Tolono

Earlier this month, the weather was unseasonably warm for December so I decided to ride my bicycle far. My target destination was Tolono, Illinois, a small town about 10 miles south of Champaign. Now is where the rant starts. For all the people out there who claim that Champaign is not in the middle of nowhere, the rest of this post is for you . You couldn't be more wrong. On my ride, the streets stopped having names about a mile and a half into the ride; there were no buildings other than barns after about two and half. When I see like garbage like this

I can't help but cringe. These creative film maker forgot to show images like this

Those buildings you see; that's campus. Right next to the farm. If you look closely, you can make out more corn on the other side of the patch of trees that is Champaign All the people that have been down to Champaign know that south of this shot(It is a north-facing picture) is nothing but corn. And Tolono. I see absolutely nothing urban about this bucolic scene. The people who claim Champaign is a fast growing city may be correct, but in its current state there is very little urban-ness to be found here.

Jim vs Red Lion

For the maybe two people that frequent this blog, ya'll knew Lion was a rant waiting to happen. Last Thursday, I got my first Red Lion experience; based on the the people I was with, it was a good night to go. When we rolled up at around 11:00, the line of sorostitutes was all ready out the door and growing quickly. For most UIUC students this was the last night for (gasp) a week to get their Lion on. After about 10 minutes of waiting in the Red Line, I presented my state ID to the ID checker who glanced at it for just longer than the Planck Time. I handed one crispy Lincoln to the cashier, and I was in.

As a second year student, I have never experienced an Illinois sans Red Lion, but apparently it opened for business just months before I arrived for orientation. Keeping this fact tucked in the back of my mind I slowly inched forward in the alien world of graphic tees and "button-up, stripy, going-out-to-get-laid shirts".(Seriously, click that link) My jungle guides on this quest are a team of seasoned Lion veterans. The first thing I noticed about the bar its size. From the exterior the building doesn't appear to be spacious, but upon entrance I realized that it is simply one, large open room. Another puzzling aspect was the decor. Large pennants and flags drape from the steel rafters giving the impression that I had just walked into a Dark Age Mead Hall. I half expected to see Grendel's arm hanging from the rafters.

As a waded through the swamp of people the lights dimmed and the music became louder, as though the bar was only allowed a certain amount of power to split between the lights and the sound system. As I was bushwhacking my way, an attractive waitress offered me a shot from her tray. I declined, but took note on the apparent ease of purchasing at this fine establishment, The bar is arranged like a NASCAR track with the bar as the infield, so naturally the party-goer field exhibits vector curl. After completing one full lap, I found the urge to use the facilities. Upon walking into the water closet, I   started to become more aware of the industrial scale of Red Lion. The Men's Room was a circular chamber with urinals lining the entire wall making it the most efficient restroom I had ever seen.

Into my second lap, I had lost all of my jungle guides but two. These two were anxious to get up on the dance floor to "rub our 3/4 boners into some sloot's ass" The term dance floor is a bit misleading as there is no actual floor or actual dancing. The dance floor comprises of a plywood stage and 4 tables. Dancing is taken to mean standing and drunkenly swaying back and forth with a member of the opposite sex. A more accurate moniker for this area would be the groping tables. I was charged with the task of plowing us through the ever growing crowds. Upon arrival at the other end of the groping tables, I found myself alone; the two had been engulfed by the ever-rising tide of humanity.

I found myself alone in a hostile environment. Desperately I searched for someone, anyone I was familiar with. In a last ditch effort, I looked in the outdoor smoking beer garden to see if any of the early defectors were taking a break, A quick scan of the crowd turned up nothing so I headed back inside to resume the search. From behind me I heard my name being called. Instinctively, I turned my head and searched for the origin but found nothing, Again, I heard it and looked closer. To my surprise, the person hailing me was none other than the girl who drove me when I was a junior in high school. To make things more bizarre, she was dressed as a bunch of grapes. A brief, uneventful conversation ensued and I cut my losses and headed home.

The solitary walk back proved to be most enlightening for processing my Lion experience. Everything about the bar was designed with one purpose in mind; casual sex. Lion is a product of the raucous, contemporary hook up culture and was designed for maximum effect. Like the Chicken Pot Pie Machine from Chicken Run, Lion delivers astounding efficiency in facilitating hook ups. The low lights obscure what it is you're grinding on. The loud music makes conversation near impossible. The constant stream of cheap alcohol keeps everybody loose. Patrons circulate in loops until finally they bump into someone with whom to "dance". The whole process repeats itself hundreds of times each night. People flock to Lion every weekend with the confidence that a hookup is less than 3 beers and 30 minutes away.

Eplilouge:

I was relaxing on a couch in my dorm, when one of the people I lost at the bar strolls down the hall, girl on his side. We make quick eye contact and he only says one word while nodding his head. "Lion".

In Defense of the MRS Candidates

Why am I in college? My answer to that question is always I am in college to gain the skills and connections necessary for future economic stability and self actualization. Keep that definition in the back of your mind.

Here in Champaign, there are a plethora of students who work their asses off in the library striving for the 4.0. Some are active members of 10+ clubs, some volunteer 20 hours a week. These dedicated young adults definitely fit into my definition of success in college. However, there is a definitely more than one way to skin a cat. Enter the MRS candidate. 

The MRS (Master of Residential Science) degree is not easy to attain and, especially in this economy, one that has a more than a bit of risk involved. First off, the buy in is steep; probably around 30,000 a year perhaps more just to go to UIUC.  The time commitment is also incredulous as MRS candidates usually are required to go out 5 times a week. The sheer amount of time spent on Green Street may cause their gpa's in unmarketable majors to plummet leaving them totally out of luck if they fail on the in the MRS program.

In addition to the great deal of risk involved, the MRS degree can be physically tolling. Most MRS candidates are required to spend at least 45 minutes on the elliptical a day and another 45 doing glute exercises. On top the the workout regimen, the incessant over consumption of cheap alcohol and screaming is thought to cause a condition known as sorority voice. 

Possibly the most challenging aspect of the MRS degree is the sense of impending failure. From day one of their freshman year these young women only have 35,040 hours to complete their degree. In the wise words of Apollo 13 Mission Control Director Gene Kranz, "Failure is not an option". Truly the sword of Damocles hangs low above the heads of MRS candidates. 

So next time you are complaining about your ECE 534 exam, remember that you don't have it so bad. 

I-Clicker Monty Hall Problem

I was sitting in my ECON 102 lecture today when the professor posed a challenging I-Clicker question to the class. After a minute and a half he glanced at the computer monitor and announced that one of the most popular answers 'A' was incorrect. After the newly displaced answers found a new choice, he again declared that choice 'C' was incorrect, and announced that we now had a 50-50 chance of getting the right answer. I knew the professor's last remark was incorrect because I am a nerd (to be expounded upon in the appendix). I correctly identified the situation as a Monty Hall Problem, as it fit almost perfectly. The host is my professor, and the class as a whole is the contestant. I quickly crunched the numbers and found that after my professor revealed two answers were wrong, I would have a 75% chance of getting it correct if I switched to 'D'. According to the graph displayed after the question, 77% of the class answered D. I am aware that the close correlation in no way implies causation, but I found it interesting none the less.




Appendix: 
In the summer going into my junior year of high school, one of the books on the mandatory reading list was The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. The aforementioned novel tells the story about a severely autistic boy who has an extraordinary talent for math and his struggle to deal with his troubled home life. It is a good book; I recommend you all read it. In one of the chapters, the protagonist is explaining the powers of mathematics and he identifies a mathematician, Marilyn vos Savant, who was able to make a surprising conclusion from her solution to the Monty Hall Problem. The part about me being a nerd stems from the fact that the problem itself and its solution was included in an appendix to the novel which I, of course, read. Now, the only reason I remember the book is because of an inconsequential reference to an obscure math problem. As I previously stated, I am a nerd.

Ode to the Transportation Warrior

O mystery man sporting wilderness gear

Your latest great journey has lead you here

To the 10 East Gold, heading to class

You see open spots but you decide to pass

Your backpacking boots surely don't feign

Your preparedness for the streets of Champaign

Your keys have absolutely no chance to slip

From the climbing rated carribeaner attached to your hip

As a trail tested hiker, you throw caution to the side

Neglecting to sit down or hold handles as you ride

Your concentration is unwavering, you don't dare to smile

Your power stance is taking up the whole middle aisle

We roll past Green, you've almost made it

The 10 minute bus ride, standing unaided

With a smug sense of satisfaction you glance around

Only to to find yourself lying on the ground

If you happen to be reading this well crafted ode

Next time you're on the bus, make sure to take note

The handles on the bus are for you to hold

Unless you like the floor of the 10 East Gold

Jim vs Beer Pong

Pong. Originally a frathouse novelty, it has spiralled into a global phenomenon sparking millions of YouTube Videos, and even an international tournament with a cash prize. However, if ya'll ever plan on attending a festive gathering, avoid the BP table like the plague. Here's why...

I'll start with the name. Anyone with more than 3 synapses connected can deduce the moniker 'beer pong' was conceived in such a manner.

(Basement of a frat house. Seeking amusement that involves light consumption of alcohol and competition, two bros sail into uncharted waters)
Bored College Kid 1: Bro, I'm bored and I want to drink.
Bored College Kid 2: Ditto, my man. Lets go beer bowling on this ping-pong table.
BCK1: Chyeah... Wait, we'd waste beer on the floor.
BCK2: You're totally right, lets toss these balls in the cups instead.
BCK1: Its like ping pong with Beer.
BCK2: Yeah, its like Beer Pong
Both: Sick

The name stuck despite bearing no resemblance to ping pong except for the ball. Its like calling kickball, base-soccer. (As an aside to further the baseball - bp analogy; both games are largely spent standing around and chasing out-of-play-balls).

In addition to having an absolutely terrible name, BP is a monumental waste of resources. The large tables become obstacles for guests to navigate creating unwanted congestion. The snail pace of the game and the paltry amount of participants leads to the formation of large lines of prospective players. Time and space are not the only resources inefficiently allocated. Due to the messy nature of the game, many fluid ounces of beverage are lost the the ground and table.

Lastly, pong is the biggest cop out at any gathering. It is what party goers default to when they have exhausted all other options. I can only speak for myself, but when I hit the town, I hope to meet people and spark interesting conversation. Playing pong makes these objectives untenable. The competitive nature of the game almost automatically rules out fraternizing with the other side of the table. This iron curtain prevents any communication and a hint of animosity, both or which are huge dampers on any potential good time. Think back to the best time you had going out. I doubt any part of that night involved tossing ping pong balls into red cups. Now thing of the worst night in memory. Yup, bp was definitely there.

Unfortunately, I fear too many people have eaten the beer pong lotus, and the scourge will continue to live on. But now you can use your best judgement to run like hell when you see the cups being lined up.

Homecoming

Here at the beautiful University of Illinois, the fall air is crisp with homecoming spirit. While this may be a common tradition among large, state universities, UofI's is especially well celebrated because we allegedly started the tradition. While the premise of bringing alumni back to their old stomping grounds for one day to relive the glory days seems like a great idea, I find it rather depressing.

The concept upon which homecoming is based implies these, my collegiate years, are defined to be the best years of my life. While in many circumstances this may be true and  I do enjoy my activities (both academic and extracurricular) and the people here in the 217, I sincerely hope my personal halcyon is not spent here in the corn fields of central Illinois.

Being a recreational runner, I am no stranger to jeers while jogging, but today the tailgaters who 'came home' were especially quick to notice that I was indeed exercising. I would have no problem with said taunts if they came from notable alumni such as Steve Chen, Fazlur Kahn or Nick Holonyak, but instead these poorly constructed insults came from orange-clad men with substantial beer guts. The homecoming variety is the type that whose life peaked at age 20 and since has gone downhill. In a quixotic endeavor to recapture the lost days of yore, they pilgrim once a year to the place where for four years they were the coolest guy at KAMS.

While I have no clue what the future will bring, I don't foresee an annual trip to Champaign after my graduation due to the fact I will have something actually important to do.

The Five Guys You Meet In College

Hello loyal readers,

After a 8-month hiatus, I have decided to begin blogging again in order to preserve the wonderful occurrences that may fail to live on in the litany of my stories. While nothing of consequence has occurred in a while, fear not for I will always have material upon which to rant. 

In my never-ending attempt to make sense of the world around me, I have developed a taxonomy for grouping the college age males I meet on a daily basis. I call it The Five Guys You Meet In College

First Type: The Man
When you hear the term "the man" your mind may instantly equate it to 'the guy who keeps you down' or 'the guy I stick it too', however in this case the term is used completely opposite. My interpretation of the man is the guy who you and everybody else likes spending time with.

Second Type: The Great Guy
While not quite as affable as "The Man', the 'Great Guy' is yet another type which you like hanging with. Of the five types, The Great Guy probably makes up the largest percentage of the population. Most people I run into, I would categorize ads good guys, but as soon as you get to know them, they'll probably fall into the great guy category.

Third Type: The Lovable Loser
The lovable loser is that quirky guy you can't help but like. That guy in your physics discussion who makes an offbeat joke that you find yourself laughing hysterically to. The lovable loser has a bizarre personality and enjoys making astute observations from a totally different point of view.

Fourth Type: The Boner
The boner is the guy who thinks he's the man, but in reality falls far short of his own self image. The boner can is very arrogant and expects others to worship him the the way he worships himself. The boner lives in a mentally constructed world in which he is infallible and will get very upset when you correct his egocentric worldview. The boner is very polarizing. If you are good friends with the boner, you think he is a great guy or even the man. If not, he is relegated to Urchin status.

Fifth Type: The Urchin
The Urchin is the most deplorable form of existence on the college campus. The Urchin is that guy who alternates between the Dropbox shirt, the E-Week shirt and the freshman fest shirt, The Urchin is that guy who lectures you on the dangers of Polar Bear gingivitis. The urchin is the guy who brags to you about playing a drunk round of starcraft on a Friday night.

These types are not absolute and people usually switch between them depending on the situation. However I would say that 90% of the population definitively fits into one of these five types.

Astronomy Pictures

About three weeks ago, my cs homework was to impress the TA with something 'computery'. At that time I was checking out NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day site and was curious to see how much space all those pictures would take up if I were to download them. Anyway, here's my writeup.

My idea was to download all the NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day (apod) pictures However, I had a feeling that that would be a massive undertaking. In order to see exactly how much disk space it would take, I decided to take the first picture from each month, multiply it by 30, plot it on a graph, fit a function to it, integrate that function and I’d have a rough estimate of how much data I’d be dealing with. To access each of the web pages, I wrote a BASH script that took advantage of wget, a command line download manager.

#!/bin/bash

for ((i=1996; i<2012; i++))

do

  

    for ((j=101; j<113; j++))

    do

   for ((k=101; k<132; k++))

   do

   #k=101

       istr=${i:2:2}

       jstr=${j:1:2}

       kstr=${k:1:2}

       

       echo "http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap$istr$jstr$kstr.html" >> url2011.txt

       wget -r -l1 --no-parent -A.jpg "http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap$istr$jstr$kstr.html"

       #done

done

done

If you notice, the commented out sections would be the date of the month, but I changed it to the first. (You may notice the strange variable modeling. Starting at 100 and using the last two digits was my quick and dirty was of getting the zero in front of the dates that needed it. ) After about 2 minutes of downloading, I had the first of each month in a directory labeled as that month after a little bit of bu action piped into a MatLab array, I had all the data necessary to find the total disk space required. I loaded my matrices into MatLab, plotted a graph and used the polynomial fit to turn it into a 7th order function.

Using MatLab’s polynomial integrator I was able to determine the area to be around 10 gB of memory required for all 15 years worth of pictures. However enticing that may sound, I ended up getting only the pictures from the year 2011.  To test the effectiveness of my method, I decided estimate the size of all the files in 2011 the same way. Again, I used a simple BASH script to get the file size and saved it to a matrix. Using the same technique described above, i estimated the total 2011 file size to be 512,233 kilobytes. To check, I summed the matrix to get a an actual total of 473,210 kilobytes which meant my experimental error was 7.62%, not bad.

I never ended up downloading more than the 2011 archives, but I was able to find some pretty cool images.

T Shirts Day IV

The old Brownsea staff tshirt. 

Date Obtained: June 2010

T Shirts Day III

Todays shirt is a plain grey shirt. Nothing really to say about this one
Date Obtained: July 2005

T Shirts Day II

Todays t-shirt is the majestic 'Three Wolf Moon' What better way to celebrate the first day of school than such a beautiful shirt.
Date Acquired: December 25, 2011 (A generous gift)

T-Shirts Day 1

I was moving back into my dorm, unpacking all my things when I realized that I have far too many t shirts. I came to the conclusion that the best way to see exactly how many t shirts I have is to wear a different one each day until I run out. Each day, I'll take a picture and give a little bit of history about the shirt I am wearing.

Day 1
Shirt: Bold, Italicized and Underlined Illinois.
Date Obtained: Accepted Student Day, June 6th, 2011.