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04.05.20
So now I have one exam at 9:30 AM on the first day of exam period, one exam at 9:30 AM on the last day of exam period, and two self-scheduled exams to take in between. This is thanks to lots of people not wanting to stay until Sunday at 9:30 AM to take their psych exam. But hey, that's cool. I like it this way.
Here we are on the second day of exam period, now that my most stressful, difficult, and picky midterm (art history) is done, so I can begin to take my self-scheduled exams (linear algebra and social psych) now. And then I will wait for compsci on Monday, and then I will go home. Cool.
04.05.17
Yaaaaayyyyyy! Yay for Massachusetts, for Cambridge and lawmakers and judges and churches. Yay for people waiting half a lifetime and then being happy instead of angry that it took so long. But really, just yay for people being happy -- for people being allowed to be happy. Finally.
04.05.16
Today's factoid: If you search for Diana is annoying
04.05.12
So… after a month of my voice in your ear
With the mic turned up high so it’s all that you hear,
With a visor that’s red and pants that are green
And the crookedest steering that you’ve ever seen –-
Want to hear the rest? There's a lot of rest. Here it is.
04.05.11
The third sentence of the JV lacrosse article is a fabrication. But duh, if you clicked on the link, you know that already.
The varsity women are going to nationals! Strange, given that they placed at ECAC exactly as we placed at New Englands -- fifth in the petite final. But yay for them anyway! And Kellie will go (probably) as the spare cox. That's awesome. Although I'm glad it's not me, because I'm running a marathon that weekend. Right.
So I was all proud of myself for running 21 miles this Sunday, and then I e-mailed Scott to tell him he should do a peak long run right around now, and he's like "on Saturday I got up and ran 12 miles, and then I got in the car and drove to a half-marathon." Whoa. Intense.
Many thanks to Christi, Krista, Eugenie, Katie, Erika and Magali, who ran loops with me on Sunday. We ran two Blairs and three Gales, in that order, for a total mileage of 21 in a net time of 3:12. This is just over 9-minute pace. I think I can do the whole 26. The greatest thing was that I finished feeling mentally as though I had just run about five miles, though the feeling in my quads corroborated my memory to suggest otherwise. Thank you, women -- you rock.
04.05.05
First, super funny feedback notes left by hikers for the Forest Service.
Also:
"While not all team members can be mentioned, one would be remiss not to mention the team’s hardest worker – and most improved player – Ronit Bhattacharyya ’07. Bhattacharyya made up for his lack of game savvy with great hustle and a tireless spirit. He was even called the JV Lacrosse "team mascot." With most of the team graduating this June, underclassmen like Bhattacharyya will be expected to fill their void."
Additionally, it turns out that I will be half-time-TA-ing 103 for Tapp in the fall. So this term I TA'd for him, next fall I'll TA for him, and then the spring I'll be taking abstract algebra with him. Perhaps by then he will actually recognize me when I pass him on the path...
04.05.02
I have walked in Vermont before, but I have never walked through Vermont in quite the way that we walked through Vermont today.
So in the second race we're going along in Lane 5, and honestly, they put us in Lane 5 for the heat, and now we're in Lane 5 again for the final, and I'm thinking, you know, I'm getting tired of Lane 5, and so is my crew, clearly, so I think I've had enough of Lane 5 and I'll try out Lane 4 for a change, seeing as how Coast Guard has so nicely vacated this portion of it for us. And the wind just decided to help me out a little.
Oh, and they chose me to be a half-time TA for Math 103 next term. So I only get paid half as much, but I only have to do half as much work, and the math is easier. And I still get the status of a Math TA. Cool.
People from the past that I have seen thus far at regattas: Eva Glasrud (PEAGXC), Deidre Salsich (PEA '03), Amy Urquhart (ORMS), Renee Dunn (ORMS), Megan Somethingorother (PEA '01). Sure beats the number I saw at cross country races in the fall, which was one: Julijs Liepins (PEA '03).
04.04.28
Next fall I am taking real analysis with Morgan, statistics and data analysis with DeVeaux, experimentation and statistics with Kirby, and art history with Johnson.
I will have four courses in a row on MWF, and one on Tuesday. Thursdays are free. So three days a week, it's just like Exeter again. Cool.
I am heading for a math-psych double major. This should be really fun!
04.04.23
Room draw outcome: I am living in the Greylock quad in Mark Hopkins* C25 with these people.
That is pretty neat -- I get to live in a nice single out in nature in junior housing, and all that with a bad sophomore pick. Cool. When I figure out who the four sophomore girls I'm living with are, that will be even better...
This is, of course, all to minimize the downsides of being five picks too late to get into Mission. Pick 104 got into the last rooms in Mission. Pick 109 got to live in Mark Hopkins. I am not dashing the rooms of Mark Hopkins, because they are really nice rooms. It is just that it would be nice if all the people I know were not quite all the way across the campus. Right.
On the plus side, Mark Hopkins C25 is just three miles from Pownal, VT. Yay, out in nature!
04.04.22
At Exeter, it was always: you are students first, and athletes second.
We are students first, and athletes second.
We are students first, and athletes second.
We are students first, and athletes second.
Aren't we? Aren't we?
Honestly, aren't we?
04.04.21
It would be bad if the situation were what I thought it was going to be, which was: whichever of you is the least bad at steering, gets put in the boat. I mean, it should be whoever is better at steering, but that's just not possible right now.
That would be bad enough, but now it's even worse. It's whoever loses less, gets put in the boat. Because you see, I may steer crooked and lose a race, but I don't steer 15° off course and almost lose the boat and endanger the lives of 17 other people.
I guess that's what it comes down to now: it's whoever's mistakes are less aggregious. I thought nearly smashing the boat into the rocks was plenty aggregious, but at least I knew I was getting close and it was a (albeit extremely unfortunate) misjudgment on how sharply we could turn.
"These things need to stop happening, Diana." Yeah. Let's do that. I would like to get out of this "novice coxswain" phase as soon as possible, please, and start steering straight, because honestly it is not that hard. I just can't do it. And neither, apparently, can Lili.
And that's bad.
04.04.20
You know what would be awful? (1) To watch someone else cox the eight and be thinking, "I could be in that boat, if only I were not so incompetent."
But what is infinitely worse is (2) what I felt on Saturday, which was that I was losing the race. I wasn't steering straight, so no matter what my rowers did -- no matter how hard they trained for the past six months or how much they were putting out -- we were losing, for the simple reason that I was in the boat. That's awful, let me tell you.
It's also awful that people didn't think I'd know that. I know that. I know that when I steer crooked and hit the lane lines and rudder up all the way and waver back and forth, we lose a lot of seats. I know that. It's not like I'm sitting there thinking, "wow, it'll make us go so much faster if I zigzag. I think I'll do that."
And still, it's "Diana, we lost three seats when you did that." "Diana, you never rudder up all the way in a race." "Diana, you never want the official to have to tell you to move over the same direction twice."
So why do I do it? If I gave reasons, they would just be excuses. I do believe that there are specific psychological reasons, having to do with the way my brain processes stimuli and rules, that cause me to make these mistakes, and I can detail them to you if you so desire. But I consider those things excuses just as much as anyone else does, and I wish they didn't exist, so I give the equivalent answer: "I'm sorry. I did it wrong. I'll do it right the next time." Because I will.
But when it comes down to it, it's awful to be the one who's losing the race for the team. And in that case, it is utterly unforgivable to go with anything other than (1).
04.04.19
I didn't realize that steering perfectly straight isn't something that every other coxswain can do naturally and well. This is a big discovery. Hayley coxed the men's 1V and she steers wavy. Whoa!!! I was under the impression that my inability to keep an exactly equal distance away from the buoys down the whole course was just an unforgivable horrible thing.
I mean, it is. The worst thing is that when I let the boat steer into the buoys, I feel like it makes my rowers not trust me. I mean, each one of us is there to move the boat down the course the fastest possible. If I'm not taking the shortest course, I'm not doing that -- I'm not pulling. If they can't trust me to be pulling my hardest at every moment, how can I expect them to trust me to do anything -- tell them where we are on the course, where the other crews are, when to power up -- all of the things I'm there to do.
But I will learn to steer. I will do it now. I have never had buoyed lanes before, and now that I know what they're all about, I will do it perfectly next week. That's right -- no so-so for me, no lateral motion. We're going straight to the finish line! That's right.
04.04.18
See the deck cap piece and responses on WSO
04.04.14
I believe that the deck cap and I have reached a critical impasse in our relationship. In the beginning, it was simple: I neglected it. As it hung languidly off the side of the stern, it seethed and connived about its imminent attack for revenge.
I tried valiantly to appease my deck cap, but to no avail. Marsa had already teamed up with it to form a double-headed battle. "Diana, look around," she often warned me, but by then it was too late. The deck cap was incensed at being hung off the edge of the boat like some kind of useless appendage, rather than the noble safety device it believed itself to be.
On Monday, the fateful day came. Practice had almost come to a close without any confrontation between me and the deck cap. The rowers were putting their oars away; I was holding the boat and getting my allegorical ducks in a row -- when one of those ducks jumped up and bit me. Which one? You can already guess.
As I pushed my deck cap through its hole for safe transport and storage, it refused to budge and then all of a sudden gave way, thrusting the tender flesh of my hand roughly against the perimeter of the deck cap hole.
At first, it did not bleed; it seemed I had managed to scrape five layers of skin off my thumb with no adverse repercussions. But that was just the calm before the storm. Now I have a yucky and painful, albeit small, wound on my hand, which prevents me from bending my thumb -- a perpetual reminder of the stone-cold resolve of my beloved all-powerful deck cap.
So why is this an impasse, you ask? Because I have promised not to forget it any longer, and it has likewise promised to not injure me so long as I push it in with my hand flat. Now we're even, and neither of us is budging.
04.04.10
The Williams Women's Novice Eight had a very good race today. We were racing against Conn, and the boats were virtually even -- we were up by four seats or less, then they were even, then Conn was up by a seat or two -- until the thousand-meter mark. They did two power 10's and made up less than a seat; we took 10 to move and made up about four or five -- and never looked back. In the end, we had a few seats of open water, the boat felt really powerful, and everyone was super pumped-up about it.
So Marsa's months-long attempt to get me fired up succeeded at last! Now, people say that a coxswain should be confident, "and if you're not confident, fake it." I have no problem being confident -- I am probably excessively confident sometimes. My theory is: a coxswain should be excited and pumped up, and if you're not, fake it! I figured this out in practice yesterday, applied it in today's race, and it was amazing.
Not to suggest that I was not truly excited -- I certainly was, especially because our race was going so well -- but I think it is better to speak more excitedly than less when good things happen. But really I am just very happy about our race. Yay.
04.04.08
At Williams there is a fro-yo machine. Sometimes there is chocolate fro-yo in the fro-yo machine, and since the beginning of the year it has been called Double Dutch Chocolate. I doubt whether anyone or anything from Holland has ever come in contact with this foodstuff, and given its pallor, I doubt that there is anything remotely doubled about the chocolate. And yet for me, Double Dutch Chocolate is inextricably associated with the idea of chocolate fro-yo.
Upon our return from spring break, a surprise visitor awaited upon the fro-yo labels: Old World Chocolate. "This impostor!" I thought. "What has it done with my dear kidnapped Double Dutch?" But I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt -- after all, I can change my associations -- and I went for it. I tried the Old World Chocolate.
But it was white! Mon Dieu! Forget the Old World -- they did away with chocolate entirely! Is this some kind of sly historical joke, meant to instruct us that the Old World was not fortunate enough to have chocolate and had to make do with vanilla? I am so scarred that I think I may not have fro-yo for many moons.
04.04.05
I think that I will link this to my own Web page. I think that if I don't, it will have an identity crisis. I mean, it's already so popular that someone has linked it externally, and if its own creator doesn't care enough to do the same?
I have now been a coxswain in a boat in a race. Wow. And to think that two weeks previous, I had never even been a coxswain in a boat. But I have a lot to learn, let me say that much -- or more optimistically, a lot to improve. Right. But not as much as the Simmons coxswain. That was some ineffective coxing going on right there, let me tell you.
Some people think that going to South Carolina for spring break is one of those typical spring breaks where the team goes down south and lays on the beach in the sun. Those are the people that don't realize that half the time I was wearing five shirts and two pairs of socks. But that is just because we are all so very hard core. Even our spa treatment was hard core. That is, it wasn't a spa treatment; it was "uh, the skag is in the mud, guys. We're gonna have to do the walk." I believe that I was the only one to avidly volunteer to do the walk in the inseam-deep ICW mud. But just about everyone did it involuntarily, yay Williams Crew.
04.03.15
Hmmm. Toyota has designed a robot that can play the trumpet. My lips can't even do that. Whoa. Clearly Japanese people have too much time on their hands and too much money in their pockets. I think it would've looked a lot cooler to have it play the saxophone, though.
04.03.13
Snippet from a humor piece about the role of each person in an eight (i.e. a crew boat):
They can't drive a car anymore. They take 10 miles to change a lane, oversteer, can't find the brakes, and yell to the car a lot. This has nothing to do with the coxes' former driving ability. Stick Richard Petty in a cox seat for a while, they'll take his drivers license away. Coxes also begin to squint a lot, no loss in vision, they just squint.