6.30.10

As I was playing solitaire the other day, I began to wonder how much total time I've spent playing this terribly addicting, yet strangely satisfying game of cards. Of course, those of you who know me well enough (my sympathies) know that this type of musing cannot simply sit in my mind by itself: it yearns for just the right mathematical equation, data, and/ or fantastic assumption to make it come to life - kind of like Frankenstein's monster mixed with outlandish greek symbols.

So I set to work: I've played about 42 games of solitaire since my innocent query; not the best of sample sizes, but it'll do for now. Based on this sample, the average time I spend playing one solitaire game is about 101.57 seconds (with a standard deviation of about 48 seconds). For here, the calculations are easy: my computer reports that I have played a grand total of 2,577 solitaire games (which, if I say so myself, is rather frightening) and so 2,577 * 101.57 = 261,745.89; the total amount of seconds I've spent playing solitaire.

Now, to find out how many hours and (dare I say it) days I've spent playing, the calculations are also quite easy:

261,745.89/ 60 = 4,362.4315 minutes
4,362.4315/ 60 = 72.7072 hours
72.7072/ 24 = 3.03 days

So, I've spent just over three days of my life playing solitaire - ghastly.

But the fun doesn't stop there: the next natural question is, naturally, how many days have I been living in total? And then, how much time have I spent doing other prominent activities?

The answer to the first question is 8,826, of course, excluding the time I spent playing solitaire in my mother's womb. The answer to the next question was particularly fun, but I did have to make some large assumptions.

The natural follow-up to time spent playing solitaire is time spent on the john (about equally productive, right?). Now, I haven't been recording the amount of time spent during each of my most recent visits to the loo, so here is where I make my first couple of assumptions: let's assume (a rather ironic word given the context, wouldn't you say?) that I have spent about 9 minutes on the can on average looking back across my entire life (my trip this morning lasted about 7 1/2 minutes and I would say that it might have been a little less than typical). Now, let's also assume that I make the epic journey about 3-4 times a week and have done so invariably throughout my life (I can obviously think of extreme cases on both sides, but outliers here, especially given the subject of discussion, will be, most benevolently, ignored). So, with these assumptions I can now flush out my desired calculations (whether the pun was more enjoyable to you than pulling teeth is, of course, left to your discretion):

9 * 3 = 27
9 * 4 = 36 --> [27, 36]
This is the average interval of time (in minutes) per week I spend on the john
[27, 36]/ 7 = [3.857, 5.143]
This is the average interval (in minutes) per day
[3.857, 5.143] * 8,826 = [34,041.882, 45,392.118]
So, this is the interval in which I expect to find the total amount of minutes spent on the john during my entire life
[34,041.882, 45,392.118]/ 60 = [567.365, 756.54]
This is the amount in hours
[567.365, 756.54]/ 24 = [23.64, 31.52]
This is the amount of days

So, in short, I have spent somewhere between 23 and 31 entire days of my life communing with our dear porcelain friend. Only about 0.3% of my life, but still, that's almost a month! Good thing I get so much thinking done in there.

And I didn't just stop there, oh no, but for the next couple of estimates I will take care not to subject you to the same mathematical mumbo-jumbo: I will simply give them to you most charitably, like a free lunch from an invisible hand.

- Estimated days spent sleeping: 2,537 (which is about 85 months or about 7 years)
- Estimated days spent eating: 276
- Estimated days spent in school: 1,078 (which is about 36 months or about 3 years)
- Estimated days spent in a vehicle: 275
- Estimated days spent eating dub-i-dubs: certainly not enough

Cheers.

6.26.10

Updates first:

Kampala continues to be incredible, my professor, Mike Findley, was here this past week and we were super busy: I loved it. We talked a lot about the experiment logistics, metrics, and the World Cup. In addition to a ton of work (ton = some = we at least thought about it) we took a tour of the Kabaka's Palace (the capital of the Buganda Tribe), went to a couple open markets (I got a Manchester United shirt and a Uganda national jersey at the Nakawa one), swimming at the Kabira Country Club (awesome pool - we decided that that is were the World Bank gets all its poverty reduction done), dined at the Lawns (amazing brownies with ice-cream), watched the US-Algeria game at a packed Irish pub called Bubbles (amazing game; love Landon), and did a ton of other fun stuff; the week FLEW by - it was awesome [labeled pictures figure below].

Kabaka's Palace

Entrance to the torture chamber used during the Amin regime
Torture chambers
Nakawa market
Kabira Country Club
Bubbles O'Leary's pub

And now, philosophy:

Journal excerpt (6.26.10):

I am, most admittedly, bias in my international experiences. I see differences in environment, in interaction, in language, but I think I must be rather strange because I seem to see them in a strange way when compared to my associates. I have spent much time with fellow countrymen as we have explored, worked in, and experienced new places and I begin to ask myself: is my attitude unrealistic? A frail hope or belief that misses the solid surrounding truths? Am I so out of touch or, perhaps, non-confrontational that I shy away from the most normal methods of international interaction? Countless I have heard the laugh at subtle differences; countless I have heard personal attributes prescribed as national tendencies and defects; countless I have heard the innocent, dangerously non-malicious justification of stereotypes; countless I have heard the word "they" in the context of a quasi-interested zoo-goer - interested so as to find a power over nervousness, rarely so as to understand or, dare I say it, relate. And I have been no exception to the counts in times past, and this fact, and the feelings therein associated, have, I think, been the catalysts to my current adoption and perpetuation of bias.

Nervousness and fear in a new environment are quite understandable; I would even say they are a natural part of our journey beyond that with which we are familiar. I felt a terrible nervousness upon arriving here, one that lasted some days as we got settled and started discussing, revising, and enacting work with which I was somewhat unfamiliar. But this nervousness gradually turned to a slight overconfidence as I began to feel a sense of purpose and control - I began to feel more powerful.

This led, eventually, to a state of general annoyance and social exhaustion - I was tired and irritable as I saw the illusions of my social control slip away and as I began to wholly feel like an outsider. But this stage too gave way to another; to me, the most wonderful: again, most gradually and more so this time than in previous transitions, I began to feel and see things differently. My control did not return and it would have been a fool's errand to have chased after it; continually perpetuating the stage of annoyance and isolation - something else replaced it - something I hope with all my heart to continue building and experiencing: love. And I find that the more I let go of the remnants and lingering whims of my nervousness, annoyance, and cravings for control, the more I find peace and edification in the loving experiences with which I am daily presented and in which I am divinely invited to participate. This is a beautiful place, one that still makes me a little nervous, but one that bears its delicious fruit in its actions - in its faith.

Now, the people in my environment never changed. That is, they did not produce the stages through which I passed: it was my own perception. And, to return to my original quandary, am I unrealistically bias in my views that to identify cross-cultural interactions by the differences on the surface rather than the inherent and divinely instituted relationships of the human soul is unedifying and unfair? Perhaps it is unrealistic and even less than possible, but I don't think I would want to change a thing. You see, at each stage I could have explained my emotions by identifying the frequent differences of my new circumstances, but I tried desperately, and perhaps a bit extremely, not to. I went to this extreme because I have seen what lies at the other one: misunderstanding, intolerance, loud laughter, stereotypes, discrimination, and pride.

In the end, I am different, but I have found that those differences lie almost exclusively upon the surface of my personality; they melt away with friendship and allow me a unique opportunity to make them. I could harden the surface - freeze upon it a layer of ice so as to permanently signal my supposed superiority, but why? To what end? I think I would rather be a strange friend than a polite stranger.

6.21.10

Sandwich.

6.13.10

What is fear? So many scriptural and secular references have described it, but what is it really? Is it a power unto itself, a temptation, the opposite of the spiritual promptings of the Holy Ghost? No, I think not: fear, perhaps like faith, is an axis of agency. And perhaps, as it is actually said to be the opposite of faith, it is the desire and choice not to act. For it is written that there are both things acting and things being acted upon (see 2 Nephi 2: 14), and so perhaps this distinction is best defined by the words here mentioned: faith being manifest in the positive actions of people desiring to act--and actually, to briefly amend, perhaps it is indeed the most base desire of our heart that best denotes the dichotomy between fear and faith--things acting and things being acted upon. This would place faith as the desire to act, to improve, to define life by what we put into it, by the service we render, by the selfless attitude we perpetuate; to work because we want to and, in so doing, become a creature continuously moving forward, not in hope of a reward, but based on an unconditional motivation that is the understanding, achieving, and becoming of truth.

And this would place fear at the opposite of the spectrum: as the desire not to act, to only receive, to define life by what we get out of it, by the status quo we fight to protect, by the comfort and control we maintain; to work only with the hope of retirement and, by so doing, become a creature obsessed with itself, but simultaneously hating itself for its ability to act and thereby to disrupt its fleeting hold on a stationary existence. In fact, at this point we would rather not exist at all if it meant that we would no more have to burden ourselves with actions and dreaded responsibility. This is the meaning of fear: the soul-defining desire to ease into nonexistence, to decay, to pine away, to eternally be acted upon.

Even righteous actions, if done because of fear, can impede our development. For they will not last long: as fear is a desire, it will eventually push its bearer toward actions that are best suited for the corrupted spread of its disease. Slowly, righteous actions will lose their meanings, they will not make sense, they will start to feel fruitless and unnatural, and they will soon be lost in the dangerously rational structure of a decision-making mechanism ruled by inaction. And this is a desire and mentality of which we are all capable; one that we are constantly tempted to adopt. Even the Lord himself was faced with the human possibility of fear, especially when faced with the choice of an action that would cause Him incredible pain. But, as in everything, He showed us the perfect example of faith: His desire, no matter the terrible anticipation of the unearthly pain with which He was faced, was proved to be of an unshakable faith. Therefore, his choice was the natural exemplification of who He was and is: He chose the ultimate action instead of the ultimate inaction.

So we, I believe, can choose to be--this is the mighty change of heart described so often in scripture--this is the conversion that is so frequently emphasized--this is the essence of repentance and the covenant steps of the Gospel--the literal transformation of desire from fear to faith. And how do we accomplish it? I think we start with the desire to believe, the desire to act, the willingness to internalize the Lord's will (see Alma 32: 27). And, as is taught, this desire will begin to work in us as we nurture it, as we allow it to grow--always through action, through a complete willingness, through a pure desire (see Alma 32: 28-30, 37, 41-42). Fear can be hard to let go of, because it's easier, more controllable, supposedly more predictable; because not acting seems so much safer. But as our most inner desire changes, so our thoughts and actions change--our fears literally melt away as they are replaced with an eternal purpose. A purpose by which we bear a glorious fruit, one that envies not, that seeks not her own, that suffers long, that thinks of no evil, that does not rejoice in iniquity, but in truth--a purpose if in which we are lost, we can be truly found. A purpose that we not only complete, but, as has been shown us so perfectly, that we come to exemplify: one that we wholly become.

6.10.10

The World Cup starts tomorrow.

This is a picture of a sandwich.

6.7.10

Week four in Kampala and I am loving it. Work is picking up and the people we've met are wonderful. There's the great members of the church, the NGO directors we've contacted, our favorite taxi driver, Alfred, and, of course, Dave and Jim, my fellow economists that work in a little grocery store down the street. We're always raving about Lionel Messi and Barcelona and counting down the seconds until the World Cup (there are about 260,000 left, by the way). We even let my dear friend and co-worker, Lauren Soelberg, enter our realm today, even though she's a Political Science major (I know, I think I'm going soft). Anyway, they are great guys and I love hanging out with them.

So, we take a lot of public transit in Kampala, mostly the mini-buses which are called Matatus (see below) and, as I was riding in one the other day, I thought to myself..."I wonder what the chances are of me riding in this same Matatu again before I leave Kampala." Well, it turns out that my chances are actually pretty good. But first I had to make a couple of assumptions (and buy myself a Coke).

Now, journey with me my friends: let's assume that there are about 500 Matatus operating in Kampala on a given day. Let's also assume that we take about 9 rides a week (which is pretty conservative) and that, in the next two months, no new Matatus enter or leave the assumed set. Now, using the following equation (derived from the birthday paradox), I can figure out my probabilities:

500!/ [500^n * (500 - n)!]

And here they are:
- After only one week, the probability of me riding in the same Matatu is only about 7% (0.0699).
- After two weeks: 27% (0.2663).
- After one month: 72% (0.725).
- After two months: 99.5% (0.9954).

Which is pretty cool. However, given the nature of the equation, I couldn't just stop there (I mean, who would?). Next I wanted to figure out how many Matatu rides I would have to take before the driver and I shared the same birthday.
So, assuming that it's the same set of guys that drive the Matatus everyday (and also maintaining our original identifying assumptions), these are the probabilities given the number of rides:
- For my first Matatu ride, the probability is only about 0.3% (0.00274).
- After the ninth ride (one week): 9% (0.0946).
- After the eighteenth ride (two weeks): 35% (0.3469).
- After the thirty-sixth ride (one month): 83% (0.8322).
- After the fifty-fourth ride (six weeks): 98% (0.9839).
- And, after the seventy-second ride (two months): 99.9% (0.9995).

Which is pretty sweet. Therefore, during my stay in Kampala, I am extremely likely to take the same Matatu twice and also to have the same birthday as one of my Matatu drivers. I was thinking that it might be fun to ask each of the drivers their birthdays over the next couple of weeks, but then I thought that might be going a little too far...*sigh*

Bon voyage!