I hate school I hate school I hate school I hate school I hate school. May 2nd cannot get here fast enough. I will spend the summer as an auto-didact and will return refreshed for the fall.
I don’t miss social media much. When I do, it’s 95% Twitter.
I mean, when I took MA 244, Clinton was President and few people outside of wonky Republicans, baseball fans, and Texans knew who the hell George W. Bush was. We all thought that Dick Cheney was done in Washington. Chads didn’t hang. This blog was still 15 months in the future.
Yet here I am in April 2014 trying to remember matrix notation for a Design of Experiments class. FUCKBEANS. I hate linear algebra.
I will always have April, and I am grateful for that. That record is so emotional and beautifully powerful that I am often moved by it. But damn if the next two albums are hard to love. I wish that I could adequately relay how few fucks I give about his past profligate promiscuity. I get it — you used to get laid a lot. Please evoke another emotion.
Tonight, I’ll dream of a girl with radiant, August eyes.
There’s nothing like waking up at 0415 realizing that you structured your experiment incorrectly. Thankfully I’ve only taken 3/8 of my data. I’ll probably have to throw out one data point at the most.
ETA: Happiness is salvaging all of your data points, reworking the random order to tweak what you’ve run, and not losing any data taken already. Hell, I’ll finish a day earlier. Thank you, pagan DOE gods.
Sometimes, when I’m causing mayhem, I wonder if James Thomas ever gets a late-night phone call from the Ghost of Admissions Counselors Future saying, “You think that you really want this kid now, but here in the future, he’s a bit of a pain in the ass.”
Holy hell. All I did yesterday was watch TV. I can’t even do that today. One exam was moved to Monday. I’m waiting on the other… in bed.
I’ll spare you the image of my left eye and its vascular irregularities.
I first started getting sick 40 hours ago. I’ll spare you the details. Once the worst had been weathered, I spent all of Tuesday in a malaise, rarely leaving my bed. I was given an extension on my exam, which was very kind. I should be able to think critically tomorrow, but watching sitcoms today is a big step up from my seeming catatonia of yesterday.
Every hour or two, I look to make sure that it’s still just Wednesday.
Stringer Bell didn’t like 40-degree days. Today was gross—still is. But the temperature being exactly 40°F on my drive home from campus gave me a smile. RIP Stringer.
Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m partly Irish. My maternal grandfather’s lineage goes right back to Eire in the 1700s (I think, I’d need to check the date to be sure).