I've changed the url of this blog to cpandreality.blogspot.com. This isn't really a response to anything in particular; I've just come to realize that most bloggers don't use their full names. Using mine makes me feel a wee bit vulnerable, so I've changed it.
Hopefully, this will not deter anyone from reading, though, as I welcome friends and strangers alike. Thoughts and comments are always good too! Special thanks to everyone who's commented so far.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A summer in reflection
Before the beginning of last summer, I told several of my engineering friends that I would use my internship at the Maryland Transportation Authority as a determining factor in my decision to stick with civil engineering. The internship was...interesting, but seemingly not enough to keep me on the path to bridge-building. I switched to aerospace engineering by the end of that next fall semester.
I had also told these same engineering friends that I would want to pick up an aerospace engineering internship the following summer to determine my interests in aerospace. I was fortunate enough to interview for a position at GE Aviation and accept an offer for this summer. And the internship, as it now winds down, has taught me a few things about where I want to go with my aerospace engineering degree. One aspect, though, always seems to crop up when I review my summer internship career:
I hate Excel.
Well, maybe not "hate", or else I would probably shudder with rage and disgust every time I was asked to perform a cost analysis via spreadsheet. But I am quite aware that if Excel were to digitally implode for the next several months, I would mourn for only a short amount of time. Very short. 10 seconds? Enough to sadly embrace the fact that almost every large business in the US was currently scrambling in a panicked and chaotic manner. (*end sadistic thoughts towards large companies*)
I expect Excel appears a great deal in every internship (at least the engineering ones), because the brevity of an internship as well as the lack of knowledge concerning engineering practices. In my department here at GE, Excel is critically important for all part information book-keeping. A little less of Excel, though, would not be a bad thing for me. Or at least, a little less of 3000+ engine parts lists.
If you had the opportunity to read my last post, you would probably have noticed it was a rant (something that NEVER happens in this blog *cough sarcasm cough*). That particular post was written seconds/minutes after checking my financial status online. Therefore, it was spurred purely by my emotion at that particular moment. While I do put some effort in to filtering my content for this blog, I do sometimes have my moments where I will say exactly what I am thinking at that time.
This sometimes - err...I guess more than that - leads to long, rant-like, complaining posts. And I'll usually label them accordingly in the heading. So when or if you happen upon that post, you'll know what you're getting yourself into. I had a friend say that this blog was my outlet for "creative bitching", and I completely agree. I *hope* I rarely say those types of things out loud, and if I do, I give permission to the listener to dunk my head in a vat of jet engine fuel. If you don't have that handy, then I'll settle for McDonald's french-fry oil.
But. These posts are not meant to evoke pity or anger at my situation, and are here merely for me to release whatever I have inside and for the reader to be entertained. Whether entertainment actually occurs is another thing.
I am by no means perfect.
I am by no means a failure.
If you choose to judge myself or my situation through this blog, then I can't stop you. But remember what this blog is, and that I am more than the words that form it.
Entirely random side note: I just came back from a meeting where we all got free Wendy's Frosties during the presentations. I'm still not sure why all meetings aren't like this.
I had also told these same engineering friends that I would want to pick up an aerospace engineering internship the following summer to determine my interests in aerospace. I was fortunate enough to interview for a position at GE Aviation and accept an offer for this summer. And the internship, as it now winds down, has taught me a few things about where I want to go with my aerospace engineering degree. One aspect, though, always seems to crop up when I review my summer internship career:
I hate Excel.
Well, maybe not "hate", or else I would probably shudder with rage and disgust every time I was asked to perform a cost analysis via spreadsheet. But I am quite aware that if Excel were to digitally implode for the next several months, I would mourn for only a short amount of time. Very short. 10 seconds? Enough to sadly embrace the fact that almost every large business in the US was currently scrambling in a panicked and chaotic manner. (*end sadistic thoughts towards large companies*)
I expect Excel appears a great deal in every internship (at least the engineering ones), because the brevity of an internship as well as the lack of knowledge concerning engineering practices. In my department here at GE, Excel is critically important for all part information book-keeping. A little less of Excel, though, would not be a bad thing for me. Or at least, a little less of 3000+ engine parts lists.
If you had the opportunity to read my last post, you would probably have noticed it was a rant (something that NEVER happens in this blog *cough sarcasm cough*). That particular post was written seconds/minutes after checking my financial status online. Therefore, it was spurred purely by my emotion at that particular moment. While I do put some effort in to filtering my content for this blog, I do sometimes have my moments where I will say exactly what I am thinking at that time.
This sometimes - err...I guess more than that - leads to long, rant-like, complaining posts. And I'll usually label them accordingly in the heading. So when or if you happen upon that post, you'll know what you're getting yourself into. I had a friend say that this blog was my outlet for "creative bitching", and I completely agree. I *hope* I rarely say those types of things out loud, and if I do, I give permission to the listener to dunk my head in a vat of jet engine fuel. If you don't have that handy, then I'll settle for McDonald's french-fry oil.
But. These posts are not meant to evoke pity or anger at my situation, and are here merely for me to release whatever I have inside and for the reader to be entertained. Whether entertainment actually occurs is another thing.
I am by no means perfect.
I am by no means a failure.
If you choose to judge myself or my situation through this blog, then I can't stop you. But remember what this blog is, and that I am more than the words that form it.
Entirely random side note: I just came back from a meeting where we all got free Wendy's Frosties during the presentations. I'm still not sure why all meetings aren't like this.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Because this blog is where I go to complain.
If you're on the University of Maryland campus for long enough, you may hear a popular saying about the school. It goes, more or less, like this:
"When the University of Maryland graduates a virgin, pigs will fly. Because even if you've managed to make it through your years without having sex, you'll still end up getting raped by the university one way or another."
It may sound brash and immature, but this saying speaks a lot of truth to a majority of the students, usually on the topic on finances. UMD loves its money, and will seemingly do anything in its power to dip into your pockets and pick them dry.
This is not to say that the University of Maryland is a bad school. It is, in fact, a phenomenal university, with some of the top programs in the world and a fantastic student population. Students will attest to this, but they will also tell you that Maryland has - at one point or another - managed to charge them in some unreasonable fashion or has been stingy with that ever growing pot of change it keeps from tuition and fundraising. Even with the over 25,000 undergraduates currently attending or entering the university, Maryland has sufficient funds (cough millions cough) to provide them all with some sort of scholarship. So if you were to factor in those who actually apply for scholarships and their credentials, the candidates needing money would decrease and the funding to each student would increase. I'm not going crazy, right?
So let's hear the story of student for this semester.
This student came in fairly sure he would be a civil engineer, but after learning more about aerospace, eventually decided to pick up an aerospace engineering minor (gee golly, who could this be???). He had mantained a 3.86 GPA up through sophomore year, and was now entering his first semester, junior year with 20 credits. These classes were split between civil, aerospace, and band. It was going to be a rough semester, but hopefully worth it.
Upon starting the semester, this student decided to pledge an organization that he had been curious about and admired for some time. He was told that the workload of that pledge process would be great, and balancing this amongst classes and other responsibilities would be a tremendous challenge. This student managed to survive the semester, and came out as a brother.
This student also came out with a C- in one class and a 3.4 semester GPA.
Although the damage to his GPA had been done, this student was still happy, because he was now a member of that admired organization. And he knew that he had three more semesters to pick up his GPA and come out alright. The next semester he dropped civil engineering to become fully aerospace, and balanced a lighter credit-load (18) with his new responsibilities in the organization. He also took the time to join another organization, this one focused more towards his career and major. He clawed out of the semester with a 3.65 GPA, which now brought his cumulative GPA to 3.74.
By just looking at the student's transcript, you would see that his GPA took a nosedive junior year, which is one of the more critical times for a college student. You would also see that his resume would be updated with a few more bullets under the "activities" category. And unless you talked to the student, that's all you would see. Unless you shared several hours of conversation with the student, which is what it would take to relay his year of experiences, you would just see those two papers. Your image of that student would be numbers and bullets.
And then you would make an important decision for that student - say, his financial standing for the next year. You would decide how much financial assistance to give him based on your "detailed" account of his college career. Oh, and that paragraph in his scholarship application about his "education and career goals in engineering." Nevermind the fact that some students have lives outside their majors that go beyond what they can fit on a single-page resume. That maybe a entire part of their lives has been dedicated to something beyond engineering or science or math or physics, something that would not necessarily boost their careers. They had made a choice to follow a passion and ultimately succeed in that area, but take a hit in GPA. And then they were given no way to relay that experience, life-changing or otherwise, to those who made the university's financial decisions. Because did the university care what you did outside your major and career? In the end, did the university see a student who had taken risks, reaped the benefits and hefted the losses for a passion, or a student who had the potential to become a big name and put the university on the map as "producer of the successful"?
Here's the end of this student's story, at least for now. This student applied for scholarships. He found out that the university, in their ever-so-philanthropic way, had increased his loans to help cover the costs. Those loans that he would HAVE to pay anyway - the university decided he should have more. And then they tagged on a little scholarship at the end, as if to say "look, we sorta care, but we would've cared more had you just done engineering."
I get how and why the university works. It can't take every opportunity to stop and review the entire college career of every student here - it needs to make decisions in an efficient manner. The university is run like a business.
But that doesn't stop me from feeling a little disappointed now and again.
"When the University of Maryland graduates a virgin, pigs will fly. Because even if you've managed to make it through your years without having sex, you'll still end up getting raped by the university one way or another."
It may sound brash and immature, but this saying speaks a lot of truth to a majority of the students, usually on the topic on finances. UMD loves its money, and will seemingly do anything in its power to dip into your pockets and pick them dry.
This is not to say that the University of Maryland is a bad school. It is, in fact, a phenomenal university, with some of the top programs in the world and a fantastic student population. Students will attest to this, but they will also tell you that Maryland has - at one point or another - managed to charge them in some unreasonable fashion or has been stingy with that ever growing pot of change it keeps from tuition and fundraising. Even with the over 25,000 undergraduates currently attending or entering the university, Maryland has sufficient funds (cough millions cough) to provide them all with some sort of scholarship. So if you were to factor in those who actually apply for scholarships and their credentials, the candidates needing money would decrease and the funding to each student would increase. I'm not going crazy, right?
So let's hear the story of student for this semester.
This student came in fairly sure he would be a civil engineer, but after learning more about aerospace, eventually decided to pick up an aerospace engineering minor (gee golly, who could this be???). He had mantained a 3.86 GPA up through sophomore year, and was now entering his first semester, junior year with 20 credits. These classes were split between civil, aerospace, and band. It was going to be a rough semester, but hopefully worth it.
Upon starting the semester, this student decided to pledge an organization that he had been curious about and admired for some time. He was told that the workload of that pledge process would be great, and balancing this amongst classes and other responsibilities would be a tremendous challenge. This student managed to survive the semester, and came out as a brother.
This student also came out with a C- in one class and a 3.4 semester GPA.
Although the damage to his GPA had been done, this student was still happy, because he was now a member of that admired organization. And he knew that he had three more semesters to pick up his GPA and come out alright. The next semester he dropped civil engineering to become fully aerospace, and balanced a lighter credit-load (18) with his new responsibilities in the organization. He also took the time to join another organization, this one focused more towards his career and major. He clawed out of the semester with a 3.65 GPA, which now brought his cumulative GPA to 3.74.
By just looking at the student's transcript, you would see that his GPA took a nosedive junior year, which is one of the more critical times for a college student. You would also see that his resume would be updated with a few more bullets under the "activities" category. And unless you talked to the student, that's all you would see. Unless you shared several hours of conversation with the student, which is what it would take to relay his year of experiences, you would just see those two papers. Your image of that student would be numbers and bullets.
And then you would make an important decision for that student - say, his financial standing for the next year. You would decide how much financial assistance to give him based on your "detailed" account of his college career. Oh, and that paragraph in his scholarship application about his "education and career goals in engineering." Nevermind the fact that some students have lives outside their majors that go beyond what they can fit on a single-page resume. That maybe a entire part of their lives has been dedicated to something beyond engineering or science or math or physics, something that would not necessarily boost their careers. They had made a choice to follow a passion and ultimately succeed in that area, but take a hit in GPA. And then they were given no way to relay that experience, life-changing or otherwise, to those who made the university's financial decisions. Because did the university care what you did outside your major and career? In the end, did the university see a student who had taken risks, reaped the benefits and hefted the losses for a passion, or a student who had the potential to become a big name and put the university on the map as "producer of the successful"?
Here's the end of this student's story, at least for now. This student applied for scholarships. He found out that the university, in their ever-so-philanthropic way, had increased his loans to help cover the costs. Those loans that he would HAVE to pay anyway - the university decided he should have more. And then they tagged on a little scholarship at the end, as if to say "look, we sorta care, but we would've cared more had you just done engineering."
I get how and why the university works. It can't take every opportunity to stop and review the entire college career of every student here - it needs to make decisions in an efficient manner. The university is run like a business.
But that doesn't stop me from feeling a little disappointed now and again.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
This is how my workday ends
A conversation I had with a friend from Maryland who also works at GE. This was over a program called Sametime, which is like the AIM of big companies. We are both very hard at work at this point, quite obviously...
Mary
i haven't had yogurt since in about 15 years...
so i don't know if i like it
Christopher
im about to utter an over-used saying
but "you won't like it until you try it"
Mary
*lalalal*
sorry i couldn't hear you
Christopher
nope nope, you heard it
i said...
YOU WONT LIKE IT UNTIL YOU TRY IT
making me yell...
Mary
stop yelling!
you're distracting my co workers
Christopher
I'm going to find out Brian's last name and make him actually yell it at you
that would be hilarious
Mary
haha i could see him saying it
and being really confused
Christopher
and you'd be all "whaa? how di...wha?"
and then you would both scratch your heads and I...
I would WIN
Mary
NO
you can't keep winning
that's not how the game works
Christopher
beatin you at your own game
Mary
i want to play a new game
Christopher
too late
Mary
i'm going to make new rules
Christopher
you'll never win
Mary
since you broke all the last ones
Christopher
shattered them with my glory
Mary
i'm pretty good at gluing things together
i can repair them
Christopher
you can bet I'm better at gluing things...together
actually, during enes100
Mary
hahaha
Christopher
I glued my fingers together
Mary
greatest accomplishment?
Christopher
with that super-strong modelling glue.
Mary
was it painful to get them apart?
Christopher
needless to say it took 20 minutes of weedling with a flat-head screwdriver to get them apart
Mary
oh wow
Christopher
a bit, yes
Mary
i'm not going to count that as being good at something...
i'm going to count that as... your own fault
Christopher
don't be jealous.
Nothing special, just the marking of a regular workday at GE.
*Just kidding, GE. I do lots of work! Really! But, I mean, at 3:30pm, when you're going home in about half an hour? I may not be all there.... but you should keep paying me!*
Mary
i haven't had yogurt since in about 15 years...
so i don't know if i like it
Christopher
im about to utter an over-used saying
but "you won't like it until you try it"
Mary
*lalalal*
sorry i couldn't hear you
Christopher
nope nope, you heard it
i said...
YOU WONT LIKE IT UNTIL YOU TRY IT
making me yell...
Mary
stop yelling!
you're distracting my co workers
Christopher
I'm going to find out Brian's last name and make him actually yell it at you
that would be hilarious
Mary
haha i could see him saying it
and being really confused
Christopher
and you'd be all "whaa? how di...wha?"
and then you would both scratch your heads and I...
I would WIN
Mary
NO
you can't keep winning
that's not how the game works
Christopher
beatin you at your own game
Mary
i want to play a new game
Christopher
too late
Mary
i'm going to make new rules
Christopher
you'll never win
Mary
since you broke all the last ones
Christopher
shattered them with my glory
Mary
i'm pretty good at gluing things together
i can repair them
Christopher
you can bet I'm better at gluing things...together
actually, during enes100
Mary
hahaha
Christopher
I glued my fingers together
Mary
greatest accomplishment?
Christopher
with that super-strong modelling glue.
Mary
was it painful to get them apart?
Christopher
needless to say it took 20 minutes of weedling with a flat-head screwdriver to get them apart
Mary
oh wow
Christopher
a bit, yes
Mary
i'm not going to count that as being good at something...
i'm going to count that as... your own fault
Christopher
don't be jealous.
Nothing special, just the marking of a regular workday at GE.
*Just kidding, GE. I do lots of work! Really! But, I mean, at 3:30pm, when you're going home in about half an hour? I may not be all there.... but you should keep paying me!*
Chalk another one up for the Recall List
It's funny how, when you're waiting for several things to happen that could be mildly exciting or enjoyable, they all seem to collide at once, thus making one or all of them inconvenient. Let me give you an example.
I have been waiting for some time now to see The Dark Knight. Everytime I would see a trailer on tv, I would giggle like a little schoolgirl and clap my hands enthusiastically. It looked really good. At work, I've been waiting (slighly less enthusiastically) to drive out to our testing facility and monitor a test. I thought it'd be all swell and dandy to leave work early, drive an 1.5 hours, monitor a test for an hour, and drive back. And then have the IRS reimburse me for each mile I drove. So while I would go through less than half a tank of gas to drive ~160 miles, I would make $0.505 per mile - or over $90. Nice, yes?
Fast foward to Thursday, where I'm looking at plans to sit in a cool theater and watch DK right after work and the chance to drive over to out test facility tomorrow. I'm happy. And then I find out they're probably going to test Thursday afternoon, and Chris, you'll be the one heading up. Damn.
I mean, I can always go to the movies later right? It's just one of those moments where life goes "oh, hey, wait-a-minute. You might be enjoying yourself a little too much there. I'm gonna, you know, turn that down a little bit."
At the moment, as I wait for the go-ahead to head off to test, I'm eating some delicious popcorn and probably annoying the bejesus out of everyone around me with my cacophony o' crunching. To make this popcorn even more lively than it already was in its fresh-outta-bag state, I purchased a powdery "popcorn seasoning" (Ranch flavored!) in hopes of making my popcorn experience extraordinary.
The taste of the seasoning is good. Real good. As in, I may have just licked the plate to get that extra ranchy-goodness. Something that detracts from the joy of my tasty seasoning is that fact that, like powdered sugar, if you happen to do that thing called breathing while you eat the popcorn, you're going to get a lung-full of powdery Ranch Delight. And then the following sharp release of air that follows exits through your nose, and all the ranchy particles act like some abrasive, snorted drug. I had several instances where this happened, and three seconds later, I'm coughing and gagging in my chair and my nose is stinging like I just took a hit of crack. Let's just say that there's probably a reason they don't sell much of these seasonings. (might explain why they were fully stocked)
Let's also just say that if I were to snort anything again, it would be that seasoning. Cause nothing beats a ranch-induced high.
note: I did not actually get a "high" from the seasoning, although some of it may have reached my brain. You may notice little ranch-style additions to my writing in the future, 'cause I'm pretty sure that's how it works. God forbid if I had snorted cayenne....
I have been waiting for some time now to see The Dark Knight. Everytime I would see a trailer on tv, I would giggle like a little schoolgirl and clap my hands enthusiastically. It looked really good. At work, I've been waiting (slighly less enthusiastically) to drive out to our testing facility and monitor a test. I thought it'd be all swell and dandy to leave work early, drive an 1.5 hours, monitor a test for an hour, and drive back. And then have the IRS reimburse me for each mile I drove. So while I would go through less than half a tank of gas to drive ~160 miles, I would make $0.505 per mile - or over $90. Nice, yes?
Fast foward to Thursday, where I'm looking at plans to sit in a cool theater and watch DK right after work and the chance to drive over to out test facility tomorrow. I'm happy. And then I find out they're probably going to test Thursday afternoon, and Chris, you'll be the one heading up. Damn.
I mean, I can always go to the movies later right? It's just one of those moments where life goes "oh, hey, wait-a-minute. You might be enjoying yourself a little too much there. I'm gonna, you know, turn that down a little bit."
At the moment, as I wait for the go-ahead to head off to test, I'm eating some delicious popcorn and probably annoying the bejesus out of everyone around me with my cacophony o' crunching. To make this popcorn even more lively than it already was in its fresh-outta-bag state, I purchased a powdery "popcorn seasoning" (Ranch flavored!) in hopes of making my popcorn experience extraordinary.
The taste of the seasoning is good. Real good. As in, I may have just licked the plate to get that extra ranchy-goodness. Something that detracts from the joy of my tasty seasoning is that fact that, like powdered sugar, if you happen to do that thing called breathing while you eat the popcorn, you're going to get a lung-full of powdery Ranch Delight. And then the following sharp release of air that follows exits through your nose, and all the ranchy particles act like some abrasive, snorted drug. I had several instances where this happened, and three seconds later, I'm coughing and gagging in my chair and my nose is stinging like I just took a hit of crack. Let's just say that there's probably a reason they don't sell much of these seasonings. (might explain why they were fully stocked)
Let's also just say that if I were to snort anything again, it would be that seasoning. Cause nothing beats a ranch-induced high.
note: I did not actually get a "high" from the seasoning, although some of it may have reached my brain. You may notice little ranch-style additions to my writing in the future, 'cause I'm pretty sure that's how it works. God forbid if I had snorted cayenne....
Monday, July 21, 2008
Oh, to be an engineer
Sometimes while talking with college friends, we joke about how students with different majors lead completely different lifestyles during school. And then we come to the sad realization that a student's choice of major has a huge effect on their personality, actions, and social calendar...and engineers got shafted.
Don't get me wrong, I chose to be an engineer and was given fair warning of the workload to come. But what I wasn't warned about was how all the non-science majors would spend their warm spring days out by the pool and cold wintry days out in the snow during the semester. And I would get to watch them through my bedroom window, as I suppressed a twitch that had been building from the lack of sleep for the past several months.
Whatever though. People do what they want, and it's not my place to go "Everyone sucks because they don't work as hard as engineers." Because in many cases, that isn't true.
My real reason for bringing up the topic of majors and lifestyles is that fact that I've accumulated a list of behaviors I catch myself doing that I'm certain non-engineers (and sometimes just non-science majors) don't do. Here are a few that some of you fellow engineers might identify with:
- I get frustrated when I can't rotate things in 3-D on my computer by clicking and dragging. Case-in-point, when I tried to rotate this blog page to get to my email. And it didn't work. And for several seconds I thought there was something seriously wrong with my computer.
- I think it's completely normal to go to bed at 2 or 3 AM. During the school year, I will actually plan my nights up to 3:30AM, and then think "but I need to go to bed by 4." Which leads us to...
- Getting only 4 hours of sleep a night no longer bothers me. If I get 6, I'm happy. If it's 8 or more, I either just took an exam or I'm on break.
- I think going out more than once a week is excessive. I will usually argue with anyone who tries to convince me otherwise because "I have too much work. I need to do work. LET ME DO WORK." Although there are cases where I throw a "oh hell" and just go out again. This almost always turns out to be a bad idea though.
- Over- and under-eating happens. It's normal. During finals week, I will either A.) Forget that my body needs food, or B.) Buy a bucket of cookie dough. Surprisingly, neither option ends well.
- I get a supreme sense of joy from completing any problem with calculus. If calculus was a person, I would marry it. And we would lie tangent to each other's curves all night...
- I've had dreams that I forgot my TI-84 Plus and didn't have it for class. And these dreams were actually nightmares. To the point where I woke up in a cold sweat. Also, when I do forget my calculator somewhere, I suddenly feel naked and extremely paranoid that someone will jump out of the bushes and ask me to perform intense calculations. This is not a joke.
- At least half of the conversations I have with fellow engineers are about science, math, or engineering. Almost any philosophical conversation we have will turn into something scientific. Conversations that involve being social will die or just don't exist. Usually, they'll trail-off in a series of mumbles and awkward feet shuffling.
- Dating means I have less time for engineering. And, honestly, it scares me. I'm already married to my major, and I have a hard enough time keeping it happy.
Those are just a few, although if you ask any engineer I'm sure they could give you quite a bit more.
Note to all the engineers: I'm in the process of coming up with a gang-sign. It will probably involve a graphing calculator or pi.
"Hyperbo-WHAT UP FOO'S?!"
*shiny calculators around our necks gleam in the sun*
Friday, July 18, 2008
When nothing makes sense
I would like to mark today as an important day. For today is the pinnacle of my absolute confusion and frustration in deciding what I want to do for the rest of my life. To the point where I would like nothing more than to leave the office and sit in my apartment sulking and contemplating. This frustration (you'll notice I use this word a lot on the blog - mainly because I'm ALWAYS FRUSTRATED) stems from a variety of reasons. Let's review them:
1.) I've had "notions" for what I've wanted in a career, most of them revolving around some sort of engineering. Past notions have included building skyscrapers, roller coasters, fighter jets, dynamic architecture, bridges, and supersonic transports. Lately I've been fixated by supersonic transports and roller coasters. Today I spent half an hour during my lunch break looking up roller coaster design companies and reviewing their various accomplishments.
2.) I want to be a creative problem solver. The kind that comes of with new and innovative ways to do things. Fresh designs and ideas, crazy things you'd never think of. Mostly, I want to apply these innovations on a large scale; not just some little BRAND NEW POLISHED METALLIC FINISH 8 SETTINGS appliance. Something that will make people stop and go "Wow, that's amazing. I wonder who thought/designed/developed/constructed that" (you all know you think in slashes).
3.) I want to make money. A significant amount of money. And when I say significant, I mean that I would one day like to make above $150k. Well above would be nice. Significantly above would be preferable. Enough to pay for a quality city apartment and an ASTON MARTIN DBS gahhhh *drools*. I mean, I wouldn't even need to buy the car - hovering at $220k-$260k for now - right off. I would be willing to make payments. Look how not-greedy I am! But the fact that I need a DBS is pretty much a given.
4.) I'm impatient. I see people in this company (GE Aviation for those of you just joining us. Up next we'll head to Logan, Utah to see quite an amazing squirrel perform aerial acrobatics! Just after this.) who have worked here for 5-10 years and are still sitting in cubicles doing what they've always done. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to do that. Just the thought of sticking with a single company for 10 years - equivalent to HALF OF MY LIFE - is almost ludicrous. Ten years of working, no less. The working where you head off from your home at 7am and get back at 5pm for 5 days a week for 48 weeks in a year IF you're lucky enough to get 4 weeks paid vacation. Also, when ten years is up, where are you? You're officially an adult, with responsibilities and kids and a lawn to mow in the evening. And you've just missed your 20s. As of right now, when I can barely handle the basics of life in the working world, this notion completely blows me over.
If you'll notice, a lot of these reasons seem to clash. And by "seem to clash", I actually mean "create an epically bloody-battle for the fate of the universe and the restoration of peace." The aerospace industry is quite high paying (woo, I'm on the right track!), but those high salary spots usually involve a cubicle. For long years. And slowly working your way up in management. The creative problem solving positions delve more into research, which in all honesty wouldn't be that bad. Except researchers do not hold the highest salaries and often only get to see a few of their slaved-over subjects and ideas come to a large-scale, physical fruition (in the case of larger infrastructure projects). Meaning that the term "fruits-of-your-labor" could result in you only holding one or two apples *....mmmmmmm*.
The job of roller coaster designer/engineer, one which I have contemplated since the beginning of high school, has unravelled quite the complex issue for me. We've all seen the newest in tall, fast, and innovative coasters that provide the thrill of a life time. But the more I've researched, the more I've seen how amusement park companies only put out a few of those extreme coasters; the rest being cookie-cutter thrill rides that pop up in all the big amusement parks. MORE research revealed to me that a roller coaster designer's salary is between $45k-$80k - a salary that would certainly provide a comfortable lifestyle, but not exactly the one I'm looking for. Needless to say, my research today was a little frustrating.
Yes, I know I'm picky and have probably set my career goals a bit high, but in order to find out exactly what I want to do in life, I need to establish all of the requirements that would fit my perfect job and work from there. The task, as it stands now, seems almost impossible. Which then makes it even more difficult for me to decide what I want to do my graduate schooling in (at least I know I'm going) or where to apply.
Therefore, I'm lost. Completely lost.
As it seems, advice like "follow your heart" won't cut it when your heart doesn't have enough information to make a decision that affects the rest of your life.
1.) I've had "notions" for what I've wanted in a career, most of them revolving around some sort of engineering. Past notions have included building skyscrapers, roller coasters, fighter jets, dynamic architecture, bridges, and supersonic transports. Lately I've been fixated by supersonic transports and roller coasters. Today I spent half an hour during my lunch break looking up roller coaster design companies and reviewing their various accomplishments.
2.) I want to be a creative problem solver. The kind that comes of with new and innovative ways to do things. Fresh designs and ideas, crazy things you'd never think of. Mostly, I want to apply these innovations on a large scale; not just some little BRAND NEW POLISHED METALLIC FINISH 8 SETTINGS appliance. Something that will make people stop and go "Wow, that's amazing. I wonder who thought/designed/developed/constructed that" (you all know you think in slashes).
3.) I want to make money. A significant amount of money. And when I say significant, I mean that I would one day like to make above $150k. Well above would be nice. Significantly above would be preferable. Enough to pay for a quality city apartment and an ASTON MARTIN DBS gahhhh *drools*. I mean, I wouldn't even need to buy the car - hovering at $220k-$260k for now - right off. I would be willing to make payments. Look how not-greedy I am! But the fact that I need a DBS is pretty much a given.
4.) I'm impatient. I see people in this company (GE Aviation for those of you just joining us. Up next we'll head to Logan, Utah to see quite an amazing squirrel perform aerial acrobatics! Just after this.) who have worked here for 5-10 years and are still sitting in cubicles doing what they've always done. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to do that. Just the thought of sticking with a single company for 10 years - equivalent to HALF OF MY LIFE - is almost ludicrous. Ten years of working, no less. The working where you head off from your home at 7am and get back at 5pm for 5 days a week for 48 weeks in a year IF you're lucky enough to get 4 weeks paid vacation. Also, when ten years is up, where are you? You're officially an adult, with responsibilities and kids and a lawn to mow in the evening. And you've just missed your 20s. As of right now, when I can barely handle the basics of life in the working world, this notion completely blows me over.
If you'll notice, a lot of these reasons seem to clash. And by "seem to clash", I actually mean "create an epically bloody-battle for the fate of the universe and the restoration of peace." The aerospace industry is quite high paying (woo, I'm on the right track!), but those high salary spots usually involve a cubicle. For long years. And slowly working your way up in management. The creative problem solving positions delve more into research, which in all honesty wouldn't be that bad. Except researchers do not hold the highest salaries and often only get to see a few of their slaved-over subjects and ideas come to a large-scale, physical fruition (in the case of larger infrastructure projects). Meaning that the term "fruits-of-your-labor" could result in you only holding one or two apples *....mmmmmmm*.
The job of roller coaster designer/engineer, one which I have contemplated since the beginning of high school, has unravelled quite the complex issue for me. We've all seen the newest in tall, fast, and innovative coasters that provide the thrill of a life time. But the more I've researched, the more I've seen how amusement park companies only put out a few of those extreme coasters; the rest being cookie-cutter thrill rides that pop up in all the big amusement parks. MORE research revealed to me that a roller coaster designer's salary is between $45k-$80k - a salary that would certainly provide a comfortable lifestyle, but not exactly the one I'm looking for. Needless to say, my research today was a little frustrating.
Yes, I know I'm picky and have probably set my career goals a bit high, but in order to find out exactly what I want to do in life, I need to establish all of the requirements that would fit my perfect job and work from there. The task, as it stands now, seems almost impossible. Which then makes it even more difficult for me to decide what I want to do my graduate schooling in (at least I know I'm going) or where to apply.
Therefore, I'm lost. Completely lost.
As it seems, advice like "follow your heart" won't cut it when your heart doesn't have enough information to make a decision that affects the rest of your life.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Too Much Quiet Reflection...
...usually means I'm at work. And avoiding my responsibilities.
Just felt like throwing an update out there for all of those who feel like keeping abreast in my life. (What do you mean no one cares? Don't you care? Why are you laughing like that?)
Friday: K and I get out of work around noon and start our drive to good ol' COLLA PARK WHAT (CPW). Nine hours later we actually make it to CPW and head-off to celebrate the 21st of the infamous Shub. Festivities include a bit of awkward small talk and hanging with some Maryland Imagers (sike those guys were crazy) before heading over to Turtle, where we party and dance (READER: Whoa whoa waitaminute, you were dancing?? CHRIS: It was dark enough for everyone to think my convulsions were dancing. READER: Ahh, ok. That makes sense.). Time we leave Turtle? 2:45 am. Yeah, you heard me.
Saturday: I roll out of bed around 11 or 12 and scoot over to Bagel Place with K and Shub. Afterwards, I sit in my room and enjoy youtube, facebook, and the like for the first time in 1.5 months. It' s a beautiful thing *single tear*. After some quality Kimmy and Phil's (that place next to 7-Eleven) and Coldstone, I make my way over to Courtyards to celebrate yet another birthday - this time only 20th. Tick off a couple of hours and a few of us head over to my Big Bro's house where I meet my GrandBig for the first time (real chill dude) and have an awesome time.
Sunday: I find my way to back my apartment and continue sleeping where I left-off, and then very slowly get up for a quick lunch before hitting the road again for Cinci. 9+ hours, pt. II, and we're back in O-high-O. O-joy-O (NOT).
Monday was our summer co-op picnic here at GE, which means I got to miss the ENTIRE day to listen to some of our severely well-paid directors/leaders speak and then eat hot-hogs and play corn-hole for the rest of day. Seriously, if I got paid for that everyday, I'd have no problem waking up at 6-something each morning. Heck, I'd even wake up at 4.
Sidenote: A fellow co-op turned me on to a contraption I've never seen before called a RipStik. It's sort of like a skateboard, only with just two wheels that are attached with ball-bearings and two different platforms that can lean in different directions. To ride it, you basically have to somehow simultaneously balance and give yourself some initial propulsion, then weave or wiggle your hips to drive yourself forward. So basically it's nothing like a skateboard, but, you know.....ehh, just look it up. But after seeing it in action and *attempting* to ride it, I am very close to buying one of my own. The $77 price-tag, though, is a bit off-putting...
Which is why I just spent the last half an hour reworking my summer budget! Creative thinking + organization = CHRIS GETS WHAT HE WANTS.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Frustration
You'll have to excuse me while I deviate from the usually Thursday format. At least, just for now.
This morning, as I was preparing to head out the door for work, I was inspired by a few bars of music. Something random that I had probably heard within the past couple of months, and which had managed to stick for whatever reason. But here I am, searching about the apartment for my keys, and this part of a song crops up.
The song, in a vain attempt to describe music with words, goes something like this:
It's a progression of fifths or sixths walking up a major scale, I think occasionally switching back and forth between the two to keep the major theme going. And as it progresses upwards, the music itself builds and increases in intensity/volume. So at the very end, just before it fades into some minor conclusion, there's the tremultuous peak of pure, solid tone. Of course, me being the nerd I am, this peak made me incredibly giddy when I heard it.
The song seemed to play itself over and over in my head this morning, as if an unknown figure had somehow invaded my brain and quietly placed a looping tape recorder there. Instead of doing what normal people do when this happens - namely try to remember where the song came from - I began to assemble lyrics to the music. The song, as I can now recall my first experience hearing it, has no words. It just has a tone, and from what I could gather from my sluggishly mobilized mind this morning, a feeling of profound emotion.
I can no longer recall those lyrics, although I do remember that the theme of the song was either being 25 or turning 25, reflecting on the previous years, and singing of disappointment to some long-gone girl. I had the powerful urge to somehow record this vague shape of a Billboard-Number-One-To-Be, but being on my way out the door, had no way to do it. And also I didnt have a piano. And also I cant sing.
Which left me plenty frustrated when I finally arrived at the office, unable to get the song out of my head and unable to record it lest I wanted to return to it later. Which is what happened precisely half an hour ago when I 1.) Remembered where the music had come from (a video I had watched three trillion times last semester. It was one of those SWEET HOLY JESUS THIS IS AMAZING videos), and 2.) Remembered I had created a full-on masterpiece of a song out of it this morning. But, of course, I could no longer remember how the song went or the lyrics.
So now I'm sitting here, flustered that I can't remember anything, and sure that whatever remains of my masterpiece that I'm attempting to piece together now is incorrect/doesn't sound the same.
For all you musicians out there, you know that musical frustration is the most mind-numbingly painful thing in the world. Something akin to having a limb removed, if I had to guess...
This morning, as I was preparing to head out the door for work, I was inspired by a few bars of music. Something random that I had probably heard within the past couple of months, and which had managed to stick for whatever reason. But here I am, searching about the apartment for my keys, and this part of a song crops up.
The song, in a vain attempt to describe music with words, goes something like this:
It's a progression of fifths or sixths walking up a major scale, I think occasionally switching back and forth between the two to keep the major theme going. And as it progresses upwards, the music itself builds and increases in intensity/volume. So at the very end, just before it fades into some minor conclusion, there's the tremultuous peak of pure, solid tone. Of course, me being the nerd I am, this peak made me incredibly giddy when I heard it.
The song seemed to play itself over and over in my head this morning, as if an unknown figure had somehow invaded my brain and quietly placed a looping tape recorder there. Instead of doing what normal people do when this happens - namely try to remember where the song came from - I began to assemble lyrics to the music. The song, as I can now recall my first experience hearing it, has no words. It just has a tone, and from what I could gather from my sluggishly mobilized mind this morning, a feeling of profound emotion.
I can no longer recall those lyrics, although I do remember that the theme of the song was either being 25 or turning 25, reflecting on the previous years, and singing of disappointment to some long-gone girl. I had the powerful urge to somehow record this vague shape of a Billboard-Number-One-To-Be, but being on my way out the door, had no way to do it. And also I didnt have a piano. And also I cant sing.
Which left me plenty frustrated when I finally arrived at the office, unable to get the song out of my head and unable to record it lest I wanted to return to it later. Which is what happened precisely half an hour ago when I 1.) Remembered where the music had come from (a video I had watched three trillion times last semester. It was one of those SWEET HOLY JESUS THIS IS AMAZING videos), and 2.) Remembered I had created a full-on masterpiece of a song out of it this morning. But, of course, I could no longer remember how the song went or the lyrics.
So now I'm sitting here, flustered that I can't remember anything, and sure that whatever remains of my masterpiece that I'm attempting to piece together now is incorrect/doesn't sound the same.
For all you musicians out there, you know that musical frustration is the most mind-numbingly painful thing in the world. Something akin to having a limb removed, if I had to guess...
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Happy 31st!
Upon logging in, I came to the stunning realization that this would be my thirty-first post. Thirty-first. Which, in actuality, is not recognized as any remarkable achievement. Twenty maybe, or fifty. Perhaps at one-hundred I'll even throw a small fiesta. The big three-one, though, usually holds no bearing.
But here I was, recognizing my thirty-first post as something significant. I had sat down thirty-one times to type gibberish which I hoped would relay some sort of meaning to a reader. There were probably times where the reader would sit down and nod in agreement when rifling through this blog, and others where they would choke on their Diet Coke and thoughts like this is madness! would crop up. In either case though, I had succeeded. Mission accomplished?
While the gibberish may have been more or less just that for you as the reader, these blog posts have opened up a little self-exploration on the giving end. Something I had not initially intended, because I was/am no monk set out on a meditative discovery of internal truths. I created this blog as a chance to voice a...well, voice, that may not usually be heard in an audible sense. Or not in the way that I would intend (listen to me *attempt* to talk and you'll get the picture). In my quest to come up with post topics, I've been forced to dive for material and have in-the-process made some exciting *cough* discoveries. And then I've posted them for all the world to, erm...decipher.
So now I sit here and stare at a discovery of discoveries. And occasionally correct spelling errors. And then realize why the thirty-first post is so significant: because it's forced me to see what this blog was, currently is, and will become.
There are few times (HA) when we have the opportunity to visualize all three orientations in time. Reading about an event that has already happened qualifies as visualizing the past; yet said reading imparts the past on us at the present moment...or does it? Making a to-do list creates a possible future, but that future is occurring presently in our minds. Which then brings up an entirely new dilemma: Words will always be the past and future, never the present.
Sure, there are stories written in ways that make it seem as if the plot is unfolding around us as we read, and each verb is carefully chosen in the present tense. But in the time when the light from the page has brought the shape of a word through your eyes and into your brain and your brain has almost instantaneously matched that shape to a meaning, the word has already reached the past. The nature of physics prevents us from ever reading in the present time, because every action requires an amount of time greater than zero.
Historical events may be recorded, to-do lists and plans may be written down, but no literature can exist in the present.
As I wrote that, I heard from all two of you who read this blog the internal scream of rebuttal. You have probably, in the seconds upon reading that last statement, formed some argument against my musings along the lines of "Live for the moment!" or "At the time that you wrote this post it was the present and when I read it it was the present and when I think this idea it is the present and blah blah blah." And such is the nature of the human mind. Just remember, this blog is - until such a moment when I decide the change the direction of my writing - a place for simple musings and unintended self-discoveries.
So, to recap and oversimplify...Happy 31st everyone! And congrats if you made it through this post without throttling the nearest object. God-forbid you actually did throttle something, and that something turned out to be a person. Although that would be slightly amusing.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Things you shouldn't do in the office...
- Eat deliciously juicy peaches. Slurping sounds + Flowing juices = Take it outside.
THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID.
- Repeat your name loudly five times into the headset until you realize that no one in the teleconference will hear you with the mute button on. And everyone in the office will.
- Nod-off at your desk and make noises like "waaGGAA" when you jerk awake again.
- Open your bag of Doritos with enough force to create a small, cheesy explosion and a sound like cars being compacted.
- Attempt to roll from one end of your desk to the other in your wheely-chair when there's a very solid column in the way.
- Write in your blog when you should be working....
NOT.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
RDTSFCM Thursdays (#2)
John: That kid in the corner is snickering again. What's his problem?
George: He's snickering? I thought he was just exhaling in exaggerated and partially stifled ways.
John: Yes. That's exactly we he's doing. Normal people, though, sometimes call this "laughing".
George: Well I wonder what he's laughing at then. It could be that bracket redesign PowerPoint we saw this morning. Fred did misspell "pylon"...heh.
John: Yeah, those 12 minutes following that slide when you were laughing uncontrollably and everyone else shot you concerned glances and awkwardly tried to continue with the presentation were real hysterical.
George: But he spelled it PILON! HA.
John: OOOH ok. The way you just said it definitely lets me know that he used an actual vowel instead of the usual vowel/consonant line-dwindler.
George: What?
John: Go back to reading your comics.
George: Silly Calvin and Hobbs...
John: That kid's outbursts are really starting to tick me off!
George: In this one they're walking through the woods-
John: Doesn't he know that work hours are for ACTUAL WORK?
George: And Calvin accidentally slips on a rock and rolls down a hill, dragging Hobbs with him..
John: You can't just sit there and read funny stuff on the internet all day. Overpaid little...
George: And when they get to the bottom, Hobbs goes "It's hard to pick you up after a fall if you take me down with you."
John: I think I'm going to toss this bottle of white-out at him to see if he'll take the hint to get back to work.
George: Hehe. You know, because Calvin pulled him down the hill too?
John: That grunt didn't sound like him...
George: Oh yeah, I just saw Bill from corporate head in there to talk to the kid.
John: *....*
George: I miss my stuffed animals...Do you think they're serving fried steak in the cafeteria again today?
Fun life update: I'm headed to Chicago for the Independence Day weekend. Should be good times. And, hopefully, I'll have the chance to go HOME HOME the following weekend. Colla Park, get ready - I'm for serious this time.
George: He's snickering? I thought he was just exhaling in exaggerated and partially stifled ways.
John: Yes. That's exactly we he's doing. Normal people, though, sometimes call this "laughing".
George: Well I wonder what he's laughing at then. It could be that bracket redesign PowerPoint we saw this morning. Fred did misspell "pylon"...heh.
John: Yeah, those 12 minutes following that slide when you were laughing uncontrollably and everyone else shot you concerned glances and awkwardly tried to continue with the presentation were real hysterical.
George: But he spelled it PILON! HA.
John: OOOH ok. The way you just said it definitely lets me know that he used an actual vowel instead of the usual vowel/consonant line-dwindler.
George: What?
John: Go back to reading your comics.
George: Silly Calvin and Hobbs...
John: That kid's outbursts are really starting to tick me off!
George: In this one they're walking through the woods-
John: Doesn't he know that work hours are for ACTUAL WORK?
George: And Calvin accidentally slips on a rock and rolls down a hill, dragging Hobbs with him..
John: You can't just sit there and read funny stuff on the internet all day. Overpaid little...
George: And when they get to the bottom, Hobbs goes "It's hard to pick you up after a fall if you take me down with you."
John: I think I'm going to toss this bottle of white-out at him to see if he'll take the hint to get back to work.
George: Hehe. You know, because Calvin pulled him down the hill too?
John: That grunt didn't sound like him...
George: Oh yeah, I just saw Bill from corporate head in there to talk to the kid.
John: *....*
George: I miss my stuffed animals...Do you think they're serving fried steak in the cafeteria again today?
Fun life update: I'm headed to Chicago for the Independence Day weekend. Should be good times. And, hopefully, I'll have the chance to go HOME HOME the following weekend. Colla Park, get ready - I'm for serious this time.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
If only I had a window to gaze out of...
Remember when I spent the summer not sitting in a cubicle? Because I do, although those memories are currently being driven out of my brain by recently stored memories of staring at a laptop and some short, beige fabric-covered walls. Oh, and the one with the growing pool of blood on my desk from repeatedly smashing my forehead against it. That was a fun time. (thanks Excel! NOT)
New realities and overly-exaggerated stories aside, my blog is being ridiculous. And not in that good "hey we should be friends because you seem fun and exciting" way. More like "when I check my blog I'm always taken to that one post I wrote weeks ago and dont care reading again FOR THE BILLIONTH TIME." So if you happen to find yourself reading this particular shenanigan of a post instead of an older one that appears automatically, congrats. If not, I am currently sending you instructions telepathically to keep clicking the "2008" button under "Archives" until no new posts materialize. This should prove interesting though, considering my telepathic powers are usually limited to hearing Lassie go "Umm, Timmy's stuck in a well again. Instead of saving him, you should probably look into having another child. Just sayin."
Bloggateering has become somewhat of a respite from the workday for me during lunch. Nevermind that whole social interaction with co-workers and seeing sunlight business that the others do. No, I sit and read blogs and guffaw awkwardly in my cubicle and then make vain attempts at posting something partially comprehensible here. And then fail at life. Which actually isnt hard for me to do, considering I like to set high goals for myself along the lines of "Earn a salary of over $1,000,000 within the next several years" and "Learn how to read." I think "Become President of the US" was on that list at some time, but then I decided that a.) the presidential salary is too low, and b.) I'd probably have to talk to and/or interact with people in that job. And we all know how that turns out. (*awkward silence shuffle feet awkward silence*)
Here's a funny bit of a blog that I like to frequent whilst munching on baby carrots:
New realities and overly-exaggerated stories aside, my blog is being ridiculous. And not in that good "hey we should be friends because you seem fun and exciting" way. More like "when I check my blog I'm always taken to that one post I wrote weeks ago and dont care reading again FOR THE BILLIONTH TIME." So if you happen to find yourself reading this particular shenanigan of a post instead of an older one that appears automatically, congrats. If not, I am currently sending you instructions telepathically to keep clicking the "2008" button under "Archives" until no new posts materialize. This should prove interesting though, considering my telepathic powers are usually limited to hearing Lassie go "Umm, Timmy's stuck in a well again. Instead of saving him, you should probably look into having another child. Just sayin."
Bloggateering has become somewhat of a respite from the workday for me during lunch. Nevermind that whole social interaction with co-workers and seeing sunlight business that the others do. No, I sit and read blogs and guffaw awkwardly in my cubicle and then make vain attempts at posting something partially comprehensible here. And then fail at life. Which actually isnt hard for me to do, considering I like to set high goals for myself along the lines of "Earn a salary of over $1,000,000 within the next several years" and "Learn how to read." I think "Become President of the US" was on that list at some time, but then I decided that a.) the presidential salary is too low, and b.) I'd probably have to talk to and/or interact with people in that job. And we all know how that turns out. (*awkward silence shuffle feet awkward silence*)
Here's a funny bit of a blog that I like to frequent whilst munching on baby carrots:
I had to buy this apricot-flavored toothpaste. Had to. When has there ever been fruit-flavored toothpaste, ever? And why not? Companies are forced to constantly “innovate” in order to stay relevant and exciting to consumers, so we get Giger-designed toothbrushes and glitter embedded in the toothpaste and tubes that stand on end — but where’s the flavor innovation?
I’m thinking the problem is that apricot doesn’t make your mouth minty fresh, and in today’s fast-paced modern hectic cutthroat world, Burning Mintiness = Violently Annihilated Halitosis. Apricot can’t deal with today’s fast-paced modern bacteria, no way. I mean, is an apricot even a full-fledged fruit? Is it even American?
I just bored myself with that paragraph. I’ve been doing that a lot in conversation, too, just slowing down mid-sentence and finally giving up, losing all interest in what I was saying and kind of drifting off. It’s like
Last paragraph: I SO DO THAT.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Letter to my Free time
Dear Free time,
Look, if you're going to present yourself at random times throughout the day, you at least have to leave me with SOME will to be productive. Because whenever you seem to roll around, a little voice in my head goes Hey, maybe I should lie on the floor and think of new ways to play solitaire. And that never seems to get me ahead in the long run because you can't Frenzy with only one person. It becomes more like "Solitaire in-a-quick-like-manner-on-an-individual-basis" (Note: If you don't know what I'm referring to then YOU HAVEN'T LIVED).
Take yesterday, for example. Here I am, having just finished my dinner when you decide to waft into my living room (because you don't flow, you waft). And before you had come, this very demanding voice in my head had been chanting "Go work out and be healthy" for some 12 hours straight, but when you rolled in it was all "mmm, donuts would be good." So then I went out and bought two donuts. And ate them. Where was I then? Stretched out on my carpet with a stomach full of tuna-pasta casserole and donuts, remaining in said position until bedtime. Wow, good thing that wasn't counter-productive or anything *grumble grumble*. We all know this certainly isn't my fault, being the model of perfection that I am. No, free time, the blame is yours. You sweep me off my feet and then throw me into a pool of laziness and vague ideas of card games. And I struggle for, meeh, three seconds? Past that, it's all over. Fine, you've won, now leave me be. So now I sit here and wait for a time when I will be free of you.
And I notice that school doesn't start for another two months. We still get to enjoy our amazing love/BAH-I-HATE-YOU relationship for another. two. months.
Paralyzing hugs or something of the sort,
Chris
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