This is my first coding assignment for my software engineering class that started today. It’s going to be a really good semester.
UPDATE: I got my grade back and
“100″
Since this post has gotten some attention, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that this was just the first half of the assignment.
The second half, which we weren’t made aware of until the day we were meant to turn this one in, was to trade USB drives with the person sitting next to us and MODIFY their “unreadable” code without getting any help from them.
This was to teach us two things:
1) In this field, you’ll spend more time working with code written by other people than you will writing original code from a blank slate. The people who wrote the original code will probably not be around to help you. Learning to read code is IMPORTANT, even if it seems unreadable.
2) There is a strong brotherhood/sisterhood among programmers and software engineers. Respect that bond when you’re writing code and documentation. In my professor’s words: “When you write code, pretend that the person who will have to maintain it after you’re gone is a homicidal maniac who knows where you live.”
This class and professor are incredible.
AHHHHHH I need this in my life.
If anyone wants to send me obfuscated code to fix I would be fucking delighted.
@the-real-seebs this looks like a job for the Obfuscated C Contest
Whenever I look back on the early episodes of Avatar: the Last Airbender, I realize that Iroh was probably acting a little ridiculous on purpose. He knows that Zuko still has fresh emotional wounds from his cruel, uncompromising father and sadistic sister, and the one source of softness and warmth in his life, his mother, is long gone. Iroh always tried to be a friend to Zuko, but now that his nephew has been scarred and banished, he tries to be goofy and funny and carefree so desperately hard because all he wants is for Zuko to smile and relax again. If making a fool out of himself is what he has to do, he’d do it a hundred times over.
how dare you give me iroh feels all these years later
that, and it gives him cover to slow things down.
he doesn’t want to capture the Avatar, but he can’t tell Zuko that; he needs time to help his nephew get out of the mindset Ozai’s abuse taught him.
nobody’s going to listen to him if he just tells them to stop – it’s too blatant a betrayal of the Fire Lord’s wishes – but he can play the buffoon; when they get too close, he can lose a piece of his pai sho set and delay the entire operation to replace it.
because he’s a loving uncle, and this is what Zuko needs on that level; but he’s also a genius strategist and an experienced conspirator, and this serves his purposes on a few levels
there’s even a pretty damn direct implication that he’s doing this deliberately. it’s easy to miss at the time, because you don’t have the context, but that first time we see Iroh delay Zuko and the soldiers chasing Aang? it is, as I mentioned, when he loses a piece of his pai sho set, only to realise he’d been carrying it all along
specifically, it’s the White Lotus tile – the one that gave its name to the order of benevolent meddlers he’s secretly been a member of this whole time. there’s no way that’s a coincidence.
Pretty sure I’ve said this before, but Uncle Iroh is possibly the most brilliantly sophomoric character ever written.
You want some real legitimate advice about mental health? Stop being mean to yourself.
Like, when you wanna say mean shit about yourself either internally or externally, work to learn how to step back a moment and remind yourself that what you are doing is a form of self-harm and not a fair or legitimate judgement on you as a person, and furthermore is not productive to your survival or well-being.
Even if you fuck something up, you can resolve to do better in the future, you can tell yourself that you’re going to make this a learning experience, and even if you’ve made the same mistake 50 times already, telling yourself you’ll get it right someday if you just keep trying will always do you better than calling yourself an idiot and beating yourself up for not being able to get it right.
Take it from me, a lot of mental health shit is a product of your environment and personal history, and therefore you really don’t have the control over it that you need to get by without others’ help, but one thing you can have some control over is whether you’re going to be a friend to yourself or just another enemy, and if you want to survive, you’ve gotta strive to be in your own corner as best you can.
one time while we were in the car andrew said “i basically think your gender is whatever robot body you would choose to have in a transhumanist future, but then again, that would make my gender a featureless floating orb” and i think about that a lot
ok so i made the mistake of standing on the beach in the dark and listen…….. listen. there is nothing that cares about you less than the ocean in the dead of night. it is tangible. you can’t fuckin see a thing. there is no horizon. it’s a ceaseless void and she cares for no one and loves nothing. you have to respect her bcs she clearly has no fuckin love for you and if she wanted she could take you and NO ONE WOULD KNOW
i love the ocean, but little scares me.more than the water at night.
i love the ocean but little scares me more than the water at night
^Haiku^bot^0.4. Sometimes I do stupid things (but I have improved with syllables!). Beep-boop!
in the mountains. fuck. of course theyre in the mountains. i fucked this post up
I drew the lesbian mountain women i didn’t know how else to comfort you.
oh my god… they are so beautiful. i love your art style so much !! bless u
Ok, so, story time. I grew up in a tiny town in the middle of the Rockies, at about 9000 feet above sea level. By tiny, I mean there were a little over 50 people directly within the town limits. We had no sidewalks. There were more people in the 20ish mile outskirts, I guess, and we usually counted them as ‘residents’ because that’s just what you do when your nearest neighbor is 7 miles away.
Now, funny thing – there were men that lived here, but comparatively fewer than what I later learned was ‘average’. For six years, I had a near complete cast of all-women mentors and teachers. They were hardy ranchers who cared for massive herds of horses, muscled elderly types who built their entire homes themselves out of recycled tires, kindly schoolteachers who regularly hiked to the streams and lakes to teach us how measure PH or how to notice bear signs in addition to our geography and math.
Later, long after my family moved away, I learned that in the Rockies, there are in fact pockets of lesbians who live in the mountains, and yes, my town was one of those places. I remembered the firm way they would tell me that I needed to be myself no matter what. I remembered the affectionate glances some of them shared. And I was utterly baffled when I learned that not every place on the planet would have seen these women as brilliant and powerful people who could make a life in the mountains paradise.
So just in case anyone was hoping this lovely situation is real – yes, it is. Lesbian mountain women helped raise me. Imagine them under the brilliant stars and the silence of nature, building their lives alongside the wild pines, happy, thriving, and teaching others to do the same. I will refrain from naming the town because I suspect the residents go there for peace and quiet, and would rather not be outed to Tumblr. But my love to them from afar – they would adore this artwork.
just moving along like everyone else 