(no subject)
This, my friends, is why I do not attempt great projects....
Shortly before my special Thanksgiving version of my weekly rant session, my server, the one running the earth-bound gateway of The Temporal Phoenix Conclave, decided to OD on cyber-crack and died. (Those responsible have been sacked.) Thus, all that remains of my online work is hidden away on my desktop and laptop in temp files which I must dig through one by one to retrieve. I apologize to all 200, er, 20, er, myself, for this inconvenience. Naturally, I have just not had the time, energy or desire to leap back into the fray. However, with winter break now upon me, I will try to piece this back together. Till then, courage.
That being said, I must now relieve myself of a few minor things on my mind since I am not able to do it from me own domain:
First, I wish to vent my utter frustration that came about over my psychology term paper. It was a compilation paper by four people on the in-depth psychological analysis of a movie, in our case Philadelphia. Now, upon final revision the self-appointed leader of the group noticed that my sections were desired by the teacher to be cited. The thing is, what I wrote was not taken verbatim, nor even paraphrased. It was, by all account, my own original work that just happened to sound very methodical. So, rather than just throw in an arbitrary chapter citation and be done with it, the girl instead decided to axe a majority of what I wrote.
I cannot tell you how adamantly pissed off I was when she went and mutilated my part of the project, although I did not let on. This is certainly not the first time it has happened. (I almost failed my sixth grade science fair because my teacher accused me of plagiarism; she did not believe I wrote it on my own.) Thing is, writing seems to be the one thing I'm at least somewhat decent at. I can't do sports or draw. I can't write music or play instruments. I don't have any inherent skills to wow people with. Writing is one of the few things that I am actually proud of myself for. So, it should be obvious to anyone with an IQ above that of mayonnaise to see why I was not a happy camper. The point I'm trying to make is to grasp on to what you're good at and go with it, but be careful of those who'd wish to ruin it for you.
Second, my patience is growing thinner than wet toilet paper when it comes to these people who complain to me about how awful their lives are. You want advice, I'm glad to give it. You want suggestions, fine. If you, however, just incessantly whine and do absolutely nothing but wallow in your own problems then I suggest finding another outlet. People have problems, but to not take any action on your own behalf is just self-repeating torture. Don't complain how bad your station is if you have taken no involvement in your own issues. Seriously, it's more annoying than Bush's approval for missile defense and even less useful.
Lastly, it should be no surprise to any post grad going into college that the months that follow ensue with a systematic fallout. Those convenient bonds that existed in school wither; those informal yet mutually beneficial arrangements you delude yourself into thinking are friendship collapse very quickly collapse. I too am no stranger to the same cycle, but there were some I had assumed had transcended this. Apparently not. Yet, some managed to still keep my essence in memory and have actually approached me in one form or another to reminisce and/or engage in that social exchange deal. So, in the spirit of giving, I desire, in my complacency, to give a special thanks out to Nathan, Conant, Pat, Paige, Jay and Christine for making at least one attempt if not more in the past couple months to drag me from my hovel. That being said, I also wish to give something to those who said they'd call, write back, or just plain keep in touch and didn't - but I fear there is no appropriate emoticon for that gesture.
Now that I feel better, I need to rest before I can properly celebrate my winter break and impending birthday by seeing the grandeur that is The Two Towers....
Shortly before my special Thanksgiving version of my weekly rant session, my server, the one running the earth-bound gateway of The Temporal Phoenix Conclave, decided to OD on cyber-crack and died. (Those responsible have been sacked.) Thus, all that remains of my online work is hidden away on my desktop and laptop in temp files which I must dig through one by one to retrieve. I apologize to all 200, er, 20, er, myself, for this inconvenience. Naturally, I have just not had the time, energy or desire to leap back into the fray. However, with winter break now upon me, I will try to piece this back together. Till then, courage.
That being said, I must now relieve myself of a few minor things on my mind since I am not able to do it from me own domain:
First, I wish to vent my utter frustration that came about over my psychology term paper. It was a compilation paper by four people on the in-depth psychological analysis of a movie, in our case Philadelphia. Now, upon final revision the self-appointed leader of the group noticed that my sections were desired by the teacher to be cited. The thing is, what I wrote was not taken verbatim, nor even paraphrased. It was, by all account, my own original work that just happened to sound very methodical. So, rather than just throw in an arbitrary chapter citation and be done with it, the girl instead decided to axe a majority of what I wrote.
I cannot tell you how adamantly pissed off I was when she went and mutilated my part of the project, although I did not let on. This is certainly not the first time it has happened. (I almost failed my sixth grade science fair because my teacher accused me of plagiarism; she did not believe I wrote it on my own.) Thing is, writing seems to be the one thing I'm at least somewhat decent at. I can't do sports or draw. I can't write music or play instruments. I don't have any inherent skills to wow people with. Writing is one of the few things that I am actually proud of myself for. So, it should be obvious to anyone with an IQ above that of mayonnaise to see why I was not a happy camper. The point I'm trying to make is to grasp on to what you're good at and go with it, but be careful of those who'd wish to ruin it for you.
Second, my patience is growing thinner than wet toilet paper when it comes to these people who complain to me about how awful their lives are. You want advice, I'm glad to give it. You want suggestions, fine. If you, however, just incessantly whine and do absolutely nothing but wallow in your own problems then I suggest finding another outlet. People have problems, but to not take any action on your own behalf is just self-repeating torture. Don't complain how bad your station is if you have taken no involvement in your own issues. Seriously, it's more annoying than Bush's approval for missile defense and even less useful.
Lastly, it should be no surprise to any post grad going into college that the months that follow ensue with a systematic fallout. Those convenient bonds that existed in school wither; those informal yet mutually beneficial arrangements you delude yourself into thinking are friendship collapse very quickly collapse. I too am no stranger to the same cycle, but there were some I had assumed had transcended this. Apparently not. Yet, some managed to still keep my essence in memory and have actually approached me in one form or another to reminisce and/or engage in that social exchange deal. So, in the spirit of giving, I desire, in my complacency, to give a special thanks out to Nathan, Conant, Pat, Paige, Jay and Christine for making at least one attempt if not more in the past couple months to drag me from my hovel. That being said, I also wish to give something to those who said they'd call, write back, or just plain keep in touch and didn't - but I fear there is no appropriate emoticon for that gesture.
Now that I feel better, I need to rest before I can properly celebrate my winter break and impending birthday by seeing the grandeur that is The Two Towers....