linkin': back atcha, babe! (go visit Pallavi, she kicks ass!)
listening: "wish I didn't have this nervous laugh"
reading: Spin's article on =w=:
"But for now, the kids in Milwaukee under the fuchia lights of Rave's vast ballroom are singing every word to 'My Name is Jonas' and 'Tired of Sex' like the battle hymns of their freakout republic. They throw their hands in the air like they really, really care, seven thousand pale arms that look, from the balcony, like trembling noodles. And it seems clear that as long as the owners of those arms believe they've got his problems Rivers will still have his half-life."
listening now: Chan's beautiful voice singing "Sophisticated Lady," which is just so damn fine, I had to mention it

---

So much to do, but I wanted to write down this great memory that popped into my head today. (Actually, it didn't so much pop; almost everything I think about has some sort of logical path that led up to it. It may be a very convoluted path, but following it is fun because of that! It's like the opening sequence for Mr. Wizard; everything was connected in some manner, but you got all the way from... like bicycles, to butterflies? I really don't remember what all it went through, but I remember loving watching it when I was about 9. The mind path that I am referring to: started with thinking about how ill exam week makes me, and thinking that maybe it's some form of test anxiety, which is stupid, cause I hate it when people say they get test anxiety! Prove your worth, fool! But I realized that the reason most tests don't make me want to throw up is that they don't require that much come-in knowledge, i.e. I can figure out stuff then and there. Anything that requires me to actually know stuff before coming in can bite me. And so I was thinking about, if that's the case, how could I ever have thought myself to be a good test taker? I do believe it was the goddamn SATs, which I really shouldn't diss, since they're the only reason I got into MIT, and I still think I'm cool 'cause of that. So, when I did well on the math part back in 7th grade, I gave myself this big head that is still fucking with me now, 7 years later. Ah, so I got thinking about getting ready to take the SATs back then... (and now you've gotten the backstory))

So I was looking through one of those practice test booklets the school gave out, and realized that I didn't know what the p symbol was. (And anyone who already knew it to the 314th place by the time they were in the 7th grade: I don't want to hear about it! I didn't like math then! I still was holding a grudge with math after having to do 20 pages of long division problems in 3rd grade because I had, like, been caught trying to add more answers into my times tables quiz after time was up. Ooooh, did I hate math for that!) And so I asked my dad what it was, and he actually just sat down and talked to me for like 20 minutes about pi! He knew it to the first occurance of 6, but he showed me how to get it as far as I wanted on my little HP calculator, and I swear! I just thought it was the coolest thing that all circles had the same ratio! I kept trying to draw circles that didn't look as if the circumference would be 2pr. I couldn't believe that everything just worked out so perfectly! Hee! My dad just kept laughing at me.

I love my daddy.

And I think it was right around then that I started to love math, too, so. What a lovely thing to have come to one as one's walking around campus in the middle of the day!