March 24th, 2008

angry!snail

for my next trick, staring into the sun

Hi and Welcome

So. Multidimensional arrays. Well.

See, I thought hell was classes. No. Hell was functions? No. Is hell, in fact, a two dimensional array? Actually, no.

Hell is a book that acts like they are just two arrays brought together magically.

Starting on Friday, through midnight Sunday, I suffered under the delusion that all I had to do was create two arrays, then bring them together with magic. Like this.

table[array1][array2]

Voila! Your work here is done. Or so the book says.

And I'm sure in some universe--the example in the book, say--that works. You might be surprised to know I cried, considered drowning myself, and opened up The Erdős–Faber–Lovász conjecture to stare at (speaking of, I'm still not sure why two people can't just belong to one committee period, because that would short circuit that entire issue right off the bat). And let me tell you, when working on unsolved graphing problems you don't even understand is preferable to spending any amount of time looking at your two dimensional array? You have reached hell.

(Seriously. Why can't two people work only one committee? I'm also weirded out by the fact the entire thing really looks neat if it's k chairs, k people and k+1 committees. I don't even know what that means but the graph has four colors and is deeply, deeply awesome and also congruent, which satisfies the small part of me that likes everything to be balanced. I ended up trying to do it three dimensionally but again, no toothpicks. I also gave the people names. Perhaps off my flist. It was more fun that way).

But you know what's so much easier than both of these? Treat the fucker like an address.

table[rows][columns]

I keep going back to read the book and they just do not even imply that. They don't! They initialize it, or enter data from it, but nowhere does it say, "Oh, by the way. Please don't take this literally. This is an address." An address. A pointer, though not officially, if you will. You don't have to create an array to take your data before hand! No, this one can do it all on its own!

One. Line. Would. Have. Saved. My. Sanity.

The only comfort I have atm is that the average grade on this is very low so far. Still have searching the char array to do (Pretty sure this isn't going well; my first attempt last night ended up with strange results that might be, oh, crazy) and organizing the data. Yeah.

I always wondered about people who said they could pass a class easily and never learn anything. It scares me that it's very possible without a lab practical, which makes me wonder why on earth there isn't one for this.

I wish there were other news, but really. Really close to writing a sternly worded letter to the book person to use examples that are, say, clearer. Using the Angry Snail Icon of Anger.
crimes two

cost benefit of running over someone in a parking lot

Dear Speedie,

Thought.

I have no idea what the usual speed limit in a parking lot should be. Especially one that measures--not too big. Pretty small, really. Maybe it is sixty miles an hour and I was totally in the wrong when I stepped off the sidewalk to cross the parking lot while you whipped by me close enough that perhaps, I did indeed see my life flashing before my eyes.

It was, in fact, multidimensional arrays. But whatever.

Now, here's the thing, Speedie.

Maybe it's legal, I don't know. And in running me over, you were in the right! I doubt it, but hey, crazy world. Let me explain what would have happened, even so....

1 - police report, requiring you to explain in detail how fast you were going, if you saw me, and miscellaneous detail. If I was generous, i'd say an hour. But with a death? I'm thinking you'll be talking until your voice gives out.

You're right! But they do not care. They are looking at my roadkill-like body and chewing gum thoughtfully. Yeah. This will take a while. Say hi to the DA for me. Just in case.

2 - my relatives. You don't know them, but my sisters are nuts and Child has the creepy potential to turn into Inigo Montoya with a laser "You killed my mother, prepare to die." It's not that I encourage it, it's just how it is. Now, granted, my sisters are a toss-up; this could go to the WHEE INSURANCE place, but one can plead post-partum depression and the other can plead some kind of during pregnancy depression and both can do basic math. If you are worth more than my insurance, the words 'wrongful death suit' are in your future. And they will cart in everyone that ever was in the same room with me to cry at my tragic death and wasted potential. Tiny infant nieces and nephews will be held up and poked to bring tears. Child will cry artistically for the cameras. While plotting your demise. Again, think of Inigo Montoya. I cannot emphasize too much that Child has the potential to build his own island and start experimenting on things I'm pretty sure only show up in comic books.

You're right! But they do not care. You get that, right? They. Do. Not. Care.

3 - guilt. I will haunt your ass until they drag me out of this dimension. Whether you feel bad about it or not, you will deeply rue my untimely demise well before I'm done. I will have eternity and a grudge and it's like you never saw a movie or something. Seriously. Go watch one.

You're right! But I do not care. Prepare to freaking suffer.

So think about this. You saved an entire one and a half seconds in real time with that speed. One and a half seconds. Maybe two. Maybe. Is it really worth it against the potential of what will assuredly be a lifetime of utter misery? With Child Montoya?

This has been a message from a coworker who didn't die, no thanks to you. Please consider driving below NASCAR in our tiny parking lot? Thanks.

--Seperis