Archive for the ‘INSEAD’ Category

HALO

November 5, 2008

Dawn is hours from breaking, and darkness shrouds a clouded sky. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Wake up!

“What the fuck, are you serious?”

A canvas of brittle, browned leaves blankets the trail, offering shelter to treacherous sinkholes and ankle-twisting branches. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Wake up!

“Why?”

Autumn’s chill sweeps down from the hills, carrying with it the scent of eucalyptus and memories of runs through this forest, lifetimes ago. Each breath lances the lungs. Each step jolts the spine. Each mile torments the legs. Put one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Wake up!

“I don’t understand. I thought…”

Run like you love the pain. Run like you mean it. Run like your life depends on it. Run, for you have been asleep far too long.

“Thursday’s your day in the barrel.”

Three quarters past, at one of those forks in the decision tree so sharp that I can still feel the puncture wounds in my chest, I wrote this. Three event-filled quarters later, I find myself again at an eerily familiar fork, so I figured it was finally time to sit down and watch “Casino Royale.” Apropos.

“You don’t trust anyone, do you James?”

“No.”

“Then you’ve learnt your lesson.”

If only I would learn mine.

This is no magnum opus, nor much of a valedictory.  There is little left in me to commit words to print, save a vague sense of obligation, though to who or what, I know not. The ragged draft of a witty, bittersweet final post lays abandoned, consigned to the ether like so many other stunted pieces; and there shall it remain, for what is here has taken its place.

Nearly four months have passed since the end of my whirlwind year at INSEAD, and what better time to take stock of matters than now, after the famed “First 100 Days”? Thanks to Fates, Furies, or Pat Sajak and his Wheel of Fortune, I graduated amidst a six sigma market, am currently living a life punctuated by six sigma events, and am doing my damnedest to ride the sigma-squared in a quest for Veritas. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on which side of the line-in-the-sand you stand) the Aequitas part will have to wait for Siddhārtha and his karmic cudgel to do what he does best.

I won’t squander this white space regaling you with reviews of star professors, summaries of must-bid classes, or tales of parties and weekend trips that have already faded into the annals; there are other blogs out there that do that much better than this one could ever hope to. Instead, I’ll use this last hurrah for a tad bit of reflection, in the form of incoherent fragments, as I’ve given up on weaving together some sort of readable narrative. Caveat emptor. YMMV.

Fragment –

If there’s one thing I wish I would’ve taken away from this year, it would be the ability to manage expectations.

Despite my inveterate cynicism, perennial bitterness, and outward projections of being Shiva the Destroyer and the Harbinger of Impending Doom rolled together in a sheet of filo dough, there was always a bit of me that offered shelter and safe harbor to that oh-so-fragile vessel, Hope.

Hope that things do work out, that people are good, and that truth and justice do exists. Storm’s a’ come, and the harbor don’t look so safe no mo’. There ain’t no silver linin’ on this cumulonimbus, either. If only I had listened to the weatherman and brought an umbrella, I might be a little drier, warmer and happier.

Folks, don’t go to business school and expect to find human goodness. If that’s what you want, I’d say you’re better off blowing your coin on a hillock of pura cocaína and taking your septum on a ski trip.

Fragment –

The MBA is not a panacea.

Not for work, not for life, not for love. It’s just a piece of heavy paper with a pretty stamp, along with a few gigabytes of pixellated memories on a hard drive tucked away somewhere – assuming you’re the camera-toting type – to be dusted off through the decades during hazy trips down memory lane.

If you’re taking a year off in hopes of executing some sort of quantum leap in your life, sit back and do some serious head scratching before you take the plunge. Oh, sure, it’s possible. There are cases abound of X’s contorting themselves into Z’s, ray-of-sunshine epiphanies, and disparate soul mates crashing together like neutrinos amidst the entropy, but these were exceptions, not the norm.

Detractors would argue that we graduated at a bad time, your year is what you make it, and that the learning and experiences are priceless paving stones on the path to self-betterment. Said detractors should: A) Consider a career in cobbling together smarmy Mastercard ads, and B) Blow me.

Fragment –

I pride myself on being a good judge of character, but somehow when it comes to my personal life and stock portfolio, all bets are off, and sense flies out the window.

“Real men don’t diversify,” a famous (male) INSEAD finance professor was fond of saying. I subscribe to this approach in investing and life. When I hit, I hit big, but when I miss… The problem is I never know when to realize my gains, or when to cut my losses. My gut and brain can be screaming “Left!” yet there’s always a part of me that never listens, and chooses instead to amble rightward, usually at the detriment of the other bits and leading to annihilation of the whole.

Fragment –

I’ve got a joke for you:

Q: What do you get when you throw a gaggle of highly motivated, morally bankrupt, alpha opportunists together in a city, add booze, and mix?

A: Some real ninja-like feats of deception, obfuscation and opportunism.You won’t see the caltrops until they’re buried in your heel, and that sharp, pokey feeling that’s tickling your gut? Oh, that’s just a katana running through your back. But don’t worry; it’s for your own good.

I remember coming across a post by an INSEAD blogger of yore about how the people she hung out with in P1 and who were her new BFFs ended up being more like KOS by P5. For this writer, it took until P7 for the Kool-Aid to wear off and the ninjas to be separated from the pirates, who in this strained metaphor, eye patches, peg-legs and all, are the good guys.

A hooked hand and a thousand thanks go out to the motley and unexpected INSEAD crew of the USS Cynic, for staying on deck and weathering the tempests, especially this last one. You have my gratitude and friendship for life, or for as long as you want it: Ahjuma, The Banker, Brownie, Double-D, Hence, JSoros, King Mufafa, NBP, Saigon, Two Pair, and the UEGA duo.

And to the OG’s, who I couldn’t have made it this far without, you already know that my hearth, home and black humor are yours: Architect, C-Mog, Dr. O, HapaD, Lucky Lindberg, Naia, Shay, Siren, Slutzky.

Fragment –

Coming into the year, I thought I’d learn a bit, mingle a bit and grow a bit, but I had no idea that the distribution of my experience would skew so heavily toward the latter.

I read an article once, about height discrimination in China and the lengths prospective job-seekers would go through to surmount this bias. The truly focused opted to undergo a procedure whereby their legs were broken and their bones forcibly separated by metal rods and made to heal between the gaps so that when the pieces finally rejoined, the person would be an inch or two taller than before.

Why anyone would voluntarily go through something like this is beyond me, that is until I look back at the thirteen months from August 2007 to September 2008, and realize, “Oww. My being hurts.” The repairs have only just begun, and I’ve got a feeling that the contractor may not be able to finish the job in time, if at all.


It has been a long, arduous climb, up and away from a year I never thought I’d want to forget. I stand at the pinnacle of this jagged crag, perched on the brink, arms wide, fists clenched and thumbs pointed skyward, gazing out on the vast expanse of white noise below. Maybe it will resolve into a stunning panorama of a bright future. Or perhaps it only serves to mask a black oblivion.

There’s the go signal. Time to find out. So long.

“Farewell to you and the youth I have

spent with you.

It was but yesterday we met in a dream.

You have sung to me in my aloneness,

and I of your longings have built a tower

in the sky.

But now our sleep has fled and our dream

is over, and it is no longer dawn.

The noontide is upon us and our half

waking has turned to fuller day, and we

must part.

If in the twilight of memory

we should meet once more, we shall speak again to-

gether and you shall sing to me a deeper

song.

And if our hands should meet in another

dream we shall build another tower in the

sky.”

-Kahlil Gibran

Thursday July 31, 2008

August 13, 2008

02:45

The new Coldplay album, “Viva La Vida,” is pretty good.  So’s having an easily accessibly microwave again.  Now I can eat until my fat kid’s heart’s content.  Double possessive?  Naughty.  Call the grammar police!

You can take a blogger out of The Bubble, but you can never take The Bubble out of the blogger.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it’s following me, which is actually somewhat reassuring insomuch that it shows the network functioning as intended.

Thursday July 10, 2008

July 10, 2008

03:20

It’s only fitting that I post whilst inebriated from the booze salad left in my apartment.  I’ve got one smoke left for tomorrow morning along with one jar of coffee, one box of sugar and one Coke for the road.

This is it; The End.  It really does feel like yesterday when I was packing vacuum bags full of crap that I thought I’d need in le France.  Who knew that I needed so little?  Who knew that I’d learn so much?

The valedictory will follow, as soon as I settle in to wherever it is that I’m headed.  For now, I thought this place deserved one last post.

INSEAD Class of J08, I miss you all aready.  Well, at least 10% of you.

Thursday June 12, 2008

June 12, 2008

It has definitely been a while, and my fingers feel it. Hell, your eyes feel it. Nothing’s really rolling off the tongue anymore. It’s kind of like stuffing your mouth full of cotton balls the morning after a real bender. Rough, a little dry and oh-so-sticky. But hey, some people like saltines. I’m more of a cream cracker kind of blogger though, so let’s get to it.

Given two decision trees, one with a 100% probability of a 2M Euro payoff, and the other with a 89% probability of 2M, 10% of 3M and 1% of 0, which would you choose?

The safe b-school versus the gamble? E(V) analysis? Gut feeling? “LBS vs INSEAD?”

I chose to roll the dice.

What’s that, you ask? What’d they come up with?

Well, I’m not sure yet, and I don’t know if I’ll honestly be able to answer that question for another five or ten years. Some fellow J08’ers have hit the seven, and then some. Others have rolled snake-eyes. Whaddya gonna do? We all chose to play the game, right? No one held guns to our heads and said, “INSEAD, or else.” Well, actually, in light of the crazy shit that goes down here, and the even crazier stories that my colleagues carry with them, I guess I can’t be so sure.

Kool Kids

March 16, 2008

What am I to you
Tell me darling true
To me you are the sea
Vast as you can be
And deep the shade of blue

When you’re feeling low
To whom else do you go
See I cry if you hurt
I’d give you my last shirt
Because I love you so

If my sky should fall
Would you even call
Opened up my heart
I never want to part
I’m giving you the ball

When I look in your eyes
I can feel the butterflies
I love you when you’re blue
Tell me darlin’ true
What am I to you

Yah well if my sky should fall
Would you even call
Opened up my heart
Never want to part
I’m giving you the ball

When I look in your eyes
I can feel the butterflies
Could you find a love in me
Could you carve me in a tree
Don’t fill my heart with lies

I will you love when you’re blue
Tell me darlin’ true
What am I to you
What am I to you
What am I to you

“What Am I To You” – Norah Jones

——

I lazed the day away, enjoying a late, languid lunch after an afternoon grocery trip on which I ended up buying yet another bottle of whisky. Good move, as I think it’ll be one of those nights. I spent the rest of the day playing games, watching the hours tick away. Life would be so much easier, according to Fernando, if no one played games and everyone called it like it is. Replace “you’re so smart,” with “you’re stunning.” Get rid of “let’s go out to dinner,” and substitute, “let’s get naked.” Abandon the, “You’re a great friend,” and call in the “I’m seeing someone else.” Ditch the “You’re so _____,” and just say, “I love you.”

Chateau Villecerf threw a gig this evening, in the northern part of their compound (that place is more like an estate, split into Upper and Lower houses nestled in the midst of French farmland). Unfortunately for us P4s, the P2s had the upper hand when it came to numbers, and the few faces I recognized were off drinking or dancing to the strangest beats, necessitating an early exit on my part. No worries though, as I’ve got my friends Dalwhinnie, Laphroaig and Johnny Walker to keep me company.

Ah, friends; what a fickle lot they are. Fear not, for I know I can always count on the aforementioned three and their brethren wherever I am in the world. Except for Saudi Arabia, of course. If I end up there, I’ll be drinking ethanol that I brew in a bathtub. Here’s to not working in Mecca. Is that sacrilegious? If so, sorry to all of the burqa-sporting folk out there. Salam Aleikum. Don’t worry it’s not you. I hate all people equally. I suppose that precludes me from ever being a true Rogerian.

“When you don’t meet people in the real world, it’s hard to keep the friendships going.”

In 111 days, probability says that I won’t see my INSEAD J’08 classmates ever again. Somewhere along this roller coaster of a year, I was asked, “What’s the point?” My answer was something along the lines of, “To enjoy the ride. For the good times. For happiness.” I’m not sure any of that holds water anymore.

What is the point?

The year is shaping up to be as clique-ish as middle school. Lo and behold, I’m not part of any of the clans, partly by choice and partly by reality. I’ve always been a straddler; never here nor there, flitting between the nerds, the cool kids, the rebels and everything in between, a smoke dangling between slender fingers, a glass clutched in scarred hands. All we want is a little contact, right? A bit of validation that none of us are alone in this world. A high-five, a hug, a cuddle, a kiss, a never ending night of rapture. That’s all we need, right?

No.

You’re on your own, kiddo. No one’s going to look out for #1 except yourself. If only, after all these years, I could listen to myself on that count.

Muggsy Bogues

March 12, 2008

OK what is it tonight?
Please just tell me what the hell is wrong,
Do you want to eat, do you want to sleep, do you want to drown?
Just settle down, settle down, settle down…
I’ll give you candy, give you diamonds, give you pills,

Give you anything you want, hundred dollar bills,
I’ll even let you watch the shows you want to see,
Just marry me, marry me, marry me…

I’m so sick of you tonight,
You never stay awake when I get home,
Is something wrong with me, something wrong with you?

I really wish I knew, wish I knew, wish I knew…
I give you candy, give you diamonds, give you pills,
I give you anything you want, hundred dollar bills,
I even let you watch the shows you want to see,
Because you married me, married me, married me…
Married me, married me, married me…

I was young I learned a game,
That love and happiness were the same,
And now I’m older and I don’t play,
I found out the hardest way,
I got wasted, she got mad, called me names and she called her dad,
He got crazy and I did too, wondering what I did to you.

I gave you candy, gave you diamonds, gave you pills,
I gave you anything you want, hundred dollar bills,
I even let you hear the songs I wanna sing
I’ll give you anything, anything, anything…
I’ll give you anything, anything, anything…
I’ll give you anything, anything, anything…
Anything…
Anything…
Anything…

“Anything Anything” – Dramarama

——

Bain & Co. packed the house in the largest amphi earlier this evening, followed by a shoulder-to-shoulder hosted bar event at the Fontainebleau Chateau. This was the first top-tier consulting firm to come to campus this week, if you don’t count Roland Berger. AT Kearney and Accenture are on for tomorrow night, and the biggest bad-ass of them all, McKinsey & Co., is slated for Friday night. It was a tad surreal, sipping champagne in a marble-pillared room decked out with more cherubic statues than you can shake a stick at, while trying to look comfortable in “business attire,” and schmooze at the same time. What would Napolean think about all these nutjobs standing in his hallway?
I haven’t seen so many MBAs running around in suits since, well, our P1/P2, when the previous intake were in the thick of their recruiting season. It’s amazing how behavior shifts in the context of a cocktail party cum recruiting event. Trying to get in a word edgewise with a consulting firm partner at one of these gigs is like trying to post up with Patrick Ewing, Shaq and Yao Ming running interference. Polite elbows get thrown, petite folk get edged out, and the loudest, most dandruff-laden types, who inevitably sport the most poorly cut suits you’ll ever see, usually end up monopolizing most of the airtime. I’m not complaining, I’m just “telling it like it is,” to quote the Bain presentation. See, I’m the perfect fit for that firm. Maybe I should put this on my CV, like a fellow INSEAD blogger has chosen to do. But he actually gets traffic.

There’s so much on my mind, and so many things to do, not the least of which the brick of reading for PIM tomorrow and it’s already past midnight. I should really get on that, and get in to bed. Better yet, I’ll do both at the same time. But before I forget, I’ve been asked to start a fan-club for myself. Step right up and sign on the dotted line. You can be the inaugural member.

Gloria

March 12, 2008

You don’t know a thing about me
Is there something you should know?
I can tell you what you want to hear
Let your inhibitions just go

No, you don’t know what you will give up
You don’t know what you want
It may take you years to find out
You don’t know what you need
It’s something that may never come to you

Trust is something that comes easy
When you’ve never been a victim
Lies and promises and words are said
It’s your decision to accept them

No, you don’t know what you will give up
You don’t know what you want
It may take you years to find out
You don’t know what you need
It’s something that may never come to you

“Disconnected” – Face to Face

This, and “Anything Anything” by Dramarama are probably two of my favorite songs in any genre. I first heard this song ages ago, in the pre-Internet days, and spent a good number of years looking for the title. It would’ve made a great background for my angst-filled teenage years.  Hell, it’d make a great soundtrack for my INSEAD year.

——

It’s settled. I like PIM, and am staying in the class, much to my discomfort.

Today, we took a self-assessed “Rogerian Attitudes Questionnaire” in which we had to describe the extent to which we possessed a list of traits, some positive, some negative on a scale of 1 to 5, with the high end signifying “very much so,” and the low “not at all.”

Some positively Rogerian traits/behaviors, with my self-scored ranking in parentheses included in the sample were: Caring (5), Patient (2), Compassionate (5), Good at Perceiving Others’ Feelings (2), Comfortable With Ambiguity (2). Some negatives: Judgmental (4), Spontaneous (4), Uncomfortable With My Own Emotions (5), and the zinger, Like Action Movies (4).

We were then asked to sum the 4’s and 5’s for both positives and negatives. My results were +:43, -:29. I think that makes me slightly Rogerian, but the extremes worry me a little. Though I haven’t mustered up the courage to speak in class yet, it’s kind of funny how honest and open I’m being with myself in the course.  I shrunk a little when Fernando busted out, “Many of you like to play closet psychologist…” Yup; guilty as charged. I think I have the answers for everyone else, but I can’t even solve my own problems. Go figure.

I gasped (thankfully, no one was close enough to hear) when he asked us to write down what we thought the risks of empathy were, from the point of view of the person feeling empathetic. Empathy, as defined by Fernando, is the ability to get in touch with not only the thoughts, but the feelings of another person. The ability to not only put yourself in their shoes, but in their heart as well.

I’ve thought a lot about this topic over the last few months, and have been trying to figure out where my penchant for empathy comes from, and how far back this somewhat nefarious trait goes.  The first, I’ve got a shaky handle on.  The latter, I won’t be able to peg, because I’ve already gone as far as memory serves.  This might sound like some self-tooting of the ol’ horn, but I know I’m not Mother Theresa, and I’ve never really viewed the behavior/trait/ability as a good thing.  Do I want to get rid of it?  Probably not, but I can’t say I don’t wonder what life would be like without it.  Easier, is my guess.

There are some who would disagree with the assertion that I’m empathetic.  Pathetic, maybe, but not empathetic.  And they’d be right, in a narrow sort of way.  How many times have I been blind to, or lied to myself about what someone else is feeling?  How many times has that come back to bite me on the ass?  I don’t think it’s an issue of empathy so much as self-awareness and transparency, two concepts that Rogers believed to be crucial to his idea of “healthy” person.

Well, fuck, we all know I’m the paragon of health, right?  Whiskey, smokes, burning the Citroen’s transmission on low-gear sprints through the forest late at night, sleep deprivation, and participating in the INSEAD MBA program.  All signs of a healthy blogger.

Tomorrow is the same day.  Just with a different suit.

Desperately Seeking Mangrove

March 7, 2008

Which of the bold face lies will we use?
I hope that you’re happy
You really deserve it
This will be best for us both in the end

But your taste still lingers on my lips
Like I just placed them upon yours
And I starve
I starve for you
But this new diet’s liquid
And dulling to the senses
And it’s crude
But it will do

Which of the standard lines will we use?
I’ve been meaning to call you
I’ve just been so busy
We’ll catch up soon
Lets make it a point to

But your taste still lingers on my lips
Like I just placed them upon yours
And I starve
I starve for you
But this new diet’s liquid
And dulling to the senses
And it’s crude
But it will do

“Hope You’re Happy” – Dashboard Confessional

——

I attended the first session of “Psychological Issues in Management” (PIM) today, taught by the infamous Fernando Bartholome. It’s an interesting class so far. I’ll post on this when I have more data, but I didn’t find it shocking or offensive as many others in the classroom did, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. For me, it was incredibly draining more than anything. I sat there, coiled and tense, waiting to be cold-called and flip on the flight-or-fight instinct, with an inclination toward the latter. Maybe it was just the jam-packed amphi and my closet claustrophobia kicking in. Maybe it was the way some of Fernando’s comments hit home, hard. Maybe I’m just imagining things and should stop listening to the little green men.

“If you know what this class is about, why are you taking it,” I was asked.

“I dunno; to challenge myself, to spite myself, to push myself,” I replied.

Who knows why I do the things I do? I sure as hell don’t. An impartial third party thinks I take selfless actions to further my path to sainthood whilst ignoring my Rogerian conception of “self.” Well, if that’s the case, then once my stigmata arrive from Amazon.com, I’ll be fit for canonization.

There are various parties going down tonight: P1/P2 section reunion deals, house gigs, get-togethers, and whatnot. I didn’t receive an invitation to any of them. Now let’s just get this straight: I do not crash parties. That’s just not my thing. If I haven’t made it to a mailing list and I receive a double, triple forwarded email with details, I just won’t go. Sure, this is INSEAD, and I constantly hear, “everyone crashes, who cares? Don’t be stupid,” but I won’t do it. Call it principle. Call it idiocy. Call it being antisocial. Call it what you will. I’m not whining about the state of affairs. It is what it is. I could network better. I could care more.

I’m tired, hungry, spent, and not really sure what’s coursing through me right now, though in an attempt to be Rogerian, I’m trying hard not to benchmark whatever it is against anything/anyone else, and am stewing in the deserted West Wing typing this by the harsh, clean glow of a lonely fluorescent tube.

The job hunt is already starting to overwhelm me. Thirty-nine messages were waiting in Outlook when I booted up this morning, a good two-thirds of which had something to do with employment. There seems to be a career services event workshop of some sort happening every night, and though I know from experience that I won’t extract much value out of them, I feel guilty if I don’t attend each and every one. There are something like six presentations that I want to go to next week, and the consulting firms have all sent out panic-mongering emails offering slots in limited-availability, “non evaluative information sessions,” asking us to reply ASAP and indicate our office geography of choice. As much as I hate to curse in a public forum, and as much as my excessive use of language bugs one particular reader, there’s no more appropriate turn of words here than a good ol’ “Fuck me.”

 

Memory

March 6, 2008

Today I’m gonna start again,
Find my home,
If only I could escape,
My danger zone,
I have to take my own advice,
Don’t make it hard,
There’s something in the universe,
The brightest star.

[Chorus]
Here’s what I’ve been waiting for,
Day, night, seen it all before

Memory! Telling lies,
I am scared and cannot hide,
When I sleep,
Be my guide,
Could this be my paradise?
Something deep in my soul,
Tells me where I must go,
All my dreams, telling lies,
Could this be my paradise?

I want to share it all with you,
The special place,
Imagining the perfect day,
In time and space,
The secret of the universe,
Is beautiful,
If you could listen close enough,
You’d here it call….

[Chorus]

“Memory” – Dumonde vs Lange

This track really does bring back memories; of leaving one of my favorite cities on the face of our little blue cosmic ball; of nearly blowing a subwoofer while blasting this song after saying goodbye to the first person to show me that there are other ways of thinking, and who incidentally took a little bit of me with them on their way out; of gulping down a giant tumbler of Jameson after saying that last goodbye and cooking up the biggest heap of pasta and sausages with D that night. Was that the night of The Screen Door Incident? Oh, man, I’d forgotten all about that, too.  Memory fails me, here.

Red alert, red alert; the Fontainebleau campus has been overrun by hordes of bronzed, beaming and bemused (by the “warm weather” and different “dress code”) folk from Singapore. Combined with the hordes of post-exam, beer-addled P1s running around like they’d all just won their own individual lotteries, trying to walk through campus today at noon was like trying to crowd surf at a Kenny G concert. Yeah, it didn’t work out so well.

You know what else may not work out so well? The next month of mental, physical, emotional gymnastics required to hunt for that elusive beast known as The Job.

 

Company presentations start next Monday and I swear you can see people walking around campus with their strong hand hidden in coat pockets, flexing away at one of these

Grip

to improve on their firmly professional-yet-friendly handshakes, and hitting the local chop doc to stock up on Botox for the truckload of shit-eating grins that they’ll have to deliver for the next four-ish weeks. And by “they,” I really mean “I.”

Things to do in the next 7 days:

  • Create giant job spreadsheet with risk-adjusted, weighted variables including, but not limited to: geographical preference, proximity to networks, forecasted salary, industry preference, job title, job function, chance of getting any job, proximity to McDonald’s, PPP-adjusted living standard, flight radius to locale where I can get a decent milkshake
  • Plug the 38,901,625 scheduled career services events over the next four weeks in to Outlook
    • Panic
      • Turn to my dear friend whiskey to assuage my fears
  • Write cover letters for companies listed in bullet one
    • Realize I haven’t written one of these since college
    • Panic
      • Turn to my dear friend whiskey to assuage my fears
        • Possibly write better cover letters as a result
  • Figure out what I want to be when I grow up
    • Panic
      • Turn to my dear friend whiskey to…figure it out for me?
  • Organize my life
    • Panic
      • Realize whiskey probably isn’t go to help here

 

 

 

 

Fish + Bicycle = ???

February 18, 2008

Now that she’s back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey, hey, hey
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there’s time to change, hey, hey, hey, hey
Since the return from her stay on the moon
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey, hey

Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

Now that she’s back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey, hey
mmmm…..
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo
Reminds me that there’s room to grow, hey, hey, hey, hey
yea…

Now that she’s back in the atmosphere
I’m afraid that she might think of me as plain ol’ Jane
Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land

Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind
Was it everything you wanted to find
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there

Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know you’re wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone
Conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me

Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back toward the Milky Way

Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated

Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself

nah nah nah nah nah nah nah
nah nah nah nah nah nah nah

And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day

nah nah nah nah nah nah
nah nah nah nah nah nah

And did you fall for a shooting star
Fall for a shooting star

nah nah nah nah nah nah
nah nah nah nah nah nah

Are you lonely looking for yourself out there

“Drops of Jupiter” – Train

——

What a weekend. I’m pretty drained, on all levels, and my liver is still cowering in a dark corner somewhere. I’ve tried to lure it out with water and promises of detox, but it’s not having any of me for a while. If you happen to see it running around, grab it for me, would you?

The Dragon Week party ended up being more of a cocktail reception in a nice venue with muted music than a full-blown INSEAD shirt-ripper, but it was a good night overall. Interesting, as all nights are, when you involve INSEAD “participants” and open bars. I’m pretty bummed that I didn’t win the raffle draw for 2 round-trip plane tickets from Paris to Hong Kong, though. I mean, who can say no to a free trip to Asia?

Incoming disclaimer for those who think that INSEAD is all about drunk and games. Uhm, fun and games, even. Saturday morning was an eye-opener, with seventy some-odd Market Driving Strategies students packing the Lower Gallery cubicles for two marathon decision rounds followed by an excellent closing lecture by superstar professor Markus Christen and a champagne reception paid for by said professor. Yeah, yeah, this last bit didn’t really further my intention of dispelling the notion of INSEA(lcoholics)D, but hey, you can’t turn down free champagne.

Everyone’s sprinting down the P3 home stretch this week, trying to wrap up projects, gear up for the break and mentally prepare for what’s laying in store. The P4 Job/Career/Life Direction Madness Express is due to pull into the station in seventeen days. I’m curious (in a sticking-scissors-in-an-electrical socket kind of way) about how the student, campus, social, and housing dynamics of P4 are going to play out, what with the shift of human mass from Singapore back to Fonty.

Gotta polish up those track spikes for tomorrow. Here we go again!

“Pour ce qui est de l’avenir, il ne s’agit pas de le prévoir, mais de le rendre possible.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry