Tag Archives: On Life and Love

At work again.

… it’s so silent… I love the study time, but fear for the rush that will come and consume me, lone HD operator, at any moment…

Boo DISCO II, yay catnaps, boo novel-reading.

Actually, just “boohiss” will suffice for this whole week.

Wa-pow, biatch!

I’d like to preface this by saying that Markov chains are awesomely cool entities.

I’ll also say that I found the opportunity to program them to be fascinating and fun.

I’ll even toss in a (*Grin*) for the grade the testing script gave me. Not perfect, but we’re definitely entering “time sink” area, and I can’t afford that this week.

Now I’m going to bitch about how many miniscule details fucked that shit up every step of the way.

Holy shit I have lost too much sleep for a project that was supposed to be review. And since I bombed the first 40% of the project, the best I can get will be about a 75%, methinks, despite my recovery. I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable with the ideas I needed to learn to complete this, but holy hell…

First, though: Math.random() sucks.

Spaces at the end of lines when justifying text are no-no’s. Insert un-zestily odd looping conditions to fix. (This one haunted me on my run (!!!) and subsequent campus walk last night.)

Unevenly distributed spaces are a no-no. Java’s Math.random() sucked ass for generating unweighted values in every attempt I made to use it. Discussion is brewing in the forums as to whether we should be able to evenly distribute the spaces (the test script checks for this) or if we have to randomly distribute the spaces (the specs say to do this). It does not seem possible to have both. I have done the former, for now.

Somewhere along the way I lost my ability to comment a book’s worth of notes into code; maybe because the program isn’t very large in terms of objects being manipulated and I can keep it all in my head. Bad practice, nonetheless. Bad Lissa. That’s all that’s left to do, barring a change in the above tidbit.

Have I mentioned that Math.random() sucks? Is my clock (used a seed) sitting perfectly still?

Hours, hours spent tweaking loop conditions and the order of statements and doing old-school outputting of variables to debug…

Another nice thing, however: since I’m going to be working on my next project over break, at least it’s an interesting one. We’re duplicating and extending the functionality of the UNIX cal command.

Or maybe I’m just a dork…

Experiment, experiment, study–oh, wait. No glassware.

That was actually Wednesday, Thursday, and today. So I’m cleaning glassware all day so I can do a study to refine our methods. I want to come in tomorrow to do the study so I can have an entire day with the lab all to myself and not have to fight over elbow space, but policy states I need a babysitter, and I don’t have one.

I got new running shoes today (not particularly cute, but they are very comfy), and I’m fighting my desire to run a week’s worth before Sunday, because that would just do no good. I simply have much excess energy I need to burn off before Sunday afternoon. I have coffee (or tea, in my case) with the Cool CS Guy, and I just don’t know him well enough to burst into the types of conversation I’ve been having lately. He might have a heart-attack, right there in the coffee place. And I’d feel guilty about that.

I have been having a lot of fun this week. Part of it is all this excess energy I have, which is showing itself through increased sociability, hyperactivity, gutter-talk, boredom, and the tossing of sexual innuendos back and forth with Luke (Always a bad sign, no matter how harmless. Always). Jenn and I are talking a lot again. We did a “Mexican night” last night, in which we strapped a young Latino male to our dining room table and had our way with him repeatedly–

Right. Wrong Mexican night. My bad.

Rather than that bit of fun, we made quesadillas, cajun rice, and guacamole, and had chips and salsa and all sorts of fixings. We ate entirely too much and ran out of silverware for dessert (eating cheesecake with just a knife is a risky thing…) and talked about politics and sex and weight and sex and running and sex and men and sex.

Did I mention how very glad I am that my new running shoes came in today? Jenn is walking around with a permanently shocked look on her face and I’m keeping out of arm’s reach of most members of the male gender this week. For their sake.

Oh, the Agony

Last night, I joined some girls on my floor and a women’s fraternity on a outing to a place called Pumpkin Works. Pumpkin Works is a plaze with various mazes (and other things like hayrides, methinks). Their star attraction is a 6-acre maze, cut from a corn field, in differnet shapes each year. So you go at night, with some buddies and a flashnight, and try to make your way through the maze. Similarly, there’s a maze in which you weave your way through extremely claustrophobia-inducing walkways of hay with low ceilings, interspersed with short bits of crawling and the like. They have other stuff, too, but those are the only two I got to see.

Now, all of this would have been fun and fine and dandy (and the corn maze was) if I hadn’t fallen while running earlier that day. Now, if that doesn’t sound silly, I don’t know what does. I tripped over my own damn shoelaces (I went and bought shorter ones today) and went sprawling, banging up both knees, an elbow, and a palm. Big, ugly bruises and a little blood, but no apparent serious damage to the knees, as I was able to walk the remaining third of a mile back home with naught but a slight limp. If I had managed to redo damage to my right knee, I probably would have just sat there in the road and cried and not gotten up. And thank goodness no one else came along the road while I was getting myself up off the asphalt and assessing damage. Talk about embarrassing.

So back to the mazes. The claustrophobia maze involved itty-bitty bits of crawling to move between passages. Now, when my knees don’t want to bend to let me sit down, or, once sitting, straighten to let me get up and walk, crawling any distance is simply out of the question. And when scabs haven’t even formed on the elbow and palm abrasions, sliding around in hay isn’t a good idea either. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just wanted to get off campus a little. I felt pretty bad about having to back all the way out of that maze after already forcing myself through one crawling experience that left me in tears–everyone did that annoying “I’ll go back with you” and “No, you aren’t ruining my fun by asking for one of our three flashlights to go back” bit. (They meant well, though.) I’m such a sissy when it comes to pain. Or a CSSE (hold your mouse over the acronym to see what it stands for). But how sthoopid is the explanation, “I fell while I was running today”?? Geez.

So tonight I’m enjoying having the entire building to myself while everyone, even the most socially recluse, are out hitting the Halloween parties. I’m just playing loud music and reading The Bell Curve for my Rhetoric of Science class. Grr. I haven’t read much yet, but my instinctive, defensive reaction to a theory that essentially says that, along with kinky hair, dark skin, and wide hips, you get less intelligence with being black is to wonder why, of all the possible interpretations of low test scores for blacks that are possible, they chose that one. A girl in my class actually said to me, “Well, you know, if it’s true, you can feel cool about being that much higher on the relative scale of intelligence than we are.”

What?!?!

There are no words for my response to this. How fucking petty does she think I am? It’s not from my cutthroat tendencies in my desire to succeed–I haven’t shown any of those, and I doubt I will (It hasn’t been necessary… Yet. Muah-ha-ha). I jest. Even I have standards. But how fucking petty is she?! And… and… who the fuck would even think, “Oh, I’m glad my race is less smart than other races, because that means I’m just that much smarter for getting where I am”??? Augh! And does she put merit into such an idea, or is she simply more open-minded than I am right now? If anyone had asked me what my IQ is, I probably would have just left the class, plain and simple. Well, I might have tried to get in a parting shot, but I also would have left and enjoyed the break before my next class.

I hate to go into a book so close-minded already, but I don’t think I can get over my instinctual reaction to that idea. I’ll still read the book, of course, and write the essay. The idea of American (or Western society, I suppose, although they focus on America) being divided by intelligence, rather than money (or rather, divided by money as a result of intelligence) or race (again indirectly) is a new one to me, although it makes sense in terms of the jobs that pay the most money (or rather, the intelligence we associate with such jobs). Herrnstein and Murray use some sneaky rhetorical techniques to get their points across, though.

One slightly funny aspect of this is my prof trying to explain to the class the controversy that sprang up around this book. I am one of the most out-spoken people in the class (yes, one of those three or four who dominate discussions), and the whole time he’s talking, my prof is sort of glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, as though waiting on me to make a face or an outburst or something. I limited myself to making faces, clearly visible from the front row, although I opened my mouth once or twice only to shut it when nothing coherent would come out.

[Edited for clarity]

[Listening to “Inside” [Jon B. / Pleasures U Like]]