What the Rabbit Heard After 45 Minutes of Reviewing a Document

Oh, can you read this while it's upside down like this?

In his defence I hadn't needed to read it before, I was just doing so to follow along with him familiarizing himself with it.

Coding

Coding and motion-sensing light controls apparently don't go well together. Despite me bobbing along to GBS while I was working...

So many Dilbert cartoons make far too much sense right now.

(This may have something to do with me being in the corner, but that just means that someone screwed up royally).

What the Rabbit Heard in the Grad Student Mailroom

- Well there's no letter, but I'm sure they'll send me an e-mail telling me to pick it up
> Nope, only the letter
- You mean that they only inform me through a letter in a mailroom to which I don't have a key, nor a door code, and they never told me about?
>Well, in theory you were told about it

Yes, it's probably sexist

But isn't "womengineer" the best title ever?? It was for a phamphlet from the group in the states that handles accreditation for engineering and technology programmes, back in the 1970s, i.e. when women in engineering where a new big thing.

Speaking of women in engineering, in how many other fields can you hear your office mate using the feminine pronoun, and be fairly sure that he's talking about you?

Breaking Strain

The Hymn of Breaking Strain

Rudyard Kipling, 1935

The careful text-books measure
(Let all who build beware!)
The load, the shock, the pressure
Material can bear.
So, when the buckled girder
Lets down the grinding span,
The blame of loss, or murder,
Is laid upon the man.
Not of the Stuff - the Man!

But, in our daily dealing
With stone and steel, we find
The Gods have no such feeling
Of justice toward mankind.
To no set guage they make us, -
For no laid course prepare -
And presently o'ertake us
With loads we cannot bear:
To merciless to bear.

The prudent text-books give it
In tables at the end -
The stress that shears a rivet
Or makes a tie-bar bend -
What traffic wrecks macadam -
What concrete should endure -
But we, poor Sons of Adam,
Have no such literaure,
To warn us or make sure!

We hold all Earth to plunder -
All Time and Space as well -
Too wonder-stale to wonder
At each new miracle;
Till in the mid-illusion
Of Godhead 'neath our hand,
Falls multiple confusion
On all we did or planned -
The mighty works we planned.

We only of Creation
(Oh, luckier bridge and rail!)
Abide the twin-damnation -
To fail and know we fail.
Yet we - by which sole token
We know we once were Gods -
Take shame in being broken
However great the odds -
The Burden or the Odds.

Oh, veiled and secret Power
Whose paths we seek in vain,
Be with us in our hour
Of overthrow and pain;
That we - by which sure token
We know Thy ways are true -
In spite of being broken,
Because of being broken,
May rise and build anew.
Stand up and build anew!

From http://www.cuug.ab.ca/~branderr/risk_essay/hymn_strain.html

Girly Hands!

Ring size 5 1/2. Although given the troubles I had with my engagement ring, I might discover I need to size up to a larger ring after a little while.

Deadline

You know, running back and forth between Lever and E3x is a really good way to test if you're in shape. Of course, for a proper test, make sure you do it late enough at night that the hallways are empty.

And let's say I got a 50% on the test.

What You Don't Want to Hear The TA Say

"What did you DO to it?"

This was while looking at my SolidWorks lab. The really depressing part is that not only did I not know what I had done to it, but I had called him over to help me fix it.

What The Rabbit Heard in the Test Equipment Room

"Ok, new theory. It wasn't working because you were the one holding it."

Oops

So one of the strain gauges on a test grader needed to be replaced today. There was a "pick a number" contest to see who got stuck with it, however I volunteered to do it anyhow because really, having something to do beats having nothing to do.

This job was more ummm... "interesting" than originally putting the strain gauges was because the grader has been reassembled. So instead of standing on the floor (well I'm short, so a box) and reaching inside the frame I was climbing up onto the tandem case and squishing in between the frame and the wheel. Squishing is really the right word, too. As in it's what butyl rubber (which cover all the strain gauges after they've been put on) does to jeans. More accurately, it's what butyl rubber does into jeans.

When I started to move and realised I was stuck I called for the engineer who was right there and explained what had happened. After wincing he told me to just pull myself off the side of the grader. And let me tell you, I have aim (I believe of the kind that one would call bad). In pulling the cover away from the strain gauge I took two wires with me. Not so bad, except that the wires decided to bring the solder pads from the strain gauge. The engineer was very nice about the fact that I had just ruined some expensive test equipment (to wit, the strain gauge), although he did seem to enjoy explaining that that stuff doesn't come out. (He was wrong. My jeans are in the dryer with no black patch now).

Actually it's not killing that strain gauge that bugs me. It's that when I went to glue the strain gauge to the inside of the frame (I had to try twice) I managed to kill it - popped a pad off. At that point I declared that I wasn't gluing any more strain gauges. I had already soldered two (one at least was done well, it was posited that I may have not had a good enough connection to the sink and the heat warped the pad). And I prepped the surface (sanded it with acid until it was smooth) twice on one side (once for the replacement and once after the strain gauge that I killed) and once on the other (for the first strain gauge I killed).

Given that it's probably close to half an hour to prep the bonding surface normally, plus soldering the leads to the strain gauge, gluing it to the grader, testing everything, etc., and that I had to squirm around behind the wheel, it's rather understandable that it took most of my day. What took the largest part of the rest was scrubbing my hands. And my face. And my wrists. See, not only was this grader (still) covered in coal dust, but a) my hair falls out of its braid all the time, so I constantly have to wipe it away from my face, to the point where only the part under my safety glasses wasn't grey, and b) my shop coat is too large, so I have to push it up quite a ways to keep it out of my way.

Oh, well. At least I've stopped rubbing black on other things.

What the Rabbit Didn't Hear

I just couldn't come up with a way to turn this into a "What the Rabbit Heard".

After having been out on the floor for probably 15 minutes, covering three strain gauges with a butyl rubber coating (quite fun) and chatting with the test engineers and the shop guy who were showing me how to do this and actually doing the work...

*touches face*

"I'm not wearing my safety goggles"

*head for door*

"Yeah, good call"

What the Rabbit Heard at the Office

IS: Hello. I'm Brian, I'm here to steal your computer.

co-op: oh-kay...

EIT: *snicker* So polite!

IS: Hey! I introduced myself first!

I'll Hide in the Office...

So I'm in the middle of a fascinating power struggle at work. I've been told that I'm being used as an excuse, although I'm not sure if that's just being said to make me feel better. The issue here is that the guys from the plant floor out where I am (a small plant, not the main one) have been asked to stop changing in the hallways, at least if they're going to be stripping down to their skivies. One of the women's washrooms has been designated the men's change room (I use the nicer one so I don't mind) and the men who strip down when they change have been informed of the new policy.

The one says he's fine with it, the other one declares he's not. Won't change there without his locker. So, after discarding apparently tempting thoughts of declaring some cardboard box to be his locker and shoving it in the room (with a lock set to not let him out), the engineers went up to junk storage and found a new locker for him. From the stories though, he might well find something else to complain about, since his complaint about a lack of locker failed to stall for very long.

Me? Like the title says, I'll stay in the office until 15:31. We work the day shift here, and by 15:30 the place is dead.

No, that's a digger!

Ok, it wasn't a digger. But I got to drive it! This is officially the best co-op term EVER. I'll take being stuck out here for the chance to drive heavy machinery. I took one of the graders out for a couple of hours this afternoon. Got to move some dirt around, and then took it out to the track. I discovered that if you go over 30 or so it gets really bouncy. So you have to floor it and go up to top speed (48).

In other news the Grad Student Association seems to be stalking me. They sent me an e-mail today to come to a presentation about grad studies. I wonder if it would do any good to point out to them that a) I'm out of town this term, b) I'm really not cut out for grad school, and c) I can't stay in Waterloo after I get my bachelor's. Yeah. Right.

Scratch That One

So I discovered the most wonderful thing the other day. I can trip the traffic light sensor to get an advanced green at University and Albert. I had thought that Allan could trip some just because he is heavier than I am. He can't trip them all, so that would explain why I wasn't able to do it in the past.

However, I am now leaning towards K-W just having better sensors than Toronto does. Which is great. It also means that it's possible to make sensors like that, so I guess that's one fourth year project idea down the drain.

Worst Time of Term

So I've been suffering insomnia lately. Not that this is unusual. Nor is it unusual for someone (anyone) to not be able to sleep this time of term. However, it is eminently frustrating when I have less sleep than some of my classmates AND was told to stop working at midnight. SIGH

Living with Fourth Years

In this week's episode we discuss post-IRS fun!

So the other morning I go to the washroom and notice someone's iron ring sitting on the edge of the sink. I was rather surprised by this. Why on earth would Strider have left his ring here? (Cut me some slack. It was morning, and I had lost an hour's sleep the night before. No idea why, just woke up and stayed up.) Eventually it did sink into my brain that two of my current housemates have received their iron rings, and maybe it belonged to one of them. I checked the size and discovered that the ring defintely belonged to one of my housemates (I've stolen Strider's ring often enough that I know what size it is fairly well).

Juggler then staggers into the bathroom to bathe. He quickly popped out again, letting me know about the ring. I then demonstrated that it was the wrong size, it couldn't belong to Strider. Juggler, not being awake, needed to have the fourth year housemates pointed out to him before he understood the source of the ring.

The real fun, however, started when one of the fourth years came out of his room. I asked him if his ring was missing, and told him that there was one in the bathroom. Explaining that, yes, I really think it's yours, it belongs to you or to the other guy who lives here, took a while. However we now (hopefully) have it all sorted out. The other fourth year is back, and he hadn't lost his ring, nor are his fingers small enough to fit into the one that was lost.

Why Learning Your Schedule is a Waste of Time

There's an interesting migratory phenomenon in the engineering buildings noticed, I'm sure, by staff and faculty at about 20 to 30 minutes past the hour. It's rather amusing to notice from the inside, when it's not frustrating. Here I went to the bother of learning where to go, and it does me no good at all. The only way to get to class is to follow the herd - unless you know the shortcuts through the buildings that other people don't. And since "short"cuts rarely are... just go with the flow. Or be the person who's 30 seconds ahead of everyone else, and fight your way against the crowd on your way back from the drop box.

Either way - that's engineering.