Certified · (by · self) · member · of · "The · Diogenes · club"

I am extremely bored. Being on perpetual vacation has some drawbacks, and this is one of them. The computer, embellished as the much abused one, is to bear the brunt of my boredom. It can't complain, poor thing, but its wordless acceptance of the fate that I have bequeathed it with has come at a price. It has started to overheat. Every once in a while, it plunges into an abysmal state of sluggishness, a lassitude that it must find infernal if only it had the mind, much like the beast (oh, what right do we have to call it that?) that can't take any more whipping (the discerning reader is referred to the Pickwick papers, if I am correct, where, amid the clear blue skies of light hearted reading, there are some dark clouds that have little to do with the storyline). I crack the whip, like the listless driver of the horse and it takes it. One of these days, it deserves a rest too, and then it can't complain of the boredom that I am complaining of. I bang the keyboard with great fervor, for this is all I can do presently. There is no malice in my actions, only boredom. The feeling of despondency has been brought about by a combination of forces, most of which are of my own doing, and shall be delineated in the undermentioned.

Through the extraordinary circumstances of jetlag and nothingness (no work, if one wonders what it is), and a reluctance to undertake any action that may remedy the aforementioned state, save chess (which exacerbates) I balefully struggle along, like the poor suffering horseman (not the horse, which does not know its fate), driving his cab, with aching teeth and a sore throat, in driving rain or scorching heat or freezing cold. Drive on he must, for that is his fate, the fate of the unenlightened.

As a race, I have often felt that human beings are useless. They have no purpose. Not that it bothers me to have a purpose, but we are often told to look at everything as if it were created by a hidden hand. There ought to be a reason for doing something. Chess strategy is one such. Yet, we see, even if it is awkward and wasteful, the computer always triumphs over the human, one that has adequate computing power. So one could come to the conclusion that Chess is meaningless and futile. However, as a game played by humans, the contrived conception of a purpose is a suitable working model. So we have strategy, and tactics that arise from suitable strategy, the exulted mysterious rook move here, or, god forbid, a divinely subtle exchange sacrifice there and so on and so forth. So why is it that we consider something beautiful when its all so deterministic?

Anyway, I've digressed. The point is that I wish to conclude (though not so much now, as when I started writing this) that everything is, as the bot in Star Trek said, irrelevant. People continue their useless existence, the masses, the idiots, the morons, the humbugs, the enlightened and the insects. There is a code running somewhere within that invents diversions and reasons, and all to ward off boredom. It may be noted that I am not depressed, just bored, perhaps unfathomably, but it is only that. Whether or not extreme boredom constitutes depression is a moot point. But I've been debating on what to do for a while now.

So here are the facts (as Holmes would approve). I woke up at eight today -fairly normal if we stretch it a bit-, I started playing, played a few games until 10.30, decided that I was surfeited, then came to the conclusion that the time had come to think of doing something, of which all options were boring-cleaning, laundry, cooking, biking (this one was the most agreeable, since the weather in this ghastly place can't get any better), chess, early lunch (not cooked, bought). Of these, I chose the last, after debating for a period of 1/2 an hr pacing these hallowed square feet. It was an excellent choice, for I was feeling hungry. I consumed the bilge from Subway (it is a curse that there are so many junk food joints in this glorified shanty town),and, for obvious reasons, took a walk, like a old foggy who admires the weather (for it is not often that this place is given that perfect sun, that warms ever so slightly, the heavenly smell of freshly cut grass wafting around (there's no harm exagerrating here) and the human excrescence that abominates, clad in shorts and mouthing obscenities and platitudes that we know the disgusting college crowd is capable of). I came back at 1, and resumed my games, of the 20 20 variety, found that I was in admirably good form and stopped an hour ago, satiated with pleasure and left without desire (the dictionary calls this blase, just in case one does not know).

Much of this has got to do with the jetlag. It prevents one from doing anything, productively. There is no joie de vivre, and there is only guilt at having wasted such a beautiful day in limbo. However, it must be confessed that the some 2/3 rds of the day is now over, passed in a wakeful state. We have two remaining hours of beatific sunlight, which I shall duly spend biking. I shall cook my own bread like a good workman, and watch Little Dorrit at night on PBS. May the game be damned.

Talk about the economy has several shades. Currently, depending on the light shed on it, it usually settles on an unbecoming shade of greenish white, paraphrasing lines from Mrs. Packletide's tiger (in which it is said that her face turned to that color upon being insinuated by Louisa Mebbin that Loona Bimberton would believe that she did not really shoot the tiger whose fur she had displayed -one may only imagine the extent of the grandeur-in the ballroom party that she threw to mark the same). The destruction is total and complete. It has permeated to all the economic echelons. The miasma sweeps all. Somebody has been filching my Financial times these days (I cannot bear to walk down in the cold to see my efforts unrewarded), but even so, it is abundantly clear that the same story gets printed in the pink pages these days, and FT is clearly the best around too. So the staleness is not to be made fun of. More so, because, I am havin(g-a very American thing) to deign to the levels of my prospective employers so that they may convince themselves that I am in the scope of their grand vision, full of productive potential, and perhaps as a bonus, some intellectual potential too (it is interesting that it is not enough to make intellectual progress these days).

My views on Barak Obama and his grand scheme are rather cynical. Even if one does not subscribe to the view that government and deregulation should go hand in hand, it does not make sense how recapitalizing banks would do the job when they don't want to lend. It has been circulating elsewhere (econlog.econlib.org for example) that if one wants to do a bail out, the housing sector is to be resolved first. Bail the home owners out-who're mostly a bunch of morons-uneducated, unintellectual, and poor (which is probably not their fault entirely), so at least that gets soothed (or smoothed, for we cannot kick start them). Or so the theory goes. But of course, the system will have to undergo this catharsis, the purging, which will take some time.

If the masses don't know what and ARM is, they deserve their fate as nincompoops, and they are getting it. But some Norwegian old lady gets hurt too, which is not fair. And so it goes. But the whole catastrophe has been fascinating to watch as an outsider. The market, it seems, has an unimaginable number of provisions for raising money. This one is most interesting, where one can buy securities to finance poker players (again, we take, a bunch of idiots who end up winning and losing money with equal favor). This seems to be a time where scams get unearthed. Bernie Madoff (who the media has scandalized as deserved) lost money and got caught. The hedge fund managers have all lost tons of money. England is teetering. Germany decides to do a bailout but still suffers. Interestingly, VolksWagen was a coup. The manipulations by the Porche/VW folks could have been fruit to quite a few people (but one poor dude decided to die because he lost heavily there). The list is endless.

I wish I knew more about the CDO machinery. Apparently, synthetic CDOs are beautiful and complex systems created for the savvy (or is it?) investor. Here the collateral is a CDS-(manifique). There's a lot of jargon thrown about the SPV's and off-shoring and so on. But its all part of the system and one ought to learn it.

The American Media likes to talk about greed and bank bailouts and pay cuts. But they don't give any news worth digesting. We know that already. The media is sensationalist and lacking in fabric. One only has to look at the masses, which have been fed with this diet of fantastic (more like grotesque) nonsense to see how they fell for Obama. Not that I have anything against him, but he's hyped himself too much. The complexity of the crisis has left the pundits in sticky wicket. We can only wait for this crisis to get over, hoping that the trickle down effect-in this case where ones prospective (inferior) employers don't condescend to pass one by as one would an insect-does not take complete effect, rather like the reticulate venation of some leaves.

And as usual, chess reigns supreme. Although I am not worried anymore about not leaving an intellectual legacy behind in my Phd (it is given one!) Chess is by far my most intellectual activity. I've taken to playing even longer games now (15 15 or 20 20), and it is most satisfying. Here at least, one finds smart folks. A meritocracy exists, and one can be judged (usually) by one's rating, and things can be objectively evaluated. It is a deterministic world full of beauty and wonder. Sacrifices, endgames, manoeuvres, they are all part of the game. And one finds people who are as obsessed with it as one is. As G H Hardy says, the best math is the useless Math. Likewise, the best activities are the useless activities, like Chess.

Presently, I am watching a very nice broadcast from PBS showcasing Amundsen's passage across the north west. It is most fascinating, and not not uninspiring to the u. Some day, perhaps, one may have the opportunity to trek across those beautiful icy landscapes, white all over and sub freezing many times under, even if not the North pole, at least to Russia to make the seven thousand kilometer trip on the trans Siberian railway from what was once Leningrad, to Vladivostok, to the Taiga and the largest fresh water lake in the world that goes by the name Baikal, to Yakutsk on the Lena, the Neva, the Ob and the Yenisei. I want to trek right up to the North Pole from Delhi, across the Himalayas, the Hindu Kush, the Silk route, the Gobi and then Russia. I want to see what its like to be 4000 m above sea level in Tibet. Perhaps a trip to Alaska may be planned sometime. One is, as it were, bitten by the frostbug.

To be fair, even the winter in Maryland is resembling some austere journey to the poles for a tropical waif like me. Even if the inhabitants of much colder places up north will doubtless shake their heads in mild condescension (and indeed, one does so oneself at times, when folks from Texas and Louisiana complain of pasty snow) the consensus among the local fauna and flora (of which the majority is the now leafless deciduous tree variety) has to be that these are extraordinary times, singular if I may say so. Robert Frost may have been happy here now (but he too may have been tut-tutting about the lack of snow here). Somebody remarked that the winters in Maryland are amorphous, which may be interpreted in more regular terms as not taking up any form. It is a slave to the whims of the north and the west, and will bend accordingly (is one not reminded of the proximity of the Mason Dixon line?). But these are beautiful times, it must be said. The air is cold and crisp and laden with longing. Gone are those awful stinky sweaty days of the summer. The elements toy with us to remind us that this place is classified (under Koppen, no less) as humid subtropical, and flirting with humid continental. The temperature is -10 degree C and the conditions are ghastly.

I haven't had the inspiration to indulge my Chess fantasies this week. The salivating dog has stopped drooling on its favorite piece of bone. Instead, it has decided to chew on a piece of meat. Putting away the grotesque analogies for the moment, I must confess that I've finally had time to work without seeing the sword of Damocles over my head. It has been beatifically reassuring not to see it, so reassuring that I can almost see it not being there. Its imprint is a fading one and it shall remain so, I hope, for the conceivable future. Twelve hour workdays were not unusual to me ten years ago. The rarity of those days (under normal conditions) is adequate indication that one hates one's job. But I think we've seen an atavism the last three days with its returning. And in so happening, it appears that I've managed to solve my analytical problem which had been a bit of a conundrum not too long ago. We've quenched two fires with one singular stroke, and one regular stroke. All this is, of course, owing to the remarkable insight and experience of one old and wise man whose ways now border on the arcane and arcahic. He is, in my opinion one of the few remaining bastions of old school Applied Math, tracing his roots immediately to the great George Carrier among other people. Three months doing an applied math problem trumps over three years of numerical simulations. I have started to despise it like a vulture that may look upon its long rotting carrion with morbid regret and need.

I've still got to convince my adviser who will surely want to do junk bond simulations, or stall saying that he needs to catch up. One may remind oneself that junk bonds are high yielding but high risk bonds that may backfire upon one. Likewise, as has been pointed out in the last few posts (we can almost call them rants!) numerical simulations and button pushing will backfire if not supplemented with meaningful mathematical analysis or physical intuition. The latter quantity is not always available in good measure, in which case one must rely on the former to provide a suitable environment in fostering the latter. In any case, we are cautiously optimistic about our prospects in making progress, viewed from the perspective of those who like checklists and deadlines and tasks (ah, how I love to hate them). But these days have been truly enjoyable. Perturbations are god's gifts to us. If indeed there is a god -or gods if one is polytheistic as Indians usually are-(which we all try to delude ourselves into wishing its existence of) this must be the proof. They exist to make one feel good, not of achievements and successes and their hackneyed ilk, but of the elegance hidden in this applied mathematical world. G H Hardy speaks about the ugliness of applied mathematics, and of the beauty of pure mathematics. To the lesser mortals that this dissimulation of engineers constitutes, the only beauty that there exists must be so in the applied mathematical world.

In this fleeting and transitory life of ours, if one does not acknowledge the existence of the good stuff, one is going to miss out on them. Mrs. Dalloway has alluded to that. She avers that her existence is useless. It doesn't matter whether one is twenty five or seventy five. If one carries on without joy, going through the motions, then it is done solely from inertia. I view much of the engineering lot as a sorry bunch of losers who market their less than investment grade junk in various tranched securities that the discerning investor will surely see, and sidestep deftly. Its a pity that the educational edifice hasn't come collapsing down for all the toxic stuff that gets spewed out of its gutters. Great engineers are those who build giant refineries, and construct buildings and go to the moon. Not people who do numerical experiments and spit at the math. This lot is increasingly the ascendant one.

One wonders where the good old applied math people have disappeared. In the combustion community the applied mathematics has now become more of a black art than something useful. We must not forget that the theoretical physicists do it all the time. In fact, even our seemingly untouchable matched asymptotic expansions are routine exercises in an applied mathematician's or theoretical physicist's repertoire. One might even say that much of the stuff that the engineers term as belonging to 'their' area of expertise is trivial! Perhaps the old school problems of the Carrier era are not of interest any more and it is only fair that the swashbuckling pencil on paper knights have to give way to key punching, plot reading self important humbugs. Indeed, if that is the case, then we shall lose applied mathematics. One may say that the applied mathematician, who is, we take it, smarter than the average computer code reader and plot generator, is a vanishing species. He has produced seminal results in the past but we don't need him any more. If this is the case, one has to subscribe to there being a bubble in this field and rue the inability to speculate, unlike in the markets where the smart investor can make a ton of money with sleazy manoeuvrings of the type hinted in the aforementioned. Where are the CDSes and derivatives? Bring them on!

It is now 3 am. The PBS program was over a while ago and I've been rambling somnolently for an hour. It is only fitting that one passes into a state of unconsciousness at the earliest.

I can see that my last few posts have been rather effusive, or shall we say, diffusive, about the joys of writing equations. Indeed, I think I've generally settled into a happy state of disenchantment, if there is indeed such a thing. Gradually, I hope that I can shed the disenchantment if the circumstances become more favorable and I become happier.

A gradual build up of these ideas has led me to come to a minor philosophical realization. As a numerical modeler (as in, one who does the donkey work of coding, and then intelligent plot reading) one chooses to become that, a slavish implementer of numerical algorithms, and a chaser of computer time in the best computers in the world. A darker view of this is that a numerical modeler is incapable of mathematical modeling. He produces data and plots. This is a natural consequence of his incompetence in producing mathematical models, and he therefore accesses levels that are within his reach. As they say, to each, his level of incompetence. This is not to discredit them, of course. They do what they are capable of; but what is discreditable is that they sometimes do not wish to acknowledge the superiority (which we take as given) of those who do indeed produce these models. So to put it in writing, there are two kinds of people (assuming a black and white world)

1. Those who produce mathematical models
2. Those who implement mathematical models

This is a perfectly clear situation. The first group produces, and the second consumes. The first depends on the second to validate models, and the second on the first to produce models. At an intellectual level, the first group can do the math, and the second group cannot. Note that we assume that the first group does not overlap with the second (as is probably the case now). Next, consider the case of an entity in group 2 that wants to do more than implementing mathematical models. It is obvious that now there will be some blurring in our black and white scenario and the entity wants to join group 1, which as we have said, is not accessible (I've seen this abominable phrase being mouthed several times when it has been remarked that the asymptotic papers are unreadable). But as this entity harbors notions of, or shall we say, has illusions of being a useful contributor to the field by producing theories and enhancing the understanding of everyone, this is clearly an existential problem. The entity in group 2 wants to ascend, but does not have the means! It tries what it knows best: beat the numerical experiments to death (or in other words, waste computer time) hoping to discover something. But it is hopeless. Unless it decides to acknowledge the necessity of doing the math, it is a wasteful exercise.

I shall get more concrete now, rather than rambling about in fuzzy nothingness. I had been asked to do numerical simulations as an experiment, which I have reluctantly done, rather uselessly I may add. It transpires that simple one dimensional problem will answer our needs better than high quality numerical simulations. It is a sad and first hand case of intellectual incompetence prevalent in the higher echelons of our educational edifice. And I can see why I have been discouraged from attempting an analytical problem so strongly. Even now, one is being exhorted to work on trivialities (such as producing new fangled plots in various ways) rather than flex the analytical muscles a bit.

I now believe that I have enough skill to solve an analytical problem of my own. Hopefully, circumstances will be more favorable to allow me the time and atmosphere to do that.

The last few months would have been riveting for anyone with an eye on the economy and the market. Starting with the fall of Lehman brothers, we've seen a string of collapses with behemoth institutions reeling everywhere. Investment banking was the first hit, and then the gargantuan AIG; followed by a credit crunch in the banks and so on and so forth. Of course, the markets have been volatile all the time, and on the whole, very negative.

It is fascinating how bad mortgage loans can lead to such universal carnage. We've had bad news coming in for a while. One may recall Bear Stearns for instance. But what apparently channels the rot is the securitization of the bad loans into commercial paper-in the secondary mortgage market whose chief purveyors were Fanny Mae and Freddie Mac, two quasi governmental mortgage agencies that have the government's sanction. This commercial paper was bought by all and sundry and everyone gets into the dirty pool, so to speak. And when people get wind of the garbage in which they're in, its panic all over.

One may ask, what makes these smart bankers to jump into the dirty pool? To this, it is said that the rating agencies should take the blame. They have been ineffective in warning off people to the risk entailed in these undertakings, so while the security gets a AAA, it might actually deserve a B-. And so the blame is passed around.

There is the not insignificant case of corporate 'greed' (no-I don't speak it the same way as Obama or McCain). The trader gets rewarded for making risky investments. He gets bonuses (I am not very good with the numbers, so shall skip). So why would anyone care about the future losses when the present gains are so good anyway? Besides, it has been remarked that they all knew the game and this was only a case of personal gain to cummulative (future) losses.

To add to the drama, the fed has come up with the 'stimulus package' or the 'bailout'. This is quite a mess, if you ask me. I have no idea as to who is right and who is not, and I know that most people are in the same boat in varying degrees. On the one hand, the government bailout is deemed necessary to inject liquidity into the system; the credit crunch tsunami could apparently lead to something similar to the great depression if not handled properly. It would be a case of too little money in the system, no credit, deflation and depression. We all know the importance of obtaining credit; credit is like oxygen and if we remove the oxygen things won't burn. There is the question of buying back toxic assets, which will supposedly be the antidote and put revitalize the ailing real estate sector. Also, if someone were to compensate one for the junk paper that one holds, it is clearly a good thing. One's bad assets disappear magically.

On the other hand, it is also claimed that the fed is unnecessarily mucking about in the affairs of the market. Meddling with the market like this will lead to inflation-as in too much money in the market, a bloating of government debt (which is already bad), and will come back to hit the tax payer in the end. And while bad debts may be bought over, these measures apparently don't clean up the mortgage industry and provide it the stimulus. The prices are still down and will be, as long as the structure remains in place. What one needs is reforms that addresses the causes rather than the effects so that these things don't happen again.

And now that Obama is in, more stimulus packages will be promised. A particular and sad case is the US car industry. There was a news article in FT today saying that GM will run out of cash next year. GM's stock is completely worthless today and it is unlikely that it will be productive ever again, and the logic of rescuing this lame duck may seem questionable indeed. Still, one doesn't understand much of this, being a financial outsider and all that.

One only hopes to watch, absorb and enjoy. This is a good time to be a student.

I am probably a most impractical cynic. I think today's computer culture has created a bunch of morons. We're getting dumber by the day, all of us. This is not just a case of futile and misplaced dissatisfaction. The culture of creating good plot readers and data interpreters is rather pervasive, and in fact, highly sought after. And the mathematics is all the while spurned, albeit by ignoring it rather than with a direct assault, which would not be possible because of the greatness of the subject. What is most annoying is not the intellectual ineptitude (which is not the case) but the wishing away of a great art form in favor of more inferior (and practical) approaches. People seem to take the view that numerical simulations are the be all and end all of things in life.

This is not what I came here to do. I had inklings of this sort of stuff even back in IITM, where one was, however remotely, struck by the thought that numerical simulations are just an exercise in intelligent button pushing and data reading. What is fascinating about numerical simulations is the theory that goes behind creating those equations that the practical man may apply. I am not a practical man, and it is only natural that I've finally started to gravitate towards something that I like a bit more, on the analysis, on making intelligent comments, this time involving equations rather than on plots, and on developing these equations. This stuff is truly fascinating. Moans and lamentations aside, of having wasted three years being a mediocre plot reader, I can look forward to a more fruitful one year creating something that I can feel proud of.

I am in fact fully prepared to accept diluted material (to whit, numerical simulations without math-ostensibly explaining real life phenomena) if I can have a mathematical creation, even if it is quite trivial (which it will be, considering that I am not the most capable mathematician). Even so, the pleasure that cranking the equations allows cannot be matched (no pun intented). One cannot waste the prime of one's life without doing what one is good at. The hydrodynamics course has been a revelation that way. It reminded me that I really need to get back to the equations and that it is the right thing. One cannot run away from the equations, even if it is the most fashionable thing to do, for it will come back to haunt one, and make one cynical and unhappy.

So here's to the next few months of asymptotic analysis.

I never thought I would post about Math, of all things. Math is a fascinating subject. We may fit it to whatever definition we like -I know for one that my definition of Math will be different from a Mathematician's, but call it what one may, it is beautiful. There is something about the order and elegance of the subject, about the puzzles and problems that it poses to the lay man that makes life beautiful.

This post is, as usual, going to be a tirade, but one mixed with a lot of sanguine hope and bewilderment about the Math being prostituted around by some folks who think they know what they're doing. My area of employment (I would like to call it my passion, but cannot) is in combustion, producing combustion software to mimic real life systems. We generate high quality simulations in the most sophisticated computers. We generate colourful plots. We simulate fire, we are gods. We are numerical scientists, and we are engineers.

Alas, that is where it ends. I would like to call us a bunch of con artists who know our BS and how to package it. We know how to make B- into AAA (but thats fine, there are no Collateralized Debts here, and no sub-prime for sure). We eke out a splendid living and make people go weak at their knees when they see our computing resources. But behind all this, we're just good data interpreters who know to make intelligent comments on plots. We make excellent use of color schemes in plots and package our ability to generate pretty pictures to tell the world the story the fire is telling us. What we lack, is a deeper understanding that may be obtained by just using analytical techniques.

As much as we masquerade as high quality numerical scientists (actually, we use very high accuracy numerical schemes; the quality of our simulations is truly excellent), when we decide to become an experimentalist, claiming that nature does not do Math, and therefore we need not, it is the way to perdition. And this is my main gripe. I have grown very cynical of 'engineers', not because of intellectual superiority or inferiority, but because they do not always respect the Math. They deal with checklists and timelines and backburners and frontburners, and other such disgusting terminology. Many of us are civil servants in scientists' clothing. We know how to use our 'communication' skills, and get the point across. By work, we mean writing a 'word' document and having an agenda for the week. We appreciate the subtleties of the problem, but as such, we only use the results of the asymptotic folks and it is not in our interest to do the analysis.

Very true, indeed. But I ask, what right do we have to use an asymptotic result when we also harbour fond hopes of making a seminal contribution? And how do we reconcile the dichotomy between using a numerical code and not wanting to understand the theory behind these 'codes'? Why not just accept our sorry lot as a bunch of numerical civil servants and paper pushers? Why pretend that we're even doing anything good other than use funder's money for doing what they want? No, this is hypocrisy. And when, from some corner of one's heart, the greed diffuses out wanting to be shown basking in the good light, we pretend that we can do it and grope hopelessly in the dark.

After all, in order to produce models one needs to know the math. In combustion, this translates to asymptotic analysis. And one dare not make the mistake of spurning asymptotic analysis as archaic and useless, because if not it will come back to haunt you.

I am glad to say that the models (more precisely, the numerical correlations) have failed. It does not do any justice to the field if do it without an effort like that, and without the physical understanding that goes into the asymptotics. Following the collapse of normal 'physics based' models, I went over the classic papers in asymptotic flame theory. These are gems in our otherwise junk literature-in particular, the numerical literature. They deserve AAA for sure. We will get B- for our uselessness.

But not all is lost. Numerical simulations have the great advantage of supplementing and augmenting theory when done properly. It is my belief (now) that a numerical simulation should only be done when the Math becomes too complicated or cannot reproduce the phenomenon without compromising on the accuracy with regard to the assumptions that go into the governing equations. Also, there are times when we want a detailed, accurate and real simulation. However, in order to be a good numerical scientist, it is mandatory that one learns everything about the math behind it. One should be able to get a feel for the problem with only a pencil and paper, and then a numerical simulation will, instead of being a button pushing exercise, augment and reveal much more than what the analysis does.

I must say, my recent foray into the pen and paper world has been a most welcome change. There is so much joy in doing this. We're on the verge of producing a model that might work, and all this with only the equations. Our numerical simulations will be checked to verify these models, following which we will publish. I have no problems with this kind of lunacy as long as the method is sound (the math will have to be there) We can now shamelessly market our solver's ability to reproduce these phenomena with a footnote somewhere that asymptotics were used to develop and confirm models. Numerical simulations, guilt free.

All this says that I will not, or rather should not look at this kind of work as little more than a non-intellectual way to make money. Once the conscience is in peace, one can go about doing anything. But I can never look at these guys who do purely numerical simulations as any more than humbugs with inflated egos and mentally negligible (a dear old quote) bloatcrats, not unless they also respect the math.

This is not the first time I am saying this, but matters have come to a head and I am seriously on the edge here. The quality of life is starting to degrade to unacceptable levels because of procrastination- not just a loss of face (which I've grown accustomed to ignoring) but in terms of personal well being too-and this is completely untenable. I need some breathing space, and some sleeping space. One can't go about not sleeping for 30 hours at a stretch. Its simply not worth it. To be fair, things are really tight right now, but even so, there is always time.

I've got to take remedial action or decide to slip. Think long term, that has to be a motto. One has got to make drastic psychological shifts in order to make any progress.

It has been sinking into me of late that I have been making some wrong philosophical assumptions about things. Three years ago, I had not so much as taken a plunge into the murky world of a PhD student, and PhD life, but pretty much dived into it. There was never any question about it. It was all so very natural. I had, however, made assumptions and as usual, was only able to look at the positive aspects of it, the most compelling one being the sheer intellectual thrill of working on problems and reveling in the kick that they would produce. People had warned, perhaps from personal experience, that the real world will not be quite as great. And I would look askance, and have wanted to for a while, until now when it shall have to be recognized as not non-existent.

As may be seen, this has been simmering for a while. My blog entries have sort of seeped with a dull pain over the last year or so. There has very seldom been any positive joy emanating out of it, nothing like the effusions that one has been seeking. And there have been some disjointed musings about time management and other such baloney to fill up the empty vessel. But the real fact is that I've failed to gain anything from my stay here, intellectually. All other things can go to Fiji, for all I care.

It struck me forcibly last week that one doesn't have to covet intellectual pleasure to be happy, to have the good stuff, of which there is plenty in the world. One only has a few years, so why spend it chasing elusive pleasures that may not materialize (it is true, had the circumstances been different, I may indeed be my gushing good self)? In order to do well, one doesn't have to be a genius. One doesn't have to excel in anything. One only needs to get away with doing stuff just well enough, so as to keep one's bosses happy. And have fun the rest of the time-enjoy good food, wine, coffee, concerts at the Kennedy center and relaxing in Maui.

Nobody likes a smart alec to tell them that they are not as smart. But everyone likes a phlegmatic, balanced dude who does the job and keeps everyone happy.

The reason I have resigned to this rather disconsolate philosophical state is that the PhD is turning out to be worse than a regular job, too little intellectual fun (I don't solve problems anymore) and too much sub-regular work-to do lists, appointments, email confirmation, documentation- and this is not what I sought out when I came here. Had this been known, I would have settled for something that could pay a little better, while resigning to the same with far less agony. I would have gladly taken an MBA like everyone else, and be sitting on a 100+k job, again, like everyone else.

Anyway, it seems that one has been taking this faulty course for a long long time now; which will have to go. One does not have to be excellent, one only needs balance and poise. I hope that redemption is still given one; for this is the way of the world, and one shall not despise the mundane.

Summer is truly a beatific period when the weather is good. I went on a really nice bike ride yesterday from College Park to half way into Baltimore, on what was a clear and cool (yes, cool) Saturday on the day of the solstice. The scenery was breathtaking and idyllic. I do not remember the names very well as this trip was directed by a veteran rider of eight years; even keeping up with him was hard enough. Nevertheless, I am sure I set a record in terms of speed relative to usual terms. I probably averaged about 15 miles per hour, with the maximum being 25, which is quite good. One of the names that comes to mind is Beaver Dam Road in Beltsville. It was in farmland with a mill here, and a bridge there, and undulating hills everywhere. This ought to be done again for sure.

Anyway, I seem to be sliding between periods of euphoria and extreme despondency driven by boredom. Presently, I am still riding the wave, so to speak. I'll probably relapse into a decadent mood sometime during the week. This is a refreshingly relaxed period characterized by the complete absence of chores, leaving me free to waste time without feeling guilty. The chores have all been completed for now. These can at times take on monstrous proportions adding to the general air of gloom, but I've been working fairly assiduously to exorcise the demons (it is of no consequence to us whether they are real or imagined).

The other routine thing that I've got sorted out is my room. Although I won't call it 'dirty' it definitely tends to get cluttered. Not that clutter bothers me -I sometimes look at a spotlessly ordered place as unnerving (and spotlessly ordered people are even worse, but we'll leave that aside for now). Even so, there is surely something soothing in a filled, but fairly ordered room. These qualitative statements have something in them, even if they are a bit on the rambly side. People get obsessed with spotlessness and clarity and lack of clutter and all those things, forgetting that there are people who actually function very well under such conditions, even thriving in them.

From experience, I can affirm that the usual methods to keep one 'in shape' do not work for me. One can see the number of such articles on the net on time-management and procrastination and their ilk. They say, keep a scheduler. But what is the point of the scheduler when one can never keep up a schedule? It involves estimation of time per task, and doing that is a very hard task. There is an inherent assumption here that tasks are to be done in order to complete them. I am sure that such people can never imagine spending say, ten hours on a single problem -I remember spending three days on a single problem (don't ask how). In a 'progress' driven society one is only measured by targets, and I find this absolutely detestable though I grudgingly concede that this is the way to go.

Research, as it stands now is woefully lacking in intellectual satisfaction. My employers want me to do 'tasks', keep a todo list and check things off the said list. Things are too easy, too boring, and too tedious. Anyone can do them if they put in the time. A silver lining here is that the PhD proposal has been checked off the list, so that one has less than a year to emerge at the other end of the assembly line. One by one, they churn out PhDs and put them into assembly lines. In terms of intellectual growth, I think my time here has not resulted in an (appreciable) increase in that quantity. Indeed, as I look at my blog posts, they have gone from excited- two years ago, to apathetic-now, which is surely not good. I look forward to getting out in a year to something more stimulating and individual, as a titled individual. I hope that I am still young enough to have the ability to feel motivated again.

A keyboard shall be procured this week bought secondhand from a craigslist post. I hope that this can quash some of the ennui. Now I shall prepare some dinner and resume my reading of the beautiful 'Light' by M. John Harrison.

In keeping with the current atmosphere of unrest and gloominess, I am going to complain, again. At least, the online medium is a way to complain without getting a response, even if complaining does not serve anyone one bit.

It has rained, bringing considerable relief to one and all. The temperature is tolerably hot reaching a maximum of around 30 deg. C during the day. But it is barely so. The glorious spring days are all but over now and one must put up with the infernally hot days, with humility and respect, and wick out the humidity.

This time, I am going to complain about the disgusting air of smugness that people emanate everywhere. Smugness, as a quality, is a good thing(or is it?). It indicates that one is proud of something. But I can't stand it when stupid people are smug. Most people are stupid, and most people are smug. One may either be stupid or one may be smug. But the combination of both is repulsive.

So people go on with their dreary lives and die in the end, burning into ashes or putrefying in some hideous grave. In the end, one can imagine a person who once had a life, who was capable of thought and emotion. One does not look at the person as bad or evil or negative in anyway, no malice, disrespect or judgement; just the plain respect that one gives to a life.

But why is it that on meeting a person it is so easy to be judgmental (and worse yet, seeing that the person is being judgmental)? Gone is the disembodied respect to the human life, on seeing that the person does not conform to one's involuntary template to which one compares him or her with. It is immediate, the approval or disapproval, and the accompanying respect or condescension. It is a whole world out there behind the scenes. And it is not a good world. It is corrupt, rotten and awful.

All this comes back to the air of smugness (there was a line in the hitch hiker's guide about the smugness of doors, or something like that) that such people generate. The smugness (for whatever reason) also makes the person judgmental. The age of innocence is now past and all that one sees is the taint, the guile and the indescribable loathsomeness of the lives that people lead.

That people can be proud of their lives is enigmatic. It is amazing that people can live so uselessly and bring so little joy to anyone, and yet be happy with themselves. This must be the wonder of life.

It is still essentially the same here. Notice how one has used the trite word 'essentially' here. It is one of those numerous trite, hackneyed, commonplace utterances that one (and all) uses for want of anything else. Other examples : basically, essentially (included for completeness sake), actually, like (but of course!), you know (this one's not just by the blonds).

The staleness of it all is the most unifying feature in all these platitudinous things. Mind you, this is not objectionable or anything; it just reflects poorly on the speaker. We say that the primary purpose of language is to communicate, but there should also be some elegance, which we know, is quite a qualitative thing, but is nevertheless accepted as an essential element of the language.

It seems to me that these affectations are universal. Indians almost always fall into the habit of saying 'actually' (perhaps a direct replacement for the equivalent native word). 'Basically' and to a lesser extent 'essentially' are used everywhere, particularly noticeable in presentations (which shows the speaker in very bad light at times, though mostly we ignore these things). We can see the ugly filler pauses too with heart numbing (if there is such a thing) nothingness except for a dull moans that are let out inadvertently (the aaaahs and ummms).

These are things that we can live with, and are at their worst, minor talking points among people.

Now we move to a completely different matter, that of being nice. I have always believed (implicitly) that all human beings are 'nice'. Current societal norms frown upon being nice, even disregarding it perhaps as a weakness. We have often been taught that one ought to show compassion to others, to accept people as they are and to learn to like them. I have never questioned, or even given any thought to this so far. Why should, say, one be nice to others? Is it even worth considering their feelings when one undertakes an action? Perhaps and then again, perhaps not.

In this day and age of personal advancement and progress, we seem to have left behind values that make us human (again, open to debate: there is no reason that humans should be good to each other). Competition rules. You slit the other guy's throat or get yours slit. You wait to go one-up. You sneak up behind their backs and stab them.
This is one kind of person, and it exists in every one of us. There is almost a hidden beast that skulks and surfaces only at the opportune moment. I guess this is one's ego that wants some boosting this way.

And as has been said by some baseball coach, nice guys always finish last. Rudeness can be seen everywhere. Being rude, impolite and uptight. There is a pompousness, seen when, for example, one says "Excuse me?" to a question (it means, "What the hell are you talking about?"). There are rules that are set, and a depersonalization, dehumanization that accompanies these rules. Do your stuff or get insulted, is the message. It is accepted that the meritocracy should rule. But increasingly, it is seen that the merit is only skin deep, and most often we're ruled by idiots, provincials, conceited power-hungry people who do not have any interest in mind but their own.

This looks like a dog-eat-dog world. If you show some level of meanness, they stay away, or else one is eaten. While meanness is lauded as being competitive, smart and tough, niceness is usually seen as being non-aggressive and meek, something that can be beaten down. Shame on everyone.

There are of course, ambiguities and rationalizations. A mean guy at work can be a very nice family man (I have trouble believing this, but most people dress up that way). Insult your coworkers, treat them like excrement, and be the most doting father or mother. This is probably the one time the inner goodness of the person comes out, of being truly selfless and good, and one can understand it. If that is the case, why is it that the angel turns into vixen when it comes to everyone else? Does being good to some justify being a monster to others? You earn your living by drinking the blood of others. Again, it all depends on the rationalization that one employs, and this being a totally concept-less existence, anything can be justified -even Herr Hitler's massacre of the Jews, by Herr Hitler himself, and he might have been happy, for all we know.

I can count the number of genuinely nice people I've met the last few years with the fingers of one hand. It is probably the way of the world; so many divorces, fights, politics, power-games, etc. and one ought to look the other way, and live with the malaise of seeing the imperfections, yet being forced to ignore them.

I end this with Abraham Lincoln's famous words

"With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right."

Note that I am not a 'believer', but there must be some good in seeing everyone happy.

I've been trying to manage my time a little better off late. I spend too much time doing nonsense. There is no sense of danger; deadline management skills are very poor, to put it tritely. The thing is, everything is so boring. How does one go on with the same old stuff? I've almost reconciled that life is going to be boring. Robert Frost says

'And miles to go before I sleep'

I wonder if he said this out of tiredness or boredom. In my case, I really need to stimulate myself with something challenging. It seems to me that most of the world does boring stuff and brags about it like its an achievement. Particularly the Engineers. The staleness of most papers is something to be seen. Novel and innovative methods to do this, and that. It all boils down to getting funding. I've even thought about how boring it must be to do the same boring research all the time. How do these professors manage eight hours in the office essentially doing nothing?

And they talk about time-management, and deadline management and rewards and procrastination and other contrived jargon. I don't see why people should not procrastinate when the jobs are so low-weight and so boring and so painstaking. And it isn't as if they're doing earth-shaking research either. And if I look back at my PhD. I am going to be getting one for doing nothing, nothing that I want to feel too happy about. Just a bunch of simulations which look good.

I do feel that the theoreticians might be having more fun than us; the 'numerical' experimentalists, but who is to tell. For all this, there might be some guy who might think that asymptotic expansions are boring. I remember Garry Kasparov or someone like that saying that Chess at the highest level is a solved problem. The large number of draws at grandmaster level might be proof of that.

But I do recognize the 'need' for better time-management. If things are fundamentally boring, one wants to get done with them as soon as one can. Plus, as every grad student knows, there is no worse pain than working under deadline pressure. And the guilt associated with it is just awful. No release until you're done with it. Even so, the way these guys talk about things-you must check things off your list of things to do; plan your work day; plan your schedule with the scheduler, and so on are just overkill. I sometimes feel that people have lost the ability to feel. Where is the spirit of freedom that one feels while solving a hard problem? Where is that sense of wonder that one feels on seeing something beautiful, to sit down on it for hours thinking, imagining? It is all lost to the routine.

The world is never going to make any progress with the machinery being oiled the way it is. We need something fresh-at least I need to do something fresh, or else I'll just be consumed by the system, certainly not something I am good at. Take out the wonder and all we're left with is the cynicism, boredom and mediocrity. It would seem that the system encourages mediocrity cloaked in efficiency.

Nearly a month has passed since I landed here in Bangalore, and I should be getting ready for the long journey to the States in a few days. This vacation has given me time to unwind. After losing some sleep initially from the abrupt transition from frenetic activity to the total lack of any-it is, I guess, the workaholic's occupational hazard-I seem to have relaxed to this comfortable nothingness, to almost enjoy the vaccuum. Jetlag, it seems, occurs in more ways than one!

This vacation has given some incentive to actually catch up with the noise. And the last few days have been sonorous with the same. The news circulating around is the impending recession in the American economy, which, if it happens, will be because of the sub-prime crisis. Bernake has announced a large interest rate cut of 75 basis points or 0.75 % (from 4.25 %) to foster economic activity. The markets, however, have not reacted well to this hike and some sources say that this is only a reaction to the crash in stock market prices all over the world and is a sign of a more insidious economic ailment that needs treatment  here and here

One may also refer to this illuminating wordpress article for insight into the sub-prime  crisis and of course, the wiki page http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Subprime

But to put it short, the sub-prime crisis is because of housing loans to credit-unworthy borrowers, which have gone bad because defaulters cannot be handled by foreclosing as a result of the housing market slump.

The Indian stock markets have been agog with excitement too. After a bloodbath the last two days, India rallied today with a gain of 800+ points. We have been assured time and again that the Indian economic fundamentals are strong and that one should not be worried too much about irrationalities in the Stock Market. Indeed, we see signs of affluence everywhere at a macro level. The Indian Economy has been growing at 8%, the stock market generally booming, more jobs everywhere, more cell phones, more automobiles (and more warming, but that is the subject of another post) and so on and so forth.

Anyway, it seems that a recession looms large, and a painful one at that. The housing slump will stifle economic activity. People who were good spenders earlier might be wary now because they can't ride the house, so to speak, and lower spending would translate into lower economic activity. Also, as many International banks have been involved (in fact this whole chain started when a number of banks had to write off bad loans a few days ago), the phenomenon is quite global. Furthermore, the housing market accounts for about 20% of activity-a pretty large number.

We also have a very large deficit now, and a weak dollar, unlike in the previous (mild) recession in 2001 caused by the software bubble bursting, when the dollar was strong and which was overcome by the housing bubble that had burst last year. President Bush's spending spree in the Middle East doesn't help either.

I should drink up some of this stuff in the near future. It all seems so new and wonderful, coming as I do from the arcane world of computer simulation of fire phenomena.

Yet another season has passed! You would be right in seeing the same old stuff from me. Cocooned in the relative seclusion of my rather private room, I proceed unconcerned about whats happening everywhere. I have very little idea as to whats happening outside me apart from the most local, such as at the university, or even my office. But yes, I do know whats happening in the Chess world. I pick up jargon every now and then about the sub-prime crisis and the housing market plummet. And today I got to know, from a chance channel flick to the BBC that Mrs. Bhutto has been assasinated. Poor lady, she had it coming (note that it seems that the phrase used here is used in a vindictive sense, I am told, by Americans, and may be viewed as an aggressive and callous response to the lady's unfortunate fate). Politicians in volatile places should be prepared to evaporate.

I leave for the motherland tomorrow. Here I am, blogging at 1.30 am (as usual), waiting for my laundry to be done so that I can start packing. Note that we may not view it as bad planning, packing so late in the day. I've been sleeping at odd hours these days, so that in keeping with form, I still have about four or five hours of wakefulness left in me. And packing, as we know is an activity that you choose to do. After all, clothes may be purchased; barring the minimum necessary number it is probably not that critical that one lugs it in.

I am going to move again, this time to College Park as soon as I return. The reason is rather prosaic-the lack of a car and money more than weighs against the slight luxury that exists presently. Likewise, I would think that proximity to school should compensate for College Park being more unsalutary too.

The semester has ended most agreeably. We have submitted one paper, not two, as was originally intended. However, it is only a matter of time before we start writing more papers. I have two more lined up when I come back. I guess, it is just that phase of the PhD. where one starts to reap what one has sowed. And when M. Adviser dangles carrots such as letting me graduate after this,
it summons mixed emotions. Although every PhD. student would like to graduate in three years (and a bit of course) it seems like such a whirlwind thing that one is not ready to accept it yet. This is partly because I haven't been completely in control of everything. I would like to graduate with a creation, something that I can call my own. There is a problem that I want to work on, on returning. But that can wait.

Meanwhile, life takes its meandering course (I feel that my PhD. has passed the rapids, and is perhaps heading for the distributaries, with its fertile alluvial soil and relative blandness maybe).

I am starting to wonder, what all this buzz is about social networks on the internet. It looks like an amazingly trivial activity but is such a time sink. It is now 3.30 am. I woke up at 6.30 am yesterday. And though cummulatively I haven't wasted more than an hour on facebook -the new fad it would seem these days-the place is surely very inviting. Why else would one stay up after 3? Orkut has expired for now. All the old folks are there, and it has like driving a taxi on the 'orrible roads of Bombay -I refer to the game Bombay taxi which may be found easily if one wants to. Facebook is like the new world, one as ridiculous as the real new world.

Anyway, I've moved to a new place, soberly enough in Greenbelt into an even greener backwater of sorts, and totally loving it. Its a pity that one has stayed up 21 hours and not inagurated the fantastically comfortable featherbed that lies here invitingly only a few feet away. As soon as I run out of energy or sanity I shall proceed to do the same. In fact, I have just finished the absolutely hideous 2 nd project on the BS Tree for the Computer Science course. I navigated through fortran's grotesque innards to accomplish it. Fortran, is completely unsuitable for this problem.

Another week or two and then I am done for this semester signing off happily. The combustion symposium deadline is in three days, and I must say, happily, that I am in good shape for it. Not so much though for other things. The course projects shall extract the last remaining curse words from me before its over.

So here I go for the goose and down.

It has been a while since I last posted. It was clear from the tone of the last few posts that misanthropic tendencies abounded. Stultification is a beautiful word that would describe that state reasonably well. Its one of those words from the GRE days which I can remember very fondly now. They were perhaps some of the most memorable days in IITM. Rap and I had displaced ourselves from our dusty rooms and very dusty hostel. We moved to Sarayu because of renovations in Saras. It started when Rap  landed up with a headache to find that the place was not livable, and convinced me -it did not take much convincing really-to move. There were, of course, a few who had stayed on. Mallu and Manoj continued to exist in Saras. If I remember it correctly, Mallu's room escaped the facelift until after the term started.

Anyway, reminescenses aside, I have indeed made the move. It is about 10 min from the old place but might be on the dark side of the moon for all we know. It is also slightly more roomy and comfortable. There were no roaches here apart from the ones I had brought from the old place. Over the last two months, nothing much has changed except that I've got another conference paper presented at Charlottesville, VA in all its orange autumn splendor. And now, I wait for my simulations to finish so that we can submit a big one and  possibly, though improbably, two, to the combustion symposium, for which the deadline is  in 15(+7) days (the +7 is an extension which we are most likely to get).

A new featherbed is been ordered to sit on this rock solid bed that I now rest my person on to pass into  comfortable slumber. Well, as things go, in terms of comfort it might not make a qualitative difference, but between buying a pricey PS3 and a more modest comfort enhancer, this has won over. All that remains is a trip to India in a month. Its thanksgiving now, and we must live up to it by making a purchase.

As can be made out, I am isolated from human company at the moment. A close pal from the IITM days is visiting me tonight.

 It would be good to meet someone for a change. I find it hard to understand why it has become so rare to meet people you actually like. Most of my 'friends' here are people I would rather not see, and if I do, to get away after mouthing a few pleasantries which might go like

A says (where A stands for unnecessary acquaintace): 'Hey there, x. Its such a long time since we saw you. How's it going?'.

I say: Oh I am doing great. How're you?

A says: So what have you been doing these days. You must be pretty busy.

I say: Yeah, so busy I can't meet myself (this is partially true too, though I can of course, take time off)

A says: So what else? (this is basically the end as we don't really find much to talk about)

I say: Hey I've got to leave (if I can manage it). Catch you later.

And then I leave as soon as I can manage it. For the most part, avoidance is the rule, and it is sad that that has to be so. May be because it takes all sorts to make a world or whatever. Or may be its just me. But for some reason, I find it hard to associate with Indians at a non-professional level. They seem to carry with them baggage from the third world that they should get rid of. All those virtues of being careful (with money), conservative and forming communities fostering Indian values and culture somehow repel me. And most of the bunch is just crappy, preferring a C-grade movie to a book, birthday bashes where people still 'bump', and of course (though this is purely personal), hardly anyone with a taste in music. Complete tawdriness.

 One wonders, where have the classy people gone?

Of course, I do meet quite a few people these days that I like too, with whom one can feel instantly at ease-mostly Americans and some people at the workplace or at the bus stop or disembodied people one meets everyday at the Chess lounge(of all places!). And one really ought to explore that side a little more. I am still in touch with the old pals from IITM. For some reason, one did not feel that they were unwanted. It would be interesting if many of them feel the same way too. Because when you have a large sample space, the probability of like minded people clicking is higher as it was in IITM.

I should take a look at this stock market thingy. People keep saying that a recession looms at large, for the American market, and though it may not be a good thing to invest at this time, one has to make a start somewhere!

I've been crawling the web-pages doing apartment hunting in Silver Spring. Having lived in a ghetto for two years, I feel its time to look for slightly more comfortable living, even at a cost. But this is where the catch is. You don't get great housing for less than $500 a room. I've been generally searching on rent.com for apartments, with a parallel search for proximity to metro (maps.google.com and wmata.com) and then on apartmentratings.com. Silver Spring has hundreds of apartments. If a car is available, and if one is prepared to pay just a little (as say, when you are gainfully employed), it all looks easy.

Even if one doesn't have a car, and one reconciles to the expenditure, there are these horror stories that have to be digested. There are, of course, the usual things like poor maintenance, rude manager, incompetent personnel, roaches and bad air-conditioning. But so many of the reviews on apartmentratings are just unspeakable. You can hear about people peddling drugs, murders, guys peeing after a strong dose of alcohol, rats (which is slightly more mundane), mold, bed-bugs, masquerading drag queens-absolutely blood-curdling stuff. As an aside, I recommend apartmentratings.com as a site to kill time. Some of the comments there make excellent reading.

Things are just too complicated. All I want is a decent place closer to downtown and a bit more luxury. It would have been nicer if the University had housing close to campus.

Right now, there is the added problem of getting roomies. Grad students, especially Indians will be difficult to convince. Most of them would rather save a hundred bucks and huddle together like people in labor camps (meaning more than one per room, sometimes two or three even). For some reason, it has come to stand that Univ. Square is the place to be for most people. There is a sense of community here. The student body has even persuaded UM to create a new shuttle route for Univ. Square alone, cutting commute time considerably. However, we must also recognize that this place is now hyped more than it deserves.

The place is generally infested with roaches (read earlier posts), the apartment complexes are old, air-conditioning is mediocre, things fail too often -such as the flushes, plug points and don't get repaired-and its in the middle of nowhere. There is the new deal cafe at Greenbelt center, but as a rule, one doesn't find people who regard drinking coffee as a thing to do. In this respect, IITM is sorely missed. There, you would surely get people with a fetish for coffee, and head off to some reasonable place like Coffee Day.

One the positive side, there is no crime and the greenery is great.

It is my belief (and has always been) that if you can cough up the extra dough to be comfortable, it is well worth it; we are being paid to do so. I am not at all sympathetic towards the idea of sharing a room. Having been brought up in relative comfort, its just awful to watch people become pan-handlers in grad-school; salvation army indeed, as someone had rather unpleasantly gestured.

With all these ifs and buts, I am completely left in thin air. The will to move to Silver Spring exists, but is hazy.