Mickey D's Loves to See Me Smile- What About You?

Knowing what makes Angie happy is an indispensible skill to have if you wish to succeed in life. So here are three of the top ten things that gets my endorphins kicking:

(1) The smell of coffee. You might catch me lingering in the coffee aisle at frogro. What, doesn't everyone have a favorite aisle at the grocery store?

(2) People playing with my hair. Totally puts me to sleep, it's better than yoga or a good bedtime story.

(3) Jazz music: Ella Fitzgerald, Norah Jones, etc. Ella's voice makes me feel like I'm relaxing at a bar during the Roaring Twenties, even if I'm actually in a neuro lab sectioning spinal chord tissue from a mouse.

The Genitive

Okay, this is for the benefit of J:

The rules for writing the possessive are pretty well known: add an 's to the end (ex: Angie's house), and just add ' if the possessor is plural (ex: friends' house).

But two questions that pop up regularly are:

1) Is friends' pronounced "friends-iz" or "friends"?

2) What is the deal when the possessor is singular (regular or proper noun) and ends with an s?

Here is the lowdown:

1) friends' is pronounced "friends". Likewise, parents' is pronounced "parents", and so on. In general, when the possessor is plural with an s at the end, the possessive is pronounced as if there were no apostrophe.

2) (a) In writing: In most cases, we add an 's at the end (ex: James's house, the hostess's house), even though they end with an s. However, classical names that end with "-uhs" or "eez" take only an apostrophe, no s (ex: Jesus', Moses', Archimedes').

(b) In pronunciation: If it is written 's, say the s; if it is written ' (no s), don't say the s. The exception to the rule is with the classical names (Jesus', Moses', Archimedes'): here we have a choice of either saying the s or not, even though there is no s written.

It's important to remember that language evolves, so the rules are always changing. For example, the possessive of James used to be written with ', no s. This is why, for example, it is acceptable to say either "St. James' Cathedral" or "St. James's Cathedral".

Makes sense?

ARRRRRRRRRGH!

Didn't Garfield used to say that a lot? I don't like a lot of things: guys who listen to Yanni, the whole Arthropoda phylum, cauliflower, Audioslave. But above all, I really really really hate the state of confusion, where things don't make sense, where logic seems to have lost its mojo, where...I just want to go to bed and forget that I have a massive homework assignment due on Thursday.

Hence, the ARRRRRRRRRRRGH!

Satan's True Identity

I can now say with all honesty that I've stayed up until 3 am reading about orthogonal transformations, wallpaper groups and point groups on Wikipedia. Wikipedia is the devil, you realize, because everything is connected, and so once you pop, you can't stop. It's just link after link after link...

Ah, the first snow of the winter season is upon us- Woohoo!

Riddle Time

Three men are captured by a band of pirates: Patrick Henry, Nathaniel Hale, and Max. The pirates hold a conference in order to figure out what to do with their hostages. Finally, after much deliberation, the pirates decide to execute them in three different ways: one, they will hang, another, they will feed to the crocodiles, and the last, they will make him walk the plank.

Meanwhile, the hostages stand with their hands tied, patiently awaiting their fates. The pirate leader says, "let's do the one with the two first names first. That's always been my biggest pet peeve: people with two first names- Yarrr!"

So the pirates approach Patrick Henry, and the pirate leader asks him, "Yarrr, any last words, any regrets?" Patrick Henry replies, "I have no regrets! Give me liberty, or give me death!" So they gave him death by hanging.

Next the pirates approach Nathaniel Hale, and again, the pirate leader asks him, "Yarrr, any last words, any regrets?" Nathaniel Hale replies, "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." Then he was promptly fed to the crocodiles.

Finally, the pirates approach Max, and again, the pirate leader asks him, "Yarrr, any last words, any regrets?"

Can you guess what Max's greatest regret was?

Answer: That the plan(c)k was so short! 10^-33 centimeters, to be exact.

Yes folks, this is what I do with my time. I'm the Riddler!

Chance of Snow!

Snow-flakes

Out of the bosom of the air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take

Suddenly shape in some divine expression,

Even as the troubled heart doth make

In the white countenance confession,

The troubled sky reveals

The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,

Slowly in silent syllables recorded;

This is the secret of despair,

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

Now whispered and revealed

To wood and field.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Recluse

I realize that for the past few weeks, I've been living in the Dark Ages: no cell phone, no personal laptop/desktop. Surprisingly though, I kind of like it because it makes me unreachable, which I know can be frustrating for others (read: for my mom), but it's rather nice to be sitting in Starbuck's or the bookstore for five hours straight by myself with no interruptions. Without these things, I've created a sort of haven for myself where I can be alone (even in a public place) and do my own thing without constantly wondering where everyone else is or what they are up to.

Have you ever wondered, just who is Charles Bliss?

Wow, never?

Well, he's the inventor of the Bliss symbols, a writing system based solely on meaning, not sound, which is unlike any other writing system in the world. Even the Chinese script has a phonetic basis. One of my favorite symbols is the one for "secret", which is the symbol for "mouth" enclosed in a box. Doesn't it make so much sense? One can even write that ultra-famous nonsensical phrase coined by Chomsky: "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously" in Bliss symbols, although "furiously" is written with the symbols for "angrily".

And this is exactly why I don't think a solely semantics-based writing system could ever flourish like a regular writing system with some phonetic basis, because there is no room for synonyms; otherwise the system would be way too unwieldy. I could be wrong about this though, who knows. Maybe it just takes a little thinking outside that Box that everyone keeps talking about. By the way, did I use that semi-colon correctly? Those things always confused me...

Happy Belated Birthday to Calvin & Hobbes!

"It's a magical world, Hobbes ol' buddy! Let's go exploring!" ~ Calvin

Kitchen Inventory

Sink.

Stove.

Silverware.

Pots & Pans.

Spices.

Bed.

Waaaaitaminute.

Yes, folks, there's a bed in our kitchen, and mold spores flying about our bedroom. Oh, and Harnwell drain pipes? Suck like a lollipop. Maintenance? Sucks like a black hole. What is the noun form of "to suck": is it "suckage" or "suckitude"? Either way, maintenance and Harnwell drain pipes are doing a fan-fucking-tastic job of it.

Subtleties of the English Language

From: Angie Chung
To: Sarah Chung , Jessica Kim , Hoa Trinh , May , tameil@seas.upenn.edu, cordaben@gmail.com
Date: Nov 5, 2005 6:00 PM
Subject: morimoto's

Hello, les gens, my brother James wants to take Sarah and me to Morimoto's while he is here, on the Friday after Turkey day. Anybody want to come along? I know it's pricey, so I would totally understand if you guys can't make it. Lemme know if there's anyone else staying in the city of brotherly love over break taht should be added to this email list. And let me know if you are not a homestar and thus would like to be eliminated (from this list).

Later homestars,

Cobalt

Benoit: What's a homestar?

May: Home? Star?

Hee! Gotta love international students.

Girl With a Cherry Red Wig

Geez, what have I been missing all these years by not dressing up for Halloween? I think my favorite costume that I saw at Smoke's was the girl dressed as a wad of gum stuck under a shoe. She had a sneaker on top of her head, and I thought that was just fantastic.

On another note, yesterday, I broke my already-dysfunctional laptop. I get sad every time I think of all the music I've downloaded since freshman year, all vanished. That is hours- no days of downloading and organizing, all down the proverbial tube. Le sigh.

Define Fine

Pere Rienne: I'm fine!

Agent Grace: No you're not, you're ears are bleeding!

~ Alias, The Next Generation

Hee hee! I've been laughing intermittently at this line for a few hours now.

Boo!

Introducing pets into the Chung household is like sending those poor creatures to their deaths.

Death count:

2 tropical fish

1 baby frog

1 goat (the other one, I'm sure, ended up on someone's dinner plate).

As far as I'm concerned, the only pets that should be allowed in our family are

(a) a pet rock,

(b) a sponge, or

(c) cactus,

although, with (b), I'm not so sure. Anyway, it's Halloween, and we have a tradition here at Harnwell College House (aka: the Ochre highrise), where the RA's/GA's beautify the Harnwell lobby with the works: cobwebs, furry spiders, paper ghosts and bats, scarecrows, and of course, the requisite GIANT BLACK CAT that just...sits there waiting to be stolen, but too big for the job; and one-by-one, things start to disappear, ending up in various residents' dorm rooms. By Halloween, I can almost guarantee, the lobby will be like a skeleton of its former, festive self- a few cobwebs here, a candy wrapper there.

Anyway, meet our new pet, Boo! Boo is a white paper-ghost, with an accordian-style body, orange eyes and a winning smile. The best, most fantastic thing about Boo is, no matter how many times you drop him from the internet cord, or how many times you forget to feed him- no problem- he's already dead! How genius is that? A ghost is the perfect pet for the Chung family.

Checklist

Black turtleneck: check

Black pants: check

Fake mole: check

Fake blood as remnants of impromptu meanie-mo dental surgery: note to self: make a run to CVS sometime this week

Bright Red Wig: CHECK!

Who's excited for Halloween?!!!!!!!!!!!

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World

It's Spanish period, and Agent Halogen sits at her desk crocheting a tunic.

Teach: Jin, why aren't you doing your work?

Agent Halogen: I'm done.

Teach: You are not a steak. You are finished.

I must have, like, the worst sense of humor because when I heard this story, I laughed so ridiculously hard. I mean, it's funny, right? Sometimes, I can't tell if it's me, or the rest of the world who lacks a proper sense of humor.

Distractions

(Based on a true story) It is a lazy spring afternoon and the Kids of math 371 are sitting in a classroom on the 4th floor of the DRL (yes, THE), listening rather inattentively to the lecture on...something to do with algebra.

Prof: Blah Blah Blither Blather Hip Hop...to infinity.

Voice: ...and beyond!

The Kids are shaken out of their stupor by this alien outburst.

Brooke: Hey, everyone, it's Buzz Lightyear!

Ravi: Buzz Lightyear, of Star Command? You're joking!

A little man dressed up in a green and purple space suit jumps on top of Ravi's desk with surprising agility, considering the size of his torso, which is hugely disproportionate to his skinny legs.

Voice: No, Ravi, she is not joking. I'm Buzz Lightyear, here to rescue you from the malevolent rays of Uniform Factorization Domains. Nice to meet you.

Prof: Ugh, it's that pesky Buzz Lightyear, come to destroy the peaceful monotony that reigns over my algebraic kingdom-ain. Now where'd I put that...

The Prof rummages through her desk, opening and shutting drawers and muttering to herself. After a minute, she pulls out what looks like a stick with a rubber hand forming a finger attached to one end. Carefully, she aims for her target, who appears to be totally oblivious to his enemy's activities, and flings the finger at her distractor.

Buzz: ...yeah, and did you know, it's Tim Allen who does my voice in the movie?

Delia: Tim "the Toolman" Taylor? No way!

Buzz: Oh yes, and- Eek!

The finger hits Buzz squarely between the eyes, and the space ranger screams spectacularly as he goes tumbling backward off Ravi's desk and into the trash can with a clang. The Kids gather around the trash can in shock.

Brooke: Wow, Professor, you just killed Buzz Lightyear!

Ravi: Our universe is doomed.

The End.

I can't be the only one who gets the urge to shout "...and beyond!" every time I hear "to infinity" in math class.

Today, I was so tired that during the thirty minute bus ride to King of Prussia mall, I kept on nodding off and nearly hitting the poor lady sitting next to me. Sorry, lady.

For the record, Agents Merlyn & Firefly rock my socks off! Such intel has been declassified.

Over & out.

Recycle- It's Good for the Earth

...and for writer's block.

"I haven't lost at checkers since the beginning of time...which, incidently, began on a Tuesday. Not many people know that." ~ Death (the Animaniacs)

The Adventures of Time: Part 1

Once upon a time, there lived a homeless dog called Time. Well, since he had a name, he could not have been homeless all his life because someone had to name him. And so Time decided to search for his long-lost owner. Although, Time was the one who was really lost.

Time trotted around the streets of the city, his long brown fur jostling around with each bounce. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter went his padded paws. Sniff-snaff went his nose. Suddenly, Time screeched to a halt and landed in front of a strange square object. Sniff-snaff-sniff-snaff-sniff! His nose started working overtime as he tried to identify this mysterious object that just sat dejectedly on the sidewalk. Time poked and barked at it but the square thing did not budge, not once. Was it dead? Time wondered? Well, one of Time's timeless rules was that one should never let things go to waste. Even dead things.

Now, when one thinks carefully about this rule, it must seem strange indeed. Our mothers are always telling us to eat up everything on the plate; Don't let the food go to waste. But once the food is chewed, swallowed and forced through the bowels, what does it become but waste in its most fundamental form as a piece of ddong?

But this questionable aspect of Time's golden rule did not hinder him from obeying it unconditionally, for Time was a loyal dog. And so Time gobbled up the square object, smacked his lips and trotted on happily.

And that is what happened to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that young Francis threw out the window.

References: Everybody Poops by Taro Gomi and Amanda Mayer Stinchecum

Bagel...What a Funny Word

Every day, I walk out of DRL and buy a bagel with cream cheese at the nearby food cart. Have you ever had a really delicious bagel that just tops every other bagel you've ever had? Well, I did. It was unforgettabagel.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

I wish I thought up that one on my own, but alas, I actually found it through the linguistics department website.

You know what just makes my day? On the "bagel" page on Wikipedia, there is a section on "Bagel Care":

"The ideal way to eat a bagel is fresh out of the oven from a reputable and friend-recommended bagel shop."

Also, a word of caution:

"Bagels should never be confused with doughnuts."

Actually, if we were to consult a topologist, he would say that a bagel and doughnut are the same thing. I've always said topologists were the worst kinds of heretics.

It Makes Her Day

Do you know what just makes my day? The pink cow jumping over the moon on my desktop. Have a bovine day, folks.

Phantom Floor

It was my first day back at work at Abramson Research Center. I got on the elevator as usual, pressed the button for the eighth floor and waited as the bell sounded at each floor, mentally counting each ding. That is when I realized that Abramson doesn't have a sixth floor!

Isn't that strange?

What is the deal?

Was it a mistake in the blueprint?

Is six an unlucky number?

Wouldn't it be weird if we woke up one day to discover that the number six didn't exist? Or maybe the number 9 because 7 got hungry in the middle of the night and 7 8 9.

I wouldn't lose too much sleep over these questions, people. Numbers don't get hungry.

A Good Omen

I bought my textbooks today, and the total came to $314.15- the first 5 digits of pi! I was debating whether to share this bit of nerdy observation with the cashier, but ultimately decided to keep it to myself. Call me selfish. All the same, I take it as a sign from the math gods that this year is gonna be a good one, and so far, it has been very fun indeed.

Bonne chance, tout le monde!

Joke Corner

So Einstein and Archimedes walk into a newly-renovated bar...

Archimedes: This bar has totally lost its charm, hoo!

Einstein: I know, now it's just strange.

HEE! I know, I know: NOT THAT FUNNY, ANGIE. But guys, it so is if you understand that "charm" and "strange" are types of quarks, the building blocks of protons and neutrons. See, in the world of physics- and hence, in our universe in general- quarks are classified into different flavors: up, down, top/truth, bottom/beauty, charm, strange, and mint-chocolate cookie. Mmm...

Now, go back and reread the joke and laugh your socks off.

He Needs Yoga

Sarah: Heh, look at this picture of Kevin with John Kerry! He DOES look weird.

Angie: Wow, look how stiff he is! I think that's a cardboard cutout, Sarah.

Sarah: Ohhh...

Angie: Yeah, I know, he could totally pass for a cardboard cutout of himself.

That man is stiff.

Welcoming Death

Today, Sbarro's made me want to die. Food poisoning does that to you: welcome death with open arms, I mean. Did I get the shitz? Boy, did I. Did I spew cookies? You betcha. More than once, I contemplated asking Sarah to knock me unconscious with a swift punch in the head. But then, I thought, what if she doesn't hit me hard enough? Instead, I let her take care of me in her own way: making tea, changing my barf bag, etc. I guess it was better this way.

Jesster's Bed

I love Jess's bed. It is red and white with pretty designs on it, but that is not why I love Jess's bed. Today, I was lying on top of her covers, and I noticed that there are tufts of red yarn growing out of her them. Each tuft has a knot in the middle and grows equidistantly from its neighboring tufts of hair. Sometimes, I see fire. Sometimes I see Sideshow Bob's head. Then, I braided one of the tufts on either side of the central knot, and I saw Pippy Longstocking's crazy red pigtails growing out of her wonderful covers. Now you understand why I love Jess's bed.

The Taste of Childhood with a Twist

When we were kids, James, Sarah and I spent a lot of time at piano lessons. Sure, we played the piano. We played the piano as much as we played rummy, swatted at house flies with rags, salted slugs and watched them morph into orange ooze, and got fed. Sometimes, Piano Teacher (that was her name) would take out a whole jar of peanut butter and mix honey into it. It was peanut butter with a twist.

One sultry, summer evening in Philly, more than a decade later, Sarah and I were grocery shopping at Frogro, when we happened upon a jar of JIF peanut butter with a yellow lid instead of the characteristic red (creamy) or blue (crunchy). It was honey-flavored peanut butter, Piano Teacher's special creation, on the market. Well, I thought, it took a while, but they've finally caught on.

Despite all the rages of the present world, we can still go to the supermarket and purchase a jar of good ole JIF peanut butter for that homely, classic, creamy taste of a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. The availability of our "taste of childhood" is a decent measure of the state of our nation. If things are not so bad that we cannot enjoy a PBJ at the kitchen table, then we can be sure that problems will mend, scars will heal, despite all the rages of the present world.

Villandry Bike Trip

One day, Sarah and I had the brilliant idea of biking 20 kilometers to Villandry and camping out- tent and all- at a nearby campsite in Savonniers. We ended up waging war with a multitude of ants and ultimately being chased out of our flimsy tent by those multilegged, militant bitches and sons of bitches. Sometimes, though, even the defeated are rewarded- a pity prize, I guess. As we sat on a bench a few feet from the banks of the calm Cher river, we saw the night come alive.

It started with the slow setting of the sun. Rose hues and soft oranges fading gradually into light shades of lavender and yellow. But watching the night fall is akin to watching one's hair grow. We start watching with such determination and patience, hoping to catch the strands in the act of growing, but somewhere down the line, we forget our purpose. A few months later as we brush our hair in front of the mirror, we realize with a shock that hoo boy, a visit to the barber shop has been long overdue. Perhaps, at this point, the hair is sweeping the floor and now you realize why the house has been so clean lately.

Anyway, so that is what it is like to wait for the sun to set. I blinked, and suddenly all the objects around me were silhouetted, as if a painter had come and brushed the trees and the sailboats and the distant cabins and even us, I am sure, in black ink. By now, the air feels a bit chilly, and so I pull open my sleeping bag and the two of us, Sarah and I, sat wrapped up in bright pink or mint green sleeping bags like a pair of caterpillars waiting in their cocoons to morph into a pair of summer butterflies.

Then the music started. The croaking, the chirping, the cawing, and the dolphin calls, the rustling and the wind! My God, what a ruckus! But all the creatures are invisible to the human eye, hidden in the banks, under the river, or behind shrubs and other vegetation. And where are the dolphins? Dolphins in the Cher? Truth be told, ever since I watched that Simpsons episode where the dolphins kick man into the ocean and take over land, I've had a slight irrational fear of the beady-eyed creatures- that evil glint in their glistening eyes, and their fixed, malicious smiles, their horrible clicking sounds that send uncomfortable shivers down my back and make my skin feel all prickly...I shuddered inwardly as these thoughts assailed my mind.

"Something wrong, Ann?" asked Sarah.

"Nah, just a little cold."

"It's the dolphins isn't it?"

"...God, they're creepy."

Fitzgerald

The large room was filled with people. One of the girls in yellow was playing the piano, and beside her stood a tall, red-haired young lady from a famous chorus, engaged in song. She had drunk a quantity of champagne, and during the course of her song she had decided, ineptly, that everything was very, very sad - she was not only singing, she was weeping too. Whenever there was a pause in the song she filled it with gasping, broken sobs, and then took up the lyric again in a quavering soprano. The tears coursed down her cheeks - not freely, however, for when they came into contact with her heavily beaded eyelashes they assumed an inky colour, and pursued the rest of their way in slow black rivulets. A humorous suggestion was made that she sing the notes on her face, whereupon she threw up her hands, sank into a chair, and went off into a deep vinous sleep.

Kodak Moment?

I was sitting at a table in Au Bon Pain, reading an Agatha Christie mystery and enjoying the usual jalepeno-cheddar bagel. On either side of me sat two women with their noses in Harry Potter 5, Order of the Phoenix, completely engrossed.

Get used to it people! It is the week before HP 6 comes out, and fans are prepping all over the world for the release by rereading 1-5...it is a world-wide phenomenon.

A.C.

Sarah: Air conditioner?

Angie: Air conditioner? Your sister's name is Angie Chung, we are in Atlantic City, and the first thing you think of when I say A.C. is "Air Conditioner"? It's a sin, Sarah, a sin!

That's right, folks, yesterday some friends and I decided to take the train down to A.C. for some beach. It was so fun playing in the ocean! There was this dune far out into the ocean, where it was shallow enough so that we could stand on it and the water would come up to our knees. Hoa taught us how to body surf and how to swim with the wave when there's a big one coming, and it was so fun that now, I want to try surfing! Also, we had a seaweed fight.

Hoa: I want clams. There's no better way to end a day at the beach then clams with hot sauce and beer. And lime-flavored tortilla chips.

Lime-flavored tortilla chips! I was sold.

So we ended the day with muscles (no more clams at Frogro), zesty lime-flavored tortilla chips and "The Phantom of the Opera", during which I did the whole sleepy-person whiplash thing and finally conked out. I think I am still slightly jetlagged. By the way, the music is really something. I've heard "The Music of the Night" and the theme song all my life, and even played it in band, but last night, I finally heard the real thing, and it was really something.

Online confession: I had no idea how much I missed my friends until yesterday. As we were walking home from the train station, we went by Hill House and waved to it.

"Hi Hill!"

"Hey Hill!"

"Good times, Hill. Good times, good memories."

Hill House was where we all met, freshman year, and here we are four years later, still friends.

Ducks

I love ducks because of the way they cruise through life on the calm waters, like little boats, going up with the tide, then down with the tide, just going with the flow. And they are so cute!

A Rainy Day Comfort

The best thing about getting caught in torrential rain is afterwards... when you get to slip on a pair of comfy pants fresh out of the dryer. Mmm...

Neo's Choice

Morpheus: Blue pill or red pill?

Neo: I like cherry.

I'm Reading

It sure feels good to sit at work reading "The Picture of Dorian Gray" instead of "Elementary Number Theory." Mm! The past few days have consisted of cramming as much theory about numbers into my head as possible. Honestly, I've learned more in the past few days than I have all semester, and you know, (elementary) number theory turned out to be pretty fun. They're like little games or puzzles with these cool tricks, like continued fractions: divide divide divide, flip things over substitute substitute, and tada you get this huge fractions within fractions thingy. So technical, I know. And I know I will never be as good as a calculator, but were you to ask me, what is the square root of 2? I could totally give you a series of fractions that converges to the real thing. Honestly. Isn't that NEATO?

Unfortunately, having only a few days and much information, I had to sacrifice a lot of the "theory" part of number theory and just learn the techniques, so I ended up talking to my book a lot: "Blah blah, I believe you, WHERE'S THE FORMULA?". And then I would sing the formulas in some horrendously unmelodious but memorable way so that I wouldn't forget them during the exam. Not pretty. But, to each her own. There's a method to her madness. Or a madness to her method. Or she's just mad. Or just tired. Yep, that's it. I hit the head on the nail. I'm gonna catch some Z's. Later, homestars.

"How to Make Studying More Exciting" 101

Lesson 1:

Sit with your chair tilted back.

Conversation While Brushing My Teeth

Brush, brush...

Angie: Hey, Sarah, did you know that our birthday falls on Arbor Day this year?

Sarah: Our birthday's on April 29th?

Angie: Um, yea! Where the hell have you been for the past...21 years? Um, oh, Arbor Day! Haha, I thought you said "Our birthday's on April 29th?"! Hehe, so yea, Arbor Day's on April 29th.

Sarah: Huh? Right, then...

Brush, brush...

Arbor Day is sort of a weird holiday because it has a set date at the federal level, the last Friday in April, but it differs state by state. For example, Washington's Arbor Day falls on the second Wednesday in April. Whatever. Plant a tree, folks. They make our planet Earth pretty.

Paper Clip From Word

I found this hilarious clip from Quinn's facebook profile:

http://www.holylemon.com/PaperClip.html

Oh my Herman, I laughed my socks off...which wasn't too difficult since I'm barefoot. And my feet are freezing. Sarah, can we shut the window? Dammit, she's being menopausal again.

Water

WATER by Philip Larkin

If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.

Going to church
Would entail a fording
To dry, different clothes;

My liturgy would employ
Images of sousing,
A furious devout drench,

And I should raise in the east
A glass of water
Where any-angled light
Would congregate endlessly.

The Long Dinner

Einstein had the right idea with the whole relativity business. Sarah, Jess, Jin and I just had a five hour long curry dinner. That's the same number of hours I worked at the library, and yet, one seemed so much shorter than the other. I actually intentionally fell asleep at work for a bit, until someone dropped a book into the bookdrop and woke the hell out of me. Non, my boss was not there, which is why I love working on the weekends. Last week, Laurine and I took turns taking really refreshing naps on the couch. Sweetness.

I'm listening to Sarah talking to J (brother) on the phone, and it reminds me of something we talked about during the dinner, how Sarah and James and I were really weird as kids because we would call each other S, J and A, and we would joke around and say things like, "Hey A, can you S the D?" instead of "Hey Angie, can you shut the door?" The laziness starts early, people, BE WARNED.

5023, 5024, 5025,...

I just spent the past two hours amusing myself with the lines on my hand and the hairs on my arm and banging my head against an imaginary wall over and over and over...

Herman, I really hate this bullshit that's called "criminology". How people can actually do this for a living without feeling like they've thrown away their life and sold their soul to a worthless devil is beyond me.

Archimedes' Randomly Timed Book Recommendations, No. 1

I just got this notice about a colloquium coming up tomorrow about this soon-to-be published book, called "The Lost Millennium" and it sounds very interesting. It is too bad I can't attend because of that blasted Criminology lecture, but...read on:

"It is universally believed to be the 21st century, but according to a group of scientists led by Anatoli Fomenko, a distinguished mathematician and fellow of the Russian Academy of Sciences, we are wrong by about a thousand years. Like Isaac Newton in the 1720s, Fomenko claims that the traditional dates are incorrect, and ancient and medieval history must be rewritten. Is he right? Can he prove that for more than four centuries historians have followed a false track? What are his arguments and how do experts respond?

The “Lost Millennium,” a book to be published by Knopf Canada in January 2006, describes how key ancient events, like the Peloponnesian War and the founding of Rome, have been dated and presents the criticism that has been raised against the accepted historical view of humankind. This objective and accessible account analyses the pros and cons and explains why the debate is ongoing.

It’s author, Florin Diacu, is a professor of mathematics and the former director of the Pacific Institute for the Mathematical Sciences at the University of Victoria."

I wonder, does it really matter whether the Peloponnesian War began in 431 B.C. or 569 A.D.? Either way, it began a hell of a long time ago, so why does it matter if we are a thousand years off in everything? A thousand years in the face of eternity is just a blink of an eye to the Universe. Are we suddenly going to not go to school and walk on our hands and go to town on Iraq just because it is the year 3005? Oh wait...Anyhoo, it is interesting nonetheless.

Tuesday's Secret

April 19:

The day the American Revolutionary War commenced.

The day of the Oklahoma City bombing.

The day my parents got married.

Tuesday:

"Death: I haven't lost at checkers since time began.

Yakko: When was that?

Death: I think it was a Tuesday. Very few people know that."

~ The Animaniacs

A New Line of Cologne

The guy typing away next to me smells like church. Each time I get a whiff of it, this image of a crowd of salt-and-pepper-haired Korean grandmas and grandpas milling around outside of the sanctuary pops into my head.

Will Zzz For $$$

Yawn. Streeeetch. Blink-blink. Gaze around.
Hm.
I just woke up in the math library.
I just got paid to sleep.
How sweet it is.

The Eighth Deadly Sin

Angie: Ew, are you boiling green stuff?

Sarah: Yes, they're called "artichokes", Ann. Wanna try some?

Angie: No thanks.

Sarah: You don't even wanna try it?

Angie: No way, it smells like vegetable.

Sarah: It is a vegetable, Ann.

Angie: Okay, I'll try some...*choke**gag**cough* Water!

Sarah: Dear Lord...

Angie: Are those radishes in your salad?

Sarah: No, I wouldn't go that far!

Angie: Sarah, eating artichokes is pretty much selling your soul.

Sarah: Rolls eyes to the back of her head and continues to eat her non-radish salad.

They were apples by the way, not radishes.

Joke Hat

What do computer scientists call "I invented the internet?"

An Al-gore-ism!

What do you call an infinitely small amount of pepsi?

A Pepsi-lon!

Aaaaahahahahaha!-

Am I the only one who laughs at her own jokes? Oh well-

Aaaaaahahahahaha!

And good night.

Sarah 'n Ann

Enfin! All the financial aid papers are off my back, nearly. I just have to turn them in. Next in line: Penn-in-Tours papers. They never end, people. Adulthood is about filling out an endless stack of papers. How boring, eh? Well, I gotta say, it was nice that Sarah had done hers before me because I could copy most of her answers. Thanks Sarah! *Wave*

Sarah tends to be one step ahead of me all the time. For instance, she was the first to wear her hair down and care a little more about fashion. It took me a while longer to get out of my sweats and into that girly stuff. She was the first to get a purse. I...come to think of it, I still don't have one. Hm. Anyhoo, it's dialogue time!

C-store cashier: Y'all twins?

Sarah 'n Ann: Yeah.

C-store cashier: Oh my god. Hey Maureen, they all twins! And they got three heads and eyes growing out of their stomach!

Maureen: Really? This whole time, I thought it was one person!

C-store cashier: I know, so did I!

That's what she said last time we came in together!

Oops, I Lied

Okay, there were supposed to be five benefits of chocolate, but I don't feel like making up a fifth one, so we'll just have to conveniently change the title to: "The Four Benefits of Chocolate." 

Excerpt:

"Chocolate is a cure against obesity. The feedback mechanism that our body operates with imposes a fundamental limit to the amount of chocolate the body can break down at any given moment. Thus, the excess chocolate that is eaten simply passes through the GI tract without being broken down into its fat and sugar components. This is a very good bit of news for the 60% of Americans who are overweight."

I love a class where it doesn't matter what the hell you say as long as it's written in good French.

My Sista, the Gangsta

I know Sarah's gonna read this tomorrow, but lemme just say, she just talked in her sleep AGAIN, and I quote:

"Homie don't play that game."

Aaaaahahahaha! Just what is this "game" that she ain't playing? I'm gonna have to ask her tomorrow morning. Back to my French compo: "The Five Benefits of Chocolate."

Immortal Light

"This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel,
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.
~ The Hobbit

Archimedes: Hey, you Great Old Fart, it's been too long! Where've you been?

Old Fart: I went looking for a good story to tell my good friend, Archimedes.

Archimedes: Really? You must have searched around the whole world, hoo. And for a story? I forgot what a bum you were! A bum who collects stories because he has too much time on his hands. Let me guess: You majored in folklore in college, right? I've always wondered what a person could do with a folklore degree, hoo.

Old Fart: And I see, you've still got your funny owl accent. So you'll hear me out then? Good. Let me tell you a story about time. Even you know, Archimedes, that as time goes on, we grow older. No one is immune to the decaying effect of time. But light is a different story. Light, or photons, stay young forever. Light never ages. The light that you see coming from the billions of stars in the night sky is the same light that originated from the Big Bang.

To understand why this is, we can think of driving in some open space. If we drive in a straight line at 100 mph, we will reach the end in a certain amount of time. But if we drive 30 degrees northwest 100 mph, it will take longer to reach the end because we have to divide up the speed between two directions so that the car is going x mph west and (100 - x) mph north. In the first case, all 100 mph are given to "north". In the second case, we have to divide up the 100 mph between "north" and "west". If car were to fly, we would have to distribute the 100 mph among "north", "west" and, er, "height". In other words, we are distributing the speed among the three spatial coordinates of length, width and height.

But then, consider two facts:
(1) There exists a fourth coordinate, time.
(2) The maximum speed that anything can move is c, the speed of light (300,000 m/s)

Let's make humans the base case. Humans walk really really slow, and even the fastest man in the world is not very fast at all compared to the speed of light. So most of our c is given to time. Cars can travel a little faster than humans, so a little more of c is given to the spatial coordinates and a little less to time. But still, the difference is miniscule and insignificant compared to the speed of light. Let's suppose that we are traveling in a rocket that can travel at a significant fraction of the speed of light. Then finally, we see a noticeable decrease in the amount of c given to time. The person in the rocket is aging more slowly, or traveling more slowly through time. If the rocket were going at 99% of the speed of light, then since it is traveling so fast through space, it is moving extremely slowly through time.

What if we were sitting on a beam of light? Now we are traveling through space at exactly the speed of light, and so we are not traveling through time at all! This is exactly why light, or photons, never age. Light is as old as time and as young as a newborn baby.

How about it, Archie, old boy? Didn't I tell you the Universe was a crazy old man?

Archimedes: Hoo! Didn't I tell you never to call me that? What have I ever done to you? And yes, that was a good story. Thanks, you Old Fart.

The End.

Well, I Thought It Was Funny...

Dialogue:

Angie: Oh, I get it!

Pierre: Get what?

Angie: For the longest time, I had no idea what my TA was talking about, "towers" of fields. But I finally got around to reading the section, and I finally understand what he was babel-ling about!

I gotta say, there is nothing more peculiar than telling a math joke to a bunch of chemist friends. It's a tough job, rather like being the President of the US of A :0)

Between the Books

How sad it is when one's idea of a study break consists of washing the dishes? Look! See how spotless they are? See how foamy the soap gets? That's so sad.

Speaking of Glue

I wonder if Elmer's glue is still around...really loved that stuff when I was a kid. Of course, this was before rubber cement became all the rage, just because we could make realistic-looking boogers out of it. Nooo we did not get high off of rubber cement. God. That was what scented markers were for. Mmm, watermelon high...

The Trouble With Being a Twin

The following dialogue takes place at least once a week between Sarah and me:

"Sarah: Hey Ann, I saw one of your friends today.

Angie: Oh really, did he think you were me?

Sarah: Yeah.

Angie: Did you tell him you weren't me?

Sarah: No, we were just passing each other, so I just said "hi".

Angie: Did you ask his name?

Sarah: No.

Angie: What does he look like?

Sarah: Uh...Brown hair.

Angie: O-kaaaay...light or dark?

Sarah: Dark...I think...medium brown.

Angie: Curly or straight? Long or short?

Sarah: Kinda wavy, but pretty straight. Not really long or really short.

Angie: Uh-kaay, that narrows the possibilities down about 40%. Make that 25% since nearly half of Penn is Jewish.

Sarah: Well, he was white. And tall.

Angie: Mmm-kay, since you don't know him, he's probably in one of my math classes. Or my french class. Or...shit, I give up."

So after this happened for the 47th time today, we decided that from now on, if we see a non-mutual friend, then we will ask him (or her) his name, so that we can avoid these pointless guessing games. Speaking of which, I heard the following mini-conversation on Locust Walk today:

"Person 1: You know, what I was thinking yesterday?

Person 2: What?

Person 1: I was thinking that life without alcohol would be like a broken pencil.

Person 2: How so?

Person 1: Totally pointless.

The Hazards of Watching Mary Poppins as a Naive Kid

I wonder if kids ever try to fly off the roof of their house with an umbrella after watching Mary Poppins. I was going to google this, but what would I type into the search box? "Mary Poppins, stupid kids, fly?" I dunno...

Terry Shiavo

My instinctive opinion on the Terri Schiavo case is that they should let her off the hook. Yea, I meant that pretty literally. The woman is so far gone from life, with only her brain stem still functioning. By definition, she is still "alive", but she is about as alive as a carrot. She can feel and think just about as much as a carrot can. There is no chance of her ever recovering. I feel that for her loved ones, it should be equally painful to keep her "alive" with tubes as it should be to let her go. I think it is wrong to condemn her husband for wanting to let her go, although that is certainly not the sole reason for their condemning him. However, even if it were true that the husband caused her condition (which is speculative, as far as I know), she should not be kept "alive" out of revenge or spite. It has also been ruled that Terri's intention would have been to choose death over an irreversibly vegetative state. Terri would not have consented to "the medical indignities and bodily invasions that have defined her condition." The fact of the matter is, Terri Schiavo lives in a vegetative state with no hope of recovery. When one's daughter is so far gone from life, is it not somehow more cruel to keep her clinging to so-called "life" in such a state?

The Diego Rivera Conundrum

Some long and restless nights, I lie awake and think about the Mother of All Questions (MoAQ): "What made all those girls flock to Diego Rivera, who looked like a giant toad in paint-splattered overalls?" Eventually, I convince myself that it was his artistic genius that made him such a ladies' man, and this makes me feel a lot better about humanity because it shows that no matter how superficial we are, looks ain't everything. Only then can I sleep happily and in peace.

The Dangers of Hooded Sweatshirts

One of the scariest things in life is when you put on a hooded sweather backwards, so that the hood ends up smothering your face, and it is dark, and everything feels twisted up and suffocating. One could call that a mild case of claustrophobia.

Math is taking over my life. Fourier, Laplace, Dirichlet, Cauchy, Euler...all dead, yet all still lurking in the recesses of my dreams. Bastards. Genius, yes. But more bastard than genius.

Ducks and Geometry

I am so mesmerized by the current ad. A line of cute little yellow ducks swimming past my very eyes and disappearing...where do they go? Ha! Where does it go?! Where does it go?! Reminds me of that movie with Jack Black and Ben Stiller..."Envy". Thanks to that movie, when I encounter the word, "vaporize" in my textbooks, my mind says, "vapoorize".

And I think I can answer my own question. See, the banner may appear to be flat, and so you wonder, where did they get so many ducks to participate in this advertisement? But the banner is actually circular; it only appears to be flat from our limited point of view. And so we are actually seeing the same finite number of ducks over and over again. And since the banner is circular, the ducks are not actually going anywhere.

Eh? EH?

What a bucket of crazy.

Relativity and Really Old Men

Saturday, January 08, 2005
It is a well-enough known fact that an object which travels at a significant fraction of the speed of light experiences time dilation, meaning, its clock slows down. It is a well-enough known point of confusion that in Biblical times and in Tolkien's universe, Noah, Abraham and Gandalf had seen hundreds and hundreds of summers...hundreds more than the average man. By coupling science, fantasy and the Word of God, I arrived at a brilliant hypothesis during my flight to Philadelphia, which resolves this age-old point of confusion in but a few sentences. You see, back in those days, things (people included) simply moved faster than they do today. Much, much faster. In fact, things traveled at a significant fraction of the speed of light, and in effect, experienced time dilation. And so, depending on their individual speed, Noah, Abraham and Gandalf's life expectancies increased by the corresponding factor. It is extraordinary that Einstein's theory of special relativity is able to provide a logical explanation for the abnormally ripe old ages of certain men of auld lang syne. It is also a well-enough known fact that sleep eludes me, thanks to the change of time zones.

A Bit of Home

Oh, the rain. With a hint of lime. Mmm...

It must be the weirdest life, being a Pope. I mean, there are plenty of little kids who tell their parents that they want to be an actress or a doctor or even President someday. But can you imagine if your kid told you one day that he wanted to become the Pope? That would totally freak me out.

Le Bonheur

Sigh. I would never make a good Buddhist.

Nothing makes me happier than to curl up with a good book and a pint of Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Cookie ice cream, or to listen to Natalie Merchant's "My Skin", and be moved by it, or to watch 12 episodes of Alias in a row with my fellow Alias fanatics, and then watch the sun rise over the Philadelphia skyline. FYI, I have done that last thing on my list this past summer. It was unbelievable. There comes a point when you've watched so much Alias, that you start having nightly dreams of stealing shit and kicking ass and snogging Vaughn. And now, a commercial break:

"Happiness: Brought to you by worldly pleasures."

This thing called "Nirvana"? Ain't happening.

Studying

Yesterday, Jean and I "studied" together. Well, we really did start out with our Artins out and open to chapter 13.7, function fields, but then, Jean spotted my pet mole, which I had made out of my favorite old childhood pillowcase in honor of Mole Day, way back in sophomore year chemistry class. That was the end of our studying for the night.

Monsieur La paute is blue with rainbows and hearts and has dark, friendly eyes. Oh yes, and he only has 2 legs. Somehow, when I was sewing him up, I forgot to make his hindlegs 3-D. Sorry there, Avogadro. I have also neglected to name my mole, so I'm just trying out different names. Now that I think about it, I rather like the name, Avogadro.

Anyway, Jean LOVES playing with stuffed animals. We spent a long while playing with Avogadro and Muffy, my beheaded dog, and if anyone had been there, all they would have heard for the next hour or so would have been:

"Oh, look, it's a pencil case!"

"Now it's a duck!"

"Look, haha, it really looks like a phone!"

"Huh? That's no ph- oh, I see it!"

Luckily, no one was there.

Au debut

Je suis Archimedes. Je suis mathematicien. Je suis un hibou.