Thursday, December 25, 2008

Gone again

I won't be seen around these parts until the 7th of February. 

I am busy pretending to study for the candidacy exam for the benefit of my mother who has travelled halfway across the world to witness the rare event. 

Halfway is the furthest you can go since we live on a sphere. Hence the production. Also, although we're in wonderland right now, mum isn't here for the snow. 

Dance monkey dance. Where'd that darned whiteboard go now?

Math is fun! Loving those snow capped Laplacians!

Oh and Happy Holidays! Wishing you a merry season of indolence and gluttony!

My mind is a muscle. My mind is a muscle. My mind is a muscle. 10 more laps around the text!


Thursday, November 27, 2008

Lady vs. Handbag

This is a rebuttal towards those of my friends who frequently get caught amidst my mad handbag hunts, and to those who scrutinize my every move to make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm quite grateful but really it's not that bad. Shit happens.


How do you spot a tool bag in space?



Track the tool bag

A tool bag which floated away from a shuttle astronaut during a recent space walk will be visible over Britain this week, but how do you spot it?

Losing a tool bag can be inconvenient, but when you're 212 miles above the Earth it's a whole different matter.

Last week American astronaut Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper was forced to watch her tools - reportedly worth £70,000 - float off when the backpack-sized bag slipped out of her grip.

The accident happened as she was cleaning grease off her gloves while fixing a gummed-up joint on the International Space Station's solar panel. The bag went into orbit and has become a "must see" among some competitive stargazers in recent days.

You can calculate precisely where something will be in space at any given time thanks to Newton's first law of physics. It states that any object moving in a straight line tends to remain in such a state unless acted upon by an external force.

This also applies in space, the only difference being things move in an orbit. And because space is so vast and empty, a tool bag is unlikely to be knocked off its course by anything else.

THE ANSWER
Astronaut Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper
Precise location can be plotted using Newton's first law of physics
Size of space means it's unlikely to be hit by anything else or be anything else

As scientists know information like the size of the tool bag and where it was lost, it is possible to do the orbital calculations to determine where it will be and when.

A computer model has been developed for the tool bag (see link below answer box). But finding its exact location in the sky depends on your location on Earth. For example, it will appear lower in the sky from the north of England and Scotland than the south.

Equipped with your latitude and longitude coordinates, the model will calculate the time to see the tool bag, the altitude it will be at and the magnitude, which specifies its brightness compared with stars. Usually the bag has a negative magnitude, say astronomers, meaning it is one of the brightest objects in the night sky apart from the moon and planes.

But before that you will also need the right equipment - binoculars or a telescope and "even then it will be difficult to see," says Dr Robert Massey of the Royal Astronomical Society.

But the typically large distances between things in space also means it's unlikely anything else will be in the same position at the same time, says Robin Scagell, of the Society for Popular Astronomy. So what you track will almost certainly be the tool kit.

Burn up

"Most people have been playing too many computer games and think space is full of chunks of rock and debris, but it isn't," he says.

"There are things out there, but they are likely to be meteors the size of a grain of coffee and many miles apart. Even if they did hit the tool bag they would have little impact."

WHO, WHAT, WHY?
QM
A regular feature in the BBC News Magazine - aiming to answer some of the questions behind the headlines

What you will see is another matter. The bag will have no structure or shape but will look like a faint star whizzing through the sky. But it will be easily distinguishable from a plane because it won't have red and green navigation lights.

"It will be a speck of light which will not be visible to the naked eye," says Dr Massey. "I wouldn't waste too much time looking out for it. Looking at the actual space station where the bag was lost is far more interesting."

Eventually very faint traces of atmosphere will act on the tool bag to slow it down and it will come out of orbit, says Mr Scagell. But this could take years and when it does happen the bag will be burned up in the Earth's atmosphere.




Disclaimer: It could equally as easily have been a gentleman.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Way to tick off


Calm down
I am calm

Calm down
I am calm

Calm down
I am calm

Calm down
I am calm

Calm down
I !#$%* am %^&* calm

Thursday, October 30, 2008

The shoemaker and the elves

Remember the story about the shoemaker and the elves? Shame on you if you don't, go ask any 6 year old.

You don't have to look too closely to notice all the things that happen in the cover of the night while you sleep. The anonymous early morning set of emails concerning local news, half price shoes, flat screen televisions and a new fortune should you provide the number of your bank account, that you sleepily check and delete. All those leaves you crushed on your way home have assembled themselves neatly into a hill on the grass and there's no crackle in your step on your way out this morning. You find a line of sparkling white toilets with raised seats, quite unlike the careworn washroom you grumbled about yesterday.

Ever wonder how the bulletin boards get plastered the way they do even though you never see a mob of people having a stapler fight to punch their piece on that precious space. I wish I could tell you that you can catch them red handed in the half lit corridors outside the library late in the evening. But I was there last night, with my posters and my stapler, and there was no one there to fight. So I just tried to be considerate, under no force, and posted my little ads only over events that were over. I roamed the corridors, merrily stapling and solitary. And then I was spotted, by a man with a vacuum cleaner, piling chairs on desks lifted off the carpet. I met his glance and kept moving without a nod. When I step onto the deeper blue fiber in class today, I will know the face behind the cause of the clean carpets. And the carpet cleaner will have solved the mystery of the sign sprouting bulletin boards.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Challa

Challa is a punjabi folk song that's been around forever, obviously. Since Indian music is dominated by Bollywood now, the folk songs that you hear now are ones that have survived the test of time. They strike a chord whether you heard them from your parents while you worked in the fields as a kid way back when or if you were sniffing around on youtube and clicked something that seemed vaguely familiar. The latter would be me, in case you didn't get that. So, several days ago I rediscover this song and find this lovely version of it sung by one of those rare present day sufis, Rabbi Shergill. I've been completely hooked to it, and for the first few days it made me really sad. It's so heart wrenching, it remind me of a part of myself that's always stuffed away somewhere and brought out to try on every now and then and then put away again. Like an old dress that you got from your Mom that you wore so fondly before but looks sorta silly on you now and doesn't go with any of your shoes. The song is lovely to me in its abstractness and its willingness in being interpreted any way you like. The word "Challa" literally means "Ring", the kind you wear, which is made quiet obvious in the Dali-esque video. I don't know much Punjabi, I took the liberty of translating it and putting it in my own words. I'm not really competing from accuracy here and have just put down my interpretation, with some help from other blogs and discussion boards. Don't read it if you consider yourself an independent thinker. Before I spoil all the fun, heres the video...




Chhalla vas nahi oo mere

Chhalla vas meri maan de

Ghallegi tan jange

Ve gall sun chhallia

Khaure keeta kis is ‘te toona



The ring, it heeds me not

The ring, it heeds only my mother

It will leave if she wishes

Listen to me, my darling

I don’t know who cast this spell



Chhalla bambi da paani

Kithhey veh gaye ne jaani

Asan khabar ko na jaani

Ve gall sun chhallia

Teri beri ik uggia ey kanda



The ring, water deep in the well

Who knows where it seeped away

I have no news from it

Listen to me, my darling

On your vine grows a thorn



Chhalla gut ik lammi

Asan supne chummi

Hoi neeyat si anni

Asan dil di si manni

Ve gall sun chhallia

Hun de lai jehrhi deni ey sazaa



The ring, a long braid

I kissed in a dream

I was blinded by desire

But I listened to my heart

Listen to me, my darling

Then punish me as you will



Chhalla boharh ik ‘kalla

Unhe farhia ey palla

Thalle dharat utte Allah

Ve gall sun chhallia

Khaure jandian kinni dunghian jarhan

Es gall da os khud nu nahi pata



The ring, a lone banyan

Where it sprouted it held fast

To the Earth below and God above

Listen to me, my darling

How deep his roots run

He himself does not know



Chhalla ambian kachian

Mattan de koi sachian

Laiey lekhe jo bachian

Terian merian gharian

Ve gall sun chhallia

Langh javan ain na umran khaali



The ring, unripe mangoes

Somebody give me some true advice

Let’s think of what’s left

Of your time and mine

Listen to me, my darling

Lest our lives should go to waste



Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Notice for Chubby

Hellos and welcomes

Thank you for gracing with presence at lasts

Person awaits comments

Thank yous

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Negative gradient

Before this day goes totally and utterly downhill, I want to at least shout out, while my last remnants of sanity dwindle.

My life has been taken over by numbers, symbols and loops of stubborn logic. I count my words when I speak, or write. I force my feet to take bigger steps and just get there already. I shove food down my throat and guzzle coffee for sustenance.

I'm on the negative gradient of my function right now and it keeps getting higher in magnitude. For instance, factor in the girls upstairs who decide to have a tete-a-tete at 1 am, but unwittingly share their boisterous enthusiasm with their pretty sleepy and very gruff neighbor downstairs. Add in lack of sunshine, two powerpoint presentations, a not-quite-right research project bordering on a thesis deadline topped with a nitpicking pessimistic attitude like yours truly and your really on a roll.

It's therefore time to open up my parachute, slow my descent, take a nap.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Saturday afternoon snoozefest

It's another overcast albeit lovely Saturday afternoon, and all's well in my Universe. At least according to my observation model. The last time I checked my universe was completely observable for everything that did want to keep track of, which isn't much. So if I left a sock in a dryer somewhere sometime, I don't know and don't care and all's well.

As for inputs, food, sleep and physical and mental exercise have been wired in. Since the system is operating on a Thursday/Friday/Saturday/Sunday schedule, the latter two are negligible and may be ignored. States reaching the limits of the operation envelope were damped by home cooked chicken. Disturbance rejection is functioning as designed and pulses of blue spectrum emotions were rejected by a nap and a chocolate brownie.

All states in the universe are stable and running. The system will now switch to the next task.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Hey you :)

I've been gone forever from this blog which I created so lovingly and full of promise, to channel my thoughts, to keep everyone posted without whining on a one on one basis, and possibly to live vicariously by. And it wasn't suddenly finding focus, contentment or fulfillment that kept me away. Nor was it lack of time. I don't know why I stopped writing and I'm sure if you're reading you couldn't be less interested in finding out. But since this is my blog I hope that you can at least permit me to say I've missed it, and you, and now I'm back and that's all thank you.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Fog

Fog

Churning crunching crushing

Creeping guilty convict

Regret rattling round his neck

Half wish

Half heart

Half tongue

A nostril

And An eye

Conglomerate of halves

Rising as one

Inhaling

Exhaling Lung

Clutching at wholes

To grab his Half

Half nose

Catching Half a cold

A sneeze that went unblessed

Squeezing out one last vapid Half puff

Of a Half tossed Half glowing cigarette

Half a heart

Pockets a Half conscience

Left aside for Half the night

And for his Half tongue

A Half promise

A Grey truth

A White lie

Mocking me with my lost love’s

Last Half wish

Dangling his catch before me

A Half Dead

Dew filled

Tingling Half Sigh

Snickering Half consummate

Slithered away

Claiming for his arid eye

Half a tear

That I didn’t cry.