My mom knows this woman who's got a daughter that hates middle school. What does this have to do with me? I also hated middle school, and I turned out okay, so she thinks I should talk to this daughter and help her not hate middle school. I might not mind being pen pals with this girl (I like talking), but I think she might think it's lame, or pushy, or dumb that our moms set us up on what is basically a play date even though I'm over 20 (and she probably doesn't think of herself as much of a spring chicken either). It doesn't help that I don't have her email, I have her mom's. What to do?

I wonder how people put those little mini-titles at the top of each post. I haven't figured it out yet. I bet it's simple.

Time was, I wrote a lot. Angsty teenage poetry (I liked to think it was some of the better angsty teen poetry around), stories in which all the characters were basically myself or people I knew, stuff like that. But at least I wrote, and I thought I was going to get better at it. These days I've clammed up - I mostly write equations. See, I was reading Salon's article about Zoe Trope's high-school journal, and I felt as though I was reading my own stuff from back when I was that age - all stuff that I'm a little ashamed of now, and I've mostly thrown away. I had a few different thoughts while I was reading this excerpt, in this order:

1. This reminds me of stuff I would have written back then, except my journal was in poetry form.

2. I could totally have written this book. Why have I not gone on any anonymous book-signing tours?

3. Wait, I destroyed all my old writing because I hated seeing it. Would I really want to have it permanently out there, with tons of people reading it?

4. How is Zoe going to react to that very situation in a few years?

5. What made me stop writing?

The only answer I could come up with for #5 is that I am happy and calm now; I was unhappy and dramatic then. What does that say about the lives of poets? Maybe I just learned to write at the wrong time. People should learn to write as children, then not even see any pencils for a few years while their hormones settle down. That might work.

I actually had an idea for a poem today: a poem about how I'm so out of practice that I'm not sure I can write any more poems. It'd also reference that "pen is mightier" thing, by having a bit of martial arts imagery. It could be okay, or it could be just as bad as my old stuff is (it didn't age well).

I am partly starting this blog in an effort to get used to writing things down again. Hopefully it will get less truthful and more artful as time goes on.

Matt is studying for a class for which the lecture notes include:

- The key to a successful leader is a high need for power.

- The additional responsibilities following participation in decision making is not a part of psychological contract.

- It is surprising that even with communication technology, proximity is still important.

- In the past, you adapted to the network. In the future, the network adapts you.

I'm not sure what's going on in this class of his, but I think this test is just a front for something more sinister.



Edit: In hell everyone will have to solve problems about radiating apertures and switch between coordinate systems. Also, they will have to derive Bessel functions for themselves and they won't get any cake.