Wuddun duh fuck wuz dat, Han-yay?

So I'm not as good at school as I'd like to be. I'd like to be better, because that would be less stressful. I have a test in American Race Policy today, and I'm feeling like I'll do mediocrely. (In proper Hasta la Byebye tradition I will now inform you that I spent ten minutes trying to find an adverb form of "mediocre". "Mediocrely", hideous though it is, is about as good as I could find. Dictionary.com didn't seem to recognize any adverb form, which makes perfect sense since mediocrely is almost obscene.) I've already skipped an easy, two-page paper on why I'm taking the class which is worth 10% of my final grade, I can't take this class pass/fail and I've done a poor job actually reading anything, so I'm especially dreading this exam, which will of course be all short essays: my favorite!

I also have to read a large and dense book for a presentation around the start of November. Joy!

Just so that you can get a feel for how writing these things works, the time difference between the previous itty-bitty paragraph and this one was five despairing minutes.

I saw a psychiatrist on Tuesday, and she wrote me a prescription for an anti-depressant. I should consider getting it filled.

Only 30% Fucked

Not going to write much. Still lots of studying to do. Plus my brain is in no shape to take on the task of writing more than two good paragraphs. Considering that my grade for this class is based on the performance of others, and considering that the only bases I have to compare myself to my classmates are the means and standard deviations of the scores from each of our three midterms, I honestly can't say what I'm going to end up with with any degree of certainty, particularly if I don't know what the final will yet be like.

However, I know how to at least attempt 7 of the 10 problems that will likely show up. Which ain't bad. If I work hard, I might be able to add another type or two to my repetoire. But my brain is seizing up in protest, and my eyes sting from lack of sleep despite waking up in the afternoon for the past two days. I'll be riding back to Katy with John and Jenny, but I probably won't be very good company, passed out in the back and drooling.

But anyway, I have about 80 minutes to go before I have to start walking. Exam preparation could certainly have been better, but knowing me it could certainly have been worse too. Stupid class-skipping stupidness.

The road to serfdom is paved with good intentions

But that has absolutely nothing to do with why I'm here. Two things:

One more grade has been reported, and it is with great pleasure that I present it.

Globalization: A

It's lovely how classes can have such succinct names, yes? After checking Blackboard to see how I did and to see just where I fell on the grading scale, I calculated a 90.25% average, with 90% being the minimum for an A. Holy shit do I love cutting it close. I did get a bit more hopeful after I turned in the final exam when the professor thanked me for the second time in two days for my participation in the classroom. And thank God I participated, because that got me three extra credit points at the end that squirted me into w00t.

However, my final final is tomorrow. And I haven't studied contrary to plans, contrary to needs. It's Differential Equations, and the class is a bit of a motherfucker. I have no idea what I'm going to do in the intervening twelve hours between the present and my final, except that there will probably be very little sleeping. I may come by beforehand to give you an update as to the prognosis, but I will say right now that the final grade probability distribution breaks down like this:

A: 20%
B: 70%
C: 10%

And since I have been playing a lot of poker recently (profiting approximately $40 after playing in approximately 40 sit-n-go tournaments), I like to think of these percentages in their poker equivalents. So, the chances of me getting an A are about the same as catching a flush on the river if I have four of a suit on the turn. The chances of me getting a B are about the same as pocket kings beating AK off-suit before any cards are shown. The chances of me getting a C are about the same as QJ off-suit beating pocket queens.

Thinking of this does not help at all. Unless the situation is guaranteed to be 100% solid in poker I always have that feeling of apprehension especially since I've seen all of the unlikely events happen, sometimes to me. Poker gives you really weird feelings toward probability.

So we'll see what I do to make some of those percentages go up and down. ('Cause I know you're interested.)

In other news, Izmir hosted the latest protests against Islam in Turkish government. Over one million turned out, but at least a lot of them seem as hostile to military coups as they are to political Islam. This is good. I just hope that they don't start tacking back towards the military if the elections don't go their way, particularly since the polls suggest that the moderately Islamist AK Party will win the elections again.

Also, I'd like to ask the Turkish military to please be more reconciliatory towards the Kurds, both within Turkey and without. I'd be particularly devastated if you decided to take action without approval from your masters in the government.

Bol sans, Türkiye.

She kisses like a Missus

Though she curses like a Miss.

Good evening, friends, copains and enemigos. I realize I've been remiss in failing to review the last album by The Ericked Codies. I'm not going to do it here either, but I'll say this much: it's awesome. Easily my favorite recording by the self-styled brothers o' awesome. We get a much fuller range of Eric's (well, I think Eric's) production skills and lyricism, and we get a much more vivid look at Cody outside of his instrumentals. A lot of soul went into this mega-album, and it shines through brightly. If there is one criticism I have, it's that Eric seems to have mostly abandoned his ventures into rap, which provided a fun contrast throughout much of The Ericked Codies' debut album. All criticism notwithstanding, however, I recommend this album to everyone who ever liked music.

I also took my Discrete Mathematics final today. It wasn't too hard, but there was a question that I apparently completely missed because I wasn't sure what was meant by "elemental argument". So it will be a close call, but I believe I did well on the rest of the test, so I am hopeful, predicting an A with 75% certainty.

In other academic news, two grades have been reported:

Intermediate Microeconomics: A
Economic Statistics: B

Which much relief and glee, this all but guarantees I'll be able to register for Honors Game Theory next semester. Here's to hoping I can pull the last three As out of the fire. My last final is on Tuesday in Differential Equations. The class has kicked my ass, but the professor has provided us with a tremendous boon in telling us the subject of each of the ten questions we'll be seeing, allowing us to concentrate our studying. An excellent result will make an A possible.

Updates will come as more information becomes available. Until then, hasta la byebye, dear hearts.

Genital warts are disturbing

As are other things caused by various strains of the human papilloma virus. Like cancer. Everywhere.

I took my statistics final yesterday and completely bombed it. I think I'm due for a C in the class now if I don't do something crazy. Like petition to retake the God damn exam. Which I'm doing.

In other news, I need a drink. Now stay tuned for angry Turkish ranting time. (Though it's well possible you're reading this after the rants since the newest posts appear at the top. If you're one of the awesome people who endeavors to read posts in chronological order, give yourself a pat on the back and a cookie.)

Chèvres à l'avant!

I love Danielle.

In other news, I've had the distinct pleasure of relaxing for two days. I am now going to relax for a little more of this one before I work diligently to prepare for my statistics exam. The official tally of my grade tells me that I'll need an 86 on the final to get an A, which is very doable. A similar tally for Discrete Mathematics tells me I'll need either an 85 or an 86. And, judging by how everyone has been performing, an 86 in Differential Equations would probably bump me into the A range.

So now all I have to do is get there. Damn I hate this part.

And I have six hours of labor to do for the co-op before finals finish. As you can guess, I'm fucking stoked. Fucking stoked.

The best part is that after this, my summer vacation will be filled with telling people to save the environment by giving me money and signing petitions. It's for a good cause: trying to get legislation enacted to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels and ensure that we are using renewable sources to generate 20% of our energy needs by (I think) 2015. And I'm going to be a field manager! This means that I give some orders to the other people asking for money, and thusly receive slightly more money. I'm hoping to earn a sizeable amount of cash by doing my part to prevent the sweet, sexy momma that is Earth from letting herself go and getting all fat and gross and sweaty and generally unpleasant for human life. I like having money.

I wish I could see my friends instead, though. I miss my friends.

A teaser from my interview with Cameron Crowe, reporting for Rolling Stone

(Much more of the interview will appear in next week's edition, along with a nice background Story of Cantay.)

Crowe: The question on everyone's minds at this point, considering your long hiatus and your previous disenchantment with your fans, is what's bringing you back?

Cantay: First, I'd just like to apologize to those fans. Fans: I'm sorry I called the president of my fanclub "fucko" and I genuinely regret leaving the concert in Miami after a string in my harpiscord snapped. But back to your question, Cameron. Without trying to sound conceited, music courses through my veins. It's who I am. I could try to deny that I'm a genius, but that's too much effort for too little reward. I've decided to just sit back and take it, and maybe share a slice of awesomeness with the world.

Crowe: Your manager has hinted that there is one single in particular that we should look forward to on your forthcoming album. Care to touch on that?

Cantay: Absolutely. I believe the single he was referring to was The Sequel to Cantay. Obviously it's a working title, but it's based off the chart-topping Story of Cantay.

Crowe: Yes, I remember that one. As I recall, when I was walking down the streets of New York I saw so many people wearing "Fucking go to hell" t-shirts.

Cantay: What can I say? I love to let people express themselves. But yes, The Sequel to Cantay is going to be an epic ballad/pop hit/emo whinefest/metal symphony. It's going to be amazing. I can't wait for you to hear it.

Crowe: Was there any inspiration for that song in particular?

Cantay: Yes, actually. I took a test in my Differential Equations class just last week. Did horribly. As it turns out, however, I scored just above the average, which is significantly better than I'd hoped for. I've never been so happy to do so poorly on a test.

Crowe: Excellent. And are you planning to commemorate this unexpected non-defeat?

Cantay: Yes. I have a statistics test today that I haven't studied a whit for, and it's ironic because not studying is a big part of the message of The Sequel to Cantay.

This is Cantay

For those precious few (two, three? four?) of you who have heard the splendiforous song This is the Story of Cantay, you might be excited to hear that I am considering a return to music. That's right, more not-quite-rapping-at-all to a sexy but noticeably unsynchronized beat.

The inspiration struck me yesterday right before the test I was whining about earlier. I didn't go to my other classes for the day because I was studying. The problem was that my studying consisted of doing non-academic things like trawling YouTube for videos of little goaties. I did run through the tests from last year, and glanced through the book for some more knowledge on series solutions, which was about 20% of the test. I was confident that, since the last test was very similar to what was done in the review session, I had all the information I needed.

I decided to take the bus to class a touch early so that I could do some last minute looking-over of things in the book in case I'd forgotten anything. So I left the co-op at 1:30 and plopped myself down at the bus stop, opening my book and trying to understand what actually happens at singular points of second-order differential equations.

After a bit of reading, I noticed that it had been a while since I'd sat down, but the bus hadn't come. I checked my cellular phone for the time, shrugged my shoulders, and assumed the bus was just going to be late. If I'd spent all this time waiting, there's no way that the bus would be much longer, and it would be better to wait for it than to hoof it. So I kept reading.

Then a car came up. A man who looked a bit like one of Pedro's cousins from Napoleon Dynamite leaned out the passenger window and asked if I could move the barricade in the road so they could pass. Even though the car was not as cool as Pedro's cousins', I obliged, moving it aside and then back into position once the car had passed. I shrugged to a passer-by and went back to the bus stop to do some more reading to wait for the bus.

It was at least thirty seconds before a rather obvious epiphany struck me: there was a barricade in the road. The road that the bus normally went down. From that point, it wasn't too hard for me to figure out that the bus wasn't coming. I checked the time (fifteen minutes until my 2:00 class), stuffed my book into my messenger bag, and broke out speed-walking to try to make a twenty-five minute walk in just over half that time. The best part of the walk was passing by the people who'd passed by me while I was sitting down at the bus stop. Kickass.

The second best part of the walk was feeling like I was about to suffer from heart failure because of the strange way I was walking, tensing every muscle in my body in an effort to move quickly while not looking stupid. In hindsight, chances are that I looked extremely stupid and moved at less than my top walking speed. My shins, especially, were unnecessarily bunched up.

Somehow I made it to class at about 1:57 and I grabbed a seat by two fellows from my co-op, Stefan and Tyler. At least I made it, I thought. Now to kick the test's ass.

No dice. The professor apparently (rightly) thought that the last test had been too easy, so this one had some stuff that wasn't covered in the review session. Awesome. There were five questions, each worth ten points. For each question, assuming I had no errors in the work I did do, I could have gotten respectively 7, 10, 7, 4, and 10 points, meaning a total score of 38/50. My honest expectations, however, hover around 32/50. And it could reasonably be as low as 25/50.

My first test was a frakking 57/60. Even my last one was a definitely better 39/50. What has happened to me since then? Arrogance and laziness, my dear Watson. I miss studious, confident Cantay, but he always seems to disappear when I start to do well on the grounds that we don't need him anymore, and playing TextTwist online is fun. The slippery slope may be a fallacious argument, but it's a reality for me and many other students. And it sucks. I miss one class here, one there, and suddenly I'm skipping regularly to play TextTwist and sleep. And as nifty as it is to rearrange the letters YSPRCT to form the word crypts and others, it's not as nifty as returning to a scholarly equilibrium instead of this bad, lazy one.

Oh, and I have homework to do now. Sweet, huh? Now I just need to do that. And write a cover letter for a job I won't get. And figure out how to squeeze this post into a song for my musical resurgence.

If God doesn't exist, then why are bananas so perfectly formed to fit in our hands, hmm?

Excuse me while I slice open my genitals and empty the contents unto the boulevard and jump on them in a mad ecstasy. My obsessions with genitalia do not stop just because there was a massive interval between posts, I'm afraid. This is especially true when I'm feeling frustrated and I've nowhere to turn except to reproductive organs, which provide a strange sort of catharsis when mentioned.

I have a test tomorrow in Differential Equations, which has been doing quite a number on me. If I can properly study, I might just be able to pull out a much-needed miracle. The happy effects of this potential miracle wouldn't be limited to my grades in that class, however: I need an overall academic morale boost. Danielle was recently in town for the better part of a week, and it was tremendously wonderful to have her around, but she never was very conducive to scholarship. So here I am, stuck in a funk (exacerbated by scores that were slightly lower than expected on two tests).

And I have no job prospects for the summer or fall. Jesus Christ, what's happened to me? I'm like a massive airliner whose engine has happily decided to stall. If, for the love of God, I can turn the engines back on everything should be all right. But otherwise I'll plummet to the ground. Thankfully, even the ground only represents mediocrity, but it's an extremely dangerous sign that I am both in danger of slipping and in such a bad state that mediocrity doesn't seem so bad. I have no idea if acknowledging this will actually spur me to take (greater) action. Squee, bitch.

Oh, but on a much more light-hearted note I found out the coolest thing while searching for synonyms of bombastic on dictionary.com! While big-talking is considered "informal or slang", bullshitting is not. I love you, English language.

Hazirlan, Keciler!

I have two tests today; one in Globalization, the other in Discrete Math. I have these classes back-to-back, and it is the rare occasion when I will make it to math before the professor starts lecturing. Mmmmmmm, delicious walking.

But I am certainly much more worried about the content of these tests. Experience and logic dictate that the Globalization test will be exceptionally easy given how frightening the professor has been trying to make it sound. Lack of familiarity with some of the material, meanwhile, leads me to have nagging doubts about my ability to cut it. There is about a 50% chance that I will do well because the test is easy, 35% that I will do well because my test-taking skills will pick out everything that is needed, 13% that my test-taking skills won't be that awesome, and 2% that something catastrophic will happen.

In these days, where I like to think of all probabilities in terms of poker, that 2% represents the need to fulfill an inside straight flush on the river. That doesn't help me envision the actual probability, but it does make me morbidly fearful of the sort of abject pain you feel when you are greeted by that 3 of hearts showing up and giving your brain-dead opponent lots of money. Thankfully that's about the extent of my anxiety. And it's clearly not very much. Notice how I have this test in a couple of hours but I'm talking to my peeps? Damn straight, bitches.

Why, Oh Why?

I got a 24 on my microeconomics exam. Granted, it's out of 25, but I'm disappointed that I managed to lose a point somewhere. I don't even know where, except that it was a multiple-choice question. Earlier I got 4/5 questions right in a pop quiz in my Globalization class. And now, in about fifty minutes, I'll be taking an exam in statistics. I'll probably get exactly one point off there too. But I should get to studying. I just wanted to say hello and throw in the following gratuitous mention of my level of fatigue: I'm tired.