One Credit Semester

Yesterday at 10 a.m. I was allowed to register for my Fall classes. As I looked through the list of requirements for a degree, I came to realize that, if I’m lucky, I only have to take a one-credit course to graduate—the writing requirement. (If I’m unlucky, I will have to take one other class, a three-credit course in ‘quantitative studies.’) Since the writing requirement is just a paper that I hand in at the end of the semester, that essentially means that I won’t have to attend the university for the Fall semester, except for the day I hand in my paper.

Maybe I can get a job and not worry about off-campus housing next semester after all.

I should talk to my academic advisor to clarify the situation.

I Tread Alone

I tread along this lonely path, reminded once again of the results of my negligence. Neglecting to help those in need, to make the world a better place.

Hurt and pain echo in the distance as I indulge myself in life’s pleasures.

Smile! Crack a smile! Make everybody happy! While they’re not looking, lose that fake smile and become moody once again. Cool, emotionless, lost in thought.

Pleasure is to be had by others. Not by I.

Guilty Pleasures

Sometimes, when everything seems to change for the better, when all the world goes your way, you realize that there is an equilibrium to maintain. For every good thing that happens to you, a bad thing happens to your friend. For every tear of joy you cry, a tear in the heart is torn. For every blissfully ignorant laugh you make, the hard face of reality seeps into another’s soul.

This weekend, I had a lot of fun. Two very important friends of mine, however, did not. As I engulf myself in happiness, making myself feel better, I look around and realize the rest of the world is falling apart. Pain and suffering from two of my most cheerful friends.

I am inclined to ask, “Why?” Why do these things happen? Why must these ordeals happen in the midst of my own happy days? Why can’t these things happen to others? Why can’t they just not happen?

This pain my friends feel, I feel it too. Not directly, of course, but through their words. And here I am, just fooling around and having fun. My joy turned to guilt. My friends turned to victims.

Sorry, everybody. I know I did no wrong, I know it is not my fault. But I should have been there for you.

Good-Bye, Christina.

It’s been fun.

Analysis of Algorithms—Homework 4, Question 3

Implement an algorithm to print out the connected components in an undirected graph (in whatever language you wish). Test files will be provided on my WWW page. Turn in a print out and the output on all my examples.

#include <stdio.h>
int main() {
    int l, r;
    scanf("%s\n", &l);
    scanf("%s\n", &l);
    while(EOF != scanf("%i %i", &l, &r))
        printf("(%i, %i)\n", l, r);
    return 0;
}

Input:

9
10
1 2
1 8
2 4
2 5
2 6
4 8
5 8
5 10
9 10

Output:

(1, 2)
(1, 8)
(2, 4)
(2, 5)
(2, 6)
(4, 8)
(5, 8)
(5, 10)
(9, 10)

Input:

54
50
1 15
1 18
2 17
3 20
4 8
5 7
5 15
6 16
6 19
6 23
6 29
7 15
7 27
9 17
9 19
9 28
10 16
10 17
12 13
12 21
13 14
13 25
14 24
14 26
15 16
15 20
15 28
15 29
16 19
16 25
17 18
18 28
18 29
19 30
20 26
25 26
26 27
27 30
31 42
31 46
31 47
32 37
32 41
32 46
32 47
33 48
34 43
36 43
37 46
39 47
40 47
44 45
45 48
47 49

Output:

(1, 15)
(1, 18)
(2, 17)
(3, 20)
(4, 8)
(5, 7)
(5, 15)
(6, 16)
(6, 19)
(6, 23)
(6, 29)
(7, 15)
(7, 27)
(9, 17)
(9, 19)
(9, 28)
(10, 16)
(10, 17)
(12, 13)
(12, 21)
(13, 14)
(13, 25)
(14, 24)
(14, 26)
(15, 16)
(15, 20)
(15, 28)
(15, 29)
(16, 19)
(16, 25)
(17, 18)
(18, 28)
(18, 29)
(19, 30)
(20, 26)
(25, 26)
(26, 27)
(27, 30)
(31, 42)
(31, 46)
(31, 47)
(32, 37)
(32, 41)
(32, 46)
(32, 47)
(33, 48)
(34, 43)
(36, 43)
(37, 46)
(39, 47)
(40, 47)
(44, 45)
(45, 48)
(47, 49)

(There are actually two more, but I don’t want to DOS my own site.)

Definitely

I like the word ‘definitely.’ It fills me with confidence that I am accepted and welcomed by the sayer. Two people have thus far said that to me, and I thank you both.

The one word sentence, “Definitely.”

Tease

Like a moth gravitating inexplicably toward the warm flame, I flutter.
Flutter, flutter, flutter.
Burned at the tips, I still long for oneness with the flame.
Flutter, flutter, flutter.
Banging against the glass, I lunge for the flame, “Oh, the flame!”
Flutter, flutter, flutter.
An opening at the top I see.
Flutter, flutter…
Sizzle.

gake

Originally posted at: Xanga gake’s Weblog 1/17/2003

OK, Anti-War rally?!?! I did not know there are so many uneducated ignorant people in the USA. What the hell is wrong with these people, are they for real?! One of these rally organizers quoted “Attack on Iraq is like a premeditated genocide” If this person ain’t no woman, I kick her dumb uneducated ass.

She wants to know what is genocide?!?! Try lookin’ up what Iraq did to the Iraqi kurds in the north of Iraq around the time of the Persian Gulf War. Saddam unleased chemical agents into Iraqi Kurds villages completely wiping out EVERYone, women, childen, dogs, cats. I’ve seen the pictures of corpses women still holding their infants all over these streets. Now, THAT’s genocide. I bet these dumb ass war protestors doesn’t even know why there was a no fly zone established in Iraq by Brit and US.

If a country is only as strong as it’s weakest citizen, these people should all be arrested for being stupid and being the weak link. It’s no wonder the economy is the way it is. Damn, they got all this time to organize a rally, but can’t find the time to simply READ the newspaper, or EDUCATE themselves.

And that’s all I gotta say about that.

now… North Korea.

WHAT THE HELL?!?! North Korea wants a war? hello!? with WHAT?! country’s going thru a famine, if NK can’t even feed it’s own people, how the hell are they going to start a war? stupid. Ever read the news about those people running cross the NK – China border straight into the Japanese Embassy? These people do this because they have relatives in South Korea, but NK won’t permit it’s citizens to go to SK because it’s embarassing for them. So these citizens runs for the Japanese embassy where they ask for asylum and probably get transfered to Japan, who will then send them to SK. This one picture I won’t forget, a little korean girl holding the bars of the Japanese embassy gate crying ’cause her mom didn’t make it and was being dragged off and returned to NK. This little girl will end up with her relatives in SK and will be able to eat.

Imagine the amount of $$$ necessary for nuclear research… and NK rather spend it on weapon research than to feed it’s people. yeah.. you know, I HOPE they do start a war. What would a population of restless and jobless people do when the government chose to ignore them and start a war? Yep, instant revolt.

World is ignorant, but are you?

In response, I posted up a single question to this person’s blog, asking something along the lines of, “But isn’t the U.S. also having economic troubles? Shouldn’t they, then, not go to war?” I waited for an intelligent response from a seemingly reasonable, rational person.

What I got was a slap in the face. Instead of answering my question, this person merely removed my comment from his blog. He did not even dignify me with an insult of any sort. I suppose this is how he deals with his problems in life, by just ignoring them and praying to his god that they will go away.

Ignorance is bliss, eh?

In addition, I had been very reluctant to post this, because I would like to continue my friendship with a mutual friend of ours; posting this could potentially cease communication between us (as history has shown). However, as Sharon says, “If she’s going to stop being friends with me because of that, then she’s not really my friend.” Or something like that.

Out of the Blue

Out of the blue, two new sites appeared:

• mm.cyth.net
• sisi.cyth.net

Whence they came, no one knows.

I remember

I remember that night.

I remember going out to get you Cool Whip one night, at 11:40 p.m. I had to rush, because the Walbaum’s closes at midnight nowadays.

I remember standing in line at 11:55, thinking I barely made it. I remember looking for my wallet, and realizing that I had forgotten it.

I remember going back to my room to pick up my wallet, barely making it through the gates which closed at midnight.

I remember going to the 7-Eleven, because it was the only thing I thought of that would be open. I parked at the LIRR parking lot because the North Entrance was closed.

I remember the water that hit my body as an SUV sped by next to me as I was headed back to my car. (It was raining that night, but I didn’t have an umbrella.)

I remember going to the Stop & Shop.

The Mobil store.

The King Kullen down the I-347.

The 7-Eleven next to the King Kullen.

I remember I finally found the 24-hour Pathmark down Old Country Road, with your Cool Whip.

I remember the pride and relief I felt.

I remember going back to your room, presenting you my hunt. It was already 1:47 a.m.

I remember you saying that it was still frozen.

I remember cutting you a slice while you were handing out a slice to your suitemates.

I remember you refusing it, because you didn’t want to eat it. You said you just liked baking.

I remember you barely taking a bite.

I remember my disappointment.

Acting Dumb

One of my teachers once told me she used to ask men stupid questions in order to please them. She grew up doing that with her dad, asking questions about things she knew the answer to. It was her way of making her father feel good, empowering him.

Years later, she did the same thing with her husband. She thought it would make him happy, especially when she felt that a little “sucking up” was needed. One day, he retorted, “Why do you ask these stupid questions? You know the answer!”

All she could say was, “I… I don’t know.”

This week, a friend was telling me she didn’t have the materials needed to make cheesecake. I responded that I had cheese in my fridge, and asked if American was okay. I said that knowing full well that American cheese was not an ingredient in making cheesecake, just to get a laugh out of my friends.

Hours later, I recalled this “joke” I made and wondered if they actually realized that I was joking. I also wondered if I gave my friends the impression that I was a lot dumber than I really am every time I did that. It’s sad that I force myself to go through this kind of self-oppression for the sake of a cheap laugh from my friends.

KFC, every time I think of you, I appreciate you more.