An all-nighter

An all-nighter is something every grad student goes through. It's an essential part of the grad school experience. I firmly believe that you haven't really graduated from grad school unless you've pulled an all-nighter. And that's what I'm doing right now.
So what is an all-nighter? As the name suggests, it's spending the entire night in school, working in some way. You might be coding (which is what I do during my all-nighters); you could be studying; you could be working for your professor if you're an RA or a TA. You could be doing a bunch of things, but essentially, you need to spend an entire night doing that. And some of the things essential for a night-out include:
(a) A friend. It's absolutely unbearable doing a night-out alone. In fact, you probably can't. Attempting to do one is exactly what the name suggest: an attempt. It's highly unlikely it will be done.
(b) Food. When your stomach growls at 3 in the morning, and you realize that Wendy's closed by now, and the only option is Kerbey Lane Café well over 15 minutes away, you get a newfound appreciation for food. At this point, even Doritos seem appetizing.
(c) Coffee....lots and lots of coffee. When I do a night-out, I need about a gallon of coffee to survive. Unless I need to turn in the code the next day, and I've got maybe 5 lines of code written on the screen and nothing working, in which case the fear of getting an F is enough of a caffeine shot to keep me awake till the deadline (I do not recommend this though, because the next day in class you look like a zombie, and the professor and the TA both catch you napping in class).
(d) Music. I find music does wonders to stop you from tearing your hair or hurling your hapless laptop to the ground. I need to have my trusty iPod by my side to feel even half-complete. Then again, there are bad moments. When your code suddenly fails after all the blood and sweat you've spent on it, and you hear Muse howling "This is the end...." in your ears, it doesn't really do wonders to your morale.
(e) Your blog. Yes. Your blog -- writing into a blog can do wonders to help maintain your sanity. If you don't have a blog, then hope to have some friends online in some remote corner of the globe with whom you can chat to stay in touch with the outside world.
(f) YouTube. After you've coded for ages, and your code is stubbornly refusing to compile, you can relax a lot by watching ridiculous videos on YouTube, like this one. God bless YouTube.
And those are my pointers to spending a successful night out in Taylor (though, of course, this can be applied anywhere else). I have to start playing around with some Graphics code, which needs to be shown on Monday to the TA and the professor. I just saw another of my Graphics classmates, a boy called Stephen, coding away furiously in one corner of Taylor lab.
I'm not actually in Taylor lab right now. I'm in Sandhya's office, Sandhya being my roommate and one of my best friends. Ruchica, another of my friends, is talking to me right now (and probably getting annoyed because I'm responding to her answers with grunts, concentrating instead of getting this entry out tonight). We just returned from dinner at Kerbey Lane, and I think the waitress gave a small sigh when she saw us. We really must be infamous among the late-night restaurants here in Austin!
Anyway, I shall return to my code, and hope to get something more than a white blob of cloth render on the screen. Till then, adios!

A terrible exam

You know how there are these exams that just make you wonder why you're even alive? Well, I had one of those recently. It was the Graphics final exam, and those who've been following my blog would know that I'm not exactly getting straight-A's in the course. Let's quit kidding.....I'll be lucky if I even pass the course!! I've really had issues with it. And if all that wasn't bad enough, a few days earlier, we had to take the dreaded final exam in that.
The first page actually didn't give an inkling as to the terror the rest of the exam would be. I felt quite happy on seeing 5 true-false questions, and sat about solving them with a pleased smile. It was after I turned to the next question that the real fun began. And please note, I'm being heavily sarcastic here.
As I read through the next question, I had that vague feeling of dissociativity, and a slight buzzing in my ears. You know, the type you get when you switch on your computer one morning only to find an insidious virus deleted the entire operating system? That kind. I stared at the paper. I squinted. I tilted it against the light. I may even have smelt it, I was so flabbergasted at the question. I stole a glance around the class. I shouldn't have. Most of the students looked quite pleased, and were busy writing into their papers. I looked at the TA, perched on the table at the front of the class. He looked quite pleased with himself, whether for setting us a horrendous paper, or for some other reason, I'll never know. I groaned silently, and turned back to the paper.
I squinted again at it, hoping that something might spring out at me. I think I even silently considered heating the paper to see if any invisible ink stood out, something that would make a little more sense that what the question was currently making. But apart from the fact that there was no heater in the room, I had to finish the paper in 75 minutes, so I didn't spend any more time planning my obituary, and instead, tried to tackle the paper.
Note the use of the word "tried". I think I finally managed to put some kind of strange symbols on the paper, hoping they'd be correct. I then flipped to the next question. It made a little more sense, so I started off. But even as I scribbled the answers, I knew I had nowhere near enough time to complete the paper, so I started sweating again. Please, God, at least let me complete a third of the exam! I thought desperately. I somehow managed to write something before the TA called out time, and collected back all the papers.
I was actually mollified to hear later that everyone had a torrid time on the exam. All the same, it's an experience I'd rather never repeat again!

The cutest boy

I have a crush on the cutest boy in UTCS.
His name is....well, never mind. I haven't let him know yet that I have a crush on him, and I don't want him to find out through my blog! But he's tall, and blond, and athletic, and just all-out gorgeous. I hadn't noticed him until recently, and when I did -- whew! It was like one of those anime reactions, where your jaw drops lower and lower, and your heart goes, as in the mangas, 'doki doki'. (I believe that's Japanese for a pounding heart). Since then I've been absolutely stalking the poor chap!
Well, not really. I haven't been hounding him at his apartment, or standing outside his classes (I don't even know what classes he's registered for). But whenever I get a chance to steal a glance at him, I do so. He's a graduate student like me, and I've taken to inhabiting the graduate student lounge a little more than I like, just so I can run into him. I can't believe myself -- I've never really been this serious about a boy before. But this one is something all right!
I saw him today, just before my class. Graphics is a class I'm not 100% keen on, since I don't really have an aptitude for it (security is more my thing!). I was groaning and leaving Taylor, when he passed me. I did a double take, and then did my usual stare act. He didn't notice me staring, thankfully. He smiled vaguely, and my heart gave another leap, and I spent the next 75 minutes in class replaying the smile in my mind and sighing in the most lovestruck manner imaginable!
And before I give away any more clues as to who he is, I think I should end here, and hope that I can actually summon up the courage to talk to him sometime instead of just stealing glances, sighing, rabidly drooling over him, and just going crazy!

Waiting for home!

It's that time of the year, when every grad student is gearing up for the craziest time in the semester...and freedom! It's just a few weeks now till the end of the Fall semester, and a crazy one it's been, too! I can't deny I'm one of the said grad students, eagerly waiting to be released from this madness. The pressure's all building up. It will head to a peak during Thanksgiving weekend, then might abate slightly as Thanksgiving begins. It will build up again quickly once school starts again, and hit boiling point, until we're all crying out for release, at which point it will suddenly relent with the end of the semester, and we all can go home.
If, however, last year's any indication, this is how Thanksgiving will go: on Wednesday evening, I will relax, thinking that there's 4 whole days to work. On Thursday morning, I will relax, thinking there's 3 more days to work. On Friday, I'll probably head off for Black Friday sales, and when I get back, I'll be too tired to do anything. On Saturday, I'll feel guilty, but groan the moment I open up a textbook, or an SSH session to the CS account. On Sunday, I'll feel incredibly guilty that I didn't do anything constructive over the entire weekend, but still slacken off, saying that how many times will I get to enjoy Thanksgiving, anyway? And thus will end my Thanksgiving weekend, with nothing done except sleep, relax, and enjoy life to the max. Shame on me.
After that, school's there for only 3 weeks or so. After that, I'll be off for home! I'm looking forward to that so eagerly, it's painful. Sigh!! So therefore, to distract myself, I shall plunge back into the (rather distasteful) world of Bezier curves and tensor patches, and hope to complete my Graphics homework by tonight!

Studying at the PCL

Here I am, sitting tucked away in a tiny corner of the Perry Castaneda Library (PCL). It's the massive library of the University of Texas at Austin, and one of my favorite haunts. It's located on 21st and Speedway, right across the street from Jester (the residence hall) one one side, the McCombs School of Business on another, the University Teaching Center on a third, and the Blanton Museum of Art at the back. I love PCL. I used to come here earlier just for the books, but it also provides a very quiet, peaceful study area. I'm sitting right now on one of the couches at the southern end of the sixth floor. My legs are pushed up against another couch, my laptop balanced on my knees. I can see the reflection of a pair of denim-clad legs and white-and-blue Reeboks in the mirrored window opposite me. Outside the window is a stunning view of downtown. It's quite dark now -- it's 7:15pm -- and the only thing I can see outside is the lights of the city, and shadowy shapes of the buildings opposite. There is a huge tree right outside, although I cannot see it in the dark right now. Underneath its shade, I can often see people sitting, studying, or just lazing around. I'd like to do that, but (a) it's too dark now, and (b) it's too cold, and I only have a thin jacket with me tonight. Opposite, I can see the shadowy outline of Blanton (where I'd been for a Fine Arts Web Team meeting earlier in the day -- it's beautiful), and some vague lights behind it. Nightlights, maybe? I know the Blanton is closed on Mondays. Behind that are large, tall buildings. One of those is Brackenridge Hospital, though I can't see it right now. Beyond that, the buildings are too far away to make out even the shapes -- all I can see are bright oblongs of light pouring out of the windows. Far, far away, I can see some cars on the distant roads -- it's a beautiful sight. And lastly, I can see the large dome of the Capitol -- it looks beautiful! I can make out the shape of the dome, and the white pillars supporting it. The rest of it is obscured by a building -- probably one of the numerous parking garages dotting downtown. It's a beautiful sight, and I feel blessed that I live so close to the beautiful downtown.....

Fickle Texan weather

Man! Talk about fickle! Texan weather beats 'em all hands down. I have given up trying to predict what it will be like tomorrow. Yesterday, it was a hot, humid day. The sun beat down on everyone, and it was muggy in the night. Tomorrow morning when I woke up, it was freezing! Well, not really freezing...more like bracing cold. But brrrrr! I had read something about today being a cold day on the internet, and had thankfully dressed for the day in jeans and two layers of clothing. Many of my friends weren't so fortunate. They were caught in the cold wearing short-sleeved shirts and T-shirts, and, even worse, shorts. The wind howled about all day, and the windchill was probably in the lower 40s. It was a very cold day today. I had cleverly worn a turtleneck, but the wind crept in even through that, making me shiver all the way to my workplace in the Fine Arts library. Now, normally the library is one of the coldest places on campus -- it may be steaming hot outside, but it's cold enough to give me goosepimples inside the library. Not so today. I actually breathed a sigh of relief on entering it, it was a respite from the cold!
After work, I shivered all the way from the FA library to Taylor Hall, which is where the Computer Sciences department is based. The cold crept up my nose, hurting my sinuses (I've had a sinus problem for ages). Even the squirrels seemed subdued today -- one little chap sadly gnawed on his acorn with apathy, and even the sight of me passing by didn't motivate him enough to spring away unlike his compatriots on normal days. I guess they are preparing for hibernation, and the unusually cold day caught them by surprise.
Taylor lab is a dark, gloomy basement with stacks of Linux and Sun machines lining the walls. It's usually freezing cold in there, and I need to often bring along a jacket even on the hottest days if I know that I'll be spending any amount of time in the lab. Not so today. I actually felt warm in the lab! I was stunned.
Yeah, it was a cold day all right! The tip of my nose froze on the way back home. I think it's going to be 88 degrees again tomorrow....that's Texan weather for you!

A crazy month

It's been a very crazy month. In fact, ever since the semester started, it's been crazy. The sheer amount of studying I've had to do has been mind-numbingly immense, and I cam close to a nervous breakdown a few days back -- all thanks to Graphics (as I write this, I'm casting a baleful look at the textbook, 3-D Graphics by Alan Watt, lying next to me). No course has ever caused me as many problems as this one has. And, what frustrates me, we study only math, physics, and other abstruse concepts in the course, and nothing of creativity whatsoever. I've come close to yanking my hair out this past month.
We've had projects, and my word, were they awful! Well, the first one wasn't...but the second one most certainly was, and though I haven't had a look at the code yet, the third one also seems to uphold the tradition. I finally took the monumental decision today of converting the grading of the course to a credit / non-credit. I might have to take four courses next semester, but that sure beats getting a nervous breakdown, and only a C or worse to show for it.
But I didn't want to crib. I'm actually feeling pretty good right now. I've been working part-time at the Fine Arts Department at the University of Texas at Austin, as the assistant webmaster. For some time, I just had to make HTML or basic Coldfusion updates, which weren't bad at all -- I love visuals, and was more than happy to work on it, and arrange elements of the pages as I wished. But now, I'm doing my dream job -- security!
My boss, Jeremy, has asked me to help out with the security concerns of the Fine Arts website -- and has given me full permission to poke around, and try as many exploits as I can to try to hack into the FA system! How cool is that??! Right now I'm trying to implement a CAPTCHA for the Art and Art History website. CAPTCHAs are the strange twisted words that show up when you try to send potentially spamming material. They cannot be deciphered by machines, but can be read easily by humans, so they prove very helpful deterring spambots.
What I'm actually using is the reCAPTCHA -- which is a nifty little concept. It has two words, like the CAPTCHA, with a line running through them, like a strikeout (it prevents bots from using edge-detection mechanisms to deduce the word), and, the cutest concept of it all, the words come from scanned historical texts, so everytime someone uses a reCAPTCHA, they are helping translate a word that wasn't scanned in well and not recognized by the OCR readers at wherever they do the scanning. I had read about the idea sometime back in an issue of Wired magazine, and actually got to implement it! It's wonderful.
Well, that's enough rant for now. I'm dying of sleep (haven't slept more than 10 hours in the past 4 days), and still have a paper review to complete. So I shall get going, and return again some other day. Adios!

Long time, no see

Wow! It's certainly been a long time since I last updated the blog! I don't think I've even seen the Blogger home page since 4th September -- which was the last time I did an update. Life's certainly been hectic! I have, for some reason, decided to pursue one of the heaviest courses at UT CS this semester, and am suffering as a consequence. But that's not what I was going to talk about.
There have been so many things happening, it's difficult to know where to start. Should I start with the swimming lessons I took? Or maybe with the hours of sleep I get each night? Or about the length of each program we students have to write for the Graphics course? Or the career fair that took place some time back? Or the trip to Mozart's I made with my friends a couple of days back? Hmm...how about a bit of everything?
It's been an interesting month since I last wrote, with quite a lot happening. Probably the most drastic things happening were the sleepless nights in Taylor lab, and the fulltime offer from Dell :) But there were other things happening too. I joined a swimming class for one! Now I'm one of those people who hyperventilate the moment the water level rises above their stomach. I did so during the first swimming class, and the instructor had to spend almost 25 minutes getting me to calm down. When I finally did, I gripped her arm so hard, I'm sure I left welts across it. But by the end of six lessons (five actually -- I missed one because I had too much work), I could swim across the pool using a kickboard. Not bad! Of course, I haven't returned to the pool in ages, so I might find myself thrashing about again if I'm lowered in the water.
But probably the starkest memory of the past month was the nights in Taylor lab. I decided to shoot myself not only in the foot, but in the head as well, by taking the hardest course offered by the CS department, Computer Graphics. Now, I have nothing whatsoever against the course or the professor. The professor is awesome, and the course is excellently designed. It's me that can't cope, I suppose. There's just too much math and too much hard-core programming for my liking. The student population is almost exclusively male, except for my roommate, Sandy, and me. All the boys are the studious, geeky types. There are a few Turing Scholars (undergrads) in the class. I'm sure the grad students are ex-Turing Scholars -- they seem the type. They're the ones who eagerly respond to any question posed, and come up with brilliant algorithms to solve the toughest problems, while I just gape at them, and wonder if there was ever the slightest chance of me getting any kind of solution, ever. Even the undergrads know more than I could ever hope to, and as for the grads, well, I have lost all hope of ever catching up with them. They're a fervent bunch -- people who probably go home and open up a visualization algorithm and worship it, or explain the intricacies of the Phong shading model and distributed ray tracing on dates. They scare me. We recently had a class by a guest lecturer, Dr Fussell (another Graphics guy), who looks like Robert DeNiro with a ponytail (and spouting vector algebra). He was talking about distributed ray tracing. I had slept only three hours the previous night, so it was a task of monumental proportions to just keep my eyes open. What heartened me, though, was two of the undergrads making faces at each other. At least I wasn't the only one completely lost! Dr Mark's classes are much better, and at one point, I used to positively look forward to them. Not any more. All we talk about is perturbation of the surface, and texture mapping, and the like. I could just cry.
The assignments for the Graphics class are another story worth telling. The first one entailed modifying a program that would make photographs look like impressionist paintings, to make them look even more impressionistic. I didn't sleep at all the night it was due, spending the entire night coding furiously. And, of course, two of the features didn't even work, earning me a C. Now the next project is due on Thursday, and I still find myself clutching my hair in despair, and wondering what on earth possessed me to take this course. I'm in Taylor lab right now, half-slumped over the computer, scowling at the screen and at the virtually undecipherable code in front of me. My only saviors are my three best friends sitting next to me (also coding miserably) and my trusty iPod.
In fact, I think I should probably return to the code, instead of typing away into a blog. Maybe the extra 5 minutes of coding might earn me a B next time.......

My 23rd birthday

It was my 23rd birthday yesterday, 3rd September 2007. It was a nice, memorable one, in stark contrast to my 22nd, as miserable a birthday as you can imagine. But this post isn't about that....it's about my 23rd birthday.
I had an awesome time. It was a "surprise" party, planned by my friends. The actual party was on the 2nd at midnight. A large group of friends showed up, it was a super "surprise". (It's not like I didn't have an inkling of what was happening!) But I was still delighted by it. A couple of people invited couldn't make it (one of them had fallen asleep!) but everyone remembered my birthday. I was touched.
The party went on for an hour. There was laughter, jokes all around. I was amazed at how well-coordinated it all was. We thought about taking it out to the pool, but there was already another drunken party happening at the pool, with people throwing each other into the pool and laughing like crazy (the next day we discovered a shopping cart from HEB in the pool). Everyone started leaving at about 1. It was a wonderful party.
After bidding goodbye to everyone, I got a call from an unnamed number. "Hello?" I said, knowing it was probably from India. "Hey!" came the voice from the other side. "Happy birthday! I hope I calculated the time right! Please tell me it's midnight there?"
I laughed. It was my best friend from college, Sonal, from back home in Mumbai. "You're close," I said. "It's one." We had a good laugh, and a nice, long, leisurely chat. It capped off a nice night.
The next day, I went to the Apple store at Barton Creek mall to get my iPod fixed -- it had, for some reason, stopped working. My friends, Archana and Vaibhav, and I went to Serranos on Red River for lunch. The food wasn't anything to write home about, but the ambience was terrific. We were there till nearly four, and then left for the mall. On the way, it started raining. The rain escalated into a full-fledged downpour, the water just lashing down, which delighted me -- it has rained on my birthday, every year for the last 23 years, and this just continued the tradition!
The bus wound through the wet streets of Rollingwood, and halted at the mall. I marched into the Apple store (where the iPod, as is often the case, worked perfectly fine), and then back to downtown. Archana left then, and Vaibhav and I were joined by my roommate, Sandy. The three of us went in for a quick coffee at Starbucks, and then were back out, and decided to roam around Congress. We did so, taking in the brightly-lit stores, the beautiful tree-lined views, and, of course, Town Lake in the distance. We did walk upto Town Lake, and walked down to the old Congress bridge. It was lovely. By then it was getting dark, and I looked up expectantly to see bats, but didn't see any. We walked along the bridge for a while, enjoying the sights of the setting sun and the lights of South Austin reflected in the darkening water.
We then walked back to Congress, and walked back to Sixth Street. We walked along sixth for a while, watched a couple of live bands performing in the Irish Pub and Friends Cafe. Sixth was still lively, even on a weekday. We then caught the bus back to 32nd and Red River, and then walked to Star Seeds Cafe on the I-35 for dinner. I was too full to really appreciate dinner, but I did appreciate the time spent with my friends.
And so ended my birthday. We all walked back to our house (Sandy's and mine), talked for a while, and then parted ways. It was a lovely, memorable birthday -- and probably my last birthday as a student! I really enjoyed myself.

The Domain

Yesterday, my friends and I headed to The Domain near Braker and Burnet, on the Mopac frontage, to do some shopping.
I'd heard about the Domain at Dell. It's a ritzy, exclusive shopping complex, with some good electronics stores -- I knew there were Apple and Sony stores there. There's also a Borders store there, which is what actually attracted me. It's my birthday tomorrow, and I wanted to do some birthday shopping there. So off headed me and two of my friends -- Sandhya (Sandy), my roommate, and Vaibhav, another friend (the guy in the photo alongside).
We caught the 3 to go up Burnet, and halt at Braker and Burnet. It was a pleasant day, so the trip felt rather nice. Even Burnet looked good for once -- I usually abhor the road, it looks horribly dry and dusty most of the time. As the bus hit US 183, pleasant memories of traveling to Dell every morning rushed back. I grew even more excited as we headed toward Braker. The bus turns at Braker, and goes along it. We got off opposite the UT TACC.
From there, it's a long walk to the Domain -- almost a mile, I'd say. It's a narrow, winding road, and gives hell to the pedestrians. Luckily, we were too enthused and in good spirits to count the close shaves we had narrowly avoiding being run down by passing cars. Prickly bushes scratched my bare ankles, and I fought the urge to let out growls of frustration.
Finally, we hit The Domain. The first store I saw was Borders, and I headed in as if pulled by a magnet. It was a large, two-story store, and I looked around in awe. In hindsight, it was probably smaller than the Barnes and Noble at Arboretum, but it certainly seemed huge!! I rushed over to the manga section, and grabbed Cantarella vol 5 and 6. It's one of my favorite mangas, and I'd searched everywhere for volumes after 3, and this was the first place I found it -- save Amazon, of course.
Sandy, Vaibhav and I went upstairs to the Seattle's Best cafe upstairs, and had a leisurely coffee milkshake. It was a nice place to hang about, even if we found a seat only after 15 minutes of glaring at people who occupied tables. We were in Borders for almost two hours, and left at about 6:30, deciding to see the rest of the Domain.
It's a pretty place. There is a long, tree-lined avenue, and flanking both sides of the road are stores. They are individual stores, not a huge mall -- I love stores like that. I hate malls. There were lost of stores -- Neiman Marcus, Apple, Sony, Puma, Macy's......the pricey types, the type of places you go to after you've started earning, not while you're a penniless grad student without any assistantships. I finally entered the Macy's store to get "something nice" for my birthday. I guess my usual dressing style isn't very "nice". I did get a very pretty blue shirt, gifted to me by my two friends. I'll wear that to the party tonight.
There was live music being performed in front of the little waterfall in the park sort of thing in front of the Sony store. It was a jazz band, and the three of us listened to the music for a while. It was beautiful, and we appreciated it.
We were in the Domain till almost 11. We left at 10:45 pm, caught a 11:04 bus back, and then went to Austin's Pizza on Guadalupe at almost midnight. We got back home at almost midnight.
It was a fantastic day, though....enjoyable all the more because I was with friends. And now I've struck another name off my list of things to see in Austin!

Back to school!

Back to school! It seemed so far away and unlikely while I was doing my internship; but now that it's begun, it's very real. Oh, yes.....very real indeed!! A bit too much....it was rather overwhelming attending school for the first time in over three months yesterday. I hopped onto a UT shuttle, the bus itself making me feel that I was back in academia for the first time in a long time. The shuttle went through the streets of campus -- streets that had been deserted as little as two weeks ago, and now teeming with students. It finally halted at 23rd near the Littlefield fountain, and I got off.
I walked over to Taylor Hall, which is the administrative building for the Computer Sciences building, and into the graduate lounge. It was like coming home. The three terminals at the table opposite the door, the rows and rows of mailboxes, the couches and lounging chairs strewn about the room, the chipped and cracked foosball table, even the microwave and coffee maker in the corner -- all old and familiar. The internship was already starting to look like a distant (and pleasant) dream.
I walked out some time later for my first class, Artificial Intelligence. I'm not registered for it, but we can take classes -- "audit" -- at least till the 12th class day to make up our minds as to what courses to take finally. The outside world was a profusion of white teeth, shining hair and tanned limbs -- the undergrads were back. I was almost taken aback at the sheer volume of people on the streets -- though I was expecting it. They all laughed (hence the white teeth), talked, argued, or walked along silently, some even glowering, the tell-tale white wires of the iPod earphones trailing from their ears. The squirrels ferreted about for nuts, and scrambled nervously past the numerous thundering feet. School in all its full glory!
The first course was AI in Welch Hall, which is across the street of Speedway from Taylor. I walked in, dodging a bunch of giggling undergrad girls, and boisterous young men trying their hardest to land punches on each other -- interesting greeting ritual. The classroom was across the great hall of Welch, in a rather small room. I entered, and found a bunch of first-years looking around nervously -- first-year grads, that is. I love how important I feel around them! The class in itself wasn't bad. The professor cracked a lot of jokes, most of which were too sad to be laughed at, but I laughed hard, all the same, if nothing, then at the sheer absurdity of them.
The next thing on the agenda was the "tea party" in Taylor's Faculty Lounge. This tradition, which began I don't know when, is highly cherished by us grad students. We get free coffee, donuts and samosas, which are a great favorite. Often, it is the Americans who polish off the samosas, while we're left looking! It's fun seeing the sight when the box of samosas is delivered. The moment the box is lifted, there is a sudden explosion of hands around the box, and in under five seconds, the box is completely empty. I once almost broke a nail grabbing a samosa. I've pioneered the term "strategic positioning" -- sitting at the table where the samosa box is kept, so you can block the others while you grab as many as you want, even thought the rule says you can take only one. It's great fun.
The next class was undergrad Programming Languages. It was, for some obscure reason, in the Pharmacy building, in a tiny, dingy classroom with no windows and narrow doors -- and too many students. It's a popular course -- there are 30 students on the waitlist for it, the professor offering the course informed us -- but I didn't enjoy it much. For one thing, it is way below my level -- the only reason I had to take it up was because UT didn't accept the programming languages courses taught at the University of Mumbai, my undergrad institution. I was almost gasping for air by the time the class came to an end.
And, that was how the first day back at school ended. It's nice to be back at school, and I'm enjoying the atmosphere; but there is tension simmering in the atmosphere, and I know in a few days I'll be gasping for breath, wondering why on earth I ever took such-and-such course!! But, while it lasts, I'm gonna enjoy it to the fullest!

Lost

I had to go to a Microsoft Silverlight presentation today. I had registered for it while I was still an intern at Dell, and didn't want to give up on it -- I genuinely wanted to learn more about Silverlight, besides which -- my main reason for going -- I'd get to meet my old team from Dell :) The presentation was at 3001 Bee Cave Road, and I accordingly took the 30 to Barton Creek Square Mall to get there. I got off at Walsh Tarlton and Bee Caves, and began walking.
I'd investigated it exhaustively the previous day on Google Maps, looking at the street map, the satellite map, as well as the hybrid map, making little notes to myself as to where the road curved, where the streets went, what direction I'd have to walk toward to get there....every little detail I could think of. And yet I managed to get completely lost.
I crossed Walsh Tarlton and then Bee Caves after a long bout of dodging the vehicles whooshing past at high speeds. I forced myself not to get distracted by the beautiful views at the place -- all mountains, exactly the way I like them -- and began walking along Bee Caves Road. Or thought I did.
The road seemed to get progressively narrower as I walked. I looked at the massive mansions with some foreboding -- the maps I'd seen the previous day had not indicated such a profusion of wealth. It had looked like a normal commercial complex on Google Maps. Still I walked on.
The number on a mailbox was what gave me an inkling that I might not be on the right path. It read 5110, and I looked at it uncertainly. Surely I didn't have to walk all the way to 3001 on this road? Cap Metro's trip planner had announced a walk of 0.5 miles. This looked like it might be 5 miles. I shook my head, and walked further. It was a very pleasant morning, all cloudy and cool. Ideal for getting lost.
Further ahead, two perky dogs that looked like Dobermans looked at me suspiciously through a gate, their pointed noses pointed toward me accusingly. I scuttled ahead nervously. A showdown with man-eating dogs was the last thing I wanted. I walked and walked, and walked some more, and then finally found a signpost, which read: Rollingwood Drive. I looked at it with dismay. Where was Bee Caves Road?? I looked back the way I'd come uncertainly. Maybe Rollingwood Drive was another name for Bee Caves? Just like Capital of Texas Highway is another name for Loop 360. I wavered between turning back and marching ahead, and finally, after a lot of humming and hawing, decided on the latter. Though I didn't really march. There was a lot more hesitation in my footsteps than there was before.
I walked further and further ahead, crossing even 4901, before I finally forced myself to admit that I just might be lost. I tried to remember the part of the road that the bus had passed through -- it passes through a part of Bee Caves Road. The road that I saw ahead of me didn't resemble it from any angle. I was in despair. The three other Rollingwood Drive signs I'd passed on the way couldn't be wrong. I was lost.
But how? I asked myself in anguish. I'd walked straight -- just as Google Maps had suggested. Finally, vociferously cursing the search company, I started walked back toward Walsh Tarlton. At least that was a known point, a place I could get a bus from. I looked at my cell phone, and looked tantalizingly at the phone number of one of my ex-teammates, ready to call him up and howl into the phone, "I'm loooooost!!!!!" But I didn't, and thought I might as well see out the end of the adventure. Besides, I remembered seeing a McDonald's on the way, and thought I might ask them where 3001 Bee Caves Road was.
The walk back to Walsh Tarlton wasn't as pleasant as the walk down it had been. For one thing, I was worried about never seeing home again (I tend to get rather melodramatic at such times). For another thing, it was all uphill, so my calves were beginning to ache slightly, as I walked back. As I reached the end of Rollingwood Drive, I saw a busy, major road that looked suspiciously like Bee Caves. I reached the road and looked at the sign there, and felt my jaw hit my feet with a thud. It was Bee Caves. Somehow, I'd managed to take a wrong turn somewhere along the way. Kicking myself mentally all the way, I began walking in the direction I'd seen on Google Maps. It was a terrible road to walk on, no sidewalk of course, and, in fact, not even any grassy shoulder where I could not get run over by a passing car, of which there seemed to be plenty.
As I crossed 3010, I saw what looked like a commercial complex on the other side. If that's 3001, I'll scream, I thought to myself.
Of course it was.
I couldn't really scream without being locked up somewhere for disturbing the peace, so I had to be content doing it in my head, and tried to cross the road, looking, for all in the world, like a scared rabbit. I finally managed it, and walked up the complex, which again sloped upward alarmingly. I was sure I was late -- the welcome time was 8:30 am, and it was getting on for 9 now. I walked up the road cautiously -- and saw one of my ex-teammates there. I almost flung myself on him with a cry of joy.
I was later mollified my knowing that all my teammates had got lost on their way to the place. So I wasn't the only one! All the same, it was a new experience -- and an interesting one.

Trudy's

Yesterday, me and a friend of mine went to the popular Trudy's on 30th and Guadalupe. We went for dinner there, and thought that we'd have a nice, quiet dinner, especially since it was the middle of the week. Boy, were we wrong.
The path to Trudy's didn't prepare us for it. We walked along 32nd till Duval, and from there, switched to 30th till we hit Guadalupe. It was utterly quiet along the way, and we could even hear some distant crickets chirping in the background. A few fireflies flew about, little flecks of gold among the velvety dark night sky. The thin, reedy Waller creek made a few gurgles, but it was very, very quiet. Even the firefighters' place along the way was quiet -- no emergency on a Tuesday night.
As we approached Trudy's, though, we could hear a faint buzzing in the distance, like bees in a flowerbed. The buzzing turned out to be people's chatter. When we entered the restaurant, the cacophony hit hit us like a physical blast. I almost staggered back under the assault of the sound.
People were talking, laughing, yelling, chattering away, even crying. It was a scene worthy of a painting (maybe I will paint it!). As we waited for a table, four young people came in -- two boys, two girls. They looked drunk, their faces flushed, probably with drink. Their ha-ha-ha's echoed through the whole of Trudy's. Finally, after waiting for about ten minutes (and getting more and more uncomfortable with the quartet alongside us), the ruddy-cheeked, curly-haired guy who told us to wait came around and led us to our seats.
Inside, it was slightly quieter. Notice the stress on the word slightly. The din existed here, too....but to a slightly lesser degree. A gaggle of girls, probably younger than us, sat in a large group, laughing like hyenas gone wild. The drinks kept flowing at their table, our waiter rushing with multiple glasses of martini -- probably Trudy's famous Mexican Martini -- to their table. Every now and then there would be relative silence as one of them would tell something, and then the whole table would explode as everyone around found it hysterically funny. My friend and I rolled our eyes, and got on with our meal.
Behind us, there was a group of three boys. Every now and then, one of them would break out into a loud swear, and punch the other two on their arms. A minute later, they would all laugh together. It was rather unnerving, for they looked aggressive enough (and drunk enough) to really break out into an all-out fight. Luckily we left before things could get too physical.
The waiters rushed around trying to quell the increasingly demanding crowd. Our waiter, a plump man in a pin-striped shirt and khaki shorts, looked harried to death, but still maintained a cheerful smile on his face. A young lady, another waitress, swept her ponytail behind her, wiped her forehead once, and then went on with her task of serving to a huge party of nearly twelve people. I doubt anyone noticed her tired expression. There was another man with a belt around his waist, the type you use when you've pulled a muscle or something. He didn't let that deter him, as he cleaned the tables with remarkable dexterity. It was an interesting scene -- the people, all in high spirits, laughing and joking, and the tired waiters trying to keep it that way for them.
Hmm. Maybe I should try Mozart's next.....

Moving Part III

The moving drama continued yesterday, with Phase Two now complete. For all those who don't remember, I had moved in with friends temporarily for 10 days, while my new apartment became available for moving in. It did, yesterday, and I moved in.
I was helped by my friends, who (I have to shamefully admit) carried more stuff than I did to the new apartment, Chaparosa. One of them had a car, luckily, so multiple trips under the sun weren't realized. They all helped me carry almost everything I owned into the new apartment, and now I'm all settled in. In a manner of speaking.
I still have everything to unpack. I was too lazy to do it yesterday, and am planning to go shopping for groceries now, so I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon. I have to unpack my clothes (which shouldn't take long, since there aren't too many of them) and books (now that's the one I'm scared about -- there's waaaaay too many of them).
I like my apartment though. I like the stairs the best. Ever since I was little, I've always wanted a house with stairs in it. I spent half the day yesterday skipping upstairs and downstairs, and reveling in it, though my legs were starting to ache slightly toward the end of the day! I spent part of the day curled up in a little corner underneath the staircase, listening to Bob Marley, and just drifting away, almost imagining I was in Jamaica....until I looked outside the window, and saw a Capital Metro UT Shuttle ramble past!
It's been nice moving in. I guess I should get back to unpacking now.......

Home sweet office!

Wow, it's been a while since I wrote!! I've been at training. Out team is undergoing training for WCF -- Windows Communication Foundation -- and I've been tagging along with them. It's not that the instructor is bad -- even I can see that he's excellent -- but most of the stuff has been going over my head. Initially I tried to pay attention (telling myself severely that I needed to do that anyway in a little over three weeks), but eventually my eyes started to glaze over. I was reminded of my incredibly boring Communication Networks classes at UT, where I was infamous for disturbing the class through some antic or the other -- usually crinkling candy wrappers loudly, or asking for cricket scores loud enough to be heard even by the professor. I am amazed at the patience of the professor, that he didn't haul me out on my ear! I probably deserved it.
But anyway, as I was saying, the training started to remind me of that. In the classes, it wasn't that I didn't understand the material being taught -- I did, if I paid close enough attention -- but the professor was plain boring. In the training, it was the other way round. The instructor was really good, and when I strained my head hard enough, I could actually follow him, but it mostly went way over my head. I looked helplessly at everyone furiously typing into their computers during the lab session, while I searched through Google to make sense of what was being taught, and tried to look halfway intelligent.
Today's session was much better. The instructor taught security, which is my chosen research area, so I could follow everything he taught, besides which it was fun because he implemented a sort of chat window, so that all the students (!) could send each other chat messages. That was fun! Unfortunately, I had to leave after that, and get back to the office.
When I got back to the office, it was like walking into a comfortable, familiar place. I felt a sense of peace. It's a shame that I'll have to leave in a few days -- just two, as a matter of fact. It's really become a second home for me now! I had an incredible, incredible time working here at Dell, with the most fantastic people ever. I'll cherish this time forever.
On a different note, today's Wednesday -- I hope I can get the keys to my new apartment today. I've had fun living with the friends I've been living with -- but I guess I can't harass them forever, besides which, I need to set up the new place! Especially the books! Even during the 10 days I've not been in my own house, I've bought a bunch of new books -- the manga, Cantarella Vol 3, by You Higuri; the August issue of Wired magazine; and Dick Francis' latest offering, Under Orders.
Cantarella is a compelling manga. I had started it some time ago, but gave up halfway through the first volume, finding the story too dark and depressing. But I took it up again, and while I'd never call the story light-hearted and cheery (Higuri's manga tend to be a bit on the heavier side, actually), it's really interesting. It's the mangaka's take on the infamous Borgias of Renaissance-age Italy, circa 1500, and the hero of the piece (also the villian?) is Cesare Borgia. Very interesting indeed, since it is at least partially based on true events. I wonder how many more volumes there are?
Dick Francis is an author I've liked for quite some time. His books can get a little depressing at time, with the hero wallowing in sorrow and misery for days on end; but they always seem to have an underlying sense of humor that takes away some of the darkness from the story. Besides which, he can come up with a fantastic, compelling tale. I really like Dick Francis novels -- if I can talk even halfway sensibly about horses, it is all thanks to Mr Francis.
Ah, I think I'm rambling now. I think I should get back to that documentation I was making for my intern project -- and iron out the creepy JavaScript errors that pop up suddenly like unwanted zombies, and give me a heart attack, like it did during the presentation yesterday. The expression on my face was surely a study in horror. Luckily, I don't think anyone noticed it. Yes, I should do that instead of telling the world that I should do it, and procrastinate even more. Till later...adios!

Billy and the kid

Billy is the name of a fellow bus passenger. He usually gets up and off at the North Lamar Transit Center. He's in his fifties, and has wispy gray hair that's on its last legs. He wears enormous glasses reminiscent of the '50s, and rides a small bright red mountain bike that he said he spent his week's pay on. The last time I met him, he was alone, and insisted on talking endlessly to me. He popped up today as well.
I actually didn't notice him at first. I was listening to songs on my iPod as usual, humming along to the tune of Numb by Linkin Park, when I noticed a couple of young boys, one riding a bicycle, and one carrying along a scooter, the type that small kids ride. They were around my age, maybe a couple of years younger. I stopped humming, and just listened to the song, when I heard someone call out, "Mandy!"
I turned. It was Billy. I tried hard to keep the annoyance from showing on my face -- I was listening to the songs, dammit -- and smiled at him, yanking the headphones out of my ears. "Billy," I said, politely. "How's it going?"
"Doin' good!" he seemed to be in high spirits. He pointed to one of the young men. "This here is my son, Michael." I took another look at the boy. He was about my height, wearing a white T-shirt and loose, baggy shorts, a cap worn backward over his head. He had stringy blond hair, green eyes, and a face covered liberally with pimples. He gave me a big grin, showing startlingly awkward teeth. My smile froze on my face at the sight of his teeth, but I forced myself not to let the smile slip. I tried to remember what Billy had told me about him from our last conversation. 21 years old, he'd said. The boy looked younger than someone just a year younger than me; but then, some people do mistake me for a high schooler, so I guess I can't complain.
"She works at Dell," Billy explained to his son, and Michael nodded sagely.
Billy then pointed to the other boy. "This is my other son," he said, and I couldn't resist staring this time. The other boy was black, whereas Billy was very much white. I wasn't sure how to react. "Uhhh....."
"From another wife," said Billy, and cackled with laughter. I have no idea whether that was a joke or not. I gave an uncertain smile, and began looking anxiously at the horizon for the bus to arrive.
It finally did, and in there was the cute guy I've noticed since I began interning. I think he's a student, maybe at ACC, maybe at UT, I don't know. He's around my age, tall and skinny, with dark wavy hair and large hazel eyes. I usually steal glances at him, too shy to attempt any kind of conversation. I think he's pretty shy too, for once our eyes met, and we both turned away, blushing. The fact that he blushed too amused me, and made me less self-conscious about him. But except for a brief smile of recognition when I board the bus, we've never exchanged any communication.
The bus driver is a funky guy. He wears sunglasses -- even today, when it was dark and overcast. He greets everyone enthusiastically. "Well, hello there!" he joyously said when I entered the bus. At first his enthusiasm had startled me, but I'm used to it now. "Hello," I said, smiling. "You came just in time," pointing at the water droplets splattering against the windshield. "I know!" he said, with a large grin. I grinned back, the grin freezing as I saw the cute guy.
The rest of the bus ride was spent looking out of the bus, reading a few pages of Anthony Horowitz's Evil Star, and generally thinking about how to solve the JavaScript problem I'd encountered during the day. By the bus got to Hampton and 26th, I wished the driver goodbye, and walked back home.
Interesting ride, with interesting companions!!!

My favorite drawing

I was recently looking through a bunch of my drawings (when I was cleaning up), and I was left thinking about which was my favorite. I don't usually have favorites, especially in my own work! But there's one drawing which is my favorite: this one.....

I made it in 2004, just shortly before my twentieth birthday. I'd been working on a book, a book about a New Zealand schoolboy (I've forever wanted to go to New Zealand, so I decided to base my story there), and this was a scene from the book.
The book is about 12-year-old Brendon McCarthy, and his adventures in boarding school (how imaginative! :P), and his love for cricket (he's my creation -- he has to like what I like!!). In this scene, he and his best friend are sitting at home, bored, with nothing to do because it's raining, so they decide to go out and play soccer.
When I made the drawing, it really was pouring outside. This drawing was made circa August 2004, when it's peak monsoon season in Mumbai. I looked at the rain pattering against the window, and the wind howling through the (I was going to say trees, but that'd be a lie. Okay, the tall buildings) tall buildings. I could almost imagine two boys playing out in the rain, getting soaked and covered in mud playing soccer. I think because it was raining the drawing turned out even more realistic than I'd hoped for -- Brendon's hair looks like it's plastered to his skull in the drawing, a feat I'd never been able to achieve before.
Hmm, so maybe that's the lesson for drawing well....try to experience what you're drawing, and it will turn out realistic, rather than trying to imagine it all! Hmmm.....does that mean, to make this drawing even more realistic....I need to visit New Zealand??!!! Whoohoo! :)

Moving part II

The moving drama continued yesterday. It was crazy, hectic, chaotic. To quote a coworker of mine, I was "running around like a headless chicken". Only one of my roommates was left, and she and me cleaned up the whole house, dragged out the furniture and other baggage. It was crazy! Finally, at almost 10 pm, I took one last look at the place (to ensure nothing had been left behind, rather than out of any dubious emotional attachments), and locked the door for the final time, and turned the keys over to the management. Whew!! Phase One complete.
Of course, there's still a Phase Two to contend with: like I said, where I'm staying now is just temporary. I won't get to move into my new apartment till the 10th. Then comes a whole new set of headaches....moving all the furniture, not only across the apartment complex, but across the block; setting up house at the new place; settling in. Man! I'm not even going to think about it, for it is getting me all worked up.....10 days away from the day I actually need to move!
I found a lot of interesting things, though, while I was clearing up. There was an ancient stack of newspapers -- The Daily Texan -- from a year back. There was one of my paintbrushes under the desk, where it had rolled sometime during the year, and I'd been too preoccupied to notice it (or maybe it's a sign that I own more brushes than I need? I know I don't usually use more than 1 or 2 per session). There was an old bus pass, a day pass for Sept 4, 2006, crushed but still recognizable. There was an old recipe for making spicy broccoli that I'd lifted off the internet sometime, and had (of course) failed to ever try it out. Seeing that it was behind the gas stove, I can see why! There was the instruction booklet for the iPod (why would anyone need an instruction booklet for the iPod?? Four buttons, that's all there is to it!) There was a crumpled drawing (or rather, a cruel caricature) of one of my professors, when I'd been in a not-too-charitable mood toward him. There was a printout of my transcript from the Fall semester, which I threw away hurriedly. I didn't need reminding for the grades! There was also a printed schedule of the 2007 Cricket World Cup, with neat notes in the corner (by me), about which team won which match, by what margin, and their points after each match, and even some kind of complicated formula to find out who needed to win which match by how many runs/wickets to ensure a place in the semi-finals! (If only I'd put in that kind of hard work and dedication into my studies! :P )
Yeah, there were lots of interesting things to pick out of the junk that was left behind after I cleaned out the apartment. Most of it was thrown away, but I kept some of the treasures with me. Maybe I need to clean my house more often.....!!

Moving part I

Whew! This past weekend has been crazy....I'm moving out of my current apartment, and will be staying temporarily at a friend's place until my new apartment is ready to move into, which isn't till the 10th. So this past weekend, I've been going mad packing up all the junk accumulated over the course of the past year.
Sunday was tiring, I will admit that. I spent the whole day cleaning up, packing up, and then transferring almost everything I had to my friend's house. At the end of it, I felt like I'd been run through the wringer -- I was dropping with exhaustion. The house, though, was empty, which is a good thing -- I didn't want to come back from work on Tuesday and then move everything.
Yesterday was exhausting, too. I cleaned the house, and it took all my willpower not to simply hurl the paper towels at the floor and walk away. The underneath of the sink was -- shudder! -- Let's just say I never want to see anything like that ever again. It looked like something had died in there (didn't smell like it, though, so I'm hoping nothing did). My hand still smells like Clorox.
Cleaning the house was actually all I did yesterday. That, and flop down on my comforter (the bed's at the friend's place), and plonk headalong into a dreamless sleep. There's another round due today. Shudder! I don't even want to think about it.
On the other hand, though, I did discover my long-lost copy of the manga Ghost Hunt Vol. 1, so I guess there's something to cheer.....
More updates later.

People on the bus

The people on the bus are such a motley bunch, that I had to write about them. They get up on the various stops along the way, but the majority of them board the bus at the North Lamar Transit Center when I'm going to office. They seem to be from all walks of life, all types of people. Young, old, happy, angry, or simply indifferent -- they make for interesting viewing. I usually go through The Daily Texan on the bus, but I put it aside and watch the people sidealong.
There's a guy called Billy who boards at the NLTC. He's probably in his fifties; maybe even sixties. Gnarled and with a weather-beaten face and wispy white hair through which his scalp pokes through, he is the chattiest one on the bus, the one who typically sidles along to the driver (today it was a guy called Bart), knows them all by name, and talks endlessly (I don't know what he says, though.....the iPod is going full-strength in my ears when I'm on the bus). I once met him while returning from the office, and since we were the only ones at the stop, we struck up a conversation, and that's how I came to know his name, and the fact that he has a 21-year-old son, and how he pooled his entire pay for the week to buy a $100 mountain bike from Wal-Mart of which he's inordinately proud.
Then there's this hippie-type guy who boards at US 183 and Burnet. He has long dark hair, which streams out open behind him. A cap is usually worn backward, and he usually wears dark t-shirts with the word 'Texas' written on it, with ferocious-looking flames surrounding it. Interesting chap.
Then there's this big, big guy who boards at NLTC. He glowers at everyone as he gets in, forehead seemingly forever puckered in a frown. His bald head shines in the overhead lights in the bus, and his loose Spurs jersey flutters slightly in the wind. His every footstep seems to make the bus shake from side to side. He usually goes right to the back of the bus, thankfully. I don't think I could stand that piercing glare for ten minutes, especially coming from a real-life Grawp (those who've read Harry Potter know what I mean).
Then, there's a little old lady who gets up somewhere near Metric and Braker (this is on the 392). She's tiny, with short dark hair going gray. She peers over her glasses at the driver as she swipes her Cap Metro card through the reader. She usually gets off on Shropshire Blvd, and an almost identical lady boards the bus at the next stop!
There's a good-looking guy who boards at the NLTC. He looks a little like Eric Bana, the actor, and always has some kind of book or the other clutched in his hand. He usually buries his nose in the book the moment he gets a seat.
There are so many people on the bus! It's almost impossible to describe them all.....but these are some of the regulars!

Art store

You know the old saying about kids in a candy store? (Though if I were a kid, I'd be more thrilled about going to the Wii section in a Gamestop store....) That's exactly how I get when I go to an art store. And this became evident to my poor roommate who tagged along with me today, when I went to the Co-op art store.
The Co-op art store is on The Drag, which is local UT lingo for Guadalupe. It's right next to the actual Co-op, and is my dream store. Impressive arrays of paints, brushes, canvases and other art equipment line the walls. Today, for instance, I was left staring open-mouthed at the very impressive line-up of Winsor & Newton's watercolors on the North wall of the store.
Okay, before this confuses anyone, no, I'm not a professional artist. I'm a computer scientist. But art is what I casually call my hobby. In reality, though, it's more than a hobby -- it's a passion, the very essence of my life, one reason why I think I'm still alive. When I'm stressed, I draw. When I'm sad, I draw. When I'm happy, I draw. When I'm....oh, you get the idea. I love art. I love drawing, though painting comes a close second. I've been drawing ever since I can remember. I learnt to draw before I learnt to write. So what I'm trying to tell is, that there's a reason why I behave like a caveman in an art store -- and not a distinguished caveman like the Geico one, but a real, uncouth caveman.
That's what happened today. My roommate, Annie, and I went to Chipotle grill on The Drag for lunch. While returning, I couldn't resist peeking inside the newly opened store. "Er......do you mind if we go in?" I asked Annie. She willingly agreed, not knowing, the poor thing, that it would take wild horses to drag me away from there. We went in, and I fell silent. Or rather, not -- I kept making gasping noises, as though I were choking. "No...no.....no...." I whispered incoherently. "Just look at this stuff, man!"
It's not like Annie wasn't impressed -- she was. But I suppose I tend to go overboard in such places. I ran over to a display of Winsor & Newton paintbrushes. I've only ever wanted W&N equipment since I was fourteen. I reverently lifted a fan brush -- used for washes in watercolors -- and ran in lightly back and forth in a sweeping motion across the stand where it was kept. Its bristles reacted to my slightest touch, and I almost wept.
I then went across to the paint section, on the North wall of the store. There was one of the most impressive array of watercolors I've ever seen -- W&N watercolors, Cotman and Artist varieties. The Artist one was a little too expensive for me, so I went for the Cotman ones. All the shades I'd ever dreamed about -- Phtalo Green, Cerulean Blue, Cadmium Red, Raw Sienna, Ultramarine.....they were all there. I was torn as to which ones to buy. I debated and debated and then debated some more, and finally settled on the Cerulean, Cadmium Red, Hooker's Green and Raw Sienna. I was on cloud nine, and nothing could bring me down -- except the bill, which did a marvelous job of it. All-in-all, though, four dream shades for less than $10 is a bargain in my eyes.
I came out of the store, pleased as a spoilt child that has just been indulged. In a way, I suppose I am, and I am the one spoiling myself. I can't help it, though. Shopping for art equipment is almost as therapeutic for me as drawing is.
Hmmm, maybe I can make another quick trip there soon.....

Packing

Wow! I never thought it'd be this much trouble packing! But since I'm close to being done, I won't complain too much. My room is now almost stripped bare, and only the closet remains. And then I'll be done.
It was an interesting experience, packing up. I last did it a year ago, when I packed up to leave Mumbai and move to Austin. Since it was done gradually then, and with full help from all family members, it had seemed less painful then. Besides, I was much too upset to be leaving my family to really take care of what was going onto the luggage. But, man, now I know!
It seems incredible that a single person could own so much stuff. I went nearly crazy just packing the books. There are just too many! I'm glad now I hadn't thrown away the brown boxes that Amazon.com delivers its packages in -- they came handy now, packing up stuff. First thing in was the Algorithms textbook -- I guess I wanted it out of my sight. Operating Systems was next. Security was the last thing to go in, with me giving the book a fond glance before packing it in. Next, I tackled the novels.
There were so many!! I honestly was stunned that I had so many books. PG Wodehouse, Ngaio Marsh, Alistair MacLean, Anthony Horowitz, Ian Fleming, Ken Follett, a bunch of manga (mostly comprising of the Ghost Hunt series).....all went into the boxes one after the other. There was a copy of Artemis Fowl, that I'd gifted myself last Christmas (for emerging alive from the rigorous Fall semester); the Wisden Cricketers' Almanack's 141st edition; a James Bond comic I had ordered on a whim from Amazon; a Robin Cook novel I'd bought ages ago, and forgotten I had it; multiple issues of Reader's Digest, Wired, PC World and American Artist; even a couple of Hardy Boys books I'd bought for my 15-year-old sister, who's a Hardy Boys fiend .
There was other stuff as well. A receipt for my iPod; a catalog from Dell that I'd gotten right after I'd ordered my laptop. I threw it away with a whimsical grin -- now that I actually work there, I don't really need it any more. There was a massive stack of ACM and IEEE research papers, assigned at some point or the other by various professors, or ones that had simply interested me (one of these was a most instructive article on cross-site scripting, a way of exploiting vulnerabilities in websites); a bunch of hurriedly made drawings, stuff that I'd made as I was studying, and was a way to let off stress and steam; an ancient box of Pringles chips, which I threw away hurriedly, without waiting to check the inside. No doubt the inside of the box would have interested a biologist of some sort. There was a printed notification of UT's football match against Ohio State University (which we lost) in Fall 2006; scribbled notes on assignments, trying to solve some problem before actually typing it out on Microsoft Word; and a piece of paper where I seemed to be asking myself what course to take -- it had the names of all the interesting courses in Spring 2007, and the professors' names next to them, and little question marks and exclamation marks around them.
It was interesting seeing all this. It brought back the hectic life I used to lead as a grad student (one that I'll resume in a month, sadly). Just seeing the little scraps of paper, and little mementos from the Fall semester, it had just seemed to capture instances of my life. I could literally relive every moment from Fall.
Maybe it wasn't so bad packing up, after all.....

Unpredictable Texan weather

Man! Talk about unpredictable! Texan weather is harder to predict than the outcome of, say, roulette or something. It was pouring on Thursday; rain interspersed with shine yesterday; and hot and sunny today. I give up! I can never, ever predict what tomorrow's going to be like. In fact, forget tomorrow! I can't predict what it'll be like an hour from now. In fact, even as I speak, the sun is dimming, and the it's getting cool and overcast (just the way I like it!). And, as I complete this sentence, the sun is coming out again. Hmph!
Today is Saturday -- the day that I have, for the past three months, gone out to catch the latest movie released on Friday, and then roamed about the malls for ages. But there's no movie of interest this week -- I'm waiting for August 3rd for The Bourne Ultimatum to release. Instead, I think I'll start packing. I'll be moving out of my apartment on the 1st, so I guess I should start clearing up the mess created over the course of one year. Sigh! I really don't feel like getting started. I try to motivate myself, but one look at the massive pile of research papers from ACM and IEEE sends me back into my corner, hunched over my laptop, furiously typing into my blog, telling the whole world what a mess my room is.
It's the books that scare me the most. I've got a HUGE pile of books to be packed. I'm a regular bookworm, and, in spite of nearly dying of penury over the past year, I've still managed to collect well over 30 books, not counting the 25 or so I brought over with me from Mumbai. AND, to top it all, there's a massive bunch of textbooks collected -- textbooks, that I might add, I've never had to open even once in the semester, because the professors' notes and research papers we got assigned were good enough. Probably the only textbooks I cracked open in the entire year were Database Systems by Garcia-Molina, Ullman and Widom, and Network Security by Kaufman, Perlman and Speciner. The only ones!! And when I look at the massive tomes on my bookshelf, notably the books on Operating Systems and Algorithms, I groan. My intention right from the time I joined UT was to study Networks and Network Security. Why on earth did I lug those blasted books with me? I knew I never intended to take an OS course, ever. I now sit on the chair, looking balefully at the books with ill-concealed hostility.
Well, the more time I spend here, the less I'll have to clear up the scary mess, so I guess I'd better get started now!

Back to school

It's been a while since I thought about school. I've been totally immersed in work for the past three months, in the world of AJAX, C# and meetings. It had almost slipped my mind that I have yet another year of schooling to complete before I can step out into the world. But that was brought back to my mind today, as I walked back home from my bus stop at Guadalupe Street down Dean Keeton.
Firstly it was the sight of a few students carrying books tucked under their arms, hovering around the Engineering building. It's been a while since I've seen a sight like that, and it reminded me sharply of my plight in a few weeks. Then it was the sight of the ACES building, which is under the Computer Sciences department. I gulped, memories crashing back of late nights spent trying to complete some inane assignment, which made no sense to me, but had to be completed nevertheless.
And finally, it was JP's Java. To all those who have attended UT, JP's should be a familiar destination. At least, it is to us CS grad students. It's a bustling coffee shop on Duval, San Jacinto and Elmwood Place -- the triangular place where all three streets intersect. It's close to the CS department, so we like it a lot. AND they have free wireless, so that helps. But above all, it's their latte, which they claim is the best in Austin. I don't know about that, not having been to all coffee shops in Austin, but they certainly do dish up a mean latte. Whenever I go there, that's what I have.
I can remember quite a few evenings spent there, in some dark corner of the cafe, cursing the insensitive professors who refuse to accept that their students take courses other than theirs; feverishly completing assignments the day before they're due; researching on whatever we need to research; and sometimes, just surfing. All these memories came back to me today, and I almost shuddered. Just a little over a month to go, and I'll be plunged back into the crazy world!!!
But I won't condemn in entirely. I do like studying, especially Computer Science, else I'd never have pursued a Master's degree. I may curse it, but I do love being a grad student. I love saying I'm a part of UT -- I've been here only a year, and I'm already a proud Longhorn. And, at times, the sheer pressure of studies spurs me on, and exhilarates me, rather than depressing me. I won't say I don't feel stressed, because I do. But in some strange way, I do enjoy it, especially at the end when all the hard work comes to fruition.
But I digress. I was talking about cafes and studying. There's another one that comes to mind -- Lava Java at Dean Keeton and Medical Arts. It's right opposite my apartment, and close to the places of two of my best friends, so it was a favorite haunt of ours, especially since we were grouped together on a project for our Business Process Outsourcing class. We would meet there at three or four in the afternoon, and continue discussing till late into the evening, sometimes even till 9, when the cafe had to finally evict us. It's quiet, and it's in a corner -- and they have large comfy sofas, which is why the three of us liked it so much. We would sink into the sofa, cups of steaming latte/cappucino and cookies on the table in front of us, and discuss earnestly about the project, but not entirely neglecting having fun -- especially at the expense of one of us!! Man, those were the days! I think the guy at the cash counter knows us personally now -- I went back a few days earlier to buy a raisin cookie, and he gave me a smile of recognition. I smiled back wryly.
Those days are going to be back!! Lava Java and JP's Java will be seeing more of us now, when classes begin in a month. Till then -- it's back to work!

Austin and Mumbai

When I first came to Austin, my first thought was -- it's nothing like Mumbai. I came in August, peak of the Mumbai monsoons, and had in fact left my city when it was in the throes of a full-fledged downpour, which was threatening to flood the city. And when I walked out into sunny, hot Austin, my one thought was -- I'll never see a downpour again. I was, of course, affected by my firm belief that Texas is a desert, and sees maybe an inch of rainfall in five years. How mistaken I was!
This entire summer it has rained, and rained, and rained some more. In fact, I think it has rained more in Austin than it has in Mumbai! Well...maybe not. But close to it! It's as if the city is determined to make my summer another Mumbai monsoon. I don't mind! I love the rains (something that has, not on few occasions, got me weird glances from others), and would never complain about the fact that it doesn't seem to have stopped raining in Austin since winter. And when it rains, it rains with fury -- wind howls around, and the force of the water hitting you is painful.
Like yesterday, for instance. It rained and rained, and I was soaked to the skin by the time I got home. As I wrung the water out of my sodden ponytail, my one thought was -- it's Mumbai, all over again. There were muddy puddles all over the place, and I groaned when I walked into one. The chilly water soaked into my socks, and wearing wet socks is the most awful sensation ever. Cars whizzed by the road, spraying a fine mist of water into the air. It would've looked pretty, had not a part of it fallen all over me.
There were a couple of miserable people waiting at the bus stop. One of them was a tiny, tiny woman, maybe four feet tall? She was all bundled up in a shapeless overcoat, and hugged the collar closer to her face to avoid getting the rain on her face, I suppose. She gave everyone baleful glances, but I suppose it's hard to blame her -- I feel pretty short-tempered myself when I'm soaked and cold. There was also a sleepy-looking man, who didn't seem to be bothered much by the rain. He wore a tattered old jacket, and steady rivulets of water ran down him. His wispy white hair was matted to his skull. I guess the three of us made quite a sight! I buried myself in the songs on my iPod to avoid paying attention to the cold water than was running down my spine. Not a very nice sensation!
I remember a similar situation in Mumbai. There were five of us at the bus-stop. There was me, two college girls, an old lady, and a young man who looked like a ruffian. The five of us stood under out respective umbrellas or shelters, vainly trying to shelter from the fury of the rain. I was more worried about my assignment in my backpack, which, I was sure, was getting soggy in the water. The two girls next to me were cursing the rain, and looking vainly up the road to see if the bus was nearby. They would now and then burst into laughter as they discussed something, but would fall silent again, and search for the bus on the horizon. The old lady was bent over with age, and clutched an umbrella in her thin, claw-like hand. Wispy white hair hung down her head, and the pallu of her sari (the part that hangs down the shoulder) was dripping with water. The young ruffian didn't even have an umbrella. He had a sheet of some kind held over his head, and didn't seem to mind the cold water that dripped all around (and all over) him. He squatted on the ground, getting up at intervals to check for the imminent arrival of the bus. He seemed to be in good humor, though -- occasionally he would crack a grin (though I never found out why), showing tobacco-stained teeth. Then he would resume his vigil of checking whether the bus was coming. The five of us stood silently, never speaking to the other one, yet, perhaps, silently commiserating with the others.
It was a similar situation I encountered yesterday. At times like these, I don't feel homesick at all! Austin's become my home away from home.

Altercation on the bus

And I thought all the excitement in the day was over.
This happened when I was returning from work. I was traveling in the 392, rather tired out from having to rise at 5:30 every morning for the past week (!). The bus went down Braker, driven by a tiny woman, shorter than even me, I should think. At Braker and Lamar, a scruffy man got onto the bus. I looked at him curiously, and then wrinkled my nose -- I bet he hadn't seen the inside of a bath, or something like it, in at least ten years. He stank!! I looked out of the window indifferently. I think he said something, but I had Linkin Park going on full steam in my ears, and didn't notice.
I first noticed how loud he was getting a couple of stops down the line. He seemed to be rather upset with the driver, and even I had to acknowledge that something was up. Anyone who can penetrate LP's music has serious lung power. Stinker was getting all worked up about something, and seemed to be letting it out on the driver. She seemed to be getting rather annoyed, and said something, which set Stinker off. "I asked a damn question!" he yelled, loud enough for me to hear. I couldn't ignore it any more, and looked cautiously at the pair. Stinker was sitting nearby, and I contemplated moving away, when he suddenly lost it. "I f***ing asked you a question!" he told the driver. Bad move, Stinker. Swearing on a Capital Metro bus is an offense, and a driver has full right to throw you out of the bus if you do so. That's precisely what the little woman did. The bus screeched to a halt (with no stop in sight), almost throwing me and the other guy on the bus to the floor. Stinker seemed well prepared for it, though.
"Get off," said the driver, rather evenly, I thought. My voice would have been quavering in such a situation, either through fright or rage.
"What?" said Stinker, obviously bewildered.
"Get off this bus, now," commanded the driver. I don't care how little she was, she was scary.
Stinker rose to his full height -- which was a rather intimidating 6 feet and some inches -- and refused to do so. "I asked you a damn question!" he repeated, like a broken record.
The driver reached for something -- a radio panel, I suppose, to ask for help, and Stinker finally for the idea. He got off the bus, muttering to himself (this I couldn't hear -- Chester's vocals drowned it out) and suddenly went ballistic. He hammered on the closing door, yelling, "F*** you!! I just asked a f***ing question!!" Now that, I must admit, scared me a bit. He looked mad enough to produce a knife or gun out of his (filthy) pocket, and start waving it around. Luckily, the bus moved off. I sat stiffly for the next ten minutes, relaxing only when Braker and Burnet came by.
Never a lack of entertainment on the buses of Austin!

Riding the bus to work

This is one I've been meaning to write about for quite some time...the unique experience of riding the bus to work. To begin with, I think I'm the only Dell employee that takes the bus to work, at least to the South Parmer campus (which is where I work). I live all the way in downtown Austin, so the journey is more of a voyage! It all starts with waiting for the bus at the little bus stop at the UT Law Library, the stop closest to my house. The Wait is an experience in itself. I can see all manner of interesting things while I'm waiting for the bus -- students rushing for classes (the ones who take summer classes, that is); cars whizzing by at top speed down the street; people scurrying to work; the occasional EMS truck howling down the quiet street; and, my personal favorite, little squirrels playing hide-and-seek with each other on the trees.
Today, for instance, I saw a family of squirrels, squabbling with each other for a piece of something that didn't even look edible to me! They are funny animals. After some time, they gradually started disappearing, and I wondered why. Finally, when the song on my iPod stopped, I realized the reason -- it had started raining! Chester Bennington screaming in your ear to Shut up when I'm talking to you! tends to drown out the pitter-patter of rain. By the time the last bushy tail disappeared into the undergrowth, the 174 came trundling around the corner, and I waved about an arm to flag it down.
Flagging the bus is quite an experience. You have to hop onto the road, wave your arms around like you're part of a dance troupe, all the while nimbly keeping out of the way of other vehicles. When you see the bus' brake lights flash, you hop back equally nimbly to the pavement before the gigantic vehicle can run you over. Quite a bit of activity! (Note to fitness freaks: catching the bus is good workout activity)
Finally, I got into the bus, nodded my usual good morning to the driver. I have no idea whether he said anything.....Chester Bennington was back to his usual activity -- screaming in my ears, this time to tell me that he wouldn't be ignored. Fine, Chester. With you screaming like that, there's no way I can really ignore you -- unless I'm coding or drawing. All the same, I like Linkin Park a lot. At least Chester screams tunefully.
Then began the ride through the I-35. Normally I like it a lot, because the bus moves without any hindrances; but today, the driver decided to take all the feeder roads instead of taking the highway, so we stopped and started more times than I can count. I had given up all hopes of reaching my stop on time, but the driver maneuvered beautifully through the traffic, getting the bus to the North Lamar Transit Center at 7:00 am -- right on time. Anyone who can handle the beast that the bus is so well has my respect.
NLTC is where the seething mass of humanity enters the bus. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Not seething, maybe. But mass of humanity, certainly. The near-empty bus goes to near-full in a matter of minutes. Today was no different, but my interest was piqued by the Seeing-Eye dog that settled down near me. He was pushed under the seat, and lay there, looking out at me, and whoever else passed in the vicinity with soulful eyes. The bus, meanwhile, continued on the US 183, finally hitting Burnet. It continued down Burnet, all the way to Braker, which is where I get off. Braker and Burnet. Sounds almost like a law firm or something, but for me, it's time to change buses.
I got off with alacrity, for the next bus, the 392 that takes me to East Parmer, was just 6 minutes away. I walked up to the crossroads, and waited for the pedestrian signal to turn green. Next to me, a boy came to a screeching halt on his bicycle, dressed all in black like a goth follower, and smoking a cigarette. This intrigued me -- he managed to keep his balance on the rickety old bike, while smoking, and looking cool (or trying to), all at the same time.
The bus stop for the 392 is a little distance away -- a half-mile, perhaps? Not a lot, but a goodish walk. I kept glancing over my shoulder to ensure that the bus wasn't on the way. When I finally reached the stop, the bus still hadn't arrived, so I was glad -- I got some time to take a breather.
The 392 arrives at Braker and Burnet at 7:18 am, and today was no different. It was right on time, and the driver, a man I've come to know quite well by now, smiled a good morning, dreadlocks swinging. He knows by now it's no use actually talking to me -- I just yank the headphones out of my ear, and go "huh?" like a dimwit. I took my usual place, and watched the streets go by.
The 392 takes a long, circuitous route to East Parmer. It goes all the way down Braker, crossing the streets of Kramer, Lamar, Parkfield, Metric, and then the I-35. It finally turns down Dessau Road (I've often found myself wondering about the origins of the quaint names), then Shropshire Blvd, then Thompkins Drive, then Yager Lane, and finally down Tech Ridge Blvd, where I finally get off.
I did so today. The ride, in itself, was rather boring today. It is often livened up by strange people entering the bus, but today's passengers were all the same, including the freaky guy with hair longer than mine, dressed all in black with black nail polish on his stubby nails, and John Lennon glasses. It didn't even rain on the way, and I reached office safe and sound -- and dry! And that summed up a typical day's ride in the bus to the office.

The first blog

Whew! I never thought it would be this much trouble coming up with a blog name! My brain is starting to feel distinctly saturated....almost all possible combinations ran through my head as a possible name. Not that the one I came up with was all that unique! Mandy....very imaginative :P I'm sitting here in office, writing my blog. Hmph. Maybe I should get back to that piece of code that was bothering me since morning.....
Writing a blog is fun. I've wanted to start one for the last...hmm, let me see, three years? Four? Anyway, quite some time. I love writing, too....there's no real reason why I didn't start one until now, except for sheer laziness, I suppose! Well, now that I've started, there's just so much to write about! I'm interning at Dell right now, and will be completing in a few days. There's going to be the next crazy year at grad school to write about!! (And with the sort of courses I've registered for, I'm sure I'll be letting out my frustration more than once a day!). There's lots to write about......blogging, here I come!