Morning Train

Eek, i have to move, my landlord is selling my place!

I think i might just go ahead and buy a place, although i am terribly afraid of commitment, to things that cannot be moved. Just the bitter taste left in my mouth from my never-ending selling experience of the last two times.

I don't want to grow roots. Wings are all i believe in more and more.

On the other hand, I don't mind having a few sweet vacation homes, er...flats i mean, in various countries that i dig. So far i only have one! Just wait until i become rich and famous. Hmph! Maybe if i change profession, yeah right, like that will ever happen!

Oh man, i hate hate hate moving, why do i have so much stuff!

Sigh.

On the plus side, i am loving my summer life. Aside from mr jones it includes my cool flat, colorful people, lots of walking (i got no car here!!), my new gym (yep, i joined a gym here, so sue me!), er, did i say my cool flat, where i have been making magic? :-P Oh yeah, and my new french grammar book, the one i am reading for my upcoming online course.

So yeah, i will be taking two french courses next quarter, hehe. Kidding you i am not! This is me next quarter: teaching one course, taking two, directing a grant, being an advisor, co-directing another grant, and all that other stuff that go with my job, committee work and shit like that. Yep, overloading again. On top of that my sponsor here asked me if he can buy me out (of my teaching duties so i can continue the research during fall). Yikes! I said no of course. Seriously i feel kinda sick if i am not communicating math on a regular basis.

We are a crazy bunch, math profs!

Oh look at the time, i gotta get going, someone will soon be home...

Like in the song ...(i didn't know it existed until mister 25 claimed it as our song!)

...My baby takes the morning train
He works from nine till five and then
He takes another home again
To find me waitin' for him...

Où est l'encre?

Je lui ai donné une carte blanche.

Oui, je suis d'accord.

Et maintenant?

Je veux écrire sur ça.

Ah, est-ce que vous avez un stylo?

Oui, c'est moi.

Et l'encre?

Non, je n'ai pas d'encre.

Pas encore.

:-)

C'est mon anniversaire!!!

Il y a beaucoup de fleurs dans ma chambre...des roses, des maguets, des margueites...et des ballons...

mr jones is making me dinner :-P

er... i am getting all excited just watching him julienne red bell peppers, slice and dice tomatillos et des poulets... oh so focused. The best part is knowing that he never prepared this entree before...

Luckily he can't see me, sitting here and smiling to myself, his back is turned toward me...

yumm, melikes the view!

Oh behave! you naughty girl!

Call a spade

...wait, i know i adhere to all the forms and functions of a spade, but what if i don't want to be called a spade!

A mathematical concept is typically delivered by a definition – succinct, precise, and likely polished over decades, or even centuries at a time, to achieve the universally accepted structure. A proper understanding of a definition can unlock the insight into many a connected concepts, and failure to do so can breed compartmentalization, where concepts stand alone and are often in contradiction with each other.

What is explicit and accepted often without argument and further contemplation in maths, is however far from what we claim to practise in life. Definitions are too restrictive, we proudly say. Let us keep an open mind, One size doesn't fit all etc. etc. etc. Oh, but we all have moulds that we try to fit others into, be it unknowingly or surreptitiously. And what are moulds but our own personal definitions?

And sometimes we want to know how we are defined by others.

We drive ourselves crazy trying to read between lines, scurry to catch runaway signals and extrapolate beyond point of application. All in the hope of knowing Who am i?

Who am i to you?

Last night i was watching the SATC rerun, one where Carrie is settling for an undefined relationship with Mr. Big. In a nutshell, they are seeing each other frequently, exclusively and in addition, are sleeping together. By Merriam-Webster definition (A frequent or regular male companion in a romantic or sexual relationship) that defines Mr Big as Carrie's Boyfriend. See, in maths, that will be that! Yo, boyfriend!

Alas, in this imprecise world of ours, the objects have a say. So even while abiding by all the forms and functions of a boyfriend, Mr Big reserves the power to veto the definition. What's a Carrie to do?

Absolument rien.

Tsk-Tsk...

Man, i love maths for a reason!

Tick-tock!

Doubt.

Funny how it can unite or separate minds, depending on the moment it strikes.

Yesterday we went to mr jones' school, primarily to check out his lab, which i shall nickname the house of precision, cause it's all about that. It reminded me of this book i am reading (very slowly), 'Longitude' by Dava Sobel, and of the film 'The machinist'. Hmm. It was full of big and small machines, stolid and precise, all aspiring to fine tune tiny structures to their tiniest details. Even though the lab occupants seemed of perfect health and in no apparent need of sleep, nor any sightings of ghostly notes were reported, i couldn't help but wonder if the machines came alive at night, just to play at their whims. With the fellow residents, grave diamond cutters, white sapphires, permanent magnets and covalent crystals. Being all non precise.

Never knew the school was founded in memory of a son gone too soon. But it was undeniable, in the erected statues, laid bodies and in the grief-stricken fairy who wrapped her wings around her.

And there it was.

In the cold dark interior of the rooms full of machines, in the sunlit quad of the arched walkways, in the statued submission of citizen freedom, and in the young lass in a sailor dress on the train platform, my doubt found me.

And it kept taking form.

Like tall redwoods it stood in grounded certainty, like live oaks it branched in sprawling abundance - adorned with the thorns of the unattended cacti.

And like a lonely fragrant eucalyptus, there i stood, my beautiful rainbow bark bathing golden in the light of settling sun.

Refuting my surroundings.

At a distance, the beautiful tiles on the memorial reflected the sentiment from the Corinthians...

Love, faith, hope, charity. Who is the last one to stand?

Only time will tell.

Seriously!

In preparation to complete the IRB protocol, this researcher had to pass a test after perusing some 100 pages of information including case studies, rules and regulations.

Instead i went straight to the test pages and took the tests, banking on my high-end brain, years of training in mathematics, expertise conducting previous research projects...

Er...what i actually banked on was ...my common sense!

I passed all 4 tests, not a single re-take was necessary.

tsk-tsk!

I shall name no names, but come on federal people, you who spent tax-payers' money in designing these national tests...maybe your time is better spent on doing something a tad more productive?

Just a thought.

Seriously!

Ugh...just finished reading an 11-page furlough document sent to the faculty from our union president. As a result i am very miffed! This is a bullshit of an idea penalizing faculty and students, as it eventually might translate to thinning of the actual teaching time by a week.

I do not like labor unions. What's the point? They are the weak representing the weaks. Ones with calibre can do without them. All they do is drag us down to the level of the rest by their stupid one for all rule and mind-numbingly lengthy back and forths. For example, because of their stupid lengthy negotiation (primarily to include the temps in the raise pool), our 4-year 25% raise got delayed by 2 years and now there ain't no money to provide for that raise. I am sure admin is laughing!

What the hell? Call me elitist or whatever, i believe in the survival of the fittest. Don't borrow my cloth to cut your coat, man.

Anyway, what do i care, i am mostly on grant money, won't really touch me financially. But they better not vote on stealing our instructional time!

Infinity in my palm

Partir, c'est un peu mourir.

Every morning he kisses me goodbye, i die a little. Then i come alive when he smiles at me, his mischievous smile.

'there you go, the bed is all yours, and the pillows too'

I cast him a look, for i know he is making fun of me, alluding to my tendency to claim all that lay on the bed as my royal possession.

And i watch him get dressed, and he knows i am watching, sometimes he turns and smiles and i avert my eyes...and i want to die of happiness.

Hold the moment still, s'il te plaît.

This wednesday mr jones took me to the top of the city. It was windy but clear and we could see up to ten miles, um with my sailor's binoculars of course...i could even read the names of the container ships leaving and entering the bay. As for mr. sailor, he said it was depressing cause he couldn't read that far :-P...aww. The whole city laid quiet at our feet. Streets criss-crossed, landmarks shimmered with the golden lights of the setting sun, colorful flags flew in harmonious defiance with the wind. I saw towns across the bay, clock tower, and bridges. Bridges that were tall and conspicuous and bridges that were long and covered in fog, looking all ethereal, like a glimpse of the past.

We sat on the barrier of the scenic drive, and cars kept driving by, the wind was crazy and chilly, he put his jacket on me (typical!) and then tried to cover me with his body! I shook my head, i mean i am not a child, and i consider myself pretty darn strong, tiny though that i am. LOL, my bravado didn't go far, however. When it was time to return, i was like 'oh, fuck!, don't tell me i have to climb down the hill!' Looking down makes me nauseous, seriously, and i was wearing stilettos (typical!), so the alternative was to carry me down, or take this really long alternate route. Anyway, after much cajoling, i agreed to take the hill, and he guided me down, one step at a time. And i wasn't afraid at all. And i wondered... 'i dunno why you care so much mr jones? Nothing lasts forever, remember?' But he couldn't read it on my face, his eyes were busy protecting my steps.

Sigh. Nothing lasts forever.

So hold me here on this edge, hold me here with you. Make me soar with the wind, flirt with the unseen, see far beyond the reach of my eyes.

And when we are done, guide me down. Watch my step.

Hold me, lest i fall.

C'est vrai

It's been a week now. In mr jones' city.

Thoughts just kept bubbling in my mind, couldn't give them form. Perhaps i will just list them, in order of perceived importance.

Ah, perceptions!

4th of july. I was pretty depressed. Called up a 'friend' who i knew had a major crush on me, and went dancing. Took one scotch to get drunk, danced for hours. Men came over, asked me if i was visiting or lived there, i didn't answer, surement pas, but i did dance with them. Oh yeah. If you got moves baby, lay it on me, is all i say on the dance floor. Hold me strong, keep me stable and twirl me around...er truth is although i enjoyed my temporary trance, it was no help in the end, and i was just reminded of how depressed i was. What's worse, one of the men gave my friend advice in the line of how he was a fool and that he should not let me go and that he should marry me ...what the hell?

Sigh.

My friend thinks mr jones is playing me. Are you, mr jones?

Anyway, i might have ignited something inadvertently cause now my said friend has been calling me and i am avoiding him. Damn!

June 30: Moved into my new cool flat. The building is hundred years old i was told. Had interesting interactions with certain people. Man, i love this slope-y foggy city and whatever happens i know i will be happy just walking around or listening to city noise, watching whimsical fog descend on sombre bridges or checking out old buildings. Then there is the bay of course. So yeah, it deserves a post all by itself. Later.

June 22: Came back from island trip and received news that my nsf grant was officially awarded. Lots of congratulatory emails. Felt nothing. But it does draw a line of some sort, me having to transfer my old grant to someone, ushering a new, something, ah, like a new work-me, lol, whatever!

Oh look at the time, i have to head out for a meeting with my research sponsor. By the way, dunno what i said, he is all excited about the project ideas and wants to extend our collaboration from two months to a year.

Hey, i am not complaining. Comme j'ai dit, j'aime la ville!

C'est ça

June went by fast.

Spent a lot of time packing and unpacking suitcases, boarding and de-boarding airplanes, checking in and checking out of places.

Airports are not fun when your plane waits in the tarmac for an hour for the signal to take off, and especially not fun when it sets off a chain reaction resulting in you missing the connecting flight.

Funny how things work!

On our way to the island, we missed our connection due to the scapegoat typically used by overbooking airlines called Air Traffic Control, and subsequently got detained in mr jones' city. For a night. So we lost a day of activities at a high priced resort, no horse-back riding was done, had to make several calls to shift other stuff, the situation was beginning to look pretty darn grim, collective fuses were getting shorter and shorter.

To make the best of this unappealing situation, the duo decided to go downtown and check out the dueling piano bar. It was a nice change of pace. As I was sipping my not so daunting cherry martini and tapping my not so drunk foot, amidst blaring sing-alongs and iterative applauses, i got a call from mr jones. He wanted to meet up.

Il m'a semblé un peu ivre et agité. Il m'a dit, "quoi donc s'il y a une difference de dix-neuf ans entre nous, il n'implique pas que nous ne pouvons pas rencontrer! Nous sommes dans la même ville, et vous ne voulez pas rencontrer moi!" Alors, il ne fait presque pas telle chose comme ça, il est très calme à mon avis, donc j'était très surprise! I mean i am known to be impulsive, but hey, even i wouldn't dare to take on a 22 who just had to subtract a whole day of fun from her graduation trip!

Wouldn't lie, i was impressed by his courage at the same time afraid of what this chance encounter would unleash on me. But i said yes to him, anyway.

For the better part of the next day i was snowed under Freud, post-modernism and just plain negative feedback on how we shouldn't be together. The warm breezy ocean air didn't help much to thaw the temperature, nor could the beauty of the island dull the blows so sharp...

Hey, what can i say, wasn't expecting it to be any other way!

Nevertheless, it killed my spirit for one whole day as i started to feel physically sick...took a pain-killer and summoned sleep. Dusk was signing in, evening torches were being lit, music began to pour through the thatch roofs...

...but they could reach me not.