Extremely. Grumpy. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Do you know what makes me really really grumpy?

Opening the election materials and finding a FOUR page ballot that contains SIXTEEN freaking ballot measures that I have to vote on. I remember when I lived in NJ when ballots were ONE page long. That is how long they should be. A max of two pages, with maybe a half a dozen measures at most. But SIXTEEN!?

And for f#$'s sake (yes, I'm really (really) grumpy, as you can see), we just had an election seven months ago, in which, I believe, I had to wade through seven propositions, and I thought that was pushing it. But damnit. SIXTEEN? If I had an extra hand, I still wouldn't have enough fingers to count how many damn measures/propositions there are.

Has the state legislature no mercy? I know I'm complaining about a privilege that I shouldn't be complaining about, and I'd take this over being a citizen of many despotic regimes and value the democracy and freedoms that come with being a U.S. citizen, but grumble, grumble, grumble. Complain. Complain. Complain. Blog. Blog. Blog.

Sixteen freaking ballot measures. That's
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
(in case you can't visualize how long a list of sixteen items is, since I'm sure other state's ballots are much shorter.)

New Jersey has a mere two questions on their ballot.
Montana has three.
Arizona appears to have eight.
I don't have time to look up every state, but does anyone live in a state that comes anywhere close to sixteen freaking ballot measures? (Including local measures.)

Ok, and do you know what makes me even grumpier than seeing SIXTEEN freaking measures I have to make time to wade through, read, look up the pros and cons and who supports/who doesn't, and then make a decision on?

Seeing the same. damn. proposition on the ballot for three elections in a row. It's the parental consent/wait period for minors who want abortions. This proposition has reared its ugly head three times, and each time, it has been struck down by voters. The state barely denied passing it the last time, which I find quite disturbing, but basically, we voted that minors shouldn't have to seek parental consent to get an abortion. I'm pretty sure we also voted against a waiting period requirement, too.

And now, it's back on the damn ballot again. Again. Because some chastity ball-going idiot got enough signatures from his right wing friends to get this on the ballot for the fourth. freaking. time. How many times do we have to vote NO on this for people to give up?

And for the record, I don't understand what sane parent wouldn't vote against requiring parental consent and wait periods. I mean look. It's not that I want my (hypothetical) kids sleeping around and getting pregnant at 13. If I were a parent of a teenager, I would hope that my kids be careful enough to not get pregnant, and if they aren't, I'd hope they'd feel comfortable enough to tell me. But if they aren't, I'd rather have them get a legal, safe abortion behind my back than have them die because they went to some illegal, unregulated abortion-via-coat-hanger clinic.

Oh, and there's a proposition for banning same-sex marriages. I feel like I've seen this silly one before, too.

It's funny that this state gives off this aura of being so progressive, and yet, we have all of these measures that really ought to be non-issues. Aren't we supposed to be the state that is the paragon of liberal ideals? Why the hell are we voting on gay marriages and minors getting abortions once again?

If our voices keep being ignored and undermined thus, then what we have in this state (which, btw, is home to the largest population) is not a healthy democracy. Do the rest of the states have any idea how dysfunctional voting is in this state?

Ok, I now need to go calm myself down enough to put in 2 hours of linear algebra studying.

The National Anthem à la the SF Chron

Quick. Without using the search powers of Google, how many octaves does our national anthem span?

I pondered this very question at work yesterday, though not out of idle curiosity.

So before you read on, take a moment, and sing the (U.S.) national anthem to yourself and figure out the range. No peaking at scores, no instrumental aids, and no internet; just your voice.









If you answered 1.5 octaves (or an octave plus a fifth, which is not exactly 1.5) that is what I got. Sans score, sans piano, and sans Google, I'd like to add.

I started singing the tune in my head: "Oh-h say" (paused here, noted that this is the lowest note, which I arbitrarily called "do" and continued on)
"can you see, by" (noted that so far, it goes to a mi above the octave). . .
"rocket's red" (highest note: a fifth above the octave. Total range: 1.5 octaves.)

Well, I would like to know what version the SF Chron folks sing, b/c theirs evidently spans 2.5 octaves.

Now, there is an arrangement of the Star-Spangled Banner that we sometimes do, in which the top soprano part goes a fourth above the highest note (a high c, in our version) after one beat on "free-ee", in which case, that particular version spans 2 octaves, but even then, we're still a fifth shy of whatever version the SF Chron has in mind.

Hmm. I suppose this is the sort of thing that copy editors don't necessarily catch, b/c it's not a grammatical error? Still, you would think that it would be easy enough to do a Google search and do a little fact-checking.

(And not to nitpick, but websites that are in the business of writing (and I'm not talking about personal blogs or websites of artistic organizations, here.) really ought to learn the html for m-dashes and use them properly; or at least use two hyphens like the WSJ does. They're quite different from hyphens.)

Either way, the author's main point still holds—that the anthem is hard to sing. . .well.

Which made me wonder, are there (vocal) pieces that span 2.5 octaves? I mean, that's a pretty impressive range.

I couldn't think of any off the top of my head, but remembered the choral sections of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony being extremely annoying to sing, because of its ridiculously high range, so I checked my score. Well, the soprano section spans from a d to a freaking high b above the staff, so the range is greater than the national anthem, but not quite two octaves.

The other one I vaguely remembered having a high range is the soprano solo in Mozart's Mass in C-minor. Sure enough, within the first few pages of the soprano solo entrance in the Kyrie, Mozart has the soprano soloist go from an a-flat below the staff to a high a-flat—a jump of 2 octaves in just under 3 notes flat!

Later in Et incarnatus est, Mozart expects the soloist's voice to span from a low b (below the staff) to a high c, which is more than a 2-octave span.

I suspect that the Queen of the Night aria from the Magic Flute also has a pretty wide range, but I do not have the score to verify this.

And the answer is. . .

A The price of a movie ticket

B The price of an opera ticket

A The quantity in column A is greater
B The quantity in column B is greater
C The quantities are equal
D The relationship cannot be determined from the information given

It's official. Here in the Bay Area, it is officially cheaper to attend an opera than it is to go see a movie.

The price of a movie ticket: $10.50
The price of the cheapest ticket at SF Opera: $10.00

Who said opera was for the wealthy?

Of course, I only discovered the whole standing room process this past year, since they don't exactly display this prominently on their website. One has to know that such things exist (and quite frankly, most of my non-opera-frequenting friends have no idea that you can go see opera for $10), and then search for it.

Still, what a wonderful thing to make opera so accessible and affordable.
Now if only I had more time to take advantage of this. . ..

Standardized tests in two parts

I. triumphant

Not that many people care (however, this being my blog, I exercise the right to write about things that only I and two or three other people might actually care about), but I am happy to report that my first hurdle towards despotic regime-dom has been cleared. I got my target score for the math section of the GREs. Phew.

I am so. damn. relieved.

Almost triumphant, in fact. Well, except that I got 100 points lower than I was targeting on the verbal section, but I guess we can't have it all. At some point, I need to figure out whether departments of despotic regime study care about the verbal enough that I should consider retaking this exam again, but right now, I'm so glad I passed the bar on the math section that I'm not going to worry about it for just one night. (Or until I get my scores for the written sections back.)

And I am proud to say that I did not even need to recruit the help of a certain Bulgarian male. Actually, truth be told, it wouldn't have been possible to have him take my math section, because can you believe—they actually make you write and sign a statement certifying that you are yourself, then take your picture, video tape you and pretty much watch you like hawks for the entire four hours behind glass windows. (More on this later.) It's one thing for me to lie for myself, but it's another thing to make someone else lie for you, and had I actually had third person take my exam, he would've had to lie on my behalf, which kindof kills that option of having someone else sit in on your exam for you.

Mind you, this isn't so much an "accomplishment" as a bare minimum bar I needed to pass in order to have my application be considered by some programs, so it's probably a bit premature to be patting myself on the back, but this is no small feat for moi. First, I have never done well (enough) on standardized exams. They have been the bane of my existence and probably the limiting reagent whenever I have applied to programs. Granted, two of these lousy scores may have been partly due to incompetent proctors, but the schools don't really care about these things when they look at your sub-par score, and you can't really complain about how a chronologically challenged proctor may have adversely affected your performance, because it just makes you look whiney. Second, I did so poorly on the first math section, that I was resigned to getting a lousy score and having to retake the exam again. However, in retrospect, this must've been the experimental section, because it was wicked hard and there was no way that I could've gotten anything higher than a 700 on that section since I had to blindly guess on at least 3 problems, was extremely iffy for another handful, and didn't even get to the last 3 or 4 problems in the end. (I've taken enough practice exams to know that this would've put my score well below 700.) In fact, this section put me in such a state of jittery nerves for the rest of the exam, that it was kindof hard to concentrate on the other sections. Until I got to the unexpected third section and regained some hope over the possibility that the first section might not count.

I had completely forgotten about the experimental section—until math section number two popped up after I thought I was done with the exam and was expecting a score report. Math section number two was a lot more reasonable, but I still expected to get a few wrong.

Thus I literally (very briefly) squealed in glee when I saw my score and realized that they must've not counted the first math section. In fact, I was dumbfounded, to tell you the truth.

This isn't me, but this (Sage Broccoli: I hope you don't mind me linking to your photo. I think only your friends can see it anyway.) is how I felt after the exam.

II. Standardized testing in 2008.

In case you've been out of the standardized testing loop, let me tell you that it is not what it used to be ten or even five years ago. The administrators have become completely paranoid to the point of it being absurd and ridiculous and extremely annoying.

First, they do not allow any backpacks into the room. Even five years ago, I was allowed to bring my backpack into the room, so long as I didn't dig into it during the exam, but really, what idiot would do that in the middle of an exam where people are watching you like hawks? Why do something to cast suspicion on you and risk having to throw out your scores?

In fact, much to my grave annoyance, they do not even let you bring your own pencils. Or bottled water. Or even tissues, to blow your nose with, which is really annoying, when one has allergies to contend with. I suppose they think that I might write some intricate code on tissue paper or stuff my lead pencil with crib notes? Well, ok, fine. I can deal with no water for a few hours and use writing implements that I haven't used since like fourth grade.

But then they also make you take off your watch. Now this, I resisted, because for two out of three standardized exams I've taken in the past, the room monitors royally botched up the time calls (I know this, because I always bring my own watch to keep time for myself), and both times in a way that wasn't in our favor, so I now have very little faith in their ability to accurately tell me when 30 minutes are up and mostly rely on myself to keep track of time. Thus, I was really not willing to part with my watch. I was extremely uneasy at entrusting the timekeeping to someone else, but I didn't really have much of an option.

They also don't like you keeping around extra layers of clothing in case you get cold. I had a hooded cardigan on at the start of the test, but at some point, got warm and took it off and hung it on my chair. I wanted to keep it nearby in case I got cold again. Mind you, they just inspected my pockets prior to entering the exam room, so they know it didn't have any cheat sheets hidden on or in it. Moreover, there were several people watching us like hawks on video monitors, etc., so it's not like I would've been able to clandestinely communicate with an external person with a hidden sleeve mic or anything like that. But as soon as I took my extra layer off, a room monitor came in and took it away and told me I can't have anything hanging on my seat because it violates protocol. Protocol shmotocol.

I have no idea what has happened in the past five to ten years to warrant this level of vigilance that bordered on paranoid absurdity, because in 2002, you just walked in, showed your ID, and simply took the exam. No fingerprinting, no taking of pictures, no signing 20 different waivers and no restrictions on bringing tissues to blow one's nose. I mean why the hell do they make us go through the trouble of writing out and signing a statement swearing that we won't cheat, use unauthorized aids, disclose the contents of the exam, etc. etc. if they are not going to take us seriously?

Anyway, I am so glad that it is over. Tomorrow, a new day, a new obstacle to surmount.

Modern Version of Gettysburg Address

(No doubt some of you have already seen this, but someone brought it up at dinner the other day, and we were in stitches over it. . ..)

Seven score and five years ago, Lincoln wrote the Gettysburg Address.

Six score and 17 years later, someone reworked it to fit boardroom presentation format and accommodate modern-day attention spans and intelligence levels.

Hmm. If I had any more brainpower left in me, I might have compared composers who were Lincoln's contemporaries (Brahms, Wagner, Liszt, and Beethoven, (if we stretch the timeline a bit) to name a few) to composers of the great powerpoint era, and then made some outrageous speculation about the correlation between our present-day powerpoint/axis-of-evil-worldview culture and lack of Beethoven/Brahms-caliber composers, but I'm too tired to substantiate such claims, so lucky for you, I'll spare you my brilliant thoughts on this matter.

Shosty and Cheese for under $6

A secondhand bookstore is a very bad place to go to for someone who is trying eke out a minimalist existence and not accumulate stuff. But sometimes, the deals are so good, one cannot resist.

As my one diversion from studying, I walked over to the used bookstore to try to get rid of my Devil Wears Prada and Bee Season. They didn't take Bee Season, but gave me $2 for Prada.

I had a 25% off general voucher and a 50% off food-related books voucher, so I bought the following items:

A Cheese Primer for $3.50. This is one of these want-but-don't-really-need type books, but for $3.50, who can resist? (Certainly not I.) It is food porn for those of us who like cheese. It tells you every little detail about the various kinds of cheeses. It divides the cheeses by country, and then has a handy index, so you can cross-reference. I like the fact that the author is very opinionated, dispenses sound advice, and has impeccable taste in fine foods—e.g. under Parmesan cheese: "Never buy this cheese pre-grated. It is simply folly to grate it in advance. Grate this miraculous cheese yourself, as you need it, always allowing the cheese to reach room temperature before grating. . .. American 'Parmesan' tastes like sawdust" and on the proper ways to eat it: "Parmesan is a superb eating cheese. It is marvelous as a first course with figs, melon, or any fruit. It marries beautifully with carpaccio or prosciutto drizzled with EVOO. It is wonderful slivered over an arugula salad . . ..", all of which are exactly the kind of things I'd say about Parmesan, albeit less eloquently. My kind of book in every way, except that my favorite cheese isn't listed as one of the "world's greatest cheeses". Humph.

Shostakovich, quartets #3, 7, 11, by the Fine Arts Quartet for a whopping $2.25. I suspect that this was a mispricing on the bookstore's part, because this CD was mistakenly filed under "C". His name is spelled "Chostakovich" on the CD, which may have threw them off, because the other $2.99 CDs were mostly rubbish and the other Shostakovich quartet CDs (properly filed under "S") were more like $7-$9. Even "dinner party classical" cost $4.99. (Hmm. Does the bookstore think that "dinner party classical" is worth $2 more than 3 of Shostakovich's quartets? Well, their misjudgement is my gain.) I have not heard the FAQ's rendition of Shostakovich, but for $2.25 there's almost no risk involved.

After applying my $2 store credit (for selling Prada), my total for cheese and Shostakovich came to $3.75.

もん 1991-2008

Our dog (the one who didn't compose any Beethoven symphonies) passed away this morning.

Even though I'm not a pet person, and knew this was coming, it seems that no amount of mental preparation or rationalization quite buffers you from the sadness and numbness that suddenly outpours out of nowhere when the reality hits. Kind of like a brick wall, really. One minute, you are theorizing about "when he dies" in an abstract sort of way and hoping that it stays that way, and the next minute, he's really gone, the theoretical becomes reality in a strange, surreal sort of way, and then you are stuck brooding over the implications of this ertwhile-theoretical, now fact: that I won't get to see, tease, play with, use as a footrest, and take silly pictures of him again, and that he won't be around the next time I go visit my family.

I mean, I was just talking about him with my brother last night. He was right there sleeping, breathing near my brother, while we were skyping away, I guess less than 10 hours before he went--wherever dogs go when they die.

He would've been over 110 in human years, so his time was definitely due. He lived a long, full life, and I dare say, lived a better life than probably many humans. He died in the most peaceful way possible--naturally, of old age.

In fact, truth be told, he was often a royal pain of a dog, and several times, the cause of much serious tension in our family.

And yet.

Isn't grief strange. . ..

But this sad process and our need to grieve--I guess is what makes us human.

We got him in the fall of 1991. JJ (my youngest brother) was 11. I have many pictures of the two of them being silly boys (see below). He (the dog) was an absolute beauty, but a royal pain, too. And quite a trouble-maker.

a head shot of one of my favorite pictures of JJ and M sharing
spaghetti. From like 1992 or so.

He had an annoying predilection for shredding toilet paper and knocking over garbage cans, especially while we were gone.

My parents tried to return him to the original owner when they decided to go back to Japan, rather than deal with moving him there, but JJ cried, so after one day, we brought him back, and my parents took him to Japan, where he lived a long, long life.

During his youth, he ran away from home several times, causing much mayhem. He'd eventually come back after carousing about and doing whatever teenage dogs do, but of course, this didn't stop my parents and my brothers from searching the entire neighborhood for hours.

But now, all of this is but a fleeting memory.

The biggest adjustment will be for my parents, and particularly for my dad. After having him around for practically (but not quite) half of their married lives, they will have to get used to the emptiness and the silence and the unturned garbage cans. (Though actually, I think he finally stopped doing that the last two years of his life. Still, he was turning them well into his 80s and perhaps even 90s.)

Well, may he rest in peace and turn over garbage cans to his heart's content, wherever he is.

Frustration . . .

is when you have to miss your colleague's engagement shower, b/c you have a class to go to
and
you leave work at 4:00 to get to said 5:30 class and are still 45 minutes late
and
by the time you get to class, there's only 25 minutes left of lecture
and
you realize it took you 2 freaking hours to drive a mere 28 miles to San Jose
and
you (slurp) have to (slurp) sit next to (slurp) the guy (slurp) who (slurp) has an annoying (slurp) tic and (slurp) sounds like (slurp) he's slurping (slurp) or smacking (slurp) his lips every three seconds (which I'm sure he cannot help, but is excruciatingly annoying all the same, if he's right behind you doing this, and you are already cranky from the traffic you had to deal with to get here)
and
after all of this, you sit through the remainder of the class and can't make heads or tails of anything that was said during the 25 minutes.
(sigh.)

on the other hand. . .

Bliss

is chopped up heirloom tomatoes with fresh mozzarella, basil from your own garden, and a few chopped kalamata olives thrown in for good measure, mixed up, and then generously seasoned with freshly ground pepper and salt, and a teeny drizzle of good quality EVOO and enjoying this on a balmy summer day
and
topping that with a postprandial piece of dark chocolate with ginger bits.


Gosh I'm so boring I kill myself sometimes.