Monday, March 21, 2011

A Break from the Headaches

A week or so ago I began to get the feeling that I needed to take a break from this blog.  I felt an impulse to do something that went in a bit of a different direction from all these crazy theories and ideas.  Lately, I've been feeling a slight staleness creep in and my interest has been slipping a little.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm sick of doing this.  I'm just saying that I need to take a break before it gets to that point.  If my heart's not into it, then I'm not going to be putting out any kind of quality material.  I won't be doing you guys any favor if I force myself to keep going.  Luckily, I know myself well enough at this point in my life to know that this disenchantment is just a passing phase.  My interest in things goes in cycles and seasons, and when the cycle comes back around I'll return with a fresh enthusiasm for this material.

Meanwhile, I'm not planning to take a break from blogging.  In fact, I've started up a new blog that I plan to work on while I'm on a break from this one.  As I said, I've had an impulse to do something different.  This new blog will be a bit more personal, less about my ideas and interests and more about my life.  I hope that my regular readers here will at least check it out at www.notesowl.blogspot.com  If it's not your cup of tea, I understand.  You can consider yourself well rid of me for a couple of months.  I just hope you'll still be here when I come back, and we can get into more confusing craziness and mushroom cloud migraines.  Consider this, like, the end of season one or something.  I've only scratched the tip of the iceberg.  There's still plenty of stuff to get into.    

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Star Trek Slices up the Milky Way

In the mid-nineties there were two spin-offs from the Star Trek the Next Generation series, Star Trek Deep Space Nine and Star Trek Voyager.  Both of these series were somewhat substandard to the series which had spawned them, but being a bit of a science fiction nerd, I watched them anyway.  If you watched them too, you'll recall that Deep Space Nine was about a space station near a worm hole that led to the Gamma quadrant.  The idea was that this was a passage to a distant section of the galaxy that was inaccessible otherwise.  It was really, really far away.  Well, a few years later, Voyager came along, and it involved a star ship stranded in the Delta quadrant, trying to get home.  Whoa, the Delta quadrant, that's one more Greek letter than gamma!  They must have been really, really, really, far away.  Right away this set the precedent for the dumbed-down nature of Voyager, as I'll demonstrate.

Pictured above is the Milky Way.  Well, it's a spiral galaxy, at least.  Anyway, if I've got my math and my Latin correct, then "quadrant" implies something that has been divided into four equal sections, like this:

You begin to see the problem?  This would put the Delta quadrant adjacent to the Alpha quadrant, rather than on the far side of the galaxy from it.  Still, I suppose they could have designated the sections as such:

But this seems a bit convoluted, as it involves zig-zagging around for no reason:

Instead of going in a nice clockwise fashion:

I guess it's possible though.  That being the case, I guess we could map out the Star Trek galaxy as such:

See, we've got everyone nice and separated and remote from each other.  But what about the path that the USS Voyager would take to get home?  I foresee two possibilities.  First, if they had any sense they would cut across the center of the galaxy:

This would have taken them near the super massive black hole at the center of the galaxy.  That would have made for some interesting story possibilities.  I'm not sure if the scientists knew about that yet.  At least they could have stopped on the planet that was in Star Trek V and asked, "Hey, why does God need a star ship?"

Or they could have taken a more circuitous route and passed through the Gamma or Beta quadrants, as pictured above.  Passing through the Gamma quadrant would have taken them through Dominion space, so they'd probably would have wanted to go the other way.  As far as we know, there's nothing in the Beta quadrant except worms and space dust.  It must be pretty boring since they never mention it.  Yet, if that's the way they went, you'd think that at some point in the series they would have crossed the border into one of these quadrants.  They could have at least given the viewers the sense that they were making some progress instead of just jerking around on the holodeck and picking up more Borg orphans.

At any rate, I think I'll shut up now while I can still claim to only be a "little bit" of a nerd.   

Saturday, March 19, 2011

I Would Make a G-r-r-reat Tiger

Well, Rachel Hoyt is at it again with her damn sociology studies.  This time she wants to know what animal we'd like to be.  I think I'm on to her game now.  Some shady Illuminati types have run all the numbers, they've figured out all the scenarios, and they've come to the conclusion that the only way to save the planet is to reverse the evolutionary progress of the human race.  It seems that the Earth can no longer support our technological progress, and it just so happens that a Dr. Fictiousname has invented a device that will re-encode our DNA and regress us back to animal form.  They'll just call everyone on the phone and tell them that they've won a free carpet shampooing and then they'll show up and zap them with the Devolver Ray.  Who's gonna turn down a free carpet cleaning?  Rachel's part in this clandestine plan is to collect information.  Under the guise of a "study", she'll get everyone to unwittingly declare what kind of animal they want to be turned into when the zappers come.

So, I guess I better give this matter some serious consideration.  Let's see...well, I definitely want to be some kind of cat.  They're adorable, they don't take any crap from anybody, and they always land on their feet unless you strap a slice of buttered bread to their back, then you risk opening some kind of quantum rift in the fabric of the universe.  There's also the possibility that some Schrodinger guy might stick you in box and declare that you're somewhere between life and death.  Whatever Doc.  Could you at least poke some air holes and drop a can of tuna in here?  Still, I think being a cat is a pretty solid choice.

Of course, I wouldn't have to be a little house cat.  I could be a big cat like a panther or a lion.  If anyone tried to strap buttered bread to me, I could snap their arm off like a twig with my ferocious teeth and then beat them to death with it.  I don't really want to be a lion, though.  They're the king of jungle, and I really don't feel like being the king of anything.  It sounds like too much responsibility.  I don't need a bunch of elephants and wart-hogs coming to me to settle their disputes.  I would probably eat their faces just to shut them up.  I don't think I'd make a very good king.

No, I think I'd rather be a Tiger.  They're just as bad-ass as lions, and they don't have all that king stuff to worry about.  No one comes to a tiger with their problems.  They would just see me over there, sleeping under the tree and they'd know that they'd probably shouldn't mess with me.  If anyone was stupid enough to bother me, it would be like having a pizza delivered.  I wouldn't even have to leave my tree to find dinner.  And I would be serving a valuable purpose.  I would be thinning the population of stupid animals.  I would be like natural selection with teeth.  Plus, I would have those cool stripes.  

So there you go Rachel.  Make sure to tell the zappers to have the gun set for "tiger" when they show up at my door.  It'll be awesome.  I can't wait.  Free Pizza!        

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Making Contact

More than once on this blog, I've mentioned the possibility of making contact with an alien race.  I've discussed the unlikelihood of them visiting us, and I've discussed the different methods by which we might cross the unimaginable distances of space to make contact with them.  Part of my fascination with this subject is the common idea of what life from another planet might be like, as well as confirmation that we're not alone in the universe.  Aside from these things, however, I also believe that real, verified contact with intelligent life beyond this planet would have a revolutionary impact on the human race.

We harbor a dream that some day we will put aside our differences with one another, end our senseless wars, and begin working together towards common goals.  Somehow, though, this dream keeps slipping away.  The practical purposes for war became obsolete a long time ago, but yet the fighting continues.  Wars were once fought for the expansion of territory and sometimes even for survival itself.  This is no longer necessary in the way that it once was, but we still find reasons to take up arms again each other.  It's as if we are compelled to keep fighting as an end unto itself and we need to fabricate excuses to perpetually sustain the conflict.  I guess we just like to kill each other.  I believe that contact with an alien race might be the one thing that could finally bring us together.

We seemed to have the concept of "us and them" hardwired into us.  We seem unable to conceive of an "us" without a "them" to contrast it to.  As long as we exist on our little blue island, isolated from the rest of the universe, we focus on the differences between each other.  We gather into a group on this side of the line by virtue of things that set us apart from the people on the other side of the line.  Yet, it's the existence of the line that enables the drawing together of the group.  Without the line, we remain scattered and disconnected, forming smaller groups and engaging in petty conflicts.  A clear, deep line drawn broad enough can bring focus and unity to smaller squabbling groups.

My fellow Americans will remember how September 11th seemed to briefly bring the country together.  Some people thought it was our common grief over the tragedy that united us.  I believe it was something a bit more basic.  That incident drew a deep line, and the terrorists who committed those atrocities were on one side of the line, and the rest of us were on the other.  The minor differences we had focused on between each other suddenly seemed small in the face of this larger divide.  We gathered together against a common enemy.  We nodded to one another.  We were "us"; they were "them."  It seems to be in our nature that we can't have one without the other.

Contact with intelligent extra-terrestrial life would draw a line across the cosmos itself; one deeper than we have ever known.  We wouldn't necessarily have to see them as an enemy, although quite honestly, it would help.  It might be enough just to see them as different.  Only by aliens occupying the role of "them" can there be an "us" that unites all of humanity.  Of course, it would nice to believe that we could reach a level of enlightenment where we could look past the differences of all beings.  One might suggest that such a dichotomy would only expand the same old problems to a higher level.  The yearning for world peace would be superseded by a yearning for galactic peace and then by universal peace.  I agree.  But what are you gonna do?          

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

My First Attempt at a Kindle Book

So, I've tried my hand at making a Kindle book.  I have to warn you, this is just kind of a trial run, and it's just really one of my longer stories.  It's only about 18 pages; what they call a Kindle "single".  On the plus side, though, I set the price at just $.99 cents, if you're interested.  I had a little trouble with the formatting.  The first time I submitted it, I tried to use normal paragraph indentations, but that didn't come out right, so then I switched it to spaces between the paragraphs.  Then I forgot to fix the paragraphs in the last section, so they're still screwed up. (The first paragraph is very long, and goes on for several pages, so don't let that fool you.) Anyway, I promise that the story is much more interesting than listening to me ramble on like this.  If anyone decides to actually buy this thing, I would certainly appreciate any feedback on how the formatting turned out.  I don't have a Kindle myself, so I'm working almost completely in the dark here.  If any one has some helpful tips for my next attempt, I appreciate hearing about that as well.

I'll hopefully be coming up with something better.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Versatile Blog Awards

The other day I got the "Versatile Blogger Award" from Chanel, via Candice, who I think deserves an honorable mention in her own right.  So, there I was with this award, which comes with all kinds of rules which I'm just going to flat out ignore, and I got to wondering, "What's so versatile about it?"  In fact, I'm not sure what any of these awards are supposed to do except sit over my sidebar as a concentrated testimony to my undeniable greatness.  Doesn't sound very versatile to me.  So, I set out to fix this sad state of affairs and come up with some really versatile uses for these awards.

1. The "Life is Good Award", which I got from Donna, can be used as a handy camouflaged kite on a nice spring day.  You can fool people into thinking that there's a rainbow in the sky.  Then they'll take pictures of them and post them on Facebook as if anyone cares.

2. The "Atypical Dollar...um"  Okay, so this one isn't really an award.  It was a button, but Scott vaguely suggested that he might make it an award.  Well, good enough for me.  With the awards it goes.  Anyhow, I figure that you could print out tons of these and take them to your seedier strip clubs.

Washed-Up Stripper: A whole dollar!?  For me!?

You: Yeah, you totally...uh, deserve it I guess.  Just don't, like, flip it over or anything.

Washed-Up Stripped: Why does it have a transparent "N" on it?

You: I gotta go.

3. The "Your Blog Doesn't Suck Award" from Doug clearly belongs over the fireplace mantle.  Time to take down that Picasso and put up a real work of art.

4. The "I Pity the Fool that Don't Read Your Blog Award" from Asha has limited applications, but it can be made into a real cool Mr. T-Shirt if you ever find your self caught in a time warp and sent back to 1983.  People might start asking what a "blog" is.  That's when you spray them with your future mace.

5. The "LOL Award" from Rachel via Lolamouse is great for bait in a mouse trap.  Forget that pesky old cheese.  Lure the mice in with something they really crave.  You know what I'm saying?

6. The "Stylish Blogger Award" from Chanel would make a fine looking hat.  Sure, people might look at you funny, but it says "stylish" right on it.  How much more classy can you get?

7. The "Your Worth a Million Bucks Award" from Rachel is perfect as a band-aid decal.  Now, instead of a mere field dressing for minor scrapes and wounds, it'll be like you're putting a million dollar price tag on your child when they come to you in tears.  It's great for their self-esteem and it declares your asking price if you ever decide to put the kid on Ebay.

So, there you go.  As far the Versatile Blogger Award itself, I'm thinking that maybe I'll print up thousands of them on napkins, since napkins are about as versatile as it gets.  You can wipe up anything with them.  Am I right?      

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Qwerty

My interest in writing really began with an interest in the typewriter.  My mother is an expert typist (I think she can do about eighty words a minute), and there was always a typewriter in our house.  There were a few college students who would drop by now and then offering a little money to have their papers typed up, and for the next few days it would be "tick tick tick" all through the house, along with that hum and even that smell that the typewriter had.  The rest of the time the typewriter sat in its case on a high shelf in the closet.  It wasn’t long before my curiosity made me climb a chair and drag it down to see what I could do with it.
   
I love the look of a nice, cleanly typed page; so I began to write out of necessity.  If I were to fill pages of my own with nicely typed paragraphs, then I would have to find something to say.  It was a simple motivation really, and its still basically the same one that drives me today, even right now as write this.  Maybe it’s not profound.  Maybe it’s a little strange; although I guarantee that I’m not the first writer who’s felt this way.  All artists, on some basic level, must be drawn to their field just from a simple love for the medium.  The painter is seduced by the canvas; the piano-player is seduced by the piano; I was seduced by a typewriter.  It’s as simple as that.  When I hear how writers like John Steinbeck wrote with a pencil, or when I read classics like Dickens or Tolstoy and think about how they scribbled everything with a quill in elaborate cursive, it's just not the same  When I open a book, I like to think of the writer punching out the text on their typewriter.  The typewritten word carries a certain weight with me; it has a certain beauty that the hand written word doesn’t.  My rough drafts aren’t usually even in pencil.  I head straight for the keyboard.
   
Unlike my mother I have never developed into an expert typist.  (But then my mother has never developed into a writer either.)  I took a typing class in my junior year of high school, learning the hand positions and the keyboard layout and all that.  But I never really caught on.  It was easier to just keep hunting and pecking.  For one thing I make less mistakes that way.  In the typing class it always seemed like my hands were in the way of the keys.  In a way I have all the keys memorized, but it’s a memory that resides solely in my fingers.  If I had to sit down and list the letters in order as they appear on the keyboard I’d be lost, but when I’m pecking along my finger always seems to automatically find the right key.  I can type up to thirty or forty words a minute with my inefficient methods.  Considering that I write my first draft at the keyboard and that I’m just making the words up as I go along, that’s really as fast as I need to go.  My brain can’t come up with the words any faster than that.  I have to pause every few sentences just to think anyway.  What good would eighty or ninety words a minute do me?
    
Of course, I use a word processing program now.  Although I realize that it’s easier to use and has all kinds of advantages over the typewriter, I still can’t quite bring myself to accept it as a substitute.  I’m not one of these conservative types suspicious of new technologies (At least I try not to be), but I can’t help feeling that the typewriter has a certain charm to it that a word processor can’t replace.  I don’t even like that name “word processor”.  It doesn’t make any sense.  It sounds like a machine designed to grind the English language into a revolting grey paste.  I guess I just don’t understand where processing is involved.  On the other hand, the typewriter has a name perfectly suited to it, in both meaning and effect. 
   
To me the typewriter is a relic from a time when machines weren’t made by other machines but by people and with a certain craftsmanship.  Look at old sewing machines and automobiles.  They look as though they’ve been formed by human hands with all their curves and contours molded with a perfect instinct.  They look sturdy and solid.  Their artistry was built into their very foundations.  The people who made these things, they hardly gave it a thought.  They had something they had never lost, and so had never noticed.  They set out to make good machines, not good looking machines, and that was precisely why they looked good.  They hit the ball without even trying.  They just happened to be swinging in that direction.  Today people try desperately to give things an attractive design and the result is just a bunch of cheap plastic junk, aerodynamic stereos that sit on your living room shelf cutting down wind resistance, and kitchen utensils that look like children’s toys.
   
As much of a pain as it is to set your tabs and your margins, roll in your paper, change your ink ribbon, white-out your mistakes, make sure you don’t type all the way off the bottom of the page, check your own spelling, run out of ink in the middle of typing something, and finish a whole page just to read back over it and see one teeny tiny mistake and realize that now you’re going to have to type the whole damn thing over again, I’d go back to the typewriter in a minute.  Or...maybe not.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

What Does Road Rage Have to Do with World Peace?

Recently, someone sent me an invitation to a Facebook event called "A Day of Peace." The idea was that for one day everyone who joined this event would agree not to speak ill of their fellow man, but instead try to be forgiving and understanding.  Right off the bat, I want to say that I think this is a swell idea.  I'm well aware that I spent too much time getting aggravated and griping about people around me.  I've thought many times that I need to learn to just let things go.  First of all, all this anger is counter-productive.  Griping about someone who has pissed me off has never, ever once in the history of ever, ever made me feel better about the situation.  I usually end up with my stomach in knots and just generally feeling like a huge tool.  It's definitely better for my own stress level and peace of mind when I can just shrug things off and go on, smiling.  Plus, it never solves anything.  If the moment has passed to say something or confront the person who's irritated me, then nothing is really served by bending someone else's ear over my troubles.  Second of all, anger just ends up breeding more anger.  I think that the core of the message that Jesus was trying to bring to world was that if everyone could realize that the endless cycle of anger, violence, and retribution could end with them at any time, then we could truly have Heaven on Earth.  It's just a shame that many of the people who profess to be his followers fail to grasp this concept.  But it was, and is a beautiful idea, elegant in its simplicity, extraordinarily difficult in it's execution.

So anyhow, I'm on board with the idea.  However, all that being said, my efforts to live up to the laudable goals of such a day would be greatly enhanced if we had, say...another day, which could somehow coincide with that one so that they would fall on the same date.  We could call this day, "Please, Please, for the Love of All That's Sacred and Holy, Please Try Not to Be Such a Thoughtless Idiot and Instead Try to Use Your Brain for One Day, Just One Single Solitary Day in Your Entire Pathetic Life"...um, Day.  Okay, maybe that's a little long.  Maybe it should just be called, "Don't Be an Idiot" Day.  It would be one day where everyone would just calm down, take a step back, and you know...think before they open their mouth and say or do something stupid.

You might say that people can't help being stupid.  This is true to a certain point, but genuine stupidity isn't often the problem.  I see people all the time operating below their own intelligence level.  The problem is more a mental slackness or laziness.  I'm saying, reign it it in, tighten things up, try to be more rational.  Nowadays, reason is held in low regard, considered as the recourse of the small minded.  The "enlightened" folks are above all that.  They're guided by their feelings and the elusive whispers of the "universe".  Whatever.  Then we turn on the news and wonder how some people's lives got to be such a mess.  There's no telling what the "universe" might tell someone to do.  At least reason is reliable.  But in subtle ways people are permeated by the culture on all sides with the subtle message, "Let go of your fussy old reason.  Do what feels right."  Is it any surprise that some people shoot heroine into their veins?  That first hit sure feels right at the time.

Now folks, whatever you might think of me, I'm honestly not all that smart.  It's true that I'm fascinated by all kinds of philosophical, psychological, and scientific ideas, but that's just my own personal past-time.  I spend a lot of time thinking about these things, probably too much time.  I'm curious about how things work and I like to write about the theories that I come up with.  All of this is just like a hobby, though.  My father was obsessed with sports.  He was like a walking encyclopedia of baseball.  Name a player and he could tell you their batting average for their best year.  I could never hope to equal that level of knowledge and understanding of the subject, because I don't really care about sports.  On the other hand, not everyone cares like I do about the influence of Freud's cocaine addiction on his theories or the fact that Nietzsche was hugging a horse when he had his mental break-down.  Different strokes for different folks.

My point is, that when it comes to dealing with everyday life, I have no advantages when it comes to intelligence.  If anything, I'm at a disadvantage.  I can't even fix a car beyond changing a battery or topping up the washer fluid.  But I try...I really try to be a rational person.  I try to judge situations and people fairly.  I try to look at myself honestly without  my ego getting in the way.  I try to conduct my personal affairs sensibly and responsibly.  I try to keep my mind active and alert, and look for new approaches to the inevitable problems  that arise.  In short, I try every single day to be a reasonable person.  Fellow blogger Deanne recently mentioned a great quote from Gandhi, "Be the change you want to see in the world."  This is the change I want to see in the world, and so often I don't.  All the little petty sins and grievances and irresponsibilities, most of them lead back to this one fundamental cause.  People don't use their heads.  Anger is a problem.  There's no denying that.  But from where I stand, stupidity seems to be a bigger one. 

That brings us to the road rage.  The term began its life as a yet another media buzzword, like "stay-cation"....ugggghh.  Nevertheless, it denoted a specific problem: people that drive angry.  If someone got behind a school bus and then flipped out after its fifteenth stop and then said, the hell with it, and started plowing through kids like they were orange traffic cones, that was road rage.  Nowadays, the term has expanded in popular usage to include anyone who gets mad or even slightly peeved behind the wheel.  The defining feature of road rage, the violent and reckless driving itself, the anger demonstrated in action, has become disassociated from the term.  Now, all a person needs to do is raise their voice a few decibels, and their passenger is instantly accusing them of "road rage".  In the old days, you didn't need to be a passenger to see road rage.  You could see from across the street.  Heck, you could see it from across town.  Road rage was an act, not a mood.  Sure the mood can lead to the act, and you might say its a fine line, but there was a line.

The blurring of this line had led to a shift in focus and blame.  It suggests that the problem isn't all the idiots out there on the road that don't know how to drive, that tail gate instead of maintaining the recommended distance, that take wild chances that put themselves and others at risk, that yak on their phones without paying attention to the road, and that squeal their tires when they make a turn so everyone for miles around will know how "cool" they are.  Nope, there's something wrong with you for getting annoyed by all this.  Sure, that drunk guy in the semi almost killed that family in the SUV, but you need to calm down. 

Let me tell you, I live near a fairly busy intersection.  There have been a couple of dozen accidents in the eight years I've been here.  I've had a chance to observe the details up close.  Nearly every single one was cause by blatant, avoidable stupidity, not anger.  Is it useful to get angry behind the wheel?  Does it help the problem?  No, of course not.  But I think if you extrapolate these results to the wider world, you see a trend where people are encouraged to suppress their outrage and placidly allow the stupidity of others to go on unchecked.  The anger is usually unproductive, and often the result of stupidity itself, and people certainly do need to relax, but I think its a mistake to focus on outrage of any sort as if that's the fundamental problem.  Outrage can even be a good thing on rare occasions.  Without anger some of the world's greatest injustices might have gone unaddressed.

You might say that my "Don't Be an Idiot" Day misses the point of Gandhi's "Be the change" or as Micheal Jackson put it, "I'm starting with the man in the mirror", before we realized that he was talking about years and years of plastic surgery.  Allow me to make a counter-argument.  One could also say that the "Day of Peace" also misses the point, since it implies that it's other people's short-comings and stupidity that one needs to be patient with.  Make no mistake about it; "Don't Be an Idiot" Day is for everyone.  It's for me, and for you as well.  No matter who you are, it takes a deliberate effort to not be an idiot, and we all slip up from time to time.  We need to forgive the stupidity of others, but we also need to try to stop being so stupid ourselves.  If we embrace the one, maybe we can make some headway on the other.                           

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

This Kant Be Right

At the end of my last Relativity post, I briefly mentioned the philosopher Immanuel Kant.  Some of you were mystified by his odd ideas about space and time, while some others were simply awestruck by his stunning good looks and distinguished hairline.  Whatever the case may be, I figured that I would take some time to elaborate on how he arrived at his bizarre conclusion that space and time are products of the function of the mind, rather than something existing beyond ourselves.  Believe it or not, his ideas are considered extremely influential in the world of modern philosophy.   So, I suppose they're deserving of some attention, although I can't really say I agree with them.

If you look up information on Kant you quickly find yourself bombarded by terms like "analytic judgments", "synthetic judgments", "a priori", "a posteriori", and so on.  Soon your mind begins to wander and you start to wonder what's on TV.  Well, maybe I can try to make it a little more accessible.  Basically, Kant argues that our minds come equipped with a certain amount of pre-existing knowledge that allows us to make sense of the world we perceive.  Among this pre-existing knowledge is our concept of space and time.  We draw certain conclusions and learn certain things from experience, but we're able to learn these things because already have an understanding of space and time to begin with.  In other words, he argues that we don't learn about space and time, rather we learn everything else because we already know about space and time.  From this, he draws the conclusion that our concept of space and time are not something that we arrive at from observation or experience.  Instead, he says that they are concepts generated by our minds.

Think of it like this:  When you buy a new computer, it comes pre-installed with an operating system.  If you're poor like me, it's probably Windows.  Anyway, this operating system also probably comes with a basic internet browser pre-packaged.  With this browser you can surf the internet, download software, or even download a better browser.  However, none of this is possible without the initial pre-installed browser which allows you to get that first foot-hold in the world wide door.  So, if we follow this analogy, then the computer is your mind, the operating system is the pre-existing "a priori" knowledge that Kant says we bring to the table of experience, the internet browser is our concept of space and time, and finally, the internet itself is the real world out there beyond ourselves.  So the argument goes that all of this stuff, the operating system, the browser, ect. can't be part of the "internet" because we need that stuff to log onto the internet in the first place.

This is your brain on Kant.
I could go into detail about how Kant partly formulated this to lend support to the argument for the existence of God, you know, sort of as a way to explain why our minds starts running in circles when we try to contemplate things like, "What happened before the beginning of time?".  But I don't feel like clouding the issue at the moment.  I think I've laid out his case in a fairly succinct manner.  As I said, I don't really agree with it.  I just can't accept the idea that space and time are all in our heads.  I can't see how reality would make any fundamental sense that way.  Of course, the Kantian comeback to that would be that that's just because I can't comprehend reality beyond the way my mind perceives it, anymore than I can log onto the internet without a computer.  Still, I'm not buying it.  I guess my most basic objection would be, why can't space and time be pre-installed and be something objectively real?  Either I'm missing something or this is this one of the best con jobs in the history of thought.

I think some people are using an outdated operating system, if you know what I'm saying.
Anyway, I turn the floor over to you all.  What do you think of this?  Is there someone among you that understands Kant better than I do, and can help make sense of this?  Does anyone agree with his idea, or does anyone have any good knock-down arguments against it?  I eagerly await your responses.          

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Inception: The Calculus of Dreams

Inception seems to be one of those movies that people either love or hate.  When it came out last summer there were several complaints that I heard lodged against it.  One of the most prevalent ones was that the dreams were not strange and surreal enough, and that the endless complexity of rules laid out in the movie bore no relation to what dreams are really like.  Realism is a strange complaint to make concerning a movie about dreams, since dreams by their very nature are practically the antithesis of realism.  Still, I knew what these people were driving at.  The dreams in Inception do bear little resemblance to those visited upon our nightly slumbers.  However, these people were missing the whole point.  The surrealism lay in the concept of the story, not in its details.  The peculiar charm of Inception is that it takes a systematic and cerebral approach to an emotionally chaotic phenomenon.

The movie borrows from several basic phenomena of dreams to construct its elaborate rules.  It treats these phenomena as if they were precise variables in a complex equation, as things which can be measured and quantified with pinpoint accuracy, which is not actually the way these things work at all.  But the movie precedes as if this is the case.  The idea is absurd in and of itself, and I believe that this is done deliberately.  I'm sure Christopher Nolan has had the same lifetime of dreaming experience that we've all had.  Inception isn't meant to be a realistic portrayal of dreams.  It takes the subject of dreams and builds an abstract framework of intricate systemic design.  Dreams are merely a means to this end.  The following is a consideration of the pieces out of which this framework is constructed.

TIME EXPANSION & COGNITIVE COMPRESSION

In The Interpretation of Dreams Freud tells the story of a dream dreamt by a man name Maury.  In the dream Maury was on trial.  The dream was set at some time during the French Revolution, and this Maury was brought before the revolutionary tribunal.  After a lengthy trial, he was found guilty and thrown into prison to await execution.  The date of his execution arrived and he was led out to before the screaming crowd.  He was brought to the execution block, and locked into the guillotine.  When the hissing blade dropped, he awoke just as it hit his neck.  Upon waking he discovered that the headboard had fallen and struck him on the neck, which was what had woken him up.  Apparently, the entire long ordeal of the dream had merely occurred in the few fractions of a second when the headboard struck his neck.

Of course, we've all had similar, if somewhat less extreme experiences.  We've fallen asleep for a few hours and had dreams which seem to cover months or even years.  Mostly this is because events in dreams often occur in a more narrative than real-time fashion.  Just as a movie can cover the distance between March and June simply by taking a few moments to show us a tree flowering into full bloom, so too can our dreams give us the illusion of an epic passage of time.

Inception treats this phenomenon quite literally, however.  The dream infiltrators measure the time expansion with perfect precision.  They time things down to the second on the basis of this expansion.  They account for this expansion by crediting an acceleration of mental functioning.  The deeper the infiltrators descend into the dream-world, level by level, the quicker their minds are able to process information.  Since the dream is being sustained and created by the mind, the accelerated experience of it causes the actual real-world time that it covers to become more and more compressed.  Conceivably this compression could go on, descending down to an infinitesimal level.  At this level, which the characters refer to as "limbo", the mental functioning has been accelerated to the point that an infinite amount of experience can be compressed down to a single moment.

THE INCORPORATION OF EXTERNAL STIMULI

Have you ever fallen asleep with the TV on, and had the audio from the TV weave its way into your dreams?  Have you ever had the alarm clock go off, only to have the noise reinterpreted by your dream?  I know I have.  Maybe you've even heard the joke where the guy says he was dreaming that he ate a giant marshmallow, and then woke up to find that his pillow was gone.  Scientists have even done studies where they've tickled people with feathers or dripped hot wax on them, and then they've recorded how the stimulus showed up in their dreams.  Some have even argued that the entire content of dreams is constructed entirely out of stimulus external to the dream, whether it be a noise outside the window or the gurgling of our own stomach.

Inception takes a rather interesting approach to this phenomenon.  The film makes much use of the idea of "levels", dreams within dreams.  It uses this concept of external stimuli to demonstrate the way the dreams are packaged inside of one another.  When a van flips over on one level, the entire reality of the level below tumbles end over end.  When the van free falls through the air, the level below loses gravity altogether.  In addition to providing some  neat visuals, this also accentuates one of the spacial peculiarities of dreams.  In a dream, your physical body appears to occupy a space which resides inside your mind, which, of course, is  already inside your body to begin with.  As the infiltrators descend level upon level, their bodies are continually being tucked inside dream worlds that exist inside their minds.  It becomes a sort of existential Droste Effect, which again descends down to an infinitesimal level.  So limbo occupies not only an infinite point in time, but in space as well.

THE NESTED PERMUTATIONS OF FALSE AWAKENING

False awakenings are like the evil cousins of lucid dreams.  A lucid dream is where the dreamer realizes that they are dreaming and are then able to take control over the dream.  The lucidity of the lucid dreams lies in the fact that the dreamer seems to be in full possession of their mental faculties, which are normally blunted and limited in dreams.  In a sense, they seem wide awake and yet still dreaming.  If you've had the experience you know how odd it can feel.  Well, a false awakening is sort of the opposite experience.  This is where the dreamer believes they've woken up, often with the same surroundings where they fell asleep reproduced with amazing accuracy, but actually they're still dreaming.  This is usually accompanied by an eerie sense that something is wrong or "off".  Then something disturbing usually happens, and the dream flies out of control again.

Inception uses this phenomenon to construct the concept of dreams within dreams.  It employs it in a backwards manner, as the characters are usually seen descending down into the next level.  However, it should be noted that when this idea is first introduced to us, it is in the form that we're more familiar with.  The characters awake from a dream, which we the audience think is the waking world, only to find that it is just another dream, one level above.   Having the "level" concept demonstrated to us in this fashion, allows us to accept it when it's used backwards later on.  In reality, the phenomenon of false awakening doesn't imply any kind of nesting of dream levels.  The false awakening is just another of a multitude of common dream experiences.  It falls in a sequence of events, rather than demonstrating a layering of levels.  I don't believe it has even been shown that events in the false awakening dream affect the reality of the dream that proceeded it.  But then, how would you know?  Nevertheless, this nesting concept provides an ingenious means to demonstrate the  peculiar spatial architecture of dreams mentioned above.

PERPETUAL EXPERIENCE OF THE CREATIVE PROCESS

At one point in Inception, the main character, Cobb, explains that in dreams we create and experience our world at the same time.  This is absolutely true, and its really quite amazing when you think about it.  Dreams seem able to tap into a deep reservoir of creativity and invention that we can only access the merest fraction of while we're awake.  While we might struggle in our waking life to squeeze out the simplest shred of an idea, dreams create with a disposable abandon as though drawing from an endless well of inspiration.  This well, of course, is simply our imagination.  Awake, we keep it in check to various degrees by our intellect, but in dreaming it has free reign.  Like our inner monologue, it flows continuously, but we only seem to tune into it completely in our dreams.  It is as if we climb inside our imagination and then experience it as though it were reality.

Robert Louis Stevenson was said to have gotten his idea for Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde from a dream.  Coleridge was said to have gotten the idea for Kubla Khan from a dream as well.  There have been countless other cases of people getting ideas for everything from songs to paintings from dreams.  I myself, have gotten the idea for several stories from dreams.  Sometimes a dream seems to provide an inspiration that never would have occurred to you in a million years, but the ideas are there waiting.  They just required a loosening of the intellect and a lowering of inhibitions to bloom into their full form.

In a sense, the story of Inception can be seen as a metaphor for this process.  The title refers to the planting of an idea in someone's mind, a seed in the soil that takes deep root in the subconscious.  Again the level concept is employed to ingenious effect.  The deeper the level of the dream the deeper into the core of the subject's psyche.  Like space and time, the subject's identity becomes more compressed and concentrated as you descend.  A small detail, planted deep enough, expands up through the levels until it reaches the level of waking reality where it can become a fundamental part of the subject's personality.  This implies a model of the mind spatially equivalent to the psychological concept of formative development.  The further you regress in time to a person's earliest experiences, the more fundamental those impressions are to the foundations of the person's personality.  Like the seed planted in Inception, as the core of the person's life experiences grows, the more this foundational impression expands.  While these seeds often grow into weeds in the garden of our life, occasionally they can flower into something beautiful and creative.

WAKING TO THE REAL WORLD

The ending of Inception spawned endless debate.  Was he really awake or still dreaming?  Did the spinning top fall or not?  Unfortunately people were picking up this metaphysical ball and running in the wrong direction with it.  Too often people focus on the issue of "what really happened" in the story's plot, rather than appreciating the meaning behind it.  Inception leaves the story open-ended, not to encourage speculation about the narrative, but rather to encourage the viewer to speculate about the nature of reality itself.  The top is meant to demonstrate the old philosophical notion of whether we can truly determine the difference between reality and an illusion.  The idea is not a new one, but the truly clever thing that the movie accomplishes is to present the conundrum not in words, but in a single image.  This is the final result of the elaborate equation.  Everything in the movie is set up to converge on that single image.  The movie is like a complicated chess problem with all the pieces put perfectly in place for this final checkmate.

The levels concept introduces the possibility that there might be another level above what the characters consider reality.  Cobb's wife Mal introduces the enigma of what we require to accept something as reality.  The concept of inception itself introduces the idea of the mind's capacity for self-deception.  The concept of sub-conscious projections introduces the dilemma of being together with the ones we love or alone with only our idea of them.  The limbo concept introduces a dream reality that  in its infinitesimal compression can transcend space and time and the consequences of the waking world.  And finally we have the totem, the spinning top, representing an anchor to solid, physical reality, ambiguously caught between spinning and falling, caught between the world we live in and the world we dream of.  It begs the question of what really matters, what really makes the difference between the two? 

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Nuclearheadache's Guide to Everyday Nutcases (part 2)

Yes, it's that time again.  Time to play America's favorite game show, "Hey! I know a jerk like that."  For those who are just joining us and who want to play along at home, this is where I profile personality disorders that aren't quite clinical, but are definitely enough to be an everyday pain the ass.  So, without further ado:

         Hook Up Man
You run across this sort of person from time to time.  If you find yourself in a situation where you have to deal with such a person on a constant and regular basis, then you have nothing but my deepest sympathy.  This is the guy that's always pushing you for small favors and rule exceptions that really test the boundaries of what you're comfortable with.  His every sentence starts with a hushed and conspiratorial, "Hey man...".  He could be a customer asking you to slip him a little extra something-or-other that you're not supposed to, or he could be a co-worker that wants to slip out the door ten minutes early and he wants you to punch his time card out for him.

Hook-Up Man doesn't really seem too concerned that these requests might get you in trouble, or even cost you your job; if you're cool, you'll do it.  He has a rather bizarre conception of "cool".  His evaluations in these matters seem based entirely on how much you're willing to do what he asked.  On the one hand, it's a cheap manipulation.  He's banking on the fact that your self-esteem is so fragile that you'll jump through hoops just to win his approval.  But on another level he really seems to believe this.  "Cool" people are his partners in crime.  They slip him stuff on the sly, and they help him get away with things.

The really strange encounters with Hook Up Man are the cases where he's a complete stranger, but yet somehow still expects you to put your job on the line to "hook him up."  For instance, you have the customer mentioned above.  He seems incapable of comprehending that you don't know him from Adam, and he means about as much to you as a stain on the wallpaper.  He just doesn't grasp that you don't feel the slightest inclination to put yourself out on his behalf.  The world revolves around Hook Up Man.  The rest of us are mere tools at his disposal.  He just has to grease us up by telling us how "cool" we'll be if we do what he wants.

      Lady Stavrogin
I've named this type after a character in Dostoevsky's novel The Possessed.  For those who have read the book, you might have some idea of the type I'm talking about.  "Imperious" is the word usually used to describe this sort of woman.  She is usually an older woman, strong-willed and self-sufficient, and completely beyond reasonable.  While Hook Up Man's cajoling is merely a pathetic nuisance, Lady Stavrogin has intimidation down to an art form.  Everyone that knows her is a little bit afraid of her, and God help anyone who has the misfortune of incurring her fiery wrath.  She has been known to reduce people to a smoldering pile of ash, simply by furrowing her brows.

She has an uncanny ability to induce people to obsequiousness against their nature and their own better judgment.  The means by which she holds this control over people is somewhat of a mystery.  She projects an air of authority that many hesitate to question.  She looks upon other people with the sort of contempt that one usually reserves for insects.  Everyone around her is a "fool" because they can't fulfill her will fast enough or good enough.  While this would reduce anyone else to an annoying whine about the futility of their own satisfaction, with Lady Stavrogin it is somehow taken for granted that she must be pleased.  The subjects in her court give a few quick bows and strive to do better next time.

Whatever the source of her power, she is definitely well aware of it.  At some point  in her life, she learned that opposing her will over others like a dark seething cloud was the way to get whatever she wanted, and she preceded to hone this ability like a blade.  She wants what she wants, and she wants it NOW!  "How" is for the disposable flotsam around her to worry about.  It's pointless to argue that such-and-such is impossible, or to make excuses.  She doesn't want to hear it.  "Impossible" isn't in her vocabulary.  All she has to do is loom larger and darker, and someone, somehow will get it done.  Approach this type with extreme caution.  She is like a black hole.  Once you fall into her overwhelming field of gravity, there may be no escape.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

The Creature

The problem with guilt is that it always seems like the one's who should feel it the most, feel it the least.  On one hand you have someone who's mortified that they killed a spider, while another person sleeps soundly after defrauding an entire demographic out of their retirement savings.  As a parent you might feel awful that you lost your temper and snapped at your child, and then you turn on the TV and see some woman who is on trial for smothering her baby and tossing it in the woods, and she appears to have no concerns beyond negotiating with the Lifetime channel for the movie rights to her story.  As a mode of retribution, guilt seems ridiculously inadequate.  Yet, somewhere long ago, many of us probably had a moment where someone wronged us and we thought, "Well, I'm sure they'll feel bad about what they did."

At some point down the line, we wise up to the fact that things don't always work out like that.  More often than not, the other party sees no reason to feel guilty whatsoever.  They rationalize the situation from their own point of view and they find themselves quite content with that rationalization.  Perhaps you even realized later that you were the one in the wrong.  Morality can be tricky.  People have a wide variety of opinions about what is right and wrong, and on top of that you have the fact that few of us hold our own behavior to a standard of ruthless honesty.  Guilt is like a crushing weight we struggle to get out from under.  Rationalization is the method by which we struggle.  Some people are more adept at slipping out than others.  Some seem to operate under the implicit assumption that nothing they do could possibly be wrong.  Some don't seem to care if they do wrong.  And finally, there are some that don't even seem capable of processing the issue.  For the people along this scale, the magnitude of their sins is actually inversely proportional to the guilt they suffer.  It all seems grossly unfair, doesn't it?

So we appeal to other things.  We turn to the law to judge them, and yet we see scoundrel after scoundrel walk away free.  We turn to Karma, looking to the clever twists of fate to balance the scales of justice.  But yet, as satisfying as it is when things fall together ever so neatly, it doesn't happen nearly enough.  Sometimes we wait for God to punish the wicked, and then we're liable to grow old waiting, our lives consumed by the bitter hope of revenge.  Meanwhile, on the other side, you have people that push right through these moral roadblocks like so many straw men.  The law will control them?  They say the law is for the weak that need to be controlled.  They say they can escape the law or bribe the judge.  God will punish them?  They say there is no God, and they can do whatever they feel like.  Morality becomes a joke, the illusion of restraint.  They take all these notions at face value, and once they've disposed of them, they believe they've disposed of morality itself, and they think the way before them is clear for any unrestricted depravity they might have in mind.

Well, I would like to throw my hat into the ring on this and offer a hypothesis of my own concerning the nature of morality.  First, we need to return to the issue of guilt.  Conscience  is the most basic, primal unit of morality.  In my post The Garden of Eden, I said that conscience is our awareness that free will opens the possibility that we might make mistakes.  I said that it was an expression of our uncertainty when faced with making decisions.  I said that it was the responsibility that we bear for our freedom.  So what are we to make of people that seem to elude their conscience altogether?

You see, we've been looking at guilt the wrong way.  We've been treating guilt as if it is the punishment.  What if it's the eluding of guilt that is the punishment?  More precisely, what if it's the cost of eluding guilt?  You see, it's perfectly possible for a person to slip out from under guilt, but that slipping comes with a price.  In order to live with the evil you've done, you have to become the sort of person that can live with the evil you've done.  Taken to its furthest extreme, you would have to degenerate to something less than a human being.  You would have to become a horrible, nightmare creature.

I'm sure you all remember Jeffery Dahmer.  He murdered and ate people.  When he was arrested, there were several skulls found around his place and a freezer stocked with body parts.  Now, imagine for a moment living like that, the putrid smell, the knowledge that there are dismembered bodies all around your house.  I'm not saying to imagine the horror and revulsion that you would feel.  That's easy.  I'm asking to you to imagine what kind of person you would have to become to live like that and not have it bother you, the kind of person that might even enjoy living like that.  Or imagine being the woman who threw the baby into the woods.  Think about the love you have for your own child and the warm place it has in your heart.  Now, imagine that love ripped out of you and nothing but a cold emptiness in it's place.  What's worse, the guilt you feel if you did that to own child or being the sort of person that could be capable of doing something like that and feeling no guilt whatsoever?  Let's not kid ourselves into thinking that these people got away with their sins because their conscience didn't trouble them.  The normal human emotions that make life worth living have to be destroyed and damaged beyond repair for these people to make their clean escape.

Of course, things are rarely so extreme.  Most of our transgressions are on a much smaller and pettier scale, but we still damage ourselves trying to elude the guilt.  A little piece of our spirit gets amputated.  To rationalize stealing from someone, we have to become the sort of person who can no longer take pride in the things we've earned, the sort of person who can no longer feel joy over someone else's good fortune.  To rationalize infidelity, we have to become the sort of person who can no longer trust anyone they love.  To rationalize lying over and over, eventually we have to become the sort of person who can longer respect the truth.  That might not sound like much, but I certainly wouldn't want to be the sort of person who doesn't care about the truth, that would have to disappear into the dark cubbyhole of my mind while reality fades away.  To rationalize murder, we would have to become the sort of person who loses all sense of the importance of life.  The murder is two-fold.  The murderer murders the victim, and the most fundamental part of themselves as well.

The irony is that the person who thinks that dispensing with morality grants them unlimited freedom, fails to realize how intimately free will and conscience are bound.  As I point out here, free will is impossible without emotions.  Our choices are driven by our desires.  To escape their conscience, a person has to kill their emotions and cut off the flow to all the deeper currents of sensibility.  Sure, they could do anything they feel like doing.  They just don't realize that it's the feeling that's the problem.  They can no longer pursue love or joy.  You see them with the vacant look in their eyes.  They're no longer one of the living, but rather one of the undead, a creature that has torn their own soul to pieces.               
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