him up and howl into the phone, "I'm loooooost!!!!!" But I didn't, and thought I might as well see out the end of the adventure. Besides, I remembered seeing a McDonald's on the way, and thought I might ask them where 3001 Bee Caves Road was.
The walk back to Walsh Tarlton wasn't as pleasant as the walk down it had been. For one thing, I was worried about never seeing home again (I tend to get rather melodramatic at such times). For another thing, it was all uphill, so my calves were beginning to ache slightly, as I walked back. As I reached the end of Rollingwood Drive, I saw a busy, major road that looked suspiciously like Bee Caves. I reached the road and looked at the sign there, and felt my jaw hit my feet with a thud. It was Bee Caves. Somehow, I'd managed to take a wrong turn somewhere along the way. Kicking myself mentally all the way, I began walking in the direction I'd seen on Google Maps. It was a terrible road to walk on, no sidewalk of course, and, in fact, not even any grassy shoulder where I could not get run over by a passing car, of which there seemed to be plenty.
As I crossed 3010, I saw what looked like a commercial complex on the other side. If that's 3001, I'll scream, I thought to myself.
Of course it was.
I couldn't really scream without being locked up somewhere for disturbing the peace, so I had to be content doing it in my head, and tried to cross the road, looking, for all in the world, like a scared rabbit. I finally managed it, and walked up the complex, which again sloped upward alarmingly. I was sure I was late -- the welcome time was 8:30 am, and it was getting on for 9 now. I walked up the road cautiously -- and saw one of my ex-teammates there. I almost flung myself on him with a cry of joy.
I was later mollified my knowing that all my teammates had got lost on their way to the place. So I wasn't the only one! All the same, it was a new experience -- and an interesting one.
I'd investigated it exhaustively the previous day on Google Maps, looking at the street map, the satellite map, as well as the hybrid map, making little notes to myself as to where the road curved, where the streets went, what direction I'd have to walk toward to get there....every little detail I could think of. And yet I managed to get completely lost.
I crossed Walsh Tarlton and then Bee Caves after a long bout of dodging the vehicles whooshing past at high speeds. I forced myself not to get distracted by the beautiful views at the place -- all mountains, exactly the way I like them -- and began walking along Bee Caves Road. Or thought I did.
The road seemed to get progressively narrower as I walked. I looked at the massive mansions with some foreboding -- the maps I'd seen the previous day had not indicated such a profusion of wealth. It had looked like a normal commercial complex on Google Maps. Still I walked on.
The number on a mailbox was what gave me an inkling that I might not be on the right path. It read 5110, and I looked at it uncertainly. Surely I didn't have to walk all the way to 3001 on this road? Cap Metro's trip planner had announced a walk of 0.5 miles. This looked like it might be 5 miles. I shook my head, and walked further. It was a very pleasant morning, all cloudy and cool. Ideal for getting lost.
Further ahead, two perky dogs that looked like Dobermans looked at me suspiciously through a gate, their pointed noses pointed toward me accusingly. I scuttled ahead nervously. A showdown with man-eating dogs was the last thing I wanted. I walked and walked, and walked some more, and then finally found a signpost, which read: Rollingwood Drive. I looked at it with dismay. Where was Bee Caves Road?? I looked back the way I'd come uncertainly. Maybe Rollingwood Drive was another name for Bee Caves? Just like Capital of Texas Highway is another name for Loop 360. I wavered between turning back and marching ahead, and finally, after a lot of humming and hawing, decided on the latter. Though I didn't really march. There was a lot more hesitation in my footsteps than there was before.
I walked further and further ahead, crossing even 4901, before I finally forced myself to admit that I just might be lost. I tried to remember the part of the road that the bus had passed through -- it passes through a part of Bee Caves Road. The road that I saw ahead of me didn't resemble it from any angle. I was in despair. The three other Rollingwood Drive signs I'd passed on the way couldn't be wrong. I was lost.
But how? I asked myself in anguish. I'd walked straight -- just as Google Maps had suggested. Finally, vociferously cursing the search company, I started walked back toward Walsh Tarlton. At least that was a known point, a place I could get a bus from. I looked at my cell phone, and looked tantalizingly at the phone number of one of my ex-teammates, ready to call him up and howl into the phone, "I'm loooooost!!!!!" But I didn't, and thought I might as well see out the end of the adventure. Besides, I remembered seeing a McDonald's on the way, and thought I might ask them where 3001 Bee Caves Road was.
The walk back to Walsh Tarlton wasn't as pleasant as the walk down it had been. For one thing, I was worried about never seeing home again (I tend to get rather melodramatic at such times). For another thing, it was all uphill, so my calves were beginning to ache slightly, as I walked back. As I reached the end of Rollingwood Drive, I saw a busy, major road that looked suspiciously like Bee Caves. I reached the road and looked at the sign there, and felt my jaw hit my feet with a thud. It was Bee Caves. Somehow, I'd managed to take a wrong turn somewhere along the way. Kicking myself mentally all the way, I began walking in the direction I'd seen on Google Maps. It was a terrible road to walk on, no sidewalk of course, and, in fact, not even any grassy shoulder where I could not get run over by a passing car, of which there seemed to be plenty.
As I crossed 3010, I saw what looked like a commercial complex on the other side. If that's 3001, I'll scream, I thought to myself.
Of course it was.
I couldn't really scream without being locked up somewhere for disturbing the peace, so I had to be content doing it in my head, and tried to cross the road, looking, for all in the world, like a scared rabbit. I finally managed it, and walked up the complex, which again sloped upward alarmingly. I was sure I was late -- the welcome time was 8:30 am, and it was getting on for 9 now. I walked up the road cautiously -- and saw one of my ex-teammates there. I almost flung myself on him with a cry of joy.
I was later mollified my knowing that all my teammates had got lost on their way to the place. So I wasn't the only one! All the same, it was a new experience -- and an interesting one.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Trudy's
Yesterday, me and a friend of mine went to the popular Trudy's on 30th and Guadalupe. We went for dinner there, and thought that we'd have a nice, quiet dinner, especially since it was the middle of the week. Boy, were we wrong.
The path to Trudy's didn't prepare us for it. We walked along 32nd till Duval, and from there, switched to 30th till we hit Guadalupe. It was utterly quiet along the way, and we could even hear some distant crickets chirping in the background. A few fireflies flew about, little flecks of gold among the velvety dark night sky. The thin, reedy Waller creek made a few gurgles, but it was very, very quiet. Even the firefighters' place along the way was quiet -- no emergency on a Tuesday night.
As we approached Trudy's, though, we could hear a faint buzzing in the distance, like bees in a flowerbed. The buzzing turned out to be people's chatter. When we entered the restaurant, the cacophony hit hit us like a physical blast. I almost staggered back under the assault of the sound.
People were talking, laughing, yelling, chattering away, even crying. It was a scene worthy of a painting (maybe I will paint it!). As we waited for a table, four young people came in -- two boys, two girls. They looked drunk, their faces flushed, probably with drink. Their ha-ha-ha's echoed through the whole of Trudy's. Finally, after waiting for about ten minutes (and getting more and more uncomfortable with the quartet alongside us), the ruddy-cheeked, curly-haired guy who told us to wait came around and led us to our seats.
Inside, it was slightly quieter. Notice the stress on the word slightly. The din existed here, too....but to a slightly lesser degree. A gaggle of girls, probably younger than us, sat in a large group, laughing like hyenas gone wild. The drinks kept flowing at their table, our waiter rushing with multiple glasses of martini -- probably Trudy's famous Mexican Martini -- to their table. Every now and then there would be relative silence as one of them would tell something, and then the whole table would explode as everyone around found it hysterically funny. My friend and I rolled our eyes, and got on with our meal.
Behind us, there was a group of three boys. Every now and then, one of them would break out into a loud swear, and punch the other two on their arms. A minute later, they would all laugh together. It was rather unnerving, for they looked aggressive enough (and drunk enough) to really break out into an all-out fight. Luckily we left before things could get too physical.
The waiters rushed around trying to quell the increasingly demanding crowd. Our waiter, a plump man in a pin-striped shirt and khaki shorts, looked harried to death, but still maintained a cheerful smile on his face. A young lady, another waitress, swept her ponytail behind her, wiped her forehead once, and then went on with her task of serving to a huge party of nearly twelve people. I doubt anyone noticed her tired expression. There was another man with a belt around his waist, the type you use when you've pulled a muscle or something. He didn't let that deter him, as he cleaned the tables with remarkable dexterity. It was an interesting scene -- the people, all in high spirits, laughing and joking, and the tired waiters trying to keep it that way for them.
Hmm. Maybe I should try Mozart's next.....
The path to Trudy's didn't prepare us for it. We walked along 32nd till Duval, and from there, switched to 30th till we hit Guadalupe. It was utterly quiet along the way, and we could even hear some distant crickets chirping in the background. A few fireflies flew about, little flecks of gold among the velvety dark night sky. The thin, reedy Waller creek made a few gurgles, but it was very, very quiet. Even the firefighters' place along the way was quiet -- no emergency on a Tuesday night.
As we approached Trudy's, though, we could hear a faint buzzing in the distance, like bees in a flowerbed. The buzzing turned out to be people's chatter. When we entered the restaurant, the cacophony hit hit us like a physical blast. I almost staggered back under the assault of the sound.
People were talking, laughing, yelling, chattering away, even crying. It was a scene worthy of a painting (maybe I will paint it!). As we waited for a table, four young people came in -- two boys, two girls. They looked drunk, their faces flushed, probably with drink. Their ha-ha-ha's echoed through the whole of Trudy's. Finally, after waiting for about ten minutes (and getting more and more uncomfortable with the quartet alongside us), the ruddy-cheeked, curly-haired guy who told us to wait came around and led us to our seats.
Inside, it was slightly quieter. Notice the stress on the word slightly. The din existed here, too....but to a slightly lesser degree. A gaggle of girls, probably younger than us, sat in a large group, laughing like hyenas gone wild. The drinks kept flowing at their table, our waiter rushing with multiple glasses of martini -- probably Trudy's famous Mexican Martini -- to their table. Every now and then there would be relative silence as one of them would tell something, and then the whole table would explode as everyone around found it hysterically funny. My friend and I rolled our eyes, and got on with our meal.
Behind us, there was a group of three boys. Every now and then, one of them would break out into a loud swear, and punch the other two on their arms. A minute later, they would all laugh together. It was rather unnerving, for they looked aggressive enough (and drunk enough) to really break out into an all-out fight. Luckily we left before things could get too physical.
The waiters rushed around trying to quell the increasingly demanding crowd. Our waiter, a plump man in a pin-striped shirt and khaki shorts, looked harried to death, but still maintained a cheerful smile on his face. A young lady, another waitress, swept her ponytail behind her, wiped her forehead once, and then went on with her task of serving to a huge party of nearly twelve people. I doubt anyone noticed her tired expression. There was another man with a belt around his waist, the type you use when you've pulled a muscle or something. He didn't let that deter him, as he cleaned the tables with remarkable dexterity. It was an interesting scene -- the people, all in high spirits, laughing and joking, and the tired waiters trying to keep it that way for them.
Hmm. Maybe I should try Mozart's next.....
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Moving Part III
The moving drama continued yesterday, with Phase Two now complete. For all those who don't remember, I had moved in with friends temporarily for 10 days, while my new apartment became available for moving in. It did, yesterday, and I moved in.
I was helped by my friends, who (I have to shamefully admit) carried more stuff than I did to the new apartment, Chaparosa. One of them had a car, luckily, so multiple trips under the sun weren't realized. They all helped me carry almost everything I owned into the new apartment, and now I'm all settled in. In a manner of speaking.
I still have everything to unpack. I was too lazy to do it yesterday, and am planning to go shopping for groceries now, so I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon. I have to unpack my clothes (which shouldn't take long, since there aren't too many of them) and books (now that's the one I'm scared about -- there's waaaaay too many of them).
I like my apartment though. I like the stairs the best. Ever since I was little, I've always wanted a house with stairs in it. I spent half the day yesterday skipping upstairs and downstairs, and reveling in it, though my legs were starting to ache slightly toward the end of the day! I spent part of the day curled up in a little corner underneath the staircase, listening to Bob Marley, and just drifting away, almost imagining I was in Jamaica....until I looked outside the window, and saw a Capital Metro UT Shuttle ramble past!
It's been nice moving in. I guess I should get back to unpacking now.......
I was helped by my friends, who (I have to shamefully admit) carried more stuff than I did to the new apartment, Chaparosa. One of them had a car, luckily, so multiple trips under the sun weren't realized. They all helped me carry almost everything I owned into the new apartment, and now I'm all settled in. In a manner of speaking.
I still have everything to unpack. I was too lazy to do it yesterday, and am planning to go shopping for groceries now, so I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon. I have to unpack my clothes (which shouldn't take long, since there aren't too many of them) and books (now that's the one I'm scared about -- there's waaaaay too many of them).
I like my apartment though. I like the stairs the best. Ever since I was little, I've always wanted a house with stairs in it. I spent half the day yesterday skipping upstairs and downstairs, and reveling in it, though my legs were starting to ache slightly toward the end of the day! I spent part of the day curled up in a little corner underneath the staircase, listening to Bob Marley, and just drifting away, almost imagining I was in Jamaica....until I looked outside the window, and saw a Capital Metro UT Shuttle ramble past!
It's been nice moving in. I guess I should get back to unpacking now.......
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Home sweet office!
Wow, it's been a while since I wrote!! I've been at training. Out team is undergoing training for WCF -- Windows Communication Foundation -- and I've been tagging along with them. It's not that the instructor is bad -- even I can see that he's excellent -- but most of the stuff has been going over my head. Initially I tried to pay attention (telling myself severely that I needed to do that anyway in a little over three weeks), but eventually my eyes started to glaze over. I was reminded of my incredibly boring Communication Networks classes at UT, where I was infamous for disturbing the class through some antic or the other -- usually crinkling candy wrappers loudly, or asking for cricket scores loud enough to be heard even by the professor. I am amazed at the patience of the professor, that he didn't haul me out on my ear! I probably deserved it.
But anyway, as I was saying, the training started to remind me of that. In the classes, it wasn't that I didn't understand the material being taught -- I did, if I paid close enough attention -- but the professor was plain boring. In the training, it was the other way round. The instructor was really good, and when I strained my head hard enough, I could actually follow him, but it mostly went way over my head. I looked helplessly at everyone furiously typing into their computers during the lab session, while I searched through Google to make sense of what was being taught, and tried to look halfway intelligent.
Today's session was much better. The instructor taught security, which is my chosen research area, so I could follow everything he taught, besides which it was fun because he implemented a sort of chat window, so that all the students (!) could send each other chat messages. That was fun! Unfortunately, I had to leave after that, and get back to the office.
When I got back to the office, it was like walking into a comfortable, familiar place. I felt a sense of peace. It's a shame that I'll have to leave in a few days -- just two, as a matter of fact. It's really become a second home for me now! I had an incredible, incredible time working here at Dell, with the most fantastic people ever. I'll cherish this time forever.
On a different note, today's Wednesday -- I hope I can get the keys to my new apartment today. I've had fun living with the friends I've been living with -- but I guess I can't harass them forever, besides which, I need to set up the new place! Especially the books! Even during the 10 days I've not been in my own house, I've bought a bunch of new books -- the manga, Cantarella Vol 3, by You Higuri; the August issue of Wired magazine; and Dick Francis' latest offering, Under Orders.
Cantarella is a compelling manga. I had started it some time ago, but gave up halfway through the first volume, finding the story too dark and depressing. But I took it up again, and while I'd never call the story light-hearted and cheery (Higuri's manga tend to be a bit on the heavier side, actually), it's really interesting. It's the mangaka's take on the infamous Borgias of Renaissance-age Italy, circa 1500, and the hero of the piece (also the villian?) is Cesare Borgia. Very interesting indeed, since it is at least partially based on true events. I wonder how many more volumes there are?
Dick Francis is an author I've liked for quite some time. His books can get a little depressing at time, with the hero wallowing in sorrow and misery for days on end; but they always seem to have an underlying sense of humor that takes away some of the darkness from the story. Besides which, he can come up with a fantastic, compelling tale. I really like Dick Francis novels -- if I can talk even halfway sensibly about horses, it is all thanks to Mr Francis.
Ah, I think I'm rambling now. I think I should get back to that documentation I was making for my intern project -- and iron out the creepy JavaScript errors that pop up suddenly like unwanted zombies, and give me a heart attack, like it did during the presentation yesterday. The expression on my face was surely a study in horror. Luckily, I don't think anyone noticed it. Yes, I should do that instead of telling the world that I should do it, and procrastinate even more. Till later...adios!
But anyway, as I was saying, the training started to remind me of that. In the classes, it wasn't that I didn't understand the material being taught -- I did, if I paid close enough attention -- but the professor was plain boring. In the training, it was the other way round. The instructor was really good, and when I strained my head hard enough, I could actually follow him, but it mostly went way over my head. I looked helplessly at everyone furiously typing into their computers during the lab session, while I searched through Google to make sense of what was being taught, and tried to look halfway intelligent.
Today's session was much better. The instructor taught security, which is my chosen research area, so I could follow everything he taught, besides which it was fun because he implemented a sort of chat window, so that all the students (!) could send each other chat messages. That was fun! Unfortunately, I had to leave after that, and get back to the office.
When I got back to the office, it was like walking into a comfortable, familiar place. I felt a sense of peace. It's a shame that I'll have to leave in a few days -- just two, as a matter of fact. It's really become a second home for me now! I had an incredible, incredible time working here at Dell, with the most fantastic people ever. I'll cherish this time forever.
On a different note, today's Wednesday -- I hope I can get the keys to my new apartment today. I've had fun living with the friends I've been living with -- but I guess I can't harass them forever, besides which, I need to set up the new place! Especially the books! Even during the 10 days I've not been in my own house, I've bought a bunch of new books -- the manga, Cantarella Vol 3, by You Higuri; the August issue of Wired magazine; and Dick Francis' latest offering, Under Orders.
Cantarella is a compelling manga. I had started it some time ago, but gave up halfway through the first volume, finding the story too dark and depressing. But I took it up again, and while I'd never call the story light-hearted and cheery (Higuri's manga tend to be a bit on the heavier side, actually), it's really interesting. It's the mangaka's take on the infamous Borgias of Renaissance-age Italy, circa 1500, and the hero of the piece (also the villian?) is Cesare Borgia. Very interesting indeed, since it is at least partially based on true events. I wonder how many more volumes there are?
Dick Francis is an author I've liked for quite some time. His books can get a little depressing at time, with the hero wallowing in sorrow and misery for days on end; but they always seem to have an underlying sense of humor that takes away some of the darkness from the story. Besides which, he can come up with a fantastic, compelling tale. I really like Dick Francis novels -- if I can talk even halfway sensibly about horses, it is all thanks to Mr Francis.
Ah, I think I'm rambling now. I think I should get back to that documentation I was making for my intern project -- and iron out the creepy JavaScript errors that pop up suddenly like unwanted zombies, and give me a heart attack, like it did during the presentation yesterday. The expression on my face was surely a study in horror. Luckily, I don't think anyone noticed it. Yes, I should do that instead of telling the world that I should do it, and procrastinate even more. Till later...adios!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Billy and the kid
Billy is the name of a fellow bus passenger. He usually gets up and off at the North Lamar Transit Center. He's in his fifties, and has wispy gray hair that's on its last legs. He wears enormous glasses reminiscent of the '50s, and rides a small bright red mountain bike that he said he spent his week's pay on. The last time I met him, he was alone, and insisted on talking endlessly to me. He popped up today as well.
I actually didn't notice him at first. I was listening to songs on my iPod as usual, humming along to the tune of Numb by Linkin Park, when I noticed a couple of young boys, one riding a bicycle, and one carrying along a scooter, the type that small kids ride. They were around my age, maybe a couple of years younger. I stopped humming, and just listened to the song, when I heard someone call out, "Mandy!"
I turned. It was Billy. I tried hard to keep the annoyance from showing on my face -- I was listening to the songs, dammit -- and smiled at him, yanking the headphones out of my ears. "Billy," I said, politely. "How's it going?"
"Doin' good!" he seemed to be in high spirits. He pointed to one of the young men. "This here is my son, Michael." I took another look at the boy. He was about my height, wearing a white T-shirt and loose, baggy shorts, a cap worn backward over his head. He had stringy blond hair, green eyes, and a face covered liberally with pimples. He gave me a big grin, showing startlingly awkward teeth. My smile froze on my face at the sight of his teeth, but I forced myself not to let the smile slip. I tried to remember what Billy had told me about him from our last conversation. 21 years old, he'd said. The boy looked younger than someone just a year younger than me; but then, some people do mistake me for a high schooler, so I guess I can't complain.
"She works at Dell," Billy explained to his son, and Michael nodded sagely.
Billy then pointed to the other boy. "This is my other son," he said, and I couldn't resist staring this time. The other boy was black, whereas Billy was very much white. I wasn't sure how to react. "Uhhh....."
"From another wife," said Billy, and cackled with laughter. I have no idea whether that was a joke or not. I gave an uncertain smile, and began looking anxiously at the horizon for the bus to arrive.
It finally did, and in there was the cute guy I've noticed since I began interning. I think he's a student, maybe at ACC, maybe at UT, I don't know. He's around my age, tall and skinny, with dark wavy hair and large hazel eyes. I usually steal glances at him, too shy to attempt any kind of conversation. I think he's pretty shy too, for once our eyes met, and we both turned away, blushing. The fact that he blushed too amused me, and made me less self-conscious about him. But except for a brief smile of recognition when I board the bus, we've never exchanged any communication.
The bus driver is a funky guy. He wears sunglasses -- even today, when it was dark and overcast. He greets everyone enthusiastically. "Well, hello there!" he joyously said when I entered the bus. At first his enthusiasm had startled me, but I'm used to it now. "Hello," I said, smiling. "You came just in time," pointing at the water droplets splattering against the windshield. "I know!" he said, with a large grin. I grinned back, the grin freezing as I saw the cute guy.
The rest of the bus ride was spent looking out of the bus, reading a few pages of Anthony Horowitz's Evil Star, and generally thinking about how to solve the JavaScript problem I'd encountered during the day. By the bus got to Hampton and 26th, I wished the driver goodbye, and walked back home.
Interesting ride, with interesting companions!!!
I actually didn't notice him at first. I was listening to songs on my iPod as usual, humming along to the tune of Numb by Linkin Park, when I noticed a couple of young boys, one riding a bicycle, and one carrying along a scooter, the type that small kids ride. They were around my age, maybe a couple of years younger. I stopped humming, and just listened to the song, when I heard someone call out, "Mandy!"
I turned. It was Billy. I tried hard to keep the annoyance from showing on my face -- I was listening to the songs, dammit -- and smiled at him, yanking the headphones out of my ears. "Billy," I said, politely. "How's it going?"
"Doin' good!" he seemed to be in high spirits. He pointed to one of the young men. "This here is my son, Michael." I took another look at the boy. He was about my height, wearing a white T-shirt and loose, baggy shorts, a cap worn backward over his head. He had stringy blond hair, green eyes, and a face covered liberally with pimples. He gave me a big grin, showing startlingly awkward teeth. My smile froze on my face at the sight of his teeth, but I forced myself not to let the smile slip. I tried to remember what Billy had told me about him from our last conversation. 21 years old, he'd said. The boy looked younger than someone just a year younger than me; but then, some people do mistake me for a high schooler, so I guess I can't complain.
"She works at Dell," Billy explained to his son, and Michael nodded sagely.
Billy then pointed to the other boy. "This is my other son," he said, and I couldn't resist staring this time. The other boy was black, whereas Billy was very much white. I wasn't sure how to react. "Uhhh....."
"From another wife," said Billy, and cackled with laughter. I have no idea whether that was a joke or not. I gave an uncertain smile, and began looking anxiously at the horizon for the bus to arrive.
It finally did, and in there was the cute guy I've noticed since I began interning. I think he's a student, maybe at ACC, maybe at UT, I don't know. He's around my age, tall and skinny, with dark wavy hair and large hazel eyes. I usually steal glances at him, too shy to attempt any kind of conversation. I think he's pretty shy too, for once our eyes met, and we both turned away, blushing. The fact that he blushed too amused me, and made me less self-conscious about him. But except for a brief smile of recognition when I board the bus, we've never exchanged any communication.
The bus driver is a funky guy. He wears sunglasses -- even today, when it was dark and overcast. He greets everyone enthusiastically. "Well, hello there!" he joyously said when I entered the bus. At first his enthusiasm had startled me, but I'm used to it now. "Hello," I said, smiling. "You came just in time," pointing at the water droplets splattering against the windshield. "I know!" he said, with a large grin. I grinned back, the grin freezing as I saw the cute guy.
The rest of the bus ride was spent looking out of the bus, reading a few pages of Anthony Horowitz's Evil Star, and generally thinking about how to solve the JavaScript problem I'd encountered during the day. By the bus got to Hampton and 26th, I wished the driver goodbye, and walked back home.
Interesting ride, with interesting companions!!!
My favorite drawing
I was recently looking through a bunch of my drawings (when I was cleaning up), and I was left thinking about which was my favorite. I don't usually have favorites, especially in my own work! But there's one drawing which is my favorite: this one.....I made it in 2004, just shortly before my twentieth birthday. I'd been working on a book, a book about a New Zealand schoolboy (I've forever wanted to go to New Zealand, so I decided to base my story there), and this was a scene from the book.
The book is about 12-year-old Brendon McCarthy, and his adventures in boarding school (how imaginative! :P), and his love for cricket (he's my creation -- he has to like what I like!!). In this scene, he and his best friend are sitting at home, bored, with nothing to do because it's raining, so they decide to go out and play soccer.
When I made the drawing, it really was pouring outside. This drawing was made circa August 2004, when it's peak monsoon season in Mumbai. I looked at the rain pattering against the window, and the wind howling through the (I was going to say trees, but that'd be a lie. Okay, the tall buildings) tall buildings. I could almost imagine two boys playing out in the rain, getting soaked and covered in mud playing soccer. I think because it was raining the drawing turned out even more realistic than I'd hoped for -- Brendon's hair looks like it's plastered to his skull in the drawing, a feat I'd never been able to achieve before.
Hmm, so maybe that's the lesson for drawing well....try to experience what you're drawing, and it will turn out realistic, rather than trying to imagine it all! Hmmm.....does that mean, to make this drawing even more realistic....I need to visit New Zealand??!!! Whoohoo! :)
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Moving part II
The moving drama continued yesterday. It was crazy, hectic, chaotic. To quote a coworker of mine, I was "running around like a headless chicken". Only one of my roommates was left, and she and me cleaned up the whole house, dragged out the furniture and other baggage. It was crazy! Finally, at almost 10 pm, I took one last look at the place (to ensure nothing had been left behind, rather than out of any dubious emotional attachments), and locked the door for the final time, and turned the keys over to the management. Whew!! Phase One complete.
Of course, there's still a Phase Two to contend with: like I said, where I'm staying now is just temporary. I won't get to move into my new apartment till the 10th. Then comes a whole new set of headaches....moving all the furniture, not only across the apartment complex, but across the block; setting up house at the new place; settling in. Man! I'm not even going to think about it, for it is getting me all worked up.....10 days away from the day I actually need to move!
I found a lot of interesting things, though, while I was clearing up. There was an ancient stack of newspapers -- The Daily Texan -- from a year back. There was one of my paintbrushes under the desk, where it had rolled sometime during the year, and I'd been too preoccupied to notice it (or maybe it's a sign that I own more brushes than I need? I know I don't usually use more than 1 or 2 per session). There was an old bus pass, a day pass for Sept 4, 2006, crushed but still recognizable. There was an old recipe for making spicy broccoli that I'd lifted off the internet sometime, and had (of course) failed to ever try it out. Seeing that it was behind the gas stove, I can see why! There was the instruction booklet for the iPod (why would anyone need an instruction booklet for the iPod?? Four buttons, that's all there is to it!) There was a crumpled drawing (or rather, a cruel caricature) of one of my professors, when I'd been in a not-too-charitable mood toward him. There was a printout of my transcript from the Fall semester, which I threw away hurriedly. I didn't need reminding for the grades! There was also a printed schedule of the 2007 Cricket World Cup, with neat notes in the corner (by me), about which team won which match, by what margin, and their points after each match, and even some kind of complicated formula to find out who needed to win which match by how many runs/wickets to ensure a place in the semi-finals! (If only I'd put in that kind of hard work and dedication into my studies! :P )
Yeah, there were lots of interesting things to pick out of the junk that was left behind after I cleaned out the apartment. Most of it was thrown away, but I kept some of the treasures with me. Maybe I need to clean my house more often.....!!
Of course, there's still a Phase Two to contend with: like I said, where I'm staying now is just temporary. I won't get to move into my new apartment till the 10th. Then comes a whole new set of headaches....moving all the furniture, not only across the apartment complex, but across the block; setting up house at the new place; settling in. Man! I'm not even going to think about it, for it is getting me all worked up.....10 days away from the day I actually need to move!
I found a lot of interesting things, though, while I was clearing up. There was an ancient stack of newspapers -- The Daily Texan -- from a year back. There was one of my paintbrushes under the desk, where it had rolled sometime during the year, and I'd been too preoccupied to notice it (or maybe it's a sign that I own more brushes than I need? I know I don't usually use more than 1 or 2 per session). There was an old bus pass, a day pass for Sept 4, 2006, crushed but still recognizable. There was an old recipe for making spicy broccoli that I'd lifted off the internet sometime, and had (of course) failed to ever try it out. Seeing that it was behind the gas stove, I can see why! There was the instruction booklet for the iPod (why would anyone need an instruction booklet for the iPod?? Four buttons, that's all there is to it!) There was a crumpled drawing (or rather, a cruel caricature) of one of my professors, when I'd been in a not-too-charitable mood toward him. There was a printout of my transcript from the Fall semester, which I threw away hurriedly. I didn't need reminding for the grades! There was also a printed schedule of the 2007 Cricket World Cup, with neat notes in the corner (by me), about which team won which match, by what margin, and their points after each match, and even some kind of complicated formula to find out who needed to win which match by how many runs/wickets to ensure a place in the semi-finals! (If only I'd put in that kind of hard work and dedication into my studies! :P )
Yeah, there were lots of interesting things to pick out of the junk that was left behind after I cleaned out the apartment. Most of it was thrown away, but I kept some of the treasures with me. Maybe I need to clean my house more often.....!!
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