We arrived in Toronto at about 4:30pm. Our hotel is connected to the terminal, so we quickly dropped our bags off and took a cab to city center. There my mom met up with one of her friends who was also visiting Canada. I hung out with them for a while and then walked about fifteen blocks to see one of my friends who was in Toronto, too. She took me to a great Greek place she had discovered. She gave me a quick rundown about public transport in the city so that the next day I wouldn't have to pay cab fare to see her.
The next day I took the airport bus, which picks up right in front of the hotel, to Kipling subway station. She met me here, having taken the bus from her house. By this point it was pouring rain, so we ducked into the underground and emerged at Queen's Park, right in the heart of the beautiful University of Toronto campus. I brought my camera, but torrents of rain were falling from the sky, so I didn't even attempt to get good photos. Good thing she brought an umbrella—I had only my hoodie. We then walked up Spadina street through Chinatown. She wanted to take me to Kensington Market, where we would grab lunch, but in the rain she missed the turnoff. I had to get back to the hotel in about an hour to meet some cousins, so we darted into a Tim Horton's for donuts and then hopped on a streetcar (instead of walking) back to the subway station.
The system is very efficient. The modes-of-transport interfaces (bus to subway, streetcar to subway etc) are “sterile.” For example, there is no way for pedestrians to access the bus drop-off area at Kipling Station. Bus passengers must exit straight into the station. Thus, you don't have to pay for the subway again if you are continuing on the train. The bus ticket buys access to the subway. The trams run underground into the subway stations, so that is slightly easier to organize. The result is that despite transferring up to two or three times, the cost to go downtown from the outskirts of Toronto is the flat-rate fair of $2.75 one way, as compared to upwards of $50 in a taxi. The system is not the same in other cities, where you have to pay for a bus ticket as well as subway tickets if you want to transfer. No wonder so many people take public transport here; it's fast, cheap, and easy enough for a tourist to figure out.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Role Models
What's the deal with parents complaining that celebrities are bad role models? They complain that the world's most popular rapper has been shot almost ten times, that one of the most talented soul singers of our time sings about and needs rehab, that some Disney channel star posed nude, that the daughter of the Achy-Breaky Heart guy posed on a magazine wearing nothing but bed spreads...
First off, who cares? Second, it's a sign of lazy parenting. A mom should have the courage to tell her daughter that people are messed up, that people make bad decisions, and that the best way to avoid getting into a mess is to always think about a choice before acting. Instead, they expect anyone who has ever been famous to act as perfect angels, because they would rather let the television do the parenting. I don't mean to justify what these people have done; famous people can be really fucking stupid sometimes. It's just that there's nothing bad about a negative role model. I'm a pretty pessimistic person, and even I view these screwed up celebrities as an opportunity to teach a child a lesson.
First off, who cares? Second, it's a sign of lazy parenting. A mom should have the courage to tell her daughter that people are messed up, that people make bad decisions, and that the best way to avoid getting into a mess is to always think about a choice before acting. Instead, they expect anyone who has ever been famous to act as perfect angels, because they would rather let the television do the parenting. I don't mean to justify what these people have done; famous people can be really fucking stupid sometimes. It's just that there's nothing bad about a negative role model. I'm a pretty pessimistic person, and even I view these screwed up celebrities as an opportunity to teach a child a lesson.
From the Air
I am on the plane now, an Embraer 145J. I've always loved the configuration of this aircraft-3 seats across, so that one is both a window and an aisle. That's my seat. It provides for a beautiful asymmetry.
I'm typing this from my brand new Lenovo Thinkpad. I won't bore you with the technical specifications of this laptop, but it is a beast. I've got it dual booting Vista (ick) and Ubuntu. I haven't booted into Windows since the day after the computer arrived in the mail. All my worst fears about Vista were confirmed. Compared to Ubuntu, it's slow and clunky. My printer worked out-of-the-box with Linux, but not Windows, which speaks volumes about the third party operating system's readiness for prime time.
Now the heartland of the midwest passes by slowly and gently under us. Time to finish up Seinfeld Season 2!
I'm typing this from my brand new Lenovo Thinkpad. I won't bore you with the technical specifications of this laptop, but it is a beast. I've got it dual booting Vista (ick) and Ubuntu. I haven't booted into Windows since the day after the computer arrived in the mail. All my worst fears about Vista were confirmed. Compared to Ubuntu, it's slow and clunky. My printer worked out-of-the-box with Linux, but not Windows, which speaks volumes about the third party operating system's readiness for prime time.
Now the heartland of the midwest passes by slowly and gently under us. Time to finish up Seinfeld Season 2!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
My Application Story
I have an interesting MIT “story.” It wasn't my first choice school until very, very late in the game.
I first started researching colleges to build my list in August of my senior year. We had done the campus visits—the Eastern seaboard trip to hit the Ivies, the midwest trip to hit the Chicago and St Louis schools. Nothing really stood out to me. Then I did more research on the University of Chicago. Man, they are weird. I liked it a lot; it stood out to me. Plus, I was confident I could get in, so I decided to apply early action.
My dad was not happy about this. Not one bit. He went to MIT for undergrad school and was convinced that it was the only institution I should even consider attending. At that point, there was nothing wrong with MIT. It was just my dad's school, and he was pushing me, so naturally, being a teen, I resisted his influence. He made me promise to apply EA there, too (thankfully both schools have non-binding policies).
I put off the MIT application until the very last minute. Tried to rehash as much of my Chicago essays as possible. But man, did I perfect the UC application. I knew I would get in. I was almost certain that I would get rejected from MIT, and I let my dad know. He got mad at me. “You should have more confidence!” “Well, they should accept more than 13% of their applicants then, thank you very much.”
I got accepted into the University of Chicago early action, and life was set for me. Two days later, I was deferred by MIT—no big deal, wasn't even considering it. I even sent my deposit and housing application to Chicago.
Except then I got into MIT in March. This complicated matters considerably. It was family meeting time, and I realized how brash my decision was. My dad didn't force me to go to MIT, don't get me wrong. He just had me reconsider.
So I did. I compared lots of things, made a checklist. We visited both universities (again). The schools were pretty much tied in terms of campus culture and workload. I want to major in economics on a pre-med track, and the schools are numbers 1 and 2 in the country in terms of their econ departments. So another tie there. In retrospect, I don't know why I was so gung-ho about Chicago. Every quality of that school is duplicated at MIT, from the sense of humor to the academic rigor and prestige. A coinflip would have been a worthy judge. At this point I went to my teachers and counselors, trying to find an unbiased opinion (obviously could not trust my dad). I learned that MIT has an acceptance rate to medical school one and a half times that of Chicago. Looking over the course requirements, it became clear that Chicago is a liberal arts school with a strong science department, while MIT is a science school with a strong liberal arts department. I liked the MIT approach better. And I guess in the end, it's pretty cool that I'm going to the same place as my dad. I have the chance to room in the same dorm, as well. That means a lot to our family. In the end, I'm extremely pleased with my decision, and Chicago was very nice about my rescinding the decision. They even gave me a refund on the deposit.
I guess at this point it may become clear that this is not the typical MIT application story. From what I've read/heard, everyone has been living and breathing it since freshman year of high school. Is it ironic or fitting that I, a legacy admit, wasn't enamored until two months before the response deadline?
I first started researching colleges to build my list in August of my senior year. We had done the campus visits—the Eastern seaboard trip to hit the Ivies, the midwest trip to hit the Chicago and St Louis schools. Nothing really stood out to me. Then I did more research on the University of Chicago. Man, they are weird. I liked it a lot; it stood out to me. Plus, I was confident I could get in, so I decided to apply early action.
My dad was not happy about this. Not one bit. He went to MIT for undergrad school and was convinced that it was the only institution I should even consider attending. At that point, there was nothing wrong with MIT. It was just my dad's school, and he was pushing me, so naturally, being a teen, I resisted his influence. He made me promise to apply EA there, too (thankfully both schools have non-binding policies).
I put off the MIT application until the very last minute. Tried to rehash as much of my Chicago essays as possible. But man, did I perfect the UC application. I knew I would get in. I was almost certain that I would get rejected from MIT, and I let my dad know. He got mad at me. “You should have more confidence!” “Well, they should accept more than 13% of their applicants then, thank you very much.”
I got accepted into the University of Chicago early action, and life was set for me. Two days later, I was deferred by MIT—no big deal, wasn't even considering it. I even sent my deposit and housing application to Chicago.
Except then I got into MIT in March. This complicated matters considerably. It was family meeting time, and I realized how brash my decision was. My dad didn't force me to go to MIT, don't get me wrong. He just had me reconsider.
So I did. I compared lots of things, made a checklist. We visited both universities (again). The schools were pretty much tied in terms of campus culture and workload. I want to major in economics on a pre-med track, and the schools are numbers 1 and 2 in the country in terms of their econ departments. So another tie there. In retrospect, I don't know why I was so gung-ho about Chicago. Every quality of that school is duplicated at MIT, from the sense of humor to the academic rigor and prestige. A coinflip would have been a worthy judge. At this point I went to my teachers and counselors, trying to find an unbiased opinion (obviously could not trust my dad). I learned that MIT has an acceptance rate to medical school one and a half times that of Chicago. Looking over the course requirements, it became clear that Chicago is a liberal arts school with a strong science department, while MIT is a science school with a strong liberal arts department. I liked the MIT approach better. And I guess in the end, it's pretty cool that I'm going to the same place as my dad. I have the chance to room in the same dorm, as well. That means a lot to our family. In the end, I'm extremely pleased with my decision, and Chicago was very nice about my rescinding the decision. They even gave me a refund on the deposit.
I guess at this point it may become clear that this is not the typical MIT application story. From what I've read/heard, everyone has been living and breathing it since freshman year of high school. Is it ironic or fitting that I, a legacy admit, wasn't enamored until two months before the response deadline?
Traveling and the Crazy Obsession
So here I sit in the departure lounge, waiting for my flight to Toronto, Canada for a cousin's wedding. Actually, the wedding is in a podunk little town about an hour and a half out of the big city. We're spending a day and a night in Toronto and then heading for Waterloo. I'm meeting my friend for dinner and a short walk around downtown.
Fortunately, the Travel Gods decided that I did not need to be given a “random search” today. I get pulled aside almost every time we travel. My name's Ahmed Hussain, so I don't blame them, but they should have the balls to at least admit that the searches aren't random-number-generator random. I always get the dreaded quadruple S's written on my boarding card. SSSS. The first time I got it, I was traveling with some friends. Not knowing why I had this anomaly on my boarding pass, we mused as to what the letters could mean as we waited in the long security line. We eventually settled on “super sexy strip search.” Oh boy, that wasn't even the half of it. The first half, at least. The second half was true. I always get taken to that special room. My carry-on bags get tested for bomb residue.
This has happened since I was about 10 years old. When I travel, I specifically wear clothes that are easy to take off and put on.
That being said, I still love to travel. I've had this fascination with airplanes ever since I was little. I can recognize any airplane from any angle. My friends make fun of me for my obsession with liveries. Love those, too. I love the way they change over time, or how the simplest schemes result in the most striking aircraft (looking at you, KLM). I guess it's somewhat crazy, but I can't help it, really. Airplanes are just so cool. And the strangest thing is, I haven't got the slightest interest in military aircraft. Back in elementary school, when it was actually cool to dig planes, everyone had a favorite fighter jet—the Eagle, the Hornet, whatever. In first grade, I thought the Airbus A340 was the coolest thing in the world. I still do, actually. Long and slender, it's the most graceful plane that requires the “heavy” air traffic control identifier. Almost as capacious as the 747, it's the subtle workhorse. I usually don't tell this to people. I could get institutionalized for saying that.
Fortunately, the Travel Gods decided that I did not need to be given a “random search” today. I get pulled aside almost every time we travel. My name's Ahmed Hussain, so I don't blame them, but they should have the balls to at least admit that the searches aren't random-number-generator random. I always get the dreaded quadruple S's written on my boarding card. SSSS. The first time I got it, I was traveling with some friends. Not knowing why I had this anomaly on my boarding pass, we mused as to what the letters could mean as we waited in the long security line. We eventually settled on “super sexy strip search.” Oh boy, that wasn't even the half of it. The first half, at least. The second half was true. I always get taken to that special room. My carry-on bags get tested for bomb residue.
This has happened since I was about 10 years old. When I travel, I specifically wear clothes that are easy to take off and put on.
That being said, I still love to travel. I've had this fascination with airplanes ever since I was little. I can recognize any airplane from any angle. My friends make fun of me for my obsession with liveries. Love those, too. I love the way they change over time, or how the simplest schemes result in the most striking aircraft (looking at you, KLM). I guess it's somewhat crazy, but I can't help it, really. Airplanes are just so cool. And the strangest thing is, I haven't got the slightest interest in military aircraft. Back in elementary school, when it was actually cool to dig planes, everyone had a favorite fighter jet—the Eagle, the Hornet, whatever. In first grade, I thought the Airbus A340 was the coolest thing in the world. I still do, actually. Long and slender, it's the most graceful plane that requires the “heavy” air traffic control identifier. Almost as capacious as the 747, it's the subtle workhorse. I usually don't tell this to people. I could get institutionalized for saying that.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Bluesbomb?
Every Blogspot URL has been taken: ahmed, ahmedh, ahmedmh, ahmedhussain, mrmojorising. These are my ol' standbys. When naming this blog, I even turned to a random string generator for xkcd-esque inspiration. In fact, this blog was very close to being xziz.blogspot.com. Has a nice ring to it.
Then I remembered what I love most in the whole wide world except for the Internet and Anthony Bourdain: the blues! So I tried blueshound (nope), blacknblues (nuh-uh), blackandblues (no). Howlingtheblues was available, but not catchy. Bluesexplosion (any JSBX fans out there?) was taken, and the closest thing is bluesbomb, so here you are. I kind of like how it the Bs bookend and separate the two words.
I play a couple of instruments. I know my way around the blues scales on the piano and harmonica, and I can improvise fairly decently on both. One of my biggest inspirations is a hometown hero of mine named Nuri Nuri. He hosts a radio show here in Houston called the Blues Brunch, which is absolutely fabulous. I don't know how a Palestine Muslim a) obtains an encyclopedic knowledge of the blues; b) gets to Houston in the first place, or c) starts hosting a radio show. I just know that I want to meet this man sometime, because he may be the only person I will ever meet who loves Electric Mud as much as I do. Ever since my dad introduced me to his show, I have been religiously tuning into the stream from my computer every Sunday. I look up every artist on Wikipedia and obtain as much information about them that I can, in the hope of knowing half as much about the blues as that man. Every Sunday, our bandwith usage goes through the roof as I go on a torrent downloading binge for as much of the music I can find.
Perhaps I could work on one of the blues-oriented shows at WMBR? I've been listening from my computer, and none seem to be "true blues;" all have some funk or original rap mixed in. It's not a bad thing, but it's no Nuri Nuri.
Then I remembered what I love most in the whole wide world except for the Internet and Anthony Bourdain: the blues! So I tried blueshound (nope), blacknblues (nuh-uh), blackandblues (no). Howlingtheblues was available, but not catchy. Bluesexplosion (any JSBX fans out there?) was taken, and the closest thing is bluesbomb, so here you are. I kind of like how it the Bs bookend and separate the two words.
I play a couple of instruments. I know my way around the blues scales on the piano and harmonica, and I can improvise fairly decently on both. One of my biggest inspirations is a hometown hero of mine named Nuri Nuri. He hosts a radio show here in Houston called the Blues Brunch, which is absolutely fabulous. I don't know how a Palestine Muslim a) obtains an encyclopedic knowledge of the blues; b) gets to Houston in the first place, or c) starts hosting a radio show. I just know that I want to meet this man sometime, because he may be the only person I will ever meet who loves Electric Mud as much as I do. Ever since my dad introduced me to his show, I have been religiously tuning into the stream from my computer every Sunday. I look up every artist on Wikipedia and obtain as much information about them that I can, in the hope of knowing half as much about the blues as that man. Every Sunday, our bandwith usage goes through the roof as I go on a torrent downloading binge for as much of the music I can find.
Perhaps I could work on one of the blues-oriented shows at WMBR? I've been listening from my computer, and none seem to be "true blues;" all have some funk or original rap mixed in. It's not a bad thing, but it's no Nuri Nuri.
Watershed Moments
Guess I'll get this going by saying that I'm a true citizen of the Internet. I have been for about a year and a half, which is about when I started spending more than an hour on the computer every day. It all started when my best friend Jessie introduced me to reddit. It's an awesome community, similar Digg, but much better and in many ways more democratic. At their cores, both sites are about users finding, submitting, voting, and commenting on interesting articles, stories, or pictures. Reddit, though, has a much cleaner interface, quicker loading times, and no system whereby votes on stories can be bought and sold.
I quickly became addicted and started commenting and submitting stories. My comments always did well, but my stories did not. Thus my karma (relying solely on votes on submissions, they are akin to experience points) remained at a paltry 1. Today, however, I submitted an article about Ford's new 76 mpg diesel car. Six hours later, I logged back into reddit and found the little number next to my name now at an astronomical 13! My story was on the second page of reddit! I could hardly believe it; after a year of trying, I had broken the 1-karma glass ceiling!
For what it's worth, karma points aren't. They're totally useless. They don't matter. But it feels so good.
Jessie has 140 karma. I never was the popular one : (
Also, today I paid my first bill for my MIT education. It was truly a family event. Everyone gathered around our kitchen table, watching as I set up a payment account on my brand-new Thinkpad (more on that later!). My dad then sprinted to his computer, ready to read the activation email and follow its instructions for paying. My mom, sister, and grandparents migrated to my dad's study after he called us in to watch him give the first of many payments.
Time for the sappy tie-in: I remember the day Jessie told me about reddit. My English teacher passed back a personal essay. The grade was an A, and on top, she wrote, "This would be good to expand for a college application." And that was the first time I had thought about the application process.
So, first bill, first karma point. It was too nauseatingly fitting. Then I saw the post about the application process for becoming an admissions blogger. The omens were there, so here we are, my shiny new blog.
I quickly became addicted and started commenting and submitting stories. My comments always did well, but my stories did not. Thus my karma (relying solely on votes on submissions, they are akin to experience points) remained at a paltry 1. Today, however, I submitted an article about Ford's new 76 mpg diesel car. Six hours later, I logged back into reddit and found the little number next to my name now at an astronomical 13! My story was on the second page of reddit! I could hardly believe it; after a year of trying, I had broken the 1-karma glass ceiling!
For what it's worth, karma points aren't. They're totally useless. They don't matter. But it feels so good.
Jessie has 140 karma. I never was the popular one : (
Also, today I paid my first bill for my MIT education. It was truly a family event. Everyone gathered around our kitchen table, watching as I set up a payment account on my brand-new Thinkpad (more on that later!). My dad then sprinted to his computer, ready to read the activation email and follow its instructions for paying. My mom, sister, and grandparents migrated to my dad's study after he called us in to watch him give the first of many payments.
Time for the sappy tie-in: I remember the day Jessie told me about reddit. My English teacher passed back a personal essay. The grade was an A, and on top, she wrote, "This would be good to expand for a college application." And that was the first time I had thought about the application process.
So, first bill, first karma point. It was too nauseatingly fitting. Then I saw the post about the application process for becoming an admissions blogger. The omens were there, so here we are, my shiny new blog.
Welcome, MIT Blogger Selection Committee!
I have kept blogs in the past, but haven't maintained them for any extended periods of time. Plus the only readers were my close friends, so it made it all a bit pointless. It's difficult to be motivated by 7 page views.
But this is something new, and I'm very excited about it. I have a lot to reflect on, and I hope to update this blog at least every other day until (and past) the deadline with fresh content to show that I can keep this going. And I'm sure that with such a radical change--new city, new school, new way of schooling--my potential MIT Admissions blog will not go stale.
But this is something new, and I'm very excited about it. I have a lot to reflect on, and I hope to update this blog at least every other day until (and past) the deadline with fresh content to show that I can keep this going. And I'm sure that with such a radical change--new city, new school, new way of schooling--my potential MIT Admissions blog will not go stale.
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