Things I Like to Know When the Quarter Starts

1.) Where the classroom is.

...Yeah, that's pretty much it for now. Evergreen's online system doesn't have the greatest space reserved for class schedules -- rooms & the like -- so professors don't really post schedules online.

2.) Class duration.

For those of you who thought 1 pm to 6 pm was bad for one class: In the words of the great Lewis Black, "I've got mohre." Our new professor requested some room for the hours of 10 in the morning to 5. With lunch break and maybe a few others...but he wasn't exactly planning on a seminar either, so this means about 5 and a half hours of lecture. He's young, but he ain't invincible.

Lucky for him, it's Abstract Algebra tomorrow, which isn't exactly his field (he's an Analyst, the foundations-of-Calculus type). Which means tomorrow's class may be a bunch of lecturing-by-volunteers; I'm all for that, though. One main reason I'm at Evergreen is that I thought I was going to have a research project and hour-long presentation at some point; Don usually did that in his regular curriculum, but didn't have time this year (he's now a research-librarian, getting one much-deserved break from being an Evergreen Science Professor). I'll gladly take some chalkboard time tomorrow.

If I can find the f&^$ing room.

Double-You Tee Eff

This may cause an aneurysm. I managed to make it to the line "po-go stick chase sequence!" before my brain submitted in writhing agony. The confused, screwed-up look on my face threatened to lock my jaw sideways into my skull.

Double-You Tee Eff.

[Update; fixed link]
I remembered another demeaning-to-women "Entertainment" item that Damian showed me last year, and I consequently showed to Aaron. Actually, it wasn't the product so much as the wonderfully devastating review that holds a place in my heart. At least there are some thoughts possible with this "Babe" article, as opposed to the cognitive-thought-ceasing Cheerleader Ninjas above. Huzzah for reviews of crap.

Senior in a Freshman's Body

The weird part of Running Start and spending summers in school: I'm a senior, and it's my freshman year. If I did a full academic quarter this summer, I could graduate with a BS. Since I think I need a good Mathematics Graduate Record Exam score, I'll just spend another year at Evergreen. Result: I'll have a BA and BS at the end of next spring.

Problem: I have little idea of what I want to do for a living.
Solution: Why pick a job, when I can just as easly procrastinate? I'll just go to school, get a Ph.D., and then worry about a job then. A recent addition to the Evergreen faculty said we could easily be a Corporate Tool if we have a Doctorate degree: Anybody we go to will automatically know we can speak well (from lectures) and write (from The Dissertation). (He seemed to have the cheeriest outlook on corporate jobs, e.g. Tool-meister; he also noted that a Bachelor's degree is worth nowhere near as much, for all that implies is "That you have some capacity to show up.") So, the current goal is to pick a program...however, I have little clue of what I'm looking for. So, I'll look at schools in the meanwhile.

Anywhere in the midwest: Example: South Bend, Indiana
-Wintertime conditions: -20° by nightfall (Farenheit). To get to any place that involves walking outdoors, one must wear a parka, face-covering scarf, ski mask, gloves, toesocks...and walk backwards. ANY exposed skin is afflicted with frostbite.
-Summertime conditions: Imagine you have a dishwasher that ends with a drying cycle that blasts all water off of the plates & glass et al. by high temperatures, like 140°; then imagine the dishwasher finishes, and you open it up and let all the steam come out and hit you in the face. That's what'll happen when you open the door on your heavily, heavily insulated home to step outside. 85°+, humidity over 99.
"...and the humidity was WAY over a hundred. WAY! How do you know? It's when you're walking down the street, and you think to yourself, 'Y'know, I should've put deodorant on my balls.' 'Cuz that ain't a thought you arrive at on your own" (Lewis Black, The End of the Universe).

Stanford: Good school, but there's little option of places to live. A house in Palo Alto the size of my parents' house, without the acre lot, would be worth about a half-million dollars. Real estate's insane down there; professors at Stanford usually live about 20 miles outside of town, in ghetto-y suburbs. Undergrads have it easy for living conditions. I don't know what appartments cost, though...

UC Santa Cruz: Not the same "Prestige" as Stanford, but thankfully I don't believe in the word. (I'm at Evergreen after all; fuck The Man, fuck Corporate America, and fuck prestige while we're at it.) From my dad's view, Santa Cruz is a really nice place to live. The weather's like a good Olympia day: Mid-70's, year-round, except, oddly, June comparatively sucks with a nice long overcast, rain, & other crap. I may apply to Santa Cruz and go there first...but not necessarily last.

The important point of going to graduate school is to say you're going to work for a Ph.D. Schools have two forms of mentality towards graduate work:

1.) You're working for a Ph.D.
____The school will provide you with work that will fund all of your needs while at school, usually through a Research or Teaching Assistanceship.

2.) You're working for a Master's Degree.
____Here is where schools vary. If you're at a "Good" school, and I'm essentially quoting my dad here, a Master's Degree is what they give you if you're not cut out for a Ph.D., or it's what you take when you decide you don't like the school; to earn a Master's, you just have to do courses, much like the regular undergrad. college experience. If you're at an OK school, a Master's Degree isn't a token of failure/departure, and it's a little harder to get than at a "Good" school.

There's an important reason to declare work for a Ph.D. instead of a Master's: Besides the fact that a Master's can be picked up along the way ("Oh, I decided I'm going to leave this school, couldja give me a Master's? Gee, thanks a lot"), a Master's does not come with financial aid. At Stanford, if you're only there for a Master's degree, you're expected to pay your own way. Ooouch.

Gotta start looking for a program, gotta look, gotta look. It's odd to have that train of thought during my "Freshman" year. Oh well. It's probably better I'm leaving the nest in 5/4 of a year's time. Hmm...5/4...yeah, a math Ph.D. oughtta keep me busy for a few years.

I think I need a purse.

I started my first prescription medicine today. No bad side-effects so far, except for the method of drugging: I have to take two pills, four times a day, and ideally on an empty stomach. I've been promised potential side effects of upset stomach & diarrhea, so I'll follow the recommendations -just- in case. (Y'know, I just realized that sometimes I can't remember the number of d's in address, but spelling "Diarrhea" comes second nature. I still love being a man.) Consequently, I'm already a bit anal-retentive on planning my meals now. Oh, cripes, no pun intended...haha nevermind. I love being a man.

However, my manly side may have to take a step down again: I can't think of any way to transport the pills with me without (a)Leaving them in my car and boiling them, most probably bad news as they're antibiotics; (b)Sticking them in my pocket, impossible with a 2.5" diameter bottle; (c)Thrusting out my chest hair(s) and getting a purse. There has got to be an easier and chestier hairier manlier way to take pills around with me, and ensure I won't lose them somewheres.

Well, on the plus side, the prescription and supply should expire before Evergreen starts again. I won't have to worry about being less a man than the biker girl in class then. Yeah, no worries, no worries...

Marcy of SoCal

Last time dancing: A month and five days ago. Number of moves I could remember during the first dance tonight: 4. Meh. Not bad.

I danced with a girl named Marcy from Southern California. The song was slow, and I didn't feel like I had enough of a frame from her to do a Lindy basic without yanking her arm around, so I did a smooth East Coast. I'd forgotten, or more likely just didn't know, that East Coast could be smooth at all. She called my lead graceful. Not bad for 33 days on my mathaholic bum.

The WSU crowd had come into Oly: Jen, Jon, Eli, Kayla, that-shorter-girl-with-long-brown-hair-whose-name-I-can-never-remember-but-I-want-to-call-her-Kristin, Allie, and I don't know who else. Allie made the mistake of doing something really cool-looking: She had a strand of her fine Asian hair (I say fine because mine's just thick and couldn't do this) in front of her face, and blew it up and over. Sure, sounds exciting, I know, but the strand on the way up had a neat whip-lash effect. I dropped my jaw because it was so friggin' awesome and pulled the strand in front of her face again. "Do that again!" I said with childlike glee. She blew, the WSU crowd cheered. I pulled the strand in front again, and she proceeded to kick me in the shin (she stopped short of actually kicking me & leavin' a mark & stuff). There were good laughs all around.

Discontinuity

Originally meant for publishing March 15; actually published 200404120311
Saturday (March 6, I've been slow to write this) I decided to donate blood again. Actually, I was originally scheduled to donate last Saturday, before a concert followed immediately by a rehearsal followed by resuming a solid week of math work; but I was persuaded otherwise by my bloodthirsty brain.

I remembered my addage from the last donation: "Feed, then bleed." I fed plentily: At noon, I had a large helping of French Toast, with a serving o' bac'n; at 1, I had an Asian Pear the size of a softball; and at my donation at 2, I had no qualls with my stomach or anything.

Then I sat down at the "Cantina" as they call it there and had some juice, salty crackers and a cookie. I started counting trees, looking out the window. A volunteer asked me when I would like to schedule my next appointment. After I gave my phone number, I said I started to feel dizzy, as my head swayed to the side and my stomach got that familiar feeling from last time.

In front of me at the moment was a window, where I was counting trees. In front of me were the ceiling tiles, with plenty of dots for my counting pleasure; I'm not quite sure how I made the transition, but the tile was suddenly there in place of the glass.

I blacked out, which was worse than what happened last time. This time, I have no clue why; I had plentiful iron, food...my current hypotheses are lack of exercise and the salty crackers, though the nurse dismissed the former and the crackers wouldn't be there if the latter were true.

I cancelled my next donation appointment; I'm gonna wait a good long while before I let another pint out...though, "Good long while" may just mean June after school's out. I'll bleed the final-exam stress right outta me...just in time for Summer Quarter to start. With any luck, this issue won't escalate into something else that'll have me counting stars in the sky...er, or rather, black dots in the white ceiling panels.

Bad Dog, No Biscuits

Cowboy Bebop: OST 1
Track 4 -- Bad Dog, No Biscuits

I used to not like that track. Too much extraneous noise, electric squealing chaos...just didn't appeal to my decent-chord-loving self of a summer or two ago.

But, things change. That started blasting in my car on the way back from The Topology Exam and I could do no better than crank it higher -- I liked the chaos now. It's so fuckin' full of life, I just had to have as much of its energy as I could get. Because I was inVIGORATED by the Topology test -- I finished in 3.5 hours instead of having to tough out all 4. Magnificent.

When Don handed out the exam at 2, I scanned through it, and asked Don to step outside the room for a quick sec. In the hall, I buckled my knees slightly and threw my head back, quietly quietly shouting "The exam's not that bad!" I then stood up again. "Ahem. Thanks, I just needed to say that to someone." We both had a good chuckle.

I had some fun with Loop Spaces. See, in π₀(Ω), the elements of that set are equivalences classes, labeled as points in a space. For each point, there is an infinitude of paths that start at that point, go off and do some crazy shit, then come back and end, the most basic being something like this:

Well, that don't look too fun, 'til ya spice it up a bit with extra-terries.

And I drew the Rainbow Topology for my optional not-asked-on-exam discussion, mainly because Katherine thought something called "The Rainbow" anything would never make it onto an exam. But, Don did draw it on the board in lecture three weeks in a row...and he did use colored chalk...(Unfortunately, the rainbow topology's only interesting to people who understand compact-open and point-open topologies, so it's just another lame math joke. Nothing compared to my dirty calculus pick-up line, though.)

Another way today went well: Yesterday, I arrived at Evergreen when it was sunny out, and left when it was dark. I thought I had done that for the last time back when it was still hardcore dark-at-rush-hour winter. I didn't enjoy doing it again; but today I left when it was still light. Yay.

All right, my happy-spurt has worn off. I'm gonna watch some guilt-free Star Trek TNG. Mmm...Data...

Ante Exam; stream of consciousness

Here's what I absolutely hate doing:

Not finishing work.

I haven't done the multivariable calc perf exam, and am thus annoyed with myself. I'm actually just a bit crabby because I've been at Evergreen since 1 o'clock today and haven't stopped working for more than twenty minutes at a time, which equates to thus far 7 hours of work.

Current view of the Topology exam: I know I've sown the seeds of this upcoming barfight. Eye contact, popping veins in arms, rippling triceps -- they face me. I know my gut's going to be inverted in three shakes of a rat's ass. But I'll take it.

Actually, that's my view of what's going to happen if all the topics I'm planning to write about are already on the exam somewhere and thus nullified. I have my two chosen exercises ready to go, and I'm not frightened there at all. But if I lose all of my writing topics, then I'm in crap-hola.

Damn, I wish I could've finished the multivariable calc exam.

Maybe if I just summarize the eleven -- eleven, jimminy crappit -- pages of notes for the lecture two weeks ago, I'll be fine. That spanned random bits of the quarter; yeah, there's the plan, I'll sum that up and be fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.

Seven hours and eleven minutes...now. Yes, I've eaten; I haven't been here working alone. Katherine & Scott brought sandwich makings; I got introduced to the nowhere-found-in-Washington "Yumm!" sauce. Double-You Tee Eff, you may be asking? I dunno, but it's good on straight mozzerella.

Seven hours and fourteen minutes...now.

Once I can answer "What is topology," I'm going home. That's the last part of the take-home exam; I refuse to leave before I answer that question. Once I get home, I may have the willpower to type the rest of that exam up.

I'm talking to myself. Yes, this is my consciousness; I joke with myself, have deep philosophical thought with myself which I will relate to the Simpsons or something ass-hatted and circle back to jokes; I think I'm socially self-sufficient, which isn't social at all. I miss people.

I breathe in tunes. Not a minute of my day goes by without my breath being rhythmical. Liking classical music gives quite the knowledge base for tune breath. I know somewhere on FE I've been through the tune-breath thing...somewhere in Leah's archives.

I'd search, plug, and give her a BackTrack, but it's seven hours and eighteen minutes. Break's up.

That After-Sex Sensation

[Some of you have heard this already; I just have to record it somewhere. This entry also may be written to provide a stark contrast to Friday; hopefully not, but if it is, may I have the remaining will to make it funny.]

I had my Abstract Algebra exam Tuesday, and it was marvelous. I finished in only 3 hours; I had a whole hour to spare. Fan-tastic...after I handed it in, well before time was up, I felt quite happily exhausted. I've wanted to say [the title] far too many times in the past few weeks; must've been the mathgasms in topology.

I also had an after-sax sensation on the way home. I listened to my favorite version of Tank! on the way home, the live version with the screaming sax solo. So, in the same twenty minutes I had after-sex and -sax. Then when I got home, I screwed off studying for topology completely; there was no way I would retain anything after so much Algebra focus. So the whole family -- even my mom -- went to dinner at Ruby Tuesday's, where the food was great and I left my leftovers behind on accident. Dummy moment.

Tuesday rocked.

Today I tried to study in the Math Throne again, but...ugh. I really can't focus in this house. Just can't. Maybe it's the chair, and the point that I've been in it long enough to leave -not only- an assprint, but a lower-back spot as well; but something encourages me to get up and walk in circles if I'm in that chair for too long. And I really mean just in circles; I march a little circuit between my family and living room, sometimes for 20 minutes at a time, just walking.

I'm definitely spending tomorrow at Evergreen. Maybe I'll get to the lab at some point and look up stuff on Wikipedia, which has surprisingly accurate Topology information...and good Abstract Algebra info, too...it's creepily useful for so seemingly unverifiable a source.

All right, well I'm off to sleep or finish my take-home exam...heh, I only sleep two more times before The Day. I'm really hoping it goes well...else, I may have to think up some depressing sex-pun Friday evening, instead of another un-expected nor -desired sex-pun to describe my joy. (Heh, so does this mean you all hope it goes well too? I may have hit the non-polar zone.)

Out of Home; Found Mind.

This is less of a dream for what I want a decade, or even a year down the road: Separation of work and home. Home is for sleep, relaxation, and play; work needs to be done elsewhere, for there are too many distractions. [Quoth the blog author: "Ahem." "Here's one of those look-the-other-way moments."]

I'd been meaning to do this for months, but never got off my ass (read: Got out of the Math Throne) and did it. I went to Evergreen today, though I don't have class, and sat in the empty Algebra room and worked. In but 4 hours, I did all of the reviewing I had to do for the Abstract Algebra exam, and I saw Naoko & Joe at the tutor session.

And I got some sun. Today was beautiful! A cloudless sky, plenty of glaring sun beating down; the 'Greeners were sprawled all over Red Square, smoking, shirtless; and the sunset, oh my god, I had my most irresponsible driving moments in months today trying to catch more glimpses of the sunset behind me. A few clouds finally came back at sunset, and there was skyfire between twin tree-laden mountain crests. Magnifique.

I think I'm gonna spend the rest of the week at Evergreen. Topology probably won't be quite the murderous exam if I can focus and study a bit more. As for now, I'm going to eat, finish a few more exercises, and go to bed, hoping none of the fifty pages of notes leaks out of my head before tomorrow at 2.

Bring it on, Algy...

Relentless

Tonight: Rehearsal, from 7 to 10; missing Fools' Play; for concert, Tomorrow: 3 to some-time-close-to-6, where I have Rehearsal: SOGO, Side-By-Side, rehearsing Babar and Cappricio Italienne. That's music for the weekend.

Next Tuesday: Abstract Algebra exam, 2 to 6. Next Friday: Topology exam, 2 to 6. Due next Friday: Topology Take-Home portion of exam, should take 8 hours. That's not math for the week; that's the week.

Next Saturday: Possible gig rehearsal. But if there ain't one, I ain't gettin' up 'til 2. Spring Break starts next Saturday...then, I'll have time to relax, practice for gigs, and read some Oliver Sax.

--Enfin; la vie aura ralenti; respirons.

Almost killed mom.

I'm writing this mainly as a disclaimer:

I will no longer offer my Belgian Waffles to diabetics.

Today, Topology was having a potluck, for no reason other than it was Don's last day to lecture us. I volunteered my super-sweet Belgian Waffles as one of the dishes, again; people in the class happen to like them. My mom had a half-waffle today before I left, at about 12:30. For the record, I did frown disapprovingly at her, since I knew they were bad for her--though I didn't know how bad.

She felt tired and drained all day long; when we got back from the recital, at about 9 o'clock, she was still tired. She told my dad what her lunch was, and he immediately asked her to take a blood test, since she hadn't done one after she had lunch.

Her normal blood glucose level is about 80...varies up to 110, and that's the normal range. 15 should be fatal, but she's hit that before and, well, she's still here. When she tested her blood, about 8.5 hours after eating that half-waffle, her glucose level was at 300. A test later, she was at 330. She should be dead, much like the proper level of consumed alcohol should leave one indistinguishable from a mummy. But, she's ok; cooking, even.

So, yeah...my waffles are deadly to diabetics. I'm glad I don't cook them more than once a month for anyone else, too...I'm beginning to suspect they may do damage to the pancreas and be diabetes-inducing. Maybe that's paranoia, maybe it's not. I may be shelfing la recipe pour mes demies-Gauffres de la Belgique...

End of Real-ity

2004, March 4th
11:00
Most everyone in Real Analysis got to the home room about 2 hours early on Final Day. There was an assload of things to remember for the exam, which Don promised to be "shorter and harder, as opposed to longer and easier." With topological stuff, a dozen convergence tests, and finite integration to remember, we were all a bit frazzled.

At some point, I said "You know what'd suck?"
Scott replied, "What's that?"
"It'd suck if we had to prove the Fundamental Theorem again."
"Ooooh, yeah...man, I hope that's not on there, too. That proof is hard...and we didn't do too much with Riemann summating."

12:30
Eventually, we all got tired of reviewing and took a break. For one wonderful half-hour, we stepped outside into some wonderful [and chilly] sunshine. Someone asked Sean if his banana was vegan...many pleas for help and air-popping sounds ensued; Katherine said the answer to #1 on the exam should be "Inflatable banana. What? They're vegan!"

Classes are a lot of fun when there are only seven students...it's a much more friendly environment; feels close-knit, even.

13:00
Well, all good things must come to an end. We got back to the classroom, and Don arrived. He laid out some snacks for us since he's such an awesome professor -- some nuts, tortilla rounds, and blueberry cream cheese. The latter two make a surprisingly good snack. Then he handed out the exam.

I scanned through, since my habit is to let my unconscious mind start working on the problems before I get to them in real-time. Nothing looked too bad 'til the third page [of four].

Question 9:
"State and prove the fundamental theorem of calculus."

My mind:
"Fuh-huuuck."

15:00
I'd already finished 9 of the 12 problems. My beef was now with the remainder; the Fundamental Theorem, and a couple series-related doodads. Not much was comin' to me.

About a quarter of the cream cheese tub was gone; I grew a snacking habit and munched for a good chunk of the exam. Those rounds and cheese really were a good idea.

15:50
9 down, 3 to go.

In order to stay in my seat more, I took one chip and scooped a huge mound of cheese on top, and took other chips with me back to my seat. I noticed if I planted another chip into this mound, and the another on the opposite side, it looked like a butterfly.

3 to go.

I flittered my butterfly about; Scott behind me laughed.

16:30
3 to go.

Four butterflies sat next to me on the desk. Sean laughed mightily; I was building a fleet. Don came back into the room, and we made eye contact. I swooped my hand over my glorious four-strong army: "The test ain't going so well."

16:58
I asked Don for help on the Fundamental Theorem; I had the beginning, end, and most of the middle to the proof. He pointed out, after much pondering over what I had done, that my beginning was wrong.

17:54
2 to go. After five hours, there's no chance in hell I could even scrawl more with my pencil to get it done. I threw in the towel--er, exam, and left for Chamber Orchestra rehearsal.

Looking back in my notes, I realized my proof for the geometric series that I had copied from the board was totally and completely wrong; must ask Don about this. Well, on the plus side, 10 outta 12 ain't bad...and there'll always be the Butterflies.

Weblog, 20040303

This entry is comment-closed due to asinine blogspamming, which has hit this entry alone 7 times. E-mail me if you wish it to open again.

As a bona-fide weblog entry:

° The Superdeformers webcomic I had linked to is now dead. The runner (Matt Nelson, no relation) suddenly became unable to upload anything new to his website, and announced through his forum [after a couple weeks] that he was giving up on the project. Perhaps he found someone to host his archives...I hope he did, and I hope they get easier to find on Google than not-at-all.

° Transformer Mugshots are still online; a gem to any Transformer Fan. I don't know how much longer they'll last though, since the site has a slight advertisement plague and hasn't been updated in over a year. Well, enjoy it while you can, I guess.

° I had an Impulse buy a couple days ago. It was the damndest thing; I was watching Judgement Day on G4, and Tommy, the grumpy Italian, gave the game a perfect 10 where Victor gave it a 9.5, which was the first time Tommy perfed something over Victor. But besides that little nuance that probably doesn't interest anyone who doesn't watch the show, the game was really pretty-looking, and the review was glowing. (No pun intended.) I checked on Amazon out of curiosity, hoping to see a $50 price tag and become discouraged from thinking about it on the spot.
° I did see a $50 price tag, but it was marked down to 20. Two clicks in as many seconds later, I had ordered it.
° Now Damian and I can say that we don't own an X-Box specifically for HALO. Sure took us long enough.

________

As an online journal entry:

The Advanced Calculus exam is tomorrow. Once again, it should be the easiest of the three exams we have; I like saying it like that. "Advanced calc? Pssh. A breeze." I can only get away with that because most of us have already seen most of the material in other classes, so a sizeable chunk of the class was review.

The day after tomorrow, two wonderful things will happen:
- I won't have to study calculus [in a single variable] again, unless I have to take a grad. school refresher/equalizer course.
- Friday's class will have a potluck. I'm bringin' waffles.

All right, I've farted around long enough, back to work I go.

[Post-script: I bashed Ali here and feel like it was just a dumb thing to say. I tried to follow in Miranda's footsteps (since I like echoing people's styles) and have a funny jab at Ali, like "Take that, Ali's beliefs!" But since I commented after -quite literally- 9 hours at Evergreen, it didn't come out right -- stupid, even. Sorry, Ali. Make hugs, not war.

Though, Leah seems to have had her fill for the moment. 417. Yeesh. That's love in a sufficiently massassive quantity to crush her.

[Post-Post-Script: Where did Miranda say "Take that, Ali's beliefs!"? I can't remember for the life of me what inspired me to talk ghetto.]]

Sexy Data

Episode: In Theory

Data and Jenna [DiSoto?] were in the torpedo bay, configuring a phot-o-torp. to study dark matter. Jenna had been infatuated with Data for a good day, and decided to take the chest-out approach and kiss Data, on the lips.

...

After his shift, Data enters Ten-Forward, where Guinan's mixing somethin' yellow and somethin' blue and making a green drink. After a taste test, Data asks for advice on a personal matter, where he gives one of the best lines he's ever uttered [that didn't result in a Tango]:

"...Well, she gave me a passionate kiss in the torpedo bay."

Ho-ho!
_______

I refrained from nerd-snorting when he said that. But I was this close.