Crazy Things I Jot Down in Mid-Sleep

Here's another one I found in my notebook the next morning:
"In a way, the unintelligent, uncreative types are the luckiest, most sane of us all, lucky blokes."

This one isn't so crazy. All the amazing poets, artists, musicians, etc, were basically all stark mad...I guess you have to go crazy to be really good at something. Also, I'm noticing that the more education I get, the crazier I go...your brain starts thinking harder and harder and ideas branch off into infinitely more ideas and won't stop..Ignorance really, really is bliss as it turns out..Worth it?

Also, I need some ideas of how to make money...apparently a Master's degree isn't enough..

And here's another picture I took at Mill Hollow..Yay!

Sigh, don't read this either

Ok, ok, I know I shouldn't do it. And I know no one wants to hear another gripe, but I'm going to get this off my chest. And then maybe I can move on and leave this atrocity behind me. I'll keep it brief (HA), though it could go on for 34 pages. I'll also try to spice it up in poem format.

USU is dumb
Like, REALLY dumb.
They have dumb student teachers (excluding myself, wink) who don't know the material and tell you wrong things
And then, although this statistics class has been a relative breeze compared to other grad classes, I suppose still a lot of work,
Dumb people don't realize that the take home final they've given you will take LITERALLY ALL DAY.
I know no one cares,
and I know some people have worse stories,
but let me just say that I got to class at 9 am,
class ended at 10:30,
and I spent til until about 8 PM finishing this take home test, nonstop minus a 45 minute lunch break.
Here's the thing though.
It wasn't your normal, run of the mill, work-all-day.
No, no. This was statistics at its most foul.
Hey, if anything, I've fairly enjoyed the rest of the class,
but when I have to compile hundreds of data entries,
pick the most appropriate analysis,
whether it be a repeated measures mixed design analysis of variance or just regular ol' linear regression analysis,
know what that analysis means,
provide 24 pages of output from a statistical program,
interpret just about every single number from the table,
know what those mean and how they relate to each other,
then write about 10 pages single spaced interpreting that data in APA format,
and do several more analyses in klunky Excel,
I get a little....agitated..
Here's a lovely example from one line:
"The interaction effects of time and word type were not statistically significant, F(1,33)=53.523, p<.001, partial eta squared=.619, a medium effect size."
That went on for 10 pages aaaaaaa!!
And the worst part?
THIS IS THE CRAP I DO ALL DAY, ALL THE TIME IN THIS FORSAKEN GRADUATE PROGRAM!!!
I can't even describe my internal agony at my awful plight...mmm...slightly dramatic.

No worries. I'm going to calm down. And then forget this nonsense.
And I know, you may be thinking, "Oh wa, wa, wa, call the wambulence. Suck it up, I've had worse."
And that's true. I'm going to stop complaining in just a sec.

Just let me know if you'd be interested to see the bulk of my work files, ok?!
That's the funny thing, can you think of any psychopath who actually WOULD be interested?
How about all the professors at school...
Sickos.

Next post will be positive to counterbalance.

We Done Went Fishing

Blarg, Blogger is dumb. It will only let me upload one pic... Anyone know how to upload easier? And more than 5 at a time?

Still Not Done...

Hippo-cracy Democracy

Welp, I'm a hippo-crittter. I am, nonetheless, pleased to announce the newest member of our family, my schnazzy new bike. I loves it...except for one minor issue... There is...a certain amount...a certain degree.. of some less-than-pleasing...not-so-optimal... There's some pink on the bike, ok? Yeah. I bought a bike with some pink on it, despite my vehement vows otherwise. What's it to you? It was the best deal, the smoothest ride, way on sale, and Chris thinks it would be good for me to embrace my inner girl. I am, in fact, a girl... Although I doubt even my inner-most girl wants anything to do with that abhorred, atrocious, puke of a color...but perhaps he's right. It's really not even that much pink anyway. Plus, it's more of a purple (true, a color almost as nauseating as vomitrocious pink, but it's kind of like having Mussolini for a friend instead of Hitler).
Anywho, I just thought you'd want to hear it from me rather than finding out some other, shocking way.

Here it is... Ok, lay it on me.

Tu t'appelles?

People who claim to be "so terrible with names" = Self-centered. (I'm in this category)
People who claim to be "incredibly good with names" = Creepy.

Wanna go ride bikes?

Well, after spending the winter under a tarp that was too small, it was time to "tune up" the bike again. I rolled it into Aggie Blue Bikes, who, as it turns out, make YOU fix your own bike under their fairly lax supervision. Here's the thing though, they all figure that you know at least something about your bicycle, because they start with, "Alright, just pop that back wheel off and unscrew the axel rod." Mmmm...I said, "I promise I'm not this dumb outside of bicycle-dom...but I don't have any idea how to get that sucker off a there..." He says, "Just unhook the break pads and pull the quick release." It turns out the "quick" release is only quick if you're not dumb. In the end, I spent the better part of 2 hours screwing things in the wrong way (righty tighty, lefty loosey is hard), dropping wrenches on the poor dude's foot, and wigging out over the spiderwebs that appeared in the bike's nooks and crannies. I asked him if he figured it would explode on my way home, and I guess he didn't see it as very likely...even after I told him how it HAD in fact exploded while I was riding it one time...the tire anyway.
So here's hoping it doesn't fall apart mid-ride.

Also, anyone have any ideas on where to buy a new bike? We need another one.