On the Suckiness of Real Life

I’ve been so bogged down in “real” life lately. Quite frankly, I fucking hate it. Schoolwork, social issues, health issues, monetary issues; all of it can just kiss my ass. Now doesn’t that sound so mature?

I’ve been working on getting better grades than straight C’s in my classes, learning Java, getting in shape (hmph), trying to be a productive citizen and all that, and trying not to kill anyone. It’s amazing how tired I am when I go to bed at night. I am getting sleep, though.

Logic Design is still kicking my ass, although I’ve found some good sites at other universities that have slides and the like. Unfortunately, things frequently don’t “click” for me until after I’ve turned in the homework, resulting in low homework grades and moderately decent test grades. My physics teacher… grr. I won’t go there. Suffice it to say I’m barely pulling a B in a course that is completely review for me.

Learning Java is frequently the highlight of my day. Nuff said.

Getting in shape is becoming fun. Actually, I should say it was fun before my latest complication. Question: should shin splints last three weeks? I’m becoming worried, and am going to check with a local doctor. Anyway, I found a little “National Road” that runs from about a mile east of Rose to downtown Terre Haute, and I do a five mile stretch of that everyday. What’s cool is the fact that on Monday (and Friday), on my return trip, I looked over into the bushes across the little road, and there’s a doe loping along with me. And it was real, too! Friggin’ cool. But right now I’m walking around like a fucking cripple, having to ice my legs all the damn time and wanting to cry every time I climb the stairs in my building and my shins feel like they want to break in half with each step.

And, of course, I am broke. Icing on the cake, baby. Oh, yeah!

My Rhetoric of Science class is introducing me to all sorts of cool ideas and folks. For instance, this Stanley Fish guy that cooly and calmly knocked that Alan Sokal guy flat on his ass regarding the “Social Text Affair”. At least, I thought he knocked him on his ass. Made him look like a big, dumb bully, he did. If you can stand to swim through Sokal’s “Transgressing the Boundaries: Toward a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity”, it’s an interesting read, as is his follow-up, “A Physicist Experiments with Cultural Studies”.

Another interesting character is Richard Dawkins, author of The Selfish Gene. Because we’re actually examining “rhetoric” now in the more classic sense, the analogies he uses to make his points clear, their connotations, and the reasons behind the analogies become important. Of course, so do his abrasive, dismissive tone coupled with his anti-religious attitude. My next paper covers these types of topics on a scientist of my choice in a work in which the scientist must popularize his argument. Think Stephen Hawking’s famous books (which I plan to snag for this paper, by the way).

I’m trying to work on a plan of study that will allow me to get a couple of minors and a second degree in Software Engineering. I’m not particularly interested in doing software engineering as a career, but if I should find myself in the field, I would like to be prepared. Plus, I can get a double major without overloading, which is crucial. Optimally, I would also like to get a minor in Language and Literature without any overloads.

I’m still managing to get along with almost everyone, although some folks are heading towards my shit list. Actually, one of them (Chase, as a matter of fact) is already on it, but once I steal the mallet he was using to uselessly bang on a wall at 03:00 on a Saturday morning, we should be cool. If I don’t smash his skull in with it first, that is. This ruckus occured, by the way, shortly after the false fire alarm that sent us all outside in pajamas in the frigid weather for ten minutes. I almost slept though it, actually. The Roommate had to rather forcefully wake me up.

There is, of course, a secondary living issue: the fact that about ten people seem to think my and Bridget’s room is the coolest fucking hangout spot on campus. Ten people doesn’t sound like a lot, but in a 12-foot-by-13-foot room, that’s entirely too many, in particular when they start randomly picking shit up off my bed and desk for examination. I’ve refrained from reminding them that I’m not their friend, and thus they can feel perfectly fucking free to stay out of my shit and to not sit on my bed. I’ve also refrained from complaining to anyone other than Bridget or forcibly removing anyone when my bedtime rolls around. The problem is, of course, that Bridget has too much tact. Or enough tact. Or something. She wants them gone most of the time, too, but she doesn’t want to mortally offend them, either. I have no such compunction. Something will happen soon. Whether it is done by me or Bridget or one of her friends, I dunno, but this will change. I’m not having it.

This whole living situation reminds me of something my father told me once before I evacuated his premises. This is, of course, to be ingested with a rather large granule of sodium chloride. He told me that his father and I all have a very similar mindset that differs noticably from his own. He said that with regards to dealing with people, he will always get what he wants and take little or no shit in the process. In that order. The Older Old Man and I, however, will simply take little or no shit. He said there’s a point at which we stop caring about what we want from a person and care more about how that person is treating us. And that that switch is flipped quickly. Also noteworthy is that, while my father is quite the extrovert (and would make a good used car salesman, with all the connotations of such a position), the Older Old Man and I are introverts. Actually, the Older Old Man qualifies as quite anti-social.

Trust the Old Man to leave me with that parting shot, right? I’m still thinking about it, so he wins.

[Listening to: Pet – A Perfect Circle – Thirteenth Step (04:34)]