28.2.10
Like I said before, I'm torn as to what to do with myself. If I let myself reminice, then I start to miss mathematics. The other part of me says I could continue teaching just as well, if not for the job itself, which has its ups and downs, then for the sake of living in different places in the world - I don't think I'll ever miss living in America. Meanwhile, at night I dream of being a professional athlete, usually a soccer player. I wasn't so well acquainted with any other sport.
Fortunately, the Olympic games haven't had too much a negative effect on my sleep. I didn't stay up too late or get up at all early to watch the events that I would've liked to see. A few weeks ago I watched some heats of short-track speed skating. What a sport! Speed skating, regardless of the distance, is pretty cool, but especially in the short-track events where they stuff five or six skaters on the track. Whenever someone loses their balance and falls, they sometimes take out a few other skaters with them, and the flailing legs and arms are reminiscent of a bowling alley as they crash into the wall on the side of the track.
I saw an American named Apollo Ohno race on the short track. He was pretty impressive. In the first heat, he hung back until there were two or three laps left. Then in the span of one lap, he just flew by everybody. It was as though the other skaters were moving in slow motion. He would've lapped a few people if he had continued his sprint all the way through the final lap.
In the finals of the same event, the competition was a little tighter for Ohno. He started out in behind, then slipped into fourth place with a few laps to go. The three skaters in front of him were all from South Korea. They would've swept the event if it were not for the third Korean, who was either greedy for a silver medal or was thinking "Oh no!" because of the American tight on his heels. This Korean fell on the very final turn of the event and took out his comrade in front of him to boot. The first place Korean got away, Ohno took second, and another American took third place. The Korean who was going to get second must have been pretty angry.
I'm also a cross country skiing and biatholon fan, as well as hockey. I never was too fond of hockey, but then I saw the first period of the semi-finals, where the US team creamed Finland. The final match is in a few hours. I tried to convince my students to cheer for America, especially because Canada knocked Russia out of the tournament. Many of them were supportive, but some refused to think about hockey.

I saw a ballet performance of Hamlet this evening. I stopped by the theater randomly to see if there were any tickets left, and I got a pretty good seat on the first row of the balcony for about eleven dollars. Then I stopped by the chess club to watch the weekly tournament until the start of the performance. I hadn't been to the chess club for a few weeks. I wasn't too motivated to occupy myself with the game until I actually started watching. John Candy, Gilbert Godfrey, Stoneface, Christopher Lyoid and Robin Williams were all there. Dustin Hofman was absent. Stoneface lost to both Godfrey and Lyoid. I don't know how that happened. Gilbert Godfrey beats just about everybody, but even I have beaten Christopher Lyoid, if only once out of the upwards of ten parties we've played.
The ballet wasn't as impressive as Romeo and Juliet. The musical accompaniment was by Shostakovich, which I enjoyed good at times, but occasionally I didn't like the dissonance. Shostakovich doesn't beat whoever composed the Jugernaut's Lied!

15.3.10
My father often asks me if I believe in free will. I say I believe it completely, since the only perceivable alternative would be fatalism, which I refuse to accept. I prove my claim with the fork experiment: if I hold a fork out in front of me and start to count to three, then on the count of three I can decide to either hold or drop the fork. It's my decision, hence free will exists. Of course, dropping a fork is a bit extreme, and it's tough to say if we can equate dropping a fork with spending years of your life thinking about something in the annals of Algebraic Topology or dropping everything and moving to another country.
Perhaps more importantly, you wonder if dropping a fork is your decision if we add outside influences into the equation. My brothers influenced me greatly when I was younger. What if before I drop the fork, my brothers declare that I must hold the fork at all costs. Then when I drop it, is it my decision? Maybe I was just spiting my brothers.
Perhaps that's another reason why I left my homeland. I wanted to spite my culture. I wanted to escape anyone and anything that was telling me what to do. Here I can do whatever I like without any cultural reprimand. I am free here. I am more myself than I have ever been.
Whoever that is, I'm still not sure. Having rejected any cultural formula which tells us to get a good job, then get married, then start a family, then retire etc., I am living in limbo. I have to make my own formula, and that's not so easy.

Regarding anal flatulence, it occurred to me that it's criticized not for any natural reason, but cultural. Again, it's a question of nature versus nurture. I remember when I was a toddler, I would take a deep breath whenever I heard or otherwise sensed another family member had farted. For some reason I enjoyed the smell. Maybe I was proud to learn that these adult people couldn't hold it all in either, or maybe I hadn't yet been brainwashed into cringing at that methanic stench.
The latter seems to make some sense, especially considering the fact that one's own flatulence doesn't smell as bad when one is alone as it does amongst other people. When people in a crowd fart, it smells so bad because of the presence of many people. In a crowd. our cultural upbringing kicks in and tells us to gag at the smell, whereas when we're alone, there's nothing to worry about and the odor is quite natural.
My father often tells me of a time he saw me dancing as a toddler. Maybe it was to "Bad Boys," or maybe to something else. He says I was as graceful as a toddler could be. Back then, I danced as freely as I farted, but now I dance only after several drinks, and break wind primarily as I walk along Pushkinskaya. They say a child loses their innocence after exposure to the real world. I say it's culture that robs us of our innocence. To what extent is what we call the real world is a man-made façade?
Maybe I would do well in a nudist colony.
Of course, to bring the argument home, I should've started with a few positive things to say about human's culture. I can't think of anything positive. If you're reading this, maybe you can remind me of all the good things culture gives us.