checking to see if this works…
Person T is sprinting north toward Person Ju at X m/s down a hill with a Z degree angle. Person Je hides behind a window 8 feet west of Ju. When T is 10 feet from Ju, Je emerges from his spot and shoots at T. Assume paintballs can be shot at 200 f/s.
At what force does the paintball hit T’s neck?
I guess the picture would be the engineer’s answer to the question.
I was shocked when I saw this today while putting in gas. If you can’t read it, it says, “If every U.S. driver had properly inflated tires, over 700 million gallons of gas could be saved each year.”
That’s one big number.
After the shock subsided I thought about for a bit. There’s roughly 300 million living in the US. If, I’m totally estimating, 80% drive (which I think is an overestimation), that’s 240 mil drivers. That equates to less than three gallons a year per person.
When I came home, I decided to look deeper into it. According to the US Department of Energy, the US used 140 billions gallons of gas in 2004. Inflating tires is .5% of that.
Don’t get me wrong, every little bit counts. Continuing to read on the sign, you’ll find that Mobil is just advertising it’s new tire liner technology. If they were really concerned about gas wasted, they’d offer to fill your tires for you every time you put in gas.
If there was anything to really pick at, it’d be traffic. A 2002 Urban Mobility survey showed that each Los Angeles driver waste 94 gallons of gas in traffic.
I just found out something today and it has somewhat blown my mind.
If you’ve been around me the last couple months, you’ve inevitably seen me on my BlackBerry Storm. I love it; I’ve dedicated a website to it.
I’m sure you’ve seen this commercial before, probably in better quality. Listen carefully…
Now, can you tell me… who’s voice is it?
*hint* It has to do with something I used to really love, but lately, not so much…
It was like carrying about three pounds of dead bowling ball-type weight. I hadn’t eaten it since.
I found an online calculator at chipotlefan.com and my burrito today tipped the scales at about 1050 calories. That, plus a bag of chips and a drink comes out to nearly 1500 calories.
Jessica ate most of my last bites… Thanks for taking part of the bullet for me.
Another 10 bucks in the pot again for me, Jess.
Today, while walking to class, I flipped my arm and checked the back of my wrist for the time.
I haven’t worn a watch in almost a decade.
A little before I took this picture, Mike had just left. He had just said his goodbyes to everyone there, which is the custom. After his last one, he turned pass the the moving truck and began jogging toward the exit.
I thought to myself, why is he jogging?
About halfway down, he stopped jogging and just walked the rest of the way. I laughed a little to myself. Did he get tired?
My grandfather is in the process, or I suppose, has finished the process of moving. The new place is closer to his daily activities … whatever they may be. During a move, it’s amazing how much junk is found throughout the house. Business cards or old receipts litter every nook. Unread books plaster the shelves.
Every little thing, at one point, had some meaning to my grandfather. He had lived in his apartment for over a decade, but I’m sure more than a few of his possessions, dated far beyond that. But now, each item of sentiment is just another twinge in my back.
It’s crazy how fast life goes by. (I’m sure this is the sub-theme to my blog).
And yet, it seems like, we’re still in a hurry to get through it.
Maybe it’s because we believe there’s something better to come.
I want to get good grades to graduate on the top; I want to graduate on the top to get a good career; I want a good career to make good money; I want to make good money to retire early; I want to retire early to …
Maybe it’s because someday we’re afraid to look back and see all our possessions fit inside a mid-size uhaul.
At 12:30, I had to leave to go to Sarah’s birthday party. I said my goodbyes which is the custom, and I turned pass the U-haul and began jogging toward the exit. About halfway down the driveway, I thought to myself, What am I doing? Am I really in a hurry?
I stopped jogging and just walked the rest of the way. I laughed a little to myself.
I put my earphones in my right pocket, a failed attempt to drown out my thoughts with Audioslave and Justin Timberlake. I hear footsteps on wet concrete and breathing that becomes ever increasingly fierce. Occasionally, the metal of the earphones cling and clatter.
I used to love running. The feeling is almost foreign. The muscles in my thighs strain at each step; my legs are heavy.
Come on, Tim. You’ve been carbo-loading for years for this. When was the last time you did this?
My body goes through a curious dilemma. It wants to overheat. It wants to sweat. But it’s cold, far too cold. It must be only 40 out here. My thighs burn. Shin splints. But my body is numb.
My thoughts are in overdrive.
I used to run up this street. The palm trees, I suppose, are swaying in the wind. The sights are familiar, rekindling old memories. My first crush lived here. One of the first times I voted was here. My best friend used to live down here.
Oh, what was his name?
I reach the half-mark of my run. For a lifetime, this house was my finish line. A light glows through the blinds.
You can stop here, Tim. It’s been a good run. No need to continue.
I double back from where I came from. I glance back to see how many cars are in the driveway. I suppose my sister is home.
Time to retrace my footsteps.
I realize what I believed to be my earphones is actually my necklace. I try to adjust the guitar pick, but it seems to have found a niche on my right shoulder.
My thoughts wander to my grandfather’s move. But that I’ll save for another time.
In the street lights, this black shirt has faded to blue. For split seconds, I question if it’s even mine.
I begin to drag my feet.
Just a little bit more, Tim. Pick up your stride. Breathe. You’re almost done.
And then I am. My body hunches over. My breathing becomes violent. My mind goes blank.
I love this feeling. My thighs burn. My legs are connected to the floor.
Two miles under my belt. That’s two more than I ran yesterday. Two more than I’ve ran in years.
Hopefully, the same two miles I’ll run tomorrow.
1. Immediately after dinner, sometimes, even during, start saying, “Yut-nori hae jah.” Chant it until the other parents join in.
2. Grab all the second generation who weren’t quick enough to leave the kitchen/living room to play.
3. Guilt those who don’t want to play by saying, “What, are you not part of the family?” or, “(Name of a cousin of equivalent age) is playing, why won’t you?”
4. Don’t explain the rules.
5. Draw a makeshift board with marker on the back of a torn out month page of one of those large calendars that have Chinese in front of them.
6. Sit around a red carpet, preferably in a boy/girl arrangement. Someone inevitably has to play as the opposite sex. Make sure to make fun of them.
7. Use poker chips as mals.
8. The Yut sticks magically appear.
9. Make new rules.
10. Don’t explain the rules.
11. Take turns around the red carpet throwing the Yut sticks in the air.
12. Learn the taunts/chants.
a) If the team needs a 2 (gae), make barking noises with an occasional wolf howl.
b) When someone tosses a backward step, every one yell, “Back Do!”
d) When it’s your turn, as you throw the sticks, yell “Yut!” If you get a Yut, repeat “Gah jut tah” 3 or 4 times in rapid succession.
e) If the team needs a 3 (geol) and it’s a younger boys turn, say something like, “Myung-Il-Ee, do you like (girl)?” Heavy accent preferred.
13. Patronize the old for falling asleep.
14. After the game is finally understood, if you’re loud, make up new rules to your advantage.
15. Don’t explain the rules.
16. Dance obnoxiously whenever your mal gets home.
(Find Dance Technique here)
18. Mock anyone that throws a stick off the carpet. Anyone. Even the little children. (They should know the rules)
19. The winner isn’t decided by which team gets their mals home first, but rather who can passively-aggressively argue the most. Being able to raise your voice without yelling is a plus.
21. Stand up and run away as far from the carpet as you can before another game is started. (Parents, go back to step 3)
After the many games are over –
1. Rub it in the face of the losers.
2. Store the makeshift board somewhere. Doesn’t matter where, it’ll be lost forever and remade with a new calendar sheet next time.
3. The Yut sticks magically disappear.