(no subject)
Man, I feel like I just leveled up in topology today. Like, this morning I was a level 3 topologist, and now I'm a level 4 topologist.
politics question
A recent New York Times article mentioned in passing that part of Bush's agenda for the next two years is to normalize trade relations with Viet Nam. What's that about? I mean, why are they not normal in the first place? Are we still putting sanctions on them to punish them for having been invaded by us back in the day, or something? And why does this particular president want to normalize them at this particular time? I guess I'm just suspicious whenever I find myself agreeing with that man about anything...
(no subject)
You know that scene in that famous movie where the woman is taking a shower and the serial killer sneaks up on her and murders her? Well, a similar thing just happened to me: I was taking a shower and Riemannian geometry just snuck up on me and made me start liking it. Best shower EVER. (The best bath EVER was the one Archimedes took.)
Resist the wheat that is shredded, for the path to the dark side it is
I have remarkably bad sense of direction, and a remarkable confidence in my sense of direction nonetheless. I think that part of my brain still refuses to accept that "north" is not always the same as "forward." The other day, though, I somehow woke up with my internal compass rose not only off but backwards. While I wouldn't say I depend on it, I am a fan of the classic compass-labelling mnemonic "Never Eat Shredded Wheat," (I also enjoy singing the alphabet to myself while searching for a word in a dictionary) but the other day it was like Yoda was telepathically warning me to "Never Wheat Shredded Eat." I actually used the location of the sun to figure out which way I was facing and *still* ended up walking in the wrongest possible direction. I think my thought process went something like, "Let's see, it's morning, and the sun is that way, so that's east. I've lived in California for the past five years, and so of course I know that 'east' means 'away from the ocean.' And I'm in Boston now, so 'away from the ocean' means 'toward New York.' So I'm standing in Boston, facing New York, therefore Canada's on my right... okay, I want to go north, so I'll go right." No! It doesn't work that way at all.
Recently at school we reached the point in every geometry class when the teacher folds up a copy of the syllabus and makes a mobius strip out of it. I love how some activities just never stop being developmentally appropriate. Anyway, the professor talked about how if we were two dimensional people living in a mobius strip, and if we walked all the way around the mobius strip, we would arrive at our starting location but find that our notions of "east" and "west" were now the opposite of everyone else's. I had to resist the urge to shout out, "That happened to me the other day!"
Recently at school we reached the point in every geometry class when the teacher folds up a copy of the syllabus and makes a mobius strip out of it. I love how some activities just never stop being developmentally appropriate. Anyway, the professor talked about how if we were two dimensional people living in a mobius strip, and if we walked all the way around the mobius strip, we would arrive at our starting location but find that our notions of "east" and "west" were now the opposite of everyone else's. I had to resist the urge to shout out, "That happened to me the other day!"
(no subject)
Hey kids. I'm back in newton, and planning to move to cambridge in a few days. I had my first day of orientation at MIT today. It mostly consisted of various staff members standing in front of us and saying, "It's okay. You can do it. Don't be scared. You weren't admitted by accident," over and over. I hate to admit it, but it kind of helped.
The other reccurent theme in the orientation talks was, "Oh, and try not to be too weird." Hah! Too late!
Also now I have bangs. They are subtle, so when my hair is down you might not notice them. I have some pictures, maybe I will post them later. Now that I'm almost an MIT student I might finally be ready to tackle daunting tasks like learning how to post pictures on livejournal, knock on wood. [Edit: Oh look, I have a new icon. How'd that happen? Man. I guess I should be used to it by now, but seriously, why am I so hot? God, you have too much time on your hands. I mean I appreciate it, but shouldn't you be out parting seas or something, instead of making hot girls?]
And now, two animal stories from/about my mom:
1) "We've got to put a BARRIER between US and the SNAKES!"
Recent cultural developments prompted my mom to retell this classic story from Real Life. One day long ago an acquaintance of hers had a very venomous and deadly viper, and she wished to transport this viper over a long distance. It occurred to her that the appropriate vehicle for this trip would be a plane. This was long ago and before the invention of airport security, so she was able to smuggle her snake onto the plane by craftily concealling it in a box with a lid. As the flight wore on she guarded the box carefully, cradling it in her lap, and it would have been clear to anyone watching that the box contained something very valuable. At one point, however, she left the box behind and went to the bathroom. When she came back the box was gone. She assessed the situation and its potential consequences. Then she sat back down and spent the rest of the flight pretending nothing had happened.
2) In which my dog is treated strangely
I had an apple core and didn't want to eat it because I don't really like the seeds, so I asked my mother if I should feed it to the dog. My mother said yes, she gives her apple cores to the dog. But first she usually cuts them up, into parts with seeds and parts without seeds. Then my mother eats the parts with seeds and gives the dog the parts without, because the dog doesn't really like seeds.
And now I'm going to bed, and hopefully sleep, so I can get up early for more pep talks tomorrow. Wish me luck. I can never fall asleep the night before the first day of school, and the second day of orientation might have a similar effect.
The other reccurent theme in the orientation talks was, "Oh, and try not to be too weird." Hah! Too late!
Also now I have bangs. They are subtle, so when my hair is down you might not notice them. I have some pictures, maybe I will post them later. Now that I'm almost an MIT student I might finally be ready to tackle daunting tasks like learning how to post pictures on livejournal, knock on wood. [Edit: Oh look, I have a new icon. How'd that happen? Man. I guess I should be used to it by now, but seriously, why am I so hot? God, you have too much time on your hands. I mean I appreciate it, but shouldn't you be out parting seas or something, instead of making hot girls?]
And now, two animal stories from/about my mom:
1) "We've got to put a BARRIER between US and the SNAKES!"
Recent cultural developments prompted my mom to retell this classic story from Real Life. One day long ago an acquaintance of hers had a very venomous and deadly viper, and she wished to transport this viper over a long distance. It occurred to her that the appropriate vehicle for this trip would be a plane. This was long ago and before the invention of airport security, so she was able to smuggle her snake onto the plane by craftily concealling it in a box with a lid. As the flight wore on she guarded the box carefully, cradling it in her lap, and it would have been clear to anyone watching that the box contained something very valuable. At one point, however, she left the box behind and went to the bathroom. When she came back the box was gone. She assessed the situation and its potential consequences. Then she sat back down and spent the rest of the flight pretending nothing had happened.
2) In which my dog is treated strangely
I had an apple core and didn't want to eat it because I don't really like the seeds, so I asked my mother if I should feed it to the dog. My mother said yes, she gives her apple cores to the dog. But first she usually cuts them up, into parts with seeds and parts without seeds. Then my mother eats the parts with seeds and gives the dog the parts without, because the dog doesn't really like seeds.
And now I'm going to bed, and hopefully sleep, so I can get up early for more pep talks tomorrow. Wish me luck. I can never fall asleep the night before the first day of school, and the second day of orientation might have a similar effect.
(no subject)
Early Acceptance
Oh look, I just got an email with the subject "Early Acceptance." Sweet, looks like some grad school likes me so much that they've decided to accept me in January. Must be one of my backups. Let's see...
Oh wait, it's not from a backup. It's from THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.
Damn.
Oh wait, it's not from a backup. It's from THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.
Damn.
street harassment part II
About a year and a half ago I made a post asking for advice on how to deal with street harassers. Eric suggested confronting them face to face and asking them questions about what they're saying and why they're saying it. I think the next four times I got harassed after that I was too scared to say anything, but soon I got in the habit of following Eric's advice. The most common result has been that the harasser either doesn't hear me as he's driving away, or he does hear me and leaves quickly without saying anything. I've had a few interesting interactions as a result of this tactic, though:
*Story One*
Guy on Corner: Daaamn girl, girl. You *know* what you're doing!
Me: What am I doing?
GOC (confused): Huh? No, I said *you* know what you're doing.
Me: I don't, actually. What am I doing?
GOC: ... I don't know... Sumthin'.
*Story Two*
A few months ago I was walking and two guys passed me in a truck, while jubilantly yelling out the window "WHOOO-HOOO!" at me. I called after them, "Do I know you?" and started to walk toward them. I figured my purposeful walk in their direction would scare them and strengthen their resolve to keep going, but they pulled over. "Oh shit," I thought. I kept walking toward them, deciding that in such a public place in daylight I would be fine, and thinking that with all the houses nearby a good scream should summon help if anything went wrong. They -- the driver and his drunk passenger -- got out of the truck.
I told them that when strangers do things like that to me it makes me feel scared, which inspired the driver to go on a long rant. His thesis was, essentially, "You must be some kind of prude from Iowa who's taken too many women's studies classes. I, on the other hand, am a California native, and I know that real Californian women don't object to behavior like mine. Here in Santa Cruz we have a culture of openness, which is why we feel comfortable making animal noises with sexual connotations at total strangers. It really bothers me when people like you move into my town and try to introduce your culture of fear. If it weren't for your influence no girls would object to being harassed." He alternated between apologizing, asking me out, and resuming his rant. Meanwhile, his drunk friend complemented the first man's speech by taking off his shirt, repeatedly trying to hug me, and rubbing his butt on me. Eventually I slapped him -- an effeminate slap which probably wouldn't have made a four-year-old cry, and which only made him laugh. I still feel kind of bad about hitting him, though, like I really should have been able to think of a non-violent reaction.
About a month later I was waiting for a walklight and I heard a man behind me say, "Hey, there she is! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!" At first I optimistically decided to assume he wasn't talking to me, but eventually I turned around. What do you know, it was Culture Of Openness Guy. "Hey, do you remember me? I'm that guy who honked at you on the street, and you got really irate!" Then one of the guys he was with said, "Hey, do you remember me? I'm that guy who was really nice and polite..." which I thought was funny. Culture Of Openness Guy tried to make conversation with me as though we were old friends, like he thought the fact that he had harassed me and I had gotten mad had somehow formed a sort of bond between us:
COOG: How've you been? You seem much calmer.
Me: Um, well yeah. I haven't gotten harassed lately, so I'm doing pretty good.
*Story Three*
Last night I was walking home, and a guy passed me on foot, making a lewd gesture at me as he passed.
Me: What does that mean?
Him: It means... you know, it means like you're hot, like you're radiating. Like a radiator.
Me: Um... okay...
Him: What, is that, is that like... not *appropriate* to do to a stranger or something?
Me: Well... when people do things like that to me -- when strangers do or say sexual things to me on the street -- it makes me feel kind of scared.
Him: Oh, wait, you thought that was sexual?
Me: I think it was sexual. What do you think?
Him: I don't know...
Me: It's just, I know you didn't mean it that way, but when people do things like that to me it kind of feels like a threat.
Him: I'm sorry. The thing is, in this day and age, what can you say to people, you know?
Me: You can say "Hello." And try to start a conversation, if you want to get to know someone.
Him: I'm sorry, I just, I just don't know how to talk to people.
Me: That's okay.
Him (starting to walk away): Keep your smile.
Me: Have a good night.
So that was nice.
*Story One*
Guy on Corner: Daaamn girl, girl. You *know* what you're doing!
Me: What am I doing?
GOC (confused): Huh? No, I said *you* know what you're doing.
Me: I don't, actually. What am I doing?
GOC: ... I don't know... Sumthin'.
*Story Two*
A few months ago I was walking and two guys passed me in a truck, while jubilantly yelling out the window "WHOOO-HOOO!" at me. I called after them, "Do I know you?" and started to walk toward them. I figured my purposeful walk in their direction would scare them and strengthen their resolve to keep going, but they pulled over. "Oh shit," I thought. I kept walking toward them, deciding that in such a public place in daylight I would be fine, and thinking that with all the houses nearby a good scream should summon help if anything went wrong. They -- the driver and his drunk passenger -- got out of the truck.
I told them that when strangers do things like that to me it makes me feel scared, which inspired the driver to go on a long rant. His thesis was, essentially, "You must be some kind of prude from Iowa who's taken too many women's studies classes. I, on the other hand, am a California native, and I know that real Californian women don't object to behavior like mine. Here in Santa Cruz we have a culture of openness, which is why we feel comfortable making animal noises with sexual connotations at total strangers. It really bothers me when people like you move into my town and try to introduce your culture of fear. If it weren't for your influence no girls would object to being harassed." He alternated between apologizing, asking me out, and resuming his rant. Meanwhile, his drunk friend complemented the first man's speech by taking off his shirt, repeatedly trying to hug me, and rubbing his butt on me. Eventually I slapped him -- an effeminate slap which probably wouldn't have made a four-year-old cry, and which only made him laugh. I still feel kind of bad about hitting him, though, like I really should have been able to think of a non-violent reaction.
About a month later I was waiting for a walklight and I heard a man behind me say, "Hey, there she is! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!" At first I optimistically decided to assume he wasn't talking to me, but eventually I turned around. What do you know, it was Culture Of Openness Guy. "Hey, do you remember me? I'm that guy who honked at you on the street, and you got really irate!" Then one of the guys he was with said, "Hey, do you remember me? I'm that guy who was really nice and polite..." which I thought was funny. Culture Of Openness Guy tried to make conversation with me as though we were old friends, like he thought the fact that he had harassed me and I had gotten mad had somehow formed a sort of bond between us:
COOG: How've you been? You seem much calmer.
Me: Um, well yeah. I haven't gotten harassed lately, so I'm doing pretty good.
*Story Three*
Last night I was walking home, and a guy passed me on foot, making a lewd gesture at me as he passed.
Me: What does that mean?
Him: It means... you know, it means like you're hot, like you're radiating. Like a radiator.
Me: Um... okay...
Him: What, is that, is that like... not *appropriate* to do to a stranger or something?
Me: Well... when people do things like that to me -- when strangers do or say sexual things to me on the street -- it makes me feel kind of scared.
Him: Oh, wait, you thought that was sexual?
Me: I think it was sexual. What do you think?
Him: I don't know...
Me: It's just, I know you didn't mean it that way, but when people do things like that to me it kind of feels like a threat.
Him: I'm sorry. The thing is, in this day and age, what can you say to people, you know?
Me: You can say "Hello." And try to start a conversation, if you want to get to know someone.
Him: I'm sorry, I just, I just don't know how to talk to people.
Me: That's okay.
Him (starting to walk away): Keep your smile.
Me: Have a good night.
So that was nice.
I fucking hate the (math subject) GRE
It's a test of speed. Fucking speed. Why the fuck do we care about speed? I could do (almost) every problem on that test if I had four hours instead of three, but no. If it turns out that twenty percent of all grad school bound math majors do integrals a little faster than I do, then clearly I'm not qualified to do research. Clearly! AHH! I am going to shoot the fucking GRE in the head! Then it'll be sorry!
I am awesome in my fantasies
I daydreamed that I was at a swimming pool, and that my bathing suit revealed sex-induced scratches on my back. Someone in the daydream, some very innocent non player character I guess, saw the scratches and said, "Whoa! What happened to your back?" I shrugged sheepishly and said,
"Stigmata?"
And then when the laughter had died down I said,
"Mary Magdalene was a wildcat in the sack, you know."
"Stigmata?"
And then when the laughter had died down I said,
"Mary Magdalene was a wildcat in the sack, you know."