Originally posted on Facebook on Wednesday, March 4, 2009.
I'm writing down what happened while I still remember the details. A homeless guy crashed my nonverbal class this morning, just to freak everyone out, I think. He came in about ten minutes into class and climbed the stairs to sit up in the back row. Obviously not a student - older, dirty, haggard. He sipped from a juice box that couldn't possibly have contained just juice. He lit up a cigarette, puffed on it, put it out, sprayed Febreeze to cover the smell. I didn't see that part, but my neighbor told me about it - she's the one who pointed him out to me to begin with.
His behavior was so erratic that he was making the entire class (75+) uncomfortable. It must have showed, because Professor Dailey finally stopped her lecture in the middle of a point and asked, "Is there something going on?" Total silence. No one wanted to point him out for fear of invoking his wrath. "Yes!" someone from the back shouted. More silence. "What?" Dailey asked. More silence. Finally, a girl gestured towards him and said, "I think we have a, uh, a guest speaker."
He looked up; he'd been found out. Dailey immediately processed the situation. He stood up and started to walk down towards her. Not menacing, but the total unpredictability of what might or might not happen had everyone on edge. "You're welcome to stay if you want, sir," she said. What else could she say?"
I just want to tell a joke," he said, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
Shit. The spotlight was on him now, he knew it, and he was ready to milk it for all it was worth.
"I'm afraid we don't have time for that," she said. "But you can sit back down if you want."
"I just want to tell my joke," he slurred again in a deep southern drawl.
"We can't do that," she said, "and I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Total, complete, deafening silence. He started back up the steps to his chair. He was clearly affronted, angry. That was the worst part. "What do you call a B.S.?" he asked. "Bullshit."
"Sir, you need to leave, or I'm going to call security," said Dailey. No trace of hesitation or fear, to her immense credit.
He was back at his seat, gathering his things, brushing off the table, putting on his jacket. "What do you call an M.S.? More shit."
My cell phone was already out of my pocket, and I was scrolling through my contacts, ready to call UTPD if necessary. I put my head down on the table - too tense, too uncomfortable, too unpredictable, and yeah, a little scary. Dailey threatened to call security again.
"What do you call a Ph.D.?" he asked. He mumbled the answer to this one, realizing for the first time how embarrassing the situation was for him and how uneasy he was making all of us. Every eye in the class was on him as he slowly trudged down the stairs, around the corner, and out the door. We heard it slam. The room exploded in nervous and relieved laughter.
A student in the class, a bigger guy, left the room to call the cops at Dailey's request. When he came back in, he said that students outside had seen him go down the hallway and out of sight. The assumption is that he left the building via a back elevator before he could get caught. He left his wool cap behind.
Only in Austin.
P.S. Saul suggested that a better punchline for this one might have run something like, "I looked the guy's joke up on Google when I got back to my room a couple hours ago. Turns out that 'Ph.D.' stands for 'Piled Higher and Deeper.'"
Friday, May 29, 2009
I should be sleeping...
Still consolidating...
Most of the Plan II Junior Seminars (TC 357s) take place in the two classrooms in the Joynes Reading Room in Carothers. I’ve been seeing old dorm friends from freshman year around the Quad a lot lately, and it’s always fun to chat for a couple minutes and catch up before they head into class. “Which TC are you here for?” I’m always asked at some point in the conversation.
“I’m not in one this semester, actually,” I respond. “I, uh, I still live here.”
Now, granted, I’m an RA, which means that I have my own room and that I live for free. But I live where I work, I can’t cook my own meals, I can’t have friends over past 11:30 p.m. on weeknights and 1:00 a.m. on weekends, I share my bathroom with fifty-five other dudes, and I’m put under house arrest a couple times a month.
I got hungry last night at around one-thirty in the morning. I considered my usual feast of Teddy Grahams and peanut butter, the only food I currently have in my room, but instead, I walked over to 7-11 and bought myself a ham sandwich. Jury-rigging a meal out of leftover snacks isn’t as appealing as it used to be.
I’m taking fifteen hours this semester, my usual load, but school doesn’t consume my life the way it used to. I go to classes and do all my homework, but that can only take up so many hours of a day. Maybe it’s because of the job, maybe it’s because I’m spending more and more time off campus, away from this whole academic world, or maybe I’ve just stopped caring altogether, but classes have started to seem more like just another part of my life and less like my life.
Every Thursday night, I meet up with some friends at the Crown & Anchor Pub for beer and cheese fries. The bouncer has stopped checking our IDs because he sees us every week. We go through a few pitchers, shoot the shit about our weeks and plans for the upcoming weekend, joke about sports or politics or girls, and then go our separate ways to finish whatever residual homework we might have. Nothing particularly exciting, just another way to pass time on a random weeknight.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that things that used to seem new and exciting, things I used to look forward to, aren’t anymore. Every high school senior looks forward to moving into a dorm, living on his own and meeting new friends, but the time when living in a dorm is “cool” has come and gone for people my age; I usually don't bring up where I live unless I'm asked. I don’t dislike it and I don’t wish I were somewhere else, but the whole experience is familiar enough that it’s lost its original appeal. Kind of a “been there, done that” attitude by now. The same goes for the RA gig, midnight snacks, school, bars, friends. Nothing I do excites me – it doesn’t depress me, but I don’t feel like I have anything to look forward to, either. It is what it is, for better or worse.
I used to believe that growing up was a lot like hair growing – you get it cut short, you notice it’s short. You see it in the mirror every day and don’t pay attention to how it’s always getting a little bit longer. One day, months later, you compare yourself in the mirror to a picture of the day you got it cut, and you say, “Wow, I look totally different.” And maybe I still believe that, I don’t know. But now, I’m starting to think that growing up happens in distinct stages. I think you know you’re moving from one stage to another when you realize that you've gotten used to everything in your life. Every aspect of it is familiar, comfortable, commonplace. And I think that that’s a good place to be and all, but sometimes, you need something exciting on the horizon to get you through the day. That’s what I'm lacking at the moment.
But I think realizing that that’s what I'm lacking is half the battle.
Most of the Plan II Junior Seminars (TC 357s) take place in the two classrooms in the Joynes Reading Room in Carothers. I’ve been seeing old dorm friends from freshman year around the Quad a lot lately, and it’s always fun to chat for a couple minutes and catch up before they head into class. “Which TC are you here for?” I’m always asked at some point in the conversation.
“I’m not in one this semester, actually,” I respond. “I, uh, I still live here.”
Now, granted, I’m an RA, which means that I have my own room and that I live for free. But I live where I work, I can’t cook my own meals, I can’t have friends over past 11:30 p.m. on weeknights and 1:00 a.m. on weekends, I share my bathroom with fifty-five other dudes, and I’m put under house arrest a couple times a month.
I got hungry last night at around one-thirty in the morning. I considered my usual feast of Teddy Grahams and peanut butter, the only food I currently have in my room, but instead, I walked over to 7-11 and bought myself a ham sandwich. Jury-rigging a meal out of leftover snacks isn’t as appealing as it used to be.
I’m taking fifteen hours this semester, my usual load, but school doesn’t consume my life the way it used to. I go to classes and do all my homework, but that can only take up so many hours of a day. Maybe it’s because of the job, maybe it’s because I’m spending more and more time off campus, away from this whole academic world, or maybe I’ve just stopped caring altogether, but classes have started to seem more like just another part of my life and less like my life.
Every Thursday night, I meet up with some friends at the Crown & Anchor Pub for beer and cheese fries. The bouncer has stopped checking our IDs because he sees us every week. We go through a few pitchers, shoot the shit about our weeks and plans for the upcoming weekend, joke about sports or politics or girls, and then go our separate ways to finish whatever residual homework we might have. Nothing particularly exciting, just another way to pass time on a random weeknight.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that things that used to seem new and exciting, things I used to look forward to, aren’t anymore. Every high school senior looks forward to moving into a dorm, living on his own and meeting new friends, but the time when living in a dorm is “cool” has come and gone for people my age; I usually don't bring up where I live unless I'm asked. I don’t dislike it and I don’t wish I were somewhere else, but the whole experience is familiar enough that it’s lost its original appeal. Kind of a “been there, done that” attitude by now. The same goes for the RA gig, midnight snacks, school, bars, friends. Nothing I do excites me – it doesn’t depress me, but I don’t feel like I have anything to look forward to, either. It is what it is, for better or worse.
I used to believe that growing up was a lot like hair growing – you get it cut short, you notice it’s short. You see it in the mirror every day and don’t pay attention to how it’s always getting a little bit longer. One day, months later, you compare yourself in the mirror to a picture of the day you got it cut, and you say, “Wow, I look totally different.” And maybe I still believe that, I don’t know. But now, I’m starting to think that growing up happens in distinct stages. I think you know you’re moving from one stage to another when you realize that you've gotten used to everything in your life. Every aspect of it is familiar, comfortable, commonplace. And I think that that’s a good place to be and all, but sometimes, you need something exciting on the horizon to get you through the day. That’s what I'm lacking at the moment.
But I think realizing that that’s what I'm lacking is half the battle.
25 Things About Me
Reposted from Facebook. I'm consolidating. I'm especially proud of this one, though.
1. I sing, hum, and whistle unconsciously. It’s a habit I gave up trying to control a long time ago.
2. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost, Saturday Night Live, Scrubs, and seasons one through ten(ish) of The Simpsons.
3. Speaking of Lost and Scrubs, if a work of fiction can get me to care about the characters, I’m hooked no matter how horrible and/or confusing the plots get. See also: Firefly, Arrested Development, and Animorphs.
4. I went to an all-guys’ Catholic school for eight years, from fifth through twelfth grade, and I state this fact as a blanket excuse every time I end up in an awkward social situation. It's scary how often it works.
5. When I can’t think of anything else to say, I spout off a movie quote. One usually just jumps to mind as I’m trying to work out something original to say. I feel validated as long as one person in the group gets it.
6. My top two “dream careers” are probably to be a novelist and a Broadway singer, but I’m too much of a realist to seriously pursue either of them.
7. I recently discovered that I can, in fact, function without my morning cup of coffee. That doesn’t mean I’m quitting or cutting back, but it’s nice to know that I have the option.
8. “That’s what she said” jokes and any joke about poo will always, always, always be funny.
9. I haven’t cried since February of my sophomore year of high school.
10. I’m cursed with maturity beyond my years. Whenever I fail a test, my reaction is always to shrug my shoulders and realize that I must not have studied hard enough.
11. I’m a grammar Nazi thanks to four consecutive years of English Lab at the aforementioned all-guys’ Catholic school. A simple sentence consists of a subject and a verb. A compound sentence consists of two simple sentences separated by a comma. Therefore, "Bob ran and then went to the store" and "Bob ran, and then he went to the store" are both correct.
12. I will never eat at Wendy’s again as long as I live. I haven’t been able to eat their burgers since sixth grade, when three friends and I participated in what we called the “Triple Burger Challenge.” I was sick for a week. I’ve gotten burned out on everything else on their menu, especially chicken nuggets, over two years’ worth of late-night Wendy’s runs with dorm friends. Sorry, Sean.
13. I was born eight weeks prematurely, without my esophagus. Over three years of surgeries, doctors removed my transverse colon, turned it into my esophagus, and sewed my ascending and descending colon together. I have a second belly button, which is where my feeding tube was for eighteen months or so. I can eat and drink normally now, but I don’t have peristalsis, meaning that biologically, I can’t throw up. This is a problem sometimes.
14. I’m very task-oriented – once I start working on something, I hate being interrupted. When I sit down to watch a movie, it irks the crap out of me when I can’t get fifteen minutes in without getting a call or a text message. Likewise, when I dive into a pile of packages to check in at the front desk, people wait to call me until right after I’ve fallen into my groove.
15. In a crowd, I’d rather not be noticed than be singled out, either positively or negatively.
16. One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever gotten was from my friend Saul, who once told me, “Part of your charm is that you think you’re much more socially retarded and awkward than you actually are.”
17. That being said, I do have a tendency to say non-awkward things in the most awkward way possible. Example: at the end of last semester, we had a box of three-dozen cookies at the front desk. I was starting my shift as Amara was ending hers, and she wondered aloud whether she should take any cookies to go. What went through my head was, “Between the option of no cookies and free cookies, one should always choose free cookies,” and what I said was, “Amara, you always take as many cookies as you can carry.”
18. I’m very easily startled but almost impossible to scare.
19. I indulge myself in nostalgia a lot, whether it’s buying the first season of “The Adventures of Pete and Pete” on DVD and watching it all in one sitting, Facebook-friending all of my elementary school friends that I haven’t seen in ten years, or making it a point to drop by Kids’ Kastle (the local park) every time I go home. I think it’s because I still consider elementary school and middle school as the happiest period of my life thus far.
20. I overthink everything, especially when it comes to girls.
21. My name is Matt, and I’m a Facebook addict. To say that I check it multiple times daily is an understatement. I like feeling caught up with what’s going on in everyone’s lives, even people I don’t talk to anymore.
22. I write a lot. I’ve written a couple short stories this semester, and I think they’re pretty good, but I’ve only shown them to a couple people. This isn’t because I don’t want people to read what I’ve written, because I do. It’s mainly because I don’t want readers to feel obligated to tell me I’m the reincarnation of Ernest Hemingway if my story turns out to be another mediocre effort by some student writer.
23. I see grad school as a means of prolonging the inevitable.
24. I can see both sides of any issue, sometimes to the point where I have no clue what I personally believe.
25. Three songs never fail to put me in a good mood: “Purpose,” from Avenue Q; the Across the Universe version of “I’ve Just Seen a Face;” and The Barenaked Ladies’ “If I Had $1,000,000.”
1. I sing, hum, and whistle unconsciously. It’s a habit I gave up trying to control a long time ago.
2. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost, Saturday Night Live, Scrubs, and seasons one through ten(ish) of The Simpsons.
3. Speaking of Lost and Scrubs, if a work of fiction can get me to care about the characters, I’m hooked no matter how horrible and/or confusing the plots get. See also: Firefly, Arrested Development, and Animorphs.
4. I went to an all-guys’ Catholic school for eight years, from fifth through twelfth grade, and I state this fact as a blanket excuse every time I end up in an awkward social situation. It's scary how often it works.
5. When I can’t think of anything else to say, I spout off a movie quote. One usually just jumps to mind as I’m trying to work out something original to say. I feel validated as long as one person in the group gets it.
6. My top two “dream careers” are probably to be a novelist and a Broadway singer, but I’m too much of a realist to seriously pursue either of them.
7. I recently discovered that I can, in fact, function without my morning cup of coffee. That doesn’t mean I’m quitting or cutting back, but it’s nice to know that I have the option.
8. “That’s what she said” jokes and any joke about poo will always, always, always be funny.
9. I haven’t cried since February of my sophomore year of high school.
10. I’m cursed with maturity beyond my years. Whenever I fail a test, my reaction is always to shrug my shoulders and realize that I must not have studied hard enough.
11. I’m a grammar Nazi thanks to four consecutive years of English Lab at the aforementioned all-guys’ Catholic school. A simple sentence consists of a subject and a verb. A compound sentence consists of two simple sentences separated by a comma. Therefore, "Bob ran and then went to the store" and "Bob ran, and then he went to the store" are both correct.
12. I will never eat at Wendy’s again as long as I live. I haven’t been able to eat their burgers since sixth grade, when three friends and I participated in what we called the “Triple Burger Challenge.” I was sick for a week. I’ve gotten burned out on everything else on their menu, especially chicken nuggets, over two years’ worth of late-night Wendy’s runs with dorm friends. Sorry, Sean.
13. I was born eight weeks prematurely, without my esophagus. Over three years of surgeries, doctors removed my transverse colon, turned it into my esophagus, and sewed my ascending and descending colon together. I have a second belly button, which is where my feeding tube was for eighteen months or so. I can eat and drink normally now, but I don’t have peristalsis, meaning that biologically, I can’t throw up. This is a problem sometimes.
14. I’m very task-oriented – once I start working on something, I hate being interrupted. When I sit down to watch a movie, it irks the crap out of me when I can’t get fifteen minutes in without getting a call or a text message. Likewise, when I dive into a pile of packages to check in at the front desk, people wait to call me until right after I’ve fallen into my groove.
15. In a crowd, I’d rather not be noticed than be singled out, either positively or negatively.
16. One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever gotten was from my friend Saul, who once told me, “Part of your charm is that you think you’re much more socially retarded and awkward than you actually are.”
17. That being said, I do have a tendency to say non-awkward things in the most awkward way possible. Example: at the end of last semester, we had a box of three-dozen cookies at the front desk. I was starting my shift as Amara was ending hers, and she wondered aloud whether she should take any cookies to go. What went through my head was, “Between the option of no cookies and free cookies, one should always choose free cookies,” and what I said was, “Amara, you always take as many cookies as you can carry.”
18. I’m very easily startled but almost impossible to scare.
19. I indulge myself in nostalgia a lot, whether it’s buying the first season of “The Adventures of Pete and Pete” on DVD and watching it all in one sitting, Facebook-friending all of my elementary school friends that I haven’t seen in ten years, or making it a point to drop by Kids’ Kastle (the local park) every time I go home. I think it’s because I still consider elementary school and middle school as the happiest period of my life thus far.
20. I overthink everything, especially when it comes to girls.
21. My name is Matt, and I’m a Facebook addict. To say that I check it multiple times daily is an understatement. I like feeling caught up with what’s going on in everyone’s lives, even people I don’t talk to anymore.
22. I write a lot. I’ve written a couple short stories this semester, and I think they’re pretty good, but I’ve only shown them to a couple people. This isn’t because I don’t want people to read what I’ve written, because I do. It’s mainly because I don’t want readers to feel obligated to tell me I’m the reincarnation of Ernest Hemingway if my story turns out to be another mediocre effort by some student writer.
23. I see grad school as a means of prolonging the inevitable.
24. I can see both sides of any issue, sometimes to the point where I have no clue what I personally believe.
25. Three songs never fail to put me in a good mood: “Purpose,” from Avenue Q; the Across the Universe version of “I’ve Just Seen a Face;” and The Barenaked Ladies’ “If I Had $1,000,000.”
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Metaphor
Whenever I walk into Starbucks, I stand back from the counter, fold my arms, and peruse the menu for a couple minutes. I look over everything they have to offer – plenty of options, limitless combinations. Drip. Espresso. Latte. Cappuccino. Frappuccino. Tea. Hot. Cold. Decaf. Caffeinated. Super-caffeinated. Flavored syrups. Then they have those weird drinks, the ones that I know I won’t like but am tempted to order anyway, just to say I’ve tried it. Then, when the barista asks if I’ve been helped, I step up to the register and ask for the same thing I get every time, a medium cup of black coffee.
Story of my life.
Story of my life.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Stuff
It's been a while since I've posted on here. Guess I ran out of stuff to talk about. Things are going fine - not great, but not horrible, and that's the best you can hope for sometimes. I'm a junior in college and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. Sums everything up pretty nicely, I think. More? If you insist.
I still haven't found a place to live next year. I think that my parents were secretly hoping that I'd do the RA thing for another year, but it's time to get out of the dorm. I just want to have my own place. I still haven't found a roommate. All of my friends are either graduating or living with whoever they lived with this year, which is what I get for staying behind an extra year, I suppose. I was going to live with this cool girl who's an RA in Littlefield this year, but she's ended up deciding to go elsewhere for grad school. Can't sign a lease until I find a roommate, get can't a roommate if everyone's booked, so I'm pretty much at square one indefinitely.
The past two weeks have been the worst academic experience of my life. I had a 15-page research paper due last Wednesday (for a class I thought I was going to drop until my parents guilt-tripped me out of it two days before the due date), another paper the same day, a program that night, three rough drafts for a portfolio and 100 pages of reading for Thursday, a test Friday, on-call Friday night into Saturday, test Monday, final drafts of the portfolio, a presentation, and another 100 pages of reading for Tuesday. Sounds pretty impressive rattled off in a row like that, doesn't it? Gotta admit, I definitely felt a sense of accomplishment last night as I sat down to watch LOST, guilt-free. I also had two programs tonight (an open-mic night with the whole group and then a movie with Sam), but literally all I had to do was show up. I'm on call on Saturday night, but it'll be a relief to have a socially acceptable excuse to lock myself away for 24 hours, to be honest. Sleep is awesome.
Lots of drama going on with my friends. None of it involves me; I just get to hear all about it every time we hang out. I need drama of my own so that a) I can counter with it when people start talking my ear off and b) when they want to hang out so they can talk about it, I can say, 'Sorry, can't, I'm dealing with my own shit right now.' I'm too non-confrontational. I should work on that.
Don't even get me started on girls, man. I've discovered through empirical research that every girl at UT Austin has a boyfriend. Not even worth the effort anymore.
Lots of little things have been getting to me lately. My laptop's been running slow. The desk computer runs even slower. I can't go a week without someone calling me to ask if I can trade a desk shift or an on-call or why my paperwork is late. My stapler jams so much that I've stopped updating the posting board I'm supposed to be maintaining on a daily basis. I lost the syllabi for all of my classes somewhere in the giant quagmire that is my desk. All of this stuff combined sometimes makes me shudderingly, have-to-stop-to-breathe-and-tell-myself-it's-gonna-be-okay angry. If it's the little stuff that makes me happy, I guess it's the little stuff that gets on my nerves, too. Fair trade-off.
Today was one of the good days, though. Class from 11-2, dropped by Starbucks to get a couple gift cards for our program, showered, got lunch at Kins Mart (turkey sandwich and coffee) and ate it outside. Beautiful day. The Quad RHC was giving away ice-cream sundaes, so I took a bowl and shot the shit with people for a good hour and a half. Open-mic night was cool; I sang "All My Lovin'" a cappella to kill time and then did a duet with Magown ("Numb," by Linkin Park) at the end. Program with Sam after that - we showed "United States of Leland" in one of the Joynes Rooms. Fucking brilliant movie.
Month and a half left in the Quad. I'm gonna miss this place, I really am. I miss anonymity sometimes, though. The whole third-year/RA combination means that there are very few people who don't know me. I bask in it sometimes, but others, I wish I could read outside for fifteen minutes without getting interrupted. Enjoying it while I can, because once this time is over, I can never get it back.
So...yeah. That's my life in a thousand words or less. How are you?
I still haven't found a place to live next year. I think that my parents were secretly hoping that I'd do the RA thing for another year, but it's time to get out of the dorm. I just want to have my own place. I still haven't found a roommate. All of my friends are either graduating or living with whoever they lived with this year, which is what I get for staying behind an extra year, I suppose. I was going to live with this cool girl who's an RA in Littlefield this year, but she's ended up deciding to go elsewhere for grad school. Can't sign a lease until I find a roommate, get can't a roommate if everyone's booked, so I'm pretty much at square one indefinitely.
The past two weeks have been the worst academic experience of my life. I had a 15-page research paper due last Wednesday (for a class I thought I was going to drop until my parents guilt-tripped me out of it two days before the due date), another paper the same day, a program that night, three rough drafts for a portfolio and 100 pages of reading for Thursday, a test Friday, on-call Friday night into Saturday, test Monday, final drafts of the portfolio, a presentation, and another 100 pages of reading for Tuesday. Sounds pretty impressive rattled off in a row like that, doesn't it? Gotta admit, I definitely felt a sense of accomplishment last night as I sat down to watch LOST, guilt-free. I also had two programs tonight (an open-mic night with the whole group and then a movie with Sam), but literally all I had to do was show up. I'm on call on Saturday night, but it'll be a relief to have a socially acceptable excuse to lock myself away for 24 hours, to be honest. Sleep is awesome.
Lots of drama going on with my friends. None of it involves me; I just get to hear all about it every time we hang out. I need drama of my own so that a) I can counter with it when people start talking my ear off and b) when they want to hang out so they can talk about it, I can say, 'Sorry, can't, I'm dealing with my own shit right now.' I'm too non-confrontational. I should work on that.
Don't even get me started on girls, man. I've discovered through empirical research that every girl at UT Austin has a boyfriend. Not even worth the effort anymore.
Lots of little things have been getting to me lately. My laptop's been running slow. The desk computer runs even slower. I can't go a week without someone calling me to ask if I can trade a desk shift or an on-call or why my paperwork is late. My stapler jams so much that I've stopped updating the posting board I'm supposed to be maintaining on a daily basis. I lost the syllabi for all of my classes somewhere in the giant quagmire that is my desk. All of this stuff combined sometimes makes me shudderingly, have-to-stop-to-breathe-and-tell-myself-it's-gonna-be-okay angry. If it's the little stuff that makes me happy, I guess it's the little stuff that gets on my nerves, too. Fair trade-off.
Today was one of the good days, though. Class from 11-2, dropped by Starbucks to get a couple gift cards for our program, showered, got lunch at Kins Mart (turkey sandwich and coffee) and ate it outside. Beautiful day. The Quad RHC was giving away ice-cream sundaes, so I took a bowl and shot the shit with people for a good hour and a half. Open-mic night was cool; I sang "All My Lovin'" a cappella to kill time and then did a duet with Magown ("Numb," by Linkin Park) at the end. Program with Sam after that - we showed "United States of Leland" in one of the Joynes Rooms. Fucking brilliant movie.
Month and a half left in the Quad. I'm gonna miss this place, I really am. I miss anonymity sometimes, though. The whole third-year/RA combination means that there are very few people who don't know me. I bask in it sometimes, but others, I wish I could read outside for fifteen minutes without getting interrupted. Enjoying it while I can, because once this time is over, I can never get it back.
So...yeah. That's my life in a thousand words or less. How are you?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Reason #138 I Love Physics
Plan II Physics has its reputation as one of those "rite of passage" classes that you hate while you're taking and remember nostalgically afterward. By this point, I don't see how the latter is possible.
Our midterm is tomorrow. We had our normal TA session today (which, by the way, was not announced in the course schedule, so that out of several options offered, the only one I can make is all the way across campus from the class I have right after it), so naturally, it was a review session for the test that was less than 24 hours away. The first question pretty much set the tone for the entire review:
Jordan Frisby: Can you explain the thought process we should be having when we're trying to do a double-slit problem?
TA: Uh...not off the top of my head, no.
...awesome. T-minus 15 hours, 19 minutes until death. Wish me luck.
Our midterm is tomorrow. We had our normal TA session today (which, by the way, was not announced in the course schedule, so that out of several options offered, the only one I can make is all the way across campus from the class I have right after it), so naturally, it was a review session for the test that was less than 24 hours away. The first question pretty much set the tone for the entire review:
Jordan Frisby: Can you explain the thought process we should be having when we're trying to do a double-slit problem?
TA: Uh...not off the top of my head, no.
...awesome. T-minus 15 hours, 19 minutes until death. Wish me luck.
Physical Jolt
I've finally been able to put into words that feeling that hits me sometimes, the one that comes out of nowhere, the one I've resigned myself to just waiting out. It's boredom, an intense, pervasive boredom that opens my eyes to the pointlessness of whatever I happen to be engaged in at the time. The kicker, though, is that it also makes anything else that I could be doing -- studying, reading, writing, talking with friends or strangers -- seem equally futile. In those moments, I feel like everything I'm doing, everything I could be doing, and everything I've ever done is just filler, a stimulus meant to keep me occupied in the absence of some greater pursuit that I'm not sure will ever come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)