Friday, June 30, 2006
Getting to the bottom of things is annoying. It’s hard. The bottom is far, its dark, its cold. And it’s hard. You don’t want to lie there. It’s not comfortable. In fact you want to avoid the bottom as much as you can. For example, you can stay on the tip of your feet, and have you’re head as far away as possible from the bottom.
The problem is your feet. They are still touching the bottom, so it’s actually not that far, even if you manage to get your head over the line.
I wanted you to feel that bottom, because you’re dragging me on it, just so that you can step on me and get away from it.
I wanted it, and so I am de-conspiring you with these thoughts that are firing from my brain like hot knifes.
I wanted.
I am not so sure I want to anymore.
A weird song, I have never heard before, but that I have actually heard a thousand times before started without me wanting it to, and it made me change my mind.
Maybe you can step on me and get over the edge and far away from the bottom. Then I’ll get away from the bottom too, and we’ll both be ok.
J’ai la chair de poule depuis quelques heures déjà, et des larmes dans les yeux. Mon pied m’a fait mal ce soir a un endroit auquel il m’avais pas fait mal depuis des années. La même douleur et le même endroit que lorsque je grandissais a un rythme accélère; je ne sais pas ce que ceci veut dire. C’est peut être un signe de quelques chose, ou de quelque frustration. Ou c’est peut être simplement que j’ai trop couru dans les derniers jours.
C’est étrange, mais a presque 27 ans je cours toujours, je cours encore souvent pour me rendre quelque part plus rapidement. Je n’ai jamais assez de temps pour tout ce que je veux faire, mais surtout, je pousse toujours tout jusqu’au limites physiques possibles. J’ai besoin de 10 minutes pour arriver a temps, mais je peux rester 5 minutes de plus avec toi et quand même arriver a temps en 5 minutes au lieu de 10.
Je ne crois pas qu’il a beaucoup de gens de mon âge qui courent pour arriver au travail a temps chaque matin.
Et ça faisait bien longtemps que je n’avais pas écrit en français. Ça fait beaucoup de bien.
I also listened to another song first, when I sat at the computer, before I actually started writing this. All these things that I have done, by The Killers. It starts off like this:
When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I always thought that he was singing “one more song”, which is much better than “one more son”, well at least much better in my head.
The story behind this song is unbelievable; once, a long time ago, I put it so well in an email, that I don’t ever want to write it down again. I will always remember the circumstance under which I discovered this song, and what I wrote about these circumstances.
What is unbelievable about this song too, is that once, a long time ago, back in Hurst, Texas, I used to play it on this same computer, every single morning, as I started work, with these lines being almost the first thing I hear of the day:
When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
It helped me so much.
The problem is your feet. They are still touching the bottom, so it’s actually not that far, even if you manage to get your head over the line.
I wanted you to feel that bottom, because you’re dragging me on it, just so that you can step on me and get away from it.
I wanted it, and so I am de-conspiring you with these thoughts that are firing from my brain like hot knifes.
I wanted.
I am not so sure I want to anymore.
A weird song, I have never heard before, but that I have actually heard a thousand times before started without me wanting it to, and it made me change my mind.
Maybe you can step on me and get over the edge and far away from the bottom. Then I’ll get away from the bottom too, and we’ll both be ok.
J’ai la chair de poule depuis quelques heures déjà, et des larmes dans les yeux. Mon pied m’a fait mal ce soir a un endroit auquel il m’avais pas fait mal depuis des années. La même douleur et le même endroit que lorsque je grandissais a un rythme accélère; je ne sais pas ce que ceci veut dire. C’est peut être un signe de quelques chose, ou de quelque frustration. Ou c’est peut être simplement que j’ai trop couru dans les derniers jours.
C’est étrange, mais a presque 27 ans je cours toujours, je cours encore souvent pour me rendre quelque part plus rapidement. Je n’ai jamais assez de temps pour tout ce que je veux faire, mais surtout, je pousse toujours tout jusqu’au limites physiques possibles. J’ai besoin de 10 minutes pour arriver a temps, mais je peux rester 5 minutes de plus avec toi et quand même arriver a temps en 5 minutes au lieu de 10.
Je ne crois pas qu’il a beaucoup de gens de mon âge qui courent pour arriver au travail a temps chaque matin.
Et ça faisait bien longtemps que je n’avais pas écrit en français. Ça fait beaucoup de bien.
I also listened to another song first, when I sat at the computer, before I actually started writing this. All these things that I have done, by The Killers. It starts off like this:
When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I always thought that he was singing “one more song”, which is much better than “one more son”, well at least much better in my head.
The story behind this song is unbelievable; once, a long time ago, I put it so well in an email, that I don’t ever want to write it down again. I will always remember the circumstance under which I discovered this song, and what I wrote about these circumstances.
What is unbelievable about this song too, is that once, a long time ago, back in Hurst, Texas, I used to play it on this same computer, every single morning, as I started work, with these lines being almost the first thing I hear of the day:
When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
It helped me so much.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
In recent news, I, believe it or not, have submitted the initial draft of my Master’s thesis. I repeat: I have submitted the initial draft of my Master’s thesis. It's unbelievable, I embarked on this senseless task almost 3 years ago now, and finally the light at the end of the tunnel is growing blindingly strong. In two months, I should get the thesis back with corrections; after I make the changes, it will be time for the final submission, the one after which I am officially done.
It was a whole procedure, this submission thing, it spanned quite a few days. On Monday, after a few night of work, it was ready. I ran all day Monday, to make some final changes, get signatures and print. I couldn’t get all the signatures and there was a million little things that went wrong (like the pdf not being of the right page format at the print shop, the AC being busted in the office, torrential tropical rain while I run from Engineering to the library). I took all day off from work because of this and it still wasn't enough.
On Tuesday I had to leave work early, and run to school to grab the papers with the last signature.
On Wednesday, 2 days late, a whole crew submitted my thesis for me. I wasn’t even there for the ceremonies cause I had to work. Wiered. That whole crew included my girlfriend, my girlfriend’s sister, my best friend and even a baby. WEIRED.
That’s about it; a lot of running and sweating, late night shifts, calling and stalking my prof, who really seems to have lost all care for all of this, and finally, a sub-par work was released in the open.
I just hope somebody, at least one person reads it someday.
Funny, it seems like yesterday when the light was barely visible at the other end of the tunnel. Yet, it's just as if I was caught in a tornado, and without realizing it really, with a million other things on my mind, the tornado dropped me off, not without some shaking in between, at the exit of the tunnel.
It was a whole procedure, this submission thing, it spanned quite a few days. On Monday, after a few night of work, it was ready. I ran all day Monday, to make some final changes, get signatures and print. I couldn’t get all the signatures and there was a million little things that went wrong (like the pdf not being of the right page format at the print shop, the AC being busted in the office, torrential tropical rain while I run from Engineering to the library). I took all day off from work because of this and it still wasn't enough.
On Tuesday I had to leave work early, and run to school to grab the papers with the last signature.
On Wednesday, 2 days late, a whole crew submitted my thesis for me. I wasn’t even there for the ceremonies cause I had to work. Wiered. That whole crew included my girlfriend, my girlfriend’s sister, my best friend and even a baby. WEIRED.
That’s about it; a lot of running and sweating, late night shifts, calling and stalking my prof, who really seems to have lost all care for all of this, and finally, a sub-par work was released in the open.
I just hope somebody, at least one person reads it someday.
Funny, it seems like yesterday when the light was barely visible at the other end of the tunnel. Yet, it's just as if I was caught in a tornado, and without realizing it really, with a million other things on my mind, the tornado dropped me off, not without some shaking in between, at the exit of the tunnel.
Friday, June 09, 2006
My new Grand Prix 2006 baby
Once again, it is that time of the year. I am trying to get G. to visit my little new baby about the Montreal grand prix 2006 race. It is getting harder and harder, the site isn't coming up in the first page, or in other words, it isn't coming up at all, because if you are not in the first page, you are not there at all.
