February 15, 2004
Safe!
Alleyway behind old tobacco products factory at South 21st and East Cary Streets
This is the safe referenced in my February 10 entry. The only imaginable reason for it being placed in this alley is to block people from driving into the courtyard. But there are two alleys in. Perhaps the safe's real function is to make the courtyard a dead end. Eerie. That safe is taller than I am. No way did it get there by accident.
Segue? It's that time of the semester where I start feeling either like someone's dropped a safe on my head, or like I wish someone would. Even though I'm regretting it now, I really did need the down time I took today. We had a pleasant Sunday and didn't do much of anything but drive around and scout out ghost signs. By late afternoon I knuckled down to the maths and finished them up after dinner. Now I'm feeling fairly relaxed and clear-headed, except for the mild terror that sends my blood pressure skyrocketing whenever I go over my Electronic Devices work. We have a test on Thursday in that class. Because I have two other tests and three problem sets all due before then, I've been busy dealing with those. Now that the problem sets are out of the way, it's time to start panicking, or at least studying for everything. The Devices professor lets us make up a formula and note sheet for his tests, which sounds good until I go through my notes and find that said notes consist of fifteen or so pages, front and back, of formulas. Okay. I know that, even as I'm typing this, my classmate Origami Girl is transcribing all the notes onto the single allowed 8.5" by 11" sheet in lettering one might reasonably associate with legal contracts (the parts that you tend to skim over and then get bit on the ass by later). I am in awe of Origami Girl's formula sheets. Mine are not nearly so compact, for the simple reason that I think a formula sheet is more useful if I can read it without the aid of a magnifying glass during the test. In any event, it's time to start giving this class the attention for which it screams. Or start doing a snow dance so we can delay the inevitable.
395 words | February 15, 2004 10:57 PM | Real true story