Category: Life


Another School Rant

All semester we were supposed to be working on this incredibly detailed project for a UI class. Remember, UI. User Interface. Pretty pictures and buttons to help users do shit without tearing their hair out.

This highly detailed project was discussed all semester. Very little UI learning was happening. We did one assignment using the software we had to use to design the UI for our project (10 minutes), one assignment on evaluating other interfaces (not bad, actually), one writing a calculator using PHP on a webpage (the fuck?) and the other 10 assignments were for the project: design documents, specifications, all the piff and fluff surrounding any Software Engineering class project.

Oh wait, THIS ISN’T A GODDAMN SOFTWARE ENGINEERING CLASS PROJECT.

The orject itself was to simulate something called a set-associative cache. Got something to do with how memory is used/allocated. I didn’t get it when I took the computer architecture class in the 90’s, I didn’t get it when I took a different computer architecture class in 2006, I didn’t get it when he explained it all semester. I might be stupid, I don’t know. But when you explain the same thing and change up the terms during the explanation and go off on a tangent while never getting back to the point, I’m not going to understand you. I would dread when people would ask him questions. Namely my group members. Who have done such fun shit as:

  1. Not turn in an assignment when they said they would
  2. When, after listening to an explanation of something not project related (like, “when is the status report due?”), asking the same goddamn question that was just fucking answered. This person was in my Tuesday night class as well.
  3. After not hearing a peep all week, calling me and trying to set up a meeting a 4pm on a goddamn Sunday. Our assignments were due by 11:55pm on Sundays.
  4. Not reading emails. Like, blatantly ignoring what I just fucking said.

That said, I know I’m not a stellar groupmate, but, fuck, many times I would work hard on a document just to have someone popup and say “Oh, here, I already did it but I’ll add in your comments” and it ends up being complete shit compared to what I wrote.

This project would be perfect for getting a deeper understanding of how caches work during the course of a more hardware oriented class.

Oh wait, THIS ISN’T A GODDAMN HARDWARE CLASS!

So finally, after the pain of the semester where we’re still asking “how in the fuck does the cache work?” in the week leading up to the demo date, I we decide to just demo what we have and turn in the final stuff Friday with the REST of the documentation. Oh, didn’t I tell you? There’s more useless fucking documentation that we had no warning about due Friday (5/15) that he told us about Monday night (5/11). Again, appropriate for a Software Engineering project…which this still isn’t.

The Monday night demo sucks fucking donkey dicks. Greasy, purple, “Scratch n’ Dent Night” at the strip club, donkey show dick. Our project was horrible. Everyone else’s (save maybe two projects) was cool. 15 kinds of awesome. Ours was best demo’d in private. And you burn the machine after it was done. I worked my motherfucking ass off on my part with zero help, zero direction. So I was fucking proud as hell to get OpenGL shit to work. How was I to know that was tanamount to having your teenaged kid run up to you excited because they finally figured out and put together that 25 piece jigsaw puzzle. Fuck. The backend “proper” C++ code got integrated with the UI in QT the day before. THE DAY BEFORE. I don’t think you understand. My UI did NOTHING but show pretty slides I could get this code. I had not seen a fucking lick of it until THE DAY BEFORE THE DEMO. Un-fucking-believeable. So here I am, day of the demo, cramming this shit in to make it do something, anything. I am pissed as fuck. I left class so upset it was unfathomable. The next day, I almost cried, I was still so mad. But at least I thought it wold all be over Monday. OH NO, BITCHES! THE HELL AIN’T OVER YET! I get the priviledge of re-demo’ing this piece of fucking shit Friday. And so do the assholes who’s project worked JUST FUCKING FINE. This is bullshit. Total complete bull-fucking-ass-shit.

My House Is A Shithole

Apparently my house, my yard, my patio, my property in general is a shithole. Let’s list the reasons why!!

  1. The hailstorm almost two months ago fucked my roof and patio roof (big holes).
  2. My siding is old and starting to really look it.
  3. Same for the wood trim
  4. One of the trees in the backyard is dead. Deader than fuck. And full of carpenter ants.
  5. The trees adjacent to them have big dead branches quite possibly from whatever killed tree number one.
  6. I haven’t mowed in weeks.
  7. I haven’t edged since last year.
  8. My carpet is old, filthy, and nothing will revive it.
  9. Bright yellow countertops.
  10. The hole I put through the ceiling in the garage-gameroom 5 years ago is still covered by some random wood.

So. What will it take to fix this shit?

  1. Have not gotten estimates yet.
  2. Last estimate: $18,000 for Hardiplank. Fuck.
  3. No idea. would be fixed by 2.
  4. A chainsaw, three guys, and a rope. Or a service.
  5. A tree trimming service that actually returns phonecalls.
  6. Me getting off my ass and doing it.
  7. See 6.
  8. Floor and Decor actually having all of the tile I already fucking paid for. Not my fault you held the wrong 20 boxes and now have to scramble and get my shit. 5/16 is the deadline. Either way, there will be no carpet in the living room come June. I shudder to think what I will find when we pull up the carpet.
  9. Ugh.
  10. A big enough piece of drywall, I guess.

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m particularly grumpy.

Another year

So, today is my birthday. Yay me! This time last year, I was studying for a final, convinced I was going to fail. It was the worst thing going at the time. That and did I really have enough money for a party. The next day, I was laid off. Well. Fuck.

Here I am now…not exactly studying for a final but working on final projects for one asshole (not in the good way) and my Tuesday night class; convinced I’m going to fail the Tuesday night class; and having realized that throwing a party now is just too much. We’ve already had layoff announcements here just last week, so that worry is not completely out of the way. But, shit. Is this how early May is going to go? Finals, hard class, layoffs? Fuck that. This needs to be the last year layoffs happen at this time.

Economy, hurry the fuck up and rebound.

My Big Fat Network Adventure

I have a lot of shit in my house that wants to/needs to talk to the Internet and to other devices in the house. No really. A lot. 4 desktop computers, 2 tablets, 2 dish receivers, 2 ReplayTv dvrs (possibly going away soon), hd-dvd player (don’t judge), PS3, Wii, slingbox , NDS, 2 Roku boxes (yes, I know I can use the PS3. I’d rather have the Roku), a Squeezebox (possibly just got superseded by the PS3), and a printer…in a pear tree. Not to mention access for my friends who come over with their laptops.

Whew. That’s a lot of shit. In a house built in 1977 with zero network jacks (of course not). I had a cobbled together smash up of wired (snaked around doorframes), wireless, wired with a wireless bridge (for shit that didn’t have the decency to be able to connect wirelessly), and ethernet-over-powerlines which worked surprisingly well.

Sick of all this mess, wanting as little stuff on wireless as possible, and wanting gigabit speeds throughout the house, I decided to install some network drops. The ideal situation would be to have the modem and main switch up in a closet somewhere out of sight. Wonderful, says I. Then a realize that closets don’t have fucking power outlets. And I would be damned if I was going to call an electrician to put power where there really should be no power and have to use a stepladder every time I need to trouble shoot something. So, the main switch would go right where the current modem and router lived: a small end table 6 inches from the DSL-cum-Uverse jack.

For a couple of weeks, I researched cable, jacks, plugs, switchs, routers, and tools; then agonized over price. Finally, the cable arrived, I had all the bits I was going to buy, and we were ready!

4/11/09 9am: Get up, get dressed, start cutting small holes in the walls where I wanted my drops: 1 each behind the living room tv, the garage, the master bedroom, my office, and the central spot in Tico’s room, now known as the network closet, whether he wanted it to or not.

4/11/09 9:45 or so: Tico ascends into the attic for the first andf most difficult of drops: the garage. See, we converted the garage into a room (insulated and ac’d!) some years back and the desktop and laser priter out there were living off of a semi decent wireless signal. It was not always reliable and I was sick of it. A drop was needed. And I decided to put it along the wall that seperates the garage from the kitchen. Whee! Guess what I found when I cut a hole? Insulation. “But interior walls aren’t supposed to need insulation!” you cry? Yeah. Unless the room used to be the garage. *sigh*. No big deal, we have fish tape. piece of cake.

OVER AN HOUR AND A CONTINUOUS STREAM OF PROFANITY LATER: We’re still working on that goddamned garage drop. Why? The drill bit is NOT LONG ENOUGH to go through the top “plate” of the wall. Ever build a wall? Horizontal piece on top, vertical pieces attached to it (studs), horizontal piece below. Top plate is generally composed of 2 2×4’s, but since my house was built in 1977, it seems to be made of fucking railroad ties. Tico finally got through, dropped the tape, fished the cable up, then went over to where the other end of the cable would go (his room). AND RAN INTO THE SAME MOTHERFUCKING PROBLEM! This time, no spot would work. All were too thick (and somehow there was DRYWALL DUST on the end of the bit????). I said “okay, rest, I’ll go to Harbor Freight.” HAHAHAHAHAH! No drill bit was long enough. And that’s when it dawned on me: This hole needed to be big enough for 3 cables to fit (the office was going to be a straight pass though), so I bought a set of paddle bits. Brought them home, explained to the poor guy doing all the shit work, and sent him back up top. First time, perfect hole. Now we had to get the end of the cable back down. Send fish tape, tie ribbon (lovely Christmas ribbon! Hey, work with whatcha got.) to end of tape, send tape up, attach cable, pull ribbon and cable. Coolness.

4/11/09 12pm or something: Thinking the worst was over, we installed the living room jack. FUCK VAULTED CEILINGS. Tico claimed he could see all of the attic and that this drop should work fine. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. First, he starts drilling in the wrong spot. When I tell him, he curses and moves over. I let him know where he’s supposed to be by tapping on the ceiling. He taps on the ceiling as well to tell me where he is. If we weren’t the ones doing it, it would have been hilarious. But since we were, it was ass. He sees where he needs to be, but he cannot get there. He can, however, get to my closet (shares a wall with the living room). I say “fuck it, drill a hole in the ceiling and I’ll handle it from there.”

4/11/09 2pm, I guess. I’m annoyed and hungry, Tico’s annoyed, hungry, pissed, tired and itchy: Final attic drop, the master bedroom. This room shared a wall with both master and hallway bathrooms (I have a small house). I look in the hole I made and see….something metal about a foot away…and a cross beam. Oh. Fuck. But I can hear the fish tape tapping its way down like a blind pedestrian (because a blind driver would make more sense?). This cross beam thing is not flush against the drywall so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Yeah. It took over 20 minutes to get this stupid drop to happen. Just a comedy of errors. But it happened.

4/11/09 2:something: Tico comes down from the attic, flips it off and I send him to the showers while the (shitty) punchdown tool, a bag of cat6 jacks, a cutter, and I get better acquainted.

4/11/09 3:30pm: I figure out what to do with the cable in my closet. The hole I made in the TV wall is conveniently near the bottom of my closet. I punch a hole from the closet side (okay three holes. Move EVERYTHING from the wall of the closet so you can see what the fuck you’re doing) and snake that bad boy through.

4/11/09 4:30pm: I have made exactly 3 of the 8 jacks I need. Fuck making jacks. My fingers hurt. I wake up Tico and we go to the grocery store, home to dump the groceries, Mooyah Burger, and Dragon’s Lair.

4/11/09 7pm: I make more goddamn jacks and try my hand at making cables. Fuck making cables. My jacks work, my cables didn’t. Whatever. [Edit: Holy shit, there was a trip to Fry’s in there are well for short lengths of cable because I gave the fuck up.] I make my drops look all pretty with plates (damn near professional looking job) and handwritten labels (this might come back to bite me in the ass). I never got around to buying all the spiffy switches and router because that was about $420. I could not bring myself to click “checkout” from newegg. But I discovered that between upgrading this and that and having LAN parties, I had enough switches to get by. I even had a SPARE gigabit switch. A SPARE! Who has spare gigabit equipment? Someone just gave it to Tico. I think it was Kent (thanks, Kent!). So, now I have a Gigbit main switch, and two 5 port 10/100 switches (one for the bedroom and the living room). I plug shit in and voila, it works. IT WORKS!

MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!

4/12/09 noon or so: Realize that I hadn’t made the last jack in my office look pretty. Install plate and move on.

So, what have we learned from this experience:

  • The attic sucks ass. Don’t go up there unless you absolutely have to, and even then, see if you can pay someone to do whatever it is you need done up there.
  • The attic door was built in 1977. It’s one of those pulldown things. They suck. The beams around it are either failing or were poorly constructed. The ceiling around the door bows and at random times, Tico said he could hear a *pop* and was convinced he was coming down the hard way.
  • Corded Tools > Cordless Tools. We have two battery packs for the Ryobi tool set. We need more. Battery died on the flashlight AND the drill. Fuck.
  • Both corded and cordless drills LOVED sucking in the blown insulation into their motors. Fear_of_fire++
  • Making jacks by hand: sucks ass. Like I said before, my fingers hurt. Perhaps my punchdown tool was not the best.
  • Making cables by hand is an exercise in frustration.
  • Insulation is itchy. Even the blown in stuff. Wear long sleeved shirts or suffer.
  • 1970’s home construction is far superior to current construction. Where else would you use fucking railroad ties in an interior wall?
  • Workmen who come to your house and work in your attic treat it like a goddamn trash pile! Fucking shit! Tico found beer bottle caps, assorted other trash and an open pocket knife. See, some past installer didn’t have a long enough drill bit either and his drill kept hitting wood before punching through so he grabbed his handy dandy pocket knife and GOUGED OUT THE WOOD in a funnel shape to make it work. Then graciously left the knife–still open–in the attic for Tico to find. With his open palm (no injuries). It’s a nice one, too. His now.
  • Concrete floors are no fun to kneel on. My knees hurt to the touch. How do kids crawl around all damn day?

Equipment bought to be used in this much needed but tiring adventure:

Shit I already have:

Equipment I want to upgrade to:

Props to:

  • Mick West for his informative website for doing this crap.
  • @pakazmir for recommendations on hardware (which I still haven’t bought) and cabling.
  • Kent for the gigabit switch
  • @aelerelean for doing all the shit work.

Classes again

I totally got shamed last night.

I was bitching about the horrible class selection and how I might just “take it easy” and take one class. The guy I was talking to said “Oh yeah, I said the same thing. I was taking 4 classes.” Holy fucking shit. 4 classes. And he was working. I’ll just shut the fuck up and take my piddly two classes next fall.

Lying Assholes

Dear Texas State Computer Science Department,

Really, why do you even bother? “Hey, you can complete your entire BS or MS up in Round Rock! Oh but you might have to go to San Marcos to get classes you might be even remotely interested in. Or the ones that you absolutely positively need to graduate. Oh and all tests required to graduate and to prove you belong in the program will be in San Marcos. As well as any remotely interesting talks, frat meetings, and professor demos. But other than that, you can complete your entire degree in Round Rock! Won’t that be convienient for you working Austin/Round Rock/Georgetown people!”

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

There is one class in Summer Session II that I would love to take. Unfortunately it’s being taught by the same instructor that is giving me heartburn right now. There’s no way in hell will I ever take another class from him. I may not make it to the end of THIS semester.

Summer: Okay, pickings are always slim for the summer. But it looks like ONE professor is teaching damn near everything. Too bad I can’t take any of them.

Fall: One class that fulfills both a core-optional requirement and is a prerequisite for something I really want to take. Great! That’s it. I don’t want to resort to taking classes just for the sake of taking classes. My track is not Software Engineering, so that eliminates 4 classes, 2 of which I’ve already taken. I could *possibly* take Formal Language, but it’s predecessor damn near ate my lunch a year ago and would only serve to add elective credits while I wait to take my last goddamn core class. The rest? I don’t have the prereqs for. My options: a class that will leave me broken, sticky and confused; travel to San Marcos and take that last fucking core class (that has a high probability of being taught in the spring) that will leave me in a bitter fucking mood all semester; travel to San Marcos to take a class I need but be in a slightly better mood; just take one class.

Fuck. I really don’t know what to do.

Shit, this started out as a letter.

I Hurt

I found a thread on the forums I frequent about chicks who lift. Not competitively, more like “You need to lift weights. Girls need to lift weights. Really. Your vagina will not stop you from lifting for fucks sake.” I liked weightlifting. I took it as my PE in college and loved it ever since. Aerobics? Suck. Step? Not that coordinated (really. I can play DDR but I can’t do more advanced step than what’s in WiiFit. And it sucks). Running? I’m not being chased. Lifting heavy things over and over? Weeeee got a winner. I dragged Tico back to the gym Sunday afternoon (blissfully uncrowded) and we sweated and almost passed out. If you haven’t been to the gym in almost a year, DO NOT TRY TO PICK UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF. Invigorated, we went back Monday. This time I was armed with a plan. I found a “Get In, Get Out, Go Home” workout. Which was perfect. Because we remembered why we stopped going. It’s fucking CROWDED after work. I hate that. So, after a quick warm up and we hit the weight floor, still hurting from Sunday. Success. In and out in about 45 minutes (including wait time for equipment).

Tuesday was declared cardio and stretch day. We walked to Fry’s. Yes, I know, it doesn’t appear far, but when you finish turning down various streets, into the parking lot, and heading all the way to the back of the lot, it’s about 1.5 miles one way. So we walked about three miles. Up inclines, over shitty landscaping rocks.

Wednesday was fuck off day.

Thursday…I got up at 6:30, left the house at 6:45 and got to the gym a little before 7. Yes. I was at the fucking gym at 7am. Again, get in, get out, go home. I was walking back to my car by 7:30. I was home, showered, and dressed by 7:50. We’ll see how this works out.

No Shit, Sherlock

I love what I do. Really. And I’m happy at my job. Shit, I’m happy to have a job. But there are days, oh there are days. See, I went from a big mega-corp to a smaller (exponentially smaller) company. There’s not much process, they’re growing, etc. So there are times when I read an email from my manager spotlighting something “good” that another coworker has done to encourage us to follow some sort of process. That’s great and all but the things he’s saying I think “well, yeah, that’s what you’re SUPPOSED to do. Do you want a cookie or something?” Once or twice, sure. But I find myself thinking it a lot. And it really bothers me. To me, this stuff should be common sense, so I feel rather insulted sometimes. But that’s something I gotta get over. In the meantime, fuck, I’ll suck it up and continue to draw that paycheck.

Change is here.

The prepared text of President Barack Obama’s inaugural address

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land — a nagging fear that America’s decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America — they will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions — that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act — not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology’s wonders to raise health care’s quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions — who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them — that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works — whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public’s dollars will be held to account — to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day — because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control — and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our Gross Domestic Product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart — not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience’s sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort — even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society’s ills on the West — know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world’s resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment — a moment that will define a generation — it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter’s courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent’s willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America’s birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

“Let it be told to the future world…that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive…that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].”

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Crisis Averted

So….by the time I had gotten completely spun up and in full blown panic, I had received a response from my begging. I was allowed to resubmit and got my new grade. 98. Wheee! Of course, this just made me freak out even more about turning in my final. This time I only had the one file and triple checked it was the right one.