Some Writing!

http://blog.wolfram.com/2007/05/the_mathematica_behind_televis.html

In my previous post, I linked to Mathworld because it's awesome. Well, I'm linking it again because it's awesome, AND has ties to the television series NUMB3RS, which is totally hoorays!

Also, I thought I would post this snippet from my collection of "smutty Math stories" that I write from time to time. This one is old, but I wuvs it dearly:

Short fiction: Models (Incomplete)

Oh, you don't need any help now, do you?, he asks mockingly. He's leaning low by my side; his face is close to mine, gazing across to the quickly scrawled initial value problem. I finger the corner of the paper, thinking distractedly. I can feel his warmth on my skin. He's closer than I thought, so I don't turn my head to reply.

I've got it, I tell him dismissingly, I've got it... In nervous habit, I press my lower lip to my teeth, biting my lip.

We've been here at least two hours, exchanging questions and explanations and waxing philosophical with our esoteric dialogue. We're indulging in our two greatest pleasures at the same time, and as an extra treat, I'm nibbling some dark chocolate.

He rights himself and walks across the kitchen. He's probably stretching himself out and getting snacks; I can hear him yawn.

I hear him open the fridge and see him, in my mind's eye, for I'll not indignify myself by staring. I wonder what he'll get. He'll always find a way to pleasantly surprise me. At least, until I can recognize his pattern.

I used to intimidate people with the way I predicted them. If I wanted a favour done, I wouldn't ask, but tell the person, "You're going to get me a large coffee from the cafeteria if I give you three dollars." Usually, the first reactions are to take offense and rebel against my suggestion, but I wouldn't have said it if I thought it would not work, and, with little effort on my part, she'll bring me my coffee, and my $1.50 change.

Wilbert was the first--and only--person I could not accurately predict. The first favour I told him was in Math class. "You'll bring my exercise book?" He looked at me as though trying to understand my own pattern, and then went off to fetch it, with a slight smile. But when he returned with the book, he did not give it to me. Instead, he stayed standing at my desk, reading the exercise book casually.

"'Exercise fifty-eight," he said, "question one."

He had a soft voice; soothing, really, but simultaneously evocative.

"'Find an acute angle x such that tan of ninety minus x equals cotangent of eight plus one-third x.' Hm, now that looks like a fun question. Let's see. Tan is sine over cos, and cotangent is cos over sin. Cross multiplying gets the sines and cosines on different sides, but if they're moved to one side, it makes a cos double-angle identity, and from there..."

And I just stared at him.

His mind was so analytical; always calculating--but in a haphazard and chaotic way, which still let him appear calm and intense. Finding his patterns would be the most captivating and satisfying task I'd set for myself yet. Not that I'm obsessed.

I have an unfinished model. It works, but it is flawed. It can predict 90% of his actions, but not thought process behind them. I think I can refine this model by the end of the month. It has taken too long already.

...to be finished at some later date.

...later
--Charissa