I am laying on a reclined chair. There is a garbage bin right in front of me. There are two garbage bins, one recycling, one standard, in the corner of the room far to my right. There is a garbage bag about 45 degrees to my right and two meters away. What appears to be a garbage bin is, in fact, my backpack for the day, storing, my homework. There is a table with in front of me with papers, a calculus books, a calculator and two raw pieces of artichoke. There is Mr. Kim sitting at his desk typing up homework for one of his classes. He just looked at me. He did it again. It’s as if he knows that I just typed his name. After a year in this class, I noticed there is a plant in a basket hooked above his chair.

The pencil would move, stop, scratch a line, drop. Pinched in between the thumb and the index finger, it would perform a graceful salto around the hand, transitioning to a fervent Irish jig on paper. The tip would go up and down with a feverish pace, unsure of where it will land next. Pause. A set of teeth biting into it in a great distress, reluctant to let go. But the time is pressing and the writing must continue. Graphite meets paper again, leaving a part of itself anywhere it goes. In this manner, it keeps on going until it runs out of either time or life.

The clock shows 7 on the hour hand, 25 on the minute hand, and… never mind, it’s now 26 on the minute hand and about 30, 31, 32 I gotta race the clock, 41 seconds and it’s already not true. Oh, it’s also 27 minutes now. Give me a couple more minutes and this blog will be filled with 250 words. It just…takes some time. Something like 55 seconds, no, more like, 28 minutes and 15 seconds. Oh my, I just noticed there is another clock in Mr. Westcott’s classroom and it display an entirely different time. It also does not produce the tick tock sound – the hands seamlessly travel through time and space, without any apparent jumps. For some reason, I am starting to get annoyed by the tick the former clock makes. It is periodic, almost meditative, but it’s causing me some sort of insanity – an exponentially increasing hatred towards the clock. Tick tock tick tock tick

What’s up with that bathroom near the Chemistry lab? It has been “occupied” for nobody knows how long. Here is a theory: what if someone is just taking a really really really long poop? Perhaps they had too much orange chicken and doomed themselves to this inglorious battle, fighting it alone, without no one to support them in the time of need. Or maybe their enemy is of a different nature. Could it be that it was just another poop, not different from the rest, but they had opened TikTok and simply cannot stop scrolling. Without food, water, or rest, they have been instead consuming the never-ending supply of content, unable to interrupt this descent into hell. It’s time to break the door and set them free.

Voltage(symbol: V, measured in volts) expresses the difference in electric potential energy

• Voltage = joules/coulomb(how much work we can extract per charge)
• In the commonly used water analogy – the “water pressure”

Intensity of the current expresses the rate of flow of a charge

• in our water analogy – the rate of flow – as an equation I = q/t = charge/time

Charge (Unit is coulomb, common secondary unit is the elementary charge, e(charge of 1 electron)

Note – Faraday’s constant, 96485 coulomb/mole, is the number of coulomb carried by a mole of electron