- I’m taking three math classes this year. The schedule I posted on my blog is wrong. I talked to my academic adviser and in order to apply for honors, I need to take 2 math credits this year. I thought I would be taking 2 math, 2 physics, 1 journalism this term, but one of my physics classes is actually a math class in disguise. As it stands, I’m taking Foundations of Journalism, Linear Algebra, Intermediate Calc, Modern Physics, and Physics Tools: Theory (which should be renamed Mathematical Methods in Physics or ‘Why is Dalhousie putting me through all this mathematical misery with this hard-ass prof and 1000-page textbook with tiny type?’). Intermediate Calculus seems to be an extension of what I learned last year, with functions going into the third dimension. The prof a balding chinese man who shouts out at the class and mangles his words. (he said perdiculem and pryragors Tea-reem yesterday - I think he meant perpendicular and Pythagoras’ Theorem) He also has a tendency of being overly-corrective of the students who volunteer answers in his class - if you say something wrong, he’ll explain why it was wrong, then turn around, ask who said that, and scold you for saying a wrong answer. I think the class will be funny. The good thing about taking all the math classes, according to a fourth year physics major I’ve been talking to, is that there is a lot of subject overlap between classes, and I have no labs this term (yay!). I still think I am going to be mathed out.
- I feel so much older than all the new Eliza frosh, even though I’m younger than most of them.
- Apparently I’m in Eliza’s party hall. Everyone leaves their doors open around here, and then has music blaring or loud conversations. I actually don’t mind. I’m up so late anyway with my older, nerdy friends in the basement so by the time I get back to my room, they’re all gone. My neighbor likes to play corny country music. Luckily, he doesn’t mind me blasting my music even louder, and he does shut it off when I ask him.
- This year’s orientation week’s events were so much better than ours. For their induction ceremony, they got Dr. Tom Duck, we got ex-Prime Minister Joe Clark (I know having an ex-PM sounds more impressive than getting a physicist, but Joe Clark sucks at giving speeches, and Dr. Duck’s laser is going to Mars), for their concert, they got The Joel Plaskett Emergency, we had Pilot Speed. Unfortunately, Eliza seems to be low on spirit this year, so the events were not well attended.
- I really don’t like drunken frosh. Ugh. Last night we were trying to watch a movie in the multi, and they just kept barging in and interrupting us. One of them tried to hijack the TV to see what episode of South Park was on, even though it was an hour late. We tried to remedy the situation by placing a couch in front of the door. It didn’t stop them. They just pushed harder to get into the room. It’s like it never occured to them that ‘hey, there’s a sofa in front of this entrance to this door and the people in the room are ignoring me. Maybe I’m unwanted’. Already we’ve got several holes punched into our walls - including one through a reinforced window. However, there are some funny drunk frosh, like one who thinks he’s a ninja when he’s smashed and performs karate on the people who walk past his secret hiding spot.
- Scotiabank won’t let me get a credit card until I turn 19. Poo.
- I feel like I’m going into uncharted and deep waters in all aspects of my academic, professional, and personal life. It’s going to be interesting, but I think I’ll survive if I keep my head up.