It was educational. Really.

This past week on campus has been centered on something called "Intercultural Week." As you might infer from the name, a number of activities centered around tradition, ceremony, and history or various cultural groups represented at the college. My Japanese instructor is one the Intercultural Student Activities board, so she asked my class to attend during our regular class time. Below are my impressions:

History of Catholic German missionaries (yawn)

Traditional Japanese brewing techniques for sake (not bad. unfortunately they were prohibited from serving any sake)

A tai-chi demonstration (interesting)

Original folk music written and performed by a student band (every bit as boring as one might expect.)

Cajun fish fry (OK, now we're getting somewhere)

A preview of some sort of African rhythm performance (intriguing. Unfortunately the drummers were a bunch of middle-aged white guys.)

Now, as part of the rhythm performance, there was a belly dancing demonstration. When told of this, and seeing who was playing the drums, I was worried. To my surprise and relief, out stepped a few wonderfully scantily (I do not like the back-to-back adverbs there, but what the hell) clad19-20 year-old girls wiggling, writhing, and bending in ways that instilled within me the thought: I need a belly dancer of my own. Possibly even a matched set. I could show them off to friends.

I might not be so stressed out if such resources were available to me.

Appropos of Nothing

I have no personal context to provide for this video. I just found it incredibly amusing.

Imminent Overload

It seems likely that I may have a mental breakdown at any moment. And I blame my current and pending academic environs.

This quarter, for about another six weeks, I must endure the endless grind of calculus and chemistry, exacerbated by tutoring remedial math students. I simply do not have the time to do much of anything. I do not have time to get into the chemistry lab. If I manage to make my presence known in the lab, I must sacrifice time designated for math. Usually this means my poor math students must suffer.

Next quarter looks worse.

I know what you are likely thinking: "Boom, you charismatic bastard, surely you are close the requisite credits for graduation."

Not quite. I need 10.5 social science credits (only 4.5 transferred from my previous college), and 5 credits in health or phys-ed. Normally, this would not be a problem. Conflicts arise, however, when I try to infuse classes I want into my schedule. I want to finish the series for Japanese, calculus, and chemistry. However, calc and chemistry are only offered at 9:30. I might be able to take chemistry as an independent study program, but that would mean I am looking at the possibility of thirty credits in a worst-case scenario. I could trim some of those, but I have no idea which ones will be offered over the summer. If I drop the wrong classes, I may end up having to take classes in the fall to fill in the gaps before I can transfer. Either way, it seems likely I may have to drop my work-study program simply to squeeze a few precious minutes from the day.

I doubt that I will ever have free time again.

On the plus side, This upcoming weekend is a three-day weekend. I am off for President's Day. Or is it Presidents' Day. How many presidents are we celebrating Monday. If it is multiple, can I pick and choose? I mean, Chester A. Arthur's presidency seems rather pedestrian in comparison to many others.

And They Said It Couldn't Be Done

My academic carrer as reached its pinnacle. So much so, that I am not sure there is any point in continuing.

Friday, I learned how to divide by zero.

I also learned how to define infinity, and divide by that, as well.

My math teachers have been lying to me for decades.

First, we are told we can not subtract a larger number from a smaller one. It simply cannot be done. Then we learn about negative numbers.

Next, we are told that it is simply not possible to find the square root of a negative number. Such an answer does not exist. Then we find out about complex numbers.

Through it all, we are told that we cannot divide by zero. Any number divided by zero is undefined. Friday, I learned about L'Hospital's Rule (pronounce Low-Bee-Tall).

I feel... powerful.

Be All That I Can Be

Apparently the Army is desperate. Now fat, broken-down, thirty-two-year-old college students who have already been disqualified from the Marine Corps are topping their recruitment list.

That is the only reason I can figure for the recruitment call I got tonight.

A Curious Development

This was certainly unexpected.

I have become somewhat reacquainted with a face from my past.

Some background.

Years ago, shortly out of high school, I had an occasion to sweep a woman off her feet. I did not capitalize. I guess it could be said that I carried a bit of a flame for this girl in high school. She was unattainable, though. We spent time together, sure, both at school, and away from it. But she was always involved with someone, and I was too timid to make any sort of superceding move. Unfortunately, the most opportune time for me to make a move, was the least opportune time for her to receive one. I will not go into detail on that situation. It is entirely too convoluted.

After I graduated high school, we fell out of touch.

About four years out of high school, I found myself back in the home neighborhood. She was helping out at her family-run bar, and looking at starting college. She had planned on taking a year off of school, and that year quickly expanded to two. She wanted to get started before that two years suddenly became ten, or more. I can relate, retroactively. For reasons I did not choose to explore, she was thinking about going to University of Alaska Fairbanks. Shortly after that meeting, I got a feeling that she had been looking for a reason to stay local, and wanted me to make the move to be that reason. I was either too dense to notice in a timely manner, or too stupid to act. Either way nothing happened.

Fast forward ten years.

I bumped into her on campus this morning. I was waiting for my calculus class to start, and she walked past on her way out of her own calc class. When she saw me, she stopped dead.

I am quite surprised that we recognized each other. I have trouble recognizing people I had classes with last quarter, yet the familiarity between us was still there. I would have thought a flame dormant for so long would have been extinguished entirely, but there it was.

I asked what she had been up to.

"I am so close to my bachelor's degree," she tells me, "I just need to grab a couple of classes here and do some paperwork for UAF."

"Congratulations, on that," I reply. How the hell do I remember she was going to Alaska? I do not remember my own phone number most of the time. But I remember the one time she told me her college plans? "How did you like Alaska?"

"It was good," she said. "I am married, now..."

Well, crap. There goes that.

"... And we've got a couple kids."

And the Boom is back in the game.

I may need to explain a bit to people who are not Weevil. My history with women is brief, but colorful. Of the four women who have spent time in my unclothed company (I use the past tense because I am fully clothed, at the moment), three were married, and all four had children. This is not a circumstance I deliberately seek out. It is a curious coincidence that brings amusement to many.

Adding another would take this from coincidence, past trend, and firmly into the realm of pattern.

Nothing is ever easy.