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Fourrage - nf, "fodder"
This word in my French-English dictionary is right next to a word that describes what I don't have right now: FOCUS.
I think that fall quarter is the worst time in the world one could possibly overload onself. Actually, it's probably not a quarter for hard classes at all; the standard-time clock switch and weather have left me with nothing to concentrate on. Sure, I have calculus due in three weeks (ONLY 4 PROBLEMS LEFT! HUZZAH AGAIN!), I have an essay due at five o'clock tomorrow, I have two key-terms assignments in history due Friday because of SOGO student concerts next Monday, I have said concerts to practice for, I have a C++ assignment due next Wednesday, I have my sneakers to cover with black tape for costumed swing dancing tomorrow night, I have three CDs to make for Jim, I have one CD that I have to give Katie soon before the data becomes lost in my computer forever...but damnit, for this list of stuff I have, for which I didn't even have to dip into my Short-Term Memory [pocket book], I could think of nothing but meandering about the house, flailing my arms for a while ten minutes ago.
I've also been really tired lately. I was so drained of energy a few hours ago, I actually sat down and watched tv for 90 minutes. Ah, Dragonball Z never fails to dissapoint. Meanwhile, I've had to bring my attention back to that essay I was going to finish up.
Time to get back to work; MLA citation, here I come. Again.
My tongue is fine.
Last monday, I got a fantastic e-mail. The Friday before, I had written to my calculus tutor, asking how 'flexible' the thirty day turn-in period was. He wrote back Monday night, and what I remember most from it was this line:
"Another month is fine."
I floated into the kitchen after I read that, where my dad was washing dishes. When he saw me standing there, my big, dumb grin - not me - said "I have another thirty days." From his perspective, he saw a cloud of steam escaping from both of my ears as my brain decompressed. He's a little worried that I'm going to screw off my time until 3 weeks from now, where I'll run into the same problem as last weekend. Luckily, I'm still working on it; I'm at the 17th page of scratch work, and still countin'...
I found another way to fry my brain in the meantime.
Yesterday, for our group's homecoming event, six of us went out to dinner, as is normal on an evening like that. We were all dressed in black, which is a bit less normal. Then [as well planned] we skipped going to the dance, and went up to a place in Federal Way, next to the Outback Steakhouse; a place known as Lazer Quest. This is abnormal enough to throw people into shock, as it did in Federal Way.
For two twenty minute rounds, with groups of 30 then 8 playing at once, we zipped around a maze in a high-humidity zone, pinging each other with guns shaped like elongated beer cans with handles. Between these rounds, there was Dance Dance Revolution to be played [and to suck at, for me].
The sweltering heat before and after our break, while we were zapping each other with lasers, had all of the girls of our group boiling after the first round, and they were in dresses. After the second round...well, one guy's hair was dry before the games started, but looked like he stepped out of the shower after round two.
The ride back to Olympia consisted of us cooling down and napping, save the driver. We planned to keep the cold stuff comin' once we got to Olympia, by going to a Sherri's and ordering milkshakes.
After I sat down in the booth, though, I stopped moving my face. It took a particularly large amount of brainpower, from a fairly diminished source, to decide between ordering a strawberry milkshake and a blueberry milkshake. I thought "strueberry" out loud a couple times. My face wasn't moving when the waitress came to take our orders; when she got to me, I flapped my jaw around and got "I would like a strueberry milkshake, please." However, I saw her just grin and write something down; I suspected she was only going to get half of my order, so I asked her to blend a strawberry and blueberry milkshake together.
I recommend this drink to anyone who happens to stop into a Sherri's after something hot has happened - the shake tastes like a regular Mixed Berry, and the blueberries are frozen solid at service time; though, the latter feature may not be intentional...
No, I did not lick the bottom of the metal blender cup. I don't think it was because I was too conscious too after all of the sugar got to my system - I think it just didn't look cold enough to intrigue my subconscious...
After scribbling away with this Stanford final, I've noticed that I've invested many hours in the solving of twenty problems. So, I devised a scale to represent my progression of completion:
A day with...
1 hour of calculus: OK, glad to have had a warmup, but banging my head on that one problem for only an hour'll get nothing done.
2 hours of calculus: Reading the text makes the lap cold at first, but that plastic-y paper warms up quite nicely, making hunting for solutions at least comforting to the lap. Still nothing actually done, though...
3 hours of calculus: Huzzah, another Final problem is finished!
4 hours of calculus: My poor, neglected history book'll just have to wait until this next problem is done...be that tomorrow or no.
5 hours of calculus: Eeeehhhhhh...bordering on obsessive-compulsive Integrating, but it's still a hard day's work's worth, as at least one problem was finished.
6 hours of calculus: (See (5), but sigh longer at the beginning; two problems finished)
7 hours of calculus: I will scoop myself ice cream and then look at the bottom of the spoon and think "Hmm. That looks pretty cold. I wonder what'll happen if I do this..." and stick my tongue upon it.
This is also my supporting evidence for my thesis, "Seven hours of calculus in one day will lower your IQ to below the age that multiplication was learned."
The tongue was removed with minimal (but non-zero) flesh loss.
The 7-hour member of the scale has only been visited last Saturday; will possibly occur again this weekend. I'll update if I need an 8th-hour level. I'll also update on the status of my tongue next Sunday; by then, I should have to mail the test in.
I want to teach a math class when I'm older. I was inspired to this thought by reading an online list of how to scare students as a teacher, or somesuch. I wanna give this speech my first day:
"OK, class, welcome to Calculus and Finite Mathematics. I'll tell you all this right now, so you have plenty of time to get used to it: We don't work in base-10 here. We are working in a base-11 number system; the tenth term after zero is loovurt. Yes, log now means base-11 as well. Any students who write '11' as '11', and not 'L,' will start the quarter off with a C on the first homework assignment.
"On a lighter note, fifty extra credit points to the first person to stand next to me some day and make a sound related to this butchered French term. You don't have to sound out the color. Go on, try and surprise me."
I'd need something else insidiously evil for the first day, too...ah, well, I'm sure it'll come to me by the time I open my briefcase on that ominous first day for my students...
Aujourd'hui, ce jour, de l'aprés-midi au soir (vingt trois heures), je passai mon examen de calcul. J'ai fini DEUX problèmes! C'est deux fois ce que j'ai fait hier soir - là, j'ai fini un, mais je ne peux pas me rappeler laquelle.
Je suis si heureux quand je fini même une problème - mais il me faut faire ça quatorze plus fois, avant que jeudi. Je dois envoyer mon examen ce jour...mais EPGY à Stanford a beaucoup de personnes gentilles. Ils me laisseront garder l'examen quelques jours plus, et pour ça, j'ai de bonne chance.
J'ai eu cinq heures et demie pour dormir hier soir. Peut-être il faut que je dormes...bon nuit, tout le monde.
This is mainly because I couldn't use dictionary.com's translator to get what those last two comments were. Meredith's was nice and vague:
"I am consado. Ay Caramba I have suenos."
David's, well, there's not much chance I'd ever be able to figure out that Japanese phrase on my own. And knowing my lousy pronunciation, I doubt I'd get an answer out of my friends either...though, I think I'll try anyway. I did learn how to say 'good morning' the other day, when one of the freshmens I give a ride home too said something that I thought was 'kiss-ah my ass-ah'...
Rauppa even pronounced it for me. "Kesu my assa" is how I remember it now, though...
Anyways, since I suddenly don't feel like giving people the web-translator-runaround, and don't want to delete the entry, either, here's what I said up above (would this count as a spoiler?? I can't remember the definition well enough...):
Today, this day, from noon to evening (2300 hours), I've been doing my calculus final. I finished TWO problems! That's twice what I did last night - then, I finished one, but I can't remember which.
I'm happy to have finished even one problem - but I'll have to 'be happy' fourteen more times before Thursday. I've gotta send in the test then...but EPGY at Stanford has a lot of nice people in it. They'll let me keep the test for a few more days...I'm quite lucky.
I slept for 5.5 hours last night. Perhaps I should rest...good night, everybody.
(Straight, English-filtered thought)
I am tired. Oh man, am I sleepy.
(En français)
Je suis fatigué. Je veux dormir.
(Here goes what I can infer about Spanish)
iYo soy fatigue!
Most people remember the Mad Hatter of Wonderland - I hope that most people remember his hat as well. "In this style, 10/6." This originally meant a hat in that style, to be sold at ten pounds six pence. Well, in the American dating system, that 10/6 also translates to October 6th, which is Mad Hatter Day here in the States (June 10th in England; I might just celebrate then too).
Regardless of Mad Hatter Day being Sunday, I'm gonna dress for the occasion tomorrow. I encourage everybody to have some fun with it =)