a week in the life

Here are some snippets (quotes/pics) from a typical busy, varied week!

I gave a lecture to a first-year calc class on Monday, and according to the two undergrads sitting in front of my prof during the lecture (he asked them afterward what they thought of me): "Deniz [the usual lecturer] is mathematically organized, she seems personally and spiritually organized."

Housemate Sonya brings home desserts for the rest of us!  :)

in discrete math, more fun with words...
Professor: A regular graph is strongly regular if  it's regular and... *pauses*
Classmate: It's strong.

The day *after* Halloween, the pumpkins were free.  So I brought one home and carved it up a day late...

Thursday afternoon: a hailstorm.

Also Thursday afternoon:
Christina (at 5:00): "So I'm going to go work on measure theory with my classmates.  I'm hoping to be home by 7:30."
Christina comes home at 1:30. 

This is what math looks like: four people collaborating on one proof.

My supervisor, today: "So I realized we had that nice long chat about research and so on on Wednesday...and I'm going to be on sabbatical next year." 

The distribution of grades on a rather challenging algebra midterm: 

Going for a walk in the afternoon before the time changes and it gets dark at 5:30...also taking advantage of the rare full sunshine. 

new knowledge

So now that the madness of a house-hunt, move, guests, starting grad school in math and surviving midterms is mostly over, I will hopefully be carving out a wee bit more time to update this thing. But until then, have some quotes from the first half of this first term of big kid grad school.

Wisdom from discrete math...
- On solutions: "After finding it, it is trivial."
- Also on solutions: "It might not be extremely difficult, but it's rare that it's extremely easy."
- On questions: "It's a nice--well, it's a question of taste--question in combinatorics."
- On trial and error: "There is a positive chance I will fail badly. Doesn't matter."

Funny words in algebra...
- While describing large simple groups: "The largest is called...the monster. Denoted capital M."
- On the Sylow (pronounced variously) theorems, of which there are three: "See-low, sigh-low, see-lov, sigh-lov, pee-laf, pi-laf. First theorem, second theorem, red theorem, blue theorem."
- "This strange embedding is going to come from something called mystical pentagrams."

And good times in math 599, the teaching of university math classes...
- On first year students' perception of 'if and only if': "if this, then definitely, definitely!"
- "Seven is a ridiculous number. So is thirteen."
- We've had several guests, who have all been subjected to a quiz including the following question: "To what foodstuff would you compare the teaching of mathematics?" Their answers:
G: "I'll say pufferfish. Because if you prepare incorrectly, it's poisonous."
J: "sugar [...] if you have too much of it, you fall into a coma."
S: "Curry...spicy, yet sustaining at the same time."

But my personal favorite (overheard from my office), has to be:
"It turns out math is hard."

severus snape, meet immanuel kant

Today, I saw the last Harry Potter movie again. Three or four years ago, I took a course on "Kant's Moral Theory in Film and Literature." This is the kind of thing that results.

Snape is one of my favorite characters in the Harry Potter books. Of course at the beginning he was just that professor you love to hate for his irrational prejudice against your heroes, but by the end of book six, when he had seemingly revealed his true colors and betrayed Dumbledore, I knew that the story wasn't over. Little hints, clues suggested that Snape was more than he appeared, a hunch that was confirmed in the seventh book. Snape, as it turns out, was perhaps *the* ultimate example of sacrificial love from the books. Many people die for Harry's sake (including Harry himself), but Snape's sacrifice is perhaps the greatest as it is unknown, unrewarded and uncertain of result.

Snape's actions somehow connected to my memories of college classes in Kant's moral theory. If I remember correctly, one of Kant's ideas about moral behavior was that TRUE moral action was done solely for it's own sake. In other words, if you were doing the right thing because a) it made you feel good or b) you'd feel guilty if you didn't or c) you benefited in any way--that action was not *quite* as moral or good as the action of someone who was acting simply out of duty. (This may be a gross oversimplification or misstatement, but this is what I remember.)

Snape, then, is almost the perfect Kantian moral agent. He receives no benefit from his service to Dumbledore, his protection to Harry--he refuses to be recognized, he doesn't like Harry, and at the very end he is told that all his work has been for nothing, as it were. And yet he continues until the very end, obeying Dumbledore's orders even when he has nothing to gain by it, because he has promised to do so, based on his love for Lily Potter.

I wonder what Immanuel Kant would say to that?

a basic baseball proof

Last year I lived in a city where baseball games featured a race between four US presidents.

(the youtube channel featuring this video is actually DEDICATED to video of the president races. 0_0)

This year I am living in a city where baseball games feature a race between wasabi and two pieces of sushi.

(favorite moment of the video: "this is terrifying.")

Conclusion: Baseball promotions are weird and hilarious. No matter where you live.

at a loss for words

I just finished reading Anna Karenina last night, a project that has taken about a month and a half. It has been one of the best reading projects I've ever undertaken--even when there was excessive detail about Russian agricultural methods, I was still soaking in the world of the story and as I moseyed my way along, there were so many great things to think about, or moments to enjoy. I'm not sure I've ever read a novel that was so satisfying on so many levels--philosophically, culturally, spiritually, emotionally, linguistically.

If I had to describe the story in one word, it would be: coherent. Tolstoy takes a vast array of material--historical events, cultural images, philosophical and political thought, Russian geography, religion, and his cast of characters--and weaves them all together into one story, in an attempt to convey truth as he sees it. Everything in the story conspires to support the grand conclusion reached by Levin in the last chapters of the book, "Now I say that I know the meaning of my life: 'To live for God, for my soul.'" I'd argue that the real heart of Anna Karenina is not Anna herself, but rather Levin and his intellectual journey from idealism and doubt, to realism and faith.

That said, there is so much to the story that shouldn't be crammed into a thematic box. Anna Karenina is first, and foremost, a novel. Tolstoy's characters are all carefully drawn and very real--sometimes in delightful, sometimes in painful ways. I found myself sympathizing with all the characters, even when I disliked them.
There are moments of humor, sarcasm (Tolstoy's sense of irony manages to come through, even in translation), tragedy, joy, love--the whole range of human emotions. And Tolstoy is very fond of using overt symbolism--the fact that Vronsky and Anna have a significant second encounter in the middle of a violent snowstorm? Not subtle, Uncle Tolstoy, not subtle.

In short, I highly recommend Anna Karenina to EVERYONE. I understand that not everyone may have the patience to slog through all the commentary on Russian culture (even I had trouble with the extended sequence about bird-hunting), but there is so much richness to be mined from the story, it's totally worth the time investment. And if you can't be bothered to read the whole thing, at least read the (very short!) Part 8, which details Levin's conversion to faith and is a beautiful affirmation of life, goodness and belief in God.

Three's Company

I had a lovely evening last night, joining in with a friend's women's group from church. As part of the invite, we were instructed to bring three objects of significance, about which we could tell a story.
One hour before the event, I still hadn't even thought about what I could bring (except, briefly, "pictures? Hmmm..."), but I was pleasantly surprised when a quick rummage through my desk drawers and closet revealed at least three items that were both personally memorable and had great stories attached to them.


- Item one: the harmonica
During the spring break of my senior year, my friend Katie, me and four other friends traveled to the west coast (Washington's Olympic peninusla, specifically) to spend a week at Katie's house with her family. One of our adventures while there included a trip to visit Andy Mackie. Andy has spent many of his recent years serving as an advocate for music education. He goes into local schools, he raises money for scholarships, he has created "guitar-in-a-box" kits that can be assembled to create a simple one or three stringed guitar. He also plays harmonica, and standing in his workshop, he handed each of us one of these blue harmonicas in C and promptly taught us how to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."
So this harmonica reminds me not only of that trip, which was a wonderful time spent with good friends, but also all the music-making I shared with those friends and at college in general. Harmonica is very accessible, and in some ways symbolizes how my time at St. Olaf made all kinds of music my own.
I also played a fantastic duet of the Hallelujah Chorus with my friend Sarah on this harmonica, but that's another story.
- Item two: the apron
We celebrated six birthdays in about three months in my community house in DC. Each celebration was unique and fun; this apron comes from the celebration of housemate Callie's birthday. We had all baked cakes, in an impromptu "cake-off" and then Callie presented us all with blank aprons, tie dye and puff paints to each make our own apron. Not only do I really like the way mine turned it, it reminds me of the many good times I had living in the Bon House, and the ongoing value of sharing good food with those you love.
- Item three: the mittens
My most recent item, these are simply a birthday gift from my good friend Chris (technically also a Christina). Moving to Vancouver, going to Regent was a huge transition and a large part of the shock came right around my birthday. I had seen these mittens at the Bay and really wanted a pair, mostly because they were really fun and Canadian. They were the perfect gift at the perfect time--a luxury that I wanted, but couldn't afford; witness to a friend's caring about me; and a reminder that living in Canada was not all grey rainy weather, but also something bright, fun and cheerful.

twentysomething not-crisis

So on my morning facebook sojourn, I stumbled across this article (through a friend of a friend?):
11 things to know at 25ish
I found it thoughtful, wise, and generally good down-to-earth advice. Especially since I am doing nearly all of the things on it. :)

extravagance

Sometimes it's tough being a poor grad student. Today I heard about Canucks tickets being scalped for less than a thousand dollars as a *decrease* and I sighed...that's two months of rent. Or several months of groceries. How on earth can someone justify such extravagance?

Then I place my own life up for sale.

My life includes a a roof over my head--a roof that shelters me and many others in an expensive Vancouver neighborhood. It's my own room with a warm bed, donated flowering plant and stupendous view of North Van across the water. It's a shared kitchen where we talk about the day, envy other people's good cooking, and sometimes people leave out cookies on the free board.
My life includes food to eat; professional medical care (physical and psychological); a cheap bus pass and reliable public transportation system; a bike to ride; the advent of summer after an endless rainy spring.
My life includes learning ideas that are not mere abstract concepts, but breathing wisdoms to be inhabited and worn to change the world. It's the classes at Regent, the public lectures, the movies shown, the prayer retreats, the conversations in the atrium. It's chapel and singing songs and taking communion together.
And my life includes people. It's the crowd that assembles for community meals on Wednesday nights and it's Davi serenading the house with hymns and praise songs. It's the folks I'm planning to live with next fall. It's the kindly couple who sit in front of me at church. It's spot prawn dinners and hockey-watching with friends. It's the brilliance and kindness of my peers in class. It's the pastoral care, advice, teaching and lived life of Regent faculty and staff. It's exchanging letters and emails with dear friends from far away; it's being able to go home and spend time with my family. It's the gift of a new but beloved relationship.

How on earth can someone justify such extravagance, indeed.

revisiting Christian imagination

One of the classes I took this past term was "The Christian Imagination," which seeks to be an exploration of the arts, theology, and what the two have to say to each other. While reading through some old journal entries last night, I found the following insight, which struck me again as important for both artists and theologians.

"It's not about you, the artist, but the creation itself and the people whom it is serving."
This became a growing conviction of mine throughout the course--that art should not be the work of one autonomous individual but must exist in the context of a community's life.
"It's not about Marja, but the act of teaching and her students."
Marja, the founder of the school where I worked last year, is indeed a saint, for the very reason that she deflects all attention from herself to the more important work of teaching, and students.
"It's not about Father Dunstan but his art and its service to the abbey."
One of the artists we visited as part of the course was Father Dunstan--who "gave up" a career as a professional artist to become a monk--and has continued to be an artist in the service of his community.
"So my own project shouldn't be about me, the artist, but the work and who I'm trying to serve."
I didn't consciously remember this when I formulated my final project for the class, but as it turned out, the bulk of my project was teaching people to dance--serving the art and the class community.
"Pastor's sermons, then, first and foremost, should be an act of Christian imagination."
Serving the word, the congregation.

victorian novels and vancouver spring

So the theme of the week (being performed with varying amounts of gusto) is waiting.

- Variation one: Vancouver spring
Everyone, without exception, has been saying this is the coldest, wettest, latest, most miserable spring in ages. And we keep saying it, over and over, because summer keeps not arriving. The momentous occasion of a few weeks ago is sadly becoming a distant memory.
But we wait. Summer IS coming (and is apparently going to be a scorcher when it comes). Wait, wait wait.

- Variation two: Victorian novels
I just finished reading North and South, by Elizabeth Gaskell, for Mapping Gender, one of the courses I'm auditing this spring. I wonder sometimes if the reading energy of my youth has been permanently damaged by my now five years of post-secondary education--I now find it more difficult to really sink my teeth into a novel and become completely absorbed. Especially when said novel is Victorian, and thus contains a) at least a few descriptions that cause me to roll my eyes and b) a plot that moves at the speed of molasses.
Of course, that's what I would have said three days ago, when I was stuck around the halfway point of North and South. I was starting to see major themes developed and kicked around, the tension between the two main characters was building, and I just couldn't seem to plow forward. It took a moment of stepping back, realizing that I was perhaps more engaged with the characters than I would like to admit--and then charging forward with the leap of faith that if I read the book straight through to the end, it would somehow be good.
The amazing thing--it was. I had forgotten that the slow development of plot at the beginning of the book means that once you move past halfway, things began to happen with a kind of tragic inevitability--you KNOW what's going to happen (mostly) and yet you can't stop reading because you can't wait to see it happen before your very eyes. There's something very satisfying as the whole tale sweeps together loose ends in a way that is both painful (people die, hearts are broken) and joyful (redemption occurs! relationships are made!).
So note to self: Victorian novels require waiting. Sometimes even waiting past the midway point. But you read through the beginning, even savor it, waiting for the great conclusion that you know is coming. Perhaps this philosophy will finally get me past the first 300 pages of Middlemarch until the end.

kind streets

One of the aftershocks of my time with LVC is a rather more serious consideration of how I treat the people I run into when I'm walking around a city.
Normally it's quite simple--you try not to run into anyone, and if by chance you make eye contact, you may smile or nod or say hello. However, it's a lot more challenging when someone is trying to get your attention--and here I'm thinking of those hoping for your literal change and those hoping for greater change--canvassers for various advocacy and relief organizations.
I confess that I don't always know what to do with street canvassers. The easiest tactic is to just walk by, keep my eyes down, and shake my head vaguely. But that doesn't feel quite right to me--no matter how passionate you are about something, it's got to be hard to have hundreds, thousands of people giving you the brush. So lately I've been making eye contact, smiling, and then saying I'm not interested, so that I don't waste their time.
Today I did that, and then, since I was waiting for the bus anyway, ended up talking to one of them. And in the course of this conversation, I had two new insights for dealing with street canvassers in a way that is respectful and potentially beneficial to both sides.
1) I feel like this should have been obvious to me ages ago, but ask about alternative ways to help the cause that doesn't involve making a donation. The gentleman I talked to today was speaking on the behalf of an animal rights organization. Aha, I said. I don't have money to join your organization (plus, I'm not sure I agree with it). But what can I do in my daily life that will make a difference? He suggested free-range chicken products. I could easily have followed up with more questions along that line, which could have been a very helpful conversation informing my practices as a consumer.
2) Provide yourself with an easy out, aka, these particular canvassers were fortunately located in front of a bus stop. At the beginning of the conversation, I said that I would have to scoot when my bus came and sure enough, just as I was being presented with a form to fill out, my bus arrived and I scampered away. As someone who dislikes saying no, it made it much easier to engage, knowing that I would have a viable excuse to leave the conversation.

exploits in the garden

Before today, my only experience of plant pruning was watching my parents wrestle with both our productive peach tree and overly-enthusiastic bougainvillea. Today, it was my turn. I suited up in a Vancouver drizzle to do battle with a wannabe-stately forsythia bush that was due for a severe haircut. At first, nearly every cut I made seemed counter-intuitive: I was lopping off all the big, high-growing green stuff--that couldn't possibly be right! To keep on track, I kept reminding myself of the goal: a more contained bush, with green shoots on lower branches.
It was impossible to do this task without calling to mind Jesus' parables about pruning, vines and branches. As I nervously hacked away, I wondered how much of my life is like the branches I was pruning--beautiful, green, but ultimately not heading in the right direction.
However, I think my forsythia bush had something else to say to me. I was comforted in my work that this particular forsythia bush, as established as it is, was pretty much indestructible. As long as I left it in the ground, with some green branches, it was going to survive. And in fact, my final result looks surprisingly robust, considering that I eliminated at least 60% of its foliage.
And that's hopeful. In the midst of painful pruning, it's good to remember that we're rooted and are ultimately going to survive, and not only survive but maybe even look better than we thought.

not-so-brief thoughts on social justice

Last week and this week I've been taking Vocation, Work and Ministry at Regent as part of spring school. It's been a valuable class for many reasons, but one insight from class today was particularly helpful for me in my ongoing consideration of the elusive "social justice."

Our topic of the day was social transformation or social justice--how does responsibility for our neighbors factor into our own vocations and life work. As part of that discussion, our professor invited a guest speaker who has spent more than the past twenty years following a road of so-called "downward mobility," seeking to follow Jesus and stand in solidarity with the poor.
One of my classmates asked the following question: if we're supposed to pursue this "downward" path, what do we say to those at the bottom? If the poor are seeking upward mobility, at what point do they become the rich who need to give up their wealth to be re-connected with the poor?
There are a lot of assumptions and values playing into that question and the answer could be complex and varied. However, our guest gave an answer that I think is a helpful way to re-frame the whole issue of service/social justice/solidarity with the "poor."

His main idea was that it's not so much a question of "upward" or "downward" mobility but a movement from individual self-sufficiency towards a communal economy. What does that mean? Here's how I interpreted it.
In my living situation last year through LVC, I had $100/month for groceries. You could come sailing in with a lot of questions here--is $100/month enough to eat on? would I be eating well enough?--and if the answer was that it wasn't enough, the logical solution would seem to be that I needed more money.
OR, (as it happened), I could pool my money with my housemates and suddenly $500/month for five people WAS enough because of economies of scale. It's not a perfect example (I know some of my housemates swallowed the cost of buying some of their own food), but the fact remains that while I might have possibly survived on my grocery stipend on my own, I ate WELL (to include the occasional luxury of ice cream!) by throwing my lot in with my housemates, not to mention being connected to church and work communities that provided our house community with free meals and gifts of groceries.

From this angle, solidarity with the poor takes on a new dimension. Suddenly it's not about me "coming down" to be with the poor, but rather giving up my right to be self-sufficient and instead integrating myself into a communal web, where I depend on others and others depend on me in order to live. And the goal for the poor is not necessarily more (although clearly, there are certain minimum needs that need to be defined and met), but being brought into relationships that are mutually beneficial and sustaining.
This seems a much more expansive idea of solidarity and social justice. It includes more classic ideals of living on less, mutual service and advocating for change, but also the simple practice of being neighborly: establishing the communal ethic that chips in for a neighbor's house repair, cooks meals for a family with a child in the hospital, and babysits for free.
It also has something to say to the "wealthy." One side effect of thinking this way is that "poverty" is shifted away from pure socio-economic need to those who are isolated from resources, especially the resources of community. By this understanding, those with money who live lives isolated from a community of dependence are almost more poor than their neighbors who can't pay rent. Is there a need for "social justice" for these people as well? I think there is. Obviously the main thrust of social justice needs to be on behalf of those who are marginalized socially and economically. But unless this ethic of mutual dependence takes root in ALL social classes, from top to bottom, I don't think society will ever be fully just.

Of course, this is easier said than done. I left class with the conviction that I need to work a lot harder at establishing an interdependent life, especially in my current house community. It's a reflection of my privilege that I get to make that choice and have to make the effort--for many in my city and the world, it's the only option they have.

a momentous occasion

It has been a long time. But an amazing thing has returned to Vancouver that is worthy of a post, after many weeks of silence.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present...Vancouver sunshine.

On paper writing

In celebration of finishing my CTC paper, I present some musings on the process of paper writing.

Writing papers is the delight and bane of my academic existence. I love reading books and summarizing content, organizing ideas and making a logical argument, saying things with just the right word and producing an elegant, well-crafted paper that is interesting, accessible and edifying.
This, perhaps is my problem. When I'm in the midst of researching or writing and really excited, this all just flows and it's exhilarating to do. But reaching that threshold and pushing through seems to take me a long time, partially because objectively, it's a pretty daunting task to reach the standard I set for myself. So many things need to happen and there are so many ways to go wrong. Hardly a relaxing process.

That said I have observed several things about my own process of writing papers:
- I always go for primary sources if possible. They're really helpful.
- One of the benefits of computers is being able to "write" fast. So I take down every single quote that I think might be relevant to my topic. Then they're all gathered into one document, already typed up, and if I need direction, easy to refer to.
- This one is thanks to Regent: start with a good research question. Especially for this last paper, it's done wonders for keeping me on track. Every time I got lost in my ideas and asked "what am DOING," my question pointed me back in the right direction.
- I very rarely worry about the length of papers because I've developed a knack for picking topics that are the "right size."
- I have not yet mastered using outlines effectively--I need to just start writing and that process clarifies my ideas (or at least shows where they're muddled).
- Finally, and this has been the hardest thing to accept about paper-writing and the major reason I have such trouble with procrastination: my method of paper-writing is inherently inefficient and I haven't found any way around that. I will read books with information I don't use. I will redefine my thesis twelve times. I will write nearly three full drafts worth of stuff before I have my ideas under control and can bash out the final version. Not only that, but I have to write out the final version by hand--typing just doesn't work.

Well, that was fun. Now I need to clean up the wreckage that always follows paper writing--gather up all the loose papers and put them away, put library books in a bag to be returned, wash dishes...

democracy in action

So I'm writing a paper on the American value of the rugged individual and was skimming through Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America (which is uber-long) and found these section titles to be quite humorous.

- Why the Americans Have Never Been as Passionate as the French for General Ideas in Political Matters.
- How the Example of the Americans Does Not Prove That a Democratic People Can Have No Aptitude and Taste for the Sciences, Literature, and the Arts.
- Why the Americans at the Same Time Raise Such Little and Such Great Monuments.
- Why American Writers and Orators Are Often Bombastic.
- On the Gravity of the Americans and Why It Does Not Prevent Their Often Doing Ill-Considered Things.
- Why the National Vanity of the Americans Is More Restive and More Quarrelsome than That of the English.
- Why One Finds So Many Ambitious Men in the United States and So Few Great Ambitions.

Hahahaha. We've come so far in 200 years!

overheard in...

- Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
"Don't you know that a man being rich is like a girl being pretty? You wouldn't marry a girl just because she's pretty, but my goodness, doesn't it help?"

Lady Beekman: "It's a tiara."
Lorelei Lee: "You DO wear it on your head. I just LOVE finding new places to wear diamonds."

- New Testament Foundations
"Dick and Jane. The ice cream people. No? Ben and Jerry's? I'm not up on my North American culture..."

re: Moses confronting Pharoah
"What does his staff turn into? Not a beaver, sorry Canadians."

- Christian Thought and Culture
"Mennonites rule! Calmly, peaceably, quietly..."

- in the Atrium, today, at lunch
"We're in charge of the US!"
Followed by
"We are gullible sheep!"

Re: the last two: A fellow student and I are organizing the United States contingent of Regent's "Taste of the World" aka international potluck extravaganza.

brief update

Christmas holidays were great, back in Canada, already behind, classes are awesome, and this has been my day...
Hopefully life will proceed without too much excitement for the next couple of weeks.