I can't believe it's been 2 months since my last post. A ton has happened while at the same time nothing has changed. I'll try to fill you in as best I can.
Let's see, I'm still dating LaRee. We see each other 4 or 5 times a week, mostly on weekends. During the week it's not for very long because we have our stupid 10 o'clock curfew. On the weekends we usually go out for dinner. We try to make it a double but for some reason people bail. Because LaRee looks so good and smells so good I'm forced to ask myself, "do I smell bad?"
Over the weekend our ward hosted a concert called "I Believe in Christ". It was supposed to be an inter-faith thing, and it was but just not like they had hoped. You see, we called around to all of the other faiths on campus and asked them to participate. We rented one of the concert halls on campus so it was in a non-partial location. Well, all of the leaders of other faiths felt we didn't believe in the same Christ so they politely declined. I just don't get it. Do they realize that even though we don't all have the same views on things surrounding Christ (plan of salvation, immortality, life after death, grace/works) we still all believe very much in the same Christ? I just don't get it.
I invited Jim and Cathy and they came! They said they really enjoyed it. In fact, they said it several times. They are such wonderful people and they love God so much I knew they would love it.
Like I said before, a lot has happened but nothing has changed. I'm still going to school in spite of wanting to drop out several times this semester. I stayed in partly because of a certain someone giving me a kick in the pants! Thank you!
I have a calculus final Thursday of next week and a Physics final the following Thursday. Last day of class is Friday next week!!! Wooohooo! I am so sick of class and I need a break.
In case you're interested my summer schedule is Calculus 3 every day from 9:30-10:20 and technical writing from 10:30-11:20 every day. I think every day for 2 months will be much more manageable than every day for 4, although it is 2 hours instead of 1. We'll see. Someone also told me the tech writing was a breeze so I'm banking on that.
Oh yes, registration also happened for the fall. Provided I pass calc 3 I will be taking calculus 4 (believe it or not there are 4 calc classes!) and I will be taking Computer Applications for Civil Engineers (Excel, drafting and Java programming). This one should be a piece of cake considering I use excel and draft for a living. I'm pumped about the Java programming. I tried to talk the professor into letting me out of the class and he wanted to but I found out that I still have to get the 3 credit hours. Rather than spending them in another possibly harder class I opted to take his course and fly through it.
I will also finally be taking the required Civil engineering lecture course. There is no credit but it's required (hmmm?) but at least I'll be with other students in my discipline. I'm looking forward to it.
What else? I'm really looking forward to my class reunion. You'd think I might be embarassed that anyone who is going to graduate from college alread has except for me but I'm not. I'm super excited that I'm getting it done now and I'm a much better student than I ever would have been. I'm also very, very excited to come in May to see Jarom and everybody. I talk to the little guy 4+ times a week. He is such a conversationalist. It's always funny because we'll be having a great conversation then he says, "I love you Dad! Bye!" and that's it! Usually it's after we had spoken for a while though.
Oh man, I think that's enough for now. Please leave a comment or email me if there's more you want to know.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
A Man's Mind
Kind of long but shortened by the laughter it causes. Enjoy!
Operation Urine
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE MOLD GROWING IN MY SHOWER-STALL:
Dear Phytophthora Mold Growing in My Shower Stall, (Actually, while the Phytophthora may technically be your correct name, may I just call you "Mold"? After all, you've seen me naked.) Mold, we have been living together now for quite some time and I think its fair to say that we have had a stable, but adversarial relationship. I kill you, you grow back. I kill you again, you grow back again. I kill you yet again, you grow back, and so on. For the most part things have proceeded along these lines quite nicely. I don't spend too much time killing you and you don't grow back too quickly. We had reached a state of equilibrium. Oh sure, my methods of getting rid of you have varied over the years, I remember the early days when the weapon of choice was Windex and paper towels, which as you know is the traditional male method for dealing with any and all cleaning jobs ranging from spilled soda to cleaning-up a major crime scene involving disembowelment and ritual sacrifice. I used to believe that if you can't clean it with Windex and paper towels then you're just not using enough Windex and paper towels. If a particular stain proved especially difficult I'd use name-brand Windex and not the store brand. That just how I was raised, God Bless America. And for the most part things progressed along these lines quite nicely, and by that I mean the shower stall got clean enough to keep Mrs. Soap Box happy and I didn't feel the need to take a shower when I was taking my shower, if you know what I mean. Now Mold, I have always understood your need and desire to grow and exist, and I'm pretty sure you're aware that I will do whatever I need to do you kill you so long as it does not require any real effort on my part whatsoever. I'm dedicated, but lazy. But lately something has changed, YOU have changed. Whereas before you would retreat in horror and disappear after one of my cleaning attacks, lately it seems you have grown stronger. You have found the strength to gain a foot-hold at the bottom left corner of the shower stall. I've scrubbed and scrubbed, but yet you remain. Perhaps my friend, you have grown weary of our battle and are putting all your efforts into one last fight for shower stall superiority. Or perhaps you sense some weakness on my part and feel the time is right to lead an all-out frontal assault and chase me to the spare bathroom where the water pressure is less than adequate. But either way, only a fool couldn't see that your strategy to seize the bottom left corner of my shower stall is working. I must also admit that you have forced me to go deeper into my arsenal of weapons - deeper that I ever feared would be necessary. Beyond what even Windex and paper towels can accomplish. First, I started off by looking at you while I showered and thinking "Got to do something about that mold at some point." This, like all peaceful means failed miserably. Next, I brought out the big boy, the big gun, the peace maker. Name-brand Windex and Brawny paper towels. I sprayed and wiped, wiped and sprayed, sprayed and wiped. This battle went on for literally seconds, yet you remained. Possessing a short attention span and strong desire to be doing something else, I declared "mission accomplished" and watched a 3 hour marathon of "Ghost Hunters" on the Sci-Fi channel. I spent the next 2 weeks listening to Mrs. Soap Box saying things like "The mold is back in the shower". Now since I already knew that the mold had returned I found her repeated statement of the obvious to be somewhat perplexing. Only later did I learn that I was supposed to interpret this as a request to return to battle. Who knew? I was always taught that questions ended with your voice going up at the end and included the word "please", as in "Would you please stop watching "Ghost Hunters" and clean the shower?" So back to the front! Seeing as how my name-brand Windex solution had proved ineffective, I was forced to improvise and decided to try Oven-Off. If it can remove old baked on macaroni and cheese which has dried to the consistency of cement, then how can it fail to get rid of YOU Mr. Mold? Well, while the tile shined like never before, it appears that Oven-Off too has failed, since you remain firmly entrenched in the grout. Now I sense that you grow stronger with each of my failed efforts. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard you laughing at me while I showered. Not the first time I have been laughed at in the shower, but still, it hurt. And then an idea pops into my head! Windex contains ammonia, and I know that a lot of other cleaning products contain ammonia, so ammonia MUST be a great cleaner. But the stuff you get at the store is probably watered down, little-girl ammonia like the kind they use to make the "special sauce" at certain national burger places. No, I need full-strength ammonia from a reliable production source who isn't out to make a quick buck by selling the cheap stuff to an unsuspecting public. Then it hit me! Urine! Urine contains ammonia! And while I've never been tested, I'm pretty sure that my ammonia production is A-1, prime stuff - PURE! All I have to do is pee on the mold for a week or so with my home-made “super ammonia” and nature will work its magic. Good bye mold! At least that was the theory. You see, Mrs. Soap Box decided that my idea was "gross" and that peeing on the shower wall does not constitute "cleaning" and would not in fact lead to a cleaner shower. I said, "But look at the toilets. They're always clean and I pee in there all the time!" Mrs. Soap Box then gently reminded me that cleaning toilets was her job and that's why they're clean. Now while I was mentally wrestling with whether or not to inform Mrs. Soap Box that I had in fact – although unwittingly – been covertly participating in “Operation Urine” with regard to the shower floor each morning and that we would merely be changing our trajectory, Mr. Soap Box made it quite clear that "Operation Urine" was scrubbed for a more conventional strategy. This is getting like the Korean War, everyone back home wants me to win, but won't let me do what is necessary to achieve victory. Now while the “official” answer was "I don't want you pissing on the shower wall and telling me that you've done your part to clean the bathroom" I think the real answer is that she was just jealous. Jealous that if "Operation Urine" worked, she wouldn't be able to keep her things as clean as I could keep my things clean because she lacks aim. Not her fault, but unless the stain is on the floor directly beneath her and no one is looking and there is no noise and the faucet is running, and I swear to God that I’m not peeking (although I am) then she has no hope of getting her homemade ammonia to where its needed – while she has the weapon, she lacks a reliable delivery system. I also think she was afraid that my things would be home-made ammonia-clean and that her things would get grimier by the day while she pathetically peed all over herself in an attempt to clean her half of the house. I would be the hero, the guy they call in when something needs to be peed on and cleaned. I would get all the glory and she would have to live in my urine soaked shadow. So for her own selfish reasons she killed "Operation Urine", she's spiteful like that. OK since "Operation Urine" was off the table, I was down to the bottom of the barrel, I had to take desperate action. There was no doubt about it, I would have to do the one thing I have always avoided. I'm going to have to use elbow-grease. Yup, going to actually scrub. You've pissed me off now Mold, this is now requiring EFFORT! So I moved up a notch on the guy cleaning ladder and got myself an SOS pad. Hard steel wool and powdery blue stuff - this is the kind of cleaning grandma used to do! So I start scrubbing with the SOS pad but from the start its clear that the mission is doomed. Now in addition to mold, my grout is blue from the SOS pad and the tile looks sort of scratched. "Operation Urine" would never have ended in disgrace like this!! So I decide "Screw it, I'm going nuclear." I going to get ALL the cleaning fluids in the house, Windex, Oven-Off, Tile X, bleach - all of them - and hit you with everything I got all at once. I pour it all on and I scrub, and I scrub - I scrub like the wind! Of course, the doctor said that the fumes from all those chemicals mixed together is what probably caused me to pass out hit my head on the toilet and lose control of various bodily functions. Now I don't want to go into too much detail about the loss of bodily functions, but lets just say that had "Operation Urine" not been scrubbed by the brass back at headquarters, it would have been a complete success, for when those blue jeans came out of the washing machine the next day they were like new! So I stand here before you now a defeated man looking over the battle field where his hopes were dashed and I can see that you have won. Mold, you remain firmly entrenched in the lower left corner of my shower stall. I am beaten and my only viable option is to try and make the best deal possible, so in my own Neville Chamberline-like way I offer to give you the bottom left of the shower stall permanently and in exchange I won't regrout the shower in any further attempt to kill you. You may occupy the space up and including to the 4th tile from the floor and up to and including the 3rd tile in from the corner. That space is yours now, you may rest easy on your side of the border. The war is over. I’m not sure how I’ll sell this back home, how to make Mrs. Soap Box understand that appeasement is our only option. I’ll probably do what I always do, tell her I need a special tool and that I’ll get to it “tomorrow”. Side note – this can often be an effective strategy as witnessed by those rolls of wallpaper I was supposed to hang several years ago. “Need a special wallpaper tool honey, I’ll get it tomorrow!” You know Mold, now that the battle is over, I can see you and I are not so different after all. Neither of us gains energy through photosynthesis, and we both enjoy warm, dark, moist places. So live in peace my slimy friend, and in the future, if I happen to pee on you, take no offense, my aim in the morning isn't that great. Yours truly, Soap Box
Operation Urine
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE MOLD GROWING IN MY SHOWER-STALL:
Dear Phytophthora Mold Growing in My Shower Stall, (Actually, while the Phytophthora may technically be your correct name, may I just call you "Mold"? After all, you've seen me naked.) Mold, we have been living together now for quite some time and I think its fair to say that we have had a stable, but adversarial relationship. I kill you, you grow back. I kill you again, you grow back again. I kill you yet again, you grow back, and so on. For the most part things have proceeded along these lines quite nicely. I don't spend too much time killing you and you don't grow back too quickly. We had reached a state of equilibrium. Oh sure, my methods of getting rid of you have varied over the years, I remember the early days when the weapon of choice was Windex and paper towels, which as you know is the traditional male method for dealing with any and all cleaning jobs ranging from spilled soda to cleaning-up a major crime scene involving disembowelment and ritual sacrifice. I used to believe that if you can't clean it with Windex and paper towels then you're just not using enough Windex and paper towels. If a particular stain proved especially difficult I'd use name-brand Windex and not the store brand. That just how I was raised, God Bless America. And for the most part things progressed along these lines quite nicely, and by that I mean the shower stall got clean enough to keep Mrs. Soap Box happy and I didn't feel the need to take a shower when I was taking my shower, if you know what I mean. Now Mold, I have always understood your need and desire to grow and exist, and I'm pretty sure you're aware that I will do whatever I need to do you kill you so long as it does not require any real effort on my part whatsoever. I'm dedicated, but lazy. But lately something has changed, YOU have changed. Whereas before you would retreat in horror and disappear after one of my cleaning attacks, lately it seems you have grown stronger. You have found the strength to gain a foot-hold at the bottom left corner of the shower stall. I've scrubbed and scrubbed, but yet you remain. Perhaps my friend, you have grown weary of our battle and are putting all your efforts into one last fight for shower stall superiority. Or perhaps you sense some weakness on my part and feel the time is right to lead an all-out frontal assault and chase me to the spare bathroom where the water pressure is less than adequate. But either way, only a fool couldn't see that your strategy to seize the bottom left corner of my shower stall is working. I must also admit that you have forced me to go deeper into my arsenal of weapons - deeper that I ever feared would be necessary. Beyond what even Windex and paper towels can accomplish. First, I started off by looking at you while I showered and thinking "Got to do something about that mold at some point." This, like all peaceful means failed miserably. Next, I brought out the big boy, the big gun, the peace maker. Name-brand Windex and Brawny paper towels. I sprayed and wiped, wiped and sprayed, sprayed and wiped. This battle went on for literally seconds, yet you remained. Possessing a short attention span and strong desire to be doing something else, I declared "mission accomplished" and watched a 3 hour marathon of "Ghost Hunters" on the Sci-Fi channel. I spent the next 2 weeks listening to Mrs. Soap Box saying things like "The mold is back in the shower". Now since I already knew that the mold had returned I found her repeated statement of the obvious to be somewhat perplexing. Only later did I learn that I was supposed to interpret this as a request to return to battle. Who knew? I was always taught that questions ended with your voice going up at the end and included the word "please", as in "Would you please stop watching "Ghost Hunters" and clean the shower?" So back to the front! Seeing as how my name-brand Windex solution had proved ineffective, I was forced to improvise and decided to try Oven-Off. If it can remove old baked on macaroni and cheese which has dried to the consistency of cement, then how can it fail to get rid of YOU Mr. Mold? Well, while the tile shined like never before, it appears that Oven-Off too has failed, since you remain firmly entrenched in the grout. Now I sense that you grow stronger with each of my failed efforts. In fact, I'm pretty sure I heard you laughing at me while I showered. Not the first time I have been laughed at in the shower, but still, it hurt. And then an idea pops into my head! Windex contains ammonia, and I know that a lot of other cleaning products contain ammonia, so ammonia MUST be a great cleaner. But the stuff you get at the store is probably watered down, little-girl ammonia like the kind they use to make the "special sauce" at certain national burger places. No, I need full-strength ammonia from a reliable production source who isn't out to make a quick buck by selling the cheap stuff to an unsuspecting public. Then it hit me! Urine! Urine contains ammonia! And while I've never been tested, I'm pretty sure that my ammonia production is A-1, prime stuff - PURE! All I have to do is pee on the mold for a week or so with my home-made “super ammonia” and nature will work its magic. Good bye mold! At least that was the theory. You see, Mrs. Soap Box decided that my idea was "gross" and that peeing on the shower wall does not constitute "cleaning" and would not in fact lead to a cleaner shower. I said, "But look at the toilets. They're always clean and I pee in there all the time!" Mrs. Soap Box then gently reminded me that cleaning toilets was her job and that's why they're clean. Now while I was mentally wrestling with whether or not to inform Mrs. Soap Box that I had in fact – although unwittingly – been covertly participating in “Operation Urine” with regard to the shower floor each morning and that we would merely be changing our trajectory, Mr. Soap Box made it quite clear that "Operation Urine" was scrubbed for a more conventional strategy. This is getting like the Korean War, everyone back home wants me to win, but won't let me do what is necessary to achieve victory. Now while the “official” answer was "I don't want you pissing on the shower wall and telling me that you've done your part to clean the bathroom" I think the real answer is that she was just jealous. Jealous that if "Operation Urine" worked, she wouldn't be able to keep her things as clean as I could keep my things clean because she lacks aim. Not her fault, but unless the stain is on the floor directly beneath her and no one is looking and there is no noise and the faucet is running, and I swear to God that I’m not peeking (although I am) then she has no hope of getting her homemade ammonia to where its needed – while she has the weapon, she lacks a reliable delivery system. I also think she was afraid that my things would be home-made ammonia-clean and that her things would get grimier by the day while she pathetically peed all over herself in an attempt to clean her half of the house. I would be the hero, the guy they call in when something needs to be peed on and cleaned. I would get all the glory and she would have to live in my urine soaked shadow. So for her own selfish reasons she killed "Operation Urine", she's spiteful like that. OK since "Operation Urine" was off the table, I was down to the bottom of the barrel, I had to take desperate action. There was no doubt about it, I would have to do the one thing I have always avoided. I'm going to have to use elbow-grease. Yup, going to actually scrub. You've pissed me off now Mold, this is now requiring EFFORT! So I moved up a notch on the guy cleaning ladder and got myself an SOS pad. Hard steel wool and powdery blue stuff - this is the kind of cleaning grandma used to do! So I start scrubbing with the SOS pad but from the start its clear that the mission is doomed. Now in addition to mold, my grout is blue from the SOS pad and the tile looks sort of scratched. "Operation Urine" would never have ended in disgrace like this!! So I decide "Screw it, I'm going nuclear." I going to get ALL the cleaning fluids in the house, Windex, Oven-Off, Tile X, bleach - all of them - and hit you with everything I got all at once. I pour it all on and I scrub, and I scrub - I scrub like the wind! Of course, the doctor said that the fumes from all those chemicals mixed together is what probably caused me to pass out hit my head on the toilet and lose control of various bodily functions. Now I don't want to go into too much detail about the loss of bodily functions, but lets just say that had "Operation Urine" not been scrubbed by the brass back at headquarters, it would have been a complete success, for when those blue jeans came out of the washing machine the next day they were like new! So I stand here before you now a defeated man looking over the battle field where his hopes were dashed and I can see that you have won. Mold, you remain firmly entrenched in the lower left corner of my shower stall. I am beaten and my only viable option is to try and make the best deal possible, so in my own Neville Chamberline-like way I offer to give you the bottom left of the shower stall permanently and in exchange I won't regrout the shower in any further attempt to kill you. You may occupy the space up and including to the 4th tile from the floor and up to and including the 3rd tile in from the corner. That space is yours now, you may rest easy on your side of the border. The war is over. I’m not sure how I’ll sell this back home, how to make Mrs. Soap Box understand that appeasement is our only option. I’ll probably do what I always do, tell her I need a special tool and that I’ll get to it “tomorrow”. Side note – this can often be an effective strategy as witnessed by those rolls of wallpaper I was supposed to hang several years ago. “Need a special wallpaper tool honey, I’ll get it tomorrow!” You know Mold, now that the battle is over, I can see you and I are not so different after all. Neither of us gains energy through photosynthesis, and we both enjoy warm, dark, moist places. So live in peace my slimy friend, and in the future, if I happen to pee on you, take no offense, my aim in the morning isn't that great. Yours truly, Soap Box
Monday, January 29, 2007
Happy Days
Just as you could deduce from the title, I'm happy. In spite of work being hectic, classes being tough and Jarom being so far away I am really happy. There are two main reasons for this. The first is that I am really living my life the way I feel like I should, close to God. I read my scriptures every day and pray many times a day. I also look at everyone as a child of God. I honestly don't have any hard feelings toward anyone. I know there are some that might scoff but that's fine. I don't and won't force it on anyone to live like me.
Before I get to the second reason I'll go over my weekend for anyone interested in what I did.
This weekend there was a semi-formal dance that the Engineering Club was putting on. I know, I know a bunch of engineers in a little ballroom with rap, R&B, and Pop music playing, EXCITING!
Hey, I was just happy to have an excuse to go out and buy a new shirt and tie and take LaRee to a nice restaurant. We had a great time at dinner but it turned out that we found a down side to living outside of Utah or another area with a high concentration of LDS people; women dress like skanks and people dance WAAAAAY too provocatively for me to see on a Friday night. So, we left early. But we ended up playing games at my place and watching a movie until late. It was fun.
I also picked up the guitar and jammed with James for a while. He taught me a new little riff by Collective Soul so now I know 4 songs! I'm really liking this guitar thing, I'm learning pretty quickly too.
Oh yeah, I also learned another important piece of information that totally wrecks all thoughts I had about sales in the past. This tidbit is, "If it's on sale either buy it or find out when it's going off sale!" I got bit in the butt by this one. Khols had all of their men's shirts and ties on a great sale on Wed but I decided to wait a day to buy. Upon returning the sale was off and I had to pay full price for a shirt and tie combo!!! Boy, if Kara ever got wind of that I'd get an earful, but my next wife (should there be one) will only benefit.
Okay now, on to the second reason that I am so happy. It is LaRee. (WARNING: Following will be a graphic depiction of how I feel about my girlfriend. If you have any allergies to public expression of feelings, don't care about those types of things or you are just plain tuckered out from reading, please stop reading now.) She makes me so happy. I have been myself from day one and she still likes me. I can't believe it but I'm sure happy with it. It's really nice to know that no matter what, she cares for me. True, the reason I feel this way is mostly because I have a very long, documented history of inadvertently doing really, really dumb stuff that hurts people's feelings, that and the fact that I'm just an idiot sometimes. I digress, it's nice to know that she will still care for me even if I accidentally do that stuff (let's face it, it's bound to happen). I've never felt like she feels that she's dragging me along with her or I'm just good enough to be with her. We are both just figuring life out and accept that when we are with each other we are with each other's mistakes too. We both feel lucky to have each other.
Now, I'll be honest, I'm not ready for marriage or anything and we have not been dating long enough to know each other well enough to get married, but things are very positive and we are both very happy and even in extreme like. It's exciting. It's fun. It's unexpected.
Before I get to the second reason I'll go over my weekend for anyone interested in what I did.
This weekend there was a semi-formal dance that the Engineering Club was putting on. I know, I know a bunch of engineers in a little ballroom with rap, R&B, and Pop music playing, EXCITING!
Hey, I was just happy to have an excuse to go out and buy a new shirt and tie and take LaRee to a nice restaurant. We had a great time at dinner but it turned out that we found a down side to living outside of Utah or another area with a high concentration of LDS people; women dress like skanks and people dance WAAAAAY too provocatively for me to see on a Friday night. So, we left early. But we ended up playing games at my place and watching a movie until late. It was fun.
I also picked up the guitar and jammed with James for a while. He taught me a new little riff by Collective Soul so now I know 4 songs! I'm really liking this guitar thing, I'm learning pretty quickly too.
Oh yeah, I also learned another important piece of information that totally wrecks all thoughts I had about sales in the past. This tidbit is, "If it's on sale either buy it or find out when it's going off sale!" I got bit in the butt by this one. Khols had all of their men's shirts and ties on a great sale on Wed but I decided to wait a day to buy. Upon returning the sale was off and I had to pay full price for a shirt and tie combo!!! Boy, if Kara ever got wind of that I'd get an earful, but my next wife (should there be one) will only benefit.
Okay now, on to the second reason that I am so happy. It is LaRee. (WARNING: Following will be a graphic depiction of how I feel about my girlfriend. If you have any allergies to public expression of feelings, don't care about those types of things or you are just plain tuckered out from reading, please stop reading now.) She makes me so happy. I have been myself from day one and she still likes me. I can't believe it but I'm sure happy with it. It's really nice to know that no matter what, she cares for me. True, the reason I feel this way is mostly because I have a very long, documented history of inadvertently doing really, really dumb stuff that hurts people's feelings, that and the fact that I'm just an idiot sometimes. I digress, it's nice to know that she will still care for me even if I accidentally do that stuff (let's face it, it's bound to happen). I've never felt like she feels that she's dragging me along with her or I'm just good enough to be with her. We are both just figuring life out and accept that when we are with each other we are with each other's mistakes too. We both feel lucky to have each other.
Now, I'll be honest, I'm not ready for marriage or anything and we have not been dating long enough to know each other well enough to get married, but things are very positive and we are both very happy and even in extreme like. It's exciting. It's fun. It's unexpected.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
It's been a long time, oh yeah ain't that right
You might recognize the title of this blog from a matchbox 20 song, or maybe you won't.
Okay, okay, so it has been a while since I posted anything, so sue me! I've been busy. In my business I have some venting that I must do.
I can't go on like this anymore! School is a joke. It is nothing more than a business. It is not a way to help broaden our intelligence as a society. I used to think it was just in textbooks and tuition that they got us but it seems more and more they are broadening the ways that students are asked to get screwed.
This all stems from the physics class I am taking this semester. I had anticipated spending about $100 for the book (which is paperback if you can believe it) and I was right on the money (pun intended). What I had not anticipated was the cost of a H-ITT clicker that would be used for quizzes and tests. This clicker is a couple notches down from a standard remote control but unlike a standard remote control this little baby cost $33 and that doesn't even include the battery!!! That's right folks, step right up and get some snake water while you're at it because at OU you can't have a remote without snake water, it just won't work!
This remote is a glorified SCANTRON but because our professors have gotten lazy and don't want to take all 30 minutes of their valuable research time (or rather 30 minutes of their TA's beer drinking time) to feed SCANTRON through a machine they decided students had to spend $33 to answer a question and have the answer recorded electronically immediately! More than that, there is no option to take a SCANTRON instead of purchasing the remote. If you don't get one of your own (because they are coded to match your student ID) you don't pass the class, period!
How ridiculous are we getting with our technology? Technology is great but it seems that in our drive to get immediate results we are neglecting at what cost we are getting those results not to mention personability! I guess the day is soon coming that in order to save classroom space, students will have to spend $350 for an iPod that is coded with their student number and broadcasts the professor’s voice during a scheduled time. The professor will give the lecture and homework assignments. The student then must upload the completed homework to the iPod. Automatically the answers will be given and the professors voice will tell if the answers were right and if not will explain what was done wrong. Oh yeah, Not to mention that there will be a required text that students will have to spend another $300 to buy. But instead of an actual book they will get a password to download an e-book onto the iPod. Seriously, where does it end? I'll tell you where it ends, right in the studends' collective END!
Okay, okay, so it has been a while since I posted anything, so sue me! I've been busy. In my business I have some venting that I must do.
I can't go on like this anymore! School is a joke. It is nothing more than a business. It is not a way to help broaden our intelligence as a society. I used to think it was just in textbooks and tuition that they got us but it seems more and more they are broadening the ways that students are asked to get screwed.
This all stems from the physics class I am taking this semester. I had anticipated spending about $100 for the book (which is paperback if you can believe it) and I was right on the money (pun intended). What I had not anticipated was the cost of a H-ITT clicker that would be used for quizzes and tests. This clicker is a couple notches down from a standard remote control but unlike a standard remote control this little baby cost $33 and that doesn't even include the battery!!! That's right folks, step right up and get some snake water while you're at it because at OU you can't have a remote without snake water, it just won't work!
This remote is a glorified SCANTRON but because our professors have gotten lazy and don't want to take all 30 minutes of their valuable research time (or rather 30 minutes of their TA's beer drinking time) to feed SCANTRON through a machine they decided students had to spend $33 to answer a question and have the answer recorded electronically immediately! More than that, there is no option to take a SCANTRON instead of purchasing the remote. If you don't get one of your own (because they are coded to match your student ID) you don't pass the class, period!
How ridiculous are we getting with our technology? Technology is great but it seems that in our drive to get immediate results we are neglecting at what cost we are getting those results not to mention personability! I guess the day is soon coming that in order to save classroom space, students will have to spend $350 for an iPod that is coded with their student number and broadcasts the professor’s voice during a scheduled time. The professor will give the lecture and homework assignments. The student then must upload the completed homework to the iPod. Automatically the answers will be given and the professors voice will tell if the answers were right and if not will explain what was done wrong. Oh yeah, Not to mention that there will be a required text that students will have to spend another $300 to buy. But instead of an actual book they will get a password to download an e-book onto the iPod. Seriously, where does it end? I'll tell you where it ends, right in the studends' collective END!
Friday, January 5, 2007
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
From the last post you all know that I was taking a trip to Utah to send Jarom off and to see my family. I'm back now and I just got some pictures from the trip.
Uncle Danegus
Jarom got me a Tabletop football game for Christmas
His new favorite shirt
Me and Mo
Mo and Uncle Cracker
Grandma Betty
Aspen
All-in-all it was a pretty good trip. There was a bit of snow but not too much. There was a lot of family and friends and it was great to get to see everyone.
Uncle Danegus
Jarom got me a Tabletop football game for Christmas
His new favorite shirt
Me and Mo
Mo and Uncle Cracker
Grandma Betty
Aspen
All-in-all it was a pretty good trip. There was a bit of snow but not too much. There was a lot of family and friends and it was great to get to see everyone.
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