Total hours slept: 8
Total number of classes signed up for: 4
Total number of items on TO-DO list: 6
Total cups of tea drank: 0
Total number of emails processed: 12
Total number of boxes sorted: 4
Considering that it is currently 10:08am, I would say that the stats are still, so far, in my favor. Alright, onwards:
Yesterday, as most of you who read this know, was Kate's birthday. We had a movie day at her house (the last one this summer, I think, since Berkeley starts today and all other schools follow). Kate's rabbit was...'rambunctious' is nicest word I can use for her behavior. For some reason she had decided that her litter box was an enemy worthy of her foil and thus spent an admirable amount of effort headbutting it. I'm not entirely sure why she was doing that, since I AM pretty sure that she knew the litter box was (and still is, I hope) not alive.
Anna arrived next with a hug for Kate and the opening phrase "happy birthday!" which was immediately followed by the comment "Kate, your hair's wet." (Kate had just taken a shower.) We put out food. There was a lot of food. We put out more food. Kate chased Anna away from the kitchen. Well, not 'chase', exactly. It was more along the lines of Kate giving Anna one of her patented looks and Anna announcing that okay, she'd leave the kitchen now. (It was just as effective as a spatula.) Kate's mom came and they went to pick out movies. Kateryna came in the midst of CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY and aside from Anna, we all agreed that the science-defying movie of twitchy people was incredibly creepy. Kateryna brought "orangenade" soda which is, apparently, suppose to be like lemonade except with oranges. After about two seconds of consideration, we decided that healthy soda is an oxymoron and (I forgot who said it) anything that ends with the 'aed' sound is probably bad for you.
There was lunch (more food). Kate made us sandwiches. There was a very nice green table cloth that we, during the course of the day, redecorated with pineapples, mayo, and orangenade.
Soniya came in the middle of MIRRORMASK which I believe did not help her understand what the movie was about. It was not one of those movies that you can pick up in the middle and still figure out what happened. It WAS pretty though. And then there was (but of course) cake and the choir of "happy birthay", afterwhich Kate blew on her cake (because there was no candle) and wished that she'd never have hear us sing "happy-birthday" again. (I don't know, Kate. Do you think if I wrote it down here, for the records, that we'll remember it in time for next year?) Then there were presents and now that I've thought about it, Lucy, I am sorry that I didn't take pictures of Kate's expression. You'll just have to ask her what she got and imagine the expressions she must've had. Use that imagination. (Hem.)
We saw photos those of Lucy in Armenia (we were all very puzzled, by the way, with the one picture where Lucy dressed up and pretended to be an old woman) and we saw photos of Chicago, with occasional photos of Kate's mother in Chicago and one (yep, one) picture of Kate in Chicago. Soniya (and the rest of us) demanded to know why there wasn't more pictures of Kate and (Soniya) introduced us to the phrase "pristine beauty." In otherwords, the phrase "your photos need more 'pristine beauty'" meant "your photos need more you in it and less of the other stuff/people." I found (and still find) the idea of Kate as 'pristine' highly amusing and continues to wonder if I'm the only one who finds it funny.
Malvina came just as everyone was leaving (at around five). When she found out that we were all leaving, she ran back out and signals for Aaron to stop (eventually the signaling had to revert to the o' cellphone method) and wait for her, since she was not going to stay long then, either. At this point the rabbit was tired out (or bored out of her mind, couldn't say which) and could be found stretched out on the floor of her cage.
This was about the point when I left. As I was about to leave Kate went and got the box of soy-cracker-things that I brought, so now I have a box of soy-cracker-things and I really do think, Kate, that you will be seeing them in Davis.
Haunted by soy-cracker-things.
Still here: Ladies, come pick up your gents.
20060824
Random: Avoid styrofoam
Yes I am, by large, still paying attention.
As the title suggests, this's a post mainly to advocate that people should avoid using styrofoam whenever possible. (I know in some instances you don't have a choice, but when given the option....)
Why?
Did you know that styrofoam cups actually gets lighter as you drink from them?
When people say "styrofoam" or "foam" they're usually thinking about polystyrene, something that's made from petroleum (a derivative of). Polystyrene, as the name implies (poly=many) is made of styrene. Styrene has a tendency to leak onto other stuff. Namely food. Especially food that contains fat. (Yum, styrene in your food, how about that?) When you eat styrene, it may not stay as styrene in your body. Your body makes (metabolizes) styrene oxide out of it. Styrene oxide is not proven to cause cancer in humans (carcinogenic), but it is known to cause cancer in animals. (Which I take it to mean lab rats, because, pardon me for asking, are humans not animals? Default human arrogance strikes, once again.) So it's put down as PROBABLY cancer causing to humans (scroll down to "unsaturated polyesters" under "monomers"), though there's also this (scroll to section under "How likely is styrene to cause cancer"). In any case, styrene kills brain cells (i.e. counted as a neurotoxin).
So yes, if you can, avoid styrofoam.
SF's got a head start on it though
And while I'm at it ("it" meaning scientific/environmental info dump), I might as well as try a little propaganda:
Go here to sign an open letter (you can get your name listed as "anonymous" if you're feeling squimish) to demand that Ford keeps its word and its commitement of making hybrid models. (Ford vehicles, by the way, supposidely have "the worst fuel economy". See site.)
As the title suggests, this's a post mainly to advocate that people should avoid using styrofoam whenever possible. (I know in some instances you don't have a choice, but when given the option....)
Why?
Did you know that styrofoam cups actually gets lighter as you drink from them?
When people say "styrofoam" or "foam" they're usually thinking about polystyrene, something that's made from petroleum (a derivative of). Polystyrene, as the name implies (poly=many) is made of styrene. Styrene has a tendency to leak onto other stuff. Namely food. Especially food that contains fat. (Yum, styrene in your food, how about that?) When you eat styrene, it may not stay as styrene in your body. Your body makes (metabolizes) styrene oxide out of it. Styrene oxide is not proven to cause cancer in humans (carcinogenic), but it is known to cause cancer in animals. (Which I take it to mean lab rats, because, pardon me for asking, are humans not animals? Default human arrogance strikes, once again.) So it's put down as PROBABLY cancer causing to humans (scroll down to "unsaturated polyesters" under "monomers"), though there's also this (scroll to section under "How likely is styrene to cause cancer"). In any case, styrene kills brain cells (i.e. counted as a neurotoxin).
So yes, if you can, avoid styrofoam.
SF's got a head start on it though
And while I'm at it ("it" meaning scientific/environmental info dump), I might as well as try a little propaganda:
Go here to sign an open letter (you can get your name listed as "anonymous" if you're feeling squimish) to demand that Ford keeps its word and its commitement of making hybrid models. (Ford vehicles, by the way, supposidely have "the worst fuel economy". See site.)
20060822
Recap: The buzzing continues
My cellphone contract has expired, so now the service is canceled. I expect there'll be a new number of some sort within two weeks. Meanwhile, there's my home number and of course, email.
What else? Well, list-making is currently reaching it's crescendo, as well as, I think, the purchasing of random objects by my parents. Kate and Annie, if you two are reading this, I have now gained the possession of a small-ish bulletin board/whiteboard-agenda. It's-- I didn't know people use that particular combination enough for it to make it to the shelf as a consumer product, but it did. I wonder if I can stick it on the fridge. Which reminds-- clocks, anyone? Shall we have a clock somewhere?
Aaaannd that's the way it's going to be all the way until September. My parents asked if I felt nervous about going to school or if last year's experience was enough to ...uh... 'rub the shine off', so to speak. To be honest, being nervous didn't even make it onto my to-do list, and this year is going to be different enough from last year (statement, not an opinion) that I doubt last year's events will be sufficient to prepare me for anything. Now NEXT year, it may be a different story. Then again, it may not; I tip my hat to Murphy's Law, which has all the inevitability of entropy.
Mom bought a tiny cacti set with the instructions that I'm to start it for her and have it growing by the time of her birthday, as my present to her. Yes, she plans on maintaining herself afterwards (personally I'm thinking of making a sign that says "DO NOT OVER-WATER" and taping it to the pot, because she tends to over-water plants). This just tops it all in terms of my summer of "let's start this from seed!"
Let's go and grow some cacti!
What else? Well, list-making is currently reaching it's crescendo, as well as, I think, the purchasing of random objects by my parents. Kate and Annie, if you two are reading this, I have now gained the possession of a small-ish bulletin board/whiteboard-agenda. It's-- I didn't know people use that particular combination enough for it to make it to the shelf as a consumer product, but it did. I wonder if I can stick it on the fridge. Which reminds-- clocks, anyone? Shall we have a clock somewhere?
Aaaannd that's the way it's going to be all the way until September. My parents asked if I felt nervous about going to school or if last year's experience was enough to ...uh... 'rub the shine off', so to speak. To be honest, being nervous didn't even make it onto my to-do list, and this year is going to be different enough from last year (statement, not an opinion) that I doubt last year's events will be sufficient to prepare me for anything. Now NEXT year, it may be a different story. Then again, it may not; I tip my hat to Murphy's Law, which has all the inevitability of entropy.
Mom bought a tiny cacti set with the instructions that I'm to start it for her and have it growing by the time of her birthday, as my present to her. Yes, she plans on maintaining herself afterwards (personally I'm thinking of making a sign that says "DO NOT OVER-WATER" and taping it to the pot, because she tends to over-water plants). This just tops it all in terms of my summer of "let's start this from seed!"
Let's go and grow some cacti!
20060821
Recap: SF trip, part II, continued
Part I at the bottom, if you're viewing this before I wrote the next post. Scroll down please.
...
Near the path to Stowe Lake was a statue of a woman with two children. At one point when we're passing by, someone asked, "But who's the nurturing lady?" to which a boy (elementary school age) who happened to pass by grinned and answered, airly, "Oh, that's my mother."
We cracked up, to say the least. The guy was very much confused until we explained that we were refering to the statue. But I-- yes. It's the statue of a 'pioneering woman' or something of that sort (as dictated by the inscription below the statue) with two naked children. The boy looked to be one of those nice Asian boys, passing by on a bike, which made his statement all the funnier.
That's my mother, indeed.
Stowe Lake had an island on the center, which we went on and yes, Lusine, Kate climbed things. Kate has a tendency to climb things. We saw ducks and seagulls and turtles and of course, people. Later on we wandered past again, looking for the shuttle, wondering if there even is one. Much to our surprise, there exists the free Golden Gate Park shuttle. It is not a myth. However, it was going the other way and so we waited for one that was going the direction that we were aiming for. We saw horses (with riders, of course), and cars, and people in rollerblades and on bikes. We saw no other shuttle aside from the one whose driver indicated we should wait for the one that's going our direction. Eventually we gave up and just decided to wander some more, passing by many blackberry brambles on our way, which Malvina and Kate exploited ("come and taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth", Kate?)even though SF is not exactly the ideal site for berries. Not enough sun and relatively high salinity.
We went up Kennedy Road, we went down Kennedy road and I lost my directions once, causing others to walk even more (sorry, guys). Eventually we wandered down on Irving, where Malvina lead us into Starbucks and bought us things to drink (thanks Malvina!). There was still some time left before our ride got there, so we continued wandering. We went into a Russian grocery store-like place, where Kate bought a chocolate egg-- one of the ones that, apparently, had a toy inside (it was a mountain goat. It was a mountain goat?). They also had pickled apples. I've never seen pickled apples before which reminds me-- has ANYONE ever seen canned spinach before? Just curious.
Continued wandering, eventually entering a VERY random store which included but is not limited to things such as penguin-shaped bath salts, toy guitars, furry stuffed-animal crabs, and very opinionated fridge magnets ("Like a rock, only dumber," said one, with reference to Mr. President; "Reversing progress one day at a time," said another, same subject matter ).
We left Victoria as the N-line stop and went on an earlier transit than our ever-so-helpful cal-train trip-planner suggested (that's a lot of dashes. Isn't that a lot of dashes?) so we ended up getting to the Cal train station early. Finished the rice crackers (which apallingly healthy for a snack and unexpectedly popular). Sat around on the ground. Talked. Called our parents. Got called by our parents. You know how that usually goes. Got on the train, very uneventful and zippety-do-da we're back.
Despite of what my mother may have thought, I did not encounter any terrorists during the trip. There was one lady who asked us how to get to Stern Grove or some place that sounded like it while we're waiting for the shuttle, to which we replied that we don't know (or in Kate's case, "We're not natives."). After which Victoria used a particularly terrifying kind of voice to tell us that she thought the place was "REALLY far from here." (Note to self for the future, do not ask Victoria for directions, especially when feeling paranoid.) That was, however, my extent of terror for the day. And as Anna put it, "We should do it again sometimes, guys."
Satisfactory for a recap?
[13:23 ETA]
Kate, I have your newspaper and your Advil.
Yes, Lucy, I let her climb things while she was on drugs. Shameful, isn't it?
Also, if anyone want a fullsize copy of any of the photos, email me.
...
Near the path to Stowe Lake was a statue of a woman with two children. At one point when we're passing by, someone asked, "But who's the nurturing lady?" to which a boy (elementary school age) who happened to pass by grinned and answered, airly, "Oh, that's my mother."
We cracked up, to say the least. The guy was very much confused until we explained that we were refering to the statue. But I-- yes. It's the statue of a 'pioneering woman' or something of that sort (as dictated by the inscription below the statue) with two naked children. The boy looked to be one of those nice Asian boys, passing by on a bike, which made his statement all the funnier.
That's my mother, indeed.
Stowe Lake had an island on the center, which we went on and yes, Lusine, Kate climbed things. Kate has a tendency to climb things. We saw ducks and seagulls and turtles and of course, people. Later on we wandered past again, looking for the shuttle, wondering if there even is one. Much to our surprise, there exists the free Golden Gate Park shuttle. It is not a myth. However, it was going the other way and so we waited for one that was going the direction that we were aiming for. We saw horses (with riders, of course), and cars, and people in rollerblades and on bikes. We saw no other shuttle aside from the one whose driver indicated we should wait for the one that's going our direction. Eventually we gave up and just decided to wander some more, passing by many blackberry brambles on our way, which Malvina and Kate exploited ("come and taste the sun-sweet berries of the earth", Kate?)even though SF is not exactly the ideal site for berries. Not enough sun and relatively high salinity.
We went up Kennedy Road, we went down Kennedy road and I lost my directions once, causing others to walk even more (sorry, guys). Eventually we wandered down on Irving, where Malvina lead us into Starbucks and bought us things to drink (thanks Malvina!). There was still some time left before our ride got there, so we continued wandering. We went into a Russian grocery store-like place, where Kate bought a chocolate egg-- one of the ones that, apparently, had a toy inside (it was a mountain goat. It was a mountain goat?). They also had pickled apples. I've never seen pickled apples before which reminds me-- has ANYONE ever seen canned spinach before? Just curious.
Continued wandering, eventually entering a VERY random store which included but is not limited to things such as penguin-shaped bath salts, toy guitars, furry stuffed-animal crabs, and very opinionated fridge magnets ("Like a rock, only dumber," said one, with reference to Mr. President; "Reversing progress one day at a time," said another, same subject matter ).
We left Victoria as the N-line stop and went on an earlier transit than our ever-so-helpful cal-train trip-planner suggested (that's a lot of dashes. Isn't that a lot of dashes?) so we ended up getting to the Cal train station early. Finished the rice crackers (which apallingly healthy for a snack and unexpectedly popular). Sat around on the ground. Talked. Called our parents. Got called by our parents. You know how that usually goes. Got on the train, very uneventful and zippety-do-da we're back.
Despite of what my mother may have thought, I did not encounter any terrorists during the trip. There was one lady who asked us how to get to Stern Grove or some place that sounded like it while we're waiting for the shuttle, to which we replied that we don't know (or in Kate's case, "We're not natives."). After which Victoria used a particularly terrifying kind of voice to tell us that she thought the place was "REALLY far from here." (Note to self for the future, do not ask Victoria for directions, especially when feeling paranoid.) That was, however, my extent of terror for the day. And as Anna put it, "We should do it again sometimes, guys."
Satisfactory for a recap?
[13:23 ETA]
Kate, I have your newspaper and your Advil.
Yes, Lucy, I let her climb things while she was on drugs. Shameful, isn't it?
Also, if anyone want a fullsize copy of any of the photos, email me.
Recap: We have ventured forth... part I
"You have to include that joke in your recap," said Kate. "When you write the recap."
"I am (writing a recap)?" I asked.
"Yes," stated Kate. "You are."
...
"...It's Sunday morning over were you guys are, and despite my jealousy I hope you'll all have a great time (and take pictures! ahem)," wrote Lusine.
To which I've decided, oh well, "You'll hear about the trip (maybe with pictures too) in my blog, which I'll type a entry in, next morning."
So, my salutations to the two ladies. Here's a long and detailed recap of the events of yesterday. Blogger won't let me upload pictures this morning, so you'll have to go under my yahoo account to see the photos (#9-19, though Anna went 'trigger-happy' and took many more pictures of all kinds of things until her camera ran out of batteries, so ask her for pictures too). Cheers.
...
It was a gray and cloudy morning when we met at Costco, which was very empty, due to the fact that most people had better things to do on a Sunday morning (i.e. before 9am) than to meet in front of a store that doesn't even open until 10am. Ashley had apparently left for Arkansas, and Christine's moving in to Berkeley (good luck, Christine!), Soniya's working at the Jazz Festival so, when the counting began, the group consisted of Anna, Kate, Malvina and I.
We played around with the ticket machines which for reasons I can't fathom only returned changes in coins. Therefore, when Anna inserted a twenty dollar bill, it sounded like she'd suddenly won lottery. Oh the clinking. Oh the number of coins. Oh the-- Chuckee? Chucky? Cheese tokens. Token. Singular, I hope. One has to wonder how it got in there. But Anna had a cat-shaped purse which she was very excited about. Look! It's like a cat!
The train came on time. That was nice.
The trip over to SF involved stopping at San Carlos, taking a bus to downtown SF, then taking another bus from there to the Golden Gate Park. Getting off at San Carlos was not very eventful...until we saw the bus arriving when we're still some distances away from it. There was running. We came up to the bus, where it stopped at the red light, to have the driver indicate with his hands that the bus stop was in fact at the next ...block (well, it was sort of a block, given the train-station set up). So? More running. But we caught the bus on time, which allowed us to catch the other bus on time (always a good thing), and during the course of the entire trip got to listen to the enlightening conversation between Malvina and Kate on the usage and effect of drugs vs steroids, which drew some very odd looks from our fellow passengers. (But we're teenagers, so we got to get away with saying an awful lot of strange things.)
Met Victoria at Park from which point we went to the conservatorium. There were lots of plants. We looked at the plants. There was also a butterfly exhibit in place while we visited which was very nice, which I thought was nice, in theory. However my current tolerance for butterflies is "no more than three live ones", and there was an entire ROOM full. After a few minutes I decided that I wasn't too keen on getting over my phobia on the spot (didn't feel particularly like suffering that day) and left to the room. Got Kate to take pictures for me though. Thanks Kate.
We met a survey taker on our way out, who insisted on us taking a survey. "It'll only take a few minutes," he said, "And I'll even help you with the hard questions."
He began by inquiring the number of people in our group, then our age bracket. 25-30? He tried. 18-24? Ye-es, we agreed. Malvina gave Kate a sideways look. "Well, she's 17." To which Kate very emphathetically stated that there was only seven days left, SEVEN. To which the survey taker (a guy) remarked that he's a virgo too. Oookay, we thought, and waited for the next question.
"What's your reason for coming to the conservatory?" He inquired politely (and he's always polite, by the way). My first thought was, because Malvina wanted to go to the restroom, which I can't very well say, so I said something along the lines of "because we know where it is." Which, I think, the guy found disappointing.
We wandered over to the outside gardens after that. At this point Anna was asking repeatedly if we were going to have lunch, so we sat down on the bench by the chrysanthemum garden and had lunch (and I illegally fed a bird but shh, don't tell).
Should we try to find a shuttle or wander, we wondered, after lunch. Wander, we decided, and therefore did, passing by the survey taker (poor guy) again (there were actually a surprising number of them that day), upon which Kate cried "Avert your eyes! Avert your eyes!" I think we concluded that survey takers are the current equivalent of social leprosy, and from that point on, whenever Kate saw a survey taker she would say "Avert your eyes!"
We saw a dancing class outside of De Young Museum. That was very odd. And Anna is apparently obsessed with mini coopers, letting us know-- one way or another-- whenever she spotted another one. At one point I think she started talking to them, saying how cute they are. I wasn't entirely sure, but we continued our wondering and eventually arrived at Stowe Lake.
Okay, far too long, breaking this into two posts.
20060817
Recap: Books, pens, books, what?
Classes are over-- and classes are about to begin again, soon. There're still dozens of little errands to run, things to clear up and parents to sooth (must this occur every year? Every?). I'd start the mental preparations except now I'm convinced that no amount of preparations is enough for the actual experience. It's much more interesting, anyway, to take things as they come. Interesting, not necessarily easier. Choice is, actually, not an actual issue in this question, so it's just a matter of perspective. You can either accept it or fight it, and I've decided that the energy spent fighting something inevitable could be put to better use. Such as continuing my attempts to reduce the length of my to-read list, for example.
What has happened lately?
Well, Kate's in Chicago and I'm currently taking care of her rabbit, who has decided that she really liked curtains. Lusine's in Armenia and suffering from some combination of boredom and heat, though it's not so bad now, I hear, since she started having art classes. Victoria's still in SF. Anna's around, having just been freed from classes, and likewise, has errants to run (not to mention work).
My dad's finally finished the floor. That's something. And I've been collecting plants after a fashion. Mostly though, I've slept. I even slept until nine this morning which was very strange considering my usual habits, but very nice also.
Nostalgia. And I don't even know what I'm nostalgic for. Oh there are guesses, as there always will, but for this once, I don't think I'm about to hit upon the answer any time in the near future. Nor do I want to.
I'll leave off this very much rambling post with something my old ESL teacher has sent me:
ZEN SARCASM
1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me,
for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much
leave me the hell alone.
2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and
leaky tire
3. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your
neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
4. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be
promoted.
5. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.
6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.
7. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of
car
payments.
8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.
That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have
their
shoes.
9. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.
10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish,
and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.
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Also, ladies, come pick up your gents.
What has happened lately?
Well, Kate's in Chicago and I'm currently taking care of her rabbit, who has decided that she really liked curtains. Lusine's in Armenia and suffering from some combination of boredom and heat, though it's not so bad now, I hear, since she started having art classes. Victoria's still in SF. Anna's around, having just been freed from classes, and likewise, has errants to run (not to mention work).
My dad's finally finished the floor. That's something. And I've been collecting plants after a fashion. Mostly though, I've slept. I even slept until nine this morning which was very strange considering my usual habits, but very nice also.
Nostalgia. And I don't even know what I'm nostalgic for. Oh there are guesses, as there always will, but for this once, I don't think I'm about to hit upon the answer any time in the near future. Nor do I want to.
I'll leave off this very much rambling post with something my old ESL teacher has sent me:
ZEN SARCASM
1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me,
for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much
leave me the hell alone.
2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and
leaky tire
3. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your
neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
4. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be
promoted.
5. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.
6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.
7. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of
car
payments.
8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.
That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have
their
shoes.
9. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.
10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish,
and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.
Delete Reply Forward Spam Move...
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Also, ladies, come pick up your gents.
20060813
Annoucement: Ladies, come and pick your your gents...
If you would like to reclaim / update your character, now's the time to do it. I daresay that all of them have "gained" (AHEM) enough personality to be stand-alone characters. Ah yes, about the reclaiming / updating: when a character's reclaimed, he won't appear again in my writing / art. Updating is, well, updating. You download the character profile, add / change what you will (if you would be so kind as to make the changed parts a different color, that would be much appreciated)) and then send the edited version back (email or, I don't know, you can always print it out and thwack me over the head with it?). Here are the profiles (.doc) uploaded under my geocity account. Listed alphabetically by last name we have:
Mssr. N. Lucille
Mr. M. J. Reynolds
Mr. G. F. Smith
Oh yes, if you reclaim your character, email or otherwise. Just let me know. You are not allowed to claim someone else's character unless she consents and yes, I'm leaving Zach out of it and he's not open to anyone's claim.
Any further writing (in planning or otherwise) will be postponed until I get some form of response from the three people I'm waiting to hear from (who hopefully still reads this). Meanwhile, the random sketches continues haphazardly at my livejournal.
Cheers. The year-long experiment has certainly been an experience.
Mssr. N. Lucille
Oh yes, if you reclaim your character, email or otherwise. Just let me know. You are not allowed to claim someone else's character unless she consents and yes, I'm leaving Zach out of it and he's not open to anyone's claim.
Any further writing (in planning or otherwise) will be postponed until I get some form of response from the three people I'm waiting to hear from (who hopefully still reads this). Meanwhile, the random sketches continues haphazardly at my livejournal.
Cheers. The year-long experiment has certainly been an experience.
20060805
Recap: And merrily met again
So here's a recap, something I haven't done, it seems, for a while.
Moving continues. Except now it's much less of "got to get this from here to there" and more of "how to assemble this in a semi-decent home-like manner once it's there." There is now a new floor on the first floor (no pun intended) and it's gratifying to go for DAYS without stepping on a nail that's poking through the worn through carpet. I tried avoiding the nails, but when you spend as much of your time running around the house barefoot as I tend to do, trying to avoid the nails, no matter how herculean the effort, is not good enough.
Digging around in the garden also continues. It takes approximately one month post tarp-removal for weeds to start showing up in all available and watered areas. (And by available I mean any place that's marginally less cement like than cement and the hard baked clay region.) The cucumbers have gone in and I've actually managed to start the tomatoes from seed. That's where they are still. Starting. Tomatoes from seed takes a great deal longer than tomatoes from seedling as my mother later found out. There are flowers too, and there will be more food followed by still more flowers. Currently it's all very confusing where anything will eventually end up due to the fact that my parents disagree with me in where things should go. I tend to, for instance, want to plant the things that like the sun in very sunny spots. My parents are more practical in that they hope to plant things in the area where the soil is actually workable (i.e. not cement like). There is, until either the arrival of more potting soil or a change in the rotation of earth, no right or wrong answer about this, so we'll see what happens.
Class goes on. I have just completed a program that calculates loan information and prints amortization tables. Which I don't entirely understand yet. Which the computer seems to be just fine with, once I give it the equations and format. It's boggling, but at least the computer has no trouble with negative signs-- something I think we should all be glad about.
Went to Kate's yesterday. It was her mother's birthday and I arrived just as her mother was about to leave. There was a certain amount of ranting involved, as it usually happens. And as it usually happens Kate showed me downloaded things on her laptop. I think I'm going to call these episodes of downloaded-things-viewing "cultural lessons," which is what it ideally is, except I don't have to worry about tests (there are occasional "pop quizzes" though, I think). Which is nice. We had cake and cider later, which is also nice. It never fails to amuse my parents when my friends "try to feed me", but I think there's another issue here that needs investigation.
On a random note: "mind your Ps and Qs" is cited, by the Oxford English Dictionary in 1779 as a childish abbreviation to the phrase "mind your pleases and thank yous". However, there have been various other explanations for it, which include but are probably not limited to these.
Your source of information is brought to you by:
-Google- now finally a dictionary word in the Merriam Webster Diction which the meaning is something along the lines of "to search, to find."
[edit 17:54]
Taken directly from email from Kate:
Talk about timing.
Moving continues. Except now it's much less of "got to get this from here to there" and more of "how to assemble this in a semi-decent home-like manner once it's there." There is now a new floor on the first floor (no pun intended) and it's gratifying to go for DAYS without stepping on a nail that's poking through the worn through carpet. I tried avoiding the nails, but when you spend as much of your time running around the house barefoot as I tend to do, trying to avoid the nails, no matter how herculean the effort, is not good enough.
Digging around in the garden also continues. It takes approximately one month post tarp-removal for weeds to start showing up in all available and watered areas. (And by available I mean any place that's marginally less cement like than cement and the hard baked clay region.) The cucumbers have gone in and I've actually managed to start the tomatoes from seed. That's where they are still. Starting. Tomatoes from seed takes a great deal longer than tomatoes from seedling as my mother later found out. There are flowers too, and there will be more food followed by still more flowers. Currently it's all very confusing where anything will eventually end up due to the fact that my parents disagree with me in where things should go. I tend to, for instance, want to plant the things that like the sun in very sunny spots. My parents are more practical in that they hope to plant things in the area where the soil is actually workable (i.e. not cement like). There is, until either the arrival of more potting soil or a change in the rotation of earth, no right or wrong answer about this, so we'll see what happens.
Class goes on. I have just completed a program that calculates loan information and prints amortization tables. Which I don't entirely understand yet. Which the computer seems to be just fine with, once I give it the equations and format. It's boggling, but at least the computer has no trouble with negative signs-- something I think we should all be glad about.
Went to Kate's yesterday. It was her mother's birthday and I arrived just as her mother was about to leave. There was a certain amount of ranting involved, as it usually happens. And as it usually happens Kate showed me downloaded things on her laptop. I think I'm going to call these episodes of downloaded-things-viewing "cultural lessons," which is what it ideally is, except I don't have to worry about tests (there are occasional "pop quizzes" though, I think). Which is nice. We had cake and cider later, which is also nice. It never fails to amuse my parents when my friends "try to feed me", but I think there's another issue here that needs investigation.
On a random note: "mind your Ps and Qs" is cited, by the Oxford English Dictionary in 1779 as a childish abbreviation to the phrase "mind your pleases and thank yous". However, there have been various other explanations for it, which include but are probably not limited to these.
Your source of information is brought to you by:
-Google- now finally a dictionary word in the Merriam Webster Diction which the meaning is something along the lines of "to search, to find."
[edit 17:54]
Taken directly from email from Kate:
Apparently there is some debate about the origins of the phrase. It can be traced as far back as the 17th century, but no one knows what it's *actually* referring to. There are some theories, however.
The version I've heard is the one where people confused the p's and the q's in printing shop.
I also remember the thing about "pleases" and "thank you's", which makes sense, considering the phrase itself refers to proper behaviour.
http://www.idiomsite.com/psandqs.htm
http://www.yaelf.com/aueFAQ/mifmindyourpsandqs.shtml
http://geekswithblogs.net/mtreadwell/archive/2004/04/03/3642.aspx
The version I've heard is the one where people confused the p's and the q's in printing shop.
I also remember the thing about "pleases" and "thank you's", which makes sense, considering the phrase itself refers to proper behaviour.
http://www.idiomsite.com/psandqs.htm
http://www.yaelf.com/aueFAQ/mifmindyourpsandqs.shtml
http://geekswithblogs.net/mtreadwell/archive/2004/04/03/3642.aspx
Talk about timing.
20060802
Annoucement: Guess what
I have phone again. And internet. At home.
This is possibly one of the most exciting developements that has occured to me this summer.
Look for more posts in the near future. Meanwhile, I have to get my stuff together and prep for my classes.
This is possibly one of the most exciting developements that has occured to me this summer.
Look for more posts in the near future. Meanwhile, I have to get my stuff together and prep for my classes.
20060728
Memoirs: DC Humor
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.
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.
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.
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