Tech Tip: Blog Profile

I decided to have my profile visible on my blog. The decision is mostly just so people can make sure that they are on the right blog if they are navigating to it for the class.

As far as my online identity goes, I haven't really given it much thought. Although I am not on any social media other than linked in so I don't really have too much of one.

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Storybook Comment Wall

Storybook here .

Introduction to a Hopeful Rocket Scientist

My name is Chris Weigel and I am a senior majoring in Aerospace Engineering. Initially, I came to OU wanting to be a Chemical Engineer. I have always enjoyed chemistry and still do to this day. Often my favorite parts of my classes are those that involve looking at the chemistry behind the mechanics. That being said, I switched to Aerospace because I realized how much I love aircraft and spacecraft. I am a member of the Boomer Rocket Team, an engineering competition team focused on building rockets for competition. Last year I helped build our rocket for the Spaceport America Cup which is an international competition. This was the team's first competition with more than 5 other teams competing. BRT Rocket Launching at Competition Courtesy of BRT Other than building rockets, I am an avid gamer. I probably play more video games than I should, but I'm having fun so I guess I don't really care. I primarily play Overwatch and Dota 2. I play a number of other games as

Week 7 Story - You'll Find Your Dreams at a Crossroads

It was nearing midnight, and though the moon shone full, it was still dark. Justin walked forward, tentatively, following an old path in the woods. He had heard the legends. The hushed whispers of the folk of the town he grew up in. That there was something that could give him anything he had ever wanted. Something unnatural. He heard the rumors: that you had to bring gifts – an offering of sorts. He had spent the last week meticulously gathering what he needed: a yarrow flower, a cat’s paw, human blood – your own blood. You’ll find your dreams at a crossroads. It was a phrase well recorded with the town. Every victim of an unsolved murder within the last hundred years in his town had the phrase carved into one of their arms. Granted, there weren’t many of them, but there were enough to make people wonder. The phrase repeated in his mind over and over. He grew nervous. The Crossroads Justin stopped. In front of him, the path split. A crossroads, he thought . He was the

The Writings of an Illiterate Man Vol. 2

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