Sitting in class at 9:00 pm.
It was a long weekend.
I wrote big journal article paper for a crazy class. I felt super productive and happy with myself.
The only downside was that, despite how extra productive I was over the weekend, I hadn't started any of the normal work I have for a normal week.
I fact, at 9:00 pm, I rather had work to do, due in the morning.
Suddenly a very high pitched noise. Everyone in the class was aware of it- if the couldn't physically hear it, they would surely have heard one of my class mates announce "High Pitched Noise" (that happened- and it was totally justified. The noise had a very assertive debut, and kept a strong consistent act up for the next 15 of so minutes)
Well, the prof. was asking how our final projects were going. I half paid attention, because the high pitched noise (HPN) had just mugged me for the other half. Where was it coming from? I briefly considered how I would look if I had the mobile ears of a deer, which perk up at a snapping twig, spinning around like mini radar dishes, triangulating sound. I don't have mobile ears, so instead I slowly turned my head, trying to triangulate the noise.
Woah.
Turning my head totally changed the volume of the noise. But the weird thing was, at some degrees of neck rotation, the noise almost completely disappeared! Like a happy (albeit simple minded) pattern seeking robot I oscillated my head back and forth about the critical angle of noise cancelization, being rewarded with a drop of endorphin everything the HPN vanished. I must have looked like a broken wind up toy or sprinkler head. The classmate next to me- looked at me a bit strangely, I think. He offered me some skittles from the bag on his desk- he must have thought I was blatantly glancing at them, hoping to get some. I declined, (since I got a cavity for the first time as an adult a few weeks ago, i've avoided sugary candy... mostly) and went back to my robotic actuating. What was causing the HPN! How was the sound vanishing. With my basic understanding of wave physics, I figured some sort of destructive interference was happening. How could a single wave destruct itself? I mused.
What if the signal reached my left ear at a max amplitude while at the same time it reached my right ear at a min amplitude and my brain cheated and combined the signal to save on data carrying?
That would be cool
My realistic bit of my brain vetoed the idea- it said "Hey stupid. I'm guessing its not some complex biological mechanism. Its probably just two point sources of sound, which cancel at some angles."
"Ha!" responded the other bit of my brain "What the chance there are two point sources of HPN?"
"Um- how about the speakers mounted on the left and right side of the room, with you about in the middle?"
"Or" said a new voice, cutting in, probably my subconsciousness, "your imagining the whole thing because your're mentally shot... just my two cents", taking a swig of V-8.
"ITS TOTALLY REAL" blustered the optimistic bit of my brain
I proved it by waggling my head back and forth for several more minutes until the noise shut off.
"Was it ever on?" poked my subconscious.
"Yes. Your're just jealous you don't get to drive, unless there's an emergency" retorted my motor functions, which had been having a great time pretending my neck was a precision servo motor for the last 10 minutes.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Being a grown-up is hard
I had to be an adult last week. It wasn't very fun. But there are some perks, which I will get to later.
It was... Monday. That's right. So long ago. Yet it was only six days ago.
I woke up at probably 7:50, took a quick shower, and went to eat breakfast promptly at 8:00, even though I probably could have slept in later, I wanted to start my week with confidence. I was probably just overcompensating, as I had done about zero work over the weekend- I'm not normally like that. For essentially all previous weeks, I was the type to finish all my work by Tuesday night, and then was free to enjoy the rest of the week. However, this week I only had one PSET and some reading for a humanities class, and a test on Thursday, which I was confident I could study for Tuesday and Wednesday night. I went to class at 9:00 (thermodynamics) for two hours, had lunch, and had a very grown up meeting with my research adviser and compatriots in marine robotics research, feeling like a champion adult. I went to my next class (material science), like a champ, and listened and took notes, but also, towards the end, glanced often at the clock on the wall (still not set for day lights savings) because I had a very grown up appointment at 3:30 at the very grown up place- Mass. General hospital. I had set up an appointment a week prior, on the phone, with a receptionist (like a champ) to have my wisdom teeth looked at, to see if they needed to be removed. The lecture went a little long, and I kept my cool, laughing and smiling with the crowd as the professor closed the lecture by showing us youTube video demonstrating of a thermodynamic concept. When the laughter died away, and the projector screen rolled up into its recess in the ceiling, I stood up, and slotted my notes into my back pack, bit farewell to my class mates. I strode down the hall, stopping by my lab, where I had elected to leave my jacket on the back of a chair, rather than take it to class, and slung the jacket (bought on amazon, first jacket I've bought with my own money, like a champ) over my shoulders. Bursting out the doors into the brisk autumn, I mounted my bike, and pedaled to the departure point of the most grown up transportation I knew of- the subway. Confidently striding down the correct stairs, to the platform on the correct side of the tracks, I pressed my wallet against the ticket reader, and the the gates binged open, extracting a $1.70 from my student ID card (THATS RIGHT. my student ID card doubles as and RFID subway pass- doens't get much more grown up than that). The balance left on my card showed up as a very mature $23.10.
"The next red line train to Braintree is now arriving" stated the robotic PA system. Perfect timing- probably because I had taken the time the previous night to look up the subway schedule- like a champ. (and you heard me right- I'm taking the red line to BRAINTREE- doesn't get much more mature than that). I got on the train, and sat down, perhaps in my mind pretending to be a champion med student taking the subway to the hospital to assist in brain surgery. Cross the river, the subway stopped at MGH (being grown up is all about acronyms) I got off the train. Did I know how to get from the station to the hospital? Ha! Being over-prepared is so immature. I looked at google maps, which showed the hospital being maybe being underneath the station, or possibly in the river. My theory was that this is a zarking hospital, so it would be well marked. I stepped off the train, and walked confidently in the wrong direction, realized that there was not much besides a two story drop into the river if I continued, I confidently made a tight arc, maintaining my momentum (being grown up is all about mass x velocity), and elected a democratic approach, following the crowds. I went down a short flight of stairs, and BAM- 400 maturity points- a big blue sign reading "HOSPITAL" I should mention that all this time, I'm carrying a manila envelope in one hand- I couldn't have looked more sophisticated unless I had a pipe and a newspaper folded under my other arm.
I came to a big cross walk, and crossed it. I almost lost momentum when the big impressive building in front of me announced that it was a HOTEL not a HOSPITAL. Flinching off the the right, I saw a more promising sign- "THE BLAH BLAH BLAH WING HOSPITAL" so far so good. I didn't want the blah blah blah wing- I wanted the Wang Ambulatory Wing. I figured the best thing to do was follow a sign the pointed to "MAIN HOSPITAL ENTRANCE" I figured that would be a nexus for all wings, starling, albatross, and Wang Ambulatory. I followed about six more signs, which led me through a rabbit run of parking garages, loading docks, and side street- then there it was- the MAIN ENTRANCE. Confidently I strode in. I checked my watch. Twelve minutes early- like a champ. Astonishingly, when I was about to lose momentum and look for a directory, or ask where the wing was, I saw another big blue sign "WANG" it said. 5000 maturity points. I took elevator to the second floor, and followed some more signs. I think signs are like the little floating coins in video games- and I almost had a free life. There was a waiting room- with a reception counter. No problem. I went up the counter, hanging back a foot or two, respectfully waiting for the receptionist to finish a phone.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes- I have an appointment with Dr. So and So at 3:30"
"I will let him know you are here- do you have your dental insurance card" BAM had it out already- handed it to the receptionist. Then I filled out paperwork on a clipboard like a champ.
A few minutes passed, and I was called back. An assistant showed me to a room, with a dental chair thing- the reclining kind, and said the Dr. would be there soon.
He was. I greeted him, him me, and he asked me how it was going. I said good, and how was he? (We're both adults- and adults ask each other how there day is going- 500 maturity points).
We talked a bit about my medical history, and then he asked if I had taken an pre-antibiotic. Uh Oh. I take an antibiotic before dental visits to combat and bacteria that might get mixed into my blood stream- but I hadn't this time, because I thought this was just and X-ray thing- I had the X-rays in my manila envelope (you were wondering what was in there, weren't you?). -3000 maturity points. In the end, Doc got me some antibiotics, and I sat in the waiting room for an hour, waiting for them to digest a bit. After that I went and saw the Doc again- he poked my gums with a sharp thing, said I needed to have my wisdom teeth out. Bummer. However- I only nodded understandingly (50 points) and he went on to discuss the risks and details of the oral surgery, and I asked questions, and tried to understand everything. After that he sent me to a different receptionist to make an appointment. I didn't know what this appointment was supposed to be for, but like a champ, I didn't say anything. I waited, and in a little bit, I went to make an appointment, which turned out to be for the operation itself, and the only day "immediately" available was on the day of my last final- so, like a champ, I told the receptionist I would ask my professor to schedule a make up final, and I would get back to her as soon as possible (250 points). I left the hospital. it was dark outside. (8000 points- adults always wander through sketchy downtown Boston and take public transportation home in the dark). I resolutely set off in the wrong direction. I have drawn a diagram, below, to show you what I thought was happening.
I started at the hospital, and I was trying to get to the subway. The black shape is the huge looming building. I started along the blue path. At the orange arrow, I realized I was going the wrong way. I kept going. The orange path represents a mystic shortcut that my spatially disoriented brain thought was sure to exist. The blue star is the point when I stopped believing in the orange path, and, turned around, taking the red path back to the hospital, and then to the subway station. However, like a champ, I didn't get stabbed or mugged by any of the thick coated people walking by me as I wandered by abandoned loading docks and deep recesses along the blue path. I got to the subway, and went to the correct side of the subway. The subway was PACKED. Shoulder to shoulder. Perfect- just like an adult. After one stop, I got off, had a 50/50 chance of taking the convenient exit to the street, choose the right one, like a champ, got on my bike, with bike lights (2 lights x 50 points/light = 100 points), and biked on the bike path back to my dorm. Got to dinner and ate dinner with my brother and a friend I haven't seen since summer time, then went to my room to work on my one pset for the week. I didn't count up the points, but it was alot, so that was awesome. I was also dog-tired, with less time then I thought I would have, and about 300 new obligations to take care of- so that sucked, which is worth at least 5000 points. Then I saw an email. "Hints on pset 7" for a class I didn't think I had a pset for. With horror I rechecked the class website- THERE WAS A ZARKING PSET! EVEN THOUGH THERE IS A TEST THIS WEEK! ARGH! AND IT IS DUE IN THE MORNING! so, like a champ, I stayed up till 4:00 doing an entire pset.
Oh- I said there was a perk to being an adult- and I exercised that perk at about 2:00 in the morning by eating a whole container of ice cream. It was delicious.
It was... Monday. That's right. So long ago. Yet it was only six days ago.
I woke up at probably 7:50, took a quick shower, and went to eat breakfast promptly at 8:00, even though I probably could have slept in later, I wanted to start my week with confidence. I was probably just overcompensating, as I had done about zero work over the weekend- I'm not normally like that. For essentially all previous weeks, I was the type to finish all my work by Tuesday night, and then was free to enjoy the rest of the week. However, this week I only had one PSET and some reading for a humanities class, and a test on Thursday, which I was confident I could study for Tuesday and Wednesday night. I went to class at 9:00 (thermodynamics) for two hours, had lunch, and had a very grown up meeting with my research adviser and compatriots in marine robotics research, feeling like a champion adult. I went to my next class (material science), like a champ, and listened and took notes, but also, towards the end, glanced often at the clock on the wall (still not set for day lights savings) because I had a very grown up appointment at 3:30 at the very grown up place- Mass. General hospital. I had set up an appointment a week prior, on the phone, with a receptionist (like a champ) to have my wisdom teeth looked at, to see if they needed to be removed. The lecture went a little long, and I kept my cool, laughing and smiling with the crowd as the professor closed the lecture by showing us youTube video demonstrating of a thermodynamic concept. When the laughter died away, and the projector screen rolled up into its recess in the ceiling, I stood up, and slotted my notes into my back pack, bit farewell to my class mates. I strode down the hall, stopping by my lab, where I had elected to leave my jacket on the back of a chair, rather than take it to class, and slung the jacket (bought on amazon, first jacket I've bought with my own money, like a champ) over my shoulders. Bursting out the doors into the brisk autumn, I mounted my bike, and pedaled to the departure point of the most grown up transportation I knew of- the subway. Confidently striding down the correct stairs, to the platform on the correct side of the tracks, I pressed my wallet against the ticket reader, and the the gates binged open, extracting a $1.70 from my student ID card (THATS RIGHT. my student ID card doubles as and RFID subway pass- doens't get much more grown up than that). The balance left on my card showed up as a very mature $23.10.
"The next red line train to Braintree is now arriving" stated the robotic PA system. Perfect timing- probably because I had taken the time the previous night to look up the subway schedule- like a champ. (and you heard me right- I'm taking the red line to BRAINTREE- doesn't get much more mature than that). I got on the train, and sat down, perhaps in my mind pretending to be a champion med student taking the subway to the hospital to assist in brain surgery. Cross the river, the subway stopped at MGH (being grown up is all about acronyms) I got off the train. Did I know how to get from the station to the hospital? Ha! Being over-prepared is so immature. I looked at google maps, which showed the hospital being maybe being underneath the station, or possibly in the river. My theory was that this is a zarking hospital, so it would be well marked. I stepped off the train, and walked confidently in the wrong direction, realized that there was not much besides a two story drop into the river if I continued, I confidently made a tight arc, maintaining my momentum (being grown up is all about mass x velocity), and elected a democratic approach, following the crowds. I went down a short flight of stairs, and BAM- 400 maturity points- a big blue sign reading "HOSPITAL" I should mention that all this time, I'm carrying a manila envelope in one hand- I couldn't have looked more sophisticated unless I had a pipe and a newspaper folded under my other arm.
I came to a big cross walk, and crossed it. I almost lost momentum when the big impressive building in front of me announced that it was a HOTEL not a HOSPITAL. Flinching off the the right, I saw a more promising sign- "THE BLAH BLAH BLAH WING HOSPITAL" so far so good. I didn't want the blah blah blah wing- I wanted the Wang Ambulatory Wing. I figured the best thing to do was follow a sign the pointed to "MAIN HOSPITAL ENTRANCE" I figured that would be a nexus for all wings, starling, albatross, and Wang Ambulatory. I followed about six more signs, which led me through a rabbit run of parking garages, loading docks, and side street- then there it was- the MAIN ENTRANCE. Confidently I strode in. I checked my watch. Twelve minutes early- like a champ. Astonishingly, when I was about to lose momentum and look for a directory, or ask where the wing was, I saw another big blue sign "WANG" it said. 5000 maturity points. I took elevator to the second floor, and followed some more signs. I think signs are like the little floating coins in video games- and I almost had a free life. There was a waiting room- with a reception counter. No problem. I went up the counter, hanging back a foot or two, respectfully waiting for the receptionist to finish a phone.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes- I have an appointment with Dr. So and So at 3:30"
"I will let him know you are here- do you have your dental insurance card" BAM had it out already- handed it to the receptionist. Then I filled out paperwork on a clipboard like a champ.
A few minutes passed, and I was called back. An assistant showed me to a room, with a dental chair thing- the reclining kind, and said the Dr. would be there soon.
He was. I greeted him, him me, and he asked me how it was going. I said good, and how was he? (We're both adults- and adults ask each other how there day is going- 500 maturity points).
We talked a bit about my medical history, and then he asked if I had taken an pre-antibiotic. Uh Oh. I take an antibiotic before dental visits to combat and bacteria that might get mixed into my blood stream- but I hadn't this time, because I thought this was just and X-ray thing- I had the X-rays in my manila envelope (you were wondering what was in there, weren't you?). -3000 maturity points. In the end, Doc got me some antibiotics, and I sat in the waiting room for an hour, waiting for them to digest a bit. After that I went and saw the Doc again- he poked my gums with a sharp thing, said I needed to have my wisdom teeth out. Bummer. However- I only nodded understandingly (50 points) and he went on to discuss the risks and details of the oral surgery, and I asked questions, and tried to understand everything. After that he sent me to a different receptionist to make an appointment. I didn't know what this appointment was supposed to be for, but like a champ, I didn't say anything. I waited, and in a little bit, I went to make an appointment, which turned out to be for the operation itself, and the only day "immediately" available was on the day of my last final- so, like a champ, I told the receptionist I would ask my professor to schedule a make up final, and I would get back to her as soon as possible (250 points). I left the hospital. it was dark outside. (8000 points- adults always wander through sketchy downtown Boston and take public transportation home in the dark). I resolutely set off in the wrong direction. I have drawn a diagram, below, to show you what I thought was happening.
I started at the hospital, and I was trying to get to the subway. The black shape is the huge looming building. I started along the blue path. At the orange arrow, I realized I was going the wrong way. I kept going. The orange path represents a mystic shortcut that my spatially disoriented brain thought was sure to exist. The blue star is the point when I stopped believing in the orange path, and, turned around, taking the red path back to the hospital, and then to the subway station. However, like a champ, I didn't get stabbed or mugged by any of the thick coated people walking by me as I wandered by abandoned loading docks and deep recesses along the blue path. I got to the subway, and went to the correct side of the subway. The subway was PACKED. Shoulder to shoulder. Perfect- just like an adult. After one stop, I got off, had a 50/50 chance of taking the convenient exit to the street, choose the right one, like a champ, got on my bike, with bike lights (2 lights x 50 points/light = 100 points), and biked on the bike path back to my dorm. Got to dinner and ate dinner with my brother and a friend I haven't seen since summer time, then went to my room to work on my one pset for the week. I didn't count up the points, but it was alot, so that was awesome. I was also dog-tired, with less time then I thought I would have, and about 300 new obligations to take care of- so that sucked, which is worth at least 5000 points. Then I saw an email. "Hints on pset 7" for a class I didn't think I had a pset for. With horror I rechecked the class website- THERE WAS A ZARKING PSET! EVEN THOUGH THERE IS A TEST THIS WEEK! ARGH! AND IT IS DUE IN THE MORNING! so, like a champ, I stayed up till 4:00 doing an entire pset.
Oh- I said there was a perk to being an adult- and I exercised that perk at about 2:00 in the morning by eating a whole container of ice cream. It was delicious.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Robert Langdon
So I'm reading "The Lost Symbol" by Dan Brown for the third of fourth time, and I don't really know why. As a preface, Dan Brown is a very talented writer, and I've read all his classic mystery thrillers (after I ran out of Micheal Crichton books- RIP), but the more I re-read the more uncomfortable my sub-conscience becomes with the laissez faire attitude towards the main character's personality. For example, I came across a passage like the one I have replicated below.
Katherine: All we have for clues is this meaningless jumble of letters and an weird old painting- how can this be a map! This makes no sense! and if we don't figure it out my BROTHER IS GOING TO DIE!
Langdon: Actauly we have all of the information we need.
Katherine: What? You know how to decode this!? You see the map?
Langdon: Do you not see it? Its quite obvious- why my Harvard students would have no trouble figuring this out.
Katherine: Uh.. I don't see anything- is it the hour glass?
Langdon: I say Harvard students because that's where I teach.
Katherine: ?
Langdon: Not the hours glass. I teach at Harvard. Go ahead- guess again!
Katherine: I- wha-? the compass? The, uh, telescope?
Langdon: Nope!
Katherine: Are you taking this seriously? PETER WILL DIE!
Langdon: Oh yes! Dear Peter! To cut to the chase- the clue is......
Katherine: ... is what?
Langdon: the magic square!
Katherine: What is wrong with you?
Langdon (sounding hurt): I was just building up suspense.
Katherine (In disbelief): right... A magic square? You mean that grid of numbers in the corner?
Landgon: Precisely!
Katherine: Why is it magic?
Landgon: Try adding up the numbers in each row.
Katherine (Incredulous): uh... 9+13+... Wait- stop messing around- just decode it!
Langdon (unfazed): The rows all add up to 34- isn't that neat?
Katherine: ...Is that important?
Langdon: And the columns- they add up to 34 too.
Katherine: Is the number 34 important?
Langdon: So do the diagonals
Katherine: ... gimme that pencil- i'll figure this out
Langdon: And the corners
Katherine: it says, "One True God"
Langdon: And the center. Also adds to 34.
Katherine: I'm sorry- you escaped CIA custody how?
Katherine: All we have for clues is this meaningless jumble of letters and an weird old painting- how can this be a map! This makes no sense! and if we don't figure it out my BROTHER IS GOING TO DIE!
Langdon: Actauly we have all of the information we need.
Katherine: What? You know how to decode this!? You see the map?
Langdon: Do you not see it? Its quite obvious- why my Harvard students would have no trouble figuring this out.
Katherine: Uh.. I don't see anything- is it the hour glass?
Langdon: I say Harvard students because that's where I teach.
Katherine: ?
Langdon: Not the hours glass. I teach at Harvard. Go ahead- guess again!
Katherine: I- wha-? the compass? The, uh, telescope?
Langdon: Nope!
Katherine: Are you taking this seriously? PETER WILL DIE!
Langdon: Oh yes! Dear Peter! To cut to the chase- the clue is......
Katherine: ... is what?
Langdon: the magic square!
Katherine: What is wrong with you?
Langdon (sounding hurt): I was just building up suspense.
Katherine (In disbelief): right... A magic square? You mean that grid of numbers in the corner?
Landgon: Precisely!
Katherine: Why is it magic?
Landgon: Try adding up the numbers in each row.
Katherine (Incredulous): uh... 9+13+... Wait- stop messing around- just decode it!
Langdon (unfazed): The rows all add up to 34- isn't that neat?
Katherine: ...Is that important?
Langdon: And the columns- they add up to 34 too.
Katherine: Is the number 34 important?
Langdon: So do the diagonals
Katherine: ... gimme that pencil- i'll figure this out
Langdon: And the corners
Katherine: it says, "One True God"
Langdon: And the center. Also adds to 34.
Katherine: I'm sorry- you escaped CIA custody how?
Friday, October 21, 2011
Olympics 20.. something?
Not sure when the next winter olympics are, and don't really feel like trying to figure it out, which would be easy, given the last ones were in 2010, so four years later is.. sometime. Anywho- new event- quantum bobsled. Check out this out:
Can you imagine a liquid nitrogen cooled bobsled on a magnetic track? It would be better than just magnets- you could have upside down portions, and you could steer with a gyroscope. Man it would be awesome, just awesome. You'd have to use electro-magnets for the base I suppose- pulsed on as the bobsled goes past. If you are reading this and are in charge of choosing what events are run, you welcome- doing the leg work here for you. Yep.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tales of Woe
If bad things happen too you, one of the best ways to feel better is to get sympathy. From lots of people. And where are there more people than the internet? I guess the real world has like six billion more people than the internet... but most of them are on average of 6225 miles away, which is a bit far to shout.
So I'm very terrible at doing laundry. I have never done laundry a day before I need too, and very rarely on the day that I do need to. More often, its the day after, which is a bit of a slippery slope- I mean, if you've already gotten over wearing a pair of socks dug out from the bottom of your hamper, there isn't really any other mental hurtles to cross in wearing ALL of your clothes a second time.... So doing laundry after the last minute is just a habit I've gotten into, and the events of my most recent fabric cleaning experience have not inspired me to do anything different.
It was Monday night, or something. The day is not important- what is important is the time- it was about 9:30 (On a Monday- I'm sticking with my story). Midnight minus 9:30 equals 2.5 hours to do laundry- plenty of time- 40 min in the washer, 70 min in the dryer. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for remembering to do laundry before midnight on the day I used the last towel, (although honestly I was just avoiding homework), and, carried on by my massive self-adsorbed prideful momentum, I decided- "No-! I'm not going down to the 7th floor washing machine- the dryers are terrible, and I don't want to spend the time or money on an extra cycle. I'll go to.... the 5th floor!"
And so i did.
I took the elevator (from the 8th floor) down to the laundry room (on the 5th floor)
I had a nearly full hamper, which barely fits in the washer, but for the last 14 months I have been able to get away with it- there was a little voice in my head though "Hey- Hey you- your going to ruin your life in the immediate future if you do that"
But that little voice is always wrong, so I went ahead, added detergent, and hit go, and went up to my room.
Now all I had to do was wait.
To make waiting more efficient, the washers and driers in my dorm can be monitored online. There's a little grey picture of the washing machine on the website, which turns white when the cycle finished, and a little number indicating how many minutes left the washer has to merrily wash my clothes.
The little grey picture didn't turn white, even thought there were no merry little minutes left in the cycle.
In fact, it started counting how many extra merry little minutes it had washed my clothes.
I decided not to trust the little picture- it felt like valet merrily saying he would go get my car for me, but it might, he would say, with a smile on his face, take a while, because he was going to use it to drive his kids to soccer practice for the next few years first- they were such wonderful kids, and would I like to see some pictures? He had them in his wallet.
I digress
I went down to the laundry room. The washer was not making noise. It also indicated it had alot of minutes left in the cycle. I opened it . My clothes sat, like a fetid pile of miserable dingo's kidneys in 3 inches of dirty wash water.
Um...... I asked the monkeys in my brain to see if we had a washing machine manual, but they shrugged and said "I doubt it" and went back to eating the bananas of my sanity.
I closed the washer, and pressed "go" again, as if nothing has happened. The machine made a pitiful sounds, a cross between a sick duck and saw blade music.
Um......
I'll just put them in the other washer and run another cycle (ignoring the fact that I would probably only get a second dying duck for my lack of understanding rudimentary cause-and-effect)
I slopped all of my clothes into the other washer, making a terrific mess all over the floor, getting my slippers wet. I dug quarters out of my pocket and plugged them into the machine and hit go.
Only it didn't.
The digital display was off.
It looked dead.
I pressed the quarter return button. No quarters came out.
Um......
Well...... I couldn't just put them in the dryer- they were far too wet.
I would have to ring them out on the big utility sink next to the washer- but I would have to rinse the remaining soap off first. I slogged the clothes over to the sink, a few at a time, making an extraordinary mess on the floor. I rinsed off the clothes and rung them mostly dry with my hands. I did that for all of the clothes. It took forever it seemed. And about 3/5 of the way through my left hand was smarting and when I looked closer, I had two giant blisters due to all the twisting. I gingery wrung out the rest of the clothes "wrong handedly" which was awkward and painful.
Finally all of my clothes were in the dryer, and I set it for an extra 30 minutes because I couldn't get the clothes as dry as the washer spin cycle would.
I went up to my room and was more or less productive for 90 minutes.
Then I went down to get my clothes- guess what- not remotely dry.
And I had been looking forward to a shower all day followed by a toweling off with a warm clean towel.
I stood there, still stained with old washer water in damp slippers, staring at the damp garments in dismay, trying not to think of the blisters on my hand.
There was only one thing to do- put in even more money and come back in the morning to retrieve the dry clothes (At the point it was 12:45, Tuesday morning)
I did so. I went to bed after eating a delicious six pack of Oreos- that made me feel a little better.
The next morning was excited to have a long awaited, and now even more essential shower- i went to get the clothes. Guess what. Still wet. And my slippers were still damp.
I gave more money to the bloody machine and went to my room to mope.
In the end (60+ min later) I did get my shower. And it was glorious.
So I'm very terrible at doing laundry. I have never done laundry a day before I need too, and very rarely on the day that I do need to. More often, its the day after, which is a bit of a slippery slope- I mean, if you've already gotten over wearing a pair of socks dug out from the bottom of your hamper, there isn't really any other mental hurtles to cross in wearing ALL of your clothes a second time.... So doing laundry after the last minute is just a habit I've gotten into, and the events of my most recent fabric cleaning experience have not inspired me to do anything different.
It was Monday night, or something. The day is not important- what is important is the time- it was about 9:30 (On a Monday- I'm sticking with my story). Midnight minus 9:30 equals 2.5 hours to do laundry- plenty of time- 40 min in the washer, 70 min in the dryer. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for remembering to do laundry before midnight on the day I used the last towel, (although honestly I was just avoiding homework), and, carried on by my massive self-adsorbed prideful momentum, I decided- "No-! I'm not going down to the 7th floor washing machine- the dryers are terrible, and I don't want to spend the time or money on an extra cycle. I'll go to.... the 5th floor!"
And so i did.
I took the elevator (from the 8th floor) down to the laundry room (on the 5th floor)
I had a nearly full hamper, which barely fits in the washer, but for the last 14 months I have been able to get away with it- there was a little voice in my head though "Hey- Hey you- your going to ruin your life in the immediate future if you do that"
But that little voice is always wrong, so I went ahead, added detergent, and hit go, and went up to my room.
Now all I had to do was wait.
To make waiting more efficient, the washers and driers in my dorm can be monitored online. There's a little grey picture of the washing machine on the website, which turns white when the cycle finished, and a little number indicating how many minutes left the washer has to merrily wash my clothes.
The little grey picture didn't turn white, even thought there were no merry little minutes left in the cycle.
In fact, it started counting how many extra merry little minutes it had washed my clothes.
I decided not to trust the little picture- it felt like valet merrily saying he would go get my car for me, but it might, he would say, with a smile on his face, take a while, because he was going to use it to drive his kids to soccer practice for the next few years first- they were such wonderful kids, and would I like to see some pictures? He had them in his wallet.
I digress
I went down to the laundry room. The washer was not making noise. It also indicated it had alot of minutes left in the cycle. I opened it . My clothes sat, like a fetid pile of miserable dingo's kidneys in 3 inches of dirty wash water.
Um...... I asked the monkeys in my brain to see if we had a washing machine manual, but they shrugged and said "I doubt it" and went back to eating the bananas of my sanity.
I closed the washer, and pressed "go" again, as if nothing has happened. The machine made a pitiful sounds, a cross between a sick duck and saw blade music.
Um......
I'll just put them in the other washer and run another cycle (ignoring the fact that I would probably only get a second dying duck for my lack of understanding rudimentary cause-and-effect)
I slopped all of my clothes into the other washer, making a terrific mess all over the floor, getting my slippers wet. I dug quarters out of my pocket and plugged them into the machine and hit go.
Only it didn't.
The digital display was off.
It looked dead.
I pressed the quarter return button. No quarters came out.
Um......
Well...... I couldn't just put them in the dryer- they were far too wet.
I would have to ring them out on the big utility sink next to the washer- but I would have to rinse the remaining soap off first. I slogged the clothes over to the sink, a few at a time, making an extraordinary mess on the floor. I rinsed off the clothes and rung them mostly dry with my hands. I did that for all of the clothes. It took forever it seemed. And about 3/5 of the way through my left hand was smarting and when I looked closer, I had two giant blisters due to all the twisting. I gingery wrung out the rest of the clothes "wrong handedly" which was awkward and painful.
Finally all of my clothes were in the dryer, and I set it for an extra 30 minutes because I couldn't get the clothes as dry as the washer spin cycle would.
I went up to my room and was more or less productive for 90 minutes.
Then I went down to get my clothes- guess what- not remotely dry.
And I had been looking forward to a shower all day followed by a toweling off with a warm clean towel.
I stood there, still stained with old washer water in damp slippers, staring at the damp garments in dismay, trying not to think of the blisters on my hand.
There was only one thing to do- put in even more money and come back in the morning to retrieve the dry clothes (At the point it was 12:45, Tuesday morning)
I did so. I went to bed after eating a delicious six pack of Oreos- that made me feel a little better.
The next morning was excited to have a long awaited, and now even more essential shower- i went to get the clothes. Guess what. Still wet. And my slippers were still damp.
I gave more money to the bloody machine and went to my room to mope.
In the end (60+ min later) I did get my shower. And it was glorious.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Explorer vs Chome
Really no contest, chrome is the far popular choice, for many reasons, so I won't waste time talking about what we already know. But I do want to take a moment to share with you all a moment of affirmation for these truisms that I experienced earlier today. I had to open explorer today because some website wasn't playing nice with chrome (This is where the fourteen explorer fans jump out from behind a bush, and say - "Ha! See! If you used explorer you wouldn't ever need to... um.... open explorer... Well I guess you would have to.... every time you used the internet...") Anyways, so I had to open the start menu, and find the explorer icon, cause explorer is about 12th in line for getting a spot on my already full task bar. Now, at the time I was thinking to myself, "I wonder if explorer is as bad as I think it is? Maybe Microsoft has improved it since I last used it- maybe my opinions towards it are just amplified personifications of a million software snobs who love to be condescending to those who use "inferior" software. Nope- its actually that terrible, as I found as soon as I clicked the icon (well, technically not "as soon"- I had to wait *gasp* a few seconds for it to open). I saw this:
(note the more worthy icons in my task bar)
Wow- an entire page (which didn't load fast- bit and pieces of it pop until existence until it fully congealed) of things I do not want to look at- adds, pointless news, I just want a search bar. However, it seems explorer has taken the approach of "If people just want search bars, we'll give them 7!" seriously- seven search bars. 3 of them are directly bing search bars- what are they thinking at explorer head quarters? Maybe if we put enough bing search bars in the user's face, statically, they will start to you our search engine by means of confusion. If so, bings main user base may be confused gazelles driven into the spear lined pit that is bing by the maddening drums played by the reckless Microsoft advertising devision. Wow- that may have gone a bit too far; I should probably scale that back given, let me see (tabbing over to new tab in chrome), 11% of my readers use explorer (71% use chrome). Now, I want to be fair- I realize that when you use explorer, you can get rid of alot of that stuff, and change your home page, and what not, and its probably faster than it once was- I guess my main issue is that when you first start using, the way it presents itself is terrible. Also, google does everything- docs, email, search engine, bloging, just everything, so I like to be on the browser where that stuff can be integrated- if I choose to.
(note the more worthy icons in my task bar)
Wow- an entire page (which didn't load fast- bit and pieces of it pop until existence until it fully congealed) of things I do not want to look at- adds, pointless news, I just want a search bar. However, it seems explorer has taken the approach of "If people just want search bars, we'll give them 7!" seriously- seven search bars. 3 of them are directly bing search bars- what are they thinking at explorer head quarters? Maybe if we put enough bing search bars in the user's face, statically, they will start to you our search engine by means of confusion. If so, bings main user base may be confused gazelles driven into the spear lined pit that is bing by the maddening drums played by the reckless Microsoft advertising devision. Wow- that may have gone a bit too far; I should probably scale that back given, let me see (tabbing over to new tab in chrome), 11% of my readers use explorer (71% use chrome). Now, I want to be fair- I realize that when you use explorer, you can get rid of alot of that stuff, and change your home page, and what not, and its probably faster than it once was- I guess my main issue is that when you first start using, the way it presents itself is terrible. Also, google does everything- docs, email, search engine, bloging, just everything, so I like to be on the browser where that stuff can be integrated- if I choose to.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Raptors- could they get worse?
So, like many people, I have a rational fear of raptors. Jurassic park has convinced me that they are the perfect killing machine, just the right size, speed, intellect, and malice to hunt humans. When I am walking places- down hall ways, down roads, down sidewalks, ect, I like/need to look around to determine what exactly I would do if a raptor suddenly appears- say i'm cornered in an eight story building? Without prior consideration I would be highly un-evolved bird food before it occurred to me to break a window and climb down the side of the building- or at least die trying. Also the loud noise of breaking glass might buy me a few seconds of time. Most of the time, no matter where you are, the best thing you can do is get into a room with a door and lock the door- raptors can open doors, but claws aren't good at holding lock picks. The good news is there are doors everywhere, meaning most of the time I am "safe". Then, after a friend finally convinced me to, I saw the X-men movie series. It occurred to me that the perfect predator could be made even more deadly- with a adamantium infused skeleton- can you imagine!? Adamantium claws that could cut through doors like rice paper. It was a chilling realization. Now, I realized that a raptor without metal enhancements could probably break down a door and eat you, but that's a good bit of effort, and there are probably less prepared human running around on the other side of the door. But an adamantium raptor would be angry- I mean, more angry than wolverine, because pure unadulterated fury has been bred into these animals since the dawn of time, and if you hide behind a door, that's just makes the raptor even more blood-crazed, and likely to eat you. I know what your're thinking- who on earth would infuse a raptor adamantium!? Well, hmmm. Whow would create the ultimate killer, a metal infused raptor? Probably the same guys who would make the second most ultimate killer- the non-metal infused raptor! And guess what? those guys are the only people on earth with access to raptors, so really it not a stretch of the imagination- its just logic. I know now you are probably are terrified, and scrambling to amend your building raptor emergency protocol, so I offer my best bet for how to escape an adamantium raptor invasion.
1. Build a house out of granite, preferable 3 meters thick everywhere- while its true a raptor could eventually cut through it, it would take a long time (maybe 12 minutes, tops) at least its better than drywall
2. Sink you house into the bottom of crater lake- this is the deepest lake in the united states. Raptors are not know for their swimming ability, and an adamantium infused raptor will downright sink. Also, as a bonus, crater lake is on the top of an ice covered dead volcano, so for most of the months of the year, it will be too cold for most of those cold blooded killers to get to you
Good luck!
1. Build a house out of granite, preferable 3 meters thick everywhere- while its true a raptor could eventually cut through it, it would take a long time (maybe 12 minutes, tops) at least its better than drywall
2. Sink you house into the bottom of crater lake- this is the deepest lake in the united states. Raptors are not know for their swimming ability, and an adamantium infused raptor will downright sink. Also, as a bonus, crater lake is on the top of an ice covered dead volcano, so for most of the months of the year, it will be too cold for most of those cold blooded killers to get to you
Good luck!
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Raptor Proof
Quick post, in case you are currently about to finalize your dream home design, you might want to read this first
I spent a non-trivial amount of time considering how to raptor proof my eventual home. Raptor are not like rhinos or anything- a good brick wall will raptor proof your home for the most pat. The only problem is the door. raptors can open doors, you see. Of course, you could lock your door, but lets say you are running from the raptor, and have to fumble for keys to unlock the door- no good. You would get a raptor in your back. So maybe a keycard, for quick access? Well, you could possibly get in doors quick enough, but when you try to close the door, the raptor would overpower you can eat you. When I was walking around campus the other day, the obvious solution occurred to me- revolving doors. Raptors just wouldn't fit. Its perfect.
I spent a non-trivial amount of time considering how to raptor proof my eventual home. Raptor are not like rhinos or anything- a good brick wall will raptor proof your home for the most pat. The only problem is the door. raptors can open doors, you see. Of course, you could lock your door, but lets say you are running from the raptor, and have to fumble for keys to unlock the door- no good. You would get a raptor in your back. So maybe a keycard, for quick access? Well, you could possibly get in doors quick enough, but when you try to close the door, the raptor would overpower you can eat you. When I was walking around campus the other day, the obvious solution occurred to me- revolving doors. Raptors just wouldn't fit. Its perfect.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Things Worth Buying
Office Chair:
If you are savvy you can get a good office chair for 50 dollars. A good office chair is padded, has wheels, and has the whoosh variety of up and down adjustability. An office chair will dramatically increase you quality of life. Being able to roll around to the fridge if your desk is near one, or being able to combine running your hands backwards over you hair and leaning back in your office chair when pausing in frustration during a particularly nasty calculus problem really hits the spot. If you are like me my day consists of running from class to class, from place to place, where the intervening time is spent sitting on sadly static and solid chairs (except my diff eq lecture- that place has movie theater style folding chairs), and when you get back to where ever you came were, you sit on a chair for the rest of the night. Now, I realize that this is a somewhat superfluous recommendation because everyone already has office chairs, but just in case you don't, you are missing out.
Recliner:
I don't want to harp on about the value of quality furniture, so I will just say that before college, the two best pieces of furniture in the house were my office chair and my recliner, which I purchased with my own money.
Kindle
Reading is awesome. But people don't read as often as they would enjoy, even those that really enjoy reading, because obtaining books is inconvenient, and often pricey. Well, kindles are kinda pricey- 139 dollars, but really thats not much compared to a laptop. A kindle lets you read much more. With my kindle, I discovered that young adults books are like, as my marine friend would say, who also owns a kindle, TV in book form- there is lots of explosions or comedy, generally entertaining stuff, that does not require any mental thought. And the price isn't that bad- say you buy movie of the year for 9 dollars- not sure who sells movies of the year for less than 10 dollars, but for the sake of what I will suddenly call an argument, you find one, and its Avatar, and you watch it, which lasts for about 3 hours. Or you could buy the best book written in the year , or maybe the best you thought was written for the same price, and guess what- the best book is better than Avatar, which really wasn't that good, and if you watched it without 12 foot subwoofers the second time around you might get bored. So yes, by a kindle. Oh, and you know how that great movie has a sequel that comes out every year and a half, for a year or two? Books do the same thing, but for longer because authors need to pay the rent by continuing to make good books. The only movies that do that, arguably, is the Harry Potter series, which ironically is not available on kindle because J.K. Rowling thinks they should only be enjoyed in paper form (not to mention multi-gillion dollar 3D cimema surround sound). And kindles have really long battery life! If you don't have a kindle, download the kindle app to your computer of phone thingy.
Micheal Crichton Series
Buy the Michal Crichton series for your kindle- I haven't regretted reading one of his books yet. They tend to follow a certain trend: a scientific discovery in a remote location requires the main character to pass through a bunch of security features meant to contain the perfectly safe discovery, followed by the discovery getting out of control, killing the foolish creatures of the discovery, while the main character barley escapes. But the discoveries are all really cool, and there are good quotes: Read them.
Legos
Legos are the best toy ever invented, and they make kids say "I want to be an inventor when I grow up" which is epic- Imagine having business cards saying: inventor, and under UV light it says either "that guy who makes Bat Man's stuff", "Doc Brown", "Doctor Who", "Tony Stark" and so forth. (More practical inventors are engineers on the side to pay the bills and foot the massive cost for thier underground lab)
Speakers
If you like music, which you do presuming you've heard enough kinds of music to find the kind you like, the music sounds better coming out of speakers separate from your laptop- I suggest x-mini capsule speakers on amazon- they get good base, high quality, and charge via USB, which makes everything slightly cooler. I should get advertising monies for this post.
Foam Pillow
No more lumps, no more pillow needing fluffing. Its worth it.
Buy things on amazon with your one year free trial of student prime shipping, where you get free 2 day shipping on a majority of items.
If you are savvy you can get a good office chair for 50 dollars. A good office chair is padded, has wheels, and has the whoosh variety of up and down adjustability. An office chair will dramatically increase you quality of life. Being able to roll around to the fridge if your desk is near one, or being able to combine running your hands backwards over you hair and leaning back in your office chair when pausing in frustration during a particularly nasty calculus problem really hits the spot. If you are like me my day consists of running from class to class, from place to place, where the intervening time is spent sitting on sadly static and solid chairs (except my diff eq lecture- that place has movie theater style folding chairs), and when you get back to where ever you came were, you sit on a chair for the rest of the night. Now, I realize that this is a somewhat superfluous recommendation because everyone already has office chairs, but just in case you don't, you are missing out.
Recliner:
I don't want to harp on about the value of quality furniture, so I will just say that before college, the two best pieces of furniture in the house were my office chair and my recliner, which I purchased with my own money.
Kindle
Reading is awesome. But people don't read as often as they would enjoy, even those that really enjoy reading, because obtaining books is inconvenient, and often pricey. Well, kindles are kinda pricey- 139 dollars, but really thats not much compared to a laptop. A kindle lets you read much more. With my kindle, I discovered that young adults books are like, as my marine friend would say, who also owns a kindle, TV in book form- there is lots of explosions or comedy, generally entertaining stuff, that does not require any mental thought. And the price isn't that bad- say you buy movie of the year for 9 dollars- not sure who sells movies of the year for less than 10 dollars, but for the sake of what I will suddenly call an argument, you find one, and its Avatar, and you watch it, which lasts for about 3 hours. Or you could buy the best book written in the year , or maybe the best you thought was written for the same price, and guess what- the best book is better than Avatar, which really wasn't that good, and if you watched it without 12 foot subwoofers the second time around you might get bored. So yes, by a kindle. Oh, and you know how that great movie has a sequel that comes out every year and a half, for a year or two? Books do the same thing, but for longer because authors need to pay the rent by continuing to make good books. The only movies that do that, arguably, is the Harry Potter series, which ironically is not available on kindle because J.K. Rowling thinks they should only be enjoyed in paper form (not to mention multi-gillion dollar 3D cimema surround sound). And kindles have really long battery life! If you don't have a kindle, download the kindle app to your computer of phone thingy.
Micheal Crichton Series
Buy the Michal Crichton series for your kindle- I haven't regretted reading one of his books yet. They tend to follow a certain trend: a scientific discovery in a remote location requires the main character to pass through a bunch of security features meant to contain the perfectly safe discovery, followed by the discovery getting out of control, killing the foolish creatures of the discovery, while the main character barley escapes. But the discoveries are all really cool, and there are good quotes: Read them.
Legos
Legos are the best toy ever invented, and they make kids say "I want to be an inventor when I grow up" which is epic- Imagine having business cards saying: inventor, and under UV light it says either "that guy who makes Bat Man's stuff", "Doc Brown", "Doctor Who", "Tony Stark" and so forth. (More practical inventors are engineers on the side to pay the bills and foot the massive cost for thier underground lab)
Speakers
If you like music, which you do presuming you've heard enough kinds of music to find the kind you like, the music sounds better coming out of speakers separate from your laptop- I suggest x-mini capsule speakers on amazon- they get good base, high quality, and charge via USB, which makes everything slightly cooler. I should get advertising monies for this post.
Foam Pillow
No more lumps, no more pillow needing fluffing. Its worth it.
Buy things on amazon with your one year free trial of student prime shipping, where you get free 2 day shipping on a majority of items.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
NO! TRY AGAIN
Nestled deep in a hidden valley of the Andes laid a little village. It people were a simple people. They grew fruit, cared for llamas, and spending their days working hard, and their nights with friends and family. The harvest was their way of life, and their livelihood. Every man women and child was part of the planting, watering, picking, and enjoying of the fruit that grew on verdant vines and trees all across the valley. Every fall for hundreds of years the strongest man in the village would bring the best fruit of the harvest to the shine of the god of nature and harvest to ensure a good crop the next year. And the best fruit was a prized variety, not grow anywhere else in the Andes, not anywhere in the southern half of the world: Apples. Of all the fruit, apples where the most worshipped, and valued. The people eat the apple raw, stewed it, roasted it, juiced it, mashed it, and dried it.
On one particular fall day, just after the harvest was complete, and the whole village was gather in the village square. They stood around a large dirt courtyard, where the men wrestled to determine who gained the right to make the offering to the harvest god. The men wore traditional dyed bands of llama wool cloth, and displayed ceremonial designs painted on their faces. The village shaman beat a ceremonial drum, inciting the crowd as the last two contestants stepped into the ring. The crowd overflowing with excitement and tension- this was an unprecedented match- the last two competitors were identical twins. They had easily won their earlier matches, surpassing their competitors in strength and cunning. Still, there could only be one winner.
The tempo and intensity of the drum accelerated, silencing the crowd, building louder and faster. The crowd held its breath. The two brothers faced one another, crouched and ready. The drum pounded insanely. Suddenly, silence. This indicated the start of the match, and the crowd roared back into life as the brothers dove at each other. It was traditional to show bravery by not pausing or circling around your opponent as in many forms of wrestling.
The bodies clashed, fighting fiercely to gain the upper hand. The loser was the first person whose head touched the ground, but the opponent was not allowed to touch the others shoulders, arms, or head. The dirt was churned to dust as the two matched opponents wrestled. Slowly the minutes ticked by. Far longer than any other match. The crowd slowly stopped cheering, lapsing into a grim silence as the twins unflaggingly wrestled on.
The noon day sun slowly dipped towards the horizon, and the brothers wrestled on. The crowd grew tired- they had worked on the harvest without sleep for two days and two nights. Slowly they drifted back to their huts, until only the shaman remained, beating a slow tempo.
The sun slowly rose that morning, and the villagers carefully picked their way towards the center of town. The two brothers were still in the ring, sitting on the ground, their arms wrapped in wrestling holds around one another, their heads supported upon one another’s, and fast asleep. The shaman had stopped beating his drum, signifying the end of the match.
When the brothers awoke, the shaman informed them that their godlike strains were a sign, that it was intended for both of them to present the best apples to the harvest god. Of course, both brothers were deeply honored and enthusiastic about the task granted to them, and together, after a solid breakfast, set out to the storage cellars to choose the best apples to present to the gods.
Choosing the perfect apples was a tricky ordeal, as one must judge the taste and texture without tasting the fruit. The foremost property the brothers looked for in an apple was the crispness- the best apples would not dent or deform in the hardest grip. Crisp apples make for strong white teeth, and strong men. The brothers tested the apples, each one, selecting the crispest, and smooth, and round specimens. Carefully packing the apples carefully in individual alpaca wool pouches, the brothers set out on the day long journey up the side of the valley to deliver the offering to the god of harvest.
At dusk, the two brothers entered the shrine, which was hewn from a rocky outcropping, and made their way inside. The walls were intricately carved, and the altar onto which the apples were delivered sat empty, the harvest god having eaten the offering laid there the previous year. The sun dipped towards the horizon, and a shaft of light shot down the tunnel to the altar as the sun aligned with the cave opening. The brothers knelt, hands holding the apples up to the altar, placing them softly on it stone surface. But one brother felt the apple from one of his hands snatched away, and he heard crunch. Glancing sharply up the twins beheld the harvest god in his full glory- he sat on a chair made like an eagles nest, wore the wool of alpaca of a million hues, and was crowned with a helm of apple wood adored with apple leaves. The center of the helm had a single hole to see out of- the god had only one eye, in the center of his forehead. In his right hand he held his staff of power, which he used to grant a bountiful harvest on the land. Immediately upon recognizing the entity, the two brothers threw themselves to the ground in worship- it was not in anyone’s living memory that the god had presented himself to a mortal man. In the gods other hand he held one of the proffered apples, a bite taken from it, juice dripping from his palm.
The god did not chew, but made a sour face, and spat the bite of apple on the ground, the juice spattering the brother who had proffered the apple.
“What is this, this apple you offer to your god!” rumbled and roared the god, “Do you think this is fit for a god! You think this is crisp! This fruit is a disgrace” Snatching another apple, leaving one twin empty handed, he roared, “Look at this! Look” and the twin without apples raised his head with trepidation. The god held the apple firmly, his thumb pressed against one side. With a narrowing eyebrow, he clenched his fist and sunk his thumb into the apple like it was filled with apply sauce. “No! This is not fit for a god! I know not why I have for so many centuries put up with such meager offerings in return for my great services. But no more! There will be no wasted energy on your weak efforts! You and your people are in debt to me, and I shall be repaid. From now on, I demand half of your harvest delivered to this shrine; else you will never have a bountiful harvest again!”
Now, most men would quiver under the power of such a god, and meekly agree to his demands, but the twins were braver, and cleverer than most men. The brother whose apples, which had had grown and chosen carefully, and reverently, surged with anger beneath his calm form.
“Oh great god, it is true how we have dishonored you” he said, “This is surely a just payment for our failed efforts. It is my people’s only desire to provide apples to meet the specifications of our most revered god. Please, give us one more chance to prove we can grow an apple crisp enough to withstand your grip, and strengthen your teeth.”
“Bah!” roared the god, “There is no apple that can withstand my grip, my teeth, and there is no point in your trying! I am a god, far more powerful then yourself, despite your ability defeat your kinsmen.” The brother’s eye glinted, and he said,
“Surely if there is no way to create such an apple, than there is no harm in little wager that you cannot lose? I say, let me try to grow such an apple, and if I fail, you can take three quarters of our yearly harvest”
“Hmm..” grumbled the god, tempted as he was greedy, “and if I lose?”
“What I want if I win is irrelevant, as you cannot possibly lose! Is it a deal?”
“Erm… Yes! Of course! I thank you for your graciousness to give me another quarter of your harvest!”
“It is a deal then, and if I win I will take your staff of power, but never fear, my most revered god, you will surely win” The god’s eyebrow narrowed again, he vanished in a blast of smoke,
“I’ll be back in a year to claim my three quarters of your efforts!”
When spring came the following year the brothers took extra care in selecting the best trees to tend, watering, pruning, and tending the trees with more devotion than ever before. In the harvest they cradled the apples carefully, judging the perfect day for each apple to be picked. They selected the crispest apples they had ever grown. But the twins knew that despite their efforts, no apple could survive the test of the god, but still they had to try. In the wrestling match, there was no stalemate- one brother slipped. When the time came one brother set out alone to take the sacred fruit to the shrine. Half way up the mountain he took a short cut through thick brambles, eager to get to his destination.
He made the final leg of his pilgrimage to the shrine and entered it, to find the harvest god waiting for him, arms crossed and grinning.
“Huh-hah! I lick my lips in anticipation of consuming your hard work! I think will eat your harvest in one sitting! Let us get this silly competition out of the way so I may claim me portion!”
“Of course, great god, I have brought here the best apples I have ever produced. I hope they are to your liking.”
“Ha! You know that these apples will not pass my test! I know that you were trying to trick me! But I kept my eye on you the entire year, since you left my cave a year ago! You knew I would watch, and could not try any trickery!”
“Of course not, my god, I would, and could not attempt such trickery. Here is my honest effort” said the brother, offering an apple to the god. The god laughed and snatched the apple from the brother, holding it up in the fading beam of light, and then clenching his fist to crush the apple. Only it did not. The apple remained intact, not a bruise on it. The god grunted, and tried again, but could not break the fruit. Angrily he took a bite from the apple to prove his ability, and screamed as his teeth broke on its surface. With a garbled scream of rage, the furious god threw down his staff, and erupted in a plume of sulfurous smoke.
On the way back to the village, the brother met his twin who had been waiting in the thick brambles, and together they made their way down the mountain, each enjoying half of the perfect apple.
When they reached the village the villagers were astounded to see the twins in possession of the god’s staff. “How did you beat the god’s test?” they asked.
“When we first met the god” one brother replied, “He never took his eye off of me- there has only ever been one visitor at his shrine, and knew not of my brother. In a thicket of brambles, my brother awaited me, and in a few seconds he took my place, with a pack of bronze apples he forged secretly over the year. Now we will always have bountiful harvests, and the best apples to ourselves!”
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Never Start a Land War In Asia
I am a war game enthusiast- and I mean real games, not video games.
Board Games
What makes board games so fantastic is that the poor game designer, probably in Germany, where it seems the best games are from (if the designer has an Umlaut in his name, thats a good sign), he, or she, must rely not on flashing lights and sound effects, and lots of adrenaline driving action and shooting, but rather small colorful pieces of paper, and a large piece of cardboard. While this may sound like a downside, it isn't- it forces the designer to create a mental challenge to pit one player against another in a challenge of wits, and let the craving maw of the player's ravenous ego elevated the rather mundane action of rolling dice, or playing a card, to a level of adrenaline pumping, action packed, 360 Bose surround sound induced delusion impossible to replicate without liberal use of explosives and a leased Fokker Triplane. You may be worried that the game you buy will have failed to achieve this effect- and you are probably right. Do your research before you spend 40 bucks on a cardboard box filled with more cardboard.
This brings me to war board games- and their are many great ones. Of course there is the classic Risk- fantastic game, depending on the group of people. Its best to play with a variety of personalities, and to play multiple games over time so you can learn each person quirks and strategies- this adds a delicious three-layer humus-y flavor to the game. One person may always ally with another, or never attack until the end of the game, or act completely random. One of the most amusing games I have played was when my normal group of Risk enthusiasts played a game with a new person, who believed that if someone made an alliance with them, they were honor bound to keep it. Deception, deception- its all politics.
There are a number of other games, some which take less time than risk, such as Memoir 44, which involves a single battle, to ones that last much longer. One of these much longer games is particular notable- Axis and Allies. This is a true board game, not lacking in any complexity, in all senses a worthy mental challenge. One of the aspects that makes it hyper realistic is that it lasts so long that, as a commander, you begin to question the common sense of starting the war in the first place. Is it worth it to spend another four turns building up a fleet of aircraft carriers and planes to go make a futile landing Taiwan, when the Mongolian infantry are just going to crush you ill equipped landing party in a few more turns?
Okay, so maybe the game isn't so bad.
Well, its actauly probably my fault. The real rules require a set up time of about and hour and a half, and you don't get to choose anything at all- you just set up the board more or less like it was in the mid part of WWII and begin. I'm sure the game designers did tons of research on the battles and war fare and strategies of the actual battalions and so forth of WWII, and based on these data, decided that playing the role of the commander of a marine fleet would be quite exciting, since the risk of dying and what not was removed. They probably would have been correct. But that is not who you play. You play commander of the the entire axis or allied forces (hence the name) Do you think that was an exciting position to hold in WWII? Do you think Stalin's adrenaline was pumping as ordered the production of six million more tanks to be manufactured, only destined to crawl their way across the frozen tundra to meet their futile end in some otherwise insignificant battle? No. But he had to didn't he? He had no other choice but to send wave after wave of troops to go fight pointless battles, and Stalingrad was still destroyed.
This is exactly what happens in Axis and Allies. The goal of the game (according to my more interesting and playable rules) is to destroy everything. To destroy everything, you need tanks and infantry and so forth, which cost money. You get x amount of money each turn depending on how many countries you have taken over. So you need alot of land to make alot of money. Guess where there is alot of land?
Thats right- Russia. So nearly every game devolves into a slow, painful, expensive, boring land war in Asia. As the Sicilian in princess bride would say "Ha! You've fallen for the most classic blunder! Never start a land war in Asia"
And now I know why
(Historical facts unverified. In another note, I circumvented this whole issue by making the land in Asia worthless- not the wars are more full of interesting sea, air, land battles. There are a million other little things about the game that drive me crazy, but I won't mention them, and anyways, they are real situations that develop in real war, so cudos on the makers of Axis and Allies tricking me into thinking a 15 hour hyper-realistic war game would be any less aggravating and painstaking than a real war.)
Board Games
What makes board games so fantastic is that the poor game designer, probably in Germany, where it seems the best games are from (if the designer has an Umlaut in his name, thats a good sign), he, or she, must rely not on flashing lights and sound effects, and lots of adrenaline driving action and shooting, but rather small colorful pieces of paper, and a large piece of cardboard. While this may sound like a downside, it isn't- it forces the designer to create a mental challenge to pit one player against another in a challenge of wits, and let the craving maw of the player's ravenous ego elevated the rather mundane action of rolling dice, or playing a card, to a level of adrenaline pumping, action packed, 360 Bose surround sound induced delusion impossible to replicate without liberal use of explosives and a leased Fokker Triplane. You may be worried that the game you buy will have failed to achieve this effect- and you are probably right. Do your research before you spend 40 bucks on a cardboard box filled with more cardboard.
This brings me to war board games- and their are many great ones. Of course there is the classic Risk- fantastic game, depending on the group of people. Its best to play with a variety of personalities, and to play multiple games over time so you can learn each person quirks and strategies- this adds a delicious three-layer humus-y flavor to the game. One person may always ally with another, or never attack until the end of the game, or act completely random. One of the most amusing games I have played was when my normal group of Risk enthusiasts played a game with a new person, who believed that if someone made an alliance with them, they were honor bound to keep it. Deception, deception- its all politics.
There are a number of other games, some which take less time than risk, such as Memoir 44, which involves a single battle, to ones that last much longer. One of these much longer games is particular notable- Axis and Allies. This is a true board game, not lacking in any complexity, in all senses a worthy mental challenge. One of the aspects that makes it hyper realistic is that it lasts so long that, as a commander, you begin to question the common sense of starting the war in the first place. Is it worth it to spend another four turns building up a fleet of aircraft carriers and planes to go make a futile landing Taiwan, when the Mongolian infantry are just going to crush you ill equipped landing party in a few more turns?
Okay, so maybe the game isn't so bad.
Well, its actauly probably my fault. The real rules require a set up time of about and hour and a half, and you don't get to choose anything at all- you just set up the board more or less like it was in the mid part of WWII and begin. I'm sure the game designers did tons of research on the battles and war fare and strategies of the actual battalions and so forth of WWII, and based on these data, decided that playing the role of the commander of a marine fleet would be quite exciting, since the risk of dying and what not was removed. They probably would have been correct. But that is not who you play. You play commander of the the entire axis or allied forces (hence the name) Do you think that was an exciting position to hold in WWII? Do you think Stalin's adrenaline was pumping as ordered the production of six million more tanks to be manufactured, only destined to crawl their way across the frozen tundra to meet their futile end in some otherwise insignificant battle? No. But he had to didn't he? He had no other choice but to send wave after wave of troops to go fight pointless battles, and Stalingrad was still destroyed.
This is exactly what happens in Axis and Allies. The goal of the game (according to my more interesting and playable rules) is to destroy everything. To destroy everything, you need tanks and infantry and so forth, which cost money. You get x amount of money each turn depending on how many countries you have taken over. So you need alot of land to make alot of money. Guess where there is alot of land?
Thats right- Russia. So nearly every game devolves into a slow, painful, expensive, boring land war in Asia. As the Sicilian in princess bride would say "Ha! You've fallen for the most classic blunder! Never start a land war in Asia"
And now I know why
(Historical facts unverified. In another note, I circumvented this whole issue by making the land in Asia worthless- not the wars are more full of interesting sea, air, land battles. There are a million other little things about the game that drive me crazy, but I won't mention them, and anyways, they are real situations that develop in real war, so cudos on the makers of Axis and Allies tricking me into thinking a 15 hour hyper-realistic war game would be any less aggravating and painstaking than a real war.)
Monday, April 4, 2011
Sandwiches
So,
wow
Um, its like midnight+23 min right now and I was going to begin writing this post, but the full magnitude and depth of the subject matter just hit me full on, leaving my mind staggering in a wild slide show of hollow memories that have until just now been safely locked behind a sturdy door of denial and coping mechanisms.
Well, best to just let it all out, and then neatly pack it all away again.
So,
I might have mentioned that I am vegan before, but I'll mention it again. I became vegan when I was around 4 years old. This was probably the beginning of the whole subject matter. Oh man, well as you can probably guess, I am making this up as I go, and as I do, I keep remembering more and more haunting memories. I'll bear with it though. So, being vegan means that when I eventually made my way into the educational institution of elementary school. This meant that myself, a vegan, was separated from my natural environment of cupboards and fridges shelves full of eatable food. No big deal- I brought a lunch from home. Lots of kids did. It was completely normal. I won't complain too much about having the same lunch 270 days a year for 8 years- lots of kids had that experience. I mean everyone must have gotten sick of having candy, chips, and soda for lunch every day. I know I would. Thats why I was particularly happy with my regular fare: unsweetened soymilk and canned slugs, I mean, prunes, both stored in neon plastic capsules that could have kept King Tuts lunch fresh while he waited to be discovered. These delectable delights were served as appetizers (I use the word loosely) to the main entrée- a sandwich. Not just any sandwich- it is a masterpiece. Applied in the thinest layer was the throat parching layer of unsweetened soy butter (It exists- my brother is allergic to peanuts, so we all suffered. And no, i'm not being insensitive to his life threatening condition- he is only mildly allergic- my mothers discovery of almond butter was a spiritual moment for me) There is also a layer of jam, applied with the soy butter in such a way I often opened my sandwich to make sure it wasn't just two layers of bread. And the bread- well you can feel your life extending when you eat it- its made of sprouted wheat, which in my mind is essentially whole wheat bread that somebody let go to seed. To hide the flavor, its covered with an assortment of bird food which cascades onto your lap when you take a bite, and leave you with a better understanding of why birds prefer insects to your bird feeder.
With that said, I do appreciate the timeless effort my parents put into preparing a lunch for me everyday, with love and care to raise me healthy and happy. I would like to say when I started making my own lunches I made different sandwiches, but I didn't. (I did forgo the slugs and soy milk though)
And with that said, I must explain that sandwiches are possibly my favorite food (baring ice cream- that is, soy cream, of course) I think it is these experiences in my youth that led me to the profound appreciation of the art form that is a true sandwich. When made correctly, a sandwich is the obvious and natural evolution of all food. With soft artisan bread, with a proper crust to make it crunch, succulent meat substitute, rich cheese substitute, crunchy lettuce, the bite of dill pickles, the tang of mustard, the creamy flavor of fake mayo, and the tangy explosion of pepperoncinis. So many flavors, with fantastic textures, and infinite options. That is a sandwich. Heaven.
Unfortunately for every amazing, perfect, fantastic sandwich, lovingly crafted and enjoyed slowly and with great appreciation, there are 200 horrific, pathetic, gut wrenching sandwiches, thrown together at the last minute, and gagged down when hunger over rides sanity.
I know them well.
I know when they are coming.
And I dread them.
I have avoided them for months now, but they are in my future.
I see them now.
May 20th, 2011.
The day my family is going to go camping.
I shiver.
It begins like this.
Parent 1: "What are we going to eat on the car ride down to the beach?"
Me: "I'll eat an energy bar"
Parent 2: "We don't have any, actauly."
Me: "Water. I'll eat water. I mean, I'll drink water."
Parent 1: "Nonsense, I'll throw together some sandwiches for the trip"
>> fast forward 2 hours: at rest stop 30 minutes from camp ground, after using bathroom due to drinking enough water to suppress a great white shark's appetite
Parent 1: "Golly, I'm a bit peckish. Where are those sandwiches? Grab them, for me please? We can eat before heading back out"
I crawl back to the car, which, over the last 1.15 hours has remained cool and refreshing due to the invention of air conditioning. The sandwiches are not in the car. they are in the trunk, which over the last 1.15 has been transformed into a humid oven, dripping with moisture evaporated off of fungus infected sleeping mats. I take in a breath, and worm may hand into the grocery bag squashed between a camp stove and a pair of boots, and drag out the sandwiches. By a stroke of genius, they have been stored in the plastic bag the bread came in. Peering in, I see that the bread has literally perspired, misting the clear plastic. I warily undo the little metal twist tie, and open the bag, getting my first look at my meal. The 4 or 5 sandwiches have become one single jelly sodden, crumbling mass. I extract the whole thing, and the sandwiches remind me of orange peels as I peel them apart, insofar as orange peel is inedible. With the hot sun beating down on me, and the toxic flavor of the bug repellent I just applied mixed with the already indistinguishable overtones of boiled jelly, decomposed soy pulp, and paste-ala-bread. Hunger breaks down my sanity, and I gag it down, hearing my self ask for a luke warm juice box, please.
wow
Um, its like midnight+23 min right now and I was going to begin writing this post, but the full magnitude and depth of the subject matter just hit me full on, leaving my mind staggering in a wild slide show of hollow memories that have until just now been safely locked behind a sturdy door of denial and coping mechanisms.
Well, best to just let it all out, and then neatly pack it all away again.
So,
I might have mentioned that I am vegan before, but I'll mention it again. I became vegan when I was around 4 years old. This was probably the beginning of the whole subject matter. Oh man, well as you can probably guess, I am making this up as I go, and as I do, I keep remembering more and more haunting memories. I'll bear with it though. So, being vegan means that when I eventually made my way into the educational institution of elementary school. This meant that myself, a vegan, was separated from my natural environment of cupboards and fridges shelves full of eatable food. No big deal- I brought a lunch from home. Lots of kids did. It was completely normal. I won't complain too much about having the same lunch 270 days a year for 8 years- lots of kids had that experience. I mean everyone must have gotten sick of having candy, chips, and soda for lunch every day. I know I would. Thats why I was particularly happy with my regular fare: unsweetened soymilk and canned slugs, I mean, prunes, both stored in neon plastic capsules that could have kept King Tuts lunch fresh while he waited to be discovered. These delectable delights were served as appetizers (I use the word loosely) to the main entrée- a sandwich. Not just any sandwich- it is a masterpiece. Applied in the thinest layer was the throat parching layer of unsweetened soy butter (It exists- my brother is allergic to peanuts, so we all suffered. And no, i'm not being insensitive to his life threatening condition- he is only mildly allergic- my mothers discovery of almond butter was a spiritual moment for me) There is also a layer of jam, applied with the soy butter in such a way I often opened my sandwich to make sure it wasn't just two layers of bread. And the bread- well you can feel your life extending when you eat it- its made of sprouted wheat, which in my mind is essentially whole wheat bread that somebody let go to seed. To hide the flavor, its covered with an assortment of bird food which cascades onto your lap when you take a bite, and leave you with a better understanding of why birds prefer insects to your bird feeder.
With that said, I do appreciate the timeless effort my parents put into preparing a lunch for me everyday, with love and care to raise me healthy and happy. I would like to say when I started making my own lunches I made different sandwiches, but I didn't. (I did forgo the slugs and soy milk though)
And with that said, I must explain that sandwiches are possibly my favorite food (baring ice cream- that is, soy cream, of course) I think it is these experiences in my youth that led me to the profound appreciation of the art form that is a true sandwich. When made correctly, a sandwich is the obvious and natural evolution of all food. With soft artisan bread, with a proper crust to make it crunch, succulent meat substitute, rich cheese substitute, crunchy lettuce, the bite of dill pickles, the tang of mustard, the creamy flavor of fake mayo, and the tangy explosion of pepperoncinis. So many flavors, with fantastic textures, and infinite options. That is a sandwich. Heaven.
Unfortunately for every amazing, perfect, fantastic sandwich, lovingly crafted and enjoyed slowly and with great appreciation, there are 200 horrific, pathetic, gut wrenching sandwiches, thrown together at the last minute, and gagged down when hunger over rides sanity.
I know them well.
I know when they are coming.
And I dread them.
I have avoided them for months now, but they are in my future.
I see them now.
May 20th, 2011.
The day my family is going to go camping.
I shiver.
It begins like this.
Parent 1: "What are we going to eat on the car ride down to the beach?"
Me: "I'll eat an energy bar"
Parent 2: "We don't have any, actauly."
Me: "Water. I'll eat water. I mean, I'll drink water."
Parent 1: "Nonsense, I'll throw together some sandwiches for the trip"
>> fast forward 2 hours: at rest stop 30 minutes from camp ground, after using bathroom due to drinking enough water to suppress a great white shark's appetite
Parent 1: "Golly, I'm a bit peckish. Where are those sandwiches? Grab them, for me please? We can eat before heading back out"
I crawl back to the car, which, over the last 1.15 hours has remained cool and refreshing due to the invention of air conditioning. The sandwiches are not in the car. they are in the trunk, which over the last 1.15 has been transformed into a humid oven, dripping with moisture evaporated off of fungus infected sleeping mats. I take in a breath, and worm may hand into the grocery bag squashed between a camp stove and a pair of boots, and drag out the sandwiches. By a stroke of genius, they have been stored in the plastic bag the bread came in. Peering in, I see that the bread has literally perspired, misting the clear plastic. I warily undo the little metal twist tie, and open the bag, getting my first look at my meal. The 4 or 5 sandwiches have become one single jelly sodden, crumbling mass. I extract the whole thing, and the sandwiches remind me of orange peels as I peel them apart, insofar as orange peel is inedible. With the hot sun beating down on me, and the toxic flavor of the bug repellent I just applied mixed with the already indistinguishable overtones of boiled jelly, decomposed soy pulp, and paste-ala-bread. Hunger breaks down my sanity, and I gag it down, hearing my self ask for a luke warm juice box, please.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Living life and drinking tea
I just realized that I am living life- right now! Over the last week, I have felt really alive- not that there was particular beauty discovered in nature, or I began meditating and doing yoga, or anything like that. It wasn't like in the sound of music opening scene with Fraulein Maria living life and singing in the hills kind of live-it-up life is full of vibrancy-and-wonder type of discovering I am living life. I was more like the kind of making a fun little sand castle on the beach which is crushed to smithereens by a tidal sneaker wave which sucks you out to sea, pulling you under water before you get a breath of anything more than the sand your face is being dragged across, blinded by salt water as tons-upon-tons of water smash bits of your body on other bits foot-cut-open-on-nasty-coral, struggling to surface and somehow making it, gasping for breath, but surprised to be alive, living life kind of feeling. I think this is because when all this happens to you, your sensory faculties go on high alert, looking out for danger. This must be why people like bungee jumping, and all that. The adeneline. Though I'm not sure how much adreneline you have left at 3 in the morning after 6 consecutive hours of staring at 4 math problems. Still a great feeling though once you get past it.
As for the tea I talked about, or rather didn't, in my last entry, yes. Tea is great- its just leaves and water! And it smells so good. I drink earl grey hot, like Picard. You may think Picard is being kinda pretentious ordering earl grey "hot" not just earl grey, but have you tried earl grey hot (i.e. hot enough to burn your mouth if you take more than a thimble of a sip at once)- if I could see flavors, there would be a visible difference between the two.
As for the tea I talked about, or rather didn't, in my last entry, yes. Tea is great- its just leaves and water! And it smells so good. I drink earl grey hot, like Picard. You may think Picard is being kinda pretentious ordering earl grey "hot" not just earl grey, but have you tried earl grey hot (i.e. hot enough to burn your mouth if you take more than a thimble of a sip at once)- if I could see flavors, there would be a visible difference between the two.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Autumn Wheat and Tea
Similar to the decrease in quality of water, as I may have mention, when transitioning from not college to college, there is a decrease in the quality of the food. My dad is vegan cook, and makes the most amazing meals, which at the time of eating them, I under-appreciated. Now that I am in college, I appreciate them to their full effect, and the chance of eating some home cooking may be the most anticipated part of my visits home during breaks. However, I have developed a coping mechanism for this withdrawal. Of the food I now dine upon, I have become a connoisseur, and appreciate each item far beyond the intended level of enjoyment the culinary masters at Trader Joe's frozen food lab thought possible. Take for example, cereal. Pre-college it was just breakfast- I ate it because I was hungry, and there was an auspicious lack of pie and cake for my morning meal. But now, I eating cereal in the morning can be the best part of my entire day. Its not just food- their is a whole mental state that defines cereal, or breakfast in general. Breakfast is usually define as a time for a certain task- eating, and less often, but often more interestingly defined as a time for not a certain task- homework. A guilt free time to not do homework, even if there is a major paper due in 20 minutes. I mean, what am I going to do? Not eat the most important meal of the day!? Not on my watch. Another thing I love to do is read- lots and lots of books, however when I have tons of homework to do, i feel guilty reading. But not when I'm eating! So I eat and read, read and eat- one and the same. I salivate when I see books, such is my mental conditioning. This time of eating is thus sacred, and just as one would not insult the lowly dung beetle in front of a pharaoh, you would not debase the lowly bowl of cereal in front of me. My cereal of choice is always the same- Autumn Wheat. It is like shredded wheat, or rather unlike as it is lighter, crunchier, sweeter, tastier and better. When it comes to cereal, it must be crunchy, not soggy, not even a little bit. If you call me in the morning, and I act less then completely gracious, chances are I am sitting at my desk, book open in front of me, and my crunchy cereal slowly drowning a horrific death in the milk I just poured on them. To maximize crunchiness, I eat several tiny bowls of cereal for breakfast rather than just one big one.
Of course, you can infer that my dinner is just as sacred and ritualistic. I have eaten countless frozen burritos, and after a while I developed exact ways of preparing them. 1st, wash dirty plate. Slit open the plastic cover with a fork. Flip cardboard carton with burritos upsidedown onto plate- to retain moisture (nothing like a leathery burrito). Microwave for either 4 or 5.5 minutes, depending on if it was frozen or refrigerated. Read book while microwaving. carry finished burrito up to room and consume. Use fork to slit open first burrito (2/package). Scoop out contents with fork, savoring individual black beans. Neatly cut up tortilla and consume. Repeat for second burrito. Deposit dirty dish on shelf. Repeat in 24 hours.
AH- forgot the bit about the tea. I'll get to that latter
Of course, you can infer that my dinner is just as sacred and ritualistic. I have eaten countless frozen burritos, and after a while I developed exact ways of preparing them. 1st, wash dirty plate. Slit open the plastic cover with a fork. Flip cardboard carton with burritos upsidedown onto plate- to retain moisture (nothing like a leathery burrito). Microwave for either 4 or 5.5 minutes, depending on if it was frozen or refrigerated. Read book while microwaving. carry finished burrito up to room and consume. Use fork to slit open first burrito (2/package). Scoop out contents with fork, savoring individual black beans. Neatly cut up tortilla and consume. Repeat for second burrito. Deposit dirty dish on shelf. Repeat in 24 hours.
AH- forgot the bit about the tea. I'll get to that latter
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Dirt Pile
My parents currently live in a condo, and ~2 years before that, a townhome, and ~2 years before that a different condo, however ~2 years before that, we all lived in a house! It was a real house, with 4 separate walls, and 3/4 acre of land. But this is not about the house. It is about the dirt pile. It began when I was in the age range of about preschool to 3rd grade. Now, bear (is that the right "bear"?) with me, because I this happened along time ago, and the details may be a bit fuzzy, or outright fabrications.
The best thing in the world, which occupied the vast majority of my me and my brothers time, was the dirt pile. it was the most entertaining entity in the world. What was the dirt pile you may ask? Actauly, you probably would not ask that, as the name is painfully self explanatory, and a Hallmark to the unimaginative properties of my childhood mind. But you should still ask, because the dirt pile was not, as the name implies, a pile of dirt.
Quite the opposite in fact.
It was a hole- in the dirt.
Now, I honestly do not know how we came to naming our favorite play thing so inaccurately, but for whatever reason it stuck. My leading theory is we used to play on a pile of dirt, and then discovered that playing in the hole from which the dirt was dug was much more fun (I have no such memory, but then again I am probably not a reliable source for know what I don't know)
Okay, so its a hole in ground. Roughly circular, four feet in diameter, about a foot and half deep, with sloping walls. My brother and I could comfortably sit in the hole, oblivious to the muck, without it being crowded.
The possibilities were limited only by our imaginations, which were mostly filled with horrific disasters, including, but not limited to, land slides, floods, meteorites and dinosaur ambushes.
At the time, we spent all of our pocket money on little plastic dinos sold at a local health food store. With these we acted out the various prehistoric dramas involving a herbivores life in the cretaceous period- getting eaten, getting caught in landslides, getting eaten, getting stuck in tar pits, getting eaten, being washed away by floods, getting eaten, and so forth. They would flee around the craggy rims of the dirt piles, leaving 3 toed footprints in the mud for the raptor pack to follow. One time, a couple plant eaters got caught in a cave in when they explored a cavern, and we forgot they were there until weeks later we were digging and came across the pocket of air and rescued them.
The dirt pile became exponentially more fun when you added water. Unfortunately it became experientially less fun for our parents when water was added, and we would spend hours begging to use the hose to fill the pile with water, only to have out parents say we could have one bucket full- no matter we had a way of accidentally leaving the hose running while we wandered off in search of something innocent to do. We had endless fun digging little canals and holding ponds, and water falls, and dams to hold the water, with slowly eroding jetties with dinos trapped on them. With the high pressure nozzle, you could bore a hole into the side of the pile, and we had fanciful ideas of filling the holes with baking soda and vinegar to blow up the mountain side- in hind sight in surprised neither of us turned into mining experts. The next day, when the water had sunk into the ground, there would be glorious deposit of mud to play with- a powerful building material when combined with grass clippings.
At the end of the day, the main result was that we had once again completely trashed out clothes, to our parents chagrin. One time, when were allowed only a gallon of water, and we "forgot" to turn of the hose, and soaked out shorts in mud, like we promised we wouldn't, we snuck into our room via the totally not raptor proof sliding glass door, and changed into new shorts of the same design, and deposited the evidence in the washing machine.
I recently saw a PBS program on giant mining machines, and was awed by a simulated mining environment, where trainees for the big expensive mining shovels get to practice in a scaled down room filled with dirt and scaled down machines, hooked up to full sized control booths.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Water Fountain Connoisseur
One of the biggest changes I noticed, and subsequently had the most difficulty adjusting to upon my transition from living at home to living at MIT was the profound lack of cold water. Even before college I really enjoyed a tall glass of cold water, downed in one long gulp. We had a spigot in our fridge that always delivered ice cold, pure, delicious water. I'm from Oregon, and the water tastes really good there. I discovered this was not the case when I arrived in Cambridge in the middle of august. Now, in Oregon, even the tap water is cold and tasty. Upon returning to my dorm room after a hot day, I went to fill a mug with cold water. I stood at the sink letting the water run over my hand as it switched from warm to luke-warm, where it stayed. No cold water! Oh no! Well, I filled my mug anyway- I was thirsty. Then I tasted the water- horrific. Hardly worth drinking, and left a bad taste in my mouth. I spent a good 15 minutes visiting all possible ice dispensing units in the building, and finally got a cold cup of water, which mostly made up for the taste. With that said, I drank soy milk until I got used to the water, which I now fine no problem with. But that still left the issue of cold water. Where oh where could it be? Eureka- just at the air on the first floor of my dorm is air conditioned, so is the water fountain- for a while this was my only source of the precious resource- a fountain of ice cold manna that chilled my teeth to the bone. Slowly, like desert nomad, I found and cataloged the various other sources of chilled water on campus. I would have to say my favorite, and one of the first I discovered, is on the second floor of a building I travel through often, and I often go out of the way to cross the building on the second floor for this reason. The water is almost the coldest water on campus, and has high pressure so you don't feel like you have to inhale the spigot to get a decent mouthful. If a random passerby asked me where building 9 was, I would have little idea, but if they wanted to know the 3 closest water fountains to my multivariable calc class, in order of proximity, pressure, and temperature, i'm the one to ask. When ever I take a new route through the maze of buildings, I sample the water fountains on the way, making mental way-points of their location for future use. I can almost tell you how cold and high pressure a fountain will be without tasting it- I see clues like how near it is to an outer wall, patterns in which design has the highest pressure, and if the metal is slightly fogged with condensation from the cold elixir in its pipes. Often one can feel the chill through the metal button, or if it has a dedicated plumbing system. (Plumbing- comes from plumbum, latin for lead, because pipes used to be made from lead- hopefully none of those at MIT)
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Worst night of my life
So a couple months ago I had open heart surgery, which wasn't fun- actauly it sucks. But what I'm guessing most people don't know is why it sucks. If someone were to ask me, "Whats the worst part? I bet its right after surgery, when your in alot of pain, or that first day when you can't get out of bed"
NO
The worst part is the 4th night. The night before I go home actauly. The forth night is precipitated by the 4th day, which is basically the first day they start bringing you Tylenol as a pain killer, because you are no longer in pain, and in fact everything is fantastic, I'm walking around all over the place, playing games, watching movies, and all that. Thats the calm before the storm. Its always lightest before dusk.The night starts like this, roughly. My nurse says that she will come in and give me some meds at 10:00 pm and at 6:00 am, that way I get 8 hours of sleep uninterrupted- the irony. After watching some T.V. I go to sleep- wrong. There is a hammering and pounding from the room adjacent like a construction crew was setting up to rip out the dry wall, but were interrupted by a steel-toe-booted rhino with a jackhammer. I actauly tolerate noise very well when trying to sleep, but my mom does not- if it had instead been a slipper footed kola bear, she still might not have been able to sleep. In any case, she went into the hallway and discovered it was someone cleaning the room. Eventually the noise stopped and the room was either very clean or very demolished. Everything was settling back down, and at 10:00 ish the nurse came in and gave me some meds and hung a new IV drip. These I.V. drips are automatedly (thats totally a word) controlled by these fanastic machines whose function is to make frog like croaks when they work, and to beep very loudly when they don't- I couldn't sleep with that croaking 10 inches from my head, so after while I got up to use the bathroom- while in the bathroom the device switched to what I suspect is its preferred mode, not working, and beeping very loudly. After hurrying out of the bathroom and waiting a bit, a nurse came in and fixed it, setting it back to croak mode, which after about another 30 minutes switches to a third mode, the finished mode, which I neglected to mention earlier, as it is basically identical to "not working" mode, characterized by very loud beeping. My nurse came in a turned it off, and I thought now I would finally get a chance to sleep. I fell asleep for about 30 minutes, after which I discovered that my body had decided to stop regulating my body temperature, which might not seem like a big deal right? Just take off or put on another blanket right? No. I had on a sheet, and the room was about 70 degrees because I felt really warm. After those 30 min of sleep I woke up, laying on my back, with my back literally soaked with sweat- I didn't discover this untill I move slightly, exposing part of my back, which allowed the sweat to preform its actual function- to cool me off. After rolling over out of disgust my back froze, which prompted my body to crank up the thermostat while I drifted back to sleep, wedged on the side of my bed, i.e. the non-sweat soaked portion. I awoke with my side in the state my back had been, which I "solved" by rolling back on my now dry back, and thus I spent a couple hours like a roast on spit, slowly broiled by my own uncalibrated internal thermostat. I eventually got up and changed into a dry robe thing, with hopes that my body would finally figure out that I was not floating in the vacuum of space, with one side boiling under the suns unfiltered radiation, while the other side froze into ice. When laid back down I was relatively comfortable, insofar as a beached salmon is relatively more comfortable than a lobster is being boiled. I'm not sure what time it was at this point, but what little time I had left before the next time a nurse woke me up, I was going to spend sleeping like a rock. With my bodies thermostat calibrated, or at least turned off, this seemed possible, until a new sensation ravaged my mind. I don't know why, but at that moment I NEEDED A Q-TIP. More than anything in the world. My entire conscience was suddenly channeled into the irrational need of my right ear for a Q-TIP. I clawed at the side of my head, only making the itching sensation worse. desperately I buried my ear in the cool side of my pillow, trying not to think about my left ear, lest it be overcome at well. No matter what I did, it was not enough. I think in my sleep deprived insanity and desperation I would have killed for a simple bit of cotton wrapped around a paper stick. I ended up getting out of bed and making my way to a box of Kleenex, tearing of a small piece, in some hope that I could assuage the inexorable demands of my ear. It did not, and I was forced to wait it out. Sleep was out of the question. Eventually, after literary staring at the ceiling for hours a nurse came in to adjust something or rather, which woke my mom up, and after the nurse left, I lost it. I'm not sure what I was laughing at, but I could not stop- my mom was laughing to, mostly at the general insanity of the situation, but it was clear that I was the one whose mind had finally snapped. I laughed until I was in serious pain, which didn't take long since laughing involves violent spasming of your chest, which in my case had been recently stitched and wired back in place. After a life time of laughing I drew a few haggard breaths, laid down, and managed to suppress the few chuckled that threaten to escape. At this point I believe an X-Ray tech came in and was confused as to why I couldn't keep a straight face, but then told me that the x-ray had been delayed and left. I laid sleepless for an additional parcel of time before my nurse came in at 6:00 am, gave me meds, and reset the croaking/beeping machine.
NO
The worst part is the 4th night. The night before I go home actauly. The forth night is precipitated by the 4th day, which is basically the first day they start bringing you Tylenol as a pain killer, because you are no longer in pain, and in fact everything is fantastic, I'm walking around all over the place, playing games, watching movies, and all that. Thats the calm before the storm. Its always lightest before dusk.The night starts like this, roughly. My nurse says that she will come in and give me some meds at 10:00 pm and at 6:00 am, that way I get 8 hours of sleep uninterrupted- the irony. After watching some T.V. I go to sleep- wrong. There is a hammering and pounding from the room adjacent like a construction crew was setting up to rip out the dry wall, but were interrupted by a steel-toe-booted rhino with a jackhammer. I actauly tolerate noise very well when trying to sleep, but my mom does not- if it had instead been a slipper footed kola bear, she still might not have been able to sleep. In any case, she went into the hallway and discovered it was someone cleaning the room. Eventually the noise stopped and the room was either very clean or very demolished. Everything was settling back down, and at 10:00 ish the nurse came in and gave me some meds and hung a new IV drip. These I.V. drips are automatedly (thats totally a word) controlled by these fanastic machines whose function is to make frog like croaks when they work, and to beep very loudly when they don't- I couldn't sleep with that croaking 10 inches from my head, so after while I got up to use the bathroom- while in the bathroom the device switched to what I suspect is its preferred mode, not working, and beeping very loudly. After hurrying out of the bathroom and waiting a bit, a nurse came in and fixed it, setting it back to croak mode, which after about another 30 minutes switches to a third mode, the finished mode, which I neglected to mention earlier, as it is basically identical to "not working" mode, characterized by very loud beeping. My nurse came in a turned it off, and I thought now I would finally get a chance to sleep. I fell asleep for about 30 minutes, after which I discovered that my body had decided to stop regulating my body temperature, which might not seem like a big deal right? Just take off or put on another blanket right? No. I had on a sheet, and the room was about 70 degrees because I felt really warm. After those 30 min of sleep I woke up, laying on my back, with my back literally soaked with sweat- I didn't discover this untill I move slightly, exposing part of my back, which allowed the sweat to preform its actual function- to cool me off. After rolling over out of disgust my back froze, which prompted my body to crank up the thermostat while I drifted back to sleep, wedged on the side of my bed, i.e. the non-sweat soaked portion. I awoke with my side in the state my back had been, which I "solved" by rolling back on my now dry back, and thus I spent a couple hours like a roast on spit, slowly broiled by my own uncalibrated internal thermostat. I eventually got up and changed into a dry robe thing, with hopes that my body would finally figure out that I was not floating in the vacuum of space, with one side boiling under the suns unfiltered radiation, while the other side froze into ice. When laid back down I was relatively comfortable, insofar as a beached salmon is relatively more comfortable than a lobster is being boiled. I'm not sure what time it was at this point, but what little time I had left before the next time a nurse woke me up, I was going to spend sleeping like a rock. With my bodies thermostat calibrated, or at least turned off, this seemed possible, until a new sensation ravaged my mind. I don't know why, but at that moment I NEEDED A Q-TIP. More than anything in the world. My entire conscience was suddenly channeled into the irrational need of my right ear for a Q-TIP. I clawed at the side of my head, only making the itching sensation worse. desperately I buried my ear in the cool side of my pillow, trying not to think about my left ear, lest it be overcome at well. No matter what I did, it was not enough. I think in my sleep deprived insanity and desperation I would have killed for a simple bit of cotton wrapped around a paper stick. I ended up getting out of bed and making my way to a box of Kleenex, tearing of a small piece, in some hope that I could assuage the inexorable demands of my ear. It did not, and I was forced to wait it out. Sleep was out of the question. Eventually, after literary staring at the ceiling for hours a nurse came in to adjust something or rather, which woke my mom up, and after the nurse left, I lost it. I'm not sure what I was laughing at, but I could not stop- my mom was laughing to, mostly at the general insanity of the situation, but it was clear that I was the one whose mind had finally snapped. I laughed until I was in serious pain, which didn't take long since laughing involves violent spasming of your chest, which in my case had been recently stitched and wired back in place. After a life time of laughing I drew a few haggard breaths, laid down, and managed to suppress the few chuckled that threaten to escape. At this point I believe an X-Ray tech came in and was confused as to why I couldn't keep a straight face, but then told me that the x-ray had been delayed and left. I laid sleepless for an additional parcel of time before my nurse came in at 6:00 am, gave me meds, and reset the croaking/beeping machine.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Russian Space Program
In the U.S. we are pretty proud of our space program, all the stuff we've done, like send rovers to Mar's and whatnot. But I'll tell you what. If aliens attack the earth and we need to fight them in space, I'm not calling NASA, or Burt Rutan- I'm calling Russia. For most of my life I've assumed that the only stuff Russian has done space wise was either to compete with the U.S. during the cold war time, or to help the U.S. with space station in present time. I stumbled upon the Russian Venus exploration program the other day. First, lets look at the U.S. Venus exploration program. This is the Mariner 2, the first probe to visit Mars (Mariner 1 blew up on the launch pad)
Delicate isn't it?
This is the Pioneer orbiter
Same story (I forget which , but one of these was built from left over parts form a different mission)
We got some good pictures and played around with sensors to find gravitational fields and what not
This is the first Russian probe
Thats more like it- not only can it make it to Venus (granted it took a few tries) it looks bullet proof too.
After something like 12 probes similar to this one, Russia pulled all the stops with this
Vega-2 a 5 ton hulk of metal, sensors, and solar panels.
That sphere on top contains a lander- thats right a LANDER. They sent a massive lander to parachute through the atmosphere and take measurement, including a weather balloon to be launched on the surface.
The landers actauly drilled into the soil with a drill that can only function at 500 degree C, once the metal has expanded, and then transfer the sample into an airlock, where it would be analyzed by an x-ray spectrometer.
Pretty impressive.
This is the lander
Not messing around
And they even got an image of the Venus Surface- I didn't even know we ever managed to get one
for more information http://www.mentallandscape.com/V_Venus.htm
Delicate isn't it?
This is the Pioneer orbiter
Same story (I forget which , but one of these was built from left over parts form a different mission)
We got some good pictures and played around with sensors to find gravitational fields and what not
This is the first Russian probe
Thats more like it- not only can it make it to Venus (granted it took a few tries) it looks bullet proof too.
After something like 12 probes similar to this one, Russia pulled all the stops with this
Vega-2 a 5 ton hulk of metal, sensors, and solar panels.
That sphere on top contains a lander- thats right a LANDER. They sent a massive lander to parachute through the atmosphere and take measurement, including a weather balloon to be launched on the surface.
The landers actauly drilled into the soil with a drill that can only function at 500 degree C, once the metal has expanded, and then transfer the sample into an airlock, where it would be analyzed by an x-ray spectrometer.
Pretty impressive.
This is the lander
Not messing around
And they even got an image of the Venus Surface- I didn't even know we ever managed to get one
for more information http://www.mentallandscape.com/V_Venus.htm
Fractal
Fractals are patterns that look exactly the same no matter how far you zoom in.
Today I saw the water guy delivering water to MIT Medical- he had one of those giant rolling Stonehenge style carts with 12 5 gallon jugs of water on their sides, slotted into cubbys. There was a big strap wrapped around the whole thing and the water delivery guy had his own 16 oz water bottle slotted in under the strap. I should have gotten a picture.
Today I saw the water guy delivering water to MIT Medical- he had one of those giant rolling Stonehenge style carts with 12 5 gallon jugs of water on their sides, slotted into cubbys. There was a big strap wrapped around the whole thing and the water delivery guy had his own 16 oz water bottle slotted in under the strap. I should have gotten a picture.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Fruit, a user's guide
Alot of people out there don't eat enough fruit or something. I don't really understand why- i'm pretty sure I eat way to much fruit. It's "healthy" sugar for one thing- in fact today alone I have eaten something like 6 mandarin oranges and an apple. But to those who are less familiar with fruit, this paper I wrote in 9th grade may be of some help:
There are over one hundred commonly grown and eaten species of fruit. There are also many ways characteristic by which to scientifically classify these, such as their family, their shape, whether or not they have pits, and so on. However, I believe that since fruits exist to be eaten, they should be classified on a scale of whether or not they are worth eating. The two characteristics that define this scale are deliciousness, and difficulty of eating. Therefore all fruits are either disgusting/difficult, disgusting/easy, delicious/difficult, or delicious/easy.
It is obvious that fruits that fall into the first category, disgusting and difficult, are on the lowest end of the scale. These fruits are hard to prepare, such as those having tough rinds, or too numerous seeds. They also taste terrible, or, as in the case of cherimoya, make your mouth feel funny. Raw gooseberries fall in this category. Gooseberries are extremely sour when not ripe, and when they are ripe they a mushy, and taste slightly decomposed. They are difficult to prepare due to the sharp, spiny branches whence they grow. Also, before any berries can be eaten each tiny stem must be removed. Individually. Fruit in this category is just not worth eating.
The disgusting and easy category of fruit is the second lowest fruit on the scale. A fruit that is easy to prepare yet tastes is probably still not worth eating. These fruits may be eaten out of habit. For example, when watching a movie people eat popcorn, not so much for the taste, but because it is just habit to snack on something. Seeded grapes fall into this category. Seeded grapes, like popcorn, are easy to just pop into your mouth, no cutting or peeling required. If I’m playing a game, or watching a movie, and I don’t want to make popcorn and a sandwich would require way too much effort, I may choose instead seeded grapes, despite the slimy eyeball like texture and taste. Fruit in this category may sometimes be worth eating.
Just below the top of the scale is the delicious and difficult category. Out of all the categories, I believe that this category contains almost all of the best tasting fruits. A prime example for this category is pomegranate. Pomegranate is by far the most difficult fruit I have ever encountered. It must cut into wedges with a large knife, spaying deep red juice all over the place, forever staining the cutting board. The inside of the fruit is a complicated and contorted labyrinth of walls which are covered with seeds. These seeds have a small amount of fruit on them, and then only efficient way to eat then is to gnaw on the fruit like a carnivore, though in the process one would practically have to wear a poncho and galoshes to prevent being drenched in red juice. Pomegranate, however, has a sweet reward, as do other difficult fruits in this category, such as mangos, grapefruit, and kiwi. Fruit in this category is almost always worth eating.
This last category is the highest on the worth eating scale containing fruits that are both delicious and easy to prepare. These fruits taste good, and also don’t require any peeling or cutting. This category includes apples, strawberries, blueberries, star fruit, and seedless grapes. There are also several fruits that require some peeling or cutting, yet make it into this category anyways due to their high yield of deliciousness per effort required to prepare. These fruits include watermelon because of the shear amount of fruit that can be harvested with just a few cuts and bananas because they are incredibly easy to peel. Fruit in this category is always worth eating.
Next time you are cruising the isles of the produce department, trying pick out fruit, ask yourself “How easy is this fruit to prepare?” and “Does it taste good enough to warrant the effort it takes to prepare it?” Oh, and don’t ever buy cherimoyas.
I'm not sure how sane I was in 9th grade. I was reminded that I wrote it when I read the below xkcd comic which has the same general theme, but in a more succinct pictorial format (However I do have to disagree on the classification of many specific fruits- like pomegranate and oranges- both delicious)
The future now
Have you read the sci-fi books by Issac Asimov? They are very good, but thats not what i'm going to talk about. There is series of 3ish books that involve the same main protagonist who lives in the future where everyone in the world lives in giant bubble cities, where apartments farther from the dome are more expensive because people have developed a phobia of the outside world, and never go there. I thought this was a little fanciful.
The other day I was eating lunch on a bench outside of a library, leaning on the giant glass walls separating the hall I was sitting in from a courtyard. It is a very nice courtyard- with neat antique-looking cobbles and mythical sculptures of dragons and knights and that sort of thing. It was a very nice day out, about 50 degrees, with little wind. There was a man sitting on a bench a few yards down from mine, the adult kind of person who you can tell has a job and responsibilities and takes these things seriously. Anywho, I see him pack up his laptop, with some trepidation, glancing around nervously, like he's afraid some Orwellian thought police might pop up and ask him with a cheery-but-dangerous smile, "You wouldn't happen to be having original thoughts now, would we?" He then, with his jacket slung non-optimally under his arm, makes his way to the door to the courtyard. I realize as he reaches the door that he intends to go outside and enjoy the day, much to my surprise. I glance around the courtyard to make sure there wasn't any more likely reason for him to venture outside- but there is no "serious people who don't have time to enjoy the little things in life" membership booth in sight.
He opens the door.
He puts one foot over the threshold.
He peers awkwardly around the the glass door, rather than look through it, perhaps to give the impression that he has seen a horrendous but well timed monster which will give him an excuse to do what he does next.
With a pause generated by a level of indecision ordinarily not scene outside of a build your own burger line, he steps back inside, beating an embarrassed retreat back to his bench.
He need not be ashamed- his actions will be nothing short of heroic in a thousand years time, and even now his rare idealism is something we could all do with a little more of.
The other day I was eating lunch on a bench outside of a library, leaning on the giant glass walls separating the hall I was sitting in from a courtyard. It is a very nice courtyard- with neat antique-looking cobbles and mythical sculptures of dragons and knights and that sort of thing. It was a very nice day out, about 50 degrees, with little wind. There was a man sitting on a bench a few yards down from mine, the adult kind of person who you can tell has a job and responsibilities and takes these things seriously. Anywho, I see him pack up his laptop, with some trepidation, glancing around nervously, like he's afraid some Orwellian thought police might pop up and ask him with a cheery-but-dangerous smile, "You wouldn't happen to be having original thoughts now, would we?" He then, with his jacket slung non-optimally under his arm, makes his way to the door to the courtyard. I realize as he reaches the door that he intends to go outside and enjoy the day, much to my surprise. I glance around the courtyard to make sure there wasn't any more likely reason for him to venture outside- but there is no "serious people who don't have time to enjoy the little things in life" membership booth in sight.
He opens the door.
He puts one foot over the threshold.
He peers awkwardly around the the glass door, rather than look through it, perhaps to give the impression that he has seen a horrendous but well timed monster which will give him an excuse to do what he does next.
With a pause generated by a level of indecision ordinarily not scene outside of a build your own burger line, he steps back inside, beating an embarrassed retreat back to his bench.
He need not be ashamed- his actions will be nothing short of heroic in a thousand years time, and even now his rare idealism is something we could all do with a little more of.
Jurassic Park
Jurassic Park is the best book to film adaptation ever produced.
I'm sure you have seen the movie, and I dare you to find anything wrong with it. The actors are amazing, even the kids (I've Lex was cast based on her ability to scream). The set is awesome, and the special effects amazing- they look great now, even though the movie was released in 1993! It has everything- adventure as Grant and the kids trek through the park, the wit of Ian Malcolm (although its best to read the book to understand the depth of his character- every character actauly), special effects, suspense, and a original, credible plot. Plus, it has dinosaurs. Mostly when I see movies that are below par, and even most movies above par, I think, "Man, that would have been better if they found a way to put in dinosaurs." However, I am not saying it is the dinos that make the movie- the actual screen time of dinosaurs is something like 15 minutes! Its the characters that make the movie so high quality. All have their own misconceptions about the feasibility of the park- well, all but two of them- Malcolm and Muldoon. Who is Muldoon you may ask- i'm not sure if they ever even say his name in the movie- maybe once. He is the guy with the gun and the gas powered jeep. He is the only sensible person working at the park. His role is a bit underplayed in the movie compared to the book, but they manage to fit in all his best bits- hes got the best lines in the whole movie, in any case, (at raptor cage during feeding) "They should all be destroyed... you can tell when she (alpha raptor) looks at you, shes working things out" (in forest) "Clever girl.." (eaten) (in the book he doesn't get eaten, which is kinda nice, but then again in the book he has missile launchers)
I think the main success in the movie is that they did not try to turn the book straight into a movie- they cut and twisted lots of it, making much more thematic. This would not work for a book like harry potter, cause you can cut any of the plot out (Honestly, Warner Brothers is doomed in making the last movie- I mean how are they going to have a half hour scene of dead harry in heaven with dumbledore explaining a chapters worth of background info, which is crucial if anything in the last movie is to make any sense at all) Jurassic park is about an idea- man creating what it cannot control. This idea is why the book is great, and it is why the movie is great. How it is precisely portrayed plot wise is somewhat secondary- as long as you get lots of memorable quotes, lots of screaming, raptors, and nedry getting eaten (What do you want, food? I got nothing. I'm all out of food. See stick? Stick stupid! fetch stick. no wonder your extinct *eaten*), it all works out.
Hmm. Actauly I lied. There is one thing wrong with the movie. You the scene when the kids and grant and ellie are in the control room, and grant and ellie are trying to hold the door closed as the raptor tries to get in? Well, we see elli trying to reach the gun. she can't. lex is busy trying to activate the door looks. But Timmy? hes just standing there. GET THE GUN TIMMY! JEEZ! i guess maybe everyone was too stressed out to figure this out. but still. get the gun. THE DOOR LOCK! THE DOOR LOCKS!
but yeah. read the book. and all Micheal Crichton's other si-fi books. but don't see their movie adaptations. They were all lacking something- probably dinosaurs. Although, if Spielberg ever makes an adaptation of Crichton's "Swarm" I will be first in line. cause it has nano-bots.
I'm sure you have seen the movie, and I dare you to find anything wrong with it. The actors are amazing, even the kids (I've Lex was cast based on her ability to scream). The set is awesome, and the special effects amazing- they look great now, even though the movie was released in 1993! It has everything- adventure as Grant and the kids trek through the park, the wit of Ian Malcolm (although its best to read the book to understand the depth of his character- every character actauly), special effects, suspense, and a original, credible plot. Plus, it has dinosaurs. Mostly when I see movies that are below par, and even most movies above par, I think, "Man, that would have been better if they found a way to put in dinosaurs." However, I am not saying it is the dinos that make the movie- the actual screen time of dinosaurs is something like 15 minutes! Its the characters that make the movie so high quality. All have their own misconceptions about the feasibility of the park- well, all but two of them- Malcolm and Muldoon. Who is Muldoon you may ask- i'm not sure if they ever even say his name in the movie- maybe once. He is the guy with the gun and the gas powered jeep. He is the only sensible person working at the park. His role is a bit underplayed in the movie compared to the book, but they manage to fit in all his best bits- hes got the best lines in the whole movie, in any case, (at raptor cage during feeding) "They should all be destroyed... you can tell when she (alpha raptor) looks at you, shes working things out" (in forest) "Clever girl.." (eaten) (in the book he doesn't get eaten, which is kinda nice, but then again in the book he has missile launchers)
I think the main success in the movie is that they did not try to turn the book straight into a movie- they cut and twisted lots of it, making much more thematic. This would not work for a book like harry potter, cause you can cut any of the plot out (Honestly, Warner Brothers is doomed in making the last movie- I mean how are they going to have a half hour scene of dead harry in heaven with dumbledore explaining a chapters worth of background info, which is crucial if anything in the last movie is to make any sense at all) Jurassic park is about an idea- man creating what it cannot control. This idea is why the book is great, and it is why the movie is great. How it is precisely portrayed plot wise is somewhat secondary- as long as you get lots of memorable quotes, lots of screaming, raptors, and nedry getting eaten (What do you want, food? I got nothing. I'm all out of food. See stick? Stick stupid! fetch stick. no wonder your extinct *eaten*), it all works out.
Hmm. Actauly I lied. There is one thing wrong with the movie. You the scene when the kids and grant and ellie are in the control room, and grant and ellie are trying to hold the door closed as the raptor tries to get in? Well, we see elli trying to reach the gun. she can't. lex is busy trying to activate the door looks. But Timmy? hes just standing there. GET THE GUN TIMMY! JEEZ! i guess maybe everyone was too stressed out to figure this out. but still. get the gun. THE DOOR LOCK! THE DOOR LOCKS!
but yeah. read the book. and all Micheal Crichton's other si-fi books. but don't see their movie adaptations. They were all lacking something- probably dinosaurs. Although, if Spielberg ever makes an adaptation of Crichton's "Swarm" I will be first in line. cause it has nano-bots.
Monday, March 7, 2011
The Quest for the Elusive T-Shirt
So, I go to college at MIT (IHTFP), which is fantastic. But lets not get ahead of the story. Before college there was high school, and in high school you apply to college, and this is where our story begins. Technically it begins not during high school, but the summer before fall of my senior year. There is a mystic organization called QuestBridge (I should have seen this coming). Its a fantastic organisation, and I can't say a single negative word about what they do. This is what they are all about- when you apply for colleges you can fill out each colleges app, which is great. Or you can fill out the QuestBridge App (thats a long word- from now on QuestBridge=QB) QB has a partnership with a whole slue of colleges, who have agreed to accept QB apps instead of their own. If the college decides to admit you based on your QB app, you get a full ride scholarship. Even if your college does not accept your QB with a full ride, they can still admit you- without all the money. Thats what happened to me. How can I complain- I got into MIT! (plus QB pays your app fees, which are like $70-$90!) You may be wondering, "What the heck does this have to do with T-Shirts?"
I'll tell you
By utilizing QB's great app process I became inextricably linked to the QB community forever- which is great
They even offered everyone a free T-Shirt
I got an innocent email saying so
It even gave me the option of choosing from 3 or 4 designs
It would be shipped for free to my house
This was sometime in may last spring
I clicked through the few questions- name, address, t-shirt size, hit submit and thought nothing of it
This turned out to be very easy for the next two months because I never got it.
Then I got another email- the same email in fact. Being me, I filled out the form again, thinking "Hey maybe I get two free t-shirts"
no
Fall swings around (still no t-shirt) and I move to MIT (super cool)
I get another email- guess what! The t-shirts exist and are being delivered to MIT, where QB peoples will be able to get at them. Some how. They are being distributed to the QB director at MIT, who will get them to us. So things seems to be moving along, and I am really getting into the free t-shirt groove, having scored a dozen free t-shirts during orientation week. I want this t-shirt. The design I choose has a cool spiral on the front.
Over the next several months I receive emails about a couple of QB events going on at MIT- little lunches where the QB director provides free food, and you get to chat with other people at MIT who got in via QB. And the t-shirts are at these events. At least I assume they were, as I never went to any- for which I do feel a bit guilty, but they were always during lunch time! thats class time! It also sounded like it would be pretty awkward- plus I eat a vegan diet, and the worst thing that can happen as a vegan is go to a lunch socializing thing with a few other people who have never met, at which the well intentioned host sees everyone looking pointedly into the distance, sipping cup after cup of free soda, and trying not to talk to anyone, while appearing to be interesting in what everyone else isn't saying. At this point the host will try to catalyze socializing by turning to the only person not eating the meat lovers meat and cheese pizza (thats me- the vegan) and saying "Dig in! Have some food! We got it for you guys!" to which I say, "Uh, no thanks..."
"No, really, help yourself!" and I end the conversation with "I'm vegan" (some more persistent hosts, with good intentions, offer me the carrots, and maybe say "I was vegan once" to which I can't help but thinking "When? between your last two meals?" but that is just cynical, and I'm sure I'm just projecting my own frustrations on really nice people who put the effort into holding these events.
I think I got off topic there. But yeah, thats why I didn't go to the events, and hence, why at this point of the story, I don't have a t-shirt.
Anywho, my chances of getting my t-shirt seem pretty slim, given my sub-conscience avoidance of social interaction. But then, a sign! Well, its actauly just an email, but unlike the last 50 emails about picking up t-shirts and socializing, this one is only about picking up the t-shirt- perfect! All I have to do is walk down to the student center (about a 8 min walk) go to the 5 floor, and meet with a person who has the t-shirts. Unfortunately, I actauly am pretty busy writing a big paper on some 18th century novel. However in the space of around an hour, I get a handful of emails from the person waiting on the 5th floor that veil a dejectedness in nobody coming to pick up t-shirts. The guilt of avoiding dozens of QB events in cities across the U.S. starts to overwhelm me- I took QB's time and money and ran, without looking back. I decide that the least I can do is go pick up my t-shirt- the person on the 5th floor will be happy, I will be happy, and everything would be good in the world. I email the person to say I am coming, throw on a jacket and stride confidently out into the brisk Cambridge dusk. As I walk the long sideway to the student center, I am flush with excitement about getting my long lost t-shirt. The wind blows dry leave up the path in front of me, and I feel like the very elements of nature have aligned and granted me power over them. The walk to the student center went by quickly as I was adsorbed by the interesting leaf patterns, and the wind wasn't chilly in the slightest.
Once I got into the student center the tide starts to turn. First of all, I didn't even know the student center had 5 floors. i find the elevator on the 2nd floor and take it to the 5th. I don't see the person. A quick exploration down a hallway reveals a study room with computer, and I guess the person is in there. But I need to swipe my ID to get in- at first I don't see the card reader- then I notice it several feet behind me. These minor obstacles may seem trivial to you, but they were omens that the alignment with the universe I had experienced on the way to the student center was leaking away, leaving me defenseless against reality.
I enter the room. The person is there. She is wearing a Questbridge t-shirt. They exist! I approach and she greets me with a smile, and asks for my names. She looks through a leaf of paper and finds my name. I ordered a medium she says. I knew that. She begins to sift through the pile of t-shirts. My reward is nigh! Its a large pile, and I can tell not many people have come to get their t-shirt. She pauses. And looks up.
"Um. I don't have any mediums."
My mind explodes "She doesn't have any mediums?! She has a good 3 dozen shirts and no mediums, possibly the most common t-shirt size!"
I stare blankly. I do the logical thing, and begin to say "I'll take a large"
I'm not sure what happened next, but somehow, without saying anything I know that is not an option. instead she says that she must have left them in her dorm. I don't know how to respond.
She then asks if I could meet her at 9:00pm that night, or at 4:00 the next day. I have class at 4:00, and no free-t-shirt is worth walking all the way back to the student center at 9:00. I say those won't really work, but I appreciate the effort, and end up leaving empty handed. I cannot believe it.
I walk dejectedly back to my dorm, acutely feeling the icy wind cutting at my neck through my collar, and the leaves stumble awkwardly along the sidewalk in sad, uninteresting patterns. My quest has failed. I resolve that from this point on no power on earth can force me into pursuing my t-shirt anymore.
I have received a dozen more emails, each inviting me to a social event with t-shirts handed out, each proclaiming to be the last chance. I know they are just trying to trick me. But I will never give in.
(QuestBridge is a fantastic organization, and I cannot thank them enough for the service they provide- they saved me hundreds of dollars in app fees, and their app got me into my dream college. Unfortunately the universe has conspired in such a way that I will never get my t-shirt)
I'll tell you
By utilizing QB's great app process I became inextricably linked to the QB community forever- which is great
They even offered everyone a free T-Shirt
I got an innocent email saying so
It even gave me the option of choosing from 3 or 4 designs
It would be shipped for free to my house
This was sometime in may last spring
I clicked through the few questions- name, address, t-shirt size, hit submit and thought nothing of it
This turned out to be very easy for the next two months because I never got it.
Then I got another email- the same email in fact. Being me, I filled out the form again, thinking "Hey maybe I get two free t-shirts"
no
Fall swings around (still no t-shirt) and I move to MIT (super cool)
I get another email- guess what! The t-shirts exist and are being delivered to MIT, where QB peoples will be able to get at them. Some how. They are being distributed to the QB director at MIT, who will get them to us. So things seems to be moving along, and I am really getting into the free t-shirt groove, having scored a dozen free t-shirts during orientation week. I want this t-shirt. The design I choose has a cool spiral on the front.
Over the next several months I receive emails about a couple of QB events going on at MIT- little lunches where the QB director provides free food, and you get to chat with other people at MIT who got in via QB. And the t-shirts are at these events. At least I assume they were, as I never went to any- for which I do feel a bit guilty, but they were always during lunch time! thats class time! It also sounded like it would be pretty awkward- plus I eat a vegan diet, and the worst thing that can happen as a vegan is go to a lunch socializing thing with a few other people who have never met, at which the well intentioned host sees everyone looking pointedly into the distance, sipping cup after cup of free soda, and trying not to talk to anyone, while appearing to be interesting in what everyone else isn't saying. At this point the host will try to catalyze socializing by turning to the only person not eating the meat lovers meat and cheese pizza (thats me- the vegan) and saying "Dig in! Have some food! We got it for you guys!" to which I say, "Uh, no thanks..."
"No, really, help yourself!" and I end the conversation with "I'm vegan" (some more persistent hosts, with good intentions, offer me the carrots, and maybe say "I was vegan once" to which I can't help but thinking "When? between your last two meals?" but that is just cynical, and I'm sure I'm just projecting my own frustrations on really nice people who put the effort into holding these events.
I think I got off topic there. But yeah, thats why I didn't go to the events, and hence, why at this point of the story, I don't have a t-shirt.
Anywho, my chances of getting my t-shirt seem pretty slim, given my sub-conscience avoidance of social interaction. But then, a sign! Well, its actauly just an email, but unlike the last 50 emails about picking up t-shirts and socializing, this one is only about picking up the t-shirt- perfect! All I have to do is walk down to the student center (about a 8 min walk) go to the 5 floor, and meet with a person who has the t-shirts. Unfortunately, I actauly am pretty busy writing a big paper on some 18th century novel. However in the space of around an hour, I get a handful of emails from the person waiting on the 5th floor that veil a dejectedness in nobody coming to pick up t-shirts. The guilt of avoiding dozens of QB events in cities across the U.S. starts to overwhelm me- I took QB's time and money and ran, without looking back. I decide that the least I can do is go pick up my t-shirt- the person on the 5th floor will be happy, I will be happy, and everything would be good in the world. I email the person to say I am coming, throw on a jacket and stride confidently out into the brisk Cambridge dusk. As I walk the long sideway to the student center, I am flush with excitement about getting my long lost t-shirt. The wind blows dry leave up the path in front of me, and I feel like the very elements of nature have aligned and granted me power over them. The walk to the student center went by quickly as I was adsorbed by the interesting leaf patterns, and the wind wasn't chilly in the slightest.
Once I got into the student center the tide starts to turn. First of all, I didn't even know the student center had 5 floors. i find the elevator on the 2nd floor and take it to the 5th. I don't see the person. A quick exploration down a hallway reveals a study room with computer, and I guess the person is in there. But I need to swipe my ID to get in- at first I don't see the card reader- then I notice it several feet behind me. These minor obstacles may seem trivial to you, but they were omens that the alignment with the universe I had experienced on the way to the student center was leaking away, leaving me defenseless against reality.
I enter the room. The person is there. She is wearing a Questbridge t-shirt. They exist! I approach and she greets me with a smile, and asks for my names. She looks through a leaf of paper and finds my name. I ordered a medium she says. I knew that. She begins to sift through the pile of t-shirts. My reward is nigh! Its a large pile, and I can tell not many people have come to get their t-shirt. She pauses. And looks up.
"Um. I don't have any mediums."
My mind explodes "She doesn't have any mediums?! She has a good 3 dozen shirts and no mediums, possibly the most common t-shirt size!"
I stare blankly. I do the logical thing, and begin to say "I'll take a large"
I'm not sure what happened next, but somehow, without saying anything I know that is not an option. instead she says that she must have left them in her dorm. I don't know how to respond.
She then asks if I could meet her at 9:00pm that night, or at 4:00 the next day. I have class at 4:00, and no free-t-shirt is worth walking all the way back to the student center at 9:00. I say those won't really work, but I appreciate the effort, and end up leaving empty handed. I cannot believe it.
I walk dejectedly back to my dorm, acutely feeling the icy wind cutting at my neck through my collar, and the leaves stumble awkwardly along the sidewalk in sad, uninteresting patterns. My quest has failed. I resolve that from this point on no power on earth can force me into pursuing my t-shirt anymore.
I have received a dozen more emails, each inviting me to a social event with t-shirts handed out, each proclaiming to be the last chance. I know they are just trying to trick me. But I will never give in.
(QuestBridge is a fantastic organization, and I cannot thank them enough for the service they provide- they saved me hundreds of dollars in app fees, and their app got me into my dream college. Unfortunately the universe has conspired in such a way that I will never get my t-shirt)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)