Assorted Afflatuses

While composing a short story for my English class the other day, I serendipitously stumbled upon a line, in the dictionary, written by one Bill Shakespeare. He wrote, in Hamlet:

"Brevity is the soul of wit"

Now, I have come to realize just how true that little quip is. I have spent the vast majority of my time this fall weekend composing essays for college admissions. The first essay, for the Common Application, remains incomplete after nearly seven hours of travail. Alternately, it only took me about an hour to write a halfway decent first draft of Princeton's supplemental essay, which brings me back to the brevity.

I am slowly coming to the conclusion that the Common Application essay has proved more difficult to compose because I have such a simple message that I attempt to convey through far too many words. The Common Application essay should comprise some 500 words, as opposed just 300 for the Princeton essay. The essay written with more brevity has more wit. As we might say in math class, QED.

Though, I would also argue that the Princeton essay gives a slightly less vague description of what to write and also provides a tad more in the way of inspiration. The Common Application - a time saver to be sure - has some very open prompts, ranging from, "Discuss some issue of personal, local, national, or international concern and its importance to you," to the incredibly open, "Topic of your choice." Some might see that as a boon, however, I feel that it, in many ways, detracts from my creativity.

Princeton, on the other hand, provided a number of very interesting quotes to prompt potential undergraduates. I chose the Einstein quote below, which, in a somewhat enigmatic fashion, shall end this entry.

"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when one contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries to comprehend only a little of this mystery every day."

- Albert Einstein, Princeton resident 1933 - 1955

The amount of homework I have received from my various teachers this year has been quite sporadic. Some weeks I have almost nothing to occupy my weeknights and others I spend hours hunched over my desk pecking away my keyboard or otherwise killing trees with integrals, derivatives, or organic chemistry.

This weekend unquestionably falls into the latter category. I have two rather important assignments, both of which teachers want by Monday. In addition, this weekend is the last weekend before most colleges - including my top choice, Princeton - have their early application deadlines.

When first I realized how inopportune this timing was, I thought, "This can't be an accident." After all, my entertaining, though simultaneously benevolent-menevolent, chemistry teacher, does seem like the type of person who would choose the most inconvenient time to assign an important assignment.

But, as much as I would like to think that my teachers conspired in some rather grandiose scheme to prevent me from gaining admission to the university of my choice, I must also consider the human element - almost like Dow's new ad campaign. My teachers probably just acted with my best interest in mind, though their eyes, of course.

As much as I love my MacBook Pro, I could not help but feel a pang of annoyance when I read this morning that Apple had finally released MacBook Pro notebooks with Intel's latest-and-greatest Core 2 Duo processors. After all, I only purchased my MacBook Pro about a month ago. But Apple did not stop with the processor. The new MacBook Pros further humiliate me by featuring twice as much memory, a 120 GB hard disk, FireWire 800, and an improved optical drive that can burn dual-layer DVD disks.

My computer still performs quite speedily, regardless of improvements made in Apple's latest offering. At the same time, however, I could have purchased a much faster computer for the exact same sum of money, had I waited just a few weeks longer to replace my dying PowerBook.

Thanks obsolescence!

Whoever uploaded this video probably broke some French law, but I find that fact quite immaterial. C'est pas Sorcier is some seriously great television. This episode's subject is the universe and whether or not UFO's (OVNI's as they say in the land of cheese) exist.

Amusez-vous bien.

When I ordered my sweater just over a week ago, I expected Bluefly to have it in my possession within 5 to 7 days, as I actually paid for 5 to 7 day shipping. But the shipping gods were, apparently, not on my side. While DHL did manage to move the package from Bluefly's Virginia shipping facility to my friendly neighborhood post office in a timely fashion, the United States Postal Service failed to deliver my package until today.

However, when my friendly neighborhood post person delivered the small brown box this afternoon, I realized that it was well worth the wait.

Bluefly, in addition to providing a great sweater at an even more unbelievable price, did an impeccable job of packing and presenting my sweater and the other items in the box. The sweater itself came in an easy-to-open poly bag, which the packers had mercifully sealed shut with regular Scotch tape, making the sweater extraction process far less painful than the usual pseudo wresting match one must endure. A marvelous layer of royal blue tissue paper covered the poly bag, adorned with a lovely (somewhat Apple-esque) "Enjoy" sticker.

To make the experience complete, Bluefly even included an empty Bluefly shopping bag to mimic that of a traditional retail outlet. Though, I suppose that, without the bag, the package would weigh less, thus marginally reducing the shipping cost and, more importantly, reducing the nation's consumption of fossil fuels. But detrimental side effects aside, the bag was a nice touch.

Nothing, however, not even the included cashmere care guide, can begin to compare to the brilliance of the included return envelope. Never before have I ordered something online with such a sublimely simple method of product return. Bluefly included a giant DHL mailing pouch and label to facilitate the easy, postage paid return of any unsatisfactory items.

But Bluefly CEO Melissa Payner need not worry; I intend to keep the sweater.

Earlier today, I took the SAT. I will make my comments brief as I would prefer not to risk having my score canceled, if by some cruel twist of fate the College Board managed to discover that I had posted test details on my website.

In short, the test was very long, very painful, and the writing section completely idiotic. I now believe that the ETS needs to add an option "F" to all of the sentence error questions. In my mind, option "F" should read something like this:

F) The author should completely rewrite the sentence

I have no idea whether these questions come from a consortium of post-doctoarte researchers or a group of inept high schoolers. But regardless of their origins, the sentences need more work than a simple tense change. While I may score well on the writing section, I hope colleges never decide to incorporate it into the admissions process; no college student should write such horrible sentences.

Few beverages can calm me more than a piping hot mug of cocoa. But in many cases, I feel either too lethargic or simply too tired hunch over the stove and concoct hot chocolate from scratch. So, desiring a high-quality quick-fix hot chocolate, I began an investigation into hot chocolate mixes.

Having consumed many abysmal mugs of instant hot chocolate, I figured that the best course of action would involve creating a mix from scratch. Unlike the food scientists who develop Swiss Miss and other popular (though insipid) hot chocolate mixes, I did not have access to the commercial food-altering chemicals used to enhance mouth feel and flavor. Still, I reasoned, if the mixes with unusual chemicals hark of diluted sugar water, as opposed to cocoa, my lack of flavor-enhancing chemicals could not possibly be detrimental.

After much unsuccessful trial and error, I turned to the Internet for guidance. Eventually, I stumbled upon a recipe for hot chocolate mix created by one of my culinary heroes, Alton Brown. Admittedly, I found some of his choices a little bizarre, such as his decision to add cayenne pepper to the melange. Though, given my lack of success up to that point, I figured I ought to at least try it.

The "Good Eats" Cocoa Mix, as Mr Brown would refer to it, certainly mimicked a real mug of hot chocolate far more convincingly than any other amalgamation I had tasted prior to that point. But at the same time, a water-based hot chocolate - even one using a seemingly excessive quantity of powdered milk - cannot begin to mimic an actual mug of hot chocolate.

Alton Brown's cocoa creation certainly improved over most instant hot chocolate mixes, however, I have concluded that one simply cannot mimic the marvelous mouth-feel and fine flavor of real hot chocolate, made with real milk.

(For the curious, my recipe for real hot chocolate follows the discontinuation)

One would think that a second-year calculus class at the high school level would be composed of a small, yet well-behaved and eager group of students. However, my second year calculus class shatters every preconceived notion that any reasonable person might have about such a class.

Really, the spectacle is quite ironic: the most advanced math class at my high school is, by far, the most unproductive and unruly group of students I have ever seen. People routinely jump from desk to desk, spontaneously break out in song, or leave class for indeterminate amounts of time with no warning whatsoever. How my math teacher can cope with the obstreperous nature of my class, let alone teach it, is beyond me. I find it even more surprising to think that nearly every student in last year's second year calculus class, which, by all accounts, behaved in an equally unruly manner, managed to pass the Advanced Placement test with a four or a five. Granted, the AB-level (as opposed to the BC-level) calculus Advanced Placement test, which I took last May, did not prove terribly difficult.

To be fair, the class does spend the first third of the year reviewing topics that everyone in the class had previously covered at one point or another, which may account for the restlessness. If it were up to me, the class would spend the first week, or two weeks, reviewing the concepts covered in the last year, to bring us back up to speed after a summer spent idly, and then zip through all of the BC-level topics. That would, hopefully motivate everyone, and the class could actually provide a grounding in higher-level math concepts, like linear algebra or first-order ODEs.

The real test will come when the class moves into uncharted waters. If we still behave like a group of untrained baboons, then I will declare the class the year's first victim of senioritis.

I found this assignment mildly amusing, so I figured I would put it online.

Oh, and, incidentally, this boast won the award for "Most Authentic" in my English class, if that has any pertinence to anything whatsoever.