Other people's creations

An old acquaintance has started making music. I got into an over-long discussion with someone yesteday about whether the music is depressing or not. Guess you can judge for yourself.

http://www.purevolume.com/thewoolensweaters

To Youth and Womanhood

My bro said that he no longer enjoys the party scene. I think he may be getting a little older. Today, my next door neighbour told me the same. But I think its just because the parties here suck. But we'll see what a young woman can find on a Saturday night. There are a few private parties going on. Not least of which is the initiation party for one of my dance groups. We let about 8 people in, and today, we drink!

My attempts to buy a cell phone have failed becuase I forgot to bring my passport to the mall with me. Damn you Verizon!! We shall meet again!

In the meawhile, I must continue to prove the fundamental theorem of algebra, fix my resume and write a cover letter. Wish me luck.

Dance, Travel, and Jena

My Grandma always said one should never trust a girl who doesn't like to dance. What on earth could that possibly mean? What's wrong with a girl who doesn't like to dance? Anyway, we are holding call-back auditions for one of my dance groups today. And even better than a girl who likes to dance, is a guy who likes to dance. How can a girl resist a fun-loving guy who demonstrable has flawless rhythm? Guys, take note.

After auditions we spend a couple of hours trying to figure out who to let in and then I get to write a 20 pager on the history of commutative algebra. Nice!!! I slept 12 hours last night in an attempt to procrastinate. But I have no more time to waste. Now I am taking comfort in my academic obligations. It will prevent me from havign to talk to people. Don't get me wrong, I love people and people generally like me, but after being gone all year its hard to reconnect. At first I thought it was that people have changed. But maybe its me. I am starting to fear that I am older, more judgemental and more awkward than I used to be. Only time will tell.

Even though I am trying to avoid people I am still thinking that later today I will attend a joint meeting between the Black Student Union and the Students for Social Justice about a Jena 6 awareness campaign on campus. For some info go to:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/world/story/0,,2083762,00.html
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12353776
http://www.amnesty.org.uk/news_details.asp?NewsID=17444
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-070904jena,1,4272535.story

for entertainment, I suggest: www.allabout-sp.net

The Fundamental Theorem of Algebra

So I am supposed to be in class right now, I'm pretty sure. But of course, I have no idea where it is. Maybe they moved it... or cancelled it. Either way I feel like an idiot. There was no other reason for me to wake up at 8am.

The rest of the day doesn't sound so appealing either. Real analysis at 10, then a couple of hours before I have to know the proof of the Fundamental Theorem of Algebra - and a sketch of a 40min talk. All the time struggling with the decision of whether to fast for Ramadan. Ramadan started yesterday btw. I'm not Muslim, but all religions of the Book seem to think fasting is a good idea. For cleansing? Meditation? Solidarity with the poor? I'm not quite sure. But, I did it back in Sophomore year, and it was kinda nice. Bottom line though, even if it is chosen and interesting, hunger is torture.

gonna do some research on the Jena 6

Mathematics text books

So I'm taking a higher level mathematics course. The text book has been out of print for a while, but the prof likes it so that is what we are using. It's really not that great. In fact, it does more to confuse than to elucidate. A friend of mine who took the same class with another prof said that they had used another text book, which was written by a third prof in our beloved math department. That text book, apparently, also sucks.
It's kind of difficult to say what is going on here. Perhaps, math is just one of those subjects that is hard to explain. Or perhaps, those who are best qualified to write math text books are the least likely to be able to write well - the genius that cannot explain itself. Perhaps it is all baloney and the people whose text books we use are those who are friends with your prof. Or maybe the authors have built up such a reputation for themselves that as soon as they touch pen to paper, someone prints it and it gets used in classrooms across the nation. Either way, you start to wonder... if someone really understands something, shouldn't they be able to explain it in very simple terms, so that even a 5 year old would understand?

Late night bad poetry

I plan to write everyday. This means that some days you will be subjected to filler. So here goes. My brother refuses to comment on how bad this is, so I will let others decide:


I measure time in displacement;
in fractions and time zones 'till i touch down on the island.
But more time,
breaking through jet lag,
from flight attendants and bus drivers,
quiet girls with straight backs behind counters,
mothers who borderline manhandle their children
and children who shut up
same time,
are the slow rhythms of not dialect, not creole
just patois without qualification.
The "Jamaican", understood
all by them
who don't understand a word.

Colonial Girls School

I was home recently right after hurricane Dean. I had the rare pleasure of sitting and talking with an old church sister of mine. She is now 15 and attending Mount Alvernia High. I noticed that in the 8 month since I had last been at home she had straightened her hair. What a shame. Once you start that it's hard to get out. But worst of all it wasn't really her choice. The principal of her school had said (according to her) that " We are black and we are proud but we don't have to wear our ethnicity on our heads." What colonial bullshit. As if the natural hair of a black woman isn't presentable. Her mother thought it wasn't a battle worth fighting; her daughter was going to graduate soon anyway. But things like that are not acceptible in a school in 2007, least of all a school associated with the Catholic Church. When my little church sister was telling me how they harrassed her when she had natural hair, I remembered how many times I was pulled into the principal 's office in my high school days for wearing my hair natural and in twists. I wonder what lessons she is going to take from school- what self-image, what idea of beauty. I know in my day, my English teacher was nice enough to let us know what was going on; we attended a colonial girls' school.

(this poet attended my school, and wrote this poem about it)

Colonial Girls School by Olive Senior

Borrowed images
willed our skins pale
muffled our laughter
lowered our voice
let out our hems
dekinked our hair
denied our sex in gym tunics and bloomers
harnessed our voices to madrigals
and genteel airs
yoked our minds to declensions in Latin
and the language of Shakespeare
Told us nothing about ourselves
There was nothing about us at all
How those pale northern eyes and
aristocratic whispers once erased us
how our loudness, our laughter
debased us.
There was nothing left of ourselves
Nothing about us at all.
(Studying: History Ancient and Modern
Kings and Queens of England
Steppes of Russia
Wheatfields of Canada
There was nothing of our landscape there
Nothing about us at all
Marcus Garvey turned twice in his grave.
Thirty-eight was a beacon. A flame.
They were talking of desegregation
In Little Rock, Arkansas, Lumumba
and the Congo. To us mumbo-jumbo.
We had read Vachel Lindsay's
vision of the jungle.
Feeling nothing about ourselves
There was nothing about us at all
Months, years, a childhood memorising
Latin declensions
(For our language
-'bad talking' -
detentions)
Finding nothing about us there
Nothing about us at all
So, friend of my childhood years
One day we'll talk about
How the mirror broke
Who kissed us awake
Who let Anansi from his bag.
For isn't it strange how
northern eyes
in the brighter world before us now Pale?