Mad Timê!

IMPORTANT NOTE: Click on the itty-bitty pictures to truly grasp the glory that is this tower and its makers.

Timê (TEE-may) – honor, reputation. Timê can be achieved by immortal or noble ascendants, good looks, and excellent deeds.

Yes, yes, within my first month at Reed I, the lowly freshman, achieved MAD TIMÊ! Check out our trecherous tower of no less than FIVE tables, a kommie mini-exercise bike, and a random trash can. We risked life and limb for this endeavor, but recieved our reward thousand-fold.
Observe: The fine makers of this monument:

From left to right: Nameless Happy-boy, Yours truly (note the sparkle in my eye gained only by the posession of Mad Timê), Peter the Dirty Raver/Circus Freak/Bad Influence, Kevin the 4th-Dimension Obsessed Gangsta Computer God, Nameless Cute Scrounger with the Pink Barbie Backpack, and Dormie Peter the Gay Pirate.

Then, as a sign from the gods that they approved of our offering and bestowed upon us (what else?) Mad Timê, a rainbow appeared overhead! It was actually a double rainbow, but you'll have to take my word on that one.


Oh majestic Tower of Timê, how you seem to glow against the ever-darkening Portland sky...

Portable Anna!

Encouragement for Disgruntled Republic-Readers

From my dear Humanities professor, Ralph, part of a very long en masse e-mail to his crop of reluctant freshman. Here, he attempts to explain Plato's approach to knowledge:

"One way to think about what Plato’s up to is to remind yourself of the Pre-Socratics. Remember how they were grappling with the problem of what truly exists, and how do we know what we know? One of the notions lurking back there is that whatever we can have knowledge of must be unchanging. After all, it seems kind of straightforward: I can know this caterpillar -- it's an inch long; it's green; it's got a bunch of legs; etc. And I say, "This is a caterpillar." (I don't say, "This is a dog," or whatever.) But then it turns into a butterfly. So I think OK, I know this butterfly -- it's got yellow wings with black spots and whatnot. And I'm willing to say, "This is a butterfly." (I don't say, "This is a caterpillar.")

But how can I know or even talk coherently about a thing that is coming-to-be? I mean, is it a caterpillar or a butterfly? And don't tell me, well, it's this other thing in between when it's changing, because all you've done then is create a third existing thing, not a thing-coming-to-be. (You've created a butterpillar, maybe.) At what point is it no longer a caterpillar, and at what point is it a butterfly? (Or, at what point is it no longer a caterpillar, and is now a butterpillar? At what point is it no longer a butterpillar, and is now a butterfly? And so on, ad nauseam.) When I say, "This is an X," am I not talking about an X that actually exists, as opposed as coming-to-be? Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to say, "This IS an X." In fact, I say, "This is NOT an X." (You try to get around this by saying, "It WILL be an X." But isn't that just another way of saying it IS NOT an X?)"


Well. The rest of the e-mail was a little more encouraging.
I still don't want to read Plato though, despite Ralph's cunning use of 'butterpillar'.

This speaks for itself.

Exhibit A: The average score on the last Biology midterm was 51%

Exhibit B: Students set up a shrine to the Doyle Owl outside the mailboxes (where we would learn our Bio exam fates) to alternately beg for mercy and to thank the Owl for those few extra points our BS earned us on the essays.

Exhibit C: At a 'Reading Effectively' workshop I attended tonight, when asked "What are some ways you can keep your attention on the reading," someone threw out, "Self-flagellation!" The professor took him seriously and asked for examples of the various methods of self-flagellation one would employ to promote maximum concentration.

MUHAHAHAHA!!!!

Yes, that was my maniacal laugh of glee for the day.
Why, you may ask - and I'll be happy to tell you:
I don't have to take Biology next semester!
Yes. The world is a just place.

Yellow Carpets

I love fall. This is the view from my window. Leaves of all kinds coat the ground and the whole world is fall colors.