Monday, April 12, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Day one in SF
We arrived in SF without too much of a hitch. Our plane had to wait for a parking spot at SFO. The plane that was taking our space had a passenger encounter a medical emergency and was delayed. Hard to feel too bad about that.
We trekked across the airport to ride the BART to Powell St. At the first stop after the airport, two men got on board and they didn't have pants on. They had boxers, to be clear, but no pants. Strange for what must be considered cold weather (45 deg F) for Californians.
At the next stop, three more pantsless men climbed on board. Then even more at the next, this time a mix of men and women sans pants. By the time we arrived at Powell St., our BART car was filled with pantsless people and we had to push our way through to get out.
Me: Excuse us. We're getting off
Pantless Woman: Make some room, they need to get off!
Me: Thanks!
PW: No problem! Enjoy San Francisco!
Me: Thanks! Enjoy being pantsless!
PW: We will!!
We trekked across the airport to ride the BART to Powell St. At the first stop after the airport, two men got on board and they didn't have pants on. They had boxers, to be clear, but no pants. Strange for what must be considered cold weather (45 deg F) for Californians.
At the next stop, three more pantsless men climbed on board. Then even more at the next, this time a mix of men and women sans pants. By the time we arrived at Powell St., our BART car was filled with pantsless people and we had to push our way through to get out.
Me: Excuse us. We're getting off
Pantless Woman: Make some room, they need to get off!
Me: Thanks!
PW: No problem! Enjoy San Francisco!
Me: Thanks! Enjoy being pantsless!
PW: We will!!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Blogging is a creative art
The math/art project Aaron and I are working on has had me thinking a lot about people's perception of mathematics. In my course evaluations for calculus this past fall I asked two questions to gauge this perception. Here the responses from the 50 students who completed the survey:
Mathematics is an applicable science.
| strongly disagree | 0% |
| disagree | 0% |
| neither agree nor disagree | 10% |
| agree | 36% |
| strongly agree | 54% |
Mathematics is a creative art.
| strongly disagree | 0% |
| disagree | 14% |
| neither agree nor disagree | 32% |
| agree | 26% |
| strongly agree | 28% |
Roughly half do not agree that mathematics is a creative art.
Of the seven who responded "disagree" to the second question, one responded "strongly agree," three responded "agree," and three responded "neither agree nor disagree" to the first question.
Of the sixteen who responded "neither agree nor disagree" to the second question, one responded "neither agree nor disagree" to the first question, with the rest splitting agree and strongly agree 11-4.
Of the seven who responded "disagree" to the second question, one responded "strongly agree," three responded "agree," and three responded "neither agree nor disagree" to the first question.
Of the sixteen who responded "neither agree nor disagree" to the second question, one responded "neither agree nor disagree" to the first question, with the rest splitting agree and strongly agree 11-4.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The comeback kid
This post has been a long time coming. There is a certain amount of pressure associated with any type of comeback attempt, and I think I've found a way to handle it in this, my own personal attempt to come back down three games to none in a best of seven.
The following is a list of known nicknames for Butters. Feel free to add your own in the comments.
- Stinker
- Stink
- Stink-o-cat
- Butt
- Buttas
- Bubbers
- Stinkerbutt
- Stink-o-butt
- Cutsy Buttons
- Biggity Butters
- Biggles
- Biggie Smalls
- Buttface
- Bibblty-Bibblty-Butters
- Stinkerbell
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
It's what he would have wanted
Last night I had a dream.
I was alone at my parent's old house in Windsor.
It was sunny, autumn. The leaves on the neighborhood trees were displaying their reds, oranges, and yellows. Two men in their 60s came walking up to the house. I knew they were bearing bad news. I had been expecting it, and now I was ready to hear it.
"We would like to talk to you about your friend, Aaron Leeman."
I invited them in. One of the men handed me a burrito.
"This is part of what we are able to produce because of the work Aaron Leeman has done. As you know, his work was brilliant. He was able to create an object which had properties of exponents when viewed one way and properties of logarithms when viewed another way. You could go back and forth as you pleased, depending on the application. While not actually mathematics, his work has many interesting mathematical properties."
I held the burrito in my hand staring at it. I started to peel off the aluminum foil allowing steam to escape.
"Aaron Leeman is dead. He was making a larger one of these, the largest ever, stretching his research beyond the limits. Unfortunately, his work consumed him and he was enveloped in a giant version of his work."
I broke down in tears and ran out the back door. The men followed me, the same one talking while I, on my knees on the ground, peeled back the flour tortilla with my hands, the refried beans and cheese burning my fingers a little bit.
"He was horribly burned. When we found him, his body was charred black. There was nothing left of him but ash."
Under the layer of refried beans was a steak hoagie. I wanted to find a piece of Aaron inside somewhere. I didn't.
I needed to talk to someone, so I went in search of my mom, who was in some abstract version of New York City out near the train station at near 98th and 99th. I told her what happened, crying the whole time.
"That's awful!"
"Yea," I said. Then, chuckling, "But it's also really, really funny."
I couldn't stop laughing.
I was alone at my parent's old house in Windsor.
It was sunny, autumn. The leaves on the neighborhood trees were displaying their reds, oranges, and yellows. Two men in their 60s came walking up to the house. I knew they were bearing bad news. I had been expecting it, and now I was ready to hear it.
"We would like to talk to you about your friend, Aaron Leeman."
I invited them in. One of the men handed me a burrito.
"This is part of what we are able to produce because of the work Aaron Leeman has done. As you know, his work was brilliant. He was able to create an object which had properties of exponents when viewed one way and properties of logarithms when viewed another way. You could go back and forth as you pleased, depending on the application. While not actually mathematics, his work has many interesting mathematical properties."
I held the burrito in my hand staring at it. I started to peel off the aluminum foil allowing steam to escape.
"Aaron Leeman is dead. He was making a larger one of these, the largest ever, stretching his research beyond the limits. Unfortunately, his work consumed him and he was enveloped in a giant version of his work."
I broke down in tears and ran out the back door. The men followed me, the same one talking while I, on my knees on the ground, peeled back the flour tortilla with my hands, the refried beans and cheese burning my fingers a little bit.
"He was horribly burned. When we found him, his body was charred black. There was nothing left of him but ash."
Under the layer of refried beans was a steak hoagie. I wanted to find a piece of Aaron inside somewhere. I didn't.
I needed to talk to someone, so I went in search of my mom, who was in some abstract version of New York City out near the train station at near 98th and 99th. I told her what happened, crying the whole time.
"That's awful!"
"Yea," I said. Then, chuckling, "But it's also really, really funny."
I couldn't stop laughing.
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