I'm Home

:)

What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?

You know, there are studies that seem to indicate fatigue by lack of sleep can be just as deadly as alcoholic intoxication on the road. Awareness and reaction time drop quite a bit in both cases. So, if being chronically sleep deprived is the same as being drunk, what are all us poor college students to do? I think everyone of you would agree with me when I say that fatigue is intrinsic to being a college student. All college students are tired. It's just the way it works. So we're essentially taking our finals while drunk! And how many people have such a remarkable metabolism that they can down twenty ounces of vodka, take an academic test, and do as well as they normally would? Since all students are performing seriously crippled when they go in to take their tests, the entire system of finals is broken because it's misrepresenting our actual skill levels. It would actually be better as a test of our fortitude than anything. Therefore, I propose that the only students who have to take finals are the physical education majors.

Hey, works for me, and it's got quasi-logic to back it up. ^_^

~Paul

*Pulls Out Death Ray*

Any more essays want some of this?
...
Good.
*Puts Death Ray Back In Hammerspace*

Hey, everyone. Just thought I'd drop an update to let you all know how freaking HAPPPY I am that Wednesday has ended. That was the due date for all four of my English essays, my apology in Humanities, my reading log stuff in Book of Mormon, and generally the end of everything. Except finals. And now, I actually have some free time! I looked at webcomics and fanfiction! I got SLEEP! I was getting really good at not sleeping at all on a given night, and it feels so good to not have to do that anymore. Woot.

Finals are actually not going to be very stressful for me, except for Japanese. I already passed physical science awhile ago, I'm doing an alternate assignment in Book of Mormon, the English final doesn't count for many points, and the humanities final is optional. Japanese will likely eviscerate me, but otherwise, all is mostly well. *grin&thumpup*

And by the way Batman Begins is better than the original Batman. Just so you know.

~Paul

The All-Important

*Scene: News Broadcast Studio*
*cool intro music: "It's Just You" by LMNT*
Paul: Welcome back to PINS, Paul's Internal News Service broadcasting. Following the exciting news release earlier today, we were able to get the stars of the day--Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable--to come in for an interview! How are you two feeling today?
Kim: Great, Paul, and I'm glad to be here!
Ron: Bondiggity. I mean, I'm on TV!
Paul: Uh, actually, Ron, we'll only be able to put up the transcript of this interview. Our communications department has some difficulty getting picture to the outside world.
Ron: ...but people will read it, right?
Paul: Yeah.
Ron: Cool, I'm on TV!
Kim: Um...yeah, Ron. You're on TV.
Paul: Anyway, I'm sure you two must be thrilled about this recent development. Any thoughts?
Kim: Yes, I am thrilled here, Paul! I mean, what Ron and I do has always been really important to us, and we're both really happy that we'll be able to continue. You got anything, Ron?
Ron: Yes, Kim, I do. I just want to thank all the little people--Hego, for finally ceasing his attempts to kill the Naco, Ned, for fighting the appointment of a spokesclown, Lars for FINALLY getting OUT of Bueno Nacho, and Drakken for getting the most beautiful chain food store ever made a whole bunch of press before KP and me put him in jail again. I'm very pleased with the court's handling of Drakken's confiscated property, Bueno Nacho being the foremost, and that it is now in the hands of a very capable owner and CEO. *sips water*
Kim: Um, Ron? We're not talking about Bueno Nacho here.
Ron: Wha--? We're not? But nothin' else happened...I think....
Paul: Ron, Kim Possible was renewed for a fourth season.
Ron: They--fourth season--BOOYAH! OH MY FREAKING--BOOYAH! WHAT UP NOW, EISNER? A BOO--A BOO--A BOOYAH!
Kim: Ron, stop break dancing on the table!
Ron: *leaps off table, grabs Kim and starts swing dancing* FOURTH SEASON FOURTH SEASON!!!
Kim: Ron...Leggo, Ron!
Ron: *lets go of Kim, slinging her onto her chair* I gotta tell Rufus! Rufus, wake up, buddy, wake up!
Rufus: *yawn*
Ron: Dude, we got a fourth season of KP going! We're back in business!
Rufus: Fourth? Yeahyeahyeah! Booyah!
Ron: This demands a party! Rufus and me'll get the snackage!
Rufus: Cheese!
Ron: Yeah, cheese, and mini corndogs, and slurpsters--
Rufus: King size!
Ron: --and pizza and nachos and nacos and tacos and... We have to hurry, Rufus! Party, here, twenty minutes! *sprints offscreen with Rufus to get food*
Paul: Well, he seems pretty psyched.
Kim: Yeah, that's Ron for you... he'll calm down in awhile, I promise.
Paul: He's on to something here, actually. He's getting snackage, but we're gonna need music. And more people. And more snackage. Snackage is important.
Kim: Okay, sure. You get music, I'll get Monique, Felix, Brikk, Malcolm, the Tweebs, Wade, everyone. Except Bonnie. Twenty minutes?
Paul: Twenty minutes.
*both sprint offscreen, cut to commercials*

Today Is Gonna Bite

I did it again! It is 7:17 AM! I have gone yet another night without sleep!
I don't recommend it. I will either be semi-conscious all day, or fall asleep after deciding to lay myself down for a few minutes.
It isn't like I just stare at the computer all night, either. That is a factor for a (great) while, but eventually it turns more into a tossing/turning/can't stop thinking about stuff issue. I do not recommend that, either.
Goals for today: write my critical analysis for Humanities 101, write the first draft of my critical analysis for English. Possibly have part of the first draft of my personal narrative, also for my English class. Also, don't fall asleep.

~Paul

I Like BYU Computers Better

Although these Weber ones aren't too bad. I mean, they don't have a cool background when they start up...actually, neither do BYU computers. BORING. $I 2 I like our monitors better at BYU. 42. You have anything to say, Maren?

"Yes, thanks. I like our computers better than BYU's! 'Course, I've never used one, but who carez!?"

Thank you for the commentary, Maren. In other news, Child and Family Development classes are interesting. I like Maren's teacher.
In OTHER news, let's try a poetry jam.

Black skies turn to azure blue
and take away my headache
and clean the whiteboard of my soul
just because I took a nap

This is Bob Evans, signing off.

~Robert Paris

To Whom It May Concern

As you know, Paul hasn't posted in awhile, and he probably won't for some time either. So, he's asked me to get on here and at least apologize for him. He's been feeling really messed up lately, and I don't think the amount of time he spends thinking about me and my story helps his mental health much. It gets even worse when he can't actually write it down, even though he has a wordcount to reach.
I'm not really sure how much I should tell you...but you're Paul's friends, so I guess it's okay. He's letting his sleeping patterns get really bad again, he's pretty worried about his English papers, he feels completely cut off from the other guys on his floor, and he feels guilty about not doing as well as he should writing my story up. I think there's more, but that's all he'll tell me. So, ah... he's just really exhausted right now. And sick. Give him awhile to figure out what he's doing and he'll be back to normal.
I have to leave now--my sister Lily wants me to take her to dinner. I'll be posting for Paul again in awhile, so I'll see you then.

--Kieran

Prologue

Inspired by Emmett--again--I've decided to post the first section of my nanowrimo. I will, however, only post the prologue, which is the first 2000 words. It's quite long for a blog post, but I hope that won't scare you away. *nudges a certain someone*
(Yes, Emmett, I will make sure I read and comment on your post...just when I actually have time.)

Anyway, here it is.

Prologue

The hilly forest was alive with outside forces in the night. This realm was normally undisturbed by all except the native animals after the sun disappeared—the small town tucked against one edge of the forest was populated by good, decent, mundane people who were in bed at reasonable hours. This night, though, there were people rushing through the forest, shouting to one another and snapping undergrowth as they barreled on their wild, erratic paths. The voices were tinged with fear and panic—held in check, but present nonetheless. Every one of them carried a light that shot a wide beam wherever their unsteady hand pointed, pursuing something that eluded them. When a beam of light fell across another searcher, they could see the uniform that marked them as one of their own number—sleek and black, with high collars, silver linings, and gold bands as decoration.

Two figures in cloak and hood—one bulky and towering at well over seven feet, the other small and slight next to him—crouched at a hole between two large rocks several hilltops away from the search party. They were, for the moment, safe from their hunters.

The giant made a rumbling noise deep in his throat and began whispering in a surprisingly quiet and smooth bass. “The searchers, they are coming this way.”

The other figure dipped his head in agreement. “And none too quietly, either,” he added in a hissing tenor. “We should move.”

“The plan, we shall have to use it,” murmured the giant.

Arms folded across the smaller man’s chest. “That’s supposed to be the plan of last resort.”

The giant began sorting through various pockets as he replied. “Our destination, it is known by them, yes? And my hiding place, it will not be safe now, just as the town. We are at our last resort.”

Silence hung between the two as the smaller figure shifted restlessly and glared at the sparse forest grass at his feet. “Alright,” he finally said. “Here, you’ll need this.” He produced a single gem—a large ruby that glinted slightly in the dim moonlight—from his cloak and held it out.

The giant, having found what he was searching for, drew out a black box that fit in his hand. The two items were quickly exchanged, the box disappearing into the small figure’s cloak pocket and the ruby remaining in the giant’s hand.

“Sultroth,” began the shorter figure. “If you need to, come find me. They won’t be able to contact anyone for at least a week, and we have time as long as they’re too disorganized to hit us.”

The giant turned away to watch the still-approaching lights. “Go,” he said. “The mansion, I will meet you there if I can.”

The short figure stood still for a moment, watching his companion through the darkened hood he wore to hide his face. Suddenly, he twirled about to face the distant town. “Make sure you get back alive,” he admonished. Then he was jogging down the hill, moving swiftly and without sound as he fled from the hill and the approaching searchers. He managed to pass two hills before he heard it begin behind him. The searchers’ calls to one another suddenly changed into shrieks of terror and pain. As he crested another hill, the runner could see flashes of crimson light on the trees around him. He had no desire to turn around and see what was happening. He increased his speed to a run, hoping to reach the town and hide before anyone woke from the commotion.

The forest began thinning into grassy meadowland as he charged toward an imposing fence of tall, thin bars that loomed ahead in the gloom. One powerful leap shot him unnaturally high into the air—he grabbed two bars near the top just as his feet stopped on the fence—he shoved off with his legs, his grip on the bars causing him to flip upside down—he released the bars and let his momentum carry him over the fence—he landed softly in a crouch on the other side with a soft grunt, surged to his feet, and sprinted toward the mansion.

Although the cloaked person didn’t raise his head to look at the mansion, the moonlight revealed its steep and sharp-edged roofs, shoved together and broken by dark windows with small fenced balconies. Higher towers rose sporadically across the building, ending in thin pyramid-like points that stabbed at the moon. Shadows played across the scene, hiding the corners and niches. The figure slowed as he reached a covered walkway and approached a side door, casting a furtive glance around the darkened yard. He hunched over the doorknob, fumbling in his pocket before drawing out a large brass key. He shoved it into the lock, pushed his way inside, and swiftly shut the door behind him. He allowed himself only a single deep breathe before sprinting through the darkened hallway and up the nearest flight of stairs, weaving past covered furniture. He began spinning upward as the stairs twisted into a spiral, pulling him up several floors at breakneck speed. He finally burst into a hallway and found an arched window, high above the ground, probably in a tower. The forest stretched across his view from the tower window. Tiny tendrils of smoke, scattered through the trees, drifted toward the sky. The crimson flashes were gone.

The man’s gaze was jerked away from the forest by something—movement. For a tortuously long minute, he could see nothing else. Then a single shadow detached itself from one roof side and began creeping toward a window below the man. Something was on the roof. The shadow dropped onto the window balcony, and out of sight. The silence was pierced by glass shattering. The shadow was inside.

The cloaked man silently padded into the hallway and toward another staircase, one that led only one floor down. The window that the shadow entered through wasn’t far below the floor the man was on now—a surprise before the interloper oriented himself was possible. He descended slowly, testing the stairs with his foot before shifting his weight. The old stairs creaked only once under his careful step, but even that one creak caused him to freeze in place for a several seconds. When he finally reached the bottom of the steps, he surveyed the new hallway. There were no windows here, and the hall was almost pitch-black. The only source of faint light was through an open door ten paces away. The muted light that slipped through the door reflected in several glinting points scattered on the hallway carpet—broken glass. The man strained to hear the quietest noise—anything that might give him the slightest advantage. There was nothing but silence.

He inched toward the light, hoping to find some indication his opponent had left, any disturbed item that pointed which way he had gone—if he had indeed left the hall. Something suddenly loomed out of the darkness. Before there was time for thought, the cloaked figure’s fist was in the air—wood splintered and cloth ripped as the lightning punch tore into it, his hand sinking completely into the mass of wood. With a frustrated snarl, the man yanked his hand free from the covered furniture he had just destroyed and whipped around, instinctively lashing out with a spin kick. It connected with his shadow pursuer as it tried to rush the source of noise, knocking it off balance. The shadow stumbled into the light in the doorway before darting into the room. His black uniform could briefly be seen in the dim light, revealing him to be one of the searchers from the forest. The cloaked man stayed in the hall, pressing himself against the wall next to the doorway.

Long minutes stretched by; the uniformed man’s heavy breathing filled the silence like a metronome, keeping time to their standoff. After several minutes, the cloaked figure reached into his cloak, grasped something small, and crept closer to the doorway. He paused, listening intently to the gasping from the room. In one fluid motion, the cloaked figure dove past the door, throwing the object he held, a dart. He cleared the door—a lance of crimson energy burst from the opening, smashing into the wall opposite the doorway and ripping a crater into it—there was a tiny thunk as the dart struck wood. Another dart came from the cloak.

Just as the cloaked man was preparing for another leap, the heavy breathe in the room started moving—closer, rushing at the hallway—the uniformed man burst into the hall. The cloaked man reacted instantly, letting himself fall to the floor, causing a faint whump as he landed. The uniformed man crouched as he faced the black hall, holding a strange gun with a glowing tip that probed the darkness. Crimson streaks began leaping from it, lighting the hall as they streaked through empty space to strike pits into the wall. The second dart flew from the cloaked man’s hand, embedding itself in the chest of its target.

The uniformed man dropped his gun with a gasp of pain; his hands tore at his chest, yanking the dart from his flesh. With a shout, he ran back into the room. The cloaked man leapt to his feet and followed. He entered just in time to see the wounded man escape to the roof through the broken window. The stalker, still clutching at his wound, began staggering. One foot missed its footing on the steep roof—the man plummeted toward the grass several stories below with a shriek that suddenly cut off as he hit the ground.

The cloaked man dashed back into the hallway and tore down flight after flight of stairs, quickly reaching the ground level. He yanked a door open, looked outside, and stopped. There was no black mass curled up on the lawn where the uniformed man had landed, only an imprint where the shadows were slightly darker than elsewhere. Somehow, the man had disappeared.

Just as he was ready to shut the door, something took a step in the darkness. Another dart sprung into his hand from the recesses of his cloak; he held it ready as he searched the night for the source of noise. Another heavy step—closer, somewhere on the wooden walkway that ringed the house.

A deep voice broke the tension. “Tilmarth?”

The cloaked man—Tilmarth—sighed in relief. “Sultroth, are you alright?”

Sultroth, the cloaked giant, emerged from the shadows and approached. “I am not too damaged.” He caught the wary look in Tilmarth’s eye. “Have there been complications?”

Tilmarth gave one more glance outside, retreated into the still-open door, and motioned for Sultroth to follow. “One of our friends got into the house—through the fourth-story window. He also managed to leave through the same route, and it looks like the fall didn’t stop him from wandering off. Don’t worry, though, he won’t bother us.” Tilmarth held out the dart. “I pricked him with one of these. He won’t be able to hurt us now.”

Sultroth entered the building and closed the door, crouching so that he wouldn’t hit the ceiling. “The others, they are also no longer a threat.” He took an electric lamp from one of his voluminous cloak pockets and finally dispelled the darkness. With his other hand—dark grey and rough-skinned—he drew back his hood. His face was also dark grey and rough. He had bold, thick features. His slanted eyes were so darkly red that they were almost black. His hair, thick and long, was a dark purple mat circling his face. He clenched his blocky jaw and threw one last look out the window. “We must begin immediately,” he rumbled. He turned and proceeded deeper into the house. The shorter man also drew back his hood, revealing a milky face, framed by long, raven curls. His features were much more slim and delicate than his companion’s, and his soft eyes were a deep purple. He followed in Sultroth’s wake, his cloak whipping about his feet and trailing in the edge of darkness ringing about the light.

~Paul

So We're Doing Poems For Halloween?

Very well. I'm having trouble finding Emily Dicksinson poems online, the recent unedited versions anyway. So I'll do one poem of my own. If it sucks, blame me.

I Should Like

I should like to walk the night in solitude,
to see liquid moonlight
brush across snow
and dance through air.
I should like to be lost in the night,
to feel the silent peace
that comes in a world
aglow with light of
ever-faithful stars.
Why, then, do I fear the dark?
What creatures of my making prowl the night
and make midnight gleamings perilous?
Why is moonlight not enough?


...in fact, let's throw in another one. Because I can.


I Don't Like The Title So I'm Not Telling What It Is

I never knew I was disturbing--
I was too busy to see that!
My musing--my odd world
Demands--Claims--its rightful place.
I never knew that I,
Sometimes when I wasn't trying to be,
Could scare you--my mind simply works
At its own pace
In its own style.
But you would be surprised-indeed--
By how many times I've stopped
To watch--
And notice--
How terrifying all the others
Can often be.



~Paul

Explanation of o_0

o_0
Also, o_O, 0_o, O_o, etc.
Wikipedia: "(o_O) or (ô_O) Confused Surprise"
Megatokyo: http://www.megatokyo.com/index.php?strip_id=207
Look at the third panel.

So, to sum up o_0, it comes close to meaning, for me, "What the freak?" more than any sort of bugged out scepticism. It hasn't reached the the point of rational control that is required to make anything like rational thought even possible.

So, if it seems like I use o_0 a lot, it's because my dial is permanently set to "confused."

~Paul

Some (Not So) Random Quotes

Because I can't articulate anything right now and you people won't let me be quiet.

Anyone see a pattern?




“When you climb up a ladder, you must begin at the bottom, and ascend step by step, until you arrive at the top; and so it is with the principles of the Gospel—you must begin with the first and go on until you learn all the principles of exaltation. But it will be a great while after you have passed through the veil before you will have learned them. It is not all to be comprehended in this world; it will be a great work to learn our salvation and exaltation even beyond the grave.”
--Joseph Smith


“Salvation does not come all at once; we are commanded to be perfect even as our Father in heaven is perfect. It will take us ages to accomplish this end, for there will be greater progress beyond the grave, and it will be there that the faithful will overcome all things, and receive all things, even the fulness of the Father’s glory. I believe the Lord meant just what he said: that we should be perfect, as our Father in heaven is perfect. That will not come all at once, but line upon line, and precept upon precept, example upon example, and even then not as long as we live in this mortal life, for we will have to go even beyond the grave before we reach that perfection and shall be like God."
--Joseph Fielding Smith


“What we do in this life is chart a course leading to eternal life. That course begins here and now and continues in the realms ahead. We must determine in our hearts and in our souls, with all the power and ability we have, that from this time forward we will press on in righteousness; by so doing we can go where God and Christ are. If we make that firm determination, and are in the course of our duty when this life is over, we will continue in that course in eternity. That same spirit that possesses our bodies at the time we depart from this mortal life will have power to possess our bodies in the eternal world. If we go out of this life loving the Lord, desiring righteousness, and seeking to acquire the attributes of godliness, we will have that same spirit in the eternal world, and we will then continue to advance and progress until an ultimate, destined day when we will possess, receive, and inherit all things.”
--Bruce R. McConkie


“I told them I was but a man, and they must not expect me to be perfect; if they expected perfection from me, I should expect it from them; but if they would bear with my infirmities and the infirmities of the brethren, I would likewise bear with their infirmities.”
--Joseph Smith


"...I do not even believe that there is a single revelation, among the many God has given to the Church, that is perfect in its fulness. The revelations of God contain correct doctrine and principle, so far as they go; but it is impossible for the poor, weak, low, grovelling, sinful inhabitants of the earth to receive a revelation from the Almighty in all its perfections. He has to speak to us in a manner to meet the extent of our capacities...
If an angel should come into this congregation, or visit any individual of it, and use the language he uses in heaven, what would we be benefitted? Not any, because we could not understand a word he said. When angels came to visit mortals, they have to condescend to and assume, more or less, the condition of mortals, they have to descend to our capacities in order to communicate with us. I make these remarks to show you that the kingdom of Heaven is not yet complete upon the earth. Why? Because the people are not prepared to receive it in its completeness, for they are not complete or perfect themselves.
The laws that the Lord has given are not fully perfect, because the people could not receive them in their perfect fulness; but they can receive a little here and a little there, a little to-day and a little to-morrow, a little more next week, and a little more in advance of that next year, if they make a wise improvement upon every little they receive; if they do not, they are left in the shade, and the light which the Lord reveals will appear darkness to them, and the kingdom of heaven will travel on and leave them groping. Hence, if we wish to act upon the fulness of the knowledge that the Lord designs to reveal, little by little, to the inhabitants of the earth, we must improve upon every little as it is revealed."
--Brigham Young


"For me, the plan of salvation must be a system that is pure and holy in all its points; it must reveal things that no other Church or kingdom can reveal; it must circumscribe the knowledge that is upon the face of the earth, or it is not from God. Such a plan incorporates every system of true doctrine on the earth, whether it be ecclesiastical, moral, philosophical, or civil: it incorporates all good laws that have been made from the days of Adam until now; it swallows up the laws of nations, for it exceeds them all in knowledge and purity; it circumscribes the doctrines of the day, and takes from the right and the left, and brings all truth together in one system, and leaves the chaff to be scattered hither and thither. That is the proof to me, and has been from the beginning, that the principles are pure and holy; and every person living to them will attain through them sanctification."
--Brigham Young


“[God] is using not only his covenant people, but other peoples as well, to consummate a work, stupendous, magnificent, and altogether too arduous for this little handful of Saints to accomplish by and of themselves. …
“All down the ages men bearing the authority of the Holy Priesthood—patriarchs, prophets, apostles and others, have officiated in the name of the Lord, doing the things that he required of them; and outside the pale of their activities other good and great men, not bearing the Priesthood, but possessing profundity of thought, great wisdom, and a desire to uplift their fellows, have been sent by the Almighty into many nations, to give them, not the fulness of the Gospel, but that portion of truth that they were able to receive and wisely use.”
--Elder Orson F. Whitney, as quoted by Howard W. Hunter


"One of the grand fundamental principles of Mormonism is to receive truth, let it come from whence it may . . . We should gather all the good and true principles in the world and treasure them up, or we shall not come out true Mormons."
--Joseph Smith


Now I get to see everyone's reaction. Heh heh heh.

~Paul

Postscript

"Who are you?"
"Paul."
"Who?"
"Your roommate."
"Oh."
"Do you get morning amnesia?"
"Yeah...like I can't remember anything since I got here, since...like, the weather. Does that make sense?"
"...Sort of."
"Zzzz..."

He won't remember in the morning what he said in the night.
He wakes, looks around, and mumbles a few careless words
before dropping off to sleep.
I humor him.
The simplicity is appealing.
I'm awake, not because someone opened the door
and wandered in at two AM.
I am the Wanderer. I am awake
because I must find solitude,
Alone with a man I cannot stand.

>_<

*beats anyone present with a rubber chicken*

Yes, Yes, I KNOW there are two other posts I need to write!

But I can't just now! All I can do is babble here.

Japanese midterms! I hope yours went really well, Emmett--you had your Japanese oral on Thursday, wasn't it? I had my oral this morning, and I don't know my score yet, but my teacher said I only made one real mistake. I finished the written exam about an hour and a half ago, and manged to pull a 96.1%. n_n

Remember how I took the challenge test for physical science at the beginning of the semester and got an A? Well, despite that, I'm still going to class and taking notes. I'm not doing any of the work, because that's just stupid, but I still go hear the lectures. Why? Because I'm me. What else would you expect? Anyway, circumstances worked out such that I found myself coordinating a small study group yesterday in preparation for the big test (that I don't have to take). Three other people came and we reviewed the concepts, made sure everyone knew what they were doing, and I answered a bunch of questions. I found it extremely satisfying, and that thinking about how to relate the concepts in my own words made me understand them slightly better. ... Just thought I'd mention how cool it was.

Okay. I'm done. I laugh at anyone who expected emotional posts this time around.

~Paul

x_x <=== In a weird mood of an entirely different sort

Another Poem... Or Two....

Upon Lacking the Genuine Article

Mementos
scattered around the room
hiding in corners
call up sweet times

Trophies
standing proudly on my desk
hard-earned through fire and trial
celebrate friendship and victory

Talismans
pulsing with magic
at the barest touch and glance
carry me though time and space

Memories
couched in my breast
filling my mind
be a strength to me


...yeah. All the little photos and random objects I have that remind me of you guys mean so much more to me now that you yourselves are not easily accessible. If I ever get ahold of a digital camera for myself, I'm going to turn into the sort of person who takes pictures of everything and, later in life, annoys his kids with the sheer quantity of souvenirs I keep.

I still feel like writing, so I'll put one of my old poems in here. Unfortunately, I have to search very diligently, because there was never a time when I was writing a whole lot of good poetry. *ducks thrown objects from audience*

Wow, I need to start writing poetry consistently again. Most of my old stuff I can't actually show now.... Okay, here's a really old one. I don't remember if I've showed this one to anyone before....

Deja Vu

This tune I hear,
These steps I learn,
Echo slowly in my mind.
I step in time
And learn to dance through life,
But echoes in my mind remain.
I know these steps;
I've gone through them before,
And this song I know,
Once, long ago.
I've done this before,
And recollection is a breath away.
But all that remains to me
Of this short dance
Is a faint chorus,
Familiar,
Of echoes
Through the years.


~Paul

Wrong Question to Ask

Are you going to put out a new post? I'd like to hear how your feelings toward college have changed. Or how praying in class feels. Or why you have a teddy bear as your picture.

--Chris [emphasis added]

.........HAAAAAAHAHAAHAAAH AAAAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAHAAAA
AAAAAAAAHAHAAAAAAAAHAAHAHHAAHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA HHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

..........Sorry. Won't happen again. Not for a few minutes, at least. It's one of THOSE things. Not sure what I'm talking about? Think about it a bit.

Anyway, you guys aren't the only ones being neglected here, don't worry. My journal also suffered for awhile because of my wonderful sleep patterns. Here, I'll show you my entry for last Monday.
[journal]
Monday 3 October 2005
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~AGH!
More to follow.

-Paul =^_^=

[/journal]

I would like to point out that Blogger is NOT graphics-friendly. Anyway, as you can clearly see here, I have answered all of Chris's questions. "Are you going to put out a new post?" As you can see, yes! "I'd like to hear how your feelings toward college have changed." That's not a question--but we answered it anyway! ("Hi, I'm Troy McClure!") "Or how praying in class feels." I believe the cat I drew took that question. If you don't speak Cattese, a translator will be along in a few centuries. "Or why you have a teddy bear as your picture." Heheheheeheeheehaaheheheh... "Or why you like cats." That question was answered by the second face. The one staring at something in a most unimpressed manner.

In case you haven't noticed, I've been having mood swings a LOT lately. "Guys aren't ALLOWED to have mood swings," I can hear Camille protest. WELL TOO FREAKING BAD. I HAVE THEM. DEAL WITH IT.

By the way, can you hear what little profundity existed in my previous posts shrieking out in agony as I write this thing? It's just me losing my sanity in a most unstructured manner. I thought I was going to try to lose sanity in a structured manner so far as my blog went. Oh well.
VIVE LE UNSTRUCTURED REVOLUTION!
TOTTEMO BENRI DESU YO!
NEIN, ES IST NICHT!
IIE, BENRI DESU YO!
WILLST KAEMPFEN?
HAI! KIIIIIIIIIYA!
AUA! HALTEN SIE! ICH GEBE AUF!
...Are you two done yet?
Hai, doo mo sumimasen.
Ja, ja, es tut mir Leid.
Good!

Continuing. Before I go, I would like to point out that my journal is currently purple. It's very impurplitive.

~Paul

PS *in a very creepy, very raspy voice about three inches behind your right ear* Hast du Angst vor mir?

Lightning

Just a little free verse poem I felt like putting up... I wrote this by flashlight from the unwanted shelter of my shed sometime in summer of 2004. That evening we had a brilliant display of lightning to go along with our wind and rain, and I spent quite a bit of time outside that night. I really needed an escape that night, so it felt like that storm was there just for me. Apart from sentimental value, the poem isn't really that good, but, surprisingly, it isn't angst-ridden. As a sidenote, I hate parts of my journal where I didn't bother to record anything because I was too messed up at the time.

Lightning
Lightning dances,
Just beyond my reach.
Wild and free,
Tauntingly
It plays across my dreams.
Thunder,
Lightning's twin,
Crashes all around,
The power and nerve
That runs beside its brother.
Rain,
My own twin,
Softly touches me,
Enveloping me in its arms,
Whispering comfort with its kiss.
I rest,
Listening and watching
As my friends come to sit with me.
I am grateful
For their sweet company.


I actually rewrote this and put it into my poetry packet almost two years later, so I guess I'll put that version here, too. I think this one is a bit better, but it has a pretty different tone. I should do a rewrite in the original tone sometime.

Storm
The midnight sky blazes to life,
white-burning lightning racing
across my vision.
The hushed air suddenly reverberates
as thunder envelops me, shaking
my insignificant frame.
My hot skin rejoices
as it feels the cool raindrops splash
into my red, swollen eyes
and mingle with my tears.


~Paul

"Gah! No! It's not a villanelle! It's a poem!"

He was actually right. My humanities professor was right. I didn't think he'd be wrong, because I've had previous experience to support his statement. I can still be awestruck and indignant that he was right, though. He said that after learning about all the techniques used in movies, we would be unable to watch a movie and simply enjoy it. We would analyze it to death.

So here I am, watching my Harry Potter music videos and, out of the blue, "Hey! That's a dissolve! It's sort of like a fade, except without the black screen inbetween. It momentarily leaves a superimposed image. It connects the scenes, makes it fluid, and also has cool emotional effects. That tracking shot as Harry and Hermione rush to hug each other puts the focus on them, as everything else is completely blurred out as the camera movies alongside Hermione. The blurring also creates the illusion of incredible speed as they fly eagerly into each other's arms. Nice high-angle long shot of the scene where Hermione and Harry are sitting in the snow together and Ron's standing about thirty feet away, on the outside looking in. One shot conveyed that. Here the camera trembling gives us familiar physical association to the amount of power emanating from Harry as he summons a Patronus. That panning high-angle shot was done at a moment when Harry was feeling very weak and vulnerable; it allows us to take in the Forbidden Forest's gloomy mood along with and enhancing his. A rack focus and a tracking shot are combined to draw attention to Harry's hasty retreat, even though Trelawney is making little motions in the background. Here we use a shot from directly in front of the characters, along with a tracking shot, to give the action a very intense feel as they rush about, dodging the Womping Willow. Had it been a long shot, the action would seem much more calm and strategic. It also gives us ample opportunity to see them hold hands as they dodge." It goes on and on.

This happened with Music Theory, with AP Literature, with the Hero's Journey, with Physics, with orchestra.... with everything, in fact, that allows for analysis of methods or patterns. We all have this tendency. As we understand more of the basic principles, we begin using that knowledge to understand the applications we see. As we understand the application, we can use it to create or plan our own works. And this isn't just for music, books, and videos. It goes for anything. Emotion, cognitive processes, history.

So what am I trying to say? Nothing, really. I'm just reiterating something that we all knew already. But you have to admit, it's freaking cool when first happens to you with a particular medium.

~Paul

What Really Happened In German Class....

I am periodically reminded that people tend to have bigger problems than I do; this always has the nice little effect of cutting any of my pity fiestas short.

In high school, my German class often served this purpose. I sat at a table with a very interesting group of classmates. One person was pregneant for part of the year, had a great tendency toward drugs and drunkenness, missed a few weeks of school to serve jail time, and managed to break her parole in six different ways. On top of this, she had no emotional bonds to speak of with her family and usually had to live elsewhere. Another person had divorced parents. He once told me that he could down nineteen ounces of vodka and not even get a buzz. He also once advised me, after wincing and grasping at his side, to stay away from masochism, the type involving razors. He said it hurts and is stupid.

Here at college, I've had a few more of these experiences when talking to a man on my floor. He had a great tendency to get into fights at his hometown, usually one or two a week, which he never told his parents about. He often wears black and hasn't told anyone his name in years. When he went to the campus counseling center, he ended up being placed with one of the better college faculty memgbers instead of basic counselors or psychology grad students. He wondered aloud to me where the line is between stupidity and just not wanting to see a counselor.

I've dealt with lots of people for whom professional help would be a good idea, but not absolutely necessary. I've also dealt with a few people who, I knew, absolutely needed help to function. I'm fortunate enough to have wonderful friends and to normally not go any deeper than counseling being a strongly recommended option.

I've always been taught that we will not have to suffer more than we can bear, run faster than we have strength, be tempted above what we can withstand, or be destroyed beyond healing. I believe this, if only because Christ is ready to augment our own strength with his guidance and grace, and He has infinite strength with which to bear us up. We don't always use our full endurance, though, because we humans are very prone to both not doing all we can do and not relying on Christ as we should, in whatever form we know Him. Because we don't use either source to the fullest, people shatter. Hearts break. Lives and souls are destroyed. Light goes out.

Keep that light alive, and let it shine. It's the only way, really. If we lose hope, life is pointless. We weren't sent here to live pointless lives.

~Paul

"Round up the usual suspects."

I don't really feel like being eloquent, philosophical, or funny today--or, rather, I'm having too much trouble churning any of that out. So, I'll simply do a short plug for a movie I saw today.
Specifically, Casablanca. Ah, I love university-sponsored events. Casablanca made it onto the Honors Great Works list here, so a bunch of English Honors 200 classes got together and watched it.
To completely summarize the rest of my entry, GO WATCH IT.
This is seriously one of the best movies I've ever seen. Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid are amazing both as powerful, human characters and as one of the more intricate and involving love triangles I've seen. As if those three weren't enough, the supporting characters are all amazing. The plot is interesting and well-made. The humor--oh, I love it! Practically everyone involved is fairly well refined and intelligent, so there's an abundance of crafty sarcasm and dry wit that gets along with me quite nicely. I bet all my regular readers (YOU GUYS) would absolutely love this movie.

An aside to BOC42: I think I found the inspiration for Big Daddy Brotherson in Kim Possible! It's Senor Ferrari. "As leader of all illegal activities in Casablanca, I am an influential and respected man." It's so perfect....

~Paul

Stupid Fairies

I can't decide what I want to write about. I know I want to write about something; it's dancing just beyond the edge of my mind, teasing me and telling me to come out and play, knowing full well that I'm stuck right where I am. My muse is a fairy that enjoys flitting about my head, evading my grasp, showing up in my vision as a bright streak of light and a glowing ball that quickly disappears, giggling, into the darkness, leaving me alone and frustrated.

Therefore, I will reach into my ever-present journal and take my blog entry from a more fruitful day of writing. Specifically, last night. It was kind of random, but most things about me are, so this isn't anything new to you people.

Saturday 17 September 2005

I must be tired. I wrote "Saturday" twice and had to scratch one out. I wouldn't be tired at 2:16, once upon a time. Now, I feel less than half awake.
Why is it the sounds in the background are so insistent, anyway? All background is. Most of the human life is concerned with things that are, ultimately, just background noise that breaks our concentration when we try to focus on the important things.
Money is background noise. Jobs are. Laundry is. Eating is. Homework, hobbies, writing, socializing, thinking are. Everything is simple background.
Unless.
Unless you take the activity and fuse it with something bigger than life. Then it becomes important and valuable.
It's 2:22 AM. Do you know where your life is?

~Paul

1/\/\ L0z1n9 M1h 1337n3ss

I feel like I've been undergoing a very strange transformation over the past year or so. It's reached critical levels in the past couple of months, but it's been building over time. Me undergoing this particular change is one of the signs of the apocalypse, if I remember correctly. Removing this aspect of me is as significant as removing the fruit from a fruit basket, or a basket case, as may be a better description of me, even if it does make the analogy a bit weird.

I'm a gamer, of sorts. I'm usually behind on the immediately current trends, as I don't buy a constant supply of new games and consoles, so my game collection tends to be a bit old. In fact, I tend toward the really old games, though not Pong old. How many people my age can say they've beaten Bubble Bobble, or Kirby's Adventure--for the original NES, not the remakes and sequels? How many gamers my age have actually played the original Final Fantasy, or Dune2, or Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis, or Prince of Persia, or Scorched Earth, or Out of This World, or Dungeon Master, or Castles 2, or the ultimate RPG of its day, Betrayal at Krondor? How many even know what most of this stuff is? I'm not just enthusiastic about this stuff; I'm obsessed with it.

And I've been steadily losing interest. I download old abandonware, I play for awhile, and I delete it before I even get close to finishing. I run across a promising-looking multiplayer online role playing game, and I play for a few hours, and never go back to it. I bring out Final Fantasy 7 and 8 and don't get past the first disc on either one. I pull out my Warcraft 2 CDs, play the first five or so missions, and take it off. Normally, I would try to install Warcraft 1 first, and only give up when it convinces me that it doesn't run on Windows XP without all sorts of tweaks and tricks. Most recently, I usually don't even try to start games when I get the urge, because I know I'll become supremely dissatisfied with the game almost immediately and quit. I just play a game of Freecell, maybe I'll branch back out into Minesweeper and Pinball soon, and that's plenty of gamage for me.

The only aspect of video games that have interested me much at all lately is the social aspect--that is, if people I'm with want to play, sure, group activities are fun. But if you give me a game and see how long it takes me finish it on my own, you'll be waiting awhile. I didn't even bring any of my games to college. I didn't want them, didn't need them. Even after being separated so long that I would normally get withdrawals, I'm still not clamoring for them. I might log onto Runescape for a few minutes once in awhile, but I usually find something more interesting to do in short order.

I've known for a long time that video games are generally worthless. That fact, though, has more weight with me now. A few consuming obsessions are necessary. That has been my experience, at least. It just seems I could make my selections more wisely. It also seems that a contemplative mind can remain seriously attached to video games for so long before either atrophying or moving on out of disgust; a mind that thinks can only take so much numbing dungeon/installation crawling before needing something healthier.

I don't even feel the same attachment to 1337 anymore! I was surfing around on the net, ran into a page with a poem written entirely in the 1337, and felt an impending headache! I'll still enjoy using 'uber,' as it's so ingrained, I have German training, and it's a running joke with a certain friend who knows exactly who she is. Leetspeak, though, is getting tedious and painful.

So, to translate the title of this post, "I'm Losing My Leetness."

I won't miss it.


~Paul

What Really Happens In Japanese Class

Sensei: Ohayo! (good morning, polite)
Students: Ohayo gozaimasu! (good morning, more polite)
Sensei: Kinoo kyookasho yomimasita? (Did you read your textbook yesterday?)
Students: *blank stares*
Sensei: .... Wakarimasen desita, nee. (You didn't understand, did you.)
Students: *blank stares*
Sensei: *bangs head on wall repeatedly*
Students: *pronounced with crippling American accent* Sumimasen...? (We're sorry....?)
Sensei: ...Itai. (Ow.)

Okay, so the first-year Japanese students aren't as inept as that. In fact, it seems that half my classmates took Japanese courses in high school and able to talk circles around me. This isn't surprising, as there are times when I can barely speak English. All the people who are true first-years, however, do seem lost now and then.

The freaky thing, though, is that when I'm dealing with the poeple in my Japanese class, in or out of the classroom, the laws of physics alter. The very fundamental laws of the universe shift! Possibilities are entirely dependent on arbitrary systems, called plots, which may or may not shift at any given time. The matter of the universe changes its intrinsic identity until everything looks completely different. When I'm around my Japanese classmates, I leave this reality and step into an Anime!

Apart from the whole ignoring of physical impossibilities, like robots, super martial artists, magic, and all sorts of things like that, anime isn't that different from reality--at least, not much more than our own television shows are. And let's admit it: we've all felt like we were in a scripted plot at times. There are certain characters in anime and manga that you usually won't find in other mediums, though.... So, if I'm having one of those "I'm In a Really Bad Fanfiction" moments, and one of my classmates is acting like the super-hyper/happy-weird schoolgirl any good anime school drama has (they usually have several dozen, in fact), I'm going to feel like I'm in a Really Bad Anime Fanfiction.

It's Not A Happy Feeling.

I always knew I'd only seen a small fraction of anime, but it took my classmates to make me feel so utterly lost concerning anime. The people who take Japanese are usually die hard fans. And some of these people are acting like the characters. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THE SUPER-HYPER/HAPPY-WEIRD SCHOOLGIRL ANIME CHARACTER. I DON'T HAVE THE TRAINING.

If you want to take Japanese, absorb lots of anime, or you won't know how to deal with these people. If, however, you value sanity, or at least your form of it, DON'T TAKE JAPANESE.

~Paul

Lists Calm, Lists Sooth, Lists Are Good!

John Taylor Gatto, an English teacher who received New York state's Teacher of the Year award, wrote "The Six-Lesson Schoolteacher" to explore six destructive habits and attitudes that are pounded into kids' heads in their K-12 years. The one relevant to my rant here is the second lesson. To directly quote the article,

The second lesson I teach kids is to turn on and off like a light switch. I demand that they become totally involved in my lessons, jumping up and down in their seats with anticipation, competing vigorously with each other for my favor. But when the bell rings I insist that they drop the work at once and proceed quickly to the next work station. Nothing important is ever finished in my class, nor in any other class I know of.

The lesson of bells is that no work is worth finishing, so why care too deeply about anything? Bells are the secret logic of schooltime; their argument is inexorable; bells destroy past and future, converting every interval into a sameness, as an abstract map
makes every living mountain and river the same even though they are not. Bells
inoculate each undertaking with indifference.

Perhaps he's overdoing it a little in his description, perhaps not. All I know now, though, is that suddenly, shockingly, I AM NOW ENCOURAGED TO MAKE MY OWN PRIORITIES! I ditch high school and go to college and, all of a sudden, NO ONE is telling me what's most important in terms of my schooling. I ended up doing a bit of prioritizing in high school, of course. But now, if I feel that I need to ditch a class to spend more time on another one, no one's there to rebuke me. I will still suffer consequences, of course--I will have to catch up, if possible, at a later time. But no one will try to stop me; they all just stand back and let me choose, rather than making me fight my way through them if I want to make a decison.

In fact, I'm exercising that prioritizing ability this weekend. As I mentioned before, I'm reading my textbook for my physical science class in preparation for the challenge test on Monday. Do you think I have time to read my humanities chapters, or my English assignment, or my Japanese assignment, while I'm trying to read around thirty chapters of physical science? Uh uh. I have done NONE of my homework for my other classes. In fact, in English, we don't even have to turn anything in until the last day of class. And if I sound like an idiot in Japanese tomorrow, so be it. I sound like an idiot in Japanese anyway, of course, but this time it's my choice, which is some comfort.

And now, here I am, suddenly in a position where I call my own shots and consequences with a freedom and responsibility never before experienced. If I tried to do it in high school, there was always the nagging insistence from every side that eventually made me comply to the overall pattern of school out of sheer irritation.

The sudden shift in responsibility, I think, can be explained by the reasons people are sent to school. Not why they go to school, but why they are sent. Some people do indeed go to K-12 school because they enjoy it or want an education. Others, because of their social life. Most, however, are there because someone told them to go there. Why, though, are they sent? Because it's the law. Mommy and Daddy get thrown in jail if their child doesn't get some form of schooling approved by the state; generally, this is attendance at a public school. If a kid is in school only because he's ordered there, can he really be expected to take control of his own academic destiny and seek a fulfilling education? No. He can be expected to sulk and to expend energy only when prompted, or trained to do it by habit. Thus, it is up to the state to plan his academic career and make him travel the path, with certain amount of electives required of them to make sure they don't turn into quite exact clones of each other. And if there is a student who really wants to be there and learn, well--the system would be extremely inefficient if it took time to identify everyone who really wanted to be there and tailored a plan for each one, so it just makes them conform to the preplanned system.

But now--there is no law requiring us to be here. College students go to school because we want to continue an education and learn, or at least because we've been trained to think we have to in order to survive in the world. Personally, I'm still here because I would die screaming if I stopped learning (which is actually a different reason than why I initially came here--maybe I'll rant about that sometime). Either way, we can be expected to put out a significantly greater amount of energy than the standard K-12 student would. Greater interest, greater effort, and thus greater trustworthiness when it comes to our own academic well-being.

And it rocks hard!

~Paul

THE PHOTONS ARE COMING, THE PHOTONS ARE COMING!

In a highly ambitious attempt to test out of my physical science class, I'm attempting to assimilate my textbook in time for the challenge test on Monday. This wouldn't be ambitous, but I didn't start reading ahead until today.

Now. We've all seen little videos or junior high textbooks try to give lay explanations of Einstein's work, trying to not fry the poor layperson's brain in the process. This is the first time I've gotten my hands on an academic explanation, more out of laziness than anything else.

Anyway. If I understand this correctly--IF I understand this correctly--light passes an object--regardless of the object's velocity--at the same speed, the speed of light. If you have a person on a train that is travelling near the speed of light, and lightning strikes the tracks behind the train, the person will see the event at "regular speed", that is, he won't see it in slow motion or anything like that as light from different phases of the strike catch up to him. The lightning will seem to occur at a normal rate from his perspective. He will, of course, see the lightning strike the tracks much later than someone who was standing by the tracks as they were struck (assuming the person who was standing by the tracks wasn't fried before he registered anything).

Now this is where my sanity explodes in a giant ball of flaming blue stuff and penguins bury it in a black hole. What about what the person on the train is seeing BEFORE he sees the lightning strikes the tracks? Let's say there is one second between the time the train passes over the spot where lightning will strike and the time at which the lightning actually strikes, and the train is travelling so fast that it takes the light from the strike a full ten seconds to catch up to the person on the train. What is he watching during those ten seconds? The sun was only bouncing photons off that spot on the tracks for one second before the lightning; one second's worth of photons. He watches this one second's supply of photons for a full ten seconds before he registers the lightning. The tracks can only reflect so many photons off in that one second; for the sake of having a random number to work with, let's say it bounces a thousand off in that second, and a thousand photons provide the view of the tracks at full luminosity. I know a thousand is way off, but that's not the point here. There is a record of the time between when the train passed and when the lightning struck, and that record is the thousand photons. Since the person on the train is being hit with light at the same speed as he would were he standing still, he's not watching that one second in slow motion. It doesn't look really dark, so he's getting the full thousand photons required per second to show the scene at full lighting. But he's collecting a thousand photons per second for TEN SECONDS, for a total of TEN THOUSAND PHOTONS of the pre-strike tracks before he registers the lightning strike. The tracks only reflected ONE thousand photons after the train passed but before the lightning struck. WHERE THE FREAK ARE THE EXTRA PHOTONS COMING FROM?

Emmett, please, please, please, PLEASE tell me that I've made some MAJOR error here, or that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation, like photons being imported from another universe, because this question is DESTROYING my SANITY! AGH!

Anyway, it's back to reading my whole textbook. Thank you and good night.

--Paul

P.S. THE PENGUINS ARE COMING, THE PENGUINS ARE COMING!

I'm Such A Nerd

Throughout elementary school, junior high, and high school, no one was ever able to give me a decent definition of plasma. It was the fourth stage of matter; this, I knew. It went along with solid, liquid, and gas. I was told that it was high in energy. 99% of matter in the universe is plasma. But no one, not even the fabled Doctor Stone, gave me a definition I liked. Actually, I'm not sure I asked Doctor Stone. He probably could've. Come to think of it, Emmett probably could've told me, too. Anyway. I had a slight fascination with plasma, perhaps in part because no one would define it properly for me. Well, and there was the high energy thing. You know, big explosions.
: D

And then, I finally took a physical science class here in college that is a combination of physics, chemistry, geology, and astronomy. Seeing as plasma is the main matter involved in astronomy, and they're also teaching physics and chemistry, they HAD to give me a good definition. Woot.

And so I finally got my definition. Plasma is matter that has been so charged with energy that the electrons and nuclei become completely disassociated from each other, shooting about randomly and independently. Delicious chaos.

After thinking about this, I realized that this definition made plasma intrinsically different from the other three phases of matter with which I'm familiar. They all depend on the way their atoms or molecules sit with other atoms or molecules. In solids, they are tightly locked in position and don't move at all. Well, a little, but not much. In liquids, they are still rather close, but the atoms and molecules can slide past each other. In a gas, the atoms and molecules are far apart and speed around at uber velocities, exerting relatively little force on each other. Plasma, however, does not depend on the links between atoms or molecules. Plasma is formed when the atoms are ripped apart. Plasma is more like a perfect ion than anything else.

So, I thought about how this makes plasma different. First of all, the destruction of the traditional atom makes it completely alien to what comes to mind when humans think of the physical world. Plasma isn't something we can feel and touch; plasma is in fire, in lightning. To touch plasma is to lose your nerve endings. On a slightly more scientific note, plasma cannot exist in compounds. There is no plasma form of water, or milk, or anything like that. All these things are formed by the bonds between atoms of different elements. Those bonds do not exist in plasma. Plasma can only exist as basic elements, and it doesn't even behave as we would expect those elements to behave. Because plasma has no nuclei-electron bonds, it left entirely to the whims of electromagnetic forces and random chaos.

Summary: I found out that plasma is different than the other three stages of matter and spent a lot of time thinking about it. Then, while writing this, I did some research about plasma and ended up reading about antihydrogen and all manner of good stuff about an hour later.

Conclusion: This is SO much cooler than football. 8-)

SCREAMING IN AGONY

SCREAMING IN AGONY
A Simple And Practical Guide To Choosing A Major

by Paul Astin

Your major is a very important part of your college experience; so much so, in fact, that when meeting other students or adults who know you’re attending college, the first question you’re asked—even before your name—is “What’s your major?” Linguistic purists may attempt to show their superiority by instead asking the more correct “What are you majoring in?” Should you encounter such a person, sprint in the other direction, or beat them off with your CD collection. Pop, rap, and country CDs are particularly effective.

If you do answer either form of the question, judgments will immediately be made concerning your character, and people around you will act accordingly. Should you declare yourself a math or science major of any sort, you will immediately be invited to study groups, as you are apparently very smart and more than used to doing the jocks’ homework after they beat you up and take your lunch money. If you declare yourself an Engineering major, it is assumed you are male and will be making lots of money. Prepare to be stalked by desperate females, and jocks who want you to do their homework. There is also a BYU-specific major that serves as an equivalent to the Engineering major, but for girls; it is assumed that a woman majoring in Marriage, Family, and Human Development has no interest whatsoever in education; she is here to find a hot guy. She should prepare to be stalked by creepy males. Should you say that you’re majoring in Philosophy, you will experience a long, awkward silence. If you listen closely enough, you can hear your social life yelling for help as it is flushed down a toilet.

The absolute worst answer, however, is to say that you are an open major. If you say this, everyone around you will know that you are timid, indecisive, scared, and wasting your parent’s money at college. People will assume that you hide in your dorm room playing pinball on your computer, only emerging into the bright light to eat in the cafeteria and to go to general ed classes. Other freshmen who know exactly where their life is going, including but not limited to their major, all their classes, their entire career, how many millions they’ll make annually, when they’ll get married and who they’re marrying, when their first child will be born, what college their children are going to, when they’ll have their midlife crisis, and when they’ll retire, will look down on you and avoid the poor, foolish loser. Open majors. Pfeh.

As you can see, it is important to pick the right major, and to pick it NOW, before ANYONE knows that you’re an open major. This is, admittedly, a very hard process known to cause catatonia in freshmen. You, however, have this unique and valuable guide, made by a clueless student for other, equally clueless students!

PAUL’S PATENTED STEP-BY-STEP PICK-YOUR-UBER-MAJOR-NOW PROCESS

Step 1: Get a list of all the majors at your university. Print out two copies of this list and set one aside. You will need the spare later.

Step 2: Look at the list and consider each major. Cross out anything that you have no chance of going into. Keep in mind that freshmen have no idea what they’re going to; because of this, you have to expand your criteria a bit to take into account that you’re useless and ignorant. For example, if you have absolutely no interest in biology, and have never taken a biology course, or if you have taken a biology course and unequivocally hated every second of it, you would normally cross it off the list. Knowing, however, that you’re probably wrong, you should only cross of biology as a major if you have never, and probably will never, encounter anything that has a biological system. By the same token, only eliminate engineering if you have never been near a building, music if you are absolutely deaf and dumb, humanities if you’ve never met one, and psychology if you haven’t learned to discern between yourself and other people, et cetera. Viciously slash philosophy out; it isn’t worth it.

Step 3: Now eliminate any major that doesn’t lead to a job you may find enjoyable. Keep in mind that many jobs, such as engineer, nurse, or architect, absolutely require a major in that specific field. Any other job besides those three either requires grad school, in which case your major doesn’t matter, or can be obtained with any major. If you haven’t already, apply a slightly diluted acid to the area of the paper where “Philosophy” is hiding under all the ink blotches.

Step 4: Look through the list and highlight those that you would enjoy now. For example, if you enjoy reading your English textbook, highlight English. If you think people are interesting to observe, highlight Psychology. Slash out everything you’ve highlighted. Majoring in it would only make you hate it, so why ruin a good thing?

Step 5: After eliminating all majors that don’t apply to at least one person on your planet (step 2), those that don’t lead to some sort of job (step 3), and anything you actually enjoy (step 4), examine the classes required to receive a degree in each remaining major. Your list should be fairly small by now, perhaps around ninety or so possibilities. Attempt to plan out your next two years worth of classes, taking all the basic courses for each major you are still considering. After experiencing the basic level material for each of the few majors you may enjoy, you should be able to “get a feel” for which one truly suits you.

Step 6: Realize that you’ve booked your next four semesters with 178 credit hours each. Realize that a week only has 168 hours. Cry.

Step 7: Retrieve the extra copy of the list of majors. Put it on your dorm’s tack board. Throw a dart at it. Whatever it lands on is your new major. Commence asking people, in a very smug voice, what their major is.



Now, wasn’t that easy? You may be somewhat concerned that you just picked a major using a completely random process; don’t worry, that’s how all majors are initially selected. You’ll find your REAL major after switching your field of study six times, wasting thirty-five thousand dollars in tuition, having several mental breakdowns, and finally being bullied into something your advisement counselor’s Magic 8 Ball says you’d be good at. Until you feel those mental breakdowns coming on, however, feel free to avoid study, because the classes you’re taking have absolutely NO relevance to where you’ll end up.


Open major, in catatonia, and proud of it! 8-)

~Paul

I Do Believe They're Trying To Marry Us Off...

...and it has me quite weirded out. I can deal with the idea that people who come to BYU have a ridiculously-higher-than-normal marriage rate. We are, after all, a people who strongly emphasize marriage and generally marry young (I, of course, shall be the exception). You put this many college-age LDS singles in the same area, we're going to have a few romances here and there. I can deal with the fact that some people come here specifically to look for a spouse. In fact, I can even deal with the idea that BYU has achieved the status of Meat Market and has an unofficial motto of "A ring by spring or your money back!"

But never before have I had reason to suspect that this was anything but natural, as I do now. Evidence says that they're trying to instigate marriages. They're working to make sure you get that ring by spring, because they don't want to give you your money back. They've already spent it on your wedding reception. And who are they? Anyone and everyone who's been at BYU for more than two years. Anyone even remotely connected to the leadership.

It began with the upperclassmen leaders in my orientation group. You would expect the advice of upperclassmen to run along the lines of study habits, time management, fun ways to tick off campus police, etc., in addition to a small segment on dating. No. They gave us dating tips. Showed us good places to go for a cheap date. Everything--everything--is placed in the context of dating.

This would be understandable had it stopped there. They're in their early twenties. They're at BYU. Of course they're obsessed with dating. It didn't stop there, though. At the official Friday Night Extraveganza (aka Make All The Idiot Freshmen Do Embarrassingly Insane Things For Orientation And Film It For Blackmail While They Think They're Having Fun), they had us doing, well, quite a few fun things. See the alternate activity name. I noticed that they like to make us be very touchy. The activities were pro-handholding, pro-linked elbows, pro-shoved-up-against-as-many-people-as-possible. And very, very pro-sitting-on-people's-laps. At this point, I just kind of shrugged and observed that the normal college student was apparently a bit more relaxed with touchiness, particularly cross-gender touchiness, than the average high school student. I had not yet detected the conspiracy. I should have clued in when the official activities were shoving us as close to each other as they could.

It was, however, Monday night's ward activity that opened my eyes to the anvil-sized clues I'd been so blissfully dodging. Keep in mind that this activity was planned by the adult leaders, including the last surviving member of the Relief Society from the church in the time of Peter, James, and John. Seriously, she's ancient. I wouldn't normally point age out, but in this situation, it means she would normally be the last to set up an activity that was anything remotely like indecent according to an ancient method of reckoning. After all, in her day, men would stand on the outside of the sidewalk so that if anyone on the building levels above threw their trash into the street, it wouldn't splatter the lady.

Anyway, the activity was a bunch of games which we rotated through. The relevant one was a relay race. Be prepared to be indignant, Maren and Berit. (Others, too, but they moreso than the others I've told about my blog) For the first part of the relay race, we had a spoon attached to a yarn. To win, we had to thread it down the front of our shirt, out the other end, and pass it on to the next person, who repeated the process. The possibility for embarrassing situations when we're trying to shove a clumsy thing like a spoon down our fronts, especially when we're all tied together via yarn and yanking said yarn around like relay-racing maniacs, is rather high. The second part of the relay involved holding a toothpick in your mouth and using the toothpicks to pass a lifesaver from person to person. Toothpicks are short. And we were arranged male-female-male-female for this event. The leaders are specifically trying to put us in situations where we're going to be thinking about girls instead of term finals. They want us to be within an inch and a half making out with the nearest hottie! Granted, thinking about girls and window shopping and all that isn't necessarily bad. In fact... ah, nevermind. We'll do that rant another day. And not online. ^_^ But I do feel kind of like I'm being herded to the slaughter. I will think about girls by my own choice, not because someone told me to, dang it! I refuse to be tricked into trying (key word) to get a girlfriend just because there's a conspiracy designed to inflame my already active hormones! I shall become a college social recluse yet! Mwahaha!

--Paul





DISCLAIMER
I am exaggerating the situations. Slightly. Taking a few things out of context, etc. I just needed a good rant, and the basis of a good rant is being able to present things in such a manner that there is no bias in the information whatsoever--at least, no bias other than the ranter's. The Monday night thing, though, was definitely weird.

Getting Oriented

One of the first things you have to go through at college is, of course, orientation. Here you get to walk around the campus in 85 degree weather, listen to people give you information you already got from the literature they sent to their prospective students, and even learn some valuable things and meet new people. And, of course, you get bottled water with your lunch. Water bottles are a good thing to have when you live in a dorm with no sink. Here, orientation is a three-day event, concluding tonight with a huge campus activity/dance.

When orientation first started, I was fairly pensive. On my way to the first meeting, I passed one of the student volunteers--upperclassmen who help with new student orientation. He was asking random people in the crowd, "Do you know where you're going?" I was still an emotional wreck from having my world uprooted, so I decided to take the question out of context. I wanted to ask something along the line of, "Do you mean physically, emotionally, spiritually, socially, educationally, economically, or metaphysically?" I just kept quiet. It didn't really matter which he meant, though, because my honest answer is still "No, I do not."

Not knowing where I'm going generally freaks me out.

I've had time to calm down, to look around me, to find out what I'm doing here. I still have absolutely no idea where I'm going, but I'm less panicked about that. Everything I've seen since then tells me that this is where I'm meant to be. My roommate is someone with whom I can get on wonderfully, the campus is already starting to feel like home, my schedule is alright, and the very focus of the school feels like what I've been looking for. I've finally found out what I'm supposed to be doing, and that knowledge is the best thing I can have right now.

I'm finally getting it. When we all came to this place called Earth, we were given a vague idea of where we'd end up. Very vague--it's definitely not enough to get us there. But we were also each given a path, and we don't know how that path gets us to our destination, but we know it does. The important thing is to just keep moving, and trust the pathbuilder, because He's a lot smarter than we are.

So, thanks to all of you who have been pounding that into my head. It's finally sinking in.

You guys are the greatest! :)

Well, Here It Is

I plan on using this thing to keep in touch with my friends. You can thank my roommate for the idea. I never seriously considered getting a blog before now, mainly because I normally do all my philosophizing and whining in my journal or at the lunch table. Unfortunately, I've lost the lunch table option. Funny how graduation does that. That lunch table was the one place in the school that was always on my side. Even the Creative Writing classroom turned on my once or twice. The lunch table, however, was always able to rejuvenate me. You guys were there, you always had something interesting and insane to say, you always listened to my brain dribble. It was a haven.
Because I don't want to lose the opportunity to ramble to friends, I'm bringing it online as a new sanctuary. I could just copy and paste random prose and email it to all you guys, I suppose, but I'm too lazy and too enamored by efficient systems. I'll email everyone about this soon--I'm assuming that if you're reading this, you got an email already. Try to leave comments, even if it's just "I read it" so I'll know some of my friends are paying attention. And hey, if you want to make me read your stuff as well, start a blog and tell me. I'd love to read it!

I'm not sure I'll get to whine as much anymore, though--I've escaped the public school system and am in a private college. My shock and pleasure at this most fortunate turn of events will probably last some time. I might even turn into an optimist if it lasts long enough! :)