Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle states that the more accurately you try to measure the position of a particle, the less accurately you can measure its velocity, and vice versa. It is not that the particle itself does not have an exact position or velocity; rather, the act of observation itself is associated with such uncertainty.
A strange thought struck me this week. The more sure I feel about where I stand, the less sure I feel about where I am going. If I manage to decide upon where I am indeed going with my life, I feel insecure about where I stand right now in the context of that goal.
Profound, or profoundly stupid? I don't know.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
Table for one, please
It happened again.
I walked into a restaurant, and said those words. And they had to ask, with raised eyebrow, "Just one?"
What is it with these Americans? If you have lunch alone, is there something wrong with you? I'm a poor Indian graduate student... this is hardly unusual for me, anywhere.
In India, if you saw a guy working late in his lab on a friday night, you would think, "That's one hard-working guy." Here, if you see the same, you're supposed to think, "Loser." The culture conditions you to think like that.
Wake up, America. You can't complain about offshoring when party culture rules work culture in your midst.
Btw, Jorge Cham knows where to hit the humour nail:
Say Cheese,
Prashanth.
I walked into a restaurant, and said those words. And they had to ask, with raised eyebrow, "Just one?"
What is it with these Americans? If you have lunch alone, is there something wrong with you? I'm a poor Indian graduate student... this is hardly unusual for me, anywhere.
In India, if you saw a guy working late in his lab on a friday night, you would think, "That's one hard-working guy." Here, if you see the same, you're supposed to think, "Loser." The culture conditions you to think like that.
Wake up, America. You can't complain about offshoring when party culture rules work culture in your midst.
Btw, Jorge Cham knows where to hit the humour nail:
Say Cheese,Prashanth.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
I'll never understand...
- How I can be an expert on cooking in theory (thanks to a lifetime's worth of influence of Tamil Nadu's foremost expert in the field) but suck at it in practice... big time!
- How I can consider it a compliment to be described thus: "Prashanth is a nice guy but very, very weird."
- Why there is a Northern Blot, a Southern Blot, and a Western Blot but no Eastern Blot. And the fact that none of those blots have anything do with the cardinal directions (they are names of experimental techniques in biology, for those who are wondering what on Earth I'm talking about).
- Why I do a lot of day-dreaming but little of regular, ol' fashioned night dreaming.
- How I can clench my teeth stoically at physical pain but cry like a baby when watching a sentimental movie.
- How I can be a systematic and analytical thinker when it comes to academics but keep messing up the mundane matters in life.
*sigh* What can I say, that's me.
- How I can consider it a compliment to be described thus: "Prashanth is a nice guy but very, very weird."
- Why there is a Northern Blot, a Southern Blot, and a Western Blot but no Eastern Blot. And the fact that none of those blots have anything do with the cardinal directions (they are names of experimental techniques in biology, for those who are wondering what on Earth I'm talking about).
- Why I do a lot of day-dreaming but little of regular, ol' fashioned night dreaming.
- How I can clench my teeth stoically at physical pain but cry like a baby when watching a sentimental movie.
- How I can be a systematic and analytical thinker when it comes to academics but keep messing up the mundane matters in life.
*sigh* What can I say, that's me.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Looking forward to....
Eragon: The Movie
In a kingdom ruled by an immortal and tyrannical king, people cower in fear and pray for a saviour. Some whisper about the days when the Dragon Riders were the guardians of people, and used their magical abilities for the good of the realm.
Eragon is the first person to be marked with the sign of the dragon in over a thousand years, and becomes a magnet for danger, and a beacon for hope...
Incidentally, Christopher Paolini wrote the book Eragon at the age of 15! Unbelievable, isn't it?
Pssst... girls... do you find the hero smart/handsome? Maybe the next generation of people like me will be able to talk to girls about dragons without feeling weird :)
View the trailer for the movie here.
Neverwinter Nights 2: The Game
The Sword Coast teeters on the brink of war, at a time when the realm desperately needs to stand united against dark forces gathering under the banner of a legendary evil. A lone hero comes into possession of a mysterious relic, whose secrets hold the key to a situation that threatens to enslave the world...
I've never pre-ordered a game in my life, but I've done so now. NWN2 is the most looked-forward-to computer game of the year, because it will combine the party-based strategies of Baldur's Gate with the 3D graphics and character-building mechanism that was so successful in the original installment of NWN.
View the trailer for the game here. (takes a minute to download)
In a kingdom ruled by an immortal and tyrannical king, people cower in fear and pray for a saviour. Some whisper about the days when the Dragon Riders were the guardians of people, and used their magical abilities for the good of the realm.
Eragon is the first person to be marked with the sign of the dragon in over a thousand years, and becomes a magnet for danger, and a beacon for hope...
Incidentally, Christopher Paolini wrote the book Eragon at the age of 15! Unbelievable, isn't it?
Pssst... girls... do you find the hero smart/handsome? Maybe the next generation of people like me will be able to talk to girls about dragons without feeling weird :)
View the trailer for the movie here.
Neverwinter Nights 2: The Game
The Sword Coast teeters on the brink of war, at a time when the realm desperately needs to stand united against dark forces gathering under the banner of a legendary evil. A lone hero comes into possession of a mysterious relic, whose secrets hold the key to a situation that threatens to enslave the world...
I've never pre-ordered a game in my life, but I've done so now. NWN2 is the most looked-forward-to computer game of the year, because it will combine the party-based strategies of Baldur's Gate with the 3D graphics and character-building mechanism that was so successful in the original installment of NWN.
View the trailer for the game here. (takes a minute to download)
Monday, October 23, 2006
A privileged life
Edit: I guess this article didn't come out the way I wanted it to... it is too preachy and dull... I'm going to leave it in the archives of this blog.
"Welcome to the lab," an array of friendly faces of different nationalities greeted me and shook my hand. A corner of my mind told me that I would spending most of my time over the next few years with these people. They would be my new best friends, and my family away from family.
Birthdays. Movies. Talk. Work. Lunch. Life. The tide of time swept us down myriad paths, but threads of our lives were intertwined irrevocably. The Indians in the lab, including me, were bonded even more closely by virtue of culture, language and history. And yet, we lived in the present, and for the present; there were gaps in our knowledge and understanding of each other. I glimpsed it when I joined some of them in the company of other people I didn't know. Like when Krish's friends came along for a movie one day.
Krish, short for a name with nearly as many syllables as there are states in India, known to our American friends as Kris. Krish, the friendly guy I knew who traded banter with more skill than a Dow Jones broker. Krish, who worked as hard as any of us, made as many mistakes as any of us, who was as normal as any of us.
Krish, who for some inexplicable reason, was addressed with a respectful Anna (Brother) by his friends.
If it happens once, I have to remember. If it happens twice, I have to understand. This time, Krish was explaining to some of us how the test for the driving licence would be conducted, and what were the common mistakes one could make. The aura of respectful deferment that I'd sensed earlier was far more marked this time. I just had to know what was going on. When I had a free moment with Krish and another friend from the lab, I asked, "Are you a mafia don? Why do they call you Anna all the time?"
He just smiled enigmatically. An even more enigmatic reply came from our friend there, who knew Krish better than I did, "When you do things for people that they cannot do for themselves, they respect you."
Broad conclusions can be drawn from broad data. Krish's friends spoke a far purer version of Telugu than I did, and from some of things they'd said, I knew they hailed from small towns or perhaps even villages. These were people who probably had none of the privileges I had, none of the knowledge, none of the connections, none of the training, and little of the money. They'd worked themselves to this reputed university through sheer tenacity and the dream of making their parents proud, giving them a comfortable life in their later years, and giving their children more opportunities than they'd had themselves. Krish's family, on the other hand, had moved to Hyderabad from a small town a long time ago, and made their fortune there. Krish had then trained for the IITs and made it, finally coming to this university. In other words, Krish had knowledge of both worlds. He must have been helping these people for a long time, telling them what to do and how to do it, from applying to an American university, to understanding the American way of life.
I found myself irrationally filled with shame. I'd led a far more privileged life than Krish. Is it not the responsibility of the privileged to guide and help those who are not so fortunate? I'd had the best teachers, the best facilities, the best guides; I could have done a lot more in my life for others, without losing anything myself. And I dared treat Krish like an equal.
I examined my own life in the light of what I now understood about respect. The surprising wedding invitation from a person I hadn't spoken to in ten years. My memories told me I'd helped him with his Math when we were in school. The equally surprising manner in which another old classmate tracked me down to reestablish our friendship. This was a kid who'd been the butt of all jokes and vicious teasing, but who I'd always treated fairly and as an equal. People whose lives I'd touched - apparently - more than their lives had touched mine. People whose respect I'd earned, without meaning to.
Every person I'd helped with their homework or their studies, every person I'd set an example to with my actions, every person for whom I did something they couldn't do for themselves... they respected me. I may not quite be the Godfather figure that Krish was, but I guess I haven't wasted my privileged life....
"Welcome to the lab," an array of friendly faces of different nationalities greeted me and shook my hand. A corner of my mind told me that I would spending most of my time over the next few years with these people. They would be my new best friends, and my family away from family.
Birthdays. Movies. Talk. Work. Lunch. Life. The tide of time swept us down myriad paths, but threads of our lives were intertwined irrevocably. The Indians in the lab, including me, were bonded even more closely by virtue of culture, language and history. And yet, we lived in the present, and for the present; there were gaps in our knowledge and understanding of each other. I glimpsed it when I joined some of them in the company of other people I didn't know. Like when Krish's friends came along for a movie one day.
Krish, short for a name with nearly as many syllables as there are states in India, known to our American friends as Kris. Krish, the friendly guy I knew who traded banter with more skill than a Dow Jones broker. Krish, who worked as hard as any of us, made as many mistakes as any of us, who was as normal as any of us.
Krish, who for some inexplicable reason, was addressed with a respectful Anna (Brother) by his friends.
If it happens once, I have to remember. If it happens twice, I have to understand. This time, Krish was explaining to some of us how the test for the driving licence would be conducted, and what were the common mistakes one could make. The aura of respectful deferment that I'd sensed earlier was far more marked this time. I just had to know what was going on. When I had a free moment with Krish and another friend from the lab, I asked, "Are you a mafia don? Why do they call you Anna all the time?"
He just smiled enigmatically. An even more enigmatic reply came from our friend there, who knew Krish better than I did, "When you do things for people that they cannot do for themselves, they respect you."
Broad conclusions can be drawn from broad data. Krish's friends spoke a far purer version of Telugu than I did, and from some of things they'd said, I knew they hailed from small towns or perhaps even villages. These were people who probably had none of the privileges I had, none of the knowledge, none of the connections, none of the training, and little of the money. They'd worked themselves to this reputed university through sheer tenacity and the dream of making their parents proud, giving them a comfortable life in their later years, and giving their children more opportunities than they'd had themselves. Krish's family, on the other hand, had moved to Hyderabad from a small town a long time ago, and made their fortune there. Krish had then trained for the IITs and made it, finally coming to this university. In other words, Krish had knowledge of both worlds. He must have been helping these people for a long time, telling them what to do and how to do it, from applying to an American university, to understanding the American way of life.
I found myself irrationally filled with shame. I'd led a far more privileged life than Krish. Is it not the responsibility of the privileged to guide and help those who are not so fortunate? I'd had the best teachers, the best facilities, the best guides; I could have done a lot more in my life for others, without losing anything myself. And I dared treat Krish like an equal.
I examined my own life in the light of what I now understood about respect. The surprising wedding invitation from a person I hadn't spoken to in ten years. My memories told me I'd helped him with his Math when we were in school. The equally surprising manner in which another old classmate tracked me down to reestablish our friendship. This was a kid who'd been the butt of all jokes and vicious teasing, but who I'd always treated fairly and as an equal. People whose lives I'd touched - apparently - more than their lives had touched mine. People whose respect I'd earned, without meaning to.
Every person I'd helped with their homework or their studies, every person I'd set an example to with my actions, every person for whom I did something they couldn't do for themselves... they respected me. I may not quite be the Godfather figure that Krish was, but I guess I haven't wasted my privileged life....
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Reclaiming a lost childhood
No, I didn't have a deprived childhood; quite the opposite, actually. I'm not talking about material, or even emotional needs here; I'm talking about books.
You heard me. Books. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I have my nose inside a book most of the time, and I've been that way right from childhood. However, after coming to the USA, I see before me a far wider array of books than I could even hope to get access to in those days. All the things I was fond of, and fantasized about, when I was in my early teens: starships, time travel, robots, swordsmen, dragons, wizards, and so on, wrought in black and white letters... and to me, black and white letters are good enough to conjure up vivid three dimensional images, sounds and feelings in my head.
So, although I had tons of books to read, the ones I love best were in short supply. Now, like a maniac, I've been reading all such books in an attempt to "reclaim my lost childhood". This weird mixture of refusing to grow up in some respects and lecturing like a veteran in other respects is amusing and annoying at the same time. And yet, I can't help but be me.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Last book I read: The White Gryphon by Mercedes Lackey
You heard me. Books. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I have my nose inside a book most of the time, and I've been that way right from childhood. However, after coming to the USA, I see before me a far wider array of books than I could even hope to get access to in those days. All the things I was fond of, and fantasized about, when I was in my early teens: starships, time travel, robots, swordsmen, dragons, wizards, and so on, wrought in black and white letters... and to me, black and white letters are good enough to conjure up vivid three dimensional images, sounds and feelings in my head.
So, although I had tons of books to read, the ones I love best were in short supply. Now, like a maniac, I've been reading all such books in an attempt to "reclaim my lost childhood". This weird mixture of refusing to grow up in some respects and lecturing like a veteran in other respects is amusing and annoying at the same time. And yet, I can't help but be me.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Last book I read: The White Gryphon by Mercedes Lackey
Friday, October 13, 2006
Old dogs and new tricks
I've always held that the average human being's command of the English language starts dropping sometime between graduating high school and graduating college, and keeps dropping after that unless conscious measures are taken. We find it progressively difficult to maintain our fluency, leave alone improve. We become better at saying the things we are used to saying, but worse at the rest. I hunt and grope for words I know I know, but can't remember exactly, and settle for imperfect substitutes or long-winded explanations. For example, I wanted to say "esoteric" last week, but my memory failed me and I stuttered and ended up asking, "What's the word for known to a select few?"
I'm yet to reach a verdict on whether things work the same way with my courses and research. If I don't apply my knowledge of some field for a while, no matter how basic it is, will I forget? Am I finding it hard to learn some new topic simply because it is a difficult subject, or is it because I'm losing the will or capacity to learn new things?
Is it harder to teach an old dog new tricks because the old dog doesn't want to learn, or because the old dog finds it more difficult to learn? Are they, in fact, one and the same thing?
Alright, I know I'm just 23 and hardly an "old dog", but I swear my patience for course work is nowhere near what it used to be. Did I lose the inclination, or the capacity, or do I still have both but just feel insecure?
These are sad times indeed, when I need to fortify myself with caffeine to get work done. Time was, when I would perk up on looking at the problem and get through it with adrenaline instead of caffeine.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Last book I read: Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett
I'm yet to reach a verdict on whether things work the same way with my courses and research. If I don't apply my knowledge of some field for a while, no matter how basic it is, will I forget? Am I finding it hard to learn some new topic simply because it is a difficult subject, or is it because I'm losing the will or capacity to learn new things?
Is it harder to teach an old dog new tricks because the old dog doesn't want to learn, or because the old dog finds it more difficult to learn? Are they, in fact, one and the same thing?
Alright, I know I'm just 23 and hardly an "old dog", but I swear my patience for course work is nowhere near what it used to be. Did I lose the inclination, or the capacity, or do I still have both but just feel insecure?
These are sad times indeed, when I need to fortify myself with caffeine to get work done. Time was, when I would perk up on looking at the problem and get through it with adrenaline instead of caffeine.
Cheers,
Prashanth.
Last book I read: Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett
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