May 2013
26 posts
(I’m just a dog chasing cars; I wouldn’t know what to do if I caught one)
(There aren’t any symposia at this conference I’m particularly interested in attending anymore, so what if I just followed this guy with the most amazing ass I have ever seen around until I go to the airport? Using public funds for stalking is probably really unethical, right?)
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I completed my 15+ minute talk in 11 minutes.
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(I’m planning on getting back on some sweet psychoactives shortly after I return from this conference. This was a scary bout of nonsense and I don’t want to repeat it.)
Insane thought of the hour:
What if I just yell out ‘CARDIAC SWAG’ and then sit down instead of actually presenting my shitty slides?
(I’m counting on all the gifs of spirals to hypnotize the audience into thinking I gave an amazing talk.)
At current count, there are 14 animated GIFs in my talk.
“I think I know what’s going on. We have to be careful with windowing. If...”
– You gotta be fucking kidding me.
Remember that time I laid on my kitchen floor so I could eavesdrop on my downstairs neighbor have a weird conversation with a one-nighter about witchcraft and pedicures?
Now I’m doing that but with impromptu therapy sessions sponsored by the gangbangers selling drugs behind the house.
This house smells… earthy. It reminds me of the smell when you had to feed worms in elementary school.
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WatchWhere is everyone? This is weird.
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In the interest of maintaining arguably the only theme this blog has ever had, and in keeping with the cascading series of meltdowns I’ve had recently and have witnessed on my dash today (due in no small part to the newest Hyperbole and a Half) I thought I’d talk briefly about self-harm.
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My depressive symptoms are typical. It always begins with lethargy, and withdrawal....
What’s the appropriate amount of time to toil impotently in the face of forces you can’t quite grasp before admitting you’ve never been good at anything, hate yourself, and this stoic perseverance schtick is simply not for you?
I am deeply unhappy.
Tell me it’s okay to give up.
0 + 0 = 0, usually.
0 - 0 = 0, sometimes.
0 * 0 = 0, if you’re lucky.
0 / 0 = 0, is heresy.
Today a waitress was nice to me and it made me cry.
“…like a fuckin’ queer!”
– The random strangers hanging out in the driveway behind my house. I can’t wait to get out of here.
Re: 'So fucking bad at linear algebra'
Let’s see how well I can explain myself / we can follow this.
(Go to my blog to see the math actually render, non-math summary in the penultimate paragraph)
You have a problem:
\[ (\mathbb{h} - \mathbb{I})\mathbf{y} = \mathbf{b} \]
But \(\mathbb{h}\) has some number of unit eigenvalues, let’s say \(m\).
Then \(\mathbb{h} - \mathbb{I}\) has, obviously, \(m\) zero...
I miss Liz Lemon and 30 Rock so much.
I am so fucking bad at linear algebra.
Rhode Island Legislature Passes Gay Marriage,... →
‘Bout time.
Panic.
Who has two thumbs, a lot of regrets, and hit...
This fool!
I am too drunk for Tuesday.
April 2013
40 posts
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On Sundays in Atlanta, parking violations are not...
This utter lawlessness can work to your advantage, or drive every driver into a destructive solipsistic tailspin.
Often: Both!
I'm watching documentaries on YouTube and having...
This homeless ancient Vancouverite junkie is more eloquent than me.
People who believe there’s a second American Revolutionary War coming, are actively preparing for it, and you guessed it, all whiter than the driven snow in a cocaine storm and armed to the teeth are FUCKING TERRIFYING.
God I just want to fucking die.
Leading Krylov subspace vectors for a stable... →
But the high-frequency oscillations are due to poorly resolving the singularity on the right so it’s actually meaningless noise and fury I hate my life and want to die click for seizure-inducing existential madness.
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Just realized “I’m gonna feel your heart stop in my hands” is a line in a Kylie Minogue song and lost my mind.
Kylie is metal as fuck.
Mantra:
“The method keeps adding innumerable significant modes to the Krylov subspace,” or, “Just fucking kill me already why won’t you let me die”.
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Open on a nightclub. There is a drag show. Detox is on stage. Icona Pop’s ready for the weekend comes on. Detox performs to it.
Her jaw-shake is overused, but appropriate. Like a malfunctioning lip-syncing robot.
Her jaw comes completely off mid-number. She tapes it back on and proceeds as if nothing happened. She now shakes her entire head to do her move.
I want Luke Wilson’s eyebrows.
I hate my eyebrows.
If I do not make eye contact, do not comment on my purchase, liquor store cashiers.
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Office-mate: Why didn't you make enough coffee?
Me: I made a full pot, you just get here two hours after me.
O: oh, so when I ask you at 1 pm whether you want coffee and you say 'no' it's because you've already had a gallon of it.
M: basically.
O: you drink too much coffee.
M: I know.
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In what is quite possibly the most depressing realization of my life, I now have dreams where sequences of numbers never converge to zero.
Who knew you’d need to add “Serious inquiries only” to an announcement for a post-doc position, as if you were selling some stained and dingy couch on Craigslist.
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“Science’s self-assumed responsibility has been self-limited to disclosure to...”
– R. Buckminster Fuller, Synergetics
You know that twitch that people have as they fall asleep? I had never experienced it, and I used to get so angry with my first boyfriend when he would twitch while we were in bed together. I was an asshole about it.
I still think about that a lot and feel really guilty about it.
