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Another Day, Another A

Midterms are upon us. Or upon me anyway. Professors at Purdue can have them whenever they like so midterm “week” lasts from three or four weeks into the semester until finals start. It’s one of the less annoying things about this place. Oh well, at least the snow has melted.

My first Linear Algebra midterm was two weeks ago. The overall average was an 80%, but the average in my section was a 53%, and my professor spent several minutes telling us all about how we need to study more. I was tempted to suggest an alternate hypothesis.

I walked into last night’s Statics test wearing shorts and my Mardi Gras beads. It was fun, and the test was so easy I think my preparations were about as useful as the people who stayed in this godforsaken cornfield for the weekend. Making up my NUCL 200 test today didn’t go so well, but I probably did reasonably well. Differential Equations are up next on Thursday, and then Spanish next week.

I partied myself sick over the weekend, so my mom was right. I hate it when that happens. Aside from that, Mardi Gras was crazy fun. It has to be seen to be believed. I slept less and ate and drank more than anyone could ever consider healthy, and I feel so much the better for having done it. I forgot to reset the trip meter to get the gas mileage, but we averaged 67 miles per hour including stops. I will never drive so far to spend so little time in a place again.

Russ just walked by yelling “eight minute abs”, so I guess it’s time for a SPSB update. I gained five pounds this weekend and didn’t get any exercise. Take that, dedication.

“No! No six minute abs!”

Speaking of spring break, it looks like the only other person who will be home that week is Terra (and Richard, but we don’t hang out much.) It’s actually pretty cool, I guess, because hopefully I’ll get to see a lot of Terra and actually get some alone time. I’ll have to look into driving to see people at school, or maybe spend a day or two in Indy.

I just watched Blow in Abbott’s room. It was pretty good, but the end of the movie has two poignant father-child scenes in a row, so of course I started crying. I guess I have some sort of complex, but I can’t imagine that it’s grounded in anything real, or at least reasonable. I really ought to ask my dad, but how do you even broach a subject like that? It’ll probably just be one of those things about my psyche that will always make me feel inadequate.

Today’s random link: http://www.candyboots.com/wwcards.html 

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