Thursday, February 05, 2004

I realize that I hardly ever update this blog, so I might as well do it now. The past while has been a blur for me - I think the only time I feel actually at peace is when I'm playing Lab Assistant for CSC 101. I often don't really remember the lab, but I find that it's a really nice time of day - it lets me forget all the other stuff going on in my life. Recent highlights involve: - Getting shot at with a pellet gun "accidently" by one of the friends of a guy who lives across the hall from me. It was really weird - I was walking to the gym with my friend, and she gets shot in the hand. She goes "what the hell was that? Was I just shot?". I consequently freak out and get security to come in and take the gun away. The annoying part is that the wank who actually shot the gun isn't getting any blame, and the guy who owns the gun (a nice guy) and the guy who lives there (another nice guy) are suffering the rap for this, and might get kicked out of residence, which might mean that one of them could be sent back to his country of origin, where he probably won't continue to pursue a university education. This was a most shitty day. - That night I boozed up in a hardcore fashion (for me at least), rendering me eventually wondering why I was in a fetal position on the floor mumbling obscenities. It was good fun, but I'd like a copy of those pictures. - I'm finally not sick, which is really sweet after being ultra diseased for the past three weeks. Hey, maybe that's why I don't really remember all that much from that period of time ... because I was zonked out of my mind. I believe it was the second time I visited the health center that they realized I didn't just have a cold, leading to a diagnosis of some ass-whuppin' bronchitis. They ended up prescribing some antibiotics that could easily be confused for horse suppositories (i.e. these pills were not small), and it seems to have stopped making me try to cough up my lungs. This is pretty sweet! - I'm really tempted to get these, but with shipping at everything, they are darn expensive shot glasses. I'm thinking that I'm just going to buy some Bishop's glasses and be imaginative with a Sharpie and duct tape. Yeah ... stick it to tha' man. - For the first time in a while, I'm having no major trouble eating the garbage that passes for food at Bishop's. Perhaps it's the prescription anti-acid stuff I'm taking to prevent me from getting reflux-induced heartburn all the time, but it could be that I'm getting used to it. Or maybe I'm just not eating the really shitty food all the time. - I found a croissant in a bag on my floor next to the desk. I think Kate's suggestion that I do something about the random articles of half-eaten food I have scattered in my room has some merit to it. Damn, this place is filthy. - I have yet to figure out what I'm going to do with the giant stuffed spider in the corner of my room. I know that he appeared in my room around Halloween and that I named him George, but I don't really know what to do with him now. - I was reminded during a night of drinking that in prison, I would most likely be heavily defiled asap. Not that I have plans to be encarcerated any time soon or anything, but this is more than a gentle reminder to work out more. I want to be like that dude at the end of that Jet Li movie where he's got an evil version of himself who travels through parallel universes killing "himself" to make himself smaller. Anyway, at the end of the movie, he says "I'm no one's bitch!", and fights off the rest of this planet. It's pretty cool. That's the kind of thing that I'd be going for, so I think I should hit the gym more often. Time to sleep again. Skrud, it sucks that you're having trouble with Discrete Math 2. Math is hard dude - we need to make it part of us though, so we've both gotta give'er as much as we can. Also: props go out to Linda and Anton for helping me figure out my bitwise playground of a problem in Java. I wish there was something like inline java-byte code that we could insert like assembly code in C++. Oh well.

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