On a recent visit to NYU I accidentally activated an alarm by exiting through the wrong door. As I sheepishly retraced my steps back toward the security guard, he admonished me ‘Didn’t you read the sign on the door?’. Actually, I try very hard not to read signs. That little voice in my head likes to read them to me. In my undergrad house at Caltech, I’d sometimes get up from working on a problem set to go to the restroom: ‘I wonder if I approximated the functio… “PLEASE PROP DOOR OPEN WHEN NOT IN USE” .. uh… what was I thinking?’. I tried to move the sign or dispose of it altogether, but it would reappear in the same spot shortly.

Recently my attempts to think on the way to and from lunch have been foiled by the brilliant “Thanks to Berkeley” campaign. As I walk down Berkeley’s shady paths, I’m greeted by smiling faces telling me all that they can do thanks to their fine university. Staring at the ground is a pity in such pretty surroundings, but it did pay off recently when I had to step over someone sprawled in the middle of the path, possibly protesting something, possibly not.

Perhaps my most pathetic repeat reading is that of art posters specifying the artist and the exhibit featuring the work, e.g.:

There are studies recording a higher incidence of traffic accidents within viewing distance of attention-grabbing billboards. But who is keeping track of the many small crashes our brains experience when exposed to reading material?

 

[Information nutrition label: facts supported by data: 0, relevance to research:0, international affairs: 0, politics: 0, personal story of no generalizability: 100%]
How many of us can trace some interest, hobby, or even career choice to a youthful infatuation?

I encountered Ivan in my grandmother’s kitchen in Split. He had requested an extra strong shot of Cedevita (a powdered vitamin drink), and my aunt obliged by filling the glass half-full with powder. He brushed his floppy hair aside, downed the fizzy concoction, grimaced, and laughed. That vacation he rang the doorbell a few more times, while I sat around writing poems about him and how I wished the doorbell would ring. On the one visit to his apartment in the building next door, he showed me a fantastic self-portrait he had painted, and some exercises he was doing in art school. He was 14. I was 12.

The following year I was again in Split, but just for an evening. Ivan and I wandered around the old city, eating corn on the cob bought from a street vendor. Ivan was so funny, I nearly peed my pants. Maybe I even did pee my pants. When we got back, I dug up the poetry I had written for him. He listened, amused, and when I walked him to the door, he leaned in for a kiss. I momentarily panicked and closed the door in his face, which was the last I ever saw of it. He and his mom moved the next year, possibly related to the collapse of their 2nd floor balcony on New Year’s Eve, when everyone had piled out onto it to watch the fireworks.

The reason I mention Ivan is that he nearly made an artist out of me. Not only did I increase my Cedevita intake,  but I started painting in earnest. Every once in a while, I would pull out a photo of Ivan’s self-portrait for inspiration. In the following 1.5 years I painted enough for a small portfolio that gained me admission to 2 art magnet high schools in NYC. I opted for Stuyvesant HS instead, and pretty much abandoned my interest in art for a while. But it was a close call. Ivan went on to become a professional illustrator and published a graphical novel (as Google tells me).

At Stuyvesant I became infatuated with M., who sat in the row behind me in biology class. I almost never talked to M., except to catch him saying “I play violin” (I purchased several violin concertos on CD, lacking any discernible music ability of my own), “I run track” (I joined the track team, even though gym was my worst subject), “I go to ancient greek club in the morning” (this I only tried a few times because at 8am it conflicted with math team), “now I play the cello” (I augmented my CD collection to include cello compositions). Our biology teacher must have noticed my obvious crush, and paired us off for a quiz on human sexuality. M. knew all the answers, except one; I switched his answer of “semen” to “seminal fluid”. We got a 100 on the quiz, but that was just about the only success I experienced with M. (besides when we compared our 1st report cards and he said “What? Your GPA is 98.7? I though my 98.1 was the highest!”).

At the end of freshman year, my family moved. M. stayed. Although I don’t remember any ancient greek at all, I did gain a greater appreciation of string-oriented classical music, and I actually continued to run track and cross country for the rest of high school in an undistinguished way. M. continued his musical training and plays concerts, but is a physician by day (um, thanks again Google).

I suppose that must be what they mean by “impressionable” when they talk about youth. I wasn’t sure who I wanted to be. Liking boys, and then wanting be like them, made sense. But once I knew who I wanted to be, who did I want them to be? By the time I was a freshman at Caltech, I wanted to be a physicist, or a mathematician, or something like that. E., a sophomore physics major and my first steady boyfriend, was acing his classes. I thought he was great, and so did he. When a few short months later, he dumped me for another, I started dating D., who had published papers already back in high school. D. was a more attentive boyfriend than E., e.g. on the occasion of breaking up with me, he told me a couple of jokes to cheer me up first.

Even before their ends, these relationships made me unhappy. Dating conspicuous academic accomplishment comes at a price. Not only did I have to compete with E and D’s homework /extra credit/research assignments for their attention, but it spoiled my independent fun to know that my significant other had the discipline to work all the time while I sometimes wanted to not work. It was also difficult to maintain self-esteem. While constantly thinking about how great they were, I couldn’t help but notice that I wasn’t as great. When my freshman progress report for a sophomore abstract algebra class generously said that “Lada is getting used to the level of abstraction”, D’s progress report for a graduate level applied math/CS class said that he was far outperforming the graduate students. Even though E and D were always able to help me if I got stuck on homework assignments, my self-esteem and GPA improved after they were no longer around.

So after ceasing to want to be like the boys I liked, I also stopped liking men I wanted to be (exactly) like. Now I’m married to a man I like to love, and who has many fine qualities I can admire without necessarily wanting to acquire.

 

Last week, not one, but two people at MIT said that they expected me to be intimidating. The funny thing is that, based on past experience (and by now old and likely inaccurate recollections), I expected to be intimidated — by MIT. The last time I had been invited to MIT was  in ’97.
call from MIT admissionsMIT was the first to contact me about having been admitted. This was ’97, before cellphones, and so I took the call on the hallway phone of my undergrad house at Caltech. In shock, I mumbled something in response. Soon I was off to visit MIT in person.

I happened to have arrived on the evening of a big snow storm.

My student host appeared entirely unfazed by the snow, and was formidable in other ways:

The faculty painted a consistent picture of the work culture:

Just out of curiosity, I recently looked up this faculty member and noted his Nature/Science publications.

That day, even lunch was a bit intimidating. 3 faculty, wearing suit coats, took me  (in jeans and a sweater) to a nice Chinese restaurant, but my 3.5 years of eating dorm food (and ramen and Tommy’s on weekends) had not prepared me adequately for this.

I didn’t end up pursuing a PhD at MIT. The explanation I like to give is that I found Stanford a better fit (more on that in another post), but perhaps I was also a bit intimidated by MIT, just a bit.

This time around, I was visiting EECS rather than physics. Again, people were crazy-smart, and yes, they were working incredibly hard, on very interesting projects. Now, as I did back then, I respect that.

 

In cooking I alternate between following recipes exactly, for fear that any sort of deviation might ruin the outcome, and trying to throw things together arbitrarily, with occasionally edible results. Could this problem be solved the way I like to approach other problems, i.e. by analyzing a nice data set, preferably of user contributed knowledge?

So a little over a year ago, I proposed the idea of using ingredient networks to evaluate recipes at a “Wacky Wednesday” faculty meeting, where School of Information faculty gather and pitch ideas to each other. The mix of interest and skepticism with which the idea was greeted was enough to motivate me to work on the problem with my PhD student Edwin Teng. Soon thereafter, Yu-Ru Lin, from Northeastern and Harvard, joined us on the project, and lent it her insight and machine learning expertise.

A lot of fun findings ensued (you can download the paper on arxiv):

1) If one examines complementary ingredients, two main communities fall out, one sweet, the other savory (see image above).

And there is a smaller, third community of ingredients for mixed-drinks.

mixed drink ingredients

2) Recipe reviews are a goldmine of data. There are ample suggestions for modifications (additions, deletions, increases, decreases, substitutions). These could be used to create “flexible” recipes, suggesting a range for the quantity of an ingredient, and possible substitutes. In fact, a substitute network reveals global communities of interchangeable ingredients.

3) Ingredient networks can be used to predict recipe ratings. “These networks encode which ingredients go well together, and which can be substituted to obtain superior results, and permit one to predict, given a pair of related recipes, which one will be more highly rated by users.” It appears that the substitute network in particular encodes nutrition information, e.g. users’ preferences for “healthier” variants for a recipe.

4) The hypothesis presented in Catching Fire, that humans have evolved to prefer cooking methods that extract more energy value from food, is consistent with recipe ratings. Recipes that call for heating (baking, boiling, grilling), are rated on average more highly than those that only call for mechanical preparation methods (chopping, mixing). Chemical methods (marinating & brining) give a slight additional boost.

5) US regional preferences are easily discernable, e.g. frying being popular in the south, and grilling being popular on the west coast and in the mountain regions. It would be interesting to study how these are affected by the availability of ingredients and cultural influences.

Also, stay tuned for some fantastic related work by YY Ahn, Sebastian Ahnert, James Bagrow and Laszlo Barabasi, getting to the bottom of recipe preferences by analyzing networks of flavor compounds in food pairings.

Finally, a short thanks for some of the tools we used:

Gephi for visualizing the networks
Map generator for detecting communities, here are two examples:

 

This summer I read “Unseen Academicals” by Terry Pratchett, and as usual, he got to the “bottom” of human nature in his satire of the academe and soccer (I’m still not sure those two really fit in the same book, but nevertheless…):

For the past 6 years I have enjoyed having my own office, though I never did attempt to smoke anything on UofM’s non-smoking campus. This semester, 2 days a week, I still get an office to myself, thanks to the kindness of a colleague at Berkeley. And to illustrate Pratchett’s point:

The other 3 days/week I work at Facebook. No office, no cubicle walls. And yet, with the right set of headphones and all the screen real estate, I almost don’t miss having an office, and there are plenty of other things to like there.

Except…

my twitter feed

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Oct 232011
 

My Twitter “feed/stream/timeline” has all the latest from the greatest (which is why I follow them), which is also why I brave it only every so often.

Dinluck

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Aug 172011
 

I’m not sure if this is just common among my friends, or if it’s a generally American thing, but it’s tough to get someone to show up to a dinner party without their bringing food.dinner party
It’s hard to complain about this because my friends tend to be really good cooks and I gladly relieve them of the burden of carrying back leftovers.

arrivalBut I can’t help but think about how inefficient this pattern is. And it’s not just the pile of bowls and tupperware that invariably get left behind and must be returned before they mingle too much with the host dishes.

dishesInstead of one person making a trip to the grocery store and putting in time in the kitchen, now there are n=number of parties attending people doing this separately for d ~ n dishes. While it’s true that shopping for ingredients for d dishes takes more time than t1 = time it takes to shop for 1 dish, I think it’s not even close to d*t1. Probably no more than d0.5*t1. Same for cooking. One can easily chop and toss a salad, or stir a pot while something else is cooking. So, really, no need to bring anything… unless, ahem, it’s one of your chocolate desserts, or fun salads, or recipes you saw on that cooking show, or …[Burp].

Jul 122011
 

Being a woman in my chosen profession, that’s hasn’t posed any particular challenges. But some activities associated with just “being a woman” have sometimes proved to be a bit beyond me.

A few things I have done only a handful of times:

  • Used a purse (when you can just tap your pockets to check if you have keys + wallet)
  • Worn make-up (the number really dwindles once I exclude Halloween and experimenting in gradeschool)
  • Worn high heels

It’s not that I don’t think all those things look good, it’s just that I dislike forgetting keys, getting make-up remover in the eye, and falling on my face. As a result, I find myself searching for:

  • Pants that have pockets.
  • Shoes you can comfortably walk a mile or two in.
  • Articles of clothing that cover what needs to be covered even if one occasionally ends up sitting on the floor, or riding a bike, or reaching up or down for something.

In principle, this should not be that hard, but in practice… Last week I was shopping at a mall for a dress for someone else (being without pockets, dresses are of limited interest to me). The quest was to find a lightweight, natural fabric dress, that one could wear over a regular bra (meaning one with shoulder straps, and not one of the strapless variants that can only support so much). Hours of searching turned up nothing. The salesclerks suggested wearing an extra shirt under the dresses in order to make them functional (so one stays cool in a summer dress by wearing an extra layer?).

The impracticality problem isn’t limited to just dresses. Here’s an (edited) recent selection of tops from a retailer.

Hairstyles can be impractical as well. Did  you ever notice Detectives Eames or Beckett brushing hair out of their faces while Richard Castle and Detective Goren get to actually observe the crime scene? Naturally, if one always had a hair tie or hat handy, this would not be a problem, but one would need a purse to hold those…

Thankfully, my job does not require the level of sophisticated style that being a female detective on TV does.

 

In the course of teaching SI 301 “Models of Social Information Processing” I developed a series of in-class activities and demos. The material in the most excellent textbook, “Networks, Crowds, and Markets” by David Easley and Jon Kleinberg, lent itself naturally to many such activities. Some things were interactive simulations, e.g. diffusion, cascades, and search on networks and agent based simulations of evolutionary game-theoretic models. We used a custom online information market to predict when a certain instructor would make the take-home final available. Sometimes using just cards, coins, paper and pencil, turned out to be good fun. I’d be happy if others could find ways to use and improve these demos, and am also curious about ones they have developed.

Click on the image for a description of the demos.

Jun 302011
 

As I was sorting my contacts into neat little Google+ circles (talking to self: ‘this one, ah… he’s someone I could talk to about personal things, but I never do, oh, what the heck, let’s call him a “friend”‘), I was reminded that I never blogged about the related paper, soon to be poster-presented at this year’s ICWSM, that I wrote with Debra Lauterbach, Edwin Teng, and Mark Ackerman. Incidentally, Debra is currently a UX researcher at Google and no doubt lent a hand and some brains to Google+.

So, about this friend-rating paper. Previously, Edwin, Debra, and I had written a paper “I rate you. You rate me. Should we do so publicly?”, showing that person-to-person ratings differ by whether they are given publicly (anonymously or not) or privately. In this follow-up paper, we dove in depth into CouchSurfing’s friendship and trust ratings, both analyzing the millions of ratings, conducting a survey, and also Skype interviews. What were we after? Well, initially we just wanted to understand whether the higher alignment of public ratings A->B and B->A, as well as the lack of negative public feedback, were due to reciprocity (or fear of reciprocal action). But the study led us to understand quite a bit more about the nature of trust and friendship.  This rather unique data set captures quantitative ratings of trust and friendship on a very large scale. Our results may very well be relevant to products such as Google+ because trust and friendship are sometimes used synonymously (e.g. you can “trust” your friends with intimate details you post on social media sites), but we thought we’d check that.

OK, to cut to the chase. Recap of the “I rate you. You rate me.” paper.

1) The same person will give higher Epinions ratings to other users’ reviews when identifying herself (as opposed to when she chooses to remain anonymous). But this is only true for rating other people. Product reviews on Amazon are no more favorable (though a bit longer) if a person identifies themselves than if they use a pen name.

2) When ratings are shown publicly (Epinions, CouchSurfing), and there is potential for reciprocity, the ratings are more aligned (i.e. A’s rating of B tends to mirror B’s rating of A).

3) On CouchSurfing, women rate other women more highly than they do men (on both trust and friendship), but men rate men and women about equally.

OK, so here is what we learned in the in-depth CouchSurfing paper.

4) Trust and friendship are not always synonymous. The heatmap below shows how often trust/friendship pair ratings are given. What you can see is that trust tends to increase with the closeness of the friendship (e.g. best friends are almost always highly trusted), but high trust can be allocated to individuals who are not one’s closest friends (of course all of this might be context specific to CouchSurfing, but I do believe it holds more generally).

friendship and trust ratings on CouchSurfing

4) When ratings are not aligned (e.g. A indicates B is a good friend, but B categorizes A as an acquaintance), there is a bit of awkwardness (for both A and B), but most do not attach much importance to numerical ratings. Friendship ratings (which are shown publicly) are more aligned (ρ ~ 0.7) than trust ratings (ρ ~ 0.3), which are not shown to the other person.
Connecting this to Facebook lists and Google+ circles, I’d say they are private for a reason. Though I wonder if A could eventually figure out that they are in B’s acquaintance as opposed to friend circle once they hear from C about something that B shared with his friends. Or is there enough content flooding our way that we don’t mind what we’re missing?

5) Negative ratings are seldom given publicly in part because the individual being rated can reciprocate. Also there is the sense that even if one doesn’t have a good experience with someone, there is a chance that someone else would click well, so why ruin the chance of that happening. As with any categorical system that doesn’t quite capture what individuals want to express, CS users work around it: they insert comments into the text of the reference that have subtle signals, e.g.

I’ve gone pretty keen on what certain references mean, and you can tell a. . . you-were-a-nice-person-reference: ”[She] was great. She was very hospitable. She’s a great host.” That can mean in a sense you might be kind of boring.

Or users simply don’t leave a reference:

I either neglect to reference, or write a “positive” response but in a neutral tone.

6) This makes textual references (and their number) far more important than numerical levels to those who are judging whether they would like to get to know/spend time with someone based on their ratings:

How important CouchSurfing ratings are to users

6) We also checked whether trust is more a property of a node, and friendship that of an edge, e.g. a given individual would always be perceived as highly trustworthy, but their friendship ratings would depend on the characteristics of each tie. We found only very, very weak support for this, in that the per-individual normalized variance in trust ratings was only a bit smaller than the variance in friendship ratings.

7) Some other neat things, you could find out if you read in the paper :)

8 ) Something we couldn’t fit into the paper was the users’ tendency to not update friendship and trust status as the relationship evolved. This could be a function of CS’s primary purpose being to help people find one another as opposed to stay in touch, so that there is little practical utility in making such updates. On the other hand, one might rather carefully groom one’s Google+ circles and Facebook lists, lest one ends up inadvertently over or under sharing because of out-of-date designations.  It will be interesting to see to what extent users are interested in and capable of thinking through what each individual means to them and where they “fit” in their information sharing sphere.

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