Lectures: "bounded in a nutshell"

Sunday brunch included salmon. Smoked.

Classes at the math department, I am told, traditionally start a little later than usual. At today's class the instructor told us that he would be away at a conference next week, so there wouldn't be any lectures, but this was just as well, since we started early.

Yesterday I attended one class, so-called "Introduction to Analysis." They call it "introduction" but keep in mind that it is no such thing. Evidence of this arises from a member of the faculty mentioning that they would not be covering Lebesgue integration and other "boring stuff" like that. Anyway, this class meets once a week for a 2.5 hour lecture (?!) plus potentially a seminar for the students. The instructor began by telling us that he would not be writing anything on the board today, "for a superficial reason," he explained, "namely that I cannot raise my right arm." Consequently after fifteen minutes or so he left. Commence students agog wondering mock agawk: "So, what is wrong with your left arm?" and "Can't you dictate it to one of the students to write?"

The real shame was that this meant there was really no reason not to have gone to the other lecture I was interested in, on finite simple groups, which would have overlapped in the last half hour. "I wonder what it's about? Presumably he's not going to prove the classification." -- every single person I've discussed this with has made this joke. Yes, it was the first thing I thought of, too. For the normal people among readers, the classification of finite simple groups is touted as one of the most remarkable intellectual achievements of man by Those In The Know and is currently spread out across some fifteen thousand pages of articles in mathematical journals, written by about four hundred authors. (Highlights include the Feit-Thompson theorem, "every odd-order group is solvable" (255 pages), and the Thompson theorem, "if every subgroup of G generated by two elements is solvable then G is solvable" (475 pages), not to mention the discovery of the Monster "sporadic" simple group, with about 8 * 10⁵⁴ [if I counted right] elements in it.)

This morning, as I mentioned, there was another class, an introduction to algebraic geometry. (It is actually just called "Introduction to Algebra," keeping in line with their spectacularly mistaken nomenclature.) I don't know if I will be continuing to attend these lectures since there are one or two other classes at overlapping time slots which look very interesting. One of these is the one recommended to me (described in the previous post, below) and another is a class on representation theory being taught by my first-year advisor. I haven't actually seen him (he's on vacation at the moment) but conceivably this might be a prudent thing to look into. Anyway, this algebra class went fine, until the very end, when he tried to squeeze in a proof of the Nullstellensatz (a fundamental theorem of algebraic geometry) and stated and proved a lemma which is obviously false. That was somewhat confusing.

Afterward I was wondering what to do. Since I hadn't slept very well (a partial consequence of some racket outside at six o'clock and then continuing interruptions as people wake up and open their doors which then close by themselves with an apocalyptic thud) I was hardly in a mood to sit down and read my textbook (still Šafarevic). I was pacing aimlessly outside when I ran into a colleague and his wife, who very kindly suggested that if I was going for a walk then I should borrow their umbrella since it seemed about to rain. For my part I didn't think it would rain (it was cloudly overhead, but that means nothing in a land without mountains, and it was moist in the air, but it's been stultifyingly humid ever since I got here) so I thanked them and begged off.

But I still thought I should take a walk, and thought maybe they were right and it would rain, so I returned home to pick up my umbrella. (It's about 15 minutes or less between Fine Hall and the Graduate College, depending on the vigor of your pace and the efficiency of your path.) I arrived without incident and was making my way back when I thought that while I was here I should refresh myself and bring to mind an actual proof of the Nullstellensatz. So I returned and did so. Having satisfied my curiosity, I stood, collected my umbrella again, and left.

An instant before that apocalyptic thud I realised I, my thoughts still among the corners of affine spaces, had left my keys on my desk when I was looking through my algebra text.

After some fierce self-flagellation, I took my amateur medieval monk self over to beg the appropriate authorities resolve my predicament. This they promptly did, according to their schedule, anyway, which scaled to about two hours of Me Time, which I spent pacing up and down the halls. This created a burning in my legs which took my mind off my burning shame. I think it may have had a different effect on the few neighbours still in their rooms at the time.

Having cursed life, death, creation, and locksmiths everywhere, I once again set off to Fine Hall. For one thing, I had left my bag there. For another, there was afternoon tea which I hadn't quite missed yet. This tea (and cookie, Oreo brand) was adequate and took my mind off my troubles a little.

By this time, of course -- "Look, Sulu, it's a miracle." The sun came out.

I hope they have more salmon this week.