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epistle log 6ix
post-modern american rain in my vanilla pudding
so i was sitting there in calc II, learning about infinite series again. and it never ceases to amaze me that an infinite amount of numbers can be added together to equal, say, 2. take for instance the sum of the series generated by 4/(3^n), a simple geometric series. now, it generates an infinite number of rational numbers that, when all lined up in a summation, equal two.
that blows my mind. i mean, i understand it and all, but it still remains amazing and mystical to me. like gabriel's horn, a math function which, when rotated into a solid, has a finite volume but an infinite surface area. kinda crazy, huh?
so what does that all mean? even mathematics is relative? or are mathematics always concrete, and everything else just kinda approximated mathematical perfection? which is it? is math a flawed view of reality, or is reality flawed math? i used to be able to answer, flatly and with conviction, that mathematics was just a set of conventions to try to aid our finite minds in dealing with the infinitude of chaos and the chaos of infinity that is existence. but we started considering it while studying descartes in theory of knowledge. but now, this seems much less important then when i started this paragraph. oh well.
what bothers me now is bad hip hop blending with the tortoise i am now playing. that really gets on my nerves. it makes me shut my door which is something i don't like to do. i like leaving my door open, so people can come and go, and it makes the whole hall a little friendlier when you can leave your door open. unfortunately the g-dawg (he prefers to be called seth dawg or just dawg) who will never ever understand the power of women across the hall likes to play is very very poor music (a strange medley of rap, hanson and bad eighties) at a much higher than necessary volume, possibly trying to make up in volume what lacks in quality. and we won't even get into a freudian analysis, no matter how amusing it may be.
another thing i like, other than open doors, is vanilla pudding. i really really like vanilla pudding. it always tastes good to me. and the cafe even makes passable vanilla pudding: very inconsistent, sometimes rich and creamy and just plain smooth, other times a little rough, but always it is vanilla pudding. and vanilla pudding is good.
so there i was in the cafe, getting a bowl of vanilla pudding to go, and stuck three chocolate chip cookies in there as well (cookies should be eaten in threes, and i only have desserts when there is good pudding, so i didn't feel bad about any excess on what is to be a day of fasting), and walked out of the cafe. for some reason i didn't feel like walking down to the down under to get my mail or check out the commuters (commuter girls always seem to to be prettier and more interesting than on campus girls, but maybe i'm just weird. maybe it's just that i don't see them half as often as i see on campus girls. whatever). so i walked out of the uc, picked up a free bottle of citra (courtesy of your friendly multinational representative of waste, excess and abuse) (hey, it's a free coke. shut up) and walked outside.
into the rain
thus getting rain in my vanilla pudding
which did not harm the pudding in any way, nor did it keep me from enjoying said pudding. and i like the rain, it's cleansing, and make the air smell all nice. but it's always rainy for a reason.
what reason? well, a professor died today. i have not been able to wade through the rumors, but i know for sure that a professor is dead. my roommate's philosophy professor, actually. he didn't know until i told him: he had skipped philosophy class for the first time today in lieu of a spanish paper.
don't get me wrong: i hate death. death has been a close companion of mine for the past few years, and a very disagreeable one at that. but his death didn't bother me. i kind of take death in stride now. i worry a little because wagner really liked him, and he was a nice guy, and a lot of people i know feel the same way. but even that is standard, that i have gotten used to. what bothered me is that his death proved to be some sort of entertainment to a certain individual on our hall. this individual is desperately seeking acceptance (which is probably the cause of his lack of acceptance) and has no how-do-you-say? tact. one of the rumors is that the professor had committed suicide, which nick so kindly referred to as "offing himself." he was amazed and intrigued by this prospect, and presented it to a few of his students in a manner that clearly upset everyone at the lunch table. then, he came bounding up the stairs with a grin on his face, confirming that the professor in question was indeed dead.
the fact that death can be entertainment for some people bothers me a great deal. a great deal.
i love post-modern america
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