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.