powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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

ŅPor quť?

A friend of mine is doing some freelance work for a big catalog-and-mall-presence kind of store and she says my style would be right up their alley. Would I be interested in doing some projects for them? Yes indeed. Do I have a website the client can check out? No, I do not. I added sheepishly, ďI've actually designed one, but I haven't had time to throw it in Dreamweaver and upload it.Ē

Gaahhhh, I hate making excuses. But at least I was only making excuses to my friend (and myself) and not the actual client. That, I would never do. Too. Much. Pride.

(Oh my god some little kids just crank called me. That was weird. And now the phone is ringing and Iím going to ignore it. A ha! Take that, you rotten little ankle-biters!)

Anyway, I felt like such a loser after talking to my friend, but then realized that I could take advantage of the opportunity and get motivated. So I have. Iíve already got the bones of a website together, and will spend the next week assembling the assets. Terence has promised to help me with DreamWeaver (I am an old lady who canít be bothered to learn a new program that is not exactly like Illustrator or Quark. Why are all the interfaces different? I mean I know why, but WHY?)

Iíve done a bunch of boring things today, and Iím checking things off my list. I suppose this is a perfectly valid way to spend a Monday. Tomorrow, I have a whole new list of boring tasks to accomplish, among them:

- groceries (why donít these magically appear when Iím hungry?)

- laundry (why canít I stare the clothes clean? Why must they be washed by a machine? Why is the 21st century not delivering on the promise of a Better & Easier Life?)

- cut Terenceís hair (Iím not going to say anything about his hair not growing or the growth slowing down because heís terrified enough as it is about balding)

I donít know why (see the theme, here?) but I was thinking about how when I was in the second grade, we learned about bases in math. It was part of the French theory that bases help you understand decimals (when youíre working with tens) and multiplication. Groups of 10, or groups of 6 or whatever.

As an adult, I totally get it. It makes sense. However as a little kid, I was beyond confused. I had to stay after school every now and then so that my teacher could spend extra time attempting to educate me. Madame Rouger would patiently explain that I had 18 apples, we were working in Base 5, and I had to group them in 5s.

Pourquoi? (Why?)

I didnít see the point of grouping things in 5s, or in any other quantity. Why did the apples have to be grouped into 5? Why couldnít they just be apples? Why 5 and not some other number? Why not NO number?

Seeing that the apples werenít working, Mme Rouger tried to figure out what I liked.

Mme.: Quíest-ce que tíaimes, ma puce? (whatíd you like, my little flea?)

Moi: Jíaime les chaussons de danse. (I like ballet slippers.)

So she would repeat the lesson, substituting the apples with the ballet slippers and it still would make no sense to me. Especially when the base was an odd number, because dance shoes come in pairs. I didnít know how to explain this, though. I would just say ďnonĒ when she asked if I understood. Over and over again.

God, I must have been impossible in class. Good thing I had other talents cause math wasnít one of them.

6:44 p.m. - 2003-04-07

|

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

previous - next

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

DiaryLand

contact

roll the dice

other diaries: