Are all Computer Science Deans Assholes or is it just me?

I am working on a project for my Language Processors class; modifying a Parser and a Lexer to work, they took the short circute bool’s, the for loop, and the switch statement out of the language and we have to put it back in. Now a lot of people have been posting questions on how to get the for loop stuff to work (thats the first part of the projects) to the class discussion site. Well in my infinite wisdom I hacked together a solution that worked but involved changing the input files (adding one word to the definition of the for loops) I thought that maybe this had just been left out by accident, because without it the for loops look just like c/c++ for loops. So I posted an explanation of my hack to the website, with the question: “Is this right?” Well, an hour latter there is a reply from the teacher, who is the dean, which consists of a single line: “Maybe it’s your for loop semantic definition thats wrong?” Am I the only one who detects a note of sarcasm here? It would not be too bad except this is not the first sign that Dean Bolton has his head stuck somewhere between his sphincter and his spleen—in class, if you come in late he stops class the tell you not to do it because you are disrupting class, he does not seem to realize that HE is the one disrupting class and that if he would just shut his mouth and keep teaching none of us would have felt there was any interruption. Also, while his lectures are good, he seams to be a ok lecturer, his home work and lab assignments don’t seam to be understandable. Argh! Oh well, at least he does teach class, not like Dean Hamburger at Mason—he just hold a one person discussion about what he is going to teach in class, and the only person invited to the discussion is himself!



I’ve just had a shitty fucking day to end a fucking horrible week, which comes at the end of a fucking bad month!

My course work was late, because of bad network at school, shitty compatibility between windows/linux, bad implementation of eps in windows (take your pick) and being late means 10 points off of an already bad project because I was sick out of my mind while doing it. In fact I have not been out of my dorm except to turn in the two course works and eat all week. A bird shit on my jacket while I was walking back from the University, my cold is still fucking with me, and I found out that since last night the girl that I had a crush on is dating the guy two doors down from me. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, because I knew there was no chance of her dating me. But it still seams to be bothering me. To top all that off I found out that a guy I have known since I was eleven dropped dead on Valentines day! And I have a list of about 4 people who want me to fix their computers again. I have fixed about 10 in the past two days, people should just leave their fucking computers alone. They should realize when they don’t know what the fuck they are doing and just leave well enough the fuck alone!

I’m tired of being Mr. nice, Mr. grown up, Mr. has the answers to other peoples problems. I just don’t really give a shit about other peoples issues right now, because I hate to tell them—they don’t fucking know what issues are!!!

Fuck it all!


–insert title here.–

Valentines day was a real bummer… nuff said.

I finished the Brothers Karamazov last week, it is an am amazing book. The more Dostoevsky I read the more I see why his is considered one of the best writers ever. His books are filled with review, insight, criticism and adoration for the human condition.

I read Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist after that. It only took a few hours, it’s not too long and the language is simple and easy to read. That a good thing, I needed something simple and short after the 800 pages of Brothers K. But The Alchemist is a beautiful story about life. The main lessons I got from it where that one has to leave home to find home and take a chance on life. And that the answers are there we just have to stand back, take a breath and look for them. Life will take us where we need to go.

I read Watership Down in three days. I love that book. It is filled with morals and ethics, life and death. But like Tolkien’s Lord of the Ring trilogy, you have to read between the lines to see it. Richard Adams does not push it in your face, it reads like a myth; at times funny, tragic, depressing, heart warming—it talks of life.

I am currently reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. I am only a little way in, but it is a very interesting story. Unfortunatly it will be a while before I finish… I have a lot of Coursework due next week…

Haveing no luck finding a job in Europe…


das ende

What do you do when your whole world comes crashing down around you?
One day the sky is blue and clear.
Then a few cracks appear.
“No problem” you think, “I can fix those.”
Then before you can fix anything, the cracks become holes,
large chunks of your sky now block your path,
and above only darkness.
What do you do when your whole world comes crashing down around you?
It takes years to rebuild…


what do I do?

I was sitting in the Pheasant last night with some of the Girls from Hayworth Hall and this guy came up to our table.

“Hello,” he said, “you all look like nice college type men and women.”

“Yea, we go to City,” we all replied nodding our heads.

“Excuse me I am a little pissed, (NB: British for drunk \beggs) but I have a question for you.”

“Ok, I said.”

“If you can answer this question you’ll be up there with some of the most intelligent people. So the question is what do I do? I have the most unique job in the world, there is no job as unique as mine, they make documentaries about it.”


“I one asked a lawyer in New York this question and he is the only one to answer it correctly. I work in central London, and have the most unique job in the world.”

“You own a pub, this pub?” I asked.

“No, you can own a pub anywhere, what I do is unique to London.”

He then proceeded to repeat the story about the lawyer and his job being unique. And somewhere along the line I realized I have heard a similar discourse before.

“Your a taxi driver in central London.” I said.

“That’s right! I knew you where an intelligent bloke.”

A few more quick words on Jazz and he shuffled off around the bar. Then P——- turned to me and asked me how I knew the answer…

“He sounded like a New York Taxi driver I once had the pleasure of riding with.”


urban weather

In the concrete jungle that is London the weather patterns of the outside world do not apply; rain storms are confined to areas of only a few blocks, the winds whips down the street one second and up the street the next, the sun is only to been seen for a few moments in the evening as it drops below the clouds that hang perpetually over greater London, painting the sky with reds, oranges, and pinks as it drops to the horizon. Some days you can see the tops of the buildings, others they are covered by fog. It may be warm when you step out your door, and cold at the end of the block. In all of London there is only one constant weather pattern: car exhaust—ever present, blackening the buildings. London does not participate in the weather patterns of the rest of the world, it has ‘Urban Weather.’


tunbridge wells.

I went out to lunch with two other Americans and our tutor, Geoff Dowling, this Sunday. I met the Americans, Kanika and Brian downstairs at 9am and we hopped a tube over to Charing Cross station to catch the 10:10 to Tunbridge Wells where Geoff lives. We got to the station and found out that there was no rail service from Charing Cross all day. So we had to get back on the tube and go to Cannon Street Station. We got there just in time, we got our tickets and jumped on the train not a minute before it pulled out of the station.

On the way out we all talked about not wanting to go, Geoff is kinda spacy in class and we where all dreading an afternoon of talking to him. But we figured he was our tutor and it was only one afternoon to give up.

We got to Tunbridge Wells right on time and Geoff was waiting there for us. There was a light rain so we walked the few blocks to the “downtown” part of Tunbridge Wells. Apparently the town was founded because of a natural spring, found int 1606, that was said to have healing powers. By the 1700’s it was a common weekend spot for London Gentry, and seams to have had a scandalus reputation. Geoff, Brian, Kanika and I where looking for something to do to kill an hour till the pubs opened and we stumbled onto an exibit/tour of Georgian Tunbridge Wells. It was quite entertaining and took just over an hour.

After the tour/exibit we all piled into a taxi, because the steam train was not running, and rode out into the hills to a place called “High Rocks.” There are a bunch of exposed rocks at the top of a big hill and just next to them is an 1800’s Tavern. Classic fairy tail Britan, moss covered roof, vines growing up both stories, green fields and forest as far as the eye can see, and a light fog and drizzle for effect. We sat in the tavern for a couple of hours, enjoyed an excelent Italian meal and talked about travel.

Then we went off to Geoff’s house to have a traditional English Tea with his wife and watched the Six Nations Rugby match between Ireland and Wales. We talked some more, this time about the differenced between the British and American education system. Then we had to catch the train back to London. On the train Kanika, Brian and myself agreed that we all had fun and the day was worth it. All in all it was a good day, and it helped to get my mind off all that had been bothering me for the past few weeks.