2010.6.22幼稚一事
比利時歸來報平安電話得知家裡的事
間歇性復發, 少爺病
Awful attitude I had, 其實也只是幼稚的表現
看沈春華lifeshow: 潘越雲/趙詠華/吳奇隆
2010.6.23
聽Disney開心的度過一個早晨. 來個Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious & Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah & A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down. 像個孩子, 就好想沒有什麼令人覺得太困難的了:)
去辦公室印投影片, 傳了幾封甜蜜的簡訊
聽Mark說他interesting result與前天去經費來源單位報告的情形
聽到, oh, I am bored的評語, 事實上再有趣的問題還是會令人抓狂的
讀了Bernard and Jensen (1999), 不知道是心情輕鬆還是paper本身好讀,
三個多小時滿愉快的, 希望多少對明天的presentation有幫助
晚上11點在床上校中午印好就沒再看過的投影片re一遍
跟上次口試前的情況天壤之別, 上次腳底可是發麻了兩整天
2010.6.24 CERES presentation
今天終於忙完這學期的最後一個行程
在海牙的CERES summer school做了一個報告
這是繼口試來第二次在老師面前做正式的presentation
內容基本上是結合他人的paper還有自己的論文
也不知怎的, 至少在前一天不怎麼緊張
原本想就照稿念的, 但是這樣的計畫實在太不可能
畢竟我一上台, 某種程度上就會變的一整個跳tone
很難完全依照計畫執行, 所以好壞的落差就會滿大的
會議前第一次看到老師的另一位博班學姐Julia, 超瘦的
做的比較偏發展經濟的研究, 研究法以計量為主,
跟我知道老師的強項滿不同的, 後來我才知道似乎因為如此
其實大部分的時候他都得獨立作業, 老師僅提供一些opinion
相較之下我的題目與研究法都是老師熟悉的
一方面可以得到較多的指引,
另一方面他們說”你的研究只有你最清楚”這句話就不成立
所以出錯的時候很容易就被噹, 總是讓我心驚膽跳的
今天的audience很小眾,
基本上場中的人數似乎與我的緊張程度沒有太大關係
重點是誰在場的問題!!!
Discussion的時段Peter提出了幾個問題還有comment
更特別點出論文中對於現有文獻之問題的探討與成功的突破給予肯定
我笑著望著Charles, 畢竟idea是他的, 他對我俏皮得眨了一眼
至少在碩論這個階段, 他讓我成為台上完成這個貢獻的擁有人
心虛之外, 還有滿滿的感謝
慢慢的在一次次的報告中, 我越來越喜歡這個主題
也看到更多其延伸的發展突觸, 真的很令人開心
Peter其中一個建議是: deal with a single problem in a paper
And do not try to solve all of them at the same time.
我想一方面是藉由一次改變一個變數讓其影響結果的方式更加清楚之外
另一方面功利的想就是可以增加publication了吧XD
會後老師到我跟Julia前給我們一些針對presentation與題目的意見
Julia真的present得很好, 一整個就是有條不紊!
目前paper已經要收尾了, 不過framing還要在修改
畢竟insignificant的結果總是比較tricky一點
對於我的報告, 老師也給予肯定, 只是我的緊張還是顯而易見
Julia說開始教書幾次後就沒感覺了, 老師說以後也會讓我有教學的機會
報告優點在於: 重點critical point都有清楚的點出來
不過某些部分可以更善用圖表把結果直接闡述,
盡量不要依賴數學式來解釋, 推倒過程可以更精簡
就像每一個專長不同的人聽同一個演講都會catch到不同的點一樣
我的報告中無意點出的幾個stylized facts就讓老師眼睛一亮!
覺得可以做為往後延伸的點, 他很開心的與我分享這些
交談中, 我了解到這半年來的合作畢竟沒有讓他失望
就像在論文口試結束後她所給的評語一樣, 他說
我除了很認真之外, 也學得很快, 這點令他頗為滿意
我想一方面是他真的會讓我壓力很大, 心裡總很怕讓他失望
另一方面我也很認同他所給予的建議, 一次次學著能夠放膽的問他問題
“I like your taste in graphs.” I said, “also the suggestions you gave always makes the graph becoming more informative.”. 因為理解他的要求中怎麼樣可以變得更好, 因此願意遵循他的指引來進步.
這是我的理性, you need to convince me!
This makes me think of a truth:
Respect is something you earn, but not forced on others by the position you hold.
在這個階段, 他給我很多的指引與幫助
然而在接下來的階段, 我必須要慢慢調整自己的角色
成為一個獨立的研究員, 對於自己的專題有自己的想法與計畫
這是我接下來的學習種點
在上禮拜簽下合約之後, 確定只有在九月份才能開始領薪水了
我跟他說我計畫在暑假學習Matlab,
目標在於把碩論中跑的模擬convert到Matlab中
Charles說: I am sure it will be quite some work for you,
But it is a very good investment for the future!!
Session結束一點午餐時段
Classic Dutch lunch, 就算在conference也一樣,
全系列口味多端的三明治, 酸奶或果汁, 還有新鮮水果
完全與台灣或是義大利的conference不能比……
自然的clustering形成時, 使用此一詞還是讓人會心一笑
從Charles與Julia的對話中我才得知, 原來Julia有一個五個月的寶寶
只是從外型看來, 我跟她無論如何我的身材都會比較像是產後復原不算太差可是還是走樣的女生, 她則是那種瘦的有點誇張絕對胖不起來的類型… 不過也會許是照顧寶寶太累了吧, 聽說才剛剛長到半夜現在只醒一次的年紀, 看來之前一定是很磨人的. 進一步聊天才知道, 其實她也不過結婚一年半, 博班在九月份進入第三年. 所以推算下來是開始博班後不久就結婚然後懷孕了呢! 真不敢想像! 但是另一方面好像也開始理解到另一些事情…… 發現在碩士畢業工作有著落之下, 望向未來幾年, 感覺真的可以好好settle down; 相較之下Rhymer就沒法有這樣踏實的感覺, 也難怪跟他聊到未來的事情時他總是格外暴躁, 畢竟不確定因素太多了, 那種蹤滿uncertainty的感覺真的很討厭!!
午餐中另外也得知原來另外三位要成為老師博班的學生中
有兩位會跟我做相類似的題目, 同時也會隸屬於USE之下
以後就有同學可以討論正在鑽研的東西了, this is exciting!
另一位中國來的學生則讓老師滿不放心的, 似乎基於某些原因
老師並未與他面談, 對他的了解也十分有限, 再來有點看著辦的感覺
午餐後的keynote speaker照稿念讓人昏昏欲睡
投影片的內容也實在不太informative, 多虧是普林斯頓來的, 滿令人失望
下午的Session中一個半小時擠了5組報告@@
有一半我勉強follow另一半不懂之外也提不起興趣
在這個very diversify的summer school conference中
我發現某種程度上研究到了某一個深度, 就會圈內人自說自話的情形
畢竟主題很focus了, 所以很難讓任何人產生共鳴
另一個問題是就算在social science的框框下,
很多term在使用上還是可以有滿歧異的言外之意/implication
這讓溝通變的有些困難, 感覺定義非常不明確,
不知道在自然科學中這樣的狀況是否比較少?還是無可避免
相對來說, 經濟反而是社會科學中的異類,
使用較專業的偏量研究, 並致力於數學模型的建立方面都比較像自然科學些
總結而言, 這次的會議得從別人的報告中獲得的很少
但是一次很好的上台報告練習, 也得到一些不錯的feedback
只是為一的意外就是我的好心情馬靴今天讓我腳很痛
大約要怪襪子 >.< 害我指節腳底要起水泡啦 ~.~
2010.6.24 evening
在飯前開信就注定吃到胃痛
事不關己, 當好人
不做不錯, what kind of attitude is that!
2010年6月24日 星期四
2010年6月22日 星期二
[好書分享] Even the stars look lonesome
節選篇章 from book < < Even the stars look lonesome > >
/ Maya Angelou (1997) New York : Random House
< Mother and Freedom >
She stood before me, a dolled-up, pretty yellow woman, seven inches shorter than my six-foot bony frame. Her eyes were soft and her voice was brittle. “You are determined to leave? Your mind’s made up?”
I was seventeen and burning with passionate rebelliousness. I was also her daughter, so whatever in dependent spirit I had inherited had been nurtured by living with her and observing her for the past four years.
“You are leaving my house?”
I collected myself inside myself and answered, “Yes. Yes, I’ve found a room.”
“And you are taking the baby?”
“Yes.”
She gave me a smile, half proud and half pitying.
“All right, you’re a woman. You don’t have a husband, but you’ve got a three-month old baby. I just want you to remember one thing. Form the moment you leave this house, don’t let anybody raise you. Every time you get into a relationship you will have to make concessions, compromises, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But keep in mind Grandmother Henderson in Arkansas and I have given you every law you need to live by. Follow what’s right. You’ve been raised.”
More than forty years have passed since Vivian Baxter liberated me and handed me over to life. During those years I have loved and lost, I have raised my son, set up a few households and walked away from many. Ui have taken life as my mother gave it to me on that strange graduation day all those decades ago.
In the intervening time when I have extended myself beyond my reach and come toppling Humpty-Dumpty-down on my face in full view of a scornful world, I have returned to my mother to be liberated by her one more time. To be reminded by her that although I had to compromise with life, even life had no right to beat me to the ground, to batter my teeth down my throat, to make me knuckle down and call it Uncle. My mother raised me, and then freed me.
And now, after so many eventful years of trials, successful and failures, my attention is drawn to a bedroom adjoining mine where my once feisty mother lies hooked by pale blue wires to an oxygen tank, fighting cancer for her life.
I think of Vivian Baxter, and I remember Frederick Douglass’s mother, enslaved on a plantation eleven miles from her infant son, yet who, after toiling a full day, would walk the distance to look at her child hoping that he would sense a mother’s love, then return to the plantation in time to begin another day of labor. She believed that a mother’s love brought freedom. Many African Americans know that the most moving song created during the centuries of slavery was and remains “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.”
As a mother and a daughter myself, I have chosen certain songs and poems to take to my mother’s room, and there we will laugh and cry together.
I pray I shall have the courage to liberate my mother when the time comes. She would expect that from me.
< Loving Learning >
There are smart alecks who feel comfortable speaking long and loudly about a multiplicity of subjects with no evidence that they know what they are talking about. Then there are those who do know a little about a lot of things and speak judiciously about what they know. And finally, that rarity, the polymath who knows a great deal about everything. I have met only three such persons in my life.
One was the late Isaac Asimov, the second is Dr. Richard Long, Atticus Porfessor at Emory University in Georgia, and the third is Vusumsi Linda Make, a South African freedom fighter and onetime representative of the Pan African Congress, which was a volatile rival of the then conservative African National Congress.
The active mind replete with encyclopedic knowledge has always excited me, and when that brain is in the possession of a man, no matter what he looks like, I have found myself stirred physically and romantically.
When I was young and when frequently to public gathering, I made certain to keep my ears and eyes alert form men of exceptional intelligence. Whenever I spotted such a man, my behavior was so uninhibited that women friends would admonish me in a stage whisper: “Maya, get to know him first.”
John and Grace Killens gave a party for two South African freedom fighters who were at the UN to petition that would body to press fro an end to apartheid. When I heard Vus Make’s soft voice, filtering through its Xhosa accent, I perked up and leaned in toward him. He spole to the entire gathering, but so far as I was concerned, he was talking just to me. He dazzled me with data and fractured me with facts. I sat erect, the very picture of rapt interest. Afterward he escorted me home. Two weeks later he proposed, and four weeks after we met we were honeymooning in London. Six months later I was questioning not only my judgment by my sanity.
True, he possessed every bit of information about the known world, how many square miles were arable in the Sahel, why the French were involved in Algeria’s Black Hand organization, how long King Chaka had occupied the Zulu throne, how long Sisyphus had been pushing the rock, even how long the train has been gone, but he had no idea how to make me happy. The same brain that retained reams of information, stacks of names, figures and dates, could not (I dare not think would not) deduce that I needed bedroom discourse, not boardroom dialogue, that our marriage was suffocating in the thin intellectual air that he breathed comfortable but that could not fill my lungs.
Because he was tender, I thought he was offering tenderness. He had startling intellect and an impressive accumulation of information, but was why a mile form romance.
I left the marriage after it become lifeless, and I’m still thankful for the early passion we both brought to the union. I am even more thankful for the lesson learned. Heed the African saying “Be wary when a naked person offers you his shirt.”
< Poetic Passage >
An old blue describe this eager traveler:
I got keys to the Highway,
Booked down and I’m bound to go
I’m going to leave here running
’cause walkings most too slow.
Oprah’s passage, and stand in wonder at the awful inheritance that she had to either carry with her or jettison:
She was born poor and powerless in a land where
power is money and money is adored.
Born black in a land where might is white
And white is adored.
Born female in a land where decision are masculine
And masculinity controls.
/ Maya Angelou (1997) New York : Random House
< Mother and Freedom >
She stood before me, a dolled-up, pretty yellow woman, seven inches shorter than my six-foot bony frame. Her eyes were soft and her voice was brittle. “You are determined to leave? Your mind’s made up?”
I was seventeen and burning with passionate rebelliousness. I was also her daughter, so whatever in dependent spirit I had inherited had been nurtured by living with her and observing her for the past four years.
“You are leaving my house?”
I collected myself inside myself and answered, “Yes. Yes, I’ve found a room.”
“And you are taking the baby?”
“Yes.”
She gave me a smile, half proud and half pitying.
“All right, you’re a woman. You don’t have a husband, but you’ve got a three-month old baby. I just want you to remember one thing. Form the moment you leave this house, don’t let anybody raise you. Every time you get into a relationship you will have to make concessions, compromises, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But keep in mind Grandmother Henderson in Arkansas and I have given you every law you need to live by. Follow what’s right. You’ve been raised.”
More than forty years have passed since Vivian Baxter liberated me and handed me over to life. During those years I have loved and lost, I have raised my son, set up a few households and walked away from many. Ui have taken life as my mother gave it to me on that strange graduation day all those decades ago.
In the intervening time when I have extended myself beyond my reach and come toppling Humpty-Dumpty-down on my face in full view of a scornful world, I have returned to my mother to be liberated by her one more time. To be reminded by her that although I had to compromise with life, even life had no right to beat me to the ground, to batter my teeth down my throat, to make me knuckle down and call it Uncle. My mother raised me, and then freed me.
And now, after so many eventful years of trials, successful and failures, my attention is drawn to a bedroom adjoining mine where my once feisty mother lies hooked by pale blue wires to an oxygen tank, fighting cancer for her life.
I think of Vivian Baxter, and I remember Frederick Douglass’s mother, enslaved on a plantation eleven miles from her infant son, yet who, after toiling a full day, would walk the distance to look at her child hoping that he would sense a mother’s love, then return to the plantation in time to begin another day of labor. She believed that a mother’s love brought freedom. Many African Americans know that the most moving song created during the centuries of slavery was and remains “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.”
As a mother and a daughter myself, I have chosen certain songs and poems to take to my mother’s room, and there we will laugh and cry together.
I pray I shall have the courage to liberate my mother when the time comes. She would expect that from me.
< Loving Learning >
There are smart alecks who feel comfortable speaking long and loudly about a multiplicity of subjects with no evidence that they know what they are talking about. Then there are those who do know a little about a lot of things and speak judiciously about what they know. And finally, that rarity, the polymath who knows a great deal about everything. I have met only three such persons in my life.
One was the late Isaac Asimov, the second is Dr. Richard Long, Atticus Porfessor at Emory University in Georgia, and the third is Vusumsi Linda Make, a South African freedom fighter and onetime representative of the Pan African Congress, which was a volatile rival of the then conservative African National Congress.
The active mind replete with encyclopedic knowledge has always excited me, and when that brain is in the possession of a man, no matter what he looks like, I have found myself stirred physically and romantically.
When I was young and when frequently to public gathering, I made certain to keep my ears and eyes alert form men of exceptional intelligence. Whenever I spotted such a man, my behavior was so uninhibited that women friends would admonish me in a stage whisper: “Maya, get to know him first.”
John and Grace Killens gave a party for two South African freedom fighters who were at the UN to petition that would body to press fro an end to apartheid. When I heard Vus Make’s soft voice, filtering through its Xhosa accent, I perked up and leaned in toward him. He spole to the entire gathering, but so far as I was concerned, he was talking just to me. He dazzled me with data and fractured me with facts. I sat erect, the very picture of rapt interest. Afterward he escorted me home. Two weeks later he proposed, and four weeks after we met we were honeymooning in London. Six months later I was questioning not only my judgment by my sanity.
True, he possessed every bit of information about the known world, how many square miles were arable in the Sahel, why the French were involved in Algeria’s Black Hand organization, how long King Chaka had occupied the Zulu throne, how long Sisyphus had been pushing the rock, even how long the train has been gone, but he had no idea how to make me happy. The same brain that retained reams of information, stacks of names, figures and dates, could not (I dare not think would not) deduce that I needed bedroom discourse, not boardroom dialogue, that our marriage was suffocating in the thin intellectual air that he breathed comfortable but that could not fill my lungs.
Because he was tender, I thought he was offering tenderness. He had startling intellect and an impressive accumulation of information, but was why a mile form romance.
I left the marriage after it become lifeless, and I’m still thankful for the early passion we both brought to the union. I am even more thankful for the lesson learned. Heed the African saying “Be wary when a naked person offers you his shirt.”
< Poetic Passage >
An old blue describe this eager traveler:
I got keys to the Highway,
Booked down and I’m bound to go
I’m going to leave here running
’cause walkings most too slow.
Oprah’s passage, and stand in wonder at the awful inheritance that she had to either carry with her or jettison:
She was born poor and powerless in a land where
power is money and money is adored.
Born black in a land where might is white
And white is adored.
Born female in a land where decision are masculine
And masculinity controls.
2010年6月11日 星期五
[音樂] Caledonia
mommy最愛聽張儒唱的一首歌
我一打開寄來的連結就笑了
因為開場的片段的舞台步正是每次張儒模仿的樣子
可愛極了.
Caledonia, a name for Scotland by the Romans.
Caledonia不是人名而是一個地名
把這個詞換成台灣時, 聽著聽著會想流淚的.
=================================================
"Caledonia" --CELTIC WOMAN
I don't know if you can see
The changes that have come over me
In these last few days I've been afraid
That I might drift away
I've been telling old stories, singing songs
That make me think about where I've come from
That's the reason why I seem
So far away today
[Chorus:]
Let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia, you're calling me, now I'm going home
But if I should become a stranger
Know that it would make me more than sad
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Now I have moved and I've kept on moving
Proved the points that I needed proving
Lost the friends that I needed losing
Found others on the way
I have kissed the fellas and left them crying
Stolen dreams, yes, there's no denying
I have traveled hard, sometimes with conscience flying
Somewhere with the wind
[Chorus]
Now I'm sitting here before the fire
The empty room, the forest choir
The flames have cooled, don't get any higher
They've withered, now they've gone
But I'm steady thinking, my way is clear
And I know what I will do tomorrow
When hands have shaken, the kisses float
Then I will disappear
[Chorus]
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
我一打開寄來的連結就笑了
因為開場的片段的舞台步正是每次張儒模仿的樣子
可愛極了.
Caledonia, a name for Scotland by the Romans.
Caledonia不是人名而是一個地名
把這個詞換成台灣時, 聽著聽著會想流淚的.
=================================================
"Caledonia" --CELTIC WOMAN
I don't know if you can see
The changes that have come over me
In these last few days I've been afraid
That I might drift away
I've been telling old stories, singing songs
That make me think about where I've come from
That's the reason why I seem
So far away today
[Chorus:]
Let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia, you're calling me, now I'm going home
But if I should become a stranger
Know that it would make me more than sad
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Now I have moved and I've kept on moving
Proved the points that I needed proving
Lost the friends that I needed losing
Found others on the way
I have kissed the fellas and left them crying
Stolen dreams, yes, there's no denying
I have traveled hard, sometimes with conscience flying
Somewhere with the wind
[Chorus]
Now I'm sitting here before the fire
The empty room, the forest choir
The flames have cooled, don't get any higher
They've withered, now they've gone
But I'm steady thinking, my way is clear
And I know what I will do tomorrow
When hands have shaken, the kisses float
Then I will disappear
[Chorus]
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
訂閱：
文章 (Atom)