Back to Normal.

The background has returned. My life is settled, and it's 1:30 in the morning and I'm writing a blog instead of sleeping before my midterm tomorrow. Life is back to normal. This week has been hectic. I probably over-reacted every step of the way, which I am prone to do. But knowing that I made it out to be such a big deal doesn't make it feel less stressful, if that makes sense. I work on it, though. This post doesn't have much of a purpose, so we'll see where it leads.

Here's a thought that was on my mind this week. When I was in high school, I couldn't wait to move out of my house. I was ready to make it on my own, and go off to college, away from my family. I wanted to make my own decisions. I wanted to make choices. I wanted to be in charge of my own life. I wanted to be an adult, indepent, not needing anyone. I think it's a universal thought that all of us self-centered teenagers run across in life, the desire to prove ourselves and our independence to a world much larger than the house where we've been forced to abide by rules and curfews for 18 years.

I got my tonsils out when I was four months short of seventeen, in the midst of this rebellious independent phase. Both of my parents attended. Now, anesthesia and I do not mix well. I come out of anesthesia unhappily. Violently, actually. I don't remember the first twenty mintues of waking up after the tonsillectomy, though it apparently involved alot of flailing and me being strapped to a bed to avoid punching any nurses. I think I wanted to stand up and they, with good reason, refused. My first actual memory is being in the bed, just not feeling well. Anesthesia does weird things, but I think the body can realize that something is wrong--the limbs are too lethargic, it's difficult to move, thoughts are foggy, and time has passed for which my mind cannot account. Maybe it's the loss of control, I don't know. Either way, I just felt kind of twitchy on the outside and distressed on the inside. Mom was on one side of the bed, and Dad on the other. I was holding Dad's hand. I flailed to the other side of the bed and squeezed Mom's hand. This continued for a few minutes, since I couldn't remain still long enough to hold either one of their hands for long. I tried to touch my surgical wounds inside of my mouth, and they stopped me. (I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to try that, but I tried nonetheless.) I tried to sit up and they gently pushed me back down. I held their hands longer. They brought me a cup of ice and mountain dew, since I needed to get something in my stomach. Dad spoon fed me the chips of ice and mountain dew while Mom held my hand and continued to soothe me. They drove me home, where I promptly collapsed in bed.

In retrospect, I smile at that day. It opened my eyes. I was so bent on being independent, on believing that I didn't need my parents. However, as soon as I was waking up, lost and confused, the first thing I remember doing is reaching for their hands for comfort and support. I proceeded to ignore this lesson and assert my independence throughout senior year of high school, pretending that I didn't need anybody. Then, college happened. I spent the first year visiting occasionally, but still deluding myself into believing that I was doing it all on my own, that I didn't need my family, that their help was appreciated but not necessary.

But little by little, it's more and more apparent to me that I need my parents as much now as I did as a six-year-old girl trying to find protection from velociraptors. When I couldn't sleep after a breakup, I called Mom in the middle of the night for somebody to listen to me cry. When I have questions about my car, or I'm stranded and don't know what to do, I call Dad and know that he'll always make time to give me the help I need. I lean on them both throughout the harder situations in life, and they are always there with constant support and love.

This whole thing might sound like some sort of bribe on the off-chance that my parents will read my blog, but I guess I just figure it's an important lesson. We all need to lean on somebody, and not always someone as an equal. Friends are important, too, but nothing is quite like the fact that my parents have seen me at my worst. They saw me in diapers, they saw me as a brat, learning the word no. They see the worst of my temper and the meanest I've been. They've seen me when I'm sick, or an unkempt mess, or when I didn't feel like looking clean or pretty or presentable. And despite this, they will love me just the same, even if I make entirely no sense or look completely miserable. Somewhere along the way, I tried to delude myself into believing that I didn't need their unconditional love. World... I was wrong. Who knew that a stubborn 18-year-old could be so wrong.

Okay, this is getting too personal and sappy. So, to lighten this, don't take things for granted, whether it be the fact that you are loved or the fact that you have food to eat today, that you are walking about without pain, or that you learned the valuable lesson of laughing at yourself. And hope that you don't come out of anesthesia violently. I think my parents were a little embarrassed as they comforted their flailing daughter while the girl in the next bed just smiled peacefully. Though I'm not sure Dustin was such an improvement. Dustin doesn't come out violently. He did moonwalk after getting his wisdom teeth out, along with writing poetry, making kissing faces, and creating sound effects to accompany the x-ray machine. There are some interesting youtube videos as testament to the crazy effects anesthesia has on him. Mom and Dad were at least more entertained by his reaction. Like how they felt about his GPA as opposed to mine in high school...

There's really nowhere else for this post to go. Have a great day.

Today.

Read the "Raptors?" thing on the side. It explains the bakcground for today.

Jess made me a lovley background. We both very much like it. She also said at one point it wasn't crazy enough for me. I begged to differ. I have many levels, and not all are crazy. However, in honor of that statement, I have used photoshop to show that I am not entirely incompetent with photoshop, by simply pasting a picture of a raptor above pre-existing pictures. I didn't have any sort of image account, so currently my school webDAV account, used for Web Design, is hosting the image.

I'm in web design and I can't make a background? Dang. I can at least understand the CSS that controls this template though!

Either way, enjoy the altered background for a few days or until Jess cracks up and then comes up with something way more awesome, since her photoshop skills will always exceed those of mine.

Art.

The other day, I was having an instant messanger conversation with my friend, Leah. Leah's younger sister makes lovely wood-burning art, and I had been talking to this sister about purchasing one of these things, to which she responded she wasn't sure of price, since she "wasn't a professional or anything." I mentioned this to Leah, which spurred this discussion.

[Note: this is not my screen name. This is not Leah's screen name. Do not attempt to IM either of these screen names, please.]

argill (5:31:18 PM): well, I was like
argill (5:31:20 PM): it's art.
argill (5:31:23 PM): art is art
argill (5:31:49 PM): artists can come from anywhere!
argill (5:31:55 PM): novices can exceed experts!
fracturedradiance (5:38:12 PM): that's the life
fracturedradiance (5:38:22 PM): but I like school too much to be an artist
fracturedradiance (5:38:24 PM): woe is me
argill (5:38:39 PM): lol
argill (5:38:44 PM): you ARE an artist!
argill (5:38:46 PM): that's the beauty of it!
argill (5:38:54 PM): you are a painter and a poet and a musician
argill (5:39:01 PM): and a reader and a writer
argill (5:39:07 PM): and you appreciate beauty in the world!
fracturedradiance (5:39:26 PM): true, I think an artist should be anyone who appreciates beauty and is capable of conveying that
fracturedradiance (5:39:34 PM): like your blog
argill (5:39:44 PM): we are all artists somewhere inside of us, we just have to find out how to express it
argill (5:39:56 PM): everybody appreciates the world in some way
fracturedradiance (5:39:54 PM): that's what Marx thinks!
fracturedradiance (5:40:56 PM): that's why he hates capitalism
fracturedradiance (5:41:06 PM): it turns so much human potential into a mechanical process
argill (5:41:23 PM): ah
argill (5:41:28 PM): I can see why he'd have a problem
argill (5:41:38 PM): but if there weren't the mechanical processes, things would fall apart
fracturedradiance (5:41:44 PM): Marx thinks that people find meaning through creating in their particular, original way
fracturedradiance (5:41:53 PM): and when capitalism takes over, people don't appreciate their work
fracturedradiance (5:41:59 PM): they live for leisure once the work week is done
fracturedradiance (5:42:03 PM): and that is a shame
argill (5:42:18 PM): I think if people never did anything but create, they wouldn't be able to appreciate its value
fracturedradiance (5:42:24 PM): he just doesn't like the hierarchy
fracturedradiance (5:42:32 PM): his method to fix this, of course, is ineffective
fracturedradiance (5:43:10 PM): well, he means create in the sense of doing what they were meant to do; if they like math, do math, if they like shoe making, make shoes, if they like growing plants, sell them
fracturedradiance (5:43:19 PM): but he thinks people should directly see the fruits of their labor
fracturedradiance (5:43:22 PM): he hates the factory
fracturedradiance (5:43:25 PM): and the corporate world
fracturedradiance (5:43:43 PM): the market does not run as effectively, but he argues that it’s not about money, it’s about people and social relationships
fracturedradiance (5:43:53 PM): I really think he gets a bad rap
fracturedradiance (5:44:07 PM): because at the most basic level, his yearnings make sense and have humanity in mind
fracturedradiance (5:44:20 PM): but what sprang from his ideas was largely unsuccessful
argill (5:44:13 PM): well, in essence his ideas are good, just put into practice they are flawed
argill (5:44:19 PM): and not necessarily because they were WRONG
argill (5:44:25 PM): nobody has just figured out how to do them right
fracturedradiance (5:44:43 PM): it’s very complicated


I never knew this about Marx, personally. I think that if that's how he felt, he had somewhat of a point, in the sense that we are all artists. Leah's sister claims to not be a professional. But she's creating something beautiful, expressing herself to the world by allowing them to appreciate part of what she can do. Leah writes poetry, her way of showing the world what she thinks is beautiful and allowing them to glimpse a piece of what inspires her as beauty. I write a blog, through which I allow others to laugh at my experiences as I would. We all do something, whether it's defined by what we think of as "art." So often, people think of art as specifically painting, photography, music, drama. The "Arts." But isn't it so much broader than that? All creative thought is art to some extent. Why aren't new scientific breakthroughs considered art in some form? Why is art considered such a narrow field? We are all gifted at something. We all create beauty somehow. We all have areas of specialty, whether the world acknowledges this as art or recognizes us as professionals.

I urge you, reader, recognize where your talent lies and learn to express yourself through it. Fellow mathematicians, do you see the beauty in well-thought out proofs, in number theory? or, to others. do you see beauty in chemical reactions, in the structure of cells, in the patterns of the universe? Do you see hte beauty in harmony of colors? Are you able to capture life on film in stunning ways? Do you make beautiful clothes? Do you possess the ability to reach people through your words? Can you see and appreciate the harmony in notes, the interaction of melodies and instruments? I could go on for paragraphs about so many little things that are artistic, and still never manage to list them all. I can understand why Marx would have wished for everyone to be able to pursue their talent, and I regret that it isn't something that can feasibly be done, at least in what I see.

So, even if it's just on the side, just whenever you have time, don't forget to be an artist. Make time to contribute to the world.

Marshmallows.

I would have failed the marshmallow test.

Let me explain. The marshmallow test is a different way of testing a young student's ability to succeed scholastically. IQ, or intelligence quotient, tests are commonly used. However, these are more a measurement of the ability to learn facts and logic. EQ, or emotional intelligence, is more of a test of the ability to gauge emotions. I guess it's better to explain it with the test.

The Marshmallow Test.
A group of young children are all in a room, and all given a marshmallow. The adult in charge has to leave, but gives the students instructions. They may eat the marshmallow if they like. However, if they still have not eaten the marshmallow by the time the adult returns, they will be given a second marshmallow. The students that pass typically do better at being motivated in school and keeping their eyes on future goals.

Typically, 1/3 of the children scarf down the marshmallow with no second thoughts or regrets. The next 1/3 of the children try and wait, but little by little, or eventually, the marshmallow is gone. The third group calmly waits for the adult to return, upon which they get a second marshmallow.

Now, I actually might pass the marshmallow test if it were marshmallows, since I'm not so fond of them. They have an odd sort of texture, and unless they have been caught on fire and are currently between two graham crackers with a piece of chocolate, I have little enjoyment for them. Additionally, I always want to type "marshmellow." Unfortunately, this word is spelled in a way that is not really at all how it is pronounced. Thus, I would have little use in consuming such a food in the hypothetical testing environment. So let's use something that is more appealing to me. Pizza.

Now, in the pizza test, Little Andrea is not in the first group. She really wants the second piece of pizza. However, she will try to wait. She might try something sneaky, like eating the bottom of the pizza and hoping the adult doesn't notice. She'll start with that, at least, and eventually decide that she'd rather just eat the pizza and pass out on the second piece. Better yet, she'll befriend someone else like her. They will split Little Andrea's pizza, and leave the friend's pizza untouched. The friend will then give Andrea her second piece of pizza, and both will get one and a half pieces of pizza. Adult Andrea would probably try the same thing. Then again, I'm pretty good about my credit card, so maybe I do understand.

Dustin is my brother. He is one day less than a year younger than me (figure that one out.) He would have passed both the marshmallow and the pizza test. This is not only because of his superior EQ, it is because he doesn't like cheese. Rather than eat his pizza, he would probably bribe one of the other children into doing something for him in exchange for his two pieces of pizza. He'd probably have bribed me into doing chores in exchange for his pizza. I really liked pizza then. Still do, though not to the point that I'd let Dustin bribe me into pizza. Crafty little fellow that he is. I'm glad I never went to pre-school with him. Same with marshmallows. He would have had no trouble waiting for a second marshmallow. Then he would proceed to have the same teachers a year after me from second grade to senior year, giving him an obvious advantage at schoolwork.

For real, though, I wonder how I would have done. I don't know if I'd have made it, because sometimes I make decisions that I know I could have thought through more thoroughly (dang, that's like a tongue-twister for the eyes) and done better. On the other hand, I feel like I have the ability to make good decisions. I guess the results of the marshmallow test that I never took won't affect my current life all too much at this point. I mean, no matter how I would have done on that test, I am who I am now. And, its just a kid and a marshmallow. How much will that actually reveal about who a person will become?

Now I want S'mores.

[Edit: Upon finishing this blog, click here for related, entertaining reading. And don't forget to comment on either!]

Weather.

As I walked into the meal plan place (I call it a meal plan place because it is not a cafeteria and I don't want to use the actual name in some odd attempt to pretend that my blog doesn't reveal any personal information leading to my whereabouts, although dining hall may have been more fitting,) it was maybe a little cloudy, and warm. As I left with a takeout box of food in one hand and a cup of apple, orange, and cranberry juice (I created this mixture from the drink fountain) (I misuse parentheses) in the other, the wind began to blow. Luckily, I was walking into the wind, so it blew my hair away from my face so that it trailed behind me like a banner declaring my presence to the world. That's how I felt. In this gust of wind, I realized, "It will rain later." I could tell by the wind. Maybe it's the smell of rain coming, or maybe the humid feel of the wind. Or perhaps the presence of ominous clouds--I don't recall ever thinking the wind will bring rain when the sky is so overwhelmingly blue and cloudless that it's almost painful--but I knew rain was imminent.

Either way, Floridians have a knack for understanding the weather. Other state people might, too, but I wouldn't know about them. I just know in Florida one has to be extremely educated about the chances of rain and thunderstorms. Florida thunderstorms can appear whenever. They defy the laws of weather. They may appear in the morning, the afternoon, in the dead of night, any time, any season, anywhere. We are not the Sunshine State. In fact, I think Florida is where the weather decides to play tricks. "Hmm, I'm bored. Let's throw a thunderstorm at Florida. While it's sunny. Figure that one out." It must be like the ultimate meteorology test, predicting Florida's weather. Think you're good at what you do? Spend a week in Florida. Best of luck, meteorologists.

In addition to being a Floridian, I am a lifegaurd, which also requires knowledge of thunderstorms. Pools and lightning do not mix well, so I hear. As a camp counselor, we were a long walk from the pool, and would spend the day debating whether or not we could go, often times turning back as we were journeying towards the pool. Where I work now (still attempting to protect my whereabouts) during the summers as a lifegaurd, the residents live a good 50 yards from the pool. As such, we take closer risks with the weather, while still placing the safety of the swimmers at top priority. Usually by lunch we know if we can make it a full day. The summer days start out blue and cloudless. By lunch, clouds begin to build. The amount of clouds and the puffiness tells us the chances of rain. The more the clouds seem to be exploding upwards, the better chance of rain. Then clouds become more frequent and gray, and then you can see the horizon getting blurred in the distance because of approaching rain. Then there's maybe rumbles of thunder. At the first crash-like thunder, or any flash of light, all the residents are rushed from the pool and taken home immediately. Sometimes we close the pool before the last swim session, sometimes we make it the entire hour before the storm reaches us. The point is, we have to know the weather to keep the swimmers safe.

The weather here, in Northwestern Florida, however, is some odd hybrid of real weather and Florida weather. It's more predictable, it's as humid as farther south, and as cold as farther north. Terrible, really. But last winter it was very predictable. It would rain. Then it would be cold and sunny for three days, with each day getting warmer until jackets weren't necessary. Then, on the fourth day, it would rain. This cycle repeated itself a good many times. I liked that cycle. I knew what to expect, and it never reached the freezing temperatures that this year reached. Maybe the wind today was the first sign that this cycle has restarted. Or maybe it's just some other trick being thrown at Florida.

But, no matter what the weather the previous day, each day starts new again. Maybe it'll be cloudy, maybe it'll be sunny. Despite what the weather throws at you, it cannot stop the next day from starting, for the weather to play out as it will. But the weather cannot stop the earth from moving, the sun from rising, or the chance to being each brand new day as you will. So, no matter what the literal or metaphorical weather in your life, take comfort in knowing that it won't stop the sunrise; tomorrow is inevitable, sun or clouds, so seize the opportunity to make the most of each new day.

Literary Devices.

Most of high school IB english was spent analyzing the works of various people in great detail. We knew that the author employed alliteration or diction or personification or another literary device to protray their feelings about communist Russia or feminism or something else that made little sense and was so subjective that almost any meaning could be created. However, having been educated in such literary devices, I, a mathematics education major, am going to write a passage explaining an incident today at the diner. Feel free to comment with an analyization of the topic explaining how I use punctuation to illustrate my true feelings about the status of today's economy or whatever else you think I may be saying.

"Immediately upon recieving drinks, I'll put the straw into the water that I ordered, maybe pushing the lemon to the bottom of the glass to better distribute the lemony flavor. Then I proceed to tie the straw wrapper into a series of tiny knots, all of which lie on top of another and end in a giant knot. Eventually, I have no room left to tie knots, so I tear the wrapper apart. I shred it into tiny pieces, which I consolidate and leave discarded in a pile near the salt shaker. Everyone has little quirks they do at tables to pass the time or to keep themselves occupied, in the ADD society in which we live. Daniel, being who he is, was no different. He was pressing his finger on the end of the straw, to hold the water inside, then lifting the straw up. A few inches up, he'd release his finger so that gravity caused the water to rush back into the glass, like some sort of flood (simile.) We all were watching, briefly entertained, as each time he lifted the straw higher and higher, causing the water to fall back into the glass at greater speeds and with a much more impressive splash.

The rest of us ADD people quickly wanted to change the rules of the game. The first suggestion was that Daniel release the water on Leah instead of in the glass, since the small amount of water that can fit in a straw would be enough to irritate Leah while not actually drenching her. The more realistic idea was that he release the water in her glass instead of his. He was greatly opposed to this idea, but Leah thought it was absolutely wonderful. She quickly placed her cup above Daniel's, which he promptly demanded she remove, as that made the distance which the water had to travel reduced. However, Leah watched Daniel intently, and as soon as he released the water, with the reflexes of a cat she flung her cup underneath the small stream of water.

Unfortunately, Leah did not take into account the fact that Daniel's glass was still underneath the stream of water, in the area that her cup attempted to invade. The force with which she moved the cup caused Daniel's cup to go flying across the diner. Or across the table. Ice went flying, water began to rain down the side of the table onto the floor, and Daniel and Leah collapsed in laughter or something. Leah half-heartedly threw some napkins at the puddle, which the puddle promptly destroyed, and continued its rampage towards the diner floor. I stood up and scooped the ice into Daniel's glass, until the waitress told us she would take care of it. The water tasted weird, anyways."

This is a true story about tonight, by the way. Upon writing it, I have realized that I actually have no idea how to employ literary devices to achieve any sort of goal. However, that should not stop the well-trained student from being able to draw all sorts of deep meanings from this.

Actually, I realized I couldn't write over Christmas break, when I tried to write a memior of the summer of 2006. That summer was intense. so was writing. Writing majors, I commend you for the understanding and use of words which I shall never be able to achieve.

Logic.

One of my classes is supposed to be about elements of geometry. Instead, we have a middle school geometry textbook, which we are working through as if we are actual middle schoolers. It's not what I expected from a college level Mathematics Education course. Aynways, the other day the teacher gave us a homework handout, which actually wasn't even about geometry. It was about reasoning and logic and such.

Logic is something that we learn all in school that doesn't really apply too often in real life. It happens in school and in fictional media. For example, when Harry and Hermione, in the first Harry Potter book, are in the one room of the potions with the poem that Hermione uses logic to figure out ("Most wizards don't have an ounce of logic," she says. Those wizards obviously never took middle school geometry.) Also, in the movie Labyrinth, from sometime in the '80s, the girl gets to two doors, each with a gaurd, and is informed that one gaurd always lies and one always tells the truth. Good thing she had logic skills that mysteriously appear for this one scene alone!

Now, here is one of our logic problems:

"Five identical sweatshirts are placed in a bag. A letter is stitched to the back of each shirt; two of the letters are L's and three are W's. Chris, Hugo, and Mary each pull out a shirt without looking at it and put it on. Chris can see Mary's and Hugo's shirts and correctly deduces, "I cannot tell which letter I have on." Mary sees only Hugo's shirt and draws the same valid conclusion. Hugo sees no one's shurt but uses his logic and is able to tell whch letter is on his back. How does Hugo do it?"

Now. This is in no way a realistic situation. This course is from a fancy new-age textbook. The newer math philosophies focus on math being applicable to real-life. Then the students will be interested. Now, when is this applicable to real life? Here are some of the errors with this problem:

1. Why are the letters stitched on the back? And why 2 L's and 3 W's?
2. Are the three peopel standing in a line and refusing to look in any other direction?
3. Why did Chris and Mary decide to deduce such things?
4. Why didn't they look at the shirts before they put them on?
5. From where did the shirts come?
6. I've never met anyone named Hugo.

These are just some of the many unrealistic things in this problem. Now, SPOILER ALERT. This is how the middle schoolers are supposed to solve this problem, by which the majority of my class was baffled.

First, assume that when Chris and Mary deduce, they do so out loud. When Chris deduces that he cannot see his letter, we know possible options for Mary and Hugo. They are: A.) Mary and Hugo each have a W, or B.) Mary and Hugo have one L and one W between the two of them. This is becuase if they both had an L, since there were only two L's, Chris would have known he had a W. Now, Mary, being bright and educated, heard Chris and realizes that she and Hugo do not have two L's. So she sees his shirt, but cannot make a conclusion. THIS means that Hugo must have a W. If Hugo had an L, Mary would have known she had a W, since they cannot both have an L. However, if Hugo has a W, Mary can have either an L or a W since both of those options leave Chris clueless. Hugo, hearing Mary, knows that he must have a W.

While I find this problem somewhat fun to work out, I also find it a little pointless. Does it matter if Hugo knows that he has a W? Does anyone care? Highly doubtful. Students will read this problem and think, "Logic is stupid. If this is all it's used for, then I don't care to have any."

This is a better version of the above problem.

"Five identical sweatshirts are placed in a bag at a tournament where the grand prize is $100,000 and an A on a math test for figuring out what letter is on the shirt. A letter is stitched to the back of each shirt; two of the letters are L's and three are W's. Chris, Hugo, and Mary are the contestents. They were chosen because of their supreme logic skills; however, the Olsen twins are attending the tournament and have bet against all of them, especially Hugo because of his rarely used name. Each pull out a shirt without looking at it and put it on, then stand in a line, since those are the arbitrary rules. Chris can see Mary's and Hugo's shirts and correctly deduces, "I cannot tell which letter I have on." Chris, being correct in his deduction, is not killed. Mary sees only Hugo's shirt and draws the same valid conclusion. Her conclusion also spares her life, while not winning her money or good grades. Hugo sees no one's shirt but uses his logic and is able to tell whch letter is on his back. He wins the prize and dissapoints the Olsen twins, while sparing his life. How does Hugo do it?"

This scenario will get the attention of students much more easily than the before problem. Lives are in danger, celebrities are involved, there is money, there are grades. The students can relate this to themselves. What's more, now it all makes sense as to why these three people are doing what they do. And there's incentive for students to use logic! Much preferable than the problem before.

But even if it wasn't, logic still really doesn't come up much in real life unless you happen to be in some odd life-threatening situation with a logic puzzle for an answer. Back to Labyrinth, the girl was at two doors. One guard always lies, and one always tells the truth. She is allowed to ask one yes-or-no question to one guard. One door leads her correctly, one door leads to death. She somehow decides to ask a question to one guard that is something like, "If I asked him if his door was right, what would he say?" This question confuses even the guard, who responds hesitantly, "Yes?" (He might have said no, it's been awhile, but it's the same logic.) This smart teenage girl now knows which door. If she were talking to the lying guard, then he said yes when the truthful guard really would have said no, he guarded the wrong door. If she was talking to the truthful guard, then the answer was yes, it was just that the lying guard would say yes, that his door was right when it was STILL the wrong door. Either way, the guard she asked is guarding the correct door!

I guess the moral of the story is to learn logic, because you never know what adventures in life require logic to save your life.

The Tragedy of My Life.

When I was visiting my brother, I was talking to him about what a bad day it'd been. I slept in late because I was up so late and was tired from the week. I was thrown off in my schedule. When I talked to Jess on the phone, she could tell I wasn't exactly fine, although I wasn't even quite sure why. My car was covered in grossness. I forgot my jacket. I had no cash to make quarters to put air in my tires. I laughed through it all, but I was joking with Dustin about how I could blog about it. He mentioned that my blog is more of an account of the worst things that happen to me more than anything else. I responded that I can write about that most easily. Making less than ideal situations appear comical to my friends seems to be the one thing I can write about.

Last year, I was riding to church with my grandfather. My grandparents live next door half of the year, during the warmer months they live in a cabin in North Carolina. I still never see them as often as I should, and usually it's just in larger settings so I never have more than casual conversation with them. However, once my grandfather was driving me to church, since I was going to church with Grandma, Grandpa, and Mom. Grandma and Mom, being in choir and orchestra, respectively, were already at church. Grandpa and I talked on the way, and I remember him saying, "You have to laugh. That's the only way to get through life. Learn to laugh at yourself."

I used to get really worked up about stupid things. Saying a word in the wrong context and being laughed at. Being embarrassed. Mostly things that made me embarrassed in front of people. Sometimes I became frustrated to the point of tears. Quite often, in fact.

I laugh things off more, now. When I saw my car, I got upset. I called Gauraw and started crying to him, to which he had little response, since, as he told me later, he was trying not to laugh at the situation and upset me. So I called my brother, Dustin, because I knew that I needed to laugh. I told Dustin the state in which I found my car. And, of course, Dustin burst into laughter. And asked for a picture. Then I began to laugh, too, and joke about how horrible it looked.

This was just one small situation of many. If I had just laughed at the car in the first place, I could have saved myself alot of unnecessary grief. There's countless other situations I look back on and realize the same thing. And there's so many more recent when I realized I would have originally gotten upset, but instead I laugh, even if it's directed at myself. And the result is quite preferable. One example could be this blog. I write about the situations that had me most frustrated, upset, or even ridiculous ones that I managed to laugh through.

I ramble on so much in these blogs that I never have a good way to end them. That's another problem with writing thoughts like this and not having events. But, I guess an ending would be to thank Grandpa. I don't know if he realized the effects that statement would have on me in the next two years as I went off to college, but by making such a tiny difference I've made situations immensely more bearable. Thanks, Grandpa.

New Layout.

Courtesy of Jess Vergara, who knows photoshop much better than I ever shall. I quite love it. It's very pretty, and has music notes. And the quote in the header is from Plato. It was on the door above his academy. Jess actually got the picture from my facebook and had already started the layout when I arrived. I watched in awe as she created the entire layout. It was fun.



Also, it is great to get to see Jess again! I've missed her while we've been four hours apart. Her husband just got back from work and they are playing with the kitty. I had no idea they had a kitty.



Now. Yesterday was a process of visiting my brother, since he's halfway on the journey to Jess, then finishing the drive. I wanted to leave at two. So, I go to my car. I had washed my car two days ago. And, in those two days, every bird on campus decided to live in the tree above my car. It was the worst I have ever seen any car covered ever. I was on the verge of tears. I may have actually cried. I drove it straight to the car wash and postponed leaving. I called my brother, teary-eyed, mostly out of frustration, and told him what happened. Dustin cracked up. He just began laughing. Not at me, but becuase the situation was rather humorous. I began to laugh, too. And took some pics on my phone for him. Then I got off the phone because I was at the wash. The car wash is a good few minutes off campus. It's an automatic wash, but there's two guys with scrub brushes that scrub down the worst before you drive in. They yelled through the window, "If you need to go through a second time, you can." I nodded.



The car wash made my car a thousand times better, but it still left some residue. Either way, I had a schedule. I returned to campus, picked up my belongings (I park away from the dorm. I have to get my car, drive to the dorm, and carry down my stuff.) Then I proceeded to visit Dustin. A good ways off campus and towards the interstate, I realized that I had no jacket. And the weather was expected to be chilly. So Dustin and I, since we were planning on meeting at the mall, went jacket shopping. I, who attempts to never buy jackets, and live off of hand me downs, had to buy my third jacket in the past year.

Anyways, back to Jess and her apartment. Goodbye!

Vending Machines.

Today, I tried Vitamin Water for the first time. Usually, my drinks fall in four categories: Water, Soda, Orange Juice, and Milk. I also like apple juice and some other drinks, I just rarely actually drink them. And if I'm ever thirsty for a healthy, hydrating drink, I drink water. It tastes better than gatorade and powerade and this vitamin electrolyte filled stuff. Dustin used to drink them. And I drink it at work when my boss tells me I should to avoid dehydration. Now, I work as a lifeguard, but I drink alot of water, which will probably save me from dehydration as much as the gatorade, but I like my job and I like to listen to my boss because then she likes me and gives me days off. Either way, I prefer water. So why, you may be asking, did I try vitamin water today?

Well, it wasn't exactly by choice. Here's what happened: As I leave for class, I want a bottle of water to take to class with me, because I feel thirsty. I stop by the vending machine in the dorm basement, walk to the non-soda machine (one has only sodas, one has no sodas) and I press the top button for a bottle of Dasani water. The machine vends. I reach for my drink, and pause. The bottle is shorter, wider, and pink. It also says "Vitamin Water" on the side. This is clearly not the drink I wanted. I scan the buttons. The BOTTOM button is Vitamin Water. This is beyond a malfunction, this is outright rebellion. I recall similar past experiences...

Picture me three years younger. My bangs are straight cut (see the changes to my hair blog) and I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt (that was my outfit every day in high school, if I could help it. I had quite a collection of t-shirts, most from camps, clubs, and choir events.) I am walking and talking to Jeff as we walk from calculus to the "Dog-bowl" to eat lunch. This is a large circle with steps all around and picnic tables outside of the cafeteria, since the cafeteria alone couldn't hold all of the students, even with two lunch periods. Jeff and I stop by the vending machines, and he takes out the $0.75 that he brings every day to buy a can of coke for lunch. He presses the top button and reaches for what he expects to be a cold can of Classic Coca-Cola. However, this is not the case. The can is black. The drink is Coke Zero. For you who don't know, this supposedly tastes identical to coke, except that it has no calories and no sugar or something like that. However, Jeff and I tried coke zero the first time the machine did this to us, and it tastes nothing like coke. It tastes like what I imagine non-toxic carbonated cleaning chemicals might taste like. So, already knowing this, and having had the machine done this many times before, Jeff stares at the drink in his hand a second, then turns and throws it with great force into a trash can and glares at the vending machine humorously. I feel bad, knowing that he used up his only money on that drink and that the stupid machines keep giving him the wrong drink. So I get out a dollar and we try the next machine, and have better luck.

Now, recalling this story, I stare at my vitamin water. I can either try it, or throw it away forcefully. However, there is no trash can nearby, and one of the janitorial employees is in the tv room and can see me through the window. I can also dump out the entire bottle and fill it at the water fountain, but I figure that will just give me some sort of severely diluted even less tasty vitamin water. And, what if it's some odd flavor, like coconut or lime? Pink usually tastes good, though. So, I open the lid and take a sip. It's actually not as bad as I thought. It tastes well enough to drink for class. Actually, it reminds me of strawberry, my favorite flavor. I look at the flavor. Dragonfruit. I hesitate. Dragonfruit? What the crap is dragonfruit? Why is this drink flavored in such a way as to be named after some sort of fruit that doesn't exist?

I decide to worry about that later, since I have class and this drink tastes well and quenches my thirst, while providing me with all forms of Vitamin B, Vitamin C, Zinc, and.. Chromium.. However, this is an anomoly. This vending machine error may have produced a decent drink, but usually they are much less pleasant. What happens next time when it gives me some sort of drink that's not nearly as great? How can I stop this defiance? Can vending machines even be trusted anymore?