Happy New Year's Eve, everybody.
No update on the news from yesterday; I still can't remember what that third item of news was to be. It definitely was not:
3) I have been abducted by a sinister cult and used in their sinister experiments.
It might have been:
3) I have been abducted by a sinister cult and used in their sinister experiments AND THEN HAD MY MEMORY WIPED.
Is it traditional to make New Year's Resolutions on New Year's Eve, or New Year's Day? I'm not entirely sure, but the Day seems more appropriate. To compromise - for what is life without compromise, other than a fulfilling one with a strong moral code? - I will present my own Resolutions tomorrow, and today I shall give the Resolutions of Mr H. R. Cramworth, who lives in a suburb of London, in the year 378 P.G. (Post Gralling), in a universe differing only slightly from our own.
1) Tell Maria how I truly feel about her, instead of panicking and buying yet another marmouth slave each time I go to her shop.
2) Lose 30lbs so that I can join in the annual Synchronised Poison Marching Parade Spectacular Competition.
3) Kill the Beast Within.
4) Tame the Beast Without.
5) Check the sage about the Beast in the Basement.
6) Learn French.
Next blog in 2009; be sure to check for more exciting Resolutions.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Day 28 - A Gun Too Far
Four bits of news, two good, two bad.
1) Discworld MUD now has achievements - yet more things to achieve and feel good about. Plus, lots of free XP.
2) This post is at 12:08 am, so judging by GMT I have failed to blog on Tuesday. Therefore, this blog post will count as being European.
3) I have entirely forgotten what this item of news was to be.
4) I discovered today a previously unknown reader of this blog. Hello, friend! Come, and leave some of the happiness you bring.
Yippee-ki-yay, John MacClane.
1) Discworld MUD now has achievements - yet more things to achieve and feel good about. Plus, lots of free XP.
2) This post is at 12:08 am, so judging by GMT I have failed to blog on Tuesday. Therefore, this blog post will count as being European.
3) I have entirely forgotten what this item of news was to be.
4) I discovered today a previously unknown reader of this blog. Hello, friend! Come, and leave some of the happiness you bring.
Yippee-ki-yay, John MacClane.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Day 26 - Fronds of Summer
Well spotted, astute reader - in true "25" style, yesterday's post was a secret one, hidden somewhere in the internet. Find it, and I will find you.
I was just lured into watching half an hour of net_work, by Black20. I've seen them all many times, but I do love them. Some people I've shown them to seem less impressed; I have noticed that in many cases, people's tastes are simply poor when compared to my own. They must have other gifts.
Still, I strongly recommend you to check out net_work, if you haven't already. They're short, funny, addictive, and oddly seem to obey the inverse of the Comedy Law - the less people watching, the more you laugh.
I have been doing other things with my time. Yesterday, me and Raf drove Up North for our friends' 21st birthday party. I assume you're a southerner, reading this (do they have the internet Up North?), so I don't need to speak of the terror that fills our weak southern bellies at the thought of such a journey. After a harrowing five hour journey, I can confirm that all of our worst suspicions were true.
As you drive through the blasted heaths of the midlands, away from the metaphorical bosom of the south, the skies begin to darken. Thick, black smog fills the air, covering everything it touches with a faint odour of coal and gravy. Strange, feral creatures scamper by the side of the motorways, constructing primitive talismans to ward off our "Devil Carriage". After a few brushes with some of the grimmer aspects Up North (including an eternity spent in Rochdale), we arrived in Burnley.
Luckily, my superior navigation skills brought us immediately to our friends' house. Yes, there were many northerners present, but they were the good kind. If only their dependency on pies could be reduced, they could even be rehabilitated in the south. A minibus took us to the Party Palace [it wasn't actually called that - it was a pub owned by their aunt, but I forget the name. It should be called Party Palace, anyway.] We talked, laughed, ate, drank, merried, danced, and watched amazing card tricks. They hadn't hired a magician, it was a just a cool guy there who knew card tricks.
Back to the house for chats and jaffa cakes, slumber, and then a drive back Down South. It was an enjoyable trip Up North, and a great party. Still, those lands are just too harsh for my pampered sensibilities.
So Happy Birthday Vicky and Helen, and thanks for the hospitalities. Thanks especially to Molly, whose enthusiastic face-licking caused me to feel like a saliva-based Two-Face for part of the night.
(Molly is a dog, I hasted to add.)
I was just lured into watching half an hour of net_work, by Black20. I've seen them all many times, but I do love them. Some people I've shown them to seem less impressed; I have noticed that in many cases, people's tastes are simply poor when compared to my own. They must have other gifts.
Still, I strongly recommend you to check out net_work, if you haven't already. They're short, funny, addictive, and oddly seem to obey the inverse of the Comedy Law - the less people watching, the more you laugh.
I have been doing other things with my time. Yesterday, me and Raf drove Up North for our friends' 21st birthday party. I assume you're a southerner, reading this (do they have the internet Up North?), so I don't need to speak of the terror that fills our weak southern bellies at the thought of such a journey. After a harrowing five hour journey, I can confirm that all of our worst suspicions were true.
As you drive through the blasted heaths of the midlands, away from the metaphorical bosom of the south, the skies begin to darken. Thick, black smog fills the air, covering everything it touches with a faint odour of coal and gravy. Strange, feral creatures scamper by the side of the motorways, constructing primitive talismans to ward off our "Devil Carriage". After a few brushes with some of the grimmer aspects Up North (including an eternity spent in Rochdale), we arrived in Burnley.
Luckily, my superior navigation skills brought us immediately to our friends' house. Yes, there were many northerners present, but they were the good kind. If only their dependency on pies could be reduced, they could even be rehabilitated in the south. A minibus took us to the Party Palace [it wasn't actually called that - it was a pub owned by their aunt, but I forget the name. It should be called Party Palace, anyway.] We talked, laughed, ate, drank, merried, danced, and watched amazing card tricks. They hadn't hired a magician, it was a just a cool guy there who knew card tricks.
Back to the house for chats and jaffa cakes, slumber, and then a drive back Down South. It was an enjoyable trip Up North, and a great party. Still, those lands are just too harsh for my pampered sensibilities.
So Happy Birthday Vicky and Helen, and thanks for the hospitalities. Thanks especially to Molly, whose enthusiastic face-licking caused me to feel like a saliva-based Two-Face for part of the night.
(Molly is a dog, I hasted to add.)
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Day 23 - Fnord
Happy Boxing Day everybody! I hope you've treated your servants well, and given them plenty of Turkish Delight. As noted in yesterday's post, today there was a lot more of family seeing; lots of food; a Christmas quiz; secret santa; and a ridiculous amount of truffles and socks.
I just cast (casted? cost?) my eye around for what to write about, and spotted "Death's Domain" immediately. Fate has dictated a brief explanation of what I think about death, it seems.
Death is, at the very least, the end of life as we understand it. The brain stops sending signals, the heart ceases to beat, and the brain generally shuts down. If the individual survives in any meaningful way, then the mind (or at least a substantial portion of it) must be independent of the body, and can go on thinking.
Thinking's all well and good, but to keep things interesting (and preserve our sanity), we'd also need to perceive things; get some kind of changing input. Ideas that I've considered:
1) The mind stays in the world, but is no longer attached to the body. We float around and watch people, see the world, presumably forever. There might be a lot of very bored ghosts when the Earth explodes.
2) As above, but we can also travel through Time as well as Space. Past, present, future: all will be available for voyeuristic exploration by the enthusiastic spectre.
An obvious question that arises, is the relationship between ghosts. Would we be cut off from all the other dead people, or once we have died, can we suddenly see and talk to all the other dead. If so, the world is extremely crowded.
3) More scary: we cannot move in Time or Space. While we can continue to think, we are stuck in the moment and place of our death. Not good for deaths under traumatic circumstances (or, in fact, boring ones). Sadly, exciting and fun deaths are hard to come by.
4) Usual heaven-based answer - we leave the world altogether, and go to some other place. Since we're not very good at thinking in new ways, this is usually pictured as us in some other physical place. Then again, since we do perceive things in a very specific way, to preserve our identities, perhaps heaven (or hell) would need to be this way. All this talk about "planes of existence we cannot conceive" is rubbish, since then we wouldn't really be ourselves in this bizarre reality.
5) Nothing. Zip. Nada. The mind is not independent of the body. Death, and then no self, no thought, no anything. Either comforting or terrifying, depending on my mood.
My preferred option: transported to a universal library, infinitely large, with all eternity to read them. Plenty of reading rooms, with big fires, and food stalls serving all kinds of deliciousness. Doors to the personal heavens of others, so I can visit them and vice versa. Mine is the best, of course.
The Word of the Day is Elliptic.
I just cast (casted? cost?) my eye around for what to write about, and spotted "Death's Domain" immediately. Fate has dictated a brief explanation of what I think about death, it seems.
Death is, at the very least, the end of life as we understand it. The brain stops sending signals, the heart ceases to beat, and the brain generally shuts down. If the individual survives in any meaningful way, then the mind (or at least a substantial portion of it) must be independent of the body, and can go on thinking.
Thinking's all well and good, but to keep things interesting (and preserve our sanity), we'd also need to perceive things; get some kind of changing input. Ideas that I've considered:
1) The mind stays in the world, but is no longer attached to the body. We float around and watch people, see the world, presumably forever. There might be a lot of very bored ghosts when the Earth explodes.
2) As above, but we can also travel through Time as well as Space. Past, present, future: all will be available for voyeuristic exploration by the enthusiastic spectre.
An obvious question that arises, is the relationship between ghosts. Would we be cut off from all the other dead people, or once we have died, can we suddenly see and talk to all the other dead. If so, the world is extremely crowded.
3) More scary: we cannot move in Time or Space. While we can continue to think, we are stuck in the moment and place of our death. Not good for deaths under traumatic circumstances (or, in fact, boring ones). Sadly, exciting and fun deaths are hard to come by.
4) Usual heaven-based answer - we leave the world altogether, and go to some other place. Since we're not very good at thinking in new ways, this is usually pictured as us in some other physical place. Then again, since we do perceive things in a very specific way, to preserve our identities, perhaps heaven (or hell) would need to be this way. All this talk about "planes of existence we cannot conceive" is rubbish, since then we wouldn't really be ourselves in this bizarre reality.
5) Nothing. Zip. Nada. The mind is not independent of the body. Death, and then no self, no thought, no anything. Either comforting or terrifying, depending on my mood.
My preferred option: transported to a universal library, infinitely large, with all eternity to read them. Plenty of reading rooms, with big fires, and food stalls serving all kinds of deliciousness. Doors to the personal heavens of others, so I can visit them and vice versa. Mine is the best, of course.
The Word of the Day is Elliptic.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Day 22 - Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas everyone! If you're reading this, I wish you happiness, health, and the fulfillment of all your dreams (well, the good ones at least).
This may be the chocolate pudding talking, but I am filled with a great joy and love. For whatever reasons you celebrate Christmas, the real reason that it is so successful is that everyone loves an excuse for a holiday. To be happy, cheerful, and festive. To give and receive gifts, see family and friends, sing bad songs terribly, eat and drink far too much, watch rubbish TV, and generally do all those things we want to do but feel we shouldn't.
Of course, this is also why Christmas only comes once a year. It's like an annual blink; without it, the eyeball of our lives would dry up and crackle, but if carried on for too long, we'd be blind and society would crumble.
Enough of this, I think. I was woken up by my little brother at half past seven this morning; then the present opening began. Breakfast, more presents, drove back to my mother's, more presents, lunch, games, TV, and now bedtime.
People I have seen today (in chronological order):
Little brother
Me
Stepmother
Father
Two sisters
Stepmother's mother
Stepmother's brother
Grandmother
Grandfather
Mother
Stepfather
Girlfriend
Girlfriend's mother
Girlfriend's sister
Girlfriend's father
Sister's boyfriend
People I shall see tomorrow:
Three aunts
Two uncles
Six cousins
Two grandparents
Pretty crazy, no? Enough of this blogging; I have precious Christmas books to savour (Logic of Provability; Measure, Integral and Probability, GURPS Powers; QI Book of Quotations; Gentlemen of the Road).
Merry Christmas.
This may be the chocolate pudding talking, but I am filled with a great joy and love. For whatever reasons you celebrate Christmas, the real reason that it is so successful is that everyone loves an excuse for a holiday. To be happy, cheerful, and festive. To give and receive gifts, see family and friends, sing bad songs terribly, eat and drink far too much, watch rubbish TV, and generally do all those things we want to do but feel we shouldn't.
Of course, this is also why Christmas only comes once a year. It's like an annual blink; without it, the eyeball of our lives would dry up and crackle, but if carried on for too long, we'd be blind and society would crumble.
Enough of this, I think. I was woken up by my little brother at half past seven this morning; then the present opening began. Breakfast, more presents, drove back to my mother's, more presents, lunch, games, TV, and now bedtime.
People I have seen today (in chronological order):
Little brother
Me
Stepmother
Father
Two sisters
Stepmother's mother
Stepmother's brother
Grandmother
Grandfather
Mother
Stepfather
Girlfriend
Girlfriend's mother
Girlfriend's sister
Girlfriend's father
Sister's boyfriend
People I shall see tomorrow:
Three aunts
Two uncles
Six cousins
Two grandparents
Pretty crazy, no? Enough of this blogging; I have precious Christmas books to savour (Logic of Provability; Measure, Integral and Probability, GURPS Powers; QI Book of Quotations; Gentlemen of the Road).
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Day 21 - Opinions of an Ungulate
Merry Christmas Eve everybody! Hopefully, whoever and wherever you are, you're being very festive and merry, looking forward to all the yuletide joy that's coming tomorrow.
Unfortunately, my time is short (family trivial pursuit is calling from the other room). At the same moment, I'd like to give you as much quality in this limited quantity as I can. So here's Frege in six words:
Logic. Function. Concept. Sense. Reference. Object.
Unfortunately, my time is short (family trivial pursuit is calling from the other room). At the same moment, I'd like to give you as much quality in this limited quantity as I can. So here's Frege in six words:
Logic. Function. Concept. Sense. Reference. Object.
Day 20 - Between Three Impositions
Happy 23rd everyone! It's 12:35am, and I nearly forgot again. It's been a very busy day; I cooked Christmas dinner for eight of my friends. The power cut did not faze me, having to prepare thirty dishes left me a cool as an Arctic cucumber. The shortage of crackers in town, however, nearly drove me over the edge.
The only crackers that could be found were a £24 set in Lakeland, with bells and a score included, so that the diners could merrily ring in the evening with an array of traditional yuletide tunes.
I was sorely tempted, but decided against it in the end. The crackers should never cost more than the meal. In the end, the meal went well, everyone enjoyed it, and Trivial Pursuit was played. Trivial indeed.
The only crackers that could be found were a £24 set in Lakeland, with bells and a score included, so that the diners could merrily ring in the evening with an array of traditional yuletide tunes.
I was sorely tempted, but decided against it in the end. The crackers should never cost more than the meal. In the end, the meal went well, everyone enjoyed it, and Trivial Pursuit was played. Trivial indeed.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Day 19 - Pearl-Handled Tusks
Exciting news everyone - I am blogging in the presence of another. That's right, my friend Nick, of Hogshine infamy, is present as I type, telling me to download Battle for Wesneth. Fear not, my loyal retinue, I'll remain faithful to the alliance.
We just finished a game of Warhammer 40,000, to gently ease our passage back into the hobby. As he so eloquently put it, "It sounds like we're being shat out by some celestial..." Exactly what this celestial being is, seems best left to our imaginations. You know, if your imagination really is that bored at the moment.
He had a 1500 Space Wolf force, assembled and semi painted. I had 588 points of Orks, with various wheels and height missing. My Orks were slaughtered. I managed to kill 9 (count them!) of his marines; 3 from Deffkopta rockets, 1 from a Warbuggy shoota, and 5 at the power klaw of my Warboss. Nick just wondered why I'm specifying who killed who. He does not understand the intricacies of the glory hug, rooting in forests of battle for the truffles of fame.
Commercial announcement: point your internet scopes at http://joth.wordpress.com, which will soon be the site of a Daily Mathematics Morsel, or some other, even more interesting name. The world's press are waiting.
We just finished a game of Warhammer 40,000, to gently ease our passage back into the hobby. As he so eloquently put it, "It sounds like we're being shat out by some celestial..." Exactly what this celestial being is, seems best left to our imaginations. You know, if your imagination really is that bored at the moment.
He had a 1500 Space Wolf force, assembled and semi painted. I had 588 points of Orks, with various wheels and height missing. My Orks were slaughtered. I managed to kill 9 (count them!) of his marines; 3 from Deffkopta rockets, 1 from a Warbuggy shoota, and 5 at the power klaw of my Warboss. Nick just wondered why I'm specifying who killed who. He does not understand the intricacies of the glory hug, rooting in forests of battle for the truffles of fame.
Commercial announcement: point your internet scopes at http://joth.wordpress.com, which will soon be the site of a Daily Mathematics Morsel, or some other, even more interesting name. The world's press are waiting.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Day 18 - An Interloper Rules
They called me a fool when I invested £7,500 into a crack Research Team of Research. They scorned when I spent another £10,000 furnishing their secret hideout lair with the latest in synthetic nylon fashions. They split their sides giggling when I agreed to have their MySpace addresses tattooed across my back in exchange for their genius.
Yes, my Research Team of Research laughed at all these things, and many more, but finally they have come through for me. All those hard, hard months of pain, stress and kidney-splitting tension have paid off. Behold, their new, patent pending idea: Blogging from Bed.
'Nuff said.
The blogging world is nothing without cross-fertilisation, and mutual cooperation. I'd like to present three blogs of my friends. Please, go and have a look. Maybe they'll link back to me, in a fit of generosity. For your benefit, I've also included brief reviews.
The New Utovsky Bolshevik Show
When the word 'blog' was hatched in the Word Caverns of Dictionairre, surely it was to describe this fine example of keyboardmanship. No other display of digital craftsmanship can come close to shining the polish on this magnificent, daring example of what Man is capable of, at his highest. 3/10.
Blogshine/
It took some effort to stop retching enough, and gather the blasted remnants of my higher brain functions to actually form these words after just a cursory glance at this putrescent pile of excrement. I pray that the...producer of this insult to the universe does not regard himself as human, for it would be a crushing argument against any sort of order in the world that it had managed to produce a being that could throw up such vile and egregious work.
10/10.
An Enlightening and Fascinating Read
Written by a lady of the highest taste and eye for the finer things in life, this is an honest and compelling account of life as it should be lived. Read this today, and just realise how much better your life could be. Nick.
Yes, my Research Team of Research laughed at all these things, and many more, but finally they have come through for me. All those hard, hard months of pain, stress and kidney-splitting tension have paid off. Behold, their new, patent pending idea: Blogging from Bed.
'Nuff said.
The blogging world is nothing without cross-fertilisation, and mutual cooperation. I'd like to present three blogs of my friends. Please, go and have a look. Maybe they'll link back to me, in a fit of generosity. For your benefit, I've also included brief reviews.
The New Utovsky Bolshevik Show
When the word 'blog' was hatched in the Word Caverns of Dictionairre, surely it was to describe this fine example of keyboardmanship. No other display of digital craftsmanship can come close to shining the polish on this magnificent, daring example of what Man is capable of, at his highest. 3/10.
Blogshine/
It took some effort to stop retching enough, and gather the blasted remnants of my higher brain functions to actually form these words after just a cursory glance at this putrescent pile of excrement. I pray that the...producer of this insult to the universe does not regard himself as human, for it would be a crushing argument against any sort of order in the world that it had managed to produce a being that could throw up such vile and egregious work.
10/10.
An Enlightening and Fascinating Read
Written by a lady of the highest taste and eye for the finer things in life, this is an honest and compelling account of life as it should be lived. Read this today, and just realise how much better your life could be. Nick.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Day 17 - MicroPrimes
Another tiring day. Started off with a nice lie in (till 9am!), then I spent a couple of hours playing with my little brother, and watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. He insisted that I close my eyes whenever the boring love songs came on; I'm not sure why, but I didn't mind that much.
Then a horrendous three hour drive up to Nottingham to pick my sister up; picked her up after getting lost in Nottingham's warren of streets; had the best burger in my life for lunch; drove back, laughed at on the way; got into a car accident just outside Bourne!
It was dark, somebody had stopped in front of me, confusion reigned and the front of my car hit the back of theirs. Nobody was injured, fortunately, but both cars were quite badly damaged. My dad came out, sorted out a recovery vehicle, and I get to make the happy call to the insurance people tomorrow.
A terse blog; but I am quite tired. Hence the overuse of semicolons in this post; you're lucky I blogged at all. Damn lucky.
Then a horrendous three hour drive up to Nottingham to pick my sister up; picked her up after getting lost in Nottingham's warren of streets; had the best burger in my life for lunch; drove back, laughed at on the way; got into a car accident just outside Bourne!
It was dark, somebody had stopped in front of me, confusion reigned and the front of my car hit the back of theirs. Nobody was injured, fortunately, but both cars were quite badly damaged. My dad came out, sorted out a recovery vehicle, and I get to make the happy call to the insurance people tomorrow.
A terse blog; but I am quite tired. Hence the overuse of semicolons in this post; you're lucky I blogged at all. Damn lucky.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Day 16 - Architectural Darkening
Check it out. 5:16pm. I'm the biz, alright. Some people are clearly toying with me, however - my threats are not empty (human nature abhors a vacuum). If you don't comment within the next 48 hours, you will be named and shamed. There are 56 people on my list so far, some of whom would no doubt rather stay out of the media attention for now. I'm looking at you, Dark Lord of X...
My quest for how to include LaTeX maths in this blog continues to be fruitless. I have, however, learnt the perils of typing any phrase including the word "latex" into Google. Always check the description of links before you click on them. This is important.
http://wolverine-mathematic.blogspot.com/ claims to have accomplished this, but I can only see little white boxes. Anyone else see different?
I'm going to my Dad's in four minutes. Another early morning - I was very busy. Episode of the West Wing, then read Batman, then played Blood Bowl on FUMBBL, watched Invader Zim, had a bath, watched some more West Wing, had some pizza. I need to do some revision soon.
My quest for how to include LaTeX maths in this blog continues to be fruitless. I have, however, learnt the perils of typing any phrase including the word "latex" into Google. Always check the description of links before you click on them. This is important.
http://wolverine-mathematic.blogspot.com/ claims to have accomplished this, but I can only see little white boxes. Anyone else see different?
I'm going to my Dad's in four minutes. Another early morning - I was very busy. Episode of the West Wing, then read Batman, then played Blood Bowl on FUMBBL, watched Invader Zim, had a bath, watched some more West Wing, had some pizza. I need to do some revision soon.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Day 15 - Elements in an Automobile
Exhausted, is the word for this feeling right now. Yet here I am. Again. Damn you, Blog! Damn yoooouuuu!!!
Still, I can't let down my loyal readers. Make yourself known, everybody! Comment on this post, answering the following questions:
1) Why do you read this blog?
2) What's the best thing about me?
3) What would be your preferred method for my execution?
4) Who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes?
5) Shoe shopping. What's that all about?
If you don't come forward yourself, I will name and shame you in the next blog. I know who you are; a little known rider on a recent Act of Parliament allows all bloggers to install secret cameras in the internet to film people reading their blog.
And running will do you no good. They're wireless cameras. Fooools!
[I may have been watching too much Invader Zim today.]
I also went to see Julia sing in the choir of St Martin's church, Stamford, in a beautiful performance of ye olde English christmas songs. Overall it was a mellow, melodic...choir sort of event (all-female), with the occasional bit of dynamism and fun. A great mixture.
"Inspiring. Four stars!" - Me, the Internet.
Still, I can't let down my loyal readers. Make yourself known, everybody! Comment on this post, answering the following questions:
1) Why do you read this blog?
2) What's the best thing about me?
3) What would be your preferred method for my execution?
4) Who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes?
5) Shoe shopping. What's that all about?
If you don't come forward yourself, I will name and shame you in the next blog. I know who you are; a little known rider on a recent Act of Parliament allows all bloggers to install secret cameras in the internet to film people reading their blog.
And running will do you no good. They're wireless cameras. Fooools!
[I may have been watching too much Invader Zim today.]
I also went to see Julia sing in the choir of St Martin's church, Stamford, in a beautiful performance of ye olde English christmas songs. Overall it was a mellow, melodic...choir sort of event (all-female), with the occasional bit of dynamism and fun. A great mixture.
"Inspiring. Four stars!" - Me, the Internet.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Day 14 - Adeptus for Scouts
I must stop blogging so late; it leaves me no time to say anything of substance. Still, as the saying goes, "Better saying something than nothing at all." I think that's how the saying goes, and has the dark gremlins of Sleep and Sore Eyes start to circle, it'll have to do.
A friend of mine at university is deeply involved in the local - indeed, the national - bell ringing scene. A keen Campanologist. Apparently, there is a big subculture, where everybody knows each other, and gossip spreads faster than vibrations through two hundred year old copper.
There must be millions of subcultures in British society alone, which are everything to those involved, and nothing to those who aren't. Whole microcosms of intrigue, lust and betrayal, where the actual hobby in question is nothing more than an elaborate password into this hidden social world, where recognition is easy but acceptance is impossible (or possibly the other way around).
Campanologists, I'm sure, are nothing like this, and just really like bell ringing. Let's hope, anyway. The nation's Sunday mornings are in their hands.
A friend of mine at university is deeply involved in the local - indeed, the national - bell ringing scene. A keen Campanologist. Apparently, there is a big subculture, where everybody knows each other, and gossip spreads faster than vibrations through two hundred year old copper.
There must be millions of subcultures in British society alone, which are everything to those involved, and nothing to those who aren't. Whole microcosms of intrigue, lust and betrayal, where the actual hobby in question is nothing more than an elaborate password into this hidden social world, where recognition is easy but acceptance is impossible (or possibly the other way around).
Campanologists, I'm sure, are nothing like this, and just really like bell ringing. Let's hope, anyway. The nation's Sunday mornings are in their hands.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Day 13 - Up Like a Lead Rock
Phew, that was close. I just stumbled in from baby sitting next door, my eyes already tired. "I must sleep now," I thought, as I shambled upstairs, "I have to wake up at 5:30am again." Fortunately, my laptop screen was on, and the harsh glare stared at me accusingly.
(Can a glare stare? It can now.)
So, here I am. What did I do today? Drove Julia to work, slept, watched Zim, played Crossbow Training, watched Speed ("Spid"), read Frege, babysat. Why would you want to here about that though? Heck, I've only got seven minutes before I go to bed, and I'm not going to waste that precious time telling you all the little details.
Six minutes. A stitch in time saves nine. Oh darn. So what should I write about today?
Topology. Five minutes.
Topology deals with properties that hold of a shape (surface, space, object, etc) no matter how you stretch or squeeze it. Topologically speaking, a coffee cup is the same as a doughnut (the kind with a hole in the middle, that is). Mathematically speaking, this is done by giving a certain set (i.e. the space, all the points on the coffee cup, or doughnut, or sphere) and a certain structure on them.
This is how anything is given, really. A mug, regarded 'normally', is just a set of points with the structure "this bit goes there, this bit goes underneath it, ..." and so on.
Viewing it topologically, we're not concerned with all this elaborate structure; only the sort of structure that doesn't change when we squeeze, stretch, inflate, and so on.
This is done via 'open sets'. That is, a notion of 'closeness' that is preserved under stretching. When the surface is stretched, so are the open sets, so this closeness is preserved. Of course, poking a hole in the surface is not allowed, since this might change some open sets.
So, a topology on a set is a collection of sets, which we call the open sets, obeying certain axioms to make sure that we can't just have any old sets as the open sets. We can still have a lot though; especially remember that the same set can have many, infinitely many different topologies.
A topological space is a set with a topology, i.e. a collection of open sets. Topology deals with topological spaces.
0 minutes. Good night.
(Can a glare stare? It can now.)
So, here I am. What did I do today? Drove Julia to work, slept, watched Zim, played Crossbow Training, watched Speed ("Spid"), read Frege, babysat. Why would you want to here about that though? Heck, I've only got seven minutes before I go to bed, and I'm not going to waste that precious time telling you all the little details.
Six minutes. A stitch in time saves nine. Oh darn. So what should I write about today?
Topology. Five minutes.
Topology deals with properties that hold of a shape (surface, space, object, etc) no matter how you stretch or squeeze it. Topologically speaking, a coffee cup is the same as a doughnut (the kind with a hole in the middle, that is). Mathematically speaking, this is done by giving a certain set (i.e. the space, all the points on the coffee cup, or doughnut, or sphere) and a certain structure on them.
This is how anything is given, really. A mug, regarded 'normally', is just a set of points with the structure "this bit goes there, this bit goes underneath it, ..." and so on.
Viewing it topologically, we're not concerned with all this elaborate structure; only the sort of structure that doesn't change when we squeeze, stretch, inflate, and so on.
This is done via 'open sets'. That is, a notion of 'closeness' that is preserved under stretching. When the surface is stretched, so are the open sets, so this closeness is preserved. Of course, poking a hole in the surface is not allowed, since this might change some open sets.
So, a topology on a set is a collection of sets, which we call the open sets, obeying certain axioms to make sure that we can't just have any old sets as the open sets. We can still have a lot though; especially remember that the same set can have many, infinitely many different topologies.
A topological space is a set with a topology, i.e. a collection of open sets. Topology deals with topological spaces.
0 minutes. Good night.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Day 12 - The Doom Song
I would like to introduce the newest hopeless appendage to the student body: his name is Zim.
'Nuff said, people.
I did indeed wake up at 5am this morning, and it was tough. I managed it though, and after swiftly dressing in my usual style, I brewed an emergency cup of tea and drove through the misty streets to Julia's house. I picked her up (discovering that the emergency cup was in vain) and dropped her off at the Post Office.
Taking advantage of the early morning, I squeezed in two games of Blood Bowl before 8am (I forget the results), had a bath, watched OutNumbered, then walked into town to do some Frege reading at the library. Unfortunately, I got distracted and instead read Sandman graphic novels. An equally valuable use of my time? I think so.
Tomorrow morning, however, I will do some proper work. Really, this time. And now, to bed.
'Nuff said, people.
I did indeed wake up at 5am this morning, and it was tough. I managed it though, and after swiftly dressing in my usual style, I brewed an emergency cup of tea and drove through the misty streets to Julia's house. I picked her up (discovering that the emergency cup was in vain) and dropped her off at the Post Office.
Taking advantage of the early morning, I squeezed in two games of Blood Bowl before 8am (I forget the results), had a bath, watched OutNumbered, then walked into town to do some Frege reading at the library. Unfortunately, I got distracted and instead read Sandman graphic novels. An equally valuable use of my time? I think so.
Tomorrow morning, however, I will do some proper work. Really, this time. And now, to bed.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Day 11 - An Of Course in Trivia
Happy Repunit, everybody!
I managed to wake up at the earlier time of 9am this morning. I'm going to bed after I've written this as well; I'm waking up at 5am tomorrow, so I can give Julia a lift to her new Post Office employment by 6. I'm either mad, bad, or dangerous to know. I'm just not sure which.
Haven't accomplished much in these twelve hours; I did some reading, some gluing, watched a bit of TV, and went to my grandparents for three hours. It was my grandfather's 83rd birthday, so me, my father, and my little brother went over there. He was a terror (in a cute way, obviously), but he was easily distracted by lego that I remember playing with when I was his age.
In a further blast from the past, we had tea (i.e. sandwiches, cake and tea) on the same little table and the same tablecloth that I remembered as a wee lad. We used to have tea like that every Sunday afternoon. Aah, halcyon days of childhood.
I'm impressed with myself, I have to say. I've done 9 out of the 11 days so far. And, as everyone knows,
Happy 57 months Julia :)
I managed to wake up at the earlier time of 9am this morning. I'm going to bed after I've written this as well; I'm waking up at 5am tomorrow, so I can give Julia a lift to her new Post Office employment by 6. I'm either mad, bad, or dangerous to know. I'm just not sure which.
Haven't accomplished much in these twelve hours; I did some reading, some gluing, watched a bit of TV, and went to my grandparents for three hours. It was my grandfather's 83rd birthday, so me, my father, and my little brother went over there. He was a terror (in a cute way, obviously), but he was easily distracted by lego that I remember playing with when I was his age.
In a further blast from the past, we had tea (i.e. sandwiches, cake and tea) on the same little table and the same tablecloth that I remembered as a wee lad. We used to have tea like that every Sunday afternoon. Aah, halcyon days of childhood.
I'm impressed with myself, I have to say. I've done 9 out of the 11 days so far. And, as everyone knows,
\inline \small \lim{n\rightarrow\infty}(\frac{n-2}{n})=1Happy 57 months Julia :)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Day 10 - Double Trouble
Here's more of this Blogging Malarkey. Me and Julia just finished watching The Truman Show - a film that I love, especially Jim Carey's performance. Julia was less impressed; she gets too emotionally involved with her films.
The film was on my laptop, so we couldn't watch it on the TV. I bravely offered to rig up the showing with the large external monitor, for Greater Viewing Enjoyment. This proved to be a major technical undertaking. The desk had to be moved, speakers unplugged, laptop moved, monitor found, and everything set up in a different location. Then I fiddled around with my laptop, while the external monitor flashed ever more worrying shades of green. Nothing should be that green, especially nothing electronic.
Fortunately, it was all fixed, and Our Viewing Enjoyment was Enhanced. Another catastrophe this evening; we'd gone out to a local restaurant, but after the meal, I discovered that my wallet was missing my bank card. I screamed, I shouted, I tore out the hair of both myself and nearby diners, but to no avail. My card had been forgotten back at my house, which was not in the same location as the restaurant.
So, I walked back through whistling blizzards and humming hurricanes, found my card (which was looking annoying smug) and drove back to the restaurant. Julia had been sipping a gin and tonic and laughing with the bartender, no doubt. I paid, and we drove home. Another hilarious episode in the Tom Show.
The film was on my laptop, so we couldn't watch it on the TV. I bravely offered to rig up the showing with the large external monitor, for Greater Viewing Enjoyment. This proved to be a major technical undertaking. The desk had to be moved, speakers unplugged, laptop moved, monitor found, and everything set up in a different location. Then I fiddled around with my laptop, while the external monitor flashed ever more worrying shades of green. Nothing should be that green, especially nothing electronic.
Fortunately, it was all fixed, and Our Viewing Enjoyment was Enhanced. Another catastrophe this evening; we'd gone out to a local restaurant, but after the meal, I discovered that my wallet was missing my bank card. I screamed, I shouted, I tore out the hair of both myself and nearby diners, but to no avail. My card had been forgotten back at my house, which was not in the same location as the restaurant.
So, I walked back through whistling blizzards and humming hurricanes, found my card (which was looking annoying smug) and drove back to the restaurant. Julia had been sipping a gin and tonic and laughing with the bartender, no doubt. I paid, and we drove home. Another hilarious episode in the Tom Show.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Day 9 - 9 8 8
My titles have just become injokes with myself now. They're not even very funny injokes, to make matters worse. I know, I know. I missed Day 8. My shame is incalculable. No excuses, let's press onwards.
Imagine my dismay to come back to my laptop to find the following message from a 'friend' on identi.ca: "You are failing at this blog malarkey. Sorry."
I'm not sure which I should be more insulted at. The insulting second person pronoun? The one word apology? Or the shocking use of 'malarkey' to refer to this noble pasttime? How the heck do you spell pasttime? Pastime? Past-time? Tricky.
I went to my Dad's last night, to babysit my little brother. Me and Julia watched the Matrix. Now there's a film with symbolism. It had symbolism literally coming out of its ears. I was struggling to watch the film properly, worried that I had missed some wayward sigh that was an esoteric reference to the struggle of the Cathars in Languedoc.
Darn, I was going to post about analytic number theory in this paragraph. I can't figure out how to put nicely laid out mathematics in a blog, however. This seems like a problem that must have been overcome. I've seen good mathematics blogs; I've read them! It must be some sort of Mathematical Mafia, trying to lock me out. Harsh.
Cat urine removal continues. Vinegar is a powerful tool, but not powerful enough, it seems. Perhaps if I persuade a bigger cat to urinate on it, it will cancel it out. I should have listened in GCSE Biology. I'm sure this came up at some point.
Imagine my dismay to come back to my laptop to find the following message from a 'friend' on identi.ca: "You are failing at this blog malarkey. Sorry."
I'm not sure which I should be more insulted at. The insulting second person pronoun? The one word apology? Or the shocking use of 'malarkey' to refer to this noble pasttime? How the heck do you spell pasttime? Pastime? Past-time? Tricky.
I went to my Dad's last night, to babysit my little brother. Me and Julia watched the Matrix. Now there's a film with symbolism. It had symbolism literally coming out of its ears. I was struggling to watch the film properly, worried that I had missed some wayward sigh that was an esoteric reference to the struggle of the Cathars in Languedoc.
Darn, I was going to post about analytic number theory in this paragraph. I can't figure out how to put nicely laid out mathematics in a blog, however. This seems like a problem that must have been overcome. I've seen good mathematics blogs; I've read them! It must be some sort of Mathematical Mafia, trying to lock me out. Harsh.
Cat urine removal continues. Vinegar is a powerful tool, but not powerful enough, it seems. Perhaps if I persuade a bigger cat to urinate on it, it will cancel it out. I should have listened in GCSE Biology. I'm sure this came up at some point.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Day 7 - Another Close Shave
11:58pm! I made it! Also note that I'm counting these times from the start of the writing, rather than the end. Just returned home from Julia's house, where we were watching Ratatouille - an excellent film, especially due to one particular scene. Fantastic.
I was also present for the decoration of Julia's christmas tree. Being generally incompetent at tasks involving small delicate objects, I gave myself a battlefield promotion to official Documentor, with responsibility for photography and a minute by minute log. Hopefully Julia will blog that soon, to save me the trouble.
She has also suffered a feline urinary catastrophe (pun not intended, though subsequently noticed and left unchanged). I need to find a way to remove the lingering smell of cat pee from a small box. Any ideas, Internet Readers? Open book, now.
My reading on Problems in Analytic Number Theory continues. I really need to become good at maths. I mean...I'm good at what I do, but I don't really understand it properly. It feels like everything I'm doing is trivial manipulation - sometimes very difficult or impossible trivial manipulation, but still. I need insight, I need understanding. A fresh view of things. Playing with pebbles on the beach, when I want to be windsurfing.
Such things will be resolved, after sleep.
I was also present for the decoration of Julia's christmas tree. Being generally incompetent at tasks involving small delicate objects, I gave myself a battlefield promotion to official Documentor, with responsibility for photography and a minute by minute log. Hopefully Julia will blog that soon, to save me the trouble.
She has also suffered a feline urinary catastrophe (pun not intended, though subsequently noticed and left unchanged). I need to find a way to remove the lingering smell of cat pee from a small box. Any ideas, Internet Readers? Open book, now.
My reading on Problems in Analytic Number Theory continues. I really need to become good at maths. I mean...I'm good at what I do, but I don't really understand it properly. It feels like everything I'm doing is trivial manipulation - sometimes very difficult or impossible trivial manipulation, but still. I need insight, I need understanding. A fresh view of things. Playing with pebbles on the beach, when I want to be windsurfing.
Such things will be resolved, after sleep.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Day 6 - An Assortment of Dishwater
Another lonely day at home, just me and the dog. Julia was gallavanting in Leicester, and the rest of my family was out at work, leaving my itinerant student self to roam the echoing halls like an industrious ghost.
Industrious, indeed! I did some housework, played with the dog, tidied the kitchen, read some of Rudin's analysis, and watched SIX episodes of Frasier. My stamina astounds me. I also watched the Dark Knight whilst attempting to construct the rest of my Ork Horde.
Unfortunately, the glue is either too weak, too old, or inproperly applied, so most of my good work so far probably won't last too long. Such is a summary of the day's events, but that's not what you came for, is it? You want me to dish the dirt, the skinny, the low-down, the real Red Mary on measure theory.
You sly dog, you. Wassamatter, Riemann integral not good enough for you anymore? Integrating continuous functions over compact intervals just doesn't get your jazz flowing? Don't worry, you crafty mathematical artiste. Lebesgue integration can sort out your troubles.
Even more so, the definition can be extended to work out an integral for ANY measurable function on ANY measure space, not just the same boring old real numbers.
In fact, by defining different measures on the same space, lots of different facts from different areas turn out to be special cases of quite broad theorems in measure theory.
For example, an infinite sum is 'really' just a normal integral with counting measure rather than Lebesgue measure.
Don't understand what I'm talking about? Check Wikipedia for now. When I figure out how to put nice Latex into blog posts, I might start doing some nice exposition.
Well, I've just received an interesting proposition: Blood Bowl against an old opponent. He mocks me with his "\o/" smiley. So you can raise your arms above your head, eh? He's just trying to make me jealous. I've had the nickname "Acute armpit" since Year 4. Sickening.
Today's trivia: "Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds those who see and twists the words of the righteous." Thanks, Exodus 23:8!
Industrious, indeed! I did some housework, played with the dog, tidied the kitchen, read some of Rudin's analysis, and watched SIX episodes of Frasier. My stamina astounds me. I also watched the Dark Knight whilst attempting to construct the rest of my Ork Horde.
Unfortunately, the glue is either too weak, too old, or inproperly applied, so most of my good work so far probably won't last too long. Such is a summary of the day's events, but that's not what you came for, is it? You want me to dish the dirt, the skinny, the low-down, the real Red Mary on measure theory.
You sly dog, you. Wassamatter, Riemann integral not good enough for you anymore? Integrating continuous functions over compact intervals just doesn't get your jazz flowing? Don't worry, you crafty mathematical artiste. Lebesgue integration can sort out your troubles.
Even more so, the definition can be extended to work out an integral for ANY measurable function on ANY measure space, not just the same boring old real numbers.
In fact, by defining different measures on the same space, lots of different facts from different areas turn out to be special cases of quite broad theorems in measure theory.
For example, an infinite sum is 'really' just a normal integral with counting measure rather than Lebesgue measure.
Don't understand what I'm talking about? Check Wikipedia for now. When I figure out how to put nice Latex into blog posts, I might start doing some nice exposition.
Well, I've just received an interesting proposition: Blood Bowl against an old opponent. He mocks me with his "\o/" smiley. So you can raise your arms above your head, eh? He's just trying to make me jealous. I've had the nickname "Acute armpit" since Year 4. Sickening.
Today's trivia: "Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds those who see and twists the words of the righteous." Thanks, Exodus 23:8!
Day 5 - No, really
This counts, OK? I won't let my days be bound by some dictatorial clock. This is still part of my working day, and so this counts as a post on Day 5. I blame Paramount Comedy for stealing away my evening. Let this be a lesson to me: never too early to blog.
So, today, I started gluing my Ork models onto their bases. So far: 8 models done. Now just the arms, heads, undercoats, and paints. Apply to many other models, and an army is formed, ready to hack and slash their way to a fictional victory.
Perhaps I could create a new Grey Clan of Orks, so I don't have to paint them? They'd still stare accusingly at me with their plastic eyes. "Grant us life!" they cry, but I must be strong. Through weakness lies madness, and then it's hard to hold down a steady job.
Also today, me and Julia drove to the Royal Mail Parcel Depot on Papyrus Road {{Emergency announcement: The Playbus TV theme just started playing on my laptop. Beautiful.}} to collect parcels for her, my mother and my stepfather. None for me, sadly (donations always welcome).
Julia would here expect some embellished tale of our journey to the Parcel Depot, full of trials, dragons and other hilariously dangerous elements. I simply refuse to indulge her, however. The truth will stand, however dragon-free it may be.
We drove there, uneventfully. There was a good CD in the car, and the roads were reasonably busy, but not inconveniently so. The sky was such an unmemorable shade I don't even remember it, and no scrapes or shindigs were suffered by anyone. A moderately convenient parking space was found, and after a brief but manageable queue, we collected the parcels, hassle free. We drove back to Julia's, again uneventfully, and had tea there.
And throughout, the dragon had slept quietly in my back seat, alright? I will not make stuff up simply to jazz things up. My life is full of jazz already; it's a constant midnight show.
Today's reading: Problems in Analytic Number Theory, again. I've started working through them properly now, mostly while watching the mentioned Paramount Comedy. No big problems so far (though some of my reasoning is a little sketchy, I admit). I also haven't used one of the conditions in the statement of a theorem within my proof of it, which is always a bad sign. Maybe something will occur to me later.
Today's trivia: Poseidon made Pasiphae, wife of Minos, fall in love with a bull. She got an architect to build her a wooden model of one, so she could copulate with it. The result: the Minotaur.
That's the disgusting part of the legend.
So, today, I started gluing my Ork models onto their bases. So far: 8 models done. Now just the arms, heads, undercoats, and paints. Apply to many other models, and an army is formed, ready to hack and slash their way to a fictional victory.
Perhaps I could create a new Grey Clan of Orks, so I don't have to paint them? They'd still stare accusingly at me with their plastic eyes. "Grant us life!" they cry, but I must be strong. Through weakness lies madness, and then it's hard to hold down a steady job.
Also today, me and Julia drove to the Royal Mail Parcel Depot on Papyrus Road {{Emergency announcement: The Playbus TV theme just started playing on my laptop. Beautiful.}} to collect parcels for her, my mother and my stepfather. None for me, sadly (donations always welcome).
Julia would here expect some embellished tale of our journey to the Parcel Depot, full of trials, dragons and other hilariously dangerous elements. I simply refuse to indulge her, however. The truth will stand, however dragon-free it may be.
We drove there, uneventfully. There was a good CD in the car, and the roads were reasonably busy, but not inconveniently so. The sky was such an unmemorable shade I don't even remember it, and no scrapes or shindigs were suffered by anyone. A moderately convenient parking space was found, and after a brief but manageable queue, we collected the parcels, hassle free. We drove back to Julia's, again uneventfully, and had tea there.
And throughout, the dragon had slept quietly in my back seat, alright? I will not make stuff up simply to jazz things up. My life is full of jazz already; it's a constant midnight show.
Today's reading: Problems in Analytic Number Theory, again. I've started working through them properly now, mostly while watching the mentioned Paramount Comedy. No big problems so far (though some of my reasoning is a little sketchy, I admit). I also haven't used one of the conditions in the statement of a theorem within my proof of it, which is always a bad sign. Maybe something will occur to me later.
Today's trivia: Poseidon made Pasiphae, wife of Minos, fall in love with a bull. She got an architect to build her a wooden model of one, so she could copulate with it. The result: the Minotaur.
That's the disgusting part of the legend.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Day 4 - And then he turned on the death ray
Bwa ha ha ha ha ha. That's four (minus one) days in a row, oh you naysayers. The scale of my triumph grows like bamboo, and the giant panda of disappointment is nowhere in sight.
In the hoped for side effect, the more I am blogging, the easier it becomes each time. Hopefully, by day 31, it will become an ingrained habit that I can't kick. I'll start blogging every day, every hour, and eventually every minute. My life will grind to a standstill as I blog about blogging. My fingers will start to bleed, my feet will turn to rock, and my eyes will become square. Oh, the grandmothers' adage is oh so true.
Today, I had two roast dinners. The first was beef, at my father's home, and the second chicken, at my mother's. In the interest of parental harmony, I won't compare the quality of the meals here; I loved them both. After the lunchtime dinner, I watched Wall-E with my family and Julia.
I was slightly distracted by my younger brother clambering over me. He made fart noises on my elbow, and then proudly announced that I had a "bottom on my arm." Unexpectedly, he didn't descend into his usual fit of giggles after this use of the word bottom. He clearly appreciated the severe medical consequences of having your rectum entwined with your biceps.
He should be a doctor. Sadly, however, his dreams of lumberjacking are still strong. When we left, he was helping my stepmother/his mother assemble an artificial tree, that will "never come down". May Christmas last forever.
Reading today: An Introduction to Hilbert Spaces. I only managed the first two pages, whilst on the toilet. I must try to concentrate on more than a couple of pages of these books.
Trivia for today: Charles Darwin was on the Galapagos islands for five weeks.
In the hoped for side effect, the more I am blogging, the easier it becomes each time. Hopefully, by day 31, it will become an ingrained habit that I can't kick. I'll start blogging every day, every hour, and eventually every minute. My life will grind to a standstill as I blog about blogging. My fingers will start to bleed, my feet will turn to rock, and my eyes will become square. Oh, the grandmothers' adage is oh so true.
Today, I had two roast dinners. The first was beef, at my father's home, and the second chicken, at my mother's. In the interest of parental harmony, I won't compare the quality of the meals here; I loved them both. After the lunchtime dinner, I watched Wall-E with my family and Julia.
I was slightly distracted by my younger brother clambering over me. He made fart noises on my elbow, and then proudly announced that I had a "bottom on my arm." Unexpectedly, he didn't descend into his usual fit of giggles after this use of the word bottom. He clearly appreciated the severe medical consequences of having your rectum entwined with your biceps.
He should be a doctor. Sadly, however, his dreams of lumberjacking are still strong. When we left, he was helping my stepmother/his mother assemble an artificial tree, that will "never come down". May Christmas last forever.
Reading today: An Introduction to Hilbert Spaces. I only managed the first two pages, whilst on the toilet. I must try to concentrate on more than a couple of pages of these books.
Trivia for today: Charles Darwin was on the Galapagos islands for five weeks.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Day 3 - A Non Orientable Post
I did it! Only 16 minutes to go before the day ends, but I remembered. The seal has been cast, the die has been broken. Let the good times roll.
I'm back in Peterborough now, much to the chagrin of the nomadic tribe of bird-men that had taken up residence in my room in my absence. I explained to them (politely, of course) that my day to day life and the international smuggling of Grade A corn just wouldn't be compatible. I must have ruffled some feathers, however, and they left, threatening "We'll be beak!"
They were South African, of course.
Tonight, I went to see Julia's sister in her school's production of Fame! (the exclamation mark is obligatory). A sterling performance, and she soloed in easily the best song of the night. Very talented.
Amusement was also afforded by a few technical glitches and rogue hats, but mar they could not such a night. Awkward sentence structure there, but a true artist must never revise his work.
Reading for this evening was "Problems in Analytic Number Theory" by M. Ram Mury. I should try and actually work through them this vacation, instead of just reading the solutions at the back. It's a soul/knowledge building exercise.
And your parting trivia:
Marian Anderson was the first black soloist to sing at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York City, in 1955.
Learn it, use it, love it, live it.
I'm back in Peterborough now, much to the chagrin of the nomadic tribe of bird-men that had taken up residence in my room in my absence. I explained to them (politely, of course) that my day to day life and the international smuggling of Grade A corn just wouldn't be compatible. I must have ruffled some feathers, however, and they left, threatening "We'll be beak!"
They were South African, of course.
Tonight, I went to see Julia's sister in her school's production of Fame! (the exclamation mark is obligatory). A sterling performance, and she soloed in easily the best song of the night. Very talented.
Amusement was also afforded by a few technical glitches and rogue hats, but mar they could not such a night. Awkward sentence structure there, but a true artist must never revise his work.
Reading for this evening was "Problems in Analytic Number Theory" by M. Ram Mury. I should try and actually work through them this vacation, instead of just reading the solutions at the back. It's a soul/knowledge building exercise.
And your parting trivia:
Marian Anderson was the first black soloist to sing at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York City, in 1955.
Learn it, use it, love it, live it.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Day 2 - There is no number one
Oh dear, oh dear. I let myself down on the first day. That is truly shameful. I'll have to stop referring to the blogging process like this, lest it become too self-referential and end up in some dreadful logical paradox (a blog that denounces itself as constantly wrong...)
This morning I had a class in Godel's Theorems; the last class of the term, and we've moved onto provability logic. It's either a topic that appears very simple but is actually very complicated, or vice versa. It's hard to tell, really.
Also, tomorrow I return home, back to Peterborough, city of sunshine and smiles. My packing has not been started, and there are many books I need to get out for my vacation reading (finals only 24 weeks away, y'know?). More pressing that these concerns, however, is my stomach.
About two hours ago, I felt the first pangs. I knew what was coming; "No breakfast?!? You fool!". I cursed myself inwardly as my innards were cursing. I thought I could pull through. I had a large supper the night before! Midnight cake! Yet it was all for nothing, and hunger consumed my mind.
I can think of little else. The only reason I'm writing this now is that I've dangled an eclair above the monitor, and accidentally hit the keyboard with my flailing limbs as I lunge desparately towards it. The hunger consumes me, and drives me to consume in turn.
My focus is fading. Sight grows dim, and The Who is singing about Teenage Cakeland. I must go; blogging is important, but so is a good hot lunch. Farewell.
This morning I had a class in Godel's Theorems; the last class of the term, and we've moved onto provability logic. It's either a topic that appears very simple but is actually very complicated, or vice versa. It's hard to tell, really.
Also, tomorrow I return home, back to Peterborough, city of sunshine and smiles. My packing has not been started, and there are many books I need to get out for my vacation reading (finals only 24 weeks away, y'know?). More pressing that these concerns, however, is my stomach.
About two hours ago, I felt the first pangs. I knew what was coming; "No breakfast?!? You fool!". I cursed myself inwardly as my innards were cursing. I thought I could pull through. I had a large supper the night before! Midnight cake! Yet it was all for nothing, and hunger consumed my mind.
I can think of little else. The only reason I'm writing this now is that I've dangled an eclair above the monitor, and accidentally hit the keyboard with my flailing limbs as I lunge desparately towards it. The hunger consumes me, and drives me to consume in turn.
My focus is fading. Sight grows dim, and The Who is singing about Teenage Cakeland. I must go; blogging is important, but so is a good hot lunch. Farewell.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Day 0 - Or How I learned to start blogging and love the moolb
Aah, it's been a long time. In fact, the last time I blogged was almost 18 months ago; I had just finished my first year of university, and was generally much less mature and rounded.
I read my previous posts and scornfully mock myself and my writing. Now, fortunately, I return to my dusty fan base with writing that has immeasurably improved and much wisdom to share with you all.
Following sterling example, this month (from today onwards, at least) I shall blog at least once every day. They may not all be great, or original, or even that spectacular, but they will all be written.
I'll begin with some musing that I got done whilst soaking in the bathtub this morning. What do I want to do in my life? That is, really want to do? I devised a test which I humbly label Tom's Deathbed Test (patent pending):
If I were an old man, lying on my deathbed, thinking on my life, what would the absence of cause regret?
Take that test, rewrite it, change the meaning and style, and you've got something pretty neat. (Does anyone even say neat anymore?) Applying the TDT to myself, I came up with the following list, in alphabetical order:
Mathematics. Writing. (Languages. Musical instrument.)
The brackets are ones I'm not sure about. Of course, this list overlooks such things as having children, a loving wife, beautiful home, and all that jazz. That is larger than the list; it would be more than regret. So let's stick with this level of stuff - purely personal activities.
There are many things that I want to do, that I'm sure I'd enjoy, and hope I do get to do: magic, juggling, travelling, drawing, philosophy, and many other things as well, I'm sure. Heck, most things probably.
Applying the TDT quite strictly at the moment, however, and it results in the limited list above. It may change, but this seems a good way to focus my activities and bear larger goals in mind. Right, this blog has run its course, and now it's time for some sort of treat to reward myself.
I read my previous posts and scornfully mock myself and my writing. Now, fortunately, I return to my dusty fan base with writing that has immeasurably improved and much wisdom to share with you all.
Following sterling example, this month (from today onwards, at least) I shall blog at least once every day. They may not all be great, or original, or even that spectacular, but they will all be written.
I'll begin with some musing that I got done whilst soaking in the bathtub this morning. What do I want to do in my life? That is, really want to do? I devised a test which I humbly label Tom's Deathbed Test (patent pending):
If I were an old man, lying on my deathbed, thinking on my life, what would the absence of cause regret?
Take that test, rewrite it, change the meaning and style, and you've got something pretty neat. (Does anyone even say neat anymore?) Applying the TDT to myself, I came up with the following list, in alphabetical order:
Mathematics. Writing. (Languages. Musical instrument.)
The brackets are ones I'm not sure about. Of course, this list overlooks such things as having children, a loving wife, beautiful home, and all that jazz. That is larger than the list; it would be more than regret. So let's stick with this level of stuff - purely personal activities.
There are many things that I want to do, that I'm sure I'd enjoy, and hope I do get to do: magic, juggling, travelling, drawing, philosophy, and many other things as well, I'm sure. Heck, most things probably.
Applying the TDT quite strictly at the moment, however, and it results in the limited list above. It may change, but this seems a good way to focus my activities and bear larger goals in mind. Right, this blog has run its course, and now it's time for some sort of treat to reward myself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
