"adjustments" poems
Pretty for a black girl?
Does that mean I’m pretty at all?
When you look at me
Is it only a pigment you see?
Pretty for a black girl?
What does my skin tone
have to do with the beauty
In me?
Pretty for a black girl?
Why is beauty only found if i'm fair?
Is my complexion the first thing you compare?
Pretty for a black girl?
Is that all I am?
Why must I be less than
the rest of them.
Pretty for a black girl?
Is a compliment that's cruel
I don't care what you say,
you're a part of the kingdom I shall rule.
Pretty for a black girl?
Do you say it to be mean?
Regardless, I remain the queen.
I am aware my coiling curls
or my tangled locks
may frighten you too,
that's good, they weren't created to impress you
Pretty for a black girl?
Don’t hate because my flawless color doesn’t need adjustments,
It is you that must alter tones to achieve approval.
Pretty for a black girl?
Approval is something I do not need,
Compliment as you please,
But my beauty grows quicker than you breath
While you flip your hair and tan your skin,
Watch me wink and grin,
because my confidence is the only style that's in.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
Like an onion, I had layers.
And you peeled me away, one at a time.
One layer off.
You saw my favorites.
The food and drinks I crave for.
The wall paint I wanted for my room.
The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots.
And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat.
One layer off.
You saw my hobbies.
The words I stitched together.
The stars that formed our zodiac sign.
The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball.
And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby.
One layer off.
You saw my dreams.
The plane ticket to Paris.
The thrill of a bungee jump.
The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain.
And the license as a medical physician.
One layer off.
You saw my strengths.
The smile behind the false judgements.
The tears I fought back with pride.
The temperance, confidence, adjustments.
And the self-love I have strongly magnified.
One layer off.
You saw my insecurities.
The missing dimple on my left cheek.
The pimples on my forehead.
The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk.
And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure.
One layer off.
You saw my regrets.
The kisses I could have refused.
The friends I thought were true.
The false assumptions, unmet expectations.
And the trust I gave to the wrong person.
One layer off.
You saw my secrets.
The punches I had to take.
The bruises I covered with my sleeves.
The lies, frustrations, disappointments.
And the brokenness suppressed in my memory.
The last layer, off.
You saw through me.
The anxiousness escalating slowly.
The exposure feeling uneasy.
I felt stripped, explored, unguarded.
And in my nakedness - you had to choose:
To love or to leave me,
For who I really am.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
I am a woman , I should be timid - They say
I am a human , I know no limit - I say,
My existence is not meant for your judgment
Crushing me is not a sign of your triumphant,
My love for you has always been abundant
Why am I the one to make all the adjustments,
Look into my eyes , you'll see a twinkle
Savaging it , is so sinful,
My demand for freedom makes you reluctant
Clothed in societal norms , I have to bear its repercussion,
How are the governing laws so different for Both
What makes you so nervous of my growth,
Why do I have to fight for what is my right
Why do you enjoy my plight,
Being submissive is declared my attire
No one hears what my heart desires,
I am not the one to dance on your note
I am a volcano that erupts on my own,
I don't demand anything extraordinary
All I seek is equality,
Equality to Breathe without fear
Equality to be safe my dear!!!!!
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
But where is the place for the people like us?
The artists, the cutters, the solemn observers.
Every INFJ. Every poisoned mind. Every social awkward with so much depth they just might sink.
The ones who have found their soul but are searching for their mind.
The ones who find their mind by losing their marbles.
The misrepresented and misunderstood.
The hurt and the happy.
With a requirement of so much patience and love that no one is willing or able to give.
The ones who make adjustments.
Who hit rock bottom and manage to get back up on their own.
The ones who fall too fast for something out of reach. They end up quietly crashing and burning.
The ones who are living under layers of paint; on their hearts and in their homes. Whose sweetness and innocence are buried somewhere underneath the paint, barely recognizable.
The ones who were born with a fifty year old soul.
Who have a biologically memorized speech that no one will hear; that no one can hear.
I ask you, where will they go, the people like us?
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
It was some yesterday,
sitting in my high chair
eating salted cucumber slices
a wooden one
three adjustments only
locked in
a bumble bee landed on my arm
the pain raced through my blood and brain
little pin ******
I could not get out
my memory stops there
sitting in my chair.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
The hands that mold us
I am clay
They could smash me into the table
Kneading out the unwanted
Shape me into whatever they thought
Suited
Adding bits, scraping others away
An amorphous thing, waiting to become art
I was almost complete
But the artist thought better
Gently my walls collapsed
Once again I became a handful of earth
Starting over
I was fired once
A low heat
More set, you can’t make
Major changes
But additions, adjustments
The sculptor waits
Pondering carefully
The steps to come
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
Victoria has a secret,
and now it's high time
to get this off her chest:
for what seems an eternity
she's endured them.
Far from supporting or uplifting,
instead they get under her skin.
If she lets them slide on the job,
it only makes for awkward
adjustments later.
Still, they used to adore her,
shoulder-to-shoulder,
now they're a form of torture.
True, they were never an exact fit,
but sometimes they worked wonders.
Now, they make subtle digs at first,
but by day's end
they've always left their mark.
It's said to keep one's friends close
but one's enemies even closer,
and that's no stretch.
Maybe it's time to string 'em up and free the ******
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 2:24 PM UTC
In my perfectly painted room
All my books in order
on my painstakingly clean shelf
Not a speck of dust
Everything is spotless
All of the artwork on my walls
straight and alligned
I look around happily
making teeny little adjustments
just to make sure
it's perfect
And then I realize
everything
is
crooked
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 3:58 PM UTC
Shuffling sidewards
Off he walks
Heavy black trenchcoat
Eyes on stalks
Custom trousers
Eight legs wide
Henry the Half-Crab
Woe betide
Awkward scrabbling
Can't hold keys
Narrow little doorway
Tangled knees
Toilet adjustments
Bean bag chairs
Henry the Half-Crab
No one cares
Can't be an astronaut
Never play guitar
Can't use a keyboard
Won't go far
Hiding from the fishermen
Far from shore
Henry the Half-Crab
Somewhat raw
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
*The cordons of existence are constricting
For the keepers of the dream have let us down,
Who will buy tomorrow if performances are hollow
Causing all the global spectators to frown?
American has been the silk pyjamas
Since ’45 they’ve lead the world’s display
In health and wealth and brandishing the muscle
But in recent times it seems they’ve seen their day.
For since Clinton’s time the National debt has spiralled
They’ve departed brushfire wars in disarray,
Default now looms obscene with disharmony supreme
With Congressional leaders ranting in the fray.
The fiasco of a Government held to ransom
By a faction of extremist’s from the right,
Whilst the greenback in decline won’t change water into wine
The dire threat of fiscal chaos causes fright.
So global confidence is fading in the dollar
And the watchers shake their heads in blank despair,
For the willingness to follow is now a bitter pill to swallow
When the USA’s rock steadiness aint’ there.
So, what’s around the corner for tomorrow?
What aspirants are waiting in the wings?
With a fading USA perhaps it’s China’s turn to play
Though that’s going to mean adjustments made to things.
Of course we’re venturing into territory’s unchartered
And the crystal ball consulted, isn’t clear
But one thing I can assure, if this is what we must endure,
Is that our tomorrows will be something, now, to fear.*
Marshalg
Auckland N.Z.
19 October 2013
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
He touched our hands
But unconcernedly this famous man
And would not look us in the eye
For fear of contact or what might be worse, connection
And we could hardly blame him, for after all
He had each day been singled out for close inspection
By ones like us, in awe of his celebrity
Circled in the shade of his perfection
Hoping for the star-dust sprinkle of acuity
Or sparkling eyes, admission to his inner cult and clan
He wore blue jeans
And scuffed sneakers as a badge of proof
Of his coolness and unconcern
While we his audience with concealed attention
Enviously eyed his hairy confidence, unconsciously
Imitating in each phrase that low convention
Made small adjustments to our store-bought suits and ties
And nodded several times in bright pretension
Made small amendments to our smiles and lies
Flicked photo-phones in pursuit of custom and routine
He gave a speech
A flippant interview, this famous creature
A well tossed phrase, a rounded cliche
Poured forth like brandy in a glass, convivial
Or apple cider-ed vinegar in pewter mugs
A sardonically French-accented phrase habitual
Well humored, heavy lidded with testosterone
At interlocutor women with the pens and pads
Delivered in a low and purring monotone
For all the world as lovers, each to each
He stretched a smile
A modulated shift of teeth and beard
"Genius? Not I" with deprecation
"My shallow intellect, so poor and so ephemeral"
Delivered in a tone that mocked inclusion
While we assumed an elegance, unintentional
A nonchalance that shields the wide charades
Unmoving in our breathless, but conventional
Genuflection to the the notion that pervades
Our addictive appetite now sated. For a while.
He kissed their cheeks
And stroked their arms, with sensuous ambivalence
But absently, as if he cared so little
In his farewell. 'A bientot' he said and 'Au revoir'
And slipped away amongst the moving Milan crowds
Creative and creator, irredeemably a star
With, in his wake the smiling scriveners staring
At his retreating back in Stark excitement
In the middle of the circling and squaring, at
The alpha-wolfic effigy. The Shepherd and his sheep.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
dragged out of bed by the beating of my blood through my eardrums,
then pushed back into the deep corner of my mind by the drumming in my head,
this idea's progressing to a level higher than the mountaintop it was conceived on.
as it draws itself out in the stars; by my fingertips pointed heavenward,
the picture completes itself with the slightest adjustments of my mind,
and produces somewhat of an opus to be driven and dragged out upon.
killed in its final instances, it's death brings renewed life;
rebirth only gets to those who really ever let it mean something important,
and as we give purpose to our purposeless lives, i see what you're awakening to as a con;
a deception not of the hands that were supposed to belong to somebody else, but of my own.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 5:06 AM UTC
A picture of us
sits next to your bathroom sink.
I saw it as I rummaged
through cabinets
looking for toothpaste:
I was sunburned, wearing braces,
and you held a wooden spoon
with the same smile,
crooked nose,
and bushy eyebrows
in the kitchen.
You would come home early,
I would chop
onion and garlic,
garlic and onion,
to Metallica blaring
on your stereo.
We can stir the ***
until our hands blister,
but something added
cannot be removed.
There was the summer
we built model rockets,
the summer you took me to meet
our family in Greece,
and all those summers
we ate Krispy Kreme and fished.
I didn’t become an astronaut,
I didn’t learn Greek,
I threw up over the side of the boat,
but because you came home early
so many days in a row – just for me –
that was my favorite summer.
Today, over the
chop-chop-sizzle
in a broken-in kitchen
we fill a stained cookbook
with dog-ears,
small adjustments.
The same ingredients
never taste the same way twice.
We reclaim a day
out of years lost.
Then that photo
by your sink.
It was a small
Father’s Day gift,
survivor of four moves
and twelve years
of self-discovery,
still reminding you – and me –
of summers spent
breaking in kitchens
and recipes
we’ve been making for years.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
You're turning eighteen.
I know you think it's a big deal, and well, yes, you should celebrate it. But for the most part, things are still the same and change is yet to come. You will wake up still with acne scars. You will wake up still with painful memories carved into your thighs. You will remember that once it wasn't like this and you will have the vague sense that even what you have now will soon no longer be.
Rejoice in the fleeting nature of this moment, with its infinitesimal relevance and infinite beauty. You live here in this ever-changing space; nothing stays the same and you let yourself be carried from day to day. You drift. You watch the landscape of your heart slowly change. Sometimes the sun is creeping over the horizon and the sky is painted in your favorite colors. Sometimes you watch the sky shed tears and apologize for its mistakes. Sometimes you feel filled up with it.
You're turning eighteen. You're scared. And no, you will not wake up entirely different. You will have to keep being alive without knowing what it means. You will still have to be alone. This is your body. This is your soul. This is your brain; these are the demons you've created, monsters you've fed. This is your heart; these are the cracks, these are the bruises which are still tender, still blue.
If you listen closely, it is still in pain, fighting to beat each second. It remembers how you kicked and screamed and threatened to hit it, beat it to a ****** pulp, if it refused to give up on its own, to just stop, to pack its bags and leave behind a sunken, shriveled mess. You remember you were wearing tennis shoes and holding a baseball bat.
Sometimes, inside you, there are thunderstorms no one can tell are brewing. It's just the weather. Tell yourself that. It's something you will have to put up with and make adjustments for every day of your life. So pack an umbrella, buy pink rain boots and a matching polka dot rain coat, if you want. Bandage your heart better, prop it up with stilts, and whisper good things to it sometimes.
Say you've made it this far.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
To read or watch movies, that is the question.
When tired at workday's end, depressed about death's
certainty and my recent surgery
unable to contribute purpose
i.e., figure out whether to bomb Iran
or worship Krshna
and other gods such as Homer gives us in the Iliad
I lack vision therefore I choose television.
Chemistry text, bifurcated plant key
esp. grasses, intro to calculus, physics
unopened time slides by inexorably.
That's the dilemma with no resolution,
drooping rachis, striations on the lemma.
Dying chooses you. You don't choose dying.
So go slow as the day will allow.
The cancer patient's real work is facing
harsh realities and making adjustments:
getting the most out of life, considering
what his children will need after he's gone,
preparing his wife, parents, colleagues and friends,
and completing important professional tasks.
Get the most out of life. That's all God asks.
In Life of Pi the tiger is tiresome, short-sighted
eating everything in sight today, no plan for tomorrow.
The boy, however, is beautiful, reading
the lifeboat manual, building a resting place on the ocean
from oars and life vests, writing about his emotions,
loneliness and observations. The tiger's obsession
with killing keeps our boy alive with fear,
an aphrodisiac, a distraction from any hint
of hopelessness. And then there is the ultimate unknown,
the boy's conversations with Krshna which explain
the innumerable stars and their gentle glow.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
.
Unknown
Unaware
Unrefined
Undefined
Unwanted
Unachieved
Unappreciated
Life is like a cash register, in the sense that change comes from within. The words above/below describe my outlook on myself (past/now). For me to fill the voids described above, certain adjustments had to be made. Notice how the words placed above can easily be changed by removing a specific letter or two.. change begins with “U”
Known
Aware
Refined
Defined
Wanted
Achieved
Appreciated
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
Having these thoughts
we do not stand by
They shoot into consciousness
and simply ride by
They have a life of their own
we are just an observing agent
Living the life that they form.
Oh, i wish we could hold on to each one
like a deck of cards
Sort through the old annoying ones
keep living with just the good and pleasant ones
We could play them with perfect control and authority
Make the best decisions -
Life would follow accordingly.
Sadly it's not at all that simple
as i’m sure we all know
If you think that it’s different
well, we can have a go
Though
It's true! We are more than passive pieces of debris
Even plankton make micro adjustments in the current it inhabits
Unfortunately, this does not necessarily mean there is meaning in the movements
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 5:40 AM UTC
She was wheeled into the maternity ward
With pains minutes apart.
The doctors knew that they would have to start.
An hour later she gave birth to twin boys
You could see in her face she was full of joy.
She had complications that the doctors did not see
And she began hemorrhaging , she started screaming
I don’t care what happens to me , but please
Take care of my babies.
She died that very day, and the twins
Had no family with which to stay.
They became wards of the county, and up for adoption
They would go, but adoption moves very slow.
The doctors found that they had dwarfism syndrome.
Which did not allow them to grow
Which was something the mother did not know.
Growing up with the other children, they was teased
And laughed at because of their size
And that made them open their minds.
They knew that if they wanted to accomplish
Something in their life, and not have anyone ridicule them
They would have to find a friend.
Someone that they could confide in and tell their troubles to.
So this is what they set out to do.
There was a woman there who taught them the true meaning
Of the word HOPE, and with that they learned to cope.
She always instilled in their minds, that they could
Be as big As their dreams, for with HOPE
Anything Can be achieved.
To reach their goal there would not be any hesitation.
For HOPE was fueling their determination.
They received a scholarship to the college of
Business administration. They were filled with joy and exhilaration
Being dwarfs they had a lot of adjustments to be made
But they were strong, they were not afraid.
They both got jobs in an accounting firm
And doing this they did learn, they learned how
To run a business starting from scratch
And there was no turning back.
Now as the business started to grow, they took
Care of the woman that they did know.
For she had became a mother to them
They considered her more than a friend.
She was getting up in her years, and her death brought them tears.
But they always remembered her words
That with HOPE anything can be achieved
And you had to follow your dreams.
They are now nationwide and her spirit is by their side.
And in the office you will see a sign above their desk.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET OURSELVES FREE
(dwarfism- is a growth hormone deficiency)
Also known in the u.s. as the little people
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:08 PM UTC
the world’s so unpredictable
so different, difficult and uncomfortable often
that I wish everyone were like me
just like me, or better still, exactly like me…
you’ll see, this is the only solution, logically –
beyond the shadow of a doubt, as many are inclined to say,
which expression in itself I find so inconvenient …
you see
because you and you and you are not like me
it all becomes such a waste
with all the negotiation and adjustments
and time spent and funds depleted
in persuasion and information campaigns
but just imagine:
if everybody were like me
and I had to attend a meeting
and of course everybody had to attend the meeting
how convenient and efficient and quick that would be
cos it’s all just
me, me, me and me
and yet more me, me, me, me and me…
Indeed need we hold meetings at all?
since it’s all me? Just me?
Cos if you are me, and everyone else is me
in my Brave New Me World,
all me know what each me thinks
and wants, than we need not meet me
and one me wherever one is can initiate,
conduct and finish the me meeting…
You get me?
and think of it on a national scale too…
if everyone were like me,
exactly like me –
so that all we have is
me, me, me and me
and yet more me, me, me, me –
imagine the nation in all its simplicity and convenience;
there’d be no need to argue with me
because me agrees with me
and me is one religion, me is one will, one thought,
one language (gibberish, but still one language)
and everything in the nation
will just have to be planned for me.
Simple:
satisfy me and satisfy all
for it’s all me…
for me is the Nation
I leave it to you
to think more of this Me Nation
(or do you need some animation?)
And that silly United Nations -
do you think if everyone were like me
or better still exactly like me,
do we need to have all these delegates and dignitaries flying around
(and sometimes shoes flying too)
and eating half the UN funds in dinners and perks and sightseeing?
Oh, think about it –
if everyone were like me
just as in the Me Nation
you won’t have all this waste in Me UN…
You don’t even need the UN;
just Me is enough
the Me UN…
And what about the world?
have you thought about it?
with me all over the world
and if everyone in the world
were me, me, me, and me and me –
you know, a Chinese me, and an Indian me,
an American me, a Russian me
black me, white me, Christian me, Muslim me, Hindu me,
or atheist me - whatever me is, all is -
and so on
native me and foreign me
just me, me , me, me, me
(Oh, I just love this me!)
everywhere me
and then if I were the President of the world
which I will surely be
cos every me will choose me
cos everyone will want me to be the President
and with President Me
no one will disagree
and there’s no waste
and the word will be so pleasant –
cos I’m no *********
(will me want to hurt me?)
And everything will be so easily arranged
and every me will be in a happy world society
as me is the best me to become every me
One me will be the same as me
and me happy is all happy
And President Me need not worry about
Opinion Polls and votes and what the people want
and President Me need not give lies
and Me People need not listen to ****
cos it’s all just me,
me, and me -
and as if I don’t know what I think,
and what I want, and as if I’d want to kick my own ****
and so it’ll be a Presidency where everyone will be happy
because all things are made for me and planned the way for me
and it’ll be a perpetual everlasting Presidency
for with everyone like me, everyone being me
it’ll be always me coming
new generations or old or dying or single moms and dads
always
me, me, me and more and more me, me, me, me
for perpetuity
and so how about you, what do you think?
Wouldn’t it be all more efficient
and the world a better place
if everyone were like me?
No, no…I don’t mean like you!
Not like you, but like me, me, me,
me, me, me, me…
What do me think?
But since you are like me, you are me
I don’t need to know what you think
Me no need to know what me thinks…
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 7:19 PM UTC
“Just relax”
She says, as I picture her kissing the
Neck of a female coworker
With whom she had recently started
A flirtatious friendship
“We’ll play it by ear”
Scratches on the cluttered chalkboard
That is my anxious mind
Riddled with equations of what ifs
And ramblings of aftermaths
“It’ll work out”
Isn’t as reassuring as it might seem
When I want nothing more than to witness a fantasy
That is scribbled in a weekly calendar
And only committed to by word of mouth
“what else could I say”
Is a fair point,
but one that falls silent on my lust
which seems to be manifesting as a smoky devil
with obsessive compulsive disorder
“And if it doesn’t happen, oh well”
Are easy words for her to say
Considering the amount of fantasies she has fulfilled
Since we have started this journey
Of debauchery, and self-esteem adjustments
“At least we have each other”
The most comforting thing she has said on the topic,
Yet I wonder
Am I enough for you…
And you for me?
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
Come and look at my family
it’s big and rambunctious
they all mean a lot to me
theres lots of different branches
there’s a writer, called M. Rase
and David too
they’ve taught me things I never knew
but of course they all do
Im related to royalty
a king and a queen
Named Jose and Whispwill respectively
I wonder if they’ve met each other yet?
Then there’s determined Yuu
who shredded my heart with Blackberry Tea
some of them have hurt me, don’t worry though
I’m sure their OC's will be fine after all they’ve been through
R. Merryweather writes lots of things
there’s even a new series
next is Vel, with her apocalyptic mysteries
Ana and Kittie are new to the family
give them a big welcome when you see them
Rukan’s drawing a series, seki and keisuke are my OTP
Bob likes animals, she’s a skilled gal
I really miss Yuumei, Wave, and Jun Lee
but they’ll return someday, you’ll see
Kura updated recently, Nick brought me to tears
MAT and Ariel Ries crossed different boundaries
but everything will be alright
NaniRoxy's not around, she’s making some adjustments
so you’ll just have to leave a message
Viryse is in the hoodie brigade
with Yuu, Jose, and Kao too
GlanceReviver and KJ Tower
write exciting love stories
SnailLords is gone, but not really
he moved his web series such a tease
Captain Juuter and Kinkan Yoona
slice up life in different ways
this is badly written and doesn’t make sense
and I know its long but it needed to be said
and someday you can meet the rest of them
the rest of my big family
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
What is so wrong with me?
Tell me, give me a list,
I'll make the necessary adjustments.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
the inner communication
******
automatic adjustments
happen all the time
Ah and then there is the mind
co-ordinating
an orchestra and ballet
all with wills of their own
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
.
Some say the scientific method
Is the ultimate algorithm and others
Prefer prayer.
For symbolists, all intelligence can be reduced to manipulating symbols, in the same way that a mathematician solves equations by replacing expressions by other expressions. Symbolists understand that you can't learn from scratch: you need some initial knowledge to go with the data. They've figured out how to incorporate pre-existing knowledge into learning, and how to combine different pieces of knowledge on the fly in order to solve new problems. Their master algorithm is inverse deduction, which figures out what knowledge is missing in order to make a deduction go through, and then makes it as general as possible.
Tea
In its simplicity
Can sustain concentration
For connectionists, learning is what the brain does, and so what we need to do is reverse engineer it. The brain learns by adjusting the strengths of connections between neurons, and the crucial problem is figuring out which connections are to blame for which errors and changing them accordingly. The connectionists' master algorithm is back propagation, which compares a system's outputs with the desired one and then successively changes the connections in layer after layer of neurons so as to bring the output closer to what it should be.
Hungry and cold
A holy condition
A warrior's position
Evolutionaries believe that the mother of all learning is natural selection. If it made us, it can make anything, and all we need to do is simulate it on the computer. The key problem that evolutionaries solve is learning structure: not just adjusting parameters, like back propagation does, but creating the brain that these adjustments can then fine-tune. The evolutionaries' master algorithm is genetic programming, which mates and evolves computer programs in the same way that nature mates and evolves organisms.
Arithmetic
A good shit's the metric
Of a dying man
Bayesians are concerned above all with uncertainty. All learned knowledge is uncertain, and learning itself is a form of uncertain inference. The problem then becomes how to deal with noisy, incomplete, and even contradictory information without falling apart. The solution is probabilistic inference, and the master algorithm is Bayes' theorem and its derivatives. Bayes' theorem tell us how to incorporate new evidence into our beliefs, and probabilistic inference algorithms do that as efficiently as possible.
I can't believe
I won't live forever, therefore,
I invented an afterlife to supplement reincarnation
For analogizers, the key to learning is recognizing similarities between situations and thereby inferring other similarities. If two patients have similar symptoms, perhaps they have the same disease. The key problem is judging how similar two things are. The analogizers' master algorithm is the support vector machine, which figures out which experiences to remember and how to combine them to make new predictions.
Prepare for a powerful anesthesia
Chemical processes irresistible
A good and perfect rest
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC
the Mexican wave affects us all
whether we join in or not
the summer has shifted here
all because someone sneezed.
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC