...

seppuku is looking better and better every minute.

hulk smash!

...would you like to hear the saga of the emeryville post office and the mysterious invisible package? well, technically 'parcel.'

of course you don't, but I'm going to tell you anyway, because if I don't, my options are a) scream b) make the title of this entry not hyperbole, or c) some combination of the above.

here we go.

I check the mail on the 13th of october. there's a litte orange slip saying that the USPS, in all its glory, tried to deliver a parcel to The Boy but we weren't here so please call to arrange a redelivery.

I called. I arranged a redelivery. I sat, trapped at home, awaiting the bell or the phone telling me to let the post office man in.
the package never came.
no little orange notice was left.

I called again. I arranged a re-redelivery. I sat, trapped at home, awaiting the bell or the phone telling me to let the post office man in.
the package never came.
no little orange notice was left.

I call again. I play tag with the automated 'tell me what you want' speak-menu thing. I play tag a lot. I go through the redelivery menu. it tells me the package has been returned to sender. I don't believe it.

I call again. I play tag trying to speak to a real person. I play a lot of tag. I finally get to a point where I speak to a real person- because I am given the number for the emeryville post office. (I tried to get it earlier, but all 411 gives you is the national 1800 number. The post office tells me (at this point I'm trying really hard to not be obviously pissed off at the guy on the phone with me.) that they have the package and it'll be sent tomorrow.

I hope so. I really hope so.

if not...hulk smash!

um...

this weather is starting to make me twitchy. it's fall! Fall, you know, Autumn, when the leaves turn red and orange and fall down and make great piles to squish and crunch and throw at people and the weather turns cold and the air is crisp and nippy and you feel all snuggly.

Not in San Francisco.

firstly: most everything is still green. some of the maples have turned colors. most of the leaves that have fallen aren't pretty colors, they're just dead. the passiflora vine down the street from me is green, green, green and blooming strong. it's october 23. it's weird.

secondly: the temperature is more ADHD than minnesota in fall. hot-cold-hot but windy-colder no wind-hothothot-cold with vengeful wind-warm and beautiful-freezing-hot. Today it's hot, but luckily the breeze has started.

thirdly: it's october, and my basil and mint are going "WHEEEEEE!!!!" I'm going to have to make pesto soon, or else replant the basil before the mint goes terminator on the pot. in october.

it's just wrong.

have been inspired to start on the fingerless shooting mitts...but I can't find the yarn. hooray apartment living? it's...somewhere.
someone give me a kick in the pants on the following:
T4.
mitts.
going riding more than spastic random almost-weekly times.
unpacking. (what is this crazy stasis I've succumbed to? someone hit the undo button.)

remind me again why I'm doing this to myself?

because I just love physics, yes I do, just love how a 1 part problem and a 10 part problem are both worth 5 points. love it. love the fact that we have 20 problems with between 1 and 15 parts each due per homework assignment. love the fact that it's an algebra based class, but he uses calculus notation in class so I have no idea how to make the symbolic reasoning parts of the problems work because I was clearly high on kiln fumes and investment powder dust when the call went out to line up for your algebra skills.

and yes, I did procrastinate. we get a week and a day to do these problems so that if you don't understand something you can ask about it in class. (which basically means that if you're like me and you don't understand anything, you get it in class and then have 24 hours to do the homework)

but here's my reason for procrastinating. other than the fact that...it's me we're talking about.

merely opening the website makes me tense and irritable and frustrated. the levels of those go up exponentially related to the time I spend working on them, and they stay up for hours after. If I spent an hour a week working on it (ok, let's be reasonable. it'll take me 2.), then i'll be frustrated, tense, and annoyed (and the likelihood that I will become unhinged dramatically increased) for several hours after the two hours working on it. do I want to spend 5 hours of each day of each week like that? no. especially not since I'm sure that the more frustrated, tense, annoyed, and unhinged I get the more frustrating, annoying, confusing, and tiresome I get to those around me.

So I condense it into one day. usually it's not this bad. usually it's survivable. this time, I came very close to giving up on the 4 problems I had left. but hey, 14 % is better than 0 %. right?

ugh.

On the other hand...

I'm glad to have friends who, when I say to them "The physics must die." say in response "Must die must die the physics must die / for the sake of the nation, this physics must die, must die, this physics must die."

bonus tibi quod nomen carmen* possum es.

bonus points to you who can name that tune.

*carmenis? ...really shouldn't try freehand latin translations after 7 hours of physics.

well....here's a little story for you.

See Marit.
See Marit's laptop.*
See Marit's laptop run. Run, laptop, run.
What a good laptop.

(fast forward to summer, 2006)

See Valhall.**
See Marit's laptop in Valhall.
See Marit open her laptop in Valhall. Open, laptop, open.
What a cracked screen!

(fast forward to summer, 2007, after losing the laptop for 2 months for repair)

See Valhall.******
See Marit's laptop in Valhall.
See Marit's laptop play dead. Play dead, laptop, play dead!
What a clever******* laptop.

(fast forward to fall 2007)

See The Boy.
See The Boy with Marit's laptop.
See The Boy performing surgery on the laptop. Code, laptop, code!********
What an efficient autopsy.

*this is The Beast, in all its beefy schwarzenagger-ness.***
**See also the evil**** gremlins in Valhall.
***ugh, just remembered/realized that I'm now a constituent of the guvernator. siiigh.
****possibly not evil, just misunderstood. although they never came forward, which is more irritating, possibly, than the act itself.*****
*****I know. too much terry pratchett.
******possibly mimes brønn. I don't actually remember which it was.
*******clever in that it'll work again...after a full lobotomy. yeesh.
********not code as in make a program that might do something, but code as in bring the nurses running while the doctor's name blares over the PA system.

So there you have it. The Beast is dead. autopsied. cannibalized for parts. pictures later.

this is what happens when your motherboard stops....doing whatever a motherboard is supposed to do. Probably died because of the screen's dying, and it just took a while to die. Considering that I didn't use my laptop much from when I got it back to when it refused to function (moving and not wanting to lug it to boston and being on a boat kinda cuts in on your computer time), that's not that much of a stretch.

O you who sat on my laptop and shattered the screen, you owe me a guinness. no- lots of Guinnesses.

And now it's far past my bedtime and I didn't even get to address my irritation at the institution that is Apple and iTunes.

2 boxes down...

sooo...

yesterday I watched an NCIS episode where this serial killer was finally caught (because he was stuffed in a furnace exhaust thingie) only he wasn't the serial killer, his lovely schoolteacher wife was.

her name was Karen Burris, and when they popped her name up on the screen I about died laughing, because it immediately brought to mind none other than my dear professor Simon Burris.

in honor of that (and him) I give thee...
Burris quotes from greek and latin. mostly from latin, because I can't find my greek notebooks.

• "Didja have a good weekend? I didn't, and I'm going to take it out on you."
• "I'm ruthlessly efficient that way."
• "cheating is cheating; it's foul, it's disgusting, it's dirty."
• "I guess I'll ask for volunteers before I go to the Cards O' Death."
• "both of these sentences are wrong: however, there's hope, because there's always someone wrong-er."
• "'he always gives my sons and daughters roses'...he sounds confused."
• "I'd like to have two groups working on each sentence; that way, you'll be in competition and someone will get hurt."
• "Ladies and Gentlemen, it's all about shame. Public humiliation.:
• "well, I don't know about YOUR colon. Someone claim this colon."
• *coughing fit followed by heroic pose* "We go on! ...I don't know why you're laughing."
• "Preach it, brother!"
• "I've got a cold...if I should sneeze and mucous should drench your papers...just open your umbrella."
• "I forgot to take my drugs this morning."
• "Y'can't tell me it's like that! I mean- where does it say 'the classics professor gives roses to the pretty girl?'"
• "Culture good! Grammar better. Much, much better!"
• "have you ever tried to make love to a tree?"
• "Actually, I'm in a Led Zeppelin mood. I've got a strong urge to grow long hair and rip off my shirt and jump up on the table. but I won't do that. I signed a contract when I took this job that I wouldn't do that anymore."

man, I loved those classes.

sigh. now I get...the joy of physics.

I have an iguana on my laptop.

concert last night was a. ma. zing.
luckily, the unidentified person sitting somewhere behind and to the right of me decided to open their crinkly candy excruciatingly slowly during the chopin piano concerto before intermission, because if they'd pulled that during the saint-saens I would be blogging from a jail cell. although no true jury of my peers would have convicted me.
clearly they didn't read the guide that the san francisco symphony so kindly provides you as you purchase your tickets- it includes what to wear and when to clap.

I had a most amusing picture pop into my head (probably because I recently watched Lord of the Rings with The Boy) but I had this image of Gandalf conducting a symphony and turning around to face the audience when they start clapping between movements to shout "You...shall not...CLAP!" and bringing his baton down dramatically.

but that's just my brain.

lookit- iguana!

that's a marine iguana. they eat fuzzy green marine seaweedy-algae goop that grows on rocks in intertidal zones, and there's nothing weirder than seeing a whole mob of these battleworn mini-godzillas munching away on electric green goop in a tide pool. something about it makes your brain go .....mmnope.

and then you turn around and see....

....the beachmaster.

he's huge. huge as in "no sir, mr beachmaster, I'm not in any way shape or form trying to mess around with your harem. nope. not me."

also, huge as in "c'mon, mr beachmaster- just smoosh the kid. really. we won't mind. it'll be his fault- he's the one poking at the young seals and trying to get closer to them and running at them and being loud and annoying and we're in the galapagos- is it too much to ask for a visual demonstration of natural selection? mr beachmaster? please?"

but that's a story for another day. back to the physics lab.

ripped out my last 3 inches of scarf. any ideas on a slightly shiny feltable wool?

soooo....

happy Cephalopod Awareness Day!

beware the kraken!

         PINTEL
                         You're pullin' too fast.

                                     RAGETTI
                         You're pulling too slow. We don't want
                       the Kraken to catch us.

                                     PINTEL
                         I'm savin' me strength for when it comes.
                       And I don't think it's Krack-en, anyways.
                       I always heard it said Kray-kin.

                       
                                     RAGETTI
                         What, with a long A?

                                     PINTEL
                         Aye.

                                     RAGETTI
                         No-no-no-no-no-no-no. Krock-en's how
                       it's pronounced in the original Scandinavian,
                       and Krack-en's closer to that.

                                     PINTEL
                         Well we ain't original Scandinavians,
                       are we? Kray-ken!

                                     RAGETTI
                         It's a mythological creature, I can
                       calls it what I wants.

youtube disappointed me. I was hoping for a video clip of the above, but no. you'll just have to check it out yourself.

roughly a year ago...

I was in BC with my parents hoping desperately for an open mechanic so we could see just how badly we'd destroyed our undercarriage pulling out of the starbucks on our way home to tacoma, so that the next day I could fly out to Boston.

...strangely enough, I think today I'm feeling about the same.

Happy Thanksgiving, filiis canadiensis!

I'm not sure about that declension. oh well. live with it.

it's exam time...

and you know what that means...

you finally get to hear all the silly little comments that my organic chemistry prof has said and I have enjoyed enough to write down in my notebook.

woo!

first off, an observation: my chem prof clearly never stopped playing with tinkertoys. he also is in love with the word "wow" and chemistry in general.

"Spectroscopy is just awesome! ...it's good stuff."

"if you drink old wine, or bad wine, you get a headache because the alcohol has oxidized to acetaldehyde already. so...dring good wine, and you'll be fine."

"what is that thing...in the window region..." (that's to the tune of 'how much is that doggie in the window,' by the way)

"uh huh. wow, yeah, see? see the strain? yeah...wow." (playing with tinkertoy again- this happens every class, most recently with a bicycloheptane and with ethane stereoisomers)

"oh...shit." (after writing on the whiteboard with a permanent marker.) "uh..."
"you can take it off with vodka." "or nail polish remover." "or armorall windshield wipes." says the class.
"Ah, yes, but why those?" (blinks from classroom) "Ethanol! solver of the world's woes!" (big grin.) by this point he'd found the whiteboard cleaner and paper towels tucked under the podium.

I know. he's no burris.

glee!

so Aristarchus has been moved to his happy new tank.

I get to figure out a better way of siphoning sand, since I'm not used to it, but oh well. he seems to like it.

he digs peas, I've discovered. I think he has shark genes well hidden in his genetic makeup, because he tore the one I gave him apart in milliseconds.

a week from now I get to go to the san francisco symphony, which is performing the saint saens organ symphony. glee!

fishy!

I've decided that Aristarchus is totally an appropriate name. he's super curious, and no less inquisitive than the (sadly) late Herodatus. (curse you, malfunctioning vacation feeders! at least he gets to sleep with the bamboofish.)

granted, goldfish are supposed to have the proverbial 3 second memory, which could explain why he investigates every nook and cranny all the time, but even herodatus and ovid would dart away and hide behind a plant when I'd put my face close to the tank to get a better look at them. (the advantages to being ridiculously myopic- built in macro lens.)

Aristarchus swims right up and mugs for me. probably has something to do with nonbinocular vision- he looks at me with his left eye, then his right, then sometimes he'll wash rinse repeat, other times he'll flounce away and go try to eat the plant. it's plastic. that doesn't seem to matter.

he got a spinach treat today, but he only ate half of it. maybe next time I'll cut it smaller.

duty (hah)- I mean knitting- calls.

fun fact:

the current temperature here in emeryland/oakville is 14 degrees Celsius.

in Alta, it's 11 degrees Celsius.

that's Alta, Norway.

...?

not that I'm complaining, but the fishy might be none too happy.

to combat the current mood:

meet Aristarchus.


yes, I know it's a bit of a ridiculous name for such a little fish. but he's a black moor, which is a variety of the telescope-eyed fancy goldfish, and aristarchus was the first greek astronomer to develop the theory of heliocentrism, so it makes sense. and besides that, maybe he'll give me good physics karma based on his namesake, what?


shut up. he's pretty.

sigh...snif...

friends, relatives, and relatives of friends:

stay healthy.

no more cancer. no more chemo. no more dying.

someone invent a make-everything-better ray.

under attack. no. seriously.

it's tempting to wonder where Murphy (as in murphy's law) gets his bodyguards, and how expensive they would be to bribe...

...but then I've been rereading a series of books by Walter Jon Williams sold under the anthology title of Ten Points for Style which involves lots of thievery and bribery and all sorts of fun stuff.

give praise to Triple-A for the power of the happy little membership card! The Boy and I avoided a 120 dollar fee for rescuing our keys from the ignition as we waited outside the Target with a full cart of goodies.

look! plant!
(the plant isn't included in the goodies from le target boutique, incidentally, I'm just excited that I finally have green in my apartment again. and it's actually three plants, not one, and I confused the poor home depot woman to no end:
PHDW: finding everything you need?
Me: (balancing pot and three little plants and coffee mug) yep! actually, no- what's the smallest bag of potting soil that you sell?
PHDW: that one- (pointing to a small bag, but small bag of potting soil + small apartment = large bag of taking-up-space-soil)
Me: oh. Do you sell it by the pound or anything out of the garden center?
PHDW: er, no. But the small bag isn't really very- I mean, it will get used up very quickly, even in a small garden.
Me: MmM,* I've got a really small apartment, and all I want to do is plant these three (gesture with coffee cup at plants) in this pot (jiggle pot with elbow) so I was hoping there might be some other way. that's ok.
PHDW: oh. (strange look at choice of plants and pot.) you could try a greenhouse.
Me: where would-
PHDW: there's (insert name here, I've forgotten), they're nice-
Me: I just moved here, I've no idea where anything is, really.
PHDW: oh. (frowns.) well, it's over there (points) up by berkeley. or just drive up San Pablo, they're scattered all along it.
Me: thanks!
PHDW: you're welcome. hope you enjoy oakland! (disappears rapidly into plumbing section.)

*that's MmM, the norwegian tritonal utterance used for 'yes, I'm listening' 'oh, really?' 'hell yes,' 'what?' and more.

also, after this, one of the guys in the home depot shirt-but-not-apron (which I think means they're sort of the minions of the ones with the aprons and the big smiles and the wish to help you do whatever you needed to do that brought you to the home depot in the first place) saw me wandering the garden center (looking for mint and basil and another pot, thinking that I could get them and then get the bag and not feel bad because then I could make fresh tea and pesto and use up the bag of soil at the same time, but alas, no cookie) and said:
"Down the aisle by the trees there's a bag of soil that got ripped and isn't sellable, you could plant them and then check out in the garden center to pay for the plants and pot."
at which point he went back to watering the hanging plants.

so I did. and now I have plant! yay!
(just imagine how bad it's going to be when I finally make it down to the fish store and get a fish.)

aaand....look! T4!
I know. far cry from tank top, isn't it? sadly, my goal of getting it done this summer failed utterly.

one more row, then I get to fold and pick up the edge, which is going to be depressing because it will effectively halve the length I've knitted.

knitting 350+ stitches on ittle needles is...annoyingly slow.

all my really old UFOs are like that, though. three shawls. sad.

and look!
band weaving that I'm actually mildly ashamed at posting, because it's really awkward, but I keep trying to remind myself that it's my first time since, um, almost ever. (not that it does any good in getting past the art OCD inherited from my mother, but oh well.)

two picking patterns; started the chevrons before deciding no, thanks, I'd like to keep my sanity and went on to less finicky pursuits.

yes, I'm hiding most of the ick in my hand. shutup.

and I might be getting a job offer! woo! The Boy mentioned to one of his clients that his fiancee was looking for a job in the bay area, and today they asked him for my contact information for something temporary or part time and unspecified, but still! glee!

oh, yeah. the subject heading. attack, yes...by the ants. here's what not to do, upon finding a few ants in the bedroom, idly wandering around the floor.

Oh, look, ants. grrr. back already, eh? well, I'm wise to you...and since there's no food in here...instead of squishing and sweeping and spraying blindly, I'm going to wait...yes, wait...until you form trails so that I can unleash the power of the industrial chemicals upon you! muahahaa!

don't do that, because this is what the ant scouts do:

Scout battalion one reporting to hive mother! the big pink thing has taken the bait! UNLEASH THE HORDES!

and you return to this:

ants. everywhere. ev. 'ry. where. all over the floor. crawling up the walls. along the baseboard. but still...not in any discernible entry or exit point. seriously. ugh.

and half an hour in which to deal with them before I have to go get on my bus to go to my favoritist class in the whole wide wonderful world...

...not.

physics...

so...we've already established the depths of my hatred of physics.

there's just one problem. I love my physics lab prof. he's hilarious. here's an example (before I go back to the stupid physics stupid online stupid homework stupidity.

this is from an e-mail regarding some questions we're supposed to answer for our next lab report.


"for those of you who are still underage and, therefore, not yet acquainted to alcoholic beverages:

question 5) Stoli vodka is made of 40% vol. alcohol and the rest is water. I thought everybody knew."

giggle.

heeheehee.

sooo....

I can see it now...

a Hollywood exec, delving further into the depths of remake-and-redo-and-revision, scans the news. Bingo! flunkies are scrambled to listen to the pitch, which goes something like this:

I got it! ok. so. bond is dead- we don`t need bond. but bourne`s taken over that genre, we don`t want to get into that, but we gotta make a spy movie so...here`s the scene- super spy politico-thriller BUT and here`s the thing- we do it in Russia with russians, call it- I don`t know what to call it, you figure that out, just get me Vin Diesel or the Rock. kay? and somebody write me up a viral ad campaign about spoofing brokeback mountain, yah?

...and then the flunkies quietly slink away, muttering about senility (hah, tried to write salinity, woops)

ANYway.

I have an idea for what to do with the other end of my scarf! yay! ...I`m going to go insane, but oh well.

yeesh. there`s two guys reshingling a roof behind my building- it`s ridiculously windy today, and I don`t envy them their perch.

I made myself giddy earlier today by finding this song by the Forsvarets Stabsmusikkorps (the Staff Band of the Norwegian Armed Forces) called Concertino for Euphonium and Band (Bloody Euphonium).

I love it. hooray euph!

aaaand... your random act of internet for the day....if you have a slightly warped sense of humor, or are sleep deprived and are mainlining caffeine. or if you`ve ever been through a Hell Week as a techie.

clicky!

I. hate. physics.

no, really. I swear. (a lot, unfortunately- physics seems to bring that out in me.)

not a cuddly oh-I-dislike-my-homework-and-commute-to-it but an honest hatred.

carol kane as mrs white hatred.



yes. that badly.

and you can add to that list any and ALL online homework/teaching/coursework programs. Blackboard, this means you. KATIE-that-used-to-be-MOODLE too, and Luther's wife would be rolling in her grave to be associated with it. MasteringPhysics...grr.

trying to figure out physics problems is bad enough. trying to figure out physics problems when any little hiccup in the internet can disconnect you and make you restart, or a glitch in refresh rates can load the page twice (and thus, if you've input the incorrect answer, dock you twice), or refuse to show you parts of problems OR the hints which we are supposed to use even when they're not helpful AT. ALL. grr.

give me paper! give me pen!(cil!) give me ANYTHING but the computer's baleful glowy screen glaring impersonally at me. give me old school or give me death.

sigh

on the other hand, I had bulgolgi and jap che and bubble tea today.

and I went to go see Parry Hotter and the Phoder of the Oenix today. mmm, Alan Rickman and Gary Oldman. I've never read the books (I lie, ok, fine, I read the first two, I try to forget), but I'll defend Snape all day for two reasons: 1) it's stupid narrative to have him be truly evil and 2) alan rickman.

And The Boy was very gracious in putting up with my physics theatrics that mostly involved muttering, growling, shouting, or pleading (or weeping) at the computer.

here's a fun "america makes my brain hurt" moment for you- so I got bubble tea today, and they gave me a little cardboard sleeve thing so I wouldn't freeze my hand off, and the sleeve has an ad for maidenform lingerie with two shirtless sultry-looking models on it, gazing out onto the world with too much eyeliner and airbrushed cleavage. which begs the question...if sex is bad horrible and corrupting and oh dear god protect the airwaves...why do I have softcore porn on my bubble tea?

that *fzzzt* sound was yet another of my brain cells short-circuiting.

I get serious knitting time on saturdays. I leave at 1120 for a 1300 class, and then get home around 1800 after class gets out at 1615. hoo. ray.

gonna leave early for Ochem tomorrow so I can get coffee (mmcoffee) and then go wander through the happy little king's englishy bookstore. I am going to booby trap my wallet to tazer me if I reach for it, however.

a quickie

I hate labs that are engineered to fail. hate. in 30 minutes I need to go catch my bus(ses) to get to class on time (yes, I know, I leave at 1110 to get to a 1300 class. shut. up.) I have a lab report that I think is crap but I can't do anything about it because the experiment was crap and the directions as to what he wanted in the lab report were also crap. crap, crap, crap.

blarg.

however, this might entertain you. here's a picture of my data sheet, post organization. now...what does that color pattern remind you of?


DR WHO....it never really goes away...




...and neither does physics.



and in the words of bill van cleave-
minion! make me a sammich!