Being an elderly person has its benefits (though I am not sure what they are), but I was taught an invaluable lesson on the problems associated with old age. This happened during my time with my friend, whose grandparents are some of the strangest old people I know.
The grandmother, living here for most of her life, grew up in England with an accent to prove it. She supposedly has improved her speech over time, though her R's and some other sentences should be revised. (I'm a wee bit troubled at wheh we ah deary).
The grandfather can always be seen with a glass of wine, and a story from when he was in the war. Where late one night, a sugar-beet field was hit by a mortar near their base. He received his only wound in the war by getting hit in the helmet with a sugar-beet, knocked him out.
One conversation with his grandparents included the grandfather asking me my age (simple enough question), where my friend yelled out that I was 15 (clearly I am not). Being known for lying about these things, the grandmother called my friend a "bloody liah." I finally corrected that I am currently 20 years old, where the grandfather replied "So you're of age." Falling back on stupidity in these awkward situations, I replied that I couldn't legally drink for a little bit. This is where the grandmother jumped in again, "nah, the age is 18. 18 for the boys and 21 for the guhls." The grandfather responded, "That wouldn't make any sense, the girls should come before the boys if anything." Then I fell into silence, and the grandfather went into his sugar-beet story again.
I have determined after meeting them, that I will never get older than I am now (maybe 21). I think this can be accomplished through will power.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Got a Minute?
Being the treasurer for a club composing of over 100 students may seem like a difficult task, but it could not be farther from the truth. Use of excel and whatnot could make this job easier, but I have found a way to make it a no-brainer. Make other people do your work.
Now let's see... about 2 years ago I was in the band room ready to sing chamber choir pieces for my class (chamber choir, of course. In a room with horrible acoustics.) I got there a little early that day, as I always did at that time, and the conductor came in a little early too. (our teacher and conductor). He asked me if I had a little time on Friday to go to a meeting so we could get funding. Anyone could go, but he wanted someone he knew he could count on to go. I figured spending a few minutes to go to a short meeting would be no problem, especially if it would get us funding. When I got there, I was in for a surprise. This was a 1-2 hour meeting of different clubs on campus. In order for us to get funding, our club (the choral club) needed two members (another person that had a little time free on Friday that said OK to the deal). Not just two members, we also had to be the president and the treasurer. (Why? IDK.) So I took treasurer, and the other guy took president.
Paperwork was signed, telling them that I was the treasurer, and that if anyone misused the money, or if they acted inappropriately in another country (where we were to go at the end of the year). I, as treasurer, would be held responsible. (WTF?)
One semester passed, and everything went smoothly. I didn't mind being a pseudo treasurer, but also could have done some of the work. (the person keeping track of the money was much better than me though.) And I had to sign some more paperwork, stating that I was still treasurer so no one would have to go to that meeting again. (changing president or treasurer requires one to attend that meeting.)
I continue to be treasurer to this day, signing my name away to the whims of the person actually keeping track of the money. It's good to be on top of things. But I will always remember to say no to my director if he asks me if I have some free time on a Friday.
Now let's see... about 2 years ago I was in the band room ready to sing chamber choir pieces for my class (chamber choir, of course. In a room with horrible acoustics.) I got there a little early that day, as I always did at that time, and the conductor came in a little early too. (our teacher and conductor). He asked me if I had a little time on Friday to go to a meeting so we could get funding. Anyone could go, but he wanted someone he knew he could count on to go. I figured spending a few minutes to go to a short meeting would be no problem, especially if it would get us funding. When I got there, I was in for a surprise. This was a 1-2 hour meeting of different clubs on campus. In order for us to get funding, our club (the choral club) needed two members (another person that had a little time free on Friday that said OK to the deal). Not just two members, we also had to be the president and the treasurer. (Why? IDK.) So I took treasurer, and the other guy took president.
Paperwork was signed, telling them that I was the treasurer, and that if anyone misused the money, or if they acted inappropriately in another country (where we were to go at the end of the year). I, as treasurer, would be held responsible. (WTF?)
One semester passed, and everything went smoothly. I didn't mind being a pseudo treasurer, but also could have done some of the work. (the person keeping track of the money was much better than me though.) And I had to sign some more paperwork, stating that I was still treasurer so no one would have to go to that meeting again. (changing president or treasurer requires one to attend that meeting.)
I continue to be treasurer to this day, signing my name away to the whims of the person actually keeping track of the money. It's good to be on top of things. But I will always remember to say no to my director if he asks me if I have some free time on a Friday.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday & Wednesday @ CSUS
The attitudes of all my professors on Monday and Wednesday should make my life into some sort of sitcom.
My first professor is the one that really likes to show off how much they know to the class, and is very curt with people when they don't know how to do something. She "knows" that she is a better piano player (it is a piano class), and thinks quite lowly of everyone else that isn't as musically talented as her. (even though she isn't a concert pianist, and is forced to teach in order make money... but I don't judge)
The next instructor is the exact opposite, in a class seemingly oxymoronic to his disposition. This is Neurophysiology, in itself it is a hard word to spell, and even harder to learn about. This guy seems more suited to something like (camp counselor). He is very upbeat, and doesn't really know how to spell. Spelling is not important to learn concepts, but when he is teaching about Aristotle and he spells it as "Aristolte, Aristlote, Artistolte, etc..." it can get quite humerous. He even asked the class how to spell nourish, where everyone responded with a unanimous silence. He has messy hair, and speaks like the guy at the beach that calls you Bro all the time. (He knows his stuff though, so I think this lecture will be fun. Depends on what grade I get on the first test.)
I then stick around in that classroom for Biochem with the classic, old, and lazy professor you see in the background of every college movie I have ever seen. He walks in, welcomes us to class, and then starts writing on the board lists of big molecules. He says everything in a matter of fact tone, that leaves me no incentive to take any notes during the class. (It is just soo obvious, until I think about it later. WTF?)
My classes then move on to the instructor that tries to be too creative. It's a genetics lab, and we are all set up in CLANS (sets of four). The prelab is referred to as our FREE VISA (our pass into the next class). Not only does she force creative thinking upon us, she asks it of us. Not only do we have to learn the concepts, but we have to take them and think of all the irrelevant crap that goes with it. Today we needed to figure out where the safety equipment was, so she had to draw a layout of the room, and label it fancily. A ten second instruction of telling me where the fire extinguisher is, turned into 10 minutes of drawing the desk, and then drawing the little circle for the fire extinguisher, with its tiny handle and safety info (Maybe we didn't go that far). The class also has the joy of having no chemical shower. So in the event that I start to burn alive because the admittedly "clumsy" girl in the group spills some Concentrated Sulfuric acid on me, I have the privilege of screaming down the hall, trying to find the stupid shower while stripping to my birthday suit. (And the first aid kit is somewhere around there too. They sure love safety.)
I can finally end my day with an instructor whose previous job was probably being a stand in for Ben Stein (He should start handing out free Caffeine injections at the start of class). I can sit there, watching his mouth move, and imagine him saying "Dry eyes? Try clear eyes." A hardass through and through (with some compunction.) He has no choice, his hardships in the past have hardened him into the angry man that stands before me. He recounts the hardships of being a professor, where students don't listen to him at all. (long story short: He's a pussy.) He begs us all to try hard, and flips into sarcastic comments on all our faults. (He did praise an answer of mine, to one of his overarching question of "what is life?" So he can't be all that bad, he agrees with me.)
To be a professor, it doesn't matter who you are. All that matters is that you are nutty enough to work here, because nobody wanted to hire your crazy ass anywhere else.
My first professor is the one that really likes to show off how much they know to the class, and is very curt with people when they don't know how to do something. She "knows" that she is a better piano player (it is a piano class), and thinks quite lowly of everyone else that isn't as musically talented as her. (even though she isn't a concert pianist, and is forced to teach in order make money... but I don't judge)
The next instructor is the exact opposite, in a class seemingly oxymoronic to his disposition. This is Neurophysiology, in itself it is a hard word to spell, and even harder to learn about. This guy seems more suited to something like (camp counselor). He is very upbeat, and doesn't really know how to spell. Spelling is not important to learn concepts, but when he is teaching about Aristotle and he spells it as "Aristolte, Aristlote, Artistolte, etc..." it can get quite humerous. He even asked the class how to spell nourish, where everyone responded with a unanimous silence. He has messy hair, and speaks like the guy at the beach that calls you Bro all the time. (He knows his stuff though, so I think this lecture will be fun. Depends on what grade I get on the first test.)
I then stick around in that classroom for Biochem with the classic, old, and lazy professor you see in the background of every college movie I have ever seen. He walks in, welcomes us to class, and then starts writing on the board lists of big molecules. He says everything in a matter of fact tone, that leaves me no incentive to take any notes during the class. (It is just soo obvious, until I think about it later. WTF?)
My classes then move on to the instructor that tries to be too creative. It's a genetics lab, and we are all set up in CLANS (sets of four). The prelab is referred to as our FREE VISA (our pass into the next class). Not only does she force creative thinking upon us, she asks it of us. Not only do we have to learn the concepts, but we have to take them and think of all the irrelevant crap that goes with it. Today we needed to figure out where the safety equipment was, so she had to draw a layout of the room, and label it fancily. A ten second instruction of telling me where the fire extinguisher is, turned into 10 minutes of drawing the desk, and then drawing the little circle for the fire extinguisher, with its tiny handle and safety info (Maybe we didn't go that far). The class also has the joy of having no chemical shower. So in the event that I start to burn alive because the admittedly "clumsy" girl in the group spills some Concentrated Sulfuric acid on me, I have the privilege of screaming down the hall, trying to find the stupid shower while stripping to my birthday suit. (And the first aid kit is somewhere around there too. They sure love safety.)
I can finally end my day with an instructor whose previous job was probably being a stand in for Ben Stein (He should start handing out free Caffeine injections at the start of class). I can sit there, watching his mouth move, and imagine him saying "Dry eyes? Try clear eyes." A hardass through and through (with some compunction.) He has no choice, his hardships in the past have hardened him into the angry man that stands before me. He recounts the hardships of being a professor, where students don't listen to him at all. (long story short: He's a pussy.) He begs us all to try hard, and flips into sarcastic comments on all our faults. (He did praise an answer of mine, to one of his overarching question of "what is life?" So he can't be all that bad, he agrees with me.)
To be a professor, it doesn't matter who you are. All that matters is that you are nutty enough to work here, because nobody wanted to hire your crazy ass anywhere else.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Second day at Sac State
Today, after finding an amazing parking space. I heard a voice calling from the distance. Somehow morphing the sounds to my name, I responded accordingly with "hey, haven't seen you in a while." Many would be faced with an awkward silence, but what followed was complete ignorance of my existence. As the person talked into the empty air, eyes fixed on some imaginary person. I could not help but wonder whether I had come into contact with someone using a bluetooth device, or a member of one of America's fine institutions.
I stood unable to decide what I should do. There were a variety of ways to handle this situation. The person looked familiar, and possibly could be waiting to finish their conversation with whoever, so I could continue to approach them in a louder manner. (If they were hard of hearing). I could also join in on their charade, and talk vainly into the misty rain. If all else failed, I could make a new acquaintance if I continued on my course toward this inevitable conversation.
Scarcely prepared for what was to follow, my body automatically figured out the solution to my problem. Out of its own volition, it ran away, periodically taking out a cell phone to check the time for no apparent reason. (bypassing my wristwatch; archaic... I know) Transporting myself to my next class 20 minutes early.
From that moment on, I can freely talk to myself between classes. Waving into the distance, yelling "Hey!" Causing much confusion to passersby, as the mentally disturbed blend freely into the crowd of technologically savvy students.
I stood unable to decide what I should do. There were a variety of ways to handle this situation. The person looked familiar, and possibly could be waiting to finish their conversation with whoever, so I could continue to approach them in a louder manner. (If they were hard of hearing). I could also join in on their charade, and talk vainly into the misty rain. If all else failed, I could make a new acquaintance if I continued on my course toward this inevitable conversation.
Scarcely prepared for what was to follow, my body automatically figured out the solution to my problem. Out of its own volition, it ran away, periodically taking out a cell phone to check the time for no apparent reason. (bypassing my wristwatch; archaic... I know) Transporting myself to my next class 20 minutes early.
From that moment on, I can freely talk to myself between classes. Waving into the distance, yelling "Hey!" Causing much confusion to passersby, as the mentally disturbed blend freely into the crowd of technologically savvy students.
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