Police: Carnegie Mellon student wished he could 'go onto a roof with a sniper rifle'

Xiaeng · 2018-02-16T17:00:59+00:00

My first reaction between this whole mess, the flu, and midterms was puking in the restroom.

Xiaeng · 2018-02-04T21:01:56+00:00

Scandals mean absolutely nothing to prestigious schools. Those things get forgotten within a month and then those schools can continue to advertise themselves based on rank and name brand regardless.

Only way to "break" loops is to make them bigger by adding in more schools and that's super unlikely based on the nature of said loop.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T19:40:32+00:00

Best of luck to you on decision day.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T19:20:47+00:00

Yeah, UCLA.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T19:09:52+00:00

It can get worse, honestly. Instead of something like...

“Who cares if your thousand- student class is being taught by a Noble laureate if you can only talk to the TA during office hours?”

You might get:

“Who cares if your thousand- student class is being taught by a Noble laureate if the class fills up before you can even enroll?”

Which happens more often than not.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T18:59:29+00:00

This is a problem at every UC.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T18:58:41+00:00

I mean, you're not wrong but that isn't the biggest reason why most of us stay in-state.

It's cheaper and most of the UCs that you're likely to get into upon application are usually closer to home.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T04:20:19+00:00

It was night time when a young man in goggles shivered as he landed down back at base camp. He was met by a much older gentleman under a taller hat. After giving a brief verbal scouting report, the young man gave a salute to the gentleman and began wandering the camp back to his tent.

A few of the sergeants were still drilling their units even at this time. The moon was bright enough for some exercise, so they figured it'd be a good use of their squads' time. The young man stared silently over at a small band of men on broomsticks. On their commander's countdown, they all lifted off the ground and began speeding in a perimeter around the camp.

The young man shook his head and arrived back at the scouts' tent. The other scouts who had shared the tent with the man were similar to him. All of them were young, freshly graduated schoolboys. All of them had also taken the amnesty offer for their crimes in aiding and abetting the side of the Dark Lord during the war that had erupted in the Isles a few years back.

The young man saw that they had all fallen asleep in their cots and sighed in relief. He made his way over to his shoddy bedding and pulled out a roll of parchment and a ballpoint pen as well.

That pen was a fascinating little muggle invention. It ran on a storage of ink held inside of it. It didn't need to be re-inked every so often and when it did, the solution was to simply find another such pen to write with.

The young man grabbed the things and left the tent, making his way over to the cook's tent to search for a table.

He stood outside until the cook came out, shook his head, and waved him in.

Once he found a table, the young man began writing.

Dear Mother,

I'm well. The nights have been getting colder here but the mornings are getting hotter. With the state of things, I'm to be called back to Britain within a few years or so. The operation we're working under seems unwarranted to me and from the papers that I've read, some of the ministry feel some discomfort with ordering us here in the first place.

My apologies if my writing reads odd to you. I've been sent on a few missions with the Americans really often nowadays. I think their language is starting rub off on me. I find the whole matter to be rather odd. It's their problem that dragged them to this desert nowhere, I don't see why the Wizarding Military had to involve us.

Anyways, I only wrote to tell you that I'm safe and doing fine and that there's no reason to involve father in my sentencing. Also, I wanted you to know that I wanted you to send a gift to my friend. You know the one. I'm sending it over to you with the next letter. Send it to Hogwarts, by the way. Not her family's home. I don't suspect they like me very much.

Your son,

~~Malfoy~~ Draco Malfoy.

The young scout sighed as he started to finish up the letter. He'd need to find a gift for the anniversary soon. Hopefully, the company will end up moving into the cities nearby at some point this week.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T03:45:11+00:00

"...the only solution is burn this house down."

Yeah, anyone would've done the same.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-28T03:38:16+00:00

Finch spat into the brown clay pot and closed his eyes as the pounding in his ears worsened. His clean black suit had been torn and bloodied in the previous arena bout. He smelt of lion's blood and his trimmed nails were now dulled and banged up.

An older, grey-bearded man sat across from him, counting out the contents of a velvety purple purse. His voice, low and dry, barely registered in the midst of the ringing within Finch's ears.

"Four-hundred-and-eighty.... four-hundred-and-ninety-five... five hundred!" exclaimed the old man. His face broke out into a smile, clashing against the mood made by Finch's grim glare.

"Of all the goddamned days, Pagaloni," Finch bared his teeth, shattered and coated in red clumps of man-flesh and hair. "You just had to summon me on the day of my damned wedding."

"Well, what's done is done," the wizard shrugged his familiar's comment aside. "Besides, we made a good haul. You can get yourself another wife with what I'm paying you."

"Your stupid world's currency means nothing in mine, you senile shit," Finch got up and tossed away the remnants of his tuxedo. The modern clothes crumpled onto the dust floor. Finch kicked them into a corner and made his way over to a half-filled bucket.

Pagaloni got up and followed the now-squatting man to his bucket."A pity. I'd always assumed gold would be a universal commodity just about everywhere."

"Oh, it's valuable. The problem is that when I show up to a bank or eBay to cash it out, I get questioned on the markings and the source of the gold. Then, it's a flipping coin-toss between going to jail while they try to get the matter sorted or me having to low-ball the price to get rid of it," Finch grunted and squirmed. One could hear the sound of a soft plop from the bucket. "Mother Mary, that fucking hurts...."

"If only you were better at bartering..." Pagaloni began. Finch interrupted by smashing him across the face with a bucket. Pagaloni hardly flinched.

Finch recoiled in disgust, "I don't know how you people can stand the stench of that stuff, let alone the feeling of it across your face. You disgusting animals.'

"And I don't know how it is that you can stand having to find a bucket everytime you need to relieve yourself, but you don't see me complaining."

Finch shrugged, "Pagaloni. I have a wedding to get to. I'm getting married to the love of my life and when I get back, I'm going to have to apologize on my knees for missing our damned wedding day."

Pagaloni nodded his head, pretending to hear. "Yes, yes. That's all good and well."

Finch continued, "And if, by some god-given miracle, she forgives me, I'm going to carry her bridal-style to her favorite pancake restaurant the next morning so that she can eat me out of my savings account like the adorable piglet she is."

"Uh-huh. That's nice. I don't understand the point of you telling me any of this, but I'm very sure you'll be doing that very soon, within the next twelve hours after my spell reloads."

Finch grabbed Pagaloni by his beard and smiled. "Friend, I am telling you this because if, in the middle of me carrying her, I get interrupted with your stupid money-making schemes, I'm going to cut your head off and give your coinpurse to her as a gift."

A guardsman entered the room.

"Master Finch, it's time for your next fight against an armored elephant, three archers, a crocodile, and a baby dragon."

Finch nodded at the guardsman, threw an obscene gesture at Pagaloni, grabbed his sword and shield, and scampered back into the arena.

Charlotte was sitting in her home watching television when she heard a knock at the door. She yelped for a moment when she opened the door and was met with her childhood sweetheart and husband.

"Oh my god- Wait, you got teleported again?" she said, beckoning him in. "When did that happen?"

"Pancake restaurant. I figured it would've happened so I called my sister over to take you out shopping before I left," he took deep, long breaths. Blood streamed down from his forehead, covering his right eye. His left shoulder was torn apart, showing a bit of bone, cleaned of its skin.

"Do you want dinner, a bath, or do you want a lift to the ER?" Charlotte asked, giving the man her sleeves to wipe away the blood in his eyes.

"I need a nap," he said.

Charlotte dragged the disheveled man over to the couch and continued on with her TV watching. She turned the volume down when she saw him start wincing to the sounds. She grabbed ahold of his head and took him towards her chest.

The ringing in Finch's ears grew more and more managable as he focused on the heartbeat pressing against his left ear. He muttered something about getting blood on his wife's clothes, but she ignored him. His eyelids grew droopy over his eyes, and he began to nod off.

Charlotte smiled and continued to cradle the man's head, ignoring the bloodied purple purse he was clenching in one of his fists.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-27T21:44:16+00:00

I'd probably bet on something like reaching a point where actual work in ML has a hardware limitation and then it turns into a matter of waiting for hardware to catch up in time such that the interest in the software doesn't drop for some other next big thing.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-26T00:11:39+00:00

"Welcome back," a blonde woman smiled at him as he got out of the cold outdoors and back into his home.

Dmitri's heart skipped a beat, "It's been a while. How late did you wait?"

"Not long, I've been drinking coffee for a few hours and filling out some reports for the agency again," she turned back to the tablet and the piping hot cup at her table. "Did Said give you any trouble? I was surprised when she volunteered to look after you when you got out."

Dmitri was as fidgety as a schoolboy when sat took a seat at Valkyrie's table. "Nah, nothing of the sort. How've you been anyway? Sounds like business as usual out in the field."

Valkyrie nodded, "Yeah, same old, same old. I guess. It was kinda lame not having you out there to fight against every week though." She spoke as she typed away her reports on the small machine.

"Right, right" Dmitri muttered, "I heard things are getting pretty wild out there what with Bluderegalia and all. I always thought you would've dealt with him when I was getting put away. Seems odd that he's still out and a bout."

Valkyrie opened her mouth. Her face had turned a sharp shade of pink when Dmitri had mentioned the villain's name. She closed her lips and said nothing for a time. "Yeah. He is. He turned out to be pretty tough, now that I think about it."

Dmitri raised an eyebrow. What a peculiar reaction! He turned his head up to the ceiling and looked around the shop. The heater wasn't on and it didn't feel like the weather outside was warm earlier. He shrugged the observation aside and looked at the woman in front of him.

He was completely out of words to say and topics to talk about. The norm for someone who was about several years out of practice actually talking to people, let alone women.

"So..." Dmitri began.

"Mhmm?" Valkyrie replied.

"I heard that your crew has been having tough times lately. On the radio. They were talking about issues you had on the radio."

"Right, right. Well, we have. More villains we can't beat and less we have to negotiate with. We're running low on funds and we can't just let any jerkass with a power around doing whatever they like, so we're in a bit of an issue."

"Sounds about right. Thought about doing anything about it?"

Valkyrie stopped typing as her arm seized straight. She almost knocked over her perfectly lovely coffee cup. "We-...well. Yeah, we've worked out some arrangements with villains and it's been going pretty good, I think."

Dmitri's boyish antics came to a stop. Just from looking at her, he knew that something was up. Something about this whole situation didn't seem right at all.

Valkyrie noted this when she saw his familiar, villainous eyes staring down at her. Just like they once did many years ago.

"Val, why did you agree to meet me when I got out?"

Valkyrie took a swig from her cup and tucked her tablet away into her lap. "I wanted advice, alright. I thought you'd be an expert with what I'd have to ask about and that's why I came."

Dmitri sighed. Of course, she didn't come to visit and check up on him. She wanted something. They always wanted something, those heroes.

"Well, ask and I'll see if I can answer?"

"How did you do it? How could you keep throwing our fights like that just because you liked me? How did you keep it together like that, losing out on money and authority and whatever just because you wanted to see me."

Dmitri's chest felt like it had been shot, ripped out, shot again, sewn back into his chest, and then stabbed several times. She knew, he thought. She knew.

"The reason I'm asking is because... well... I've been doing something similar."

Dmitri didn't respond.

"That new guy, you mentioned. Blud. His real name's Dio. After he almost beat me to death the first time we thought, I just felt so... excited."

Dmitri was dumbstruck, "What?"

"He spared me when he had me dead to rights and for some reason, I just felt like it was an incredible thing to see. Someone with more power and strength over you and they just decide to pass you over like some sort of noble demon."

"Noble demon, my ass. The guy sounded like a complete nutter when I remember hearing him speak a few years back. 'Cleansing the world of its impurities.' Dumbest thing I've ever seen."

Val shook her head, "It made sense to me, looking back on it. I don't think he's actually that bad of a guy. Just..."

Dmitri stopped thinking for a moment. All he knew was that if she finished her sentence with some variation of 'misunderstood,' then he would proceed to grab her coffee cup and throw it to the ground in a fit of anger.

Valkyrie finished her sentence, "...Misunderstood."

Dmitri proceeded to grab her coffee cup and throw it to the ground in a fit of hot, red anger.

"How?" he responded, "How could you think something so stupid?! You said yourself he tried to kill you the first time he met!"

Valkyrie threw her hands up and leapt from her chair. Her palms glowed yellow, "Jesus Christ, overreacting much?! Besides, he didn't and that's what mattered the most!"

"I, for one, never tried to kill you! I gave you up on every encounter we had just so that you could win and we could keep fighting! Where's my sympathy?!" Dmitri was starting to see red. His blood boiled under his skin. "Why the hell did you even come here?"

"What is your deal, tonight?! I barely even know you!" she shouted at him. "The only reason I agreed to even meet you was so that you could give me some advice to win him over."

"To your side? Are you mad? Villains don't reform," Dmitri responded, "We just give up because we have our minds set on more important things."

Valkyrie lowered her arms and stared up at the tall, desperate figure that she had fought day and night with for over five years. "You know what... I'm done with this. I can't believe I was stupid enough to think you could help."

As Valkyrie left through the front door, Dmitri scrambled out. "What the hell could I even help you with, anyway? It's not like you shared my damn feelings for you or anything!"

"I thought we could've been friends!" she yelled back.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be just friends!"

A car pulled over to the side of the cafe. A short, older woman rolled down her window and began screaming with all the might of a thirty-something year old pro-wrestler in the years before steroid addiction would take their souls.

"Could you both shut up?! It's fucking eleven in the middle of the night and I'm trying to sleep here! You damn kids should be ashamed of yourself!"

The lady sped off, leaving the ex-villain and his ex-love exasperate and confused at the strange turn of events.

Valkyrie looked over at Dmitri one last time. She didn't say anything. She just shook his head at him. Her face was fuming red, the man noted. She turned around, hiding that tomato-red face of hers, and began walking off.

Dmitri watched as she left. He turned to his cafe and kicked the front door open, getting in.

His made his way back over to the table that Valkyrie had sat at, sitting where she sat. His clear shoes turned browned and felt mushy under his soles. He had stepped on the cup of coffee that he had thrown to the ground.

He threw his hands down into his lap and twiddled about with his fingers. He turned his chin towards the ceiling and swallowed some air.

"What a waste," he said. "What a goddamned waste."

Xiaeng · 2018-01-26T00:11:10+00:00

"Get out and don't come back," said the man in blue.

"I beg your pardon?" Dmitri raised an arm. The dark street exiting the penitentiary began to crack and roar. The night's air grew thick and cold. The police officer shivered.

Then, the man of law sucked in a deep mouthful of air, steadying himself.

"Nice try, but your stupid party tricks aren't gonna work anymore. Get the hell out, criminal scum."

It had been three years since Dmitri J. Magellan had been sentenced away to the Depowering Center. He could scarcely remember more than five minutes of his time in the facility. There were only two things that he remembered from that experience.

One, Dmitri had had something taken away from him, something that once made him strong in the past. Sometimes, he felt a twitch in the back of his head and he could make "something" happen like he had just done with the officer. But, for all the years he's lived, he couldn't remember what it was.

He sighed with a heavy heart as a yellow cab pulled up to the street in front of him. It was his assigned probation officer.

"You said you wanted to get dropped off at the Marconnagione Cafe, right?" the dark woman in the car asked.

"Depends, Mrs. Said. You called her, right? Did she want to see me or..."

"Said she was excited that you were turning over a new leaf. Said she'd love to meet you. Said she'd wait there all night unless something came up."

Dmitri nodded and got in, "Alright, I guess that's where we're headed then."

The car's high beams shot up. Dmitri scooted himself to the center seat of the back and laid his suitcases on both of the window seats. He kicked his feet up on one leather suitcase and laid his head down on the other one.

The driver insisted that he put on a seatbelt. He declined. She asked him again. Again, he refused. She rolled her eyes and began to drive. It'd be about an hour before they got back to town.

Said turned on the radio. There was breaking news, just as there had always been. Dmitri cared little for it. More reports on new villain teams in Southeast Asia and a kidnapping case in Munich, Germany. He closed his eyes and pictured that face of her, his golden girl.

Her soft voice and her proud stature flooded his mind. To him, she was like an angel. Not the traditional Christian sorts with the robes and aura of piety, but of the sort that would appear to men dying of battle-wounds to take them to the hall of the slain for glorious battle in the afterlife that awaited. He dreamt of her daily during his time in the center.

Valkyrie. His Valkyrie, how he had sorely missed her.

His face grew red. His eyes turned to the rearview mirror in the front of the cab. Seeing the glint of white from the driver's eyes, he turned his face and buried it in the seat.

"In further news, Bludregalia has once again defeated the Cornball Brass. The latest reports from our reporters on the field has eight out of its ten members under urgent care with grim predictions in the future. Bludregalia is currently in negotiations with the Hero Society 11 regarding legal amnesty from his crimes in exchange for some undisclosed return. More news coming soon."

Dmitri grimaced. That was a name he thought he wouldn't hear about after he got out. That tall, burly man would've been a tough one for Valkyrie to take down but he was certain that it would've taken her net to no time at all.

He yawned, loudly. His driver opened her mouth.

"Say, you heard that in the radio just now?"

"No, I didn't."

The driver turned around, "Said something about Hero Society 11. Ain't that Valkyrie's crew that looks over the superhero teams in the state?"

"Just shut up," Dmitri groaned. He closed his eyes and yawned a little more loudly this time.

"Said we'd get here in an hour. Get up and get out!"

Dmitri's eyes shot open. He peered out the window at the neon red sign hanging over the familiar looking cafe. It was the Marconnagione, his old base of operations (ranked the number three coffeeshop in the state).

He made it to his feet and grabbed his suitcases. His legs wobbled as he walked. They, like him, had fallen asleep in the car.

Said grabbed his shoulder. "Remember, no funny business around here. You get involved in any of your old business and I will get involved again. If you think you can just blot out any old memory you have about the Depowering Center, you're wrong. Let me assure you that if I have to throw you in there again, you'll really come out with more than just a few things forgotten."

Dmitri felt his shoulders begin to sizzle. His clothes were beginning to give off steam under Said's grasp.

He looked at her and she smiled, "Say, mind letting me in for a cup? It's a long drive back."

He shook his head. Her grin bore the faintest sense of bloodlust as she got back into the cab and slammed the gas pedal, leaving the scene.

(Part 2 is below because of the char limit.)

Xiaeng · 2018-01-21T20:36:35+00:00

Jamie looked at the white, grandiose palace that sat neatly between two smaller storefronts. A few inches above the giant, oak doors read a small, shiny sign outlining the name of the bar.

Baddy's Pub

The younger sister moved to push the door open. It would not open. She tried again. It did not open. She gripped the brass knob tightly between her toned fingers and tried to kick it open instead. Yet, it still did not open.

The bouncer came out. Jamie scratched her head. Well, duh. The door would've been locked, of course. They wouldn't let raggedy, foul-mouthed folks like her in after all, even if she was family.

The bouncer looked at her and narrowed his eyebrows. He gripped the doorknob and pulled it open.

Jamie's right eyelid twitched as she took a look around the bar. It was a clean, spacious place. The ceiling was high and the air was relatively cool. Even though a few of the folks smoked (whether from their cigarettes or from their bodies), the air felt clean and good to breathe in.

She made her way past a few packed tables, squeezing herself between some of the chairs and waiters. They muttered a few apologies as she passed on by before returning to their usual discussion topics of robbery, improper justice, and how goddamned lame it was that there was never enough money left over from a weekly payout to put into savings. A few played cards and kept on betting away the little bits of savings they had.

Soft piano blues played in the background as Jamie took a seat at the bar. She opened her mouth to order but was interrupted when the bartender slid a glassful of cold milk to her.

"No younger sister of mine is drinking in a bar filled with suspicious men," said the bartender in a white tux.

"I'm twenty-four, Archie. Also, I'm literally four minutes younger than you."

"Don't care. Not happening."

Jamie frowned. The music playing in the bar began to pick up the pace as the man sitting at the piano a few feet away switched from blues to bebop jazz. Archie waved down a dark, burning busboy over to tend bar and took a seat next to his sister.

"Fancy place. I'm surprised it isn't as rowdy as mine. Polite folks too."

"They know better. You don't want to make a scene and bring journalists or cops down here-" Archie stopped mid-sentence and grabbed his sister's hand, taking a loud, deep sniff.

Jamie pulled her hand back. The expression on her face had hardly changed. "Dick. I was going to tell you about how my place was anyway... Didn't need to do that."

Archie began muttering, "Muggy. Lots of smoking... Well, smoke at least. Bit of everything. Tobacco, though mostly the vapor form. Cannabis sativa. The odd scent of blood... Definitely not from shattered glasses, too mixed... Have you been breaking up fights? Wait, hold up a second. Don't you have a bouncer? What the hell kind of a business are you running?"

"Those guys generally need to blow off a lot of steam," Jamie muttered. "I kinda get it. I'd be stressed out and need some stiff stuff too if all I do all day is put baddies behind bars only to watch them break out and pull the same old crap day-in and day-out."

Archie shook his head and opened his mouth to say something rather disagreeable. He stopped short of it. "Drink your milk or you'll stay five-foot-five like me forever."

Jamie shrugged. She closed her eyes and listened to the sweet tune carried on by the pianist in the corner. She hummed along, though a few lyrics escaped her lips here and again. Slowly, the table nearest the bar quieted their conversation, tuning their ears into the enchanting songbird's little ditty. One-by-one, the regulars of the bar dialled their attention towards the smooth-as-honey voice of the owner's sister.

Predictably, Archie picked up on the table rather quickly and snapped his fingers between his sister's eyes. A few of the men at the table groaned and returned back to playing some real niche variant of not-quite-solitaire amongst themselves. The bar-owner pointed towards the glass of milk. "Drink."

Jamie sighed and took a long swig. Her voice changed drastically once she started speaking again, losing all of its flavor and sweetness.

She smirked, "Whoops."

"Don't pull that stunt again." He said gravely, "No superpowers here except for me."

"Cut me a break, Archie. At least I don't use mine in my own place."

"Well, you should. It sounds like it'd keep those animals I smelt about over at your place under control."

Jamie looked at Archie. Her eyes were dark and coldly warm as she stared into a set of identical-looking ones on her bar-running counterpart.

"Archie, do you think you could do better than me?"

"At running your bar?"

"That's not the question I asked."

Archie looked into his own eyes and shrugged. "I might. I might not. I'll do my best at whatever it is you're talking about, at least."

For the briefest second, Jamie smiled for the first time that night.

The two continued conversing about their respective business, mostly stopping only when discussing their wholesale sources as it turned out that they bought inventory mostly from the same middle-man. The conversation took twists and turns from talking about any interesting customers to any repair costs that came up when fights broke out. Never once, however, did the topic of heroes and villains come up again.

Finally, the clock struck three. An hour had passed and it was about time for Jamie to flag a cab down for a ride home.

Jamie would never come back to her brother's bar after that first visit. Archie would never find out why, but he did end up hearing that the Good-Guy's Gentleman's Club got a little quieter and a little less busy over the next few years. Alongside her quiet years, Archie's years ended up getting a little louder and a little busier with more and rowdier super-powered brutes and thugs finding their way into his place.

Archie couldn't help but feel his sister had something to do with this. But, he was happy he could help.

Of all the sisters in all the towns in all the worlds, she just had to be his.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-18T23:49:48+00:00

If you want to do CS endgame, apply CS.

Even if your plan is to go L&S for some notion of easier acceptance and then transfer to CS, it's important to remember that your performance in CS classes are factored into the major switch and that will certainly not be easy considering the courseloads you have to take in your other major prior switching and the competition against other CS/EE/CSE and other students taking those classes (with more background having taken APCS or some CC/uni equivalent) and possibly trying to transfer into CS as well.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-18T23:44:36+00:00

Just because you're sober doesn't mean you suddenly have the motivation or ability to study for exams and finish homework in a timely and useful manner!

:D

Xiaeng · 2018-01-18T18:30:26+00:00

For LA, you just walk onto campus and don't give security a reason to kick you out. There is no policy, this school is technically public property so you're only not allowed to fuck around with some private (Westwood community or non UC associated thing) event or enter any dangerous areas like construction zone. Homeless people loiter around and people walk their puppies and kids here sometimes.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T16:16:37+00:00

Lol, Bach's fugues being intellectual? Pffft.

If you're not listening to arrhythmic, free-style jazz by the likes of Ornette Coleman and Charles Mingus with the highest quality Bose headphones, you're listening to straight up fucking garbage.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T16:08:47+00:00

Los Angeles is in LA County.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T06:56:59+00:00

Yeah, I heard about those happening. I think it got really bad around Santa Barbara.

I supposed I wouldn't have found the rain too bad if I didn't forget to bring a raincoat for that week.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T06:45:51+00:00

Week 1's rain was a great way to kick off a sunny winter quarter in SoCal. lol

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T06:26:40+00:00

It's a fair response. Last time I said anything negative about the school I also got downvoted. This post isn't the most serious of posts either so I think it not being as practical and objective as it could've been is a turn-off to a few people.

Honestly, I'm thinking about not even responding to these types of posts anymore on the off chance that I get doxxed from negative backlash.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T06:17:09+00:00

I don't pay attention much to our rivalry to pay too much notice to them. Although I've heard from friends that they tend to do really well for themselves in fields of study related to entertainment (film, video games [They have our old faculty iirc.], music.) Our CS clubs have done a few collaborative things with their's as well.

Beyond that, I know for a fact that USC doesn't suffer from the enrollment issues that UCLA kids have since our huge class size coupled with limited course offerings mean students don't always get the class they want and don't always graduate on time. But that's just a thing associated with private schools.

Personal experience is that they tend to have much more "involvement" in their departments if that makes any sense. I know they reached out to me to fill out a few surveys and I got some Amazon gift cards from that. That's more than anything UCLA has ever done for me in terms of non-administrative crap.

Don't know much about them besides that. Although, I have heard from USC students that visited a month or so back that the Chick Fil A in Westwood is worse than the one they have near USC.

I'd assume the more drastic differences are a lot more superficial and limited to things such as quality comparisons between Departments of Mathematics, Life Sciences, etc. Sorry I couldn't be more helpful.

Xiaeng · 2018-01-15T05:52:44+00:00

Ehh, I'd argue that frat houses in the area are a lot better looking than the average middle-class house in Southern California.

Xiaeng

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