In college I took Psychology as one of my classes, I didn’t really have any desire to be a psychologist I was just filling up class space with something that I could tolerate. I only wanted to take English classes, but somehow I had to take math, computer science and welcome to college too… It got me on the Deans list so I guess that’s ok.
In preparation for my class I purchased my books ahead of time and then read a few chapters into each class before the first week of school – I wanted to be prepared. For my English class I don’t think we even referenced it the whole semester, but it was still good for me. (more…)
During high school, well probably even as far back as elementary school – I had no desire to learn anything they wanted to teach me. It was boring. Time would have been better spent reading a comic book, watching tv or day dreaming about anything. I wasn’t engaged and didn’t see the purpose of learning. I loved reading stories though, loved my comics and the books I managed to get my hands on and thought deep down that someday I would be a writer.
When I graduated high school with the bare minimum requirements everyone said “You have to go to college”. As a poor foster child there were many grants and available loans for me to choose from. I managed to get into the local college and signed up for astronomy, philosophy and some kind of statistics class as I think it was a mandatory class and I wanted to get it out-of-the-way. I didn’t want to be there at all and barely went to class on sober days, rarely on days when booze was available. Needless to say, I didn’t do well in 1989 in college and soon I was academic probation – so I left, not worth my time.
Factory jobs for a few years and writing stories on an old Apple computer in my free time when I was stoned or drunk (made for some interesting plot holes). This was, I thought, what life was all about – a factory job, beer and not a care in the world. I was aiming pretty low at the time, but I would have been content at some level to just do that for the rest of my life – but alcoholism got in the way. (more…)
Today there was a little mishap with someones lunch and the work microwave and pillars of smoke encompassed our small little office space. It was a terrible tragedy as the lunch didn’t survive
very well done
The smell in the office was pretty bad though, one of our office mates sneezes around smoke as if someone doused her in sneezing powder, I felt sorry for her. The rest of us just ended up with our clothes, hair and skin smelling like burnt plastic. It was lovely. This wasn’t my first time smelling like burnt something or another…
Back in 1985 (lets jump in the Way Back Machine Sherman!) I was living with Grandma in Whitehall. Every morning was the same routine with her, she’d wake me up and write in her journal and start singing some song or other and eventually get around to making herself breakfast. I wasn’t much of a breakfast person so I didn’t usually partake on school days, which this was.
I just happened to be in the kitchen when something on the stove caught fire and there were high flames and billowing black smoke and Grandma yelling…
“Don’t panic, don’t panic! I know what to do” and she grabbed an oven mitt and the lid to the pot and smothered it.
Then she went on to explain that pouring water on it would have been a disaster and you should always know how to handle kitchen fires. At this point i would stop and wonder if she purposefully had the fire happen to teach me a lesson about putting them out, she was crafty like that. Nah, she wouldn’t… would she?
Well the fire was out so I just left for school, never bothering to think that I might smell a little off… hell I was a smoker, didn’t I always smell like smoke?
Well someone at the school thought it must be something else and before the end of first period I was called to the Principals office and asked if I’d been smoking pot. No really, apparently grease fires smell a lot like pot to people who don’t have a clue what pot smells like.
At first I was outraged, HOW DARE THEY THINK I MIGHT BE SMOKING POT, I mean sure I might be… but how dare they… I always waited at least until lunch time – actually, I rarely had pot at school, why ruin a good high by being at school? (now if I had know about LSD back then, well … then that would have been a much better story).
Anyway, I assured him that I hadn’t and explained about the grease fire, it actually took me a minute to remember that that’s what had happened that morning. It seemed insignificant in the grand scope of how to be a miserable teenager.
So today I was taken for a little trip back to Whitehall WI and Grandma… and memories of stealing doorknobs to sell on the black-market… yeah, those were the good old days. And work, well I’m sure we’ll all be fine but I bet that smell lingers for a day or two.
Today something very special is happening – my best friend Suzanne is graduating Summa Cum Laude.
I had to look up Summa Cum Laude to know what it meant and I found the following:
“with highest honor”
or
“with highest distinction”
I’m incredibly proud of her. There were times when she was studying and struggling when she’d think about dropping a class or doubt herself. But I never doubted her, I’ve seen her overcome some really big things in life and I knew a little thing like school couldn’t stand in her way.
She is my example time and time again of what I could strive to be if I push myself hard and don’t give up. When I’m about to give up I think of her and know she’d solider on.
I regret that I can’t be there today to see it – I wish I could because I know she’s be beaming that bright smile and radiating that happiness she takes with her everywhere…
Suzanne, congratulations – I’m so very proud of you and will be thinking of you all day long.
At the 100th Anniversary Convention of the Boolean Society, the worlds most secret organization, the biggest conspiracy of them all is finally revealed. The organizations members with the most clout, money, meet to discuss the history of math and how their vast plan has moved forward over the centuries.
It all started with two people in particular who hated everything to do with the art, music and theatre. They set out to slow down such frivolous nonsense by creating something that would slow the creative process and keep things more orderly and sane. In the beginning it was difficult, pressing the need to learn a few simple equations to mostly simple folk, but their idea won out—largely due to the complex circles in which the mathematician could talk. They would say, “x + y = y + x is the same as 1 + 2 = 2 + 1” and the common folk would respond, “so x is 1?” The Boolean would then explain that this was the case here, but in other situations the x could equal 252 or the y could equal the one as well. The common folk, immediately decide this is too much for them to decipher and hand over the reigns of all money handling to the Booleans. This goes on for years, the Booleans confusing the populace with x2 + 3y = 35 or x times itself is x2 and x + x is 2x.
Then a more enlightened person steps forward and proclaims this is nonsense, and starts to preach at the people, these Booleans are twisting the shape of numbers. The Booleans freeze all this persons assets, he becomes a penniless bum mumbling on the streets and considered by most to be insane.
Booleans find themselves in places of power within governments throughout the world. After years of the same formulas working they decide to change things up lest someone catches on and reveals their entire plot.
Unexpected help comes from a young woman in her 30s in college, an artist; forced by rules set up by the Booleans to take math courses that have her head spinning. She catches on to the formulas and the math/algebra starts to make sense, in a research paper to her Algebra Professor she creates a series of problems that stump even the top Boolean official. Her creativity, of course, is a death sentence they cannot allow the delicate balance to change even slightly so they kill her. Her ideas, if an answer doesn’t solve properly just cube it times itself is stolen and implemented into the plan immediately. This effect sends several Liberal Arts majors to seek ways to commit suicide.
The true celebration comes when the Booleans celebrate their greatest achievement ever: the number i. “The number i is such that i = √-1 (which is the same as saying i2 = -1).” The imaginary number. This concept, to further the confusion of the people, meant if an equation didn’t work out, just multiply it by i and it will all make sense. This i keeps all the money flowing into the hands of the Booleans, their vast fortunes shape the very political and socioeconomic landscape for all cultures.
Chances are, when this is published I’ll be murdered by Booleans quoting such equations as x2 – 6x + 9 = (x – 3) (x + 3) or √-64 is not real. The formulas themselves may be the death of me… pray for your average college student. And God save you from the Booleans.
Tuesday I handed in my Essay: Congressional Recess, which is about the way our lawmakers seem to waste time, once it’s graded I’ll let you know how I did. At the third draft stage my Professor did say he “hated it.” I love that, I need that kind of honest feedback. I then proceeded to rewrite the piece which is what was handed in. Essay #3 is a Documented Essay, I plan to write on Video Game addiction with quoted text from very intelligent people from Washington, DC.
Last week in Math we took test #3 and my score was revealed today: 95% correct! Woot!!! Making me feel better about useless knowledge that will never come into play in my real or imaginary life.
I came home from school, took a quick shower and shaved and went to look for a job… handed in my resume and filled out the application at the FarmFresh (local grocer) and they asked me to come back at 4:30 for orientation… God help me. [For those of you who may need to know, FarmFresh is owned by the same company that owns Cub Foods: SuperValu] So, Orientation went well, and it looks like I have to have some cashier training… still hoping Walmart will call with a better offer.
Can you believe the time is here already for me to pick my spring classes? Me either, hell, I can’t believe I made it this far!!!
I will be taking the following classes: Math 4 (real Algebra), ENG 112 (that’s writing), SPD 100 (Speech), and PED 129 (Self-Defense). My class schedule will be M/W Math, ENG and SPD and Tuesday nights PED. Which leaves me with a 4 day weekend, and Tuesdays free to do homework for Wednesday!!!
English, is the obvious choice for a class, as that is my strongest point and the goal of this adventure. Math is required, but I will have my teacher that I like. Speech, well, even I get nervous standing in front of people talking. Self-Defense? Well, being the HOMO in redneck VA, I need to be able to defend myself.
I will also be submitting my application for admission into ODU (Old Dominion University) for next Fall. ODU will allow me to pursue an English degree and become a writer (professional) or reporter if I opt for a journalism minor.
In Psychology class we were asked to create an ad that evoked a response, below is my ad:
Saviour’s Cookies
An sad angel, complete with halo and wings, is on the screen holding a box of Saviour’s Cookies.
“Last week ten children died without the heavenly taste of Saviour’s Cookies, don’t let your child be a victim, serve them the heavens light cookie: Saviour’s.”
The angel folds her hands in prayer and we see her fly up to the heavens. Lot’s of organ music in the background.
Of course on the back of the cookie package we’d have to have some kind of warning label about how it doesn’t actually save lives, but I think printing it in Latin would do the cookie’s justice.
The best news first… it’s over, the placement test is over and now I can concentrate on other things.
The results of my English Placement tests are as follows: Reading: Score 92 Writing Skills: Score 92 now, is that 92 of 100? or 92 out of 1984567? no idea… they say it’s really good thou, so lets assume 100.
The results of my Math are a little less promising: Pre-Algebra: Score 45 Algebra: Score 28
After talking with the adviser today, she assures me this is fine, but it does mean I have to take two non credit hours of math… God help me…
Tonnight at Midnight I get to pick my classes… I’ll let you know.
