Math Systems, Day 1

Well, I've been expecting this for quite a while now. I knew that with Math Systems starting, my free time would be cut drastically. What I didn't expect was how much "drastic" this meant.

Don, the professor, handed out a syllabus right when the class started. I eyeballed it, then double-eyeballed it, then bug-eyed it...but after about three or four complete readings, I (muttered a small prayer, then) started to get the idea that I could probably manage to do all of that. I became glad I had stopped dancing and didn't take the offer of the Dvorak Sextet Viola 1 part for SOGO.

Then he handed out the other two syllabi.

...See you in December. Wake me on Christmas.

And now, for something completely different.

I don't think I'm being too pessimistic with my sudden soul-sucking investment of time. Don's calculation is sixty hours of work a week--sixteen in-class hours, and 39 outside of class per week at a minimum. Multivariable calculus is actually the easiest class we're doing in the program, and thus is reserved for Fridays.

And I decided to try to retain some contact with the outside world in two orchestras. Oy. I'll try to see you guys next time Katie comes into town, and at Halloween; but beyond that, I'm back to my eighteen-credit quarter.

What perplexes me is that I am relatively sane in this class. Some of you have called me quite the nutcase for tackling 17 credit hours, three high school classes, dancing, and an orchestra at once (by "some of you," I think I just mean Shigs and Katie, can't remember who else). Well, try this one on for size: There are people in Math Systems--all of Math Systems, like me--who are taking quantum physics at the same time in another program. They're up to 20 credits. If nuts were grapefruits, I have become the grape.

...That didn't come out right.

And now, onto something completely different. I have a few things to settle from the last comment spree (which I really thank you guys for; I'm somewhat a slut for comments):

On (Hooray for) Boobies(!) and More:

I will forever debate the picture where I'm "eyeing the spice rack" in Katie's rec room. However, this second picture was taken in middle school, when I was a man of...uh, less repute. You got me there, but it doesn't somehow seem as special since I hadn't bothered to mature into weirdo-me yet.

Breasts? I can do those every once in a long while, but it's usually pure spite and a catalyst. Case in point(s): Miranda. (To pun, or not to pun...) I have gotten Yarrow, too, but that was because she did a lot of boob things at me at SPSCC. But anyways, now I'm done with the breast argument for quite a while, and would rather not have that perk up again. (To pun.)

Getting laid, however, really won't happen. I don't think there is anything that can generate that much spite in one go.

Hey Naerzul, I won't give away your alter-ego or anything, but how did you like that Princess Mononoke DVD Damian loaned you (I understand you returned it, too)?

Princess Infinity Minus Two

Friday
11:50:30 seconds

I imagine Molly's MUSC101 class is eager to get out of class in a punctual manner. I only imagine this because all of SPSCC seems to operate on a Vacating Schedule, even in Oli Newsome's class.

Cassie was seated in the front row, where she could see me sneak into the room during Molly's last five seconds of teaching that class (read: individual student time). We travelled out to her 'Tub Truck (similarly dubbed by the people at the tavern) and got Laura. Cassie for some reason wanted to sing in the choir with me, and she brought Laura along, though Laura seems to still be in that antisocial first-week-of-Running-Start phase and ate her lunch outside the choir room in a study booth.

Well, Cassie and I had a good time, at least. =P
As for the title of this entry, Molly had the choir wear nametags so she could learn everybody's name. I signed mine "Alex, Princes # Infinity-2," a name I gave to myself at Margot's Vampire Princess Party. (Nobody told me it was a Vampire Princess party, so I showed up in jeans and a t-shirt. Margot gave me a nametag, which Nuvo and Madeline had utilized to call themselves Princess 1 and 2, respectively. I simply had a tribute to Douglas Adams there.) (And yes, that does reference the same party Madeline is mentioning with corsets, breasts, et cetera, in Katie's corset entry.)

I wore the nametag all day, so that Leah saw it when I went to her appartment that night. In fact, just before that, a waiter at Red Robin saw me wearing it too and said "Have a good evening, Alex," and winked at me. (It was a "Check your chest" kinda wink, usually reserved for drinking coffee from a crappy cup or something.)

Come to think of it, I think Leah may have noticed my nametag when she appeared out of nowhere at Red Robin and joined my dad, brother and I for dinner, as a French Fry Mooch-inator. I was supposed to meet her at her appartment while she went to the library, but the library closed, and what better did she have to do than surprise me at dinner?

And surprise me she did. Remember the centenniel entry, where I did little more than compare pictures of Leah's haircut and mine (with little difference)? Well, we hadn't seen each other since then, and I thought I would change my hairstyle by parting it on the right--partly to spite Leah as my Hair-Twin, and partly to grow out of a bowl cut. Well, her bloody part was on the right, too. Something is psychically linking our hair together; I imagine if I go to school with a cowlick, she'll have one in the same spot that day. I also imagine vice versa; now I wonder what would happen if one of us were to wear pigtails for a day...

Ahem. Anyways, Leah and I were at her appartment 'til a little past 9 when Katie finally got back home. A little past a little past 9, we were trading Welcome Back from Your Six Weeks of School hugs. The rest of the evening was kinda fuzzy, because Katie and I had a fairly high-powered dance; I can recall a fun game of word association that is on par with Exquisite Cadavers, and one other thing that was probably extremely inappropriate in many people's books, but that I did anyway.

The backstory behind this latest politically incorrect act is that I don't like breasts. Really. I'm one of those dancers that blushes quite profusely when I accidently brush my partner's chest (particularly if it's a real blunder and they bounce afterward). And that's all the backstory anybody needs; any attempts to flesh it out a bit more (that was so accidentally punny) will be knocked off the comments (all right, I'll stop punning before someone kills me).

Someone said they found another picture of me staring at Miranda's chest. First off, the first picture is debatable; I'm sure if someone takes a line to my eyes' field of vision, it is looking at her face. Second off, I had never seen hide nor hair of this second shot. Well, anyways, I was hugging Miranda goodbye when someone said this, and was reminded how much of a non-breast-focus personality I have when someone contended it with that picture. So I did the only thing that seemed appropriate at the moment, and patted her chest.

The look on her face was priceless. I had seen few things in my life stall a woman so; she dropped her jaw (and most of the rest of her face) in shock with her eyes bugged out, and she was too busy deciding whether to scream or laugh (I don't think killing me crossed her mind) that she just didn't move for a few seconds. I caught her completely off guard.

Good laughs, all around.

Behind Worlds

Math Systems starts tomorrow. This means I get the joy of starting my classes when some of us have midterms. Amazing. One can conclude from this that Evergreen operates about five weeks behind the rest of the world. One wouldn't be too far off.

Anywhoo, I went there today to buy my last book. I went there three times, actually; the first time, I was three dollars short on a $107 text. That was a tease, and I had one long haul walk to my parking spot. The second time, there was a huge group of 'Greeners outside the building that housed the cafeteria and bookstore. I wandered in, and heard the fire alarm whooping once I got into the doors. Yet, I still saw a fairly large group of students inside the building, just standing idly. That was counter-intuitive. Unfortunately, the one thing that went completely right in that fire drill was that the bookstore closed. The walk back wasn't too far this time around.

Luckily, I had another reason to be in that neck of the woods; Michelle, a girl from SPSCC that's probably in Leah's psych. class (Michelle's in a wheelchair), e-mailed me last week saying she found something for me in her post-summer-choir adventures. So, I drove to her house--it took me twenty minutes and a mile or four more than it should have, but I eventually made it there, where we had a pleasant chat. And she gave me a beret. YIPEE!

Ironically, after three and a half years of studying French, I didn't know how to put it on immediately. I think I've got it figured out
now.

I went back to Evergreen and spent something over a hundred bucks. Then I came back home and thought how I did a bunch of stuff this weekend and wanted to write about it, but couldn't think of how to have the entries. For now, I'll just leave a quick list of things I can remember:

Friday: Princess Infinity Minus Two; Leah's appartment; Katie CAME BACK
Saturday: Leah's car; Fools' Play
Sunday: SOGO Photo Shoot (rocked); SOGO sectional (sucked); SOGO rehearsal (rucked? socked?); Jim's e-mail

I'll see what I can recollect before Math Systems and Homework roll around.

Toodles.

Sir Snots-A-Lot

Last Wednesday I felt Math Systems looming over my dancing horizon, and came to terms: Tonight was to be my last night at Dave's Tacoma dance. I was sad, but looked forward to Dave's New Year's Eve party, and turned that frown upside-down. (I'm so glad that there's no voice to go with that phrase; it almost seems socially acceptable if you can't hear it out loud.)

Well, last week, Damian brought home a cold from school, and dashed my hopes of a dance. Period. I e-mailed Dave, signing off as "Sir Snots-A-Lot, Alex." That didn't make my day. I'll just have to have my last regular dance next Wednesday; I may pay for it Thursday in math, but oh well. I'm feeling attention whore-ish, and want a circle send-off.

Oy, this cold sucks. I just hit the "drowsy" phase today, after I watched TV for two minutes. The two minutes became a half hour, which became an hour, which became...a need to get a rocking motion going before I could get myself off of the couch. That was part cold, part TV brain drain that I've become suddenly maladjusted to.

But my unplanned evening at home wasn't as bad as I expected. I reacquainted myself with soup that had chicken, had noodles, yet wasn't chicken noodle soup (tasted just as good, though), and I got a phone call from Brian Rascon.

SOGO's looking for another executive board member (that is also a student/orchestra member). Brian called to offer me the position, on suggestion of Mr. Allison. I accepted, which makes student representatives (this'll knock your socks off):

Viola-heavy.

Hai-Yen and I are student representatives; we are the only representatives from the Conservatory Orchestra's string section; and we are both violists. (I'll drop the Viloa thing for a while.) It's a-mazing, it's a-stounding...

Of course, beyond the SOGO photo shoot Sunday, I don't know what else I'll be doing for the organization besides playing the Viloa on Sunday evenings. Ah, well--I get the feeling I'll need a public speaking thing to keep myself social after my fifty hours of math.

Slow Ascension from Gutter

All right, since the Calculus thing I've had a dirty streak about me, and I thought I would put it to an end...

...by making it scholarly.

The plural from of "octopus," "cactus," and a few other -us words not only sounds cool, but will make you seem smarter by using them. Throw "Octopi" around a dinner conversation, and your perceived IQ goes up a few notches. Neat social trick, yes?

Well, the trick fails if you make the pitfall of saying "Peni," because it's penis. I've been trying to come up with what the proper plural form of the word is for months now, off and on (mostly off, and yes, thinking about it once is more than anyone should, I admit). I finally found it, care of a CNBC article on the CEO that made a buck a year:

Penes.

Logical citation: The word crisis becomes crises when pluralized.

So, that's one more mystery of life solved. Go on, now, try to use it around the dinner table: Your perceived IQ will be sure to rise in the eyes of others. In fact, why stop at a dinner table--proudly proclaim your newfound knowledge in as many public venues as possible! Go forth, lingual scholars!

Disclaimer: I force nobody who has read this entry to "Go forth" and have phallic conversations with any people, be they family members, other loved ones, friends, or people walking around college campi. Any and all who do can not sue me for social damages, lost relationships, or vomit induction at social dinner gatherings. Though, in all fairness, when Zach starts using this newfound piece of knowledge, any and all may feel free to discuss my loosing of knowledge upon communities.

Dirty, Filthy Calculus

Note: This one ain't intended for the kiddies. And yes, it is a dirty, filthy calculus pickup line. Not quite along the lines of "I like spaghetti, let's f@&%," but--actually, it's even crasser than that.

Since I'm studying math for the year, I'll try to come up with a few more.
___

Baby, I wanna lay you on a 0-radian plane and run my elongated elipsoid between your absolute maximae.

A Day at the Beach

One of the days of our camping trip was spent almost entirely at the beach, where there were many pictures taken. This one was the cream of the crop, though: Artistic award goes to Katie for taking the picture, though she made the sacrifice of not being in it.

For those who wanted the picture for a desktop, the thumbnail links to a 300 dpi .jpg.

If you need to ID people, from left to right:
Jim, who I think managed to blink;
Me, clad in swimshorts and keeping my hair out of my eyes with a six-year-old girl's "Fountain" hairstyle, care of at least Katie I think;
Ali, who is so short that her head matches Miranda and Cassie standing a good thirty feet behind her;
Miranda, watching
Cassie chuck a rock in a quite non-skip-patory fashion; and
Aaron, throwing a rock, though it looks like a shoe.

I loved that day. I had never been more relaxed in my life. My state of consciousness was lucid; I had so few cares in the world, I walked around a (previously) crowded beach with my hair like a six-year-old girl. Actually, that somehow doesn't sound too special when one recalls how I went around OHS in a skirt and pigtails (on different days), and went around SPSCC like a drag queen, unwittingly the day before a drag show downtown.

I miss the beach. And cross-dressing...but I miss the beach more.

Drop-Count Update, and a New Way to Screw Up in Public

Well, I went and done it again at the Tacoma dance. I tried the Ballbuster once more with Lydia, but she ended up kinda close to a couple behind her, so she slowed down. Something in my head should've told me "This is a bad idea, George; maybe we oughtta not do it." Well, some good that did; once again, Lydia and I were on the ground, but THIS time, there were no injuries.

I don't feel too bad about it, because of two things:

1.) I told her that there was no way in hell (in kinder words) that I would let it go as one flop onto our asses (also in kinder words). So, we did it again, and when I landed on her, someone CHEERED on the floor! So, huzzah, I'm feeling encouraged--just encouraged enough to do it one more time, then I'm retiring it, since it is sorta dangerous.

2.) The other reason I didn't feel too bad about this drop is gonna come as a shocker to you dancers:
Idaho Dave fell. With Tiana. (Quick note: Tiana is not Cassie.)
I had the "Holy crap!" reaction to seeing them on the ground, mainly because Dave is, well, a God, and undeserving of 0-degree happenstances. But he and Tiana were there, horizontal, and laughing with that laugh that lets everyone know that they're OK, but a little red in the face.

Not to call him mortal or anything, but...nah, I'll leave that alone. He's still a God. Though, he is a bit hard to understand with a clapping crowd. Now, here's how I know that:

It was Dana's last night tonight, and Dave played a sendoff song for her, which was pretty much the same as a birthday dance. At some point, Dave danced with her, and then Kevin cut in. Dave came in the crowd to me, and said...well, this is what I heard:

"I'm gonna push Kevin out, catch him."

I nodded, and he indeed did push Keven out, and I did indeed catch him, but something went awry...the execution was fine from my perspective, but then I thought "Wait a minute, Dave just danced with her, and Kevin just danced with her, and nobody else is hopping in, which means...oh."

Of course, by "oh," I was at the edge of the circle, with an extremely confused Kevin in my arms. "Dude!" someone called out, probably Dave, "You're supposed to dance with the girl!"

Heh. Heh heh. Heh. *Ahem.* So I let go of Kevin and charged back to Dana, grasping her much the same way as I did Kevin--everyone had a good laugh. I also sense I won't hear the last of that anytime soon. Three people told me, "It's OK, you just really want to dance with him."

Well, all in all, there were no injuries during the night. Lydia has entered my Dancer's Hall of Shame twice now, but she was in tip-top shape afterwards. And no harm came from Dana for grabbing the wrong person during her dance; in fact, she even has me out on an ass-kicking mission. Nick didn't show up tonight (or Pat, or Will; I suspect a voyage to the Century Ballroom on their part). Dana has Rick and I out for Nick's hiney--though it'll have to wait for next Wednesday, which may be my last regular night dancing.

SOGO: Rehearsal Reversal

For the last two years of SOGO, I've always had a good time in the sectional rehearsals, mainly because I could stumble through the music for a bit, then play fairly well at the full orchestra rehearsal. Those were good times, c# minor and triplet sections aside.

This year's first sectional was tonight, and SOGO didn't have a viola coach. So, last night, Mary Jo Rydhol called me up, asking for a copy of the viola part and for my leadership skills for half of the sectional period. I was glad that I passed on the One o'Clock Jump swing dance with Nick for the night; I had a buttload or three of practice to do. Franck's d-minor Symphony's first movement is nine pages long, mostly in cut time at halfnote=104; parts of it are in positions high enough I could pick my nose, and other parts of it are all colors of the -Flat rainbow.

Saturday night and Sunday were pretty intense practice sessions. OK, maybe Sunday minus two hours, but 'twas much work for the sectional rehearsal that I was going to be coaching.

I actually felt confident in my own abilities to play the parts; and I had some fingerings that I thought would be easy to...um...well, finger, with minimal painful shifting involved. But then I got to WMS fifteen minutes before rehearsal started, and received Mary Jo's sectional outline, which went on for a page and a half, along with fingerings that had more painful shifts then I was willing to try. At the start of the sectional, Mary Jo stopped in and dropped off Mr. Welsh's page of notes.

I already knew that the sectional should've been spent on the fast sections of the movement, and knew there would be no way I would get through the list. So instead of worry about all the notes, I read through until I found this little gem on Mr. Welsh's paper:

*Tale care at rehearsal B.

So far, the violas, a few violins and Mr. Allison have heard about that great piece of irony; Mr. Welsh seems to have missed it himself. Anyways, that relieved some of the tension of the rehearsal, and I lead the violas through the first page--but then Mary Jo came in, took one look at my fingerings and immediately suggested her own.

Frankly, I still like mine better.

Things got better in the full orchestra rehearsal. I could tell which violas didn't practice (about half of them...), but it was at least a pleasant experience for me. I screwed up counting a few times, but at least I hit the notes (including the high C, huzzah).

After the rehearsal, I forgot to chat with Mr. Allison about my new instrument. No, I'm talking about my (still-unnamed) viola, but rather the instrument I'm listed as playing in the SOGO directory. Last year, a typo manifested itself in Fall and carried through the whole year, so I ended up being the solo Viloa player. I was fine with this, since I thought it was funny. At last week's rehearsal, I played the Viola, on the records and off. But I think something went awry, and it started in some letters Mr. Allison and I had sent back and forth:

He was sooo funny, in fact, that when I came to the second rehearsal and signed in, he had changed my instrument. Once again, I played the Viloa. HOWEVER, he extended the influence of this New and Dazzling Instrument to reach my brother--Damian plays the Viloa now, too.

Note to self: Ask Mr. Allison if we can have our own section in the orchestra.

Alex of Sure Feet

I've talked a few times about the truck my family has--it's a 1989 Ford F-250 Custom, Custom meaning it has an 8'x10' bed. It has hideous gas mileage, but it's pretty good at hauling away yardwaste to Hawk's Prairie for fertilizer tradeoffs.

Anywhoo, my mom uses it sometimes to transport stuff to Homespun, her crafter's mall. She likes the bed to be nice and dry, since she moves boxes of stuff around sometimes. Her solution to protecting the bed from the last week's rains: Put a plastic sheet over the entire bed.

Well, today, I went out and saw the plastic sheet, untouched since Monday. It had collected a good deal of water, as per the design, and I had to get the sheet--with its gallons of dihydrogen oxide goodness--out of the bed, preferrably not on myself.

Solution: Drag the sheet corners from the cab to the tailgate, and then hop in the back over the side and stomp the newly-formed bladder. I wasn't expecting any surprises...but then I hopped onto the side.

My right foot thought I did such a good job with the leap, it thought "Hey, how about this--I won't just stop on the side of the bed, I'll go the rest of the way over. Just for you!" Aww, how sweet, you might be saying right now; What a kind present from a foot.

My left foot didn't give a rat's ass about the trip, though, and decided right when my right foot left the top of the rail, that it had changed its mind, and would hold the fort down on the ground.

Right foot went on, left foot didn't--but meanwhile, the rest of me was about to get stuck in an uncomfortable place with indecision.

Damian saw me get up off of the rail (more with my arms first). He waited for a bow, but I could only curtsy.

SPSCC Professors

One of my viola teacher's students is commencing Running Start this year, and asked me for a few good professors. Instead of write her a nice, long letter on who kicks ass (and who fails to), I'll just keep a list up and going here. All who were or are at SPSCC, feel free to add to this.

In particular: Jim and/or Nathan, could you give a little schpiel on DeStasio and Calculus? Thanks.

I will also keep a link to this entry on the sidebar of the main blog page, if you ever need a quick opinion on a professor you're considering.

From my experience, I reviewed:
-Alforde, Nicholas
-Born, Darrel
-Bowe, Stephanie
-Ganns, Richard (from opinions I harvested with dangerously little effort)
-Keeler, Steve
-Kellet, Lara
-Lawrenson, Lisa (I realized I left her blank on accident; she's well-evaluated now.)
-McNamara, Molly
-Murray, Michael (Arlo)
-Nelson, Harold
-Newsome, Oli
-Notenboom, Gayle
-Schneider, James
-Smith, Paul
-Swenson, Walter
-Villasana, Cesar
-Vosper, James

From the experience of others, these professors have [additional] notes:
-Carey, Pat (by Leah, fifth comment)
-Destasio, Doug (by Jim Farley, first comment)
-Dixon, Ericah (by Jen Clark, third comment)
-Doss, Diane (by Jen Clark, third comment; Leah, fifth comment)
-Dragoo, Judy (by Sarah, eighth comment)
-Elliot, Clare (by Beckah, seventh comment)
-Ganns, Richard (by Jen Clark, third comment)
-Gove, Sally (by Beckah, seventh comment)
-Hannon, Carol (by Leah, fifth comment)
-Johnson, Don (by Leah, fifth comment)
-Lara, Carlos (by Leah, fifth comment)
-Louie (by Jen Clark, sixth comment)
-Rushton, Lynnette (by Jen Clark, third comment)
-Strong, James (by Jen Clark, third comment)
-Teed, Deborah (by Jen Clark, third comment)
-Welch, Don (by Beckah, seventh comment)

Angela Lee decided to post her own list of professor reviews. I'm a happier man with the source consolidated, but anywhoo, here's a quick plug to her opinions on professors.
____

Note: When I say essay and give a page length, know that colleges consider pages to be double-spaced. Else, professors' eyes would implode, leaving jelly in several inconvenient locations.

Nicholas Alforde (History): Neutral
I took this guy for a Western Civilizations Telecourse, where the class met once a week, taking a test every other week--all in all, maybe a half-dozen lectures. He was a fun guy to listen to, but I know nothing of how he teaches day classes.

Darrel Born (Music): I don't think I can recommend him anymore; but I would if I could.
Darrel recently received the position as head of the music department at St. Martin's. I believe he'll still be at SPSCC to conduct the Wednesday Night choir, but I can't say I'm sure. In fact, I can't recommend him to those of you seeking music credits, since the night choir is Community Education--I'll have to point you in the direction of Molly McNamara.

Stephanie Bowe (Computer Information Systems, in databases): Recommended
The SQL class I took from her was really easy, yet not boring. She did the course really well, keeping it technically-minded and extremely applicable. You can tell she's a mom by the first example of her class: A soccer-team database. And she'll tell you she's a soccer mom, too.

Ganns, Richard (Mathematics): Not Recommended
I have not actually had this guy as a professor, but I have yet to have met anybody who didn't hate his class. From several different people, I've received the thumbs-down on this guy, and I pass it along.

Steve Keeler (Computer Information Systems): Neutral
I had the guy for UNIX, a three-credit course. The class wasn't unbearable, but the lectures did go quite slowly...I can't full-heartedly recommend him because UNIX is a fairly low number in the CIS section, and thus is geared towards people who don't have too much experience on computers. If you don't have an attention span, you will check your e-mail during his lectures, and you might end up on Yahoo! Games during lectures--I watched a few guys do that in the class, and still pull A's. I doubt they remembered the material real well after either of the two tests, though.

Lara Kellet (East-Coast Swing and Beginning Lindy Hop): Recommended
If you need a way to start your college day, and don't yet know how to dance, Lara's class is a pretty good set of East-Coast lessons. I don't disapprove of her introduction to Lindy, either, but I would recommend Idaho Dave as your teacher after East Coast.

Lisa Lawrenson (Writing): Recommended
For so generalist a teaching topic as writing, Lisa focused really well on writing elements, including easily-missed grammar notes (the 4 pluralizations, theses, explanatory depth, etc). She will remind you about the essays and their quite-rapid due dates, in a neutral yet non-evil sort of way.
My favorite part of her class was a way she ensured students got their essays at least partially done before the due date: Peer review sessions on their essays thus far, usually held a day or two before the turn-in day. Thus, your obligation to write a decent paper is not only to the professor and her pen, but also to fellow your classmates. All the more reason to sound intellectual--there's no fun in subjecting classmates to four pages of bullshit that you've called an essay.
And, on a side note, she thought my self-evaluation essay was the funniest one in the class. I, uh, poked (/stabbed) a bit of fun at a crappy high school English teacher I had, with great results.

Molly McNamara (Music): Neutral
I can't say anything about her in classes, I've only had her as a choir conductor. She can play piano, and does a fairly good job as a conductor--though I think her musical selections are a little too "gorgeous" sometimes. Strictly the opinion of an off-beat bass singer.

(Arlo) Michael Murray (History): Recommended
The bad quality of this guy is all in the first day of his 111 class (US History 1). His first lecture isn't specifically related to history, but more about challenges of college, and reminders that you're not in high school anymore. The lecture made me feel like I was in High School, Mark 2 (which some of us call SPSCC anyway). However, after day one, he is a great orator, and has a well-set lecture plan. The homework's a hefty amount of dry reading, but you should expect that signing up for a history course. His tests are also quite fair, and multiple-choice--not a single essay in the class, though there is light writing.

Harold Nelson (Microeconomics): Recommended
I wish I could say something about this man, mainly because he's my dad. However, I have not once in my life attended a lecture of his. He does a fine job of teaching (professing ideas and such) in one-on-one sessions, but he lectures on Economics. As with all Econ. professors, make sure you enjoy the material.

Oli Newsome (Psychology): Recommended
I love this man. Not only does he teach Psychology, he is the advisor for the Psychology Club (scholarly) and the Jitterbug Club (not-so-scholarly). Joining at least the Psychology Club will definitely earn you points in his book; no, he does not use favoritism at all, but he will involve you in the lectures every now and then. I was particularly prominent in class whenever eating crickets came up.
He gives three tests for each of his classes, excluding the final. If you miss a test, the final is weighed that much more into your grade; if you take all three tests, you don't take the final. Which can be pretty darn good, considering the last two sequential quarters, his final day came the day after his third test day.
His class is a fun one to get involved in; it's probably still fun if you just listen to the lectures, too, though I wouldn't know. Also, his tests are quite rewarding--they're multiple choice, and some of the answers involve spiders in his "enchanted" trousers. All I recommend is take good notes, and you'll do fine in his class.

Gayle Notenboom (History): Neutral
I just had her for a history telecourse, where I saw the professor once a week. Thus, I don't know too much about her lecture style; I do know that she is harsh with essay deadlines (harsh to the half-second).

James Schneider (Writing): Recommended*
The * is for those of you who still believe in the concept of free time.
James Schneider's Writing 102 course is, above all, immersive. You will be absorbed by the work in there, but it is all worth it. Just consider the course to be a 10-credit class (though you only get 5), and if you need a breakdown on why:
1.) Every week, you read an essay or three and write a 3-page response essay, which was posted on-line in a Yahoo! group in the class I had with him. In addition, after the first week you respond to three of the previous weeks' student essays (about a page/page and a half per essay). Writing is, after all, a social act.
2.) For the quarter, you write an (approximately) 20-page researched, persuasive essay on a Topic of Social Relevance (I chose K-12's Zero Tolerance policy, for example), broken up into four parts to make it seem like a continous series of essays: Prospectus, Contextual Background, Analysis, and Call to Action/Conclusion (one of these due every two weeks, in that order). This, as far as I can tell, is done universally in WRIT102 classes at SPSCC.
3.) The in-class work is independent of your other essays, and for my class included an outside-of-class survey and a group research presentation.
4.) The last two weeks of the quarter are devoted to student presentations on their research findings, lasting 10-12 minutes apiece. (As if writing the essay wasn't enough, eh?)
After the last class finishes, you will be left with an after-sex sensation, and probably want a nap. Take the nap; you'll deserve it. James definitely teaches one of the hardest classes at SPSCC, and he does a great job of making time be used efficiently. Besides that, his voice is enchanting to listen to for an hour or two; it has a hint of an Indian accent("Dances with Dots," not "Dances with Wolves," as someone else on this blog site said earlier).

Paul Smith (Computer Information Systems, Mathematics): Recommended
This man is a genius. WHENEVER you get the opportunity to take a course from him, be it math (Statistics and I believe College Algebra) or programming (Programming Logic or C++), carpe diem. He really knows what he's doing as a teacher.

Walter Swenson (Economics): Not Recommended
I've written a few blog entries on this guy already; if you really want to see them, you can do a search off of my main blog index. When I had the guy, he was a new professor--I learned this, of course, after I scored him low on the Professor Evaluation and filled the entire comments page on how I did not like his lecture style. To keep my (now-iterated) criticism short, this was my least favorite part of the course:
For homework, we would go home and read a chapter out of the book. This was a twice-a-week class, so that was fine by me. But...
For the lecture, he then lectured us from the book, almost paragraph for paragraph. And he wasn't a fast talker.
Those two-hour class sessions were brutal.

Cesar Villasana (Developmental and Post-Calculus Mathematics): Recommended
Cesar is a gentle man from Mexico. He puts a lot of care into the problem selection for homework, and lectures fairly well (though, if you take Linear Algebra, you probably will not pronounce the word "Echelon" English-correctly for a month after the course; I'm still not sure if I know how). His tests come from the book, in that the questions are selected exercises from the text, and he picks'em really well. If you're ever looking over my Linear Algebra notes, though, you may notice a little note:
"Cesar believes himself to have been Cleopatra in a past life. Do not question."
Past existences aside, he knows math really well, too.

James Vosper (History): Recommended (for Sociology: Neutral)
You'll always hear this about Dr. Vosper: He gives some really easy quizzes. Reason being, he has a copy of the quiz in front of him, and gives a mini-lecture for each question, sometimes reading the question in the affirmative or negative for true/false questions. What you need for day-to-day survival is a good short term memory. That is based off of a history class with him.
In any of his classes, he requires a term paper, of about ten pages in length. You can write this as a high-school level report (elongated, of course), and get an A on it. I wrote mine the night before (actually, the night after) that it was due, turned it in feeling crappy about it as a college-level writer, and got a 92%. (Another note on the term papers: In History, there aren't truly outstanding topic choices on the list. I chose the Battle of Gettysburg.)
His tests are part multiple choice, part T/F, and part essay. He definitely teaches a more involving course. (I haven't had him for Sociology, so I don't know what to say there.)

Further proof

If I wasn't sure I was done with Olympia dances before, I'm double-ultra-sure now. I was feelin' kinda down after the dance yesterday, because not only did I pay $5 for an hour of dancing (no, I still haven't worked the Units Method problem, because it's late again), the music was (and I'm quoting Ali) Rockabilly. I never knew how to put that into words before. Thanks Ali.

Anywhoo, after Idaho Dave's Beyond Moves class, I just sorta lose feeling in Rockabilly songs; there's a swing beat, but the music encourages nothing but a slew of Basics, with a move tossed in here and there--it just doesn't seem like dancing. There's little dynamicism, or opportunity for new moves, 'til I screw up doing a standard move and have to invent something to get back to a regular basic. I'm not sure how I'm going to fare at the Jitterbug Club dances...well, those'll be mostly beginners anyway. I hope there'll be a Lindy crop this time around, instead of a bunch of East-Coasters. East Coast dancing seems to encourage Rockabilly.

Well, digressions aside, I was feeling pretty poor at dancing after Tuesday, because of the lack-of-spirit thing. I wasn't even convinced I would be at the dance after Dave's Charleston class--that's how poor I felt. And, besides that, I got my multivariable calculus book Wednesday afternoon, and hadn't even cracked it open, so it wasn't like I was going home to play Final Fantasy IX or anything.

I'm glad I skipped the math. It was an awesome night, full of heat and lots of other energy, and I met three or four high school girls who were at their very first dance, and having fun, not the normal East-Coast Training Night of a Thousand Turns. Which brings me to two Tacoma-plugging philosophy points of dance:

1.) If you're gonna learn to dance, jump into the deep end of the pool and take a course in Lindy Hop from Idaho Dave. In fact...

2.) Idaho Dave is a fountain of dance propogation. Take his classes, watch him do weird things every once in a while; he's who you learn to dance (and do basic steps, and a few moves) from.

The night went amazingly well, considering I forgot deodorant. Yeah, that should've put a damper on my flamboyant arm movements, but even with all the sweat from fast dancing and little AC, I wasn't one big, spectacular stink. (I gave myself a pit-check at the stairs below the bathroom; that's an amazingly convenient place for those little private tests.)

Historically, my best Tacoma dance nights have been the ones where I forget to put on deodorant. I seem to dance my best with an aura...just kidding, as far as I can tell I don't have a stink-radius bigger than six inches.

And no, I won't take the history to heart and conclude that deodorant hinders me. As far as I can tell, I have yet to be shunned, and I would prefer to keep it that way.

News to Me

Well, tonight my mom sat down and chatted with me. Just chatting, which doesn't happen often at all; she's usually either busy working, busy trying to get me busy working for her, or busy being drained from her working (she runs a wholesale-to-retail crafts business, The Country Treasure, out of the house and 2nd garage/warehouse).

She just looked over my shoulder at the entry thus far, and denied that she was chatting. *Shrug.*

After that conversation, I think I now know who I inherited my dancing from. It wasn't my dad--he was a joker in high school, but not a dancer, and not musically inclined either. My mom, though, took quickly to Jitterbug dancing in Korea--strictly in gym classes. Koreans (probably Asians in general?) hold the same public opinion against partner dancing that the Japanese do in Shall We Dance, ie it's publically regarded as a lounge lizard's sport. She learned the Jitterbug and Waltz steps quicker than the rest of her class, and soon afterwards was over she went to teaching her own dance class.
Actually, she even learned blues dancing. Not the kind I see in Tacoma which implies dancing as a vertical expression of a horizontal desire.

I still don't know where my music came from.

Anyway, on to News to You:

I think I'm finished with the Tuesday dances. With Chamber Orchestra getting out at 9:30, I arrive at the dance at something like ten to ten, when over half of the dancers have already gone home to sleep (weirdos). Yet, I'm still charged $5, which implies, assuming dances last an even three minutes, that every song costs me twenty cents. I think...it's kinda late, and I listened to a woman in orchestra argue for ten minutes over bowings--no specific bowings, just what could be done with Brandenburg--and not only running circles, but arguing with herself. She repeated phrases four times.

I'm so drained, I can't even do this Units Method problem without the help of Mathematica. So, further now-useless proof aside, I'm done with Tuesday dances for the school year. Wednesdays still have me enticed thus far, since Math Systems hasn't started, but I may have to drop those too. My dad got a look at the textbooks (a few of the 8) and is pretty convinced I've got a 60-hour work week ahead of me, not counting the music. ...Maybe I could work and play like last winter quarter, with 17 credits, 3 high school classes and music on the weekends.

Oh no! I'm a workaholic! I'm addicted to workahol!

Alex looks like a...

NOTE:
This entry is not worth reading until fallenearth.org is back online.

(No, this is not a finish-my-sentence entry. I don't feel like being called a trilobyte again.)

About fifteen minutes ago, my mom walked towards the kitchen to get her makeup out of the fridge. (Y'heard me.) She passed me at the table, innocently eating a cookie. In her hand was one of those hairband thingies--I'm a male, so that's as descriptive as I can get.

Anyway, she spotted me sitting idly, munching. She suddenly thought it would be cute if her hair-a-ma-jig went into my hair, since I guess women everywhere have a secret desire to apply beauty products or objects to men at random intervals in their lives. And thus my hair was seeded.

Damian took one look at me and said that I "Looked like a geisha."

Well, the picture-taking after that was purely obligatory on his part--he stuck the idea in my head, after all. He refused to take more than four pictures, as my face scared too much bejesus out of him. Chatting with Jen later, I thought I looked like a Y! Messenger emoticon, with geisha hair.

What do you think?

Stressers

Driving home from the Outdoor Cinemas tonight, I was reminded of why I like to go the speed limit and not above. An OPD car was on patrol at 4th Ave. & Capitol way when I turned onto 4th. The squad car soon turned off, leaving me room to breathe. At Pacific Avenue, a Sheriff's Department car turned onto the road and cruised side-by-side with me, eventually overtaking me at 5 over the speed limit. Before he overtook me, though, there was another squad car parked with its lights on, poised near Music 6000.

So many law enforcement entities...oy. But the worst stresser tonight was about five minutes ago.

My bird Sherry sometimes sheds feathers that look like dandelion seeds; they're fun to catch and silky smooth to play with. Well, I thought I saw one of those feathers sprinkling down at the mouse on my left. I reached out with my hand, and was about to catch it--

'Til it hit the mouse and jumped, knocking itself into the can next to the mouse.

Now, those of you old school FallenEarth members may remember a li'l ode directly related to a multi-legged creature. This spider was pretty much the same size, only white/tan--I presume wolf or something. Anyway, it was spindly and such, and it stayed between my mouse, my Kerns, and a bowl that had some pita chips.

Last year, I got a Kerns and was scared out of my wits (and voice range) six times. This year, I already have a Kerns, but now the spider is out of sight, and lodged firmly in mind.

I'm beginning to sense a pattern.

Hash-inator or Cheese Grater?

I was about to put this into a comment in David's cooking blog, but then thought better of it, since it's a full philosophical debate by itself.

Last Saturday, the day I donated blood and went to see My Big Fat Greek Wedding, my family (sans my mom) had hash browns and eggs for breakfast. Usually, I'm the one who makes the hash browns from scratch, taking a potato to a device which I dubbed the Hashinator. Essentially it was a cheese grater, but with square holes. Make a note of that.

All was not happy in the kitchen that morning, for I had my fingers a little bit too close to the grating holes, and removed three-quarters of a square on my middle finger. Slight outchies, and a bit of blood--no special ingredients in the hash browns, though, so after a band-aid all was good.

At dinner before the movie, it was Aaron, Lauren Thomas and I at Mercato's, being well-watered and breaded by Cassie. In fact, Aaron and I tried to make sure Cassie would water us frequently by chugging down our water glasses once. I only did it once because a rather obtrusive, thin ice cube stemmed the flow of water into my mouth, and I was chugging at such a slow rate that I finally laughed and had water shoot up--not out--my nose. This water was also still fairly cold from the ice, resulting in a brain freeze.

That may be worthy of repeating: I got a brain freeze from chugging water.

Well, that entertained the three of us at the table for a few minutes, but then the conversation moved on to weight loss. I told them that I lost a pound, brandishing my proudly-bandaged elbow. Lauren thought it was...nice.

I then told them about the hash browns incident that morning, since I was on a suddenly lively topic of bleeding. I told them that I cut myself on a device I dubbed "The Hashinator." The ensuing debate became a bit silly.

Lauren: "What's a Hashinator?"

Me: "It's like a cheese grater, with a sliding plane and some metal cutting holes..."

Lauren: "So, it's a cheese grater then."

Me: "No, it's a hash-brown cutter, because the holes are square."

Lauren: "Cheese graters have square holes--"

Me: "No, Lauren, cheese graters' holes are semi-circular--"

Lauren: "AND they have square holes too."

Me: "But, the device I used only had square holes. Therefore, it's only half a cheese-grater, but since it's only half, it can't be considered a full cheese grater, now can it?"

Lauren: "Yes, it can!"

Me: "By the law of integers and devices--"

At this point, Aaron held up his hands, as a Philosophical Judicator of Kitchen Goods, silencing the debate in front of him:

"If you have a pie, and you cut it in twain, are not both of those pieces still pie?"

Defeated by a baked good. Ooh, that was biting.

I suddenly felt threatened by baked goods the world over, mainly because I noticed my piece of bread had a rather sharp-looking outcropping pointing right at my heart.

Breakfast has been biscuit-free since Saturday.

Revolving around Systems

I've seen quite a few people here use some spiffy-looking tables to display their college schedules. While I applaud it, and wish I could make those tables myself, I just don't think it's worth the effort when I can give my 16.5 academic hours per week as so:

Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday: Math Systems, from 1300 to 1830.

And then, there's for fun:

Tuesday: Olympia Chamber Orchestra, 1900 to 2130.

Maybe (and not looking too likely): swing dancing on Tuesdays, from 2150 to whenever. It doesn't seem too worth it to pay $5 for a little over an hour of dancing, especially after eight and a half solid hours on the Evergreen campus.

Oh well. I've sacrificed a bit of dancing for viola playing, and at least I know I'll have a quality time doing that. How do I know?

I got a new viola today. Through Applebaums, I bought a 16.5" instrument with a wide bottom, a Chinese model of a non-violin shape designed for better acoustics. And hoo boy, is it a sweet instrument--my teacher (Anne) tried it out, and she noticed first off that she felt the music she played through the back of the viola. Many overtones, and a deep sound otherwise; I'm quite happy. I got a new bow, too. Thus far, the greatest benefit I've found is that it doesn't click its way into loosening, as opposed to my old bow.

I'm really lookin' forward to blasting out that G chord in Haydn's Surprise now. For further reference to said blast, come to one of the Olympia Chamber Orchestra concerts on the 26th of October. (More info on that later.)

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, my plan Tuesday was to have a nice, quiet evening with the family (extending to my uncle and aunt), have pizza, maybe a cake, and then if the evening was still young, head over to the Eagles swing dance.

That was the plan until I remembered that the first Olympia Chamber Orchestra rehearsal was "the first Tuesday after Labor Day." That concerned me, because I hadn't been able to get ahold of Arun Chandra (probably spelled wrong) and schedule an audition with him to get in.

So, he finally called me Tuesday morning, and said I could sit in on the orchestra's rehearsal that night, and then chat with him afterwards on what I thought about it. This probably meant I could have gotten in without the formality of an audition, but something in me wanted to make sure I did it the hard way, and I proposed an audition time about a half-hour before the rehearsal started.

The birthday party has been moved to Friday. But I still celebrated my birthday, in a really uncelebratory sort of way. I got into Olympia Chamber Orchestra with my audition, which I thought was a fine way to kick off my 19th year.

After the rehearsal, I charged down to the dance and hugged people, saying I got in. I didn't confuse anyone, which confuses me, which means I confused someone, which means I shouldn't be confused, which LOOPS BACK INFINITELY.

I talked with Lydia (the girl I jumped on last Wednesday, causing one really loud clap on Idaho Dave's dance floor with my back). Her knee was fine. ...She told me she couldn't walk for three days, and I forgot if she was kidding; but we're still on nice, friendly terms. I danced three songs in a row, the first two with Lydia. Then the fire alarm went off. Boy, oh boy, is that thing loud.

Well, the options at that point were to head home, thus losing my investment of $5 in the dance to another evening of Neverwinter Nights, or to head over to Nick Sheppard's house and play Risk--also losing my $5 investment in the dance.

I drove Nuvo, Nick, Pat Jung and myself out to what would be our evening 'til 4:30. No, we didn't play Risk for five and a half straight hours: We ate first. All five of us (we picked up one of Nick's friends along the way) were kinda hungry, and I suggested grilled cheese sandwiches. Nick said that he refused to eat a grilled cheese 'wich without tomato soup, but after scouring his cupboards and fridge, could find none. What he did find, though, was a bottle of...

...Ketchup.

And he did have his tomato soup, in that bottle. Here's the process that he showed all of us as we gaping-mouthedly watched:

1.) Fill a coffee mug about half way with ketchup (later revised to 1/3).

2.) Fill the rest of the mug with hot water (he was so classy, he didn't even deign boil it).

3.) Pop'er in the microwave for 30 seconds.

4.) Stir, appeasing the stomach by not watching yourself scoop the red mass out of the bottom of the cup.

5.) Add pepper, garlic powder and cayenne to taste.

He passed around the cup, and made believers out of us; we had home-made tomato soup. It was quite...survivalist. And I put too much cayenne in mine--I didn't notice until I got to the bottom, where it had all sunk. (Note to self--cayenne sinks through ketchup and water).

We used smoked gouda for the grilled cheese sandwiches; as a sidenote, that has my thumbs-up on taste.

Risk was pretty fun, even though I got utterly annihilated in three turns. See, I started in South America, which sucks. I took over the continent, and had a peace treaty with Nick that I wouldn't touch North America if he would leave South America alone. So I stomped on over to Africa, and nearly knocked pat out of the game, and then with my main army of six soldiers, I attacked Western Europe, which had eight soldiers. It was a good idea the turn before, when Western Europe only had three--but then I threw a rock at it, and killed two soldiers.

The next turn, Europe (Jordan) obliterated my guys in Africa, and the turn after that my treaty with Nick expired and he claimed both the Americas for himself. End of game for me; but that was only a half-hour in.

Surprisingly, I didn't fall asleep watching the game until 0430. If you guys ever want a late-night bonding session, play Risk starting at midnight. There's diplomacy, there's schooling little South American suckers...heck, afterwards, we even got to hear some stories about funny things men do in the field (military). Plenty of ping-a-ling jokes and stories about pranks involving those, most of which I can't bring myself to tell with women reading this.

So, yeah--happy birthday to me.