No Use For A Title

Short middle-of-the-week update*, since I'm running out of ways to procrastinate regarding the exam I have tomorrow.

This week has been a bitch; it's like February rose from the dead for a hackneyed and poorly written sequel. I come in early Monday, because my first class has 9 presentations to get through (we were gonna do 4-5 Monday and the rest today) and the professor said he'd pick randomly among the groups, so everyone should be ready Monday.

What actually happened was he let us decide who went Monday. My group wanted to go, but we only ended up getting through three presentations that day, due to a bunch of groups going over the 10-minute limit (and some other shit, but that's even more boring). Only two of the three in the last group to go Monday were even there.

So I didn't really get anything done Monday except preparing for Tuesday's presentation. This one is more important anyway; it's the one for the capstone that's been trying to beat us all into submission with its "hurry up and wait" guerilla tactics. I thought I was going to be the most nervous, because I had to do the actual results and the conclusion, but I was actually ok. I would have been better, but the person before me almost choked and it threw me off.

So, today comes. We finally get to do the other presentation. This one is about how wage and benefit differentials between Sam's Club and Costco affect store margins and worker productivity; exciting stuff.

Now, I have a class 8:30-9:45 tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure we're just doing review for the final exam in May, so that's a throwaway. I'll go, but I won't be entirely there. After that, I have to go to some event for the capstone (last fucking thing for it, too, thank Me) from 2:00 to like 6:00. Well, that's the ideal. In actuality, I'm going to show myself out around 4:15 so I can go to the other class that I should be studying for the exam for. You know, for the exam. I've clinched a B in there, but I could get an A, too, so maybe I'll study for this one before the day of the exam. Even though the class is 4:15 to 5:30, I always finish early, so hopefully the Professors at the other event won't notice I'm gone. If they do, maybe I got sick and had to go to the restroom.

After that, all I have to do for this week is a little 5-pager on...er...something or other. I'll check when it's more pressing. Then there's an exam next Monday to finish off one class, a final paper to finish off another, another final exam that I may or may not opt out of, and yet another exam that I have no idea when or where it will be. I should probably check on that this weekend (if I wake up at any point during the weekend, that is).

*That was my intention when I started, honest.

When I was in martial arts classes (before I became immortal and self-defense became quaint) we sometimes had to do meditation. I'm not really sure what the purpose was; maybe it was to help the more ADDish among us focus (this was before using a different pill for every mood really took off, you see).

I never really minded meditation, except maybe when I'd suddenly get an itch somewhere. So I have to sit there, with my eyes closed. That's pretty much like what I do a lot of the time anyway, except for the "eyes closed" thing. Ridiculous expressions are discouraged too. When I think about it more, I realize that the main reason I didn't mind it was because I didn't really care what was going on around me: The most interesting stuff was all in my head anyway.

I've stopped remembering if I was going anywhere with that, let alone where. Switching stories now.

For a long time, I've really been concerned with efficiency, especially in terms of my own actions. Some people mock it at times, but really: if there's a better/easier way to do what I'm doing, why am I doing it this way at all? This is one of the things that steered me toward economics. Being able to pretend that people are rational is fun too. I also like considering the ramifications of information asymmetry in various situations, but sometimes in that process something inside me freezes and I have to reboot, to use a computer metaphor. Except it's not really a reboot, because I can't get rid of the memories that cause it. Maybe it's more akin to hibernation, but that conjures images of sleeping. And, perhaps, grizzly bears.

Back on track now.

Back to talking about efficiency. I've come to realize that, when analyzing the efficiency of a system or process, it's sometimes important to look at more than just the level of input needed for a level of output. I'll give you an example you can't really relate to.

Look at the above paragraphs. I could have just said what I wanted to say from the beginning, but I took a hackneyed, roundabout, and possibly even incoherent path* to say what I wanted to say. Perhaps I draw some intangible, unmeasurable value from being incoherent. (In fact, I'll tell you right now that I do. That's not quite enough to make it paradoxical or strip it of truth value, unlike the "This sentence is false" thing.)

Before I put my headphones back on, I could hear birds chirping. That was about half an hour ago. Why am I still awake? Why is it Sunday? Where did my weekend go?

Damn it all.


*I just reminded myself of John Kerry. (zing!)

My first (academic) all-nighter in as long as I can remember.

Not that that says much.

My own fault, of course. The project is due today. And I started this section about...oh...2-8 hours ago (depending on whether or not time spent procrastinating counts toward a start time).

It would have to be on a day when I have longer classes, too. Dammit.

Oh well, it was the only big thing for this week. No one will really notice if I'm in walking zombie mode anyway.

I should probably start sleeping at least a few hours a day. I'm actually on the left end of the bell curve relating efficiency (y) to sleep (x).

Part of me doesn't want to do anything right now, and the other part wants to get up and start the day already. I wouldn't even be that way if I was just waking up now. I guess that part doesn't turn itself off very readily.

Oh well, maybe I'll go fall asleep spotting someone in the weight room. That'd be good for a laugh.

That's all I've got.

[I noticed the overly repetitive and conversational aspects of this post. If you are reading it, you probably know that I am generally inclined to not give a fuck. Just thought I'd let you know I was aware.]

It has been an unusual past couple of days. The weather around Cleveland has been unusually bright and warm. When I was outside the library on campus earlier today, the view may have taken my breath away, if I still breathed regularly. It made me wish I had my camera. The sky was very clear (the only cloud being directly overhead, and even it was hard to see without trying), it almost looked unreal to me.

In other news, my hair is getting lighter again. The dark parts are turning brown, and the brown parts are turning blonde. (Haven't really paid attention to the other parts yet.) Maybe it's a seasonal thing, like most things with me are.

"The end of junior year is approaching quickly," he said, revealing that he still thought of himself - at least on occasion - as the origin around or toward which everything moved.

There's some other stuff I could say here, but it would be between 5 and 150 million years too late. (I'm no good at estimations.)

Oh, that vaguely reminded me. In a class the other day we had a guest lecturer who gave us some advice on how to do presentations. One of the things was about how 60% of what people pay attention to when you're talking is your "body language", 30% is how you say whatever it is you're saying, and the remaining 10% is what you actually say.* As far as delivery beating out content with most people, I've noticed that myself. As long as I know more about something than the other person and sound like I know what I'm talking about, no one is the wiser. (I try not to use this power for evil. Then again, we all know how that turns out)

But still, the proportions are somewhat surprising. So people will be more focused on how much I move my hands, or how I'm standing, or how much I move/walk...than what I am saying.**

Humans.


*Thank God I'm self-diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. (Well, not really. But almost.)

**Apparently the name for one of my favorite stances is "flesh wound". You know, one arm at the side, the other one holding it. Suits me pretty well.

Short post today.

I've decided to quit this passive-aggressive nonsense I've been doing and start with some active aggression. To that end, I think I'll do what I did one summer: whenever I was angry, frustrated, or stressed out, I would exercise until I forgot about it.* Of course, that was the summer I lost 22% of my body weight.

...And I kinda went insane for a while there (even by my standard).

But hey! I kinda feel like being insane right now anyway.

*I would have to shift the parameters now. That low, seething anger I often have doesn't count, and I don't think I actually notice stress or frustration anymore, unless it's extreme. Or maybe I just lump it in with anger in the general case.

Note: the first part of this (below the note, above the makeshift line) was written at around 4 this morning. It has been edited. Not for clarity, but to remove (some of) the hateful bitterness that comes with demonic possession.

The position I'm in now requires that I actually sleep once in a while, and for some reason I often vehemently resist this, which is part of the reason I am typing this at 4:03 in the morning (when I have to get up around 6:30).

Do they call it insomnia when it is one's own will that keeps them awake, as opposed to some physical inability to get to sleep? I used-to-could stay up for more than 24 hours, easy.* No real signs of fatigue until some time into the second day, which wasn't even enough to stop me itself. Now I can't even stay up for 20 hours without it proverbially kicking my ass. Of course, I wasn't running on batteries then.

Also, it could have something to do with my overall sleeping pattern, not just the inevitable drop in my Constitution score I had to take. You know, the whole "missed sleep" thing. When I would stay up until 5 or 6 or Monday or whatever the hell it was I did, I would usually sleep for almost half the next day. Now, I've been getting less sleep each time over several weeks. Like most of my bright ideas, the negative consequences catch up with me eventually.

Like right now, for example. I just got disconnected with less than 25% left on a pretty big (for my home connection) download.** Then, through some random fumbling that I do just as often when not tired, I ended up with IE in "Working Offline" mode, which will make MSN act retarded later.

*Give me a while and I might-could again.

**I'm not really up because of the download, though; if I tried to say I was, that would just be a convenient form of justification after the fact, especially considering the fact that I can (and now will) get it later on a connection over a thousand times faster.

Not that justification after the fact is always bad; very few things are always bad. Maybe you had a justification before and you just couldn't quite pin it down, or couldn't articulate it. Now, if you mean the kind of "after the fact" where you actually have one motivation for your actions and describe another, well, you deserve all the pain that very idea can inflict, you heartless evil fuck of a human being.

*smiles warmly*

4:21 AM 4/6/2006

----

I wouldn't even have this section if not for what happened when I went outside to get here (school, where that download took about 5 minutes).

First, a bit of background.* Tuesday in my 8:30 class**, some girl was telling the professor about how tired she was. When she went to go sit down, she sort of tripped and fell down one of the stairs (they're bigger stairs, the ones you could take a step or two on). She was still facing toward me, so I could see a sort-of-embarrassed grin on her face***. I'm not quite sure if this information factored into my choice of words, something along the lines of "I guess you were more tired than you thought." No one else said anything, so she said "I'm ok" after a second. Two things didn't immediately occur to me:

1) That it wouldn't occur to everyone that she was ok, based on the whole "conscious and not visibly (or audibly) in pain" thing

2) My comment could be perceived (Stupid P-types****) as insensitive.

Not that I give a crap either way, nor would it change what I say, but I do like to be aware of myself.


I only mention this because when I walked out of the house and stepped off the porch onto our first step, something weird happened. I was angled weird so I could get my giant laptop bag through the doorway, and I guess I forgot to realign my foot as I shifted back toward facing forward. So, I slipped. I didn't fall (that happens almost as rarely as getting hurt), but I almost ended up sitting on my right ankle, which bent in a funny way (I'm a flexible bastard). My other foot was bracing most of my weight in a standing-sitting position (you know, where you make it look like you're sitting down, where it puts all the weight on your thighs?) and the rest was braced by my left arm shooting out to the thing in front of our house.

It occurred to me as I was sitting in the wrong room (class got moved today) that maybe it happened because of what I said. Then again, maybe it didn't. Buddhism is retarded, and karma is just an illusion designed to keep people from being evil.*****


*Shocked the hell out of me too.
**Once again taking the opportunity tell ask what the hell I was thinking picking this time slot. I'm a junior now, I "paid my dues"; I don't have to do this.
***She must react to such situations in a way similar to me: If nothing is severely damaged (which has never happened to me, in spite of some pretty spectacular falls), I just laugh it off because I think of how ridiculous me falling looks.
****I know it's unrelated, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't take shots at people for no apparent reason.
*****Said the grubworm.


Final Notes: You may have noticed (unless you didn't read the whole thing and/or you are a jackass) that I reused some of the asterisk things. That was because I don't give a fuck.

Also, fuck Notepad's line formatting. With a broken broomstick. In every orifice. Two, if they fit. Three is not right out.