Tuesday and Wednesdays are days full of Miklos. Well, I suppose I only have the class for about two hours each day, but it takes up pretty much all of my thought processes on those days. It's so involved.
And we were in the middle of a complicated proof (AGAIN) and I was quite, quite confused. I have on of those faces, or perhaps on of those personalities, or perhaps both - where everything I think and feel is pretty much immediately visible on my face. This means that if I'm confused, my brows are knitted together, eyes scrunched, and I'm probably frowning - yeah. Not all that subtle. But for this proof, I was not only confused, but upset. I really didn't understand what was going on, I didn't get the overall direction of the proof, nor did I get several of the in-between steps. Other people must have been confused or else we would have been moving on in the class, but I wasn't really paying attention to other people and how they were doing with this concept since I was too wrapped up in myself.
Completely wrapped up. Frustrated, frustrated, confused. All of a sudden, "Emily--" Me: "Yes?" Miklos: "You look really confused. You don't understand what's going on." Me, in my head: Yeah, duh. Don't talk to me. I'm upset. Miklos: "Why don't you go to the board and explain it." Then he told the person who was presenting the proof to sit down.
I stared at him. I grumbled. I felt my lip trembling. As I walked to the board, I decided not to cry - though I was upset, confused, and terrified at the thought of explaining something that I didn't understand in the least. And then I started to go through what we had done of the proof so far, talking to the class and rewriting things as I would have written them on the board. And I understood. And we finished the proof with me at the board. This class is really something.
---
In other news, I'm going here tonight with friends: I'm so excited.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Friday, September 20, 2013
Now I get it. Alternative title: Let me introduce you to Miklos.
Part of the reason this program was founded was because students with Bachelors in Mathematics from Hungary are pretty much the strongest math BAs in the world. However, PhD programs in the US are some of the best in the world and consequently, many US PhD programs are frequented by Hungarian students, and they thought it would be nice to allow the switch the other way around, so we American students could get the chance to experience their BA programs.
And I've talked to mathematicians here, read some of the history, and wondered just why the students exit these programs with such strength in so many mathematical ares - what do they do differently? I experienced a piece of that yesterday.
One of my classes here is Spectral Theory - specifically Inquiry-Based Spectral Theory, as I may have mentioned earlier. The course is structured thusly: every week, we are assigned a problem set and start to work on it around Friday (class is Wed-Thurs), can email the professor questions, but are supposed to come into class on Wednesday with at least a few ideas for every problem, hopefully some full proofs. Then in class, problem by problem, those with ideas get up and present their proofs at the board. We are supposed to comment and ask questions, be hard to convince, and really make the person at the board explain what they are doing and convince us. Ideally, we do this without Miklos, the professor, doing anything. Right now, though, we're not quite adept at doing everything by ourselves, so he urges and points us in directions, says things like "Are you sure about what he just did there?" and "Emily, I think you muttered something important. Say it louder." Things like that.
And let me just say that Spectral Theory has a lot to do with Graph Theory (roughly speaking, dots and lines) and Linear Algebra (roughly speaking, matrices 'n stuff).
So, let me tell you a few things about Miklos (pronounced: mee- klosh). First of all, he's hilarious. He's taught at University of Chicago (lots and lots of inquiry based courses like this one) and has perfected the complete non-threatening air. He must be at least six feet tall, built like a now middle-aged used-to-be football player. And he has this impish grin on his face almost constantly. By non-threatening, I mean that he can say to me, while I am confused and standing at the board, frustrated with my own self - "Emily, that's not a proof" and it doesn't make me cry. This is an impressive feat. I don't cry easily (well, more easily than some) but proofs are a very personal thing, and I have for a long time struggled with valuing my self-worth based on my academic prowess, so - yeah. That's a big thing to say. But you can just tell that he's worked on his way of being with students, and it's brilliant. The environment he creates fosters learning. There's no other way to put it. It's not easy by any, any standards - but you're encouraged to do it the whole time.
Second bit about Miklos: the other day, he asked us, "What do you think it means to have a vertex " [vertex means dot, remember] "of a graph at infinity?" -- we students stared at each other. "What do you mean, 'at infinity'?" we asked, "what is infinity in terms of a graph, anyway??" -- and he looked back, smiled "Infinity is love, guys. Trust me. I'm doing a poetry reading later." And no further comments. I still don't know what a vertex 'at infinity' is.
But what I really wanted to mention was what happened yesterday in class. Yesterday, a student presented a proof of a complicated theorem at the board. It took at least twenty minutes to discuss through the whole thing, and we were quite critical - asking questions to clarify our own understanding, catching details that were unclear. It was a tricky argument, but with very cool conclusions.
When it was done, Miklos said to us all: "You all understand this?" Heads nodded around the room. "Good. It's a lovely proof. But it's wrong. If this were true, it would prove something a great deal more general than what the theorem was asking to prove." My heart started pounding - I had finally understood what was happening in the proof, had convinced myself of all of it, had followed the arguments, had complicated notes - and it was wrong?
"Look at this proof. Find the error. You have two minutes."
Imagine you are me and the other students in this classroom. Several things are happening in this moment. 1. You are feeling a small bit of self-hatred for having believed so thoroughly a proof that was incorrect. You should have noticed something was wrong. 2. You are feeling a bit angry for having taken such careful notes on this incorrect proof, and are worried about the time it will take to find a correct one. 3. You are confused and still stuck on understanding the proof -- this moment is like having handed in a paper in philosophy and someone telling you there is a large logical flaw in your argument. That's the best analogy I can come up with. So, 4, you stare at the board and at your paper. "Check every step, guys," Miklos says. You do - frantic, searching. What was obvious before now seems unobvious, you feel the need to check every tiny thing ---
"Time's up. Who found the error?" Everyone looks around guiltily. "No one?" He sounds disappointed.
Pause.
"That's good. Because this proof is correct."
Silence.
"That's how you need to check your own proofs, guys." You put your head on the desk, laughing and exhausted, trying to imagine how you could so critically examine an argument that you yourself created, let alone one someone else did with a professor telling you there's an error there.
Miklos laughs. "Guys, I do this in my calculus classes - sometimes, I would deliberately give incorrect proofs at the board, and make the students find the error and fix it." I think I would have had a heart attack as a calculus student of his. But man, I think I would be really good at writing proofs.
Hopefully, this class will do the same for me. Damn. That's why they're so good. The trick is to see this as an opportunity to learn - not as a moment to look back and think your background could have been so much better. I really value my Mills degree. But you know, I got my mind and ego whipped in math courses in Germany in one way, and they're going to get whipped here in a different way. I suppose that's the best thing I can do for them.
Don't even get me started on Algebraic Topology.
And I've talked to mathematicians here, read some of the history, and wondered just why the students exit these programs with such strength in so many mathematical ares - what do they do differently? I experienced a piece of that yesterday.
One of my classes here is Spectral Theory - specifically Inquiry-Based Spectral Theory, as I may have mentioned earlier. The course is structured thusly: every week, we are assigned a problem set and start to work on it around Friday (class is Wed-Thurs), can email the professor questions, but are supposed to come into class on Wednesday with at least a few ideas for every problem, hopefully some full proofs. Then in class, problem by problem, those with ideas get up and present their proofs at the board. We are supposed to comment and ask questions, be hard to convince, and really make the person at the board explain what they are doing and convince us. Ideally, we do this without Miklos, the professor, doing anything. Right now, though, we're not quite adept at doing everything by ourselves, so he urges and points us in directions, says things like "Are you sure about what he just did there?" and "Emily, I think you muttered something important. Say it louder." Things like that.
And let me just say that Spectral Theory has a lot to do with Graph Theory (roughly speaking, dots and lines) and Linear Algebra (roughly speaking, matrices 'n stuff).
 | |
| The dots are called 'vertices', and the lines are called 'edges'. You'd be surprised how many interesting things can be said about these dots 'n lines. |
Second bit about Miklos: the other day, he asked us, "What do you think it means to have a vertex " [vertex means dot, remember] "of a graph at infinity?" -- we students stared at each other. "What do you mean, 'at infinity'?" we asked, "what is infinity in terms of a graph, anyway??" -- and he looked back, smiled "Infinity is love, guys. Trust me. I'm doing a poetry reading later." And no further comments. I still don't know what a vertex 'at infinity' is.
But what I really wanted to mention was what happened yesterday in class. Yesterday, a student presented a proof of a complicated theorem at the board. It took at least twenty minutes to discuss through the whole thing, and we were quite critical - asking questions to clarify our own understanding, catching details that were unclear. It was a tricky argument, but with very cool conclusions.
When it was done, Miklos said to us all: "You all understand this?" Heads nodded around the room. "Good. It's a lovely proof. But it's wrong. If this were true, it would prove something a great deal more general than what the theorem was asking to prove." My heart started pounding - I had finally understood what was happening in the proof, had convinced myself of all of it, had followed the arguments, had complicated notes - and it was wrong?
"Look at this proof. Find the error. You have two minutes."
Imagine you are me and the other students in this classroom. Several things are happening in this moment. 1. You are feeling a small bit of self-hatred for having believed so thoroughly a proof that was incorrect. You should have noticed something was wrong. 2. You are feeling a bit angry for having taken such careful notes on this incorrect proof, and are worried about the time it will take to find a correct one. 3. You are confused and still stuck on understanding the proof -- this moment is like having handed in a paper in philosophy and someone telling you there is a large logical flaw in your argument. That's the best analogy I can come up with. So, 4, you stare at the board and at your paper. "Check every step, guys," Miklos says. You do - frantic, searching. What was obvious before now seems unobvious, you feel the need to check every tiny thing ---
"Time's up. Who found the error?" Everyone looks around guiltily. "No one?" He sounds disappointed.
Pause.
"That's good. Because this proof is correct."
Silence.
"That's how you need to check your own proofs, guys." You put your head on the desk, laughing and exhausted, trying to imagine how you could so critically examine an argument that you yourself created, let alone one someone else did with a professor telling you there's an error there.
Miklos laughs. "Guys, I do this in my calculus classes - sometimes, I would deliberately give incorrect proofs at the board, and make the students find the error and fix it." I think I would have had a heart attack as a calculus student of his. But man, I think I would be really good at writing proofs.
Hopefully, this class will do the same for me. Damn. That's why they're so good. The trick is to see this as an opportunity to learn - not as a moment to look back and think your background could have been so much better. I really value my Mills degree. But you know, I got my mind and ego whipped in math courses in Germany in one way, and they're going to get whipped here in a different way. I suppose that's the best thing I can do for them.
Don't even get me started on Algebraic Topology.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Recap
It turns out, I was right. This second week isn't nearly as stressful as last week was - or maybe it is just as stressful, but in a different way. Last week, the first week of classes, there was hardly time to sleep in between going to meetings, lectures, and other places - times for classes were changing right and left, about as quickly as my plan for what I wanted to take was changing.
Now, I feel like I can breathe, and the only real stressful thing on my plate is the actual math to be done - and to be honest, that was expected. I think that's kind of what I signed up for.
But a few things happened that I wanted to report on! For one, I spent all Saturday with some folks in the Computer Science program that is also hosted in Budapest. We took the train to a nearby village, rented bikes, and went on a three-and-a-half hour ride (punctuated by a coffee break and lunch) around a lovely lake and down some quietly pleasant country roads and paths. I went in some ways in order to spend time with some friends I have in that program, and on the other hand, it was important for me to do some active relaxing, I thought. I think I've written about this here before, but I'll restate my thoughts: the busier we are with our work, studies, whatever it may be, the more I think relaxing becomes something passive and more akin to 'zoning out'. I do this quite frequently. And I don't think that in itself, watching episodes of TNG on netflix or playing freecell while halfheartedly watching cooking videos on YouTube is all that bad or dangerous, but I think that a lot of the time, that's not actually what I want. I don't want to turn my brain off and shove thoughts of homework out of the way, cowering under the visual stimulation of a computer. Rather, I think I want to actively do something that is not homework - do a puzzle with friends, write a letter, go on a walk with someone - or go on a bike ride. And that's what I got to do on Sunday. That being said, the paths were rather narrow so for a lot of the time, I couldn't interact with my friends at all, but it turned out to be pleasantly meditative to roll along, aware of just the nature around us.
After the route around the lake (somewhere between 20 and 30 kilometers), we rode our bikes to a smallish bath house in the village we started in, and spent a few hours there. Then, we rode to a hole in the wall restaurant with people who clearly knew the two who had lead our group, and there was an enormous cauldron of goulash waiting for us, in addition to huge loaves of bread and - for those who dared - homemade palinka, the traditional schnapps from this region. And as I sat there with a small glass of that (the plum kind), plus the goulash, plus the bread - I realized that after a day working or riding around outside, there was nothing quite like that to end the day. It made perfect sense.
And then, I came back home. Unfortunately, Monday my illness made a reappearance so I had to go back to the doctor and spend a great deal of time there getting a different kind of antibiotic to really drive out whatever it is that's in me. And luckily, I had had enough of my homework done before that being relatively inactive on Monday wasn't a bad thing - no classes, not too much work to be done.
And then Tuesday - yesterday - it was a good, if very full, day. Classes again, getting back on my feet and to make the day the epitome of awesome, at the end of it I went to a new café with a friend of mine - only to find out that 1. there are waitresses there with mostly shaved heads, which is one of the most daring things I've seen here and made me happy and 2. MOST IMPORTANTLY: this café is dog friendly and one of the aforementioned waitresses had a tiny little spaniel that was sitting on the couch next to me as I slogged through a bit of spectral theory homework, and at home point when I was getting frustrated, it stood up and walked a bit closer to me, then lay down again and pressed it's little back against my leg... I've never felt so inspired. :)
Now, I feel like I can breathe, and the only real stressful thing on my plate is the actual math to be done - and to be honest, that was expected. I think that's kind of what I signed up for.
But a few things happened that I wanted to report on! For one, I spent all Saturday with some folks in the Computer Science program that is also hosted in Budapest. We took the train to a nearby village, rented bikes, and went on a three-and-a-half hour ride (punctuated by a coffee break and lunch) around a lovely lake and down some quietly pleasant country roads and paths. I went in some ways in order to spend time with some friends I have in that program, and on the other hand, it was important for me to do some active relaxing, I thought. I think I've written about this here before, but I'll restate my thoughts: the busier we are with our work, studies, whatever it may be, the more I think relaxing becomes something passive and more akin to 'zoning out'. I do this quite frequently. And I don't think that in itself, watching episodes of TNG on netflix or playing freecell while halfheartedly watching cooking videos on YouTube is all that bad or dangerous, but I think that a lot of the time, that's not actually what I want. I don't want to turn my brain off and shove thoughts of homework out of the way, cowering under the visual stimulation of a computer. Rather, I think I want to actively do something that is not homework - do a puzzle with friends, write a letter, go on a walk with someone - or go on a bike ride. And that's what I got to do on Sunday. That being said, the paths were rather narrow so for a lot of the time, I couldn't interact with my friends at all, but it turned out to be pleasantly meditative to roll along, aware of just the nature around us.
After the route around the lake (somewhere between 20 and 30 kilometers), we rode our bikes to a smallish bath house in the village we started in, and spent a few hours there. Then, we rode to a hole in the wall restaurant with people who clearly knew the two who had lead our group, and there was an enormous cauldron of goulash waiting for us, in addition to huge loaves of bread and - for those who dared - homemade palinka, the traditional schnapps from this region. And as I sat there with a small glass of that (the plum kind), plus the goulash, plus the bread - I realized that after a day working or riding around outside, there was nothing quite like that to end the day. It made perfect sense.
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| My trusty steed for the day. |
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| When we arrived at the lake. |
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| What awaited us after all the biking and bathing. |
And then Tuesday - yesterday - it was a good, if very full, day. Classes again, getting back on my feet and to make the day the epitome of awesome, at the end of it I went to a new café with a friend of mine - only to find out that 1. there are waitresses there with mostly shaved heads, which is one of the most daring things I've seen here and made me happy and 2. MOST IMPORTANTLY: this café is dog friendly and one of the aforementioned waitresses had a tiny little spaniel that was sitting on the couch next to me as I slogged through a bit of spectral theory homework, and at home point when I was getting frustrated, it stood up and walked a bit closer to me, then lay down again and pressed it's little back against my leg... I've never felt so inspired. :)
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Saturday
That means waking up when I wake up, time to put cinnamon in my coffee and enjoy it properly before rushing out the door. I went from 0 to 60 this week, sick and dying actually a week ago to pedal-to-the-floor, classes from 8-6 every day, not to mention things like homework, etc. This Saturday has been a long time coming.
I spent my Friday night partially with good music blasting and me standing at the whiteboard (well, the big presentation paper pad I call a whiteboard) and working out graph theory proofs, smiling to myself because I was finally in the right mindset to do it - and part of the evening with two new friends, who came over and we had brinner: breakfast for dinner. The main part of this brinner was something new and awesome - pancakes with three ingredients: bananas, almond butter, eggs. They were delicious!
And today, I do have a lot of things to do, but I'm taking it easy this morning, 'cause I know I'll work better if I do. I was talking with one of these friends who was here last night (her name is Naomi) about being really impressed at how smart everyone else in our programs seem - she's here with a computer science program that's based in Pest, but our two programs interact a bit - and we both noticed an interesting phenomenon. It's very easy to get intimidated and feel like 'everyone else knows so much, I'm here by mistake' or, as many people do, just oneself purely by one's academic prowess and simply dissolve out of self hatred when you don't feel you are at the same level as those around you. But, even though I am surrounded by a lot of people who are really, really brilliant - I'm not 'hating on' my own abilities yet. It's not that I know that from their perspective, I look the same way to them (I don't think so, actually, at least not yet - I've not been in any situations yet where I really had the floor to talk about math) but something about the environment here just encourages learning. The worst experiences I've ever had with people in math is when pride gets involved (which, I'm learning, happens a lot more when you are working with boys - this is new to me. It does happen among girls, but not as frequently). But there's something in the air here that encourages that to be tossed aside, and just says "Learn. That's why you're here." So, I'll go with that.
I spent my Friday night partially with good music blasting and me standing at the whiteboard (well, the big presentation paper pad I call a whiteboard) and working out graph theory proofs, smiling to myself because I was finally in the right mindset to do it - and part of the evening with two new friends, who came over and we had brinner: breakfast for dinner. The main part of this brinner was something new and awesome - pancakes with three ingredients: bananas, almond butter, eggs. They were delicious!
And today, I do have a lot of things to do, but I'm taking it easy this morning, 'cause I know I'll work better if I do. I was talking with one of these friends who was here last night (her name is Naomi) about being really impressed at how smart everyone else in our programs seem - she's here with a computer science program that's based in Pest, but our two programs interact a bit - and we both noticed an interesting phenomenon. It's very easy to get intimidated and feel like 'everyone else knows so much, I'm here by mistake' or, as many people do, just oneself purely by one's academic prowess and simply dissolve out of self hatred when you don't feel you are at the same level as those around you. But, even though I am surrounded by a lot of people who are really, really brilliant - I'm not 'hating on' my own abilities yet. It's not that I know that from their perspective, I look the same way to them (I don't think so, actually, at least not yet - I've not been in any situations yet where I really had the floor to talk about math) but something about the environment here just encourages learning. The worst experiences I've ever had with people in math is when pride gets involved (which, I'm learning, happens a lot more when you are working with boys - this is new to me. It does happen among girls, but not as frequently). But there's something in the air here that encourages that to be tossed aside, and just says "Learn. That's why you're here." So, I'll go with that.
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| A beautiful statue in front of our school. It looks in this picture like it's a real tree, but the leaves are actually from a tree behind the wall. |
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| McDaniel College, through the gates. |
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| Emily's natural habitat. Well, this and the outdoors. :) I can't decide. |
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| Something that I love. Proper notetaking. |
Thursday, September 12, 2013
A mathematician is like a tiny dog....
...with a huge bone in its mouth, trying to get through a tiny hole in a wall. When attempting a proof for the first time, that is. And hopefully, you try and you try, turn your head one way , then the other, hit the bone in all manner of ways against the edges of the hole, and eventually - somehow end up on the other side of the hole, but have no idea how it happened. You cannot explain it or repeat it. What you proved is true, because there you are on the other side - but why and how?
This is a story Miklos, one of my professors, told us this morning in Spectral Theory. We also had a hilarious moment (this is the inquiry-based learning class, so starting quite soon, Miklos will probably never talk at all, as we are supposed to figure stuff out and show each other at the board for the most part) when I was presenting a "proof" at the board, but a proof about graph theory. I've never heard a graph theory lecture in my life, and all I knew was what was on our homework sheet given the night before. And I understood the proof but had no idea how to write down a graph theory proof ('graphs' in this sense are dots and lines between dots. That's all. No x-y stuff, just actually a bunch of points and lines ((though we call them vertices and edges)) - they don't exist in any particular space. Just - dots and lines. Kinda hard to think of how to describe them!).
In any case, part of the point of this class is learning how to present well at the board, which is something that I've actually had a lot of practice with. But in this area, I had no idea! (In fact, my practice may prove to be not very helpful - Miklos was saying today we might have a day when you aren't allowed to speak at all while at the board, and have to make yourself understood through your writing alone. I love explaining math, so that's tricky, but I know I'll figure it out if the time comes! After all, that's what my proofs on paper are supposed to be anyway, since I can't stand there and explain it to the professor while he/she grades my exam)
So, after explaining this not really too complicated but kind of fun graph theory problem, all I had written on the board was 7*3=21, which no one could argue with, but it was hilarious that that was my entire 'proof'. We had a good laugh about it. This class should be fun.
I'm just digesting my notes from Algebraic Topology on Tuesday, getting ready for the second lecture in an hour. This hellish week is almost over. It's been hellish but also awesome - and I'm ready for a bit of sleep and calm math-ing, not dashing from place to place.
Also, my apartment got a bit of a rearrangement and now has a large, hanging pad of huge paper for me to do work on - not a whiteboard, but close enough. Pictures soon.
This is a story Miklos, one of my professors, told us this morning in Spectral Theory. We also had a hilarious moment (this is the inquiry-based learning class, so starting quite soon, Miklos will probably never talk at all, as we are supposed to figure stuff out and show each other at the board for the most part) when I was presenting a "proof" at the board, but a proof about graph theory. I've never heard a graph theory lecture in my life, and all I knew was what was on our homework sheet given the night before. And I understood the proof but had no idea how to write down a graph theory proof ('graphs' in this sense are dots and lines between dots. That's all. No x-y stuff, just actually a bunch of points and lines ((though we call them vertices and edges)) - they don't exist in any particular space. Just - dots and lines. Kinda hard to think of how to describe them!).
In any case, part of the point of this class is learning how to present well at the board, which is something that I've actually had a lot of practice with. But in this area, I had no idea! (In fact, my practice may prove to be not very helpful - Miklos was saying today we might have a day when you aren't allowed to speak at all while at the board, and have to make yourself understood through your writing alone. I love explaining math, so that's tricky, but I know I'll figure it out if the time comes! After all, that's what my proofs on paper are supposed to be anyway, since I can't stand there and explain it to the professor while he/she grades my exam)
So, after explaining this not really too complicated but kind of fun graph theory problem, all I had written on the board was 7*3=21, which no one could argue with, but it was hilarious that that was my entire 'proof'. We had a good laugh about it. This class should be fun.
I'm just digesting my notes from Algebraic Topology on Tuesday, getting ready for the second lecture in an hour. This hellish week is almost over. It's been hellish but also awesome - and I'm ready for a bit of sleep and calm math-ing, not dashing from place to place.
Also, my apartment got a bit of a rearrangement and now has a large, hanging pad of huge paper for me to do work on - not a whiteboard, but close enough. Pictures soon.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
12 Minutes to Midnight
I started today at 8 o'clock, with an energetic Hungarian mathematician and a new friend, where I pleaded my case and got an unusual research project (unusual because it is so applied in nature) approved for study this semester. Work on that followed, then at 10 probability theory, at 12 Algebraic Topology, a short break, then a review of Classical Algebra before a class on Quantum Information and Quantum Compution. I left the building at 7 in the evening. I can't give a better explanation of what happened in any of these classes because 1. they've just started and I don't know myself yet, and 2. I have no brain any more after today.
A few insights into today, though.
First: Getting the research project approved sent me into spirals of happiness. I got an email a few weeks ago saying this type of project couldn't be supported by the program here, and for some reason, I had the guts to write back and ask them to reconsider, which got me the 'hearing' this morning, if you will. And it payed off. :)
Second: Algebraic Topology made me remember why I'm studying math. We didn't even do anything big or exciting today (I suppose), but the professor started to talk, I had my nice, proper paper (I don't use the nice stuff for classes I only might take, you see, and there are a lot of those in the first week - from the first five minutes of this class, I knew I would take it), my color-coded system of pens, and could feel myself start to smile. I was at home again. Math is so beautiful.
Third: I hate that this is abnormal, but it is and I will make a mention of it - today, besides when I had to write an email for my research project, I didn't use my computer. It stayed at home all day and after the days of sickness and netflix in particular, but also just computer-heavy days in general, it is so lovely to have a day without it. Chalk, pen, paper, people.
Fourth: My day starts again at 8 tomorrow. Oy vey.
Five: For the second time in three months (which makes only two times out of at least two years of enjoying running outside), I thought my head had "enough thoughts in it" and that I therefore didn't need music on my run (or a podcast or book). And it was actually blissful. Also, I am strong enough to run again. Feeling healthy is exhilarating. (I promise not to go too crazy with it)
--
Now it is 4 minutes to midnight. I will put myself to bed - I've been so busy the past two days. So much math, so many students, so many syllabi and professors. Different world than the one of structured finance, elevators, and conference calls of the summer. But those worlds intersect in math, coffee, and me. I'm really not sure which one I will go into next, though as predicted, this program is coaxing the pure math intentions. There's a lot of thinking to do in the next few months.
A few insights into today, though.
First: Getting the research project approved sent me into spirals of happiness. I got an email a few weeks ago saying this type of project couldn't be supported by the program here, and for some reason, I had the guts to write back and ask them to reconsider, which got me the 'hearing' this morning, if you will. And it payed off. :)
Second: Algebraic Topology made me remember why I'm studying math. We didn't even do anything big or exciting today (I suppose), but the professor started to talk, I had my nice, proper paper (I don't use the nice stuff for classes I only might take, you see, and there are a lot of those in the first week - from the first five minutes of this class, I knew I would take it), my color-coded system of pens, and could feel myself start to smile. I was at home again. Math is so beautiful.
Third: I hate that this is abnormal, but it is and I will make a mention of it - today, besides when I had to write an email for my research project, I didn't use my computer. It stayed at home all day and after the days of sickness and netflix in particular, but also just computer-heavy days in general, it is so lovely to have a day without it. Chalk, pen, paper, people.
Fourth: My day starts again at 8 tomorrow. Oy vey.
Five: For the second time in three months (which makes only two times out of at least two years of enjoying running outside), I thought my head had "enough thoughts in it" and that I therefore didn't need music on my run (or a podcast or book). And it was actually blissful. Also, I am strong enough to run again. Feeling healthy is exhilarating. (I promise not to go too crazy with it)
--
Now it is 4 minutes to midnight. I will put myself to bed - I've been so busy the past two days. So much math, so many students, so many syllabi and professors. Different world than the one of structured finance, elevators, and conference calls of the summer. But those worlds intersect in math, coffee, and me. I'm really not sure which one I will go into next, though as predicted, this program is coaxing the pure math intentions. There's a lot of thinking to do in the next few months.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Here's what they look like.
I don't have enough serving stuff to put these on a fancy wooden tray or something to add to the 'rustic' look. Also, rustic pretty much just means messy, or I'm convinced that's how most culinary folks use it. If you're in Budapest, stop by for a taste.
Alive again.
So, I was absent for a few days - from here, from Hungarian class, from the sunlight and outdoors -- I was very briefly very ill, and am now on the mend, thanks to medicine. I just got whacked in the face with an infection but hopefully, I've now had most of the new germs from this new country and they won't get me again for the rest of the semester!
And guess what? Math starts tomorrow. Math class. I. Get. To. Go. To. Math. Class. It's been --- what, 3.5 months? Is that all? I feel like I haven't sat in a math class in forever. Now, don't get me wrong, part of me is resisting. Part of me wants this time in Budapest to be a vacation, absolutely. But I was talking to someone this evening about the singing he used to do back at his school, and he talked about doing rehearsals for the singing group he directed six days a week during the semester, and I thought, "Jeez, I've never done anything six days a week. Oh--- math! But I never had class six days a week. I just.. did it." Yeah, it was a warm and fuzzy moment. I'm excited.
I'm also excited to have actually baked the inaugural batch of granola bars in my new oven here (an exciting thing: gas oven, so the whole process begins by lighting a match and hoping -- and then, there's the bonus that the dial on the oven just says the numbers 1-8 without any actual temperatures! ) so the kitchen smells like cinnamon and nutmeg, the new batch came out great (many changes from the Berkeley and Oakland ones - new ingredients, no Erin to hold me back from almonds ((darling, when you do come visit, they shall be nut free, no problemo)), no chiaflaxhealthywhatsits -- and this time the new thing was using only honey and dates as sweetener, and absolutely no oil or butter but homemade applesauce with a bit of carrot mashed in as well... sounds nuts, but I swear it's good) - and I'm feeling human again after being on antibiotics for 36 hours. Brilliant how that stuff works.
Okay. As per usual, when I start to feel better after being sick, I want to do positively everything. Get back to the gym, run outside, invite all my friends over, cook everyone dinner, go to all the classes, and be alive again. And also, as usual, I am reminding myself to take it slow. So, I brought one friend some granola bars to try and we chatted for an hour, and that was my big outing of the day. We'll see how I feel tomorrow, but I am quite hopeful. And it'll be an exciting day no matter what.
Alright. I should sleep!
And guess what? Math starts tomorrow. Math class. I. Get. To. Go. To. Math. Class. It's been --- what, 3.5 months? Is that all? I feel like I haven't sat in a math class in forever. Now, don't get me wrong, part of me is resisting. Part of me wants this time in Budapest to be a vacation, absolutely. But I was talking to someone this evening about the singing he used to do back at his school, and he talked about doing rehearsals for the singing group he directed six days a week during the semester, and I thought, "Jeez, I've never done anything six days a week. Oh--- math! But I never had class six days a week. I just.. did it." Yeah, it was a warm and fuzzy moment. I'm excited.
I'm also excited to have actually baked the inaugural batch of granola bars in my new oven here (an exciting thing: gas oven, so the whole process begins by lighting a match and hoping -- and then, there's the bonus that the dial on the oven just says the numbers 1-8 without any actual temperatures! ) so the kitchen smells like cinnamon and nutmeg, the new batch came out great (many changes from the Berkeley and Oakland ones - new ingredients, no Erin to hold me back from almonds ((darling, when you do come visit, they shall be nut free, no problemo)), no chiaflaxhealthywhatsits -- and this time the new thing was using only honey and dates as sweetener, and absolutely no oil or butter but homemade applesauce with a bit of carrot mashed in as well... sounds nuts, but I swear it's good) - and I'm feeling human again after being on antibiotics for 36 hours. Brilliant how that stuff works.
Okay. As per usual, when I start to feel better after being sick, I want to do positively everything. Get back to the gym, run outside, invite all my friends over, cook everyone dinner, go to all the classes, and be alive again. And also, as usual, I am reminding myself to take it slow. So, I brought one friend some granola bars to try and we chatted for an hour, and that was my big outing of the day. We'll see how I feel tomorrow, but I am quite hopeful. And it'll be an exciting day no matter what.
Alright. I should sleep!
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Flashbacks
So, three things have happened to me in the last week that haven't happened since I was a wee thing. First, about six days ago, I took a tumble while running in the Varosliget, or the city park near my apartment. I don't have any good reason for my fall - no child dashed into my path causing me to hurl myself aside, no dog crashed into my unsuspecting ankles, no vicious tree root leaped from the ground to twine itself around my feet. No, I just fell. And, as it was about 6:30 in the morning, I had not seen anyone while running for the first twenty minutes of my run and only when I fell was there somebody not ten paces away from me. Of course.
In any case, I fell and bruised one knee quite badly and scraped the other one impressively, though with not much lasting damage. The point is, it was a skinned knee, basically. I did that as a kid all the time - falling off my scooter, my bike, simply losing my balance while I tried to run down the street by stepping only on the curb at the side of the road - and damn, it hurts! I have a lot farther to fall now. It was kind of intense, but it also made me laugh as I sat there in the dirt. I can't remember the last time I had to scrub that much dirt off my legs - and maybe that's a problem. When I was a kid, I thought I was going to be an adult who still played in the dirt whenever it was possible.
Turns out, I got the chance to appease that kid part of me again this weekend. After resting for several days, my knees are almost back to their normal color and are certainly back to functioning levels of strength, so I went for a gentle jog with a friend of mine here on Margit Island, a little island in between Buda and Pest in the Danube. During the run, we worked through a bunch of logic puzzles like I used to do on long car rides as a kid, and when we finished we met up with another friend for a picnic. After the picnic as we were wandering around the island, we found an amazing playground (with not too many children on it) and a huge tree with friendly-looking branches and a big, soft field around it. So, I got to clamber over things on the playground, hoist myself up among the branches of the tree ( I will never stop loving climbing trees) and with my other twenty-something friends, figure out if we could still do handstands and cartwheels. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday.
So, cartwheels, trees and playgrounds were kid thing number two. What was the third? Well, during our picnic, I got stung by a bee. Also something that hasn't happened to me in at least a decade. It didn't hurt nearly as much as my memories of it and at the time, it wasn't a big deal at all. However, unfortunately, the night after that my hand started to act up (I happened to accidentally pinch the bee between my ring finger and my middle finger on my right hand). Right now, typing is rather difficult and much slower than it usually is, and I am staying home from my language class with a cold and what I am thinking more and more resembles a paw than a hand. I have ice and anti inflammatory things, and I know I am not allergic to bees - I suppose this is exactly what bee stings are supposed to do. Be painful and annoying for the recipient. If I were a creature smaller than a human, this would be quite an injury, and I applaud the bee and the potency of its venom. I also appreciate the extra bits of skin that allow things to move so loosely around my knuckles most of the time, since I need all the extra space I can get right now.
A day in is probably exactly what I need. Extrovert as I am, this is a lot of new all at once - people, city, language, and a daunting math program waiting to begin. I'm going to study Hungarian on my couch with a cup of tea and frequent naps today, and I think that'll just do the trick.
In any case, I fell and bruised one knee quite badly and scraped the other one impressively, though with not much lasting damage. The point is, it was a skinned knee, basically. I did that as a kid all the time - falling off my scooter, my bike, simply losing my balance while I tried to run down the street by stepping only on the curb at the side of the road - and damn, it hurts! I have a lot farther to fall now. It was kind of intense, but it also made me laugh as I sat there in the dirt. I can't remember the last time I had to scrub that much dirt off my legs - and maybe that's a problem. When I was a kid, I thought I was going to be an adult who still played in the dirt whenever it was possible.
Turns out, I got the chance to appease that kid part of me again this weekend. After resting for several days, my knees are almost back to their normal color and are certainly back to functioning levels of strength, so I went for a gentle jog with a friend of mine here on Margit Island, a little island in between Buda and Pest in the Danube. During the run, we worked through a bunch of logic puzzles like I used to do on long car rides as a kid, and when we finished we met up with another friend for a picnic. After the picnic as we were wandering around the island, we found an amazing playground (with not too many children on it) and a huge tree with friendly-looking branches and a big, soft field around it. So, I got to clamber over things on the playground, hoist myself up among the branches of the tree ( I will never stop loving climbing trees) and with my other twenty-something friends, figure out if we could still do handstands and cartwheels. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday.
So, cartwheels, trees and playgrounds were kid thing number two. What was the third? Well, during our picnic, I got stung by a bee. Also something that hasn't happened to me in at least a decade. It didn't hurt nearly as much as my memories of it and at the time, it wasn't a big deal at all. However, unfortunately, the night after that my hand started to act up (I happened to accidentally pinch the bee between my ring finger and my middle finger on my right hand). Right now, typing is rather difficult and much slower than it usually is, and I am staying home from my language class with a cold and what I am thinking more and more resembles a paw than a hand. I have ice and anti inflammatory things, and I know I am not allergic to bees - I suppose this is exactly what bee stings are supposed to do. Be painful and annoying for the recipient. If I were a creature smaller than a human, this would be quite an injury, and I applaud the bee and the potency of its venom. I also appreciate the extra bits of skin that allow things to move so loosely around my knuckles most of the time, since I need all the extra space I can get right now.
A day in is probably exactly what I need. Extrovert as I am, this is a lot of new all at once - people, city, language, and a daunting math program waiting to begin. I'm going to study Hungarian on my couch with a cup of tea and frequent naps today, and I think that'll just do the trick.