The principal of self respect pivots around the definition of acknowledging one's self.
That last line has nothing to do with the rest of this blog, except that it was saved as a draft and written during an attempt at trying to be poetic while in a bus ride at 1:30 in the morning. Stupid modified bus schedule.. I was waiting for that thing for about 40 minutes until it finally decided to show up.
There's a stolen bottle of Chipotle pepper sauce and that some lousy civils left for me on a desk sitting in front of me. I in turn decided not to throw it away, but instead kept it for it's useful qualities. It looks good sitting by my desktop next to my monitor. The item makes my room feel more Hispanic-like. They have good burritos I must say. It's a weekend, and now it's my turn to get sick. Although, I'm not very sick to say the least. It's just that my body got slightly feverish and my nose began running. I blame it on the windy weather I've been enjoying too much. Oh, and my lab partner Dianne.. I blame her somehow. That or Roberto's. Some advice, DON'T eat from the salad bar during late hours. Those foods have been drying in the air for so long, and since it's night time, don't expect much of it to be fresh. I've obtained the stomach flu once because of this. Not that Roberto's was proven to be the culprit, but the timing of the food consumption lines up.
My crap still hasn't come from robotshop.com. I ordered several servos and an infrared range finder back in early December and now it's almost March.. I'm giving them a really bad review on their back order policy, starting with this blog. DON'T buy an item from robotshop.com if it says it's on back order. They say it's x amount of weeks on average for them to get in a new order, but in my specific case, it's been almost a quarter of year for the sensor to come in. There are disadvantages to buying from reseller stores. The tracker number tells me my shipment reached Las Vegas a little over a day ago. It's Sunday today, government services don't deliver.. I think this is why UPS and FEDEX will always have the advantage.
So this Thursday I'm heading to Palms Spring for a SWE conference. Should be interesting. What I really like about it, is that we (the UNLV-SWE team) got it to be free. Thanks to a company known as UP (not UPS, but UP), a good amount of money was designated for SWE B074. We're now able to pay for hotel rooms, car rentals (they [UNLV] forced us to rent cars due to insurance purposes..), registration, and 1 tour for ~10 of our members). It's nice to be supported by industry. But seriously, it would have been cheaper without the rented vans. I'm starting to think that it's conventions that keep the car rental business in business. I'm sure they have lobbyists shaking hands with insurance lawyers to keep certain car rental/insurance laws in place or something.
So I bought a dietary supplement from Walgreens called "Wal-Born Plus". It's a generic brand set up to compete against Air Guard. The supplementary facts are the same, and not only was the pricing cheaper, but since they weren't selling well, Walgreens placed them on a 2 for 1 'special'. I bought two. Good stuff, but it doesn't taste much like orange.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
The Day After Valentines
So, for a fundraiser SWE sold roses to raise funds for pizza and stuff during the week of and prior to Valentines. It was okay. With every fake rose we made, each heart shaped cut made from paper, each green tape wrapped around a stick, I knew someone would smile at the sight of our designs. The rose,card, candy combo sold better in the engineering hall actually. They didn't sell so well in the Student Union. The place was packed with frat boys and at the same time we were competing with other vendors of valentine paraphernalia. But concerning frat boys, I don't like their kind much because: 1: they didn't react to the amazing puns I placed onto the cards, and 2: a couple of them stole my reserved table when I first arrived at MSU. Also, I don't think frat boys are very educated. There's just something about this side of campus that lacks the sort of intellectualism that the north end holds. Maybe this is because it's like comparing a science student to a student in business. In fact, it was exactly that. Needless to say, our cards sold VERY well in the engineering hall.
In the days proceeding the aforementioned fundraiser, we were making these cards. A dedicated team of card makers and I worked many hours like unpaid Christmas elves slaving over the creation of a product we believed would make the world happier.. At least for a day. The working conditions were, dangerous. Paper cuts were made, people ran with scissors in their hands, and glitter attacked every piece of body part it could get its hands on. Glitter has hands by the way* Some of us needed to take supplies home with us so we could finish up the quotas we had set up for ourselves. On one particular night, my mother walks in on me in a room literally littered with hundreds of hearts and me covered in glitter. She slowly walked away backwards closing the door, questioning my masculinity. (It's not what it looks like! [echo effect])
In the days proceeding the aforementioned fundraiser, we were making these cards. A dedicated team of card makers and I worked many hours like unpaid Christmas elves slaving over the creation of a product we believed would make the world happier.. At least for a day. The working conditions were, dangerous. Paper cuts were made, people ran with scissors in their hands, and glitter attacked every piece of body part it could get its hands on. Glitter has hands by the way* Some of us needed to take supplies home with us so we could finish up the quotas we had set up for ourselves. On one particular night, my mother walks in on me in a room literally littered with hundreds of hearts and me covered in glitter. She slowly walked away backwards closing the door, questioning my masculinity. (It's not what it looks like! [echo effect])
Sunday, February 6, 2011
When u come from nothing, anything is something
I discovered this photo last week inside the Arts Factory.
http://artfulwv.com/event.php?event_id=11
The phrase read, "When u come from nothing, anything is something." I stared at it for about a minute until I began to realize how well it reflected on not only mine, but the lives of others.
In a way, I ended up here by chance. The house I lived in as a toddler was one by to a dumpster site. The house I had my first memories in, didn't even have running water. I recall my mother taking me with her to form lines at a neighbor's house who had installed running water. She was a school teacher, who was working on a 4 year degree in college. My mother was an intelligent women, who graduated with the 2nd highest gpa in her school. And.. then she became a school teacher.. Which is okay I guess. But one day, I remember she had hired workers to come by our one-room house and install a pipeline. The day came, when people were lining up in our front door, with buckets, requesting water for their families. I remember some of them had kids about my size. My mother, her name is Elizabeth, had improved her quality of life.
Back in Peru, in that community we onced lived in, my first pet was a hamster, who eventually died because I over fed him or something. The night we went to discard him into the nearby dumpster, there was a llama herder walking by. It was a magnificent sight, not really relevant to this story, but just something to mention simply because. There was electricity, I recall watching Dinosaurs and The Simpsons in the tv we had. These were the first television shows I experienced. But ya, lived near a dumpster, no garbage collection, became one of the few houses in the block with running water. My mother was a Queen, in our little world.
I didn't even know I had a dad, until I came to America. They basically told me, "this is a dad, this one is yours, now do the child-dad thing." We came to America, and no, we didn't dig tunnels, or design a boat to get here illegally. I was a political refugee. These were the days of the Peruvian Communists. The days where the police murdered it's own citizens in order stop the spread of an ideology they didn't agree with. Communities attacked other communities, but we still continued to live where we did. My mother told me stories of how bad the police state had gotten at some points. Once when my grand-dad got sick, she and my grandma needed to reach a public telephone at night. You couldn't leave the house after a certain time, or the military would shot you on sight unless you waved a white flag that you needed to carry with you at all times. Then they would approach you with guns drawn at you to check if you were a communist.
And then one day, the communists came to Lima. The group was known as the Shining Path. Anyone who associated with them, or in any way helped them was considered an enemy in the eyes of the law. They began sending truck bombs to hospitals, killing hundreds, and in one instance thousands. Everyone was trying to kill everyone. We were all destined to become collateral damage in the eyes of two (and 3) forces opposing one another. The population was to become simply a number, to justify governance of a particular kind. My mother worked at a hospital. I guess at one point, it wasn't difficult to get that visa. She took the opportunity and we fled.
So I arrive at Texas, a child, only 3 or 4. Later we flew to Las Vegas, Nevada. Life continued, a different world, a different culture, a different lifestyle. I rode buses before, but the trip from McCarran Airport to Sonny's Saloon was the first time I recall riding in a car on a highway. The feeling of going over 55mph was unusual, and it was as if my body wanted to keep going forward every time it stopped (inertia). It was quite noticeable, but in time it became a regular usual experience that one wouldn't think much about. We arrived at Sonny's Saloon that night, and dined. Best cup of green tea ever.
Daddy was a conservative, believing a women's place was in the kitchen, and all of that other culturally stuff one could expect to be a connotation of a Hispanic background. Mom, got a job working at the MGM doing the room cleaning gig. She met a few good friends, and was introduced to an American culture where things like divorce and women's right where commonplace. Daddy was a bastard, and even though he looked out for his family and protected my mother, he went on to beat her, did stuff, etc. However; my mother wasn't some passive bitch who would take that from a man. She divorced him, got full child custody (me!), and did the single mother thing (like how she pulled it off in our past life back in Peru). If she could survive a police state, raise a child on her own, work at a hospital to get bills paid, and work on a 4 year college degree (she was like a semester away from finishing) while still putting herself ahead of the curve within a community lacking running water, she could do the same in the United States without a dead weight man keeping her in place. Ya, my mom's amazing.
Today, mother's remarried, 2 story house, computer in every living room, t.v. in every room (living or not), a mini garden in the back, cars, a couple of them.. And people aren't trying to blow up our work place. Oh, and her son's going to college. It's better, I guess. Similar things could have occurred in Peru though, if we haven't left, or died. Apparently I have a cousin who's a heart surgeon, and another who's a computer engineer. Oh, and I have two aunts that are retailers doing 'international' business thing with firms in China. I'm sure they're all doing well, wherever they might be. It's just interesting to think of where your roots originate from. I mean, I guess I could have also been an engineer in Peru and maybe worn a different coat, if things had gone differently. But, I'm not. I was wearing an undergraduate's coat. A black, warm, and lovely coat.
So, last week, when I looked at the aforementioned photo, all of this came to mind. And in a minute, I realized, "this artist made a point tonight."
http://artfulwv.com/event.php?event_id=11
The phrase read, "When u come from nothing, anything is something." I stared at it for about a minute until I began to realize how well it reflected on not only mine, but the lives of others.
In a way, I ended up here by chance. The house I lived in as a toddler was one by to a dumpster site. The house I had my first memories in, didn't even have running water. I recall my mother taking me with her to form lines at a neighbor's house who had installed running water. She was a school teacher, who was working on a 4 year degree in college. My mother was an intelligent women, who graduated with the 2nd highest gpa in her school. And.. then she became a school teacher.. Which is okay I guess. But one day, I remember she had hired workers to come by our one-room house and install a pipeline. The day came, when people were lining up in our front door, with buckets, requesting water for their families. I remember some of them had kids about my size. My mother, her name is Elizabeth, had improved her quality of life.
Back in Peru, in that community we onced lived in, my first pet was a hamster, who eventually died because I over fed him or something. The night we went to discard him into the nearby dumpster, there was a llama herder walking by. It was a magnificent sight, not really relevant to this story, but just something to mention simply because. There was electricity, I recall watching Dinosaurs and The Simpsons in the tv we had. These were the first television shows I experienced. But ya, lived near a dumpster, no garbage collection, became one of the few houses in the block with running water. My mother was a Queen, in our little world.
I didn't even know I had a dad, until I came to America. They basically told me, "this is a dad, this one is yours, now do the child-dad thing." We came to America, and no, we didn't dig tunnels, or design a boat to get here illegally. I was a political refugee. These were the days of the Peruvian Communists. The days where the police murdered it's own citizens in order stop the spread of an ideology they didn't agree with. Communities attacked other communities, but we still continued to live where we did. My mother told me stories of how bad the police state had gotten at some points. Once when my grand-dad got sick, she and my grandma needed to reach a public telephone at night. You couldn't leave the house after a certain time, or the military would shot you on sight unless you waved a white flag that you needed to carry with you at all times. Then they would approach you with guns drawn at you to check if you were a communist.
And then one day, the communists came to Lima. The group was known as the Shining Path. Anyone who associated with them, or in any way helped them was considered an enemy in the eyes of the law. They began sending truck bombs to hospitals, killing hundreds, and in one instance thousands. Everyone was trying to kill everyone. We were all destined to become collateral damage in the eyes of two (and 3) forces opposing one another. The population was to become simply a number, to justify governance of a particular kind. My mother worked at a hospital. I guess at one point, it wasn't difficult to get that visa. She took the opportunity and we fled.
So I arrive at Texas, a child, only 3 or 4. Later we flew to Las Vegas, Nevada. Life continued, a different world, a different culture, a different lifestyle. I rode buses before, but the trip from McCarran Airport to Sonny's Saloon was the first time I recall riding in a car on a highway. The feeling of going over 55mph was unusual, and it was as if my body wanted to keep going forward every time it stopped (inertia). It was quite noticeable, but in time it became a regular usual experience that one wouldn't think much about. We arrived at Sonny's Saloon that night, and dined. Best cup of green tea ever.
Daddy was a conservative, believing a women's place was in the kitchen, and all of that other culturally stuff one could expect to be a connotation of a Hispanic background. Mom, got a job working at the MGM doing the room cleaning gig. She met a few good friends, and was introduced to an American culture where things like divorce and women's right where commonplace. Daddy was a bastard, and even though he looked out for his family and protected my mother, he went on to beat her, did stuff, etc. However; my mother wasn't some passive bitch who would take that from a man. She divorced him, got full child custody (me!), and did the single mother thing (like how she pulled it off in our past life back in Peru). If she could survive a police state, raise a child on her own, work at a hospital to get bills paid, and work on a 4 year college degree (she was like a semester away from finishing) while still putting herself ahead of the curve within a community lacking running water, she could do the same in the United States without a dead weight man keeping her in place. Ya, my mom's amazing.
Today, mother's remarried, 2 story house, computer in every living room, t.v. in every room (living or not), a mini garden in the back, cars, a couple of them.. And people aren't trying to blow up our work place. Oh, and her son's going to college. It's better, I guess. Similar things could have occurred in Peru though, if we haven't left, or died. Apparently I have a cousin who's a heart surgeon, and another who's a computer engineer. Oh, and I have two aunts that are retailers doing 'international' business thing with firms in China. I'm sure they're all doing well, wherever they might be. It's just interesting to think of where your roots originate from. I mean, I guess I could have also been an engineer in Peru and maybe worn a different coat, if things had gone differently. But, I'm not. I was wearing an undergraduate's coat. A black, warm, and lovely coat.
So, last week, when I looked at the aforementioned photo, all of this came to mind. And in a minute, I realized, "this artist made a point tonight."
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