Category: General

Not like you care, but as usual, I’ve uploaded my talk slides, as well as the source files used to create it. If it matters, they have embedded videos in them.

The existence of these talks are brought to you by:
GNU Emacs (in LaTeX auto-fill mode), to actually edit them.
The LaTeX document preparation system, to make the pretty document with the help of The LaTeX Beamer Class, the styling and functionality engine.
Inkscape, for all the vector graphics goodness.
The GIMP, for all the raster graphics goodness.
ImageMagick, for just about everything, including movie making.
MPlayer’s mencoder, to DivXify the movies.
GNUPlot, for data visualization.

I got back yesterday from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The talk went off well, and I got to run into some interesting people. (And obviously, many more uninteresting ones.) Now if you thought Ann Arbor was some hick town, you clearly haven’t been to Baton Rouge. (Or anywhere in Nebraska). People are, the usual — fat, clueless and there’s a surprising lack of colour. And yes, they talk funny.

(Drum roll) “Are you’ll’s ready for you’ll’s check” (Shudder.)

Anyway, I’d be lying if I claimed the place was any fun. But being a “business trip”, that’s forgivable. The saving grace was the hotel room. It was awesome. It had two TVs and even a GameCube!

I took a ton of pictures, but I think my camera has an annoying little piece of dust lodged in its sensor or something. So all the pictures have this annoying little dot in the top left. I need to open it up and clean it. And that’s seriously annoying. (I just like using the word ‘annoying’). It’s even apparent in one of the pictures below.

Totally off topic, I was talking to someone who was remarking how it would be hard to forget her, considering she was a blonde amongst so many geeks, and blondes are a rarity in these sorts of things. I, being a geek, googled her a short while later and found some pictures of her from earlier on. She definitely wasn’t blonde then. I wonder what need non-blondes feel to dye their hair blonde and combat the myth that blondes are, well, less intellectual. There’s just no need, I know some people who’re insanely intelligent, and blonde too.

And oh, the only thing crazier than a teetotaller at a bar,

is a vegetarian at a very chic Sushi place.

I wonder who the marketing genius was that came up with that name for the restaurant.

Here is a roundup of recent occurrences that I’ve been meaning to write about, but obviously haven’t gotten around to doing.

» My mom and bro are here! They’ve been here for a while now, and doing the rounds visiting relatives and sight seeing (for like the 34^th time), from Manhattan to the little town in the middle of nowhere, Ann Arbor. The sad part is, though they’ve been here for almost 2 weeks now, I’ve only spent like 3 days with them.

» The sadder part is, my brother stole my GameCube and all my games when he was around (to play elsewhere when here? he is going to return it before he leaves, right?). Now I miss it. I miss coming home, and not having anything to enhance the progression of my carpal tunnel syndrome.

» It’s not helping that I leave for my first talk this afternoon. I’m heading off to some southern state best known for, uhm, its swamps, I think. Yes people, whoopidedoo. All that’s left to do is actually prepare for said talk, make sure tickets and such are in order, find a ride to the airport, pack stuff, and find a bag to pack said stuff in. Not bad, given I actually have few hours to go before the plane takes off.

» Stuff for future trips, including visas and such are also falling in place. Which means I’m all set to gallivant all across this country (including my beloved Cambridge Mass) and few others in Europe. Am I excited? Not really anymore, I’m just tired at the prospect.

» And oh, my mom bought me stuff. I bought her nothing, even though she was here on her birthday. I forgot, after being reminded twice. You be the judge as to my degree of evilness.

I think I am choosing an opportune moment to post this, as I’ve gathered that the number of mathematicians reading this journal is at an all time low.

You have to fear the angry mathematician.

Q: What do you get if you cross an elephant and a banana?
A: |elephant|*|banana|*sin(theta).

Q: What do you get if you cross a mosquito with a mountain climber?
A: You can’t cross a vector with a scalar.

Engineers think that equations approximate the real world. Physicists think that the real world approximates equations. Mathematicians are unable to make the connection.

An engineer, a physicist, and a mathematician are staying in a hotel. The engineer wakes up and smells smoke. He goes out into the hallway and sees a fire, so he fills a trash can from his room with water and douses the fire. He goes back to bed. Later, the physicist wakes up and smells the smoke. He opens his door and sees a fire in the hallway. He walks down the hall to a fire hose and after calculating the flame velocity, distance, water pressure, trajectory, and so forth, extinguishes the fire with the minimum amount of water and energy needed. Later the mathematician wakes up and smells smoke. He goes to the hall, sees the fire and then the fire hose. He thinks for a moment and then exclaims, “Ah, a solution exists!” and then goes back to bed.

One day the Wiener family was scheduled to move into a new house. Mrs. Wiener, mindful of her husband’s propensity for forgetting, wrote the new address on a slip of paper and handed it to him. He scoffed, saying, “I wouldn’t forget such an important thing,” but he took the slip of paper and put it in his pocket. Later that same day at the university a colleague came by his office with an interesting problem. Wiener searched for a piece of paper and took the slip from his pocket to use to write some mathematical equations. When he finished, he crumpled up the slip of paper and threw it away. That evening, he remembered there was something about a new house but he couldn’t find the slip of paper with the address on it. Without any alternative course of action, he returned to his old home, where he spotted a little girl on the sidewalk. “Say, little girl,” he said, “Do you know where the Wieners live?” The girl replied, “That’s o.k., Daddy, Mommy sent me to get you.”

Two mathematicians are in a bar. The first one says to the second that the average person knows very little about basic mathematics. The second one disagrees and claims that most people can cope with a reasonable amount of math. The first mathematician goes off to the washroom, and in his absence the second calls over the waitress. He tells her that in a few minutes, after his friend has returned, he will call her over and ask her a question. All she has to do is answer “one third x cubed.” She repeats “one thir–dex cue?” He repeats “one third x cubed.” She asks, “one thir dex cuebd?” “Yes, that’s right,” he says. So she agrees, and goes off mumbling to herself, “one thir dex cuebd…”. The first guy returns and the second proposes a bet to prove his point, that most people do know something about basic math. He says he will ask the blonde waitress an integral, and the first laughingly agrees. The second man calls over the waitress and asks “what is the integral of x squared?” The waitress says “one third x cubed” and while walking away, turns back and says over her shoulder, “plus a constant!”

This above was an ad for a paper [Free registration required]. Yes, a real life paper published in the notices to the American Mathematical Society.

I was doing some random thinking and looking around, and because I’m such a stickler for no-frills-utility and clean-quiet-efficiency, I decided to, well, throw those concepts out the window and save up.

You know, for when I might want to buy something.

On occasion, just for a fleeting instant, your mind begins to conjure up evanescent ideations — and you’re just not sure. It’s a blur. You’re confused, trepid and, dare I say it, even vaguely excited. You’re understandably hesitant to interpret, and labour to go about your day quelling the doubt.

And then, the resident coquette walks in. You know, the one who’s just-unattainable, but is surprisingly ever present. Involuntarily, you’re beginning to leer, and soon, recurrently softly sighing. In yearning.

There is no confusion anymore. It’s crystal clear.

And you’re almost relieved.

Your application has been approved and the visa has been issued.

This is an automated message – do not respond to this email address as incoming mail is not answered. If you need to reply telephone the office dealing with your application, quoting your reference number.

I’ve been meaning to bring up each of these at different times, but I decided to wait. You know, until I had something substantial to bitch about — and made time to experiment with varying ways of getting a point across.

» Listen up people, music albums have a reason for existence (other than making bands fabulously wealthy). I’m a (probably the only remaining) strong proponent of the theory that artistes have a vision when they make music albums. They choose to express themselves — tell a story if you will — through this media. The only way one can truly get all performers want said, is to hear the entire album, as a whole. Not just one catchy tune that’s played on TV, the whole thing. None of this freakin’ rip to (or “convenienly acquire” an) MP3 and create a “mixed play list” crap. You’re clearly missing out on the heart of so much if you’re one of these people.

If performers wanted you to hear a single, they’d release a freakin’ single.

What is probably more depressing about all of this, is that the blasphemy doesn’t stop with these people, driven by their tiny attention spans. Huge music stores today, (*cough* *Itunes* *cough*) not only recognize and allow, but actively encourage this sort of madness. They obtain music from bands and their representatives as albums, but break this down into a smaller units of sale — songs — before selling it to their customers.

I repeat, please don’t just pick and choose arbitrarily amongst these, people. You’re clearly missing out on the heart of so much if you do.

» I’m currently near-continuously-cycling one of my favorite albums, Led Zeppelin’s second album (oh so creatively called “Led Zeppelin II”). Now this album contains an awesome piece, called Moby Dick. What’s interesting about this, is that though Moby Dick starts off like your usual song, within a little bit it winds up becoming a drum solo, which goes on for some three minutes.

Where has this sort of thing gone? Why doesn’t anything I listen to today have any substantial solo pieces? Hell, I’m fairly certain that’s how recording is done anyway — as in each performer separately, piece by piece, and the best samples are carefully fitted together to make the final “masterpiece”. Why not just give me access to the individual sections as well? Are they afraid it’ll be apparent they aren’t particularly talented?

Why do I care?, I could be classified a musician[1], and have performed both as an instrumentalist and a vocalist. Even conveniently forgetting the reality that certain members of the band get all the glory (anyone know more “other members'” names in bands than they know lead singer’s names?), I am a consumer. I don’t know about you, but sometimes, I just want to listen to sections of the band perform. Clear of other cruft.

Besides, sometimes, (from the lesser band members point of view) you just need to have yourself heard. Maybe that’s why I am such a fan of live performances. Sure they aren’t as polished, but they give band members a chance to… express themselves, less constrained by the powerhouse media company that’s usually calling all the shots.

If you’ve not been paying attention, I want more chunks of solo pieces in songs. Band members need to be allowed to break away into long solos during songs. And, more importantly, the big wigs at the recording studios should realize that some fans want these in, and shouldn’t direct the magical studio post-processing people to edit those sections out — or worse, blend them all in together. Because, I’m sure they’re line of reasoning goes roughly like so — “THREE WHOLE MINUTES? Imagine your average ADD inflicted music listener today sitting through three minutes worth of a song, let alone just a lone drummer.”

» Which forcibly dovetails into my final peeve for the day. What is it with this whole manufactured sugar-pop garbage (literally, not the band Garbage) that’s being shoved down everyone’s throats these days? In order to be different (and avoid any odd copyright infringement nonsense), I decided to sing tiny sections of different versions of what is essentially the same song. You be the judge.

Sample 1 — A sample in my normal voice — covering a non-industry-sugarified version of Blind Melon’s No Rain
(Additional random modulation, like tiny “voice-shake” at the very end, is my idea of subtle improv.)
Sample 2 — A sample in super-nasal-heavy high pitch — covering an industry-sugarified version of Blind Melon’s No Rain
Sample 3 — The two samples just hastily put together. Yes, the two parent songs were of different tempos.
Sample 4 — The two samples put together with some tact, they’ve been somewhat synchronised[2].

In my mind anyway, the non-sugarified version is better, purely on the basis that it’s more… pure. If there is one thing cool about some bands (like the case in point, Blind Melon) they’re quite capable of “winging” an entire album and you can still be assured that the end result is going to be good. Better than good, it will be great, because it’s soulful. And then, on the other hand, you have your manufactured enhanced super smoothed and slickified mass produce that most people tend to consume.

You know, like any of the boy bands or hot teen chicks who’ve more than adequate assets distract you from the basic fact — they can’t sing, or play.

[1] I am a trained (about a dozen years, under a few talented teachers) Carnatic vocalist. My claims to fame include winning pretty much every music competition I’ve taken part in (my mom still holds on to the cups and trophies (hi mom!)), performing on stage multiple times, and on national radio. I also play, among other things, a couple of percussion instruments.
[2] These clips are small subsets of samples which were recorded, mixed and synchronized with the aid of the miracle that is Audacity.

The revolution is near.

I don’t oft partake in memes or take pleasure in speading delightful rumours, but this is too much even for me to let slide. For the easily orgasmic in the audience, here’s your fix — a fan’s rendition of what the revolution ought to be.

On the one hand, you have the XBox 360 and PS3 with (a lot) more of the same old, and Revolution, strictly hush-hush, but also probably more of the same old, and on the other, we have these sorts of dreamers.

Proximity radar, 3D glasses, holograms, 4-speaker surround sound headset?

A geek can dream can’t he?

If you find yourself checking out guys, does that make you gay?
Is it acceptable if said checked-out guys really were insanely hot?

How evil is it to be embarrassed by someone you’re out with?
I mean, you’re out for dinner and a movie or whatever, but all you can think about is not running into someone you know, or what they would think of you if they saw you with this other person. So much so that even the fact that you’re having quite a bit of fun doesn’t even seem to matter.
Is it acceptable if she really isn’t particularly attractive?

How weird is it to have weird dreams?
In order to clarify, how weird is it to dream about being married to a woman who’s half caterpillar? How weird is it if you didn’t notice anything was wrong, until your offspring with her (quarter caterpillar) seemed oddly non-human?
Is it acceptable if someone you were talking to during the day mentioned ‘caterpillar’?

Anywho, with the sort of standards I’m beginning to set, there’s a good chance I’m dying alone. And then going to hell.

The new Iaudio X5/X5L.

• Not the iPod — check
• Won’t be thought of as a mindless wannabe yuppie for owning one — check
• Not white like the iPod — check
• Smaller than the iPod — check
• Black, sleek design — check
• Plays ogg vorbis and flac media — check
• Contains a built-in radio tuner — check
• Contains a built-in voice recorder — check
• Has seemingly hot chick on display — check

Treat yourself to the good stuff today. You know I’m going to.

And his journeys haven’t even yet begun.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m having a bit (OK, more than a bit) of an identity crisis in my old age. Not keen on sitting idle while these demons further swamp me, I’ve resolved to do anything it takes to clear my head. Handwavingly consequently, my summer involves a total of FIVE trips (as of now). Details follow for the stalker types in the audience.

• A week starting at the end of this month through early June in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
• A week in the middle of June at M.I.T, Massachusetts. Cambridge Mass is probably the most intellectually snooty and yuppie place I’ve ever experienced, ever. And I’ve never felt more at home.
• A week toward the end of June on the ski slopes of Vail, Colorado.
• Three weeks beginning at the end of June (going all the way through most of July) in the UK. By which I mean England, Ireland, Scotland AND Wales. Preliminary reading suggests these are, in fact, not just one country. The experiences will undoubtedly kick off with a life-fulfilling darshan of Oasis, the greatest performance band and arguably the greatest band ever, playing at their home town, Manchester. (Think grandparents wanting to bathe in the Ganges, Mustafa wanting to go to Mecca…).
• A week at the end of July in Austin, Texas.

However, I’m constantly running into a not-so-minor problem at the moment — I’m clearly completely inept at handling large volumes of information. Hell, I’m not even particularly good with handling little bits of information. Furthermore, since life can’t be too much fun without being randomly-insanely-challenging, here are two snags that’ve already cropped up.

a. In an act of purely astounding coincidence, my MOM and brother have independently made plans to show up here in about two weeks and proceed to roam about this country over a month. Needless to say, I’m going to be spending very little or probably no time with them. What can I say? I’m the self centered bad son/brother and they probably hate me.

b. I just received this e-mail from a friend with whom I planned to hang out with in London over the first few days.

da, im not in town through till around the 4th – im in india at that time for a friend’s wedding. also, i am missing the concert as a result.
nevertheless, you can come and crash at my place, thats no problem at all – ill leave my key here for you.
plan as you want and let me know.

(But.. BUT.. you HOLD MY TICKETS TO THE CONCERT!)

But sometimes, I guess you just have to step up to the plate and deal with it. Like a real man. Unfortunately, however macho I try to sound, a serious concern of mine are the details — the booking flights, hotels, contemplating tour options, figuring out what I want to do where with who, details details… they’re just driving me fucking insane. There is a very high probability I’m going to “arbitrarily lose track of” and consequently miss/mess up one or more of these.

That’ll be a hoot and a holler.

Well, probably not; I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

I bitch about living in a small town, oh, only every single day. Having always lived in big cities^*, living in a place like A² requires quite an adjustment. As in, everyone here is usually so nice, it’s sickening. But then again, I received this via e-mail last evening.

Just thought I’d let you know that I found your license, a caremark card and a photo on the floor that seem to belong to you. I’ll be turning them in to the lost and found sometime later today, so you can pick them up there after today.

Regards,
Random kind soul

That’s it people. Random kind soul had found some of my stuff, looked up my name on a directory, figured out how to get in touch ASAP, actually did it, and returned my things. I mean, it’s events like this and that one time I left 800$ worth of camera equipment on a bus (and had it returned to me) that makes living in a small town almost bearable.

^*Big city — A large, crowded place where everyone’s self centered, mean and always in a hurry. A place where they’re open to admitting they don’t really care about you, and if you happened to drop dead in your apartment, they wouldn’t realize anything was up until they caught a whiff of your rotting corpse, some 3 weeks later.

Firstly, I’ve finally replied to all recent comments. You are free to scroll down all excitedly and read my insightful and witty (yeah, right) responses to your responses.

And, you know it’s a slow news day when I review (concur with, actually,) a website’s review of a retarded tech channel no one else I know watches.

Some quick notes follow. Bear with me, this is going to be short.

1. It’s not like I am a real fan of (or even really watch) any show on G4TechTV either.
2. I concur that “Attack of the Show” is probably the most retarded thing on TV (and this includes such gems in FOX as “Who wants to marry my mom who’s really my transsexual dad in drag?”). This show features extremely intelligent dialogue, like so:

Kevin: So that’s how you download the newest fake nude pictures of Angelina Jolie and your “legal” (long dramatic pause to let his delicious rebellion sink in) MP3s to your PSP’s memory card and your Xbox’s hard drive.
Sarah: (giggles) Your hard drive sure was in my Xbox last night! If you know what I mean!
Kevin: (turns to the camera and gives a slow wink) I know how to crack your app! PEER TO PEER NETWORKING.

Contrary to the review, I think the show sucked just as much when it was called “The Screen Savers”.
3. I concur Diane Mizota of “Filter” is ridiculously gorgeous. I mean, come on. (You might also remember her as “Fook Mi” in “Austin Powers in Goldmember”, “Maki” on “Nip/Tuck”, or herself on “Trading Spaces: Boys vs. Girls”.)
4. “X-Play” is the only program worth watching (barring the others involving extremely hot chicks, like the one above, or Cheat). I concur, Adam Sessler’s the man. A real, totally repulsive geek, and real proud of it. I concur Morgan Webb is awesome, despite her monotone. They pretty much hate everything on that show, and that’s a primary requirement for a watchable review show. Plus, Morgan looks insanely similar to a close friend of mine, and that’s definitely a plus for any show’s host.

That will be all. Thank you for your time.

I’ve been a student longer than most people I know. Definitely longer than any of my friends from school/undergrad. For the most part, I think I’ve been really good about it. Perpetually enthralled by challenging work, held in rapture by obscure courses in obscure departments, actively participating in the most inane events dreamed up by the geekiest of geeks… you name it. I’ve sort of done my time, and for the most part, I’ve had fun doing it.

Though I claim to be all calm, and always try to appear like I’m “effortlessly winging it”, the truth is I’ve at times had to put in the many many hours into figuring out a lot of things. A lot more hours than I am comfortable spending. None of this is really child’s play people, trust me. I am not the dullest tool in the shed, and it sometimes takes me ages to work stuff out.

Anyway, back to what I am trying to say.

I’ve been a student since I was in pre-kindergarten at 2-3 or whatever. I’ve defined my entire life around being a student. It is not one aspect of my life — it IS my life. And then one day, some 20 years later, you wake up and you realize it probably isn’t all that much fun anymore. It is sometimes so taxing that some really psycho masochistic portion of you has to wake and drag the rest of you, kicking and screaming, to make it to the uni.

It’s such times when I look around, and I realize there is no other aspect of my life to fall back on. Nada. Zip. Nothingness. If the going’s rough as a student, as it sometimes can be, I’m basically screwed. While I’m looking around, I see (the lesser educated) people I know who are doing just fine, in their cool offices in high rises, fancy cars, trophy spouses… . They aren’t as qualified, and probably aren’t even as smart, but from what I can see, they’re happy. Happier anyway.

So no, I am not going to do anything nearly as drastic as this. But I have decided to make a not-so-subtle change in my outlook regarding school. From this point on, I will do only the bare minimum (in terms of requirements toward a degree, say, or even number of degrees) and aim at getting done as soon as possible. No more random tack on degrees from other departments, no more “fun” women’s studies classes or languages, no nothing. I take the requirement sheets, check off what I’ve done, and complete the one or two remaining things, and be done with it.

School’s all fun, usually. For when it isn’t, you need a backup plan — a life. Taking it on without a failsafe plan B can and does get annoying.