So, I have an apartment now.  I had to sleep on a shitty ball-of-shirts the first night I was there, and it was freezing in my room and sweating everywhere else.  But now I have a pillow and a sleeping bag, so I’m pretty good.  I’ve planned out some of my stuff, and I now have some sort of idea what I’m doing.  In addition, I’ve plotted out some grocery stores and some restaurants that I like (like pitapit!  what!  why didn’t i ever go to this place before!).  More, or most, importantly: I have a bike now.

Although, it’s been a while.  My butt certainly isn’t in shape to ride this.  It hurts.

I’m still super-worried about my placement exams; I haven’t done much multivariable calculus, and I haven’t done too much "real linear algebra", so I’m kind of concerned that they’re gonna make me put things into jordan form or something.  …hm.  Maybe that’s a good new topic.  Hm.

Either way, I’m doing much better than I was before.  NOLA is unbelievably hot.  I’ve never experienced humidity and heat like this in my entire life.  The hottest day in jersey is an average day in nola. 

Oh.  Also, I keep seeing lizards on my stuff outside.  Cool.

But, what else?  Well, I’ve been working a lot on my math blog (which is, I think, linked on the side.) and studying stuff for school.  Yeah.  And now, the fun’s over, and I’m gonna have to go to school.

So, what am I gonna do?  I’ve got a plane ticket to NOLA, and … no place to stay.  Good.  I have a roommate, but she’s coming two days after I get there.  So what to do?  Couch surfing or hostel.  I think I’d rather a hostel, since my stuff should be more secure and I’ll have internet, but, you know.  I don’t know. 

I don’t know if I wanna buy a bike or not there, or just get my bike sent over.  But.  You know.  I dunno.  I’m kind of excited to go there and start doing math and start getting on an exercise routine.  I need to get in a shape again.  That way I can get all the fine NOLA biddies.  Yes.  Yes, this is what I’ll do.

Oh, and, with the exception of one goddamn movie (Inception), I’ve watched every movie on the IMDb top 250, and some more.  It was okay, and, though it was irritating at times, I now get a ton of references that I didn’t get before.  Kind of weird.  Whatevs.

The first thing I did was try to get into the place I’m suppost’a be livin’ at, and it turns out I walked into the wrong apartment.  Luckily, no one was home, but it still freaked me out. 

So, post-settling my stuff down, I realized I didn’t actually know which room was mine, and so I put my stuff into the room that I thought I was going to be livin’ in.  It turned out to be right, but, you know; creepy creepy. 

So what do you do when you’re all sweaty from dragging your shit all around the country?  Sure, shower.  So, I stepped in and stepped out — but I didn’t bring a towel.  Why not?  Because I don’t have one: the three I had at home were all-but-ruined at Midge’s constant (and mostly needless!) washing and, I guess, starching.  I even meant to take a shitty towel, but I guess I forgot.  Either way, I used my sweaty shirt to dry part of myself off, and I just felt worse.

Perhaps the worst part: there’s no internet at my apartment!  Well, there might be, but I can’t sign on to it yet.  Either way, I was starving at this point, so I started walking around.  Jesus, it was hot out — and I didn’t even have any water left!  So that was my first point of business.  But what’s this?  Everything’s closed on the fourth of july?  Awesome.  After about two hours of walking around, I got some water and a little bit of something to eat. 

Upsetting.  So I got home and watched some really crappy movie (no offense, C. Eastwood, I like most of your other movies).  At around 9, I was totally exhausted, and started to go to sleep — oh, I forgot to note this: I don’t have a pillow yet, or blankets, or anything, because they wouldn’t fit in my bags, so I took a pillowcase and filled it up with a bunch of my clothes.  I thought it was pretty clever.  — oh, okay, so I started to go to sleep.  Then my roommates come in!  One of them is very nice, and I didn’t really explicitly meet the other ones, but I dunno how that’s gonna be.  Then more people come in.  Oh.  Some kind of party?  Yeah, I guess so.  I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t care to know a few of the people there (who, after listening for a minute to them, were almost certainly assholes.) so I just started reading and trying not to sweat to death in my room.  It wasn’t until around 2 or 3 that they all left, and it was almost impossible to go to sleep until then.  They were *loud* — one kid kept saying, "bah-boom!" and I was about to go out and say, "Shut the fuck up, you idiots." but, really, 4th of july weekend + new roommate complaining = best first impression. 

I woke up this morning surprisingly not in a cold sweat (or, really, any kind of sweat. it was weird).  My phone was buzzing.  It was dying.  I scurried around my room for my charger, which I was convinced that I forgot.  Long story short, it was in the last place I would’a ever looked, BUT IT WAS THERE DAMNIT, so I’m okay now.

This is more information than anyone would have ever wanted to know about this, but I’m writing it for my records.  So what do I have to do?  Figure out this internet business, buy a lot of things I need (CAPITAL!  PRIVILAGE!), and do something productive with my time here. 

So how different are things really?  I’m writing this from a starbucks, which I am about two streets down from.  Yeah, life isn’t so different.  As much as I miss home, this is better for me.

So, out with the old.  I’ve made a new blog, but it’s going to be more technical than this one.  I’m keeping this one to bitch and moan on; when I go to grad school, I’ll probably be updating this more.  Oh.  Did I tell you?  I’m going to Tulane now.  Yeah.  Oregon, Tulane, Wayne all accepted me with money, but Tulane’s offer was the best, so suck it all you other guys.  Ohio rejected me twice (or, at least, sent two different rejection letters two different times), and, as it stands today, UIC is still rejecting me (I got another rejection letter last week.  Stop rejecting me, I GET IT, I’M NOT GOING THERE.) so I don’t know what the deal is.  Do grad schools just forget who they reject and keep sending people stuff?  I don’t know.  Oregon, incidentally, rejected me first, and then called me to tell me that “oopsidaisies” I was actually accepted, and that they’d pay me to go there.  Yeah, same thing, right?  I was really considering going there, because the lady was so nice, but, really — an analysis school?  No thx.

Oh, right, new blog.  So, I have a new blog over at this site which details my summer adventures coming up and my present math-ing.  Truth be told, it looks like I’m doing a lot of stuff, but compared to what we all had to do at uchicago, this is the BARE MINIMUM.  The bear minimum.  Roar.

I feel almost useless if I do any less than what I’m doing now.

One thing that I wasn’t sure of was if I should put pornographic studies in my other blog.  I’m interested in them (wink wink) and I think that pornography is really taken advantage of in academics since it’s often just noted to aid in people’s vices or as some sort of performance art form to be critically studied, but a lot of the new changes in the porn industry (along with the new issues regarding sexuality, safe sex, etc.) make for an interesting study.

So, whatevers.  Maybe I’ll make my other blog not safe for work.  Who reads my blog at work anyway?  Who reads my blog anyway?  Who reads anyway?

So, I guess I’ll try to do work tomorrow and see if I feel any bett’a about it.

So, I’ve been weening myself off of zoloft for the past month or so. I’ve been on 50mg, but I split them in half and began taking half-a-pill every day for the past month. I started taking one every-other day, and on friday, I started feeling feverish and lightheaded. I thought, since everyone else was getting sick, that I had what they had.

But then I got these weird brain zap things, and this weird feeling of confusion. I started forgetting really easy things [algebra, geometry, etc.] and I started getting really emotional watching Grey’s Anatomy — and, believe me, the writing isn’t THAT good.

I started becomming disinterested in math. I started reading about k-theory, and I thought to myself, “Who cares about sheaves?”

WHO CARES ABOUT SHEAVES!? I CARE ABOUT SHEAVES. Or, so I thought.

So, here I am. Freezing, then sweating, then freezing; I can’t even remember things I did five minutes before. I am really nervous. I am really anxious. I’m pretty scared, I’m not gonna lie. Usually, life terrifies me, but this is something legit — so I’m sort of “extra scared”.

What’s worse is, I have no idea how to go about going to the hospital. I don’t know what my insurance covers. I don’t want to pay a billion dollars.

I read up on some messageboards that people have the same symptoms with ssri withdrawl after Tyloneol refused to work on my fevers. Some of them said it lasted up to three months; others say about a month. Everyone said that it was poorly understood and that their doctors just told them to get over it. I expect the experts at Jersey Shore Medical to think the same way.

I don’t feel like watching movies. I don’t feel like reading books. I don’t feel like doing anything. I feel like I’m dying slowly, and I just want it to hurry the hell up. Goodness!

So what’s my plan. Well. I guess go to the doctor’s and get s’more zoloft. Maybe I’ll ween myself off of it slower next time. But it has only been three days. Maybe I’ll start feeling a little bit better soon.

But, goddamnit, I can’t wait that long. HOMOLOGY ISN’T GOING TO LEARN ITSELF.

Fuckin’ zoloft, man. It’s a machine that makes a need for itself, you know? At least it’s an ethos.

Okay, quick life update. I still hate my life, my father is still moving my shit into random places (I still cannot find a whole two boxes of books. I have no idea where they are, and I’ve been looking for a few days.) but at least I have a job now.

Yes. Barely. I am a tutor. I still have virtually no hours. I still cannot seem to get another job. It’s really awful. At this point, I’m just trying to get enough money up to pay for applications for grad school. So depressing.

So what am I doing for “fun”? I’ve been doing python for a while, and that’s a whole lot of fun. I’m currently sort of working on graphical user interfaces so that not all of my programs will be DOS-text-based deals. I’ve also started to read through a bunch of those MIT open course things. I’m doing some LISP programming one, where the videos are from 1986. Cute.

I’m mainly starting on LISP, because it’s a prereq to doing the artificial intelligence open class. And that sounded exciting! I’m “working my way up” to that. Least exciting life ever.

Other than that? I’m getting really tired of going to starbucks every day to study, but I can’t study with the TV blasting downstairs, and I don’t want to even really go by my dad.

I really just need to apply to grad school. I should just take a loan out and go over to chicago and then get a job there.

Currently playing: Anno 1440, which is actually very good! Fun game. Fun times.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

I really haven’t done much.  I’m stuck at my father’s house until such a time when I can afford to move into some kind of swanky apartment.  Or regular apartment.  Or someone’s crappy basement.  Really, anything to get out of here.

Living with my father is like playing hide and seek constantly.  My things are never where I leave them, and he is cleaning and moving things around constantly.  I have no idea where any of my things are, ever.  It gets confusing and annoying when I’m looking for my car keys and I’ve got 4 minutes until work starts.

I have a job now.  Yes.  My first official job.  The neighborhood schools program I never count as a job because it was really just sort of me walking around and helping people in a school.  It felt just like being a helpful kid who skips classes in low-income schools.  I loved it.  This new job, which I will simply call “my tutoring job” is at a local but fairly successful SAT and general tutoring place.  Really, you have to be somewhat “in the money” to send your kids here — and my pay is pretty okay, to match.  It really is a fun job, and I love doing it.  It’s fantastic to see the “ah-ha” moments on those kids’ faces.  I generally tutor SAT math,  but so far all it’s been is Algebra and some factoring. 

Two things that disappoint me about this job:

1.  The hours.  Yeah.  I had something like 3 students this week, which amounts to 1.5 + 2 + 2 = 5.5 hours.  Not very many.  I may have to get another job just to be able to continue working at this job.

2.  That I cannot tutor anything higher than Algebra II.  Yeah.  Conics and such.  No calculus, ever.  It’s really upsetting, since I think I might lose my edge if I keep focusing on little things.  I’m trying to find people who need calculus help, though — I really don’t even care about the money.  I just want to derive, damnit. 

I’ve been learning Python via the ProjectEuler problems.  I highly recommend them.  So far, I’m not the BEST python programmer in the world, but I’m certainly not the worst.  I’ve only been programming in it for about 3 or so weeks, but I feel like I’ve made huge leaps and bounds.  For example, my first primality checking program took, no joke, about 12 seconds for a 9 digit number.  My new primality checking program takes around 0.5 seconds for a 15 digit number.  So I’m pret excited, but I know there’s always room for improvement.  I’m kind of also excited because I really didn’t want to learn C, and python seems just-as-useful for what I need it for.

I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.  This is the “personal” part of my “personal” blog.  I just get really antsy and upset when I think people are upset with me.  I don’t really want to do anything but go back to school.  Or hang out with new people.  Or make new friends.  I really enjoy my old friends, but it’s difficult making the transition from uchicago back home.  Yes.  I will be pretentious for a moment:

No one here gives a shit about any lofty culture-y shit.  It’s really bringing me down, man.

I never bring up mathematics here, EVER.  God forbid.  I even learned econ in part so that I could discuss it with people around here.  No go.  The closest I get is those dbag tech boys who love jerking off to their iphones.

Sorry, guys.  I didn’t mean that.  Really.

I shouldn’t be so critical, but I just get so upset when I see my friends and people I know just sort of coasting along in their lives; it depresses me that I’ve now become one of them.  I’m no longer an academic, I’m no longer a mathematician.  I don’t even know if I could do it anymore; if you gave me a topology exam, I don’t know if I could pass.  And that makes me really upset. 

Basically, if I were 15 and this were livejournal, my “mood” would be “lonely” and “upset”.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on love-interests.  There are none.  At least in chicago there were girls my age.  Where are the girls my age here?  Elsewhere.  I drove to the mall, and that was an achievement for me.  I got short of breath and almost had to pull over.  I don’t know why my body does this kind of thing to me.

Okay, enough of this personal crap.  In less depressing news, I got two new awesome-ass suits, and I look fab in them.  I get to dress up for work, which is SO MUCH FUN.  It would be more fun if, you know, boys had all the fun stuff girls had, but.  You know.  I make do with what I have.

But really.  I don’t know who reads this anymore.  So, if you do, feel free to talk to me.  The majority of the time I’m wallowing in my own tears and hunger for human contact.  I really ought to get out of new jersey and make that long, desperate trek to Chicago.

So what’s been up? Out of school, looking for work, looking to get out of my father’s house. More on this later, but one thing deserves a post now: I haven’t updated this in a while, but I promise to be more consistant and more post-y.

I don’t know who still reads this, but if you are now, congradulations. You passed the test.

Typed on a bberry. Thumbs are now sore.

Commutative algbera, as you no doubt have heard me mention, consumed my entire life.  I spent countless hours [actually, somewhere around 135 hours.  15 times 9 is a good estimate, though 15 hours a week is somewhat of an underestimate.] doing the homework and studying for this class.  I legit enjoyed some of the topics, but there was just *so much* that it was difficult to remember it all.

Regardless, during the final, my meds didn’t work [well.  after taking them.] and so I panicked for the first 30 minutes of the test.  I got up and walked around the halls a bit to calm down.  Everything was just really blurry and I thought I was going to pass out.  Have a heart attack.  etc.  Just read any panic attack account, you’ll get the gist.

Anyhow, after a while, I sat down and was determined to finish the test.  My meds started to kick in and I began to feel a bit better, but I still tasted blood, kept thinking my nose was bleeding, and thought my heart would rip out of my chest.

Despite this, I finished the exam and handed it in.  In retrospect, the questions were easy and I honestly thought I got all of them.

Now, I almost never look at my grades, but my good math buddy brk told me that she’d gotten an A, and we were doing about even.  So I figured, hey, B+ at worst.

Then I looked at my grades and saw that I had gotten a D.

Literally, my lowest grade ever.  On a class that I spent an entire quarter avoiding social interactions, endangering my mental health, and pulling more all-nighters than I can remember at this point.

What happened?  I bombed the final.

My final answers were totally off the mark, according to the prof, and maybe they were.  I don’t remember exactly what I put.  Regardless, the final was 60% of the grade.  So, getting 10% of the total grade on the final gives me a max of 50% in the class.  Hence the D.

I’m kind of upset, because this essentially ruins my chance of getting into any medium-level graduate school.  And I didn’t even get into any medium-level graduate school when I didn’t have a D on my transcript.

It’s just bothersome, because the class was so heavy on the homework, and yet so much of the grade was based on the final.  This is how many of my classes turn out.  I get an average grade not because of the homeworks or the midterm, but I completely bomb the final. 

Maybe I’m not made out for graduate school, where homework is minimal and the test is everything.  It’s kind of unfair to make mathematics a subject where one can only become good at it if they aren’t terrible test takers.

And at this point, I have to step back and say that I honestly didn’t feel before that people were good or bad test takers — you either know it or you don’t.  Of course, this depends on if the test taker can focus on the test when it is presented to him. 

I know I work better when there’s no stress attached to the assignment.  But I’m sure a lot of other kids are in exactly the same boat, and they did just fine on the final.  Which begs the question: do I really know the material?  Or do I just think I do? 

I’m not sure, but, of course, the latter is more dangerous than the former in mathematics.  Regardless, as Ohio has yet to get back to me, I feel like I’m going to be spending a year doing absolutely nothing but working and wishing I were taking classes, and then begging graduate schools to take me on.