salience

From earlier today:

12:50 AM.

Can't. Sleep.
Don't really want to sleep. Odd.
I am usually the first to say sleeping is my favorite pasttime.

But then, these are strange days. Ones when I don't even recognize my own handwriting, anymore. Instead of my fingers guiding the pen, ink takes responsibility for these words, revealing a penmanship known only to my mind: a mental manuscript too personal to share.

When I close my eyes, words flash brilliant across the dark expanse of my mind, unrelenting in their vividness, screaming for escape.

So here I am... holding a Crowne Plaza hotel pen, swiped from an accomodation I have never utilized, whispering an 1 800 number I have never dialed, waiting to realize some heartsong my mind is trying to decipher.

And then...

The fog lifts: I recognize my hand forming these letters, as if for the first time. A melody remembered in a dimension of staff and key.

White to black. Memory to melody.

Dreams.
Now.

As I get closer and closer to attaining what I want most, as I can make out the opaque outline of the future, I understand I am the only one who can get in my way.

Morality dictates constant inner struggle, yet I no longer have a need for subconscious escape from myself.

What could be a sweeter tangible than my reality?

1:12 AM

Amusing, yes:


You are Trinity, from "The Matrix."
Strong, beautiful- you epitomize the ultimate
heroine.


What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

As is this.

In honor of my previous post and a great work:

This is Your Life - The Dust Brothers featuring Tyler Durden

And you open the door and you step inside
We're inside our hearts

Now imagine that your pain is a white ball of healing light
That's right-your pain, the pain itself, is a white ball of healing light

I don't think so

This is your life
Good to the last drop
It doesn't get any better than this
This is your life and its ending one minute at a time

This isn't a seminar
This isn't a weekend retreat
Where you are now
You can't even imagine what the bottom will be like
Only after disaster can we be resurrected
Its only after you've lost everything that you are free to do anything
Nothing is static
Everything is evolving
Everything is falling apart

This is your life(x4)
It doesn't get any better than this
This is your life(x4)
And its ending one minute at a time

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world

You are not your bank account
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the contents of your wallet

You are not your bowel cancer
You are not your grand latte
You are not the car you drive
You are not your fucking khakis

You have to give up
You have to give up
You have to realise that someday you will die
Until you know that, you are useless

I say never let me be complete
I say may I never be content
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture
I say deliver me from clever art
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth
I say you have to give up
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.

This is your life(x4)
Doesn't get any better than this
This is your life(x4)
And its ending one minute at a time

You have to give up
You have to give up
I want you to hit me as hard as you can(x2)
Welcome to Fight Club
If this is your first night, you have to fight

It's time to recall a pet peeve: all close-minded, self-centered individuals please step forward!!

I hate people. Even though I love to schmooze, I really do hate "people." You know, the collective, irrational backlash that is inherent whenever the great walls of defense go up.

Here at work I am the messenger to many other GE employees that the billing process is changing and they have to take an active role now. Of course, it never goes over well. The best times are when I get angry calls that begin with, "what the hell is this advanced billing engine crap, anyway? I've never taken an active part in billing, why do I have to start now?"

First, I would like to point out that it is only my job to be the messenger. I did not suddenly have this idea for an automated billing system for GE Global one morning in the shower. Thank you though, that notion is flattering, but really I had no hand in revolutionizing any company. Honestly, I didn't even play any active role in ABE's development. Now that we have that cleared up, I'll tell you who I am.

I am a lowly intern whom few respect. Thusly, I am an easy target for angered CPMs who now have to spend fifteen minutes less on the golf course to go online and submit an invoice.

Today, is a perfect example. Currently, I am working on a complexity matrix to determine the roll out strategy for the final version of ABE to be released before Christmas this year. I'm at my desk, calling all of the portfolio managers to get their opinions, creating / emailing training tools, etc--generally doing things Angela does not have time to do. In essence I am her catch-all, make-sure-all-of-the-details-are-covered person. A fun job really, as I have many things to work on, and not just one huge project.

But then there are the clowns that I have to deal with. Today's winners for most annoying GE employee are:
-a certain portfolio manager in China
-a biller in India
-a CPM in Brazil
-a site manager in Venezuela

Yeah, all of those countries look cool when I list them. But back to my point here: "people."

What I am really frustrated with here is this rush we are all in: too busy to read every line, we are content to skim. In reality, why even put forth the effort of beginning in the first place if our intentions are not to obtain the full value? Why push the responsibility to another party, when it is one's own laziness which deters him from taking the extra seven minutes to read something thoroughly? Never mind the fact that all of his questions would be answered in doing this. It's much easier to call the girl who sent the email and blame her for inconveniencing the institution that is "the golfer."

::sigh::

I had a fun conversation with a certain Manager of Cash Flows (fourth position below CEO). His solution? Although these gentle souls need extra attention, I really should just scream out "shove it, you fool!!" and hang up. It's a nice idea, but eventually I would get into trouble with someone who cannot take a joke.

So what is my point??

Why should I drop everything for one, lazy moron?
Someone who obviously doesn't give me the common courtesy of attention, and yet demands just that?
It's such hypocrisy.

Make a decision:
Do something.
Or don't.
No half-assed anythings, please.

Don't. Waste. My. Time.

Oh wow. Remember Dan-o??!! Sarah linked him from her blog, and I couldn't resist delving into the mind of such a sincere, entertaining person. This one is my favorite so far. :)

Things are going well, which is nice. I've realized that if I can get up a little earlier and lift for a bit before I get ready for work, I have a better day. I'm not sure why, but I find sore, used muscles so relaxing. I feel accomplished, even if it means waking up at 4:30 am, a time when even my cat refuses to stir.

It's like I am able to relax the coarse edges of this puzzle ever so slightly, watching its pronounced seams absorb into an existence I claim.

Psst:

Michelle!! Flora!! Anna!! Kirstin!! Natalie!! I miss you girls!!

August needs to hurry up and get here...

Aye. Finally made it into work today. You see, I woke up late, which translated into my taking a five minute shower, throwing on make up and almost-dry-but-still-damp clothes, and then trying to make my way out the garage door to the car without killing myself. ...I have this nasty habit of not being able to walk in heels until I've been up for a few hours or so.

Last night my brother took me to Best Buy, and I bought so much music!! I got five out of the seventeen records I need to have in my collection before the end of the summer, according to my mental list, anyway:

-Chicago soundtrack
-Ani D's new one, Evolve
-Audio Slave, self-titled
-Fight Club soundtrack
-a '97 Cirque du Soleil collection

This morning I decided to listen to Ani D first, more out of curiousity than anything else. And I'm here to tell you, it's not a good idea to be driving when one first listens to that record. Honestly, it's a wonder I made it to work at all. There were so many moments when I felt like stopping the car and sobbing, this collection of music is so sad. The crazy thing is, it's not generic, my-boyfriend-dumped-me-I-have-a-hangnail sad, oh no! it's tormented, please-leave-me-alone sad. I managed to get through all twelve tracks, although I feel as though I've aged twenty-seven years in the process.

::sigh::

I feel more shocked than anything else. Evolve is such a misleading title. Well, my interpretation was misleading. I'm actually looking forward to the second listen through, when I drive home today (don't want to bring that one into the office, I might start bawling at my desk, which would be bad... very bad...), so I can catch everything I missed the first time. :)

Well folks, we are back from wonderful South Bend, Indiana. And I use the term "wonderful" loosely. :)

It wasn't that I didn't have a great time or anything. I love spending time with the familia, regardless of where we are or what we're doing, but the drive. Oh man, the drive.

Many thanks to Christie for taking care of our animals!! It was so cool to come into the house and find her little birthday set up for me!! :) We really need to get together girl, before you head back up to VT.

So what exactly did we do up there in Indiana? Well, la mama and I made it to Chicago okay. We had a great time on the plane, being loud and annoying everybody. (There was this hilarious circumstance of her chair not locking in the upright position. It kept leaning back, no matter what she did. Needless to say, it was very funny!!) We had an interesting time getting from Chicago back to South Bend. El papa was convinced he knew what he was doing, but somehow, we just couldn't get out of Illinois. Four hours later, we made it to South Bend. And just in case you folks have never been there, be forewarned: there is absolutely nothing except cornfields for miles. Notre Dame is the place in town.

Friday was fun. I am now officially twenty, woohoo!! :) La familia didn't collectively get up until about two in the afternoon, which was nice. Although, I had to be up to fix a fiasco with my timecard (yes, a huge find-a-fax-machine-now operation), so I was up at nine and just watched tv for what seemed like eons--which I hadn't done in awhile. We then made our way over to the campus, and walked around. Notre Dame owns something like six hundred acres, so the campus is amazing. We watched a scrimmage and cheered obnoxiously for my brother, went to the Basilica (a replica of the Notre Dame), as well as the Grotto (also a replica).

It was so humbling, walking through the Basilica. There was a choir of nuns practicing for the vigil that night, and it was beautiful to listen to. It's sad that there is no respect for the Holy Orders anymore. But at the same time, I'm not one to fully dedicate my life to God, so I really shouldn't be saying anything. We spent about an hour just taking in the beautiful church: the gothic architecture, the gold plated columns, the life size murals, the old relics. It's one of those places where one just forgets location and time, where she just exists in a universal moment and place, almost like dreaming. The twins were so excited to be in the church; the last time we were there was four years ago, in 1999. They were only ten at the time, so they didn't really remember much of our Thanksgiving Notre Dame trip of that year.

Afterwards we went down in the garden to the Grotto. We all lit candles for my grandma (who is still trying to recover from a broken ankle). After we were done praying, we sat in the benches by the lake, talking, creating voices for the ducks, and watching the football camp kids make their way to the Grotto. It was a neat scene: huge guys carry cleats, sunburnt, trying to light candles with clumsy, tired hands. We made our way to the bookstore (which is the size of a Barnes and Nobles, really) and spent about three hours reading, talking, and drinking coffee (the twins have this huge coffee fetish, it's weird). Of course, the store was gearing up for the Harry Potter release that night, and everywhere were employees dressing up and turning the place into Hogwart's. After much pleading, the girls finally convinced el papa to bring them back for the book release.

Seeing as how we had a few hours to kill until midnight, la familia headed to the Olive Garden in Mishawaka, which is right down the road from South Bend. The parentals asked for everyone to sing to me and that was fun and embarrassing. I did get a digital camera though, which is way cool: a little gadget I've been contemplating buying for some time now.

And then it was Harry Potter time, an enthralling endeavor, especially since I am not a fan, by any means. We showed up at the bookstore around 11:30, and the place had been transformed. There were black curtains everywhere, and we had to know the password (aka the name of the new book) to get in. Once inside, it was like a carnival. Booths were set up, and everywhere I looked there as an old woman in a witch costume sans the scary nose pushing plastic spider rings, Hogwart's stickers and lightning bolt tattoos my way. There were gaggles of little, screaming children everywhere, all dressed up and impatient. Likewise, there were a fair amount of older people, many who looked as though they could be grandparents, dressed up and excited for the new book. The odd thing was, they had no kids with them. They merely carried camcorders in their lightning tattooed hands to capture the blessed event. At midnight, the bookstore officials wheeled out the crates and mass chaos ensued. Six minutes later, el papa had a copy and we were out of the store.

Whew. No more bubblegum hysteria for me, thank you.

Saturday was a lazy day. We watched Lorenzo's last scrimmage, briefly talked with Coach Willingham (he's such a BA), and then were back at the hotel to check out. My brother was starving, so we stopped at a Burger King (his favorite dining establishment). We ate, and were amused by Lorenzo's stories: it was a fun time. (Really we were just putting off getting back in the van...) Eventually we got tired of listening to Lorenzo, and el papa decided it was time to head home. We made it as far as Louisville, KY before we all got sick. Yay for food poisoning after only five hours in the car. Yeah, it was g-ross, to be sure.

After much Pepto Bismal and sleep, we were back on the road Sunday morning. El papa's left arm kept falling asleep while he was driving, which made progress slow. We didn't even get out of Tennessee until about three in the afternoon. Y-u-c-k.

Luckily we finally pulled into the drive way around six, just as Melinda decided she was car sick, and the rest of us agreed: no more fast food for awhile.

Ah. Home sweet home.

So we leave for South Bend tomorrow. La mama and I are using our free tickets to fly into Chicago, where my papi and twins will be waiting to pick us up. From there, we'll drive back to Notre Dame. La mama is really nervous about flying. She has never had to get to the airport on her own, and even though I will be with her, she will not relax. I don't understand it, it's not like I've travelled back and forth between Boston a ton of times or anything. Besides, if anyone tries anything, I know I can get his ass on the ground, I only need 12 seconds. I mean, I'm a black belt who had to learn Army maneuvers for goodness sake. I'm confident everything will be fine. ...we've decided to take Marta, to avoid having to drive all the way down there after the drive from Indiana on Sunday, as I will need my car to drive to work Monday morning. I figure just driving down to the Marta station to pick up the car is a ton better than the alternative.

My brother is really nervous. He and Sunshine (his best friend from football, a kid from CA) are going in together, and they were about to piss their pants just getting into the van to drive up there yesterday. El papi called last night, to tell us he had made it all the way to Louisville, KY. I got to talk to the twins, who were making a big fuss over being in my "home town," which was only for eight months, by the way. It's an ongoing joke that I'm the only child of my parents not born in San Antonio. Supposedly that is why I have a different skin tone from the rest of the kids, something about that "southern country" atmosphere... or that skunk la mama had to battle in the parking lot of the KY hospital, but that is another story all together.

I talked to Lorenzo last night, and he was so hyper--I'm sure Sunshine being there had at least something to do with it. He is so psyched to finally be meeting the original BA himself (read: Tyrone Willingham, coach for ND football). It's going to be a tough few days for him, I'm sure they're going to run all over these kids. But, that's what it's all about, right? And honestly, the coaches could have the guys playing hopscotch. No matter what the coaches actually say, the boys will be falling over themselves to get it done.

So today is technically Friday for me. It looks like I'm missing a fun two days though, here at work. Tomorrow, Angela and Tom (Angela's boss, the ND guy) have planned a trip to Greenville, to one of the sites. Not really all that interesting, but I'm sure it'll be a fun time. Friday has been declared a holiday after one, due to all the stress around here. (People have been sleeping under their desks, taking showers at the truck stop and whatnot, to get things done for the second release of ABE. Y-u-c-k.)

Things at work have been a ton of fun lately. Between being a complete fool with Angela (e.g. chair races down the hall) and meeting all of the FMP interms(Financial Management Program--the really high speed guys who are all seniors), things are definitely amusing. All of the FMP guys (well, there are 2 girls) live together (the girls in their own suite, obviously) and are hilarious. We all eat lunch together (a group of about 17) and we end up causing a scene in any place we go. Some of the guys are trying to organize a huge intern party, it's rumoured that there are about 68 interns here, through all of the programs, so that could be fun.

I have a ton of things to do before we leave tomorrow, and it doesn't help that Dave (marching band director) has sent out emails to me and Ronan (the tenor sax section leader, aka my MAN steve roNAN, although not really), saying that we are behind the rest of the sections went it comes to recruiting. 'Course, I was expecting his emails, but it doesn't change the fact that I am going to have to make time (read: not sleep) to get 8 more kids to join my section, by the end of the week. It's going to be hard to coordinate it all, but I figure if I take my cell phone, I can make a ton of calls during the trip (woohoo for national minutes).

Things with my querido are clearing up. We have been the definition of miscommunication, or complete lack thereof, as well as self-consumed. We both are so wrapped up in our jobs and what we have to get done, that we take each other for granted. Not only do we never see each other, we don't ever talk. Yeah, talk about a surprise. I did not expect to come home to GA and not at least talk to him more than when I'm at school:

Yesterday I was driving home and was generally pissed when I thought of the whole situation.
::I set my cd player for track 6.::

Then my phone rings and it's him, of course. We are both upset and he hangs up on me.
::bamf... turn the volume up on that track!!::

I call him back and things are no better; we both hang up.
::dammit!! just a little louder now... thank you::

He calls me back and apologizes and I say I understand. We both say we'll work to make things better.
::just kidding... girl, change that track to 5!! Don't be a fool!! Let's take a "Long Walk" with Jill, already!!::

...and that was the song I listened to the whole rest of my drive home. :)

1. Wow, man. Blogger has changed its user interface, finally. I like it, the design is very clean. Maybe I'll take a screen shot of it later, to show all you lucky folks... :)

2. So I was reading the headlines this morning, and I saw an article about a woman accused of smuggling.

And here's my four cents:

What sensational reporting. Like smuggling immigrants is anything new, much less a threat to the United States. The reality is, if it weren't for these ring leaders, my Dad's paternal family would never have made it to Texas. For all of the industrialization in Mexico City, once outside, there is absolutely nothing. No running water, electricity, health care, food: only corruption and a huge imbalance of wealth. These people want a better life. Maybe if all of us rich Americans took the time to go down to the border, walk that bridge over the Rio Grande, and take in the lifestyle for a few minutes, we would collectively understand why latinos risk everything to get into this country.

Ah Mexico. I was nine, and my entire family was on a mission trip before New Years. Mexicanos are very Catholic, and my abuela (grandma) was determined to visit the five missions she had used as landmarks in getting away from her mother's ranch to San Antonio. My abuelo (grandpa) had just died, two days before Christmas, which made the trip all the more important. The day after Christmas, the day after the funeral, my entire family set out for Mexico. We went to three masses that day, and even got to hear the nuns singing. The prettiest one (in my mind) was that of La Virgen de Guadalupe, closest to where my abuela grew up. There is a natural portrait on the side of the building: the limestone used for that wall had corroded in a million different colors, and if one took in the entire wall, she could see Mary.

At each mission I was appalled at the first thing I saw: old women, on their hands and knees, dragging themselves over the gravel paths to the churches. I turned to my abuela and tried not to cry. She told me that they needed to suffer to feel worthy of God, and the gravel path was a sort of self-induced confession, if one believes in that sort of thing. Even after the explanation, it was still hard to walk past these women, into the church.

It took us seven hours to get to the border: seven hours, three masses, two benedictions, and one long hello from my abuela's favorite brother at her first church. I remember him telling us a joke (why is everyone afraid of the number 7? Because 7 8 9) and then blessing us in Spanish.

My dad and uncles parked our cars, neatly, on the side of the road, and then went inside a huge booth to get clearance. It was about 3pm, and everywhere we looked there were armed guards. The Customs booth was situated facing a long row of vehicle inspection points, each armed with three guards. The cars were lined up for what seemed miles, all trying to get to our side of the inspection point. My nine year old eyes recognized generic, white vans and rusted, black Oldsmobiles. I remember telling my brother that each Oldsmobile reminded me of the hearse we had seen a few days ago, carrying the man he still looked for in abuela's house, his namesake. Lorenzo didn't understand what "dead" meant, really, he was only six. But I wasn't going to be the one to explain it to him.

Only the men had to be "cleared." The officials, my dad later told me, had assumed the women and children would not cause trouble, especially since my mother, and one uncle, were anglo. I remember all of the cousins clutching each other, trying to play it cool. I was in between Cynthia (who was 8 at the time), Teresa (then 11), and Lori (then 26), who was carrying Michael. The twins and my brother were right behind me, forcing me to check everything out first. My dad and aunts were in front. My mom and uncles in the back. We processed over a long concrete bridge, over the Rio Grande, watching people flee down the Mexican bank and through the water, as we passed. The guards just watched, only firing warning rounds until the would-be escapees tried to run up the American Bank. By the time they would reach the huge barbed wire fence, they were already dead.

I remember the twins wanting me to carry them as soon as the rounds were shot. I looked back at my mom, who was so scared she looked like she was going to collapse at my uncles' feet at any minute. The twins were three at this time, and insanely heavy... not exactly toddlers anymore. I nudged Cynthia, and she picked up Melinda and I took Carmen, who each nudged their faces into our necks, trying to block out the noise. I pushed Lorenzo, who had his ears covered with his hands, in between Cynthia and I, so he wouldn't have to see anything. And we walked, and walked, and walked. It's not like the Rio Grande is a huge river, or anything. The guards who were escorting us made us walk slowly, so they could watch the river.

We finally reached Mexican soil, and the guards turned back. We were to call the booth from a pay phone at the edge of the bridge for an escort back when we were through.

My family only stayed in town for about an hour. We went through the shops, and tried to forget what we had just seen. I remember a little girl asking my dad for a dollar, saying she was hungry. He quickly gave her a five dollar bill and off she ran, straight to a man in an alley, who took the money from her. She turned right around and asked a man who was behind us the same question. We assumed the guy in the alley was her father.

The town was a pretty happy place, just like any other tourist attraction. I remember buying three wool sarapes (for the twins and Lorenzo) with my Christmas money. All three only cost $7. Cynthia, Teresa and I all bought velvet sombreros for $15. Here in the States they cost triple that. My abuela bought us all peach snocones from a lady she had gone to high school with--which were wonderful, even in the cold.

As the twins and Michael (then 4) started to get tired, we turned back to the bridge. My dad called the booth and the same guards came back. We processed out the way we had come in, Cynthia and I carrying the twins from the start this time, balancing the girls and our bulky, plastic bags. The walk didn't seem so long, and I stared at Cynthia's hair to avoid seeing what I heard. The guards walked us all the way to our cars, opened our doors, and asked us to come back. "Almost like a restaraunt or something," Cynthia would later say. By midnight, we were back in San Antonio.

That was in 1992. Things are more modernized now. The guards do not use their guns much, thanks to the the electrical fences. Travellers can walk unattended over the bridge once cleared, but it is recommended to take a guard if one of the party is anglo.

But see, I still picture the border as it was when I first went. And really, what threat are hard workers? After all they've been through? These people do everything we wash our hands of, and not only that:

They are happy to do it.

1. It's Thursday, which is good. At least now when I look away from the computer screen I can think, "Tomorrow's Friday." :)

2. We oscillate here, between mountains and droughts, when it comes to work. Since I work directly for Angela, I'm handed short term projects which only require about five hours of my time, unlike the other interns, who have month long projects. So when Angela is in meetings all day, it is hard for her to throw stuff my way. ...and here I am, waiting for something to do. Really, it's not so bad. I'm paid regardless, and I can get to almost all of the sites I read on a regular basis. My new thing is staying current. I never noticed that the news is updated every half hour until yesterday, which is kinda cool.

3. Speaking of news, my brother and I were talking about paranoia yesterday. I was saying that when the war first broke out, MTV was the best source for information: it was unbiased, purely informative, geared towards an audience that was clueless (e.g. the youth of America). Now, before I elaborate, I will admit, the majority of stuff MTV airs is so-called "reality tv" or unrehearsed over-dramatization. Yet, true to abiding by our collective ADD, every hour there is a five minute news break, usually pertaining to whatever law suit our ghetto entertainers are having to deal with. That being said, the station took the news seriously, catering to a young audience with no real, accessible outlet for real world information. Instead of taking advantage of this situation, MTV sent the VJs out with camera crews to present the facts from a real person's perspective. There was no reporter sitting behind a desk, rattling off the latest list from the Associated Press from a camera screen, ad libbing comments under her breath.

La mama however, became enraged. She said MTV would never pull such a stunt because it is a network that relies on the entertainment industry. Why then, would they actually want to inform their audience? She went on to say that she preferred CNN to MTV news anyday, or FOX news, as it is more conservative. Be her personal, political convictions as they may, I tried to initiate a debate.

My brother sided with me with MTV. He said he was impressed that the VJs would give the facts of what was going on, plus the organization of the government and why things were happening as they were, and then go above and beyond, talking to real people who were deeply affected by the turn of events. Not only did MTV follow young, "encouraged," enlisted soldiers (and yes, they were ALL Army, thank you), but they held forums where kids could ask questions and get answers.

La mama just stared at him, surprised at his seriousness. I took the opportunity to add that her wanting her information with a political spin implied her need for entertainment. She did not want to just know the facts, she wanted to know a certain position on the situation. I pointed out that when something happens, she is the first to turn on CNN and adopt the severe paranoia the channel perpetuates. Take the confirmation that Suddam is still alive (what a shock, lemme tell you) and that he has withdrawn all funds from his bank for bounty on American soldiers. My mom was horrified, describing in detail her shock. My entire family just looked at her and shook our heads. I mean, really, that is obvious. Why should that be surprising??

My brother added that the common media has taken it upon themselves to dramatize everything to gain interest. Even the police botter in the Alpharetta Neighbor has taken a Dr. Phil approach to addressing its encounters of the past week. ...and la mama is the first to condemn Alpharetta as "going downhill." It's gotten to the point now, where she is afraid to be in the North Point Mall parking lot after dark, for fear that someone will attack her. And, let's be honest, yes, if one is by herself at night she might be easier to attack. But who goes to the mall by themselves, really? Not many people, and especially not at night.

It was an interesting dialogue, with el papa eventually siding with my brother and I, saying la mama was falling into the "paranoid geezer" mentality of believing everything she hears/sees/reads and not forming her own opinion, thus closing all discussion and settling the debate.

And yeah, I do think it's easy to fall into the paranoid mentality. But there is crime, violence, and prejudice everywhere. If one actively seeks it out, she will find it. You know?

Wow. Haven't been so excited about this since 1999!!
::yeah, I'm trying real hard to avoid a Prince reference, even though the song is now in my head::

...but football will always reign supreme in my mind.

High School...
::sigh:: Before my rotc days and my runner's butt.

Christie!! Sarah!!
I know, I'm home, and I STILL haven't seen you guys. For shame... For shame, indeed.
I was reminiscing this morning, you know:
All State and Car Pool fun and whatnot, and I was having such a good time I found an inspiration.
...hope you guys don't mind being linked from my page. :)

It's always random. Like remembering that itchy feeling my teeth have when the dentist first starts to clean them.

::shudders::

I'll be flipping through my cd binder and I'll glance at his handwriting, as I'm trying to remember where I put Prokofiev. Or I'll see Bono on tv and think back to that Halloween in RI.

And you know, even after knowing for two months, it still creeps me out.
He's only 21.

And yes, I'm happy for him, I guess. But why the rush to graduate?
What is he running away from?
What is he hiding?

I think what bugs me the most is this is not the Matt I knew at BC.

...new desktop!! :)

It's so much fun to laugh.

And yeah, the ideas of LOTR and Trading Spaces being religions, I think we qualify.

Go.
Right.
Now.

Read her entries. Take in her photography.
It will enhance your day, trust me. :)

...you see, I don't know Alison Headley, at all. The only reason I even stumbled upon her site was through JLee. But, there's something familiar in her writing that keeps drawing me back. What makes it all the more intriguing is she is simply recording her life.

Yes, I am home in Alpharetta, I promise. But, what have I been doing?!
Allow me to explain:

The past week and a half have been crazy at GE. As Angela warned, I was immediately thrown into a world of IT that I did not understand. All I knew at the start was that I was going to be working for a BC alum on a billing engine. The end.

As it turns out, things are not so simple. After the first day of meeting people and getting settled on the eighth floor of 4200 Wildwood Parkway, it was time to get down to business...

Angela started out as an FMP intern after she graduated from BC. FMP stands for Financial Management Program: a two year, four department rotation that GE sponsors, allowing kids new to the field a variety of experience. At the end of two years, hopefully, one is offered a position in the area where she most excelled. Angela got a job with Power Systems on the Finance team. Her first day, she was tasked to construct a billing engine that would take the manual billing process and turn it into an automated system. The SE division of GE recently moved its billers to India, off shore, as that is where the majority of the programs it uses are written. This gap in location has caused many, recurring problems when it comes to keeping track of cash flows, especially at the end of a quarter, when the ledger has to be closed out and reconciled. An automated system would allow for these gaps in communication to be eliminated, as all transactions would be done electronically, thereby reducing the margin for human error.

For example: An employee, called a CPM (a fancy term for a site manager) bills customers for work each month, or however often an agreed-upon contract states. The site manager creates an invoice, sends (via FedEx, etc) it to his assigned biller, who records the information, checks it for accuracy, approves it, and then sends it back to the site manager. At this time, the site manager is then responsible for getting the invoice to the customer.

With the billers being in India, the CPMs are having all sorts of communication problems. Not only does the huge time difference have an impact on turn-around time, but discrepencies cannot be fixed as easily, and shipping costs sky rocket with each addition of a new client. Having a system where all of this could be done at one location on the web, electronically, would eliminate these problems.

Angela was to take this idea and make it a reality. She was assigned an IT team, who was in charge of actually constructing the application itself. Now, two years later, her team has the entire application created. When I first started at GE, her team was on the brink of releasing the first version of the application.

From the start, I had to study up on the world of acronyms and symbols, mirroring Angela for a few days until I caught on. Then I was on my own. I created tutorials for this program I had never even used; I created work IDs for all of the CPMs in Power Systems, so that they could log into the system and create their invoices; I called CPMs and walked them through an application they couldn't see. In other words, I spent my time staring at computer applications all day and dealing with angry site managers. Not exactly what I had expected, to say the least. I mean, I'm a Finance major, not even closely related to Computer Science or PR. Right?

Wrong.

This past Monday, Angela gave the go-ahead for the first version to be released, just in time for the billing for the month of May. Everyone was excited, and now that I understood what was going on, I was anxious to see if everything would work as planned. Well, it crashed and burned. As we would later find out, one guy of the IT team went back to "tweak" some of his code and threw a wrench in the whole application. CPMs could create invoices, billers could approve them, copies of the invoices for customers were made, but were never returned to the CPMs' email boxes for delivery. So, not willing to accept failure, Angela decided to have the two of us go through each invoice manually and make sure everything was correct, and then get it to the CPMs ourselves. During the first FTP push (File Transfer Protocol push--when the invoices are forced through the process) alone, over 150 invoices were generated. This may not sound like a helluva lot, but when one is opening a file, comparing numbers to a big ass excel sheet, opening an attached file and comparing that to another spreadsheet, then sending it to the CPM, it is all very time consuming. Yesterday, Angela and I worked for seven hours straight on manually pushing the invoices through and only got through 20. And this is only the first FTP push. Billers wanted to know why they were getting angry calls from their CPMs and CPMs wanted to know why the weren't getting their invoices back. Plus, there were three pushes left to get through all of the portfolios that GE SE manages.

I, thankfully was able to leave at my normal time, while Angela decided to stay. When I got to the office this morning, the last email she had sent me was from 4:30 in the morning... She had had to work another ten hours to fix the system, but her team pulled through. The ABE (Advanced Billing Engine) now processes invoices through all stages.

Keep in mind that this is only the first release of the engine. But from the team meeting this morning (waaaaayyy intimidating, by the way), everyone has good things to say about it. The crazy thing is, I am now getting a million and one emails and phone calls from people about ABE. Whether people need a new User ID, their password reset, a PDF corrected, or an invoice created, I get to help them out.

And to think, I'm now a support tech for an application I couldn't even spell two weeks ago.

The next release of the application is scheduled for the end of June, at the end of the second quarter. The IT guys are already busy creating templates for interfaces and code to fix the hiccups from this past release. Right now, the plan is to let the application go live, for all of GE Global, at the beginning of September. If all goes well, Angela's team will have their careers made. She is basically revolutionizing the billing system that has been in place for over twenty years.

So, we'll see how things go.

Everything else is turning out alright. I sit with two other interns, one guy from UGA and one guy from University of Buffalo (NY). They are both going to be seniors, so I feel a little young most of the time. But, we have fun. I'm the only one working for Angela, so I'm on my own. They are both working for Angela's boss, Tom (a Notre Dame grad--damn him!!), working on correcting Pega (the database GE uses) so ABE will be more efficient.

I am meeting a ton of really nice people, doing whatever they need me to do, to build up my resume. Most of the higher ranking people are from private and ivy league schools. There are a ton of people from Massachussettes, with either BC, Harvard, or MIT (!!!) degrees. (Man, the first time I met Chad, one of the CFOs, and I saw that MIT ring on his right hand, I almost screamed. M-I-fucking T!! Goodness...) Plus, Notre Dame (there is a huge BC/ND rivalry here), Georgetown, Princeton, and Yale.

The big thing now is I'm trying to get a feel for continuing school to get my masters. I've been talking with everyone who has two seconds to listen, and it seems like the general consensus is to continue my education and go to grad school. Angela was telling me that she regrets not going straight for her masters. She's stuck at GE for another two years at least, and although she is successful, she is watching younger kids, with more education, getting promoted above her. The same goes for Tom.

And I suppose it makes sense. With the availability of internships now, it is possible to gain real world experience and education at the same time.

My dad was telling me that when he last went to Seatlle, he was at a bar one night with Mr. Boone. There was this group of guys at a table, and they called my dad and Mr. Boone over. One man introduced himself, and explained that each guy at the table was a CEO of a major company. All of these men were older, distinguished. They all went around the table and explained what they did: come to find out each owned his own business. The guy who spoke up first started a financial services company gained towards hopitals in Dallas, and eventually, over time, all of the men at the table had met, and become acquainted through doing business, all self-made millionaires. My dad said the real shocker was that, the man who had originally introduced himself said that they owed all of their success to one man, and he pointed to a younger guy, sitting farther down the table. This guy hadn't said a word the entire time, just had sat there, taking it all in. The first guy gave him a huge introduction: a young man who was indispensable to his and all of their companies, who wasted more money than they all made in a year, who could literally buy and sell business to large-name companies, and did just that every year, discreetly. Apparently, this guy had gone to Harvard, gotten two Masters degrees (one from Yale, one from Princeton) and been hired by Chase Manhattan. He was a broker there for two years, learned the game and then started out on his own. He got the backing of ten major companies, and now manages a portfolio of billions of dollars for each company, each year. Since his company's inception, he has made a return for each company of no less than 140%, with the compliance of the men sitting around him at the table. My dad and Mr. Boone were spellbound. Here they were, these retired, old men who had both decided to serve their country before finding financial stability. Now, they were staring a kid in the face who moves more money each quarter than they can even fathom.

I then asked my dad if he regretted going into the military (a subject that is still kinda tender around my house ever since I left the rotc program at BC). He said that he was well aware, at the time, of all of the money he would be missing out on. The tradeoff was that the military had paid for his education, and he had a debt to pay. I asked if he would be in a different position today if he had been able to take out loans, you know, like I'm doing.

And he said something that completely blew me away:

"M'ja, I would have gone to Princeton and made my millions through investments and have been done with it."
My jaw dropped.
"You got into Princeton?!?!" I yelled.
And he just smiled and said,
"Back in those days, my parents didn't have any substantial credit. We were doing good to have food on the table. Do you think a bank would have supported a kid from a run down, San Antonio neighborhood? Who would have been the co-signer for the loans?"
True, his family didn't have much of anything, really.
And then he said,
"See, the difference is, you have all of the support. Just go find your opportunities."

...it's something to think about, isn't it?

The latest:

::my brother calls me on my cell phone during my lunch hour::

Him: So, Moose...
Me: So? Why am I graced with your voice?
Him: Say what?
Me: Man... All attempts at civility with you are lost causes. Why the hell are you calling me?
Him: Oh... Ha! I get it! You were--
Me: Trying to explain that you're a dip--
Him: So, KFC called me back.
Me: Ah, your favorite dining establishment.
Him: Shyeah! Man, I hate eating there...
Me: So?
Him: So they want me to "interview" today.
Me: Cool, man. Would you get free food? Cause you know "free" always makes it taste better....
Him: Except at the banks, man. Those lollipops are nasty. Do you think I should pretend I don't speak English?
Me: You couldn't pull it off. You got the name, that's enough.
Him: So... what should I wear?? T-Shirt? Yes. With or without the undershirt?
Me: With.
Him: What about the UnderArmour?
Me: Man, if you're going to go all out, and wear the under-under shirt, just wear a Polo shirt.
Him: I hate Polo shirts.
Me: Yeah, they don't ever fit you right.
Him: But I would look more Mexican, you know--like I need the money...
Me: So you can buy a shirt that fits??
Him: Maybe I should do my Cheech impersonation...
Me: You're too tall...
Him: Dammit...
Me: Man, it's KFC.... Remember??
Him: Yeah, yeah, I know....
Me: What time is your thing at?
HIm: Whenever I get my butt down there...
Me: Well, don't be too much of an ass, you know how us mexicanos can be.
Him: Especially--
Me: At KFC. But the real question is, can you be a respectable ass at a chicken place?
Him: You know it. But, they got enough nalgas (ass) down there as it is. ...chicken, I mean.
Me: But you don't want to be compared to a chicken's ass.
Him: Good point. Nothing worse than being called the ass of a chicken no one wants.
Me: Exactly. Bye man, I'll see you when I get home. Good luck.
Him: Eh, we'll see how it goes. Bye.

Last night, the twins had a slumber party to go to, so it was just the four of us at home: the parentals, my brother and I. A typical, American family.

Now that my mom has no official job, she's found comfort in being a "soccer mom." You know, the typical home-maker, doing all sorts of soccer-mom-ish things. Even though I'm only home at night, I can tell she is happy.

Although it is weird, I must say, walking in the door to the smell of dinner, knowing that she has looked forward to this moment all day. Like she's waiting for my approval, almost trying to make up for all of those years...

Ever since I can remember, she was the one walking in the door and I was the one with dinner ready. It's just odd... We've switched roles, and I don't really mind. Come to think of it, I don't really mind much of anything, anymore. Not even my turning 20 in a few weeks.

...the more I'm home, the more I realize how much I missed my brother during the year. Aside from the fact that he is one of the funniest people I know, he has a ton of interesting things to say. I'm past the point know where I tease him incessantly about playing football. He's proven me wrong and remained smart. The coaches don't allow him to take hard classes (this next year he'll be taking his first honors-type class ever--AP US History and H English)--gotta have room for those two weight lifting classes, y'know--so he's had to prod me for ideas.

Lately, he's on this kick of eventually writing novels to sell in airports. Aside from the kiosks having the latest best sellers, there always seems to be four or five books by no-name people...usually one about technology, a mystery, a romance, or fantasy. He pointed out that they all have something in common--they have too, to appeal to the masses. Otherwise, how would these "authors" make their money? He used that term loosely, because they aren't "authors" by any means. They haven't created a damn thing, to be honest. It's just a recycled formula--just like magazine headlines. No genius, just rubric. Course, from that statement, one could write a tale about a horrible airplane crash and it would sell very well. And that is his precise plan. After playing football for Notre Dame, getting his masters from some prestigious Ivy League, and making his millions. He looks at it almost as a future hobby. :)

I'm rather proud of him, actually. He first approached me about it when I was in Friedman's class, so of course, he wanted to know everything about whatever we happened to be reading at the time. I am happy to report he has an extensive knowledge of Shakespeare and other classics. He loves to tell me how his 10th grade lit class couldn't understand MacBeth and how he corrected his friends for putting down Branagh.


Plus, he really was my constant best friend growing up, and there are so many inside jokes we can reference in a matter of seconds. Well, more like events than jokes. But they're hilarious now--much like why my entire family loves Disney so much: it was a background for so many hard times, things we can laugh about now: a sort of benchmark... it reminds us of how far we've come, you know?

At dinner last night, it was so much fun just to notice how we really do think alike, and say the same things just at the right moment to entertain the parentals, and ourselves. It got to the point where I had to take my contacts out after we had finished dinner because I had been crying so much from laughing.

...and yeah.
That's how it should be, you know?

I've been at work for a little over two hours now... not really doing much of anything, which is fine with me. The more time I have to wake up, the better. Nevermind the fact that I had to drive 26 miles this morning. It's gotten to the point where I am pulling into the parking deck and I feel like I missed something: "How exactly did I get here? Oh yeah...I'm driving!"

Apart from spending time with friends, el amor de mi vida, and the familia, this weekend I was able to sleep for eons. And it was: D-I-V-I-N-E. Let me tell you, between my gato-Sphinx cuddling with me and my ethereal mattress, "babies don't sleep this good."

So I get into work this morning, and you know, I'm feeling confident. I worked out with my brother a ton this past weekend, mostly to take my mind off my now-peeling sunburn. I'm wearing (my favorite) red shirt today, my $7 khakis and my awesome brown shoes. My hair is cooperating. You can't tell I put my make up on in 6 minutes. Or that I'm taking Benadryl.

By this time, as it my custom, I've downed four bottles of water, so I head to the lav. I'm washing my hands, and wouldn't you know it?! I still have Miracle Grow Potting Soil under my nails from the familia event yesterday of planting summer flowers!!

Hijole!!

It's like my grandma always says, "por mas que traigas de salir, siempre quedara el corazon tuyo con la tierra."
"No matter how hard you try to leave, your heart will always remain with the earth."