My father and I noticed something odd as we were driving to school this morning. There was one of those magnetic-letter signs reading "MLK DAY: DON'T FORGET THE DREAM."

Of course, we immediately engaged in serious discussion. "MLK DAY", we decided, must be an abbreviated form of "MILK DAY." Obviously, whoever had put the sign up had lost all the "I" letters from the box, and just decided that us decent, logical human beings would figure it out for themselves.

That led us to the most baffling issue at hand: what on earth is "MILK DAY," why have we never heard of it before, and what does it have to do with a dream?

Then it struck us. Some poor employee, up at half past five in the morning, bleary-eyed and groggy, stumbling about with his little magnetic-letter-applier-thing, must have made a typo. With his bleary eyes and groggy head, he wouldn't have noticed it, and maybe no one had looked carefully enough at the sign since then to realize the mistake. We pulled over, strolled into the main office, and talked to the secretary.

After advising her of the situation, we told her the sign would make much more sense (even without the 'I') if it read:

MILK DAY: REMEMBER THE CREAM.

We'll be looking for the change on the sign tomorrow, because change is all part of the American cream.

Dream, I mean.

Note: this is not intended to malign said owner of said sign in any way; we are not entirely sure if said owner has any bleary-eyed employees, or if the secretary of said establishment is male or female. Also, no slander is intended against propagators of cream manufactured in America or the American dream (so-called).

Bishop: Start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know.

The Doctor: Well, for starters, I know... you can't wrap your hand round your elbow and make your fingers meet.


Mickey: You're just making it up as you go along!

The Doctor: Yup. But I do it brilliantly.


(Both bits of dialogue shamelessly taken from the 2nd Season of the most recent Doctor Who series, starring David Tennant as the 10th Doctor.)

(Spell-checker hates it when I spell "dialog" (<--so they say it should be) "dialogue" (<--so I think it ought to be). I think it's terribly narrow-minded and denounce it most heartily.)

(I've got a paper to write. And math to do. And other stuff to study.)

(While I agree this post is seriously lacking in substance...)

(...regrettably, I confess that is unavoidable.)

(Regardless of whether you mind or not,)

(Good evening.)

(Farewell.)

(Bye.)

~I.S.

That's the general view of the bookshelf above my head on the desk. If you have discerned from the above that I am referring to text/workbooks, you are absolutely right! The semester has started again--obvious and already known to most of you--and with it comes the loverly view. Pshaww.

I've always felt like saying Pshaww--just like that. So I did. Because the view isn't all that loverly. And I've always felt like saying it. I should just say it whenever I like.

Pshaww.

Just like that.

Anyway, on Monday night I had the Great Reorganization, or rather The Great Partially-Reorganized Reorganization, because I didn't do half of what I needed to do, but I did exactly what I planned to on that particular night. I've gone through all the stuff on/around/under my desk and around/under my bed. I haven't gone through my dresser or nightstand or the stuff *inside* my desk (namely: two drawers containing whoknowswhat manner and assortment of supplies.) I also loaded several treasured, old, beat-up CDs onto my laptop before they become utterly useless...some of the tracks skip even after being loaded on one of the CDs. I'll have to buy a new copy eventually, but for now this suffices. I found a temporary home for all my Christmas books by putting the commentaries under the basket by my bed (always needed to elevate it anyway) and the rest in a tub under my desk which I cleverly emptied (did I mention my parents' trash bill for this week was tenfold the usual? ...just kidding. well, maybe. I don't really know.)

So when The Great On-Purpose-Partially-Reorganized Reorganization was over, I actually had desk space...and still have desk space... which is surprising, because I've gotten into the dreadful habit of just letting things go over the last two weeks or so. For instance, a basket of clean laundry from the previous laundry day was put away on the evening of my laundry day... with another clean load in the dryer already. I know not when that one shall be put away. ...er, considering that some sibling helpfully piled it on my bed (I was at Robotics last night and did not manage to take it out of the dryer myself...), it might be sooner than a week from yesterday. =P

Yesterday I went to my 7:30 Alg/Trig class, and then I spent the rest of the morning (literally) finishing up pre-lab stuff: first an hour and a half in the basement of Willard, filling out the planning form, and then two and a half hours in the LRC doing pre-labs and writing and re-writing the planning form. I was somewhat disappointed, because it looked like they were trying to encourage us to be creative and innovative and all that, and then you get there and they inform you that there are pretty much two dull, un-creative and un-innovative ways to answer this rather silly question. It seems to be a kind of fake lab scenario, anyway; after all, the chapter's on the scientific method, not genetics or anything so exciting. (I should have said that the predator AKA HUMAN captures his Q. variegatus AKA CARDBOARD prey by means of a three-pronged toasting fork, and the larger prey are more easily speared. That would have made it more interesting, if only because of the strange looks I would receive hauling a three-pronged toasting fork around campus...)

But I really, really like the Learning Resource Center AKA LRC. Not so much because it's an exciting or comfortable place--they have these dreadful chairs which I'm certain were designed by either monkeys or robots. (I suppose that's rather unfair; I don't know who they were designed by and I certainly do not intend to compare their persons to apes or machines!) However, they weren't aiming for comfort--or ease--or technological genius--or frustration elimination--or efficiency. In fact, they were probably created by some disgruntled lab student who needed something other than a nearby student or computer to take his frustration out on. After all, when one is feeling perturbed, one need only decide the height of his chair needs adjusting, and may release all his pent-up emotion by whacking repeatedly on the thing for five minutes or so, at which point the chair collapses all the way down and does not let the student see above the desk, but the frustration is gone--or at least, redirected towards the collapsed chair.

No--the reason anyone goes to Rm 303 Life Science West is not for the chairs, computers, or companionship--everyone goes to Rm 303 Life Science West for Elvis.

Elvis cuts a fine figure for everyone who passes by. He can be frequently observed lounging his (may I say) extremely handsome body around the LRC. He never says much or does much, being more the strong and silent type, but several girls have been known to swoon from a mere passing glimpse of him. It is a commonly known (but rarely expressed) fact that those who go to the LRC go there in hopes of passing by his established seat in LSW. Extra credit is merely a side-bonus; the real attraction is Elvis. He is quite a looker; I can't walk by him without getting a somewhat silly grin and a dazed expression on my face.

And now that I have raved for some time about the looks and mannerisms of Elvis, may I say that Elvis is actually an iguana--but quite a handsome iguana--and if anyone swooned at the sight of him--well, they were probably grossed out. College girls can be that way. I'm going to take CO sometime there to get a look at him--he's an amazingly monstrous thing, and his name is perfect. =) I mean, there are turtles and things next to him, but he really does outshine them all.

That's all the anticlimactic stuff I have for today. I'm sure I was going to say something else...

Oh, yes, by the way of "homefront" news--me brother ran over a cat the other day with his bike. 'Twasn't Tiger, the scamp of a cat who (by the way) disappeared once already, came back, and now has disappeared again. It was a small blind (we think) cat which darted into the road between his front and back tires, so just the back tire hit it and there was nothing Monsieur G could do. He was rather traumatized by the affair and swears he made one of the cat's eyes do something funny, but I won't go into details and he's recovered pretty much. It got up and walked away while they were preparing a stretcher back home, so we don't know where it is.

That's all the excitement I have from here: Computer labs, Elvis the Iguana, and a funny-eyed cat with a tire-shaped stripe down its back. (I'll quit joking--it really wasn't all that funny.) I've got some work to do and also a book to read for lab tomorrow...bye.