Life

another little heartbreak in 2020

上个月我们研究所这边搞起了一个募捐活动,让大家给智利一个叫做Batuco的贫民营地(Campamento Batuco) 里的人捐一些旧衣物。我没有衣物,就捐了一些现金。但是其实说来惭愧,我捐款的时候这个营地一无所知。心里想着负责募捐的人很可靠,于是就捐了。今天收到负责人邮件发来的反馈,附带了很多照片。然而,我看到这些照片之后内心却很难受。

Campamento Batuco, 图片来自 https://www.futuro360.com/

看到照片里破破烂烂的木板纸板搭建的小屋,被雨水冲刷的泥泞的地面,还有小孩子们稚嫩的手捧着拿到的书本,他们吃的简朴的煮玉米煮土豆。再想到自己天天在家里有地暖,不担心吃喝,也不担心疫情,还可以点外卖。真心感觉很难过,感觉很心酸。刚刚在查关于这个营地的消息时还发现那里六月份才爆发了比较严重的 COVID-19 疫情。新闻里被采访的人还是乐观地说“虽然我们的很穷,但是我们心很大”。

疫情之前,因为抗议游行暴乱宵禁,智利在世界新闻一直是头条。我虽然不是智利人自然没有什么话语权,但我在这里快三年,我真心理解智利人愤怒的原因。从这个营地就可以瞥见智利极端不平等的社会的一角。我也真的希望,智利能够通过这次修宪改变现在极端的吸血体制吧。

Coding

Julia 101 – 0.1. Least-Square fitting

year = Float64[0]

for i in 1:6
  push!(year, i)
end

year = year .+ 2013
7-element Array{Float64,1}:
 2013.0
 2014.0
 2015.0
 2016.0
 2017.0
 2018.0
 2019.0
year_x = collect(Float64, 2013:1:2020);
h = [2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12];
using Plots
scatter(year_x, h, 
  xlab = "year", ylab = "h-index", 
  xlim = [2012, 2023], ylim = [0,15], framestyle = :box)

scatter!(year_x[3:end], h[3:end])
using LsqFit

@. model(x, p) = p[1] + x*p[2] + x^2.0*p[3]  
fit = curve_fit(model, year_x, h, [2.0, 0.5, -3.0])
LsqFit.LsqFitResult{Array{Float64,1},Array{Float64,1},Array{Float64,2},Array{Int64,1}}([1.1832864618761656e6, -1174.946148708822, 0.2916665972735931], [0.20833284547552466, -0.19642864260822535, -0.017856936203315854, -0.2559520348440856, 0.08928606053814292, 0.017857350641861558, 0.5297618352342397, -0.3750004852190614], [1.0000000000082452 2012.9999999932165 4.05216899997484e6; 1.0000000000082452 2014.0000000073403 4.05619599998367e6; … ; 1.0000000000082452 2018.9999999797847 4.076360999975335e6; 1.0000000000082452 2019.9999999939084 4.08039999999393e6], true, Int64[])
T = typeof(fit)
for (name, typ) in zip(fieldnames(T), T.types)
    println("type of the fieldname name istyp")
end
type of the fieldname param is Array{Float64,1}
type of the fieldname resid is Array{Float64,1}
type of the fieldname jacobian is Array{Float64,2}
type of the fieldname converged is Bool
type of the fieldname wt is Array{Int64,1}
?fit
search: fit LsqFit filter filter! curve_fit first firstindex isfinite popfirst!

No documentation found.

fit is of type LsqFit.LsqFitResult{Array{Float64,1},Array{Float64,1},Array{Float64,2},Array{Int64,1}}.

Summary

struct LsqFit.LsqFitResult{Array{Float64,1},Array{Float64,1},Array{Float64,2},Array{Int64,1}} <: Any

Fields

param     :: Array{Float64,1}
resid     :: Array{Float64,1}
jacobian  :: Array{Float64,2}
converged :: Bool
wt        :: Array{Int64,1}
fitted_p = fit.param
3-element Array{Float64,1}:
     1.1832864618761656e6
 -1174.946148708822
     0.2916665972735931
new_x = collect(Float64, 2013:1:2025)
new_y = fitted_p[1] .+ new_x.*fitted_p[2] .+ (new_x.^2).*fitted_p[3] 
plot!(new_x, new_y, ylim = [0,30], seriestype =:line)
fit.resid
8-element Array{Float64,1}:
  0.20833284547552466
 -0.19642864260822535
 -0.017856936203315854
 -0.2559520348440856
  0.08928606053814292
  0.017857350641861558
  0.5297618352342397
 -0.3750004852190614
fit.jacobian
8×3 Array{Float64,2}:
 1.0  2013.0  4.05217e6
 1.0  2014.0  4.0562e6
 1.0  2015.0  4.06022e6
 1.0  2016.0  4.06426e6
 1.0  2017.0  4.06829e6
 1.0  2018.0  4.07232e6
 1.0  2019.0  4.07636e6
 1.0  2020.0  4.0804e6
fit.wt
0-element Array{Int64,1}
fit.converged
true
Astronomy

Were we there?

二月的暖气片上的灰尘,三月阳光下冰面上的水雾,四月的玉兰上的露水,五月蛋糕上最后一支燃烧着的生日蜡烛,六月的潮湿空气里呐喊,七月空荡荡房间内孤独的梦魇。仿佛一年的365天成为了上个世纪的事情。一切文字在信纸上跳跃消散,最后一丝的划痕挣扎了一两下之后被折叠在时间里。藕断,丝也断。没有什么再被连接起来。时间,时间斩去了一切的回溯的希望,把你限制在墒增的厚厚的茧里,如果你不变态羽化,那么只有消亡。偶尔,在梦里,你的声音和他的脸,我们不约而同的哼起曾经共同熟悉的旋律。泪水,似乎早已将我们淹没。

手里捧着那二十多年来丢失的断丝,逐渐意识到,它们才是永恒的,而我们,以及我们之间,转瞬即逝。我们还在那里,那个时间和空间。只是,我们已经不再。

 

The floating dust burned into the wall above the heater in February, the dancing water mist over the thin ice in March, the dew on the magnolia in April, the last burning birthday candle on the cake in May, the growl in the moist air in June, the lonely nightmare in an empty room in July. It seems that 365 days of a year have become a thing from the last century. All the alphabets scattered and dissipated on the surface the paper, and the last trace of scratches was folded in time after struggling for a couple of times in vain. The lotus root is broken, so are the clinging fibers. Nothing is connected anymore. Time, time chopped off all hope of going back, confining you to the thickest cocoon. If you do not grow out of a transformation, then die inside. Occasionally, in a dream, your voice, and his face, we invariably hummed the melody that we used to know.

Holding the broken clinging fibers that have been lost for more than 20 years, I gradually realized that they are eternal. While we, and the connections between us, are just a blink of an eye. We are still there, that time and space. Yet, we are no longer there.

Feeling

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink

There’s a scene in a Netflix show. Every time I watch it, I am wiping my tears and fail to hold feelings that grow ineffably from inside. I am so eager to curl up in the abandoned corner, no matter it’s the mental prison or the acoustic fence built from my heavily occupied playlist. I know. Something devoured the phony me, or perhaps, swollen. And then, the times of my young self, the ever never past sediments of my loneliness, are stirred up above, breaking into happy sore tears.