Continuing the previous topic (learning), the other option for me is that it should be "real". Keep it real. To have a direct impact (or foreseeable application) to some scenario in real life. Like programming a simulated manufacturing assembly line for optimized performance. Or creating a system that controls a train on a variety of tracks and off-ramps and loops. Or designing a pattern to be shaved out of hard plastic molding. That stuff makes sense, and I can see a reason we should learn it.

But when numbers go imaginary, they lose me. My imagination is reserved for fun things, not math.

And yet, the biggest lessons I learned were those dealing with life: relationships, people, me. It's ironic that in an environment that boasts superior courses and curriculums, these were things that were not taught in class. And things I continue to learn long after classrooms are of the past. Some lessons harder than others, some more engulfing than others, some longer to understand than others.

And thus, I continue, forging new neural connections, hoping my brain won't sit idly by while life withers it away.

"[this proof/investigation/question] ... is left as an exercise for the reader." Was it just us engineers and mathematicians and statisticians who had to endure this textbook taunt?

How many of us readers actually did the exercise, and worked out the issue? How many of us chose to be mental couch potatoes instead, sitting in front of the Idiot Book and accepting whatever it had to spew at us? I have no problems admitting I am a member of the latter, with my butt print firmly imprinted in the comfy chair that was apathy: apathetic of the course, its foundations, its implications. Academia had so far-removed the topic from my reality and from my realm of concern that it didn't really matter to me how many poles were in the right-hand plane, or when to apply Euler's formula. I just didn't (and still don't) care.

And while I will simply accept that certain formulae work and hold true, those are not the topics that I will remember far into a useful future. Instead, I need a strong tie to reality and to real-world applications, before I will accept a new concept. Concepts: broad understandings of certain phenomena, generalizations that explain many cases at once, but allow the individual to judge for themselves when anomalies and exceptions should apply. Consider it a blanket statement (know it's got its holes) packed into a tiny nugget of information. Maybe the ultimate in efficient learning, and the least strain on the brain.

That's just how I prefer to learn.

It's the age-old question -- who am I? -- posed by a fellow blogger that reminded me of my younger ponderous days. Who am I, my younger self wondered. Am I solely my physical being? Or solely my mental being? Or even my spiritual being, or the energy that embodies it? If I were any of these by themselves, would I be able to remove the other parts and still be convinced that I am me? If I were defined completely by my mental existence, would I still exist the same if my arms and legs were removed, if my brain were extracted and kept alive by artificial support means, while my body lay decaying 10 meters away? "I think, therefore I exist." That would still hold true. So, then ... who am I?

Do birds ever chirp for nothing? They chirp to mate, or chirp to warn, or chirp to whimper in pain ... but those all have function. Do they ever chirp just because? Just for no reason at all, chirp chirp chirp? If they do, then that's what these birds outside my office window are doing. More than likely, they are just laughing at me for being inside on a lovely Friday evening. [sigh]

I hate being misunderstood. I live most of my life with the best of intentions, with openness in helping myself and those I care about, with kindness and consideration. And I certainly do all of this with a healthy helping of naivity and innocence, sometimes believing that others will see what's true to my personality and understand where I am coming from. I have few long-lived ill wills against others. And in that way, I have been misunderstood; that saddens me, because it feels like I've failed in being true to myself and others. Or have I?

Knowledge is power. Selective knowledge leads to an imbalanced power (not imbalance OF power), and leads to abuse of strength (or abuse of other things in trying to find strength). I cannot control how others handle theirs; I only maintain that mine is protected as needed.

Sh!t has hit the fan. A lot of sh!t -- the ultimate (mother) load, one might say. And it's an industrial fan, too. The kind that oscillates to circulate air (and sh!t) around the room. At first glance, it seems as if, once flung, all the dung will quickly splatter across the white carpet -- which, by my luck, has just been steam vacuumed. And yet, as the droplets settle and soak in, I have but a suspicion that not all as been blown my way yet; more piles lurk in the shadows awaiting another trigger, another fan, or just a gust of wind. (There's nothing like the threat of having sh!t all over your face to make you peer over your shoulder in paranoia.)

Rum raisin ice cream (or gelato) is nowhere to be found. One gelato shop even told me it was a seasonal thing. What part of rum raisin ice cream would be seasonal? The rum? Unlikely. The raisin? They're dried (preserved) fruit, and they keep. The ice cream? Come on. So what exactly do I have to do to get some run raisin around here??