In The Loop
You are a sweaty dolphin!! cool down!!
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I think that all young people should be forbidden to use the internet until they can pass an intelligence test. Come to think of it, that should go for all people… unless what they are writing is really funny.
I’m pretty good at math. That is to say, I was really good at math back in the day, but haven’t taken a math class in years. I’ve gone back to school to become a teacher, preferably in math, so I thought it would make sense to take a math class. In high school I went as far as AP calculus, getting a 4 on the exam (that’s on a scale of 1-5, in case you didn’t know), and failed the next calculus class I took at PCC. The F was mostly due to lack of homework and studying. This was not unique to my math class. Now that I’ve grown up a bit, and back in school, I understand how easy it is to get an A. I’m determined to do so.
When deciding what class to take for math, I thought that since I hadn’t taken a class in a while, it would be good to take a refresher. Since I couldn’t remember absolutely everything in calculus, and my trig/pre cal was rusty, I decided to take Precalculus. This has proven to be a blessing and a curse. The classes are somewhat boring. The homework is tedious. I can’t use my TI-82, nor any other graphing calculator. On the plus side, I’m going to get an easy A. This will also likely be the case next semester with Calculus. This became blatantly apparent this morning.
I arrived to class late by 5 minutes. Everybody else was deep in their tests. I turned in my homework folder (I’m actually doing homework now), took a test, and sat down. I whipped straight through the test, and looked around the room. Most of the class was no further than the 2nd page of 5. I double and triple checked my work, which I rarely ever did back in the day. I was confident that everything was in order, and turned it in. The teacher looked a tad bit shocked that I finished as quickly as I did. I didn’t get a look at any of my classmate’s faces, but I’m thinking I shouldn’t raise my hand as much in the coming weeks to avoid being on their bad sides. Granted, I could give a shit what they think of me, but I might as well try to be nice, and let some of them get their learning expreriences like I once did. Just because I know all the answers doesn’t mean I have to let them know that.
Went to Milca’s mom’s place yesterday. I made pasta from scratch. Well, I didn’t physically mix the dough, but watched that phase. I helped with manufacturing the dough into noodles. It’s painfully simple, and dry pasta doesn’t hold a candle to the fresh stuff. After making the pasta, we went on a hike with Milca’s brother and the dogs, Joni and Lou. They’re named after Joni Mitchell and Lou Reed, respectively. After going along a trail I hadn’t been on yet, and sweating bullets, we went back to Milca’s mom’s to eat said pasta.
After moving out of the house with satellite TV, I find myself without any television. Sure, there’s a TV in my living room, but no cable or satellite. This being the case, Milca and I picked up a TV antenna on the way home from her mom’s so we could watch the Oscars. We missed the first hour and a half, but caught some of the finer moments that we were looking forward to, like Mitch and Mickey singing “Kiss at the End of the Rainbow.” Christopher Guest is easily one of my personal heroes. LotR won everything they were up for. Fucking A. I had just been talking the night before with some of Milca’s friends about how fantasy and Sci-Fi gets shut out when it comes to things like art direction and costuming. You just can’t deny the bad-assedness of LotR. Of course, Fellowship should have also recieved some of those Oscars, but what are you going to do? Peter has his 3, his wife has 3, his homies from back in the day have theirs, and he’ll never have to worry about any studio backing his projects ever again. No harm, no foul.
My only beef was with Billy Crystal. After Sean Penn accepted his award (and commented on the lack of WMD’s, cracking my ass up), Billy pointed out that Bill Murray seemed peeved. Granted, I saw the look on his face when the 5 way split screen went in for the zoom on Sean, but why do you have to point it out? I want to see Mystic River, as Bill’s opinion of Sean’s performance may have caused the grimace. Whatever. Bad form, Billy. The jokes were kind of weak this year. Enough about New Zealand already. The catch phrases were really stale. Maybe you should make another City Slickers in New Zealand with Peter Jackson’s help. You could have to herd Rat Monkeys from Sumatra to the Wellington Zoo. Just hope you don’t get “the bite.”
I used to smoke. I am not one of those that smoked for 30 years, smoking up to 2 packs a day, but I did smoke quite a bit. I had smoked for 9 years or so, smoking a bit more than a pack a day. I haven’t had a cigarette since about August or so.
Smoking is unique to the smoker. What I mean by that is everyone does it for a different reason than another. Maybe your parents smoked. Maybe you use it to curb your appetite. Maybe you are trying to curb some other addiction. Maybe you *gasp* like the taste and the buzz. Whatever the case, there are reasons people smoke. It’s their right. It’s my right not to. So, we’re cool then, right? Unfortunately, no.
I’ve known other people that have quit smoking, and most of them forget what it was like to be a smoker. They forget the cravings that made them scrounge for change to buy a pack in the middle of the night. They forget the feeling of a cigarette after a meal, or at a stressful moment. What they most often forget is how hard it was to quit in the first place. Sure, you were able to quit, but that doesn’t mean everyone else can do it “as easily as you did.” Nor do they likely want to. For me, that made a world of difference. I had tried quitting in the past, but I never really, really wanted to quit. It was always some New Years resolution that lasted until the 3rd of January, or trying to please some girlfriend. If you don’t really want to quit, you’re not going to. If you really do, that’s the first step.
I feel extremely stronger having quit. I think about cigarettes less and less, but I’d say that I think about having one at least 4 times a week. I can still smell the difference between camels and marlboros. A neighbor smokes Sampoernas, a brand of clove cigarettes that are far better than Djarums, and the smell brings me back. Still, I am cigarette free, and feel great.
For you smokers out there, smoke one for me. If you’re trying to quit, fight the good fight. Waking up with a cold shower helps. Having someone you love that believes in you will also make it a lot easier.
I introduced Milca to Dead Alive last night. It was as good as I remembered it, and Milca didn’t like it, as I expected. Gore isn’t her thing, and as Dead Alive is nothing but gore, it didn’t make much of an impression on her.
For those out there with an interest in it, I hadn’t noticed before but Peter Jackson is the mortician’s assistant in the movie. Also, the punk rock zombie dude was one of the orcs in Two Towers. This is on top of Vera being a Sacksville-Baggins, which I noticed the first time I watched the extended Fellowship. Peter Jackson is the man.
Cars dull our senses. You are in one spot, get in, push some pedals, turn a wheel to-and-fro, get out and you’re somewhere else. While operating these pedals and the wheel, you can look through panes of glass at the surroundings you are traveling through. You can even look at mirrors to see different angles without moving your head. Basically, you look straight ahead, your vision is limited, and since you’re going so fast, you miss most of what’s around you. You even lose track of how far you are really going, as you can’t really see the ground below you.
Since I’ve been riding my bike everywhere I’ve noticed many things that I hadn’t before, for example, the intersection of Michillinda and where California turns into Sunset always smells like sewage. Also, people primarily go walking in the mornings with their children in strollers, and at night with their dogs. 10 minutes in a car is REALLY FAR. Imagine, if you will, an age where bikes and cars didn’t exist. That 10 minute ride would would have taken you 45 minutes if you were jogging/running, 1.5 hours walking, and the people you pass along the way would wish you a good morning.
Go outside. Next time you have to get somewhere that is less than 5 miles away, walk there. If you are tired, lazy, or out of shape this walk will help cure your ailments. At the end of a very long, exhausting day yesterday, a 7 mile ride woke me up, and gave me a boost of energy I so desperately needed.
Vote Quimby
I work in a store that caters primarily to children, and adults that work with children (name withheld so I don’t lose my job). At any rate, I see parents and their children interact on a daily basis. For the most part, the children are brats, and the parents don’t treat their kids like people. Today, however, a father and son came in that gave me faith in modern parenthood. The father was kind of the eager type, pointing out lots of stuff to his kid. Not badgering, just very interested in the organization his son is in. The son was kind, polite, and cheerful. They looked at hiking sticks, some that cost upwards of $50, but decided on one that was just a plain piece of wood. Their plan was to stain it, and craft it themselves in the tool shop. Father and son spending quality time on something for the boy. Creativity put into action. I was beside myself. On top of that, something that caught my attention was that the father called his son terms of endearment like “sweetie,” and “honey.” The boy wasn’t embarassed, nor did it seem to phase him. I never had a great relationship with my dad, but I haven’t known many dads to be as cool as the one I met today. I wanted to give him a hug. Now I kind of regret not doing so… I hope his son hugs him.
I had a religious experience this morning. First, yesterday…
I woke up at 6am, showered, got on my bike, and rode 7.5 miles to school. After my one hour class, I got back on my bike and rode 3 miles to work. After an 8 hour day at work, I got back on my bike and rode 3 miles back to school. After 2.5 hours, I rode 7.5 miles back home arriving around 10:30pm.
This morning, I woke up at 6am, then again at 6:45, showered, got on my bike, rode the 7.5 miles to school again. After the one hour class, I got back on my bike and rode as fast as possible to work. This was because my manager was not coming in today, so I had to open the store. This gave me 30 minutes to get from school to work, and have the store open. As my body was lammenting the previous days abuse, this ride was not as fast as I have done before. This was also due to the fact that I had to take a crap.
After I got the store ready to open, I went to the bathroom and took me a good old shit that made me realize that there is in fact a God.
Happy Ash Wednesday.
I’m dead on my feet. I have another hour left of work. After work, I have to ride to school for my Spanish class. Then I get to ride home. I need a beer.