The Big One

I’m a bit annoyed that I am now a senior but I still can’t get into Linguistics 20. If you have ever talked to me about enrollment you probably know that I have been interested in this class for as long as I have been at UCLA. It’s always been sort of low priority: some other class filling rapidly inevitably forces me to spend my precious first-pass units elsewhere. For the Math 30 series and the first few math upper divs, there are generally 3 sections of each course offered each quarter, one taught by an awesome professor and two taught by horrible professors. Then there was always some GE which I was sure would fill up much quicker than Ling 20 (Scand 50W, Poli Sci 50, Geog 5...). Thus leaving me with zero choice in the allocation of my first pass units for my first few years as an undergraduate.

My capacity to be selective has purportedly increased in recent years, upon achieving “graduating senior” status. But I still have to compete with the other graduating seniors for the Classes that Matter. And I still can’t get into Ling 20. Blame resides with the first pass/second pass system, which we love as freshmen and hate as seniors. Something about silly freshmen being allowed to enroll in silly freshmen classes before their graduating senior overlords is just wrong. The worst part is even though the class has been full for a month now, the amount of students enrolled just keeps increasing:


Speaking of math classes, our selection for Fall 2010 is dismal. For some reason in the fall they mainly schedule The Ones that Everybody Takes, Math 110A, 115A, 131A, and 132. Which is absolutely fantastic for the people who have just started their upper divs and absolutely lame for the rest of us. It’s a trend I’ve been noticing - fall quarter has the most intro classes and as the year progresses they offer more specialized/unique/not boring ones. For example last spring I took Math 116, Cryptology, which incidentally is nothing like you think it is if you are unfortunate enough to be fan of the Da Vinci Code. But I’ve never really had an issue with a drought in class selection until this fall - presumably the budget cuts are at fault. Let us weep for the freshmen.

Until this year I was diligently writing a bit about each class I took at UCLA. I have gotten pitiably far behind so I’ll just tell you some of the highlights, although some of these should probably be called lowlights, get it?

CS 180 - Introduction to Algorithms and Complexity Theory: I’ll admit I didn’t really know what to expect from this class, but I did assume it would be useful for a computer-person specializing in mathematics. After all, it’s about algorithms. But it ended up being weighty and a bit too abstract and a bit too impossible. Every week I was assigned 4 impossible problems to solve by myself, problems which I spent hours thinking about without actually making any progress, and problems which I consequently got depressed about before writing down some crap and turning them in anyways. Fortunately the professor seemed to know his class was awful and let us out 30-40 minutes early from each lecture. And made some nerdy algorithm jokes, which I would have appreciated much more if I weren’t in a dank, stuffy room with no windows, surrounded by smelly undergraduate engineers.

CS 174A - Introduction to Computer Graphics: I still can’t believe the turkey that taught this class. On Day 1 he says to us “don’t expect to have enjoyable lectures,” and “I’m not going to make any funny jokes.” (This was a lie. He made several funny jokes. In fact I would say his ratio of funny jokes to normal speech was a bit higher than many other professors.) But he also told us some stuff about how learning is supposed to be a painful process, and how terrible our calculus and linear algebra skills were. So all-in-all he was a bit of a downer. He liked to tell us nothing about what would be on the exams. I scored about 30% on the midterm, which was the most below-average I have ever been on anything. I’m assuming this was because he threatened to give us negative credit for sufficiently awful answers, which dissuaded me from filling the page with my usual bullshit (I think this was his goal.)

This guy was quite full of himself, but deservedly so - he was brilliant. But he made it a little too apparent that teaching was not His Thing. After the midterm he gave us a course evaluation where he asked us to vent all of our concerns with him and with the class. Then he spent an entire class session discussing what we wrote, making legitimate excuses for some of our issues, but actually promising change for others. We left uplifted, or not completely screwed for the first time in the seven weeks we had been in the class. Then, he left the country. This sounds made up but I swear to you that he left the country and didn’t teach the rest of the class, just in time to not do anything he said he was going to do.

We were left in the astoundingly clumsy hands of the TA who spoke at about 50% normal speed. A smart guy, I’m sure, but he drew things out so much with his incredibly thick accent masking his already-broken English, things we didn’t particularly wish to hear in the first place. So I am pleased to announce that this is my new Worst Class of All Time, surpassing even 10th and 11th grade English.

German: I took an entire year of German just for kibbles and bits. I guess it’s because I like languages and because high-school me willed it. In the fall my TA was an old man, who was about as far from stimulating as I can imagine, and who failed to get us to speak German basically at all. He did quirky things like give us four copies of the same handout (maybe he had memory issues.) But I lucked out in winter and spring, when I had a very fun TA who reminded me a lot of my French TAs from freshman year. It was a good class, I met some great people (this is another reason I like to take languages.) But I’m afraid my retention of German is not so great - probably because German is hard. For some reason it’s much less intuitive to me than Spanish or French. My biggest problem is that there are way too many prepositions: an, ab, auf, aus, in, um, zu,, bei, neben, hinter, zwischen, nach, mit,durch, gegen, von, innerhalb, wahrend, etc., then of course they often contracted with other words, hinab, hinaus, herab, damit, danach, beim, zum, am, im, zum, hinterm, vom... All I can say is stay far away from German if you struggled with Spanish or French.

It has occurred to me that the university (at least mine) focuses on the theoretical rather than the practical, the abstract rather than the concrete. I suppose this is probably better, since the practical is usually a whole lot more obvious. But it creates a feeling of aimlessness that I find hard to shake. Am I really learning? Are these four years of solving impossible problems worth it? Being able to recite some new facts is a bit more tangible evidence of learning than suspecting “my thought patterns are a little different now.” I did have a bit of an epiphany during my sophomore year about mathematics and knowledge in general (this would take several more paragraphs to discuss), but how do I know that my university education is responsible, and that it wasn’t something that would have dawned on me regardless?

Coinciding with this is the longest creative draught I have experienced since I started calling myself a composer. This I am still struggling with. You would think that any emotion at all would lend itself to writing music (happy music. anxious music. sad music. mad music. lonely music.) But I have always found it much easier to write when in an optimistic/carefree/happy mood. Composing has never been very natural for me, but it is a bit alarming that stress seems to completely kill the entire process. This is something to think about, and for you to think about with me.

We played some incredible music this year in UCLA symphony:

Balakirev - Symphony no. 1: Oh how this piece grew on me. I am unsure why I did not like it at first, perhaps because it opens a bit slowly, with unquestionably the worst movement of the four. Not bad, but not terribly interesting - except a few bars towards the end of the piece where with a few brass chords he seamlessly gets the music back from Db to C. Half step modulations have always sounded terrible to me, but this one works. Then comes a scherzo which is probably one of the few classical works which I would describe as “catchy,” especially in its climaxes over a low A pedal. Then an andante with a melody which reminded me of the kind of melody I used to write. It’s even in Db, the key I imagine all pretty melodies in. I of course liked this movement instantly, although looking back I think its climax is a little less than effective: a bit of muddy orchestration of an odd chord, much less impassioned than a simple restatement of the melody earlier in the piece. A beautiful movement in general, but with a lot of exposed string writing in difficult keys, worsened by our hall’s unspectacular acoustics. The finale was the best movement of the four, and shouldn’t it be? It opens with a folk melody which I don’t particularly care for, except in that it makes me feel like I’m playing Tchaikovsky. Then a very upbeat clarinet melody which begins a triumphant allegro. Strings in octaves punctuated with brass and percussion - what’s not to like?

Tchaikovsky - Symphony no. 2: Another one that grew on me, but not all of it. The slow movement still sounds like it was written for the equivalent of today’s elementary school string players, some kind of stupid children’s march which spends way too much time with the dominant and tonic and no time anywhere else. But I’m willing to overlook this one because the surrounding movements are incredible. The first movement, absolutely a blast to play, is probably the most reminiscent of Tchaikovsky’s 4th-6th symphonies which were the works which pulled me into classical music in the first place. Sometimes in an orchestral string section the writing makes it difficult to play energetically - Tchaikovsky will have none of that. This was the most bow-hair-breaking piece I have performed since Rodeo. 3rd is a scherzo, which is a word I have difficulty using to describe a piece which sounds as angry as this flurry of notes. Completely relentless, even in its transition to the brief trio. The final movement is nothing spectacular, but closes with a very Russian blast of C major, which works for me.

Stravinsky - Suite from The Firebird: Further evidence that Stravinsky was way ahead of his time. Listen to the 60-second Firebird variation and you will have no idea you’re listening to something from the early 1900s. A sort of romantic modernism, breaking away from the last few restrictions of the classical era while still embracing natural forms and occasional lyricism, the kind of modernism I love and strive for. Top notch orchestration - this was after several revisions of the original ballet. It reminds me of Ravel at times - particularly the lullaby near the end of the piece, which occasionally sounds almost plagiarized from the opening to Ravel’s own Rapsodie Espganole (In a good way.) Then the Infernal dance, 4 minutes of rhythmic fervor which reminds me of modern wind ensemble literature. And of course, the unforgettable B-major Finale, easily one of the most triumphant moments in all of classical music.

Vaughan-Williams - Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis: Have I really never written about this before? Along with Barber’s Adagio and Part’s Silouan’s Song this is one of the few works of string orchestra literature which doesn’t bore me. Quite the opposite, in fact. The Phrygian mode is as close as I will ever get to spirituality. I have wondered for a while now why modern composers don’t embrace the medieval modes more. This piece is haunting, like it’s the music of god, and it’s just because the As are flat instead of natural. And I’ll stop there because any more and I would feel like I’m repeating myself.

Elgar - Cello Concerto: This piece is devastating: I feel guilty that it was right before intermission. Shouldn’t we leave the audience with something uplifting? Elgar has this style of writing where he almost completely abandons the tonic, going minutes at a time without resolution. In high school I fond it very difficult to listen to; only when I come back to this piece 4 years later do I realize it’s supposed to be. How could you live in post-WWI Europe and write music with a nice perfect cadence every 8 bars? The third movement in particular tears me apart. It has nothing that is normally found in what I consider pretty music: no fortissimo climax, no soaring string melody, no suspensions. It just goes for a short 4 minutes and somehow it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever heard. The soloist just floats back and forth above the orchestra, meandering aimlessly, a bit reminiscent of Messiaen’s Louange à l’Éternité de Jesus from the Quatuor pour la Fin du Temps. And of course the material is restated towards the end of the 4th movement, just to make me even sadder.

Ravel - Ma Mère l’Oye: The most restrained of his orchestral works, I felt it was a good fit for our orchestra. Its highlights include l’Impératrice des Pagodes, a quick 2/4 dance over a major pentatonic scale. I love the last few chords: every note of the scale sounded simultaneously - and it’s still beautiful. Further proof that is impossible to write anything ugly with a major pentatonic scale. Then there is La Belle et la Bête, its titular characters represented by a romantic waltz and the rare contrabassoon, respectively. What a fun instrument the contrabassoon is. If you have never heard one solo before you should look into this piece. The work closes with Le Jardin Férique, a slow C major crescendo to a final few bars of sparkling harp and celesta over string trills and sustained horn chords.

And a not so great piece:
Mozart - Flute Concerto no. 1: I maintain that this piece could be played without much difficulty by a 5th grader. It’s absolutely unspectacular. I know you know I dislike classical era music in general, but this is just so much worse than Mozart’s own Symphonia Concertante, which we played last year, or any concerto by Haydn. At least the soloist had some nice cadenzas.

I have somehow managed to get a paid internship with Edison Mission here in Irvine. Mostly what has resulted is further disappointment at the plodding tempo of office life. Always waiting for somebody. Which isn’t quite what I needed, but at least this time I get money. It’s difficult to be here daily from 8-5, but I have survived for two full weeks now. The whole experience has grimly foreshadowed the rest of my life. At least I have a fallback position: math teacher. And perhaps my career as a composer will suddenly and surprisingly take off. But that’s probably just a bit of wishful thinking. I often feel guilty for doing so little here. Must try to convince myself it’s okay to take money from large corporations.

I’m approaching 2700 words - which is significantly longer than anything academic I have ever written. Am I redeemed now? Can I go back to saying I have a blog after 7 months of neglect? If you actually read this far without skipping please let me know, and please allow me buy you some delicious food.

Dessert

New favorite dining hall desert:

I wish I knew any of the appropriate adjectives for food. It will have to suffice to say that it was peanut butter with some crumbly brownie thing on the bottom. Very light overall. I ate 4 of these today in fear that they would never have them again.

2010

California's recent storms have coincided nicely with our discussion of weather in German. Almost immediately after my professor began to teach some weather vocabulary today came a roar of thunder - particularly loud because the classroom door was open.

Yesterday we waited about 30 minutes in similar weather outside of the Griddle Cafe in Hollywood, which turned out to be quite worth the wait. We ordered a giant pancake filled with Oreos, which was incredibly tasty, and so large that two of us could only finish about 2/3 of it. The issue was not so much its size as its sugar content. I would like to know precisely how many Oreos I consumed yesterday, because I have never been so repulsed by the thought of sweet food as I was after that pancake. I have now gone nearly a day and a half without eating anything sugary, which is a little unusual for me.

And now for a discussion of an eternally evident trend: that frequency of blog posts varies inversely with the blog's age.

Over the void of the past few months I have developed an admiration for daily bloggers - this is something to work towards. (Side note: Blogger.com's spell check insists that "blog" and "blogger" are not words.)When you've just started a blog the words come effortlessly: in 2007 I posted 17 times in November and December alone. You might not suspect writing a few sentences each day to be difficult - it certainly sounds simple to me.

But I have some chronic writer's block. I've attributed it to a lack of motivation: the same deficiency which prevents me from picking up a book and reading it, working on a large-scale programming project, or actually getting the music in my head onto paper. Instead I find myself watching movies and television, presumably due to their minimal brainpower requirement.

Case in point: this weekend I watched all three Bourne movies, which were quite enjoyable, though a bit formulaic:

Bourne, to self: Who am I?!
Some CIA division head: I want all eyes in (European city) on Bourne! Give the asset his location!
Bourne, on the phone with division head: Send (CIA employee) to meet me at (crowded European city square). Come alone!
Some CIA employee: That place is a surveillance nightmare!!
CIA division head: I want snipers on the rooftops! And all eyes on Bourne!
Bourne: You didn't come alone! I'm out of here!
(car chase in which Bourne escapes and then travels to another European city)

Intellectualism has been pushed to the sidelines. Although recently Frank told me he might be able to show my clarinet sonata to a clarinetist and a pianist, which prompted me to make some revisions. Since I finished the piece last summer there have been a few unsatisfactory spots: in particular a stale restatement of the main melody of the first movement down an octave. I've since replaced it with a passage in which the clarinetist refuses to play, to the pianist's dismay. They proceed to musically mock each other until the pianist flips out and begins to play discordant variations on the clarinet's themes. Of course, this probably sounds much more interesting in words than in reality.

This has only confirmed my suspicion that I need some incentive beyond personal satisfaction to actually accomplish things. School is never an issue because it entails its own deadlines and provides immediate feedback. But I worry that when I lack the motivation to do what I consider my hobbies, there might be a problem.

What motivates you?

Apples

Hypothesis: How good an apple tastes is inversely proportional to how good its name suggests it tastes. For example: Red Delicious. They have "delicious" in their name - how bad could they taste taste, right? WRONG. Red delicious apples are revolting. Then there's Fuji apples. I have no thoughts or feelings one way or the other on Fujisaki, Aomori Prefecture, and sure enough, they are pretty standard apples. Finally, Granny Smith apples. Granny Smith - really? That sounds like the name of the most boring woman on the planet. But taking a bite of a Granny Smith apple is like taking a bite out of heaven.

In other news, it's difficult to believe it has already been 4 years since junior year of high school. That year possessed some spectral grip over us; the killer year, when everyone took the most difficult classes simultaneously, braved those oh-so-important standardized exams, which would determine our future. In other words it was the exact opposite of now, which feels less important than ever. Maybe it's just that I've become accustomed to the rituals of college. I enroll in classes, put in minimal but satisfactory effort, they end. Recently it occurred to me that I lack any real incentive is supposed to be to get good grades, but I do it anyway out of habit.

And now to perpetuate the mundanity I will describe my classes, like I always do:

German 1: Elementary German
A few days in this class were sufficient to remind me how much I feed off of introductory language classes, and by that I mean I think I should take them forever and ever. They're a major self esteem boost. They force you to meet people, which I don't exactly do often. And expectations are so low that I honestly can't imagine how anyone could struggle with the material. After taking Spanish and French I can say this class feels even slower than usual, but that may be due to the flagrant incompetency of our TA, who never quite seems to understand what he's doing. I thought about keeping a log of exactly how he fails each day, but then I realized that would take more work than the class itself.

Scandinavian 50W: Introduction to Scandinavian Literature and Culture
I can't say I particularly enjoy what we've read so far - three Sagas of Icelanders and the Volusunga Saga, which are just about the least-compelling reads I have yet to experience. Fortunately we're quickly jumping towards the modern era, which means I may be able to read more than a few pages without nodding off. The professor is good, our TA is funny, and the class feels quite personal, which I suppose is how a writing class should feel. Whether it will actually improve my writing is yet to be determined. We did a bit of peer reviewing essays on Thursday and all I can say about is that I really should have not taken the humanities program at Northwood for granted, because most people's writing is just atrocious.

Geography 7: Intro to Geographic Information Systems
Honestly I have not put much thought into this class at all. Lecture has so far been completely self explanatory, which I suppose is a good thing. The professor spends half the time showing us cool websites like Photosynth. Lab has been basically a giant computer literacy test.

Math 134: Systems of Differential Equations
This class has emphasized graphical problem solving so far, which I appreciate. Hopefully I am developing some mathematical intuition, which I have really lacked since high school. I had actually been avoiding this particular professor, because she substituted for Rogawski one day back in 32B, and came off as incomprehensible. But in this class it didn't take long to realize I was completely wrong about her - she is completely straightforward, thorough, clear professors I have had to date. She has yet to truly confuse me - which every teacher I've had since pre-calculus has managed to do on a regular basis.

Spring 2009 Concert

I just realized I never wrote about our concert in May - which was probably the most crowd-pleasing concert I've experienced to date. Take a look at the literature:

• Tchaikovsky - "Romeo and Juliet" Fantasy-Overture: Who doesn't know the love theme? Maybe you find it trite due to its popularity - but let me tell you playing it is a whole new experience altogether. Minute-long extended passages of strings playing legato in octaves - this is romanticism, and I can still appreciate it (I was doubting this.) Then there's the rest of the piece - which has quite a few extended 16th-note runs in the strings, including cellos. Which aren't particularly bad since they are in B minor, which is a nice key for strings. So I could play them farily accurately all quarter long until the concert, when my fingers froze up and I basically flopped my way through every one - story of my life I guess.
• Bernstein - Chichester Psalms: The highlight of the concert for me - I suppose it's because the piece is right up my alley at the moment: not too dissonant, but unconventional harmonies, complex meters (most of the first movement is in 7/4, most of the third is 10/4, divided into two groups of 2+3/4), and colorful orchestration (the first movement requires something like 6-7 percussionists). The University Choir who we performed with did an outstanding job - although I discovered when watching a video recording that they dragged a bit during the first movement. The countertenor soloist in the second movement was quite good - though unfortunately everything is harder to hear when you're in the middle of the ensemble.
• Dvorak - Symphony no. 9 "From the New World": Is there a more famous symphony than this one? Unfortunately the cello part is mediocre and forgettable, like Dvorak's cello parts often are. And then there's the godawful trio in the otherwise exciting scherzo, and that anticlimactic woodwind diminuendo on the last note of the piece. It has its moments - the adagio's gorgeous English horn solo, the giant E-major tremolos in the coda - but I will be honest here and admit performing this was a little disappointing (boy, how my tastes have changed.) But at least audiences still eat this one up.
  

West Virginia is the grossest-shaped state in the US

Looking at a political map of the United States, I have made several conclusions: first and foremost, that West Virginia is the grossest-shaped state in the union. Take a look at a map yourself and I'm sure you will agree. Most US states are nicely in proportion with each other, with a mix of natural and arbitrary borders defining a more or less rectangular area, splitting the country into a checkerboard. And then there's West Virginia, which sticks out like a sore thumb:


As the roundest state, "thumb" is probably not a bad description of the shape itself - if you ignore the two disgusting, wild flailing tentacles protruding from the northeast. And that triangle in between - what's up with that? West Virginia probably gets beaten up by all the other states. To me it looks a bit like chicken:


(Give it a minute)

Then there's Idaho, which has always reminded me of those foam #1 hands:

Will somebody explain to me why Idaho is so enthusiastic? It's as if the state is utterly unaware of its crazy senile neighbor Montana, gaping at Idaho without even a hint of subtlety.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Illinois, which has the most aesthetically pleasing shape of them all by a considerable margin.

With its straight, latitudinal 42° 30' N northern border, Illinois seems to hang down from Wisconsin, suspending below itself the rest of the state and its natural borders with the Mississippi River and Lake Michigan. A beautiful stalactite dripping moisture in a cool South American cave; an icicle dangling from an icy winter cottage at dusk in mid-January.

To whoever is responsible for Illinois' borders: kudos.

Underschtand

Something I understood when I was little and don't understand now:

When drinking fountains come in pairs, there is always a lower one and a higher one. As a kid it was obvious to me that the left drinking fountain was for short people, while the right drinking fountain was for tall people, and that was that. This explanation suffices in the case of say, elementary schools, when students' heights vary dramatically. But the "tall" fountain is still low enough that most people older than 13 or so can drink from it effortlessly.

So why is there always a "short" drinking fountain? Clearly it is to accommodate children, which could be reasonably be in any public place. But if they aren't tall enough for the "tall" fountain, are they tall enough for the average public restroom sink? If they aren't tall enough for the "tall" fountain, should they really be wandering around without someone there to assist them? And if we are to accommodate a minority group like children at a university, shouldn't we also consider the minority of tall people with back problems, who can't reasonably bend over that far to drink some water?

It's uncomfortable for me to drink from the tall drinking fountain, and I don't have back problems, nor am I exceptionally tall. And since in the average non-elementary-school public space, the "tall" fountain is used almost exclusively, it is usually not working optimally. So everyone is forced to use the short one - an inconvenience to a much greater number of people than would be inconvenienced if

1. both fountains were the same height, or better yet, if
2. there were still two distinct heights, but both were taller than they are now.

Or maybe if, best of all, there were an adjustable-height drinking fountain (I really should patent this.)

Something I didn't understand when I was little and do understand now:

Say you are a pedestrian crossing a large intersection: you press the button, the walk symbol is displayed, and you begin to cross. Mere seconds later the icon changes to the flashing red "prepare to stop!" hand. "How can they expect anyone to cross the street that fast?" This baffled me for the longest time. I stopped thinking about it for over a decade, probably because I am rarely a pedestrian in an area with large streets. But this summer I have been doing a lot of walking at UCI during lunch. Almost immediately after I started in late June it finally struck me.

The reason the pedestrian traffic signal changes to the flashing hand so quickly is because beyond that point, they don't think you will have enough time to cross the intersection. If the "walk" icon were displayed much longer than the hand icon, as I thought it should be when I was younger, someone might arrive at the crossing moments before the hand disappeared, enter the street, and then find themselves stuck with mere seconds to cross. So rather than an underestimate of the time it takes to cross the street, it's an overestimate. When I think of it now it is almost offensively obvious; it absolutely could not function any other way.

I'll just tell myself I'm getting wiser.

Great minds think alike

Hopefully you are familiar with Apples to Apples. This is not fabricated in any way.

The best moment of my life

Tonight around 10 PM, the greatest moment of my life occurred - this one will be particularly difficult to explain.

1. We were playing a board game that you have not heard of. It does not have a Wikipedia article. Nor does the company who made it, although we have discovered that it is by the creators of Trivial Pursuit - which renders its obscurity even more puzzling.
2. To make a long story short, it's a geography game. Basically you read vague descriptions of places from cards and then fruitlessly attempt pinpoint the exact location on the planet at which they are/were located. Some are quite easy: "Ubi wasn't built in a day", but most are basically impossible. One of the game pieces effectively described our reaction to the rules of the game:
   
   
3. The game is wild, wacky stuff. Setting up the game felt akin to making final preparations for a demonic ritual, which you might get a feel for if you take a look at these photos. A few statements in the rules are particularly cryptic, and important to my story:
   "The player born closest to March 15 plays first." (As a side note, this was me.)
   "There's something fishy about some Ubis. We are pulling your leg. These are called red herrings. When a red herring surfaces, the correct answer is 'that's a red herring'."
   "Great Caesar's Ghosts lurks within the game. A player to whom he speaks, beware! (Looking on the bright side, we could have included a dagger)."
4. "That's funny, March 15! The Ides of March!" we thought. We started to play and learn as we went along, answering a few corrections correctly, and a whole lot more questions incorrectly.
5. One fateful turn, my team rolled dual Ubi Eyes on the Ubi Cubis which meant that we could choose which accuracy we wanted to give - hexagonal or triangular, which required you to be 6 times more accurate, but is required to actually make progress in the game. We could also choose the region of our choice - AMR (Americas), EUR (Europe), WAT (Water), or UNI (Universal) - a question from each region is found on each card. In other words, we had it made - and we were already two scoring facets ahead of the other team.
6. We drew the next card from the box and read the clue:
   "AMR: Ubi 'Beware the Ides of March!""Ha! That shouldn't be in the Americas, it should be in Europe!" we thought. "That must be a red herring." We then turned the card over to read the correct answer - and to our dismay, it said something like "Et tu, Bruté?" and told us basically we lost all our points and had to start over.
7. Let me just clarify the amount of FAIL here for you - I'm assuming you are pretty lost. We had ideal circumstances. We had the privilege to choose and then chose a question which we were 100% convinced we had the correct for. We recognized it as a red herring, which requires us to have read the rules. Which in turn required us to have read the cryptic note about Caesar's ghost. We have read Julius Caesar. We had started the game with the closest birthday to the Ides of March. The question itself told us to beware the ides of march. In summary: Against all odds and all common sense we walked headfirst into our demise.
8. Andrew immediately began to sing the keyboard cat song - to play us off. If you don't already know what this is, here are some good examples of the keyboard cat phenomenon:
   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=io63z-aRMbg
   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLSoYihTtro
   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deYn_efItS0
   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WSg7dcKFzg
   Of course all these videos require that you have previously been exposed to other videos. It's all very meta and if you are oblivious to the internet subculture and don't get it, I'm sorry, but you probably never will, and nothing I could have said would make this funny to you. But those of you out there who truly comprehend (there has to be at least one) will agree with me, that this moment was perfect, in every sense of the word.

It's only downhill from here.

Quote of the Year

Weisbart, on the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus:

"That's why this theorem is so nice - it takes something that really requires a lot of thought and reduces it to something that ... a 3A student could do."

Trashy

Sightings

1. In class Monday: Some littleish Indian guy wearing red shoes kept walking down the hall past our room and then walking back seconds later. He's what I imagine an Indian elf would look like (the kind from the North Pole, not from Rivendell.)
2. Walking to class Tuesday: Some girl had headphones on and was listening to loud Bluegrass music, complete with very audible violin glissandi. I suppose anything is a welcome departure from the stuff people usually listen to way too loudly!
3. Walking to dinner Tuesday night: We exited Rieber Vista just as a guy on a bike was arriving. He was pretty far from the building and wanted to make it inside before the door closed. So he pedaled as hard as he could right to the door, then slammed on his breaks just inches from the door to grab it. It was pretty hardcore if you ask me.
   

Floss

Flossing between the back two molars with a piece of floss that's too short is difficult. Torn between efficacy and frugality. I am profoundly frustrated.

Beefless

Starting this quarter, every Thursday the dining halls are beefless - which basically means all of the beef is replaced with turkey or chicken. I guess the die-hard beef fans are upset about this but I welcome anything that begets a little variety. Though I'm not entirely sure they're accomplishing much when it's only one day per week, and they're just substituting meats.

It's almost fourth week already - I think I've got midterms coming up but I don't know when. I haven't written about my classes yet so I guess I will:

Math 151A - Applied Numerical Methods - I love this class. If you've ever become disillusioned by your math classes then you ought to take some numerical analysis. For example, after elementary calculus you know how to integrate a few pretty functions in a few special cases - that's great, but real life rarely works out like the questions in your calc textbook do. In real life, you don't get functions, you get data. Or approximations of functions - and even if you have these there's a huge chance you won't be able to manipulate or analyze them by hand. Numerical analysis is all about how to cope with this sort of problem - in particular, with computers. I'm not the hugest fan of the professor, nor the TA, who spends most of his time advising us about programming in Python. Which would be nice and all if only this were a programming class - but it's not and I wish he'd discuss the actual numerical analysis a little more. The programming required is rudimentary at best, especially since we can use MATLAB.

PIC 10C - Advanced Programming - I find it funny that inheritance and other fundamental topics in object-oriented programming are taught in a class with the word "advanced" in its title. I suppose it's not that necessary in C++, but with Java these are always the first things you talk about. Fortunately this has permitted me to tune out a little, and made this class very relaxing so far. This week we switched to C# - I guess we are working towards making some nice little Windows applications, which should be handy. But of course we have to start with basic syntactical issues - and lucky for me C# is even more similar to Java than C++ is. It amuses me that writing one program in Java ever allows me to breeze through so much of this class.

Physics 1C - I hate this class. I come in every day and tell myself: "Self, this is the day you will stay awake through an entire lecture" - but it never happens and within five minutes I'm out cold. My notes are consequently a little disjointed - fragments of the second half of the past few weeks' lectures. Incidentally, I strangely recall saying most of this about 1B - physics classes must not be my thing. We'll see how the midterm goes...

Math 131A - Analysis - Another theoretical class in the same vein as 115A. This one starts with everything we've taken for granted since elementary school; for the first three weeks we have been building up from simple set theory into constructing number systems. Like defining what it means to add integers. Proving things that we have used without thinking for 75% of our lives. The professor insists that the actual analysis will start soon. I have grown to appreciate this type of material much more through 115A - it's nice to see where all of this came from.

Cell Phone Faces

Since fall, I've taken a few face photos with my cell phone when my camera wasn't handy. I should really start carrying it with me more frequently again. These will suffice for now.

On one of those self-checkout machines at Albertson's (another reason to love them!)

Kush's inadvertent fruit placement at dinner today:

On Joseph's cooler:
Oven mitt burns:

On the back of a shark-themed bottle opener: (don't ask me)On the side of Gayley Avenue:

My phone is also home to a bunch of pictures of other interesting things. But these will have to wait until I'm feeling a bit less lazy.

Winter Concert

Tonight was our winter concert, so I figured I'd write my thoughts on each piece as usual as a means to procrastinate on writing a real entry:

Copland - An Outdoor Overture
Such nostalgia from freshman year of high school, when this was the opener to our marching band field show. It doesn't have the greatest cello part - we don't even get to play at all during the gorgeous middle section. But I love this piece, its driving rhythms and subtle transitions.

Mozart - Sinfonia Concertante, K. 364
This was probably the first time that I have actually enjoyed performing Mozart - thanks mostly to our phenomenal soloists. Virtuosic violinists are a dime a dozen, but rarely do we hear a good violist, especially when their solo repertoire is so small. But even the music itself stands out to me among Mozart's other work - the first movement in particular seems more passionate than your typical Mozart (aside from works like the Requiem).

Bizet - L'Arlésienne Suites 1 and 2
Bizet is gorgeous as usual - but I'm a little unimpressed that the work's transition of choice seems to be to stop and then resume again with completely different material. I can understand not wanting to drastically alter the original music in creating suites, but there have got to be some leitmotifs or something that could be used to bridge the gaps between sections a little.

Zut

At some point last week my very French math professor said "Zut!" which basically means "Damn it!"

Last Monday I got a jury summons. Luckily I got plenty of reassurance from my sisters and friends that you can definitely get out of it by proclaiming you are a full time student. So I logged onto Orange County's fancy eJuror site to see if I could escape - and by "fancy" I mean horrendously flawed. To make a long story short I hit a misleading button that effectively confirmed that I would serve on April 3. So I had to send a "whoops!" email to them and explain the situation and now I am basically guaranteed to have to serve sometime this summer. Zut!

The top three other things currently wracking my nerves:

1. The second Math 115A midterm, which is tomorrow night. I honestly considered studying this time only to discover again that I don't know how.
   
2. All of the classes I want to enroll in filling up before I even get my first pass. All of them.
3. An "experiment" for Psych 15 tomorrow morning which involves a "head brace" - sounds a little sketchy to me. But really the only problem is I have to find some obscure computer labs in the oh-so-ugly Franz hall.

My other classes just seem pitifully easy and unworthy of attention in comparison to Math 115A. Physics in particular - calculating things! Ha! I just can't take it seriously anymore. Remember in high school when we read All Quiet on the Western Front and talked about desensitization of soliders returning from the war? It's kind of like that. Not to diminish their struggle or anything, but this metaphor has been developing in my head for a while now. A great example: On Friday we had a review session, but our TA failed to reserve a classroom (I don't think she actually tried). The net result was about 20 of us huddled in a tiny office barely large enough to accomodate 5, for at least twice as long as the session was intended to last. And that office was deep in the bowels of Math Sciences, where the air is literally thinner. It was our trench.

The professor of the 2nd half of Psych 15 is frightening - he stands completely still, statue-like, yet he has a tremor in his right arm. And I love him for the irony. But he talks so quietly that I spend most of each class asleep, which is lamentable because he seems pretty interesting.

Stars: 18
Do dats: 45
Lies to Calpirg people: 3

Of course

Monday was my first upper division math midterm, for Math 115A, which as you might expect, was soulcrushingly difficult. The exam rendered me hopelessly desolate; my only consolation was a classmate telling me she "wanted to cry." All was repaired however, when we received the results:
My favorite midterm grade distribution ever - especially the part where I am rank 4 in the class with a 55%.

Unfortunately the professor decided that we should have another midterm to improve our scores - which would clearly have the exact opposite effect on mine unless I somehow manage to be 20% above the median again. To make matters worse the midterm takes place right when my first enrollment pass starts, so now I have to get someone to sign up for classes for me. Of course. Further proof that anytime something good happens, something irritating has to come along and ruin it. And whenever bad things happen they take advantage of as many unfortunate coincidences as possible.


Other recent thoughts:

I love rain. If you know only one thing about me, it's probably this. But what surprised me recently is how much more tolerable the cold is when it's not windy. Cold in itself doesn't bother me at all, but wind makes me miserable. I guess windchill is responsible, and I knew this intellectually, but it still is quite a shock to actually experience.

I will never pledge Calpirg. Over the past two weeks they have returned in full force, coming to classrooms, stopping you even late at night. One of them was dressed up as Batman (I don't know either.) As much as I probably agree with what they believe in, it's terrible how even people who have pledged are stopped by dozens of Calpirg people over the course of a week. This goes for all of you who solicit us on Bruinwalk: If you want money or something, that's fine, but don't waste our time making us fill our forms, don't make us give you contact info, don't make us dismiss you awkwardly.

You will be missed

"You" refers to my physics professor for the first 3 weeks of the quarter, who left us to write some proposal for the physics department. He was a welcome contrast from my Physics 1A professor last winter, who droned on and on and always managed to stand in such a way that we couldn't see what he had just written on the board.

Bruinsma was different - I felt I was actually learning, rather than just taking the equations and running with them, as we often get away with in physics classes. His most memorable quote occurred during the review session before the first midterm: "One thing I have learned as a European in the United States is that modesty gets you nowhere."

Alas, physics has regressed. Now I spend most of the time napping or counting how many times my new professor says "how you do dat." Farewell, Bruinsma; you will be missed. Even though I didn't understand 40% of your midterm at all.


Do dat: 9
Stars: 11

Miscellanea

Vivid descriptions of recent happenings:

Tuesday morning I attended the first lecture of Asian Am 10: History of Asian Americans. I decided to drop it immediately afterwards. It wasn't so much that the professor was bad - he was just a bit too lively for my tastes. At least, that's the excuse I'd give if I were ashamed at all to admit the following: (1) I was still on the waitlist, (2) I don't want my professors to call on me, (3) I don't want to be forbidden to doze off, (4) I don't want to be in an 8 AM discussion on Thursdays, (5) I don't want a class in ugly ugly Bunche Hall, and (6) I don't want to read six novels.

Speaking of dozing off, I have decided to draw a star in my notebook upon awakening from each of my inadvertent classroom naps (It helps to keep track of when they occur). Plus the lectures of Psychology 15 are videotaped (Is that still the right word if no tape is involved?) so I can go back and review the spots I missed; I only hope now that my lethargy is not caught on film.

I entered MS 5147 on Wednesday just as the previous class was finishing up - and heard a familiar voice explaining something to a student. I looked up and saw that the professor of the previous class was none other than Shifty Ifti, looking just as he did before the incident. Needless to say, I avoided eye contact.

Houdayer used a smiley face to denote a set that were vector subspaces and unsmiley faces to denote set that were not. I am a math person and I like smiley faces, Weisbart does too, and now Houdayer. I thought to myself, "Math people like smiley faces." Then I felt immediately guilty because I was sititng in Math 115A, a class in which we have to explicitly prove virtually everything. Speaking of proving things, I hate it. It's one thing when you're proving something advanced and exciting. But when it takes 5 lines to show that if x + z = 0 then z = -x then it seems to me you are looking at things in a little too much detail. Proving things in this level of abstraction is like the math version of being politically correct - what you're used to saying is totally fine except in that it upsets the old math dudes. This is why my major is a variety of Applied Math - I'll leave this crap to the theorists. Alas, 115A is a prerequisite to most other upper division courses.

I previously mentioned PAB 1425, the large lecture hall in the Physics and Astronomy building, unquestionably the nicest building on campus. One of this building's perks is its amazing chairs, which swivel around in a way I can only describe as sitting like I've never sat before. Tragically, Wednesday's lecture left me conflicted upon the discovering a fatal flaw in this revolutionary chair design: if two people seated next to each other try to exit their seats simultaneously, legs will collide. And I don't mean just brushing up - it's more of an intersection.

Walking to lunch on Wednesday I saw a guy with a spiked backpack, which made him look as if he were Bowser. Or a stegosaurus. Laugh all you want, but you don't mess with someone with spikes on his back.