29 October 2013


A small plane blasts along a purple line on a back screen. Every one hundred frames, it flips over the line and continues in the same direction. I have ninety minutes to write a program in C that will produce an identical little movie. Tests in Jeff's classes are always like this. I don't bother to bring a pencil. Other computer science classes have normal tests. They're conceptual. More abstracted. Short answer questions about data structures or program speed. What is unique to context-free grammars? I should know that. I prefer Jeff's tests, where the test is limited by its nature to what I need to know.

I just finished another midterm -- the one that asked about context-free grammars. I finished it early, so I made my way to the library, where I'm now awaiting my next class. French. No test there.

Izzy, pictured, does not remember doing this.
And I don't remember taking it.
The poster in my room curls. I've tried what I can. I taped it down for a while. It's a giclée. I don't know if that means it's safe to iron -- but I have no iron so I don't know why I'm thinking of that. It depicts a deity from a video game. Painted -- "painted" -- in the style of another character, a painter, in the game. The godly leviathan gave her inhuman powers. And she misused them. I love the poster.

We're moving on to three dimensions in Jeff's class. I can draw wireframe polygons. And move them. Rotate. Zoom. My creative powers are manifest. Knowledge has granted me dictation of objects. I am the leviathan now.

A grammar is effectively context-free when it has the ability to use recursion, by the way.