First and foremost, I beat the mice.
It got cooler, they migrated inside and then they got just a little too comfortable stealing my groceries. I was watching movies at my computer one night after work and noticed the little bastards had actually been coming out of my closet, running against my wall and then going under my door into the kitchen.
In the past, my landlord had used a humane, trap-door device to capture them unharmed. But when I woke up one night to a sting on one of my toes and saw two small, bloody teeth marks on it, I signed a mental declaration of war. Let me also mention that I have, in fact, gotten my shots.
After work the next day, I stopped by Home Depot and visited their pest control aisle for the most potent of domestic munitions. Did you know they make sticky pads for mice? They apparent just stick to them and... starve? I'm partial to the other kind... the, "Oh. Wow. That was probably really fast," kind.
I got eight little traps for four dollars and as it turns out, they apparently have a soft spot for cheap Mexican sugar wafers... the strawberry kind.
I placed them all strategically around the house and loaded them with grade "A" Bimbo bait. I went back to my movie and the first one snapped no more than 30 minutes later. My housemate, who was apparently unwilling to do anything about them for 12 months when he lived here alone, was already looking at it in amazement when I came out of my room. The little bastard (the mouse, not the guy) was pinned by the metal arm and motionless. Upon closer inspection, he was still breathing. I quickly donned my rubber gloves and headed out back with my bamboo-killing hatchet. You know how the screen quickly turns black in a movie to suggest impending doom has just turned into definitive doom? It was kind of like that.
I went to sleep and woke up before my alarm went off the next morning. There was a strange flopping noise. Apparently one had triggered the trap in the corner of my room by the closet and had just gotten terribly maimed. It wasn't able to move (had inexplicably escaped the trap itself) and was slapping its tail against the floor. Considering my bleeding toe hours earlier, I rolled back over and slept until my alarm went off. I'm not proud of it, but those 45 minutes of sleep were critical.
I got up, grabbed another pair of disposable gloves and started my Monday morning by beheading a mouse with a hatchet in my boxers in the back yard. It was incredibly strange.
I went back inside and checked the other traps. A third mouse was caught on the shelves as he was trying to steal our food. This one had fired correctly and the mouse was done instantly.
Three mice were caught in about 8 hours. It was amazing. Since then, I've gotten one more (also a swift event) and we've not seen or heard any trace of a mouse since. It's good. I'm all for humane treatment of animals, but one of them thought my toe was edible. When house-guests themselves constitute a health hazard, it's time to get mean.
I've been working a lot and it's... endless. I come home and do one or more of the following: watch movies, listen to Rosetta Stone Italian or play guitar.
I've been trading all the while and I think I've stumbled onto a good thing. My win ratio is solid and volume has been excellent recently. I'm using a multi-timeframe approach with moving averages between the daily, 4-hour and hourly charts. I finally was able to finish a script to export all the relevant information for use in my trustworthy monstrosity of a spreadsheet.
The hardest thing about trading the foreign exchange market is waiting for the right trades. Some movements take quite some time to manifest. And others crash like lightning in an otherwise quiet evening. The market itself is open from Sunday night until Friday afternoon.
My broker, Interbank FX, offers 16 different securities, 16 different pairs of currencies to trade. A while back, I had good success with a hedging strategy that was running automatically. I would basically drop it on a chart and it would do its thing. Other than monitoring the trades a little, the hard part was already done: identifying and deciding to take the good trades.
The NFA banned hedging after the financial debacle and all brokers effectively banned the practice entirely. So I had to come up with a new way to trade.
I don't know if you're familiar with the concept of hedging, but it's effectively the maintenance of several trades in different directions on the same security. You can basically change your mind as often as you like to make sure you're on the right side of the market when it moves. This is an alternative to single positions which either make or lose money, end of story.
So US brokers all had to follow the NFA's rules and now only permit trades in the same direction. You can have multiple trades open at once, but they all have to be on the same side of the market.
As you might imagine, the trader now has to be a bit more specific and accurate in choosing which trades to take. So I've made enough really good and really bad trades to know that there are always trades lining up and it's a bad idea to rush into one because it looks "decent enough." This is why I'm so happy to have finished my script. I drop it on a chart and it spits out information from 16 different currency pairs on five different time frames. I can then drop all the information into a nifty, color coded chart I created in my OOo spreadsheet and easily look at the relevant information. To do this manually would mean looking at 80 different charts in my MT4 platform every hour and recording the data the old fashioned way. Needless to say, I'm happy. Now I can take comfort in the fact that, by having a view of what everything's doing, I can wait for the real trades to develop on their own and I won't rush into one thinking there won't be others available. I ended +14% last week on two trades. Now I have to automate it so it can run 24 hours a day. Right now I can only watch the charts about 25% of the trading week around work.
Alright. Enough trading talk. I bought rings. Gymnastic rings. The EXF Rings are quite possibly the best rings ever made, in my opinion. Please bear in mind I haven't touched actual gymnastic rings since I was six. So I was easily impressed :)
They were delivered on Thursday and I set them up Friday. I spent about an hour hacking away at bamboo so I could get a decent space where they can hang under a tree. I cleared it all (while feeding the mosquitoes heartily) and got to work setting them up. It took a little while, but after dangling perilously from the tree branch overhead for about an hour, I was able to affix them to the tree successfully. A few minor adjustments and they were ready for action.
What's the first thing you would do if you had gymnastics rings in your backyard?? Exactly. You would get upside down :)
I tooled around on the rings for a little bit but not too much. I had already ridden that morning and didn't want to kill myself on them before riding this morning. Suffice it to say that there are now rings in my backyard and I'm frighteningly happy about it.
So I've also been riding my bike a bunch. I've been riding with Ray, the lead developer up at work, and he's been pushing me to suck a little less at riding. He was riding about 120 miles a week around work at one point. This is about two hours of riding every day. I am not man enough for these sorts of antics. I can only do this on my days off.
So yesterday we rode 24 miles and it was good. The weather was nice, albeit a little cold, and the traffic was a bit heavy. If you were going to imagine the city of Austin, it's about 7 miles from North to South. Downtown rests about in the middle and there's a big river that runs through the city, West to East, just South of downtown.
Anybody who's anybody lives in South Austin. Everyone else is either a turbo-wealthy elitist in the hills or a grad student living somewhere in "North Austin" which lies about 15 blocks North of the actual center of the city. Although my powers of generalization are substantial, I forgot to mention the sprawling (not so sprawling) suburbs in true North Austin. Eighty percent of the residents up there work for Dell doing the things they couldn't outsource to India. For the life of me, I can't imagine what they do. They probably sit at desks and throw tennis balls at their walls all day. Beige volvos, oversized SUV's, bologna sandwiches and 2.5 kids come to mind. What was I talking about?
Riding. So Austin is basically enclosed in a square created by highways: one on each side. The hills in the city all go down to the river in the middle and that's where we start riding. We ride South out of the city and it's almost all uphill. I've got my uni-gear Schwinn and Ray has his... I don't know what kind but it's made out of titanium and is generally faster than mine. His would beat mine in a race if there were no humans on top of either of them. My gear is allegedly almost equal to his hardest so he's had to wait on me a few times getting out of the city. Anyone who exercises knows that heartrate is the key to working out. Ray has been great in that if I'm lagging on a hill, he'll drop it to a super easy gear and just grind away at the hill until I catch up. I usually catch up huffing and puffing, but I make it there just the same.
Yesterday we averaged 15mph over the route. And this morning we averaged 16.3mph, which was a pretty huge improvement. I almost burned myself out initially while getting over the hills just to leave the city. I was spitting and grunting and... being as manly as my spandex suit would allow. We rode pretty hard today and my legs were absolutely on fire when we finished. I rode my bike to the starting point this morning so all told, it was about 27 or 28 miles on the bike today. When I got home, my breakfast consisted of tuna, creamed corn and a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch. It was brilliant. Then I took a life-changing nap :)
Today was Halloween and I did absolutely zero things in the spirit. Work waits a few hours down the clicking reel and I'm just ready for Christmas so I can count down to summer again. My dad invited me and my sister to his ladyfriend's place for Thanksgiving. It's going to be both of our families so my sister and I are expecting some kind of an announcement. People and their romances. I feel like an alien. It will be good to see him again.
So I'm about to change my clocks and pass out. My house has no mice, my rings are dangling comfortably out back and my legs are successfully scorched.
I might as well mention that if you've been anywhere other than Central Texas over the last couple of days, you've unfortunately missed something very beautiful. The sunlight has made perfection a comfortable reality. The morning cold cuts like a knife but the afternoon sun invites sunbathing on all but the darkest of porches. The blue in the sky has no comparison and the air allows either a sweater or a bare back. So come to Austin already. It's supposed to be like this all week :)
>> "Heaven's in New York" on Carnival Vol II by Wyclef Jean
October 31, 2009
October 20, 2009
Real men listen to Tchaikovsky
I'd like to consider myself capable of most things. But if I had only been able to hear with my ears and whistle with my mouth, that'd have been just fine.
Over the past couple days, I've stopped in the middle of what I was doing to make a mental note of something I wanted to include in this post. But now that I'm actually sitting here and writing, all I can really think about is the performance I went to on Friday night.
I have been lucky enough to do some pretty fun musical things in my life. I listened to Fuare in Cairo and have played a solo on stage at Carnegie Hall. The [free] concert last week at the UT recital hall ranks right up there.
I've wasted hours on Google video and youTube watching old videos of Vladimir Horowitz and Glenn Gould perform manic masterpieces with vigorous appeal. Jura Margulis is, in my opinion, one of the greats on this very level.
With masterful accuracy, he powered through Chopin, Debussy and Liszt. I can't believe this was a free concert... in Austin freaking Texas. There were maybe 100 people at this perfectly underpriced performance and the content was worthy of an NBC live broadcast.
I showed up in my duds, sweaty with frito pie in my backpack again making the whole auditorium smell much better than its typical olfactory persuasion. There were no ties in the audience. Mostly piano students and old people, the audience was there for one reason: to make sure good music continues to be recognized.
I have to break here and mention the fact that not a single cell phone went off during this concert. I just had to say it. The audience was perfectly manufactured to respect the colors of the pieces and consider the musical intention of its composers.
The audience's behavior is probably attributable to one of three possibilities.
1. Mr. Margulis was technically magnificent with precision comparable to a successful launch of the space shuttle.
2. Mr. Margulis has obviously played so many great pieces for so long that he has in fact related directly to the composers' emotion and performed the pieces with relative sincerity.
3. Mr. Margulis was able to smell the frito pie in my backpack which, not suprisingly, inspired him to heights which he himself had previously considered to be unattainable.
I think it's most probably a combination of the three.
It was such a colorful program. Chopin's two mazurkas were technically interesting and the Polish folk was kindly apparent. His Polonaise and Ballade were great. I don't remember which one did what, but they were both nice.
Then was a piece by Debussy, Reflets dans l'eau. Some people are happy to build houses. Others teach children. Claude, at some point, decided to make audible the light bouncing off of water. I'm happy he did. This, along with the last piece, kicked me in the forehead and launched my ass into another plane for not nearly long enough. The emotion this guy created, and Margulis's replication, left for a couple moments of perfection.
The best composers understand the idea that music has no place without silence. And the silence in between is considerably more important than any single note.
The last piece was Consolation No. 3 by Liszt. I'm going to include an exerpt from Wikipedia about Mr. Liszt and his style.
"
Paris in the 1830s had become the nexus for pianistic activities, with dozens of pianists dedicated to perfection at the keyboard. Some, such as Sigismond Thalberg and Alexander Dreyshock, focused on specific aspects of technique (eg the "three-hand effect" and octaves, respectively). While it was called the "flying trapeze" school of piano playing, this generation also solved some of the most intractable problems of piano technique, raising the general level of performance to previously unimagined heights. Liszt's strength and ability to stand out in this company was in mastering all the aspects of piano technique cultivated singly and assiduously by his rivals.
"
The "three-hand effect" and octaves are most easily described to folks my age as the "wiggly" music played on the calamitous cartoons with a cat chasing a mouse uncontrollably through an especially breakable house.
I don't know what sort of technical classification covers his Consolation No. 3, but it was brilliant. Liszt has this perfect way of mashing 100 different notes into a tiny space and time to accomplish a generally energetic statement. He might do this a few times and just when you think he's playing notes just to make notes, he cracks it wide open and walks right down the middle of the room with a melody on a platter. It's ridiculous.
Anyway, Mr. Margulis combined tremendous talent with a clear understanding and presentation of what I consider to be some of the most beautiful music in the world. This is why I like Austin. I rode my bike to a private, free, world class concert, and was able to enter with my frito pie. Life is good.
I'm looking at Panama. I need a vacation. But I don't want to go alone. So I'm back where I started again.
>> The Nutcracker Suite by Tchaikovsky
Over the past couple days, I've stopped in the middle of what I was doing to make a mental note of something I wanted to include in this post. But now that I'm actually sitting here and writing, all I can really think about is the performance I went to on Friday night.
I have been lucky enough to do some pretty fun musical things in my life. I listened to Fuare in Cairo and have played a solo on stage at Carnegie Hall. The [free] concert last week at the UT recital hall ranks right up there.
I've wasted hours on Google video and youTube watching old videos of Vladimir Horowitz and Glenn Gould perform manic masterpieces with vigorous appeal. Jura Margulis is, in my opinion, one of the greats on this very level.
With masterful accuracy, he powered through Chopin, Debussy and Liszt. I can't believe this was a free concert... in Austin freaking Texas. There were maybe 100 people at this perfectly underpriced performance and the content was worthy of an NBC live broadcast.
I showed up in my duds, sweaty with frito pie in my backpack again making the whole auditorium smell much better than its typical olfactory persuasion. There were no ties in the audience. Mostly piano students and old people, the audience was there for one reason: to make sure good music continues to be recognized.
I have to break here and mention the fact that not a single cell phone went off during this concert. I just had to say it. The audience was perfectly manufactured to respect the colors of the pieces and consider the musical intention of its composers.
The audience's behavior is probably attributable to one of three possibilities.
1. Mr. Margulis was technically magnificent with precision comparable to a successful launch of the space shuttle.
2. Mr. Margulis has obviously played so many great pieces for so long that he has in fact related directly to the composers' emotion and performed the pieces with relative sincerity.
3. Mr. Margulis was able to smell the frito pie in my backpack which, not suprisingly, inspired him to heights which he himself had previously considered to be unattainable.
I think it's most probably a combination of the three.
It was such a colorful program. Chopin's two mazurkas were technically interesting and the Polish folk was kindly apparent. His Polonaise and Ballade were great. I don't remember which one did what, but they were both nice.
Then was a piece by Debussy, Reflets dans l'eau. Some people are happy to build houses. Others teach children. Claude, at some point, decided to make audible the light bouncing off of water. I'm happy he did. This, along with the last piece, kicked me in the forehead and launched my ass into another plane for not nearly long enough. The emotion this guy created, and Margulis's replication, left for a couple moments of perfection.
The best composers understand the idea that music has no place without silence. And the silence in between is considerably more important than any single note.
The last piece was Consolation No. 3 by Liszt. I'm going to include an exerpt from Wikipedia about Mr. Liszt and his style.
"
Paris in the 1830s had become the nexus for pianistic activities, with dozens of pianists dedicated to perfection at the keyboard. Some, such as Sigismond Thalberg and Alexander Dreyshock, focused on specific aspects of technique (eg the "three-hand effect" and octaves, respectively). While it was called the "flying trapeze" school of piano playing, this generation also solved some of the most intractable problems of piano technique, raising the general level of performance to previously unimagined heights. Liszt's strength and ability to stand out in this company was in mastering all the aspects of piano technique cultivated singly and assiduously by his rivals.
"
The "three-hand effect" and octaves are most easily described to folks my age as the "wiggly" music played on the calamitous cartoons with a cat chasing a mouse uncontrollably through an especially breakable house.
I don't know what sort of technical classification covers his Consolation No. 3, but it was brilliant. Liszt has this perfect way of mashing 100 different notes into a tiny space and time to accomplish a generally energetic statement. He might do this a few times and just when you think he's playing notes just to make notes, he cracks it wide open and walks right down the middle of the room with a melody on a platter. It's ridiculous.
Anyway, Mr. Margulis combined tremendous talent with a clear understanding and presentation of what I consider to be some of the most beautiful music in the world. This is why I like Austin. I rode my bike to a private, free, world class concert, and was able to enter with my frito pie. Life is good.
I'm looking at Panama. I need a vacation. But I don't want to go alone. So I'm back where I started again.
>> The Nutcracker Suite by Tchaikovsky
October 15, 2009
Tha bomb
Never before have I referred to anything as "tha bomb." It's just not normal. But after the flipshit week of clusterfuck calls and absent-minded everything, my mind is at rest to this recording and it's.. tha bomb.
The Orientalist fuses Tibetan monk chants & throat singing with hideous break beats, ripped dub tracks cut with aggression, while managing to dingle and dangle with primitive percussion to round out the highs. The bass kicks hard and it's... rolling me into my weekend.
Love was in short supply this week.
It started out with a call from my mom in the ER with an irregular heartbeat. The doctor considered it a withdrawal symptom from the vicodin. I sat with her in the room for a couple hours before her heartrate came down. She was a nurse before mucho madness happened and now she's particularly good at paying excessive attention to her own symptoms. What can you do? She's trained in the science of healing and she's in a state that requires her to sit inside all day, every day.
Anyway, I got her home after making sure I understood the doctor's orders better than she did. She ended up getting to bed that night and... the email the next day injected some nice humor into a generally lackluster week.
The next morning I got an email about how she had gotten home the night previous and had taken her Ambien to sleep. Apparently, shortly after taking the medication, she got up and got a bowl of cereal... shredded wheat to be exact. However, instead of getting the milk, she grabbed the chocolate syrup. She was inevitably unable to do anything alongside the strength of the medication and ended up passing out in her bed in a pool of chocolate syrup. She wrote the next morning and described the scene. In a response from my isolated desk, I responded, "There are worse ways to spend your days than rolling around in bed in chocolate syrup." Anyway, it was a good laugh. The only other humor in the week was Corey Ann's post about hating war.
The next night I was tending to Mom again. A generally morose tone assumed my attention as I just faded through the rest of the week. I still don't know what's actually happened between today and four days ago. My mom was on her back in the ER and... did I work? 46 hours of work must have taken place somewhere in there. I don't know. I'm back blogging to people who might or might not listen while planning how to spend my next 48 hours.
I didn't get to trade at all. I think I ended the week up 7%. I'm generally discontented when I don't get to trade.
GBPJPY has turned and the Euro might have topped out. GBPJPY moved 3.4% yesterday. It bottomed out at 140, as I had anticipated three weeks ago, and just decided to stand up today. It hasn't moved like that since this time last year during the financial debacle. But this time, it moved in the opposite direction.
I've finally gotten almost everything I need automated. While working full time, I'm not able to have an actual idea of what the market's done over the course of a given day. I've taken my non-technical time to figure out how to export all the price data so I can get a snapshot of market sentiment at any given time. I've got 15 page spreadsheets I update every night and scripts to generate price ammortization over a given period.
So I don't know what I'm going to do over the weekend. So far I got off work late, as usual, but was able to get home to new stuff on the computer. I'll be going out riding again this Saturday morning with a coworker, one of the developers up at work. I met him today and he seems pretty cool. We're gonna ride the 20m route I did last weekend.
I thought about going to the Elephant Room tonight but ended up getting some Guinness and coming on back. I'm watching movies on justin.tv and just got rid of a pizza that was offending me. I have a fantastic knack for getting rid of culinary company that's overstayed its welcome. I just eat it. Simple fix. I wish humans tasted that good.
I had a dream last night of my high school sweetheart. She was with some other guy and I was generally unhappy about it. Truth is, I lied to her when I was 16 and told her she was the first girl I had ever kissed. Only two people know that's the case.
It's supposed to get cold here in the not-too-distant future. I don't know what to make of it.
Recently I've been getting these painfully realistic, euphoric sensations that remind me of a calmer time in a calmer place. I used to spend clearer moments in places much more beautiful than this. Places that allow silence to flourish and humane consideration to infect willingly. The trees were taller, the land was greener and the air was kindly cleaner. There was moss on the ground to cushion a fall or to serve as a mattress after a long day of relentless love, humor or happiness... the tools of the youthful trade. The people spoke with intelligence and the birds sang with enthusiasm. This seems much too far away. After I started meditating a few years ago, I began to consider memories of friends to be legitimate emotional interactions with a purpose. This has gotten me through days otherwise too quiet for productivity. I'm generally too trusting, but that's always been my nature. Maybe that's why I don't talk very much. It gets me in trouble. I have to continue to believe the people who have impacted my life stop to think about me just as often as I do them.
I'll pass the time this evening by jamming to dub and taking comfort in the fact that some people aren't called to action until late in their life. Every day is a battle. The persistent, curious tinkering of relentless minds has done more to further mankind than any other human activity. The mind races for a reason. It must.
>> "Tibetan monks playing fuzzy bass tablas" on 1000 Sounds Lotus by The Orientalist
The Orientalist fuses Tibetan monk chants & throat singing with hideous break beats, ripped dub tracks cut with aggression, while managing to dingle and dangle with primitive percussion to round out the highs. The bass kicks hard and it's... rolling me into my weekend.
Love was in short supply this week.
It started out with a call from my mom in the ER with an irregular heartbeat. The doctor considered it a withdrawal symptom from the vicodin. I sat with her in the room for a couple hours before her heartrate came down. She was a nurse before mucho madness happened and now she's particularly good at paying excessive attention to her own symptoms. What can you do? She's trained in the science of healing and she's in a state that requires her to sit inside all day, every day.
Anyway, I got her home after making sure I understood the doctor's orders better than she did. She ended up getting to bed that night and... the email the next day injected some nice humor into a generally lackluster week.
The next morning I got an email about how she had gotten home the night previous and had taken her Ambien to sleep. Apparently, shortly after taking the medication, she got up and got a bowl of cereal... shredded wheat to be exact. However, instead of getting the milk, she grabbed the chocolate syrup. She was inevitably unable to do anything alongside the strength of the medication and ended up passing out in her bed in a pool of chocolate syrup. She wrote the next morning and described the scene. In a response from my isolated desk, I responded, "There are worse ways to spend your days than rolling around in bed in chocolate syrup." Anyway, it was a good laugh. The only other humor in the week was Corey Ann's post about hating war.
The next night I was tending to Mom again. A generally morose tone assumed my attention as I just faded through the rest of the week. I still don't know what's actually happened between today and four days ago. My mom was on her back in the ER and... did I work? 46 hours of work must have taken place somewhere in there. I don't know. I'm back blogging to people who might or might not listen while planning how to spend my next 48 hours.
I didn't get to trade at all. I think I ended the week up 7%. I'm generally discontented when I don't get to trade.
GBPJPY has turned and the Euro might have topped out. GBPJPY moved 3.4% yesterday. It bottomed out at 140, as I had anticipated three weeks ago, and just decided to stand up today. It hasn't moved like that since this time last year during the financial debacle. But this time, it moved in the opposite direction.
I've finally gotten almost everything I need automated. While working full time, I'm not able to have an actual idea of what the market's done over the course of a given day. I've taken my non-technical time to figure out how to export all the price data so I can get a snapshot of market sentiment at any given time. I've got 15 page spreadsheets I update every night and scripts to generate price ammortization over a given period.
So I don't know what I'm going to do over the weekend. So far I got off work late, as usual, but was able to get home to new stuff on the computer. I'll be going out riding again this Saturday morning with a coworker, one of the developers up at work. I met him today and he seems pretty cool. We're gonna ride the 20m route I did last weekend.
I thought about going to the Elephant Room tonight but ended up getting some Guinness and coming on back. I'm watching movies on justin.tv and just got rid of a pizza that was offending me. I have a fantastic knack for getting rid of culinary company that's overstayed its welcome. I just eat it. Simple fix. I wish humans tasted that good.
I had a dream last night of my high school sweetheart. She was with some other guy and I was generally unhappy about it. Truth is, I lied to her when I was 16 and told her she was the first girl I had ever kissed. Only two people know that's the case.
It's supposed to get cold here in the not-too-distant future. I don't know what to make of it.
Recently I've been getting these painfully realistic, euphoric sensations that remind me of a calmer time in a calmer place. I used to spend clearer moments in places much more beautiful than this. Places that allow silence to flourish and humane consideration to infect willingly. The trees were taller, the land was greener and the air was kindly cleaner. There was moss on the ground to cushion a fall or to serve as a mattress after a long day of relentless love, humor or happiness... the tools of the youthful trade. The people spoke with intelligence and the birds sang with enthusiasm. This seems much too far away. After I started meditating a few years ago, I began to consider memories of friends to be legitimate emotional interactions with a purpose. This has gotten me through days otherwise too quiet for productivity. I'm generally too trusting, but that's always been my nature. Maybe that's why I don't talk very much. It gets me in trouble. I have to continue to believe the people who have impacted my life stop to think about me just as often as I do them.
I'll pass the time this evening by jamming to dub and taking comfort in the fact that some people aren't called to action until late in their life. Every day is a battle. The persistent, curious tinkering of relentless minds has done more to further mankind than any other human activity. The mind races for a reason. It must.
>> "Tibetan monks playing fuzzy bass tablas" on 1000 Sounds Lotus by The Orientalist
October 10, 2009
Stretchy
Today provided yet another flurry in the realm of physical engagement.
I did, in fact, trip awkwardly into the work week. I drooled through it but not before writing a letter to the VP on the general state of things. It seems to have been decently well-received.
Allow me, for a moment, to dropkick any further elaboration on things work-related right out the window.
I got all restless last Wednesday and indulged myself. I drove to the sports store right after work and did something I hadn't done in 10 years. I found myself a pair of soccer shoes.
I walked out of the store with a perfectly stupid grin on my face while celebrating my new-found treasure: a pair of Adidas cleats and a shiny new ball :) You would have thought I had won the lottery. I was that guy, walking at pace while making sure to smile forcefully at everything and everyone. I was rather comfortably that guy.
I wore the cleats all night Wednesday and actually considered wearing them to work the next day to break them in. The next afternoon, I got off work early specifically so I could get out and relive my childhood for a few hours. I threw the cleats and ball into my backpack and peddled down to Zilker Park.
Zilker is, once again, destroyed. The 60,000 people who came out for the music festival last weekend completely ruined the multi-million dollar renovation finished no more than three months ago. The grounds were covered by a mass of mud and brown grass, a far cry from the acres of green grass the city so meticulously planted and nursed along. I saw it again today and crews were pumping standing water out manually to try to let [what's left of] the grass breathe again. It's very disappointing. I can't imagine how the city planning committee feels about it. "Who needs a budget when we have all this mud?"
Alright. So I rolled down to Zilker Park that afternoon with my backpack exploding with soccer gear. I must have looked pretty ridiculous (as I usually do). When I saw that the crews were still repairing the fields and removing the festival equipment, I headed over to the little field across the street. I think it's actually an overflow area for the river but... they must have used it in some capacity for the festival. They were still working on removing some small tents there. And there were outlines in the grass from larger structures that had been employed over the weekend.
I took off all my riding gear and tossed it next to my bike in the middle of the field. Then I donned my cleats with indisputable expertise :) I actually did lace them in the store with my eyes closed just to humor myself. Now, I played soccer for 13 years growing up. My touring team from the Houston suburbs won the state championship when we were 14. We were terribly awkward teens everywhere but on the soccer field. Such is adolescence.
I could only handle about an hour out in the heat. It was about 90 degrees and humid. I was like an overactive kid, kicking the ball and chasing it relentlessly. I was juggling and dribbling and punting and heading and sweating ferociously. I even took a spill once... rolled and bounced right back up before the rush hour traffic could laugh at me too too much. It was awesome. I'm happy to know my feet still work. Soccer cleats used to be my horse in battle. My feet were my weapons. With the exception of a few special occasions, not many sentiments compare to my memories of stepping onto soccer fields early in the morning while the grass was still wet. To any soccer player, there's something great about knowing after 60 or 90 minutes, not only will the game have been completely exhausting, but if all goes as planned, the team would emerge victorious.
I was pretty stinking tired after the hour out there that evening. I pedaled home and... probably traded. I don't remember.
I ended the week up only 7% on the charts. I was reckless and projected my emotion as market sentiment that simply wasn't there. I lost on Thursday and took my gains from 27% down to 7% for the week. I was working on other stuff and didn't look at charts on Friday.
I actually went over and hung out with my mom on Friday. Her disability was finally cleared. Apparently everyone finally got all the paperwork they needed from all the different groups associated with the auto accident. She's feeling better emotionally now that there's some money coming in, but she's still physically very uncomfortable. She's coming off of vicodin and it's highly unpleasant. She's not a big person and had been taking 3 a day for nerve pain in her neck. She dropped down to 1 a day and has apparently been in pretty shitty shape because of it. She found some new doctors who know how to deal with it. Now that she has something to help her sleep, she at least has the energy to deal with the detox a little better.
When I left her apartment, I ran a bunch of errands. Like one of Pavlov's pooches after a fantastic meal, I went right back to the same sports store.
So I've been riding my Schwinn Le Tour around town pretty regularly with my singular "gear." It's a little tricky on a couple hills around town, but it's generally really great at making sure I keep my feet spinning.
A couple weeks ago, a coworker posted a new riding group which apparently is an established group that rides every week in full cycling garb. I expressed interest and was expecting to jump in line this morning. So yesterday I returned to the sports store and did what I told myself I would never ever do. I bought spandex: long sleeve shirt and pants. Hell yes. I feel like I can slip through a keyhole when I'm wearin em. So now I've graduated to the level of exercise that absolutely requires you to look like a socially inept, overactive athlete with way too much free time on the weekends. Fits me to a "t," I think.
I wore them all night last night while I tuned up my bike and was just in awe of their awesome texture and... stretchiness. It made my freaking day. For a puny worm such as myself, I felt ripped and particularly dangerous :)
I tinkered with my chain for a bit and made some lemonade with honey for the ride. Then I tried to get as much sleep as possible. I knew the start and end points and discerned the most probable route. I'd never ridden this far on a bike in one sitting and had couldn't remember the terrain. But I said to myself, "I'm wearing a spandex suit. I can do anything."
I got up and was at the rendezvous point in full, stretchy gear at 9am. But no one showed up. I called Mr. Man and he said the group had inadvertently cancelled the ride this morning and he was unable to contact me. Just the same, I rode.
I stripped down to my nude glory and bolted out of the gates. I rode 20m in 80 minutes and even found a way to cram my phone into my sleeve so I could play my music :) There were only a couple hills that gave me trouble but it was overall a good route. There wasn't much traffic and the weather was nice.
I've just been workin on charts and watching movies this evening. I scratched the guitar and tried to take a nap but Johnny's bizarre music kept me regrettably conscious. I ended up doing laundry and playing with computerstuffs.
And here I go... into another week to work my tail off. I want to go to Bocas del Toro but not alone. If anyone feels like going for a week this winter to sit on a beach and be as lazy as humanly possible, let me know. The dry season starts in mid-December. Should you be a single, smart and particularly awesome woman, all the better.
>> "Ardi Build Half of LA" on "Lychee Queen" by Bumcello
I did, in fact, trip awkwardly into the work week. I drooled through it but not before writing a letter to the VP on the general state of things. It seems to have been decently well-received.
Allow me, for a moment, to dropkick any further elaboration on things work-related right out the window.
I got all restless last Wednesday and indulged myself. I drove to the sports store right after work and did something I hadn't done in 10 years. I found myself a pair of soccer shoes.
I walked out of the store with a perfectly stupid grin on my face while celebrating my new-found treasure: a pair of Adidas cleats and a shiny new ball :) You would have thought I had won the lottery. I was that guy, walking at pace while making sure to smile forcefully at everything and everyone. I was rather comfortably that guy.
I wore the cleats all night Wednesday and actually considered wearing them to work the next day to break them in. The next afternoon, I got off work early specifically so I could get out and relive my childhood for a few hours. I threw the cleats and ball into my backpack and peddled down to Zilker Park.
Zilker is, once again, destroyed. The 60,000 people who came out for the music festival last weekend completely ruined the multi-million dollar renovation finished no more than three months ago. The grounds were covered by a mass of mud and brown grass, a far cry from the acres of green grass the city so meticulously planted and nursed along. I saw it again today and crews were pumping standing water out manually to try to let [what's left of] the grass breathe again. It's very disappointing. I can't imagine how the city planning committee feels about it. "Who needs a budget when we have all this mud?"
Alright. So I rolled down to Zilker Park that afternoon with my backpack exploding with soccer gear. I must have looked pretty ridiculous (as I usually do). When I saw that the crews were still repairing the fields and removing the festival equipment, I headed over to the little field across the street. I think it's actually an overflow area for the river but... they must have used it in some capacity for the festival. They were still working on removing some small tents there. And there were outlines in the grass from larger structures that had been employed over the weekend.
I took off all my riding gear and tossed it next to my bike in the middle of the field. Then I donned my cleats with indisputable expertise :) I actually did lace them in the store with my eyes closed just to humor myself. Now, I played soccer for 13 years growing up. My touring team from the Houston suburbs won the state championship when we were 14. We were terribly awkward teens everywhere but on the soccer field. Such is adolescence.
I could only handle about an hour out in the heat. It was about 90 degrees and humid. I was like an overactive kid, kicking the ball and chasing it relentlessly. I was juggling and dribbling and punting and heading and sweating ferociously. I even took a spill once... rolled and bounced right back up before the rush hour traffic could laugh at me too too much. It was awesome. I'm happy to know my feet still work. Soccer cleats used to be my horse in battle. My feet were my weapons. With the exception of a few special occasions, not many sentiments compare to my memories of stepping onto soccer fields early in the morning while the grass was still wet. To any soccer player, there's something great about knowing after 60 or 90 minutes, not only will the game have been completely exhausting, but if all goes as planned, the team would emerge victorious.
I was pretty stinking tired after the hour out there that evening. I pedaled home and... probably traded. I don't remember.
I ended the week up only 7% on the charts. I was reckless and projected my emotion as market sentiment that simply wasn't there. I lost on Thursday and took my gains from 27% down to 7% for the week. I was working on other stuff and didn't look at charts on Friday.
I actually went over and hung out with my mom on Friday. Her disability was finally cleared. Apparently everyone finally got all the paperwork they needed from all the different groups associated with the auto accident. She's feeling better emotionally now that there's some money coming in, but she's still physically very uncomfortable. She's coming off of vicodin and it's highly unpleasant. She's not a big person and had been taking 3 a day for nerve pain in her neck. She dropped down to 1 a day and has apparently been in pretty shitty shape because of it. She found some new doctors who know how to deal with it. Now that she has something to help her sleep, she at least has the energy to deal with the detox a little better.
When I left her apartment, I ran a bunch of errands. Like one of Pavlov's pooches after a fantastic meal, I went right back to the same sports store.
So I've been riding my Schwinn Le Tour around town pretty regularly with my singular "gear." It's a little tricky on a couple hills around town, but it's generally really great at making sure I keep my feet spinning.
A couple weeks ago, a coworker posted a new riding group which apparently is an established group that rides every week in full cycling garb. I expressed interest and was expecting to jump in line this morning. So yesterday I returned to the sports store and did what I told myself I would never ever do. I bought spandex: long sleeve shirt and pants. Hell yes. I feel like I can slip through a keyhole when I'm wearin em. So now I've graduated to the level of exercise that absolutely requires you to look like a socially inept, overactive athlete with way too much free time on the weekends. Fits me to a "t," I think.
I wore them all night last night while I tuned up my bike and was just in awe of their awesome texture and... stretchiness. It made my freaking day. For a puny worm such as myself, I felt ripped and particularly dangerous :)
I tinkered with my chain for a bit and made some lemonade with honey for the ride. Then I tried to get as much sleep as possible. I knew the start and end points and discerned the most probable route. I'd never ridden this far on a bike in one sitting and had couldn't remember the terrain. But I said to myself, "I'm wearing a spandex suit. I can do anything."
I got up and was at the rendezvous point in full, stretchy gear at 9am. But no one showed up. I called Mr. Man and he said the group had inadvertently cancelled the ride this morning and he was unable to contact me. Just the same, I rode.
I stripped down to my nude glory and bolted out of the gates. I rode 20m in 80 minutes and even found a way to cram my phone into my sleeve so I could play my music :) There were only a couple hills that gave me trouble but it was overall a good route. There wasn't much traffic and the weather was nice.
I've just been workin on charts and watching movies this evening. I scratched the guitar and tried to take a nap but Johnny's bizarre music kept me regrettably conscious. I ended up doing laundry and playing with computerstuffs.
And here I go... into another week to work my tail off. I want to go to Bocas del Toro but not alone. If anyone feels like going for a week this winter to sit on a beach and be as lazy as humanly possible, let me know. The dry season starts in mid-December. Should you be a single, smart and particularly awesome woman, all the better.
>> "Ardi Build Half of LA" on "Lychee Queen" by Bumcello
October 02, 2009
102%
While magically making a pizza disappear a moment ago, I was struck by an awesome truth of this, my global existence:
I'm in the middle of Texas. I'm eating Italian food that was built to last for no less than a decade when stored at the right temperature. I'm listening to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform Hungarian piano concertos by way of a public radio station in Vermont over the internet. Such a mixture of influence and personal consumption made me especially happy for a moment and I thought it should be recorded in some capacity.
Well this was generally a good week. I didn't get a great deal of sleep because I was up most nights watching my trades. It looks like my nickels and dimes (literally) have paid off.
After revising my risk to a more aggressive approach while targeting smaller fluctuations against larger trends, I doubled my account in September: 102% gain in 25 trading days with an 86% win ratio. I took the rest of last week off and haven't looked at a chart in about 36 hours. I traded gbpjpy almost exclusively on Asian open. I maintained discipline and if another trade presented itself after the first, I did the right thing consistently and traded half or a quarter of the position and promptly forgot about it. It's about to turn into work again, but it's a necessary addition to this kind, low-key existence. Tomorrow I'll update my COT reports and work on the charts for a little (long) while before tripping awkwardly into the forthcoming workweek. 100% return in 25 days. Now if I can just do that ten or fifteen more times...
We had a great cold front come through last night and it turned into genuine fall weather around here. I woke up plainly cold after the air conditioner ran all night. I think it was about 60 this morning when I woke up, but I just wasn't motivated enough to check the temperature directly. After the week I had, I was reluctant to do much more than scratch myself when I woke up today. I'm also generally just a little disappointed to see the cold weather come back. Living in Texas, a person gets used to sweating. And I've done my best to incorporate it into my life insofar as I simply expect it to be hot outside. It's true we move just a little slower down here in the South. The only way to come to terms with the heat is to relax and keep your heart rate where it needs to be. I also think it's best to break a sweat once a day. I think the biological response is sort of like a mental and physical reboot.
My roommate just left. He has dead bikes and drums all over the place and won't goddamn bathe his dog. He did, however, start to flush the toilet after using it... apparently to the direct detriment of children without drinking water around the world. I'm ready for him to be gone.
My pizza was spectacular.
I'm writing this on my tablet! I got it back yesterday and spent all night and morning setting it up. After setting everything up just how I wanted it on my 120gb drive, it failed and I had to do it all over again on the OEM drive. It was tedious but not too bad. I might actually do all my... yeah. I'm gonna do my charting somewhere around town tomorrow.
Had I not squandered my social life so efficiently over the last few years, I might have known Austin City Limits was happening before today. There are a few reasons I would have considered going. First, there's new grass. The recent rain has probably helped it take root considerably well and it should do just fine through the weekend. Next, looking at this year's sponsor list, it looks like Mr. Attal and C3 did it again by selling the local companies. AMD, Dell, Austin (Capital) Ventures and HEB probably carried the brunt of the bill. This is also probably one of, if not the only, major marketing efforts they'll make in Austin (and maybe Texas altogether) all year. I wouldn't be surprised if C3 had to prop up the budget a little on their own. They're bringing some big names and... it'd be interesting to see what Dave Matthews is charging. I doubt they get out of bed for less than $400 or $500k. Lenny Kravitz and Kid Rock don't play for less than a million. Madonna and JayZ, $1.25m. It's such a farce. I get more satisfaction from playing Faure's Pavane on a dumpy classical guitar than any amount of exorbitant production and glamour at a show like ACL. But I digress.
The only bands I'd like to see are Medeski, Martin and Wood, Mos Def and Pearl Jam. I learned how to play the drums with Pearl Jam and Sublime way back when :) Coheed and Cambria and Ben Harper might be fun to see, but I can only take one or two songs by either of them in one sitting. I don't need to see DMB anymore. If I need a DMB fix, I just watch some Carter Beauford videos on YouNube. I think I'll be just as content staring at charts and jamming to Banco de Gaia in my headphones tomorrow.
>> "Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2" by Franz Liszt
I'm in the middle of Texas. I'm eating Italian food that was built to last for no less than a decade when stored at the right temperature. I'm listening to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform Hungarian piano concertos by way of a public radio station in Vermont over the internet. Such a mixture of influence and personal consumption made me especially happy for a moment and I thought it should be recorded in some capacity.
Well this was generally a good week. I didn't get a great deal of sleep because I was up most nights watching my trades. It looks like my nickels and dimes (literally) have paid off.
After revising my risk to a more aggressive approach while targeting smaller fluctuations against larger trends, I doubled my account in September: 102% gain in 25 trading days with an 86% win ratio. I took the rest of last week off and haven't looked at a chart in about 36 hours. I traded gbpjpy almost exclusively on Asian open. I maintained discipline and if another trade presented itself after the first, I did the right thing consistently and traded half or a quarter of the position and promptly forgot about it. It's about to turn into work again, but it's a necessary addition to this kind, low-key existence. Tomorrow I'll update my COT reports and work on the charts for a little (long) while before tripping awkwardly into the forthcoming workweek. 100% return in 25 days. Now if I can just do that ten or fifteen more times...
We had a great cold front come through last night and it turned into genuine fall weather around here. I woke up plainly cold after the air conditioner ran all night. I think it was about 60 this morning when I woke up, but I just wasn't motivated enough to check the temperature directly. After the week I had, I was reluctant to do much more than scratch myself when I woke up today. I'm also generally just a little disappointed to see the cold weather come back. Living in Texas, a person gets used to sweating. And I've done my best to incorporate it into my life insofar as I simply expect it to be hot outside. It's true we move just a little slower down here in the South. The only way to come to terms with the heat is to relax and keep your heart rate where it needs to be. I also think it's best to break a sweat once a day. I think the biological response is sort of like a mental and physical reboot.
My roommate just left. He has dead bikes and drums all over the place and won't goddamn bathe his dog. He did, however, start to flush the toilet after using it... apparently to the direct detriment of children without drinking water around the world. I'm ready for him to be gone.
My pizza was spectacular.
I'm writing this on my tablet! I got it back yesterday and spent all night and morning setting it up. After setting everything up just how I wanted it on my 120gb drive, it failed and I had to do it all over again on the OEM drive. It was tedious but not too bad. I might actually do all my... yeah. I'm gonna do my charting somewhere around town tomorrow.
Had I not squandered my social life so efficiently over the last few years, I might have known Austin City Limits was happening before today. There are a few reasons I would have considered going. First, there's new grass. The recent rain has probably helped it take root considerably well and it should do just fine through the weekend. Next, looking at this year's sponsor list, it looks like Mr. Attal and C3 did it again by selling the local companies. AMD, Dell, Austin (Capital) Ventures and HEB probably carried the brunt of the bill. This is also probably one of, if not the only, major marketing efforts they'll make in Austin (and maybe Texas altogether) all year. I wouldn't be surprised if C3 had to prop up the budget a little on their own. They're bringing some big names and... it'd be interesting to see what Dave Matthews is charging. I doubt they get out of bed for less than $400 or $500k. Lenny Kravitz and Kid Rock don't play for less than a million. Madonna and JayZ, $1.25m. It's such a farce. I get more satisfaction from playing Faure's Pavane on a dumpy classical guitar than any amount of exorbitant production and glamour at a show like ACL. But I digress.
The only bands I'd like to see are Medeski, Martin and Wood, Mos Def and Pearl Jam. I learned how to play the drums with Pearl Jam and Sublime way back when :) Coheed and Cambria and Ben Harper might be fun to see, but I can only take one or two songs by either of them in one sitting. I don't need to see DMB anymore. If I need a DMB fix, I just watch some Carter Beauford videos on YouNube. I think I'll be just as content staring at charts and jamming to Banco de Gaia in my headphones tomorrow.
>> "Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2" by Franz Liszt
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