It's still Thursday in some parts of the world.
I'm just saying.
*Minim with a busy/lazy face on*
I'll leave it for you to decide which of the two cases it is.
*angelic*
Friday, 28 November 2014
Thursday, 20 November 2014
A Little Failure
Starting Sixth Form College was a new experience. Hardly anyone in my classes had known me before, my classes were half an hour longer (Now lectures have reverted to 50 minutes, for which I am thankful!) and I could barely recognize many of my old classmates because they were wearing completely different headscarves.
Classes were going well. In Further Maths, we tackled C1 (Or, what I call, Enhanced GCSE), the splendidocious C2, and the devillish D1. In Physics, we looked at things you can't really see with the naked eye, or even eyes with glasses on. English Language was, of course, very language-y and we were building up to the coursework element of the course. And then there was Critical Thinking, where we had to think.
This being Sixth Form, from the first minute on we were being prepared for exams. Going through work on the syllabus, doing mock exams, and so forth. The Mocks passed and, boringly, I got As and a Physical B.
The solution to this was simple: work on Physics a bit more, and all else could happily take the hit. The January season of exams rode into play, and it was all exam rooms and revision and the after-exam questions of "What did you get for Question 4?" (The answer to this question is is "Either a correct or incorrect answer,"). I walked out of D1 thinking that I had royally screwed up the final question, the most significant question on that paper. I walked out of Physics unsure. My other papers I walked out on feeling fairly confident.
Cue six weeks time for results day, giving the examiners time to read the scrawls of plenty of silly students. I could hardly wait to log in to the student network and find my results.
I wanted to hide in my room until the end of Time (and it hadn't even started yet). Or until I became a zombie and so didn't care any more.
I forced myself out of my room and down the stairs. Moth was there, wanting to know how I did. I said I got As. I couldn't force the rest of the words out that the last exam had gone really really very quite badly.
The words loosened a little bit as I took the twenty minute walk to college. I kept on telling myself that I had to face up to it. I still had solitude when I arrived at English, my first class of the day. However, it soon became a babble of excited students going "What did you get?" "How did you do?" and feeling proud of their Bs and Cs. I held back tears as I bluntly told the others about the 4 As and the other one.
Reactions generally went along the lines of "WTF happened there?!" Gradually over the day the upset cleared and my normal state of emotional indifference returned.
Walking to Critical Thinking that day was tough. I was very reluctant to go, but I told myself I had to. At the beginning of the class everyone was talking about their results. Even the teacher was perplexed at my result.
Normal life soon pervaded. The deadline for paying for resits was about a week afterwards. I went up to the Finance desk while the area was not very full. The lady on the desk recognised me as my mother's daughter - Moth being a member of staff there at the time. And because of that, I ended up going to speak to another lady at a different desk and having to wait in the now growing queue for the finance office. So I could get a £1.10 discount which promptly went towards a bottle of Sprite in the shop.
I accepted it all, got obsessed with the xkcd Time (which had started not long afterwards), and prepared for the resit and the other Critical Thinking exam with vigilance, going to extra sessions and so on. I made sure to ensure I was prepared for the other exam or I'd have to resit that in a year's time due to the abolishing of the January exams. I tackled those papers with determination.
The resit relented a C. The other paper - which was on arguing - didn't argue and handed away an A.
Thursday, 13 November 2014
Hello Readers
Hey readers,
I know you're out there. I can tell. I see your views, the returners and the first-timers, and all that jazz. A few of you have contacted me about the blog through forums. (Note that this is not optimal and that you really should use the comments section. There's a button under the title of each post. Note that this does not apply to Moth, who is special and also my mother. <3) I know you're listening and I quite like it.
I know last Thursday's update didn't happen. If anyone was disappointed then I apologise wholeheartedly. (I don't know y'all well enough to say whether any of you were disappointed. Maybe we could chat sometime? ;) ) Feeling grotty gets in the way of things, you know? But, this is just another weblog. There's a sea of them out there.
Sometimes I wonder why anyone would pick to read this little corner of the internet when there's a vast array of better-written, better focused, more popular blogs out there. I guess I must be doing something right. You're all awesome for reading this clutter of randomness, anyway.
Words are powerful in the right hands, and also in the wrong ones. That is a redundant way of saying that words are powerful. Lots of people seem to have picked up on that. Words are more powerful the more they're heard. Words can spread too, and I guess that means we all ought to be careful if we don't want to abuse the power these words can give us.
I don't know why I'm writing to you all, but I do know that you are all awesome people. Took me years to believe that I'm just as awesome as you are now, but that's how life operates sometimes. Love yourself, but don't be afraid to change yourself either.
We are living in an age where people are able to communicate almost instantly to people on the opposite side of the planet. Yesterday, a spacecraft landed on a comet for the first time in forever, enabling us to learn more about the universe that we live in. (And then the scientists had a big party to celebrate, but the rest of us didn't aid the mission and so weren't invited. And so it should be - they did good, the rest of us just observed, if that). And that is just brilliant and fabulous and awesome.
Guys, everything is awesome.
(Hands up everyone who has now got 'Everything Is Awesome' stuck in their head)
I know you're out there. I can tell. I see your views, the returners and the first-timers, and all that jazz. A few of you have contacted me about the blog through forums. (Note that this is not optimal and that you really should use the comments section. There's a button under the title of each post. Note that this does not apply to Moth, who is special and also my mother. <3) I know you're listening and I quite like it.
I know last Thursday's update didn't happen. If anyone was disappointed then I apologise wholeheartedly. (I don't know y'all well enough to say whether any of you were disappointed. Maybe we could chat sometime? ;) ) Feeling grotty gets in the way of things, you know? But, this is just another weblog. There's a sea of them out there.
Sometimes I wonder why anyone would pick to read this little corner of the internet when there's a vast array of better-written, better focused, more popular blogs out there. I guess I must be doing something right. You're all awesome for reading this clutter of randomness, anyway.
Words are powerful in the right hands, and also in the wrong ones. That is a redundant way of saying that words are powerful. Lots of people seem to have picked up on that. Words are more powerful the more they're heard. Words can spread too, and I guess that means we all ought to be careful if we don't want to abuse the power these words can give us.
I don't know why I'm writing to you all, but I do know that you are all awesome people. Took me years to believe that I'm just as awesome as you are now, but that's how life operates sometimes. Love yourself, but don't be afraid to change yourself either.
We are living in an age where people are able to communicate almost instantly to people on the opposite side of the planet. Yesterday, a spacecraft landed on a comet for the first time in forever, enabling us to learn more about the universe that we live in. (And then the scientists had a big party to celebrate, but the rest of us didn't aid the mission and so weren't invited. And so it should be - they did good, the rest of us just observed, if that). And that is just brilliant and fabulous and awesome.
Guys, everything is awesome.
(Hands up everyone who has now got 'Everything Is Awesome' stuck in their head)
Thursday, 30 October 2014
A Quick Lecture Run-Down
Before I came to university, I had a notion that lectures were going to be awkward to get through. You'd have to take notes all the time while following the lecturer and I thought it would be impossible to keep up at all.
My mind was as wrong as your everyday internet troll. It hadn't even taken into account the existence of whiteboards - it only thought about projector screens which didn't have anything on them to aid understanding, and having to write all the undecipherable equations down, making it difficult to listen. (And in fairness to past me, my ears do tend to turn off when I'm copying off of the whiteboard, but whiteboard writing stays up longer and needs rubbing off sometimes. And I can actually understand what I'm writing too)
Real lectures are hardly like that at all. In fact, plenty of lecturers just hand you the flipping notes. You just have to keep up with what's going on and maybe annotate bits of information as you go through it all. Maybe you'll end up going right back to the beginning and learn where techniques come from in the first place, maybe you're picking up on all this new stuff with new symbols and methods, or maybe your lecturer will try and bribe a graph of x² (with money) to give a value for x where y = -1 to demonstrate that there is no real answer for it. It's good to have a sense of humor when half of what you're covering is known by half the lecture hall.
Even the more 'note'-worthy lecturers are pretty cool. (And I have noted that pun as one of the worst puns I have ever made up. I apologize for this and the notation around the word 'note'. A Minim sure likes a pun about 'notes.' It's terrible) And at least one of them puts all of his notes online where you can find them. Taking notes is a good thing that you can do with your hands, and copying stuff can be a good way to learn things, too. Maybe you're revisiting the definition of an angle (proper angles work in radians here, because if you draw a circle of radius 1 around the point, the angle between the two lines would just be the length of the arc between them). Maybe you're playing around with new terms.
Of course, the most on-hands module has the most on-hands approach, with the lectures just being used to tackle some of the most common problems that people were coming up with, while much of the learning is done by going through and doing stuff and just simply asking about it. Maybe simply asking about things isn't in a Minim's nature, but doing the work and using the resources available is, and so this means that a Minim is very satisfied.
My mind was as wrong as your everyday internet troll. It hadn't even taken into account the existence of whiteboards - it only thought about projector screens which didn't have anything on them to aid understanding, and having to write all the undecipherable equations down, making it difficult to listen. (And in fairness to past me, my ears do tend to turn off when I'm copying off of the whiteboard, but whiteboard writing stays up longer and needs rubbing off sometimes. And I can actually understand what I'm writing too)
Real lectures are hardly like that at all. In fact, plenty of lecturers just hand you the flipping notes. You just have to keep up with what's going on and maybe annotate bits of information as you go through it all. Maybe you'll end up going right back to the beginning and learn where techniques come from in the first place, maybe you're picking up on all this new stuff with new symbols and methods, or maybe your lecturer will try and bribe a graph of x² (with money) to give a value for x where y = -1 to demonstrate that there is no real answer for it. It's good to have a sense of humor when half of what you're covering is known by half the lecture hall.
Even the more 'note'-worthy lecturers are pretty cool. (And I have noted that pun as one of the worst puns I have ever made up. I apologize for this and the notation around the word 'note'. A Minim sure likes a pun about 'notes.' It's terrible) And at least one of them puts all of his notes online where you can find them. Taking notes is a good thing that you can do with your hands, and copying stuff can be a good way to learn things, too. Maybe you're revisiting the definition of an angle (proper angles work in radians here, because if you draw a circle of radius 1 around the point, the angle between the two lines would just be the length of the arc between them). Maybe you're playing around with new terms.
Of course, the most on-hands module has the most on-hands approach, with the lectures just being used to tackle some of the most common problems that people were coming up with, while much of the learning is done by going through and doing stuff and just simply asking about it. Maybe simply asking about things isn't in a Minim's nature, but doing the work and using the resources available is, and so this means that a Minim is very satisfied.
Thursday, 23 October 2014
Notation
There is something that is bugging me about notation in Maths.
You see, these are all fine:
But I really don't get this:
Maybe integers made the mathematicians sleep?
You see, these are all fine:
But I really don't get this:
Thursday, 16 October 2014
Getting Lost
One of the most important items I carry around with me is my phone.
See, before all the university stuff happened, I was pretty happy with my phone. By then, it was just an old pink lump of metal that worked as an alarm clock, and worked at texting mostly, but that's all I needed. I didn't care that everyone else was playing flappy birds or quizzes or what-have-you, because I was enjoying my life by then and didn't feel the need.
Now, though, I'm glad to have a smartphone. A shiny black one. So sorry old phone, but you're fired.
Old Phone: You fired me?!
Minim: Yes.
Old Phone: But whyyyyyy??? *sadface*
Minim: You don't have a face for it to be sad.
Minim: And this new smartphone does more and is a harder worker.
Old Phone: How long did it take you to choose that pillock? I bet it was absolutely ages...
Minim: Less than it took the guys in the Apprentice to choose cheese.
Minim: I just went for what the guy in the shop recommended.
Old Phone: Oh yeah?!
Minim: Yeah.
Old Phone: And what does that old lump of black metal do that I can't?
Minim: Nags me when I've got email.
Old Phone: You have a computer.
Minim: Has a browser.
Old Phone: You have a computer.
Minim: Has Google Maps.
Old Phone: You have a computer.
Minim: I can move the map with the touchscreen and can use it when my frankly awful sense of direction completely fails me.
Old Phone: You're no good with maps anyway.
Minim: Shows me where I am, too, so I can work out which way to go by moving about.
Old Phone: *speechless*
It is so easy to get lost in a new town (did it on the way to the shops twice, even having gone there twice from my halls of residence not getting the route to sink in!) My phone is often the hero in such situations because of its maps. Yes, I know that computer maps are definitely not perfect, but they are pretty functional for use and I know where to aim myself to get back into known territory. I've had more problems with looking where to go prior to going, and that has happened twice - each time due to my misinterpretations.
I've got a good handle on where I need to be, anyway, and most of the shops I may use. (still have no handle on certain places I need like the post office but apart from that...) I like it.
See, before all the university stuff happened, I was pretty happy with my phone. By then, it was just an old pink lump of metal that worked as an alarm clock, and worked at texting mostly, but that's all I needed. I didn't care that everyone else was playing flappy birds or quizzes or what-have-you, because I was enjoying my life by then and didn't feel the need.
Now, though, I'm glad to have a smartphone. A shiny black one. So sorry old phone, but you're fired.
Old Phone: You fired me?!
Minim: Yes.
Old Phone: But whyyyyyy??? *sadface*
Minim: You don't have a face for it to be sad.
Minim: And this new smartphone does more and is a harder worker.
Old Phone: How long did it take you to choose that pillock? I bet it was absolutely ages...
Minim: Less than it took the guys in the Apprentice to choose cheese.
Minim: I just went for what the guy in the shop recommended.
Old Phone: Oh yeah?!
Minim: Yeah.
Old Phone: And what does that old lump of black metal do that I can't?
Minim: Nags me when I've got email.
Old Phone: You have a computer.
Minim: Has a browser.
Old Phone: You have a computer.
Minim: Has Google Maps.
Old Phone: You have a computer.
Minim: I can move the map with the touchscreen and can use it when my frankly awful sense of direction completely fails me.
Old Phone: You're no good with maps anyway.
Minim: Shows me where I am, too, so I can work out which way to go by moving about.
Old Phone: *speechless*
It is so easy to get lost in a new town (did it on the way to the shops twice, even having gone there twice from my halls of residence not getting the route to sink in!) My phone is often the hero in such situations because of its maps. Yes, I know that computer maps are definitely not perfect, but they are pretty functional for use and I know where to aim myself to get back into known territory. I've had more problems with looking where to go prior to going, and that has happened twice - each time due to my misinterpretations.
I've got a good handle on where I need to be, anyway, and most of the shops I may use. (still have no handle on certain places I need like the post office but apart from that...) I like it.
Thursday, 9 October 2014
I've Got It
The one thing I hate in a lecture is whispering around me. It's annoying and distracting and makes me want to bite people's heads off because I actually want to focus (and especially when the lecturer has a soft voice) and I'm getting burst out of the concentration bubble every five seconds.
The one thing I love in a lecture is a lecturer who occasionally makes a funny comment. Or being around people (mainly guys) who don't really whisper at all. Or finding out something interesting and new.
The one thing I love about my timetable is that it's got lots of maths on it. And that Wednesday afternoon is very much clear.
The one thing I hate about my timetable is that my earliest starts (same time Monday and Friday) are both further away than my regular lecture hall. And that Fridays are my busiest day with all lectures being in different halls (not to mention tutorial).
The one thing I love about independent living is the ability to eat a bacon butty whenever I feel like it.
The one thing I hate about independent living is my non-ability to get things done. Or having to carry shopping up three flights of stairs (and making my arm hurt wildly in the process).
The one thing I love in a lecture is a lecturer who occasionally makes a funny comment. Or being around people (mainly guys) who don't really whisper at all. Or finding out something interesting and new.
The one thing I love about my timetable is that it's got lots of maths on it. And that Wednesday afternoon is very much clear.
The one thing I hate about my timetable is that my earliest starts (same time Monday and Friday) are both further away than my regular lecture hall. And that Fridays are my busiest day with all lectures being in different halls (not to mention tutorial).
The one thing I love about independent living is the ability to eat a bacon butty whenever I feel like it.
The one thing I hate about independent living is my non-ability to get things done. Or having to carry shopping up three flights of stairs (and making my arm hurt wildly in the process).
Thursday, 2 October 2014
Uni!
It's the first proper week of Uni and doing Maths and stuff, and already I'm learning stuff:
1. Always be ready for the Fire Alarm to go off.
This means, keep your shoes on except in bed, and make sure to have some sort of jacket easy to hand at night. Keys and glasses can go in its pockets.
2. Lectures are easier to follow if you sit at the front.
If you're near the back, people will be whispering and they will be glued to their phones too. Which is seriously distracting and makes it difficult to follow.
3. When in doubt, the name's Hannah.
No, seriously, across all of the first year Maths students, you've got about a 10% prevalence of the name Hannah among the girls. (It's a lovely name, mind you.)
4. Most people are just nice people who would like to get along with you.
Seriously, most people are happy to chat and be friendly and they do like to see that you're happy. Nobody minds if you quickly ask them something or whatever.
5. What I do is completely within my own hands.
I could stay in my room all day. Or I could go out every night. I could skip all my lectures - no-one's taking track. But lectures are awesome so I intend to go to all of them cos they're just so cool.
Most of this uni stuff is brilliant even if there are a few downsides. I'm just hoping I never forget my key. That would be £10 and I really don't want to lose that amount for a sheer moment of forgetfulness.
1. Always be ready for the Fire Alarm to go off.
This means, keep your shoes on except in bed, and make sure to have some sort of jacket easy to hand at night. Keys and glasses can go in its pockets.
2. Lectures are easier to follow if you sit at the front.
If you're near the back, people will be whispering and they will be glued to their phones too. Which is seriously distracting and makes it difficult to follow.
3. When in doubt, the name's Hannah.
No, seriously, across all of the first year Maths students, you've got about a 10% prevalence of the name Hannah among the girls. (It's a lovely name, mind you.)
4. Most people are just nice people who would like to get along with you.
Seriously, most people are happy to chat and be friendly and they do like to see that you're happy. Nobody minds if you quickly ask them something or whatever.
5. What I do is completely within my own hands.
I could stay in my room all day. Or I could go out every night. I could skip all my lectures - no-one's taking track. But lectures are awesome so I intend to go to all of them cos they're just so cool.
Most of this uni stuff is brilliant even if there are a few downsides. I'm just hoping I never forget my key. That would be £10 and I really don't want to lose that amount for a sheer moment of forgetfulness.
Thursday, 25 September 2014
Fluffy!
I have a squishy cushion and it's so fluffy I'm gonna die! Or at least get tickled a lot.
I have a cough and cold and it should go die in a fire - only not with me still attached. That would be a bit painful. I considered ripping my lungs out, but I decided that the risks just weighed over the benefits.
All of the diseases should go and die in all the fires.
University life is pretty interesting at the moment - finding your way around, meeting people, eating apples (because when a flatemate arrives with bags and bags of apples he doesn't know what to do with you get some of your own - although I didn't know he had them until after the event)
#zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I have a cough and cold and it should go die in a fire - only not with me still attached. That would be a bit painful. I considered ripping my lungs out, but I decided that the risks just weighed over the benefits.
All of the diseases should go and die in all the fires.
University life is pretty interesting at the moment - finding your way around, meeting people, eating apples (because when a flatemate arrives with bags and bags of apples he doesn't know what to do with you get some of your own - although I didn't know he had them until after the event)
#zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Thursday, 18 September 2014
Thursday, 11 September 2014
Stormy Night
Some nights, a girl just can't sleep. The weather is hot, the fan is noisy, and there's still cars on the roads and some of them have sirens. Reading does little to prepare one for the dark worlds of quirky oddness the world of dreams hardly ever seems to offer. A streetlamp outside casts an orange glow on the messy den.
You're still going to try to sleep anyway because it's nighttime and therefore sleep time. It was only the hallway light suddenly being turned on which tells you that you're too distracted by everything to have the zeds coming out of your face (which is apparently what happens when you sleep. Note that if crying, sobbing, screaming, or anything else like that should occur and you never remember having bad dreams at all, you should get your sisters to stick their earphones into your ears when you're asleep and play music. If you share a room with them, they probably already do).
So at two in the morning, with another book under your belt, you decide that maybe you're settled just about now. So you turn the light off and close your eyes ready for it.
FLASH.
Either your Pokemon is misbehaving and using moves when it shouldn't (and it's not in its Pokeball either, tut tut), or a massive flash of light just came from outside. But it was followed only by an eerie silence (Not an Eevee silence. Eevees make noises too. #talkingaboutpokemon). No rain. No nothing. And having badly abused a double negative here, I apologise to all of the Grammar Nazis I share my part of the internet with. I also advise said Grammar Nazis that caring too much about other people's grammar, especially on the internet where use of much more informal text happens (and why shouldn't it?), can show that your priorities are somewhat skewed if you point it out.
This initial flash of light aroused my curiosity and fascination. I looked about my room, but nothing appeared to be able to cause it.
Another flash, and then another. This reminded me that I had no idea what was happening, and if anything was powerful enough to flash so brightly, it was powerful enough to do some real damage. Fascination underwent evolution into abject terror in a few seconds. And terror generally means curling up and hiding under the duvet.
Except it didn't. Fear had the same effect as curiosity: to see what the fuck was going on. Maybe it was just some problem with the streetlamp. Mundane, practical, boring explanation, but sensible and realistic. Maybe.
The source was indeterminable.
It wasn't the streetlamp.
Now it was time to hide behind a pillow. Bury my face in it to check whether the flashes came from my own eyes, forgetting that they definitely came from outside no matter which way I looked. The results of this experiment were inconclusive - I didn't bury my face well enough. Logic completely left me for a long holiday.
Some of this logic eventually returned. Turning my light back on was a far better move than just hugging a pillow to death. I thought about picking up another book. I looked about the books in my room, thinking about which one to read. A flash of light proceeded, and with it, came a very quiet noise. Was it thunder? Very softly-spoken thunder, if so. But that boosted me back to the window. Maybe this stuff was actually lightning, and, if so, maybe there'd be a bit of rain soon. All I saw was swirling dust as the hand out of my window stayed as dry as it ever was with all that blood passing through it.
I waited, I moved, I looked out of the open window. On the side of my face, a little cool droplet appeared. Cue thunder. Cue rain.
Fear changed to sheer delight. Nothing to care about anymore. The storm was a storm and so it should be.
Now I was tired.
Thursday, 4 September 2014
Doodles
Writing can get a bit difficult. Doodles are always fun.
Apparently it's insulting when you apologize to a shoe (an object that has a useful purpose in protecting your feet) but not to some dumb-ass cat (which you didn't kick, but you did kick the shoe, and kicking is something one apologizes for, so what you did remains a mystery). The cat doesn't care - it's a cat. The shoe does.
This will be really badly translated.
Yes, I put 'This will be really badly translated' through Bad Translator. And it gave 'This is a poor translation' back. Hmm.
We're forgetting something. Something important.
Ahh, that's more like it. That cake doesn't actually have any calories in. Because it's an image on your screen.
Thursday, 28 August 2014
Why Do Asexuals...
I rather enjoyed doing the google questions a very short while back, and I like answering questions, so guys, if you have a question, ask. Or just eat cake. I don't know - what do you do for fun? Answering questions, and so I'm going to answer some.
I have a few answers: some assuming that some great deity exists, and one that doesn't. So you can pick:
a) Asexuals exist because of the same reasons that variation occurs in humans as a whole. And because of the same reasons that a variety of sexual orientations exist.
b) A great deity saw the state of the world and decided that too many people were obsessed with sex, sex, sex, and decided to do something about it.
c) A great deity thought that the world could do with more bakers. (see next question)
d) This great deity is asexual themselves but couldn't model the world to their specifications (perhaps there's a world-creating committee and they decide what happens on each world) so decided to create some asexy awesomeness as their contribution.
Aces like cake. Cake can be enjoyed in small pieces. People don't think you're odd for not liking, enjoying, or eating cake. Cake is a pleasant and delightful thing to eat, and it's also enjoyable while baking and making it, and making and baking cake is fairly productive too. Cake is everything awesome that we need in our lives and it's very cool.
And cakes don't talk either.
Depends entirely on the asexual person in question, but the black ring is a sign of asexuality. Generally it's on the middle finger of the right hand, but some aces prefer to have theirs on other fingers.
When I finally get myself a black ring, I'm going to call it my Ring Of Power. Or Fluffy, even though it won't be fluffy. If I'm going for anything, it's going to be simple.
I'm going to stab these two at the same time. But not literally. That would break my laptop.
But first:
Sexual attraction: "Hey, I'd really like to do 'it' with that person,"
Romantic attraction: "Hey, I think I'd like to have a few dates and a relationship with them,"
Note: these terms are somewhat subjective and I haven't even got started on sensual and aesthetic attraction yet, which are doubly subjective and somewhat disputed too. But anyway.
Asexual people don't experience sexual attraction. It's not in their nature. But romantic attraction? It depends on the ace. Plenty of aces experience romantic attraction and do wish to be in a romantic relationship. Ergo, why they date, and even marry. They may get involved with other aces, or with sexual people (A good amount of being open about feelings can go a long way here).
...And plenty of others, like myself, have no interest in such an area. And as long as we're happy, we're fine.
Thursday, 21 August 2014
Thursday, 14 August 2014
I Don't Know...
...how I got a B in Physics Unit 4. The paper was really evil in itself and should have been killed with fire.
(Still got a C overall in Physics, though, but that's fair enough considering the other grades)
This morning before going in I was all like this:
I slipped into my persona of confidence (who also has her own name but is still attached to me) and walked in and got my A*AC which I needed for my university.
Happy Results, one and all!
(Still got a C overall in Physics, though, but that's fair enough considering the other grades)
This morning before going in I was all like this:
I slipped into my persona of confidence (who also has her own name but is still attached to me) and walked in and got my A*AC which I needed for my university.
Happy Results, one and all!
Thursday, 7 August 2014
Questions from Google
Okay Google, what is...
Your IP address is 123.45.232.45 if it is. It is unlikely to be.
Halal meat is meat prepared in a certain way that appeals to the Islamic market.
The minimum wage varies by country. According to gov.uk, it's £6.31 for a 21 year old or older (but it says 2013 so...). For us 18-20 year olds it's £5.03. We're cheaper.
Love is a feeling between people. Often people take it only as romantic love but there's other kinds of love too and that should always be remembered.
Where is my...
Your meerkat is trying to escape and you should let it. They don't make very good pets anyway.
Your passport should be where you last left it. If it isn't, someone's been organising your house, and it could be you.
If you even need to ask Google that, you really are not doing yourself any favours.
Do it yourself:
a) Measure yourself on some bathroom scales.
b) If you need to, convert the measurement to kilograms (there are online converters that do this)
c) Multiply by 9.8(1) using a calculator, and you have your weight in Newtons. On the surface of Earth, anyway.
Most likely Windows, or possibly iOS. (Linux users wouldn't need to Google it, I hope)
Alice. Or Bob.
Looking at it for fun or because you're serious? For fun only: Okay, cool. Serious: you're taking it all too seriously and you shouldn't really because when you're born has little effect on your day-to-day life. Your birthday comes once a year. Not every day.
Thursday, 31 July 2014
Minim
Hi. I'm Minim.
I wear glasses and have a long plait, neither of which you can tell by my doodles:
I'm young for some of you and ancient for others - but if you think I am ancient I question your parents' judgement for allowing you to read this blog in the first place - at least, not without checking it out first by themselves (although I guess the doodles look kid-friendly for the most part, and for the most part, they are, and if you think I'm ancient, you're not likely to be the most advanced reader anyway. Unless you're like me and auto-didactic in that area (and holy carp I managed to spell auto-didactic correctly first time round - I didn't even do that with 'correctly' when I was writing this just now!) in which case, when someone tries to irk you off with an 'I didn't know you could read' you can tell them that you were - or you could just carry on reading like I did, and then live with that regret). That's a lot of bracket.
My biological sex is female. I'm an agender aromantic asexual agnostic atheist. That's a lot of A-words. (And yes, I'm an agnostic atheist, I don't believe there's a God, but I can't be certain that there is one) I'm also atypical as opposed to the norm (I'm most likely a touch autistic as a few people familiar to autism have concluded), apathetic about a few topics (aren't we all? Okay, I'm apathetic about clothing - unless I'm actively looking to make an impression, which, most of the time, I'm not. I'm also apathetic about other stuff), and, in my unverified opinion, awesome. (Well, it's better then beating myself up over my flaws all of the time, and I don't forget that I have flaws, either)
I have two sisters, one brother, and they're all older than me (I call them Quaver, Semibreve, and Crotchet on this blog respectively - keep up the musical notes theme). I have parents, they're separated, and it feels just very much normal, as is the experience of living. (And if you don't believe that, then you're more of a pain than the situation is, because I simply don't care - and possibly because I had my own computer at my dad's place from an age that was, in retrospect, a bit too early, but I never minded)
I don't know why I'm making this particular post, but then, I never do about any post. I'm just doing to play some hotdogs on my carefully organised sand now. Or something.
(Not the best end to the post, I note. But then, good endings aren't always possible or plausible)
I wear glasses and have a long plait, neither of which you can tell by my doodles:
My biological sex is female. I'm an agender aromantic asexual agnostic atheist. That's a lot of A-words. (And yes, I'm an agnostic atheist, I don't believe there's a God, but I can't be certain that there is one) I'm also atypical as opposed to the norm (I'm most likely a touch autistic as a few people familiar to autism have concluded), apathetic about a few topics (aren't we all? Okay, I'm apathetic about clothing - unless I'm actively looking to make an impression, which, most of the time, I'm not. I'm also apathetic about other stuff), and, in my unverified opinion, awesome. (Well, it's better then beating myself up over my flaws all of the time, and I don't forget that I have flaws, either)
I have two sisters, one brother, and they're all older than me (I call them Quaver, Semibreve, and Crotchet on this blog respectively - keep up the musical notes theme). I have parents, they're separated, and it feels just very much normal, as is the experience of living. (And if you don't believe that, then you're more of a pain than the situation is, because I simply don't care - and possibly because I had my own computer at my dad's place from an age that was, in retrospect, a bit too early, but I never minded)
I don't know why I'm making this particular post, but then, I never do about any post. I'm just doing to play some hotdogs on my carefully organised sand now. Or something.
(Not the best end to the post, I note. But then, good endings aren't always possible or plausible)
Thursday, 24 July 2014
Letters to Technology
Dear Java,
If you want to update all of the time, then why not have an update service that actually works, rather than just a bit of a nuisance every time someone logs in? Seriously, it doesn't give anyone a good impression of you.
-Minim
Dear laptop,
Okay, I'll acquire for you a new battery. Just please stop that light flashing at me.
-Minim
Dear Sheep,
You're an old game, but I still love you. And I still get frustrated at you because sheep are mindless creatures and they get themselves killed easily, but it's all relative.
-Minim
Dear Smartphones,
My little device that's definitely not a smartphone is a lot more durable than you. You might want to think about that a minute.
-Minim
Dear Internet,
Thank you for existing! You really help enhance my life.
-Minim
And a little extra:
If you want to update all of the time, then why not have an update service that actually works, rather than just a bit of a nuisance every time someone logs in? Seriously, it doesn't give anyone a good impression of you.
-Minim
Dear laptop,
Okay, I'll acquire for you a new battery. Just please stop that light flashing at me.
-Minim
Dear Sheep,
You're an old game, but I still love you. And I still get frustrated at you because sheep are mindless creatures and they get themselves killed easily, but it's all relative.
-Minim
Dear Smartphones,
My little device that's definitely not a smartphone is a lot more durable than you. You might want to think about that a minute.
-Minim
Dear Internet,
Thank you for existing! You really help enhance my life.
-Minim
And a little extra:
Thursday, 17 July 2014
Greenfields
Life is always better with an ice-cream soda in hand, perched in a seat with a few other people around, all quietly enjoying themselves with some minor chatter about what they've bought in their trip into town, or reading a newspaper, or maybe they're writing in their notebooks. Or am I the only person doing that? It's not busy, but we're nowhere near lunchtime yet, so it'll likely get busier later.
While my particular love is of a coke with a bit of ice-cream on the top, which, I note, is a bit like Butterbeer, others go for a simple lemonade, a nice pot of tea, or a cup of coffee. Lemonade is cool, but a cup of tea is not my cup of tea (try to untangle that one, and then tell me I shouldn't be literal-minded!) and I'd only drink coffee if you paid me a million pounds (anyone want to see that and got the cash to spare?). Tea and Coffee lovers need those drinks in the morning to give them a big boost, but not of the chocolate variety.
A nice meal can be had, too, or even just a plate of chips. A father and daughter may choose to share a plate between them and play Pick Up Chips, a game not unlike Pick Up Sticks, with the bonus that you get to eat the results, and they are lovely (and possibly weighted towards the daughter, but as I'm talking about myself a fair while ago, I don't particularly care). Chips are a beautiful counter-act to the mouth freeze that ice-cream may give you, and the soda can cool your mouth down after it's warm from chips, encouraging a beautiful cycle of sweet treat and and... well, chips.
This would be the place we would go to after a decent shop around town. After going around all the shops, like, for instance, Tiger, and Lush (these two both came in later though) and Thorntons and maybe picking up yet another pair of glasses at Specsavers (I've had a few of those in my time, and it's my eyes who are at fault here, after they made an optician think I was lying because they were that bad/evil because I'm not that good at lying and I was a million times worse back then), and if there was a Lego Store in my town centre I would go to that too only my town centre isn't the greatest anyway and there is no Lego Store here (but there is one not a million miles away and you can always buy Lego over the internet or in other shops), but after doing all of your shopping, you could go here and take a break. And there are better shopping places, in better areas, but none of them have the bonus of a stopping point I've loved to go to since before I remember.
And in the days before I remember, I was much more inclined to have hissy fits because I couldn't have my way, and I had one over us not going there even though we were in town. My tiny mind at that point hadn't yet come to grips with the fact that having a temper tantrum in the middle of town was not a good way to conduct yourself, and were very much a sure way that you would not get whatever you desired, as the mother's foot that gets put down stays put down. She'll just let you yell your head off right there, and no amount of cajoling, crying, moaning, arguing, persuading, begging, whining, screaming, shouting, yelling, weeping, yelping, barking or just generally being a pain in the arse is going to unstick that foot from the ground, however much nothingness is in an atom.
A nice little corner of a shopping centre: now that's my style.
While my particular love is of a coke with a bit of ice-cream on the top, which, I note, is a bit like Butterbeer, others go for a simple lemonade, a nice pot of tea, or a cup of coffee. Lemonade is cool, but a cup of tea is not my cup of tea (try to untangle that one, and then tell me I shouldn't be literal-minded!) and I'd only drink coffee if you paid me a million pounds (anyone want to see that and got the cash to spare?). Tea and Coffee lovers need those drinks in the morning to give them a big boost, but not of the chocolate variety.
A nice meal can be had, too, or even just a plate of chips. A father and daughter may choose to share a plate between them and play Pick Up Chips, a game not unlike Pick Up Sticks, with the bonus that you get to eat the results, and they are lovely (and possibly weighted towards the daughter, but as I'm talking about myself a fair while ago, I don't particularly care). Chips are a beautiful counter-act to the mouth freeze that ice-cream may give you, and the soda can cool your mouth down after it's warm from chips, encouraging a beautiful cycle of sweet treat and and... well, chips.
This would be the place we would go to after a decent shop around town. After going around all the shops, like, for instance, Tiger, and Lush (these two both came in later though) and Thorntons and maybe picking up yet another pair of glasses at Specsavers (I've had a few of those in my time, and it's my eyes who are at fault here, after they made an optician think I was lying because they were that bad/evil because I'm not that good at lying and I was a million times worse back then), and if there was a Lego Store in my town centre I would go to that too only my town centre isn't the greatest anyway and there is no Lego Store here (but there is one not a million miles away and you can always buy Lego over the internet or in other shops), but after doing all of your shopping, you could go here and take a break. And there are better shopping places, in better areas, but none of them have the bonus of a stopping point I've loved to go to since before I remember.
And in the days before I remember, I was much more inclined to have hissy fits because I couldn't have my way, and I had one over us not going there even though we were in town. My tiny mind at that point hadn't yet come to grips with the fact that having a temper tantrum in the middle of town was not a good way to conduct yourself, and were very much a sure way that you would not get whatever you desired, as the mother's foot that gets put down stays put down. She'll just let you yell your head off right there, and no amount of cajoling, crying, moaning, arguing, persuading, begging, whining, screaming, shouting, yelling, weeping, yelping, barking or just generally being a pain in the arse is going to unstick that foot from the ground, however much nothingness is in an atom.
A nice little corner of a shopping centre: now that's my style.
Thursday, 10 July 2014
A Block
Today, my brain is all out of inspiration...
...for this blog post.
The story running around in there, the fanfic, that's still inspiring like crazy. I want to know what happens with these characters, the original and practically original characters who've turned up, and how the established characters will deal with it also as they're a bit older.
I have never known a block to be that specific.
100% of bloggers in this house are having that difficulty. Well, as far as I know, I'm the only blogger in this house, so that's easy for me to say. 100% of people in this house are related to each other. 75% of girls in my Further Maths class this year were also in my Physics class. 33% of the Maths teachers I had this year were considered to be the God of Maths by my FM class.
The sample sizes there weren't very large. And the sample sizes of surveys advertised for companies who want to sell you stuff don't tend to be much better, and you don't know who they are either, but who they are may have a certain impact on the data.
I'd look awesome with a portal gun, especially with my waterfall of hair that can hurt a bit if I sit on it the wrong way.
Often I clap once in enthusiasm or joy or something like that (I clap more after a show is finished, I promise!). I can do that wrong sometimes and it hurts a bit, but it didn't hurt either although to my brother it sounded bone-breaking.
Snakes are cool.
Lizards are cool.
But you still won't find a snake wearing a fez. Or maybe you would. I have no idea. Maybe if I mention it someone with the right skills and the time and a more advanced program than MS Pain - I mean Paint! I mean Paint! Even if MS is being a pain with the updates thing! - will concoct an image. Or at least Google it.
Hey, I found a whole Drawception game of snakes wearing fezzes. Go enjoy!
...for this blog post.
The story running around in there, the fanfic, that's still inspiring like crazy. I want to know what happens with these characters, the original and practically original characters who've turned up, and how the established characters will deal with it also as they're a bit older.
I have never known a block to be that specific.
100% of bloggers in this house are having that difficulty. Well, as far as I know, I'm the only blogger in this house, so that's easy for me to say. 100% of people in this house are related to each other. 75% of girls in my Further Maths class this year were also in my Physics class. 33% of the Maths teachers I had this year were considered to be the God of Maths by my FM class.
The sample sizes there weren't very large. And the sample sizes of surveys advertised for companies who want to sell you stuff don't tend to be much better, and you don't know who they are either, but who they are may have a certain impact on the data.
I'd look awesome with a portal gun, especially with my waterfall of hair that can hurt a bit if I sit on it the wrong way.
Often I clap once in enthusiasm or joy or something like that (I clap more after a show is finished, I promise!). I can do that wrong sometimes and it hurts a bit, but it didn't hurt either although to my brother it sounded bone-breaking.
Snakes are cool.
Lizards are cool.
But you still won't find a snake wearing a fez. Or maybe you would. I have no idea. Maybe if I mention it someone with the right skills and the time and a more advanced program than MS Pain - I mean Paint! I mean Paint! Even if MS is being a pain with the updates thing! - will concoct an image. Or at least Google it.
Hey, I found a whole Drawception game of snakes wearing fezzes. Go enjoy!
Thursday, 3 July 2014
"Do You Want A Boyfriend?"
"Do you want a boyfriend?"
No.
"Don't you want to get married?"
No.
"But don't you want kids?"
Not really, no.
"But when you're old, won't you be lonely?"
No.
The world is made up of people, and a vast majority of those people are into sex and relationships and who's hot and who's sexy and damn would I tap that ass. (whatever people mean by that, I have no idea!)
I know I've joked about my misunderstanding of 'hot' (as in good-looking, attractive sort of thing rather than uncomfortably warm, as I used to always presume) but the actual scene itself wasn't just about that misunderstanding, but also about another part of my life.
I was 11-12, and a couple of my mates were on a computer in a classroom, looking at this gallery of 'hot guys.' They were all fairly famous people. They asked me about a few of them, and after the expected literal sense, (and going through the same literalness with the word 'fit' too), I only thought 'meh.' There was nothing really interesting to fawn over like these girls so obviously were, it was all just skin and eyes and hair and you can see that sort of thing easily at your local park or museum or library or your next door neighbour's house. All such venues also have something else to bring you there to as well, from taking a walk to catching up with a friend. Nothing special about their looks.
These mates would go on to have crushes and such while I would be there, just thinking "I could not give a shit." Romance was far from my mind as I talked to people in general. I've never cared about romance, particularly, it was all dull and weird and why anyone would want it when it creates a whole lot of faff for little reason, nope, not a clue. Most people are fulfilled by it, I know now, but I am not one of those people. Lots of people are fulfilled by sex also, but I know I won't be. My life isn't worse off for the lack of these things. True, I may never fall into romantic love with that random person I connect to for some strange reason, but I will also never be dumped by that person either, I won't have to waste endless energy trying to impress people in that way, and I can concentrate on other stuff I actually enjoy, instead, (like writing this blog now!) no taking partners into consideration.
Unfortunately, the world is biased against people who just couldn't care less. I must have had a million conversations in High School like the one above, where classmates - usually girls - don't seem able to comprehend any path that isn't along the lines of get married, have children. They seemed to be under the impression that you can't be happy without going on this path, well, some of us will be happier going a different way. The world wants babies, but we have enough of those already. Too many people think that you have to be attracted to someone somewhere, that everyone wants a relationship like that. They're wrong.
This is your asexual, aromantic blogger, signing off.
(Anyone interested in further information may like to check out AVEN - the Asexual Visibility and Education Network)
No.
"Don't you want to get married?"
No.
"But don't you want kids?"
Not really, no.
"But when you're old, won't you be lonely?"
No.
The world is made up of people, and a vast majority of those people are into sex and relationships and who's hot and who's sexy and damn would I tap that ass. (whatever people mean by that, I have no idea!)
I know I've joked about my misunderstanding of 'hot' (as in good-looking, attractive sort of thing rather than uncomfortably warm, as I used to always presume) but the actual scene itself wasn't just about that misunderstanding, but also about another part of my life.
I was 11-12, and a couple of my mates were on a computer in a classroom, looking at this gallery of 'hot guys.' They were all fairly famous people. They asked me about a few of them, and after the expected literal sense, (and going through the same literalness with the word 'fit' too), I only thought 'meh.' There was nothing really interesting to fawn over like these girls so obviously were, it was all just skin and eyes and hair and you can see that sort of thing easily at your local park or museum or library or your next door neighbour's house. All such venues also have something else to bring you there to as well, from taking a walk to catching up with a friend. Nothing special about their looks.
These mates would go on to have crushes and such while I would be there, just thinking "I could not give a shit." Romance was far from my mind as I talked to people in general. I've never cared about romance, particularly, it was all dull and weird and why anyone would want it when it creates a whole lot of faff for little reason, nope, not a clue. Most people are fulfilled by it, I know now, but I am not one of those people. Lots of people are fulfilled by sex also, but I know I won't be. My life isn't worse off for the lack of these things. True, I may never fall into romantic love with that random person I connect to for some strange reason, but I will also never be dumped by that person either, I won't have to waste endless energy trying to impress people in that way, and I can concentrate on other stuff I actually enjoy, instead, (like writing this blog now!) no taking partners into consideration.
Unfortunately, the world is biased against people who just couldn't care less. I must have had a million conversations in High School like the one above, where classmates - usually girls - don't seem able to comprehend any path that isn't along the lines of get married, have children. They seemed to be under the impression that you can't be happy without going on this path, well, some of us will be happier going a different way. The world wants babies, but we have enough of those already. Too many people think that you have to be attracted to someone somewhere, that everyone wants a relationship like that. They're wrong.
This is your asexual, aromantic blogger, signing off.
(Anyone interested in further information may like to check out AVEN - the Asexual Visibility and Education Network)
Thursday, 26 June 2014
Important
Whenever you're procrastinating on writing your blog...
...for any reason...
...never ever get yourself lost on Cracked or TVTropes.
Ever.
Funnily enough, after finishing my array of exams, inspiration on the blog side has dried up somewhat. Apart from this image:
That's one reason you shouldn't have long hair.
But long hair is goddamned awesome, so who cares?
...for any reason...
...never ever get yourself lost on Cracked or TVTropes.
Ever.
Funnily enough, after finishing my array of exams, inspiration on the blog side has dried up somewhat. Apart from this image:
But long hair is goddamned awesome, so who cares?
Thursday, 19 June 2014
Just One More
Exams are nearly over,
What we've all been waiting for.
Physics is completely done,
And now there is just one more.
And then a long summer,
to write and write and write,
And play games, and do stuff,
No deadlines to keep tight.
I am not a poet,
Just a fan of Maths.
And also lots of other things,
Like some crazy gaffs.
What we've all been waiting for.
Physics is completely done,
And now there is just one more.
And then a long summer,
to write and write and write,
And play games, and do stuff,
No deadlines to keep tight.
I am not a poet,
Just a fan of Maths.
And also lots of other things,
Like some crazy gaffs.
Thursday, 12 June 2014
Thursday, 5 June 2014
Thursday, 29 May 2014
Large Font
I'm taking today off. Instead, take this page of large font writing.
Large fonts are typically used by students to disguise the fact that they have not written much. It is a fairly common happening in a school situation where a teacher does not specify the font and font size of a piece of work.
Teachers rarely ever specify these things. Especially not supply teachers.
For schoolwork I almost always use size 12. Other students will amp this up to 14, 16 or even 18. And a paragraph in size 12 looks diminished compared to these larger fonts so it will look as if I've done less.
And so about 1,500 words looks like just a 'beginning' to the work (that might be wanting about 4,000 words - and boy will they be shocked when you say this!) - the teacher is used to size 14. Two and a bit pages in 12 pt Times New Roman turns into 3 and a half pages of 14 pt Verdana (16 pt goes to 4 and a half). A significant difference.
So, teachers, make your text fonts standard. Before you really annoy someone.
Large fonts are typically used by students to disguise the fact that they have not written much. It is a fairly common happening in a school situation where a teacher does not specify the font and font size of a piece of work.
Teachers rarely ever specify these things. Especially not supply teachers.
For schoolwork I almost always use size 12. Other students will amp this up to 14, 16 or even 18. And a paragraph in size 12 looks diminished compared to these larger fonts so it will look as if I've done less.
And so about 1,500 words looks like just a 'beginning' to the work (that might be wanting about 4,000 words - and boy will they be shocked when you say this!) - the teacher is used to size 14. Two and a bit pages in 12 pt Times New Roman turns into 3 and a half pages of 14 pt Verdana (16 pt goes to 4 and a half). A significant difference.
So, teachers, make your text fonts standard. Before you really annoy someone.
Thursday, 22 May 2014
A Question Of PE
Physical Education: welcome to the most trialing lesson there is.
Stick a load of 9 year olds together and get two of them to pick people in their class to be on their teams. What happens?
Well, somebody's got to be always last.
Get those teams to play football. What happens? Miss Always-picked-last is enthusiastic and wants to be part of it. Trouble is, she can't even kick the ball right, let alone pass it to someone else on her team, so she's usually left out of the action.
Try some rounders instead. What happens? Miss Always-picked-last rarely gets the chance to bat because of the sheer number of people on her team. She always misses anyway and she's slow around the posts so it doesn't really matter. And on field, her catching is mediocre and her throwing at the same level.
Okay, ditch the teams. Move onto badminton. Try a rally like this one:
Try it without any instruction on serving. What happens? Miss Always-picked-last misses the shuttlecock and then fails on serving several times before passing the shuttlecock over the net to the next person by hand, causing her enough embarrassment that would make her give up on sport if her unrealistically optimistic enthusiasm never got in the way.
The result of all this? One halfway-good game of cricket makes her think that she must be brilliant at this despite having played before with little success, and this leads her to give up time every week to go to an arranged group that was really supposed to be for people who were decent at this game. And then get disparaged when she found she wasn't all that good. Tch.
Cue high school. A larger range of activities, proper instruction in lessons, more time devoted to the skills in each sport rather than just playing it. And when they did play it, it was more common that the teachers did the team organizing themselves rather than letting two kids pick their groups. There were also a lot more times where teams weren't needed in the first place. It was better all around, and Miss Always-picked-last even spent time going to sporty clubs in her second year of high school (Dance, Trampolining, and Badminton). She had far more realistic expectations of her own abilities and could enjoy these activities as they stood.
The problem is, loads of schools don't have the space to host varying activities. Loads of schools don't have the equipment to bring a variety of both team and individual sports to the table of PE so that kids who have difficulties with the mainstream sports (which almost always are team sports and rely on the kid's classmates to be fair - which will never happen) can find something that they enjoy. PE as a lesson is often tailored for the kids who already are playing footie at the bottom of the playground, and doing extra activities, rather than those who don't do much extra. And a good proportion of those who don't do extra activities are driven in to school and spend their free time on video games and watching TV (or just sitting/standing around in the playground at school). And the other proportion are klutzes like me who do get exercise but who don't particularly perform well in sports for various reasons, and plenty of them are not impervious to that fact.
We have a problem with obesity at this very moment - and it's in kids as well as adults. And the answer to getting more kids to exercise, unfortunately, is not more PE, in the current state of the subject. It's better PE, and a change in parental attitude as well. Better PE means doing a variety of activities that will get kids interested and engaged, and will help less sporty kids find an activity they well may like. Not everything can be done in a school, of course, but you can be creative with the supplies you have, and focus on the techniques of each sport you can accommodate for. And finding an enthusiasm for a sport can lead to the kid going to extra activities. And the change in parental attitude? Walk the kids to school, don't drive them. (or in the case of high school pupils, let them walk by themselves) If this is an impossibility due to practical reasons (the school's more than a 45 minute walk away), then take a walk with the kids at some point every day, even if it's just 10 minutes. Get into the habit of walking daily, and the kids will too.
After all, a little exercise goes a long way.
Stick a load of 9 year olds together and get two of them to pick people in their class to be on their teams. What happens?
Get those teams to play football. What happens? Miss Always-picked-last is enthusiastic and wants to be part of it. Trouble is, she can't even kick the ball right, let alone pass it to someone else on her team, so she's usually left out of the action.
Try some rounders instead. What happens? Miss Always-picked-last rarely gets the chance to bat because of the sheer number of people on her team. She always misses anyway and she's slow around the posts so it doesn't really matter. And on field, her catching is mediocre and her throwing at the same level.
Okay, ditch the teams. Move onto badminton. Try a rally like this one:
Try it without any instruction on serving. What happens? Miss Always-picked-last misses the shuttlecock and then fails on serving several times before passing the shuttlecock over the net to the next person by hand, causing her enough embarrassment that would make her give up on sport if her unrealistically optimistic enthusiasm never got in the way.
The result of all this? One halfway-good game of cricket makes her think that she must be brilliant at this despite having played before with little success, and this leads her to give up time every week to go to an arranged group that was really supposed to be for people who were decent at this game. And then get disparaged when she found she wasn't all that good. Tch.
Cue high school. A larger range of activities, proper instruction in lessons, more time devoted to the skills in each sport rather than just playing it. And when they did play it, it was more common that the teachers did the team organizing themselves rather than letting two kids pick their groups. There were also a lot more times where teams weren't needed in the first place. It was better all around, and Miss Always-picked-last even spent time going to sporty clubs in her second year of high school (Dance, Trampolining, and Badminton). She had far more realistic expectations of her own abilities and could enjoy these activities as they stood.
The problem is, loads of schools don't have the space to host varying activities. Loads of schools don't have the equipment to bring a variety of both team and individual sports to the table of PE so that kids who have difficulties with the mainstream sports (which almost always are team sports and rely on the kid's classmates to be fair - which will never happen) can find something that they enjoy. PE as a lesson is often tailored for the kids who already are playing footie at the bottom of the playground, and doing extra activities, rather than those who don't do much extra. And a good proportion of those who don't do extra activities are driven in to school and spend their free time on video games and watching TV (or just sitting/standing around in the playground at school). And the other proportion are klutzes like me who do get exercise but who don't particularly perform well in sports for various reasons, and plenty of them are not impervious to that fact.
We have a problem with obesity at this very moment - and it's in kids as well as adults. And the answer to getting more kids to exercise, unfortunately, is not more PE, in the current state of the subject. It's better PE, and a change in parental attitude as well. Better PE means doing a variety of activities that will get kids interested and engaged, and will help less sporty kids find an activity they well may like. Not everything can be done in a school, of course, but you can be creative with the supplies you have, and focus on the techniques of each sport you can accommodate for. And finding an enthusiasm for a sport can lead to the kid going to extra activities. And the change in parental attitude? Walk the kids to school, don't drive them. (or in the case of high school pupils, let them walk by themselves) If this is an impossibility due to practical reasons (the school's more than a 45 minute walk away), then take a walk with the kids at some point every day, even if it's just 10 minutes. Get into the habit of walking daily, and the kids will too.
After all, a little exercise goes a long way.
Thursday, 15 May 2014
Notebook
It is not uncommon for me to have a notebook with me. It's a space I can write, doodle, list things freely, without commenting.
I have my current notebook with me at the moment, so I'm obviously going to explore it.
I bought it about a year ago. It has a translucent, stripey cover to it, and through it you can clearly read what I wrote on the pages on the outside (which were the only unlined pages and probably were supposed to remain blank, but never mind). My name and ID number are clearly visible on the front page, as is my blog address and my doodles. Also, the words "Don't Panic!" and underneath, in brackets, 'large, friendly letters.'
On the other side of the blank page is a false copyright (is that bad?) and a warning.
And then, the first page has stolen words on it.
Up next, story planning. Thoughts about characters I'd made up, the children of characters well-established in another series of books. Or grandchildren, or those who know these children and grandchildren. And then, three word definitions. Then, a small excerpt of an alternate universe to a book series. A doodle. And then a lot of crossed-out arithmetic. And then, a load of website recommendations, with this blog at the top. In fact, this notebook gets a lot of mentions of my blog. Like it's "Minim's Pad, Part 2" or something.
And here at the end of a list of things to Google, it says 'and anything else you want to google.' Well, that's something to do.
Names list comes next (oh, look, what a surprise...), and doodles and randomness again fill the day. Including doodles like this:
I have my current notebook with me at the moment, so I'm obviously going to explore it.
I bought it about a year ago. It has a translucent, stripey cover to it, and through it you can clearly read what I wrote on the pages on the outside (which were the only unlined pages and probably were supposed to remain blank, but never mind). My name and ID number are clearly visible on the front page, as is my blog address and my doodles. Also, the words "Don't Panic!" and underneath, in brackets, 'large, friendly letters.'
On the other side of the blank page is a false copyright (is that bad?) and a warning.
Because it's not 'actually' copyrighted, if you dare attempt to steal my ideas, you pulchritudinous pig, then the spiders will get you. (Unless you've got a cat. Then the cat will be reprogrammed and then the spiders will get you)Underneath this, two spiders. That'll stop them, I'm sure.
And then, the first page has stolen words on it.
Up next, story planning. Thoughts about characters I'd made up, the children of characters well-established in another series of books. Or grandchildren, or those who know these children and grandchildren. And then, three word definitions. Then, a small excerpt of an alternate universe to a book series. A doodle. And then a lot of crossed-out arithmetic. And then, a load of website recommendations, with this blog at the top. In fact, this notebook gets a lot of mentions of my blog. Like it's "Minim's Pad, Part 2" or something.
And here at the end of a list of things to Google, it says 'and anything else you want to google.' Well, that's something to do.
Names list comes next (oh, look, what a surprise...), and doodles and randomness again fill the day. Including doodles like this:
Another quote: "For shameless self promotion I will write minimspad.blogspot.co.uk again and again and again."
Next, some notes I have on a game I don't have any more, some green writing that is slightly morbid, then some writing in various random colours. Then a 'page for penning' which does not have all that much 'penning' on it. Then a page on xkcd (Because when it's not self-promotion it's promotion of xkcd *sigh*) and then more names because a minim notebook without names lists is a minim notebook without names lists. One was started on 2013-06-10. I know because it tells me what yesterday's date was. The next page boldly starts "Project Proposal" but it's only a note as to who to send it to. And at that point I had little idea what problems said 'project' might hold and I was all for it.
The next several pages contain comics. One of a coach journey has various people talking, and one of them is saying "Help. This chair was drawn incorrectly." Little follow up:
After the comics, this little bit of weirdness:
if newYear = 1:
print("Happy New Year!")
elif newYear > 1:
print("What the hell?!")
else:
print("You can't restart your life today.")
More randomness follows, with a boast of "I have a left-handed ruler." Guess what I had just received? Then, more comics.
Later, a book list that started off well but never got past one book. And then, in response to the advert that came out after the National Lottery decided to raise the price of a ticket to £2 rather than the £1 it was at:
We're justifying
The rise in pricing
To those who're buying
on Saturday.
This is just under a doodle of house roofs. Not long after, there is a rant. I was trying to sum up why I want to Maths at university:
-logical and systematic and beautiful.
-Other than that I have no fucking idea. I just like it?
Later on, I also mention that I have "very good procrastination skills." I was trying to do points for my personal statement, but at the time I was so frustrated with it because I had little idea about myself, and you need a good idea of yourself to write a personal statement.
A story in fragmented lines. And then some joking around with questions from lessons.
Explain why the electric field strengths at two points, A and B, the same distance from a positive point charge, are not identical.
My answer? No.
Also, thou shall not post the flashy .gif without warning people first. I will not post the flashiness, this commandment is from one of my many ramblings about the xkcd comic Time and its dedicated thread.
Just remember, folks:
In a world of DARKNESS...
...there is a light.
...
...
Damn it, where's the switch?
Thursday, 8 May 2014
The Horrors of Groupwork
One of the worst things to hear in a classroom is "I'm going to put you into groups," or the even worse one "Get yourselves into groups." From the exact second this is uttered, you know you are doomed, and nothing will save you now!
The first nightmare is the one of knowing who your teammates will be. If it's a "get yourselves into groups" situation, this becomes the most embarrassing and awkward situation ever. You had to drum up the courage to actually ask somebody, and if they rejected you for having the amount of people needed already, it would be even harder to approach the next person - you would go by familiarity with the person, with the most familiar person first.
What's worse: The teacher calling the class out on it, citing it as bullying that you're left out, while all the time you just want to hide in the corner, and you're wondering how it is bullying exactly because you're sure that you've had plenty of worse problems with people and most of the time you're happy to work by yourself anyway.
And working by yourself is what happens when you end up in a group who just want to chat about films all of the time and not do any work. In these cases, where the work can be done by one person, it invariably will be. Where you need the group to work (like if you're mostly observing them so that you can light them up appropriately later), but you're the kind of girl who has a problem just asking someone a simple question (see above), this is definitely not going to work for you. Ever.
And what is also not going to work for you is where the group is actually a decent one, but the person taking leadership is pressing everyone else for ideas and saying that they're doing all of the hard work. Instant guilt trip for the person whose social inadeptness (is that a word? Well, all words are made up, and so are the rules surrounding them, so why do I need to care?) obscures their path into suggesting an idea they are unsure of anyway, and actually makes them less likely to say anything.
In summary: Groupwork doesn't teach you anything that teachers want you to learn. Also, you don't want to work with the person who is always distracted by people in other groups talking to her, and invariably ends up in arguments because her interpretations of social interactions is on the plane r.(3i+2j+k)=13 whereas most people's social plane is r.(2i-j+4k)=-6.
So, kids, be glad you're not working with me.
The first nightmare is the one of knowing who your teammates will be. If it's a "get yourselves into groups" situation, this becomes the most embarrassing and awkward situation ever. You had to drum up the courage to actually ask somebody, and if they rejected you for having the amount of people needed already, it would be even harder to approach the next person - you would go by familiarity with the person, with the most familiar person first.
What's worse: The teacher calling the class out on it, citing it as bullying that you're left out, while all the time you just want to hide in the corner, and you're wondering how it is bullying exactly because you're sure that you've had plenty of worse problems with people and most of the time you're happy to work by yourself anyway.
And working by yourself is what happens when you end up in a group who just want to chat about films all of the time and not do any work. In these cases, where the work can be done by one person, it invariably will be. Where you need the group to work (like if you're mostly observing them so that you can light them up appropriately later), but you're the kind of girl who has a problem just asking someone a simple question (see above), this is definitely not going to work for you. Ever.
And what is also not going to work for you is where the group is actually a decent one, but the person taking leadership is pressing everyone else for ideas and saying that they're doing all of the hard work. Instant guilt trip for the person whose social inadeptness (is that a word? Well, all words are made up, and so are the rules surrounding them, so why do I need to care?) obscures their path into suggesting an idea they are unsure of anyway, and actually makes them less likely to say anything.
In summary: Groupwork doesn't teach you anything that teachers want you to learn. Also, you don't want to work with the person who is always distracted by people in other groups talking to her, and invariably ends up in arguments because her interpretations of social interactions is on the plane r.(3i+2j+k)=13 whereas most people's social plane is r.(2i-j+4k)=-6.
So, kids, be glad you're not working with me.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
An Accurate Portrayal of My Thoughts and Feelings in Lessons
Ahh, lessons. The times where you were made to do whatever was planned by the teacher, or else manage while chaos reigned. So, let's get on with today's class, shall we? This is my teacher voice.
Maths
Year 4: "Fractions fractions fractions! I LOVE fractions!"
Year 8: "Those two boys I have to sit in between are both jerks and I don't know why they have to bother me all the time,"
Year 9: "My teacher is just fantastic!"
Year 10: *helps Year 11s*
Year 11: "Cool, I got an A. What, one mark off A*? Damn!" *one re-mark later* "Yay, A*! Now all I have to do is try and ignore all of the people in my class and do something productive, even when they're right up in my face!
English
Year 1: "Seriously? It's like I can't read! This is so dull."
Year 3: "I before e except after c," "How does the 'i before e' rule explain the word science?" "Oh no, that's different!"
Year 5: "Yay, stories!"
Year 7: "They've got me down as a 4b, but I thought I was a level 5..."
GCSE: "This class is a nightmare! Get me away from (some of) these people!"
AS-Level: "Ahh, this is real English Language,"
Science
Primary school: "Yay, experiments!"
Years 7+: "Not experiments!"
History
Year 5: "I want to learn about World War Two," *looks at it on the internet*
Year 6: "I want to learn about World War Two," *looks on the internet*
Repeat until
Year 9: "Yay, World War Two!"
Year 10: "I guess this stuff is interesting,"
Year 11: "Yay, stuff relevant to World War Two!"
Geography
Year 5: "This compass is not working." "That must be the broken one." "This map is not working."
Year 9: "Why are we doing this stuff that isn't even Geography? What is this stuff? Economics?"
Spanish
Year 7: "I'm not too bad at this stuff, but why do I have to share a class with these people?"
Year 10: "All this work, ugh,"
And that's all the time we have today, kids! Remember to do your homework!
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Don't Even Try
I have a warning out there to all human beings who wish to change my religious ideology:
Don't try to make me religious.
No, seriously, don't.
(For those who are interested, I am an agnostic/don't really care/a Timewaiter/an experimentalist atheist. I don't give a banana fudge souffle on what religion you follow, whether it be Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikh, or Pastafarianism - although I might enjoy your company a little more if you're of the last one)
I used to be solid atheist, mostly because of the people trying to make me otherwise. There were only a couple who actively tried to make me religious, but a few more brought it up and didn't seem to be able to leave it alone, and plenty more were shocked or surprised about it. I never particularly cared that people were shocked, in fact, I reveled in it after a while because it was just so predictable, so I knew what to expect. The pests who didn't like to leave it alone, well, they may have been patronizing in their tone, but they were only doing it to be entertained, so I didn't really care.
It was Mr I'm-going-to-make-you-religious that frustrated the pants off of me.
Mr I'm-going-to-make-you-religious (Or Mr I for short) was one of those people who used his religion as an excuse for bigotry. Mr I was a fan of women being forced to wear coverings on their head. Mr I also seemed to be a fan of stoning people to death if they don't conform.
All of this was revealed to me at a time when my thoughts and speech centres were even more disconnected then they are now. I had problems wording right (and often still do) which made conveying what I meant difficult.
('Wording right' is my phrase for 'not adequately being able to express my thoughts in a clear, grammatically correct, normal way, even though the thoughts themselves are about perfectly simple things such as wearing a head veil to be my choice.' It may seem grammatically incorrect, but when I've got my words all muddled in a case of not wording right, 'I can't word right' or similar is the only way I can tell anyone that this is the case)
Mr I also thought that I'd go to hell if I didn't believe in a God. I (now) understand the sentient behind this, but it's an attack that is not very effective when you're facing someone who doesn't believe in hell. But then, my attack of 'It should be my choice whether I should be religious or not' wasn't very effective either. It was like an ongoing Pokemon battle that was never going to go anywhere (as if you were trying to battle a particular old man...).
And it never did get anywhere. We both seem to have given up on the whole thing. Or at least, I didn't see him around for a year and since then we haven't talked much, so I doubt I'll need to start getting het up again.
And that's good, cause now I don't need to care. You can't change how I feel about religion, except in a way in which you don't want.
So don't even try.
Don't try to make me religious.
No, seriously, don't.
(For those who are interested, I am an agnostic/don't really care/a Timewaiter/an experimentalist atheist. I don't give a banana fudge souffle on what religion you follow, whether it be Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikh, or Pastafarianism - although I might enjoy your company a little more if you're of the last one)
I used to be solid atheist, mostly because of the people trying to make me otherwise. There were only a couple who actively tried to make me religious, but a few more brought it up and didn't seem to be able to leave it alone, and plenty more were shocked or surprised about it. I never particularly cared that people were shocked, in fact, I reveled in it after a while because it was just so predictable, so I knew what to expect. The pests who didn't like to leave it alone, well, they may have been patronizing in their tone, but they were only doing it to be entertained, so I didn't really care.
It was Mr I'm-going-to-make-you-religious that frustrated the pants off of me.
Mr I'm-going-to-make-you-religious (Or Mr I for short) was one of those people who used his religion as an excuse for bigotry. Mr I was a fan of women being forced to wear coverings on their head. Mr I also seemed to be a fan of stoning people to death if they don't conform.
All of this was revealed to me at a time when my thoughts and speech centres were even more disconnected then they are now. I had problems wording right (and often still do) which made conveying what I meant difficult.
('Wording right' is my phrase for 'not adequately being able to express my thoughts in a clear, grammatically correct, normal way, even though the thoughts themselves are about perfectly simple things such as wearing a head veil to be my choice.' It may seem grammatically incorrect, but when I've got my words all muddled in a case of not wording right, 'I can't word right' or similar is the only way I can tell anyone that this is the case)
Mr I also thought that I'd go to hell if I didn't believe in a God. I (now) understand the sentient behind this, but it's an attack that is not very effective when you're facing someone who doesn't believe in hell. But then, my attack of 'It should be my choice whether I should be religious or not' wasn't very effective either. It was like an ongoing Pokemon battle that was never going to go anywhere (as if you were trying to battle a particular old man...).
And it never did get anywhere. We both seem to have given up on the whole thing. Or at least, I didn't see him around for a year and since then we haven't talked much, so I doubt I'll need to start getting het up again.
And that's good, cause now I don't need to care. You can't change how I feel about religion, except in a way in which you don't want.
So don't even try.
Thursday, 3 April 2014
25-5
Recently this question was posed to me:
I see it differently. It's a calculation, and you can do the same calculation over and over again forever, if you wish. With an infinite amount of time and resources, you could do the problem forever indefinitely.
Let's consider something more realistic. If you were to do that calculation all day and night, without doing anything else, for the rest of your life, you would die in 3 days because you haven't had any fluid intake. If the calculation takes 2 seconds each time, you could do it 30 times in a minute, 1,800 times an hour, and 43,200 times in an entire day. So, in three days, you would do the calculation 129,600 times. Not too shabby.
Let's cut in time to eat and drink and sleep and survive. Let's assume that survival to a ripe old age means you have to spend 11 hours a day on it. That leaves 13 hours a day for calculating. In one day, this would be 23,400 times. And as life expectancy in the UK is about 80 years, if you did the calculation every day of your life, accounting for survival, you would do the calculation 683,280,000 times. That's quite a lot and it doesn't account for leap years, either, so it's slightly larger than that (or you decided to have a break every February 29th)
That's about how many times you could do the calculation.
Fun, isn't it?
The supposed answer is once, because then you'd only have 20.How many times can you subtract 5 from 25?
I see it differently. It's a calculation, and you can do the same calculation over and over again forever, if you wish. With an infinite amount of time and resources, you could do the problem forever indefinitely.
Let's consider something more realistic. If you were to do that calculation all day and night, without doing anything else, for the rest of your life, you would die in 3 days because you haven't had any fluid intake. If the calculation takes 2 seconds each time, you could do it 30 times in a minute, 1,800 times an hour, and 43,200 times in an entire day. So, in three days, you would do the calculation 129,600 times. Not too shabby.
Let's cut in time to eat and drink and sleep and survive. Let's assume that survival to a ripe old age means you have to spend 11 hours a day on it. That leaves 13 hours a day for calculating. In one day, this would be 23,400 times. And as life expectancy in the UK is about 80 years, if you did the calculation every day of your life, accounting for survival, you would do the calculation 683,280,000 times. That's quite a lot and it doesn't account for leap years, either, so it's slightly larger than that (or you decided to have a break every February 29th)
That's about how many times you could do the calculation.
Thursday, 27 March 2014
School Trips
School trips are cool. You get to get away from school for a bit and see other things for a change.
The day starts fairly normally (if an early start is not needed). Then, at some point, you get on a coach or bus of some description.
This was the fun bit. Being on the bus, looking forward to the day, not having to sit next to anyone except maybe the odd teacher who was with us on the journey. Looking out of the window and singing would be my two top activities on the coach. The worst bits were feeling a little bit coach sick, and, worse, when someone else was actually sick, which made me feel nauseous in response. However, that wasn't always common, and it wasn't a big deal.
At some point or another we would stop, as we were at the location we were supposed to be at. Cue a good likelihood of being impressed by my surroundings, or else the building we were going into.
Then the fun of the day would begin. Whether it was making pictures with sticks or watching badminton or just getting settled there for a couple of days (and doing all the stuff over that couple of days) it would still be cool.
And in any case the bus journey would be worth it.
And the missing lessons was also worth it.
Sometimes there would also be students from other schools who also attended the trip. These were the times when I was hopeful to find a buddy I could swap email addresses with. I didn't particularly have friends at high school (or even at primary) but I was hopeful that I'd meet someone nice (not really understanding that I'd have to Talk To People to do so; if I had realized that I wouldn't have been so hopeful).
School trips would end on the journey back. The journey back wasn't as good as the journey ahead (unless we'd just gone swimming and were heading back to primary with wet hair, or the time we were coming back from France and ate on the ferry), but it was just about the only decent ending to any trip.
Woohoo.
Thursday, 20 March 2014
No, I Don't Want NoNo!
NoNo seems to have a bit of a campaign with that hair removal product. One advert here.
Apart from the 'virtually no pain' and the laughably small sample size to get that - 39 people? Seriously? - and the fact I don't really care much about my bodily hair, I'm not sure it's actually a viable product.
And I'm just reading reviews on the net here so I'll just sum them up.
- Doesn't work properly or as advertised even when using instructions (81)
- Bad customer service/problems with returns (34)
- Burns/Burn Marks/Otherwise painful (26)
- Defective/breaks too easily (10)
These are my results from 100 reviews.
There are 462 reviews here and I used the 100 'Most Helpful' comments. The vast majority of the reviews are 1-star reviews, and plenty of times people mentioned that the would have gone for 0 star or negative ratings if they could have!
One person mentioned that pretty much all the people giving good reviews on Amazon hadn't reviewed anything else and hadn't bought the product from Amazon. Of course, you can't know that the reviews don't come from a reputable source, but I wouldn't be surprised. One common complaint was the smell of burned hair. Also, it takes longer to use than a razor. Also plenty of comments about expense! (mostly in dollars as through Google I ended up at Amazon.com, but enough comments about it to suggest it's too expensive for what it is)
(Which is, a thing that tries to burn your hair off and doesn't really succeed, while throwing around fancy terms to make you feel as if it's actually doing something amazing)
NoNo, your advertisements are what got me looking at you. You're so very loud and proud about this product, and it simply does not deliver. "It's not a razor. It's not a laser. It's not waxing." It's not going to perform even on an equal level to those more reputable methods of dealing with unwanted hair. And you should know that.
Say no to the adverts.
Say no to wasting money.
Say no to NoNo.
There are 462 reviews here and I used the 100 'Most Helpful' comments. The vast majority of the reviews are 1-star reviews, and plenty of times people mentioned that the would have gone for 0 star or negative ratings if they could have!
One person mentioned that pretty much all the people giving good reviews on Amazon hadn't reviewed anything else and hadn't bought the product from Amazon. Of course, you can't know that the reviews don't come from a reputable source, but I wouldn't be surprised. One common complaint was the smell of burned hair. Also, it takes longer to use than a razor. Also plenty of comments about expense! (mostly in dollars as through Google I ended up at Amazon.com, but enough comments about it to suggest it's too expensive for what it is)
(Which is, a thing that tries to burn your hair off and doesn't really succeed, while throwing around fancy terms to make you feel as if it's actually doing something amazing)
NoNo, your advertisements are what got me looking at you. You're so very loud and proud about this product, and it simply does not deliver. "It's not a razor. It's not a laser. It's not waxing." It's not going to perform even on an equal level to those more reputable methods of dealing with unwanted hair. And you should know that.
Say no to the adverts.
Say no to wasting money.
Say no to NoNo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)