RyanHarne.com

Who doesn’t like gingerbread cookies? A rarity like gingerbread is not something to pass up and should never be dismissed when the other options are mediocre like chocolate chip or peanut butter. And who doesn’t like biting into that gingerbread boy who so sacrificed himself for your nutrition?

Me. The kind of symbolic nature of biting into a human is disturbing to me. Still, biting into a rhinoceros or giraffe animal cracker is no better; I’ve had a hard enough time just watching them be caged up at the zoo.

I found a new cereal when I got some groceries this week. Kashi Mighty Bites. Yes, it’s a kid-focused cereal, but it is uber-healthy and contains the type of flavor that kids want in addition to the non-tooth-decaying sugars parents want. Win-Win. But the box says it all.

Maybe it is simply the fact that the cereal is shaped like people, or maybe its the associated reference, during hurricane season, of seeing these little people being washed away in a torrent of milk, but I just feel awkward eating this stuff. Even in the image, the cereal people are oriented differently; some flailing to stay afloat in the chaos, others having a blast like its a water slide straight to a kid’s developing teeth.

Mind you, I don’t mix milk with cereal, so much of the disturbing reference disappears, but I can’t escape this box cover when I grab it for a brief snack. I suppose if I want to entirely avoid the conscience-destroying thoughts, I can go back to relying on muffins. Mmmm… muffins.

There was a guest lecturer today in Deformable Bodies. Naturally, due to budget cuts, this guest lecturer was only the GTA for the course, but a guest nonetheless. He spoke an eloquent English, in his Indian accent, and spoke it fast. So fast that I would have been completely lost were it not for reading ahead prior to class.

One of my intrinsic flaws is my inability to understand people who talk at a rapid pace. I lose track, lose focus, and ultimately stare. This happens regardless of who it is speaking to me: friend, foe, newcomer, anyone who speaks too fast for my comprehension will be a witness to my glazed-over eyes.

I often have to repeat what people said to me, not only mentally but verbally. It’s a useful fix for a recurring issue. Yet, there must be more than a bandaid out there. Even it were mind exercises through simple clever word games or something, I need to discover a way to expedite my mental prowess. And once I’ve succeeded there, the world will not be far from my grasp.

Mwha.

Now it’s time to teach some kids math. To the best of my ability. But I will likely ask a few to repeat questions. Up, up… and AWAY!

Blacksburg started out green. Then it became dusty olive. Now, it is brown. And mustard. And dehydrated. It has been nearly five weeks since rain visited this valley, and it shows.

Usually, by this time of the semester, I have gone on an afternoon venture of photography around campus. But, to my dismay, who wants photos of dry, earthen clay being pushed about in construction efforts? I’ve seen enough dead grass in my lifetime and systemically categorizing my experiences with it this semester has not been on my to-do list.

The weather forecasts are hinting at rain today and later this week. I am looking forward to this so much. This semester I have not yet had the honor of racing from cover to cover during a downpour of cats and dogs. No one has raced by me on a bike only to launch road sludge onto my pants and jacket and face and hair.

Today, I may just listen to some Darwin Chamber. It’s no rain dance, but it’s my attempt at open and welcoming arms.

I had a late lunch with a friend today. (Is 3:30pm a lunch? Yes. Why, yes it is). I sat down with Lucy and she had some friends with her (kids who were apparently in the transition from leaving the Business Horizons Fair and heading somewhere else). We began to talk about weekend plans.

Lucy asked me if I would like to jump off a cliff with her this weekend. I said yes but that I would have to be around for it, since I plan on being in Lynchburg for most of the weekend. She said they are going Sunday afternoon, and such is a promising time for me.

I’ve never jumped off a cliff before. Lucy mentioned it was from a height of seventy feet. “Do you bungee down?” I asked. No, apparently there is no bungeeing. Unfortunately, though, I cannot swim, and the bottom of this cliff is a deep lagoon. A lagoon that I assume is filled with water. A seventy foot jump is a considerable distance to fall only to continue sinking. That darn gravitational pull would have the final laugh. And no natural gravitation will have one on me. Not a chance.

So, we talked about my options. “They also have a lighter jump, something like forty feet,” Lucy mentioned. Ahh. Now we’re talkin’. Forty feet would be good, but there’s still the whole sinking-to-the-bottom thing. Granted, my sinking issue would be resolved if the lagoon had trampolines lining the bottom. However, given the slim chance there is a high-density of trampolines in the lagoon floor, I may still be a bit squeamish about this jump.

But, there is also one more option. What do people wear when they can’t swim? Huh… huh? LIFEJACKETS! Ah, brilliant! But upon our second thought and consideration of the idea, I concluded that the possibility of dismemberment is not worth the risk.

Imagine the scene: Ryan, wearing his lifejacket, runs to the edge of the cliff and launches into the quick abyss; his twirls about mid-air and lands feet-first with minimal splash; his body continues rushing downward, while the lifejacket immediately pulls upward on his torso; stretched beyond their capacity, Ryan’s arms are shorn from their sockets and the lifejacket returns to the surface with Ryan’s arms safely secured in their grasp.

I would at least hope someone was taking pictures.

The Engineering Expo was this week. That wonderful time of the fall semester when companies, big and small, send recruiters to beg on bended knee to get cheap student labor. The wealthier companies have the advantage, not only of name, but of toys to show off. GM sends their Hummers, including a hydrogen-fueled version this year, which I’m sure borders on garnering the title of The Most Inefficient Vehicle Ever since our current methods of extracting hydrogen from water or air are so expensive and mediocre that, adding to the immense weight of the Hummer itself, must equal a mighty mass of shame. That was bordering on ranting, but I’ll move on in concession.

It was interesting to talk to a diverse group of companies. One particular small company I spoke with, four of them representing, left me wondering, “so… who’s getting the work done back at your place?” The MathWorks was very fun. Hailing from Natick, MA, these two guys (both graduates of VT) certainly had job excitement that made me jealous. I guess, in summary, I’m trying to find something that is more “people focused” rather than “engineering focused”. Engineering is good but… not the full slice of pie.

And speaking of pie. While I’m thinking of pie. I was accepted into the Industrial Design minor program, which is very fun.

The best part of the Expo, the best part ever, were the huddles of people who quickly trafficked through Bollo’s Tuesday morning prior to the events getting under way. I had returned from my workout, showered, and made the trip downtown to get homework done en masse when the host of people wearing company logo threads began to move in and out of the spider-web door. Some of the representatives opted for closer coffeeshops, say Au Bon Pain, or decided to walk another block for their yuppie, world-destroying Starbucks, but there were quite a few in Bollo’s.

Of the many that I overheard, my favorite order of the morning was… “a medium mocha, with four shots”. See, at Bollo’s, a medium is 12 ounces; at Starbucks they are 16. One shot [of espresso] is one ounce of high-density coffee (a.k.a. “espresso”) that is typically brewed considerably darker than normal coffee. The result is that one ounce of espresso is equivalent to about one cup of coffee, in terms of caffeine strength. Thus, as Felicia repeated, “So, you want a 12 ounce mocha with four shots?” making sure the guy understood a medium is not as obese as at S-bucks; the guy replied, after a slight pause, “yes”.

That guy must have an iron stomach. Or a few, precious brain cells that need serious morning jolts to get moving. My hat goes off to him, but hopefully not in honor of the dead. Jeeeesshh, four shots of espresso. ‘twould make me sweat.

Avast, green-bellied fiends! Thou now witness an immortal piece of sea-borne flesh that just scavenged his first nearly perfect booty. Arrr. From that’n I imply that yours truly ::pompous bow:: was greeted with a magnificent score on’n an examination.

Harrr harr. If ye wish to comment, please do so within the honor of our ancestry of scallwags on this glorious, fair-weather day. Harrrr.