Logarithms

I feel like writing about logarithms. I don't know why, I just do. So shoot me.

There are many number bases, but the one we know and use the most is decimal. There is also binary, hexadecimal, etc.

Mostly we work with a decimal base, i.e. a base of 10. That is the system that is commonly used in most maths.

A logarithm takes a base and a number of that base and gives you the power that the base would need to give the number of that base.

I don't think that's very clear so here's an example.

 Have another one for fun.

There are some rules one abides with logarithms, of course.

Happy logarithming!

The Farm

When I was in Year 4, there was a prospect of a really bloody good school trip - a 2 and a half stay at a farm not too far from home. It was the most excitement-filled trip in my life up to then, and from what the officials said, it looked brilliant, and I could not wait. I'd never spend so much as a night away from home and it was really exciting!!!!!!!

As it got nearer and nearer the trip I got more and more excited, and all of the paperwork boredom and things like that got completed, and soon it was just a point of making sure you were there on time.

Some point very near to the trip, I started feeling crappy. But it wouldn't last long, I told myself. I would be okay by Monday, I would be fine by Monday, it would be someone else who felt rubbish by Monday. I was not going to miss the best trip of my life so far, nope, never. Of all of the trips in the world, this wasn't going to be the one to miss. It was going to be a brilliant trip, and I. Would. Be. There.

When, on Sunday evening, it became obvious that I wouldn't be going, I was really upset about it. Even my two new toy cats couldn't cheer me up. Stupid bloody illnesses.

If those are toy cats.

Monday came. I'd be going on that trip if this damned illness hadn't got me, I thought gloomily.

That day was spent feeling gloomy and rubbish and really just plain dreadful, until a little glimmer of hope shined. You see, the way we were going to go was our class plus half of another class from Monday to Wednesday lunch, when the rest of the year would go until Friday. And in my naive 8 year old mind, I genuinely believed that this was actually a viable option. 

Only it wasn't to be. Even if it was feasible, I still felt all eeuuurrrghhh. It was horrible to feel so yucky and it was horrible to miss out on what could have been the best trip ever.

The yuckiness stayed around for 3 weeks after it started, one of those weeks I was in school and had turned to tears because I'd been confronted about some work that wasn't very good (it may have been art and I never was good at art anyway). Not the happiest time of my life.

After everything was okay again I ignored my brother, Crotchet, who moaned about never having the chance of the farm visit (when he was in Year 5 the pupils who took the farm visit were changed from Year 6 students to Year 4 students) and pinned all of my hopes on having perfect health for the Year 6 France trip. Thank God that that did happen.

Constant

I just drew a 'comic' strip, and thought I'd share it with you all. Enjoy.

A Letter to PPI Companies

Dear PPI companies,

Please stop being such utter jerks.

You have texted me, saying that I'd be rich if I claimed on PPI I couldn't have got. You have littered the minutes of TV advertisements with your claims that money has been put aside for me even though my 16-18 Current Account does not allow me an overdraft because of my age.

And now you're using internet advertising‽‽‽

(Those are interrobangs, people, that are often found in ?! form)

Arrrrgh!!!!!!!!

This is what I want to say to you in simple plain English that you should be able to understand, and made funky so you don't have a chance of missing it.

Please Stop.

I am fed up with you. If the whole stupid PPI stupidity had ever affected me, I could go to my bank for free. And that's what I would do if I had taken out anything - which, as you should be aware, isn't very possible.

In fact, Google PPI. Everything you get is about PPI claims. It's not about what PPI is, or if PPI is a good option on the loan you're just about to get, or even other insurance you could use instead of PPI.

And it says I'm in Swindon!

So, stop making me want to tear my hair out and weave it into a rug. My mental health is more important than your unregulated businesses.

Yours faithfully,

Minim.

College, or, I Am Weird

I have been attending Sixth Form college for two weeks, now, and I haven't got anything else I want to write about this Tuesday so I'm going to halt production on another names list (I am forever doing names lists) and try not to get distracted by the Tim Minchin DVD (which is really difficult because of certain tendencies towards ADD and a slight sound sensitivity - not to mention that Tim Minchin is Totally Awesome), the cat (my brother's cat!), and

[starts singing along to TM]

[song ends]

What was I on about again?

Okay, I shall do some writing on college, and rate certain aspects - probably comparing it to High School as well.

Social:

HS Rating: 2/10
College Rating: 5/10

My social life seems to have improved. I used to barely speak with anyone except teachers (and I got laughed at for that *sigh*) and those I did speak to in school time outside of lessons either were lots younger than me in the case of later years (year 7/8-ish), a lot older than me and knowing me as "Crotchet's sister" (they'd have been year 10/11 when I was year 7/8). Those my age heard a load of gabble, often about the Chalet School or other things I found interesting (True story: I once spent a whole lunchtime talking about an option in the Maths Challenge - More Information Needed). Well, about, one or two people, really. This was usually early morning to one person, and when another came in, I ended up completely silent while the other two talked for a bit and then went outside for a walk. And then at lunchtimes I'd gabble away until someone challenged me to run around the field once and when I had completed they weren't there and I spent the whole of the rest of lunchtime looking for them and panicking. (Okay, it only happened once, but there's the issue of making it interesting).

Now, I have a better, more balanced way of approaching conversations. Okay, I still would never dare to start a conversation, and don't like to speak in a group (Or even just trying to think myself into talking and Not Doing So - it's worse the larger the number). But, I know different ways to approach conversation (ask questions - this is easier at College level because you can ask what subjects they're doing, and talk about college a bit, and let them talk about things more than you do.

Okay, let's go ahead while Tim Minchin is playing with a wand/conductor's stick thing.

Comfort:

HS: 3/10
College: 7/10

High school: basic chairs, uniform, not very brilliant desk space.

College: more padded chairs, wearing what I like (okay, underwear doesn't tend to be comfortable, but my arms are) and quite good desk space.

Lessons:

HS: 6/10
College: 9/10

High School: At High School people weren't always serious about their subjects, and classes were large. Teachers who had little control over a class meant that classes were so annoyingly rowdy and it was difficult to concentrate and I always had to go back to the old standby of singing, and then people would tell me to stop singing and I'd hum, which would mean they insisted on stopping me from humming, or later me just silent and just wanting to Get Out as soon as I bloody well could. It was especially bad when the lesson was being taken by a cover teacher. I could rant on forever about cover teachers, but this page is pretty long already and I've still got 2 more aspects to talk about (unless I think of any more). However, lessons did tend to be decent, and were bloody awesome if they were being taken by Mr Aitken. But that was just Year 9 Maths, and one in Year 10. I wanted him as Head of Year when I was in Year 11 like he was head of Year 11 when I was in Year 9. He had an office near my form room, but I am going off on a tangent and ought to get on with what I am supposed to be writing about.

College: Classes are smaller and tend to be more serious about what we're studying (we get to choose, see). I also get to sit near the front all of the time where I'm less likely to mishear stuff (although I do do it - 39 for 35, for instance, which is a bit awkward when it's a page in a textbook).

Timetable:

At High School, the timetable was always full. From 8:45 to 3:30, everything you did was timetabled. so you might get, for instance:

Monday:

8:45 - Registration
9:05 - Science
10:05 - Science
11:05 - Break
11:15 - English
12:20 - Lunch
1:15 - Registration
1:30 - Spanish
2:30 - Drama

So all of your time that can be timetabled is.

But at college, it's different because you have time that isn't timetabled. So I have one lesson on a Tuesday, and only one - the other time can be used for study, eye tests, lying in, watching Tim Minchin, blogging, and a lot of other stuff. Socializing would be a big part of that for some people, but probably not me. I'm a bit of an introvert.

Groupwork:

The nightmare of High School, this was. It was a total nightmare. Apart from the fact that I am hopeless in a group unless I have a specific job in it, I am easily distracted by idiots and end up arguing with them because they are too distracting (and so is my currently favorite song with is a Tim Minchin one *roll*). I always find it awkward to talk in a group unless I am making an objection. But in College at the moment there doesn't seem to be that much groupwork, and what's the betting that there is little in distraction? Pretty high, I'd imagine.

Remember me?

N: Hi, do you remember me?

Me: *thinking about high school* Err...

N: Oak class? Mr H?

Me: *trying to remember Year 6* Umm...

N: G's friend?

Me: I think I remember you... err...

Problem with my memory #1 - Forgetting most people I've met before, and/or not recognising them after years of change.

A Fiddle Fiasco

From Year 4 to Year 9, I had routine Violin lessons, always with the same teacher, on a Tuesday. The classes, once a good bit of fun and some extra education in Music, later became an excuse to miss half of my most hated subject - Geography. This wasn't even because I wasn't good at it, I had good marks and everything, but it was plainly not what I'd like - it had a lot more to do with people and later, economics, but I'd rather have learnt names of rivers and cities and stuff like that.

One advantage of having Violin lessons, apart from showing a bright spark in lessons while still missing as much as a quarter of them per week, was half a day out of school near the end of each school year to go to a Fiddle Fiesta (which were much more fun than being totally bored out of your skin in a stuffy classroom full of other students who would be disruptive all of the time). These tended to be good fun.

You'd be preparing for a Fiddle Fiesta for some weeks beforehand, getting all your pieces to practice, whether you were first, second, or third violin. In my first Fiddle Fiesta there were two pieces that were fourth violin, which is almost never used. I remember this because I was lazy and didn't want to do the third violin pieces. Me and B, (an old schoolmate from my Junior school who, like me, liked the Goodies, but unlike me, did not know about the Funky Gibbon) did this. But I am seriously going off track now and ought to explain about the Fiasco.

It was Year 7 that this fiasco happened. I had prepared like all of the other students across the town going to a Fiddle Fiesta. I was dead excited about missing Science and English - especially English which was almost unbearable (I realize later that this could be due to an undermining of my talents (they had me a level 4 instead of 5 like I actually was) and a low intolerance of noise (and that class was really noisy!)). I was also excited at going to a new place to do a Fiddle Fiesta - even if Moth didn't really like it that much (That just made me curious).

So it was the day of the Fiesta. I had my violin (which is an awkward thing to be lumbered with, let me tell you!) and there was some extra food in my schoolbag for eating later. I had to make sure I wasn't tempted by it at lunchtime. I ate as always before zooming off.

I zoomed off to a little area in The Quad, near to the front entrance, and milled around there energetically. Excitement brewing. All of that sort of thing.

I saw my Science teacher as I was jumping around. Without any prior experience or common sense, I felt I had to tell her about the Fiesta. So, I did.

Time went exceedingly slowly for the rest of Lunch, and then Registration, but finally, finally it was the end of registration and it was time to go to the Reception desk ready to leave, collecting our violins/violas on the way (they were kept locked in a room in the music corridor).

We waited in the reception area, sitting on the chairs and so on. Waiting, as business occurred between people and things, and a boy saying he didn't want to go. Hearing some of the business, it seemed that there was some issue up. It was something to listen to, and it did not exactly fill me with confidence. Although I had no idea what the heck was going on.

It had been a very very long time in waiting before the receptionist said to us to go back to classes. From what I can tell now, this is what happened: a parent had volunteered to take everyone to the Fiddle Fiesta. He could take us all - had permission and whatnot. Then his son backed out, and didn't want to go. So because of Protection Laws and whatnot, he now couldn't take the rest of us.

Great.

I wasn't exactly ready to go back to class. I had told my Science teacher that I'd not be there, so how could I? She'd have thought I was lying! And everyone else would stare at me for being so late. It would be so embarrassing. Was there any point of going for the last part of the lesson only?

I went and put my violin away, but I was very reluctant to go to science. I stayed in the music room, and it wasn't very long before English. I went, and got some whispers.

And that is the nearest I ever got to disruptive behavior.

The Sun is trying to kill me...

Most people love the sunny weather and the warmth it provides. It makes the outdoors more palatable for them, it gives them a 'wonderful' tan, and it also makes everyone strangely happy.

I think I am missing out on the good points.

No-one else seems to be a massive ball of sweat burning to death like they're in the oven on Gas Mark 9. No-one else seems to feel a bit sick or anything. And no-one else seems to care that it's burning their faces off, instead all going with their friends and groups and chatting like they don't care about anything at all.

In this weather, I get dehydrated like I am a sponge and all of the water is being squeezed out of me. And this is during low-profile activities, like wandering around the college. Not lost; never lost. Just wandering around. And then I'm dead thirsty so I go to a water fountain (or a "wa'er foun'ain" as is said by the people around). And, inevitably, some always ends up going up my nose instead of into my mouth. I don't know if you have experienced this because I am not you, but it is a very uncomfortable feeling.

Going home is a challenge in itself, after all, you're climbing this steep thing that is known as the hill. But when the weather is oppressing you, making your skin leak hot sticky sweat, burning you up and giving you a familiar feeling that you usually associate with too much car - it's called feeling sick - it turns into a nightmare. You end up concentrating on getting to the next patch of shade, and seeing that shade is rare on the way, well, eeek. Do Not Like. DNL. [ooh, nice abbreviation, Minim.] And when you see that nobody else is having problems, you wonder if the Sun is going "Mwahahaha! I hate you, you weird person, so I'm going to make you suffer,"

And then, when you do get home, guess what now?

The stupid lock won't open because the heat makes it too stiff for your puny little claws to turn, even with that tip that you've been given before. So what do you do now?

You go down the road/hill, because that's where your sister Quaver lives and she might be in and then you can play with your nephew for a bit until Moth's home. And they may have "drrriiiiink" as well.

Only your sister is out, doing some college stuff or something like that.

You decide to return to the doorstep, well, Moth'll be back soon. You also decide to cross to the shady side of the road for a bit more shelter. This turns out to be a good thing, as you end up squatting on the pavement due to the morose heat. (Is morose used in the right context, or do I have to change it?) Only some frumpy woman in her car (and cars often have air conditioning) is frowning at you and you notice when your brain turns from 'smush and cobwebs and no use' mode to 'below average and wants good impression' mode. Embarrassment. Fortunately you're already red and can't go deeper, so you get up and pass her, while she looks disapprovingly at you. You could do the same, really, but you don't.

So you get back home and perch outside, intending to check if anyone was in, in a moment. Well, anyone basically means Moth. And, well, she wasn't in then. Cause when I stood up to check, I saw her coming down the road.

But heat is murderous and almost impossible to deal with. 'Nuff said.

The Problem with Names

Me: *walking along outside morning at school*

Teacher: MINIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: *jumps a yard* [What have I done? I haven't done anything! Nothing wrong. She's not even my teacher!]

Teacher: [audibly] Why weren't you at netball practice last night?

Me: [What Netball practice? I don't even do Netball!] *looks around at teacher* [Oh, she's talking to *Other Minim*] *scuttles off, still slightly shocked*

The problem with names: other people can have the same.

ETA - I should have guessed she wasn't talking to me - she didn't call me Semibreve (that's what I'm calling my sister)

Hmm...

Brain: Hmm, I haven't updated my blog for a while, I should do that.

*click on 'New Tab'*

[minor comment - accidental @ instead of ' happened, be careful of shift]

*click on link*

Brain: I haven't got anything to write, I'll go on Facebook instead.

*close tab*

*open new tab*

*click on Facebook*

Brain: Hmm, nothing interesting, nothing interesting, ooh, that's awesome, I'm going to like it! Nothing interesting...

*close tab*

*open new tab*

*go on DBPB*

*go through submissions*

*check CBB*

*check LGM*

*check to see if there are any comments on drabble*

*think about blog again*

*come up with ideas*

*reject ideas*

*do something else*

The problem is...?

I don't end up with a blog post!

Okay, there's nothing major coming up in my life, apart from starting college on Wednesday. Have to be there at 8am for that, but no biggie, others will find it difficult seeing as that's when they get up during school time (while I was leaving the house *rolls eyes*). But there is always stuff to write about or draw or whatever.

So now all I need to do is get into the habit of writing regularly.