Okay, so not having internet at home makes posting regularly, or even posting irregularly, difficult. But here it is- today I'll talk about the dish room.
How shall I put it? The dish room is the source of humor and grief for most DC workers. You cannot have a DC without a dish room. When ceramics and silverware are used to serve over a thousand peopl, you better hope that there's some place to clean and sterilize them. There have been odd instances when the dish machine (the thing that cleans and sterilizes) broke, in various DCs. That would temporarily qualify the place as a DC without a dishroom, sort of. But those various instances have not been pleasant. I think I remember someone telling me about how some of the dishes had to be carted over to the other DC to clean up afterwards.
During my time there nothing so eventful have happened. We had this instance where the dish return (a series of racks with conveyer belt, for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about) broke and people had to come in and fix it. I think that was either my first or second day as the "dish captain" (a title assigned to the one person whose shift in the dishroom started the earliest, and the person is in charge of (sort of) over seeing things and making sure everyone got their breaks). Then there was the other time when the room flooded (by no means a rare occurance, actually, since the room seemed to be decidedly hydrophillic), and I had to unload very hot dishes next to guys who were trying to fix the plumbing. That was interesting. The dishes were hot.
Which brings up the other unforgettable point of very hot dishes. I heard that we used to have thick, sort of heat proof gloves, but no one ever found out what happened to them and new ones never arrived. (I've heard it brought up in job training, and I've heard it brought up in front of management, yet no new ones have materialized even up till the day I left.) As far as I know people are still wearing the regular sheet-o-plastic gloves - one on top of the other, for several layers. Except you still loose the feelings in your fingers in the end, after the pain goes away. This is why the dish captain usually switches the people around so no one got stuck unloading burning hot dishes (oh, for clarification, the heat's from the machine: sterilization to kill germs, I think) from the dish machine. Except there were a few people who were very good at it and who got used to it (and consequently probably lost all nerve endings in their finger tips) who preferred to work there. In which case you mostly leave them alone because they ARE good at it. Speed is essential when the dirty dishes are coming in by the hundreds (no joke here).
But the dish room is humor too. The radio is always on. You may not always be able to hear it over the clatter but it's always on. I never knew any of the stations but that's to be expected and had nothing to do with the fact that I was in Davis. Mike is, I think, one of the few people who can actually not only make out what songs are playing, but sing along with most of them. Dish room is playing build-a-city with mug-crates and plates and cracking jokes that were loud by default because - well, dish room. Dish room is Mike blowing up an empty plastic bag (the sort that lines large milk cartons, as in the really large ones that you get in cafeterias) and sealing it, and then sending it through the dish machine again and again to see when it'll pop. It got to the point where every few seconds everyone'd crane their necks to see whether or not the square balloon of plastic will emerge from the other end, steaming, glistening, and triumphant but alas, the plastic was no match for the machine and it eventually popped, forcing us to seek other means of amusement.
My that was a long sentence.
Dish room is cleaning up after people and seeing after the details sometimes, going into each station (kitchenettes, don't hold me up on the spelling if you can guess what word I'm trying to spell) to see if there's any dirty dish that needs to be picked up, or if they needed any clean dishes or silverware. Dish room is looking for brooms and detergents and someone who actually knew what all those buttons all over the walls and sides of machines were for, and which one was to turn something off. Dish room is being repeatedly sprayed (I've started calling it "being baptized by the dishroom") while the people are spraying the machine down after the day's done (and darkness has fallen, off of the wings of night, har). It's rather hard to remain pristine after working there, and showering afterwards is more or less a necessity.
In other words, working in the dishroom is hot, wet, and hard. The only people I've ever heard who wanted to work in the dishroom were mostly shift leaders, so they can avoid talking to people. In other words, working in the dish room is jokes and radio. In other words, one of my fellow worker had put it: you have not really worked in the DC until you've covered either the pot room or the dish room.
20060728
20060724
Recap: Hell is empty
And they brought along some of the weather up here too, it seems. 104 in Davis is okay, 104 in San Jose is a tad too warm for the norm. 104 is a very bad time to start working on your garden in the sense that you get dehydrated even before your plants.
Moving has finally commenced to the closing stages now, except for the slight problem caused by, as mentioned above, the weather. The new place does not have any air conditioning yet, which can be very unpleasant. I'm considering camping out permanently on the floor, which is far more comfortable than the bed (which is still warm at midnight, I waited just to be sure).
Summer school's half way gone already, another midterm next Monday. Davis planning continues with unflagging zeal at least on the part of my parents. My only indication of preference have been for things that are durable and light enough for me to move by myself, consequently my parents have been looking at odd hybrid furnitures, since I seem (especially lately) to like spending most of my time on the ground.
That's it for this post.
Yep, floater.
Moving has finally commenced to the closing stages now, except for the slight problem caused by, as mentioned above, the weather. The new place does not have any air conditioning yet, which can be very unpleasant. I'm considering camping out permanently on the floor, which is far more comfortable than the bed (which is still warm at midnight, I waited just to be sure).
Summer school's half way gone already, another midterm next Monday. Davis planning continues with unflagging zeal at least on the part of my parents. My only indication of preference have been for things that are durable and light enough for me to move by myself, consequently my parents have been looking at odd hybrid furnitures, since I seem (especially lately) to like spending most of my time on the ground.
That's it for this post.
Yep, floater.
20060717
Recap: Of all the ways
Puzzling, those automated phone systems.
Especially when you try to access someone human through them.
"There are currently ZERO customers in front of you," said the system (only imagine the mechanical voice and the way it had of emphasizing the word "zero" because it was recorded separately). "Your current wait time is TWO minutes. The following conversation may be recorded for quality ...&c. "
After suffering an entire chapter on series and sequences in 12th grade, then again my first quarter in college, I only hope that the formula that these systems use is 2 + n and not 2n.
Though yes, that would explain a lot of things.
Especially when you try to access someone human through them.
"There are currently ZERO customers in front of you," said the system (only imagine the mechanical voice and the way it had of emphasizing the word "zero" because it was recorded separately). "Your current wait time is TWO minutes. The following conversation may be recorded for quality ...&c. "
After suffering an entire chapter on series and sequences in 12th grade, then again my first quarter in college, I only hope that the formula that these systems use is 2 + n and not 2n.
Though yes, that would explain a lot of things.
20060716
Recap: Left behind
This is a brief entry. One might consider it a "for the records" sort of post. It is a memoir of sorts, based on the things I found as I'm moving into the new house. Based on impressions. It's a glimpse into another sort of life, which is always a very curious thing.
How shall I begin but at the beginning, with the introdution and the so-called background information? The previous owner is female, hispanic, and looked to be about thirty from the one time I met her, nearly a month ago. She has two kids, one at the five-eight age range and the other barely a toddler. She was recently devorced and she was in a hurry to move out. She wanted to close the deal as fast as possible and presumably she needed the money.
All that is well. That is only the background information. Here is the other bits and bats that we can use to try to reconstruct something (as I've said, I'm curious, and this is a fascinating thing to focus the mind on). Many of the window blinds are bent, and there are odd scratches on many things and few small things left in corners of closets which she had forgotten to take with her. From this we can see that she is more likely to have a careless sort of nature, more likely extrovert than introvert. Her room is painted plain white, with rudimentary celing light and fan fixture, while the two other rooms for her children (one decorated as semi-nursery for the younger one) was elaborately decorated with patterned paint and special light fixtures that you see on toy catalogues at Christmas. (The lights, of course, were taken down right before we moved in.) Small problems with fridge and water fixtures, denoting again that either she didn't notice, or she noticed and didn't care, or didn't have time to care. Old toys in the backyard, she cares for her children very much. Tarp-ed down and wood-chip-ed over yard, no time for plants, though the grass seed, the foot-print shaped garden tiles and the half-constructed tiers at the front indicated hope, at one time or another.
The tiers had plants that have spilt over, the hoses are spider-webbed, the plastic rack have a wasp nest inside. They have seen better days. They have been neglected. The first stiring of woodchips revealed what must be hundreds of cigarette butts, a few of them fairly recent by their looks. A chronic smoker then, but one who cared enough about her children to smoke outside (there was no odor of smoke of whatsoever indoors)-- and then to hide the evidence of her indulgence. Antique-feeling mirrors and painted lightswitches. Impractical and, as far as color-combinations go, in bad taste, but spoke of personality and thought.
There was a small orange-colored hair clip in the nursery room, by the closet. The toddler's a girl then.
A yellow piece of plastic puzzle, of a shape that I recognized from this classic children's puzzle set that my mother had bought me before I could remember, that I still could not solve without a solution guide. She had tried to norish their intellect, then.
A red-pink mock-leather wallet in the hall's closet, empty and smelling of perfume. It is new enough, but the perfume matches that from her room, so it's been used one or twice. Then why is it abandoned in the lowest back corner of a dust-bunny infested closet?
The smaller bedrooms had stars and giraffe patterns painted on the light switches, respectively. The bathroom and the hall: rubber duckies and a lone cow boy. The living room have fluted lamp shades the kitchen floral-patterned window decor with ruffles. Why, then, is the plainest, most undecorated place in the house also the master bedroom?
Why is the entire backyard in a state of neglect and devoid of other living things (save for those opportunistic critters that have found their way in) except for one florishing bush of pink four o'clock, beside the rock, almost squashed behind the door?
Why does the master bedroom have what's possibly the only door in the house that doesn't have a lock? And why is the most somber place in the house (by color and feel), the living room and the master bedroom?
Most of all, why do people put themselves through this?
How shall I begin but at the beginning, with the introdution and the so-called background information? The previous owner is female, hispanic, and looked to be about thirty from the one time I met her, nearly a month ago. She has two kids, one at the five-eight age range and the other barely a toddler. She was recently devorced and she was in a hurry to move out. She wanted to close the deal as fast as possible and presumably she needed the money.
All that is well. That is only the background information. Here is the other bits and bats that we can use to try to reconstruct something (as I've said, I'm curious, and this is a fascinating thing to focus the mind on). Many of the window blinds are bent, and there are odd scratches on many things and few small things left in corners of closets which she had forgotten to take with her. From this we can see that she is more likely to have a careless sort of nature, more likely extrovert than introvert. Her room is painted plain white, with rudimentary celing light and fan fixture, while the two other rooms for her children (one decorated as semi-nursery for the younger one) was elaborately decorated with patterned paint and special light fixtures that you see on toy catalogues at Christmas. (The lights, of course, were taken down right before we moved in.) Small problems with fridge and water fixtures, denoting again that either she didn't notice, or she noticed and didn't care, or didn't have time to care. Old toys in the backyard, she cares for her children very much. Tarp-ed down and wood-chip-ed over yard, no time for plants, though the grass seed, the foot-print shaped garden tiles and the half-constructed tiers at the front indicated hope, at one time or another.
The tiers had plants that have spilt over, the hoses are spider-webbed, the plastic rack have a wasp nest inside. They have seen better days. They have been neglected. The first stiring of woodchips revealed what must be hundreds of cigarette butts, a few of them fairly recent by their looks. A chronic smoker then, but one who cared enough about her children to smoke outside (there was no odor of smoke of whatsoever indoors)-- and then to hide the evidence of her indulgence. Antique-feeling mirrors and painted lightswitches. Impractical and, as far as color-combinations go, in bad taste, but spoke of personality and thought.
There was a small orange-colored hair clip in the nursery room, by the closet. The toddler's a girl then.
A yellow piece of plastic puzzle, of a shape that I recognized from this classic children's puzzle set that my mother had bought me before I could remember, that I still could not solve without a solution guide. She had tried to norish their intellect, then.
A red-pink mock-leather wallet in the hall's closet, empty and smelling of perfume. It is new enough, but the perfume matches that from her room, so it's been used one or twice. Then why is it abandoned in the lowest back corner of a dust-bunny infested closet?
The smaller bedrooms had stars and giraffe patterns painted on the light switches, respectively. The bathroom and the hall: rubber duckies and a lone cow boy. The living room have fluted lamp shades the kitchen floral-patterned window decor with ruffles. Why, then, is the plainest, most undecorated place in the house also the master bedroom?
Why is the entire backyard in a state of neglect and devoid of other living things (save for those opportunistic critters that have found their way in) except for one florishing bush of pink four o'clock, beside the rock, almost squashed behind the door?
Why does the master bedroom have what's possibly the only door in the house that doesn't have a lock? And why is the most somber place in the house (by color and feel), the living room and the master bedroom?
Most of all, why do people put themselves through this?
20060714
Recap: Time is an illusion
No, this is not another rant about perception of time. I've had enough of THOSE already. This is just to report that, one month after being home, there have been very little change in very many things. When the deadline is taken away, the efficiency decreases. That is why sometimes I believe that mortality is a necessity. It is, after all, the ultimate deadline to the human life with few successful extensions (though the med department, I believe is doing their best) and no permanent ...absolution? And as that humanity is a composite of individual human efforts, therefore I conclude that the rapid progression of humanity is a result of limited life span of individuals.
There are, needless to say, plenty of questions and implications. I can cover a few of them, but even so it will be too long. Hence I will only list what I have accomplished sense summer begun:
- unpacked everything from the jumbo that came back from Davis
- repacked half of the stuff that I know I'll need for Davis
- repacked everything else possible for the move-in, which is still taking place
- unpacked all things possible after they have been moved, which is not nearly enough
- finished one acrylic illustration, as commissioned
- read anywhere from 5-10 books, an utterly insufficient number, considering the length of my reading list
- burned data backup disk
- performed routine computer maintenence on desktop
- cleaned, cleaned, and cleaned, for various places and various reasons
- wrote, to date, four programs in beginner's level c
- wrote, to date, 5-10 pages, 3 of which are in type, 2 of which may be marginally readable, as will see.
- 5-10 sketches, pencil or pen, needing significant modifications to be presentable, but yet were scanned without the said modifications
And that essentially concludes my list of what I have accomplished in the time of one month. I'll need to regulate myself better, provided that things stop changing long enough for my regulations to stand longer than a day.
There are, needless to say, plenty of questions and implications. I can cover a few of them, but even so it will be too long. Hence I will only list what I have accomplished sense summer begun:
- unpacked everything from the jumbo that came back from Davis
- repacked half of the stuff that I know I'll need for Davis
- repacked everything else possible for the move-in, which is still taking place
- unpacked all things possible after they have been moved, which is not nearly enough
- finished one acrylic illustration, as commissioned
- read anywhere from 5-10 books, an utterly insufficient number, considering the length of my reading list
- burned data backup disk
- performed routine computer maintenence on desktop
- cleaned, cleaned, and cleaned, for various places and various reasons
- wrote, to date, four programs in beginner's level c
- wrote, to date, 5-10 pages, 3 of which are in type, 2 of which may be marginally readable, as will see.
- 5-10 sketches, pencil or pen, needing significant modifications to be presentable, but yet were scanned without the said modifications
And that essentially concludes my list of what I have accomplished in the time of one month. I'll need to regulate myself better, provided that things stop changing long enough for my regulations to stand longer than a day.
20060707
Recap: In the face of chaos
There is something to be said about organization. There is always something to be said, unless there's something to be said about the LACK of organization which is still, more or less, the same thing.
There is something to be said about packaging. After so many boxes and so many inches of tape, I've realized that at this point, the smartest thing to do will be to start liking boxes. Why? Simple. It's either developing a tolerance and liking them, or hating them for the rest of one's natural life. Considering how often cardboard occurs in our lives, the second option would be highly impractical. It would earn you nothing except, maybe, a one way ticket to the nearest insane asylum.
Would that be paper or plastic now? Because those occur very frequently also. Though come to think of it, cardboard is a kind of paper too, isn't it? (Both inevitably made of tree-bits.) Would that be paper then? Okay, thank you. You have a nice day now.
Classes so far have gone smoothly-- and they are interesting which makes up for the fact that both of them have to take place over summer. (Have to admit though, if it wasn't summer I wouldn't even be taking those classes.) The need to drive daily have dimished my natural paranoia considerably but I'm still as far as I ever was from liking driving. It's a long, long road with no ending. And lots of stop signs.
Made steady, if not particularly significant, progress with reading in between everything else. I have five boxes of books. That is a lot. I'm still collecting.
There is something to be said about packaging. After so many boxes and so many inches of tape, I've realized that at this point, the smartest thing to do will be to start liking boxes. Why? Simple. It's either developing a tolerance and liking them, or hating them for the rest of one's natural life. Considering how often cardboard occurs in our lives, the second option would be highly impractical. It would earn you nothing except, maybe, a one way ticket to the nearest insane asylum.
Would that be paper or plastic now? Because those occur very frequently also. Though come to think of it, cardboard is a kind of paper too, isn't it? (Both inevitably made of tree-bits.) Would that be paper then? Okay, thank you. You have a nice day now.
Classes so far have gone smoothly-- and they are interesting which makes up for the fact that both of them have to take place over summer. (Have to admit though, if it wasn't summer I wouldn't even be taking those classes.) The need to drive daily have dimished my natural paranoia considerably but I'm still as far as I ever was from liking driving. It's a long, long road with no ending. And lots of stop signs.
Made steady, if not particularly significant, progress with reading in between everything else. I have five boxes of books. That is a lot. I'm still collecting.
20060703
Recap: But would that be white 0324 or 2416?
Paint comes in many varieties. There are six different shades of white that I've counted, and who knows how many there are still, lurking in the back of the color palettes, waiting to ambush the unwary? The paint comes in either flat, stain, semi-gloss, or gloss. Aside from flat, the others are water resistan. As the name implies, semi-gloss and gloss paint are shiny and, as the nice lady from OSH told me, are usually only reserved for the kitchen and the bathroom.
To say that do-it-yourself remodeling is bewildering is, in short, a heck of an understatement. And also-- plack is a funny word. Don't ask me why, but it is. Fear not, I know how to use it correctly even if it sounds like one of those words people spit out by accident.
On the bright side though, I had a bit of blue paint left at the end of the day, yesterday, and I painted my chair blue. To be honest I didn't really think that my parents would let me do it, but they did, so now I have a blue chair (pale blue, used to be a peeling coffee-brown) as a proof of my...what? Handy home-improvement skills?
Yeah right. But it was still fun to do.
To say that do-it-yourself remodeling is bewildering is, in short, a heck of an understatement. And also-- plack is a funny word. Don't ask me why, but it is. Fear not, I know how to use it correctly even if it sounds like one of those words people spit out by accident.
On the bright side though, I had a bit of blue paint left at the end of the day, yesterday, and I painted my chair blue. To be honest I didn't really think that my parents would let me do it, but they did, so now I have a blue chair (pale blue, used to be a peeling coffee-brown) as a proof of my...what? Handy home-improvement skills?
Yeah right. But it was still fun to do.
20060630
Recap: Ha?
Being in Davis for a year, I've found out, had no effect on my frisbee skills. Maybe it's because I spent so much of the said year in-doors.
Christine came yesterday, and Anna, and Victoria, and Kate. And Kate's rabbit, sensing the dangers of a gathering of lunatics, went into hiding until Kate bribed her out with raisins. The day was warm and the conversation, once everyone was there, began with Christine mentioning something about guns.
So yes, Lucy, when you read this--you've missed out, despite of the phone call at 6 in the morning for you and insanity on this side. (Is there a max on the amount of insanity that can transferred via phone-line?) You've also missed out on Christine proposing to Kate (inquire after Anna about the pictures)-- something, now that I think about it, oddly paralleling what Anna did for randomly proposing people to go to the prom with her. Ah the times. Ah the memories. Ah the block-day session to the tune of "Miss American Pie". On the other hand, I did learn the words to the "Pinky and the Brain" theme song. Hem.
Onwards, onwards, I have class on Monday and I have no idea why they arranged it that way, with 4th of July on Tuesday.
THE CITY OF FALLING ANGELS- John Berendt - 398
DREAMS MADE FLESH -Anne Bishop
TALK TO THE HAND: THE UTTER BLOODY RUDENESS OF THE WORLD TODAY-Lynne Truss
ERAGON- Christopher Paolini -497
AGAINST GRAVITY- Farnoosh Moshiri- 308
CASTLE IN THE AIR- Diana Wynne Jones- 199
Christine came yesterday, and Anna, and Victoria, and Kate. And Kate's rabbit, sensing the dangers of a gathering of lunatics, went into hiding until Kate bribed her out with raisins. The day was warm and the conversation, once everyone was there, began with Christine mentioning something about guns.
So yes, Lucy, when you read this--you've missed out, despite of the phone call at 6 in the morning for you and insanity on this side. (Is there a max on the amount of insanity that can transferred via phone-line?) You've also missed out on Christine proposing to Kate (inquire after Anna about the pictures)-- something, now that I think about it, oddly paralleling what Anna did for randomly proposing people to go to the prom with her. Ah the times. Ah the memories. Ah the block-day session to the tune of "Miss American Pie". On the other hand, I did learn the words to the "Pinky and the Brain" theme song. Hem.
Onwards, onwards, I have class on Monday and I have no idea why they arranged it that way, with 4th of July on Tuesday.
THE CITY OF FALLING ANGELS- John Berendt - 398
DREAMS MADE FLESH -Anne Bishop
TALK TO THE HAND: THE UTTER BLOODY RUDENESS OF THE WORLD TODAY-Lynne Truss
ERAGON- Christopher Paolini -497
AGAINST GRAVITY- Farnoosh Moshiri- 308
CASTLE IN THE AIR- Diana Wynne Jones- 199
20060628
Random: Psychosis, part II
There, I said I'd take the quiz again in about a year, so now I did.
Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com
On the whole, I don't think my first year at college is good for me.
Prev result was done during June last year.
| Advanced Global Personality Test Results
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personality tests by similarminds.com
On the whole, I don't think my first year at college is good for me.
Prev result was done during June last year.
Memoirs: DC Humor
Oh tables oh tables-- that's my topic for today-- the tales pertaining to the dining tables at the Segundo DC.
There are several types of tables at the DC, the diminutive, square tables by some windows on tall legs, matched by chairs of an equal height, the short, squat square tables with their shorters. Then there're the round tables and the long rectangular tables, each with their own array of chairs.
During each shift, there're workers whose supreme job is to keep the tables and the associated chairs clean and presentable. In other words, partially act out the role of a waiter.
It doesn't sound all that difficult, does it? It isn't that difficult, the job I mean. It also doesn't sound that interesting and in that (those of you who have followed my entries may well recall) is a mistake.
Keeping the tables presentable not only involves having its surface clean and the correct number of chairs surrounding each table (a feat that I have never mastered with the round tables-- people drag the chairs all over the place so you get things like a place that has three tables with six chairs and two tables with two and, recalling that the correct number of chairs seem to be around the 3-4 range, you spend a good deal of time wondering where the other chairs come from). The square tables are the easiest in this aspect-- one chair per side, no more questions asked. But the more interesting half of the job is the presentation part of looking presentable, or what I call "the table displays".
At the center of each table is, usually, a small glass vase with the flowers of the season, a small stand for holding whatever flyers are there ("Did you know that coffee actually does not help with hangover?"), and a small wire caddy with napkins, ketchup, salt, and pepper. This is where the adventure begins because people, while waiting for their friends or talking after dinner, do the oddest things to occupy themselves.
There was this one time when the flower was a sort of daisy-like mums, and someone drew a smiley face on the center of the flower with ketchup. While I appreciated the cuteness, the flower had to be replaced. Then there were the cases of "flower disappearance", where I truly have no idea where the plants have gone off to. Are they really so hungry that they'd eat the plants? Granted most mums are edible, the same for roses, but I'm not so sure with the freesias. Before you dismiss my theory as complete venting (which it is, partially), I have seen flowers that look like someone had taken a healthy chomp out of them. I mean, fibers? Sure. But we DO have a salad bar, hello? In some cases, the mysterious consumer of flowers (har) leave other things to replace flowers. I've had cases with candy sprinkles in the vase, cucumbers in the vase, and in one case, cooked asparagus in the vase-- making the ultimate statement in terms of interior designing. What I resent, though, is napkin in the vase. Or more specifically, napkin with water in the vase. Fishing out soggy napkins is very disgusting.
That's only to cover the flowers. There're cases where the water in the vase, along with the flowers, disappear. There're cases where the water is replaced. I've seen milk. Milk is good for growing humans, maybe, but not so for flowers. You've got to appreciate the sentiment, though. I've seen energy drink and no-- extra sugar and caffeine will not make the flowers bloom better, but thank you for trying. I've seen a mixture of milk and energy drink, with the milk curdling, and therefore causing my "hey that looks like copper sulfate" statement. In short, the flower display can be very interesting in terms of cleaning up.
And oh, the napkins.
There's a certain amount of napkins that must be put into the caddies, to ensure that during rush hours, where the table are never empty long enough for someone to refill them, the people won't have to wander around going "Hey, do you have any more napkins?" The management has, no doubt to save us the grief of "is this enough? No? How about this? And this?", defined "enough" as full to the point that there's barely enough room left to squeeze in the ketchup and salt and pepper. Just before I left though, the regulations have went up another notch and now they will be watching to see whether or not all the napkins are FACING THE RIGHT WAY, and neat, with their corners straight and so on. I suppose I should just be glad that no one has ever told me "You need 375 napkins per caddy" because oh, the counting.
Those of you who'd seen the "ketchup, salt, AND THEN pepper" yes, this is where it came from. The ketchup must be facing the right way, the right side up, and the salt must come before the pepper. In most cases though, during the clean ups we're more concerned with the fact that there's a top-less salt shaker at one end of the DC, and how did the top get all the way to the other end? As with the chairs, there're cases of 2 pepper shakers at one table, and none at the other. I've already mentioned my frustration with upside-down shakers. Maybe we ought to have "this way up" label on this.
In any case, as is true with most restaurants and other food-serving facilities, the place looks best when it just opened because face it: when there're hundreds of people eating, you're more concerned about whether or not there's still salt and pepper LEFT than whether or not they're standing in the right order in the caddy.
There are several types of tables at the DC, the diminutive, square tables by some windows on tall legs, matched by chairs of an equal height, the short, squat square tables with their shorters. Then there're the round tables and the long rectangular tables, each with their own array of chairs.
During each shift, there're workers whose supreme job is to keep the tables and the associated chairs clean and presentable. In other words, partially act out the role of a waiter.
It doesn't sound all that difficult, does it? It isn't that difficult, the job I mean. It also doesn't sound that interesting and in that (those of you who have followed my entries may well recall) is a mistake.
Keeping the tables presentable not only involves having its surface clean and the correct number of chairs surrounding each table (a feat that I have never mastered with the round tables-- people drag the chairs all over the place so you get things like a place that has three tables with six chairs and two tables with two and, recalling that the correct number of chairs seem to be around the 3-4 range, you spend a good deal of time wondering where the other chairs come from). The square tables are the easiest in this aspect-- one chair per side, no more questions asked. But the more interesting half of the job is the presentation part of looking presentable, or what I call "the table displays".
At the center of each table is, usually, a small glass vase with the flowers of the season, a small stand for holding whatever flyers are there ("Did you know that coffee actually does not help with hangover?"), and a small wire caddy with napkins, ketchup, salt, and pepper. This is where the adventure begins because people, while waiting for their friends or talking after dinner, do the oddest things to occupy themselves.
There was this one time when the flower was a sort of daisy-like mums, and someone drew a smiley face on the center of the flower with ketchup. While I appreciated the cuteness, the flower had to be replaced. Then there were the cases of "flower disappearance", where I truly have no idea where the plants have gone off to. Are they really so hungry that they'd eat the plants? Granted most mums are edible, the same for roses, but I'm not so sure with the freesias. Before you dismiss my theory as complete venting (which it is, partially), I have seen flowers that look like someone had taken a healthy chomp out of them. I mean, fibers? Sure. But we DO have a salad bar, hello? In some cases, the mysterious consumer of flowers (har) leave other things to replace flowers. I've had cases with candy sprinkles in the vase, cucumbers in the vase, and in one case, cooked asparagus in the vase-- making the ultimate statement in terms of interior designing. What I resent, though, is napkin in the vase. Or more specifically, napkin with water in the vase. Fishing out soggy napkins is very disgusting.
That's only to cover the flowers. There're cases where the water in the vase, along with the flowers, disappear. There're cases where the water is replaced. I've seen milk. Milk is good for growing humans, maybe, but not so for flowers. You've got to appreciate the sentiment, though. I've seen energy drink and no-- extra sugar and caffeine will not make the flowers bloom better, but thank you for trying. I've seen a mixture of milk and energy drink, with the milk curdling, and therefore causing my "hey that looks like copper sulfate" statement. In short, the flower display can be very interesting in terms of cleaning up.
And oh, the napkins.
There's a certain amount of napkins that must be put into the caddies, to ensure that during rush hours, where the table are never empty long enough for someone to refill them, the people won't have to wander around going "Hey, do you have any more napkins?" The management has, no doubt to save us the grief of "is this enough? No? How about this? And this?", defined "enough" as full to the point that there's barely enough room left to squeeze in the ketchup and salt and pepper. Just before I left though, the regulations have went up another notch and now they will be watching to see whether or not all the napkins are FACING THE RIGHT WAY, and neat, with their corners straight and so on. I suppose I should just be glad that no one has ever told me "You need 375 napkins per caddy" because oh, the counting.
Those of you who'd seen the "ketchup, salt, AND THEN pepper" yes, this is where it came from. The ketchup must be facing the right way, the right side up, and the salt must come before the pepper. In most cases though, during the clean ups we're more concerned with the fact that there's a top-less salt shaker at one end of the DC, and how did the top get all the way to the other end? As with the chairs, there're cases of 2 pepper shakers at one table, and none at the other. I've already mentioned my frustration with upside-down shakers. Maybe we ought to have "this way up" label on this.
In any case, as is true with most restaurants and other food-serving facilities, the place looks best when it just opened because face it: when there're hundreds of people eating, you're more concerned about whether or not there's still salt and pepper LEFT than whether or not they're standing in the right order in the caddy.
20060627
Recap: A week in advance
I've been home for a while now, and some things have, more or less, settled down into a ritual. For instance, it is my accepted role to drive on the weekends and deal with the boxes on the weekdays. Just as it's my parents' role to continuously try to feed me, and make lists about things that need to be done.
However, beyond that, there're always the exceptional. I went mini-golfing with Anna, Christine, Kateryna, and Victoria last week. After an invigorating discussion about decapitation as performed with piano wires and lessons in shadow-puppet-ing, it came out that none of us are very good golfers. (Alright, now I'm thinking about gophers.)Consequently we ended up with lessons in how- to- fish- out- golf- balls- from- various- bodies- of- water- with- golf- clubs-- which I'm still not very good with, anyway. In most cases, if you ever see us with golf clubs, it's in your best interest to skip us and proceed to the next place, because we are slow and Kateryna has seen the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA eleven times.
(No, the latter had nothing to do with our speed. I just added that bit in because she was singing "Chris-tine! Chris-tine!" over and over again.)
The weekend was quiet. Dad tried to train me on the freeways, his enthusiasm undiminished by the fact that I still do not (and quite possibly never will) like driving. But then, after conversations from last (school) year, I am just thankful that I didn't have to learn driving with a stick shift.
On Sunday night I went over to Kate's and stayed overnight, and watched stuff. Meetings with Kate now is like cram-sessions to catch up on my tv/movie watching during the year. Of course I'm exaggerating, but after watching zero hours of tv (well, unless you count the SHAPE OF LIFE clips we saw in bio, HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE with Annie, and a few apocalyptic things from history) all year, watching any purely entertainment media, over the ratio of two hours per twenty-four hours, makes me go "Huh-wha-eh?"
And we played with the rabbit, and had coherent conversations at four in the morning which, I suppose, makes us one step closer to ants. (Bonus points to anyone who knows what I'm talking about.) Kate's rabbit has gotten bigger AND fatter since I last saw it, and is quite good at knowing what it wants, when it wants it. The result is that I got to watch Kate pounce, literally, to get her rabbit back in the cage. I think the rabbit might be bilingual.
There's going to be another get-together this Thursday at Memorial Park, and frisbees are going to remind me of Davis.
Minigolf photos!
Shadow puppets!
They had identical school ID cards (well not IDENTICAL, per se, but matching UCB cards). Fun times.
Group pics are lovely. Yes.
However, beyond that, there're always the exceptional. I went mini-golfing with Anna, Christine, Kateryna, and Victoria last week. After an invigorating discussion about decapitation as performed with piano wires and lessons in shadow-puppet-ing, it came out that none of us are very good golfers. (Alright, now I'm thinking about gophers.)Consequently we ended up with lessons in how- to- fish- out- golf- balls- from- various- bodies- of- water- with- golf- clubs-- which I'm still not very good with, anyway. In most cases, if you ever see us with golf clubs, it's in your best interest to skip us and proceed to the next place, because we are slow and Kateryna has seen the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA eleven times.
(No, the latter had nothing to do with our speed. I just added that bit in because she was singing "Chris-tine! Chris-tine!" over and over again.)
The weekend was quiet. Dad tried to train me on the freeways, his enthusiasm undiminished by the fact that I still do not (and quite possibly never will) like driving. But then, after conversations from last (school) year, I am just thankful that I didn't have to learn driving with a stick shift.
On Sunday night I went over to Kate's and stayed overnight, and watched stuff. Meetings with Kate now is like cram-sessions to catch up on my tv/movie watching during the year. Of course I'm exaggerating, but after watching zero hours of tv (well, unless you count the SHAPE OF LIFE clips we saw in bio, HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE with Annie, and a few apocalyptic things from history) all year, watching any purely entertainment media, over the ratio of two hours per twenty-four hours, makes me go "Huh-wha-eh?"
And we played with the rabbit, and had coherent conversations at four in the morning which, I suppose, makes us one step closer to ants. (Bonus points to anyone who knows what I'm talking about.) Kate's rabbit has gotten bigger AND fatter since I last saw it, and is quite good at knowing what it wants, when it wants it. The result is that I got to watch Kate pounce, literally, to get her rabbit back in the cage. I think the rabbit might be bilingual.
There's going to be another get-together this Thursday at Memorial Park, and frisbees are going to remind me of Davis.
Minigolf photos!
Shadow puppets!
They had identical school ID cards (well not IDENTICAL, per se, but matching UCB cards). Fun times.
Group pics are lovely. Yes.
20060622
Memoirs: DC Humor
My first lesson about working is that, of course, job training bears very little resemblance to the real-life situations.
My second lesson was that learning process is involved, in rather surprising ways.
Aside for a few cooks who were nice enough to instruct you on what you were supposed to do in his/her kitchen (thank you, Dan), on the whole you're expected to arrive at the kitchen, observe for all of five seconds, and jump in.
Somethings "jumping in" can be taken very literally, such as when the dishroom floods. Anyone fancy swimming?
It wasn't often just the case that the cooks were not always on the same page as the helpers, but that sometimes the management had a pretty hazy idea as well. The most horrible situations, of course, were the times when there're multiple shift-leaders/managers on site and they can't agree with each other. There were always a few new people around. The cooks expect the helpers to know what's going on, while the helpers expect the cooks to know what's going on. Neither side is completely certain, at any given time, about what's going on but somehow we always manage to cover through the entire shift. From what I know, this is the typical case in jobs, so the experience is yet another valuable lesson.
My first in-kitchen experience went a little something like this:
"Hello," I said, stepping into the kitchen and pulling on my gloves. "Nice to meet you. What should I be doing?"
"Hi," said the cook, who was scrambling eggs (it was morning, and therefore not completely chaotic).
"Um," I said, wondering whether or not there was a certain set of instructions somewhere that I forgot to read (there wasn't). I waited. Eggs were scrambled. Finally, feeling guilty with all the people busying themselves around the kitchen, I ventured forth again. "Is there something I'm suppose to be doing?"
"I'm not sure," the cook eventually replied. "I've only been here for about two weeks." He thought for a moment. "Here," he squinted at my name tag, " 'Susan'. Want to help me out and put this dish of eggs in the warmer?"
"Sure," I said. "Which one's the warmer?" Which brings up the point that for the first month of your job, you will find yourself constantly looking for things. There have been people who have worked far longer than I who still looked for things. In fact, I think looking for things is an inescapable part of the job. It just wasn't included in the job description. Somewhere between the dishwashers who weren't entirely sure where to return certain dishes ("Okay, I picked up this pan from the Salads on Tuesday, but yesterday I got it from Bistro?")and the people who weren't entirely sure where things were suppose to be stored at ("The scooper? Check Salads, if it's not there, try the Dish, and if it's not there, try the pot room in the back kitchen) there were always some things to be found.
Why is it that we never have organized scavenger hunts?
But I digress. The gist of my first time in the kitchen involved me carrying dishes of eggs around to Benny Goodman, played over the speaker, and a later task involving the refrigerator and hundreds of slices of cheese.
My second lesson was that learning process is involved, in rather surprising ways.
Aside for a few cooks who were nice enough to instruct you on what you were supposed to do in his/her kitchen (thank you, Dan), on the whole you're expected to arrive at the kitchen, observe for all of five seconds, and jump in.
Somethings "jumping in" can be taken very literally, such as when the dishroom floods. Anyone fancy swimming?
It wasn't often just the case that the cooks were not always on the same page as the helpers, but that sometimes the management had a pretty hazy idea as well. The most horrible situations, of course, were the times when there're multiple shift-leaders/managers on site and they can't agree with each other. There were always a few new people around. The cooks expect the helpers to know what's going on, while the helpers expect the cooks to know what's going on. Neither side is completely certain, at any given time, about what's going on but somehow we always manage to cover through the entire shift. From what I know, this is the typical case in jobs, so the experience is yet another valuable lesson.
My first in-kitchen experience went a little something like this:
"Hello," I said, stepping into the kitchen and pulling on my gloves. "Nice to meet you. What should I be doing?"
"Hi," said the cook, who was scrambling eggs (it was morning, and therefore not completely chaotic).
"Um," I said, wondering whether or not there was a certain set of instructions somewhere that I forgot to read (there wasn't). I waited. Eggs were scrambled. Finally, feeling guilty with all the people busying themselves around the kitchen, I ventured forth again. "Is there something I'm suppose to be doing?"
"I'm not sure," the cook eventually replied. "I've only been here for about two weeks." He thought for a moment. "Here," he squinted at my name tag, " 'Susan'. Want to help me out and put this dish of eggs in the warmer?"
"Sure," I said. "Which one's the warmer?" Which brings up the point that for the first month of your job, you will find yourself constantly looking for things. There have been people who have worked far longer than I who still looked for things. In fact, I think looking for things is an inescapable part of the job. It just wasn't included in the job description. Somewhere between the dishwashers who weren't entirely sure where to return certain dishes ("Okay, I picked up this pan from the Salads on Tuesday, but yesterday I got it from Bistro?")and the people who weren't entirely sure where things were suppose to be stored at ("The scooper? Check Salads, if it's not there, try the Dish, and if it's not there, try the pot room in the back kitchen) there were always some things to be found.
Why is it that we never have organized scavenger hunts?
But I digress. The gist of my first time in the kitchen involved me carrying dishes of eggs around to Benny Goodman, played over the speaker, and a later task involving the refrigerator and hundreds of slices of cheese.
20060620
Memoirs: DC Humor
As promised, here I'll start to go back and start as things generally start--that is, at the beginning.
Working at the DC requires job training.
It requires tapes on food sanitation and customer service that made me unsure of whether I should be banging my head against the table or laughing hysterically. Neither choice, though fitting, was appropriate at the time since there was always someone from the Human Resource Center there, as the "instructor." They were very nice and friendly each time, of course, and very insistent about doing their job right. However, I'm convinced that they have no idea what it's like to WORK in the DC, especially during the Rush (a term refering to the golden hours from around 6-7:30pm, where people come in groups of hundreds--and I'm not even joking). Which went a long way to explain why we have to fill out worksheets on the proper response to give to a customer when he/she is receiving his/her food.
In real life, you seldom have more than time to flash a smile (if you feel like you're up to it).
Then there's the other pleasantries, I suppose I should call them, such as something along the lines of making a eye contact with the customer when he/she is at about 10 ft away, and smile and greet him/her at a distance that's either five or three feet (don't remember exactly, and now I don't NEED to remember).
The Human Resource People--the ones who does the initial interviews and training, are very friendly--and a little too assumping. The Inspector video tapes (especially that one with the mad scientist and HACCIP or whatever the acronym was) are funny though. If you happen to like really, really, really cheesy jokes being made on food preparation and watch people who are not that talented actors pretend to be stupid.
Whoo-ee. Yes, it's as exciting as it sounds, and the training has to be renewed each year. (Which I found out much to my chagrin because if I'd known it ahead of time I wouldn't have gotten myself hired in December so I'd have to go through the stuff TWICE in two quarters). It cannot conflict with your regular shifts or your classes, and each class is only offered so many times at certain times, so you get all the joy of planning it out. Each DC's workers have to complete their renewal training before a certain date (ours was before Spring Quarter started). And at the end of each lovely hour-long sessions (there're multiple so--more fun with agenda) you come out feeling a little bleary, but knowing full well now that you ought to NEVER lean on the counters while working, slouch or in any other way look grumpy, and CHANGE YOUR GLOVES WHENEVER YOU TOUCH ANYTHING ELSE BESIDES THE FOOD THAT YOU ARE SERVING. (Sorry, but if you've had that reminded to you as many times as it had been reminded to me, you'd type in all caps too.)
But, if you're lucky, your "instructor" will turn out to be the nice ones who let you have a candy bar on your way out of your job-training sessions.
Next memoir--the first day of work.
Working at the DC requires job training.
It requires tapes on food sanitation and customer service that made me unsure of whether I should be banging my head against the table or laughing hysterically. Neither choice, though fitting, was appropriate at the time since there was always someone from the Human Resource Center there, as the "instructor." They were very nice and friendly each time, of course, and very insistent about doing their job right. However, I'm convinced that they have no idea what it's like to WORK in the DC, especially during the Rush (a term refering to the golden hours from around 6-7:30pm, where people come in groups of hundreds--and I'm not even joking). Which went a long way to explain why we have to fill out worksheets on the proper response to give to a customer when he/she is receiving his/her food.
In real life, you seldom have more than time to flash a smile (if you feel like you're up to it).
Then there's the other pleasantries, I suppose I should call them, such as something along the lines of making a eye contact with the customer when he/she is at about 10 ft away, and smile and greet him/her at a distance that's either five or three feet (don't remember exactly, and now I don't NEED to remember).
The Human Resource People--the ones who does the initial interviews and training, are very friendly--and a little too assumping. The Inspector video tapes (especially that one with the mad scientist and HACCIP or whatever the acronym was) are funny though. If you happen to like really, really, really cheesy jokes being made on food preparation and watch people who are not that talented actors pretend to be stupid.
Whoo-ee. Yes, it's as exciting as it sounds, and the training has to be renewed each year. (Which I found out much to my chagrin because if I'd known it ahead of time I wouldn't have gotten myself hired in December so I'd have to go through the stuff TWICE in two quarters). It cannot conflict with your regular shifts or your classes, and each class is only offered so many times at certain times, so you get all the joy of planning it out. Each DC's workers have to complete their renewal training before a certain date (ours was before Spring Quarter started). And at the end of each lovely hour-long sessions (there're multiple so--more fun with agenda) you come out feeling a little bleary, but knowing full well now that you ought to NEVER lean on the counters while working, slouch or in any other way look grumpy, and CHANGE YOUR GLOVES WHENEVER YOU TOUCH ANYTHING ELSE BESIDES THE FOOD THAT YOU ARE SERVING. (Sorry, but if you've had that reminded to you as many times as it had been reminded to me, you'd type in all caps too.)
But, if you're lucky, your "instructor" will turn out to be the nice ones who let you have a candy bar on your way out of your job-training sessions.
Next memoir--the first day of work.
20060618
Recap: Back...
...among the living. Sort of.
There are currently four boxes, one bag, one suitcase, and two backpacks on the floor in my bedroom. This is not taking into account the box for the printer and the various papers strew around. It is messy, in an understatement, and after some consistent effort on my part I've reduced the number of boxes, over the weekend, by the grand total number of ONE.
The general effects of unpacking, cleaning, and then repacking includes considerable amounts of headaches, sweat (as that the weather here seemed to have gotten a lot warmer since I came back), and an unaccountable inhalation of microparticles of what must be paper. We can pretend it's paper. Unless there's something else very significant mixed in it in which case we'll find out it's effects, eventually.
Friday was computer maintanence, mostly, and going through all the photos. Saturday was going with Kate to Davis and getting the apartment contract settled--sort of. Sunday is today and involved, as foresaid, boxes.
But also, as said, I've gone through my camera so here're some pictures!
This is the project I made for the IS class, which I titled "the Inner Child", and is a functioning lampshade. If you turn the lamp off the only word you can see is "ADULT".
This the IS exhibit that the project is for. We got there early (as those of you who'd been following this may recall), and rearranged all the furnitures that way, arranged the tables, set out the projects...
...and goofed off with tape. Fun with masking tape. Those things are dead useful. I'm of the personal opinion that everyone who goes to college should own a roll.
Also, THANK YOU LUSINE FOR THE ID! I have now an official validation of geekdom, complete with fancy lettering and a goat in the background, and I'll never even need to wait in line for license renewal since the ID expires something along the time of when "the root of negative one is no longer imaginary."
I ought to print it out. And stick it on top of my drivers license. Not that people need the warning since my integral shirt is none-too-subtle already.
There are currently four boxes, one bag, one suitcase, and two backpacks on the floor in my bedroom. This is not taking into account the box for the printer and the various papers strew around. It is messy, in an understatement, and after some consistent effort on my part I've reduced the number of boxes, over the weekend, by the grand total number of ONE.
The general effects of unpacking, cleaning, and then repacking includes considerable amounts of headaches, sweat (as that the weather here seemed to have gotten a lot warmer since I came back), and an unaccountable inhalation of microparticles of what must be paper. We can pretend it's paper. Unless there's something else very significant mixed in it in which case we'll find out it's effects, eventually.
Friday was computer maintanence, mostly, and going through all the photos. Saturday was going with Kate to Davis and getting the apartment contract settled--sort of. Sunday is today and involved, as foresaid, boxes.
But also, as said, I've gone through my camera so here're some pictures!
This is the project I made for the IS class, which I titled "the Inner Child", and is a functioning lampshade. If you turn the lamp off the only word you can see is "ADULT".
This the IS exhibit that the project is for. We got there early (as those of you who'd been following this may recall), and rearranged all the furnitures that way, arranged the tables, set out the projects...
...and goofed off with tape. Fun with masking tape. Those things are dead useful. I'm of the personal opinion that everyone who goes to college should own a roll.
Also, THANK YOU LUSINE FOR THE ID! I have now an official validation of geekdom, complete with fancy lettering and a goat in the background, and I'll never even need to wait in line for license renewal since the ID expires something along the time of when "the root of negative one is no longer imaginary."
I ought to print it out. And stick it on top of my drivers license. Not that people need the warning since my integral shirt is none-too-subtle already.
20060616
Recap: Lists
For those of you who likes data and lists:
1. Account of stuff found inside my backpack at the end of the year, after a period of neglect (stuff that I stuck in there for moving out not included.)
-1 1 ½ ft long cat 5 cable (for internet)
-1 copy of campus map, much rumpled
-1 hardcover notebook, worn at edges
-programme from the IS Shakespearian play
-1 old chem. test, folded lengthwise
-1 agenda, with various papers and post-its stuck inside
-1 pair chem. goggles
-1 camera, with bag
-1 glasses case with glasses wiper inside, much neglected
-ti 83 calculator, much neglected (used only twice this year, and only for chem. because our teacher is picky and won’t let us make the simplification that the book uses)
-1 small green memo book (yep, same one from last year), in a VERY abused condition with only 6 pages left
-1 Jason Webley & Hillstomp entertainment flyer, from a very insistent solicitor in front of the bookstore, very crumpled
-1 crumpled receipt for Uhu adhesive, purchased as requested by IS teacher
-1 chunk of Uhu adhesive, 5% used, 10% flattened, and 15% stuck to random things
-1 empty bag of pocket pack tissues, left over from my flu-days
-7 paper cranes, crumpled almost beyond recognition
-1 receipt for sweatshirt, as a result of the continuing credit-card crises which will take too long to explain here
-1 penny, stuck to Uhu
-glasses
-ticket stub from YBCA galleries in San Francisco, from IS field trip
-business card from the manager of next year’s apartment, with pen & pencil marks and a huge dent in the middle of the card
-3 old coughdrops, also left over from flu days
-2 rubber bands
-3 mechanical pencils
-1 pen, found in chem. lecture that I kept because it doesn’t work but has a very interestingly shaped barrel
-1 slip of paper, with email address on it, that I should probably respond to before next Friday
-1 eraser
-1 wooden pencil, with most of the pain scratched off
-8 pennies, 6 quarters, 4 dime and 2 nickels, not stuck to anything
-crumpled peeled-off barcode from an old IS course reader
-cellphone
-1 wallet, with proper ID and stuff inside
-casio scientific calculator
-1 pack of pocket pack tissues, 1/5 used
-1 ball point pen, black
-1 rechargeable AAA battery
-1 origami bookmark, also crumpled
-9 pennies, 5 dimes, 2 quarters and 1 nickel in the “change” pocket
2. some numbers about freshman year finances
-college fees (including textbook, dorm/DC fees, tape, scantrons, batteries, and health insurance):
Fall quarter: 6853.55
Winter quarter: 6091.78
Spring quarter: 6128.81
-other expenses (clothes, movies, presents, laundry, etc.): average at 182.06 per month (including the cost of my laptop)
[Going home and sleeping for 12 hours without interruption: priceless.]
3. computer space occupation
-dedicated to academics 131MB
-everything else (pictures, music files, writings, etc.) 778 MB
And it goes on from there.
1. Account of stuff found inside my backpack at the end of the year, after a period of neglect (stuff that I stuck in there for moving out not included.)
-1 1 ½ ft long cat 5 cable (for internet)
-1 copy of campus map, much rumpled
-1 hardcover notebook, worn at edges
-programme from the IS Shakespearian play
-1 old chem. test, folded lengthwise
-1 agenda, with various papers and post-its stuck inside
-1 pair chem. goggles
-1 camera, with bag
-1 glasses case with glasses wiper inside, much neglected
-ti 83 calculator, much neglected (used only twice this year, and only for chem. because our teacher is picky and won’t let us make the simplification that the book uses)
-1 small green memo book (yep, same one from last year), in a VERY abused condition with only 6 pages left
-1 Jason Webley & Hillstomp entertainment flyer, from a very insistent solicitor in front of the bookstore, very crumpled
-1 crumpled receipt for Uhu adhesive, purchased as requested by IS teacher
-1 chunk of Uhu adhesive, 5% used, 10% flattened, and 15% stuck to random things
-1 empty bag of pocket pack tissues, left over from my flu-days
-7 paper cranes, crumpled almost beyond recognition
-1 receipt for sweatshirt, as a result of the continuing credit-card crises which will take too long to explain here
-1 penny, stuck to Uhu
-glasses
-ticket stub from YBCA galleries in San Francisco, from IS field trip
-business card from the manager of next year’s apartment, with pen & pencil marks and a huge dent in the middle of the card
-3 old coughdrops, also left over from flu days
-2 rubber bands
-3 mechanical pencils
-1 pen, found in chem. lecture that I kept because it doesn’t work but has a very interestingly shaped barrel
-1 slip of paper, with email address on it, that I should probably respond to before next Friday
-1 eraser
-1 wooden pencil, with most of the pain scratched off
-8 pennies, 6 quarters, 4 dime and 2 nickels, not stuck to anything
-crumpled peeled-off barcode from an old IS course reader
-cellphone
-1 wallet, with proper ID and stuff inside
-casio scientific calculator
-1 pack of pocket pack tissues, 1/5 used
-1 ball point pen, black
-1 rechargeable AAA battery
-1 origami bookmark, also crumpled
-9 pennies, 5 dimes, 2 quarters and 1 nickel in the “change” pocket
2. some numbers about freshman year finances
-college fees (including textbook, dorm/DC fees, tape, scantrons, batteries, and health insurance):
Fall quarter: 6853.55
Winter quarter: 6091.78
Spring quarter: 6128.81
-other expenses (clothes, movies, presents, laundry, etc.): average at 182.06 per month (including the cost of my laptop)
[Going home and sleeping for 12 hours without interruption: priceless.]
3. computer space occupation
-dedicated to academics 131MB
-everything else (pictures, music files, writings, etc.) 778 MB
And it goes on from there.
20060615
Recap: Last night
In both senses, and this is how it went:
Packing and cleaning up stuff until tired, and then went to clean up my inboxes of emails accumulated since September (something like a thousand emails) so that most of the major stuff is done by when I went to bed at 10-something. Molly has taken to sleeping from 2am-12pm the past few days so I didn't want to wake her in the morning by packing.
Fell asleep, as was tired.
Roommate stumbles back at around 2am with a guy and instructed him to prop the door open as that there's no light (by which she meant lamp, I think) and the guy asked very loudly if her roommate (me) is in here to which she replied that I was in my bed and then he turned on the room light (white ceiling light) for I don't know why until my roommate turned it off or something (not very clear at this point, still too groggy) and then they left.
Roommate returns at 5am, doing something that involved a crinkly wrapper.
Roommate returns at 6ish and starts packing, at which time I remembered that I'd asked her when she was leaving and she was actually leaving before I was, her mother's coming at 10am today, and she has a lot more to pack than I do. At which point I got up and finished packing. (Yeah, ironic, but I'm done with packing early now.)
I'm at my minimum hour of sleep right now and this has been a trying week. Pretend I'm dead from 9pm today until 9am tomorrow because I plan to sleep for 12 hours without interruptions.
And then?
More cleaning, of course, of everything that I've brought back.
So ends freshman year. The dorm looks very sad and empty with half of the people gone and all the bulletin (we have to clear those before we leave) and doors bare, and an occasional scrap of something fluttering across the hall, left over from whomever had just moved out.
Packing and cleaning up stuff until tired, and then went to clean up my inboxes of emails accumulated since September (something like a thousand emails) so that most of the major stuff is done by when I went to bed at 10-something. Molly has taken to sleeping from 2am-12pm the past few days so I didn't want to wake her in the morning by packing.
Fell asleep, as was tired.
Roommate stumbles back at around 2am with a guy and instructed him to prop the door open as that there's no light (by which she meant lamp, I think) and the guy asked very loudly if her roommate (me) is in here to which she replied that I was in my bed and then he turned on the room light (white ceiling light) for I don't know why until my roommate turned it off or something (not very clear at this point, still too groggy) and then they left.
Roommate returns at 5am, doing something that involved a crinkly wrapper.
Roommate returns at 6ish and starts packing, at which time I remembered that I'd asked her when she was leaving and she was actually leaving before I was, her mother's coming at 10am today, and she has a lot more to pack than I do. At which point I got up and finished packing. (Yeah, ironic, but I'm done with packing early now.)
I'm at my minimum hour of sleep right now and this has been a trying week. Pretend I'm dead from 9pm today until 9am tomorrow because I plan to sleep for 12 hours without interruptions.
And then?
More cleaning, of course, of everything that I've brought back.
So ends freshman year. The dorm looks very sad and empty with half of the people gone and all the bulletin (we have to clear those before we leave) and doors bare, and an occasional scrap of something fluttering across the hall, left over from whomever had just moved out.
20060614
Recap: Untitled
Foresee a rant about the ineffectiveness of certain professors in the near future. Meanwhile:
1 day, 1 final, and a whole lot of packing and cleaning left.
[edit 18:26]
I've talked with more acquintainces today than my entire year here, for some reason.
Alright, so bio felt okay, chem was MUY horrible (as in messed up a 20 pt question horrible), but I have done the best I can under the given circumstances and I'm not going to think about it anymore.
So now, 1 day, and a whole lot of packing and cleaning left.
Sigh.
Let summer begin already. Hem.
1 day, 1 final, and a whole lot of packing and cleaning left.
[edit 18:26]
I've talked with more acquintainces today than my entire year here, for some reason.
Alright, so bio felt okay, chem was MUY horrible (as in messed up a 20 pt question horrible), but I have done the best I can under the given circumstances and I'm not going to think about it anymore.
So now, 1 day, and a whole lot of packing and cleaning left.
Sigh.
Let summer begin already. Hem.
20060613
Recap: Untitled
The weather have been going progressively downhill. I hear we're having a below the norm temp here, but if it's that way here, then I'd hazard that it's pretty much the same for this region of California. Temperature trends operate on the macro, not microclimate level.
Art prof dropped off our sketch books today, and I get to be special and get the blue envelope in a mail container full of tan-colored ones (which actually meant nothing special except, perhaps, that she ran out of normal colored envelopes)...but the grade isn't posted it. Which I'm not actually worried about because this is one class that I refuse to fret about.
Finally grasped the concept of solubility problems, with the tests being about a day away. I'd be lying if I said it made me less stressful. I'd also be lying if I said I don't look forward to going home, but that's pretty much a thwack to the head at this point.
I need more time to put my thoughts together--more time than I can currently afford but, as the poem goes: "There will be time, there will be time..."
Summer, even for me, is on its way. Cheers!
2 days, 2 finals, and a whole lot of packing and cleaning left.
Art prof dropped off our sketch books today, and I get to be special and get the blue envelope in a mail container full of tan-colored ones (which actually meant nothing special except, perhaps, that she ran out of normal colored envelopes)...but the grade isn't posted it. Which I'm not actually worried about because this is one class that I refuse to fret about.
Finally grasped the concept of solubility problems, with the tests being about a day away. I'd be lying if I said it made me less stressful. I'd also be lying if I said I don't look forward to going home, but that's pretty much a thwack to the head at this point.
I need more time to put my thoughts together--more time than I can currently afford but, as the poem goes: "There will be time, there will be time..."
Summer, even for me, is on its way. Cheers!
2 days, 2 finals, and a whole lot of packing and cleaning left.
20060612
Recap: But is the ketchup right side up?
So yes, because I DID, in fact, fill in my summer availability form on time and did, in fact, give sufficient warning for the two weeks, I managed to get out of Tuesday which means that I won't have to indulge in any more masochistic tendencies than strictly necessary on Wednesday. And therefore yesterday was my last day at work, along with a few others. There were goodbyes, and short speeches. Craig and Dan gave me a group hug goodbye (a good thing that I've finally gotten over the hugging thing because otherwise that would've been REALLY awkward) and I took two pictures that, hopefully, will turn out.
And hello Albert, I see you've found the url alright. I don't plan on starting the DC humor until post-finals because finals does weird things to my head. I'll be stopping the one-post a day rule on the last day of school (i.e. Thursday). Mechling ought to be satisfied--I don't think any other frosh-doc-ers kept up the post-a-day for the ENTIRE school year. Meanwhile, starting next week, I'll start reaccounting more of my freshman-year experience. Being no longer involved with either the DC or the dorms, I hope to speak more candidly (and therefore be probably a lot more entertaining to most of you readers). Look for the the posts, they'll be titled "Memoirs" instead of "Recap."
I'll be posting frequently, if a bit erratically.
But yes, Ketchup, Salt, AND THEN Pepper is just one of the many jokes there are, like the What's In the Flower Vase Today, or the Look What I Found In the Dishroom--and then there're the dorm's Really Awkward Not-Quite-Silences, and Floor Alias...all in good time.
Meanwhile it's phylogeny and solubility constants for me, though not at the same time. I hope. Not yet at least.
[edit 11:27]
Grievance: It's entirely unfair of the teacher to ask us to know the spelling of the names when HE mispells them. It's cephalAspidomorphi and not cephalOspidomorphi, for goodness's sake.
And hello Albert, I see you've found the url alright. I don't plan on starting the DC humor until post-finals because finals does weird things to my head. I'll be stopping the one-post a day rule on the last day of school (i.e. Thursday). Mechling ought to be satisfied--I don't think any other frosh-doc-ers kept up the post-a-day for the ENTIRE school year. Meanwhile, starting next week, I'll start reaccounting more of my freshman-year experience. Being no longer involved with either the DC or the dorms, I hope to speak more candidly (and therefore be probably a lot more entertaining to most of you readers). Look for the the posts, they'll be titled "Memoirs" instead of "Recap."
I'll be posting frequently, if a bit erratically.
But yes, Ketchup, Salt, AND THEN Pepper is just one of the many jokes there are, like the What's In the Flower Vase Today, or the Look What I Found In the Dishroom--and then there're the dorm's Really Awkward Not-Quite-Silences, and Floor Alias...all in good time.
Meanwhile it's phylogeny and solubility constants for me, though not at the same time. I hope. Not yet at least.
[edit 11:27]
Grievance: It's entirely unfair of the teacher to ask us to know the spelling of the names when HE mispells them. It's cephalAspidomorphi and not cephalOspidomorphi, for goodness's sake.
20060611
Recap: Untitled
It's ironic how I seem to do better with empirical science, considering the fact that my favorite is the other type. Perhaps it's just the fact of there being a strict right and wrong answer that I'm good with. Or at least, comparatively good with, since most of the said science classes grade on curves.
But the other type of science is SO much more interesting...even if my grade doesn't seem to reflect my level of enthusiasm. Probably because with this kind of science, everything depends not on the answer, but on how you present the answer, and I have yet to learn how to convey my ideas successfully with a clock ticking over my head (sometimes literally, depending on the seating).
Let's see...today the first group of people begin to move out (first round of finals began, after all, on Friday). I'm feeling nostalgic already (in between the cramming). Part of it is for the people, even the ones I'm not friends with, because after all, we've shared a year-long experience together and that creates a bonding of sorts. Most of it, however, is just nostalgia of time. Another year is passing (have passed, come Thursday). It makes me think of the Garfield comic strip in which the owner, John, says, "Time marches on" upon which Garfield stretched out both of his arms and goes "Come back!"
Hear, hear, Garfield.
And apparently yesterday's Queen's Birthday in England. Poor Zach, if he stayed in England he would've gotten the day off instead of spending it studying for his finals, as he is wont to do.
4 days, 2 finals, and a whole lot of cleaning & packing left.
But the other type of science is SO much more interesting...even if my grade doesn't seem to reflect my level of enthusiasm. Probably because with this kind of science, everything depends not on the answer, but on how you present the answer, and I have yet to learn how to convey my ideas successfully with a clock ticking over my head (sometimes literally, depending on the seating).
Let's see...today the first group of people begin to move out (first round of finals began, after all, on Friday). I'm feeling nostalgic already (in between the cramming). Part of it is for the people, even the ones I'm not friends with, because after all, we've shared a year-long experience together and that creates a bonding of sorts. Most of it, however, is just nostalgia of time. Another year is passing (have passed, come Thursday). It makes me think of the Garfield comic strip in which the owner, John, says, "Time marches on" upon which Garfield stretched out both of his arms and goes "Come back!"
Hear, hear, Garfield.
And apparently yesterday's Queen's Birthday in England. Poor Zach, if he stayed in England he would've gotten the day off instead of spending it studying for his finals, as he is wont to do.
4 days, 2 finals, and a whole lot of cleaning & packing left.
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