| MLK got it right! -- I'm free at last! |
[Feb. 16th, 2006|12:26 am] |
At 4:12 this afternoon, the court declared me to be an emancipated minor.
Thirty-eight of my friends were there. My (tutored) guys, a dozen Wunderkinder, Coaches, Professors, classmates, counselors, several of my students, and people who staggered in looking for traffic court.
I was prepared for a rubber stamp session. But the judge spent about fifteen minutes asking me sincere questions about my reasons, how I was going to support myself, and actually joked, "And what do you want to be when you grow up . . . in about ten minutes."
I downplayed my daytrading, but showed him my bank account records for the past year -- steadily climbing (except for two weeks ago). I mentioned my tutoring and my five guys and the two coaches stood up as we rehearsed. I mentioned my math class and my students and department head stood.
Then he asked me about my parents.
I crossed my fingers and gave my prepared speech and handed him a copy of my parents' signed, witnessed, and notarized statement supporting my emancipation.
He looked at me severely. "I'm not buying that."
A hush fell over the courtroom. Someone behind me whispered clearly in the silent room, "Oh shit!"
I took a deep breath. My knees actually threatened to buckle.
"Your Honor, the the facts as stated in my filing reflect the whole truth. Are they complete? No. There are sixteen years of details missing. But are they indicative of my family and our mutual lack of respect? Yes.
"I am asking you to accept these documents at face value and grant my petition."
. . .
. . .
"Granted."
Applause and cheering broke out and was briefly tolerated without comment. He held up a hand for silence and the noise died down instantly.
He gave a little speech which I confess I didn't hear for the roaring in my head. But he was smiling and I assume he was saying good things.
Then we were outside
Then we were at Golden Corral.
Then it was all over and I was home before seven.
The last of my friends left around ten.
After the word "Granted," I don't remember much.
----
I think I'll go rescue a dog from the pound.
It seems very appropriate.
--Knotty |
|
|
| I Should Know Better by Now |
[Jan. 28th, 2006|10:08 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  calm | ] |
Note to self.
Rock a bye baby
In the tree top.
When the mood swings
Your cradle will rock.
Once the whore moans,
the hormones have won.
So go to the doctor
and he'll prescribe some.
---
Note to self.
Panic attacks, Mood swings, Fear, Trepidation, Self-loathing, Anger . . .
are not normal; are not based upon rational thought; are automatically suspected of being the result of the bad genes you got from your rotten family.
So go to the doctor, idiot, and have him adjust your meds.
---
I did.
He did.
I feel much better now.
--Knotty |
|
|
| It's Scary Being on My Own |
[Jan. 26th, 2006|08:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  contemplative | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Paul Simon | ] |
Don't get me wrong. I'm doing OK. I go to teach every MWF afternoon at school and still have some guys to tutor. I talked with the coach and he's counting on me to tutor again this summer. By May, I'll have enough for a down payment on a house and will be making enough so I won't have to teach or tutor.
I'm doing OK.
Really I am.
Honest.
Why am I so afraid?
--Knotty |
|
|
| Moving Right Along . . . Faster! |
[Jan. 18th, 2006|12:29 am] |
I am licensed (provisionally) and wheeled!
I am the proud owner of a blue, 39,485-mile, 2002, Chevy Malibu.
I was so scared I was going to wreck that I drove over 300 miles already. I have to admit that I feel more comfortable, but It's like my eyeballs are tired from trying to watch everything.
But tomorrow it's back to normal. I keep looking at my hotlist and cringing that I let opportunities pass me by. But I have to have a life. And that means that I take a day off occasionally. (Like MLK for instance when the stock market is closed anyhow (Giggle!))
"Why the hell did you buy a Malibu?"
"Because I'm 4' 9 3/4", you idiot! AND the seats and pedals are adjustable so I can actually see out."
Goodnight.
--Knotty |
|
|
| Happy Birthday to Me-e-e-e-e. I'm Sixteen and Fr-e-e-e-e! |
[Jan. 14th, 2006|10:21 am] |
Yesterday was my 16th birthday and I filed for emancipation the minute the courthouse opened.
At 3 p.m. yesterday, three of my football players, a notary, and an off-duty sheriff in uniform served my birth father with notice. He wasn't home, but my mom told me tearfully that he was "down at the bar."
She didn't wish me a happy birthday or ask how I've been or anything. I said nothing more to her. We drove down to the highway and pulled up in the parking lot outside the beer bar where he hangs out with his redneck buds.
My guys and the sheriff went inside and told him that his daughter was outside and needed to see him "right now." He walked across the parking lot to where I stood at the back of the SUV with a banker's box containing copies of the documents I've prepared should he decide to make trouble.
My guys stood out of earshot and kept his pals inside.
I've rehearsed the speech for months. I hear it in my dreams. I'm sure my voice shook from fear and rage.
"Dad, I've filed for emancipation. That means the court will declare me an adult and not under your control. Here in this box is evidence I will show the police if you contest my emancipation. If I do show him what's in this box, the sheriff will arrest you right this minute and take you to jail.
"This paper is for the court. It says that you are willingly support my emancipation. Sign it, the notary will stamp it, we'll go away, and you'll never see me again."
I called the notary over. She witnessed his signature. His hand shook as he signed. He kept his head down and his eyes kept flashing nervously over to four, big, mean-looking guys I'd brought with me.
"If I ever see you again, if you ever call or bother me in any way, you WILL be arrested. Get OUT of my life!"
I stood like an avenging amazon and pointed him back to the bar. He turned and shuffled away. He hadn't said more than three words.
I can't believe that this puny little coward was the object of a lifetime of fear. He's a pathetic drunkard, stumbling through this existence without a clue. This was the ogre that offered to tan my hide as a solution to all my needs. This was the giant who towered over me in a screaming, drunken rage and threw my precious books in the trash.
I stood there like revenge incarnate. Somewhere in my mind I heard a large, heavy door slam shut.
The sheriff and my guys signed their witness of service statement, it was notarized, then I shook the hands of the sheriff and the notary, and paid them off.
Alone in the SUV, we pulled out onto the highway and I burst into tears. I cried from relief. I cried from the adrenalin coursing through my veins. I cried for the child I never was. I cried for loving family I never had. I cried for poor, poor, pitiful me. I wailed for what must've seemed like hours to my three dear friends. Poor Hank was my shoulder to cry on and I left it a sodden mess.
Instead of joyful and happy, I was depressed, sad and morose.
At six p.m. we pulled up to my apartment. My mood shifted . . . a lot.
The front porch was festooned with crepe paper and all my friends were there. There was a limo and my best friend, Chris took me upstairs to shower and change. She(they?) had laid out a slinky LBD and a v-e-r-r-r-r-y sexy pushup from Vikky C. (Now I know why she took me to the mall last week!)
A quick limo ride to the Fairview told me this was not going to be catered by Pizza Hut.
The hall held a hundred or so. My ex-boyfriend David and his grandparents, Judge and Mrs. Judge were there. Most of my Guys, past and present were there (even two that didn't make the team) and several coaches and their wives. The entire three dorm contingent of the Wunderkinder were there with the six Hausenvolk and counselors. Professors, students, and a whole bunch of other people.
As I came in, a real honest-to-god band played Happy Birthday.
I cried.
I did a lot of crying yesterday.
Every time someone wished me a happy birthday, I cried. Every time someone told how proud they were of me, I cried. When Hank stepped on my foot, I cried.
I don't dance very well, but no one seemed to care. After my foot swelled up, I danced even worse, then not at all.
At 10 p.m. the restaurant kicked us out. I lost my shoe but I couldn't have put it on anyhow. I was sure that lovable, klutzy, Hank had broken my damned toe. He drove me to the Medical Center and I got an xray. It's not broken, but it hurts bad enough.
Dear Diary, It was a day I will remember and cherish. I've made some really caring and true friends in the last three years here. I am among the most fortunate of gi . . . er . . . WOMEN!
--Knotty |
|
|
| Settling Down to Life |
[Jan. 2nd, 2006|09:28 pm] |
I'm down to a routine which, from the outside, seems boring.
But I am far from bored.
I'm up at 6 and spend an hour exercising. My stationary bike was making too much noise for the other tenants, so the landlord cleared a space in the basement where I could pedal my ass to my heart's content while I check on my RSS feeds for the latest news.
At seven, I shower, have a low-carb breakfast, answer my emails, and read a book until eight.
Then I go online and check the stock gaps on my watch list. If there are any surprises I have time to check them out before 9:30 when the starting gate opens.
Then it's six and a half hours of intense, non-stop concentration.
I got a new video card for my G5 Tower and am running four monitors simultaneously. On the left two, I have my eight pre-planned stocks of the day (sotd) refreshing each minute. Most of them are bought immediately, but frequently I'm waiting for an expected trigger before buying.
On my big center screen, I have six windows showing data feeds and analyses. On the right is my note sheets, email, clock and Excel windows. I have a script watching my eight sotd and it bongs if a trigger happens. But usually, I'm on it with my finger on the mouse button before that occurs.
Usually I agree with my formulas and buy or sell at the trigger point. But sometimes it's just too good to pass up a fast rising stock and I let it rise some more. Or maybe something doesn't feel just right and I'll back off. This is where art meets science. You get a feeling about these things. As time goes by, I'm trusting my feelings more and more. But frequently it turns out that not only was my feeling off, the formula was off too. That's when I go in and see if my formulas need tweaking.
I have a complete history of my calculations and can run them over and over while tweaking my spreadsheets. If a new criteria shows I would have increased profit, it stays in. If not, it is deactivated.
I have over a hundred criteria, currently deactivated, that I hope to resurrect. Way down deep inside, I feel that there is something in there that I'm missing. And when I find it, the little light bulb over my head will light up and I will bask in its warm glow . . . and squeeze another percentage point out of the stock market. I have got to share this. My "aggressive" fund (the one I work daily) is now $25,376, and my total investment portfolio is $42,870. (S-h-h-h-h-h!)
By 4:30 I am completely drained. I shower and throw my work clothes (terry cloth shorts and a t-shirt) in the washer. I have a fan that keeps me fairly dry, but this job is as sweaty as an aerobics class. After a fifteen minute nap, I feel much better. If the day is warm, I go outside for a while to walk out the kinks. This is a college neighborhood, so there are lots of joggers. I wouldn't go out alone if I didn't feel safe.
I have a high-carb supper; usually pasta. I've learned a dozen different ways to make Ragu. I've actually devised a recipe for snow cream (without snow) . . . then I started messing with it and it's more like real ice cream now. Mint was good. So was banana. But Cookie Dough! Yum!
After supper, I read, watch the news, check the after-hours trading, surf the net and watch TV. At ten I have a bowl of my ice cream and curl up in bed with a book to drop off shortly after midnight.
Friday night there is always a crowd at "The Perfesser's" down the street. It's not a bar, It's his house. Nobody seems to care that I'm fifteen. Just so you don't spout bullshit or show up empty-handed. During the school year, you can usually find a few of the Wunderkinder in a heated argument with someone five times their age. But here in the off season, it's pretty laid back.
Saturdays I have karate class, do my shopping, and hang out at the mall. I can't wait til I get my car. Riding the bus is so PLEBIAN! There is a high school near campus and it was strange to be taking Driver's Ed with kids my own age. I almost forgot how bad it was to wait for the lowest common denominator.
My guys come and take me places. They've learned (as have I) that I like concerts and will take me and actually sit through them with me. Sundays, they come over and we hang out and watch TV. I got a little 27-inch LCD that is fine for me, but they want me to get a big humongous wall-mounted monstrosity. I set aside all of my salary and a percentage of my stock profits for personal use (Like rent and food) I've saved $8,212 for a car and I'm just itching to go shopping. I want a sporty little thing but I'd feel safer in a tank. I'll probably wind up with something in the middle, but I still have to reach the pedals.
---
I grew another inch this year and I'm all the way up to 4' 10" and 90 pounds. Yes, I actually have boobs. But my bra only has a bit part . . . not a supporting role.
My meds have my hormone deficiencies under control, and I no longer go out during a full moon to bite people's throats.
I hate my hair. It is so thin you can see my scalp. Mom has nice hair, so I didn't get it from her.
---
Next week the new semester starts and I'll actually be teaching a regular math class. That, plus my tutoring, will give me a "real" job for the purposes of my manumission. Once it is final, Feb 13, I will still finish the semester, but at this rate I'll be self-sufficient by May and won't need to have a job for "show."
Hallelujah! In ten days from today, I'll file the papers at the court house and several of my guys are driving me to see dear old dad over the weekend to have him served. We will have a notary with us and a paper for him to sign stating that he will not contest my emancipation.
So help me God! If he even tries to screw this up I will swear out a warrant as soon as I can get to a cop. I might even take a cop along to help scare to son of a bitch.
So much for 2005.
Hel-LO 2006!
--Knotty |
|
|
| It's Lonesome, But It's Home |
[Dec. 22nd, 2005|01:53 am] |
I am bored shitless.
I attacked the apartment and now it's spotless. I even painted the walls. I feel so domestic! But it's great to be in a place to call my own. I'm saving up to buy a HUD repo. They're typically dumps, so I can fix it up and sell it at a profit. That will give me a decent down payment on a real house.
So now what do I do? I've caught up on everything.
---
My Guys (the ones I tutor) came over last Saturday and threw me a house-swarming party. The landlord was here for the whole thing and everyone spent the night talking about sports. It was pretty pathetic because everyone treats me like a little kid. But I enjoyed their company even though I share no interests with them.
I'll probably have to do something drastic and outrageous to let everyone know I'm NOT Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes. But that will be AFTER my emancipation is final. Until then I will sit here all chaste and pure and polish my halo.
---
I've prowled LiveJournal and asked some gamers what they recommend for a newbie. I don't even know what questions to ask. I know there have to be some shared universe games that run on a Mac. I'd like to see if I find gaming interesting before I buy an xbox or something. I have a little 27" LCD TV that I picked up real cheap yesterday from a student that needs money. I hope it's not stolen. :lol:
Until now, I didn't even have a TV, Much less something to put a game box on.
---
One of my techie friends came over with a Pringles can antenna and hooked me up to an open network, so I'm no longer piggybacking on my landlord.
---
Goodnight.
--Knotty |
|
|
| I'm On My Own -- YEA!! |
[Dec. 16th, 2005|12:48 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  happy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Simon and Garfunkle | ] |
At noon, I finished my last final.
As of three p.m., I was officially out of college (dorm) and into my wonderful (albeit dingy) apartment. That was not an arduous task, since my worldly possessions consist of my books, clothes, a (now superfluous) tiny fridge, my computers and stuff, and a beautiful old oak desk.
A trip to Wal-Mart for linens for the bigger bed, some food, a cheap set of dishes and cleaning supplies. (Lots and lots of disinfectant and antibacterial spray) I must forgo the pure beauty of numbers and attack the less precise and funky word of domesticity. The place stinx and needs massive doses of Pinesol.
Then everybody goes home.
It's silent!
I'm truly alone.
It's wonderful!
I take a shower, watch a little TV, check my email, check the stocks, water Piss (Pisonia brunonianum) and Grrr(anium), fix myself a bowl of Mayfield snowcream . . .
The silence of my schedule hits me. I have no studying to do. There's no place I need to go. Here it is after midnight and I don't need to get up early or stay up late cramming for a big class in the morning.
No deeds to do,
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Goodnight world!
--Knotty |
|
|
| Goodbye cruel world (Sorta) |
[Jun. 27th, 2005|08:39 pm] |
I've been doing this journal sporadically for a year and a half. (A year since it had to be redone.)
Other than Britthobbit, there is no one I particularly care to correspond with and apparently no one cares about me.
So basically I'm going to ignore LiveJournal from now on as a waste of time.
If someone does stumble over this accidentally and care to drop me a line, my public email is KnotGullible@gmail.com
Have a good life, y'all.
--Knotty |
|
|
| Shame on me. |
[Jun. 26th, 2005|12:36 am] |
Every time Britthobbit posts, I feel all guilty and have to rush right over and update my Live Journal.
That in itself should not be a problem. After all, I lead an exciting life . . . right?
Let's see:
- 6 a.m. -- rise and shine. (Are you thrilled yet?)
stationary bike for 45 minutes while reading
shower, dress, study, and go to my class
- 9 a.m.-noon -- teach math to the thundering herd.
- 1 p.m.-4 p.m. -- teach math to the thundering herd.
- 4 p.m.-bedtime -- study, research.
WAKE UP!
Damn! I have GOT to get a life!
--Knotty |
|
|
| Not Me This Time |
[Jun. 22nd, 2005|01:24 am] |
I just spent a weekend in the hospital. Our Hausmother had a heart attack Saturday and I went to sit watch with her husband -- our Hausfather. She is now off the critical list and getting back to her old self. They installed a pacemaker to regulate her heartbeat and it's seems to be doing OK.
I worry that she won't be able to continue here. The place wouldn't be the same. And if she goes . . . he goes!
They have both been so supportive in my quest for manumission and especially during the first couple of semesters when I was a total basket case.
If I could have picked my parents, I would have picked them.
--Knotty |
|
|
| Half Past June |
[Jun. 13th, 2005|10:46 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  giggly | ] |
I LOVE being a teacher!
My first group of wannabe Devils started today. I have five great big sweaty men whose total weight is (exactly) 1,395 pounds. Our dear coach will sweat a lot of that off before fall.
I swear to God I felt like Tinkerbell (what the guys call me), perched crosslegged on the teacher's desk with five of the lost boys in a semicircle around me.
Nobody in their right mind wants to hear about a math class, but I have to share what happened at lunch.
We roll into an all-you-can-eat place . . . all 1,395 pounds of beef on the hoof . . . oh yeah . . . plus 85 pounds -- and the waitress is so curious she can hardly take our drink order, I head for the bathroom and she stops me.
"Who ARE those guys?" with the unspoken 'and how did you get five of them?'
Possible answers flashed through my mind, "I whipped 'em up in my lab out of spare parts," "They're an experiment in mind control," but I settled on, "They're my ballet troup. We're giving a show tonight."
I love this place!
--Knotty |
|
|
| Health Insurance |
[May. 31st, 2005|10:33 pm] |
I checked up on health insurance today. My student plan is through Blue Cross/Blue Shield (BCBS) and is covering my medical problems. When I go "on my own" next January, I can switch to the teacher plan through the state, but at my expense as a part-time instructor . . . Still BCBS. Then, when I switch to a plan I have to pay for completely, I can keep BCBS and they have to accept me as pre-insured at the regular rates.
mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaaaaa
--Knotty |
|
|
| My Stock Picks |
[May. 28th, 2005|05:15 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  productive | ] |
Everyone is on my case to share my system of picking stocks.
Without getting technical, I have three categories. Hold, Aggressive and Blitzkrieg. For me to go into the latter two here would need more than a general knowledge; so I'll discuss "Hold."
In the Hold category, are investments that I consider safe in the short term with an above average growth potential. I prefer to invest in stocks where I know something about the company.
Chico's is such a stock. I can go visit their stores, talk to the people, and see the results of their business model. They are aggressive marketers, filling mailboxes with their catalogs every time you turn around.
Last fall the stock tanked on rumors. I LOVE rumors! Rumors make stocks do things that they shouldn't. And in this case, I saw it take a dive.
http://money.excite.com/jsp/ct/bigchart.jsp?symbol_search_text=CHS&chartdate=7
Look at the one year chart and the five year chart. The five year chart shows steady growth. These people are doing something right. I check the stores and the web site. I read the prospectus. Looks good! This stock is now on my daily watch list.
So when it dropped from 23 to 17 I was confident that it was a momentary hiccup and bought (Calc Value = $1.00). When it hit thirty after a split last month (Calc Value = $1.76), I sold. After the split it dropped (they always do) to $25 (Calc Value = $1.00) and I bought again. Now it's $33 (Calc Value = $1.32).
So let's see the money. $1.00 grew to $1.76. Then ($1.72 * 1.32) to $2.32. (232% since last fall!)
Now, look to the 5-year chart again. A solid growth line. Steady management. Nice, well populated stores. Aggressive direct mail. Modern classy web site (http://www.chicos.com/).
Damn! What's not to like?
--Knotty |
|
|
| Who Am I? |
[May. 28th, 2005|04:58 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  awake | ] |
Well . . . right now I'm an insomniac. Apparently if my meds are right, I don't need to sleep except in class. Maybe I'll be sleepy after the sun comes up and I bite someone's throat. (Ooops! Is that my mood swinging again?)
The doctor was so mean! He was upset that I hadn't come to visit when my weight dropped below 80 pounds. Good thing I have full medical and a ten-dollar copay; he wants me back every Monday until we get all the different meds balanced.
That's something I'll have to figure into the equation . . . Medical insurance.
My hausmutter is sweet. She took me out for a milkshake and a burger last night "to fatten me up." That way she doesn't have to cook. During the school year, we have a cook here at the Wunderkind dorm. But this summer, I'm the only one here and I'm pretty much on my own. I have a nasty habit of reading through supper. At least at noon I'm usually out and am reminded to eat.
Breakfast is a bowl of Cheerios.
In my larder, I have PopTarts, granola bars and oatmeal cookies. Except for the cookies, they're getting old. Dammit, I just don't get hungry!!!
--Knotty |
|
|
| Take These Pills and . . . |
[May. 27th, 2005|12:25 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | Improved | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Basket Case (Green Day) | ] |
I went to the doctor Tuesday for some blood tests, thinking my shitty mood was the result of a hormone imbalance.
It was. My meds have now increased in dose, diameter and digit. They're bigger, badder, and there are more of them.
That's supposed to improve my mood?
Shee-yut!
---
But truthfully, I wouldn't be here without them so I shouldn't complain that the docs can actually counteract my poor corpsuckles' failings.
--Knotty |
|
|
| Laziness |
[May. 16th, 2005|07:31 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The Sound of Silence (and I don't mean the song) | ] |
Welcome to my lazy summer.
The first summer session starts Thursday and I'm taking only two classes. (Ending in late June)
I'll be touring off and on during the summer for the TIP program.
I'll be tutoring math four days a week.
There are three ed studies that they insist I participate in. (A condition of my scholarship)
In the two years I've been here, it strikes me that I have no life. Or, more accurately, college has become my life as I concentrate on my goals of simultaneously graduating and achieving freedom.
-----
I just hope reality doesn't completely shatter my dreams.
Looking at next January . . .
My tutoring will only bring in $12,000 a year, max.
Duke will pay me $400 a month for every class I teach, but will not allow me to teach more than 9 credit hours each semester. That's another $8,000.
I am "advising" four investors. This is my padding. I'm not counting it, but it's considerable.
My investments (would have) brought in $15,000 in 2004 (had I not plowed everything under.) So far this year they've brought in $18,500; all of which has been reinvested. Let's say I use $10,000 of that the first year.
That gives me an annual gross income of $30,000; $20,000 net spendable -- TO START
-
Year one
Upon manumission, IMMEDIATELY buy a condo.
($90,000 mortgage, 6.125%, 0 points, $2045.86 closing, $525.23 a month.)
(I have co-signers coming out of the woodwork in exchange for investment advice. I don't want to go there, but I will to get started.)
Year two
Tutor, but not teach.
Increase takeout to $15,000
Maintain advice clients at four.
Year three, age 18
Investment full time as only source of income.
Get a life.
--Knotty |
|
|
| Green Door |
[May. 15th, 2005|04:26 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | awake | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Green Door | ] |
. . . one more night without sleepin'
It's awfully quiet in this big, century-old house.
Built in the 1890s for a man with fifteen children and a staff of five. Nowadays, It holds eighteen kids and a set of houseparents for the Wunderkind Program here at Duke. Except this summer, there is just the houseparents and me. And tonight, it's not even them.
It's awfully quiet in this big, century-old house.
---
I went shopping yesterday with some of my ill-gotten gain. I bought a pair of Nikes at the discount shoe store for $29. My old ones are pretty much worn out. While I was in the mood to put rubber on the road, I bought a new tire and book basket for my bike.
---
Speaking of ill-gotten gain. One of my stocks jumped 12% last week on rumors of a buyout. I don't think they have a chance of holding that price very long, so I sold. Since I bought it last March, It's gained 32%. That's a nice profit for less than two months. Monday I'll split the money and put the gain into my "aggressive" account and plow the original money back into the "grow."
I'll be shifting a lot of my stake into the "aggressive" and "blitzkrieg" accounts this summer as I finally have time away from classes to do research. I've been lucky so far in that nothing I've gambled on has taken a real tumble. It's inevitable, though.
Funny is that I've got this huge Excel spreadsheet with my model on it to give me meaningful numbers. I've spent countless hours tweaking this puppy. And it still is running a poor second to my hunches.
Go figure (some more)
--Knotty |
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