Trapped in a Box

Yes, I know.  Slacker.  Right here.  Haven't been blogging.  And I called someone out for not blogging during my fan-tabulous D.C. trip (which my host, Dave, should be guest blogging about soon).  There are a few reasons why, and I suppose I will try to explain my current frustration with people and the interwebs.

1.  I feel trapped.  I'm not sure what I want to do with the rest of my life, yet.  I'm in grad school (what comes next, I haven't decided!) and I have a long list of things I want to do.  For instance, take a tour of all of the major cities in the U.S., then abroad.  That takes money, as most of my endeavors do, which is frustrating and upsetting, seeings how I have none.

2.  I don't want a real person job.  So I've slacked on looking and slacked on interviews.  I feel bad about that, but somehow I'm hoping it'll work out.  Hence me working on a business plan.  Ya know, in all of that spare time I have lying around.

3.  People are really fucking inconsiderate, most of the time.  Obviously, this applies to little parts of life and to big ones.  Like...global warming.  Most people don't care right now, but their grandkids definitely will.  Also, the simple things.  Like....oh hey, I have my hands completely full of really heavy looking things and you just let the door slam on my face.  Thanks for taking the 0.5 seconds you saved by not helping me and applying them to solving world hunger.  I HOPE.

4.  I'm moving!  And packing!  And paying extra than I'm used to for rent!  And throwing/giving a lot of stuff away!

5.  Class + Work = Packed Schedule.

Anyway, tune in for more later.  But instead of updating 3 times or so a week, I'm going to cut down to about once a week.  There may be more enjoyment in it for you and me that way.

<3.

(Also, happy 21st birthday Loretta!!!)

PIctures Are Sometimes More Eloquent

Here's a shocker - I've been to a lot of bars lately.  Some marketing guru somewhere thought it would be a great idea to put advertisements in the bathroom.  I mean, what else are people gonna try to read while they are in there?  Not many people take comic books or regular books into a pub's restroom with them - that just downright says "I'm an alcoholic who can't leave the bar long enough to take a dump at home."

Luckily, I always take my phone.  One of the few reasons I would like a smartphone (specifically an iPhone) is so that I can do "check ins" on foursquare.

Because I want a free taco at a bar that charges 75 cents for a Miller High Life.
Classy. Lady. Right. Here.

This is in the bathroom at a local favorite bar of mine, Local 44.  I'm not sure why I took a picture of it or what it says.  But it was funny at the time.  Maybe just because it was in the bathroom.  Next time I go I will take a better picture.  It's a one room bathroom so it's not like I should've been rushing to get the picture in for fear that someone would see me and think I was strange.  [Like that doesn't happen all the time anyway].

Here are the two token pictures of my trip to AC.  Don't ask about the first one.  I must've been the same level of drunk for the last picture and this next one.  Same night.  No judgies.

Ya know how it goes.

Yea, we were there for the sunrise.  All of my friends said "ahh, how romantic."  I told them to shut the hell up, it was about as romantic as me trying not to toss my cookies at brunch.  It could've been.  I'm just a little dense.

The next picture is a throwback from June.  My friend saw it on Facebook and was like "will you take pictures at my wedding?  I love the filter on your camera."

Little did she know the recipe for that filter is a $25 Kodak digital camera and a bottle of carpet cleaner leaked in a purse and shaken around.

At least that could be my wedding gift to her.  Much like these chairs were a housewarming gift to me from my parents.  Four chairs, $16 bucks, and dragging them around a thrift store, up the street, to the Ford Focus later....

...we're going to have to chain them up in our backyard.  Our neighborhood has not gotten any safer.  Two shootings and a cop stabbing later, this is a regular day in our 'hood.

At least Nelly is still alive.  And as cute as ever.

In This Body You Will Live

So, I've been boring lately.  At least on here.  Apologies.

It's just that there has not been a whole lot going on.

[LIES.]

My weekend was crazy as usual.  On Friday, I had a random night off.  I went to First Friday's at Portside (the Tattoo Shop that Loretta works at).  After a few free glasses of wine, and meeting Liz's friend from NYC, Jessica, I went home to chill with a few friends over cheap sangria.  At about 1 a.m. I went out to a bar to have a drink with a friend.  As a drink oft does, it turned into one more, another bar, and then a random trip to AC.

I do this thing often where I really try to hang out with EVERY SINGLE PERSON I know within a ridiculously small amount of time.  So with a two hour nap, I went to brunch with Liz, Jessica, and Pogo.  Maybe I'm crazy, but I really wanted to get to know Jessica a little bit better.  Liz and her are blog/real-life biffles, so I know she must be awesome.  Sure enough, soft spoken yet outgoing, Jessica was an amazing person who I hope to hang out with again soon (minus the sleep deprivation).

Later, I went to work, got really sick, made $80 and went home.  For the fourth of July, I spent most of the day in bed, then at work.  Made a lot more money from the drunk/thirsty people who drifted over to University City after the fireworks.  Yesterday and today, I've been cleaning and preparing for my mother to come visit.

So many things have happened.  Smitty, a tattoo artist from Olde City, a very close friend to some of my friends, and the guy who did my second one, committed suicide in his shop, not 40 yards away from Portside.  Suicides leave so many questions unanswered and I just have to wonder, why?  And what happens afterwards?  We know that among the world of the living they leave a wake of despair and clean-up.  Guess no one can ever tell me for sure what happens in the world of the not-living.

At brunch, Liz said something along the lines of "yep, in a few months it will be three Type-A people and me living in the house together."  Okay, call me stupid (some people did), but I didn't know I was a Type-A person.  In case you don't know, here's a quiz.  I scored a 280, in case anyone's interested.

See lately, I've been trying to figure out who I truly am (cheeeeesey) and I've been seeing the large gap between what I think and what is.

The next few days are hectic, but expect a graphic novella soon.

By the way, besides making mad money on a holiday at work, we celebrated with a few after drink beers on the patio while our manager/bartender, B set off some fireworks.  So, yes, I did have some fun.

Compound Interest

Do you know about this thing called compound interest??

If 233 years ago, George Washington had taken the silver dollar he erroneously threw into the Delaware River at Washington's Crossing and invested it in the stock market at the average return rate of 9.4%, he would've made...

Wait for it.  

In fact, just guess.

How much you say?

You didn't use a calculator, right?

If you did, you cheated.

He would've made...

$2 billion.

If 233 years ago, George Washington had put that silver dollar into a U.S. government bond, with an annual average return of 3.9%, how much would he have today?

I know, you are going to guess more closely this time.

Because $2 billion felt like out of the realm of possibility.

I mean, that's A LOT of money.

Not that he could've spent it 233 years later.

His great, great, great, great, great, great grandchildren could've though. 

Just think, instead of the Vietnam Memorial or the really tall one that looks kind of phallic, we could've had a giant set of wooden teeth statue.

Or good old George could've come back from the dead to spend that money on an iPad.  Oh, Apple would kill for that kind of marketing.

So how much do you think he made?

It's a simple formula really.  FV=PV*(1+r)^n.

I think.

Anyway, he only would've made $4,747.

Or thereabouts.


Womp Womp.

So, what I think is that maybe the higher return is worth the higher risk.  In finance and in life?

And who said grad school was a waste of time?