Homework break

Every now and then, we need a break from homework. So I started taking pictures of things around my room.

The fish isn't in my room, but it's Bright's fish. Josh, you need to name him!

Too many choices

Focusing on school is getting harder as the day draws nearer. The only problem is there are so many choices.. but it's pretty much down to these two. Unless I decide to spring for disc brakes...





Being outside is much nicer than being in a small dorm room working on homework. And trying to stand on a balanced bicycle is much more fun than sitting on a chair.

As I try to sleep...

I got toothpastefordinner'd!



Uncensored.

It's..

dun DUN DUN

Monday the 13th...

I learned a few important things today that I thought were worth sharing.

You don't tug on Superman's cape,
You don't spit in the wind,
You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim
doot-en doot de da da dee, deet-en dee dee dee


It's off to do homework with me.

WD-40 and Classical Music

I walked into my room to hear my room mate's profession of his love for me.

But first there was the issue of the squeaky door. The door to our room would squeak really really badly. You could open it however you liked, and it would squeak. You could try to sneak past the squeak by opening the door very slowly, but the squeak would never fail to appear as a long, low menacing creak. Or you could try to outrun the squeak by opening the door really really fast, but there the squeak would be, sharp and quick.

It was impossible. Not even talking to it would help. "I really need to you be quiet, it's 3 in the morning and my room mate is sleeping." The squeak would regard such pleas with indifference matched only by Indiana Jones when he was under the influence of that really evil heart-burning guy in the Temple of Doom.

But there are other things to worry about in life, too! Take, for instance, one of my headlights burning out. That is always a pain because the engine compartment of my car is packed. I mean jampacked. That little engine bay was made to hold a humble 4 cylinder, not the beastly V6 that resides in there now. So there is a battery jammed right up behind the headlight, making it nearly impossible to fit your hand in there to unscrew the coupling ring and unclip the headlight. I managed to get that done somehow, anyway.

While at Wal-Mart getting a new headlamp, I decided I may as well get some WD-40 as well. That door of mine was just about to put me over the edge. I grabbed a can of the wondrous water displacer (attempt number 40) and made towards the checkout line.

I scanned the WD-40 in the self-checkout lane. An alarm starts beeping and the screen flashed, "RESTRICTED ITEM!" This put me in a state of complete and utter dismay. I checked the little station where an employee is supposed to attend to these matters. No one was manning the station! I was completely forsook.

I beckon a Wal-Martian from the line next to me to help me out. She scans a little magical card fastened to her wrist and asks to see some ID. It was my first time being carded! Yes!

I then checked out the headlight and made my merry way to the parking lot. I pop the hood to put in the new headlamp. I thought it was funny how people give me strange looks and double takes when you have your hood propped open in a parking lot, but no one even offers to help. They couldn't have known it was only a burned out headlight. It could have been something hugely gigantic, like a marmot in the valvetrain. I really must have looked like I had the situation under control for no one to say anything to me.

Some time passes. Night falls. I go to bed and awake for classes. After the OLS recitation, I bust out the WD-40 and spray the hinges. Then I head out to my thuganomics, er, economics recitation. After an easy quiz in there, I head back to my room.

There my room mate stood as I opened the door. "I love you," he said. I gave him the kind of look you might expect me to give him, and he said, "You fixed the door!"

Whew. That was a close one.

So I head off to take a shower when I notice the strangest thing. There is classical music playing! Someone had set a chair up behind the trash can, and there was a little boombox sitting on there, blasting away with some classical music. It was really nice to be showering and to hear something other than Lil Jon being blasted five rooms down. As I got out of the shower, there was a small group discussing amongst themselves how the radio got there.

"I just wanna know where the chair came from!"

I don't know why they wanted to know. It didn't look like a very comfortable chair. It looked less comfortable than our dorm chairs.

Anyway, I realized why the WD-40 is a restricted item.





This knowledge is brought to you thanks to sensationalist news reports.

No brakes!

I was complaining about how bad the brakes on my bike were. I was asked when the last time I changed the brake pads was.

Now, as far as I know, the brake pads on that bike have never been changed. I'm really not the one to say, though, since it's really not my bike. I'm just using it because it's my best option.

I decide it's worth a try to get new brake pads. It can't hurt anything, at least... unless my own incompetence gets the better of me... It's been known to happen.

Check out the old brakes, yo. Old one is on the left.





Yessir, those are some worn out brake pads. My guess is they're 20 years old.

OLS Exam

So this morning was the morning of our first OLS exam. I walk up to the doors of the Class of 50 lecture hall only to be systematically dehumanized by checkers at the door. "I need your student ID," was all that he uttered. As I pulled it out to show him that I am in fact who I say I am, he yanks it out of my hand! Agh!

With my gaze fixed to the floor and tail between my legs, I took my seat. The professor didn't even show up, but instead there was a proctor who was thoroughly enjoying his position of authority along with his ID-taking cronies. This proctor was young with a tucked in dress shirt, pocket protector, and glasses. His eyes lit up when a student walked in with a Treo. Contraband! The proctor seized the piece of electronic equipment and carefully examined it like a mother examines a newborn child.

Our tests were handed out. They were of multivarious colors, including but not limited to blue, pink, and green. I received a blue test. We were instructed to write the color of our test on our answer sheet, so I wrote Blue.

Halfway through the exam, the Treo started ringing. The proctor's cronies were aroused into a fruitless stir of hustle and bustle. One finally grabbed the Treo and answered it right as the person on the other end hangs up.

Five minutes later, the little Treo begins to ring again. This time, the proctor is on the case.

"Hello?
You've reached OLS 274. The party you're trying to reach is currently in class. Would you like to talk to him?
Oh, well then would you like to speak to one of the 200 students that you're interrupting right now?
Ok, well then, I suggest you stop calling."

Ten minutes later, the Treo rings again. About half the class begs the proctor to ignore it and shut the phone off. He was shamed into complying.

I finished my exam with about three minutes to spare, so I got into a very large line to turn in my test and reclaim my student ID. I handed my test to the cronie and he read my last name out loud so the other cronie could find my ID for me.

"Blue.. er, wait, that's the test"
"Nope. They're the same"

I grab my ID and head out to a much friendlier world. A much friendlier world consisting of AutoCAD. Unfortunately, we're finished drawing pretty shapes. Now we're doing potentially useful things. It's not quite as fun, but it's better than a tetanus shot.



I think I'll take a nap even though I'm halfway tempted to go off on a tangent about jazz music.

No creative title

So last night I took my guitar to Green Gables so I could go to Cair Paravel with it. That was pretty cool, even though I don't know any hymns or spiritual songs which makes things a little tricky.

I stayed the night at Green Gables since that's easier than going back to Cary in the wee hours of the morning while it's raining. (Plus I get to walk to class with Isaac, Ryan, and Anna which is cool.) I saw a problem arise this morning, though! I had to be in class, and my guitar was at Green Gables! What to do?! I concluded that I'd just take it to class.

I'm (pleasantly) surprised that I didn't get any reactions. Hopefully classes that I take my guitar to in the future will be equally nonchalant.

I'm off to Econ.

Hodgepodge of stuff

Von's and Strings

So I've heard a few people tell me I need to go to Von's. Then I heard they have guitar strings, so I thought I'd check it out since McGuire's Music is expensive and they didn't treat me all that well.

Von's has a pretty good selection of guitar strings, so long as you want Ernie Ball. But what makes it really worth it is they're priced from $5.99 to $6.99! I haven't gotten strings for that cheap since Indy's Music House closed down.

Yesterday, I decided on silk and bronze strings. The silk and bronze is very mellow and soft. Normally, I get phosphor bronze strings which are bright and have pretty good sustain. I'm not sure if I like these silks better than phosphor bronze. They both sound good, but for very different reasons. I like the price of the silk strings better, though, so I just might stick with them. For now, at least...

6 String * 2

The first time I played a 12 string guitar, I was a guitar n00b and really didn't have the dexterity or strength to play a guitar. So when Andrew let me play his 12 string, it was like a new experience. I have pretty much decided I need to buy one.

Trig

So the first exam for MA 154 was last night. There was one outstanding story problem...

Alex is trying to throw Carter onto the roof of the house. Alex is standing 12 feet from the base of the house, which is directly below the edge of the roof, and calculates that he will have to throw Carter at an angle of 32 degrees with the horizontal in order for him to land on the edge of the roof. How far will Carter fly through the air before landing on the edge of the roof? Assume that Carter travels in a straight line and round to the nearest tenth of a foot.

I stopped what I was doing when I read that and looked around me to see if anyone else thought it was funny. I didn't see any reactions. Maybe I'm just crazy.