The Guns Fall Silent... And How to Get 917 Cans Across Green Street

The semester from hell is finally drawing to a close. Classes ended Wednesday, which was also the due date for the final (13th) salvo. I was really too exhausted to put much into the classwork, although there was also the 50 page steaming pile of bullsh... um... lab report (when it came off the printer it was actually quite hot) in which we had to explain why our little carbon composite pieces came out the way they did. And I think we did pretty well. Only time will tell. On the few lab reports we've gotten back, we've gotten clobbered, so the outlook is bleak. Unless there's a curve, which there might be. Organ lessons ended without ceremony. I'm in reasonable shape for putting a service together. Assuming I can find practice time over the summer. And I made some progress on my comp piece, but the prof didn't show up yesterday, so that's very much up in the air. I guess the semester ended with a whimper rather than a bang.

Now we enter finals week, which is notorious for massively long tests separated for days of agonizing inactivity. One can only study so much, after all. Tomorrow is 312, about which I am not worried. I'm in good shape, I get to write my equation sheet (note to self... write equation sheet), and he's more or less told us what's on the test. Fast forward to Tuesday, when I have 302 and 322. Here there's a lot of pressure due to a less than impressive performance on the second midterm and a lot of material covered since then. And 353 is next Thursday. Then I get the heck out of town.

The can tower was completed yesterday. Today's project was getting it across Green Street to its final storage area, the Physics Society office. I'm sure they'll be amused. It went very well. Unlike last year. No busted seams, no mishaps, no worries about whether it will still be standing come September. It's really quite impressive. See Facebook for pictures.

Now for some social commentary, which has been horribly lacking of late... just too much to do. Anyway, at lunch yesterday was a guitar dude. This guy randomly whipped out a guitar in the middle of the cafeteria and started playing. Now the first thing they teach anyone who plays a wooden instrument is not to have it out around food and drink, strolling strings notwithstanding. Also, there was some girl (maybe or maybe not his girlfriend) staring adoringly at him the whole time. Barf. I mean, good grief. It's not like he was doing anything terribly complicated as far as I could tell, not that I'm qualified to say for sure. I suppose if that's what chicks go for, I could bang out something loud on the dorm piano whenever I walk by, but in the past, that sort of thing has been labelled as "showing off" and generally frowned upon. It's just not dignified. But whatever.

Still no sign of the bike. I've filed the obligatory police report, so hopefully the wrath of God will descend upon those responsible. But I'm not holding my breath. Rule of life number one is to leave with everything you came with, but that might not be the case this semester.

Now get back to work.