tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61794392011-05-27T15:21:57.907+08:00Diary of an MBA in France- willy nillyDiary because I'm not leaving much out. MBA because apparently there aren't a lot of useful MBA-oriented blogs (am sure that goes double for female viewpoints). France because the program is INSEAD. And willy-nilly because that's me.janenoreply@blogger.comBlogger691100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1103407146893839022004-12-19T16:50:00.000+08:002004-12-19T05:59:06.893+08:00Au Revoir
At the tail end of the graduation party at Les Caves in Paris, surrounded by sweaty bodies and crying eyes, I felt myself pulled by the arm toward the wall. The puller was a Spaniard with dark laughing eyes and beautiful dimples, a friend of friends whom I had always enjoyed talking to but hadn’t had a chance to know very well. So imagine my surprise when he said in his thickly janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1103133151569094222004-12-16T01:51:00.000+08:002004-12-16T01:52:31.570+08:00By the pricking . . .
Just back from a four day trip to Cairo and Sharm al-Sheik . . . fourteen hours of travelling today, baby, on zero hours of sleep after a last night spent dancing to songs that will forever forever mean INSEAD to me.
But overall, this trip has been exhausting, through and through. When you take more than hundred people on such a large-scale trip, there’s bound to be janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1102156447725481742004-12-04T18:23:00.000+08:002004-12-04T18:34:07.726+08:00The Best Therapy
When I walked up to the check-out and volleyed my burgeoning shopping bag onto the counter, the guy smirked and asked, “shopping day, is it?”
Okay, so what if I occasionally use shopping as a substitute for self-actualization? Dude, buying stuff makes me feel good. Trying on the newest little sports shorts and side-tie tanks (which I know they had twenty years ago too) makesjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1101917701139993822004-12-02T01:13:00.000+08:002004-12-02T12:03:39.080+08:00Shanghai baby
I remember a vivid picture from my childhood, sitting on the damp packed dirt of our courtyard in Shanghai, with my grandfather who was shooting the shit with his (even then) grizzled buddies, all of them trying to circulate the hot humid air using old straw fans as I picked at the brick-lined flowerbeds and listened to the crickets chirping, as close as your skin. And I remember janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1101231145515684012004-11-24T01:30:00.000+08:002004-11-24T01:32:25.516+08:00Day in the Life
Yikes! I feel like INSEAD is this huge funnel that I’ve been coasting down in lazy circles, but all of a sudden now I can see the hole at the bottom beneath my toes and am starting to corkscrew faster and faster toward the end.
Oy vey. Went and did some “field research” today for my Business Plan Workshop class—my business idea is to start something like Coco de Mer in Singaporejanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1101095485142153272004-11-22T11:49:00.000+08:002004-11-22T11:52:35.636+08:00A little bit Sad
Doc, I’ve got the blues. It’s the end of term and papers papers papers are piling up on my to-do list. The Christmas tinsel and the snowy pictures in the malls, the end of November with no Thanksgiving celebration, the prospect of not needing to book any more flight returns to France for yet another period . . . soon it’ll be January, and it will have been one full year since I’janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1100628393943151582004-11-17T01:31:00.000+08:002004-11-17T02:06:33.943+08:00Oy vey, I am so tired! Woke up this morning feeling terribly queasy-- the ground rocking under my feet every time I tried to stand up. Much safer to lie down on bed, yes yes. That's what you get for banging down Irish Carbombs (a shotglass of Bailey's dropped into a large glass of Guiness, chugged quickly before the chemical reaction solidifies the whole thing), then singing Karaoke at the topjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1100005048693641562004-11-09T20:05:00.000+08:002004-11-09T21:01:08.000+08:00Tomb Raider
This weekend's exotic location was Angkor Wat, Cambodia. The Siemp Reap airport wasn't discernably different from Langkawi, I must say. Lush tropical vegetation, air that formed a slick over my skin, the vague smell of wood and plastic in disrepair as I walked through the small sparse terminal. There was only one runway, I think, and we were on one of the two or three flights of the janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1099569693907833362004-11-04T19:31:00.000+08:002004-11-04T20:01:33.906+08:00Footsies
I must say I was on rather bad behavior last night. The American Week party was held at this packed, very frat-boy ex-pat bar called Carnegie's. The open bar covered only basic well liquors and beers, but boy did we get our money's worth. Too old to do shots of bad vodka? It was just like college again. Ah, the memories. I drowned my frustration with the stupidity of my country, 'janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1099222075860076322004-10-31T18:32:00.000+08:002004-10-31T19:27:55.860+08:00Hong Kong, baby
I'm not sure any more that I will be able to live happily in China. I went to Hong Kong this weekend with four other chickees from INSEAD, joined later by some other friends also coming from Singapore. It was an amazing time, but I do think I've been spoiled by New York, which I miss terribly every time a tall building comes into view (this is every microsecond or so in HK). janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1098959891820423692004-10-28T18:14:00.000+08:002004-10-28T18:38:11.820+08:00Married Men
The older I get, the more often I meet interesting men who are taken and married. This might be the worst thing yet about aging. Went to Brix (Hyatt hotel) last night with my friend who works here and a bunch of his buddies. Turned out this guy that he knew from New York (whom I’d met once briefly) was in town for a conference, and it was his 32nd birthday, so I stayed all eveningjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1098702736206908852004-10-25T19:03:00.000+08:002004-10-25T19:12:16.206+08:00Ding
Here at INSEAD when you get rejected by a company, they call it a "ding." I think it might come from the sound that an elevator makes when the door closes and then you start to descend-- it leaves the same funny little feeling in my stomach, like it doesn't know exactly what to do. Eh, if only rejection weren't so damned personal. But by the time you get to final rounds, and have draggedjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1098522165062464132004-10-23T17:05:00.000+08:002004-10-23T21:48:23.453+08:00I dreamed last night
I'm embarrassed, but I can't tell you the names of all the places I've been over the past couple of days! There's something about the combination of Singaporean accents and the thudding of eardrum-blowing techno that makes things absolutely indecipherable. So I'm going to do my best, but disclaimer--don't be surprised if you get blank stares as you use my references when youjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1098345405343027292004-10-21T22:05:00.000+08:002004-10-21T15:56:45.343+08:00La
I realized only yesterday that since I've graduated college and started working, my somewhat hedonistic approach to life has been missing a basic component. For the longest time, if you'd asked me what the most important drivers of my behavior and happiness were, I'd have told you, without hesitation, "Food and Sex." And I really truly believe it. Food encompasses comfort, nourishment, janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1097856175717635472004-10-15T23:33:00.000+08:002004-10-16T00:02:55.716+08:00I hate airports
I'm obviously in a race against myself to see how many flights I can miss before I finish INSEAD. Yesterday I chalked up two for the team, which is why I am painfully typing away on a French keyboard in the Sofitel Charles de Gaulle right now, and not sitting in the sun in a little white bikini sipping cocktails on a boat. But let me start from the beginning of yesterday . . . janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1097707423084906042004-10-14T07:31:00.000+08:002004-10-14T06:46:19.260+08:00Lucky
Oh what an odd end of the period day it has been. Somehow slept off the stress of "Am I socially inept?" panic that set in during my sleepless from Turkey state last night after I attended a mostly Januaries party where most of the people were friends I only knew of, but didn't know. Strange, you know, you think you're so comfortable and have such great friends, but then you realize that janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1097512620855911012004-10-12T00:06:00.000+08:002004-10-12T00:45:27.156+08:00Turkish Delight
Crazily enough, I got everything on my list checked off. The dinners were eaten, the interviews muddled through, the parties attended, the projects churned out (quality not controlled, but I suppose that's my own fault-- am wincing at the idea of what my grades might look like), the problem sets pawned off, and even Istanbul visited! Whew, now onto the next crisis.
Last Friday Ijanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1097148652184070192004-10-07T19:16:00.000+08:002004-10-07T19:31:51.950+08:00Know what I've fallen in love with? My options class. It's so satisfying in the midst of all this hustle and bustle to sit down and twist some numbers into a good hard right answer for once. These things we do to feel like we've done something. But I'm seriously considering derivatives as a career path-- I know, this from the girl who said she'd rather be drawn and quartered before going back to janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1096729413025708202004-10-02T22:47:00.000+08:002004-10-02T23:03:33.026+08:00Can't believe I'm leaving for Singapore in two weeks. Can't believe I'm leaving France. Can't believe where my whimsy has taken me-- my eighteen year-old self never would have imagined this path. Life recently has been strange and scary. It hasn't been made any better by random selections and random rejections by random companies. It's hard not to feel raped by the on-campus recruitment janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1096109341278581472004-09-25T19:25:00.000+08:002004-09-25T19:47:33.856+08:00Trop
The chill in the air is wending its way into my finger bones. The email system is not working and my mouth feels dry and sticky. Even after a shower and a change and a drive through the sparkling bright wheat fields I can still feel last night clinging to my pores. I need tea and pancakes and maple syrup. And a movie in a fluffy bed with just one other person, I think.
I awoke this janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1096040997459380132004-09-24T23:45:00.000+08:002004-09-24T23:49:57.460+08:00Last night's dinner party was a "white trash" theme . . . let's just say that lots of Europeans seem to have no idea what white trash means. Some people came dressed all in white-- go figure. The American girls had lots of fun hooching it up-- nothing like combining heels, short shorts, a cutoff shirt . . . all in pink with thong peeking out of course. We have pictures, but I'm not sharing ;).janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1094829656478422412004-09-10T22:59:00.000+08:002004-09-10T23:22:00.910+08:00Today I attended an optional lecture by a popular Psych professor here about “Balancing your personal and professional life,” mainly given for the benefit of those MBAs with partners. As sad as it was to attend alone in that amphi full of couples, I think the lessons he had to give were achingly relevant. Here’s what my sieve-like brain managed to take away from it all:
There is such a thing as janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1094466959833758922004-09-06T19:09:00.000+08:002004-09-06T18:38:22.576+08:00Family
My father has become one of those people who believes that if you repeat something in English more loudly, the French will start to understand. Please, someone hide me. The whole big Chinese family is in Fontainebleau-- father, mother, brother and all. For two of them, it's their first time in Europe, and for all of them, it's their first time in France. They arrived on Saturday, and janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1093853045963530842004-08-30T15:22:00.000+08:002004-08-30T16:04:05.963+08:00Saturday evening (rather, Sunday morning at 3:30am), driving home from the big kick-off Welcome Week Party at Chateau Vaux-le-Penil in Melun, a chateau-mate and I were pulled over in his Porsche for my flipping the bird (double handed) and mooning the police car behind us.
But let me rewind. School has gotten off to a chugging start. Classes are in full gear (you're not allowed to drop a janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1093432859358933232004-08-25T18:52:00.000+08:002004-08-25T19:20:59.356+08:00Here at school, not having a phone is the equivalence of social death. With a phone, you can call people for dinner, receive calls for dinner, call friends to see where they're sitting, call people to see if they're home, call people for a ride, call to chat and say welcome back, or at the very least, call home and be comforted by old friends. Without a phone, you have no name, no button on thejanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1092786041132735942004-08-18T07:40:00.000+08:002004-08-18T07:40:41.133+08:00Lulu janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1092784028401138172004-08-18T06:05:00.000+08:002004-08-18T07:07:08.400+08:00Lulu
She is not a very clever cat, but what she lacked in cunning she made up for with her glamorous good looks and an innocent if indiscriminately affectionate temperament. This morning I opened my eyes to a tangle of blue cotton sheets around my legs and an otherwise empty bed. Missing her familiar soft weight in the crook of my elbow, I called out "Lulu?" even as I remembered that she janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1091943126097642692004-08-08T13:21:00.000+08:002004-08-08T13:33:38.380+08:00Am dressed in red, and ready to go out for a night of Salsa with my girls . . .
My two best friends came to visit me in California, and after a few days of stuffing ourselves with my mother's food, we roadtripped up the Northwestern seaboard to visit a college friend in Seattle. Along the way, we stopped by for Henry VI at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and stocked up on supplies of CDs and janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1091382893232629602004-08-02T01:12:00.000+08:002004-08-02T01:54:53.233+08:00Paradise on earth
Every time I come home I wonder why I ever left. In my own little twin bed I sink myself down beneath the layers of sheet, comforter and duvet until only my nose is sticking out, quivering with the cool fresh dewy smell of Palo Alto-- homegrown tomato vines outside my open windows, fragrant flowering trees in the neighbor's yard, light dust on the windowsill and the imprint ofjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1091130657355683502004-07-30T03:14:00.000+08:002004-07-30T03:50:57.356+08:00Heartbreak hotel
There's nothing quite like a good old country song to wreak havoc on your heartstrings. And while it may seem slightly ridiculous to imagine a city girl shedding sentimental tears over lyrics about cornfields and open country when her only experience with cornfields has been watching them pass outside her window on roadtrips, I can't help it. I'm a sucker through and through.janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1090950708543221732004-07-28T01:25:00.000+08:002004-07-28T22:33:51.920+08:00on a quotidien existence
I still wonder at my own capacity to settle down into the comfort of a schedule. Ah, what a seductive mistress is Habit, eh? Not the most beautiful companion, she nonetheless has small white hands and an easy way of putting food in front of your face that makes her indispensable to the lazy, such that you don't even realize until it's too late that Passion and janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1090587455326124622004-07-23T20:51:00.000+08:002004-07-23T20:57:35.326+08:00On hypocrisy
Would that I were not that which I am, but were I not what I would that I were, would I that I would or were?
Am chickenshit, yes I am.
janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1089585457830728252004-07-12T06:11:00.000+08:002004-07-12T06:45:33.996+08:00My god, what has happened to me?
The last few weeks since school ended have been . . . well, there's no one word that I know which will capture it. There has been too much since then to write, and neither you nor I have the patience to read, so I'll keep it at snippets, in haphazardly chronological order.
. . . lying on my back and staring at the stars before the sun comes up as I realize janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1087756308891991182004-06-21T02:08:00.000+08:002004-06-21T02:31:48.890+08:00There's a plant growing out of the back of one of our kitchen cabinets-- it's a healthy green thing, with waxen leaves springing up in pinnate abundance. I'm going to miss our funny looking chickens, the chunky geese, the waddling ducks and the doves under the eaves when I leave our farmhouse. Life's been hectic as usual, although I took time out to make myself a chinese breakfast of rice janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1086798914025317672004-06-10T00:32:00.000+08:002004-06-10T00:35:14.026+08:00Ugh. Feeling singularly uninspired and bloated. P3 is vicious and not nearly as fun as P1 or 2 (doesn’t help that the Septembers are all carefree and partying every night in their P5, and that the sun’s started beating down, sapping all my energy and stilling the air). Stayed at school until 4:30am last night/this morning fixing up a final group paper for Innovations class (40 pages long, withjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1086023489044481832004-06-01T01:03:00.000+08:002004-06-01T01:11:29.043+08:00Bipolar
Oy what a hectic couple of weeks. When I first got to INSEAD somebody joked that they could immediately tell who the new students were, because they were the bright-eyed and smiling ones without rings under their eyes. This was a shockingly true statement, as my drooping eyelids will attest to. Seems like life has been a series of devastating crises and exuberant highs lately, and janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1085408557156980032004-05-24T22:18:00.000+08:002004-05-24T22:22:37.156+08:00Sweet smell of formals
Am supposed to be writing one of the two reports I have due tomorrow, but am in no mood to do work. For one thing, my toes are cold—the sun’s still out, but the temperature has dipped mysteriously, starting yesterday.
Last Friday was Cabaret, our little INSEAD song and dance and skit extravaganza—shockingly enough, it went off beautifully, in spite of most acts not janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1085054844908268702004-05-19T07:54:00.000+08:002004-05-20T20:10:58.700+08:00Bad Luck Biddies
Over drinks in town tonight I found out the definition of a dirty sanchez. Plus a bean flicker. Plus teabagging. Ah the lovely sharing of international knowledge that goes on in this institution of higher learning(although I admit, I already knew about teabagging was, I suppose my friends have always been dirty). A leaves tomorrow, hopefully on time for her flight (I admit, janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1084531209962376902004-05-14T18:37:00.000+08:002004-05-14T18:40:37.793+08:00Crash-happy
P3 is madness. I’ve been taken from my one group of 6 for five classes to juggling four groups of 6 to 8 for six classes. There is no time to do anything except meet, plan to meet, and plan to plan to meet, since there are multiple projects, all group based, for each class rushing at us at 100mph. On top of this, place the parties, dinners, and general “we deserve to chill out” janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1084403317203095032004-05-13T07:07:00.001+08:002004-05-13T07:08:37.203+08:00ugh, just lost extremely long rant due to some mysterious computer error. Now you'll never know. Am going homejanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1083589476854581502004-05-03T21:04:00.000+08:002004-05-03T21:08:51.263+08:00Holiday
Guess who’s sitting nekked at her kitchen table with the sun dappling in across the yellow tablecloth? I’m happy as a clam, surrounded by the gurgling washing machine and the rumbling dryer on one side while the hot water heater chortles and a pot of rice porridge bubbles on the other. Today is an unexpected holiday (serves me right for not checking before I planned my vacation—no janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1083416380148804322004-05-01T20:59:00.000+08:002004-05-01T21:08:15.873+08:00Out of sight, out of . . .
No more papers, no more books . . . am in London! Forgot to pack socks, smushing around in my sneakers right now. Will maybe run to Gap and pick up a pair. Ah, but it feels good to be on vacation, no matter how short. Last weekend was absolutely gorgeous, but it seems like ages ago now. The sun over the French countryside just sang down from perfect blue skies, janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1082645427479084492004-04-22T22:50:00.000+08:002004-04-22T22:54:34.466+08:00Ah, study season. Sleepy from not getting home until 2:30 last night from a friend's house, where we BS'd about having, not having, the existence of God, and of course, fashion trends. On the side, we also ate McDonald's and did review problems for POM (Process and Operations Management). Felt strange to walk into a French McDonald's. Could have something to do with the fact that while janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1082216638906446392004-04-17T23:43:00.000+08:002004-04-17T23:47:59.153+08:00Toxic
Oy vey, it's been awhile, eh? What a week! Seems like forever since last weekend, which, although the weather was frigid and the fuel gave out, was as idyllic I'd hoped-- not hard given the company ;) Hosted a little board-game brunch for some Januaries-- nothing like Cranium to bring out the competitive streak in a bunch of international MBAs-- at one point, an all-play round, I found janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1081351735586813002004-04-07T23:28:00.000+08:002004-04-07T23:37:26.716+08:00Golden apples by the roadside
Only two more days until the boyfriend comes to visit! Have been smiling to myself while getting ready for bed for days now, just giddy with anticipation—how girly is that? Not exactly the picture of a strong independent woman getting her MBA, is it? Ah, whatever, to thine own self be true, right? And it appears that mine own self is just a saccharine infatuatedjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1081014216097578852004-04-04T01:43:00.000+08:002004-04-04T01:47:17.216+08:00No, where are you really from?
Ah, a Saturday off. Last night was the Africa party, held at a club in Fontainebleau. House was packed, and drums reverberrating all evening. I was so exhausted from my week that I once again slept through dinner (a friend who was also witness to last week's tardiness joked that he hoped never to go on a date with me, because it would just be asking to be stood janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1080666030256507242004-03-31T01:00:00.000+08:002004-03-31T01:04:06.420+08:00Craving Oysters
Eh, in kind of a dour mood, for some reason. Perhaps because I’ve been doing too much finance? Perhaps because the alcohol from last night is getting to me? Perhaps because I’m just feeling kind of antisocial, like there are lots of people here that I know by face, that I know well enough to stop and talk to, but still few that I can just plop down next to and never feel like janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1080228966713664242004-03-25T23:36:00.000+08:002004-03-25T23:39:35.436+08:00Sleepy
Oy vey, so sleepy right now. Live too far away to want to zip home for a nap, so instead whittling away precious sleep time by hanging about at school, not getting any work done. Too many margaritas last night, too little water this morning. Class was slow torture. Had to get my picture taken for the CV book today—looked an absolute fright. Ech. This week is crawling by, tomorrow janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1079957654441237602004-03-22T20:14:00.000+08:002004-03-22T20:17:39.170+08:00Bruised and Battered
Oy vey, what a weekend. Ski trip at Val Thorance at a groupmate’s ski house. Image to me, crawling on hands and knees while dragging snow board by foot in front of queue of strangers after ignominiously falling off of T-pole lift. Now imagine this THREE times. I fell at least 100 times, even with the 2-hour private lesson. Can’t move right side of neck or wrists or janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1079441114721099572004-03-16T20:45:00.000+08:002004-03-16T20:48:30.983+08:00 . . . in the air
There are these funny looking trees that line the road I drive along in the mornings next to the Seine. They look like nothing so much as stodgy straight flashlight shafts with large tufted red mohawks on top. This morning, as I gunned the accelerator with my open-toed platform sandals, I finally figured out what they were-- french cherry blossom trees! They look better in janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-107918530692108242004-03-13T21:41:00.000+08:002004-03-13T21:44:59.043+08:00Hubris and Bruised Hips
What a whirlwind 24 hours. Am sitting here at school in the computer kiosk in a slinky black tank-top jumpsuit, smelling of fireplace smoke and tasting of champagne. Haven't made it home yet from last night's party, but thankfully have no trace of a hangover headache. My left hip hurts, and I have no doubt that when I peel off this jumpsuit, there will be an enormous janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1079022464094400852004-03-12T00:27:00.000+08:002004-03-12T00:30:53.920+08:00Grasshoppering
I think I'm being followed by a black hole. Am losing everything nowadays-- lost my sweater at the library last night, thought I lost my class folder at the computer kiosks yesterday (turned out I left it on my desk, bringing just my totally empty backpack to school), lost my case study for Operations class before I had a chance to read it (it's probably back at home on my bed janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1078923790437233152004-03-10T21:03:00.000+08:002004-03-10T21:06:46.450+08:00Temoin
Oh, I'm cursed-- it's totally, completely, utterly obvious that the car gods HATE me. As I was driving to school today, a little yellow light suddenly started to blink at me from the dashboard, beeping insistently every few seconds. Not knowing what else to do, after checking that yes, my seat belt was on, all doors were closed, hand brake was not engaged, I shrugged and kept going. janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1078490455438406932004-03-05T20:40:00.000+08:002004-03-05T20:49:01.373+08:00The sweet sound of manhole covers
Am home! Oh, there's nothing quite like the first vacation after school starts. Brings back college days when I hopped a last minute flight back to California, stuffed myself silly on my mom's cooking and didn't ever want to go back again. How absolutely wonderful to be so comfortable, to know every corner of the room and the neighborhood, to have my cat janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1078072999562756092004-03-01T00:43:00.000+08:002004-03-01T00:46:13.966+08:00Break
This is my little prize to myself for studying all day. It’s 4:54 right now—I have to stop writing by 5:20. Am going a bit stir crazy from sitting in this cubicle for five hours without leaving. INSEAD provides these lovely enclosed spaces on campus for groupwork or study—the ones in the upper gallery are made up of moveable curved partitions upholstered in orange fuzz, and there’s a janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-107736703908102112004-02-21T20:37:00.000+08:002004-02-21T20:40:02.356+08:00Cementhead
Today is one of those days when it feels like the sky is crying. I had the heat blasting my entire way to school today, but still now my fingers feel cold when I touch my hands together. The emaciated forests along the side of the road stood forlornly clad in tatters of burnt leaves as I whizzed by in my lonely little island of manufactured heat, windshield wipers ticking on medium janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1077029117874337982004-02-17T22:45:00.000+08:002004-02-17T22:47:55.686+08:00Amsterdam
I have absolutely no time right now to be writing this, but I’m so frazzled and tired that I don’t care—I must sit down and collect myself a little. Write something to tell myself that I exist as a person outside of external deadlines. A half-hour vacation, if you will.
School is getting tight—professors are handing out past exams and extra problem sets and additional reading like janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1076425286796842122004-02-10T23:01:00.000+08:002004-02-10T23:03:55.513+08:00Defrost
There is a thin layer of very hard frost that formed on my car in the two mornings past, and no matter how I sit in the car and wait for the thing to warm up or squirt water onto the glass, the stubborn lattice just won’t budge or scrape. The secret, though, is to drive out of the courtyard and face the sun—after driving along the winding country road for no more than a few minutes, thejanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1075830302910025422004-02-04T01:45:00.000+08:002004-02-04T01:49:52.610+08:00bleh
Am not sure why, but all of a sudden I feel very depressed. Today was purely uneventful, the morning after another nice Monday dinner party. Woke up, did some accounting homework, drove to the bank and picked up my checkbook, then got to school in time for a group meeting to play some sort of market game for Micro class. Didn’t have time to eat lunch, was sleepy all through lecture, and janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1075644353720018742004-02-01T22:05:00.000+08:002004-02-01T22:08:46.013+08:00You get a cookie.
One proviso, folks-- it's ridiculously easy to figure out who I am if you're actually on campus, since I mince no words about the idiosyncratic details. If you know who I am, bully for you. But I find it a bit eerie and awkward when this blog is brought up in common conversation. Will you do me a favor and keep it on the DL? Come get to know me in person if you like.janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1075642742349361542004-02-01T21:39:00.000+08:002004-02-01T22:15:52.653+08:00Thigh High Boots
Oh folks, but I’m tired!
I woke up this morning in a Parisian flat on top of Montmartre with an unobstructed view of the Tour d’Eiffel. The air felt rarefied and clair, and smelled of perfume and toothpaste. Sore from a night out on the town, we (four girlies) rolled in and out of the bathroom brushing teeth, fixing hair, shuffling about and trying to wake up. But when we janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1075032226885885132004-01-25T20:03:00.000+08:002004-01-26T01:55:52.110+08:00Come shine down
Today is gorgeous—sunshine streaming in through the kitchen window, steam rising off the Seine, brilliant blue skies and joggers out in fine form along the country roads. However, seeing as how I slept away 80% of the working day yesterday and have already had my 15 minutes of introspection in nature this weekend, I am sadly resigned to the fact that I will forgo the call of janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1074590265636250912004-01-20T17:17:00.000+08:002004-01-20T17:25:09.623+08:00If at first . . .
Eh, spent ten minutes this morning looking for my car keys, couldn’t find them, took the spare set, only to find the little culprits snuggled smugly in my backpack after I got to school. Also think I perhaps threw away my INSEAD ID badge last night while prepping for our dinner party. What can you do? Some things just don’t change.
I apologize for the long hiatus (or at janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1074010320917387332004-01-14T00:12:00.000+08:002004-02-03T01:29:46.950+08:00Deluged
It’s amazing what a dry article from the American Economic Review in 1945 will do in terms of sluicing my creative juices. Suddenly I feel the urgent need to wax poetic instead of doing my work. Anywho, folks, yours truly is feeling exceedingly soggy, even after three hours of sitting in the toasty INSEAD library. The rain started pouring last night and didn’t really let up through thejanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1073672955060214572004-01-10T02:29:00.000+08:002004-01-12T01:28:04.563+08:00Busy Busy
Yikes, but life has been busy. My car is still not fixed, but I called Peugeot and apparently all I have to do is bring it to the Fontainebleau Peugeot dealer, who will fix it for no charge since the thing is covered. I drove to Paris yesterday for a scholarship interview with this guy at L’Oreal—driving was an absolute nightmare! I gave myself two hours’ lead time (it’s a 1 hour janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1073469873183972672004-01-07T18:04:00.000+08:002004-01-07T18:23:45.500+08:00Oopsies (written Mon Jan 5)
Guess what?
Yep, I've already lost my passenger side mirror. Sigh. I suppose it was le destin. Or perhaps it's that longtime lack of depth perception that caused me to misjudge the tininess of my tiny peugeot as I swerved to avoid oncoming traffic at the same time as downshifting (takes me far too many tries to get the car from stopped to first, so I just slow down asjanenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1073469210219979172004-01-07T17:53:00.000+08:002004-01-07T17:53:49.320+08:00First day (written Sat Jan 3)
I am een Fhance, safe and zound!
Anywho, this fellow named P. found me at CDG airport (advertised on INSEAD's online chatroom for someone who knew how to drive my car) and together we picked up my cute little peugeot (dark blue and zippy). We made our way to INSEAD and my country house, getting lost only once-- not too bad. It's absolutely freezing here, 1 janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1071439315891439262003-12-15T06:01:00.000+08:002004-03-06T18:27:45.186+08:00janenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6179439.post-1070865100278038012003-12-08T14:31:00.000+08:002003-12-15T06:28:41.190+08:00Rumblings
First striking MBA related experience tonight-- was hit on by a 27-year old Hong Kong finance and accounting guy over IM. Was not certain how to parry the onslaught of yellow happy faces and MSN pixel roses after I vapidly answered "alone" to his question of whether I would enter France with my "family." At the time, I thought it would be rude to write back that I had a boyfriend, janenoreply@blogger.com