Coding Until My Eyeballs Bleed

No, not literally. But it feels that way.

It looks like I'll be pulling 12+ hour days until the end of the semester. Or until I find out how to get a few extra hours in the day.

So, if you're wondering why I'm not blogging, it's because I have something else that's vital to me graduating in May to do.

T.G.I.F.

I feel like my brain has been running in fifth gear all week.

I'm not exactly where I'd like to be on my uAda95 compiler project. For my Programming Languages class, we have a compiler project that's worth approximately 60-75% of our grade.

Now, basically, what a compiler does is take code, and turn it into something a computer can understand. It's not exactly a walk in the park to develop.

Anyway, I'm behind on the part of the project that is supposed to be due today. 98% of the code is written (but I haven't tested it, so I know that it's very buggy), and there's a couple things that I'm not sure how to work out.

I have a History paper rough draft due last Wednesday, that's probably not going to get written today. Maybe next Monday, maybe Tuesday, hell, maybe I'll just skip the rough draft and just turn in a final paper next Friday. Or this Friday. Or whenever the hell I have three seconds to get around to it.

I just got done with a test in Programming Languages. 30 of the 85 points on the test were short answer definitions from our book, and our prof. isn't exactly keen to let us know what he thinks is important in lecture. So I *think* I got one of the six definitions right. The rest I'm pretty sure I did OK on, because it was all coding and that's all I've been doing the past three days. 55/85. That's 64.7%. There goes the 4.0 I wanted to earn this semester.

Somewhere between Freshman year and now, I lost whatever "academic invincibility" I had. For the first time I've noticed people who are more brilliant than myself, and wonder if they had to go through what life (or I, take your pick) put myself through if they would still have their game.

Or maybe I guessed the wrong major, but now it's too late to go back and switch, because now I have more debt than I like to think about and some bank is going to want that money back. Even if I did guess the wrong major, I still have no idea what I want to do. Actually, I do. I want to travel the world, learn to speak Manderin, go on adventures, etc., etc. The stuff that the male-centered National Geographic Explorer magazine pushes. Too bad you need a crapload of money for all that, money that I can't make because I'm educated but don't have any experience because I decided to try to get the Marines to hire me and they took 18 months to decide they didn't want me.

Hell, let's go back and blame the high school, middle school, and elementary schools I went to for not challenging me enough and helping me set goals that utilized my potential. Fuck. You know that my first grade teacher wanted me to skip second grade because she thought I was brilliant and that I was stupid enough to not want to skip second grade and so my parents kept me with my class?

I need to have an Amaretto Sour and quit feeling sorry for myself.

And The Winner Is. . . .

Me!!!

Usually, after every annual "girl parts" checkup, I get a call from the campus clinic telling me I'm healthy after the test results come in.

This year, my annual checkup happened to be on Valentine's Day (V.D. jokes aside), and today I got an envelope from the downtown clinic where the campus clinic borrows all its doctors from.

I tear open the envelope, and inside is a note from an R.N. Turns out I'm still healthy! Yay!

I wonder what I win. (Besides the giant co-pay)

Postscript: I don't know exactly why I share this with the internet public, but there's something ironically amusing in getting a little note telling you that you're OK.

My Attachment Style (Fat and Happy!!!!)

You have described yourself as securely attached. This means that you are likely to have happier relationships and be better able to sustain commitments than people who have an insecure attachment style.

You are likely to have more positive emotional experiences and to be more happy and outgoing in interpersonal relationships. You will be more likely to express what you really feel. You are more likely to be able to depend on others when it is appropriate, and yet able to function autonomously in your own sphere when that is appropriate. You are also more likely to raise children who themselves will have a secure attachment style.

Measure	Your score
Relationship Avoidance:	72.5
Relationship Anxiety:	78.5
Attachment style:	Secure & Happy

At this stage of your development in romantic relationships, you tend to be pretty evenly balanced in your attachment style. You are not significantly more anxious about them, nor significantly avoiding intimacy or emotional closeness in relationships.

This is a healthy balance, but it also may mean that it is more difficult for you to find someone else who has achieved this same healthy balance! Most people tend to either have greater anxiety or greater avoidance in relationships. You'd probably be most comfortable and at ease in a relationship where your partner is also fairly balanced in their romantic attachment approach.

So congratulate yourself!! You're a part of a well-balanced breed when it comes to your romantic attachment style.

The Tale of the Button

I have an awesome pair of olive cargo pants. Hip-hugging, button-fly, these pants are rockin' the house.

Anyway, one of the buttons on the fly came off a couple weeks ago, and I slipped the button into one of the pockets to reattach later.

A few days later, with needle in hand, I searched for the button and lo! No button to be found in any of the pockets! What the Deuce!?

Today I decided to wash the pants, and then steal one of the buttons from the cuffs (they're decorative, and the same type of button anyway) to fix the fly. I put the pants in the washing machine, with a few other pairs of jeans, etc., etc. 30 minutes later, I pull all the wet clothes out to put in the dryer, and Lo And Behold! There, in the bottom of the washing machine, lay the lost button.

When no other buttons are missing, and you're at a laundromat, how often does this happen?

The Joy That Is "Fettuccini" With Chicken & Broccoli

Every once in a while Albertsons' will have a special on Marie Callender's frozen dinners. It's great because something that costs $3 or $4 a pop is now 10 for $10. I end up buying a handful in case there's a night where I'm too tired/lazy/busy/whatever to make something to eat.
Anyway, tonight is one of those nights. And the delight at having a hot, mostly nutritious meal without putting too much effort into it is nearly orgasmic.
Every night should (or shouldn't!) be a Monday night. Just don't tell Marie that I used freshly ground pepper and ground nutmeg on my pasta over her pepper packet.

Countdown to V-Day

For those who are single and bitter about it, there's some amusing stuff on the web at this website.

I, on the other hand, am in one of those "relationship" things and somehow our V-day celebration has extended to a week-long thing, beginning last Saturday, with me making dinner and us exchanging "real" gifts tomorrow, and ending this Saturday. Huh. This is the biggest deal I've made of V-day in a long time.

Speaking of presents, I got some pretty tulips in a pot last Saturday. When I get done with this gigantically busy day, I'm going to have to stop by K-Mart and pick up a pretty Martha Stewart pot to put them in so they have room to grow. Let's not forget I need to learn how to take care of bulbed plants, because I didn't take horticulture and I know that tulips do not act like mini roses do.

One of my mini rose bushes has decided to sprout a bud, which has yet to bloom yet. I'm sure it will be pretty.

Me making dinner tomorrow will be fun, minus all the school and health stuff I need to get done tomorrow. But it will be a dinner to remember, I'll tell you that!

'A', 'B', 'C', 'D'. . . .

Yes, yes, I stole. But the idea wasn't patented.

A is for Age: 22
B is for Booze of Choice: I'm a big fan of the Amaretto Sour
C is for Career: Student, then who knows!?
D is for Dad's Name: Mike
E is for Essential Items to Bring to a Party: Depends on the Party; most likely I would bring a bottle of wine
F is for Favorite song at the moment: Let's say Pon de Replay by Rihanna
G is for Favorite game: Risk
H is for Hometown: I was born in Long Beach, CA (LBC Baby!) lived in Ontario, CA and Cedar City, UT, but I don't have any one city to call home.
I is for Instruments I can play: Piano and maybe some percussion stuff from way back in the day. And maybe a tune or two on the Concertina.
J is for Jam I Like: I'm a big fan of strawberry preserves and boysenberry preserves.
K is for Kids: As in how many I have (0) or how many I want (2)?
L is for Living Arrangements: Two bedroom apartment by myself.
M is for Mom's Name: Jen
N is for Name of Crush: F
O is for Overnight Hospital Stays: 0
P is for Phobias: snakes, icky spiders, failure
Q is for Quotes I Like: That one by General Charles Krulak; I leave you to discover it on your own
R is for Relationship that Lasted the Longest: Eeewwww. I spent way too much time on that one fellow. 2 years and 2 weeks too long to be exact.
S is for Sexual Preference: Last time I checked, I'm straight.
T is for Travel: I'd like to go to Ireland, Argentina, Brazil. . . .Red China, Austrailia, revisit Italy and check out Florence and Rome. . . .Switzerland might be fun to redo too. . . .Egypt and Peru, the list goes on and on
U is for Underwear: As in the kind I like to wear or the ones I'm wearing now?
V is for Vegetables I Love: Potatoes, Carrots, Broccoli, Spinach, Corn, Tomatoes (although technically they're a fruit), Mushrooms, Bok Choy. . . .
W is for Weekend Plans: My honey is taking me to a very secretive, surprise dinner tonight, and then I think tomorrow I'm going to go to Mass with my honey and then have a friend over and we're going to make lunch-dinner. I need to go to Confession, too. And do laundry. And clean the apartment. And do homework.
X is for X-rays you've had: Uhh, the ones from the dentist, and a couple when I was in my little car accident.
Y is for Yummy Food I Make: F would think it's all good, but I'd like to think I have a specialty in something. I'm fond of my blackened chicken with pasta alfredo and broccoli, and of my lasagna and tiramisu from scratch. I make some yummy sloppy joes from scratch too.
Z is for Zodiac sign: In the Western world I'm an Aries (the Ram), but in the Far East I'm a pudgy Pig. I think I'm some sort of tree in the Celtic Zodiac.

Jeeps Do Not Make Great Pets

They get near "empty" on the fuel gauge, and you have to feed them (which I've noticed is getting increasingly expensive these days).

They don't like getting up in the morning. Neither do I, but we're talking about jeeps here!

Some mechanical part breaks, and you have to get it fixed or replaced.

And when they get low on antifreeze (for seemingly no apparent reason!), they overheat and you have to put some coolant in them and hope that fixes what ails them.

I know enough about cars to take care of them, but I sincerely hope that a hose hasn't decided to break or leak because I'm not much into fixing that on my own. That's why I try to keep myself surrounded by men who are mechanically inclined.

The Parable of the Cookies

Disclaimer: I didn't write this, but I saw this today on a religious bulletin board I read every once in a while and thought it was interesting enough to share with the world.

Once upon a time, there were 9 kids who lived with their father. The father covenanted with them that if they would clean their rooms, they could have a cookie. All of them went to their rooms and cleaned. All came back to receive the promised reward. All but little Johnny were given the promised cookie.

"Why don't I get a cookie as I was promised?" little Johnny asked his father. He got no answer, so he asked his brother.

"Jimmy, why did Father give you a cookie and not me?"

Jimmy answered, "Because when I cleaned my room, I was more diligent in cleaning it than you were. Go back and clean your room again with more diligence and I'm sure you will receive your cookie."

So, little Johnny went back to his room and put his heart and soul into cleaning. He cleaned under his bed and he straightened his closet. Surely now Father will give me my cookie.

He went to his father, who still refused to give him his cookie. When he asked why, Father was still silent.

So, little Johnny went to his big sister Suzie.

"Suzie, why did Father give you a cookie and not me?"

Suzie replied, "Oh, that's because I was much more humble when I cleaned my room. I'm sure that if you clean your room again with more humility, you will receive your cookie."

Little Johnny went back to his room and removed all the pride that he could. He did all the dirty work that he refused to do before. He scrubbed the walls and washed the windows. Surely now Father will give me my cookie!

He went to Father, who still refused to give him his cookie. When he asked why, Father was still silent.

So, little Johnny went to his big brother Mark.

"Mark, why did Father give you a cookie and not me?"

"Well, you see little Johnny, sometimes you are not ready to get a cookie. I'm sure that if you wait Father will give you your cookie eventually."

"But, that's not what Father said. He said if I cleaned my room that I could have a cookie!"

"That's right", Mark said, "but he didn't say WHEN you would receive your cookie, now did he."

Little Johnny sighed, "No, I suppose not. I guess I will just wait then."

And he waited, and waited, and waited some more.

Occasionally, he would return to Father and ask if he could have the cookie yet? Always he was met with silence.

As the days and weeks went by, little Johnny wondered if he was ever going to get the cookie. "Just endure to the end", said his brothers. "You must have more faith", his sisters would say.

However, eventually, he started to realize that he would probably never get the cookie. To the shock and horror of those who had received the cookie, little Johnny actually started to disbelieve that his cookie would ever come.

There were whispers in the hall of little Johnny throwing all of his garbage under his bed when he cleaned his room and THAT'S why he wasn't getting the cookie. Or that perhaps he had only used water to clean his window instead of using Windex and THAT was why he wasn't getting the cookie. There was obviously some secret filth in little Johnny’s room somewhere.

Until, one day, little Johnny was visiting his friend Sam. Sam's father came out and spoke to little Johnny, "Would you like a cookie?”

"Sure!" little Johnny replied. This was all so new, to have a father actually speak to him. And when he actually received his cookie, he was overjoyed!

He told his brothers and sisters about his cookie. They were disgusted and afraid. Father would be furious and surely cast him out of his presence. They all knew that the small morsel of a cookie that he had received was merely but a taste of the cookie they had been given. After all, fathers gave out cookies all over the world, but they all knew that THEIR father’s cookies were by far the best cookies in the universe. If only everyone would open their eyes and come join their family so Father could give them his best cookies.

Although it was hard for a while, little Johnny eventually moved in with Sam's family. Their father treated him like a true son. He spoke with him and gave him cookies regularly. And although his brothers and sisters sneered at his decision, and hounded him constantly to come back to the family, little Johnny was finally where he belonged. He was happy.

"You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling" at the Vu Continues. . . .

About nine months ago, a fellow and a few of his friends pulled a Tom Cruise in Top Gun and seranaded me at the Vu with "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling". This particular fellow then neglected to ask me for my phone number.

So I'm sitting in Microprocessors lab today, and this guy comes up to me and asks me if I remember him. (Of course I don't; I only met him the one time nine months ago, and I tend to not remember people from chance encounters like that)

And we end up chatting and the whole time I'm trying to find a polite way to be friendly and tell this guy that there's a claim on me, so to speak. This tactful phrase never emerges and I end up giving my phone number to the fellow because he wanted to call me later so we could "hang out".

Which brings to mind the whole male-female friend issue: why is it so hard to determine if someone is interested in you as a friend or truly "interested" in you? And how come there haven't been any books written about this? People are always trying to get a person, keep a person, get rid of a person. No one seems to be trying to get and keep plain ol' friends of the opposite sex.

A Reminder. . .

of how long your day can be as a senior in college.

I've been on my feet since 0700 this morning (Thursday morning!), and finally got home around 2045 (8:45 PM) tonight. I took a shower, and thought I would do my Microprocessors Quiz and turn it in so I wouldn't have to worry about it tomorrow. (Important note: the microprocessor I'm using in the class connects with my computer via a USB-Serial cable)

At 2200 (10:00 PM), I was having major issues with the USB-Serial cable interface with my computer. I would plug the cable into the computer, and the computer would promptly restart. After wanting to tear my hair out after about five minutes, and then wanting to shoot my computer after about ten, I was at an impasse. I called my buddy Joe (who also is the TA for the course) and asked him for help. (Aren't friends great? Let's also not forget the help I got from my buddies Ben and Dan)

After another half hour, Joe and I got the whole problem figured out, and my quiz (which was a mini program for the microprocessor) worked perfectly.