I am not…

…going to use this as a "What you know about me" entry. Didn't feel like it. I wouldn't mind doing one, though.

…well-fed. Gettin' pretty hungry, but I'll wait it out for some sohmjong (korean red paste); like magma with garlic, it's that hot & good.

…happy with school — or rather, school and myself. We're not getting along so well. It's becoming a little bit of a lackluster involvement on my side. Last year in math, I could keep up with everything — it just cost me a little sleep periodically frequently for half the friggin' year (ah, that's it), that's all. This year, I'm actually falling behind. Monads in Haskell ran me in circles long enough to dissuade me into doing work for other people — SOGO and LGAN, mostly. That didn't get turned in.

…working hard enough in Unix, either. My homework for the Unix seminar didn't get turned in this week, because it's not done. My work on this week's Unix assignment isn't any doner. This is partly because I hate working on Grace from home: PuTTY inevitably loses its connection in the middle of me editing a Vi file, causing woe, several swap files, cursing, traversal through Vi's "What do you want to do with these umpteen kajillion" (read: anything more than 2) "swap files?" "Find out which one I was just using! How about it!" "Look for yourself. Or how about (Q)uitting? (Q)uitter." "Terminally annoying...terminal!" "User."

…sure I should be bitching about doing work instead of actually doing work. Oh well, my imagination doesn't do enough nowadays. I would be exceptionally creeped out if I were to argue with the Vi editor like that. I think it should become somebody's project to modify Vi to be that bitchy. I'd put it onto my own to-do list, but that's getting full enough as-is.

…spending enough time in the Evergreen ACC, where work actually gets done. I intend to camp out there all day tomorrow for all purposes catch-up.

…spending enough time on GRE review. I'm beginning to have this adverse psychological reaction to the topic, where I think about it, and then I don't. Wow, that was -so- deep. You can tell I'm skippin' out on the philosophy this quarter. Happily, I might add. And there I go again, not thinking about it. The test is in 15 days. I need to skip either school or work to get in the reviewing I need. I'm sorry to say it, but it's sounding like work is dropping off my schedule next Friday. I'll catch up on the ping-pong (*cough* *cough*) RTE implementation later, if not Monday.

…going to go to Fools Play's Halloween show on an empty stomach. Who's up for a dinner? Red Robin, Mercato's, I don't care where. I'll want to see people again after tomorrow's computathon. And what better place to go in full All Hallows' Regalia than a semi (Red Robin) fine (Mercato's) restaurant? I'll see some of you tomorrow, in any case.

XSLery 1.1 — now in FireFox too!

Tonight I learned something about how IE and FireFox differ in processing JavaScript. IE seems to wait until the document is loaded no matter what, and FireFox, well, doesn't. This answer was brought to me in less than ten sentences, here. "S M R T."

After some other tweaking, I've recrafted XSLery to be functional in FireFox. It now requires pre-rendering to view, which I don't think is as cool as just opening the XML document; but, I can live with that. I'm sure it'll make Linux people happy to see anything, much better than that blank screen.

Of course, after all that work on the code for the gallery, I don't really have any new content for it. Camping photos are pending another free weekend — I think Thanksgiving. Until then, here's the skeleton of my future galleries. The XSL, for those curious, is here.

PS: I'd be grateful if somebody could explain to me why there's a random line break in picture #13's & #16's descriptions, but no irregularities in #5's. That's probably just a puzzle for code junkies; if none of the rest of this is, at least that is.

My Most Annoying Ping-Pong Serve

With paddle in the pen grip, have the forward face upward, with the paddle near the left hip (assuming right-handedness). Do the service toss so the ball will fall in front of the belly button. Move the paddle so that its final destination will be in front of the right hip, but about a foot forward. The contact with the ball, in front of the navel, should produce a drastic counter-clockwise spin, and the lack of forward momentum will make the ball bounce once on your side, and just barely clear the net. By the time it bounces on the returner's side, he will be lurching forward to strike the ball; but after the bounce on his side, the spin will take full effect and drive the ball to his right. The unexpected location will make him either smash the ball off the table, or if his touch is ginger enough, get it back to the server's side; but by then, his body is in a horrendous position, giving the server free reign with his next volley's location.

I've decided to start doing homework at work, because nothing gets done at home. There's a bucket of 7 ping pong balls that serve as my sole distraction. It makes for excellent serving practice. I had to write down what I discovered tonight because I won't be at work tomorrow, so I would probably forget this hideously effective serve I learned by Thursday. This should be an unpleasant surprise for Curtis.

One could say that Bush is God's chosen...

...wrathing target.

I titled this entry after a quote I heard from NPR one morning, where a devout Christian said her vote was for Bush because "He was God's chosen one." Another Christian countered that quote with his own theologic commentary; other commentary is inherently obvious to some.

I would be a bit more convinced if I could see a third layer of data, the damage done by the hurricanes. It looks like St. Lucie was dealt an "Unfair" amount of wrath from Frances, and Charley missed Hillsborough. That, of course, is just considering the division lines.

Another fault in the argument could be found if one were to plot previous years' hurricane paths through Florida. If they looked similar, than the power of the image's author could be reduced by this description of Kepler:

His name was Johannes Kepler, and he had a reputation as an excellent seer who successfully predicted plague, famine, and Turkish invasions (all of which came regularly and fairly often). — Burrows, This New Ocean

One Exam Down; Concert to follow

I am so not used to getting up at 5 in the morning. But that's what has to be done when the General GRE's at 8, in Puyallup, with a 7:30 call time. I think today was the first time I've ever driven before 7 am. I never realized how dark it is at 6 during autumn. The drive was like I was coming home from a dance, only at the other end of the day, and foggy.

I had driven once before to the test center, last Saturday. I hate the feeling of being lost trying to find an appointment, so I hunted down the center a week ago. I'm glad I did, because not only was it tucked away in the corner of one of the dozens of mini-strip malls lining Puyallup's big road, the location I was looking for (Thompson Prometric Testing Center) was co-housed with a Sylvan Learning Center — and Sylvan's title was on the location, with a bumper sticker-sized Thompson sign on the front door. I passed it two times Saturday, but thankfully, finally found it. Trying to find that at 7:25 in near-darkness would've left me a wreck going into the test.

So at 7:25 this morning, I got to the testing center, and had to sign a form, copying a pre-written statement before signing the form — "Not in print." There's a good reason I stopped writing in cursive years ago, and most who've seen my normal penmanship can probably attest to that. The cursive used to be worse, so I took a whole twelve minutes to write one paragraph, about the size of this current paragraph. It was worth the legibility.

Then I took the test and got the scores I was expecting. I missed two questions out of the math, and plenty more on the verbal. The essays seemed ok to me, maybe 4's or 5's (out of 6). I don't think it'll be worth a hundred bucks to take the test again and get -maybe- another hundred points (note: points are same scale as SAT).

There are four schools who are going to get my results, but I don't think they'll be necessary until next year. I've pretty much decided to catch up on that pile of books that has been building up in my shelf, the books I haven't read. I have some from my junior year of high school that haven't been opened yet. I also hope to devote more time to the viola next year, so I can catch up with Damian. He has been [somwhat] flaunting his free time by practicing for hours every day; he's actually getting quite the tone, and has memorized a few movements of the Bach Cello Suites (transcribed for viola), by himself.

As for what I'm doing with the viola this year, the first event is actually tomorrow night. OCO is performing its first concert of the "Fresh" season at the First Christian Church tomorrow. I didn't put the info up on my sidebar because I got sidetracked with trying to make that concert plug area XML-driven as well; I think I'll do something else with it, since IE supports XML Data Islands but as far as I know, FireFox doesn't. Anyways, here's what we're playing tomorrow:

Mendelssohn, Felix: Symphony 3, in a minor
Intermission
Schumann, Robert: Ouverture zu der Oper "Genoveva"
Janacek, Leos: Idyll (movements I, III, VI)
Järnefelt, Armas: Præludium
Strauss, Johann: "Die Fledermaus," Overture

Before and after intermission, the concert is about 40 minutes and 37. Tickets are $15, $10 for students. The concert is at the First Christian Church (across the street from Olympia Copy & Printing, fairly close to Sylvester Park), at 7:30 pm.

This is the first concert under Claudia Simpson-Jones. She has upped the challenge of the music greatly since what the group performed last year — at least, for violas. The viola parts were pretty easy last year. That's far from the case now. Well, at least we're prominent in a few more places, particularly in the Mendelssohn.

Unfortunately, the music is exhausting. Strings never get a break. After waking up at 5 today and rehearsing for two and a half hours up to 10 pm, I'm beat. Actually, Nuvo called me and said I should go to Blues Underground tonight, and apparently not for an ulterior motive of her hitching a ride back into town. She just wanted me to come; that was a really nice thing to hear, which almost made it hard to turn down. Again, I've been up since 5, had rehearsal 'til 10, and then an hour drive to Seattle for two hours of dancing to be home at 2 o'clock — a 21 hour day? Not gonna happen.

I'm on hour 19 now. Time to hit the hay.

Growing from a Broad Root

I'm enjoying Formal Logic right now. It really is like a game. The rules may be boring, the results almost painful to read — certainly painful to process entirely in the head — and because there is specifically NO meaning yet, the fun may be lost to some people.

But I'm a math major. Meaning is for those too grounded in reality to think about nothing productive productively.

This meaningless tree is a parsing of a word in a first-order language, whose vocabulary is the set of logic symbols, and functions R (2-ary) and P (1-ary). All nodes where "gx" can be substituted for "y" (that is, doesn't throw an x under a universal (∀) or existential (∀) quantifier) are highlighted yellow. The first node that disallows substitution of "gx" for "y" is highlighted orange.

            y
            |
   x   y   Py   x   z
    \ /     |    \ /
    Rxy    ¬Py   Rxz
     |      \    /
  ∀xRxy   (¬Py∨Rxz)     x
     \        /          |
(∀xRxy∧(¬Py∨Rxz))      Px    y   x
         |              |     \  /
∃x(∀xRxy∧(¬Py∨Rxz))   ∀xPx   Ryx
         |                \    /
¬∃x(∀xRxy∧(¬Py∨Rxz))   (∀xPx∨Ryx)
         \                  /
(¬∃x(∀xRxy∧(¬Py∨Rxz))→(∀xPx∨Ryx))

I wrote this for three reasons:

1. I reread some old entries and stumbled across an entry where I drove Ali to attempt to take her life through her forehead and monitor. That did my heart some good, so I thought, "Hey, why not spread the havoc once more?"
2. I really like the look of that parse tree. Gobbledygook at the bottom, lots of it, but just variables as leaves at the top. The pipes and slashes representing branches actually make it look tree-like, too, so it had an aesthetic appeal...probably my own aesthetics, but hey: More havoc if otherwise.
3. The markup for that tree is absolutely abhorrable. Then again, I know of no decent way to code ASCII art with colors. Blizzard Entertainment did it once by coloring a screen of random 0's and 1's to resemble their logo; quite neat-looking.

This entry was also written because my Math Journal archives have been kinda sitting there and growing stale. More shall ensue.

Choice for Next Year

I registered for the Mathematics GRE last Thursday, online. I read a notice that I would have to pay $15 per extra school beyond the first four I requested the results be sent to, so thought I should save at least 60 bucks and give schools up front. Only, I realized I didn't really have good ideas on what schools to apply for. I requested my results be sent to UW, Stanford, and UC at Santa Cruz and San Diego. I would really prefer UW or Stanford, as they have Ph.D. programs in statistics, while the UC branches only offer Masters degrees in statistics — they have Ph.D. programs in computer science, though.

Meanwhile, I've suddenly stopped to consider if I even want to go next year. I realized twenty minutes ago that, for the first time in my college years, I've taken too much and am falling behind. The only thing I feel I'm up-to-speed on is the Analyzer system at work. My lack of viola practicing leaves a few embarassing wrong notes at OCO and SOGO rehearsals, which is bad considering the OCO concert is coming up Saturday (...oh yeah, I should mention that). I barely do any reading for my Evergreen classes; the only place that doesn't hurt me is in Logic, and the worst sting comes in my independent learning contract for Discrete Math. And that GRE Friday...reviewing for that has gone pathetically, and serves as a bad omen for the math GRE in five weeks. Without 28-hour days, I can't continue on like this and do well.

I'm seriously considering taking next year off. Full-time work for LGAN, playing with OCO and maybe the Olympia Symphony, catching up on my literature list, exloring JSP, playing around with math in free time — those have all been dreamstuffs for too long. I wouldn't mind having a little more time to pick schools, either; I'm frightened that I'm rushing choices, in the midst of a plethora of work.

I think I'll still apply to those four schools who are seeing my test scores anyway, just in case I have another change of heart. But, I just rattled off a too-well-sized list of things I have to do for having-a-freaking-soul's sake, and I'm not sure if I can wait another four years for them. I'm only twenty. I can afford to take a break.

Sax

The title neither stands for "Simple API for XML," nor does it end in "-omophone." This entry is a small set of thoughts inspired by Oliver Sax.

I've heard Oli Newsome, psychology professor at SPSCC, call Sax his hero. I have in writing that Sax is his "personal favorite Psychology Person of all time," c/o of an e-mail he sent to the Psychology Club. I didn't know much of what Oli was saying about Sax when I took his 101 class, because I was in the middle of what must have been equal to a 24-credit quarter at the time. I didn't even get the chance to learn more until I was at Leah's appartment once upon a time and she loaned me a book: The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat.

Every time I read a chapter of that book, I'm introduced to a new frameset of viewing life. The one that terrified me the most recounted the story of a man who had completely lost his ability to imprint memory, living for fifty years in about the year 1944 — I believe the cause was "Korsakov's Syndrome." That name may be wrong; the syndrome I'm trying to label stems from a heavy, heavy alcohol habit that eventually destroys parts of the hippocampus. In essence, it is a perpetual amnesia, forever denying growth of character.

For each chapter of the book, it has been a new way of life, without some key component — thus, the title of "Losses" for that section. I started "Excesses" tonight, and read about Tourette's syndrome, in cases both mild and extreme. "Wiccy Ticcy Ray," the chapter devoted to Tourette's, showed that the syndrome shows itself in more ways than just swearing at random intervals. Personalities are afflicted by the syndrome, perhaps to uncontrollable, spasmatic urges that become forerunners of the persona — or, perhaps, personalities are augmented by the syndrome.

"Witty Ticcy Ray" drew on his Tourette's, acquired at the age of four, to add wit to his considerable intelligence. His muscle spasms became the center of his jazz drumming, often inspiring wondrous improvisations after an out-of-nowhere shot. He lost these abilities when he took a prescribed drug that supressed the syndrome (even the wit). Eventually, he became two people depending on days of the week. Work days, he would have his drug, and be normal; weekends, he would pass on the drug and have his untamed actions run free.

After reading the chapter, I now have a question of myself: Do I have Tourette's syndrome, of some degree? I remembered the way that ideas used to seemingly exert a physical force upon me, uncontainable through careful facial composure or restriction of flailing limbs. I think about my insatiable urge to tell jokes too often, good and bad. I think about how when my mind runs into unpleasant memories, there is a physical reaction as it passes over me, a sharpened breath.

I'm thinking about this because I'm wondering what the toll is, of four years of less-than-perfect sleep, work for every hour of every day, and a rising shortage of recreation. Some of those wild impulses that I used to call mine are vanishing: I haven't had an idea hit me with great force recently. I feel duller around people; I never have anything to say at Fools Play, the one time a week I consistently see friends. I wonder if my wit is leaving me, to be replaced with the drive for proving radical things like the existence of a Group whose elements are the vocabulary of a formal language L…a pure intellect, of whatever major or minor degree. (Given computers are dumb, if I think like a computer, what does that make me?)

Tomorrow, I shall see Jim. If I can't elicit a laugh from him, I'll know I'm losing a social touch. I mean, the last time I hung out with him, I gave this wonderful discussion of scatology while he supped; ah, that was great fun. …Maybe the solution is people? Well, I'll have to answer that question in winter break. I just have to pass get past these #^$% exams first.

Journal Entry, 20041007

This entry is uncreatively titled because I don't have creative energy at the moment.

I don't remember if I've yet mentioned how amazingly busy I am…this quarter, that is. I look forward to the day that I get to break this habit, for lack of subject matter.

This is a list of all the time I definitely spend in places; 20 hours, not counting driving. It may look like a light schedule at first glance, but then you may realize that I only have three classes listed. That totals to about seven hours of homework (only an hour from Unix). I limit work for LGAN to 10 hours per week, most on Fridays, though I'm in the office about 20. The unlisted Discrete Math contract I'm doing takes about 6 hours a week; not a bad deal for 4 credits. Practice for SOGO and OCO barely reaches 3 hours a week, but not because I'm some hotshot who can play everything well…

The General Graduate Record Exam is next Friday. I've been kinda stressing about that. I keep thinking to myself "It's just an SAT with an essay. No biggee. Sure, the vocab has more syllables, and a lot of those get missed, but no bigee." The score on my first practice test was even about 40 points lower than when I took the SAT. I'm not too worried about the test. Not too worried. Not too worried. (Still convincing myself.)

I think I'm starting to take an academic break. I skipped out on the Philosophy Seminar and instead signed up for a Unix class which runs the risk of covering everything I had in a class 3 years ago. I showed up for the first meeting today — last week was a Jewish holiday, no class — without having the homework done. Ah felt nohrty. (I love that Fable accent.) Sherry (prof) is forgiving enough to let me turn it in late. I suspect she's happy that it'll be one less piece of paper she'll be seeing. She told the class today's homework was the first and only piece of paper she wanted to ever see from us. I like that.

The subject matter of the course is pretty easy too, considering previous experience. I know I'm not the only one in there with some Unix under my belt, though, so I don't feel too guilty taking the class for ease. However, talking with Jen tonight I said I was convincing myself the class was worthwhile by saying my Unix was "... 3 years old. It's as good as rm-ed." I feel guilty for taking the class when I can make that lame joke. Oh well, I can use the break.

Math Logic is fairly easy-going right now. I like that. It's Formal Language theory, and will be Automota theory in winter. I'll like that.

To date, none of my professors have showed up to class with anything on their feet besides sandals and socks. I like that too.

Coke, Greeners and a Sandwich

First: The sandwich. I cooked the best sandwich I've made this year, before The Daily Show came on: Pugliese bread, and pepperjack cheese laden with the ripped meat of a rotisserie-roasted chicken, grilled to no less than Bronze God-hood.

Oh, man, that was a good sandwich. So good, it gets the Golden Lighting.

And now, for something completely different.

The Evergreen Communications building, home of the campus's Experimental Theatre programs, has a Coke machine. While I've never been in the cafeteria, I believe this may be the only place on campus one could find a Coke. I recall this is quite contrary from …shoot, I thought someone had written an entry on this huge brand-loyalty thing with Coke and their campus, but all I could find was something of Julie's.

Anyway, what better place to have the sole dispensation of the big-name brand Coca-Cola on Evergreen's campus, than the area where the most socially active students gather to create messages to send to the world? Somebody working in the building probably posed that question to him/herself and realized "…Oh dear." Here's some retraction action.

I go to a school with such intimidating students. Fascinating.