Closet Extrovert

With and gone and nothing I really want to get done this weekend other than house cleaning, and school/work related activities, my closet extrovert nature is coming to the surface and demanding I go out and be social, maybe even meet new people. It is immune to my logical point that meeting new people is dumb because I’m moving after I graduate, and the semester is going to be too busy as is. In the absence of a better plan I may head to the Saloon. Surely there’s something better I could do, though.

GAO start date

I’ve decided on a start date with the GAO: July 24th. I was originally thinking July 10th, but then I discovered that the gay games are July 15th-22nd in Chicago. I think I should participate. Or watch, or something. I’ll probably swim some butterfly. Sadly, they don’t seem to have any gymnastics there. That’s a shame, because gymnastics is probably the only sport I could imagine myself watching for hours without getting bored. I suspect I could even tolerate a noisy crowd to watch some people who are particularly good at it. Maybe it’s like the chorus, I’d rather be there for rehearsal than for the actual show, though each has its own appeal.

Ranting for grades

#$%^@#$%@#@ I’d nearly finished this post, then I managed to hit just the right key combo to close the window. Love that. With a chainsaw. Anyway.

So, I had an assignment due today, and I was finishing it up an hour or so in advance of the due deadline. The final question on it was, essentially “Given that the US constitutes only 5% of the world’s population, but produces 25% of the greenhouse gases and 25% of the world GDP, does the US have a moral obligation to control its emissions?” After a homework assignment that was 80% unit conversion juggling, that was an odd question to be asked. After initially avoiding the word “moral” I decided “screw it” and I ranted:

Grad school is a prison

I feel as though I’ve left before the sun rises, and gotten back well after the sun sets for the past three days. I wonder why that would be. Oh, wait, that’s because it’s true. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten home after 9 all three of those days. the place is even more of a wreck than usual. The bags from the food I’ve brought home have piled up along side the dirty dishes I haven’t cleared out completely in over a week, and I haven’t exchanged a word with Dennis in nearly two weeks. It is with this in mind that I share with you the following parody of a Death Cab for CutiePostal Service song fragment that popped unbidden into my head:

Grad School is a Prison
Professors aren’t your Friends
Absorbing gists from 50 abstract lists
And the papers are written then graded, again and again