Last week a miracle happened.
Last week Mr. Right came home from work, and I greeted him with a big hug and a kiss and detailed information about elopement packages. Three nights accommodation in the mega-ultra-deluxe suite, wine and chocolates included, flowers included, cake included, officiant included, witnesses included, photos included, eat-your-guts-out dinner included, spa trip included. All for the low, low price of keeping my sanity. Why hadn't we thought of this before?
Mr. Right looked into my crazed eyes and said he didn't want to elope. (Had he not heard me? Mega-ultra-deluxe suite!) He convinced me that we should try to look for a venue for our family celebration one more time.
Fast forward to Saturday morning. The head chef at an Italian Restaurant was pouring us a cup of coffee and sitting down with us in his restaurant. As I looked around the space, our wedding transformed from an obscenely expensive obligation to society that had nothing to do with Mr. Right and I into the family celebration of love, commitment, and partnership that would take place in that gorgeous space. We spent about an hour discussing policies and visions with the head chef, and we discovered that he was a hard working, warmhearted, decent human being, instead of some corporate psychopath who invents wedding pricing at some resort. (Who thinks it's a great idea to surprise you on one of the biggest days of your life with a fee of $5/slice to cut a wedding cake? If resorts need to take in more revenue, they could find a less weaselly way to add it on to your bill.)
So we went home and thought about it for a few days, just in case the sparkle faded. But the fit for us was too perfect, so we booked it! For the first time since my proposal, I am genuinely excited and proud to host a big fat family wedding in a fantastic venue. Indeed, this will be a grand way to celebrate our sendoff into the grand adventure of marriage, and to thank those who have supported us in our relationship for the past 8 years.
Planning a wedding is tricky business, but Christmas miracles do exist!
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Adventures in Education: Problems with Visualization
In a previous post, I remarked on the beauty of abstract algebra. This post regarding the subject is not so positive.
Since then, the material has gotten quite sophisticated. Simultaneously, significant events in my personal life have taken my focus away from the subject. Moments of clarity have been few and far between. I am using strange rules to justify arguments that I don't believe. I am blind in a world where visualization has always been my most valuable tool. Now what do I do?
Earlier in the course I could see the structures I was learning about in my mind. I could watch the elements interact, and manipulate their behavior to simulate a result. It was not easy to do, but I was operating on some level of intuition. That intuition is now completely gone, and I'm finding this type of mathematics a most frustrating endeavor. I'm memorizing rules and trying to remember when I am supposed to use them. Algebra is not supposed to be like this. The only things that keep me going are the hope that I will finally understand the material (better late than never), and the fact that I'm not going to let this subject best me.
I wonder if there are few math-o-phobes who have tried learning the subject blindly by memorizing rules and techniques. I recall a few high school math lessons where teachers would recite, "Well, if you see a question like this then you do this. See? It works." How dreadfully boring! If I had learned all math that way, I would have sworn off the subject a long time ago. It's an awful way to go. There is no fun in it! It's easy to see how frustrating this method of learning is when I'm actively doing it.
So, to end on a positive note, here is a graph theory question that everyone can have a crack at. It's intuitive, it requires logic, and most of all, its FUN! It was on my last assignment. Don't worry; it's a relatively easy question and it doesn't require any formal training in graph theory.
Since then, the material has gotten quite sophisticated. Simultaneously, significant events in my personal life have taken my focus away from the subject. Moments of clarity have been few and far between. I am using strange rules to justify arguments that I don't believe. I am blind in a world where visualization has always been my most valuable tool. Now what do I do?
Earlier in the course I could see the structures I was learning about in my mind. I could watch the elements interact, and manipulate their behavior to simulate a result. It was not easy to do, but I was operating on some level of intuition. That intuition is now completely gone, and I'm finding this type of mathematics a most frustrating endeavor. I'm memorizing rules and trying to remember when I am supposed to use them. Algebra is not supposed to be like this. The only things that keep me going are the hope that I will finally understand the material (better late than never), and the fact that I'm not going to let this subject best me.
I wonder if there are few math-o-phobes who have tried learning the subject blindly by memorizing rules and techniques. I recall a few high school math lessons where teachers would recite, "Well, if you see a question like this then you do this. See? It works." How dreadfully boring! If I had learned all math that way, I would have sworn off the subject a long time ago. It's an awful way to go. There is no fun in it! It's easy to see how frustrating this method of learning is when I'm actively doing it.
So, to end on a positive note, here is a graph theory question that everyone can have a crack at. It's intuitive, it requires logic, and most of all, its FUN! It was on my last assignment. Don't worry; it's a relatively easy question and it doesn't require any formal training in graph theory.
 |
| Suppose you wanted to colour the lines on this diagram. (This is called the Petersen graph, in case you were interested.) Here are the rules: each line gets exactly one colour. You may use the same colour for two different lines if you wish, but only if those lines do not share a dot. Can you convince yourself that it is impossible to do it with only three colours? (I.e. you need at least four colours.) |
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Planning our Wedding
Spoiler alert: this post is a rant, and it's probably poorly written. If you are looking for something lighthearted and funny, check out this video instead.
My fiance and I are planning our wedding, and I've been reading magazines and watching wedding-related reality TV shows in the name of research. Have you seen Four Weddings? It's a show where people get married and guests complain that the free signature cocktails aren't to their taste, and that the wedding dress doesn't fit around the hips, and how the five course dinner had steak and chicken. (I'm not sure why that was a problem, but trust me it was.)
Not too long from now, Mr. Right and I will stand in front of our friends and family and promise to be a team for the rest of our lives. We will work together to make our lives amazing, and take care of each other even when everything sucks. This is a significant decision and a huge promise, and although it has taken us eight years of consideration before agreeing to take the plunge, it is a decision we make with confidence.
Frankly, chair covers, specialty linens, and centerpieces seem insignificant. During this process, I have not once thought, "Gee, I'm about to marry my match. Therefore, all chairs must wear matching outfits. Yes, chair covers are essential; I wouldn't want my guests sitting on an uncovered chair like a savage. Only $500? Well worth every penny. And while I'm at it, why not spend the PhD/house fund on pipe-and-drape and twinkle lights, so our decor can be competitive with the weddings I've seen in magazines. I must have decor. It's so essential for a wedding. That's what guests should remember."
There are a few traditional elements I'm genuinely excited about. My dress is fantastic and I can't wait to wear it. I might even purchase a little flower to wear in my hair. My playlists have been perused to find that perfect "first dance" song. I'm especially excited to get some professional photos taken. Finally, photos in which neither of us is making a funny face! I never thought the day would come.
Most of all, I'm excited to celebrate with the family and friends who have supported us in our relationship over the past eight years. We'll host a good party for our loved ones. We're gonna feed 'em! There will certainly be dancing and drinking and laughing and carrying on. It will probably be loud, and at times inappropriate (hopefully not too inappropriate). What I want most of all (other than a loving commitment from Mr. Right, of course) are a great set of stories to begin our new family repertoire. In ten years, I hope we can sit around the dinner table and reminisce about the goings-on at our little wedding.
There are few times in our lives when we can count on our families to take a day or two off so that everyone is together to celebrate. Other times, we find excuses for absence in mundane tasks and empty commitments. We ask "When was the last time we were all together?" A wedding is such a grand opportunity to take enjoyment in our family and friends. We need this time together. We need to take these memories with us on our journeys. I hope our modest little wedding is rich with humor, love, joy, and family. If we can pull that off, we don't really need chair covers.
My fiance and I are planning our wedding, and I've been reading magazines and watching wedding-related reality TV shows in the name of research. Have you seen Four Weddings? It's a show where people get married and guests complain that the free signature cocktails aren't to their taste, and that the wedding dress doesn't fit around the hips, and how the five course dinner had steak and chicken. (I'm not sure why that was a problem, but trust me it was.)
Not too long from now, Mr. Right and I will stand in front of our friends and family and promise to be a team for the rest of our lives. We will work together to make our lives amazing, and take care of each other even when everything sucks. This is a significant decision and a huge promise, and although it has taken us eight years of consideration before agreeing to take the plunge, it is a decision we make with confidence.
Frankly, chair covers, specialty linens, and centerpieces seem insignificant. During this process, I have not once thought, "Gee, I'm about to marry my match. Therefore, all chairs must wear matching outfits. Yes, chair covers are essential; I wouldn't want my guests sitting on an uncovered chair like a savage. Only $500? Well worth every penny. And while I'm at it, why not spend the PhD/house fund on pipe-and-drape and twinkle lights, so our decor can be competitive with the weddings I've seen in magazines. I must have decor. It's so essential for a wedding. That's what guests should remember."
There are a few traditional elements I'm genuinely excited about. My dress is fantastic and I can't wait to wear it. I might even purchase a little flower to wear in my hair. My playlists have been perused to find that perfect "first dance" song. I'm especially excited to get some professional photos taken. Finally, photos in which neither of us is making a funny face! I never thought the day would come.
Most of all, I'm excited to celebrate with the family and friends who have supported us in our relationship over the past eight years. We'll host a good party for our loved ones. We're gonna feed 'em! There will certainly be dancing and drinking and laughing and carrying on. It will probably be loud, and at times inappropriate (hopefully not too inappropriate). What I want most of all (other than a loving commitment from Mr. Right, of course) are a great set of stories to begin our new family repertoire. In ten years, I hope we can sit around the dinner table and reminisce about the goings-on at our little wedding.
There are few times in our lives when we can count on our families to take a day or two off so that everyone is together to celebrate. Other times, we find excuses for absence in mundane tasks and empty commitments. We ask "When was the last time we were all together?" A wedding is such a grand opportunity to take enjoyment in our family and friends. We need this time together. We need to take these memories with us on our journeys. I hope our modest little wedding is rich with humor, love, joy, and family. If we can pull that off, we don't really need chair covers.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Adventures in Education: An instant of revelation
In my last post, I discussed how strongly I wanted to understand abstract algebra. Today, I am getting closer.
Mathematics is a play. In this play, there is a character (appropriately named the characteristic) that seemed alien to me. Its definition was quite simple, but the character was mysterious. I knew what it did, but not how it worked or what it was capable of. But then, in an instant, I learned a side of the character previously hidden. As if in soliloquy, it divulged just enough information to give me a taste of it's ambitions and agendas. And then, the rest of the story began to make sense. Those mysterious theorems, those awkward propositions, and those questionable conclusions began to fit together in a cascade of connections. A grand mystery has been resolved, and I can still feel the afterglow of the euphoria in my rosy cheeks and my tingling fingers. It felt like the tipping point in a Sudoku solution, when the identification of a single entry immediately reveals all of the others.
This character reached out and handed me a key. It is not a key that opens the entire subject of abstract algebra, but it is a key to its front foyer. Finally, I could step inside and marvel at the intricate workings of the subject! I expected it to be complicated and detailed and expansive, much like a grand hall with gold leaf designs and high ceilings and fine Victorian architecture. Much to my surprise, it was simple, compact, and clean like a photo in an Ikea catalogue. Where I expected a grand cabinet of tools I found a small cupboard with a few multipurpose theorems. It is incredible that such a great set of perfect ideas can collapse easily into such a small yet robust framework of elegantly simple rules.
Today, I went to class and understood everything the prof said. I didn't find the minor error in his notes. I didn't ask the clever question about a strange definition. I couldn't repeat the lecture back to you. But I understood what he was talking about the entire time. Hallelujah!
Some weeks are good weeks and some weeks are bad weeks. This week is a good week.
Mathematics is a play. In this play, there is a character (appropriately named the characteristic) that seemed alien to me. Its definition was quite simple, but the character was mysterious. I knew what it did, but not how it worked or what it was capable of. But then, in an instant, I learned a side of the character previously hidden. As if in soliloquy, it divulged just enough information to give me a taste of it's ambitions and agendas. And then, the rest of the story began to make sense. Those mysterious theorems, those awkward propositions, and those questionable conclusions began to fit together in a cascade of connections. A grand mystery has been resolved, and I can still feel the afterglow of the euphoria in my rosy cheeks and my tingling fingers. It felt like the tipping point in a Sudoku solution, when the identification of a single entry immediately reveals all of the others.
This character reached out and handed me a key. It is not a key that opens the entire subject of abstract algebra, but it is a key to its front foyer. Finally, I could step inside and marvel at the intricate workings of the subject! I expected it to be complicated and detailed and expansive, much like a grand hall with gold leaf designs and high ceilings and fine Victorian architecture. Much to my surprise, it was simple, compact, and clean like a photo in an Ikea catalogue. Where I expected a grand cabinet of tools I found a small cupboard with a few multipurpose theorems. It is incredible that such a great set of perfect ideas can collapse easily into such a small yet robust framework of elegantly simple rules.
Today, I went to class and understood everything the prof said. I didn't find the minor error in his notes. I didn't ask the clever question about a strange definition. I couldn't repeat the lecture back to you. But I understood what he was talking about the entire time. Hallelujah!
Some weeks are good weeks and some weeks are bad weeks. This week is a good week.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Adventures in Education: At the back of the pack
Abstract algebra has become both a favorite hobby and the bane of my existence. The nuances and caveats are so grand, they swallow me up like sink holes. It's difficult to appreciate the great landscape of the subject from deep inside the chasm of a single theorem. The detailed elegance of every piece of the algebraic machine takes my breath away. But putting those pieces together... well that's a different story.
So far, I have struggled to tie the subject together. I puzzle over problems for days, only to find the solution to be, of course, simple and perfect and easy. Slowly, very slowly, these beautiful theorems and quaint definitions are weaving together. The other students in the class ask intelligent questions and correct small errors in the teacher's definitions. They nod and smile and assimilate the ideas quickly and gracefully. I write every word the prof says and pray that later on it will make sense. This course is the biggest mental challenge I have undertaken, and I am sitting at the back of the pack.
My primary goal is not to achieve a high score or out-compete my classmates (although an A would be nice.) This subject is so beautiful and every detail is so precise, that it would be immensely satisfying to open my eyes wide and behold the magnificence of the theory. That's what I want. Not the grade, but that satisfaction. The solution to the grand puzzle. The insight. Thankfully, this stuff is much more important than my big ego.
So far, I have struggled to tie the subject together. I puzzle over problems for days, only to find the solution to be, of course, simple and perfect and easy. Slowly, very slowly, these beautiful theorems and quaint definitions are weaving together. The other students in the class ask intelligent questions and correct small errors in the teacher's definitions. They nod and smile and assimilate the ideas quickly and gracefully. I write every word the prof says and pray that later on it will make sense. This course is the biggest mental challenge I have undertaken, and I am sitting at the back of the pack.
My primary goal is not to achieve a high score or out-compete my classmates (although an A would be nice.) This subject is so beautiful and every detail is so precise, that it would be immensely satisfying to open my eyes wide and behold the magnificence of the theory. That's what I want. Not the grade, but that satisfaction. The solution to the grand puzzle. The insight. Thankfully, this stuff is much more important than my big ego.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Adventures in Education: New Beginnings at UVic
A degree wasn't enough. My week now consists of commuting back and forth to Victoria to take undergraduate math and computer science courses. If all goes well, next September I'll be in a Masters program. If not, I get to spend eight months learning undergraduate mathematics from geniuses. Win-win.
I learned very quickly that VIU (my home institution) and UVic (my new school) have slightly different approaches to teaching math. At VIU, in-class solutions are often quite detailed. By contrast, yesterday a prof wrote a solution as follows: "Proof: Induction." This is analogous a recipe for chocolate chip cookies that reads "Method: Bake." The student is still expected to understand all of the details of the proof. A benefit to this method: I must keep up with the reading. The drawback: I must keep up with the reading. Independent study skills? Yes, I think I'll need those. This semester presents an opportunity for substantial personal growth.
When I arrived in my first Abstract Algebra II* class, the front row was full and the desks had been pushed forward as far as they could possibly go. Strange, I thought, since there were only seven students in the class. The keeners in the front knew something I didn't. The prof came in with a few notes scrawled on the back of a receipt and a used letter envelope, and then plunged into an amazing lecture. At least, the parts I could hear were amazing. He was quiet. Mental note: get a seat at the front for every lecture from this point forward. Anyways, this guy knew every detail about the theory he was describing, as if it was his first language. Amazing.
As I adjust to the expectations of a new department, my emotions transition between excitement, intimidation, fear, and hope. I remind myself of these words of wisdom from a VIU math instructor (very, very paraphrased):
In math, it's not about smart you are. Success is the result of being able to keep your head in the game. Get immersed in a problem. Do your best. Sometimes you don't get results quickly. It happens to everyone. It's not your intelligence that will define you; it is far more important to be able to find your way back into a groove when you are lost. We do this because we love it. You have to love it to be good at it, because you have to have the patience to stick with a tricky problem, even if you aren't getting anywhere quickly. If you really want to, and if you are persistent, you will do well.
I'll try my best.
*Abstract algebra is a subject about algebra of objects that may or may not be numbers. These objects could be all of the numbers, certain types of numbers, remainders, symmetries, systems of equations, the arrangements of sets of objects, or something else entirely. It's easier than it sounds.
I learned very quickly that VIU (my home institution) and UVic (my new school) have slightly different approaches to teaching math. At VIU, in-class solutions are often quite detailed. By contrast, yesterday a prof wrote a solution as follows: "Proof: Induction." This is analogous a recipe for chocolate chip cookies that reads "Method: Bake." The student is still expected to understand all of the details of the proof. A benefit to this method: I must keep up with the reading. The drawback: I must keep up with the reading. Independent study skills? Yes, I think I'll need those. This semester presents an opportunity for substantial personal growth.
When I arrived in my first Abstract Algebra II* class, the front row was full and the desks had been pushed forward as far as they could possibly go. Strange, I thought, since there were only seven students in the class. The keeners in the front knew something I didn't. The prof came in with a few notes scrawled on the back of a receipt and a used letter envelope, and then plunged into an amazing lecture. At least, the parts I could hear were amazing. He was quiet. Mental note: get a seat at the front for every lecture from this point forward. Anyways, this guy knew every detail about the theory he was describing, as if it was his first language. Amazing.
As I adjust to the expectations of a new department, my emotions transition between excitement, intimidation, fear, and hope. I remind myself of these words of wisdom from a VIU math instructor (very, very paraphrased):
In math, it's not about smart you are. Success is the result of being able to keep your head in the game. Get immersed in a problem. Do your best. Sometimes you don't get results quickly. It happens to everyone. It's not your intelligence that will define you; it is far more important to be able to find your way back into a groove when you are lost. We do this because we love it. You have to love it to be good at it, because you have to have the patience to stick with a tricky problem, even if you aren't getting anywhere quickly. If you really want to, and if you are persistent, you will do well.
I'll try my best.
*Abstract algebra is a subject about algebra of objects that may or may not be numbers. These objects could be all of the numbers, certain types of numbers, remainders, symmetries, systems of equations, the arrangements of sets of objects, or something else entirely. It's easier than it sounds.
Monday, September 3, 2012
The best things about September
Cool evenings.
Cool mornings.
Hot coffee.
Cinnamon in coffee.
Cinnamon in hot apple juice.
Cinnamon in everything.
Scarves.
New jeans.
Sunny afternoons.
Walks in the forest.
Walks by the beach.
Camping at the beach.
Homework at the beach. (Yes, homework!)
Fresh school supplies.
New courses.
High expectations.
High work ethic.
Classmate reunions.
Potluck parties.
Curried zucchini and apple soup.
Comfort food.
Warm hearts.
Cool evenings.
Cool mornings.
Hot coffee.
Cinnamon in coffee.
Cinnamon in hot apple juice.
Cinnamon in everything.
Scarves.
New jeans.
Sunny afternoons.
Walks in the forest.
Walks by the beach.
Camping at the beach.
Homework at the beach. (Yes, homework!)
Fresh school supplies.
New courses.
High expectations.
High work ethic.
Classmate reunions.
Potluck parties.
Curried zucchini and apple soup.
Comfort food.
Warm hearts.
Cool evenings.
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