Wednesday night: Shenanigans a plenty thru the halls of Daum four, yet I sit the sidelines the entire time. Talks of mudwrestling, riverswimming, and other general dumbness that I would normally dig fill the halls outside my room as I intentionally go to bed at 7:00pm.
It's not self punishment, I just know I have two midterms the next day and I have atleast two months of sleep deprivation keeping my head spinning. I sleep and get pumped for early morning Basic Measurement exam hell. I sleep. Alot.
Actually, I wake at 10:30am- realize I've overslept my midterm by two hours- vault out of bed in a flurry- and feel incredibly sick; albeit well rested. I studied alot for that test, a sad fact considering I could have studied for the health midterm I had later (that I actually went to...and bombed- for reason, see:preceding sentence.) I even got the professor to set up a make up exam, a sad fact considering I left town that night and couldn't possibly be at his office the next morning (truth be told, I probably would've overslept the make up; making the prof super pissed and me more of an ass.)
Whatev- it's only 8% of my grade. No bigge. Sort of. Anyways, I finally got reconnected with the world as I just reactivated my old flip phone. Two more weeks and I'll get my Upstage back, completely leaving my caveman-like-handicapp behibnd and returning to the absolutely necessary world of MP3 playing, YouTube video ringering, 1.3 megapixel, two gigabit cell phoning- god, I hate being a savage. Two more weeks...
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Happy
Don't be fooled by that last post. I'm not just on a constant rant off all the time, I'm actually pretty chill. And also, I never meant for this to be a diary, I was thinking more like a thinking notepad. Like this:
I am happy. I do feel good here at college. It's a different kind of feel good, tho, then back home. I'm meeting alot of new people and I'm doing what I want, two things I couldn't have fully had if I was in high school- two things I really came here for.
I have almost given up the doctor/premed/surgeon dream. I realize I probably only want that for the money and that I wouldn't really love it. I do, however, love to learn. Lots. I'm thinking maybe changing my major to Anthropology: the study of humans. Then I could learn about everything (philosophy, culture, history, biological evolution, knowledge, economics, language, hell what is there to learn about that DOESN'T have to do with humans?)
I know I gave up on the engineering dream almost five minutes into orientation, and giving up the doctor dream will be really tough; especially knowing that it'd be great for future career and salary opportunities and that almost everyone I left (especially from Lewis Central faculty/class of '08) but I almost don't even care. I want to leave that dream behind because I know its not what I actually want. I focus less and less on my future career, and have almost stopped caring what my hometown thinks of me (which I used to really zone in on, and gained alot of happiness from). This is a change, not a forfeit. A positive change; for me, it means looking at my life differently- which, in turn, directly changes what makes me happy. Luckily, whatever that is, it's still working, even after changing.
I am happy. I do feel good here at college. It's a different kind of feel good, tho, then back home. I'm meeting alot of new people and I'm doing what I want, two things I couldn't have fully had if I was in high school- two things I really came here for.
I have almost given up the doctor/premed/surgeon dream. I realize I probably only want that for the money and that I wouldn't really love it. I do, however, love to learn. Lots. I'm thinking maybe changing my major to Anthropology: the study of humans. Then I could learn about everything (philosophy, culture, history, biological evolution, knowledge, economics, language, hell what is there to learn about that DOESN'T have to do with humans?)
I know I gave up on the engineering dream almost five minutes into orientation, and giving up the doctor dream will be really tough; especially knowing that it'd be great for future career and salary opportunities and that almost everyone I left (especially from Lewis Central faculty/class of '08) but I almost don't even care. I want to leave that dream behind because I know its not what I actually want. I focus less and less on my future career, and have almost stopped caring what my hometown thinks of me (which I used to really zone in on, and gained alot of happiness from). This is a change, not a forfeit. A positive change; for me, it means looking at my life differently- which, in turn, directly changes what makes me happy. Luckily, whatever that is, it's still working, even after changing.
Lance never has to deal with this shit
Sunday, 4am: I buy a brand new Schwinn bicycle from a shady fellow who has a sad story about his parents and rent money (total bike price: $30). He is sad to see his bike transfer ownership to me, and even tells me he'll probably jump me someday to get his bike back. I laugh uneasily at what was hopefully a bad joke. I then realize that I had told him earlier my dorm hall of residence... I'll just keep up it in my room and hope it was a bad joke.
Sunday, 8pm: I ride my slick new bike down to Walmart to buy a bike lock. Two miles in and I feel a thud-thud-thud. I stop and check it out; my back tire is flat. So I ride/walk it the last half mile to the store.
Being there to purchase a bike lock, I naturally didn't have one. And being at a Walmart, I naturally was worried about leaving my slick new bike outside in the dark unlocked. I ask the crusty old greeter if I could place it somewhere. He tells me to put it in the area between the entrance doors. I smile and say politely, jovially, and jokingly, "you take real good watch of her, ok?" He frowns and angrily tells me he is not responsible for its well being. I think to myself that I would love to kick this man in the knee caps for being so rude, and start to wheel my bike into the store; I wasn't going to leave it out there for some other Walmart shopper to steal it while the old bastard greeted the thief out without a care. The devil-man then got VERY testy and made me place the bike back, being a big time d-bag and making me place it in a specific spot and specific position by the FRONT door.
I sprint thru the store, buy a lock (total bike price $40) and a tire pump (total bike price $50) and fake out the old greeter back at the door by pretending to almost run into him. I wheel the bike outside and start to attach the pump frame and lock to my bike. A friendly man comes over and helps me pump up the tire, explaining that he was the bicycle assembler for that Walmart and that the tire was just low, not blown, in his expert opinion. I thank him, and he tells me his name is John the Walmart Bike Repairman (I added in his title) and to stop by the next day after 10 and he'd take a look at it. So I spend about half an hour more finishing attaching the $20 in new accessories to my frame. I feel the back tire. Its flat again. It WAS blown.
I ride home, stopping every half mile to refill my back tire. And get back to Daum late. I plan to myself to return to Wally World the next day, meet John and have him fix my blown back tire.
Monday Night 10pm, the Shit gets heavy: I leave quickly for Walmart at ten o'clock to meet my good friend John the Repairman. I have to stop every quarter mile or so and refill my back tire, its getting worse. I arrive at the store and ask to see John. The first cashier I talk to pretends I'm crazy and pushes me off to another lady- who asks if I want to leave my bike and call a cab, because John left two hours earlier, but could fix it in the morning and call me back. Problems: I don't have a phone, and I'm not leaving my pride and joy at a Walmart overnight (I mean, come on, I bought my security chain at a freakin Walmart!) So I spend the next couple hours employing the help of a bearded midget, a nocturnal Mexican, two lesbians, and a hick to repair my tire using some patches (total bike price: $55) and a handy little tool kit (total bike price: $70).
I get back onto the road and speed off happily ever after. I ride into darkness on a quiet, smooth road running next to the airport. As if the scene weren't eerily mysterious enough, a light fog blanketed the road and adjacent corn fields. It was mystical. It was magical. It was what I had bought a bike for. I even thought to myself "this. this here, makes it all worth it."
The end.
I wish. Literally seconds after processing that last thought, I feel a thud-thud-thud-thud. It felt different this time- my front tire was popped. I then spent an hour removing, patching, and replacing the tire using my $40 in handy Walmart accessories. I feel the tire, the patch didn't work. The valve on the tubing was completely busted, and I had just wasted another hour in the cold dark. I decided to ride it home on the flat tire, which was IMPOSSIBLE to fill because a valve can't be patched.
I hop on and spin my legs wildly three times around, fall over and look at my bike. The chain fell off. I couldn't fix this. I scream, cuss, cry without tears, and laugh hysterically. Then proceed to walk my bike the final 1.5 miles home.
Exhausted and crazed, I laugh and talk outloud to myself. Its the only thing I can do to keep from tossing the Schwinn and all its fancy new equipment directly into the thick Iowa River. I smile when I realize what is going on: I am walking a broken bike, in the dark, shouting at myself, and laughing hysterically... in the cold dark 2am night- I am a crazy hobo, and there is nothing I can do to deny it.
Whenever I have enough sanity recovered to return to cycling, I'm going to wash my bike (it was drizzling the whole time, by the way) and go out and buy some new wheel tubes (total bike price: $100).
Sunday, 8pm: I ride my slick new bike down to Walmart to buy a bike lock. Two miles in and I feel a thud-thud-thud. I stop and check it out; my back tire is flat. So I ride/walk it the last half mile to the store.
Being there to purchase a bike lock, I naturally didn't have one. And being at a Walmart, I naturally was worried about leaving my slick new bike outside in the dark unlocked. I ask the crusty old greeter if I could place it somewhere. He tells me to put it in the area between the entrance doors. I smile and say politely, jovially, and jokingly, "you take real good watch of her, ok?" He frowns and angrily tells me he is not responsible for its well being. I think to myself that I would love to kick this man in the knee caps for being so rude, and start to wheel my bike into the store; I wasn't going to leave it out there for some other Walmart shopper to steal it while the old bastard greeted the thief out without a care. The devil-man then got VERY testy and made me place the bike back, being a big time d-bag and making me place it in a specific spot and specific position by the FRONT door.
I sprint thru the store, buy a lock (total bike price $40) and a tire pump (total bike price $50) and fake out the old greeter back at the door by pretending to almost run into him. I wheel the bike outside and start to attach the pump frame and lock to my bike. A friendly man comes over and helps me pump up the tire, explaining that he was the bicycle assembler for that Walmart and that the tire was just low, not blown, in his expert opinion. I thank him, and he tells me his name is John the Walmart Bike Repairman (I added in his title) and to stop by the next day after 10 and he'd take a look at it. So I spend about half an hour more finishing attaching the $20 in new accessories to my frame. I feel the back tire. Its flat again. It WAS blown.
I ride home, stopping every half mile to refill my back tire. And get back to Daum late. I plan to myself to return to Wally World the next day, meet John and have him fix my blown back tire.
Monday Night 10pm, the Shit gets heavy: I leave quickly for Walmart at ten o'clock to meet my good friend John the Repairman. I have to stop every quarter mile or so and refill my back tire, its getting worse. I arrive at the store and ask to see John. The first cashier I talk to pretends I'm crazy and pushes me off to another lady- who asks if I want to leave my bike and call a cab, because John left two hours earlier, but could fix it in the morning and call me back. Problems: I don't have a phone, and I'm not leaving my pride and joy at a Walmart overnight (I mean, come on, I bought my security chain at a freakin Walmart!) So I spend the next couple hours employing the help of a bearded midget, a nocturnal Mexican, two lesbians, and a hick to repair my tire using some patches (total bike price: $55) and a handy little tool kit (total bike price: $70).
I get back onto the road and speed off happily ever after. I ride into darkness on a quiet, smooth road running next to the airport. As if the scene weren't eerily mysterious enough, a light fog blanketed the road and adjacent corn fields. It was mystical. It was magical. It was what I had bought a bike for. I even thought to myself "this. this here, makes it all worth it."
The end.
I wish. Literally seconds after processing that last thought, I feel a thud-thud-thud-thud. It felt different this time- my front tire was popped. I then spent an hour removing, patching, and replacing the tire using my $40 in handy Walmart accessories. I feel the tire, the patch didn't work. The valve on the tubing was completely busted, and I had just wasted another hour in the cold dark. I decided to ride it home on the flat tire, which was IMPOSSIBLE to fill because a valve can't be patched.
I hop on and spin my legs wildly three times around, fall over and look at my bike. The chain fell off. I couldn't fix this. I scream, cuss, cry without tears, and laugh hysterically. Then proceed to walk my bike the final 1.5 miles home.
Exhausted and crazed, I laugh and talk outloud to myself. Its the only thing I can do to keep from tossing the Schwinn and all its fancy new equipment directly into the thick Iowa River. I smile when I realize what is going on: I am walking a broken bike, in the dark, shouting at myself, and laughing hysterically... in the cold dark 2am night- I am a crazy hobo, and there is nothing I can do to deny it.
Whenever I have enough sanity recovered to return to cycling, I'm going to wash my bike (it was drizzling the whole time, by the way) and go out and buy some new wheel tubes (total bike price: $100).
Monday, October 15, 2007
About Me. About Nothing At All.
I smile because I am in a good mood 84% of the time. If I'm in a bad mood, I think about it for a second and smile because I think hardship is funny (especially mine.)
I have tried, and failed, many times; but have never successfully used a pay phone in my life.
I absolutely despise racism, unless it makes me laugh.
I have narrowed my career interests down to chemistry, medicine, teaching, hobo, computers, engineering, drug research, art history, public health, anthropology, business, marketing, cowboy, translator, writer, producer, office scrub, pharmacist, or other.
I don't believe in anything but myself.
I'm pretty sure karma and irony are real.
I have tried, and failed, many times; but have never successfully used a pay phone in my life.
I absolutely despise racism, unless it makes me laugh.
I have narrowed my career interests down to chemistry, medicine, teaching, hobo, computers, engineering, drug research, art history, public health, anthropology, business, marketing, cowboy, translator, writer, producer, office scrub, pharmacist, or other.
I don't believe in anything but myself.
I'm pretty sure karma and irony are real.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
worst class ever
Basic Measurements, 004:021, is the worst class. Ever.
I just spent 8 hours straight doing the Spreadsheet assignment for tomorrow, battling sleep deprivation and the fact that the material was largely not covered in lecture/the book. My reward for such heroic studyship? My $350 cellphone just broke. I fucking hate basic measurements.
The material is boring, hard, and, for the most part, menial. The spreadsheet assignments and lab reports take soo much time to complete (and complete in a specific, unspecified, format.)
You see, you need to have your reports perfectly formatted (ex: Legend on bottom, descriptive chart title without "versus" in it, Label axes: Title, (units), blah blah blah) yet these standards are rarely discussed. They are vaguely mentioned in homework evaluations, although these are only given out normally after many weeks- meaning you only learn how to do something well by the time the class (and its assignments) have moved on to other, more difficult, topics.
At least the professor is somewhat nice, and 3/5ths of the TA's are not d-bags.
Does this make up for the fact that the 6 hours of lab a week and 2 hours of lecture plus countless homeworks are only worth THREE FUCKING SEMESTER HOURS?!?!?!
no. and that is why it is the worst class ever.
I just spent 8 hours straight doing the Spreadsheet assignment for tomorrow, battling sleep deprivation and the fact that the material was largely not covered in lecture/the book. My reward for such heroic studyship? My $350 cellphone just broke. I fucking hate basic measurements.
The material is boring, hard, and, for the most part, menial. The spreadsheet assignments and lab reports take soo much time to complete (and complete in a specific, unspecified, format.)
You see, you need to have your reports perfectly formatted (ex: Legend on bottom, descriptive chart title without "versus" in it, Label axes: Title, (units), blah blah blah) yet these standards are rarely discussed. They are vaguely mentioned in homework evaluations, although these are only given out normally after many weeks- meaning you only learn how to do something well by the time the class (and its assignments) have moved on to other, more difficult, topics.
At least the professor is somewhat nice, and 3/5ths of the TA's are not d-bags.
Does this make up for the fact that the 6 hours of lab a week and 2 hours of lecture plus countless homeworks are only worth THREE FUCKING SEMESTER HOURS?!?!?!
no. and that is why it is the worst class ever.
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