So am I right to be disturbed that a doctoral student in math education and former teacher of calculus is not "convinced" that 0.999999.... repeating is actually equal to 1? I mean, I really don't mean to be an Angus Correctalot, but you need to draw the line somewhere, after all.

I've tried to pick up the pace in terms of my cross-training for the taikai--today's circuits and suburi let me work up quite a sweat before the newest episode of 24, which was disappointing for its lack of Jack (and what kind of name is Audrey, anyway? I don't like her nose) but Behrooz is cuter every episode, and I'm glad Dina only sustained a flesh wound (no pun). But this episode felt more like one of those periodic housekeeping episodes, when various loose ends are tied up and others are just left behind. Still, it makes me thirsty for the missing season... I only wonder how they're bringing back Palmer for the last six episodes.

I'm now in the process of constructing a concept map for ratios. This should be interesting enough, though I can only fret about the new semester now upcoming. There is still, however, plenty of money to be had in terms of overtime. We'll see how that all goes by the end.

So one can't help but smile when one sees students writing about the Cultural Revolution and the Long March as the two most important global events in world history, and chuckle right out loud when a student confesses that she cribbed her entire essay from Hotel Rwanda.

So without further ado

Asianboi roundup

Alric is coasting on and free, at his page-a-day pace.

Lostin is disseminating his blogguery.

Rob Chin has settled.

Wifey is sexier than ever.

So I keep on failing to actually succeed at blogging as I keep on being interrupted somehow--my kids have done well enough on the exam, while I am happy that we are moving from one semester to the next, not giving myself enough credit, perhaps, for the new things I've actually done, which are substantial enough in some ways, though hardly having made a dent--the talented and skilled students I'm hardly moving, the deficient I'm just not reaching. Still, there's not much of an end in sight to this career--and this is the sort of thing Wifey still considering BOOO-ring! Can't win 'em all.

So I love Rob Chin and all like the awkward brother I never had, and this is in spite of his occasional woodeness but he is a post-Monstro realboi compared to Katie Couric whom I am currently watching shuffling her way through an NBC special about teens and sex, which reveals that teens while more promiscuous than before are also a lot more abstinently self-righteous.

So my kids officially hate me, and on paper--but then again, it's odd because by the good graces of Microsoft Word they are doing such things as a box and history plot, which may or may not be the same thing as a box and hipster plot. But they're right, in that I need to be more conscientious as far as recordkeeping and discipline goes, while my pacing is definitely far off what it should be, and I need to work on my advance-planning like I used to. A fresh start, at least, is soon on the way.

So I have been snuggling against the cold with Wifey most of this weekend with the first season of 24 which is great except for when Jack keeps on pointing a gun at people and demanding, "Where is my wife and daughter??" Which is only outworsed by Wifey's perpetual, "Your feet's dirty!"

So I've been trying to blog for some days now but repeatedly I have had to table those posts for no good reason. I've been bleary and missing even kendo of all things, though also because at times I have had to be reunited with my grad school cronies, whom I informed loudly that passing everyone in their class was just giving in to the soft bigotry of low expectations, to much guffawing and appreciation until I revealed that I was cribbing from W's playbook. Sigh. I'm so unnecessary these days.

Beyond that, my return to practice today was fine.

So this is beneath/beyond/beside comment.

So a cursory search for my alma mater on friendster reveals that of the first 100, a full 40% claim to be from the Philipines. Or the other way around. It's kinda odd, as I don't remember meeting a single one. Beary, of course, duly informed me that the Web is mostly flip these days. Then again, so is my lovelife, and I can't complain.

It's odd that today's sort of service interruption at Queensboro doesn't actually happen more often--it's a marvel people dont' get sick on the trains more often. Luckily, I was already at 57th Street so I walked over to the F, waited in Queensbridge, and made it home on the Q19A, rather than being sardinepacked into an overbooked N. Somehow diverting people via the 7 doesn't quite make sense.

So I am newly excited about quaternions, as I am working with Mentor to talk about them via the Gaussian integers--only now on the subway have I really figured out why they are a noncommutative algebra--otherwise the norm doesn't work out as nicely (is not an integer)! Sad to think I've overlooked that for so long--but hti si the problem with an overpowered approach to higher algebra with an overcommutative focus. It depresses me to think how much of this I have forgotten, and at the same time have never known.

So I fell so horribly sick yesterday that I even missed kendo after grumpily milking my discomfort for as much as I could from my kids in terms of obedience though eventually I managed to stagger to wifey's and was thus cured.

As a result of that, I've been letting them rip like no one's business, the sort of ones that you are relieved at afterwards that they are more gaseous than semisolid, the most embarassing in the elevator at the graduate center. In that case, I did my best to pretend to be a fob, furrowing my brow and looking unconcerned.

So the new season of 24 has been great for the most part (mostly since Andrew Paige got himself beat out of a storyline), but mad props go to Shohreh Aghdashloo, who plays such a deeply evil mother it's out of control, though she never is.

So today was another one of those extended conversations with Bicki in which she came downstairs to clean but really to snoop through my porn closet and to make conversation with the fine young men living downstairs from her, or something, to tell stories of the usual oldperson misfortune visited upon us all in the form of natural disaster and terminal disease met only by plucky reserve and sharp perception and all that. These quadrilateral discussions eventually turned to current events, in which Samir decided to go off on one of his anti-Bush, anti-American rants, which I guess is just fine as he's going off to Nihon eventually to teach English. I hope they dont' mind that he smells like he hasn't finished wiping his butt.

So my legs have been hurting more, which is a good thing, though my right heel should not hurt at all, as that means I'm stomping wrong, and could permanently bruise the fatty cushion on my heel.

After today's practice I was shanghaied by Beary, the early-30s stubby gay graphic ikkyu who dragged me an Asiatic-taco place where he regaled me with his adventures at the Web and I did my best to be polite. I find white people and white concerns more and more ridiculous as I get older--in my recent search for a new blogroll all I find is white drama--"I have too much sex and feelings! Will I ever find true love!" and variations on that--sort of the inverse of the Asian dilemma. Still, it made me all the madder at Rob Chin not only for not having any bloggable exploits but also for leaving me at the mercies of Beary, as well intentioned as he may be.

So I have taken to reading some Thomas Mann I found dogeared on wifey's shelf, which is my first sustained attempt since falling asleep in Buddenbrooks some years ago. It's all rather accomplished, and perhaps makes you wonder at Alrickian time-lines of glory by thirty, and very un-American, perhaps though the sort of tone I was aiming for with Jaundice, the out-of-moment narrative, outside-head stuff, the sort of thing I ought to have studied more carefully when I had more of a chance earlier. The new drive for the Spring and onward is the mercenary push for more pay via differentials. Still, if it were more convenient I would buff up on my languages, but neither Chinese nor Spanish are readily available at an appropriate level, but I suppose a different way of disposing of my summer is indeed to take more courses through the Department of Education. At $50/credit, you just can't beat it.

Meanwhile, I have been saddened by the thorough lack of decent reliably readable blogs out there--Rob Chin is inconsistent, Lostin when he is on a streak still works hard, but those are just the Asian blogs--I guess there would also be the need for more blogs in the flavor of wifey's--queerfilter and nycbloggers have turned up simply nothing to write home about.

So the nice thing about kendo is if you stay with it long enough you get to bring your son and he gets to look all awkward with no coordination and barely developed muscles, and yet the eventual ability to kick your agingness. It's a nice sort of contintuity.

Meanwhile, I am deeply sad that I don't have even basic cable, as this precludes me from watching the new Iron Chef America, though of course it can't possibly be as good as the original, not unless they badly dub everything--Alric has broken no one's heart in this world more than when he told me that Chairman Kaga was just an actor. No one can possibly match Michiba Roksaburu or Sakai Hiroyuki. Those Japanese sure know how to push something until perfection.

So I decided to head to the taikai in Michigan in February at the beginning of winter break, which means a trip and visit home and all that. I am looking forward to this weekend and to breaks in general--I am just boneweary and having no success in actually finding any dice whatsoever for the Saturday club tomorrow.

So the Banglaguy at the Bangladeli on the Banglastreet in wifey's banglahood proudly announced to me today as I picked up my copy of the Post later than usual as I just couldn't drag myself into work making it just about an hour early--my energy is really down, though of course I apply myself at kendo still as fully as possible--that today was his last day and that he was leaving for other places, I wished him luck, wondering where else he could go and who else he would be telling this, quite.

I am very much bearish these days--the gains the market has made since Bush was reelected have been staggering, though relatively negligible. At this point in my career I just need to expand my position. The problem is that with my rent as relatively low as it is, there is no reason to staunch my capital bleed somewhat via maintenance somehow.

So I have a new favorite moment in television.... from tonight's episode of Law & Order in which former Senator Fred Thompson fires his future movie star ADA Serena.

She says,

"Is this because I'm a lesbian?"
"No... of course not... that had nothing to do with this."
"Good"

Fade to Dick Wolf.

So practice was phenomenally exhausting and excellent today--when Shrimp Sensei takes charge you know the sweat will roll off brows and so on--it's always odd though--I find sleep so refreshing wherever I can get, whether with my wifey or passing out randomly on the train, which while no match for wifey's smooth soft snuggliness is a sounder sleep for want of distraction and vivid timewarp dreams starring all the carmates. I feel myself getting somewhere with the training, though I find that I have been getting tireder and tireder--today was awake, and I always fall into the strange lag and drawn-outness of Sunday practice and Tuesday--maybe that too is just the length of Monday compared to my slightly lighter middle of the week. It probably would help my weightloss plans if I actually got more sleep, or so the research shows.

The confounding thing is that once I get home or to wifey's, I can't actually go to bed, and my energy goes up again, what with TV and other electronic diversions before it all crashes around 0130, up by 0700.

The balance of power has shifted--Jon and Samir are staying, but they have enlisted Bicki from upstairs, meaning that now she has a chip on her shoulder against me and the common spaces have been reclaimed after two years of leaking-out-curtains-sprawl-and-inertia. It's for the better and vaguely exciting, but of course the sort of needless drama. Still, I think I do need to credit my kendo training for letting me absorb criticism without being overly aggressive or defensive in response--simply nodding and hai'ing all that, fingers-together. Senseis are not interested in your explanations for why your kiai drags out too long, your left foot is crooked, and your knees bend.

I feel myself slipping badly in school this week, now that I'm only teaching my normal load. Just phoning it in again, I'm afraid. Then again, it's encouraging to see that the problems I have with some students aren't my incompetence as much as their relative incorrigibility.

So it's been thoroughly hectic as I've been working 2/3 more than I normally do all week, but that will soon go down to just 1/3 more than I ought, and it's still just short of a month's rent which I'll earn in the process somehow--I've fallen behind on my work and am more anxious about the Regents than my kids are, somehow.

Jon is moving out, which means I'm in the market for a new roommate. It's unfortunate, however, that Samir has taken to mean that he can take out a craigslist ad for a friend--but this of course is not how roommate situations typically work, not unless there is some preexisting condition--so it's just sad that he detains some barely comprehensible J-girl in hopes of learning J-speak just so he can go and teach English in Japan. This plan is ludicrous, mostly because his English is itself barely comprehensible. So I dunno--let me know if you're interested in a 1br in Astoria.

Beyond that, I'm just trying to make it the two more weeks until Regents begin--break failed to genuinely rejuvenate me, and this overwork this week while in some sense what I needed not to completely fall asleep has overextended me in some ways.

Meanwhile, the practice which I have subjected myself to has gone up and down--I have been generally discouraged by my sloppiness and crappiness and have felt unduly exhausted throughout practice, but somehow the Senseis seem to be full of compliments, which is odd, but surely not the end of the world.

So I have been having a good return to work, even though I have been passing out quite a bit and jumping from one place to another, endlessly, and way too active, but then again, what is it that you can actually do anyway but trudge onward. Practice tonight, however, really kicked my butt, even though I've been told I've been doing better. There's not that much more to report, quite, though it'll be good to see Rob Chin and Alric again, as once again, I've missed out on--

Asianboi roundup

Alric is six months away from obsolescence.

Brother is applying to grad schools, though he's not really applying himself quite yet.

Joephet squeals when he spills soy sauce, but not when a sparking live wire drops from the apartment above on a wet stormy night.

Lostin will probably repatriate.

Rob Chin has his hopes up again.

So today was the first day back and rather than cower in my corner and wait I decided instead to steamroll which meant not only rolling into my classes talking a mile a minute and sweating up a storm but also deciding to cover two other classes which meant five periods four of them consecutive or five hours without more than a pee break. Still, it all felt fine and I was glad to get back into the saddle as before, though better, somehow, even though I am still rather pooped, and falling behind on my kendo, which my current post dinner-movie-date bloatedness does nothing to actually help. It's all pretty smooth sailing until March.

So today we had to do our 1,000 suburi, which wasn't so bad, as long as you looked at something else and just focused, and relaxed, it was just another thirty minutes, and perhaps something I want to work into my daily routine. Sensei made a big speech today about the deep metaphorical rituals that accompany the beginning of the new year and the new opportunities that this brings, a freshness to one's practice. Then he said that it's all bullshit--every year should be the same, once you get to a certain point. I'm at the point where I vaguely agree.

I've been visited by Skaren Hargey who was, I think, adequately entertained by the multiple foods available and by charming Joephet and Greek wine and hospitality. I have been reading a gay recasting of Neoptolemus' courting of Philoctetes for his arrows to complete the conquest of Troy. This they left out of the Brad Pitt version--I don't even rightly recall Patroclus in the movie, but I could just be mistaken.

My brother also made his way into town, we rushing back from being floored by Million Dollar Baby, merely three blocks away and Asahi liters in hand when the din from even the Astorian houses informed us that we were in a new year, whatever that might mean. Joephet says that my New Year's resolution ought to focus primarily on being nicer to people, primarily him. I agree, especially since I find myself missing him after more than a few hours, which is odd.

I am annoyed thoroughly by the shortness of the break--tomorrow I go back, and I will be bringing up the usual slate of topics in logic and counting (Venn style), while recalling that the various things you can do with a conditional (converse, inverse, contrapositive) actually have correlates when you are dealing with the <= symbol (which is deliciously backwards)--for example, the "converse" of '3<=5' is '5<=3', the "inverse" is '-3<=-5', and the contrapositive is '-5<=-3'. The (material) conditional then viewed only as a truth-function is really just an ordering of the truth values (which we usually let be just 0 and 1, with the negative function actually being the 1-x function), and now it is clear that the conditional and converse are true just in case just in case--namely when the truth values are identical--p<=q, and q<=p iff p=q, where here we are referring not the propositions themselves but their truth values.