Celebrate we will ...

Youth for Human Rights International has made these short videos illustrating thirty of the rights protected by the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Since I've been thinking about online privacy issues recently, this one stuck out in my mind. It's a harder job to humanize the people whose privacy is being compromised when it's done so covertly over the internet.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCacFfjfA7E

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• Went to Point Reyes with L and U. It was some good girl-in-the-wilderness time. L is an Oceanographer Bulgarian and U is an EE Palestinian so we had lots of good conversation about grad school, politics, religion. But truth be told, we mostly talked about men and relationships.
  


• Finally sent the letter. Now it's in the hands of the US Postal Service and God.


• Did mounds of laundry. I should really part with some of this stuff that has been around since I was in my early teens.


• Planned fun things for my Maman's birthday (next weekend) and for H's visit (the following weekend).


• Work, arbejde, munka, travail, trabajo, of course.

I knocked over my bowl of cereal reading this in fits of giggles.

WALTER
In sooth, then, faithful friend, this was a rug of value? Thou wouldst call it not a rug among ordinary rugs, but a rug of purpose? A star in a firmament, in step with the fashion alike to the Whitsun morris-dance? A worthy rug, a rug of consequence, sir?

THE KNAVE
It was of consequence, I should think; verily, it tied the room together, gather’d its qualities as the sweet lovers’ spring grass doth the morning dew or the rough scythe the first of autumn harvests. It sat between the four sides of the room, making substance of a square, respecting each wall in equal harmony, in geometer’s cap; a great reckoning in a little room. Verily, it transform’d the room from the space between four walls presented, to the harbour of a man’s monarchy.

WALTER
Indeed, a rug of value; an estimable rug, an honour’d rug; O unhappy rug, that should live to cover such days!

My email has become much harder to handle recently. And why, might you ask? It's because I'm having to respond to messages *IN HUNGARIAN*. I innocently created a Magyar Klub at Stanford (considering there was such a good one at UCLA and there is an enthusiastic community to serve here) and somehow was forced to assume the role of president until a more fitting and willing applicant rises from midst of the student body. Who knew this would be so much more involved than being a SIAM member in undergrad? All I did there was order pizza and do homework!

I got to reading a cluster of wikipedia articles on key figures in the history of free software last night. One of them was on Eric Allman, an OG programmer from Berkeley who developed sendmail, a standard mail transfer agent used on many Unix systems and its precursor delivermail, an early MTA originally released with BSD 4.0 for the ARPANET prior to the adoption of TCP/IP in 1983. Along with his goldstar in the annals of software history, Allman is also openly gay and has been in a decades long relationship with one of the lead developers of BSD (and then FreeBSD). The quote below is attributed to him and caught my eye:

'There is some sort of perverse pleasure in knowing that it's basically impossible to send a piece of hate mail through the Internet without its being touched by a gay program. That's kind of funny.'

I had a spare 20 minutes between classes. What did I do with it? Youtubed for Final Fantasy piano medleys of course. This was the best I found. It should be said that I'm learning to play Aerith's Theme.

Strange to post a French video right after Hungarian folk dancing, but this came to mind earlier this week and I've been singing it pretty regularly to myself (and to the ire of all those around me, I'm sure). This was also the first non-classical song I ever learned to play on the piano.

I'm between research advisors this quarter, but I am taking a course on Computational Syntax with a major research component. It's a small class and I end up spending a good deal of time alone with the professor so he has taken on a mentor role for me. While I was meeting with him in his office this afternoon, we were discussing potential research topics when we got on the subject of fun and play in formal language theory. With a boyish twinkle in his eyes and barely-contained excitement in his voice, he says:

"Well, if you like playing with complex formal systems, Tree Adjoining Grammars are just a GAS!"

I thought it was very cute. :)

I've been writing a letter for two years. Sunday is the day that I am finally sending it. What a scary yet hopeful thought that is.

For anyone who knows me, I'm not one that drops a lot of money on frivolities. Or anything really outside of travel (which I deem a necessary life experience that's always been worth the expense). My clothes usually come from various clearance racks or bins or online sales. I rarely wear make-up. I don't go out to clubs or bars often (strangely I did this more when I was underage). I've even dropped the caffe latte habit that I had been leaning toward in recent months in favor of my own home brewed black-as-tar coffee. I like the idea of being frugal and I've been documenting my expenses more carefully in recent months and will continue to do so.

But last week, I found the perfect boots. They were being worn by a girl in my Hungarian class - I literally walked into the room and did a double-take. I realized I had seen them before - in the deep recesses of my boot-loving fantasies. They are the pinnacle of sexy womanhood-affirming boot. They are the absolute antithesis of any kind of reasonable or conservative purchase. And I want them.

I don't think I'll actually buy them - right now it's still thrilling enough to know that such boots do indeed exist.

I cried inside when I saw this again ... joyful nostalgic tears. Oh Crossfire, I _am_ caught up in it!

The Ring Cycle is coming to LA opera!

http://www.laoperaring.com/

Four abstruse operas in one glorious week - I think the word 'awesome' is an appropriate descriptor.

For whatever reason, I've rewarded myself with two whimsical purchases that have been sitting on my internal wishlist for too long.

After being my laptop wallpaper for the last month, I finally caved and bought one of these posters. I'm hoping this isn't some kind of gateway purchase toward a future calculator shrine.

I started a window garden about 2 months ago and I've been thinking the flowers needed some more bloodthirsty friends . This also came up in recent conversation about a particularly fine musical.

My credit card statement will be interesting this month.

My brother lives across from a movie studio. There is constant filming on the lot and often enough the company needs to film on the street. They are required to give a brief description of the logistics to any residents potentially affected by filming. Today the notice on my brother's door read:

Production Company: Dalakis Media
Will Be Filming: Dude, What Would Happen
Description of Scene: Interior & exterior dialogue. Occasional traffic & pedestrian control. Baboon. Fire effects.

A number of good things happened over the past two days. The two LJ friendly events that stick out most in my mind are:

1. I went to Disneyland with H. We had a lot of fun together! :)
2. I saw Mary Poppins with my mom, sister and nieces. In a word - fantastic!

Both of these events deserve further elaboration but due to the other excitements and outings of the weekend, I've gotten 4 hours of sleep the last two nights in a row. I think it's time for me to call it an early night and do some reading for class.

I got a phone call around 10pm last night from my mom. This was out of the ordinary on two accounts: One, she is normally dozed off on the couch at this point in the night cycle and two, I had already talked to her earlier that evening.

Me: Hi Maman.

Mom: *sounding concerned* Kathryn, I'm having a senior moment. I've got to ask you a question.

Me: Sure, what's up?

Mom: Don't be angry with me ...

Me: I'll try not to be. What's the question, Mom?

Mom: Well, ok ... *long pause* ... do you still have that mole on the bridge of your nose? I'm looking at a picture of you as a baby and it's clearly there but I just can't remember if it still is!

Me: Hahaha, Maman, did you really call me this late to ask this 'pressing' question? Yes, it's still there. Nothing has happened to it.

Mom: Oh, that's such a relief! Good, I can sleep now.

Perhaps it's a sign that you are very loved when you get a late night call about your birth marks.

It was in grade school when I first heard this played and for me it's still one of the sexiest songs I've ever known.

Lovely lady, let me drink you, please. I won't spill a drop, no, I promise you.
Lying under this spell you cast on me.

Someday I've got to find a willing friend who will just lend me their ears and time for a few hours and let me talk about my enigmatic father. There is a lot to say.