My final exam for math class hit the professor's desk with a thud. A thud so loud, it was heard around the world, or at least the classrooom.

It's funny, you can really tell how a person felt about the class by the way their final exam landed on the professors desk. A soft landing, as if the exam was made out of the thinnest porcelain, shows that the student didn't feel that the class was anything special. A thud, however, explains a lot. A thud, expresses all the emotions that the student had regarding the class. All the days he complained about the professor, all the days that he muttered under his breath about how much he hated the class....can be summed up in one single thud. My thud was the loudest.

Anyways, the class is over! Very much relieved, and looking forward to my trip to Hong Kong come Aug. 5th.

So my daily thought:

Definition of Typecasting

I have a mentor. He is a guy, only 6 years older than me, but I treat him like that little green guy from Star Wars. I value his word more than the biggest freaking rock De Beers can get their greedy hands on. This mentor-mentee relationships has it's benefits, and also it's downfalls. I've typecasted my mentor as some great wisdom-laden person. I look up to him so highly, I'm afraid what will happen when my mentor "falls". Such as every hero in culture, they have a weakness, and the antagonist exploits it. I don't want to be there when my mentor is going through that weak time. How will I react?

But hey, I'm only 17.

Written while listening to "Loser like me" ~ Sixpence None the Richer

Revisions go to Viki and Dimview.
Read their stuff, it's legit.

Notes from the Surf

Bird Moonwalk
Is that physically possible?

Los Angeles sunrise
The sun is an amazing thing. Another one from Bizerte, Tunisia..

Need Money for Beer!
Honesty is the best policy.

American and Canadian Health Care
While I doubt the Canadian system is perfect, which is the lesser of two evils, or the greater of two goods?

Buying gold as crisis-proof investments? Not a good idea!
"I seriously suspect, that there is a method behind this. A game, played by financial jugglers, that revolves around scaring people, looking for security, into buying their reserves at inflated prices, by trumpeting around, that the global market will collapse soon... The only way to make money with precious metals is through arbitrage."

US Embassies Are Advised to Buy Enough Local Currency for 1 Year
What exactly are they expecting? "Some embassies are being sent enormous amounts of U.S. cash to purchase currencies from those governments, quietly. But not pound sterling."

China, Brazil Working on Trade Currency Arrangements
"China and Brazil are working on a currency arrangement to allow exporters and importers to settle deals in their local currencies, bypassing the U.S. dollar..."

Three major unions launch strike against current Honduran regime
About 100,000 workers joined the strike, said Oscar Garcia... "It will be an indefinite strike," Garcia said. "We don't recognize this new government imposed by the oligarchy..."

Bangladesh: Killing of employee brings thousands into streets from neighboring companies
"...cops baton charged and workers responded with a barrage of bricks and stones. Running battles began, of chase and counter-chase, and the whole industrial area became a battleground."

Worker Ownership from a Catholic Perspective
That it (the “Employee Ownership Act” of 1999) came up it all, and that a conservative Christian Republican introduced it, is one of the most positive signs of a transformation in economic thinking on the right I have seen.

Sometimes the pressure I put on myself is a good thing. It can fuel some sort of motivation I might have to get something done. And there's a common and practical belief held that if you only expect the best out of yourself, that's all you'll ever get.

Sometimes it's just discouraging though. Sometimes by criticizing every idea that comes to mind I'm really selling myself short. Because I'm not giving myself an opportunity to explore those possibilities, and I don't give myself a chance. The more I think about it, the more likely a chance it has to grow into something meaningful. But I don't. Too often I'll just ignore it for its imperfection. Of course it's going to be imperfect as a fresh concept, but I can't ever seem to let myself get past that sometimes. In anything that really matters, and especially in the arts, you're really not being fair to yourself by being too self-critical.

I always was that annoying guy who you'd like to see help himself just one time, but that can never seem to follow his own advice. We all hate that guy.

I think if I ever want to get past the drawing board I have to learn to get along with myself in a way, and not be so judgemental and critical of my own ideas. And to tolerate my creativity and to give my ideas a chance.

I just hope it'll get better as I keep trying. Because I really want to give composition a shot. But it feels like I haven't quite broken the surface yet. I'll keep trying.

But it's just that I'm really starting to get tired of myself.

The shop owner has a sense of sad calm. A regular customer says thankyou, they will meet sometime. This shop is changing hands. It has been here some time; worn timber, walls of coffee and tea, tables standing on massive raw eucalypt with high gloss tea chest tops, ink stamped facets under amber resin.

I buy a coffee and sit down. The table is called Jamaica. There are people sitting at Yunnan, China, and a long continent down the back. I should be sitting there. I came for the meetup, but there are no familiar faces. I have a book, perhaps if I wait.

I am reading Ursula Le Guin's Always coming home. Short stories and poems from a world with different patterns and culture. The stories and experiences are raw and universal. Following paths made by many pre-industrial communities. I wonder how she can write like this and still be a copyright maximalist. Writing of collective knowledge, of patterns of bonding for communities spaces and species, and then stamping it as private property. I would like her to meet John Clare.

Half listening to the quick banter of the twitter crowd. A word or two reaches me, but mostly its just the tone and tempo. The hum of the conversation. They are young, black clad and champing at the edges.

I am using my fingers to step the metre of poems, to keep focused on the book, in this other world of earth and journeys.

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