XKCD makes me smile
Check it out sometime if you're feeling so inclined. It's a webcomic. It makes you giggle and squee (particularly if you have a working familiarity with math).
Right now I'm writing from a computer in the Life Sciences Library at UT. Unlike the other, normal computers, this one wanted to be different from the rest, so it gave itself a really large resolution and wouldn't let me change it. Now, my eyesight is just fine, but at these high resolutions the text becomes tiny, forcing me to ask Internet Explorer to display text in "large" size instead of "medium". Anyone who's experimented with this could tell you, this makes all affected text look ugly. That's right: U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi, you ugly, yeah yeah, you ugly. I'm sorry, the cheerleader/jump roping girl in me came out, and I didn't want to restrain her.
But the point was that the very text I'm typing now is affected. And it's amazing what an affect the homely physical appearance of the letters you write will have on your mindset. I'm sure it's part of the reason that my penmanship takes on an extraordinary, uncalled-for sloppiness when I'm trying to write quickly, and that it becomes noticeably neater when I'm writing something thoughtful to myself. Like a journal.
My subconscious mind seems to be perceiving the unsightliness of this whole affair and determining that it should be carried out quickly, with wanton aggression. My conscious mind is trying to fight this urge by using words like wanton.
But enough about my writing, let's talk about me! Yesterday I went to sleep at 4 PM. It was awesome. Except for this dream that I can't really remember now. I think the gist of it was that for some reason I wasn't with Danielle anymore, but some strange black or brown girl. And when I tried to hug and cuddle with her, it was not at all the same, and I was sad.
I woke up at 12, puttered around for a few hours, and went back to sleep. I wish I had the foresight to blog about it before I dozed off again, because I know how much you guys like to hear about my dreams and sleep patterns. In fact, I would devote another three paragraphs just to that right now, except that there is something yet more pressing: yesterday's statistics test.
I didn't finish it. ):
I had perhaps 31 to 33 points in the class going into the exam. I'd need 85 of these points to get an A in the class. Each homework assignment provides 1 point, each three tests gives 15, and the final provides 50. I thought I'd whoop this last test's ass just like I did the first two, but I'll be lucky to walk away with a passable road to an A. I'd forgotten that I largely stopped going to class recently and that I hadn't done a homework assignment in nearly two months, so it's not surprising that my expectations were dashed.
Plus, if you can't tell, my brain must not be working at full efficiency, and this after I caught up on missed sleep.
But I am worried. The last two tests I've taken have been rather awful, and a third, in microeconomics, is coming up tomorrow. And that one I cannot do poorly on (incidentally, I skipped that class on Tuesday so that I could study for statistics). I can accept a B in Differential Equations, whose relevance to my studies is exceptionally low; I can suffer a mediocre grade on a test in statistics considering that it's not a terribly hard class; and lower than expected grades on two recent tests in my other classes will require that I study hard, but not excessively, for the respective finals. I can handle all of that. But a poor showing on this exam in economics (which, in lieu of a final, will include a presentation of a mathematical model in May) would put lots of pressure on me to do a fantastic job on the parenthetically-mentioned model. And while I tend to deliver in high pressure situations not involving academic writing, I have a much-less-than-stellar track record if you mix high pressure and academic writing. Yeah, academic writing in general is not really a strongsuit of mine.
That was quite enough talk, I believe. I am now apparently skipping the Differential Equations recitation for which I came to the library in the first place, apparently, and you are bored to tears if you had the tenacity to come to the end. I've long since dispatched with the large, icky text, so I have little pretext for this lackadaisical writing now.
Oh! The word lackadaisical reminds me of another webcomic. Lackadaisy!
And that's all she wrote for today, folks. This is Cantay, a boy, not a girl, wishing your pets spayed and neutered. Hasta la byebye.
Right now I'm writing from a computer in the Life Sciences Library at UT. Unlike the other, normal computers, this one wanted to be different from the rest, so it gave itself a really large resolution and wouldn't let me change it. Now, my eyesight is just fine, but at these high resolutions the text becomes tiny, forcing me to ask Internet Explorer to display text in "large" size instead of "medium". Anyone who's experimented with this could tell you, this makes all affected text look ugly. That's right: U-G-L-Y, you ain't got no alibi, you ugly, yeah yeah, you ugly. I'm sorry, the cheerleader/jump roping girl in me came out, and I didn't want to restrain her.
But the point was that the very text I'm typing now is affected. And it's amazing what an affect the homely physical appearance of the letters you write will have on your mindset. I'm sure it's part of the reason that my penmanship takes on an extraordinary, uncalled-for sloppiness when I'm trying to write quickly, and that it becomes noticeably neater when I'm writing something thoughtful to myself. Like a journal.
My subconscious mind seems to be perceiving the unsightliness of this whole affair and determining that it should be carried out quickly, with wanton aggression. My conscious mind is trying to fight this urge by using words like wanton.
But enough about my writing, let's talk about me! Yesterday I went to sleep at 4 PM. It was awesome. Except for this dream that I can't really remember now. I think the gist of it was that for some reason I wasn't with Danielle anymore, but some strange black or brown girl. And when I tried to hug and cuddle with her, it was not at all the same, and I was sad.
I woke up at 12, puttered around for a few hours, and went back to sleep. I wish I had the foresight to blog about it before I dozed off again, because I know how much you guys like to hear about my dreams and sleep patterns. In fact, I would devote another three paragraphs just to that right now, except that there is something yet more pressing: yesterday's statistics test.
I didn't finish it. ):
I had perhaps 31 to 33 points in the class going into the exam. I'd need 85 of these points to get an A in the class. Each homework assignment provides 1 point, each three tests gives 15, and the final provides 50. I thought I'd whoop this last test's ass just like I did the first two, but I'll be lucky to walk away with a passable road to an A. I'd forgotten that I largely stopped going to class recently and that I hadn't done a homework assignment in nearly two months, so it's not surprising that my expectations were dashed.
Plus, if you can't tell, my brain must not be working at full efficiency, and this after I caught up on missed sleep.
But I am worried. The last two tests I've taken have been rather awful, and a third, in microeconomics, is coming up tomorrow. And that one I cannot do poorly on (incidentally, I skipped that class on Tuesday so that I could study for statistics). I can accept a B in Differential Equations, whose relevance to my studies is exceptionally low; I can suffer a mediocre grade on a test in statistics considering that it's not a terribly hard class; and lower than expected grades on two recent tests in my other classes will require that I study hard, but not excessively, for the respective finals. I can handle all of that. But a poor showing on this exam in economics (which, in lieu of a final, will include a presentation of a mathematical model in May) would put lots of pressure on me to do a fantastic job on the parenthetically-mentioned model. And while I tend to deliver in high pressure situations not involving academic writing, I have a much-less-than-stellar track record if you mix high pressure and academic writing. Yeah, academic writing in general is not really a strongsuit of mine.
That was quite enough talk, I believe. I am now apparently skipping the Differential Equations recitation for which I came to the library in the first place, apparently, and you are bored to tears if you had the tenacity to come to the end. I've long since dispatched with the large, icky text, so I have little pretext for this lackadaisical writing now.
Oh! The word lackadaisical reminds me of another webcomic. Lackadaisy!
And that's all she wrote for today, folks. This is Cantay, a boy, not a girl, wishing your pets spayed and neutered. Hasta la byebye.
Labels: lackadaisicalness, ugly
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