Kate was a seasoned Greyhound pro by this time, but I had never ridden with them before. In fact, I would venture to guess that not many people have. Besides that it's inconvenient for a majority of Americans (i.e., the ones who have cars), I think there's a sort of stigma attached to bus travel in this country. I was about to find out whether there was any reason for that.

Our bus pulled up, and we made our way on. The bus seemed decent enough—there was a good amount of leg room—but we changed seats to get away from some people who were talking. (There are no assigned seats, but you can't sit in the very front. I don't even know why they have the seats there if you can't sit in them, but that turned out to be the rule in every Greyhound bus that I rode on. Maybe someone can enlighten me.)

The bus set off for Jacksonville, where we would have a brief layover. I had only made the trip from Gainesville to Jacksonville once, so it wasn't really familiar to me. You pass by Gainesville's cute little airport, and then for most of the trip you're traveling through small towns in the middle (or, to be fair, probably closer to the edge) of nowhere. You also pass by the Florida State Prison.

It was near here that I happened to notice the bus driver talking on his cell phone. We were driving through a small city—I guess it was Starke—but that was no excuse for his behavior. Still, I was feeling more non-confrontational than concerned. I decided to complain to Greyhound later, but even then I forgot. I think Kate did it. The driver talked for about ten minutes, and when he wasn't talking, he was singing. Why don't more people ride Greyhound??

To pass the time and try to ignore the merry bus driver, I continued reading Of Human Bondage, which I was eager to finish by the end of Kate's visit so we could talk about it. Kate was busy taking pictures with the new camera that I had bought for her. It was a Pentax K-x, a DSLR, and I agreed to give it to her as a gift to help offset the cost of her flying all the way here from Russia. She's a photography nut just like me, although she's more serious about it than I am. I don't see myself wanting an SLR anytime soon.

It wasn't long before we reached the Greyhound station in the metropolis of Jacksonville. It was a relatively large building with a number of "gates" that different buses could pull up to. (These were nothing more than a row of numbered doors, each of which corresponded to a bus-sized parking space outside.) We didn't have long to wait, and in the meantime a poster imploring runaways to call a particular hotline for help tickled my fancy. Stigma, stigma, stigma.

Next, we hopped on the bus heading for St. Augustine. We were going to be late meeting with our host. Kate had made sleeping arrangements for us via the CouchSurfing hospitality network, and our host had volunteered to pick us up at the Greyhound station in St. Augustine. When we arrived, he and his roommate were waiting for us in their vehicle. They took us to a restaurant for a late lunch.

The restaurant was located on the water, but the water wasn't the ocean. It was a marshy, tidal sort of thing with crabs and pink birds running around, and there was a marina nearby with lots of boats. The restaurant also had a pen with a couple of baby alligators in it, and Kate and I checked them out after lunch. Then we wandered around and checked out the boats. Our hosts gladly followed us around.

Then, they took us back to their place. They lived close to the historic part of Saint Augustine, near the possibly famous Bridge of Lions. Actually, the bridge seemed to be going extensive renovations, and the lion statues had been placed in storage. So for the moment it was the Bridge of No Lions.

Later, Kate and I started to explore historic downtown St. Augustine. Kate needed a certain filter for her lens, so our first stop was a camera store that our host had looked up for us. The place turned out to be pretty sketchalicious, selling nothing but the incongruous combination of electronics and beauty supplies. There were cameras and makeup everywhere. The guy at the store had the filter she needed, and he wanted an arm and a leg for it, but Kate managed to talk him down to a more reasonable price.

With Kate's camera safe from the harmful rays of the sun, we were free to meander around some more. We made our way to Castillo de San Marcos, the historic fort that was built by the Spanish. We didn't have much time to spend there before it closed, but I was determined to make every minute count. I had only been to the fort once before, and it had been undergoing renovations, so I didn't get to see much of it. This time, we were free to walk around the courtyard and the various rooms that opened up into it. We spent a long time sitting in the old chapel. Soon after, the fort closed, and we had to leave.

From there, we walked down historic St. George St. (Saint George Street, that is), which I find charming, even if it is touristy. As Kate was taking tons of pictures of the oldest wooden schoolhouse in the United States, a disheveled-looking man started giving me unsolicited ideas for cheap dates, one of which involved watching some owls somewhere. I couldn't help but stay and listen since Kate was busy taking photos. Little did I know that by this point she was just snapping unflattering pictures of me torturing myself to listen to this guy.

It was getting dark, and we called for a ride to get picked up. Our host took us to a store where Kate could buy some clothes; she hadn't packed a lot because she had been counting on buying stuff in the US. She didn't find anything she wanted at either of two stores, so our next stop was the grocery store to pick up some food for dinner (and, in our host's case, for future meals).

Back at home—the place felt like home since we had our own room—we prepared dinner. Well, really, the host and Kate did most of the work. Kate cut up the chicken, the host made a sauce and got a salad together, and I was eventually tasked with helping to make some couscous. Our dinner consisted of the sauce on top of the chicken on top of the couscous with the salad on the side. And man, was it good, especially after such a big day. The conversation was good too. It turned out that the host had also been a student at UF a number of years ago, and we had even taken one of the same classes with the same professor.

By this time, it was getting to be late, so we went to bed. We would have another big day in store for us.

Here's how fraudsters make fake credit cards. (Via The Consumerist)

This video is fun (if a little annoying) to watch, but the subject matter is interesting: The surprising truth about what motivates us. (Via Lifehacker)

If it sounds pretty dang halcyon (according to Google, no one has ever said that on the Internet), like the way you would imagine the young boys of yesteryear going down for a swim at the watering hole, it's not really like that. People tend to go tubing down the Ichetucknee River at Ichetucknee Springs State Park, which may or may not be pretty crowded. And a whole cottage industry of tube rental companies has sprung up around the park so that you can stop at some little place on the side of the road, get a tube for $5, and, when you're done, leave it at the park for Jimbo 'n' pals to pick up when you're done. Not a bad setup.

The park contains several entrances to the river—on-ramps, if you will—that determine the length of time you'll spend floating downstream (there being a single place for all tubers to get out). By the time we were all ready to go, only the entrance that was furthest downstream was still open, so our journey down the river would only last about an hour.

Aside: Do you know what makes rivers flow? Rivers are formed when water comes out of a hole in the ground—this is the source of the river—and then, thanks to gravity, all this water flows toward lower ground (downstream), like when water flows down the driveway when your dad is washing the car. The ground gets lower and lower till it reaches sea level, and, voila: the water enters the ocean. Fast rivers come from mountains and stuff because they're high up, and slow, meandering rivers are found in flatter places. This is all extremely obvious, but most of it no one ever told me outright, and it only really hit me when I was in maybe high school. Because, you know, I don't often sit around, thinking about rivers and stuff.

The drive to Ichetucknee Springs State Park was longer than I remembered, and we were even concerned about making it to the last river entrance on time. I realized that we'd be driving right by my parents' new house. Kate and I had been planning to spend a few days there, so I decided to call the 'rents and ask if the three of us could have dinner there on the way back from the river. Of course, they said it was fine.

We stopped at a place for some tubes. One of the good ol' boys noted that I was wearing a Beatles shirt and said I looked like I could be one of them Beatles; he added that he just seen one of their movies the other day, great movie, the one where John Lennon has the ring stuck on his finger and the crazy Indian cult is after him tryin' to kill him and all. Great band, they were.

There weren't too many people at the park, and the three of us made our way to the entrance farthest downstream. I was the only one who had actually gone tubing before, so Kate and Andy probably didn't know that getting in was the hardest part. We were standing a metal platform just above water level. The water was moving along pretty quickly, so it wouldn't be too easy to lay down your tube and get yourself in. Andy went first. He slipped on the platform and fell into his tube. Kate got into hers awkwardly. I got into mine like a pro, but the water was really cold, so I wasn't extremely pleased either.

Since the water was moving so swiftly, Andy hung on to a nearby tree branch to wait for me and Kate. After we all got together, he managed to help Kate reposition herself on the tube so that she would be more comfortable. And then we felt free to float along, enjoy the natural scenery, and relax.

In fact, you can't spend too much time relaxing because you have to watch where you're going. The river might not take you around turns so easily, and you can find yourself running into the edge where there are sticks and spider webs and who knows what. It helps a great deal to be able to steer yourself by rowing with your hands, even if it looks silly. So it was out of necessity that Andy and Kate picked up on the art and science of being a human rowboat.

After a while, we reached the end of the river. Well, not really, but we reached the point where we had to get off. The river was roped off and there was another platform off to the side where you had to go and get out. We left our tubes at the designated area and took a tram back to the section of the park where we had started. The trams came every few minutes, but they would be fairly full. Andy had the misfortune of sitting next to a chipper scout leader who was making jokes with everyone around him. Luckily, the ride didn't last very long (although I'm sure for Andy it did).

Andy and Kate wanted to swim in the springs from which the river sprung, so we drove to the upstream part of the park. It was closed to tubing at this point, but the springs—halcyon swimming holes, if you will—would still be open for a while. I had never been to this part of the park, so it was new for me too. There were a few springs. The nearest one was filled with people, and Andy and Kate decided to swim for a minute or two before getting out. I didn't go in because the water was too cold.

But Andy and Kate insisted that I swim, so we decided to go to the spring that was farther away. It was about a ten-minute walk through a wooded path, and only a few other people were there. We went into the water. It was extremely cold, and I swam around frantically, perhaps all the more frantically because I was still wearing my shoes. After a minute or two, I started to get used to it, but I still wanted out. So I got out, and I was afraid that I would be freezing since I didn't have a towel. Surprisingly, I was just fine. I guess it was because there was no wind. It was always windy in South Florida, and I always dreaded getting out of the pool.

We dried off and headed toward my parents' (and I guess also my) new house. I told Andy where to turn, but he missed the turn because he couldn't see the driveway for the trees. Seriously, the entrance is pretty discreet. The mailbox by the side of the road is pretty much the only indication that anyone lives there. But Andy turned around and made his way down the dirt driveway that looks like it could be long but is actually pretty short. And then, standing amid the trees, the new house came into view.

I had only been there once, when my parents were still checking out the place. Now the place already looked like home even though they had just moved in. (The fact that we had most of the same furniture helped quite a bit.) I checked out my room, which had a new bed and was filled with boxes, most of which I didn't have to pack (but I would have if I had had the time, honest). I felt at home pretty quickly. Andy and Kate chatted it up with my parents and grandmother.

Mindful of Andy's vegetarianism, my parents made spaghetti for dinner, and everyone was pleased with how it came out. After dinner, we watched a little football on TV, it being the start of the preseason and all. But it was getting late, and we were all tired, so we decided to go back to the apartment.

But before we did that, we stopped at the Ben & Jerry's on Archer Road to get a little ice cream. Andy had almost finished his ice cream before Kate decided what she wanted, and if you don't know them, then you won't be able to tell who I'm taking a jab at by mentioning that fact. After our dessert, Kate and Andy played a card game; apparently they just have decks of cards lying around for you to hang out and play. After that, we went home. Kate and I had a big day in store for us.

The Mohammed Image Archive is a collection of images of Mohammed, spanning the entire history of Islam, by Muslims and non-Muslims alike. (Via Atheist Revolution)

Have you ever heard the claim that the MMR vaccine causes autism? Here, in comic book form, is the story of the scientist whose bogus study set off a wave of fear, uncertainty, and doubt that has yet to die down. (Via waxy.org)

On Monday morning, I attended the closing ceremony of the conference. Well, there wasn't much ceremony; the term used in Esperanto means "solemn closing." It wasn't especially solemn either. It was mainly a series of closing remarks, capped off with a singing of "La Espero."

The organizers of the convention presented some statistics, most notably that the attendance was over 100. The president of Esperanto-USA gave some details about the next national convention, which will be held at the University of California, Berkeley, in early June 2011, and the one after that, which will be held in north Texas in 2012.

I was the only college-age kid to attend the closing ceremony. Once that was over, I rejoined the others in the lobby. Andy, Darcy, and I got to talking about exciting it was to be with so many other young Esperantists and how to keep the energy going. For a while, Esperanto-USA had had an active youth branch called USEJ. We decided bring USEJ back to life by starting up an IRC channel where we could constantly chat with each other and by having regular voice chats online. We also decided to look into the possibility of having a national youth congress in South Florida in the winter.

I've come back energized, and I've come back with a goal. I want to take new Esperantists with me to Berkeley next year. That means Andy and I will have to work hard to attract new members to our club and help them learn Esperanto, but it's a worthwhile challenge.

I didn't actually go to DC at all during the trip, even on the drive to the train station. Yes, instead of flying back to Florida, we took the Auto Train with Andy's dad and Andy's dad's car, which Andy is now using. It was actually pretty comfortable, and I even expected to sleep at one point. I don't think I actually did; I should have known better. But the complementary dinner and breakfast were pretty good, and it was fun to see "America at see level" (Amtrak's former or maybe current tagline).

We arrived in Sanford, Florida, on Tuesday morning, and we drove to Gainesville. As soon as we made it to UF, I raced into my public speaking class, which was already in progress. I was going to have to deliver an impromptu speech. We had each submitted a quotation, and then when it was our turn to give a speech, we had to pick one of them at random and and deliver a speech about our reaction to it.

For some reason, there weren't as many quotes as there were people, and I was the last to go, so I was left with none. The teacher asked people to submit some more, so I had fresh pickin's. I chose:

"We are not here merely to make a living, we are here to enrich the world."
—Woodrow Wilson

Within three minutes, I explained a little bit about what Esperanto is all about and about the experience I had had with other Esperantists over the long weekend. I tied it all together by explaining the shared hope that Esperanto can help enrich the world. I got a strong round of applause, and people had more questions for me after the speech. I got a 98% on the assignment.

With Congress.org's MegaVote, you can sign up for weekly e-mails with information on how your representatives are voting. Good idea! (Via HackCollege)

I had no idea Google allowed you to purchase advertising time on TV, but someone at Slate tried it out. (Via waxy.org)

You know what's cool? Science. You know what's cooler? Infographics that aren't totally stupid and help you understand science. Here's one that organizes popular health supplements by the amount of evidence for their effectiveness. (Via Lifehacker)

Although he makes spontaneous trips like that all the time, I wasn't ready to take a plane trip halfway across the country on a few days' notice. He called me a few times and seemed to be having a good time. I wish I could have been there. Maybe we can go together next year with some more planning.

Well, with a little more planning, we're going. This year's congress is in Washington, DC, which I first visited only a few months ago with some other friends. There were piles of snow everywhere then, and now it's probably as hot as it is here, so that should be interesting. Oh, and I have my own camera this time!

I'm in Gainesville, and Andy is in South Florida, but isn't stopping us from traveling together. Tomorrow, Andy's taking a flight that goes from Fort Lauderdale to Jacksonville and then to Baltimore. I'm going to get on the plane in Jacksonville. Andy's dad is going to pick us up in Baltimore and take us to Bethesda, Maryland, where the congress actually is. We'll be staying with friends of Andy's dad. On the way home, Andy and I (and Andy's dad's car) are taking the Auto Train from Lorton, Virginia, to Sanford, Florida, overnight. From there we'll drive back to Gainesville, hopefully in time for my class.

It's funny. I never used to consider myself a big traveler. Before last year, I had only flown in an airplane twice. Tomorrow I'll have flown five times in 369 days!

Anyway, when we're not traveling, we'll be checking out the sights in Washington and spending time with some cool Esperantists from throughout the country. I expect to have a good time and do a lot of interesting stuff. I'll be sure to write all about it when I get back.

Wired presents: science! How to Make a Solar Cell with Donuts and Tea.

I go to school in North Florida (Gainesville, specifically), and my home is in South Florida. At first glance, it might seem like a good idea to move back to South Florida, but that wouldn't be a good option for me. My parents have put the house up for sale again; they plan to move to some rural part of North Florida.

As I see it, here are my options:

1. I could move back to South Florida, but I'd have to have my own place. It's expensive to live there, so I don't know if I'd be able to afford it.
2. I could move in with my parents in the countryside of North Florida, assuming they move there within a year.
3. I could stay here in Gainesville, where I'm currently studying. I've thought about this option the most, actually. I was thinking I could try to move up from my current job at the university. One of the guys who once had my job as a student now works above me.
4. I could move somewhere else entirely, but it can't be someplace where it snows. I don't play those games.

Another wrinkle is that I don't know how to drive a car and I don't have time to learn. Unlike most teenagers, I was never very interested in learning to drive, so I didn't. Even now, the only time I feel like I should get my driver's license is when I'm home visiting my friends and they have to chauffeur me around everywhere.

I definitely can get by without a car for as long as I'm a student, but after that, who knows? That's the only reason I can think of to learn to drive. I'd just have to make sure I could afford it. Cars are expensive; gas is expensive; insurance is expensive; maintenance is expensive; other things I haven't thought of are expensive. And I'd have to find time to learn.

Some other reasons not to drive: I'm terrified of getting into an accident; most cars are bad for the environment; the cars that are better for the environment are really expensive; I have poor hand-eye coordination. Did I mention I'm terrified of getting into an accident?

Other options include public transportation, which completely sucks almost everywhere in this land of ours, and riding a bike car magnet everywhere.

So, I'd have to live in a city that's warm, good for walking, and (of course) inexpensive to live in. I'm asking for the impossible... OR AM I?? Your thoughts, as always, are welcome.

An article explaining how scientific knowledge can be forgotten: "Scott and Scurvy." (Via waxy.org)

In American buildings, exit signs say "EXIT." In most of the rest of the world, they have of a person running toward a door. Read about the international war over exit signs. (Via J-Walk Blog)

The class had four discussion sections, which made it only natural that each discussion section should correspond to a group. The groups were about evenly distributed, each one having 16 or 17 people. In my group, we spent several weeks hashing out ideas for what kind of program to make.

I would talk about the ongoing project to my friend Mark, who had taken the class previously. When he first heard about it, he was shocked. "Seventeen people? That's going to be way too many. You need two or three people." Or, you know, something like that. I'm not a journalist, jeez.

I wasn't really sure what he meant. I figured that with a lot of work, two or three people could complete a project on the scale of what we were doing, but with more people on the team, it would be easier for everyone.

Our group eventually decided on an instant messaging application for Android phones. The app would be designed specifically for our fellow UF students; each user would see a map of the campus with their buddies' current locations marked. Users would also be able to create and invite their friends to events, which would also be shown on the map. The name of the program: ChompChat. The alligator-themed wordplay is inescapable around here.

We basically split ourselves into two teams: the client team, which would make the actual ChompChat application, and the server team, which would be responsible for handling interactions between users. After a while, the server team got something that worked, and the client team got something that worked. The hard part was getting them to work together.

Some of our other assignments for the class involved reading Fred Brooks' The Mythical Man-Month, a classic text of software engineering. The titular essay explains that people and time aren't interchangeable. As more people join a project, proportionally less work gets done because the new members have to learn the ropes and each member has to communicate with more people to figure out what's going on. It's summed up as Brooks' law:

Adding manpower to a late software project makes it later.

In the meantime, I had a hard time finding a place for myself in the project. We were using Google Wave to communicate (we had several big Google fans in the group), and not everyone was in on every wave. We had our own Trac installation set up for us, but no one ever filed any tickets.

I got most of my information from our weekly class meetings, and even then, I couldn't help but bounce around from subteam to subteam, looking for something to do as the strong-willed and more technically able actually did most of the work. It got to the point where I decided to hold off from the development lest Brooks' law come into play. Other members of the group agreed that this was a good idea.

When it came time for the groups to present their software projects, we had just gotten the client and the server to communicate with each other. Chatting and creating events worked, but geolocation and the other features we had originally dreamed up for ChompChat were absent. I felt as though the ghost of Fred Brooks were there in the room, laughing to himself. Actually, I didn't because he's still alive. But whatever.

Fred Brooks was right. Mark was right. And everyone else came around. Toward the end of the semester, the professor took a poll of the class, and almost everybody agreed that the groups should have been smaller. Too bad it took so much manpower to figure that out.

Statistics reveal America's "beer belly," where bars outnumber grocery stores. (Via The Consumerist)

This might be fun if you like math: an inverse graphing calculator that produces the corresponding equation for a curve that you draw. (Via J-Walk Blog)

This 1995 Newsweek article reads like satire in 2010: "The Internet? Bah!" A Newsweek blogger provides a modern commentary and manages to get a word from the author.

I felt really bad for her. No one should have to choose between being able to pay attention in class and not feeling used or threatened. I wanted to do something to help, so I positioned my chair so that he (hopefully) wouldn't be able to see her. I don't think he bothered her again.

I was glad that I could try to do something, but at the same time, I felt bad about myself. I look at young women too, and while I don't intend for them to notice, they probably do sometimes. In fact, I'm sure of it, because there are sometimes the awkward moments when they see that I'm looking. I don't mean anything bad by it, but they have no way of knowing that.

I don't have much of an idea of what it's like on the other side. Once in a while I hear female friends talking about creepy guys staring at them. It seems therapeutic for them to discuss it together, even if they're seemingly just laughing it off. One friend once told me she'll stare back at a man's wedding ring until he realizes it and averts his glance, visibly embarrassed.

Along with this article I linked to recently, last week's incident made me slightly but painfully more aware of some of the things that women have to deal with all the time. I'd like to get some more perspectives so I can try to understand what's really going on here and what can be done about it.

With that in mind, I have some questions for my female friends and readers: How often do people stare at you? How does it make you feel? What do you do about it? Do you ever ogle anyone yourself? Is it ever okay? Leave a comment. Discuss. I really want to know. (And let's not make it heteronormative; anyone may chime in.)

You know what I haven't done in a while? Answered an Ask Jordon question, that's what. And look, it comes from Kate. Yes, that Kate!

Kate: If you could get a free ticket to any country (any city, any place) of the world, what would you choose and why?

That's a tough question. In the past, I probably would have answered London or some other big city in Europe, but I've already been to Europe, so I think I'd try something new. Since money is no object here, I think I'd want to go somewhere I'd never otherwise be able to go to, like the South Pole. That would make a great Facebook profile picture.

If we're talking about actual cities in actual countries, then I'd probably consider Tokyo as well. My impression of Japan, which comes mainly from Lost in Translation and the kinds of people I hung out with in high school, is that it has a very different society from ours and is far ahead of the rest of the world when it comes to technology. That's something I'd like to see for myself.

Interesting video: a British doctor explains the placebo effect and its practical consequences. (Via Pharyngula)

How many people do you think would be less likely to read a particular blog if they couldn't get e-mail notifications of new posts? Probably not that many, right? Well, since I introduced e-mail notifications at the beginning of last year, I've accumulated 20 e-mail subscribers.

Now, how many people would be less likely to read that blog if they couldn't be notified of new posts on Twitter? Probably more than the e-mail people, I would say. Or at least as many, anyway. Twitter is, like, the biggest thing in the world right now.

I've resisted it for so long, but in the end, the desire for not-so-shameless self-promotion won out. TWoS is now on Twitter. Well, more properly, I'm on Twitter (words I thought I'd never say), and I'll be tweeting (more words I thought I'd never say) whenever there's a new post. Twitter etiquette dictates that I do more than just that, so I'll probably join in on the collective conversation as well. My hope is that this will introduce new readers to the blog.

I predict that there will be three main reactions to this announcement. Some of you will be disgusted. Some of you (mostly people I don't know in real life) will be overjoyed. And the rest of you won't care one way or the other. That's okay. It's just another way for you to creep on me, and I promise I won't mention Twitter too much here.

Consider the whole thing experimental for now, but I think it's a good way to celebrate TWoS's seventh birthday, which is today. Here's the link: @theworldofstuff.

In this interview, an anonymous Facebook employee gives insight on the inner workings of Facebook.

The BBC talks to people who never forget a face.

Yet another list: 16 Things You Never Knew About the Automobile. (Via The Presurfer)

If I'm going to graduate next spring as planned, I'll have to take summer classes to catch up. That means I won't be able to do America with my friends, but there are few other downsides. I would be home for the rest of the summer. That's how I spent the summer of 2008. It was kind of boring.

The College of Engineering requires its students to meet with an advisor before registering for classes. So, on Thursday, I made the most important advising visit of my college career: the one in which all of my remaining questions would be answered. I had come with a long list of questions about the classes I would have to take in order to graduate, many of which are high-level electives. The advisor answered them with ease, and now I have a list of summer and fall classes to sign up for, as well as an idea of what my spring schedule will be like.

I had been hoping to take an elective called Programming Using C over the summer, but the advisor said it wouldn't count toward my degree because I had taken too many programming language classes previously (two of them, both Java classes). It's kind of a shame because I'd really like to learn what is probably the most widely used and influential programming language ever, especially since another class I'll be taking over the summer sort of requires it. I guess I'll just have to try to do it myself.

I'd also really like to take an elective called Unix System Administration, but they haven't offered it recently and aren't doing so in the foreseeable future. This sucks because I think I've finally decided What I Want To Be When I Grow Up™: a Unix system administrator.

For a long time, I wanted to be a programmer, but I wasn't exactly raking in the necessary experience. I've never done any real programming, like in a big "open source" project. The thought overwhelms me; there's so much I don't know that it's hard to get started. I have a class now where we're starting to develop a program collaboratively, but I can hardly get interested in it since I have so little experience with anything (and because it's a program I'll never use in real life). It seems more like a nightmare than a fun challenge. My fun challenges are dinky little scripts I hammer out from time to time. I can't get paid to write those.

There are also ideological roadblocks. I believe in the ideals of free software, which state that people are essentially free to do whatever they wish with their software. This idea isn't extremely popular in the corporate world, and I doubt I could get paid to write such software or even maintain it (one of my professors says that everyone who starts out in the software business is tasked not with writing new programs but instead with being a "software archaeologist").

Meanwhile, my webmaster job has opened me up to the world of system administration. I'm in charge of web sites, which reside on servers, which need care and feeding. Now, it's not actually my job to make sure that the servers are secure and up to date, but I don't think I'd mind doing it. The thought of being in charge of a network of computers at some organization—a virtual catcher in the rye, if you will—kind of fascinates me. The servers at work run FreeBSD, which is basically similar to Ubuntu, the OS I use on my own computer, so I know my way around. Those and many other Unix-like operating systems are free-as-in-freedom software, and they're widely used on web servers everywhere.

Interestingly, it was the summer of 2008 when I wrote, "I've decided that working on software would be pretty cool.... I don't want to be a sysadmin." People change.

I think that's enough for now. The point is that I'm planning to bring my college studies to an end and that I'm thinking about what I want to do after that. It feels good to have some sort of idea.

I haven't tried these out, but they may be worthwhile: tips for Reducing Junk Mail.

Here are some interesting maps made out of NASA's topographic data: Reading the World in Braille. As a topographic anomaly, the garbage dump near my house gets a shout-out.

Tons of vintage ads arranged by category and decade: Vintage Ad Browser. (Via Lifehacker)

The Sun and the Alligator have provided an overview of last week's incident. To make a long story short, the student had been threatening people and was getting violent, so the police shot him in the head with an assault rifle after other attempts to subdue him failed. I'm not going to pass judgment on this one for fear of coming up on the wrong side of public opinion. I just hope it gets resolved before it can tarnish the value of my yet-to-be-earned degree.

I went in for an eye exam on Monday. I had been scheduled for one over the summer, but I missed it due to my trip to Europe, so I was overdue. The last time I went, the doctor said I was slightly farsighted and wrote me a prescription for glasses in case I felt I would need them. I knew my vision could only get worse, so I wasn't looking forward to this visit.

Imagine my surprise when the doctor said that my farsightedness had corrected itself. Apparently that's possible at my age. Another crisis averted... for now.

For your viewing pleasure, here's the archetypal Academy Award-Winning movie trailer. (Via waxy.org)

I had no idea that our governor was such a jerk. Here's how Charlie Crist deals with atheists. (Via Pharyngula)

Enter a number, and Number Gossip will tell you some fun facts about it. (Via J-Walk Blog)