Tuesday, June 26, 2001

*Fun Physics Class Story*

So I'm sitting there in the Physics lecture that was basically a blur of words that I don't know the definitions of and numbers that didn't match, and worrying that I didn't understand the enormous potential mistake that we're supposed to "BE CAREFUL" about, when I realized that the chances of me actually getting to the point in any problem where I'd have to opportunity to make the huge mistake that the professor is warning us about are small enough to warrant no worries at all.

So. Yeah. I'm at work.

Monday, June 25, 2001

Another week has started,

and so far has sucked substantially less than last week. I'm reading _Confederacy of Dunces_, which has been highly recommended to me by my Other. It's certainly interesting, but I've only read 21 pages. I'll keep y'all updated.

So things are going well with the new car. I'm not nearly as nervous driving it as I was, and hopefully I'll continue to improve. I guess it's good to have something to worry about (shifting) other than worrying about wrecking it, on account of it being a new car to me, and a relatively new one existentially speaking at that. I'm not obsessing anymore for the last 20 minutes of work or class about whether or not I'll be able to get the damn thing home, which is an improvement, albeit a pathetic one.

Sunday, June 24, 2001


Classes tomorrow.


Thursday, June 21, 2001

I'm in the middle of this weird time warp

in which time is stretched out in all directions and I have to walk through every inch of it to get to the next day. My humanities sensibilities tell me that class should be every other day for 2 hours, and this whole 2 lectures 2 recitations and 1 lab per week thing is killing me. I have Fridays off, but it doesn't seem to do me any good considering that I have yet to actually reach one of them. Two class sessions for one course in a day. That's absurd. Thank God I'm not majoring in science.
On top of that, my other class, which seems to fall into the humanities rubric, actually meets for 2 hours and 45 minutes at a time. Jesus. It's hell.

Work is not so much hell. It's just like a 5-hour study period. Imagine my joy.

Monday, June 18, 2001

Well, editing my favorite things list has inspired me to commence a city-wide search for cherry slices. Thanks a lot, self.

Well, within 2 days,

I will have purchased a car and signed a year-long lease on an apartment. Somebody stop me before I decide to have a family - haha, only kidding, Mom. Although, we are getting a dog... That's enough family for now.

Physics 111.

First day: math quiz. Recitation instructor takes pictures of class in order to try to remember names. Self braced for 10 weeks of Physics hell.

Sunday, June 17, 2001

So we were supposed to meet this guy

this morning who was going to show us a bunch of cheap nice dog-friendly apartments. He didn't show up. So I called from a payphone at a nearby gas station, and whenever I call, nobody's there and I get this cryptic voice messaging system and leave a message. Whenever my other calls, he gets the secretary, who, when he called after we got home, apologized and set up another meeting at 4 o'clock today. We're still debating about whether or not to show up.

I'm buying a car, and my experience last week with the car-buying versus my experience over the last 5 months with apartment hunting has really taught me a lot about how to go about finding major things like transportation and housing. A word to the wise - use the internet as much as you can. Because realtors, at least, will never call you back. Ever. I searched the internet for 3 days, and found almost exactly the car that I want for a decent price.

The amount that you have to count on people for information is inversely proportinal to the quality and availability of that information. With the internet, you count on people for both the quality (accuracy) and availability of the information very little - they do enter it one time, but then whatever they enter is available 24 hours a day. Car salesmen do make mistakes entering information on the internet, but not many, and you don't have to wait for them to call you back with the info. You also can choose from a large number if Vehicle History Report services and find out anything that has used that specific vehicle's Vehicle Identification Number in an accident report or anything else. Apartments, on the other hand, are an absolute crapshoot.

Car salespeople are stereotypically in-your-face and annoying. In my experience, they were eager but not too bad. Realtors, on the other hand, are non-existent. If they answer the phone in the first place, consider yourself lucky. If they have all the information about the apartment without having to ask someone else something and get back to you, chances are the place is out of your price range or otherwise not what you're looking for. If, out of a sheer miracle, it's what you're looking for, good luck actually seeing the place. If, on the other hand, you leave a message or they have to get back to you for some other reason, they'll evaporate into nothingness before you hear from them again.

Sorry for the rant. I'm a bit frustrated. Apartment hunting blows, especially if you want to own a dog. You might as well just start building a portable shack out of driftwood and corrugated cardboard, or else saving up for a tent.

Saturday, June 16, 2001

He's like the Monopoly guy, sans monacle!

There's one day of peace and nothing-to-do-ness before the Summer Science Hell starts. Physics and Astronomy, hoowee, I can hardly wait.

Thursday, June 14, 2001


So, here we are. It's my week off. In the background is the Dandy Warhols, "Godless," to which my Other sings, "Hey now you're a garbage man - livin in a garbage can," and so on with garbage-y lyrics instead of ones about, you know, godlessness, is playing.

Hey, if anyone reading this has ever heard of "Wags and Elliot" you might be interested to know that they rip jokes off from the Onion. When accused of doing this, their excuse was that there isn't an original joke left in the whole of infinite existence, that everybody does it, and that they think The Onion's cool too. Yeah, well, the least they could do would be to use jokes that they came up with themselves to advertise for their stinking show. But they don't.

And, if that's actually true that there isn't an original joke left, why the fuck would anybody stay in comedy? How can they live with themselves? Am I wrong to be taking this as something that represents the general and rampant half-assedness of the efforts of people in this country?

Hey now you're a garbage man - livin in a garbage can... The Dandy Warhols are a really interesting band. I've never heard their first two albums, but what I've heard of the third, I really like.

My grades were actually decent. I was shocked. With the week and a half of classes that I missed in the middle of the quarter on top of the massive amount of credit hours I had (it was a masochistic 23), I figured I'd be lucky to pull off a 3.0 this quarter. I think the total was a whopping 3.52, which of course isn't great for some people in this world, but I'm about to throw a party. Holy cow. Alright, enough about grades.

The internet's probably going to toss me here pretty soon. I hope your day and life are going well.

Friday, June 08, 2001

Dear God, I just read over the posts of late and this is the most depressing blog I've ever encountered. Death, misery, bitching, and sloth. I apologize, and promise to at least attempt to step it up.

The only thing the counter's doing is depressing me.

Of course, maybe every last one of the multitudes of my fans are disappointed that I haven't been writing much recently. That's probably it.

Everything pretty much sucks. How can you grow up in a culture and expect yourself not to be affected by it? To not be affected at all by it would be impossible, because even the language you speak has the values of the culture embedded in it. Russian, for instance, has a great many more words for the English "friend" because the friend-like relationships there reach, for one thing, a much greater intensity, and, for another, are categorized more specifically. I wrote a paper about this, and incorporated lots of people's work from the independent study I was lucky enough to be included in, but the feeling of accomplishment from that lasted about 3 hours. I think it was a good paper, though. Which is more than I can say about a lot of my recent "efforts."

Perhaps in my upcoming week off, I can learn enough HTML to make my site worth visiting.

Tuesday, June 05, 2001

Word. Blog*spot's been down, which has actually suited me okay because things have been busy in an away-from-the-computer sort of way. But after Thursday's two finals, I'm completely free until Monday after next. I don't know what I'm going to do - probably something like sit around and sew and read and go outside and skip and listen to music and cook things and then when the paycheck for that pay period comes around, bitch about how I didn't do any work and need money. I haven't done that for a really long time, so I don't feel the least bit guilty about it. Heh. Summer.