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Name: Anirudh
Birthday: 2/2/1980
Gender: Male


Interests: Video Games (GCN) Physics. Reading Shakespeare or any good literature
Expertise: Nuclear Physics essentially any sub-atomic prefix added to physics. Philosophy, Shakespeare, general knowledge
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Member Since: 1/13/2003

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Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Some random reflections

Matthew Stafford on the NFL Network showing an Axe men's hygiene package that he brought for the hosts (he's apparently an Axe spokesman).
Stafford: Well we've got some bodywash-
Jaime Dukes: What do you have for us more follically-challenged folks?
Stafford: We've got some shampoo

Maybe he was being sarcastic, but I didn't hear any sarcasm and it didn't sound like he was joking....oh well.

Whenever Sarah Palin winked, I saw it as a really flirtatious gesture calculated to make her "real America" constituency laugh boisterously while thinking "That's our Sarah!"  I wondered briefly at the hypocrisy of it all - Palin obviously wants to be taken seriously as a politician, yet how could she reasonably expect the American people to respect her as they should Hillary Clinton (and other politicians with gravitas) when she employed these stupid, teenage mannerisms to appeal to her base.

Two problems:
1) Maybe I was in a small minority of people who saw her winking as flirtatious.  Maybe most Americans simply saw winking as a playful, tension-relieving, casual action that served to make politics a little less stuffy and bring it down to the level of the common person.  (I would argue that this is a problem, but in this case I'm almost certain that most people would disagree with my position that politics - even in a democracy - should take place above the common.  If not, then it's a bit unfair to attack politicians for infidelity and force them out of their job when non-politician adulterers do not lose their jobs for philandering.  In other words, if politics should take place on the level of the people, then why do we hold politicians to higher standards than we do average Americans?)

2) Maybe Sarah Palin doesn't want to be taken seriously.  Maybe she's fine having her base see her as that sexy waitress who flirts with them so that she can get a bigger tip from them.  This has a ton of problems over which I'm sure Palin-detractors have agonized for a long time and which Palin-supporters have either never considered or have never been bothered by before.

I hope she doesn't come back.

Tomorrow, as far as I am concerned, I start work.  I will be taking the 7:35am Amtrak from Washington, D.C.'s Union Station to New York City's Penn Station.  I will arrive at approximately 10:00am at which point I will take a cab to my hotel, check in, drop my bags, and explore the city for an hour or two.  At 2:00pm, I will be at 60 Wall Street getting a training briefing and a schedule telling me how the next six weeks of my life will go down.  Pending successful completion of all paperwork, I will leave work with a drinks commitment sometime in the evening.  The next day will consist of numerous firm luminaries giving speeches and I'm sure that I will be quite busy Friday night getting to know more of my first-year analyst class.  I leave for London on Saturday morning.  The instant I arrive on the 18th, I will have no commitments until the 22nd.  Let loose in London for three-and-a-half days, who knows what havoc I may wreak on Her Majesty's capital.  I plan on visiting both the National and Tate Galleries.  The V'n'A is also on my list, and hell, I may even pop in to watch Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in the land where it takes place (this is something I did with The Dark Knight this past summer).

I really cannot wait.  It is one of the few times in life where I don't feel like reading all the time and I think work is just about the only thing that is exciting me right now.


Sunday, July 12, 2009

Frank Rich

This is absolutely one of the best articles I've ever read (thanks to Nathan E. who brought it to my attention).
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/12/opinion/12rich.html
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QUOTE FROM THE NYTIMES

SARAH PALIN and Al Sharpton don’t ordinarily have much in common, but they achieved a rare harmonic convergence at Michael Jackson’s memorial service. When Sharpton told the singer’s children it was their daddy’s adversaries, not their daddy, who were “strange,” he was channeling the pugnacious argument the Alaska governor had made the week before. There was nothing strange about her decision to quit in midterm, Palin told America. What’s strange — or “insane,” in her lingo — are the critics who dare question her erratic behavior on the national stage.

Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times

Frank Rich

Sharpton’s bashing of Jackson’s naysayers received the biggest ovation of the entire show. Palin’s combative resignation soliloquy, though much mocked by prognosticators of all political persuasions, has an equally vociferous and more powerful constituency. In the aftermath of her decision to drop out and cash in, Palin’s standing in the G.O.P. actually rose in the USA Today/Gallup poll. No less than 71 percent of Republicans said they would vote for her for president. That overwhelming majority isn’t just the “base” of the Republican Party that liberals and conservatives alike tend to ghettoize as a rump backwater minority. It is the party, or pretty much what remains of it in the Barack Obama era.

That’s why Palin won’t go gently into the good night, much as some Republicans in Washington might wish. She is not just the party’s biggest star and most charismatic television performer; she is its only star and charismatic performer. Most important, she stands for a genuine movement: a dwindling white nonurban America that is aflame with grievances and awash in self-pity as the country hurtles into the 21st century and leaves it behind. Palin gives this movement a major party brand and political plausibility that its open-throated media auxiliary, exemplified by Glenn Beck, cannot. She loves the spotlight, can raise millions of dollars and has no discernible reason to go fishing now except for self-promotional photo ops.

The essence of Palinism is emotional, not ideological. Yes, she is of the religious right, even if she winks literally and figuratively at her own daughter’s flagrant disregard of abstinence and marriage. But family-values politics, now more devalued than the dollar by the philandering of ostentatiously Christian Republican politicians, can only take her so far. The real wave she’s riding is a loud, resonant surge of resentment and victimization that’s larger than issues like abortion and gay civil rights.

That resentment is in part about race, of course. When Palin referred to Alaska as “a microcosm of America” during the 2008 campaign, it was in defiance of the statistical reality that her state’s tiny black and Hispanic populations are unrepresentative of her nation. She stood for the “real America,” she insisted, and the identity of the unreal America didn’t have to be stated explicitly for audiences to catch her drift. Her convention speech’s signature line was a deftly coded putdown of her presumably shiftless big-city opponent: “I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a community organizer, except that you have actual responsibilities.” (Funny how this wisdom has been forgotten by her supporters now that she has abandoned her own actual responsibilities in public office.)

The latest flashpoint for this kind of animus is the near-certain elevation to the Supreme Court of Sonia Sotomayor, whose Senate confirmation hearings arrive this week. Prominent Palinists were fast to demean Sotomayor as a dim-witted affirmative-action baby. Fred Barnes of The Weekly Standard, the Palinist hymnal, labeled Sotomayor “not the smartest” and suggested that Princeton awards academic honors on a curve. Karl Rove said, “I’m not really certain how intellectually strong she would be.” Those maligning the long and accomplished career of an Ivy League-educated judge do believe in affirmative-action — but only for white people like Palin, whom they boosted for vice president despite her minimal achievements and knowledge of policy, the written word or even geography.

The politics of resentment are impervious to facts. Palinists regard their star as an icon of working-class America even though the Palins’ combined reported income ($211,000) puts them in the top 3.6 percent of American households. They see her as a champion of conservative fiscal principles even though she said yes to the Bridge to Nowhere and presided over a state that ranks No.1 in federal pork.

Nowhere is the power of resentment to trump reason more flagrantly illustrated than in the incessant complaint by Palin and her troops that she is victimized by a double standard in the “mainstream media.” In truth, the commentators at ABC, NBC and CNN — often the same ones who judged Michelle Obama a drag on her husband — all tried to outdo each other in praise for Palin when she emerged at the Republican convention 10 months ago. Even now, the so-called mainstream media can grade Palin on a curve: at MSNBC’s “Morning Joe” last week, Palin’s self-proclaimed representation of the “real America” was accepted as a given, as if white rural America actually still was the nation’s baseline.

The Palinists’ bogus beefs about double standards reached farcical proportions at Fox News on the sleepy pre-Fourth Friday afternoon when word of her abdication hit the East. The fill-in anchor demanded that his token Democratic stooge name another female politician who had suffered such “disgraceful attacks” as Palin. When the obvious answer arrived — Hillary Clinton — the Fox host angrily protested that Clinton had never been attacked in “a sexual way” or “about her children.”

Americans have short memories, but it’s hardly ancient history that conservative magazines portrayed Hillary Clinton as both a dominatrix cracking a whip and a broomstick-riding witch. Or that Rush Limbaugh held up a picture of Chelsea Clinton on television to identify the “White House dog.” Or that Palin’s running mate, John McCain, told a sexual joke linking Hillary and Chelsea and Janet Reno. Yet the same conservative commentariat that vilified both Clintons 24/7 now whines that Palin is receiving “the kind of mauling” that the media “always reserve for conservative Republicans.” So said The Wall Street Journal editorial page last week. You’d never guess that The Journal had published six innuendo-laden books on real and imagined Clinton scandals, or that the Clintons had been a leading target of both Letterman and Leno monologues, not to mention many liberal editorial pages (including that of The Times), for much of a decade.

Those Republicans who have not drunk the Palin Kool-Aid are apocalyptic for good reason. She could well be their last presidential candidate standing. Such would-be competitors as Mark Sanford, John Ensign and Newt Gingrich are too carnally compromised for the un-Clinton party. Mike Huckabee is Palin-lite. Tim Pawlenty, Bobby Jindal — really? That leaves the charisma-challenged Mitt Romney, precisely the kind of card-carrying Ivy League elitist Palinists loathe, no matter how hard he tries to cosmetically alter his history as a socially liberal fat-cat banker. Palin would crush him like a bug. She has the Teflon-coated stature among Republicans that Romney can only fantasize about.

Were Palin actually to secure the 2012 nomination, the result would be a fiasco for the G.O.P. akin to Goldwater 1964, as the most relentless conservative Palin critic, David Frum, has predicted. Or would it? No one thought Richard Nixon — a far less personable commodity than Palin — would come back either after his sour-grapes “last press conference” of 1962. But Democratic divisions and failures gave him his opportunity in 1968. With unemployment approaching 10 percent and a seemingly bottomless war in Afghanistan, you never know, as Palin likes to say, what doors might open.

It’s more likely that she will never get anywhere near the White House, and not just because of her own limitations. The Palinist “real America” is demographically doomed to keep shrinking. But the emotion it represents is disproportionately powerful for its numbers. It’s an anger that Palin enjoyed stoking during her “palling around with terrorists” crusade against Obama on the campaign trail. It’s an anger that’s curdled into self-martyrdom since Inauguration Day.

Its voice can be found in the postings at a Web site maintained by the fans of Mark Levin, the Obama hater who is, at this writing, the No.2 best-selling hardcover nonfiction writer in America. (Glenn Beck is No.1 in paperback nonfiction.) Politico surveyed them last week. “Bottomline, do you know of any way we can remove these idiots before this country goes down the crapper?” wrote one Levin fan. “I WILL HELP!!! Should I buy a gun?” Another called for a new American revolution, promising “there will be blood.”

These are the cries of a constituency that feels disenfranchised — by the powerful and the well-educated who gamed the housing bubble, by a news media it keeps being told is hateful, by the immigrants who have taken some of their jobs, by the African-American who has ended a white monopoly on the White House. Palin is their born avatar. She puts a happy, sexy face on ugly emotions, and she can solidify her followers’ hold on a G.O.P. that has no leaders with the guts or alternative vision to stand up to them or to her.

For a week now, critics in both parties have had a blast railing at Palin. It’s good sport. But just as the media muttering about those unseemly “controversies” rallied the fans of the King of Pop, so are Palin’s political obituaries likely to jump-start her lucrative afterlife.

END QUOTE
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Saturday, June 20, 2009

Timing

Is now the right time for a reflection on college?

Yes.  Unfortunately, I do not have much time.  I will be getting lunch soon (Chipotle) and for whatever reason, I have not felt the urge to write since returning home.  Nonetheless, for my own sake, I should probably reflect on the last four years.  As I've been reading previous entries, and becoming more conscious of entries as I write them, I've realized that Xanga is about as stream-of-consciousness as I will ever get.  I say things that I would never otherwise say - not out of a sense of propriety, but simply because there is a filter between my brain and my mouth.  I don't say everything that comes to my head at any given time, except when I blog on Xanga, during which I type about as fast as I ever type and the filter magically disappears.  That's why so many entries are essentially incoherent or contain things that I don't even really believe - they're just ideas that occurred to me and that made it onto the blog without my being able to think about their implications.

Speaking of stream-of-consciousness....

Naturally, college will be the formative experience of my life.  As I look ahead, I see the stormclouds of adulthood in my future.  Adulthood - where mistakes are costlier and less easily forgiven; where you start filing tax returns and you aren't anyone else's dependent anymore; where you officially move away from your parents and have to speak to them with no recourse to petulancy or immaturity; where you control your own finances and realize that you're never going to get to play Age of Empires or have massive sleepovers with your friends - you get to play golf instead....

I have never wanted to be younger more in my life.

Back to college.  I suppose if I'm to reflect on this properly, some sort of structure should be imposed.  College was composed of the following categories:
1) Quiz Bowl
2) Buds
3) Academics
4) Oxford
5) Non-Quiz Bowl extracurriculars
6) General hang-outs, the occasional party, movies, etc.

I've said for a long time that Quiz Bowl gets its own post.  It's a little harder to write at this point, but I suppose it has to be done.  I don't have the head for memorizing scores or teams that my teammates do - in fact, if you guys were to push me on details, I think you would be shocked at how poorly I recall specifics of tournaments....or maybe you wouldn't be shocked.  Let's just say that I couldn't identify two games from any pre-Spring tournament - I remember beating Harvard, Princeton, Brown, etc., but I wouldn't be able to tell you the tournaments in which we beat them.  As a result, my post is going to be driven by "sensory" experiences (I can't think of a better term).

As a team, we grew together, for the most part.  Until mid- to late-Junior year, I'd say we were all pretty much even, and I think that my term in Oxford marked the point where my two closest teammates took two steps forward while I took only one.  I've never been interested in being a generalist - the romantic in me still finds it unpalatable to answer in all ranges of subjects - which is one reason why I can't actually answer outside Fine Arts, Literature, and Religion.  But I also have a weird memory.  I forget people's names within a minute of receiving the information; I also remember passages from Watership Down word-for-word (a book I read sporadically through middle school).  I forget a tournament's details after a good night's sleep.  I forget most clues in TUs, whether I get them or not, yet am wracked by feelings of deja-vu on almost every literature question, regardless of whether I've heard the clue before or even read the book.  It is because of my extremely unfortunate mnemonic peculiarities that I will never be a generalist.  I think I can become a great specialist, though.  I think I can, if I put in the time that I won't come close to having this year, hold my own on a Chicago A or Brown, chipping in 15-25 ppg and being a contributor on boni.

My two teammates are significantly better at remembering all sorts of things - who we played, what the scores were.  In fact, some of my favorite moments of college consisted of my listening to them discuss tournaments casually throwing around details that, while familiar-sounding, were things I would never have remembered myself.  To dramatize this a little, it reminded me of watching a lightsaber duel in Star Wars, and being Queen Amidala or Han Solo.  They make great generalists, and I'm sure that the Deaze, in his time at HLS, will become a player of Shantanu or Chris Ray caliber, if not better (the pressure is on).  I wondered a little whether it was my limitations as a player that doomed us to also-ran status from the start.  Regardless of how instrumental I was in deciding that the three of us should be specialists (I don't remember the discussions), I think was more influential in enforcing strict boundaries between our subject areas.  At the time, and until late this year, I thought that that was the best way to win.  If you have a core group of players who would be playing with each other in the long run, didn't it make the most sense to have them all learn different things, know as little about the other spheres as possible, and minimize overlap to most efficiently cover the largest amount of knowledge?

Apparently not.  I think if you put Shantanu, Yetman, Aaron Rosenberg, and Guy Tabachnik on a team, they would beat a full Dartmouth A more often than not.  It seems like if you have four generalists, you can win consistently at any level (obviously the generalists have to be good).  After ACF Nats '09, I feel like the ideal team composition is that of two generalists, one specialist, and one what-have-you - and this team will beat out four specialists any time.  Chicago, Brown, Illinois, and Stanford follow this format.  Harvard is sort of similar - Dallas is clearly a generalist, Ted and Bruce are approaching generalist level knowledge, and Andy, to a certain extent is as well.  Obviously, Ted is a fine arts, phil, lit, and social science specialist; obviously Bruce knows history really, really well, and obviously, Andy is their main science guy, but these guys are all capable of buzzing in on other areas much more than Tboniu and I can.  Minnesota is built similarly - Brendan Byrne is the all-out generalist and backbone of the team; and while Hart is a lit guy and Gautam the science guy (I know Rob is good at myth, but I'm not sure if he has any other specialities), they can all buzz in on stuff outside their areas.  Gautam got a geography TU on the Fergana Valley.  Hart, I believe, gets his social science, and Rob gets questions from different categories as well.  I'm too lazy to find the "Ani book" right now to back up these assertions with examples. 

We lost to all those teams.  But I'm not about to prostrate myself before the 2 generalist, 1 specialist, 1 what-have-you model just yet.  There are other factors to be taken into account.  The generalists on Chicago, Brown, Illinois, Stanford, and Minnesota are unbelievably good.  They are Teitler, Jerry, Sorice, Yaphe, and Brendan Byrne - their names alone make me think of the seven sages of Hyrule (let's make Weiner and Eric the last two).  They may be generalists, but they're generalists of a caliber that we could never hope to reach in four years of undergrad (given our lack of high school experience, the lack of upperclassmen guidance that we had, and the fact that we like to do things other than study quiz bowl all the time).  Harvard, the closest to our team, is in my mind clearly one step below Brown, Stanford, Illinois, Chicago, and Minnesota.  What those guys have is their own home run hitter, sage of Hyrule-type player.  Though I have to say, I don't envy anyone who has to play them two years from now with Ted, Dallas, and Andy all having improved over 24 months, and with the Deazerdogg filling in for Bruce.

I guess the above implies that we never really stood a chance.  With Brendan Byrne's terribly timed transfer from Drake to U Minn, I'm tempted to conclude that the deck was stacked against Dartmouth.  We couldn't do anything about our paltry high school experience - Tboniu played Canadian high school, and my high school QB consisted of one sentence questions by writers who thought that Garcia Marquez would be stretching the canon.  Dom played for Cleve, I'm guessing, in the intra-Lville championships and Deaze's experience, I believe, was losing to his dad playing Jeopardy!  We also couldn't do anything about guidance.  While the upperclassmen our freshman year were all really cool people - I would have loved to hang out with Ben, Ben, Alan, and Rachel in any context - none of them were committed to the club to mold us into a powerful freshman team; if we had a Jerry or a Seth or a Weiner or even a Brandeis Evan figure - guys who loved teaching the game almost as much (or as much) as they loved playing it, we wouldn't have spent our first two years floundering, getting beat up on by the big hitters and playing it close with BC and NYU.  We wouldn't have needed the excruciating loss to Maryland in ICT '07 to open our eyes to what we are and what we could become.  And perhaps if we started earlier, we wouldn't have needed to study like I assume BB or Eric study (how else do you amass their knowledge levels in four years?); perhaps we would have been good enough to win the UG title at Nats '08, or '09, and at ICT '08 and '09.  But that still leaves me wondering if becoming generalists would have been better for us as a team.  Is it the case that, even though there is overlap, these generalists still filled in so many holes in each others knowledge that as a team, they knew a lot more about everything?  Obviously, being a generalist requires more than just having a finger in every pie - true generalists like the guys above and even the up-and-comers like Shantanu, Dallas, Auroni, Guy put in obscene amounts of time studying.  The generalists above are exceptional players, but for argument's sake, let's say that the three of us got to Shantanu's level in four years of college.  (Let's pause for a second to realize how ridiculous that statement is - the fact that it may be impossible for an inexperienced quiz bowler to achieve in four years of college what a freshman did in high school and one year....)  If we had - if Dartmouth A consisted of Shantanu, Doug Yetman, Guy Tabachnik, and Tboniu - would we have won the undergrad title?  I really have no idea. 

I know where I would begin to analyze this.
Shantanu averaged 19 ppg on the best team in the country.  He put up 10 against Brown, Stanford, and Minn A.
Yetman, who didn't play with anyone and didn't make the top bracket, put up 10 against Harvard, 30 against Illinois, and 65 against Chicago  (Shantanu and Seth put up 30 that round).
I use Auroni Gupta to proxy for Guy Tabachnik.  He put up 60 against Minn A, 30 on Stanford, and 60 on Brown.  He had one partner who put up about 3.6 ppg, so I'm going to treat him like Yetman.  Based on those factors, I'm going to say that these three guys could put up about 20 ppg each against the big name teams.  Shantanu had the best teammates in the tournament depressing his own scoring average, and having watched him at least twice, I remember seeing him lose buzzer races to Seth multiple times each game (maybe he was just pretending, but his reactions were too fast for that).  Yetman is comparable to Shantanu in the humanities (he's got better lit knowledge, but not fine arts), though Shantanu is definitely a better science player.  I know nothing about Auroni other than that he friended me on facebook without ever meeting me and he put up mondo points against really good teams.  I figure these guys would average about 70-75ppg combined...none of them is neg-shy and there's going to be overlap.  Assume they take the spots of Dom, Deaze, and myself - with T-bone, this new bastardized Dartmouth A would be getting around 8 - 9 TUs a game.  But this is about as rough of an estimate as one could get.  We'll never know if going generalist was the way to improve our performance - I feel confident though that I would have hated doing that.  It would have involved my studying a whole lot of stuff that interests me not at all and it would have required a time commitment greater than I think any one of us were willing to put in....though again, who knows how that might have changed if we had direction during our impressionable freshmen and sophomore years.

I don't really want to sound like I'm making excuses; we're all smart guys but the above listed factors mitigate any advantages that our inherent intelligence gives us.  In life, I feel like second place is the easiest place to get for guys like us (and by us, I mean myself and my friends, all of whom are very smart).  We've got the natural talent to get A-s in class without exerting much effort.  We can even get As with some frequency as well.  But to pull that A repeatedly - to make excellence, as Aristotle said, a habit and not an act - requires a lot of effort.  At our level, in school, work, and quiz bowl, we're playing against guys who are in our same talent neighborhood; some are a little lower, others higher, but for the most part, we're very competitive with each other.  Separation requires hard work - I think I have finally come to realize this (hey, what do you know, all those adults have been right all along!).  If I wanted to become valedictorian, I would have had to work my ass off consistently, instead of putting in marginal amounts of effort whenever I felt studious (and even this is no guarantee).  If we wanted to win, we would have had to work our asses off...?

but that's just the problem - we did work hard.  Obviously, we could have worked harder.  But we didn't know what we were doing.  I remember thinking for a period of time in the 06-07 season that we could beat Brown.  I remember thinking after ICT 07 that we were just a step away from being the best UG team in the country even though our only accomplishment to date was getting 2nd place in D II NAQT.  That alone shows how misguided we were - literally, mis-guided.  Or perhaps unguided is a more accurate term.  I suppose I'm rambling at this point.  Excuses don't give us the trophies with more impressive lettering just like the Eagles don't get the Lombardi trophy even though we all know the Pats cheated in that Super Bowl.

I think it reflects poorly on the state of the game that this is the case; people shouldn't have to work hard to become great quiz bowlers, they should simply be incredibly curious.  And while all great (or even good) quiz bowlers possess curiosity in spades, it is a mutant strain of the curiosity gene.  It is the strain that makes people say, "instead of commentary on this novel, I think I'll read another novel by this author.....or maybe another novel by a similar author....or maybe I'll give those books the wikipedia treatment."  It is the strain that makes you look extra-hard at all the canonical painters when walking through an art gallery and not-so-hard at the ones whom you know would never come up in a million years.  It is the strain that makes you convert every paragraph in your class readings into a lead in for a TU on that subject.  It is, in short, the strain that strains your mind even in leisure time; the strain that makes you strain your life through the filter of quiz bowl.

But for all that negativity, quiz bowl has made lifelong readers out of its adherents.  It has introduced me to Mario Vargas Llosa and Jose Saramago and about 90% of the authors on my bookshelf right now.  It has inspired a friend to wade through all 600 pages of Wind-up Bird Chronicle, and it was probably what inspired Jerry to read Naming and Necessity and was definitely what made us all realize that we knew something of what he was taking about when he gave that answer.  I feel certain I would have explored opera and ballet further, quizbowl or no, but it certainly accellerated the process.

I guess I have to conclude this post wondering if Quiz Bowl can only be viewed positively in retrospect.  I simultaneously hated and loved spending my breaks with Wikipedia instead of my family, simply because I was gaining so much knowledge - but at what cost?  I felt a little like Albus Dumbledore, spending all his time with Gellert Grindelwald.  Yet I feel confident now being able to say that it was worth it.  I missed out on a lot of classic college experiences, but I'm not convinced that I would have done them even without quiz bowl.  Instead, I now graduate college with the feeling that quiz bowl is today's equivalent of the 1800s' "liberal arts" education.  I mocked a friend of my sister's roompartner when he asked me if I felt disadvantaged in interviews not being able to major in Business (and I still think that was a tragic comment), but our liberal arts education is a far throw from what men of the 18th and 19th centuries had.  These guys came out having favorite philosophers, favorite composers, favorite artists, favorite writers, favorite historians....and understanding how all those guys fit together with each other.  I know nothing about philosophy and even less about historiography.  Besides a two-week discussion of Vargas Llosa, I haven't really studied my favorite writers at all (despite the best efforts of a certain proponent of the Oxford University Press).  And Beethoven and Brahms were given a grand total of about 2 hours in my composers class (since it was about non-mainstream nationalist composers).  But I'm conversant in things that I have no business knowing because of Quiz Bowl.  I corrected a certain scholar on the first name of Abraham Maslow (not Jacob, as he believed).  I have some basic understanding of Western history even without picking up a single European or American history book since AP US History.  These are good things and you can only really appreciate this knowledge for what it is in the post-Quiz Bowl part of your life.  When knowledge stops being a commodity, it becomes a platonic ideal.  Our valedictorian in an excellent speech thanked his professors for keeping alight, against the mind-numbing glare of the 21st century, the even brighter flame of knowledge; and in retrospect, with everything forgiven and forgotten, I see Quiz Bowl as doing its part to keep that flame alive.


Friday, June 19, 2009

A few reflections

Much to my surprise, the shock of graduation is very much not a shock but a gradually escalating sensation of being adrift.  I wonder if this is a sign of maturity or whether this has to do with the increasingly structured nature of my life.  Would my knees have buckled upon completion of commencement exercises if I didn't have a job lined up and if I wasn't immediately concerned with imposing order on very airy travel plans to Eastern Europe?

I started and finished Alejo Carpentier's The Lost Steps.  The book was at times almost unreadable because Carpentier was given a complicated, heavy, intricate writing style, the likes of which I would expect to see in grammar books that try to illustrate multiple advanced concepts in a single sentence.  I choose a sentence somewhat at random (in that I opened to a random page, but looked for the best example of the above point):

"After sailing two hours between slabs of stone, islands of stone, promontories of stone, mountains of stone, their geometry combined in a diversity of patterns that no longer surprised, a dense, low-growing vegetation of interwoven grasses punctuated by the swaying, dancing presence of bamboo clumps replaced the stone wtih the endless monotony of impenetrable greenness" (158).

Because the main character is a composer, there are musical references strewn throughout; abound also are concentrated passages of music, and while the protagonists constant exaltation of the wilderness and primitive civilizations he encounters becomes tiresome, some of the most moving passages in the work described his personal crisis of being a composer, yet losing all sense of time as they traveled farther away from civilization.  As he writes, it is his job to measure time and the journey on occasion strips himself of his ability to do so.  There are occasions when I am struck by the musicality of certain situations, but those always leave me frustrated in my inability to describe what I'm hearing - lack of perfect pitch (something I've finally come to accept), lack of theoretical knowledge, etc., lack of innate composing talent; this book resolves those impasses which I face through Carpentier's impressive understanding of Western music theory and for that alone it was worth a read.

But there are many passages throughout the work, any one of which would have inspired me to read the whole book.  The following are a few:

"The bus was climbing, climbing with such an effort, groaning through its axles, plowing through the chill wind, swaying over the precipices, that every slope it left behind seemed to have been achieved at the cost of unspeakable suffering to its whole disjointed frame.  It was a sad-looking vehicle, with its red roof, climbing and climbing, holding on by its wheels, steadying itself against the rocks between the almost vertical sides of a ravine.  It seemed to shrink in size amid the mountains, which loomed higher - for the mountains were growing.  Now that the sun was fretting their peaks, the peaks multiplied, on each side, more pointed, more threatening, like great black axes, their blades turned against the wind that whistled through the passes in an interminable howling...Doggedly climbing, the bus dwindled to nothing in the passes, more kindred to the insects than to the rocks, pushing itself forward by its round hind feet" (77-78).

"After all this time of trying to push it out of my mind, the musical ode was returned to me with the store of memories I was trying in vain to detach from the crescendo that was now beginning, still hesitatnt and as though uncertain of its way.  Each time the metallic sonority of a horn supported a chord, I seemed to see my father, with his pointed beard, jutting his profile forward to read the music open before him, with that particular attitude of the horn-player who seems unaware of the fact, when he is playing, that his lips are pressed to the mouthpiece of the great copper swirl that gives his whole person the air of a Corinthian capital.  By virtue of that strange mimetism which tends to make oboe-players lean and scrawny, trombonists gay and round-cheeked, my fater had developed a voice of copper-toned sonority that vibrated nasally when he showed me, as I sat beside him in a wicker chair, engravings of the forerunners of his noble instrument: Byzantine oliphants, Roman buccina, Moorish anafiles, and the silver tuba of Friedrich Barbarossa...Trained as he had been in German Swiss conservatories, he upheld the superiority of the horn of metallic timbre, the descendant of the hunting horn that had echoed through the Black Forest, over what was known in French as le cor - the word took on a disdainful ring - for he was of the opinion that the technique taught in Paris made this male instrument resemble the feminine wood-winds.  To prove his point, he raised the bell of his instrument and blasted out the Siegfried theme against the patio walls like Gabriel blowing his trumpet on Judgement Day" (85-86).

"My hand reached for a cucumber, whose coolness seemed to come from inside the peel; the other closed around a green pepper, breaking the skin for the juice that fell so deliciously on the tongue.  I opened the herb cupboard, taking out a handful that I sniffed deeply.  The last embers, black and red like something alive, still glowed in the fireplace.  I looked out of the window.  The surrounding trees had disappeared in the mist.  The goose in the courtyard took its head out from under its wing, opening its bill noiselessly,, without quite waking up.  A fruit fell in the night" (97).

This one is for Randall: "I was glad to know that there were still men unwilling to trade their souls for a gadget which by eliminating the washwoman did away with her song, thus wiping out ages of folklore at one fell swoop" (124).

"In a near-by tavern I found the Greek drinking Homerically in the company of a little man with bushy eyebrows whom he introduced as the Adelantado, telling me that the yellow dog beside him, which was lapping beer from a cup, was a very unusual animal answering to the name of Gavilan" (126).

"Beauty thus perceived, in such remoteness, brings man the pride of feeling himself the master of the world, the supreme heir of creation.  Dawn in the jungle is far less beautiful, from the point of view of color, than sunset.  Above a soil that exhales an age-old moisture, above water that divides the earth, above vegetation shrouded in mist, the dawn slips in with the grayness of rain, in a vague clarity that never seems to forecast a clear day.  Hours must elapse before the sun, now high, freed by the treetops, can shed a clear ray through the myriad leaves.  Nevertheless, dawn in the jungle always renews the intimate, the atavic rejoicing, carried in the bloodstream, of ancestors who, for thousands of years, saw in each dawn the end of their nocturnal fears, the retreat of the roars, the scattering of the shadows, the confounding of the ghosts, the confining of evil within its bounds" (163).

"And what you call dying is finally dying, and what you call birth is beginning to die, and what you call living is dying in life" - Quevedo, quoted on page 238.


Saturday, April 11, 2009

Pen pals

I found some email communication between myself and a penpal in Brazil (part of my Governor's School's Portuguese studies).  Here are some of the messages (I hope my pal doesn't mind).  Bear in mind that I was writing in Portuguese and my pal was writing in English, neither of us in our first language:

Hi A jota. I have a question about India. My aunt says the people in India
when they wanna say "yes", then swing the head from side to side and when
they wanna say "not" they swing the head from up to down. This is truth?

 Hello,
 How is Brazilian food?  I am going to a Brazilian restaurant pretty soon, what do you recommend for me to eat?  I am vegetarian and eat a lot of Indian food because I am from India.  I eat nothing for breakfast because I have a class in the morning and there is no time to eat.  For lunch I eat a big sandwich with many vegetables.  For dinner I usually eat pasta (Italian food) or Mexican food (tacos, burritos, nachos).  I don't know about American food, I don't think Americans created anything.  I hope Brazilian food is good,
 Good bye!
 -A jota

Be calm A jota. The Brazilian food is very good. For me, our food, only loses to Italian foods, pasta, pizza, you know. My favorite Brazilian food is Baião-de-dois, but my mother loves Feijoada. My favorite restaurant in Fortaleza is Nossa Casa, the restaurant`s style is self-service. In Nossa Casa have many vegetarian foods, you have to go to this restaurant
-[Pen pal's name]-

Hello,
What is  up?  In High School, we have many events.  Graduation is very
boring and long for me because I am not the one graduating.  Prom is cool.
Boys must ask girls to prom.  Then they go and dance for a long time.  If
the boy and girl are good friends, then prom is fun, otherwise it is a
waste of 4 hours.  After prom, there is a HUGE party with free food and
free drinks and prizes.  It is very fun and everyone spends a lot of time
with their friends.
-Anirudh (A Jota)


Hi A Jota, I`m not in high school yet. But I went to my cousin`s prom. I
dìdn`t like because the people were older than I. But that sounds funny. I`m
13
-[Pen pal's name]-



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