put your shirt back on

DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE.

SUCK IT, FALL 2011.

My exams, my classes, and my residents are OUT OF MY LIFE until January 2012, and thank the sweet zombie Jesus for it, because I was well on my way to a drunken shotgun rampage.

I am lingering at my school until next week, but here's a quick look at all the fucks I give:



Yup. All gone.

And now we move on to the portion of my year that is comprised entirely of gay porn and video games.



And I'm done.

I owe some dark deity one hell of a cup of tea. I woke up this morning and realized that, not only did I have a test in 30 minutes, but I had a presentation due, as well.

Cue the panicked flailing.

Luckily, I had a written report already on my hard drive that suited my purposes, so I spent 20 minutes transposing from Word to Powerpoint, threw on some clothes, and cram-studied all the way to class.

I don't know how I did on the test (my guess: not that awesome) but my teacher complimented my presentation, and I have no fucking idea how I pulled that shit off, other than deus ex machina. So, there will be tea. LOTS OF TEA.

I should have been an English major. My bullshit skills are wasted here.

First day of classes post.

Basically, I have a fuck-ton, and it is up in the air whether this year is going to be uniquely challenging or soul-crushingly difficult. Most of that depends on the dick-quotient my professors aspire to. Kind of a dick? I can handle you. AND I MEAN HANDLE HURHURHUR Mucho dick with a side of douche canoe? I might bring a can of mace to class.

So, we'll see.

In awesome news, my dad sent me a printer. My dad is the Batman.

My sister and I went shopping, yesterday, at Best Buy. She had a 25$ gift card to kill, and I had free time. We perused the aisles. Here's what went down:

ME: So, whatcha lookin' for?
SISTER: I dunno. What's at Best Buy?
ME: Lots of stuff. Like movies.
SISTER: I can watch those online.
ME: True. CD's, too.
SISTER: What are those?
ME: Yeah, how about new earphones?
SISTER: Nah.
ME: Well, I'm out of ideas.
SISTER: ...
ME: ...
SISTER: ... do they have a gum section?
ME: They have a soda section.
SISTER: Done.

Conclusion: We spent all $25 on candy, energy drinks, and gum. LIKE A BOSS.


Speaking of food, today I have consumed a donut, a box of Milk Duds, and one can of Coke Zero.

First day of class? Challenge accepted.

There comes a time in the course of a night when the summer sun is just barely turning the sky light and the dewpoint has come and gone again. When the day is just starting to get underway and the world is seriously considering getting up to make something of it.

There comes that time when the girl who is watching the sunrise (with a Diet Coke in one hand and a menthol in the other) realizes that class is in less than four hours and she has yet to sleep or finish the lab report due that day; and she thinks to herself -- "Fuck this for a lark" -- and pulls out the rum.

That time is now. That day is today.

Dear Residents,

GET OUT OF MY LIFE.

Love,
Z

I went to a physical therapy presentation yesterday, which translates into "sales pitch for USF". It was educational and interesting, but I still hated it.

I do not like sales pitches for 'elite schools', or schools of any kind, simply because they're an exercise in intimidation. They want you to look awesome on paper so the school can get a pretty, pretty feather in its cap when you graduate. While I can understand the desire for acceptable risk when accepting applicants, I do not appreciate the implication that I am not going to succeed anywhere, at all, unless I prove myself to be worthy of their attention. I am perhaps oversensitive to criticism, but having someone imply that I am not doing enough for them puts my back up in a big way.

This bothered me a lot in high school, when we'd be herded into the auditorium to hear local schools preach about their wonderful programs and elite scholastics and even more elite average GPA of accepted applicants. I only saw the upper side of the scale and became absolutely terrified of college, because I was an okay students, but I didn't live and breathe my studies. The implication was that little, lackadaisical people like me? Need not apply.

Well, I'm laughing in the face of that message, succeeding where so many of my more studious peers did not, but here again comes the parade of intimidation tactics and one-sided cautionary tales. People only talk about the best and the brightest or the ones who should have known better than to even bother. They stress the competition, the 'rewarding challenges' of their curriculum, the exclusivity of their student selection. No one wants to talk about the solid, stoic middle ground where you get by with no real accolades, but no real problems, either.

I called my father that night, not in a panic, but upset, nonetheless. I asked him, "How the hell did you stay motivated with all that bearing down on you?"

He said two things that I hope I never forget:

He asked me, "Well, you have a choice right now. Is this something you want to do?"
I told him yes, that this is something I was very interested in and wanted to explore further.
He said, "Okay. Now, here's my question. Do you want to be told what to do, or do you want to be the boss?"
"I don't understand."
"There are two paths, here, and they're both important. Physical therapy assistants are-"
And I cut him off, saying, "Dad. Give me a little credit. There is no way in hell that I am going to go through grad school to become somebody's assistant."
And he then told me, "That's your answer."

A professor once told him, while he was in med school, that you either are a doctor, or you aren't. And that's all there is to it. And while I am not a physician, I do believe that I have it in me to be a physical therapist. Because I will sooner quit school forever than become someone's assistant. And I mean that.

The second thing he told me was pretty awesome, too. He told me, "Yeah, their average accepted student has a 3.7. But there's 50% of students that have a GPA lower than 3.7. And you know what they call them?"
"What?"
"Physical therapists."

I love my dad.

So, I am now a rebel with a cause.

God knows, I'm stubborn enough to shoot off my own nose if someone tells me not to, and I've bitten bullets in the past in the name of my own pride. But this time I'm actually acting the in the interests of others, as well as myself.

The school where I work has done two things that piss off the employees to no end. They a) haven't hired enough people, effectively chaining us to the job and b) have enacted a new rule stating that we are not to go off campus with residents (see: our friends) without prior approval, for liability reasons.

Housing has always been criminally stupid, but with these two particular issues, they put in jeopardy the RAs as a staff, as students, and as sane human beings.

So, I'm launching two separate campaigns. My first act is to send a letter, from the RAs as a whole, detailing why these things need to change. Hopefully I won't have to nail it to the church door, but I'm willing to do what is necessary to make The Powers That Be take this seriously. I'm being respectful about it and, as the letter is 'anonymous', I'm hopefully not putting my job on the line. But I have heard the same story from every residence hall. We need more employees, and this new policy is fucking stupid. Somebody needs to shove Housing's face in it, or nothing will ever change.

My second campaign is a bit more petty. If they want an e-mail every time I go off campus with residents, by God, they are going to get it. If I drive with my sister to the mall, they're getting an e-mail. If my friends and I go to Sonic for dinner, they're getting an e-mail. If I lean over the campus border with a resident in my general vicinity, they are getting a motherfucking e-mail. I don't give a damn if they give me 'confirmation'. I'm not limiting my personal activities on my own time because Housing thinks I should take my job with me, everywhere I go.

To tell the truth, the letter makes me a little nervous, but, as I have learned from past experiences with rocking the boat, once you get things started, the best thing you can do is own that shit, for better or for worse.

So here's Martin Luther, Socrates, Lucifer, and all those other rebels who think the status quo sucks balls. Because even if they burn you at the stake, they'll at least know your name.

God fucking dammit, Housing. You're starting the bullshit early this year, aren't you?

I applied for a second job as an SA that coincides with my current RA job to subsidize my income because, btw? RAing doesn't pay for shit. I'm highly qualified, I have a history of working for the University, and I thought I did very well on the phone interview. I was told that I would receive an e-mail letting me know if I got the job, one way or another.

Cut to two weeks later with absolutely no word. Finally, I go to the Housing office to ask if those foretold e-mails were ever coming.

And the bitch-whore of the Housing Department leans out of her office with a smile and says that they selected people based on where they were living on campus and I had the bad luck of living in an area with a high concentration of RAs and thus a low concentration of SAs, and they've already made their selections. So, sorry!

I know at least five other people as qualified as I am who applied and apparently have not been hired, because no news is bad news.

I am furious right now, not so much because I didn't get the job, but because this woman didn't think it important to tell us that we were just not what they were looking for, so sorry.

I hate working for Housing. The bureaucracy is utter bullshit and the communication is even worse. And, yes, I really wanted that job.

So, now I'm going to have to go off campus to find work.

And this bitch needs to die.

Okay, guys. I have dealt with a lot of bullshit over the course of my online Bio class, but this really was the last straw. And it seems I am all kinds of a smartass on meds.

---


Look at the population in the picture below. If you were to sketch an imaginary line on the picture where the area covered by birds-in-flight was roughly divided into six squares an estimate, per area, could be accomplished.



13. To make a population estimate, count the number of birds-in-flight in one square and multiply the total by six.


____18_______ X 6 = ____108_________ (total population)


14. How close did you come to the actual population? Count every bird in the photograph to find out.

Exact count of the population = Wow, you actually wanted me to count all of that? I think I would go blind before I could figure out exactly how many birds are occupying the same space in that photograph. Two-dimensional images do not an accurate count, make. Although, given how the forgiving the margin of error seems to be, I think you’re just messing with us. I suppose there is no getting over the factor of human error, though, so the large amount of give makes sense. And yes, I understand the nature of this exercise. Populations are subject to random environmental factors, but there is a semi-predicable curve to be found within it all, just by the nature of statistics. It’s kind of cool that life, as we know it, in all its complexity and inexplicable variation, can be predicted by simple mathematics. (Or not-so-simple mathematics, if you struggle with analytical thinking.) By implementing spatial constants, you can make sense of what would otherwise resemble chaos. In essence, science. Rock on, science.
But still. Count each and every bird? I’d rather kill them mount them on the hood of my truck and let Fish and Wildlife do the counting, right before they put me away for single-handedly decimating the waterfowl population of this particular image.

15. Check one of the following to rate your estimating accuracy.

Within 5 birds of the actual count total: Accuracy 100%
Within 25 birds of the actual count total: Accuracy 90%
Within 50 birds of the actual count total: Accuracy 80%
Within 70 birds of the actual count total: Accuracy 70%
Within 100 birds of the actual count total: Accuracy 60%
*According to Heisenburg: Accuracy 0%
*According to Schrödinger: Accuracy Infinite

---



I definitely submitted this as my real answer, and I regret nothing.

* my contribution to the choice list

THE PLAN:
- Either score a job as an SA or get a second one
- Save lotsa cash over this coming school year
- Get my surgery early next summer
- Recover
- Run off to the mountains for however much time I have left
- Live it up.


I have a lot of plans this coming school year now that I have a car and a steady job. They also include a ticket to the Halloween Voodoo concert fest in New Orleans, but that's about as flexible as everything else I do (which is to say, very).

I don't have a lot of money right now, but I think with the new year I'll be able to change that. And then I'm gonna take some road trips, because that, ladies and gentlemen, is what cars are for.