Man, did I not see these coming.
Which is say, "Follow not my precepts, o' believer."
Facebook has its online social networking evils (to "friend" or not to friend, that is the verb transitive question), but I am grateful to it for helping me feel even less inclined to go to my high school reunion. Now I can satisfy the tiny bit of curiousity and never go back to the high school on top of the hellmouth.
It is always interesting that the goth girl who LOVED the Ballad of the Reading Gaol got born again and teaches elementary school and bible study in Fort Worth; that the guy who was such a ladies' man player turned out to be gay; and it is nice that the consumerist jerk turned out to be a Marxist sociology major doing Peace Corps.
I just recently went to my high school class's twentieth reunion. I was stunned that one could have extrapolated, almost perfectly, from people's personae then to now: the progressive smart kids are urban planners in places like Chapel Hill and Boulder; the jocky but bright hail-fellow-well-met types are "financial planners"; the brooding pricks (myself included), are in academia; and the lovely-to-behold-but-totally-untouchable hotties are now suburban MILFs. I began to wonder if the really depraved souls just stayed away, plotting world conquest in their basements.
More striking, though, than anything else: no surprises. Nobody who was then a stuttering zitface now captaining an industry, no former date-raping jocks now coordinating relief efforts for Oxfam. What's the point of having a reunion if nobody's going to surprise me. I wanted my money back.
and the lovely-to-behold-but-totally-untouchable hotties are now suburban MILFs.
So much pain.
OT:
Man, picture worth a thousand words and all that.
Housing crisis. According to Yahoo that's Antioch, CA.
3 is a terrific comment.
I'm too lazy to think up anything good to say myself recently, so I just hang around dispensing awesomes! for the good comments.
I amend my comment--Anmik is right, there are plenty of people who continued on their life path trajectory. The consumerist ones who were declared business majors their first year of college continued in their capitalist ways. The burn outs stay in our home town, and that reminds me that things can stay depressingly the same.
I was half brooding prick and half progressive do-gooder, but most of my high school friends expected me to go with the former and get an MFA or something. I ended up an employment discrimiantion law school academic.
I was stunned that one could have extrapolated, almost perfectly, from people's personae then to now
My neighbor has been a pre-school teacher for something like 30 years, and she says the same thing is true of the pre-schoolers she used to teach decades ago. That's pretty freaky, if true.
I could have predicted I'd become a grad school drop out.
and the lovely-to-behold-but-totally-untouchable hotties are now suburban MILFs
I went to Mrs. Ruprecht's 20th year HS reunion and got this reaction from her classmates. Several of them felt compelled to point out to me that she was the hottest girl in the class and they secretly lusted after her (with the unspoken subtext that it was surprising she ended up with a chump like me, I suppose).
it is nice that the consumerist jerk turned out to be a Marxist sociology major doing Peace Corps
Wow. There's something to help your faith in humanity. I expected the progression from high school to mid 20s to go in the opposite direction.
I began to wonder if the really depraved souls just stayed away, plotting world conquest in their basements.
Data point: my 20-year high school reunion was a couple weekends ago and I didn't go.
One of the more vocal Republicans in my high school went into the Peace Corps. Last I heard he was looking into becoming a teacher. On the other hand, I went to high school in Berkeley.
she says the same thing is true of the pre-schoolers she used to teach decades ago
Do people here know about the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment?
Of course! But pretend we don't.
15: You can study a marshmallow, while it's in preschool, and know definitively what it will be when it grows up?
Yes, I read a post about it on an academic blog recently.
Do people here know about the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment?
The pre-school I referenced above actually has a pedagogical philosophy that's very consistent with the results of that experiment (though I doubt that it is explicitly linked to that or any other research). The school disclaims any ambition to teach any academic content, but focuses on socialization: self-control, following directions, cooperating with other children, etc. The theory of this approach is that it makes children more likely to get positive reinforcement in school.
Wow, 11.2.a would be irritating. "Man, I had the biggest hard on for your wife, when we were in 10th grade..."
This is the one that's supposed to show how patient four-year-olds are, right?
20: It would depend on what you're into.
I just got friended on Facebook two days ago by my bestest friend from high school! She's a lesbian living in Berkeley now!
self-control, following directions, cooperating with other children, etc.
All the fun of sitting still, paying attention, writing down numbers...
In Oliver Twist's preschool, the more successful orphans were the ones who waited before asking for smores.
Is that a surprise? Or would you have predicted such a thing? Perhaps when you watched her delay gratification -- or not -- with a marshmallow?
23: "I never would have guessed, when we were in the high school shower, soaping each other up...."
I was just poking around facebook some more, and came across a woman who reminded me of one sadly illustrative episode from junior high. I saw her notebook on a desk and read [this woman's name] [hearts] [ogged], and at first my heart leapt, because hey, it's someone crushing on me, but then almost immediately I figured that someone had written it on her notebook in order to make fun of her, and that's what I believed until I remembered the incident a few years ago. Yes, such was self-esteem in junior high. In the fullness of my years, I've decided that if someone had been making fun of her, adolescent shame would have forced her to cross it out or, more likely, get a new notebook, which means that she did in fact have a crush on me. I mention this now because googling and a search of our high school alumni database reveals that she represented her home country in the Miss Universe pageant a few years back.
God, ogged, I think that's the saddest story you've ever told.
Well, except for the cancer.
I've never gone to any of my high school reunions (20th was a year or so ago) for a variety of reasons, most prominently that I wasn't really friends with many people in my class--most of the folks I associated with were either a year ahead of me or a year behind me. I did however, recently find a group of photos on Flickr from the reunion of the people one year younger than me that was taken by someone who hung out with the same crowd, so all (or most) of the picture are of people I knew well. And I gotta say, damn, those people are old! Totally sucks. One of them who was a very good friend for a while works at the UN, which is kinda cool, another is actor/performer who's been kicking around for a while--I'll never forget seeing several years ago a Wendy's commercial in which he had one line ("Fresh!"). I don't know about many of the people in my class; there was the guy who desperately wanted to be a doctor but got his freak on in college and became a musician (I'm pretty sure that's him playing guitar), and two guys who became lawyers, one idealistic as a kid (mildly scummy lawyer), one cynical (extremely scummy lawyer.) That's about it.
The real prize was the pretentious girl in the year ahead of me who became a Pultizer-winning author. One of my close friends in her class really wanted to be a successful writer, and worked hard at it for a long time; he was not pleased to learn of her award.
The Pultizer is actually much more coveted. Pulitzers are a dime-a-dozen.
30: No, it's worse than the cancer, because it's still with him.
The Pultizer is actually much more coveted.
I'll suggest he tell her that at the next reunion.
When she'll bring a kid who just won his own Pulitzer.
My high school-to-college boyfriend, the "former love of my life," is now in a PhD program at UPenn--but apparently obsessed with the World of Warcraft and is a big participant in the online gaming community. And he has a lumberjack beard. This is like excessively time-delayed coyote ugly.
This I found out on MySpace, the "trashier" version of Facebook, or so FB elites say.
Cancer is the Godwin's law for sad stories. You can't beat cancer. Although people wear yellow wrist bands all the time in their quest to defeat it.
Over 42,000 results on google for "Pultizer"; over 10 million for "Pulitzer." The comparative rarity only enhances the prestige.
29: I misconstrued one considerably less subtle than that from a girl I had been hopelessly in love with for some time. Or at least I think I misconstrued; in hindsight "I love you" probably should have suggested something more than warm friendship. A small dollop of self-esteem turns out to be useful.
I keep my self-esteem stored in marshmallows, which I never eat. Perhaps that accounts for my self-loathing. Or maybe it's just that I'm a prick. But I do have a shelf filled with Pultizers.
But I do have a shelf filled with Pultizers.
No need to brag and rub it in, you know.
We don't want to talk about missed connections. I got an archive full of 'em and when I think about 'em I want to puke marshmallow Pultizers.
I apparently had a reputation in middle school for being charismatic, but I never socialized much.
29: I had a similar junior high experience. Some girl who was always really mean to me asked me out in 6th grade. Because she was always mean to me, I thought she was making fun of me--which at the time, unfortunately, wasn't too uncommon. When I told her to quit bothering me or whatever, she was upset. I didn't put two and two together until I ran into her the year after graduating high school (we weren't in the same graduating class or anything like that).
I assume that when my son (11) tells me which girls he enjoys annoying he really means those are the ones he has crushes on.
Oh Ogged, 29....and this is only one sadly illustrative episode ? Oh jeez.
Yesterday I thought to Google a big brothery friend of a friend, who used to supply our crowd with pharmaceuticals and talked me down from a bad trip in the most gentlemanlike way, I was grateful ever after. He's cut his hair and lives in NY heading up a United Nations development program to reduce poverty and conserve biodiversity. I'm rediculously pleased with this. I was afraid he'd be in jail.
"United Nations development program" "jail"
Six of one, half dozen of the other.
this is only one sadly illustrative episode ?
I'm sure there are others, but none burning in my brain right now; certainly no other missed opportunities with future Miss Universe contestants...that I know of....
I got a similar story, but even worse, with an Emmy-award winner.
Pulitzer! Yeah, so a chick I went to hs with whose brain, frankly, I never thought much of, did in fact win the Pulitzer. It bugged the hell out of me when I found out (and yeah I realize that that makes me a bad person).
I'd love to know what people in high school thought I would end up being, since I've never had any idea myself.
Wow, 11.2.a would be irritating. "Man, I had the biggest hard on for your wife, when we were in 10th grade..."
Less so than you would imagine. I thought of it as a special case of the general tendency to latch onto whatever salient memory you have of the person in order to make conversation with the person's spouse. When Mrs. Ruprecht went with me to my HS reunion, it was all the guys saying "Knecht and I used to smoke weed together all the time," and the girls saying "You know your husband used to be the biggest dork?"
I have a similar story to ogged's and slol's, only she hasn't won any prizes.
The whole world of opposite-sex dynamics in high-school (or any institutional setting pre-college) is alien to me. The social psychology of interactive dynamics in largish populations of mostly repressed catholic boys holds no secrets, however.
It's lovely to start the weekend on a note of self-loathing.
Why just limit oneself to weekend self-loathing, I say.
Loathe, loathe, flagellate, loathe.
You could even do 57 and the more canonical version at once.
A girl that Mrs. Ruprecht went to HS with and loathed was nominated for an Oscar, but didn't win.
According to Mrs. Ruprecht, this girl was an unabashed cocktease who used to play hackysack wearing a miniskirt and no underwear.
I have only missed connection stories. Hèlas!
used to play hackysack wearing a miniskirt and no underwear
Women like that make the world a better place.
Women like that make the world a better place.
I once saw a woman in Holland riding a bicycle with a skirt and no knickers on, and I thought exactly the same thing. Brightened up my whole day.
The social psychology of interactive dynamics in largish populations of mostly repressed catholic boys holds no secrets, however.
Are you going to take those secrets to your grave, or are you going to spill?
I went to a mixed-sex RC school, with lay teachers, sisters and priests. It had originally been an all-boy school but went co-ed for financial reasons. Some of the priests deeply resented the presence of the girls, because this meant they had to significantly modify their disciplinary techniques. Fr. McPsycho, for example, used to like to slam a boy's head against a locker, but never dared try that on a girl.
61, 62: Now that's a much nicer way to start the weekend. Tank top, deep armholes, no bra is another nice combination. It's OK to look as long as you don't leer, right?
62: I could swear that said "Hong Kong", not "Holland", the first time I read it. I think i need a nap.
My high school crush supreme finally came around to me our junior year. I remember it well. We were in the park together one evening, and she wanted to kiss me; but I refused because I didn't want to cheat on my internet girlfriend.
Are you going to take those secrets to your grave, or are you going to spill?
I didn't say they were interesting secrets.
And now, fanboi/nerd that I am, I am off to buy my copy of the new version of Mac OS. Bliss it is on this launch day to be alive, but to have a departmental Visa card is very Heaven.
Doesn't George Babbitt, who had been a radical student demonstrator at Winnemac, encounter a former party-animal classmate of his grown up to be a real-life civil libertarian?
I guess this is an old story in American life.
w-lfs-n: I have only missed connection stories. Hèlas!
Missed connections suck and are sad enough. I have more of those from college though. There weren't many I wanted to date in high school. Or law school, for that matter, because law school is like high school, only on a bigger hellmouth.
I could have predicted I'd become a grad school drop out.
Me too!
But I admit already that I'm full of shit and had no idea how college was going to hit me, so ... how things looked in high school?
And Junior High, you people are talking about junior high? Please. They were putting frogs in my hair, because I was the new kid. I crushed in turn on the dark-haired boy who was piano accompanist for the chorus (which I was not in), and the bad boy who teased me in science class.
I never in a million years thought anyone would be acting on any of this. You too could be in a marriage based on whoever you were in junior high. Aaaaaaaagghhhh!!
The following up and ones who got away are more interesting (painful) for college and grad school.
We don't really do high school reunions here, which is probably for the best because I don't really remember any of the people I went to school with (apart from the girl who went on to be my brother's girlfriend and still is) and don't really care about them anymore.
I recreated myself at uni; again when I left uni.
66 -- That is the saddest thing I've read today.
She walked with an uncommon grace
Throughout our junior high,
A maid whom there were tons to chase,
And even more to try:
Was voted by a stellar class
Most likely to succeed!
--Bright as a star; whose thoughts, alas
I sadly failed to heed.
She lives renowned, and few could know
That [her name] crushed on me;
But she once wrote a note, and, oh,
The difference to me!
72: That is the saddest thing I've read today.
Time elapsed from when I read this post to when I realized the title had nothing to do with ogged's high school classmates turning to prostitution: 42 minutes.
So *now* Sifu shows up, after the twat shaving discussion is long forgotten.
I'm not your shaved genital monkey.
My 10th was kind of fun, though my 20th sucked. I only went because I still live nearby and a few friends asked me to come, and I think I was right that seeing most of these people once every 10 years was a little too often. I suspect that the people I would have most enjoyed talking to had no use whatsoever for the 20th.
I'd say 2/3 turned out the way I'd expected -- your typical upper-middle class group of Chets and suburban MILFs. The ones who surprised *really* surprised. Two girls who spent most of high school smoking out together grew up to be a cop and a DA. The crazy bitch who got knocked up senior year turned out to be a good mother and at least a halfway decent human being. Then there was the mousy little guy who showed up at the 10th a woman. (Jokes about how much balls she had to do that are left as an exercise for the reader.)
Confession: I didn't really know what a MILF was. I've looked it up before, said, "Oh," and promptly forgotten again.
This is a type? A MILF? It's analogous to a Chet? (Which I also don't really get.)
Is MILF not rather insulting?
Maybe I should just watch more TV?
"missed connections" supra should have been "missed chances". There is, I suppose, a difference.
I suppose you could just have been looking for long walks, romantic dinners, and meaningful eye contact.
The turgid explainer, taking a break from document review, says:
Of course MILF is a total objectification. It's a sexually attractive older woman, reduced to that quality for the sake of whatever's being discussed. The desparate housewives represent an illustration of the concept.
Insulting? it's not always meant that way, but see my second.
Or see for yourself. Do a google search for the acronym, with filters off and looking only for pictures.
It's a sexually attractive older woman
Sexually attractive mom, and "older" not a requirement.
Or see for yourself. Do a google search for the acronym, with filters off and looking only for pictures.
Does the equal opportunity objectification of older women represent a qualified victory for feminism over the tyranny of traditional notions of beauty and youth? Where is B. when you need her?
[Question not meant in earnest, please don't assail me!]
Or see for yourself. Do a google search for the acronym, with filters off and looking only for pictures.
I'd rather not.
Just as I'd rather not investigate the cultural resonance of "cougar," even more so if there's such a thing as a baby mama cougar.
It's all insulting.
Heh. I'd rather hang out with the people who just like each other, and therefore have sex when they agree that it's a good thing overall.
74: Yikes! But not quite sad in the same way as forgoing a real live girl in order not to cheat on one's internet gf. (And really, good gravy, "this is a you tube moment!" -- it's like a degenerate Will Ferrell character.)
The wikipedia article on Chet is not so informative.
The wikipedia article on Chet is not so informative
So write your own entry! I'd love to see the disambiguation page for that.
But Ben, it is so much more interesting!
We probably have to go to urbandictionary for the other stuff.
BW: "missed connections" supra should have been "missed chances". There is, I suppose, a difference.
There is a difference.
There was many a lad I walked by or studied next to in college holding that adorably worn copy of (name your favorite book) that sent my heart aflutter. That is sad.
But there were only two missed chances of men I could have been with. That is even sadder.
Missed chances are sad, especially when it's about timing. I've never been a type of girl to cheat on a guy or be the other woman, so it usually ends up that I am "just friends" with my missed chances. I suppose that's not too bad, but one does always wonder.
92: The UrbanDictionary explanation doesn't seem to make a Chet analogous to what I understand a MILF to be.
Magpie's comment in 78:
I'd say 2/3 turned out the way I'd expected -- your typical upper-middle class group of Chets and suburban MILFs.
I don't get it. These chets are married to these MILFs or something.
I don't have a big stake in all this, but it does seem to come up time and again. Explain if you like.
89: I think that should become a general defense: "Sorry I attacked you with a lead pipe, officer... just seemed like it would be a great YouTube moment."
Does the equal opportunity objectification of older women represent a qualified victory for feminism over the tyranny of traditional notions of beauty and youth?
Ever heard of the Mommy Makeover? No, that one's still a win for the patriarchy.
"Chet" is a term of art used by a rosy toed friend of the blog to refer to the sort of guy who does well in financial fields, makes fantastic money, is in general a Master of the Universe, and yet comes off as a slow twit. I assume that's how it is being used.
Kobe is not a Chet, and would have banged Miss Universe when he had the chance.
I'm getting Chet confused with Chad, the beau of the Lincoln Park Trixie.
100 is 100!
I once asked out this beautiful, beautiful woman who I worked with and then -- after she said "what the heck, okay!" -- blew her off and shortly afterwards moved to California.
Clever clever me! No wonder I'm in college.
MILF also stands for Moro-Islamic Liberation Front, a Muslim separatist group in the Phillipines which I think someone should write a sitcom about.
Kobe is arguably Chet Supreme. And, as regards Ms. Universe, I've done worse (though not as measured by that sort of pedigree).
The missed chances that get away are the worst.
I didn't know Chad and Trixie had names! But I can see how they got them.
99:
"Chet" is a term of art used by a rosy toed friend of the blog
Oh, well I know that. Jeebus, you guys had me thinking it actually had some wider sense.
There is nothing outside the. Outside the.
That Chet post is awesome. I do totally know smart, behind-the-scenes financial types. I also know very smart, hail-fellow-well-met tannned financial types. But yeah there are a lot of Chets, aren't there?
God I should totally read the archives one of these days. Maybe just Alameida's posts.
The missed chances that get away are the worst.
Hold on a minute. How many of you were advising the virgin high school senior to pass up the opportunity with the girl who was into him back in the Ask the Mineshaft Thread?
109: the Aaaaah GFI faction finally gets its due.
That Chet post is awesome.
Read DeLong's response to Alameida's bat signal.
Very good. It's really the instinctual advantage-taking that defines the type.
Also the comments here used to be way more substantive, didn't they? I blame myself.
Everything used to be better here, Sifu.
And I was talking about missing chances to have missed chances.
113: everything used to be better everywhere in the blogosphere. Before that, everything used to be better everywhere on Usenet. Before that, everything used to be better everywhere on BBSes. I know you, intertubes. I have you pegged.
The proper plural for "BBS", on the other hand, remains a stranger to me.
Before that, everything used to be better everywhere on Usenet.
I experienced a weird moment of Usenet/blogworld barrier crossing last night.
URL? Or just a bit more detail?
My archived Usenet trail (google-able if you know my full handle) is deeply embarrassing.
121: self-similarity implies no value judgment.
I'll email you, Tweety, if you give your address.
You should have it from when I e-mailed you? Otherwise it's available to VIPs like yourself as part of my extended commenter identification.
I experienced a weird moment of Usenet/blogworld barrier crossing last night.
It happens a lot. There are at least two people who comment here (at least occasionally) whom I recognize from Usenet.
You should have it from when I e-mailed you?
Right, good point.
Before that, everything used to be better everywhere on BBSes.
No, BBSes were always BS.
Cougar schmougar. Leopard, bitches!
Yeah, Gonerill. Some of us would like the substantiivity to be ongoing, you know.
Anyway, like ben I have only missed chances/connections/etc.
I also just drunkenly facebook-friended some girls I knew in high school.
Teo! I can only imagine how many girls you're driving crazy right now. The deviant art fanbook? You are exactly Leo DeCaprio at 18. Teo DeCaprio. Mark my words.
Leo DeCaprio, of course, constantly got mocked for resembling but in hard to define ways consistently falling short of Leo DiCaprio. Sort of an Unsexy Valley phenomenon.
Sort of an Unsexy Valley phenomenon.
So awesome.
I was also Princeton's 250th Anniversary Visiting Professor for Distinguished Teaching. But is that what the laydeez care about? Apparently not.
You are exactly Leo DeCaprio at 18
Well, maybe at 17.
I was just about to reference that.
I'm relieved. I thought someone was just about to cite an upthread reference I'd missed.
Thanks for making that explicit, everybody.
Do we know when Leo lost his? He may well have not been the same man at 18 as at 17.
144 reminds me of a hilariously awful article I read in a little house journal for a Berkeley-based so-called psychic institute about our souls and our life paths and all that jazz. The author really could have done with some philosophy.
The most salient question was probably why I should give two shits about the life plan my soul had chosen for me before I was born, but really it was just a mess through and through. He even involved himself in some totally unnecessary difficulties, for instance by claiming that some souls had more experience in designing life plans than others, so that there'd be a chance that the plan your soul had designed for you would be a totally amateurish job.
Some of the other things in it were genuinely upsetting, like the story by the woman who decided to become a "spiritual midwife" after the midwife she had hired for her own birth wanted to send her to the hospital (home of BAD JUJU) because of possible danger to herself and her child, and that just wasn't the birth she had envisaged, nosirree, and she wanted to prevent anything so awful as medical care from being perpetrated on other mothers.
Most of the rest of it was pitiful reassurances along these lines, an article the reading of which almost made me think Nietzsche was right about everything.
How on earth did 144 remind you of that?
I was also Princeton's 250th Anniversary Visiting Professor for Distinguished Teaching
You could find out about your past life. (Via U. Offerings)
http://thebigview.com/pastlife/
I'm told that in my previous life I was a North African woman.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Your lesson is to develop a kind attitude towards people, and to acquire the gift of understanding and compassion.
I'm so screwed.
Eb gets it exactly right. Personal identity; my soul and me.
The thought that I may have lost my virginity at an earlier age than Leonardo DiCaprio is about as meaningful to me as the thought that I "was born somewhere in the territory of modern Bulgaria around the year 1025," and that my "profession was that of a teacher, mathematician or geologist." In other words, far out!
Speaking of 18-year-olds, btw, I don't think things are going anywhere with the one I've been sort-of-dating. The logistics are just too difficult.
The thought that I may have lost my virginity at an earlier age than Leonardo DiCaprio is about as meaningful to me as the thought that I "was born somewhere in the territory of modern Bulgaria around the year 1025," and that my "profession was that of a teacher, mathematician or geologist." In other words, far out!
Damn medieval Bulgarian geologists.
In my defense, the first time I clicked 'post' got a message that the site wasn't accepting my comment on the grounds that I had placed too many comments in too short a time, which was both an obvious lie and really rude.
You don't need to defend being Bulgarian in a past life.
The logistics are just too difficult.
She's in Canada?
That sucks. Did you piss off God or something?
You don't need to defend being Bulgarian in a past life.
Not if I had been, say, Elias Canetti, no. But then I'd be 13 years old at most.
Did you piss off God or something?
I sure hope not.
Wasn't there another prospect, Teo?
There are a few other prospects. All is not lost.
Sounds like it's drunken phone call time. "Hey baby..."
Might as well be.
EmotionallySexually unavailable.
No, physically unavailable. Emotionally/Sexually not a problem.
There was meant to be a line through "Emotionally." But sad story, regardless of adverb.
I checked out the past life thing:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern North New Zealand around the year 375. Your profession was that of a artist, magician or fortune teller.
As a natural talent in psychology, you knew how to use your opportunities. Cold-blooded and calm in any situation.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation: Your task is to learn, to love and to trust the universe. You are bound to think, study, reflect, and to develop inner wisdom.
Any other New Zealanders from the 4th century out there.
re: 171
That's particularly amusing since New Zealand wasn't settled by people until about 500-1000 or more years later.
You are exactly Leo DeCaprio at 18
Teo is Arnie Grape? That would explain why he's not getting any.
Me:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Burma around the year 1525. Your profession was that of a seaman, dealer, businessman or broker. Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
As a natural talent in psychology, you knew how to use your opportunities. Cold-blooded and calm in any situation. The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Your task is to learn determination and persistency. Youd should not allow to let misfortunes take influence on your strong will.
Will, that was mine! Except mine was an Egyptian dude and said something about reading. Well, mine and everyone else's born on 9/11/79.
So people born on 11/13/67 are the same as 9/11/79???
Put another way, I am AWB? Cool.
Are you allowed to sleep with your past-life equivalents or is that banned?
Me:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Mexico around the year 725. Your profession was that of a builder of houses, temples and cathedrals. Your brief psychological profile in your past life:Great, I was a fucking Nephite.
You had the mind of a scientist, always seeking new explanations. Your environment often misunderstood you, but respected your knowledge. The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Magic is everywhere around you, even in the most usual, most ordinary situations. Your lesson is to understand this magic and to help other people to see it, too. You are a magician!
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern North Japan around the year 1575.
Your profession was that of a teacher, mathematician or geologist. Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
Such people are always involved with all new. You have always loved changes, especially in art, music, cooking.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Your lesson is to learn discretion and moderation and then to teach others to do the same. Your life will be happier if you help those who lack reasoning.
JM:
But now you get to saw women in half!
Curious how many of the past lives are women in mostly-male professions. My past-life equivalent is a profoundly bookish 16th-century female Portuguese sailor and/or cobbler.
I was a watchmaker born "born somewhere in the territory of modern USA South-East around the year 1600". I find that... unlikely.
My impression is that it usually isn't men who go in for the past life business.
Yeah, everyone knows watches are made in China.
Your life will be happier if you help those who lack reasoning.
Cala is meant to be a philosophy professor!
You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Poland around the year 1075. Your profession was that of a digger, undertaker.
Polish gravedigger! (Maybe this is why I think Polish sounds so sexy...?)
181: Being the first one of their tribe to succeed in such a male task, too, probably having piercing green eyes and flaming red hair!
Maybe this is why I think Polish sounds so sexy...?
Dzien dobry, Blume. Moje imie Ruprecht.
probably having piercing green eyes and flaming red hair!
Ten-a-penny where I'm from.
I'm down in Minneapolis with the rest of Unfogged's ultra left fraction (Frowner and Minneapolitan, excluding McManus, who has been expelled for relationshipism).
I have found that Minneapolis is one of the world centers of the puppetry world, though far behind Java and Bali, but that the Minnesota puppetry world is riven with bitter conflict.
We went to a haute-cuisine Polish restaurant / avant-garde theatre, and in fact they did great things with sauerkraut, beets, horseradish, and pirogis. It's recognizably similar to my next-door neighbor's country Polish cuisine.
On topic: one thing I've found in my own little town is that two of the town bums have (estranged) daughters who have gone on to success in the professional world. One of these bums is a very nice guy who doesn't work, and the other was terribly abused in his childhood. It's actually fairly common for people from the less-respected families in Lake Wobegon to do quite well, once they leave. No one here prospers much if they stay.
73: awesome!
Past lives -- doesn't anybody have a previous incarcnation as a wretched, illiterate, downtrodden serf living in a hut constructed entirely out of dirt? That used to be pretty common.
189: Doesn't work if I can't hear it.
Actually, come to think of it, the Polish gravedigger thing is even odder. About half the residents of my building in Berlin are Polish, and most of them work for my landlord, who is an undertaker. I can hear them in the courtyard talking about coffins and such in Polish all day long.
I guess Polish gravedigger qualifies as acceptably wretched.
The family rumor is that my Polish Jewish grandparents remember eating dirt to avoid starvation.
Blume, don't screw the Polish undertaker. amny of them are undead themselves.
Correction: here is a Wobegonian who succeeded without leaving the area. This woman is the widow of my sister's ex-husband. (Not my sociopath ex-bro-in-law, the other sister).
"...and when there was no meat, we ate fowl and when there was no fowl, we ate crawdad and when there was no crawdad to be found, we ate sand."
"You ate what?"
"We ate sand."
[pause]
"You ate SAND?"
"That's right!"
Based on a true story, folks!
Crawdad is good. Sand, not so much.
Based on a true story, folks!
That pretitle sequence is the funniest pretitle sequence ever.
doesn't anybody have a previous incarcnation as a wretched, illiterate, downtrodden serf
Yes, but back on the veldt fief those people were outbred by our wealthier and healthier ancestors.
That's particularly amusing since New Zealand wasn't settled by people until about 500-1000 or more years later.
But apparently they were doing a lot of stuff we didn't know about when they got there. I was a banker in New Zealand in 1350. So there you go.
I would have thought Chetship was essential for even wanting to take part in a high school reunion. Hell, all the interesting people I went to school with took great care to avoid meeting anyone from school ever again. And so did I.
It doesn't work if I can't hear it
Damn. I was imagining the Jamie Lee Curtis character in A Fish Called Wanda.
202 -- Due to my magical abilities, surely.
"I don't know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation. You were born somewhere in the territory of modern South Australia around the year 1200. Your profession was that of a trainer or holder of fine animals, such as birds."
Compared to the Native American watchmaker, this sounds positively plausible.
Bird holding was a vital industry in 13th century Australia. If you didn't keep a really good grip on them they'd fly off to New Zealand to hang out with all those fruity artist/magician types.
Great, I was a fucking Nephite.
I went to a Mormon bookstore today. It was awesome.
