This post is over 13 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

If you haven’t noticed already, I’m taking a short break from blogging.

I’m working on something amazing that will be released on my website on July 1, 2010, and I thought this break in blogging will build some good suspense leading up to the big day.

I’ll see you in a week.

 

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“North is that-a way.”

This post is over 13 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

At 01:30 PM today, I finished the last portion of the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s Student Orien­tation Advising and Registration process by completing my enrollment in classes for the first semester of my freshman year in college.

As I was heading out of the building, I lost my way to the front exit and took a side door exit, stepping into the rain. After being unable to find my place on the map I was using, I started walking toward where I saw a bunch of cars driving by and started spinning my map around to try to orient it to the direction in which I was walking.

A short distance away, an old man with a cane standing at the corner of an intersection asked me if I needed any help. I told him that I was fine and thanked him for the offer, but he helped me out anyway and reached for my map. After staring closely at it for a few seconds, he returned my map and pointed behind me, proudly declaring, "North is that-a way." I had a strong feeling that he was pointing south and that north was in front of me, but the old man insisted that north was behind me. He cited that he has lived in this area for decades, and he knows it like "the back of [his] palm." I thanked him for his (unwelcome) help, turned to my left, and started walking east (east according to the old man, at least).

I walked and walked but couldn’t find the street I was looking for. I looked on my map for the streets I was walking past, but I couldn’t find any of them. After about a mile and a half of walking, I concluded that I had walked outside of the range of my one-page map printout, and decided to retrace my steps.

After another one and a half miles or so of walking, I made it back to the spot where I found the old man, and surprisingly, he was still there, standing in the rain. I confronted him again, pointed south, and said, "You said that that was north!" The old man pointed behind me and said, "No, I said that north was behind you!"

The thing is, when I first conversed with the old man, I was facing the real north and the old man was facing the real south. However, during the second conversation with the old man, I was facing the real south and he was facing the real north, effectively making the direction behind me north. Basically, we had switched spots during the second conversation, so his "North is behind you" statement was false during the first conversation, but actually true during the second conversation. I tried to explain this to him, but he responded by asking me if I was under the influence of chemical substances. I decided to leave him there to continue getting drenched in the rain and proceeded on my way back to my dor­mitory.

By the time I reached my dormitory, I had more or less taken a shower in rainwater and my hair was dripping wet. I checked the time, and it was 2:18 PM. A walk from the registration site to my dormitory that should have taken ten minutes or so ended up taking 48 minutes.

The moral of the story: buy a compass.

 

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This post is over 13 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

This is my first ever blog post from the University of Wisconsin-Madison!

I spent the day here today for SOAR, which stands for Student Orientation Advising and Registration. I’ll (probably) be spending my next four years here to get my undergraduate degree.

For anybody interested, I have some pictures from the day up on my Picasa Web account. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera and left it in my room when we were getting the guided campus tour, so I couldn’t get any pictures of the campus. I’ll try to get some tomorrow if I can, otherwise, I’ll be able to upload plenty, seeing as I’m going to go here for school the following school year.

In other news, I kept taking the wrong turn, even though I had a map, and I think I walked an excess of about three miles.

More coming tomorrow.

 

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This post is over 13 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

Earlier today, when I was playing a little bit of competitive Tetris with my window open, I heard a shrill scream from outside. Wondering what it was, I instinctively grabbed my camera and looked out the window to see a girl sprawled out on the ground and an older woman hovering over her.

I took a few pictures, and realized that it wasn’t an on-going murder, but a girl that fell off her bike.

I obviously can’t make millions of dollars off these pictures because they’re obviously not pictures of a murder in progress, so I decided that I would post them here instead.

 

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This post is over 13 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

Some time yesterday evening: My mom takes my normal comforter from my bed and takes it to the laundry room to wash. She replaces my normal comforter with a temporary one.

12:48 AM: I go to sleep without realizing that my comforter has changed.

7:12 AM: I wake up and see pink spots on my comforter. I start to think that there are massive spots of mold growing on my comforter.

7:13 AM: I put my glasses on to realize that the temporary comforter my mom put on my bed has roses on it.

 

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This post is over 13 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

This will most likely be my future computer:

(Click on the picture to see the full-size image)

A special thanks goes to Frank Harris for helping me and guiding me through picking out parts.

 

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