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 clutteError running style: Style code didn't finish running in a timely fashion. Possible causes:

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