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Cross another state of the list of never-been-to, cause now here I am in Oklahoma. After a long long day of travel in planes that were not open-cockpit biplanes.

First impressions:

1) The Tulsa airport has this crazy bird/monkey sound that plays very loudly in the area outside of baggage claim. It drove me nuts, until I learned that it was to keep birds out of the area so they didnapos;t interfere with the planes. There wasnapos;t any explanation posted, however, so I saw people who, like me, kept looking around for the source and trying to puzzle out where it was coming from. I had this weird speculation that perhaps there were great hornbills (native to East Africa) also in Oklahoma.

2) Out the window of my eighth-floor room, I have a rather nice view of downtown Tulsa and this magnificent (Methodist?) church not far away. I spent the early evening ironing and preparing myself for a week of oh-my-God-crazy-conferenceing (not easy considering that the iron was set to turn off on its own after fifteen minutes, which meant I had to unplug it to fool it into thinking I was turning it on fresh each time. Considering I have five days of conference-clothes that were thrown fairly willy-nilly into my bag last night after an evening watching the Red Sox lose to the Rays (boo hiss) and drinking wine with a friend, this was most inconvenient), so didnapos;t go exploring, but I did watch the sun set over the city and the untold thousands of swallows dancing through the air as the light dimmed over the world.

3) THere is a giant set of Silos that has O B A M A and the logo painted in giant glorious blue on white letters on the way from the airport.

4) The more I come to these conferences the more people I know, which means the more intense the socializing, which makes it more and more exhausting, if generally fun.


-----------------------------

Haba told me at one point that he liked my writing about the political scene, and had noticed that I hadnapos;t been writing about the election much in recent weeks. The reasons for this are that, except for the fact that I am completely obsessed with the election, which I have posted about, I havenapos;t had a lot to say. But here is what I have noticed.

I have a button on my jacket - which I have taken off, now that I am representing a group that has to be impartial and bipartisan and all that - which I finally got from the Obama campaign earlier this week. I have noticed a couple of things.

1) People respond to it and talk about it. I was sent five buttons - one for me and four to give away - all four were given away within an hour of y fetching them from the post office. THey comment on it. They smile and give thumbs up. They start conversations.

2) Someone made the comment that Obama calls us to our higher nature, our best qualities. And while I generally speaking try to behave in a polite, kind, inoffensive way, I find that the button makes me feel like it is making me a representative of Obama and that I need to behave better, in a way that would represent him well. It is completely bizarre and irrational - and I have worn political campaign buttons for campaigns for years and never found that it was enough to make me feel empowered...or to make me feel like an ambassador for the candidate.

McCainapos;s campaign is dwelling on fear and anger and the basest common denominator. Obamaapos;s is based on our best natures. He brings out the best of us and calls on us to be our best. To be kinder, more generous, more accepting. It is, in so many ways, the triumph of optimism and the idealism that we have been told for so long is impractical or naive. This is what is meant, really, by empowerment.

It is knowing that we, together, are able to accomplish anything - beyond profit and business and politics.

Year ago, in working on an exhibit on the space program, I remember hearing about the thousands of individuals involved in the space program, and that each of them - no matter what they did - refused to be the reason why the mission didnapos;t succeed....and so the whole was infinitely greater than the sum of the parts and we accomplished something greater than ourselves.

I think that Obama will win. I am terrified that he wonapos;t. But even if he doesnapos;t, God forbid, I will still be grateful for the feeling that there is something worth fighting for, and that hope is - it really is - a policy. Starting with hope, we can do anything. Because each of us in our own small ways can contribute to a whole that is greater than any of us.

We are the ones. We are the ones. We are the ones weapos;ve been waiting for.

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Suddenly my LIC tell me that next year during Feb/Mar/Aprl, when the students are having their ITP (Industrial Training Programme).. He is intending to have 4 year 2 students to attach to my lab to help do draftings. And he wants me to apos;somehowapos; like an overall supervisor apos;in-chargeapos; of the student, managing the drafting work.

I think these people are very cunning. So what.. You mean i will not be going for leave during this period?�I cannot plan for any holiday?

Even if the mmlab is going on a renovation, there can be other people to do the supervison work mah, why has it got to be me. I am not the one using the lab. Help to draw already also have to help supervise?? Why these people so evil heart on har

They dont scared of retributions meh

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My big brother frequently talks about how being my brother, the brother of someone with a fairly severe congenital physical disability, has affected how he raises his young son and opened his mind to how certain adaptations for people with disabilities have more universal applications. Growing up, he watched us figure out how to make things work for his baby sister every day. We were a fairly active family and we just made things work. He watched that process and now applies it when his infant son is struggling with similar things. Its pretty amazing watching this process from the outside.

We supplemented plastic silverware for standard metal as it was readily available and much lighter and easier to maneuver for me. My brother remembered this when his son was having trouble getting that big, relatively heavy fork that never wants to stay level in to his tiny mouth. He asked the waitress for a plastic fork (which 99 of restaurants have) and his son picked it right up and started using it. I doubt that is something a lot of people would think of because your standard fork is one of those tools most people just use without thinking of itapos;s weight or usability, but when your muscle functionality is extremely limited (like an infant or person with a mobility impairment) it makes a HUGE difference.

While I am not hard of hearing (despite allegations to the contrary), I imagine his experience as my brother, as well as having a wife trained in adaptive education, also made him open to teaching his son preverbal sign language. Watching my 16 month old nephew effectively communicate his needs to his parents without throwing a fit or getting frustrated (even though he was not feeling good at the time) was simply amazing and I imagine sets a great tone for the future of his communication skills as they develop. When I saw him last, he could ask for food, drink, and help (specified what he needed help with initial sign, then pointing at what he needed help with), and really that is a huge portion of what any infant needs from us beyond love and attention (which they donapos;t know to ask for beyond getting up in your lap, covered by "help"). It makes a lot of sense to teach this method of communication traditionally reserved for people who are hard of hearing/deaf to infants who have yet to develop speech, for different reasons clearly, but all in the name of effective communication.

And, having nothing to do with children, of course my brother being who he is also points out that closed captioning, originally developed for people who are hard of hearing/deaf, is now implemented in loud environments such as bars and gyms everywhere. I wonder if the original developers of this technology knew how universally applicable it would be?

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I got my OFFICIAL BALLOT-DO NOT DELAY today in the mail. (I am delaying, btw.)

Once I vote, I will have finally exercised I right allowed me by the government for turning 18.

Hurrah


I also did a quick doodle of the Black Canary AKA Dinah Lance and used my crappy phone to take a picture of it. I donapos;t know why, but my phone seemed to zero in on Dinahapos;s legs...I mean, I havenapos;t even drawn on the fishnets yet, so nobody/nothing should really be focused on her legs. I donapos;t like the way I drew her face, but it looks like itapos;s shaping up nice.



I have also noticed that I draw all women with their thighs, hips, and breasts kinda big. I do not know why but it is beginning to frustrate me. My next project after this will be to draw a more normally proportioned girl.

And, the name "Dinah"? I really like that name. If I ever have a daughter, I think I might name her Dinah. I might not though, because it is a little too similar to my name.

Well, not really. Dara and Dinah? They both end with "uh" sounds and start with a D. Other than that, they are nothing alike. Well, except they are both Hebrew names and uncommon.

Whatever, Iapos;m probably not going to have a kid for at least another ten years anyway. But, barring any special circumstances, I am going to definitely name any kid of mine something unusual. Because, you know, I always kinda felt sorry for people who have really common names? My brother and I are pretty set when it comes to unusual names. Well, unless my brother decides to become a Mormon. I heard a lot of guys who are Mormon have my brotherapos;s name.
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"I am gonna blow the windows of your mind"
-Saturday Night Live.

Catharsis and a good tragedy come hand in hand together. Ask� Aristotle. This is my tragedy: my mind is fucked up. Pathos is present in my life right now, I can assure you. I am such a promising child, but there is pathos. A requirement for a good tragedy. Such a good tragedy, this mind, that its getting close to the climactic end is bringing about catharsis in my system already.

Iapos;m puking vileness now. Iapos;m passing noxious, derogatory gas. Ah, Sweet. Excuse me.

Let alone with my thoughts, I could die. It is no longer a secret that I have some maladaptive behaviors, but temporary the solution that behavior could give, it can keep me sane. At least for now.

I need noise, movement, and happy things to keep me away from self destruction. Corporal self destruction or not, I need to be away in one way or another. Like whenever I imagine that I am not me. Like when I imagined that I am the man eating in Dunkin Donuts in Tokyo in Haruki Murakamirsquo;s book.

My mind is obsessive. It is not mere saccades, this obsessive thought process. My thoughts linger, they crawl, like tendrils curling and brushing on the tips of my nose. They tend to magnify. Little, pass� things become colossal and existing. I am quite an alchemist-- only that with me, gold becomes charcoal, thanks to my magnificent mind.

My life, simple as it is, is good. I have great people who support me, I am not fighting with anyone, I am not broken hearted, and I am not rich, but I am fine. Compared to the life of others, I am a lucky kid. But the things that get inside my head, golly, such horror I love my mind, I suck at numbers, but Irsquo;m happy with my mind. Thing is, when you canrsquo;t stop the paranoia, the fault finding, when you canrsquo;t stop the cache of history inside your head from mingling with your present, it gets hard. Most especially if you� are nor vocal about it. Itapos;s just you and your mind. Quite a tough love, yes.

My past does not define my future. My mind does. I get consumed with nihilistic, paranoid, thoughts. Sometimes I get really high and euphoric with optimism. I love it, I love the yellowish tint of optimism. Happy is tropical, it smells like orange, and tastes like watermelon and pineapple juice. I love it so much that I pray that I donrsquo;t stop thinking positively. But I stop. Little things that get in my head stimulated by certain remarks or actions can affect me so greatly. Sometimes an ldquo;Okayhellip;rdquo; is enough to make me cry-- Furtively, look it up in the dictionary, to add to the drama. And then other things arise in my mind. I start to cry and think about death. I plan my death. Sometimes, I genuinely can and do find pleasure in the thought of getting shot several times in the back or in getting asphyxiated. Yes, because of little things, 99 of them, courtesy of my insanity.

I do not have the right and the reason to blame people, because you guys are great and sane enough to keep me sane-- if only I am perfectly normal. Sometimes, I hate people and hurt people in my head, but no, you guys are good to me in reality. And I know better than to be mean to you. �I just am brutal in my mind because I suck at getting angry and really venting out live. My anger, more often, is genuine only when I am alone. Itrsquo;s hard for me to get really angry in person. I donrsquo;t know why. Depression is anger turned inward. I am not depressed, no. But I can be depressing.

I have always been aware that I am in conflict with myself. Quite an irony this is for a psych major, but yep. I read somewhere that 99 of everything is junk. My negative thoughts are 99 junk, but I do not have the machinery to bulldoze them away I resort to machinations, colloquial craziness, and layers of doubt-- as if the main problem isnrsquo;t junk enough. You know what I mean? No. Good.

So I talk about people. Obama, Biden, Scarlette the actress whose surname I canapos;t spell. I am self absorbed and self aware. I know better talking about me than talk about Obama. Or Osama. Or� your momma.

When it is your mind that is fucked up, everything good is fucked up. I am not consistently pessimistic, but given enough silence and boredom, I am. Fatally. And it isnrsquo;t fair when you donrsquo;t deserve to be burdened by things that other people did to you. It is not fair also to screw up peoplersquo;s heads because your own head is screwed up. Being fucked up is such a drag when your circumstances bring no reason for you to feel fucked up.

So this is me purging, because I am convinced that my state of mind is not good. Catharsis is good. Being competent can be a Catch-22. You know what I mean? Yes you do because you are competent as well.

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Hey
Morning.
I am awake.
I am talking to a kid named Matt on MSN.
I am going to a pumpkin patch later on today.
Alex and I decided i was not going with her.

So that should be fun.

"My love could rip a hole in the ceiling. I give myself to you from the essence of my being."

You know what,
More and more.
I�want to believe in God.
I feel like I might believe in God,
I do not really like to talk about it.
I honestly do pray.. But i never know who I am praying to.
But one day i will find out, I just have to keep my hope up i guess?
(:

but anyways,
I am listening to a song which i havent listened to since forever,
take a look at my music. (:
rofl.

anyways I�am going to go.
peace.

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This is a continuation of a series looking into the financial stability of companies in Energy Tech Stocks' "Wise Energy Use" index, described in part 1. The first article in the series looks at three efficient lighting companies, while this one looks at four electric vehicle stocks and a private company, as described here. Electric Vehicles... Good, but not Disruptive I personally don't consider investing in any car companies, even relatively fuel efficient ones. Either or both lean econo

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