The worst part is, I'll turn in this paper, and I know he

won't read it.

He hasn't even read my Master's Thesis yet.


So why? Why am I awake at quarter to three writing it?


I'm too old for this.

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I made this mosaic for the Mercury people:



Sweeeeet!

For more information, go here.

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So I have a fluid mechanics final tomorrow from 9-12. From 12-1, I present all the research I've done so far at grad school to my entire building. In the afternoon, I must complete my entire volcanology semester project, since it's due on Friday. [Ascent and eruption of explosive magma on the surface of Mercury, what is the likely eruption velocity and what is the maximum expected range of pyroclasts? Compare to volcano recently discovered there.] On Friday I have class and meetings all day, then I have to study for my Geophysics final, which is take-home but with a 1.5 hour time limit.

I intend to take it on Saturday night.

Sunday I go to a gorgeous island off the southern coast and live like it's going out of style.

Next week I have to revise my master's thesis (due to the powers that be on the 15th, to my advisor earlier than that), Geophysics exam due on the 15th, Geophysics project due on the 15th, which I haven't even started... 5-10 pages, independent calculations on the precession of the planet Mars and how it may have changed through time.

And then I'm going SHOPPING!.

Plus Thalweg and I have to decide where to plant our vegetables, and the only way we can know which places get enough sun to plant each type is to sit out in our backyard for an entire day in lawn chairs and mark hourly where the shadow of our house is.

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So I sold out to gmail and their evil email-reading robots. gmail me, omgz!

I should have heeded the warning:



The 2015 one is more relevant/current, but I like the way this one ends better.

Now I'll really have to start partitioning my life and activities, so I'll be ready when the revolution comes.

....

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Undergrads=teh suck

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We went to Crater Boy's jazz band concert last night. It was pretty awesome. We intended to go to the grad/med formal immediately afterward, so we just wore our extremely formal attire to the jazz band concert.

They had a guest vocalist, a student, who was supposed to sing some three songs with them. When they called him up on stage, it became clear very quickly that he was completely drunk. He was singing, "I get a kick out of you", and he kept forgetting all the words and his voice was cracking. He eventually only joined in where he thought there was a chorus, saying over and over again, "I... get a kick... out of you..."

I am a generally non-violent person, but if I had been that director, I would have come very close to physically striking this student, or perhaps grabbing him by the collar and throwing him from the stage. Instead, the director said, "I'm sorry, he hasn't been feeling well today, he didn't quite make it through that... I'm sorry about that... yes, that's quite upsetting actually, I'm sorry." Ok, so that's probably more like what I would have done as well, but what a strongly worded phone call he would get later!!

The drunk stayed in the audience for a couple more songs and then stumbled wildly up the aisle and out of the room. And I really like that song, too. :[

You know how they sometimes have those weird scenes in movies where a bunch of horns are playing and the main character seems to be lost in the horn music and the camera starts giving these major close-ups on the mouths of the horns? Well during the jazz concert I began to think about how the trumpet soloist (a visiting professional) sounded a lot like the vocalist for the song. She was taking the place of the vocalist in the music. Then I started wondering what the trumpet was singing about. Waw-waw-waw... what if suddenly you were sitting there and then you could understand what the trumpet was singing about? Then all the sudden you'd realize that the trombones were actually back-up singers.... I think this sort of event would require a lot of uncomfortably close shots of the mouths of the horns blaring with increasing speed and intensity so that you'd have an idea that the main character was definitely losing it.

The formal started out totally empty, and they had a very dark room with flashing lights and hip-hop music. You know, the kind where every song is about the club, and then about the shorties, and then about her movin' it really good, and then about how she should get with me, and then they name some progressively later hour in the morning that the party allegedly ended.

It always seems like a shame that they get all these kids dressed up in beautiful attire, feeling like adults, only to make it so dark you can't see what people are wearing, so loud that they can't talk to each other, and play music where the only real way to dance to it is to do the bump and grind. It diminishes the occasion, I think. That's why the only fun parts of the prom were the before-prom and the after-prom. At least they had an excellent assortment of cheeses. But due to my crazy compadres and singing about boots with the fur, streetlights, and people, I ended up having a lot fun and Crater Boy taught me how to salsa to the occasional regaton.

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