I'd like to take this moment to thank the academic deities for scheduling my finals earlier than everyone else's.
It gives me a chance to gloat and play as my friends toil away at their tests.
That being said, I'm definitely hitting up the library on Monday. Their computers are faster than mine, and I can get a lot more done on Restaurant City.
I feel like I have more to say, but really. Now that finals are over, I'm back to being bored and lazy...Wait, nothing's changed.
Like my new layout?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
These Are the Words of a Gentleman
I vow that this will be my last blog until finals are over.
Today, I completed three course evaluations. This is not including the online evaluation I took for Physics yesterday, so you can imagine my chagrin when the third form was handed to me, a scowl chiseled upon my normally squinty-eyed face.
All in all, I gave good reviews for my classes, except one.
It's a one unit course that I need to take to stay in the Honors program. I spent more time than anyone else in my class because I wanted the department to understand the strong feelings I have for the course and the lack of respect I have for the department in general.
I told them exactly what I thought, and the words I used were exactly as follows:
"What improvements could be made for this course? What were your general feelings for this course? Be as specific as necessary.
Well, Honors Department, judging by the lack of quality in the reading material, I can only give a positive review for the seminar-styled course. Where else can you go but up? When a class such as this gets approve by a board, it gives me hope to know that I have experienced the worst of the worst, and that future classes can only improve from the abomination that is Honors Seminar. Thus, I would like to start with the basics, since I have been asked to be specific.
The readings that were assigned to students were neither thought-provoking nor informative. They were controversial only in name, but the fine students in the Honors program have quickly realized that the department must pick readings at random, because such an eclectic repertoire could only be the result of lack of thought, and not careful consideration. Thus, it is my strong suggestion to implement a strict policy of "interesting-only" assignments. That way, at least we as students will be lucky enough to read something worth our while every so often. We are very fair judges, understanding that complete interest cannot be cultivated or expected from this "department" and expect only a few readings that will actually pique our intrigue. Thus, it would be in everyone's best interest to discontinue the laundry list of rejected philosophers and sociologists that we have been forced to swallow with our noses plugged.
Maybe someday someone will care about these readings, but for the present, there is nothing that could possibly describe the worthlessness that has been our companion one hour per week for the last fourteen weeks.
Hopefully, from our input the program can head toward a different direction and scrap the format altogether. It is neither beneficial for the students nor the teachers that only mildly care about the course.
Our time would be better spent sleeping or reading FMyLife.com, perusing YouTube, or even taking pictures of our fecal matter and sharing it in a discussion format once a week. At least that way, we learn something about each other instead of pretending to care about topics that deserve a much higher platform upon which to discuss.
I would also like to take this time to congratulate the department for sucking out any interest I may have once harbored for the pursuit of knowledge. It must have been a top priority because in my near two-decades of living, I have never lost motivation to question or argue. It is therefore an accomplishment both for the department and the university that I now do not give a penny's worth of scrotum sweat for Morality and Knowledge, the topic about which this class pretended to teach.
If you wish me to be more specific, please watch the film 300 (2007) directed by Zack Snyder. I believe that many viewings of the film will adequately convey the pain I've experience each time I walk laboriously to class. Do not be fooled by the hopeful tone of the film's ending, however, since the survivor is not you, but the students who arise out of the ashes and blood to tell others and warn them of the folly that is Honors Seminar.
To be even more specific, I am a child of immigrants who traipsed their way to America amidst a brutal civil war that tore apart a country. It is therefore not a small thing to say that, after taking this course, I almost feel like my parents experienced that horrendous journey from Vietnam in vain, because the sidewalks paved with gold have been replaced by sewers lined with urine and feces. As a matter of fact, even that metaphor for the dashed American Dream cannot adequately scribe the banality and violent uselessness that I was forced to sit through every week. Though I do not pretend to speak for all the students, I can personally say that I would have preferred an eternity of waterboarding than another minute in this class. I would also like to say that I will enthusiastically trade in my first three children in order to erase the memory of this class from my mind. I do hope the University of the Pacific can compensate for the many years of psychological doctoring that will be required from this traumatizing one-unit nightmare.
I don't even know if I can love after this.
True story: I once saw Lucifer walk into the classroom and leave within five minutes to vomit.
No, he didn't return.
In fact, the only enjoyable part of this course was the opportunity to summarize my thoughts on the incompetence that is the Honors Department during this evaluation.
I hope this has been helpful."
Wait.
These evaluations are anonymous, right?
Today, I completed three course evaluations. This is not including the online evaluation I took for Physics yesterday, so you can imagine my chagrin when the third form was handed to me, a scowl chiseled upon my normally squinty-eyed face.
All in all, I gave good reviews for my classes, except one.
It's a one unit course that I need to take to stay in the Honors program. I spent more time than anyone else in my class because I wanted the department to understand the strong feelings I have for the course and the lack of respect I have for the department in general.
I told them exactly what I thought, and the words I used were exactly as follows:
"What improvements could be made for this course? What were your general feelings for this course? Be as specific as necessary.
Well, Honors Department, judging by the lack of quality in the reading material, I can only give a positive review for the seminar-styled course. Where else can you go but up? When a class such as this gets approve by a board, it gives me hope to know that I have experienced the worst of the worst, and that future classes can only improve from the abomination that is Honors Seminar. Thus, I would like to start with the basics, since I have been asked to be specific.
The readings that were assigned to students were neither thought-provoking nor informative. They were controversial only in name, but the fine students in the Honors program have quickly realized that the department must pick readings at random, because such an eclectic repertoire could only be the result of lack of thought, and not careful consideration. Thus, it is my strong suggestion to implement a strict policy of "interesting-only" assignments. That way, at least we as students will be lucky enough to read something worth our while every so often. We are very fair judges, understanding that complete interest cannot be cultivated or expected from this "department" and expect only a few readings that will actually pique our intrigue. Thus, it would be in everyone's best interest to discontinue the laundry list of rejected philosophers and sociologists that we have been forced to swallow with our noses plugged.
Maybe someday someone will care about these readings, but for the present, there is nothing that could possibly describe the worthlessness that has been our companion one hour per week for the last fourteen weeks.
Hopefully, from our input the program can head toward a different direction and scrap the format altogether. It is neither beneficial for the students nor the teachers that only mildly care about the course.
Our time would be better spent sleeping or reading FMyLife.com, perusing YouTube, or even taking pictures of our fecal matter and sharing it in a discussion format once a week. At least that way, we learn something about each other instead of pretending to care about topics that deserve a much higher platform upon which to discuss.
I would also like to take this time to congratulate the department for sucking out any interest I may have once harbored for the pursuit of knowledge. It must have been a top priority because in my near two-decades of living, I have never lost motivation to question or argue. It is therefore an accomplishment both for the department and the university that I now do not give a penny's worth of scrotum sweat for Morality and Knowledge, the topic about which this class pretended to teach.
If you wish me to be more specific, please watch the film 300 (2007) directed by Zack Snyder. I believe that many viewings of the film will adequately convey the pain I've experience each time I walk laboriously to class. Do not be fooled by the hopeful tone of the film's ending, however, since the survivor is not you, but the students who arise out of the ashes and blood to tell others and warn them of the folly that is Honors Seminar.
To be even more specific, I am a child of immigrants who traipsed their way to America amidst a brutal civil war that tore apart a country. It is therefore not a small thing to say that, after taking this course, I almost feel like my parents experienced that horrendous journey from Vietnam in vain, because the sidewalks paved with gold have been replaced by sewers lined with urine and feces. As a matter of fact, even that metaphor for the dashed American Dream cannot adequately scribe the banality and violent uselessness that I was forced to sit through every week. Though I do not pretend to speak for all the students, I can personally say that I would have preferred an eternity of waterboarding than another minute in this class. I would also like to say that I will enthusiastically trade in my first three children in order to erase the memory of this class from my mind. I do hope the University of the Pacific can compensate for the many years of psychological doctoring that will be required from this traumatizing one-unit nightmare.
I don't even know if I can love after this.
True story: I once saw Lucifer walk into the classroom and leave within five minutes to vomit.
No, he didn't return.
In fact, the only enjoyable part of this course was the opportunity to summarize my thoughts on the incompetence that is the Honors Department during this evaluation.
I hope this has been helpful."
Wait.
These evaluations are anonymous, right?
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Hammer of Thor! (May 4)
The thought of failure is inevitably and inexorably instilled upon our bodies and souls. Evolutionarily, we have been physically set up to survive, our bodies nothing more than the sum of the parts that we use as a tool to ensure the survival of our species. Our minds and thoughts often care little more than survival, chemicals being freely transferred across our endocrine system and nervous system to coordinate our bodies to ourselves and other bodies. Our brain is the center of it all, cephalization ensuring our most important physical attribute goes protected.
And there is no profound argument that can claim we are more than animals, more than the rocks that we lightly throw and skim upon the surfaces of our reservoirs. There is nothing that can convince me that there is purpose, that there is something more than the physical world that matters. There is nothing that can claim with correct reasoning that humanity is somehow “different” than others, not in the physical sense, obviously. There is no argument that can possibly prove that humans are somehow “more important” than anything else in the grand scheme, long term existence.
Except for the argument of love.
Yes, I’m fuckin’ around. I hate finals.
And there is no profound argument that can claim we are more than animals, more than the rocks that we lightly throw and skim upon the surfaces of our reservoirs. There is nothing that can convince me that there is purpose, that there is something more than the physical world that matters. There is nothing that can claim with correct reasoning that humanity is somehow “different” than others, not in the physical sense, obviously. There is no argument that can possibly prove that humans are somehow “more important” than anything else in the grand scheme, long term existence.
Except for the argument of love.
Yes, I’m fuckin’ around. I hate finals.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Fizz THIS, physics!
I had an interesting talk with Sean and Eric today.
It was short, but very profound. Michael even had some input.
To keep it brief, it went along the lines of, "Andrew, get the fuck out of our room. We're trying to sleep."
GIRUGAMESH!
Eric Woo is an interesting character. I'm glad to be living under him next year. I'm only saying that because he reads my blog (not Sean).
Anyways, sometimes I spend lots of time in Sean and Eric's room. Now, there are probably trillions of things I could say about that particular room in Casa Werner, but I'll spare you the (often) gory details.
Eric likes to webcam with his girlfriend a lot. I get it. Love. Or whatever.
Oftentimes when I'm in the room, Eric just chills with his girlfriend, Kelly, on the webcam. Her face is always on his screen, or at least moving in and out of focus as he changes his windows. Sometimes the window with her face isn't showing, but it's definitely minimized, or behind, ready to be opened at Eric's whim. Thus, she can always see what's happening in his room and he hers. They don't always talk, just kind of simulate each other's company the best they can. Therefore, since she's so far away, her window is always on. I mean ALWAYS. All the more power to them, I suppose. Love, or whatever, right?
Anyways, while Eric was chillaxin' in the bathroom the other day, I was talking with Sean and decided to weigh myself. I put the scale in front of Eric's desk, but before I could weigh myself, Sean interjected, "Don't weigh yourself with jeans, dude. It's going to add at least two pounds."
So, being as comfortable as I am around my friends, I took off my pants and jacket and shirt, pretty much stripping down to my boxers and one sock. This was at Sean's request actually. I guess he has a limit.
I weigh myself, a modest 168 pounds, and it goes on pretty much without incident. Then, for some reason, Sean and I thought it'd be hilarious if Eric came back to the room as I was weighing myself almost butt naked and just staring at the door on the scale. So, I proceed to stand there, keeping myself busy by checking out my rippling abdominal muscle (yes, just one) until Eric returned, where I would be sure to reward myself with laughter at his expression.
It all worked according to plan. Eric opened the door and gave me a really funny look, and I, still standing on the scale in front of his desk near naked, burst out in laughter. Sean and Eric chuckled as well, but Eric was chuckling for a different reason.
Sorry, Kelly.
It was short, but very profound. Michael even had some input.
To keep it brief, it went along the lines of, "Andrew, get the fuck out of our room. We're trying to sleep."
GIRUGAMESH!
Eric Woo is an interesting character. I'm glad to be living under him next year. I'm only saying that because he reads my blog (not Sean).
Anyways, sometimes I spend lots of time in Sean and Eric's room. Now, there are probably trillions of things I could say about that particular room in Casa Werner, but I'll spare you the (often) gory details.
Eric likes to webcam with his girlfriend a lot. I get it. Love. Or whatever.
Oftentimes when I'm in the room, Eric just chills with his girlfriend, Kelly, on the webcam. Her face is always on his screen, or at least moving in and out of focus as he changes his windows. Sometimes the window with her face isn't showing, but it's definitely minimized, or behind, ready to be opened at Eric's whim. Thus, she can always see what's happening in his room and he hers. They don't always talk, just kind of simulate each other's company the best they can. Therefore, since she's so far away, her window is always on. I mean ALWAYS. All the more power to them, I suppose. Love, or whatever, right?
Anyways, while Eric was chillaxin' in the bathroom the other day, I was talking with Sean and decided to weigh myself. I put the scale in front of Eric's desk, but before I could weigh myself, Sean interjected, "Don't weigh yourself with jeans, dude. It's going to add at least two pounds."
So, being as comfortable as I am around my friends, I took off my pants and jacket and shirt, pretty much stripping down to my boxers and one sock. This was at Sean's request actually. I guess he has a limit.
I weigh myself, a modest 168 pounds, and it goes on pretty much without incident. Then, for some reason, Sean and I thought it'd be hilarious if Eric came back to the room as I was weighing myself almost butt naked and just staring at the door on the scale. So, I proceed to stand there, keeping myself busy by checking out my rippling abdominal muscle (yes, just one) until Eric returned, where I would be sure to reward myself with laughter at his expression.
It all worked according to plan. Eric opened the door and gave me a really funny look, and I, still standing on the scale in front of his desk near naked, burst out in laughter. Sean and Eric chuckled as well, but Eric was chuckling for a different reason.
Sorry, Kelly.
Heavy is the Head
There are probably a million things about which I could write right now, zillions of thoughts and tangents whizzing and orbiting the ventricles of my brain. The brain truly is the original information highway. There is no higher way.
The mind is truly the original freeway, for what can chain down the mind but the mind itself?
There are probably more than a million things about which I could base this entry, but I can only choose a limited amount of these things. In fact, if you agree with the notion, and I don't necessarily do, that with the sheer amount of cognitive ability and expressive forms of language there is an infinite possibility of things I could be writing at this moment, then in essence, no matter what I write, it amounts of nothing, mathematically speaking.
From a purely mathematical standpoint, if there is an infinite amount of possibilities that could be read right here, right now, then it stands to reason that this particular possibility is a fraction of all the possibilities.
Every letter that is placed, every word, every sentence, paragraph, comma that I decide to type, could be anything else. Therefore, there is (almost) an infinite number of possibilities that could have been here. You could have been reading an infinite amount of other things by now.
Thus, what you have just read, or are reading, is only one possibility of infinity. In mathematics, a finite number over an infinite number is deemed negligible. Thus, mathematically speaking, what I'm writing amounts to nothing.
You have literally just read nothing.
That being said, I'd like to blog about naming my kids.
Now, I cannot vouch for all of humanity, though sometimes I pretend I can, but in my experience, a large percentage of the population has at one point considered names for their future children.
Personally, when I mull over names for my children, the first test I do is what I call the "Tease Test." In essence, if I can come up with a nickname that will make the owner of the name feel bad, I reject it immediately.
For example, let's say I wanted to name my child "Frederick." Nicknames for my kid would include, but certainly aren't limited to, "Fred," "Freddie," "Rick," "Derrick," etc.
The most obvious of these is "Fred." Unfortunately for Fred, if he ever wet his bed, he would not only feel the shame of his lack of bladder control, but such shame would be compounded if kids call him "Wet Bed Fred". Do you see what I mean? I rejected the name "Frederick" a long time ago. You should too.
One of my greatest fears is to name my child something that he or she regrets as he or she grows up. It does break a parent's heart to see their child being teased. Sometimes it hurts more for the parent than the child.
So far, the names I've approved are only for my daughters.
They include:
Kimimela - Sioux for "butterfly"
Aiyana - Sioux for "eternal blossom"
Inaya - Arabic for "solitude, kindness, grace"
Evania - Greek for "tranquil"
Most of these names all leave open the possibility of deriving a Vietnamese name from each of them (KIMimela, AiyANa, EVANia).
I've put some research into this, actually. I don't know why it matters. I probably don't know if I'll even have kids, but for some reason, naming them makes me happy. It's probably because if I give them names, it's akin to giving them faces, personalities and lives. It's like I've already had kids, and maybe it's that comfort of companionship that really makes me warm inside.
I've been doing lots of things alone lately.
I don't know exactly how I feel about this, but those of you who've met me have probably noticed that I tend to be sociable. So being in solitude is definitely a change in scenery for me.
But I think I've grown comfortable with being alone. It's not quite independence, but it's definitely an acceptance and a psychological white flag of sorts. It keeps me in tune with myself. Believe it or not, there are lots of things about yourself that you have yet to learn.
Like sometimes, when you have a final in a few hours, you just find lots of reasons to blog instead of studying.
The mind is truly the original freeway, for what can chain down the mind but the mind itself?
There are probably more than a million things about which I could base this entry, but I can only choose a limited amount of these things. In fact, if you agree with the notion, and I don't necessarily do, that with the sheer amount of cognitive ability and expressive forms of language there is an infinite possibility of things I could be writing at this moment, then in essence, no matter what I write, it amounts of nothing, mathematically speaking.
From a purely mathematical standpoint, if there is an infinite amount of possibilities that could be read right here, right now, then it stands to reason that this particular possibility is a fraction of all the possibilities.
Every letter that is placed, every word, every sentence, paragraph, comma that I decide to type, could be anything else. Therefore, there is (almost) an infinite number of possibilities that could have been here. You could have been reading an infinite amount of other things by now.
Thus, what you have just read, or are reading, is only one possibility of infinity. In mathematics, a finite number over an infinite number is deemed negligible. Thus, mathematically speaking, what I'm writing amounts to nothing.
You have literally just read nothing.
That being said, I'd like to blog about naming my kids.
Now, I cannot vouch for all of humanity, though sometimes I pretend I can, but in my experience, a large percentage of the population has at one point considered names for their future children.
Personally, when I mull over names for my children, the first test I do is what I call the "Tease Test." In essence, if I can come up with a nickname that will make the owner of the name feel bad, I reject it immediately.
For example, let's say I wanted to name my child "Frederick." Nicknames for my kid would include, but certainly aren't limited to, "Fred," "Freddie," "Rick," "Derrick," etc.
The most obvious of these is "Fred." Unfortunately for Fred, if he ever wet his bed, he would not only feel the shame of his lack of bladder control, but such shame would be compounded if kids call him "Wet Bed Fred". Do you see what I mean? I rejected the name "Frederick" a long time ago. You should too.
One of my greatest fears is to name my child something that he or she regrets as he or she grows up. It does break a parent's heart to see their child being teased. Sometimes it hurts more for the parent than the child.
So far, the names I've approved are only for my daughters.
They include:
Kimimela - Sioux for "butterfly"
Aiyana - Sioux for "eternal blossom"
Inaya - Arabic for "solitude, kindness, grace"
Evania - Greek for "tranquil"
Most of these names all leave open the possibility of deriving a Vietnamese name from each of them (KIMimela, AiyANa, EVANia).
I've put some research into this, actually. I don't know why it matters. I probably don't know if I'll even have kids, but for some reason, naming them makes me happy. It's probably because if I give them names, it's akin to giving them faces, personalities and lives. It's like I've already had kids, and maybe it's that comfort of companionship that really makes me warm inside.
I've been doing lots of things alone lately.
I don't know exactly how I feel about this, but those of you who've met me have probably noticed that I tend to be sociable. So being in solitude is definitely a change in scenery for me.
But I think I've grown comfortable with being alone. It's not quite independence, but it's definitely an acceptance and a psychological white flag of sorts. It keeps me in tune with myself. Believe it or not, there are lots of things about yourself that you have yet to learn.
Like sometimes, when you have a final in a few hours, you just find lots of reasons to blog instead of studying.
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