It’s that time of year. Saturday was Cal Day, when all the clubs and school organizations came out in their little booths, and newly-accepted freshmen swarmed the campus with their parents. I swear, I think I’ve been walking to school (as opposed to bicycling) more often these days just to watch the show. Almost everywhere you look, you can spot an angry teenager. They’re angry for being forced to walk around with their parents in front of the very people they must convince of their coolness for the next few semesters. They’re angry because mom and dad are decked-out from head to toe in blue and gold Cal gear.
"MOM! Take off the the hat, you’re embarassing me!"
"Dad, can you put down the camera for a few seconds? Jeez!"
If you stop and listen carefully, comments like these can be heard all over.
Recently I’ve been getting to think that maybe I should concentrate on my CS classes and not worry so much about how I perform in my EE classes. After all, isn’t it better to learn as much as possible from the subjects that interest me, than to spread out the limited resources my poor excuse of a brain can muster, only to constantly worry about my overall GPA? I mean, we’re talking about a mere 15 blips/second here... Obviously, there are things to be learned in all of my classes so I won’t irresponsibly neglect the "uninteresting" ones, but it would be nice to satisfy my interests to their fullest. I always talk about how I love vacations because then I am able to selectively read things - things that weren’t shoved in front of my face. Maybe this way, I’ll have the best of both worlds. Wishful and naive thinking you say? Perhaps so. This seems to be one of those crossroads where you can’t tell which path is the correct path before actually reaching the final destination. Excelling in CS will act as evidence I made the right decision; however, emerging from the dust as a mediocre programmer most certainly grants anyone the right to call me a lazy-ass punk.
Finally, here’s an
essay from the Heel Tribune that made my day.
E = MC Touch Me Right There, Oh God,Touch Me Right There
Tuna (USC)
Posted April 14, 2005 at 06:44 PM
"I like men with clean socks and big graphing calculators."
When you hear the word fetish, you generally think "Ewww. Feet. That’s disgusting." After all, just go to Google and type in the word, "feet." The most popular site is Wu’s Feet Links, featuring links to things like "Foot Vixens" and "Foot Babes." I freely admit I have a sick, twisted fetish and it is not for feet. Actually, to be truthful, feet make me want to vomit. If I could show you a picture of my boyfriend’s feet, peeling and disgusting, with a mysteriously black, rotting toenail, you would see why feet make me want to shove a plunger down my throat until I retch.
My fetish is far more sophisticated than feet. Complete math nerds turn me on. I was recently at a "man pageant" at USC and one of the "stud muffin" contestants solved a Rubix cube in under a minute as his talent. I am pretty sure that I experienced my first orgasm in my seat, which depresses me since I have had sex before.
My boyfriend is a Mechanical Engineering major, which to me, a Print Journalism major who would otherwise have very limited contact with mathematics and science, means I get to hear him talk about mathematics and science almost constantly. This leaves me in a perpetual state of horniness that really never gets alleviated thanks to the fact that he is not a dirty, dirty tramp like me. But, anyway, I can totally empathize with people that go to Wu’s Feet Links and gaze at pictures of red-lacquered toe nails on smooth white feet in strappy black high-heeled sandals and get off. I get off when my boyfriend starts talking to me about differential equations.
I failed algebra in eighth grade. I never made it past pre-calculus in high school. I don’t ever have to take mathematics again, thanks to the wonderful GE requirements of USC. God bless them, by the way. But, when I hear him talking about simulation problems in his differential equations class, I have a weird desire to jump him and screw his brains out on top of his computer desk.
You don’t understand, so I will give you a for instance in the hopes that my fetish will gain mainstream acceptance and recognition, and perhaps even a website with video clips of hot boys talking about fractions. (This will stop me from peeking at web casts of math problems and subsequently moaning in the computer lab. This generally gets me strange looks.)
Example: We will do our homework together in the library or at my apartment. He’ll be working on physics or differential equations. I’m writing a paper. (I am in a perpetual state of "writing a paper" because I foolishly signed up for USC’s "advanced" General Education program, Traumatic/Thematic Options.)
He’s having trouble with one of his problems and in a flustered voice, turns to me, pencil in mouth, hair ruffled, and says, "I’m so confused, (insert complicated explanation about why he is confused here.)"
I immediately put my notebook down and scoot next to him, being the helpful girlfriend I am. Despite the fact that I understand absolutely nothing of what he said past "I am confused," I ask him to explain his problem to me so he can perhaps see where he went wrong. As he is talking, I am melting, literally, into a pool of horniness that cannot possibly be equaled/paralleled/surpassed by any fourteen-year old boy furtively watching scrambled porn in his bedroom in the middle of the night.
He finally talks himself into figuring out his mistake and sweetly says thank you, kissing me on the cheek and returning to his work. I, however, am forced to return to my paper, hormones taking control of my brain and my body quivering with delicious anticipation for the next complex problem he doesn’t understand.
Conclusion: Not all fetishes are sick and weird, relying on feet in strappy sandals. Some fetishes are actually beneficial to the community at large, because, well, engineers need love too. So, if you play Halo, take advanced calculus 2, and can solve a Rubix cube in under a minute, I just want you to know that somewhere out there, probably lurking in a library peeking at your homework, a girl wants to screw your brains out because of your talents.
Is it true?!?! Is it true!?!