Fiction Cont.

(Continue from Fiction.  If you haven't read that, don't read this)

The teamster who was taking the boy part way to the city was only planning on a three day journey to a nearby town where he would sell his fair and return.  He was an old teamster, used to long, silent trips, but was not unlikable.  He could have a fine conversation with young children, having a few himself.  However, he knew of the strange boy, and knew that he could be left well enough on his own, so the first day of the journey passed in silence, save a smattering of instructions when it came time to bed down for the night.  The sun rose on the second day with a likewise short conversation as they headed onward.  The second day passed much like the first, though the teamster noticed the boy paying quite close attention to the scenery and the wagon.  Often alternating his view between the two.

On the third day, the teamster tried to engage the boy in conversation.  It began something like this:
"So boy, what do you think a' life outside the town?" asked the teamster.

"Hmm...?" replied the boy.

"I asked, 'what do you think a' life outside the town?'"

"Oh, it's nice enough.  Pretty much all the same so far though isn't it?" queried the child.

"Oh I suppose," countered the teamster. "Though, it's gettin warmer as we leave the shadow o' the mountain.  There's a big ol river that we'll be driving over soon, bigger n' the one at home.  An there are diffren types a' trees.  That one there," he said pointing to a stump of a tree, "is called a Birch."

"Huh," replied the boy, "I hadn't really thought about the trees yet."

"Adn't thought about the trees?  What have you been starin at this whole time then boy?" the teamster demanded a little affronted that the facts about his track had been ignored.

"Well sir, I've been staring at the country side going by," the boy replied, quite unperturbed.

"Tat's what I was just tellin you about!" now fully upset at the daftness of the boy.

"I know sir, but is it really moving by us?"

"What are you talkin about, of course it isn't movin by US.  We're in a wagon, we're goin by it," replied the now baffled and annoyed teamster.

"I get that sir, but here," the boy pulls an apple his mother packed for him to eat and places it on the bench between them. "Is this apple moving?" he asks.

"No ya daft fool, its sittin right there."

"But we're moving, in the wagon" explained the boy.

"Well yeah," replied the teamster, now just baffled. "The wagon is movin, but us an the apple, we're just sittin here."

"Moving with the wagon," prompted the boy.

"Yes," the teamster posited.

"Okay sir, but supposed the wagon, and us, and the apple, we all stopped moving, would we stay in the same place?"

"Okay, now your just bein ridiculous boy.  The wagon here is movin, with us and the apple here, and we three are just sittin.  If we stopped movin, we'd stop goin forward, so we'd stay in the same spot."

"But sir, in school they taught us that all the times, the ground we're standing on is spinning around in space like a top, and while its spinning, it's moving around the sun.  That's why we get day and night and summer and winter."

"Well yes, right, the earth is movin and spinnin, but the wagon would be sittin in the same place," explained the teamster again.

The boy sighed.  He didn't seem to be explaining himself right.  "But sir, it isn't actually sitting in the same place is it.  Cause for it to be sitting in exactly the same spot it would have to stop moving.  But it can't do that in a wagon, or sitting on the ground, cause the ground is moving."

Fully fed up with the boy, and thinking to himself that he should have charged for this trip instead of taking it on as a favor to his old friend the miller, he replied, "I think I've had enough of your fool notions boy.  We should just continue on as we had until we reach town where you can go spout your crazy ideas to some other poor man."

The boy shrugged, used to being talked to like that.  It didn't bother him that people thought him strange.  In truth, he though himself a little strange, because no one else seemed to be like him.  Though he did begin to look at the trees.  In fact, he watched them all the way into the village, where he and the teamster parted way's.  The teamster to drown his sorrows at the tavern, mumbling about sitting things and moving things, and the boy to get a good nights rest before making the rest of his trip to the city.

Cognative Dissonance in Politics

How the human mind misleads itself within the political spectrum.

I've been reading a lot about the current "Occupy" movements going on around the globe, and there seem to be several repeating themes.

-No one "knows" what the protests are about.
-The continuing right versus left debate, who messed up more.
- What is lawful.
- And, the (non)importance of accountability

These aren't just themes touted by FOX news and the right wing media, but every news article revolving around the issue.  There are viewed from one side or the other, occasionally taking the good argumentative approach of pointing out flaws in the other arguments points.  However, the art of debate has devolved, in almost all sectors of the practice, from a clear construction of evidence, counter-evidence and rebuttal, into a moral high ground issue.  You don't get people rationally analyzing evidence, and fitting it into their argument.  In essence, no one changes their mind based on these discussions.  There are many different psychological reasons which explain this.

The first is a classical physiological affliction which plagues everyone, Loss Aversion.  Normally, this applies to goods or money, but it can also apply to self worth.  Loss Aversion is typified by an inability to compromise a situation allowing a reduction in overall worth.  When in an argument, if you admit you're wrong, it is mentally equated with lower self worth, so the mind shies away from the possibility.  Instead of opening up to the possibility that an error was made, thereby lowering self worth, our minds rationalize the evidenciary input. 

The second is Information Asymmetry.  We empirically trust people who have more experience or information about a topic.  These experts, whether they are real estate agents, stock brokers or economists, all have a greater understanding of their field than we do.  So again, we rationalize that their authority lends them trustworthiness.

Tied closely with the second aspect is the Fundamental Attribution Error (FAE).  We create categories of people quickly, based on very little outside evidence, to make it easier for our brains to remember them.  These classifications, of which there are many, create a sort of cognitive map on our brains, where a person, say Barack Obama, is linked with various characteristics observed. 

Fourth, is the process of Cognitive Dissonance.  The act of holding two conflicting notions in ones psyche at one time.  This is what often gives rise to hypocrisy, which we see so much of in our political spectrum as to jade and cynicize the teenagers of our culture.

The most commonly held protest to the protests is that we "don't know what its about".  You will read a lot of people saying it is about one thing, or conversely it's about many things.  The main stream media derides the protesters for not having any centralized goal.  Likewise the protesters object to the medias' inability to qualify their message.  In case of the MSM, they are suffering from FAE.  The see a group of people with no one major goal, and immediately label it sloppy and ineffective.  Its quick, its easy, and it lets them move on.  Likewise, protesters see the inability of the media to provide information in a coherent manner that they are used to seeing, and label them stupid and biased.  There is also rampant Information Asymmetry.  The protesters are in the thick of it, talking to one another, spending literally weeks and months learning everything they can about the topics fro experts and research.  That's a huge amount of raw information.  The media, on the other hand, gets their information from both sides of the debate, but in disproportionate quantities.  Short interviews with protesters, which encapsulate perhaps reasons or grievances, and expert testimony from people directly invested in keeping things the way they are.

Then we have the "Left vs. Right" epic battle.  Neither side wants to admit that they might have messed anything up, because that would mean two things.  First, it would be a blatant implication that they were wrong, which includes the tacit implication that they could be wrong again.  This is both a loss aversion problem and a FAE.  They don't want to admit fault because it would lower their political worth to their constituents, which would consequently lower their own self image since they are directly linked within the mind of any politician.  And there is the idea that if a person admits fault, it opens them up for further error.  This is ridiculous because we all know that defying reality doesn't change it, it just makes you look stupid.

Following closely on its heels we have the "Lawful" debate.  Who broke what law, why and how.  There are clear examples of Cognitive Dissonance all over this one.  Per the supreme court ruling against Citizens United, corporations are people and have full access to first amendments rights.  This sets obvious precedent for corporations to be tried as people for crimes they commit.  But no, we have to figure out what people within the corporation (person) committed what wrong? What, no...?  If corporations are 'people' with 'rights' then they are 'people' with obligations, and responsibilities.  Cake-and-eating-it.  We are also in a sea of information regarding that.  What companies did what, how it effected the economy, what is legal, are there statutes of limitations?  These questions and their answers are abundant.

Finally there is the issue of accountability.  This is a mess of all the previous mentioned psychological pitfalls, and is closely tied with the ideas behind what is considered lawful for the newest citizens of the U.S.  The companies that played the biggest roles in the mortgage bubble, who lost the most, don't want to admit that it was a loss, because it would lower expectations and investor dollars.  Enter our friend cognitive dissonance hand in hand with FAE, because those are exactly the criterion that investors look at, ability to make sound business choices, not screw up catastrophically and preform successful damage control when something does go wrong.  If a small mom-and-pop shop opened next to a Wal-Mart, no one would be surprised when they went belly up.  Banks wouldn't give them loans, because its a bad idea.  Why should we reward even bigger bad ideas?  Then we get lost in a sea of information again.  Because there are economic experts who tell us that everything is returning to normal, and this was to be expected, (which is surprising to me, because during the bubble no one expected this).  Should we really trust not only the same people who got us into this mess to get us out of it, people with an obvious incentive to lie, distort the truth, or mislead us with statistics?

Now however, I will get to the real issue.  I don't really care how "Lawful" any of this was.  I don't care about petty politicians three years of impression management, one year of policy making.  I don't even care about who messed up what when.  I care about the question which people keep ducking, avoiding its slippery slopes because its easier to take the paved path of the law.  The Morality behind all this.  Is it morally right to let banks and corporations control our politicians through massive anonymous campaign donations?  Is it right to reduce our debt by trying to cut taxes to encourage investing in the nation?  Is it right for us to cut health care benefits to the lower and middle class?

We don't have any legal obligation to give a crap about people dying of treatable conditions because they cannot afford hospital bills.  They can't afford the hospital bills because their unemployed, but we don't have any legal reason to make sure that they have work so they can feed, cloth and shelter their families.  If they have work and can do those things, we don't have any legal reason to make sure that they can continue to do so if their company moves its' services or production overseas because it cuts their costs.  There is absolutely no reason our government has to do any of this.

But what about us.  Is our social apathy so great that we can conceptualize leaving people to freeze or starve to death during the winter?  It's reached the point where this is a reality, and we have to face it.  Our nation has degenerated to the point where our citizens are being forced to make rational choices over whether its more important to feed their three children, and let one die of a treatable condition, or treat it and let the rest starve.  In terms of utility functions the choice is clear, feed the three, hell, feed just the healthy ones because the sick one reduces the other childrens' chances of survival.  Issues that we haven't had to deal with since the dark ages are creeping back into our lives.  Our fore fathers crafted this nation, fighting usurious taxes placed upon them by a distant, unknowing government which they had no direct access to.  They were forced into a economic corner, supplying raw materials to manufactures overseas and being forced to buy back the manufactured goods at high prices.  They had to house and feed soldiers fighting wars in someone elses' name, for someone elses' agenda. 

Any of this sound familar?

Things I've Figured Out

Trees:
There is an interesting phenomenon in trees.  Their branches angle changes relative to the height on the bole.  The higher branches, nearer to the top, are angles upward, and the farther you move down the angle also trends downward.  Once you reach the base, the branches are angles downward.  I have guessed that this has a two fold benefit to the tree itself.  The higher branches are angled for two reasons.  The first is to leave room for sunlight to reach the lower branches, but the second is so that any rain water caught by the upper boughs, will be funneled along the branches, and down the trunk to the roots.  The lower branches are angled downward, so that excess rain water is diffused, both to protect the tree itself, but also to aid its offspring.  Those seeds truly do not fall far from the tree, and they would have a harder time getting water if all of the branches were at an angle to funnel watter to the main trees roots.  This means that a forest is both competing and cooperative simultaneously.  They compete for resources, and any tree that cannot, will not live to reproduce.  But any tree that DOES live to reproduce, has to be fit enough to care for itself AND its offspring.

Pigeons:
Living in the city, there are a lot of them flying around.  Subways, buildings, parks, anywhere you go has them.  Best way to find them, throw some bread on the floor, they will come from everywhere.  You wont even see where they came from, but they will come.  This is probably due to a collective survival ability.  The closest ones come to get food, but they are being observed by a group farther off, who come to investigate.  And so on, until it becomes an issue of risk over reward.  The distance traveled doesn't add to the reward gained or energy expended to get that last scrap of food, (unless you have a bread truck).  This may mean that they have slightly more complex reasoning and navigation abilities than we generally attribute to them.

A second problem we have is deciding where to stand outside.  All city dwellers are aware that scaffolding, buildings, and outdoor train stations are rife with hazards.  But one thing I've noticed, is the trees.  I have never witnessed them perch on the trees, they prefer stationary perches.  Have pigeons evolved to the point where they are incapable of adjusting their balance on a moving perch?  This would require the physical shape and use of their inner ear system to change, and it seems unlikely as they can still fly.  Though I'm not sure about the documentation of pigeon flight distances, they are non-migratory, so it is possible that their ear was forced to change because of some factor relative to living in a city.  This change must have allowed the birds to live and procreate in the city, but robbed them of longer distance flight, and some balance.

Psychology:
The psychoanalytic theory is something which I have written about before.  Previously I stated it seemed flawed to me, as the base assumption was that subconscious motives are suppressed by society, and I could not figure out how a humans could evolve with that trait to be fitted into a society.  The answer is simple actually.  Lying is the cause.  People evolved the ability of lying, of misrepresenting reality, in order to hide their motives, or gain the upper hand against a competitor.  The reason that 'societies' of varying cultural background don't show evidence of different levels of subconscious repression is that the advent of lying predates society.  So society came built in with all of people foibles and abilities, lying being one of them.  This causes people in the society, who are statistical outliers but would otherwise (outside of organized society) be within the norm, to become better liar's, hiding more and more of their views, desires, ability's and possessions.  This in turn became part of the social contract, which has no written record though is socialized into everyone.  Keep the things which are unacceptable to society to yourself, and you can stay a member.  This in turn causes internal conflict, which over generations of socialization, and breeding better liar's, causes repression and subconscious motives to emerge.  So really, its our own fault we have politicians.

Hidden Monuments

In Ireland, in the county of Clare, in the small town of Carron within the heart of the Burren rests, in the shade of some plants to short to be called trees and to tall to be called shrubs, rests a hidden place.  This shady area is behind the hostel, close to a cow pasture.  There are no paths in it but those made by the trees and animals who live there.  It is completely unremarkable in almost every way.  It is home to many small monuments, made by people, eager to leave their mark on this small piece of land.  Simple stacks of rock, miniature cairn's or recreations of Stonehenge. 

There is one in particular, made by a young man.  He made it to honor someone he knew, in the hopes that this small deed would bring a piece of them to the land, and communicate its beauty and serenity to them across the vast distances of the ocean.  They could not be with him in any way but thought and heart, so he created something for them there.  It is constructed of the rocky shale common to the area.  The base is a tripod of these rocks standing supporting one another, while another larger flat rock sits atop.  Two more rest on this, forming a point.  It, like the place, is unremarkable, and only this young man would be able to tell you why its there.

How many other places in the world have the hidden markings of people.  Not the statues or pillars that typify memories laid down in metal and stone.  The great hulking constructions made to enforce remembrance.  The small ones, with no plaque or historian to tell you its' meaning.  They were put there for one person, a symbol of something only they felt in that time and place.  Are there small markers like these in every forest, every place where humanity hasn't encroached fully?  Does every person have a place to go, where they have inscribed arcane runes of an indecipherable nature or created a masterpiece of their heart for no other reason than to have a secret in the land?  I think people do, and it isn't a footprint in the sand, saying MAN was here.  Its our desire to have a secret, a piece of solitude that only we know about, and can never be elucidated by another person.  A private section of the world, devoted to our individual peace and tranquility.

Magical Intellect

"Why are you so smart?" I've heard people ask.  Time and again, pepole demand to know the secret of beign smart.  What makes an individual intellegent?  Some people think some are born smart.  Others say its hard work and dedication to learning.  But everywhere I go, a common theme among those that ask the question, with wonder and mystery in their voices, is that being exceptionally intellegent is like magic.  they treat it as an otherworldy power.  As if there is a machine that hooks up to your brain and downloads information to it.  To see and think beyond the given front, extrapolate extra information and tease out hidden implications out of data is something akin to a paranormal feat. 

You can hear the same tone of voice in spectators at a magic show, or people watching for UFO's.  Intellegence is alien to these people.  Why is it that the process of becoming smart is seemingly linked to the unknowable or unacheivable?  I have encountered people with mental abilities that I simply don't have, musicians, sports fans, chess players.  All these people can do things that are near impossible for me, but it isn't unfathomable that they CAN do them, or how.  They hear, see or think about the world in different ways from myself.  They grew up valuing different kinds of information, filled in gaps in the world using that information in a differenc capacity from me. 

Its a problem of our culture that being smart is anathama.  We all know about the nerds bullied by the jocks, but its more than that.  People are taught that if they aren't smart, that they won't be smart.  The idea that there will always be sopmeone better than you has been perverted to mean something different than originally intended.  It doens't mean not trying, or allowing yourself to be overtaken by other intellectuals.  It means that there will always be someone you can turn to for help, and can help in turn.  That learning is a cooperative experience, and you will always have something to offer. 

And to answer the question that everyone contiually asks.  What makes someone smart?  It isn't genetics, or dilligence, or even books that hold the secret.  Its contiually asking questions.  You have to ask questions to get answers, and with enough parctice, you learn just the right question to ask.  You can shape the problem your trying to solve around what you know, frame the question to yourself in a way that calls on all you know about the world.  The better you become at asking questions, the easier it becomes to answer them, the more you learn.  Its a cycle that is simple to perpetuate within yourself, but difficult to begin.

Fiction

In a valley, which rests at the bottom of a modest mountain, there was a village.  It wasn't a place of magic.  It didn't spawn legacies of heroes.  It was not the seat of a great crime empire.  It didn't even have vast mines or wealth.  It was wholly unremarkable in every way.  The people who lived there didn't think this, but ask anyone else and they'll tell you its not important.  That is if they've ever heard of it.

The people who lived in this village however, knew that it was a place of magic.  That heroes did live among them.  And it was a wealthy place.  Their children born every year, who grew up battling monsters, showed the adults the magic of their imaginations.  The miller who single handed saved the village from starving by sharing his grain was one of their heroes.  Or the silversmith who made the beautiful rings for handfastings at no profit to himself, just because he loved love.  Their village was filled with people who knew and cared for each other.

One day, a child was born who was unlike any other child.  His parents were just like the other villagers, and they loved their boy.  They were no better off or worse than any other.  He did not possess amazing gifts, could not conjure fire or float things with his mind.  He was different, because he was bored.  The monsters and villains the other children summoned for play did nothing to amuse him.  So he grew up mostly alone, occasionally trying to play with the other children, but to naught.  His parents figured that he was either a little simple or he would grow out of it. 

The time of apprenticeship came and the boy could not decide what he wanted to learn.  It was traditional for children to apprentice with their fathers, but some had in the past taken other paths.  At a young age, the boy confessed to his father that he though the profession of a miller, which his father was, was boring, and his father wouldn't subject his son to that.  He didn't have the temperament to stay in one place for very long, so most of the other apprenticeships were out as well.  In fact, it only left the trappers, and they all said he was to loud to be any good.

Luckily, the boys family had a feeling something like this was going to happen.  So, with much reluctance and shame, they gave the boy, still young though old enough to start out on his own, some money they had saved, a good pair of boots, and directions to the city.  They hopped the sites and sounds would keep him entertained even as he found work.  So they found him a teamster who was driving part of the way there, placed him on the wagon, and said goodbye.

They have pills for that now you know?

There is something about madness, insanity, crazy-people what have you, that is practically endearing to us as people.  There are characters who are so crazy, they know they're insane.  Their own mental instability pains them, drives them to hold on to anything that makes them seem normal.  It makes the heart weep to know that they will never be healed, there is just a recursive spiral of hope and failure.  They want to be right and good, but they cannot for the life of them manage it.  The schizophrenic who exiles themselves, or multiple personalities that are barley contained.  Or what of the one who wears their instability like a cloak, wrapped up and safe in madness, giggling and running towards the darkness.  They know they go the wrong way, but it is their right way.  The ones who delight in the new bazaar worlds you can see within.  There is almost a magic in being able to embrace it, to see beyond to real world to the imagined and the hidden.  There is even an idea, of a person who is so sane, they are crazy.  Their grip on reality is so tight and unyielding that they break it into tiny fragments that can be recognized as sanity, but will never be reassembled. 

Insanity.  It's a well documented disease stemming from a variety of chemical imbalances, brain damage, or psychological imbalances.  But it's almost as if its catching.  Everyone, at one time or another, has thought to themselves, "I must be crazy."  I personally prefer to be described as mad.  It's said that the people who don't question their sanity are the truly crazy, but I disagree.  I think everyone is crazy, you'd have to be to put up with some of the shit we do.  I think the people who are to afraid to admit their imbalance are the dangerous ones, because they only grasp at the veneer of sanity and rationality without actually looking close enough to see the flaws.

I have often times toyed with loosening the hold that reality has on my mind.  By depriving my mind of sleep, I am able to change everything about me, simply by changing how I perceive the world.  I find it exhilarating to look out at the world from my own eyes and see something completely different and alien.  People pass by as shapes of consciousness, with effable goals and drives.  Trees become magical fractal constructs of life and creation.  Birds fucking FLY!  There are magical things and mysteries under every rock and within every bole.  The world's majesty is there for us to but open our eyes.  And while our eyes are surely open, and we see and navigate its tremulous corridors, we do not peek in the alcoves at its hidden arts, to busy are we at rushing through it.  We run, blind to the wonders it holds, just hoping that it wont all collapse on us before we get to the end.  But the end, is it.  So stay a while and listen to the music the reverberations play, and watch how the birds fly.  Maybe at the end of the day, we'll actually see all the real worlds.

Being Human

Sometimes, figuring out how we relate to other people is difficult.  We're surrounded by other people day in and out, through the magic of the Internet, our phones, even just walking out the door, we're buffeted by the morass of humanity.  Socialization is truly a process that continues until death, as we have all encountered those times where we have no idea what to say or do.  Another person comes, beseeching something from us; using the multi-variate tools of communication, double or triple meanings, body language, gestures and facial expressions, but never out right saying what it is that they might want.  It's as if expressing it steals something from the game.  We as the receiver have to guess correctly, because being given the answer cheapens the experience on both ends somehow.

We've all seen the games played.  In the eyes of lovers searching your face, hoping to convey just what they are hoping for, or friends asking for help by pushing away or acting strong, but never actually asking.  Its painful because you know that there is something that you can say, a panacea to assuage their grief or heartache, but it is beyond your ken at the moment.  I've even seen it in reverse.  The most horrible person, able to show love and kindness to a small child, to take away anothers' hurt.  Con men use it all the time, their words hiding the guilt and evil, until the moment your grandmother gives them her social security number.  These things aren't outside our realm of imagining, because they happen in and around us daily.

Sometimes, I equate existence to a never ending struggle to figure out my own niche.  An experience that is both interwoven into the tapestry of humanity, while simultaneously being cut apart.  Sometimes you know just what to say, and the people will love you.  Other times you know the things NOT to say, and manage to muddle your way through the rest.  Rarely, you think that you know the password to anothers' heart, but it actually locks you out forever.  I think these are some of the most confusing moments, when you know there is something riding on it, celestial betting is heavy on the outcome, and you feel the pressure of the odds at your back.  You take that deep breath and blow on the proverbial dice of your words, but once they're gone, you can see it's gonna land snake eyes.

Pensic

I am "home" from my vacation.  Though it isn't really coming home, its leaving home.  SCAdians everywhere know what I'm talking about, but most mundane people won't get it.  Just imagine a place so serenely beautiful and relaxing, inviting you through its gates with open arms and massive smiles.  Everyone there, from the lowest commoner to the High Kings strive to their utmost to be paragons of honor and hospitality.  But more than that, all the ancient gods, Jupiter, Hephaestus, Horus, Baste, Thor and Tyr permeate the very soil.  I am driven to walk barefoot so the ground can work its into my feet, so that I can walk on Pensic ground well after its over.

About midway through the first week, I returned to camp after a poor night out.  I was disheartened, and dwelt to much upon past misfortunes.  I reached the common area of my camp, and found it empty, the fire pit filled with coals.  I took a seat, lit a cigarette, and stared into the dying fire brooding.  As some minutes passed, the dying fire lifted itself, and a new flame lept among the crushed remnants of the logs.  The moon, waxing in the sky, was not yet full enough to give much light, so this new flame was startlingly bright.  Fire is in many myths, a gift from gods to man, so I took this as an omen.  On a dark night, a dying fire reached out for more fuel.  It was Loki's hand if I ever saw.  A bargain was struck, I fed the fire wood from the pile, and mead from my still full mug, and promised to seek mischief this Pensic, in return for respite and some happiness.

I preformed acts of guile for which I was neither caught nor punished, plotted future pranks, and minor evils, and dallied in dark corners.  It was a good Pensic War.  But it is over, and I am back to the realm of technology, and I find it hard to adjust to a world of shoes and shirts, pants and PDA's.  I long to spend more time in the cool shade drinking mead, or walking barefoot amongst the merchants hawking their wares.  I want every War to be better than the last, and I strive to be a better SCAdian for my clan and kingdom.  It is odd to talk of fealty when I have none in my more conservative life, but it is a strong pull, and hard to ignore.

Summer Time

It is summer.  Summer is typified by laziness, excess, vacations and a time for relaxation.  I have many things that I do during the summer, although "Do" implies some sort of meaning or purpose to these actions.  Really, what I mean is they fill my time until something better comes along.  As my chronological meter racks up the counters, I am beginning to find that these moment holders are less and less satisfying.  Certainly they are useful for some minor recreation, but to waste hours and hours on them eats at the portion of my being that longs to create.  I needs must find something productive that entertains.

It is within this time that I also read.  I read quite frequently, but there are times when I experience a piece which is different.  It is more than what I understand as writing.  For me the experience isn't like reading, it is being let into a persons very existence.  Their ability to communicate dwarfs mine own in such a profound way as to be beyond compare.  But compare I do, and I'm filled with malaise.  That there is a being in the world who possesses creative power on a plane that I cannot fathom has the power to disconnect me from the fields I do inhabit.

But in juxtaposition there are these empty chronological calories.  I consume them and am bloated with them, but they do not fill me with meaning or substance.  I desire more meaty means of defining myself and want no more of this black sweetness which I have inundated myself with.  Despite my indolence, I want to strive onward to slimming my literary figure to a razor sharpness.  I will hone my wit and strengthen the temper of my metaphor until I am at least satisfied that I will suit my seat nicely, and not be forced to squeeze into a niche to small for me.

Things people Say

With he shear volume of possible sentences and thought constructions reaching off into the infinite, I often find that people say ridiculous things.  Not you garden variety ridiculous stuff that you get out of your televangelists or UFO nuts, but stuff that if people really though about it, they might reconsider the very fabric of their reality.

There is no such thing as Magic.  Now, by this sentence, completely rational, well thinking people mean that every action has a determinable and obvious cause, that can be broken down into a series of forces interacting in a clear and concise manner.  That there is no event that happens without cause, or is totally inexplicable.  This, I believe is true.  I also believe that magic is real.  When I say magic, I mean those little bits of information received at such a subconscious level of thinking that they don't even register.  Love at first sight, Deja Vu, recollections of only the vaguest emotions without any sights, sounds or smells.  Things that you look at and don't need to wonder about, because you know within the core of your being, without explanation.

 "I don't know.'  I hate that one.  It isn't used as an honest admission of lacking knowledge though, its used as a white flag.  I hear people say this all the time,  sometimes I say it, and mean; "I honestly don't want to think about this topic in depth, please just tell me what the hell your talking about."  Now, in some situations, I understand, this is useful, you shouldn't go around trying to engage in rigorous mental chess with every conversation.  But I even hear it in academic settings in which your supposed to be challenged.  It okay to not know something.  It doesn't label you inept or a moron, it shows your strength, that you can admit something beyond your ken and work to bring it in.

For me, Santa Claus exists as well.  Of course I don't believe that there is a happy red suited man living in the frigged north giving toys to all good christian children, and coal to the bad ones.  The physical aspects of Santa Claus are of secondary concern to me.  What really matters are those thing that make this more than just a pleasant fairy tale for boring winter nights.  The stuff that latches onto those human parts of us that are altruistic and giving, that want to imagine, even if just for one day, that everyone COULD get along if we just tried hard enough.  That if you could make everyone, everywhere, happy for just one day, the world would change forever.  And aren't those lessons we want everyone to learn no matter what?  That its good to want the best for everyone, even yourself.  Or that its worth fighting those impossible battles.  There is more magic, because its difficult, maybe impossible to explain why we know that those fights have to be fought, even though often we lose.  But whats more magical than the improbable wining out over the sum of all possible probability's to the contrary. 

Statistics say it isn't magic, but our human brains don't think in statistics, they think in human terms.  Long shots are miracles, the stuff of myth and legend.  Magic.

An Analysis

Music is cyclical.  Setting aside the compositional aspects of repeating rhythms and themes which conclude within the arch of the song, we are left with the design of it all.  It invokes our emotions and is made from them.  Did the earliest people whistle while they worked?  Did their mothers sing them to sleep before language?  When one of their own died, did they wail out the grief, or was it a melodic recitation of their life and the pain the hole their existence leaves behind?  These are some interesting questions, but I will be looking at music, as I interpret its effects on myself, without actual music.  Seeing as how I have no musical talent to speak of (I sing in the key of off), I will be using words, which are still a powerful aspect of the process sometimes.

At a broad view, music is designed to entertain and communicate.  What and how it does this is as varried as the aspects of the human condition. But there are certain aspects that are consistent, which ply on our feelings.  When I listen to music, it draws out feelings that I have.  Brings them to the light without diluting them.  When I'm angry, songs that have an alien quality to them, something which sets aside humanity is a commonality.  The best ones also use a human voice to counterpoint this, and the lyrics will cut through the pseudo-psychic bullshit to whats pricking at my anger.  It pierces the shell and pulls out the pain, bringing it to the fore of my consciousness.  The pain envelops me and drowns everything in a white-hot rage.  It burns cold and bright, leaving a core of logic and calm, and I can move through it without fear.   

I have also found, that in depression, music can accentuate it to a point.  The sadness that I feel is nothing when compared to the simple joy of being alive to hear this wonderfully apt song.  My hurting is real, so real that I relish the chance to feel even that.  I am able to grab some fucking happiness out of the black, and push back the fear and melancholy with the knowledge that just feeling, even torment, is more powerful than anything.  I find euphoria within it, and I'm just happy to know I can feel.

Love songs.  To write about love songs, is like drawing stick figures for the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, or seeing a sunset through purple glass.  It is inadequate in every way, though I am compelled.  Even the ones about unrequited love bring a swelling of the heart, and an insane happiness with them.  I wish ever so fervently that I could write something that could move someone as much as music can move me.  I dream of love in terms of love songs, and sonnets, beautiful and whole, their composition a masterwork of longing and fantasies.  It isn't that music creates these flights of feeling, but they are always there, nestled in the deeps, just waiting the right touch to let them free.  I will forever quest for the proper string of characters to convey who I am, and though my quest may be fruitless, I will never quit.

Even More Random

I haven't written anything in a while.  This is a blatant lie.  I've written lots of things, but they all seem to short, or not coherent enough to actually post up.  There are ideas within that I want to manifest further, connect more deeply and clearly.  There are things missing that I can't quite put my finger on, so their on hold.  The Following, are a collection of thoughts and questions which, while having deeper connectivity issues, are able to stand alone for the time being.  Also, forgive me as I do not have a full, working knowledge of all of these subjects, these are merely musings.

On Quantum Mechanics:
Anti-matter is the section within specific atomic reactions that moves backwards through time, then the emitter-absorber phenomenon in  Wheeler-Feynman electrodynamics might be explained by non-linear time.  The interaction between the two electrons is mathematically uncertain, as the force being exerted by the first electron, depends on the strength of the reaction of the second.  Could this not be explained by particles of anti-matter interacting with the now?

In Quantum Mechanics, what is the "Moment in time" used to measure?  What is the quantity of a fraction of a second?  Aren't you simply measuring the change in the particles from T1 to T2?  A change in velocity, position, charge, mass, even if there is no change from T1 to Tn, is a measured change of 0.

If the Laws of Conservation are correct, the interaction of matter and anti-matter doesn't eliminate the two particles.  More likely is that the interaction causes either the formation of one or possibly two new particles which we have yet to measure, or they move into a different time.

On History:
There is, as far as I can tell, no evidence to support the idea that history, or events within time, repeat themselves in a regular, predictable way, which through knowledge and understanding, some pattern might be divined.  I see  two possible explanations for this logic.  First, that peoples inherent desire to see patterns where none exist, formed this idea that because similar events happened twice, history is repetitive.  Second, is based on a closed universe.  That at some point, the gravitational forces at the center of the universe will overcome the velocity and all motion, both physical and temporal will reverse itself.  But this only occurs in a closed universe, which ours is not. 

On The Human Mind:
I have said before that emotions are capable of being rational responses to stimuli, going against the grand theory that emotion does not equal rationality.  But there is more to it than simple stimuli response.  The idea, that your friend, a sentient being, no longer thinks or feels, elicits real and measurable chemical reactions in your brain.  The human brain, combines molecular chemistry, to create not just logic, but feeling.  It takes a very specific reaction of molecules and ions to produce the right reaction, but on average, the human brain gets it right every time.

On Psychology:
The psychoanalytic theory seems fatally flawed to me.  The basic assumption is that our behavior is subtly influenced by our subconscious motives.  These motives were pushed into the subconscious in early childhood by parents and society.  If they aren't dealt with, they can cause severe emotional problems.  The question is, How did this happen?  Humans created society yes, but human beings came first.  How and why would a human society have evolved with this trait?  It had to start some where, there had to be some biological motive for suppressing primary drives.  The 'What' of the theory is well established, but it doesn't answer any other questions.  And if it is 'society' which helps suppress these desires, then a different society would have them to greater or lesser degrees, which isn't evident.

How is psychology even a science.  It's results aren't reproducible 100% of the time.  When a result comes back outside the bounds of a theory, the theory isn't discarded as being incorrect, it is modified to accommodate, or the result is dismissed.  Its acceptable to dismiss statistical outliers, but psychology doesn't have statistical norms for there to be outliers against.

On Music:
 When I listen to music, I realized I'm not even listening to a persons voice, or real instruments.  The closest thing my Ipod gets to real music is when it plays electronica, or some other digital medium.  All I really hear is the product of converted digital information into precise audio wavelengths generated electronically.

Things I Hate

1. Reality T.V. shows about preppy up beat little 'starlets' whom no one has ever heard of.
2. People who move to the big city with their giant dog and then refuse to clean up after them because they never had to clean up their parents back yard when the dog took a dump back there.
3. Words ending in '-izzle.'
4. People who end words in '-izzle.'
5. Ipads, PDA's, I-Phones, Kindles, Nooks, EReaders, tablets, anything and everything ever made by apple, because its just so user friendly that any dumb schmuck at the apple store can fix it for 250 bucks by hitting the reset button.
6. Computer technicians who's primary method of "customer support", is repeatedly telling you to try power cycling your computer.
7. Canned Air.  (Yes it is real).
8. Every single business that has you add their club card to your key chain until you have more bar codes attached to it than keys.
9. The word "Post-Modern".
10. Parents who push around empty strollers.
11. Parents who push around full strollers while ignoring their children for their cell phones.
12. Parents who push around full strollers while ignoring their children for their cell phones, right up until their phone reception dies, and then appear to be driven to interact with their children because of only this fact.
13. People who end words in '-izzle.' (I REALLY HATE THAT).
14. Fruit sellers in France. Ask Eddie Izzard.
15. Printers that seem to 'think' that they're out of ink, when really, you know you just refilled the bastard.
16. Republicans.
17. Democrats.
18. People who say their communist/socialist because they think that's the ONLY OTHER ALTERNATIVE to either of the a fore mentioned parties.
19. Fat people who feel that they are entitled to extra room in elevators, train cars, airplanes, because that was the way 'god' made them.  Fat is a burden, not a right or privilege, and your eating habits made you fat, not your god.
20. Unsolicited advice.
21.  People who say "I accept you for who you are, no matter what," because we all know their lying.
22. Gentrification, because its made every Black person in my neighborhood look at me like an outsider, when I've lived there longer than ANY OF THEM!
23. People who argue semantics.
24. People who insist that "Intelligent Design" is a valid theory even though at some point in the scientific process of that theory, it breaks down into "Cause...it did."
25. The word 'Hate'.

Book's

I've been reading for a long time.  It's a useful skill, and its interesting that our brains have adapted the ability to preform this skill without conscious thought.  I read everything I move my eyes to, regardless of whether it was my intention or not.  It is a reflexive motion, like breathing.  Over the years, my tastes have changed gravitation's slightly.  At eleven or so I started reading novels, there wasn't any of this "Teen Fiction" crap we have today, so I was reading, well, real books.  Stuff that probably shouldn't have been given to a small child.  But I read them.  When I was sixteen, I started reading more philosophical work and was very interested in Shakespeare (not for the whiny teen angsty crap, but because the verse is really quite amazing).  Stuff having to deal with the tiny thoughts people have. Love, hate, need, greed, want, lust, apathy, revenge, anger, vengeance, justice, sadness, melancholy, depression, repression, inception, and every other subconscious mental meandering that someone thinks they might have an insight to. 

Then (I'd say finally, but it isn't really an end, just another page break), I started reading things on science.  NeuroLinguistics, Rationality, Logic, Chemistry, Physics, Astronomy (Never Never Never astrology) Sociology, Psychology, Anthropology, Statistics, Economics.  All of this stuff is still interesting to me, even the stuff from my teen years.  Through it all though, has been an unhealthy smattering of fantasy and science fiction books.  I say unhealthy because I realized something, starring at my bookshelves the other day.

I realized that these book lie to you.  They're all the same, there is your hero, and your "Bad Guys".  Some of them maybe have the misunderstood guys, or the 'they-might-be-good-if-we-had-just' guys.  There is the crew of supportive friends, maybe a few role models.  And while there is some horrible battle or confrontation to be done, at the end, everything is fine and everyone is happy, and deep down, even the bad guys are basically good people.  This is a load of shit.  We all know full well that there are some people in the world, and actual percentage of people, who are not good and decent.  But lets forget about that 2% (yes ladies and gentlemen 2% of the male population are psychopaths) who have no concept of pain, fear or any other emotions outside of themselves.  What about the politicians, the spin doctors, the advertising executives, the C.E.O's, the Stock Jockeys, professional sports players, big business owners, small business owners, drug addicts, drug pushers, dirty cops, dirty judges, racists, bigots, hypocrites, abusers, movie producers, movie stars, all the self involved self important nincompoops?  That's a huge list of people that at one point or another, we've all looked at and said to ourselves "How can they/we live like/with them(selves)?"

Well, lets face it, its really really easy to be a terrible person to someone.  We're rude to people all the time, we plot and scheme, talk about people behind their backs, work out ways to cut out the competition at work or in a love life.  It's just a fact that people don't get along all the time.  We don't feel shame about these things, or beat ourselves up.  It isn't in our nature.  The only difference between most evils we hear about is scale, or possibly inventiveness, but the base motivation is the same.  We all have them, the desire to do well, to out do others, to be the best, be recognized, honored and remembered.  There are no people who are wholly good, every level of a persons behavior is really motivated by one thing, to be human.  So yes, there is shame in kicking a man who's down, or pushing an old grandma, but most every evil we face isn't some amorphous controlling entity, its just humanity. 

Its our humanity that makes us great as a species, but its also our greatest flaw.  There is good and bad in everyone, that's the rub.  It's easy to look at a person who defrauded us and assign them evil status, and to look at our own 'unselfish' deeds and proclaim ourselves good.  But I've found, the best of people are the ones who accept their own flaws.  They're the ones who are most comfortable with themselves, but atypically, cannot fit into society.  They see all people as human, not one thing or another, not a singular persistent trait, but a collection of mutable, changing ideas, feelings, and actions.  Being human isn't just altruism, courage, selflessness, and all the other good things we can be, its also being some of the worst.  Self-serving, jealous, hording our time and feelings.  You can't grow as a person if you cannot accept the fact that sometimes, things have to be about you.

My Thing Of Today

I get it.  We live in 'The Information Age'.  A time where every conceivable thing which grabs our interest, every minute detail, all the tedious minutia, is at our very finger tips.  This can cause a huge overload.  It would be inconceivable to read every book, play every game, watch every TV show or movie, so the rational behind reviewers is there.  You wind up asking other people you know about these things, if they liked them, why you might like them.  If you have an interest that none of your friends does, or they aren't around, you might check up on customer reviews, or professionally written ones.  These things make sense to do.  Its painful to waste time and money on something that turns out to be stupid and annoying for the general public, let alone personally.  You don't want to waste your time reading a book to find out the ending is trash, that's a huge investment of time for a small return.

My problem is with those people who will literally do nothing without the approval of an outside source.  The people who know them aren't good enough, they couldn't possibly be able to, with their years of experience dealing with them, be able to predict these things accuratly.  The must have the opinion of that outside source.  They're like a god, with premonitory abilities on your tastes and dislikes.  They have a plan for you and your money, and they are never wrong.  These types of people are horrid.

Whats the point of listening to one person for you needs on a specific topic.  You don't do it with medical professionals, lawyers, or your $500 an hour therapist.  But games, fashion, movies, books; no those people have their heads on right.  With four years at some college that teaches you how to critique and write compellingly, they are obviously qualified to tell you what to like, and it isn't as if its in their best interest, right?  And I'm not saying that getting an opinion on something is a terrible idea, its those individuals who only listen to that one other voice.  Sure, they may be right all the time about what is good, but they have no rational for not lying to you, or to tell you to branch out.  There is no telling how many opportunities you've missed by not exploring outside that box.  To be trapped by a couple of well written paragraphs that tell you everything you want to hear, that's not independent thinking, being avant garde, separatist, or a non-conformist.  Its doing exactly what that person is getting paid to do, give you an acceptable rational, which appeals to your sense of self and style, to buy something.

That's what baffles me about "Fashion".  The art of wearing clothing (in my head i spell it c-loathing).  Certainly a well dressed individual is ascetically pleasing, but by art we mean taking a base medium, canvas, marble, the human body, and turning it into a means to convey an important message or vision to as many people as possible for as long as possible.  If it were an art in that way, we would see every possible type of person at fashion shows, and designers would be scrambling to get their messages to everyone, not the few and proud.  Instead, we only find six foot tall slender behemoths who make up about 1% of the possible population, and the latest fashions are in and out every three months for ginormous prices.  Picasso, Monet, Pierre de Wiessant, Hitchcock, statues from the Roman Empire, those thing that have endured for decades, centuries, millennium, those are things we consider art.  We can still learn from them, feel something from them, teach using them.  Ask any person on the street about what is art, the last thing that comes from their mouths will be "fashion".  Fashion isn't an art, its a business, its prime motivation isn't to tell you something about the world, or share pain and joy with you.  It isn't even about the human condition.  It's about getting a bunch of people to feel better about themselves through manipulation and bilk them out of thousands of dollars by telling them their special.  No artist I've ever heard of (outside the fashion "industry") would every put those motives down on their portfolio.

Television

I don't watch a lot of t.v, or maybe I watch to much.  Its hard to gauge against another person, who can talk to you about all the characters on various vapid shows designed solely to titillate and arouse the public, to my own watchings; which are restricted to just watching every episode, in order, of every season, of a television show within the course of a couple of weeks.  Though I don't have the television on simply for noise, but for a reason.  That reason, I assumed up until now, was because I liked the show, or the actors, or the writer.  But for now, I'm going with the theory that its for socialization.  While I cannot get my hands on current material, I can still assess the norms and morals of the past few years, and since societies change so slowly, this is still a pretty good map. 

Socialization is defined as a process of acclimating ones self to the surrounding cultural environment which persists from birth, until death.  This gives me great hope of one day, being able to understand people, or at least get really good at guessing at their motives.  A lot of people think that socialization occurs within person to person communication.  This is partly true, as for the first years of any of our lives we interact with very few people.  However, as we age, the sphere of those we see and talk with expands, both in quantity and in quality.  But socialization for humans isn't just the words people say, there are all sorts of nuances to communication.  Body language, inflection, context, tone of voice, and prior attributions.  So even though a television show, or magazine ad, or even a book, doesn't provide you with interactive face time with the subjects, it allows messages far more powerful than whats funny or what deodorant to buy.  It shows the concept of truth and obfuscation in language, appropriate physical responses, to recognize facial reactions.


I often mock people for citing T.V, (I also like to just mock people), for the basis for their observations about reality.  Mostly because its the only compelling piece of commentary they can relate to the subject being discussed.  But sometimes I over look the fact that while television is structured specifically to convey a message the writer or producer wants, that doesn't mean it lacks humanity.  We have a tendency, as a species, to equate dislike with non-human, which makes judgements like these easy.  If you don't like someone, it makes it easier to take advantage of them, or degrade them, or manipulate them into doing what you want.  But with television, while the messages are designed by people you never see, they are still attempts at human communication.  So while it might be repugnant to acknowledge the fact that watching television may teach you something, it isn't necessarily false.  You just have to make sure that you take away the human lessons, and not the social, cultural, or economic lessons (i.e. the ideological ones this particular group holds).

But in this case there is another reason why sometimes citing television is stupid, and why it may also not be.  Television doesn't always reflect reality.  Sure there are the laws of gravity and physics maybe even thermodynamics, but the way people interact is not there.  Most shows are constructed so that the watchers can feel superior, laugh at the incompetence of people who don't know how to deal with their feelings or miss obvious verbal and facial clues the studio audience clearly didn't.  Things like that are traps for the imagination.  We begin to feel better about our selves, because we would never be that stupid.  So we continue to watch, to continue to feel superior, and it gets popular, so more shows just like it are made, and so on in a happy death spiral.  Though, sometimes, it can reflect reality, because the writers who made the dialogue, and the actors who show it to use, even the director of photography frames it in just the right way to share something with us, the audience.  These are all people, trying to get a message across to us (but these guys I'm talking about positively right here, they're on good t.v. shows).

So sometimes I go on a t.v. binge.  And I start to thinking, am I feeling the way I do because the t.v. is telling me this is how I feel?  Not really, certainly I'm reacting to it, but it doesn't have the ability to permeate every thought.  And even if I am, I'm being informed but real people.  They are trying to convey emotion, pain, hurt, anger, love, and to not react to that would be worse.  And besides, if reality is constructed solely within our minds, any outside stimuli which influences our perception of reality, and is part of that reality because of its origin, is a reflection of that reality (optical illusions not withstanding).

Random

I love the random things that happen which I get to view as providence.  I know in reality that random happenstance is really just that, a statistically generated possibility of outcomes.  But my brain gets to see it as the universe taking a little time out to string together a sequence of events that come out in my favor.  I've said before that this happens frequently to me, so I have ample opportunity to analyze this phenomenon at the personal level.  It’s odd however, that my first visceral reaction is to think that the sequence of events was supposed to play out the way it did.  I then step back and think.  If it events hadn't happened in this way, they would have happened in an equally random way.  Some people will think this takes the magic out of miracles, but think about it.  Which is more miraculous, that an omnipotent being with a grand plan, an interest in our every move, and observing only this one planet in the multitudes of the cosmos?  OR, that in a universe so vast as to be near infinite, we are on this one spheroid, are born out of a random pairing of two distinct genetic sequences, have varying degrees of talent and ability, create things and share them with others, and after all that, my Ipod will put two songs next to each other on shuffle that counter point each other and my mood?  The likely-hood of the latter is so vastly impossible that it doesn't merit computation.

Of course, you could break down every bit of the second question into different probability functions, with variables for each sections, and express it in a formula, but I don't do any of that in my head.

But speaking on this particular random event which I am enamored of, it was beautiful.  I was on the train home after confronting, and being comforted about, a particularly intense phobia I have, and reading.  I was reading about two cosmologists, Beatrice Tinsley and Allan Sandage arguing about whether the universe is open or closed.  I paused for a moment in my reading to digest a little bit of information, and realized this has been a big week for me.  I've been faced with everyday, huge fears that have until this point ruled my life.  People.  I'm terrified of them because on the whole, I understand that I will never know someone like I know myself.  But this week I've begun this blog, attempted extroversion, and attended a social gathering with people I'd never met all alone in someone’s home.  I've done these things for the simple reason of defying myself. 

However, I realized that I hadn't given myself sufficient time to celebrate these achievements.  So I took my Ipod off shuffle.  This is big, because I feel like I must keep it on there so that I can at least be reminded of all the music I own and justify its existence on the device.  But I treated myself to listening to something I really wanted to.  So I put on "Mumford and Son's" song White Blank Page because it speaks to me of tranquility and then onslaught of horrid emotion into the calm of your soul.  The keynote point in the song of course is the crescendo which accompanies two phrases, "a white blank page, and a swelling rage," which pretty much sums up writers block for me. 

I read some online blogs, all of which have the connecting thread that their authors are people I admire.  One of them, Jerry "Tycho" Holkins, writer for Penny Arcade, has said in interviews that he feels that he has to keep justifying the work he does, that if he doesn't live up to the standards, it will be taken away from him.  I can say many nice things about this man, but I will simply say that he has a talent no one can take from him.  But this is very much how I feel sometimes, staring at a blank piece of paper, or white computer screen.  I MUST fill it, or I will lose it all.  This is very true in that not exercising my linguistic talents may cause them to atrophy.  However, the reverse is also true, writing this much over this short a period of time has caused me to think about things that I want to write about almost constantly.  This in turn makes me wonder if I will ever, even with my diverse areas of curiosity, run out of things to write/think about.  I don't think so, but if I ever draw a blank I'll make a game out of it.

Crime Drama Science

These shows fascinate me for a variate of reasons, but I always find my self wondering something.  How real is the science they're showing us.  If I were in the crime fighting business such as the people depicted in these shows are, I wouldn't want a bunch of people going around, spreading my trade secrets.  I mean, there is a reason besides protecting his loved ones that Bruce Wayne doesn't advertise he's Batman.  It gives him an edge over his competition.  Not just super villains would take advantage of that knowledge, his business rivals would start working at night, when he was busiest, or taking advantage of the fact that he's sleep deprived.

So are the things they show on CSI, NCIS, Law & Order, Criminal Minds, Castle, Bones, Lie to Me* reflections of technology that actually exists?  Are the writers of the show giving more tools to the otherwise inept criminals of our society?  Are we crafting better criminals through television?  Or is it a campaign of misinformation.  I can see writers playing down the possibilities of our technology so criminals make errors; or inventing a device which detects some piece of evidence which leads real criminals to act as if it exists, thereby making their life harder.

The real quandary comes with the possibility that the technology and science portrayed is real.  Certainly there is a bases for all or most of it, but is it all real?  Can you learn about pathology, micro expressions, or investigative techniques from watching these shows?  I find my self watching Castle after seeing Lie to Me and wondering if the Castle actors are coached to act as if they are lying, or don't believe what they're saying, or just to act like what they are saying is true.  Does the science of micro-expressions work against trained actors?

The main reason I like Crime Dramas, being by far the majority of my limited television watching, is that they show our humanity.  They dissect, quite logically, human motivations, emotions and thoughts.  Quite a large portion of them are devoted to teasing out the motive which causes these people to commit crimes.  It follows a special kind of human logic, people get angry, jealous, greedy, lonely, or selfish and act on these feelings.  The characters we follow are the flawed, horrid people we fear we all are, and they chase the even more flawed.  They combat not the deformed monsters from the pits of hell or medical anomalies or teen angst, but the deformed monsters of human psychology.

Medical shows have a tendency to trend towards displaying human tenacity.  I don't have the hormone levels to watch teen dramas.  And "Fantasy" show's are well, fantastic.  They portray people as the pinnacle of life, the epitome of vitality.  With a show about the foibles and problems of humans, we get to see not just the heroics of our protagonists, but the corrosive damage the negative influences have.  They aren't these indefatigable rocks which take everything that comes there way and go home to make dinner and have a perfect relationship.  (There are a few exceptions that prove the rule, Doctor Who, most anything by Joss Whedon).  They are humans in such a real way that we rarely can imagine a better way for them to go.

Emotions.

Sometimes, I have them.  Its weird though, because when I say I have them, I mean I Have them.  They are a thing, tangible, noticeable, measurable. I can pick them up, turn them around in the hand of my mind and notice how they work.  I can even PUT THEM DOWN.  I can literally turn off some of my emotions, or at least that's how I think of it.  It doesn't actually happen that way, I just stop feeling them until its more convenient, but that's what it looks like.  Sometimes, the opposite happens, and I am had by my emotions.  It sounds dirty and graphic, but that's exactly how I feel when I come down off of the anger or mad happiness.  I am taken over, my reactions aren't mine.  I can look at them and be utterly mystified by them.  I sometimes feel like the Hulk, just less cool.

That's one of the things that always confuses me about people and their response to emotions.  It is a commonly held belief that emotional < rationality, which I don't agree with.  Emotions are stimuli responses.  Your friend dies, you mourn the loss.  You win the lottery, you are excited/pleased by the possibilities.  The break down comes when your emotions stop responding to rationality.  They are instead replaced by the reality you construct in your head based off of multiple errors in attributable.  Your friend does something stupid, scary stupid, and instead of rationalizing it, (people do stupid things sometimes, learning from them is important), it becomes this enduring, persistent attribute of that person.  They aren't flawed and human, they are a bad person and no amount of wanting to change will help them.
 I think the worst part of being rational is waking up and realizing that all of these bias, pitfalls, and arguments aren't just out in the world, assaulting us; They are in your own mind.  Sometimes, against all logic, you convince yourself that something is true.  Your don't actually take out your thoughts, one by one, and question them, that would take forever.  But sometime, infrequently, more often would be helpful, one of your foundation beliefs is knocked out from under you.  For a really really long time you'll sit there, on the ground surrounded by shards of thought and bits of belief, inspecting each and every one for that glimmering of logic.  But in the end, you sigh and stand, realizing that there isn't one shred of rational thought anywhere in the pile of broken hopes.  As you walk away from that pillar of false hope, its foundation sugar coated dreams and pure spun fantasy you take one, last bite to see how it tastes.  Its bitter friends.  Lies, false hope, and broken promises taste exactly like ash covered glass.

Genius say's Why?

So many people, through history, have attempted to define the term, I think in an effort to make it apply to themselves. That is not my desire, though I do have some thoughts on its definition. What I want out of this inquiry, is to tell what genius means to me. What makes another a genius, brilliant, and extraordinary. I think however, for the sake of clarity, I should delve into the clouded, murky waters of this topic.

Genius' (that’s the pluralization people), differ from prodigies. A prodigy is an individual who possess a heightened ability. We must point out though, that these are often in fields like math, music, chess, fields where after learning the concepts, the rest in natural ability. There are no prodigies in quantum physics, or engineering, or writing, because the concepts aren't enough to fully grasp the tasks at hand and start solving problems. A child can make mathematical discoveries after learning some things about math, the speed at which they make these is what makes them a prodigy. But we're digressing.

A genius is someone who sees with their mind. Musical genius' can visualize the sound waves in their head and feel the harmonies rightness, and mathematical ones can manipulate numbers unconsciously. Richard Feynman, a notable physicist who worked on the Manhattan project, said that he could see the functions he was working on interacting with one another. He describes it in such a way that even though they exist completely in his mind, they have a life of their own, his brain holds such an intimate and complete understanding of them her worked them out unconsciously. (I am not a physicist, nor have I read the book in which I read this for quite a while, so you'll forgive if I forgo citation). To me, there are only two things that make a genius. A mind which can learn something so completely, that it literally becomes part of them, an unconscious fifth limb, and the opportunity to confront a really unique and interesting problem. Statistically speaking, there are several thousand people with the same IQ as Steven Hawking and Albert Einstein walking around right now. What keeps them from getting noticed is that they never find their interesting problem.

Now for some fun with the definition. Levels of human experience are often ranked on a continuum, with genius and madness being almost indistinguishably separate. Does this mean sanity and stupidity are likewise closely related? Genius isn't even close to madness, and here is why; Sanity is simply an agreed upon way to perceive reality as defined by a majority of the population. If every one but you saw the moon as a giant smiling face, or the clouds as spaceships, they would look at you as if crazy if you were to tell them its a hunk of rock, or wisps of water vapor. They would be wrong to do so, since you can obviously test both hypothesis, but you'd still be crazy because everyone knows the "clouds" are where our robot masters live. So sanity is a matter of perceived reality and popularity, but what about when we delve into the part of reality we cannot see? Our brains don't all have the necessary materials to work out quantum physics from birth. So, a genius is someone who can see, through effort and ingenuity, to different levels of reality.

A little background on my name.

Everyone has various names they go by.  True names, nicknames, given names, stage names, handles, tags, or pseudonyms, but they all amount to the same thing.  An identity, carefully crafted, honed and nurtured until it is a different persona.  The best of us have matured this ability until our alternate identities take on their own lives.  They have different slang, modes of speech, philosophies, background stories, and (for the more unhinged of us) maybe even accents.  They all add up to the same thing however, a way of communicating something about ourselves that is, or we wish were, true.  The one I'm talking about I've signed my posts with here, have an Xbox live profile of, and it reaches back into my teenage years. (No this will not be an angst-ridden post, although my nerd will show a bit). 

A Fluke is traditionally defined many ways; a type of fish, a parasite, part of a ships anchor.  For myself, I take the most oft used, but lowest technical definition of the word, an accidental stroke of luck or good fortune.  Note, that the accidental is the most important part of that definition for me.  Often I will be playing a game online or in the company of friends, and some unexpected turn of events will push the game in my favor.  Or classroom assignments will be covering a topic I had recently read.  Sometimes tests that I haven't studied for will be rescheduled.  The point isn't that these thing happen just to me, because I know that statistically, random providential happenstance occurs for everyone, the point is that it happens frequently enough to me that others have noticed it.

After years of playing games online, and winning (losing sometimes too) through a combination of skill (I played a lot), and shear dumb luck, and subsequently being accused of hacking, cheating, or fixing the game in some way to my advantage, I got fed-up.  I changed my handle from some horribly teenage thing, to Fluke.  Now, when the dice fall just right for me, no one can exclaim "CHEAT!"  It is advertised, right there for you, luck is against you, and follows me.  Yes, she is a fickle bitch, sometimes she joins the other team, but I'm also good enough at what I do that it doesn't tip the scale out from under me.  And this odd twist of fate doesn't just pertain to virtual reality (hehe perception), but to our world as well.  So I have adopted it, this is my identity.  I am an accident, fates twisting knife and arching blade, Murphy is on my fucking five. 

Its about damn time

For the longest time, I've considered sharing my writing, thoughts or however they will be viewed, with other people.  I have finally grown tired of thinking to myself "I should really write about this (interesting topic)", and then not.  Mostly what has held me back is fear, and not one founded in reality, but wholly irrational fears. 

I fear criticism, but not the constructive kind.  I am afraid of those horrible Internet trolls we all know.  That special brand of person who takes a perverse pleasure in taking something apart without actually considering its merits.  What scares me the most about them is they completely miss the point of the topic, and refuse to see logic.  No amount of conversation, arguing, cajoling or down right cold logic will make them see the point, and that would just sap my energy.

I fear people not getting it.  I worry endlessly that people will simply not understand what I'm talking about.  They will misinterpret, get lost, or confused by my ranting ramblings through the endless pathways of thought.  However, some random, amorphous person who doesn't understand the points I (will eventually) get too, doesn't invalidate that point.  It isn't a representation of the world as a whole, just their own reality.

I fear the incomplete.  Any work that I have, must be a finished product before anyone can see it.  I can't even stand to look at spelling errors in the middle of it even though I have a spell checker, and the knowledge that they will still be there when I'm done.  It is a ridiculous fear and its time I got over it.

I have thought to myself, "I am not perfect", and its time to actually act on it.  I will get better, or not, but I think writing is the best way I can communicate ideas.  Those looping pathways of my mind are more interconnected than a bayesian network, and the insanity I present to the world is real as the next persons sanity.  I don't particularly care if no one reads this (lies all lies), but I am doing this as a promise to myself.  I want to continue to write about the confusing complexeties of life that make the world interesting.