Err, I'd like to buy a Vol?

During my drive back to College Park last night (the final leg of a spring break spent relaxing and sleeping), I stumbled across an interesting internal discovery: I have an addiction. And I probably wont be seeking out a support group for it.

I'm addicted to triplets in rock music. As in, musical note triplets. Sometimes in rap and pop, but mostly in rock. Dead serious (hey now, that's serious).

For some ridiculous unknown reason, whenever I hear triplets in a rock song, I get a rush. Throw in a sweet chord progression, and you've got me hooked.

Now triplets are nothing new, but their major appearance in rock has been pretty recent. The fact that triplets tear away from the traditional common rhythm and stand out so blatantly makes them "special". If you're like me (although I doubt anyone else has this...problem?), you do a mental double-take when a set of triplets rolls off a bass drum or slides up an electric. They contrast the regular *boom chick boom chick* enough to make the song rhythmically interesting, but blend in perfectly enough so you can still head bang to the original beat. Triplets are God's gift to us music-loving fools who want a little spice. Amen.

So now that you know how little it takes to make me happy, I'm headed off to the gym with ipod in hand so I can enjoy my precious triplets while on the treadmill.

Holler at a certain ufgator for her comments. The next step: make a blog so I can comment back, heh.

Bracket update: 3/4 Final Four Contestants left. Georgetown is dead to me. Gooo Vols!

Be prepared: This is a rant.

Time is a dangerous thing. Or at least, that's what some of the greatest leaders in centuries past have proclaimed ("greatest" purely based on power and influence). Give us a minute to free ourselves from the grind that defines our lives, and our minds will wonder beyond the thick walls built by our sweat and stress.

That's deep, right? The above statement is a direct result of time. Too much...obviously. Only days into my glorious spring break and my mind sees fit to retreat into some depths which I have no direct means of excavating it from. And of course, when I am struck so viciously again by my books and classwork, I'll probably stagger around a bit because I'm still not there.

So where has my mind led me? To no conclusion, I'll let you know. Just an endless dilemma, one which will probably haunt me until the end of my college career when finally the working world will shove a briefcase in my hand, a tie on my shirt, and a rigid smile on my face as I wake up each morning to a desk...or maybe a lab. Oh joy.

I see and read of people my own age everyday that are doing amazing things. They're being the best, the strongest, the fastest, the smartest, the most skilled, the most attractive, the freaking whatever-est. They've got lives full of mystery and full of publicity, and brilliant stories about them to boot.

And there's me. Actually, there are a lot of me's. There are people all over the globe who seem not to have - or do not have - a best or a most. We are those who excelled and came up pretty good. Average? Hardly...we are above! But not by much.

So I am officially dedicating this blog to the life of the pretty good. We've all heard of the best in the media, and now you'll get to hear about the...swell (honestly, when do you ever hear "you did a swell job" said to a championship soccer player or a piano virtuoso?). Of course, in true fashion of slightly above average writing, you'll probably grow bored within the first several minutes (10 if I throw in a few chuckles).


That's all for my rant. I am truly sorry for those of you who were expecting a bit more fun of a read, but that's what time has driven me to. Maybe when I'll need some sense of humor again (sunday night with homework...hooray), I'll be more entertaining.


btw, USC and Arizona, you suck. wtf. And Belmont, I was rooting for you even though you would have killed my bracket.

Impossible magnetic settling times...

This is a conversation I had earlier this evening with a fellow aerospace engineer. If you know physics, you'll get a bit of this. If you're an engineer, you'll get more. If you're an aerospace engineer in ENAE432, then you'll probably both laugh because you get it and shake your head...because you get it.

Chris: we're getting the same torque, so that's a good thing

Chris: and for the last couple of parts, it doesn't seem like they will take that long

Chris: you know what class I don't like when dealing with hw?

Chris: aerodynamics

Jenn: we're less than 2% off, and if it's good enough for Sanner, it's good enough for me

Chris: haha

Jenn: oh aero

Chris: our settling time was.....about an hour

Jenn: only an hour?

Jenn: it's been about 5 for me

Jenn: and that's just today

Chris: to settle on almost match answers, I mean

Wrightie 05: oh right

Chris: Im not sure what the "time to get an actual answer" equation is

Chris: or what our poles are....

Jenn: that could be infinite

Jenn: I'm pretty sure I could do this forever

Jenn: and I wouldn't get the exact right answer

Jenn: as for my poles, they're definitely positive

Chris: technically it would be indefinite then, because you would die before getting the right answer

Chris: or the "write" answer, if you will

Chris: if you were a magnet, you would be impossible

Chris: hahahaha

Chris: I crack me up

Jenn: well I'll argue that since there's definitely a pi in there somewhere, you couldn't even "write" the whole answer before you died if you had the "right" answer

Chris: this is probably the dorkiest and simultaneously most awesome conversation I've ever had

True Life: I'm an Aerospace Engineer. Coming soon to MTV.

*sigh*

*munch munch munch*

I just devoured a bag of oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. If you were curious, that makes me awesome.

I realized tonight that a perfect job for me would be a chef. Because I. love. food. It's more of an obsession, I guess. And not that "oh, i need food to survive" kind of obsession. This is a deep "I should be 1200 lbs with the crap that I eat" obsession. I'm fairly certain that I'm going to develop either diabetes or a rather severe heart condition within the next 10 years. Sweeet.

No, I meant the cookies were. A heart condition, sweet? You sicken me.

But seriously, if this whole aerospace engineering thing doesn't work out, it's in the kitchen for me.



Steak would be awesome right now....mmmmm........

I'mmmm Back!

I haven't posted for a while, so here's a quick summary of my time away:

Monday-Friday: Homework, homework, meeting, homework, meeting, lifting, soccer, homework, study, study, exam
Friday Evening: Leap Year Party, I'm Busch Line!, V-Tease
Saturday: Oldman/Newman Football game (completely awesome), battered and sore, drum major dinner, waaaay too many strawberries, peanut-butter whipped...something
Sunday: Homework......homework......homework....homework....homework? Yep. See previous post for when I get back.

Annnnd now we're on Monday...or, well, Tuesday. For the most part, I don't have anything interesting to say.

I'm tired. Supremely tired. To the point where my brain isn't functioning and I actually just sat staring at the screen for ten minutes before I realized I had been nodding off. I may have even drooled a bit.

Don't tell anyone.

*twitch twitch*

Holy crap, it's 6am. I haven't slept yet.



Today is going to suck.