Friday, September 7

02:04 :: Understated

Leave home at 7:30.
Class at 8:00.
Class at 9:30.
Class at 11:00.
— — —
Class at 2:00.
— — —
Come home at 9:00.

I'm tired.

Wednesday, September 5

12:38 :: Cute

So, I'm talking to my six year old sister on the phone, who I haven't seen since August of 2000: "Who are you?" she asks.

Estranged, I reply back, "I don't know. Who are you?"

"I'm your next door neighbour!"

"You are? Then please come over and bring me food! I'm hungry!" Hoping she'll fall into a trap — But no!

"No, who are you?" Yep. She's smart, tricky; But I'm the older brother here. Can't get away from me: "Can you put your brother on the phone?" My sister has to distinguish between me and my brother by the usage of the "boro," meaning bigger, and "choto," meaning smaller, prefixes before "bhaia," meaning brother. In the background, I hear her yelling, "Choto Bhaia, Boro Bhaia is on the phone!"

Ha! Like you can trick me into believing you forgot me. You're my sister, after all. The tricks we play run in our genes.

Tuesday, September 4

23:43 :: Living

The abundance of the suburban stench permeating through the hair salons of Houston make me feel almost guilty. New York's diversity is somewhat of a gift to its people: One gets to experience lives of the city's inhabitants that can vary drastically from their own. But at the same time, Manhattan, specifically, lacks some sort of a cultural character: Of women, all white, all in their late 30s to mid 50s, sitting around in a salon reminiscent of Steel Magnolias, talking, relaxing, living life like it was meant to be. For them. Maybe not for us. But definitely for them.

Every time I've come back to Houston, I've gone to the Lifestyles Salon on Fuqua as it curves toward Highway 3. A year of New York, yet not one decent haircut for under $20. The only decent one? $45. Worth it, no doubt; Albeit, my wallet says otherwise.

01:24 :: Domination*

"It's incredible," says one energy industry analyst who asked that his name not be used for fear of incurring the wrath of Enron. "In energy at least, they have branded a commodity, and that goes against everything that a commodity is supposed to be."

Monday, September 3

20:48 :: Home

I'm back in Houston.

For, incase one is mathematically anal, approximately 75 hours. Reasons will be disclosed later, but let's just say it has to do with Uncle Sam summoning me for a bit of a talk. Don't worry: I didn't do anything bad. Yet.

(Has someone cued the Twilight Zone theme yet?)

I'm a bit tired from the traveling. Had a 6:30AM flight out of LaGuardia, which meant I left Water Street around 5AM, walked up to Chambers Street to catch a cab (on a crisp Labor Day morning, cabs are quite a scantily find) in order to make the gate in time. And yes, I slept 97.213% of the time on the plane.

I've been here for the day now, devouring Houston-style boba nai chai at Starlite Smoothies, scouring Baybrook Mall and Putt-Putt Golf-ing with good friends. Oh: I am apparently banned from the go-karts section due to excessive booty bumper bumping.