I Want to Be A Mathematician

A story that may have relevance for others, or then again, maybe not:

When I was in college, about ten or so years ago, I was a history major. I wanted to learn to dance, so I joined a swing dance club on campus. To my surprise, this club had about twice as many men as women (in high school, the last time I’d tried dancing, the ratio had gone the other way–lots of girls, and boys only that you could drag by their ears).

But apparently, there had been some kind of word spread specifically to the STEM guys that dance was a way that they could meet girls.

So anyway. I joined the swing dance club, and met a few guys. And at one point, when socializing with the guys outside of dance class, one of them asked me what my research was on. (I had already established that I was an honors history student doing a thesis, just as he had established that he was an honors… I’m not sure if he was CS or Math, but it was one of those.)

So I gave him the thumbnail sketch of my research. Now, to be clear, an honors senior thesis, while nothing like what a graduate student would do, was still fairly in-depth. I had to translate primary sources from the original late-Classical Latin. (My professor said, basically, that while there were plenty of translations of my source material, that I’d only be able to comfortably trust them if I had at least made a stab at a translation of my own. And he was right.) And there was so much secondary material, often contradictory, that I had been carefully sorting through.

But I was able to sift it into a three-sentence summary of my senior thesis work, you know, as one does.

So I gave him that summary, and then asked–since he was also an undergraduate senior doing an honors thesis–what his research was on.

“Oh,” he said, “you wouldn’t understand it.”

Reader, I went home in a frothing rage. Because I had thought we were playing one game–a game of ‘let’s talk about what we’re passionate about!’– and he had been playing another game, which was, one-upsmanship. I had done my best to give a basically understandable brief of my research–and he had used that against me. As if my research, my painstaking translation, my digging through archives and ILLs of esoteric works, my reading of ten thousand articles in Speculum (yes, the pre-eminent medievalist journal in North America is called Speculum, I’m sorry, it’s hilarious/sad but also true), and then my effort to sum it up for him, was nothing. Because his research into some kind of algorithm or other was just too complex for my tiny brain to conceive of. Because I just couldn’t possibly understand his work.

Now, the important note here is that the person I went home to was my senior year roommate. She was a graduate student–normally undergrads and graduate students couldn’t be roommates, but we’d been friends for years, and the tenured faculty-in-residence used his powers for good and permitted us to be roommates that year. Anyway. My senior year roommate was basically… in retrospect I think possibly an avatar of Athena. She was six feet tall, blonde, attractive in a muscular athletic way, a rock climber and racquetball player, sweet but sharp, extremely socially awkward, exceptionally kind even when it cost her to be kind, and an incredibly brilliant computer science major who spent most of her time working on extremely complicated mathematical algorithms. (Yes, I was a little in love with her, why do you ask? But she was as straight as a length of rope, and is now happily married, and so am I, so it worked out.)

(Still, yes, she is my mental image of Athena, to this day.)

Anyway, I came home in a frothing rage to my roommate, the Athena avatar. And I said, “He made me feel like such an idiot, that I could sum up my research to him but his research was just too smart for stupid little me.”

And she shut her book, and smiled at me, with her dark eyes and her high cheekbones and her bright hair, and said, “If he can’t explain his research to you, then he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

Now I hesitated, because I’d be in college long enough to have sort of bought into the ridiculous idea that if you couldn’t dazzle them with your brilliance, you should baffle them with your bullshit. But she said, “Look, I’ve been doing work on computer science algorithms that have significantly complicated mathematical underpinnings. What do I do?”

And I said, “Genetic algorithms–that is, self-optimizing algorithms–for prioritization, specifically for scheduling.”

“Right,” she said. “You couldn’t code them because you’re not a computer scientist or a mathematician. But you can understand what I do. If someone can’t explain it like that, it isn’t a problem with you as a person. It’s a problem with them. They either don’t understand it as well as they think they do–or they want to make you feel inferior. And neither is a positive thing.”

So. There.

If you are looking into something and have a question, and someone treats you like an idiot for not understanding right away… here is what I have to say: maybe it isn’t you who is the idiot.

Survivorship Bias

I have posted about survivorship bias and how it affects your career choices: how a Hollywood actor giving the classic “follow your dreams and never give up” line is bad advice and is pure survivorship bias at work.

When I read up on the wikipedia page, I encountered an interesting story:

During WWII the US  Air Force wanted to minimize bomber losses to enemy fire. The Center for Naval Analyses ran a research on where bombers tend to get hit with the explicit aim of enforcing the parts of the airframe that is most likely to receive incoming fire. This is what they came up with:

So, they said: the red dots are where bombers are most likely to be hit, so put some more armor on those parts to make the bombers more resilient. That looked like a logical conclusion, until Abraham Wald - a mathematician - started asking questions: 

- how did you obtain that data?
- well, we looked at every bomber returning from a raid, marked the damages on the airframe on a sheet and collected the sheets from all allied air bases over months. What you see is the result of hundreds of those sheets.
- and your conclusion?
- well, the red dots are where the bombers were hit. So let’s enforce those parts because they are most exposed to enemy fire. 
- no. the red dots are where a bomber can take a hit and return. The bombers that took a hit to the ailerons, the engines or the cockpit never made it home. That’s why they are absent in your data. The blank spots are exactly where you have to enforce the airframe, so those bombers can return.

This is survivorship bias. You only see a subset of the outcomes. The ones that made it far enough to be visible. Look out for absence of data. Sometimes they tell a story of their own.

BTW: You can see the result of this research today. This is the exact reason the A-10 has the pilot sitting in a titanium armor bathtub and has it’s engines placed high and shielded.

Things I used to believe about theatre and singing...

And why I don’t believe them anymore.

  1. The myth: I’m going to go to college and rapidly go to Broadway and live out my days performing in NYC.  The reality: Man, I have so much to learn.  Broadway is not the only goal, and only a very, very small number of actors ever get to perform there.  I can still have that as a goal (although my goals are very different now!) but I should stop expecting that it’s somehow the logical path that I will find myself on.  This career is way, way harder than I ever expected, and that level of theatre is one most of us only get to watch from afar.
  2. The myth: The people on Broadway are just particularly spectacular and special.  The reality : Everyone is spectacular.  The people on Broadway are there because they’re great, they know the right people, they were lucky, they worked their butts off…But they’re not unique.  There are thousands of other people who are at the same level as them who didn’t have the connection, who didn’t get lucky, and will never be on Broadway because of that.  
  3. The myth: When I watch people who are really, really skilled, it’s because they are just naturally better than me.  The reality: They worked their butts off and put so many hours into their craft, and that’s why they are so good.  It’s not a mystery.  You put in the work, you get the result.  No shortcuts.
  4. The myth: If I drink milk before I sing I will perish in a thousand singing hells.  The reality: Man, I’m not impacted by dairy when I sing, and I don’t need to be scared of consuming it.  Some people are very impacted by it.  It’s a personal thing and people’s different genetics will play into how much different substances impact their singing!
  5. The myth: I have to choose between belting and legit singing.  I can’t do both.  The reality: Heh, yeah, no.  I have to pick a technique that embraces both styles in a healthy, safe way.  I can have it all, but I have to be wise about how I choose my technique in order to have it all. 
  6. The myth: If I’m not on Broadway by the time I’m 21, I’m a failure.  The reality: See truth number one, but also…The people on Broadway are, on average, much older than you think they are.  ‘Nuff said.
  7. The myth: I won’t need a side job in order to sustain myself.  The reality: There are times my theatre can sustain me by myself, but even the best of us need secondary income for when we’re in-between gigs.  Even Broadway performers are not employed 100% of the year.  That side job doesn’t have to be waiting tables or retail, but it’s unwise to think I don’t have to do anything other than perform. 
  8. The myth: If I don’t like super obscure musicals, then I’m not a real musical theatre fan.  The reality: Wicked rocks.  I love Phantom of the Opera.  I’m allowed to like whatever I want.  
  9. The myth: According to almost every educator I ever encountered…”If you can do anything else other than theatre for a career, do it.”  The reality: This is asinine.  Actors are multi-faceted, intuitive, witty, smart people…  All of us could do other things with our lives.  There’s not a single one of us who couldn’t succeed in another field.  Not all of us will be mathematicians, no, but to say that the only way we should pursue theatre is if we can literally do nothing else?  Well that’s silly, because actors are badass and can do a lot of things.
  10. The myth: I will always have two months to rehearse all my shows.  The reality: Hahahahahaha, nope.
  11. The myth: I will love every single show I do, and every role will be fulfilling. The reality: Honestly, those are the special ones. Those are the ones that we go through all of this for.  But the reality is, I do lots of shows that I have no emotional connection to.  Where I don’t get sad when it’s done.  That doesn’t mean I work any less hard on it, or value it any less.  But not every gig is fulfilling artistically.  
  12. The myth: I can’t have a family, a pet, or a home if I’m an actor.  The reality: It’s true that if I went on a tour for a year, I couldn’t have a cat.  But if you want to prioritize those things, you can absolutely have them.  You can’t have everything, but if those things are important to you, you can make it happen by sacrificing some opportunities.
  13. The myth: I will always have an understudy for when I’m sick.  The reality: I’ve never had an understudy in my entire life.  
  14. The myth: If I just work hard enough, I will get the role.  The reality: There are way, way more facets to casting decisions than I will ever understand, so there is no reason to be hard on myself when I don’t get a role.  If I did my best, that’s all I can ask for–the rest is up to them, and I’m not a worse actor because I didn’t fit exactly what they were looking for, or someone fit it better.  
  15. The myth: Every cast will be as close as they were when I was in high school.  The reality: It’s a job, and while I do make friends doing my job, it’s very, very different than it was in high school.  You come together for a handful of weeks, work really hard and trust each other a lot, but often you then go off to your own life and don’t see them again until the next show.  And that’s okay!  If every cast was as close as some of my high school casts were and we were all as attached as we were back then, it’d be awfully exhausting and depressing every couple of weeks when a show ended.  So it’s really for the best.  
  16. The myth: I will never be able to sustain myself as a performer and I’m probably just kidding myself by trying to do this.  The reality: Bam, 18 year old Christine, what were you thinking.  You’ve got this, and you are exceeding your wildest dreams.  

What myths did you have in theatre that have been dispelled at one point or another?  I’d love to hear them!

Hey everyone! So sorry that I haven’t been very active recently, been doing some really exciting work on my thesis, and been loaded up with assignments (and battling quite a bad patch mental health wise). Started this morning off with some astrophysics, and some caffeine. On another note, it’s my birthday tomorrow, and all I really want is a research grant … 😂

Sometimes I don’t think the people who constantly berate math understand how discouraging it is as a mathematician to constantly hear people mock your passion. Like any passionate person, I want to share my passion with others and tell them about the exciting thing I’m working on, but I can’t even open my mouth about math without someone ranting about how much “math sucks!”.

I’m trying to be passionate when all I hear is “Math is so boring!” “No one uses algebra!” “Screw math and anyone who enjoys it!” “As an artist, I naturally hate math!” (I’m an artist too, actually) 

Do people not realize how much it starts to wear on you? I’ve honestly considered dropping math so I wouldn’t have to deal with the stereotype that I’m uncreative and hate art and am practically the devil in the eyes of some people.

The Journal

Request:  Could you write something where y/n doodles in her notebook constantly, frequently about Peter who she has a crush on, and one day he accidentally picks up her notebook and shoves it in his bag when he’s in a rush. She has to figure out how to get it back without him seeing the drawings of him and “y/n Parker” written?

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1,801

Genre: fluff

Notes: This fic is a lot longer than i thought it was going to be?? I hope you like it none the less:)

Mrs. Parker, Mrs. Y/n Parker, wife of Peter Parker, you lazily scribble in cute cursive writing.  Your fourth period calculus class was by far the most boring thing you had ever had the misfortune to suffer through. While Mrs. Smith’s hungover ramblings could be entertaining at times, you found that the class was a bit too simple for you to actively participate in so you spent the hour doodling in your notebook. Normally it was just whatever was passing through your head at the time but it seems that as of late you have had a one track mind.  Peter Parker has sat in front of your desk in almost every class since you started high school. He was perfect to you, the way he nervously stuttered when he had to speak to the class, the way his eyes light up when he really gets to nerd out, you were in deep. You don’t exactly know when this crush started but it didn’t matter too much anyways because he was interested in Michelle.

Even the thought of it made you sad, you mean of course he would like someone like Michelle. She was smart, pretty, and outgoing, she had everything going for her while you, the quiet girl in the back of the classroom had relatively nothing. She was exactly the kind of girl Peter should be with, so for now you would have to be content with your little day dreams. 

“For the upcoming final presentation, you will be partnered up with someone at random and you will be doing biographies on famous mathematicians, I don’t have the want or means to grade 700 finals.” Mrs. Smith groans from her desk. 

You perk up as she puts a list of names under the overhead projector. Your read down the list until you found yours an looked to the name adjacent and your heart skipped a beat.

“So,” Peter says, turning in his seat to face you. “What’s your schedule like after school?”

You two made plans to meet on Saturday at the library around 3 to hopefully finish your project in one fell swoop, the entire conversation from start to end had your heart racing and your palms sweaty. Today was Saturday and you sat in front of your mirror combing it into a new style for a third time. You let out a huff and just let your hair fall down.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just a study date. It’s nothing to get dressed up for.” You scolded yourself.

You grabbed your book bag and threw on a sweater to hopefully combat the chilly November air before walking out of your apartment and to the library.You arrived pretty early by accident, your nerves making you extra cautious. you take a seat in one of the many tables in the back of the library and pulled out a book, you planned on reading util Peter showed up.The scent of old books lulled you into some sort of trance, you read almost half your book before you realized that it was an hour past when he was supposed to show up. Your face scrunched up with worry as you pull out your phone, he had given you his number just in case you needed to contact him and now seemed like a good time to use it.

Hey Peter it’s Y/n! I don’t know if you forgot but we had a study date set up for an hour ago and I’m still here, if you can’t make it we can reschedule

You text. You pulled open your computer and started to do research, writing down anything and everything you could on the mathematician you were assigned, hoping that your crush was on his way.

Peter was in the middle of a new suit test with Mr. Stark when he felt his phone vibrated. He picked it up off of the workbench and let out a string of almost curses.

“Hey, better not let Cap hear you talking like that!” Tony exclaimed, laughing slightly at all of the alternatives for fuck Peter had just used.

“Oh no, Mr. Stark I gotta go! I had a study date thing today and I was supposed to be there an hour ago.” Peter whined, rushing around the lab trying to gather his things.

“Wait is it a date with that one girl you’re always  talking about? Oh Petey, how cute!” Tony said mockingly.

“Yeah we got paired together for something for school, is there anyway you could drop me off at Queens Library at Ridgewood in the next ten minutes?” Peter asked hopefully.

Tony scoffed, “Who do you think I am? You’ll be there in five.”

True to his word, Peter had made it to the library in 4 minutes and 56 seconds. He ran into the library, his bag flapping open and its contents were trying to spill out onto the floor only to be caught by a clumsy Peter. He raced as fast as he could to the back where you sat without being yelled at by the librarian and threw his stuff down on the table, making you jump in the process. You were staring at your computer and scribbling down some notes, your hair was now up in a quick messy bun and Peter swears he would never see such a beautiful sight again. Peter has had a crush on you since the end of freshman year, you were so soft spoken but everything you did say was impactful and important. You were so beautiful and smart but it sucks you would never notice someone like Peter.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry! I thought today was-”

“Shhh!” The old librarian hissed from her desk. Peter gives her an apologetic wave and sat down in front of you.

“It’s okay, I didn’t think you would stand me up on purpose.” You say with a smile, it made Peter smile as well.

“Yeah, sorry. So what all do we have so far?” Peter asked, pulling out his journal and delving into the project while trying to forget how cute you looked when you were trying to focus.

“Alright,” You said while yawning. “I think we’ve got it! 7 slides and 15 minutes worth of talking points, it should be enough” you say sleepily.

“Yeah, sound good,” Peter says, trying not to nod off. It was now 2 in the morning, the library was open 24 hours and the late night librarian was fast asleep at the front desk, you two were the only people inside.

You both stand up and gather your things and put them in your respective bags, not noticing that you had mistakenly grabbed Peter’s notebook and he had grabbed yours. The one with your doodles, the one with your writings, the one that you would die if Peter ever read. Neither of you had noticed a thing before you walked out of the building and onto the streets.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Peter asked, it was late and he didn’t want you to get hurt.

“Oh no Peter, you don’t have to do that! I only live a few blocks away, I’ll be fine.” you say, you say your goodbyes and then turn away from him and walk towards home.

Peter followed you home from the rooftops, he knew you said you would be fine but he just wanted to make sure. He watched you pull out some headphones and dance along to your music, chuckling when you slightly trip over your own feet. He watched you walk up your steps and pull out your keys before slipping inside your home. He let out a happy little sigh. He didn’t know the next time you two would hang out or even if you would hang out again but he was glad you got to spend some time together. He stood on the roof of the building across from your awhile more before turning around and racing back to his apartment before Aunt May could freak out anymore than she probably was.

The next day Peter found himself in the lab with Tony again, but this time he was just another pair of eyes for Tony to use.

“Hey Underoos, can you write this down for me?” Tony asked, his head down in the middle of his new project.

Peter quickly pulled out his journal and a pencil and flipped it open, what he found inside made his heart stop. Inside were tiny little pictures of you and a guy, some just little stick figures and some extremely detailed portraits but the thing that really stood out to him most was the cutsey writing all around the paper. Mrs. Y/n Parker, wife of Peter Parker, Peter’s heart practically leaped out of his chest.

“Hey kid, didn’t you hear me- Oh my god.” Tony said coming up behind Peter and checking out the notebook.

“Peter! Your crush has a crush on you!” Tony said giddily. He no longer was mocking Peter, he genuinely thought that this young love was adorable.

Peter’s face was red as a tomato and his mouth kept opening and closing like he was trying to form words but didn’t know how. Finally he lets out a small laugh, like he didn’t believe what he was reading.

Peter fist pumps the air and yells excitedly, “She likes me!”

Monday came around quicker than you wanted and soon you found yourself in the back row in your first period class. You were patiently waiting for class to start when Peter walked in. He walked up to you right away.

“Hey Y/n” He greeted. He seemed nervous and he kept looking around like someone was listening.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” You asked, his nervousness was making you nervous.

“Uh, so listen,” he started, “we got our notebooks mixed up that night in the library-”

You could hear him after that, your own mortification was too loud to get past. Your face was burning and you silently wished for god to just smite you there.

“Y/n. Y/n, hey? Did you hear me?” Peter asks waving his hand in front of your face, he was blushing too now and you stood up.

“Did you read it?’ you ask quietly.

“Well I mean, yeah. That’s what I just-”

“Peter I’m so sorry, I understand if you don’t want me to talk to you again, it’s just a silly crush-” You cut him off Trying to apologize but he cut you off too, with his lips.

He kissed you sweetly, he didn’t push you to go further it was just a soft kiss to shut your mouth. He pulls away and you smile brightly at him..

“S-so? Uh, Do you want to maybe go on a date with me? Tonight?”

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an analytic approach to proving the nikiforov theorem

so a little while back i was briefly contemplating the mathematicians au of yuri on ice (why), and today it came back with a vengeance and hit me in the face. believe me, i deeply regret all the life choices that have led me to this place.

  • victor nikiforov is a rising star in russian mathematics, particularly known for his off-beat approach to familiar problems and a certain elegance that’s unmistakable. at sixteen he gets invited to a young mathematicians conference in sofia, where he gives a talk about certain properties of the elliptic curve.
  • some weeks later, yuuko, who’s been sharing little puzzles and problems with yuuri for as long as he can remember, finds him with a handful of papers printed from arxiv and says, “look.”
  • it’s the first time yuuri looks at a chain of logic, ruthlessly solid from beginning to end, and feels that certainty all the way through.
  • yuuri presses his fingers to the “victor nikiforov” printed primly under the title and thinks, i want to solve a problem with him. one day.

Keep reading

i know i constantly test your guys’ patience when it comes to weird aus that no one wants or needs but today i watched a documentary on the history of quantum physics and our understanding of matter and now i have the burning desire to write a fic about early 20th century physicists tyler and josh arguing over electrons and relativity (tyler) or quantum mechanics (josh)

When I first joined the fandom I can never understand why kidlock au always involves John being the same age as Sherlock? Like maybe it’s just me but I really love their age difference and it’s even more obvious when they’re still kids. Like imagine Sherlock at age 5 and he’s in kindergarten and John is maybe 10 and he’s babysitting for Sherlock and Sherlock is silently reading a book so John thought he’ll just do homework while waiting but then later notices lil Sherlock is beside him and looking at his homework and pointing to John’s answers and saying “that’s wrong, I can teach you though. My mom’s a mathematician and she taught me lots of things” and John just stares in awe at this tiny lil human who still has that chubby baby cheeks offering to teach him 5th grade Maths. John knew at that point that Sherlock was no ordinary kid. But later when Sherlock wanted tea, he asked John to make it for him so John asks “you can do difficult math questions but you can’t make tea?” And Sherlock’s answer is “I understand the technical steps to making tea but….. I can’t reach the cups” and he looks away shyly as if embarrassed by his short height compared to John. And John just finds it adorable that Sherlock might be a genius but he’s still a kid in the end

I’m sitting in my office wearing my pink tennis shoes and listening to T. Swift at a low volume that is hella respectful to my neighbors, expanding my old talk about the development and application of algebraic analogues of multiplicative functions. This is exactly the character I want to be.

I used to be a big tomboy, because I was daunted by my male-dominated field of research. But I got tired of caring. I like math and I don’t care about being perceived as a ‘real’ mathematician.  I’d still do math even if everyone in the world thought I wasn’t as good as my peers, or even any good at all. It’s not about me being good, it’s about doing what I enjoy, and what I believe is important. I’m a dainty little pink tennis shoes forrest elf who writes pretty good math talks and will fight you like a world war if you insult a student’s progress in front of me. That’s me, and that’s okay.

anonymous asked:

what are your favorite petyr quotes? book vs show

Wow, anon, you’re NOT making this easy for me AT ALL. oh lorde, there are so many.

ok, quotes from the books that sadly did not make it into the show:
I love all the “classics” that artworks often utilize, e.g.

  • “Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow.”
  • “Is it all lies, forever and ever, everyone and everything?”
    “Almost everyone. Save you and I, of course.”
  • “Some lies are love.”
  • “I know what I know, and so do you. Some things are best left unsaid, sweetling.”
  • “There are two sorts of people. The players and the pieces. Every man’s a piece to start with, and every maid as well. Even some who think they are players.”
  • “We shall serve him lies and Arbor gold, and he’ll drink them down and ask for more, I promise you.”
  • “When you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him.”
  • “Those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa… Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That’s worth another kiss now, don’t you think?”

and some others:

  • “Try not to fall to your death, Catelyn would never understand.“
  • “A fool I may be, Stark… yet I’m still here, while your brother has been moldering in his frozen grave for some fourteen years now. If you are so eager to molder beside him, far it be from me to dissuade you, but I would rather not be included in the party, thank you very much.”
    “You would be the last man I would willingly include in any party, Lord Baelish.”
    “You wound me deeply.”
  • “I am desperately sentimental, sweet lady. Best not tell anyone. I have spent years convincing the court that I am wicked and cruel, and I should hate to see all that hard work go for naught.” Ned believed not a word of that, but he kept his voice polite as he said, “You have my thanks as well, Lord Baelish.”
    “Oh, now there’s a treasure,” Littlefinger said, exiting.
  • “The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies  and Their Children. Now there is a tedious reading if ever I saw it. A sleeping potion, my lord?“
    “Jon Arryn was studying this volume when he was taken sick,” Ned said.
    “In that case death must have come as a blessed relief.”
  • “I do not trust him.”
    “Excellent. You’re learning.”
  • “Even a blind man could see the Hound loathed his brother.”
    “Ah, but Gregor was his to loath, not yours to kill. I wouldn’t hold my water waiting for his thanks.”
  • “I suppose congratulations are in order.”
    Ned scowled. “The king lies wounded and near to death.”
    “I know.”
  • “How big a fool do you take me for?”
    “Well, quite an enormous one, actually.”
    “Do you always find murder so amusing, Lord Baelish?”
    “It’s not murder I find amusing, Lord Stark, it’s you. You rule like a man dancing on rotten ice. I daresay you will make a noble splash.”
  • Grand Maester Pycelle gaped at him, aghast. “Surely you do not mean to suggest that Lady Selyse would ask a fool into her bed?”
    “Doubtless Patchface reminded her of Stannis.”
  • “Black brings out my unhealthy pallor.”
    “You look very elegant today, my lord.”
    “I’m wounded. I strive to look elegant every day.”
  • “I believe Lord Petyr may hold the key to the Eyrie.“
    “Oh, I do. I have it here between my legs.”
  • “Tides and brides wait on no man, my lord. Once the autumn storms begin, the voyage will be much more hazardous. Drowning would definitely diminish my charms as a bridegroom.”
  • “Widowhood will become you, Sansa.”
  • “It is surprisingly difficult to hide a dwarf, and Joffrey… you can lead a king to water, but with Joff one had to splash it about before he realized he could drink it.”
  • “Lord Robert cannot sleep. He cries…”
    “… for his mother. That cannot be helped, the wench is dead.”
  • “Is that your counsel, maester? That we find a wet nurse for the Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale? When shall we wean him, on his wedding day? That way he can move directly from his nurse’s nipples to his wife’s. No, I think not.”
  • “Gods forbid they glimpse me near the high seat of the Arryns, they might think that I mean to sit in it. Cheeks born so low as mine must never aspire to such lofty cushions.”
  • “In the game of thrones even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you’ve planned for them. Mark that well, Alayne. It’s a lesson that Cersei Lannister still has yet to learn.”
  • “His sister Alys wed Ser Elys Waynwood, uncle to the present Lady Waynwood.” He made a wry face. “Elys and Alys. Isn’t that precious?”

… and loads more, really. I could copy/paste every chapter that includes him. He’s one of the most entertaining and intriguing characters I’ve ever encountered, and Aidan was THE perfect casting choice.

the favs from the show (some of these were taken from the books, so I did not include them above): again, a non-exhaustive list

  • “Ah the Starks. Quick tempers, slow minds.”
  • “Distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve done since you climbed off your horse.”
  • “When I was a child, I was very small. And I come from a little spit of land called the Fingers, so you see… it’s an exceedingly clever nickname.”
  • “Tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be having your friend?”
  • “All desires are valid to a man with a full purse.”
  • “Brothels make a much better investment than ships, I found. Whores rarely sink.”
  • “I’ll never win. Not that way. That’s their game. Their rules. I’m not going to fight them. I’m going to fuck them. That’s what I know. That’s what I am.”
  • “I did warn you not to trust me.”
  • “We have enough wheat for a 5-year winter. If it lasts any longer… we’ll have fewer peasants.”
  • “I hate bad investments. They haunt me.”
  • “I understand that you don’t like me, and, while that saddens me greatly, I do not come here today seeking your affection.”
  • “If war were arithmetic, the mathematicians would rule the world.”
  • “Call me Petyr.”
  • “Strange, isn’t it. It doesn’t matter what we want, once we get it, then we want something else.”
  • “Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb but they refuse. They cling to the realm. Or the gods. Or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.”
  • “Money buys a man’s silence for a time. A bolt in the heart buys it forever.”
  • “A man with no motive is a man no one suspects. Always keep your foes confused. If they don’t know who you are or what you want, they can’t know what you plan to do next.”
  • “I don’t want friends like me.”
  • “Know your strengths, use them wisely, and one man can be worth ten thousand.”
  • “A lot can happen between now and never.”
  • “Given the opportunity, what do we do to those who’ve hurt the ones we love? In a better world, one where love could overcome strength and duty, you might have been my child. But we don’t live in that world.“
  • “I have only loved one woman, only one, my entire life… Your sister.”
  • “Her suicide shattered us all.”
  • “People die at their dinner tables. They die in their beds. They die squatting over their chamber pots. Everybody dies sooner or later. Don’t worry about your death. Worry about your life. Take charge of your life for as long as it lasts.”
  • “You’ve been running all your life. Terrible things happen to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a darkened room mourning their fates. You’ve been a bystander to tragedy from the day they executed your father. Stop being a bystander, do you hear me? Stop running. There’s no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them.”
  • “I know how hard it is to live with people you despise, believe me.”
  • “Even the most dangerous men can be outmaneuvered. And you’ve learned to maneuver from the very best. You’ll be strong without me.”
  • “We both peddle fantasies, Brother Lancel. Mine just happen to be entertaining.”
  • “One’s choice of companion is a curious thing.“ 
  • “You, my love, are the future of House Stark.”
  • “Everyone is your enemy. Everyone is your friend.”
  • “Not even a thank you? If it weren’t for me, you’d have been slaughtered on that battlefield.”

and last but not least, his last words:

  • “I loved you more than anyone. Sansa.”

william shakespeare’s son confronted his father one day to talk about something that had been on his mind for a while.
“dad,” the son began, “i need to tell you something.”
“go ahead,” william shakespeare replied.
“i - i don’t want to be a playwright. i want to be a mathematician.”
“but son!” his father exclaimed, “you were going to be a great playwright, and follow in my footsteps!”
“i’m sorry dad,” the son said solemnly, “but i write sines, not tragedies.”

anonymous asked:

fun fact! crickets chirp faster the hotter the ambient temperature is outside. plus, you can calculate the temperature by counting how many times a cricket chirps in 14 seconds and adding 40 (for fahrenheit).

Huh, I’ve never heard that before! :O I figured they chirp faster when it’s hotter, but I never knew about the temperature thing lol! That’s pretty cool! 

Love Is... (Peter Parker)

Originally posted by septodragon

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warning: None
Summary: The Reader recieves a balloon and letter from a secret admirer on Valentine’s day at school due to the annual fundraiser only to find out the letter is from her best friend
Author: Dizzy
A/N: A lovely little Valentine’s day fic about the always cute Peter Parker.

Masterlist Request a Prompt

Y/n sighed as she chewed on the end of her pen, surrounded by red and pink, chatter and the silly cards that were held in the hands of her classmates. Y/n hated Valentine’s day.

It wasn’t that Y/n hated the holiday because she never celebrated it with a special someone, it was that she hated everyone’s overwhelming desire to celebrate a holiday designed to increase card sales.

“Earth to Y/n.” Peter said with a laugh, waving a hand in front of Y/n’s face.

“What is it, Peter? You finally gonna talk to Liz for once?” Y/n glanced over at the boy seated next to her. “Ya know, like you say you will every Valentine’s day?”

It wasn’t just that Y/n was annoyed by the concept of Valentine’s day, but the fact that every year, Peter Parker, the boy she had been in love with since the sixth grade, always claimed he would ask out the girl he had been lusting over for just as long as Y/n had loved him.

“Pfft. What? Me, talking to Liz? Nah, not this year.” Peter replied, leaning back in his chair. “No, this year, this year I’m gonna do something great for the person I really like.”

“What person?” Y/n turned to look into Peter’s eyes.

“I’m not telling.” Peter stated firmly. “You’d ruin my surprise.”

Y/n gasped dramatically and threw a hand onto her chest.

“Me? Ruin a surprise? Oh, I would never.”

“Oh, right, like you didn’t ruin Aunt May’s surprise party for me.”

“It’s not my fault you asked if she was throwing a party for you!”

Peter rolled his eyes as a smile stretched across his face and he argued. “You weren’t supposed to answer!”

“Well, sorry of you’re my best friend who I tell everything to!”

As Peter opened his mouth to argue with the girl, the classroom door opened and a student walked in happily, a balloon and card in hand.

“Special delivery for Y/n L/n!” They chirped as they walked towards her. “It’s really cute and from a special someone.”

Y/n took the balloon and card cautiously, muttering a thank you as she glanced at Peter, who waggled his eyebrows at her.

“What does the card say?” Peter asked.

Y/n gave him a look. “Calm your tits, Parker, I haven’t opened it yet.”

Y/n opened the card, her hands shaking as she glanced over at Peter, a nervous expression on her face. Y/n was embarrassed beyond belief because not only did she get something from a “special someone”, but she also didn’t even know she had one.

Dear Y/n,

I love you like kings love queens
Like a gay geneticist loves designer genes [jeans]
I need you like New Orleans needs a drought
Like Hitler’s father needed to learn to pull out
And I want you, yeah
Like a lawyer-slash-mathematician wants some kind of proof
And I want you, yeah
Like JFK wanted
A car with a roof

Because love is taking that dive
Then getting really comfortable and peeing in the pool
And love is a real-life porn
Minus all the stuff that makes porn cool

And love is a homeless guy, searching for treasure in the middle of the rain and
Finding a bag of gold coins and slowly finding out they’re all filled with chocolate and
Even though he’s heart broken, he can’t complain cause he was hungry in the first place.


You know who.” Y/n laughed as she read the note. “First, I love whoever wrote this cause they quoted my favorite comedian and second, I wish they wouldn’t be such a pussy ass bitch and tell me who they are.”

“Um, Y/n?”

“Yeah, Peter?”

“I’m the pussy ass bitch you’re talking about.”

“Petey, you have to be joking.” Y/n said, but when Peter’s face didn’t change from red to it’s normal hue, Y/n knew it was true. “Oh, shit, you’re not.”

“It’s cool if you don’t like me too, I mean, why would you-”

Y/n cut Peter off by throwing her arms around his neck and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too, you dumbass.”


“Hell yeah, I love you like Dora loves Maps.”

“Like a Pope’s toilet loves holy craps?” Peter chuckled.

“Of course.”

“Thank god, cause I love you too.”

Y/n smiled widely, hugging Peter tight as she realized why everyone loved Valentine’s day.

stats 101 | jikook edition

I really didn’t want to do my actual math assignments (as always), but then I stumbled across a little problem while watching Kookmin World’s newest video. So like I believe every aspiring mathematician/statistician should, I decided use the power of numbers to solve some interesting questions in my spare time (well…my profs do great things like figuring out who’s cheating on their midterms simply by calculating probability but…I’m not there yet LOL). Thus, I decided to calculate the probability of Jimin and Jungkook’s fans appearing next to each three times in a row, just by chance. 

DISCLAIMER: I haven’t done counting problems in awhile so there may be a mistake. I tried to recheck with my notes but I could still be wrong with some of my intuition because I did this purely off the top of my head. If there is please let me know and I shall fix it promptly, but this is merely my way of trying to show how cool math is… Also, I’m not reeeaaallly doing this as a shipper, cause really it doesn’t mean anything that their fans are next to each other (except perhaps maybe there was some instinctive sense as to why they should be together), I just wanted to know the numbers, and perhaps you would too :)

also, please take a look at this it cooler than you think and may help you out with your homework in the future ;)

So. Hurr we go. 

SCENARIO 1: Fans are placed in a circle

So here, we want to know what the probability is that Jimin’s fan is next to Jungkook within this circle, completely by chance.  

Since this is a circle, and circles are pains in the asses to calculate permutation for, there are many different approaches. What I personally did was I defined a fixed point in the rearrangement:

where each circle represents a fan and the blue dot is a fan whose position never changes (because if it did I’d have to divide by two or something fancy and that’s too complicated).

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love the Elsewhere University comic. It's so awesomely surreal and cool. And now I want to know every little detail. But mostly, what other opinions so the fae have about other majors? Math majors? Political Science? Education? What about law? I'm so intrigued by this!!

The Fae don’t really care about the majors that don’t directly involve them in some way, although mathematicians have over the years acquired a reputation as excellent tellers of unguessable riddles, and obviously law gives you an edge in striking deals and getting out of (or into) trouble. And I imagine they respect education majors, at least to some extent - bearers and spreaders of wisdom, you know? That could in the right light have some bard-like roots.

I overheard one of the older ladies (in her 50s) at my flamenco lessons today say that “women have forgotten how to dance sensually, All this feminism, look what it’s done!” (she was being very serious)

I fought back the urge to tell her that gurl, being a feminist doesn’t mean that you can’t like pretty dresses, or love your makeup, or like how you look in a tight dress, or know how to shake that arse or jiggle those boobies, or dance sensually to the music.

Feminism doesn’t make women less feminine, or less sensual, or less anything. It’s about equality of the sexes, about paying women what they deserved to get paid, about letting them dress how they want to dress without judging whether their skirt is too long or too short, without slut shaming them or calling them prudes. Feminism is about telling men they’re no less of a man if it’s their wife who brings home the bacon, that they can be dancers and not be afraid of being called a “sissy”, that colours aren’t gender-coded, that a woman doesn’t have to dream of being a princess, that she can be a mathematician, a scientist, a lawyer, a judge… 

It’s not about women wanting or pretending to be men, or becoming more masculine. It’s about letting everyone be who they want to be, freely.

Manga and Mathematics: Math Girls

“Reading a lot” should be my middle name. If you thought I am reading just books, you are wrong. I also love reading manga and recently I have found a great one with lots and lots of mathematics in it.

If you have never heard of manga, they are comics created (mostly) in Japan conforming to a style developed in Japan in the late 19th century. As far as I know they are always written in Japanese (I might be wrong on this) and it might take a while until they are fully translated into English. In Japan, people of all ages read manga; it’s not something just for children. The medium includes works in a broad range of genres: action-adventure, business and commerce, comedy, detective, historical drama, horror, mystery, romance, science fiction and fantasy, sports and games, suspense, among others.

I have been reading manga for a couple of years and I was always looking for one which had mathematics in it. To my surprise I found one, which I can say is just about mathematics. I was quite excited so see so much mathematics on just on page. The manga is full with lots of mathematics and it was a pleasure reading it.

The managa is called Sūgaku gāru (or Suugaku Girl or Math Girls) by Hiroshi Yuki. The story takes place in a high school and there are just 3 main characters (the narrator, Miruka and Tetra). They are all dedicated to mathematics in strange ways. Most of the events in the book happen during school or tutor time. They help each other understand different topics in mathematics from prime numbers to series. Even though the book seems like a novel, 95% of the content is about finding and understanding solutions to complex math problems. Some people considered it a form of textbook and even though I agree with this sometimes, it still feels like a novel to me.

I literally devoured it in a couple of days and I just wanted to read more and more. The explanations are very easy to understand and the passion of the characters makes you excited and curious. It really portrays nicely 3 types of mathematicians: the strange – genius one (Miruka), the patient-teacher (the narrator) and the curious-learner (Tetra). It is great to see the process of explaining a concept and then understanding the concept. Moreover, they are all so passionate and supportive of each other and their studies. Besides all this, seeing them defend mathematics and its beauty if front of others is quite inspirational. Therefore, you can imagine why I loved this book so much.

After I finished it, I did a little bit of research and found out that this is actually the first book in a series of math-themed young adult novels of the same name. The second book is called Math Girls: Fermat’s Last Theorem and the third one is called Math Girls: Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems and the last one, Math Girls: Random Selection Algorithms. I will definitely read these ones when I find them translated into English.

If you are not a fan of manga, or just generally find this annoying to read or something, there is also a novel version of this. It has the same name and it is written by the same author, but it is adapted to the Western style. I haven’t read it, but people say it is basically the same thing without the cartoons, therefore with more descriptions