Time flies when you're...oh, wait

Wow...I can't believe it's been so long since my last post. I'd say time flies when you're having fun, but you all get it by now.

I spent the weekend in Chicago, at the Net Impact Conference, which was very interesting. The conference focused on social issues in both non-and-for-profits and I went to some really great panels and sessions that focused on education and the environment. There are companies out there that are doing amazing things when it comes to business and the environment, which gives me a little hope that are planet is not going to hell in a handbasket. At least, not yet.

The conference opened my eyes to a lot of issues and reaffirmed that I really want to explore the non-profit space. The issue now is just how. It's so difficult to break into this area and I feel that I need more time to network and really get to know the organizations that are in the area. Maybe I start somewhere else and work my way to a non-profit or foundation. We'll see...

Another great thing about the weekend, besides the wonderful conference and cold, windy weather, was seeing Abby. Granted, it's only been a few months, but that's a long time in Abby-years. If only we lived closer to each other. Maybe someday. We'll see...

The results are in

I batted a 0.75. Not too shabby. Out of the four predictions I made about my mother's comments to me during my visit home, I got 3 of them correct.

1. My mother did, in fact, comment on my hair and encouraged me to get it cut while I was home. I declined.

2. My mother proceeded to comment on the dark circles under my eyes. I faulted her Italian genes.

3. My mother tried to force feed me while I was home.

There was, however, no comment about my growing ass, which surprised me. There usually is at least one ass-comment whenever I visit. Could my mother be losing her game, as she gets older?

Overall, it was a great visit. A lot of shopping (for my little sister), some drinks, and some quality time with the parents. Despite the comments.

Real Men of Genius

Monkeygirl presents "Real Men of Genius" (Real Men of Genius)

Today we salute you, Mr. Transportation Security Administration Director (Mr. Transportation Security Administrator Director).

You have single-handedly stopped terrorists from bringing explosive materials onto airplanes. No one else would have thought a simple, clear Ziploc bag would prevent explosive liquids from igniting, but you have found a way to protect millions of people each day (blue and yellow make green). Ordinarily, passengers would not be allowed to take liquids on the airplane (kaboom), but you know that by putting them into a Ziploc bag, the properties of supposed liquids are neutralized (you should have been a rocket scientist). If it shakes, sprays or pours, put it in the Ziploc bag. Or else you'll confiscate it. So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, oh Pioneer of Plastic, for making our skies a little friendlier to fly (Mr. Transportation Security Administraaatooor).

This message is not endorsed by Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri, but was inspired by true events that occurred while travelling to St. Louis, Missouri.

Please, sir. May I have some more?

It's true. I had to get my Jmac fill.

There are few people in the world that you can go awhile without talking to, only to pick right back up where you started when you see each other again. Jessica is one of those people. It's amazing that our friendship has spanned so many years - we first became buds in high school - and while we have each grown in our own way, we are, in a sense, still the very same people we were when we first met.

Add Jessica and Craig to my growing list of friends who own their own house! Of course, due to the rain, the late night, and the people who currently live in the house, we couldn't actually go inside to look around, but maybe next time! Then off to Applebee's for a drink (Cab for me, Bud Light for her), to talk a little politics, and to catch up on the last few months.

I, by no means, got my Jmac fill, but it was still good to see her for a few hours. Now if I could convince her to visit me down in NC....

Mama Mia!

I'm leaving tomorrow morning for St. Louis, to visit my parents for a few days. While I'm looking forward to seeing them, and my sister, I'm not looking forward to the many comments my mother will make while I'm there. Maybe that's just what mothers do - make comments about their daughters - but I think my mother may be a little more critical than most. So here is a list of my predictions...and I'll let you know if they come true!

1) My mother will make a comment about my hair, about how long it's gotten. Personally, I like my hair long. And I bet my dad will, too. But my mother doesn't like long hair. It "drags down your face" as she likes to say. I even predict she'll "offer" to make me a hair appointment while I'm home, so I can get it cut.

2) She'll complain about how skinny I am, and forcefeed me. Maybe that's just because she's Italian.

3) ...and then she'll "mention" how large my ass has gotten. I can't counter here. It has gotten big.

4) She'll inevitably point out the dark circles around my eyes and try to get me to bed early. This actually may not be a bad thing...I could use more sleep!

Oh, the joys of going home!

Sleep, fame and corporate finance

It's official! My first term of my second year is over. I just walked out of my Corporate Finance exam, and I am forever finished with that class! But for those of you who are fretting that they will no longer be able to hear me gripe about Corporate Finance, fret no more. Next term I will be taking Entreprenuerial Finance, and since I cannot spell entreprenuerial, it will hereafter be referred to as Ent. Fin. So more griping is on the way!

The one fun thing that came out of exam week had to be the Financial Statement Analysis exam. You can add an extra 0.09 seconds of fame on to my clock. A few weeks ago, I may have made a mention in the Fuqua Times about how I decided to take FSA while smoking opium at a hookah party. Apparently, our FSA professor also reads the Fuqua Times and got a kick out of this, showing it off to every FSA section one week. A barrel of laughs. Well, he decided to have the last laugh and name a "company" after me in one of the FSA exam problems...Laura's Pipe Dreams. Yes, I now have my very own FSA problem that will go down in the annals of Fuqua Accounting history!

And, lastly, it appears that the scientific community agrees with my sleep assessment, which I bemoaned in my last posting. My friend, Lisa, (and yes, Lisa, that is the appropriate use of commas) sent me this link. So sleep soundly...it's good for you!

Sweet, Beautiful Release

Do you realize that we spend most of our lives awake? As I type this, I have been awake for 19 hours straight. Simple math, that even a Corp Fin flunkie can do (yes, I'm squeezing blood out of this turnip), dictates that only 5 hours are left in the day. Only 5 hours for sweet, beautiful sleep. Why must we spend so many hours of the day awake?

I know, I know. Carpe Diem and all that crap. But how can you seize the day when you're sleep deprived? How can you save the world when thoughts of pillows and down comforters prance through your head? How can you pretend you're the next contestant on America's Next Top Model when you have black circles under your eyes?

The answer is: more sleep. We need to stay awake less and sleep more. Then can we, as a people, as a human species, make a better difference in this world. And actually enjoy the day that we are seizing, after getting a full 8-9 hours of sleep.

God Bless America

For the most part, I stay away from the news (except when it's celebrity gossip, of course) because there really isn't anything interesting going on anymore. After today, I felt it my American duty to comment on the state of our nation:

• Good ol' Mark Foley. Just when things were getting a little tough for him, he does what any God-fearing American does: blames a priest. I thought Republicans were all about personal responsibility, taking ownership of one's actions. It's the Democrats that point the finger, cite their upbringing and cry "woe is me". Has the planet tilted off it's axis? And what does being gay have anything to do with having internet sex with a teenage page boy? The lesson from Mr. Foley: when in trouble, blame the gays and the Catholics. Everyone else does.

• Speaking of gays...apparently Brad Pitt and Angelina have decided not to marry until everyone else in the country is legally allowed to marry, as well. Hmm. This sounds like a devious, wolf-in-sheep's-clothing strategy devised by men to avoid tying the knot. After all, can you really argue with such a socially-minded cause? But that's not the real story here. Turns out Mr. Donald Trump is equally suspicious, so much so that he wrote about it on his blog. I know what you're thinking: "When did The Donald start caring so much about the sanctity of marriage?" But the truly important question: When did The Donald get a blog??

My 0.15 seconds of fame

When I was in Nantucket this summer, I ran across a photo contest that was sponsored by the local island newspaper. Although I don't claim to be a great photographer (my sister was blessed with those genes), I decided I'd give it a try. Not that it was that hard, as Nantucket is such a charming island and everything on it is a photo op.

Anyway, I submitted three photos. None of them won. (Damn...I could have bought another pair of jeans. At Target). But one of my photos did get featured on the newspaper's website. So, I'm famous! Or at least I would be, if they have spelled my last name correctly. But I can't be too greedy.

So check it out. I call it "Windmill Basking in the Sun."

London Bridge is falling down

I'm addicted to Fergie's newest (well, new-ish) hit "London Bridge". Although, hearing it played over the radio five times yesterday wears on the brain a bit. But I still love it.

However, can someone explain to me exactly what it means for one's "Londy, London Bridge" to wanna go down?

I consider myself somehwat hip, but I'm having a hard time putting my finger on exactly what this could mean. Does it refer to her britches? Or maybe some recent dental work? Somehow, that childhood song will never quite be the same...

Well, isn't that just special...

This past week Fuqua hosted a Mock MBA Games. Fuqua is the largest supporter of the Special Olympics of North Carolina, raising about $100,000 each year for the organization. We do this with several events throughout the year, culminating into the MBA Games, which is where we invite other business schools down to compete in field-day-type events. Think: Izzy Dizzy Bat, 50 meter dash, three legged race.

To kick off the season, we had a Mock MBA Games, where sections competed against each other. (The First Year class is divided into sections of about 70 students each, with whom you take all your first year classes...it's becomes like a little fraternity). As a Section 5 Alumni of sorts, I was one of the Second Year participants in the Mock MBA Games.

Sorry, there are no pictures posted here of me doing the Izzy Dizzy Bat Race (that picture would show me flat on my ass when I tumbled to the ground like a drunken sailor) or of the WheelBarrow Race (we rocked that one, but as the "wheelbarrow", I'm wondering if I gave everyone a good look down my shirt) or of the Tug O' War (enough said). But there is a picture of the SECTION 5 WINNING TEAM! Yes, we came in first place!

The little boy in the green was our Special Olympian. So sweet and super fast...he helped us win the 50 meter dash!

The results are in...

After much angst amid many hours of studying, I have received my Corp Fin midterm grade. (drumroll, please). 59. That's right, I failed.

Or did I?

If business school has taught me anything, it's how to spin the truth to your favor. Maybe you took a leadership role in a club, only to discover that the extent of your contribution was to hang flyers. No problem, just spin it. You were responsible for coordinating the printing and distribution of 1500 flyers, which advertised the biggest club event of the year and, as a direct result of your effort, you increased attendance at said event by 47% from last year.

So did I really fail the exam? The truth is the mean on the exam was 67.8, with a standard deviation of 17. I know from my Statistics class, which I barely passed, that anything within one standard deviation of the mean is not statistically relevant. Therefore, my 59, being within one standard deviation of a mean that was almost failing, means I am right in the middle of the pack of my classmates. And since we know everything is relative in business school, this means that, at this rate, I should earn an HP in the class, which is just one grade lower than the highest grade, an SP. (Or, at the very least, a P, which is passing).

The basic gist is that while my 59 proves that I suck at Corp Fin, the performance of my classmates proves that everyone else also sucks at Corp Fin. I suck just a bit more, but not enough to truly fail the course.

What this also shows is how much I have grown up in the past 10 years. In the past (read: high school chemistry and/or college calculus) I would have melted into a puddle of tears if/when I received a 59 on a test. I would then run to the professor's office, crocodile tears still clinging to my cheeks, and ask where I went wrong, how I could do better.

But today, no tears. I just rationalize myself a higher grade.

The Big Day

As I'm uploading these pictures onto the blog, I'm thinking to myself "How much do we just love digital photos?" Remember back in the day, about 365 of them, when everyone would have to wait anxiously to go to Target to get their pictures developed? And then you had to pay extra to have Target upload the pictures onto a CD (damn those capitalists!), just so you could then e-mail them out, one by one because the server could only handle so much file space at a time, to your friends so you could show them your genteel friend sprawled out on top of a grand piano, touching the pianist's, eh hem, "MagLight"? Oh, those were the days. Now, people have no patience. It's got to be now, now now. So fine. Here are your pictures.

The first several are of Elizabeth's bachelorette party, which, I have to say, went smashingly. The theme was Tiffany & Co. Next are pictures of the bridal party, including a lovely one of the Maid-of-Honor (me) and the Best Man. After all, the wedding could not have gone on if it weren't fo' us.

Honestly, it was a fabulous wedding. Perfectly Fabulous.

Open Season

Put on your bright orange hunting jackets and spit-shine those rifles...the season has officially begun. It kicked off tonight with the season premiere of America's Next Top Model. Go Tyra! Although what was she thinking with that leopard print dress tonight? Leopard print? That's so two years ago. You know better, Tyra.

Monique is definitely going to cause some drama (no no drama, we don't want no drama) up in here with her beauty rituals. And while the producers portrayed Melrose as high-maintenance and irresponsible, I really think that was a one-time mistake on her part. My favorite, out of the gates, is Brooke. How adorable and full of energy is she? Sweet, adorable, chocolate-covered Brooke.

Can't wait until tomorrow night...Gray's Anatomy! What? Do I have all my shows' season premieres marked on my Outlook calendar? Why yes. Yes I do.

Make Love, Not War

In an attempt to think about something other than Financial Statement Analysis and Corporate Finance (no joke, I woke up at 4:20 this morning, turned on the light, and attempted to take Scott's laptop (read: pillow) away from him so I could balance my Balance Sheet), I read an article in the Scientific American Special Edition on Becoming Human.

The gist of the article is that Bonobos like to have sex. (Who said Anthropologists don't have more fun?). A Bonobo, because you're wondering, is a closely related ape, more graceful than a chimpanzee. The amazing thing about their sex lives is that they are the only primate, other than humans, known to have sex for a non-reproductive reason. In fact, they have sex with each other - even with bonobos of the same sex - in order to maintain harmony in a competitive society.

Which is the same reason we use sex. Not only do we do it to produce offspring, but we do it to "cement mutually profitable relationships between men and women." Bonobos apparently do this for the same mutually profitable relationships - to ease competition for food, form female alliances (they are a more matriarchal society than, say, chimpanzees), and to patch over any "disagreements".

Much other behavior among Bonobos is reminiscent of that among humans, including mother Bonobos lifting their babies up in the air by placing the mother's feet on their babies stomachs...kind of like playing airplane. Pretty amazing stuff.

Oh, this is the life!

Most people would jump at the chance to take a day-and-a-half off of work and enjoy themselves in the glorious city of Savannah. I know I would. Savannah is one of my favorite cities, at least in the U.S. And I did just that. Take a day-and-a-half off from school and fly down to this wonderful place to be in my best friend's wedding.

So, you ask, am I wandering the charming squares chandeliered by spanish moss growing in the tall oaks? Am I toasting in the cute pubs and bars that line Savannah's streets? Perhaps I am spending my Friday on the beaches of one of Savannah's tiny islands? No, my little friends. None of the above.

Instead, I am enjoying the inside of the Garden Hotel, stuck in my room as I attempt to finish a take-home midterm exam for Financial Statement Analysis. At this point, you may be asking yourself "Why did Laura, who hates numbers and loves the abstract, take Financial Statement Analysis?" My only answer has something to do with trying to be a well-rounded MBA graduate, which may or may not have been a fantasy induced by an opium-smoking hookah party.

So I have 2 hours to get as much done on this take-home midterm (which is due Monday) before the rehearsal. So no ghost-walks for me tonight. Just FSA, a church, and, oh yeah, lots of drinking. (In that order).

Little Miss Sunshine

On this very rainy, very angry, night, Scott and I just returned from seeing Little Miss Sunshine. I had heard the reviews from Sundance and seen the ads. And I'm here to confirm...it truly is one of the best movies I have ever seen.

Every actor in this film does a phenomenal job. The storyline is amazing and it's one of those movies that makes you feel good about yourself and your place in the world. It makes you appreciate your own quirks and realize that, no matter how bad things may seem or get, it's all going to be OK. And it's absolutely hilarious.

So here's another review from just a lowly blogger - go out and see Little Miss Sunshine. I think you'll agree it's money worth spending.

I talked to Ernesto. He says Hola.

Ernesto has sent some rain our way these last few days. It's wind-driven rain that makes you want to curl up under the covers and read Corporate Finance.

I think it's very equitable of the Hurricane Weather people to include Hispanic names in their list of hurricane identification. But why just include English and Hispanic names? Why not represent more of our country's fabric?

We have a large Chinese and Chinese-American population that should be represented, plus, it would solve the problem of trying to find names for odd letters like "Q" and "X". We chould have Hurricane Xiaohui or Hurricane Qi.

And let's not forget our Indian friends. Hurrican Sameer and Vidya have a nice ring to them. The list could go on to include names from other Asian and Mid-East countries, Russia and Slovic nations. These would be must more interesting then Hurricane John.

Granted, it might take a little while for public acceptance. But I don't think people will much care when hurricane is blowing down their door. At that point, does it really matter that it's Hurricane Qi or Hurricane John? Plus it's not fair that we're continuing the American image of destruction by having hurricanes named after American-sounding names.

Let's expand our horizons, represent our country well. And greet our hurricanes with a bow and a "Nihao".

What makes me holla!

In continuing with our Cape Cod adventure, I thought I would post this. Quite hilarious. It especially rings true after spending a week in New England. This may, in fact, be my calling. As Elizabeth pointed out, I do love both gangstas and preppy pastels. Oh, how I heart New England!

If you would like to learn more "Prepsta" tea partay rules, including appropriate prepsta signs, go to www.teapartay.com. Enjoy! And holla back!

A spoonful of sugar makes the humility go down

Several weeks ago, I ran into an old high school friend. It was one of those it's-a-small-world-after-all moments, where this person happened to recognize me and once he came over, I instantly recognized him. We've all been there, and it never loses it's coolness.

This one did, though. We met up later that night at a bar where we caught up on the last nine years (has it really been nine years?) of our life. Rather, he caught me up on the past nine years of his life and I just listened. He told me all about his accomplishments, about which graduate school he went to, about who he married, about how he got into Duke but decided to go elsewhere, about how going to his undergrad was the best thing that happened to him, although at the time he didn't think so, and on. And on.

At the time, I wanted to scream. I have very few pet peeves, but the biggest is people who aren't humble. Who think they are God's gift to humanity and think everyone needs to know about it. I value humility over many things. In fact, it may be the number one thing that's most important to me in a friend and mentor.

Looking back at this now, I realize something more. As I've vented before, I am conditioned by my mother to not be happy, but I know now that I am. There is a lot more I'd like to accomplish with my life and I hope to one day get there. But right here, right now, I am happy with where I've gone and who I am. During the update from this old friend, I never really felt the need to fill him in on me. It wasn't important that he knew. It was only important that I did.

It's something so simple. And many times we get caught up with other things in our life that we don't stop and take inventory. I know I didn't. Not until a lack of humility angered me. It was then that I realized that I may not be much. I may not have reached all my goals. I may have a whole lot more to improve upon. But importantly, I am happy. Isn't that the meaning of life?