Who knows when it started? Hi Ho Cherry-O? A version of Monopoly on the Commodore 64? An old version of Life? Clue? Scrabble? Old Maid? Pool? Wherever the root, I caught a game bug.
The games I mean are two or more players. The material medium involves boards, cards, tiles, dice, and various instructions. The rules are generally variations trying to get a particular result by chance and playing against different actions to gain the maximal probability of an arbitrarily determined victory. All that is to say that games mix skills and luck. I can pick the rules apart in any number of different ways, display the beautiful logics of different games, and love them for it.
However, with games formalism depicts only a part of the whole. In the mechanics other players are implied; around game tables, they are actually there. They act as sociable ways to get to know people, as I get to know how the other person chooses and how those choices differ from my choices. It creates an implicit oath where adherence to the rules and to fair play encourage trust. When a fellow enthusiast for the same kind of games becomes apparent, it becomes a point of common interest. When the games require actual talking, as in trivia or party games, the game acts as a conversation prompter. Thus, the island of formal rules transforms into a metropolis of interactions.
I have been a restrained person for a long time. Sometimes I find silence more comfortable than talking. In games, I don't have to worry about making the other uncomfortable if I don't have to talk, and it becomes a zone of low-level communication anyhow. If it's a good game, it will soon lead to other conversations, more utterances. Some of my best friends in the past have come from games and sports. And I miss the opportunities to play with lots of different people that I had before. Perhaps I'll find them gradually.
Dec 26, 2008
Dec 23, 2008
A is for Android
(Part of my inspiration is the introduction to a short story collection Isaac Asimov put together in 1990, Robot Dreams. I read it the other day and was inspired. If I unconsciously mimic the tone, it is in admiration.)
The android is an interesting thought experiment.
A robot is a being made of artificial parts, the most distinguishable being metal, though plastic and organic parts can be used. It is a machine made to resemble the human in shape, whether that is in the mere existence of arms, a head, and legs, or in the specific features like a spark of life in a human's eyes. It also has a computer or other device that can perform processes that only the human mind can perform, including an understanding of language and self-awareness. Since the golems in Hephaestus's workshop and before, we have conjured them up, and after Mary Shelley's Frankenstein they became separated from traditional folklore, finding a home in science fiction.
The term "robot" has been around since the early twentieth century; it first came to prominence when it was used in a Czech play about artificial human slaves, R.U.R., by Karel Čapek. The early pulp science fiction adapted the robot as a potential monster figure; effective presentations of such a drone are in The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Matrix. However, there were some authors that saw the potential that robots had, and adapted them accordingly.
Isaac Asimov is my favorite of these. He didn't think that we would be automatically so careless to create robots that would usurp humanity. Without erasing their dangers, he described three laws of robotics for his short stories and novels that would be hardwired into robots to prevent their rebellion and assuage social fears. The first law is that they will not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow human beings to come to harm. They must compulsively act to preserve human life. The second law is that they will obey any human order, so long as it doesn't disobey the first law. The third law is that the robot has the right to preserve its own life, so long as it doesn't interfere with the first two laws. These rules cannot be disobeyed.
There are many funny little implications to these different rules, and Asimov meticulously explores many of them: humans unable to keep from harming themselves become governed by the robots; a robot accidentally gains an unconscious and express in his dreams a desire to usurp the second law; scientists have to try to find a robot that took the phrase "get lost" literally. It goes on and on. The stories aren't perfect, of course, but they are good thought experiments.
Now, the android. The android is a robot, but in my mind, the reverse is not true. The robot is a distinct creature, and its similarities to humans are secondary to its capacities and uses. The android is made to better resemble the human, often imperceptibly, and they often mentally desire to be human.
We love flattering ourselves with the idea that a robot would like to be human. What does that mean? Philosophers have given their answers for ages. For androids, they often desire to feel emotions, to possess human intuition, to hold beliefs, and have other human qualities that we take for granted. Asimov made a couple of these "humaniform robots," among them Stephen Byerley, the Bicentennial Man, and R. Daneel Olivauw. Because they so closely resemble human beings, have a basic hardwired moral compass (particularly in the implications of the first law), and are unlikely to encounter the second law (not appearing as robots, it is unlikely that anyone will give them a forceful order), they appear exactly as an outstanding human being, and the line between humanity and the android often gets confused.
My favorite android is Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He doesn't have the appearance of a full human; his shiny albino exterior and yellow eyes distinguish him as different, and it's easy enough to pull away a cranial plate to display the hardware beneath. Yet he still wants to be human, and there are several layers to this endeavor. The first emerges in humor. He is talkative and inquisitive, asking a lot of questions that are inane to a six year old. He has difficulty detecting sarcasm, and will if allowed talk on and on about a subject, much to his audience's consternation. Idioms are difficult to catch, but when he learns them he exclaims, "Ah!" and explains the idiom. He has trouble catching bluffs in poker. He doesn't use contractions. His misunderstandings of human nuance creates a verbal slapstick that is fun and quirky.
Second, he can imitate (and even technically outperform) anything. He can be a master violinist, tapdancer, actor, scientist, logician, and painter, knowing every great mind and great movement in a vast array of subjects. But they're all just data. They lack the nervous energy, the spontaneity, the creativity, and the error that human masters have. He can create an ode to his cat Spot that is perfectly metrical but sounds like a robotic George Bernard Shaw. He tries to learn how to produce something more full of feeling.
Third, he has an immaculate ethical compass. Data has kept the substance of the three laws of robotics, but within them he demonstrates a great amount of free will. He steps in to help his fellow crewmates without fear, performs orders thoughtfully with considerable initiative, and respects other thinking machines and lifeforms. As a lover, though he feels no emotion, he shows considerate care and attention. As a father to an android he constructed, he takes care in teaching her and, when she dies, he feels the closest to grief that he can. As a friend, especially to Geordi, he listens intently and presents his concerns.
With all of these combined, there are several points in the series when he is a better human being than anyone else, with a combined humility, ability, and action that far surpass anyone else's. But he can't enjoy it. He can't feel it. He can't have the human parts that would make him better and worse than he is.
The android marks what humanity is and what humanity isn't. We can't set aside our feelings, not completely. We have flawed logics that, at best, operate under a mixture of intuitivity and rigorous training. We are not so good to our fellow beings as we would like but have trouble being ruthless at the same time. We have flimsy, weak bodies that can't withstand a change of atmosphere, temperature, light, or sound without some loss of efficiency. We must eat. We must sleep. We want to love and feel loved, and would often rather be loved for the wrong reason than not loved at all. Being a human is no easy thing. But that's precisely what the android wants. They see the value in our struggle, and perhaps in their benevolent manufacture they can do good more often, rather than succumbing to our flaws.
When I said that the android was an interesting thought experiment, that was part of it. There are more specific ways that the android can be thought of though. For example, in the episode "Measure of a Man," Data goes on trial because a scientist wants to dismantle him for an experiment. The issue is whether Data, as a robot, is a mere machine with no rights at all, or a thinking being who requires the protective rights that organic sentient creatures possess. What results is this dialogue between Captain Picard (Data's defense) and his confidante Guinan:
"Consider that in the history of many worlds there have always been disposable creatures. They do the dirty work. They do the work that no one else wants to do, because it's too difficult or too hazardous. And an army of Datas, all disposable? You don't have to think about their welfare; you don't think about how they feel. Whole generations of disposable people."
"You're talking about slavery."
"I think that's a little harsh."
"I don't think that's a little harsh, I think that's the truth. But that's a truth that we have obscured behind a... comfortable, easy euphemism. 'Property.' But that's not the issue at all, is it?"
Another discourse on slavery is evident in Blade Runner with the Replicants who appear and even seem to feel as humans do but nevertheless are confined to a four-year lifetime and compulsory labor off the Earth.
A similar issue is one where we create androids that realize that they are superior to us. Might they render us slaves instead? Lore, Data's brother, was of that mindset.
There are other issues that can become relevant through the android. Why, when we imagine robots taking on humaniform characteristics, do we automatically assume that the default human shape and voice should be male? Can't it be female? Something in between? We invest the android with a sex and gender, despite the appearance of its own neutrality, and it tends to be the one we treat as the default in the language - he, male, man. When female androids are made, they often get treated as special, gendered. Why are these dynamics the only ones we can think of?
The android is an interesting thought experiment.
A robot is a being made of artificial parts, the most distinguishable being metal, though plastic and organic parts can be used. It is a machine made to resemble the human in shape, whether that is in the mere existence of arms, a head, and legs, or in the specific features like a spark of life in a human's eyes. It also has a computer or other device that can perform processes that only the human mind can perform, including an understanding of language and self-awareness. Since the golems in Hephaestus's workshop and before, we have conjured them up, and after Mary Shelley's Frankenstein they became separated from traditional folklore, finding a home in science fiction.
The term "robot" has been around since the early twentieth century; it first came to prominence when it was used in a Czech play about artificial human slaves, R.U.R., by Karel Čapek. The early pulp science fiction adapted the robot as a potential monster figure; effective presentations of such a drone are in The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Matrix. However, there were some authors that saw the potential that robots had, and adapted them accordingly.
Isaac Asimov is my favorite of these. He didn't think that we would be automatically so careless to create robots that would usurp humanity. Without erasing their dangers, he described three laws of robotics for his short stories and novels that would be hardwired into robots to prevent their rebellion and assuage social fears. The first law is that they will not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow human beings to come to harm. They must compulsively act to preserve human life. The second law is that they will obey any human order, so long as it doesn't disobey the first law. The third law is that the robot has the right to preserve its own life, so long as it doesn't interfere with the first two laws. These rules cannot be disobeyed.
There are many funny little implications to these different rules, and Asimov meticulously explores many of them: humans unable to keep from harming themselves become governed by the robots; a robot accidentally gains an unconscious and express in his dreams a desire to usurp the second law; scientists have to try to find a robot that took the phrase "get lost" literally. It goes on and on. The stories aren't perfect, of course, but they are good thought experiments.
Now, the android. The android is a robot, but in my mind, the reverse is not true. The robot is a distinct creature, and its similarities to humans are secondary to its capacities and uses. The android is made to better resemble the human, often imperceptibly, and they often mentally desire to be human.
We love flattering ourselves with the idea that a robot would like to be human. What does that mean? Philosophers have given their answers for ages. For androids, they often desire to feel emotions, to possess human intuition, to hold beliefs, and have other human qualities that we take for granted. Asimov made a couple of these "humaniform robots," among them Stephen Byerley, the Bicentennial Man, and R. Daneel Olivauw. Because they so closely resemble human beings, have a basic hardwired moral compass (particularly in the implications of the first law), and are unlikely to encounter the second law (not appearing as robots, it is unlikely that anyone will give them a forceful order), they appear exactly as an outstanding human being, and the line between humanity and the android often gets confused.
My favorite android is Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. He doesn't have the appearance of a full human; his shiny albino exterior and yellow eyes distinguish him as different, and it's easy enough to pull away a cranial plate to display the hardware beneath. Yet he still wants to be human, and there are several layers to this endeavor. The first emerges in humor. He is talkative and inquisitive, asking a lot of questions that are inane to a six year old. He has difficulty detecting sarcasm, and will if allowed talk on and on about a subject, much to his audience's consternation. Idioms are difficult to catch, but when he learns them he exclaims, "Ah!" and explains the idiom. He has trouble catching bluffs in poker. He doesn't use contractions. His misunderstandings of human nuance creates a verbal slapstick that is fun and quirky.
Second, he can imitate (and even technically outperform) anything. He can be a master violinist, tapdancer, actor, scientist, logician, and painter, knowing every great mind and great movement in a vast array of subjects. But they're all just data. They lack the nervous energy, the spontaneity, the creativity, and the error that human masters have. He can create an ode to his cat Spot that is perfectly metrical but sounds like a robotic George Bernard Shaw. He tries to learn how to produce something more full of feeling.
Third, he has an immaculate ethical compass. Data has kept the substance of the three laws of robotics, but within them he demonstrates a great amount of free will. He steps in to help his fellow crewmates without fear, performs orders thoughtfully with considerable initiative, and respects other thinking machines and lifeforms. As a lover, though he feels no emotion, he shows considerate care and attention. As a father to an android he constructed, he takes care in teaching her and, when she dies, he feels the closest to grief that he can. As a friend, especially to Geordi, he listens intently and presents his concerns.
With all of these combined, there are several points in the series when he is a better human being than anyone else, with a combined humility, ability, and action that far surpass anyone else's. But he can't enjoy it. He can't feel it. He can't have the human parts that would make him better and worse than he is.
The android marks what humanity is and what humanity isn't. We can't set aside our feelings, not completely. We have flawed logics that, at best, operate under a mixture of intuitivity and rigorous training. We are not so good to our fellow beings as we would like but have trouble being ruthless at the same time. We have flimsy, weak bodies that can't withstand a change of atmosphere, temperature, light, or sound without some loss of efficiency. We must eat. We must sleep. We want to love and feel loved, and would often rather be loved for the wrong reason than not loved at all. Being a human is no easy thing. But that's precisely what the android wants. They see the value in our struggle, and perhaps in their benevolent manufacture they can do good more often, rather than succumbing to our flaws.
When I said that the android was an interesting thought experiment, that was part of it. There are more specific ways that the android can be thought of though. For example, in the episode "Measure of a Man," Data goes on trial because a scientist wants to dismantle him for an experiment. The issue is whether Data, as a robot, is a mere machine with no rights at all, or a thinking being who requires the protective rights that organic sentient creatures possess. What results is this dialogue between Captain Picard (Data's defense) and his confidante Guinan:
"Consider that in the history of many worlds there have always been disposable creatures. They do the dirty work. They do the work that no one else wants to do, because it's too difficult or too hazardous. And an army of Datas, all disposable? You don't have to think about their welfare; you don't think about how they feel. Whole generations of disposable people."
"You're talking about slavery."
"I think that's a little harsh."
"I don't think that's a little harsh, I think that's the truth. But that's a truth that we have obscured behind a... comfortable, easy euphemism. 'Property.' But that's not the issue at all, is it?"
Another discourse on slavery is evident in Blade Runner with the Replicants who appear and even seem to feel as humans do but nevertheless are confined to a four-year lifetime and compulsory labor off the Earth.
A similar issue is one where we create androids that realize that they are superior to us. Might they render us slaves instead? Lore, Data's brother, was of that mindset.
There are other issues that can become relevant through the android. Why, when we imagine robots taking on humaniform characteristics, do we automatically assume that the default human shape and voice should be male? Can't it be female? Something in between? We invest the android with a sex and gender, despite the appearance of its own neutrality, and it tends to be the one we treat as the default in the language - he, male, man. When female androids are made, they often get treated as special, gendered. Why are these dynamics the only ones we can think of?
Pick up a book with a robot or android in it and I guarantee there will be an issue that pertains directly to us. Picard, back to the trial after talking to Guinan, claims, "Commander Riker has vividly demonstrated that Commander Data is a machine; do we deny that? No, because it is not relevant – we too are machines, merely machines of a different type. Commander Riker has also demonstrated that Data was built by a man; do we deny that? No. Children are 'constructed' from the 'building blocks' of their parents' DNA. Are they property?
"... Your honor, the courtroom is a crucible; in it, we burn away irrelevancies until we are left with a purer product: the truth, for all time. Now someday, [Commander Maddox] – or others like him – will succeed in replicating Commander Data. It is the decision that will be made today that will determine how we regard this creation of our genius. It will reach far beyond this courtroom and beyond this one android; it will forever define what kind of a people we are – what he is destined to be. It will forever shape the boundaries of personal liberties and freedoms within this Federation: expanding them for some, dramatically curtailing them for others. Are you prepared to sentence [Commander Data] – and all who come after him – to servitude and slavery? Your honor, Starfleet was established to seek out new life: well, there it sits. Waiting."
The android is the epitome of the good of humanity, and I only hope that we live long enough to make them, treat them right, and give them the best of our heart. If we're lucky, we will gain an invaluable friend in return.
Nov 27, 2008
The Things You Can't Pick...
... do not include a nose. Though I'd rather not.
No. I refer to family.
I think I ended up with a fairly good one. I don't agree with most of the extended family on some things that matter to me (a lot of them being political issues), but we're all at least a little kind, funny, and sarcastic. Plus, we have history!
The good points of today (Thanksgiving) was seeing Katie and Diana (and the two J's too); I hadn't seen them in a long time, and it was good to play games with them. Then there was Mom, Dad, Grandma, and S, who I'd seen more recently, but were good to see again nonetheless. And all the rest. Playing games, eating together... I like that. Best point - beating each other with soft swords and axes, though it got a little old when Joe and Vann went into super competitive mode. We also got to play good games like kickball, which don't happen often due to a lack of people.
The bad point was when Taylor and Brad started purposely picking each other's cards in Apples to Apples. Then Fran would always pick the card that Angelica indicated was hers. It broke the game, which bummed me out enough except that Taylor and Brad kept denying they were doing it, because they found it funny.
I don't know why I was bothered by it so much. Games aren't that serious, and I typically don't mind too much if I lose. But there's a sense of fairness in playing them right, a sort of social code or contract everyone enters into, a frame to have fun around. The game is fun when anyone can enjoy some success, and any of the banter that goes around otherwise is incidental fun (a lesson Scott could learn). But once the possibility of success in play goes away, what's the point? Especially in a game like Apples to Apples, when picking the best noun/adjective match matters, what's the point when the choice is determined so crudely?
So I didn't pick them. For better and for worse. If the worst thing we have going around is lying in a game, it could be worse.
No. I refer to family.
I think I ended up with a fairly good one. I don't agree with most of the extended family on some things that matter to me (a lot of them being political issues), but we're all at least a little kind, funny, and sarcastic. Plus, we have history!
The good points of today (Thanksgiving) was seeing Katie and Diana (and the two J's too); I hadn't seen them in a long time, and it was good to play games with them. Then there was Mom, Dad, Grandma, and S, who I'd seen more recently, but were good to see again nonetheless. And all the rest. Playing games, eating together... I like that. Best point - beating each other with soft swords and axes, though it got a little old when Joe and Vann went into super competitive mode. We also got to play good games like kickball, which don't happen often due to a lack of people.
The bad point was when Taylor and Brad started purposely picking each other's cards in Apples to Apples. Then Fran would always pick the card that Angelica indicated was hers. It broke the game, which bummed me out enough except that Taylor and Brad kept denying they were doing it, because they found it funny.
I don't know why I was bothered by it so much. Games aren't that serious, and I typically don't mind too much if I lose. But there's a sense of fairness in playing them right, a sort of social code or contract everyone enters into, a frame to have fun around. The game is fun when anyone can enjoy some success, and any of the banter that goes around otherwise is incidental fun (a lesson Scott could learn). But once the possibility of success in play goes away, what's the point? Especially in a game like Apples to Apples, when picking the best noun/adjective match matters, what's the point when the choice is determined so crudely?
So I didn't pick them. For better and for worse. If the worst thing we have going around is lying in a game, it could be worse.
Nov 22, 2008
Meter
I tried to teach Scott meter yesterday,
And he caught on pretty quickly, sometimes
Breaking the pattern for the sake of play
With the refinement of a little child's
Innocent pantomime. Play is the word,
The riled-up sort that comes after days
And days, effortless unstrained sprinting.
Can you say what line is above?
Could you answer what measure be this?
(Trochees aren't my skill, sadly,
By the reach of my silver tongue.)
And he caught on pretty quickly, sometimes
Breaking the pattern for the sake of play
With the refinement of a little child's
Innocent pantomime. Play is the word,
The riled-up sort that comes after days
And days, effortless unstrained sprinting.
Can you say what line is above?
Could you answer what measure be this?
(Trochees aren't my skill, sadly,
By the reach of my silver tongue.)
Nov 9, 2008
From a Friend
James's Dewey Decimal Section:
093 Incunabula
James's birthday: 10/8/1985 = 108+1985 = 2093
Class:
000 Computer Science, Information & General Works
Contains:
Encyclopedias, magazines, journals and books with quotations.
What it says about you:
You are very informative and up to date. You're working on living in the here and now, not the past. You go through a lot of changes. When you make a decision you can be very sure of yourself, maybe even stubborn, but your friends appreciate your honesty and resolve.
Find your Dewey Decimal Section at Spacefem.com
James's Dewey Decimal Section:
072 Newspapers in British Isles; in England
James = 01359 = 013+59 = 72
Class:
000 Computer Science, Information & General Works
Contains:
Encyclopedias, magazines, journals and books with quotations.
What it says about you:
You are very informative and up to date. You're working on living in the here and now, not the past. You go through a lot of changes. When you make a decision you can be very sure of yourself, maybe even stubborn, but your friends appreciate your honesty and resolve.
Find your Dewey Decimal Section at Spacefem.com
I can't wait until someone makes a Library of Congress value assignation.
Well, back to the Incunabula! Just like Merlin!
Nov 7, 2008
Retro Gaming: Mission Impossible
Oh my. Ooooooh my.
First, some context. There was this game, Mission Impossible, for the Commodore 64. The C64 was an old computing system from the 1980s that got used for tons of games. It was the first computer I used, and my first game system.
The game's premise was that you were going through a series of rooms and elevator shafts in a mad scientist's layer, trying to search through desks, bookshelves, and so on for puzzle pieces. Completing the puzzle pieces would give the missile codes to prevent the mad scientist from launching a missile. In each room were robots to be evaded with different programmed behaviors, like electrifying a particular spot, or patroling back and forth. The layout of the hideout, and the behavior of the robots in the rooms, were randomized. And the trick is that you only have 6 hours... and you lose ten minutes whenever you die. Like any game from that time, it wasn't easy, and I never beat it.
It's a very pleasing game, even now. The haunting voice, "Another visitor. Stay a while. Stay forever!" is still cool. The character's steps sound like ice skating or something like that. The sprite's running and jumping actions are fluid. So on and so forth.
Anyway, I had forgotten all about it until today, when I went browsing for games. I found a Nintendo DS port of Mission Impossible for $10. It has a version with updated graphics and an original version. Needless to say, I bought it and played both. It's an improvement. There's a save feature. The bottom screen is used for the layout map, and they've enabled some simple touch-screen commands, though it's nothing revolutionary. It's worth the $10, though not much more than that. A 24 year old game has seldom looked better.
Here's a video if anyone's interested on seeing at least a little gameplay: http://www.archive.org/details/C64Gamev ... bleMission
First, some context. There was this game, Mission Impossible, for the Commodore 64. The C64 was an old computing system from the 1980s that got used for tons of games. It was the first computer I used, and my first game system.
The game's premise was that you were going through a series of rooms and elevator shafts in a mad scientist's layer, trying to search through desks, bookshelves, and so on for puzzle pieces. Completing the puzzle pieces would give the missile codes to prevent the mad scientist from launching a missile. In each room were robots to be evaded with different programmed behaviors, like electrifying a particular spot, or patroling back and forth. The layout of the hideout, and the behavior of the robots in the rooms, were randomized. And the trick is that you only have 6 hours... and you lose ten minutes whenever you die. Like any game from that time, it wasn't easy, and I never beat it.
It's a very pleasing game, even now. The haunting voice, "Another visitor. Stay a while. Stay forever!" is still cool. The character's steps sound like ice skating or something like that. The sprite's running and jumping actions are fluid. So on and so forth.
Anyway, I had forgotten all about it until today, when I went browsing for games. I found a Nintendo DS port of Mission Impossible for $10. It has a version with updated graphics and an original version. Needless to say, I bought it and played both. It's an improvement. There's a save feature. The bottom screen is used for the layout map, and they've enabled some simple touch-screen commands, though it's nothing revolutionary. It's worth the $10, though not much more than that. A 24 year old game has seldom looked better.
Here's a video if anyone's interested on seeing at least a little gameplay: http://www.archive.org/details/C64Gamev ... bleMission
Oct 31, 2008
The Average Amount of Time It Takes...
... to compose an e-mail for:
Strangers - 1 minute
Colleagues - 3 minutes
Acquaintances - 5 minutes
Most Friends - 10 minutes
Close Friends - 25 minutes
Leslie - 45 minutes
Professors - 1 hour
Now, that may be a slight exaggeration, but it seems like whenever I'm e-mailing a professor, I'm asking for something, and I'm very particular about having a certain level of formality and not inadvertently offending the socks off of them. So when I was suggesting topics, for example, it took plenty of time to think about how to phrase the topic before I even sat down to write the e-mail. Then I kept nitpicking at my presentation, at the opening (Dr. or Prof.? Should I use "Dear?"), and the close (Is "Thank you" too simple? "Best wishes?" "Sincerely" too formal?). They didn't teach us these things in basic letter writing.
And of course most of the time the professors shoot succinct responses that probably took them a minute to make.
To my closer friends and Leslie, in contrast, I just tend to write a lot. To colleagues, I tend to write only confirming e-mails, like "I'll be there," but I experience the same anxiety with addresses so it takes longer. For strangers, I don't care as much about offending them, and the hesitation probably takes a minute.
E-mail etiquette is one of those things that suffers from the lack of a standard to go by. Yes, there are common sense rules for communication, but it's difficult to know how seriously someone is going to take an informality in e-mail. I'd rather either know the perfect way to start and close an e-mail, or know that it really doesn't matter for anyone, rather than shuffle through the doubt. True, it's generally safer to be more formal, but what takes up time isn't so much the formality, as the fretting over it.
One example - in class on Wednesday, someone responded to the professor, "Well, Dr. _____..." and immediately he said, "P___" in a voice that was actually annoyed by the convention. Then he explained he just prefers to be called that by graduate students. It was a sufficient surprise that later, when I was writing the e-mail, I decided to call him "P___." Then, worrying that maybe it'd be different in an e-mail, I wrote a paragraph about how I hoped I wasn't taking a liberty I shouldn't in doing that, because he might want something different over e-mail.
I guess if there's any reflection here, it's that the business world just wouldn't be ready for me. Either that, or I'd never answer the 300 e-mails a day and get all my work done.
Strangers - 1 minute
Colleagues - 3 minutes
Acquaintances - 5 minutes
Most Friends - 10 minutes
Close Friends - 25 minutes
Leslie - 45 minutes
Professors - 1 hour
Now, that may be a slight exaggeration, but it seems like whenever I'm e-mailing a professor, I'm asking for something, and I'm very particular about having a certain level of formality and not inadvertently offending the socks off of them. So when I was suggesting topics, for example, it took plenty of time to think about how to phrase the topic before I even sat down to write the e-mail. Then I kept nitpicking at my presentation, at the opening (Dr. or Prof.? Should I use "Dear?"), and the close (Is "Thank you" too simple? "Best wishes?" "Sincerely" too formal?). They didn't teach us these things in basic letter writing.
And of course most of the time the professors shoot succinct responses that probably took them a minute to make.
To my closer friends and Leslie, in contrast, I just tend to write a lot. To colleagues, I tend to write only confirming e-mails, like "I'll be there," but I experience the same anxiety with addresses so it takes longer. For strangers, I don't care as much about offending them, and the hesitation probably takes a minute.
E-mail etiquette is one of those things that suffers from the lack of a standard to go by. Yes, there are common sense rules for communication, but it's difficult to know how seriously someone is going to take an informality in e-mail. I'd rather either know the perfect way to start and close an e-mail, or know that it really doesn't matter for anyone, rather than shuffle through the doubt. True, it's generally safer to be more formal, but what takes up time isn't so much the formality, as the fretting over it.
One example - in class on Wednesday, someone responded to the professor, "Well, Dr. _____..." and immediately he said, "P___" in a voice that was actually annoyed by the convention. Then he explained he just prefers to be called that by graduate students. It was a sufficient surprise that later, when I was writing the e-mail, I decided to call him "P___." Then, worrying that maybe it'd be different in an e-mail, I wrote a paragraph about how I hoped I wasn't taking a liberty I shouldn't in doing that, because he might want something different over e-mail.
I guess if there's any reflection here, it's that the business world just wouldn't be ready for me. Either that, or I'd never answer the 300 e-mails a day and get all my work done.
Oct 28, 2008
When a Brownie is Made Up of One Quarter Chocolate...
... is there cause for alarm when Leslie laughs fiendishly as she tells me this? Should I enjoy the brownie any less? Because I think I like it. Even if I can't eat too much at once.
Oct 22, 2008
The Fan Inside Me
So today in class, we were trying to understand the performative versus conative use of language as J.L. Austin puts forth in the aptly titled How to Do Things with Words. He's trying to contend against the philosopher's tendency to treat every utterance as a statement to be either true or false. For Austin, language is not always a statement of fact or opinion that reports (conative), but it can also actually perform actions (performative). Saying "I do" in a marriage or saying, "I name this ship the Queen Elizabeth" while smashing a champagne bottle against the ship would be examples of the latter (both examples on p. 5 of his book). By saying it, you do get married, and you do name the ship, if everything else is all good.
Anyway, to end a too-long setup, our professor first tried to give an example from her very specific upbringing. Then she tried to bring up a short story. "By that... who's that author. The one who wrote... 2001, and - " "Arthur C. Clarke!" That was me. There was a brief lull of silence. Then some laughter started bubbling out. "Ye-es," the professor replied, "Arthur Clarke." Then she said something to the effect that I was very quick and eager to give that answer. I can't help being so swift when she mentioned one of my favorite books, by one of the big three authors of science fiction. (The story she then proceeded to tell about was "The Nine Billion Names of God," where by making a computer program for some Buddhists to say all the names of God, programmers brings about the end of the universe, though they obviously didn't believe or intend to have that happen, and indeed were leaving the monastery to get away from the monks' dismay when they would "fail.")
It's been one of the difficulties in class participation though, to think about how much of my personal interest I can bring into play. Officially, I'm into medieval and early modern literature. And I am. I'm writing at least one, perhaps two (of three) term papers in that long period. But at the same time, I flirt with the nineteenth century Romantics (currently on my reading list from that period is Algernon Swinburne because he sounds so wild). I could a lot with twentieth century poetry and fiction. I'm decently well-read in science fiction and fantasy, and I know more about video games than a lot of people. And though some of these fields of study are less common than others, they do exist. For example I have been pleasantly surprised to find a book, The Meaning of Video Games by Steven E. Jones, that addresses textual study in video games, and uses a lot of contemporary theory to make it relevant. The author's an English professor. And from his writing, it's obviously a case of a hobby that crossed over into serious study, though to be fair he can bring a hefty number of literary allusions in too, including Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare. He definitely thought it through more than I did (to be fair, he's thought about it a lot more... in terms of a decade or two). But I could bring that up in class. That isn't a real problem, just going outside of what people assume I know.
No, it's doing so in a way that ... isn't literary? Or that others might snicker at? It's learning not to take myself too seriously in discussion. Like today in my other class, we were talking about Adam Smith and his Theory of Moral Sentiments. We tried to differentiate his sympathy from the sympathy and empathy of today. And A brought up Counselor Troi from Star Trek: TNG. She's an empath. She feels others' emotions as they feel them. And in the context of the discussion, that was cool, and it helped the professor understand what we were trying to say. Then (a few minutes later) he started talking about how Adam Smith says we want our joys to be shared as well as our sorrows, and how we want to reaffirm our joy by having others share in them. His example was his assigning a story for class and how having no one respond to it affectively was a disappointment. I wanted to bring up something from, of all things, an episode of Home Improvement as another example, but I held back. Too cheesy. Or maybe I didn't want people to know I watched Home Improvement.
For me, the toughest thing about classes is that I have a few too many locks on what I say in discussion. By the time I figure out the right way to say something, chances are someone's already saying something that does just as well as what I would've said. Or, perhaps worse, I'll filter myself and then find out that what I would've said would've been right. I prefer it when I say something and I get corrected. The correction is not the issue. It's getting over trying to get an absolute right answer by only consulting with myself. And, on the other hand, recognizing that what I have to say, if not any complete answer, may help others get to it, and may not. It's like learning to share again.
So, here on out, how about I try to undo one or two of those locks. Not all of them... there still is such a thing as propriety, but I've got to stop doubting I have interesting things to say before I find out whether any of it's actually interesting or not. (Wrap your head around that one.)
Anyway, to end a too-long setup, our professor first tried to give an example from her very specific upbringing. Then she tried to bring up a short story. "By that... who's that author. The one who wrote... 2001, and - " "Arthur C. Clarke!" That was me. There was a brief lull of silence. Then some laughter started bubbling out. "Ye-es," the professor replied, "Arthur Clarke." Then she said something to the effect that I was very quick and eager to give that answer. I can't help being so swift when she mentioned one of my favorite books, by one of the big three authors of science fiction. (The story she then proceeded to tell about was "The Nine Billion Names of God," where by making a computer program for some Buddhists to say all the names of God, programmers brings about the end of the universe, though they obviously didn't believe or intend to have that happen, and indeed were leaving the monastery to get away from the monks' dismay when they would "fail.")
It's been one of the difficulties in class participation though, to think about how much of my personal interest I can bring into play. Officially, I'm into medieval and early modern literature. And I am. I'm writing at least one, perhaps two (of three) term papers in that long period. But at the same time, I flirt with the nineteenth century Romantics (currently on my reading list from that period is Algernon Swinburne because he sounds so wild). I could a lot with twentieth century poetry and fiction. I'm decently well-read in science fiction and fantasy, and I know more about video games than a lot of people. And though some of these fields of study are less common than others, they do exist. For example I have been pleasantly surprised to find a book, The Meaning of Video Games by Steven E. Jones, that addresses textual study in video games, and uses a lot of contemporary theory to make it relevant. The author's an English professor. And from his writing, it's obviously a case of a hobby that crossed over into serious study, though to be fair he can bring a hefty number of literary allusions in too, including Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare. He definitely thought it through more than I did (to be fair, he's thought about it a lot more... in terms of a decade or two). But I could bring that up in class. That isn't a real problem, just going outside of what people assume I know.
No, it's doing so in a way that ... isn't literary? Or that others might snicker at? It's learning not to take myself too seriously in discussion. Like today in my other class, we were talking about Adam Smith and his Theory of Moral Sentiments. We tried to differentiate his sympathy from the sympathy and empathy of today. And A brought up Counselor Troi from Star Trek: TNG. She's an empath. She feels others' emotions as they feel them. And in the context of the discussion, that was cool, and it helped the professor understand what we were trying to say. Then (a few minutes later) he started talking about how Adam Smith says we want our joys to be shared as well as our sorrows, and how we want to reaffirm our joy by having others share in them. His example was his assigning a story for class and how having no one respond to it affectively was a disappointment. I wanted to bring up something from, of all things, an episode of Home Improvement as another example, but I held back. Too cheesy. Or maybe I didn't want people to know I watched Home Improvement.
For me, the toughest thing about classes is that I have a few too many locks on what I say in discussion. By the time I figure out the right way to say something, chances are someone's already saying something that does just as well as what I would've said. Or, perhaps worse, I'll filter myself and then find out that what I would've said would've been right. I prefer it when I say something and I get corrected. The correction is not the issue. It's getting over trying to get an absolute right answer by only consulting with myself. And, on the other hand, recognizing that what I have to say, if not any complete answer, may help others get to it, and may not. It's like learning to share again.
So, here on out, how about I try to undo one or two of those locks. Not all of them... there still is such a thing as propriety, but I've got to stop doubting I have interesting things to say before I find out whether any of it's actually interesting or not. (Wrap your head around that one.)
Oct 5, 2008
It Turned Out to Require Numbers
1. For my birthday, Leslie made me a chocolate chip cookie. One huge chocolate chip cookie that fills an entire baking pan. It came out great; I've already had two portions, and after dinner tonight will have a third. It's like getting the best of both cookie and brownie. Last night, I also got a pint of Half and Half at a local drinking establishment - her treat. The top half was Guinness, and the bottom was Stella Artois. It was great, because even though Guinness is great, it is rich and dark, and to have it counterbalanced by a decent light beer like that ... I recommend it. Mmm, food.
2. Even though I'm not sure whether I'm doing anything for Halloween, I've been half-thinking of getting a costume together. Something that would be able to be worn during the day, possibly. I was thinking of heading to a great thrift clothing store which had quite the selection of jackets, coats, dress shirts, slacks, hats, canes, scarves, and so on. Maybe I could dress in all green, spray my hair red for the day, and walk around with a pipe? Or I could get a black leather jacket and pretend to be Neil Gaiman? Or put together a Dumb and Dumber-esque formal wear? Go for the1920's bartender look? Play someone from Carnivale? What I'm saying is that, if I'm going to go that route, I need some ideas. A bonus if I could then wear some of the clothes in other situations.
3. Along with the call for suggestions that way, I need suggestions for how to use my Mr. Bento Stainless Lunch Jar (AKA thermos), courtesy of Diana. What foods should I put in there for lunch? I'm pretty sure I could do soup, cooking it that morning or maybe making it the night before and then heating it up. I guess I could do rice and some kind of stir fry, or part of whatever I made last night. But otherwise... what are some easy ways to make some lunch without making it much more difficult than a sandwich and banana?
2. Even though I'm not sure whether I'm doing anything for Halloween, I've been half-thinking of getting a costume together. Something that would be able to be worn during the day, possibly. I was thinking of heading to a great thrift clothing store which had quite the selection of jackets, coats, dress shirts, slacks, hats, canes, scarves, and so on. Maybe I could dress in all green, spray my hair red for the day, and walk around with a pipe? Or I could get a black leather jacket and pretend to be Neil Gaiman? Or put together a Dumb and Dumber-esque formal wear? Go for the1920's bartender look? Play someone from Carnivale? What I'm saying is that, if I'm going to go that route, I need some ideas. A bonus if I could then wear some of the clothes in other situations.
3. Along with the call for suggestions that way, I need suggestions for how to use my Mr. Bento Stainless Lunch Jar (AKA thermos), courtesy of Diana. What foods should I put in there for lunch? I'm pretty sure I could do soup, cooking it that morning or maybe making it the night before and then heating it up. I guess I could do rice and some kind of stir fry, or part of whatever I made last night. But otherwise... what are some easy ways to make some lunch without making it much more difficult than a sandwich and banana?
Sep 28, 2008
I Swear, I Sometimes Don't Think Academically (But Here I Do)
So I went to the library today and got a lot of reading done. For anyone that is interested, I particularly have to recommend Rabelais’s writings (I read part of Pantagruel), which combine wit, farce, and even (to us) immature humor in such a playful and smart way – they’re pure laughter, holding nothing reverent, but because they doesn’t hold themselves reverent either (except jokingly), they seem fair. Most other works of the time that try for it (like Marlowe’s Faustus) try and fail to achieve the same level of laughter. It’s on the level of Chaucer and Shakespeare’s laughter (when they try for it).
Of course, I may only think it’s so great because it’s a relief to actually read it after reading for weeks about Bakhtin praising it. But that’s just a symptom of literary study; sometimes you read more about something than you actually read it, before you read it. Which, to me, is silly, but I have to keep up with what’s assigned., and it sometimes helps when I finally see it.
Look at that, I worked myself into a ramble and didn’t even get to where I want.
After I had done my reading, I went to read the newspaper, because there’s no kind of break from reading for class like reading something else. And, like my curiosity about reading people’s papers that are still saved on hard drives in the library and getting a feel for how people actually write (and maybe a bit on how they think), I like reading letters to the editor. And there was one with which I had a great amount of agreement.
The argument was for both of the presidential candidates to respectively present what they are going to do without slinging mud and deriding the other to make a point, because the only point that makes is who not to choose, not who to choose. (An important distinction.) I’m right with the author there. But then he also says that they should drop their rhetoric, such as using terms like reform and change, and only present facts. The sentiment is right – we should understand what the change is doing, what the reform’s actions and results will be, rather than relying on these words in a vague and imprecise manner, riding them as we ride slogans like “Liberty! Fraternity! Equality!” (whoops, that should be in French) or “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”But the attack on rhetoric is futile.
I’m not sure what they meant on rhetoric; it’s a fun word that gets bounced around, and as the Wikipedia entry notes, means a whole lot of different things. Aristotle (again, Wikipedia) treated it as practical reasoning rather than ideal logic. Bakhtin (sorry, had to, I’ve been reading it today) builds on it, referring to it as the way language expresses itself practically , a form well suited to addressing the way life is vibrantly lived, and therefore incorporated with all its livelihood in the novel. He probably means it as the sort of words that get bandied about in debate, words that are meant to convince and that need not have any substance at all, a language of debate. Though I get my perspective from the first two definitions and others, the last definition is the one I’ll argue with, saying, “Well, how can we say anything without rhetoric?”
To say anything meaningful, we have to say it in such a way that it has the ring of truth to it. That’s a function of language. We do it all the time, even when we say we’re nearly out of milk. We don’t (at least I hope) just point at the refrigerator and scream “Miiiiilk!” hoping for the point to present itself. We say, quite simply but to the point, “We’re nearly out of milk,” or a hundred other statements with similar bearings. That comes to us effortlessly, if by effortless we forget that we learned the language.
But once that’s out of the way, think about how “fact” and “opinion” were taught in grade school. I remember lists of sentences to compare. Some would say things like, “The Grand Canyon was fun,” and others would say, “The Empire State Building is very tall.” The first one would be an opinion, not because of any tricky use of rhetoric, but because fun is a personal judgment. The second would be a fact, because anyone can clearly observe that. Both use language to make a point, and want the reader to believe them, want to convince you that they’re right. Are they not, then, both rhetoric?
And so this can be applied to any statement of policy. Of course the candidates will want us to believe it. They seek to convince us. However, they do not have our intrinsic trust, so that what they say as fact, we’re going to check. That’s fine. But they’re still going to want to adorn what they say in such a way that we want to trust it. And so their list, even if forced to be in plain language, will still hold a will to make us think it’s true. To do away with all rhetoric will result in mere gestures and a reliance on the other people to figure it out for themselves, which isn’t communication at all. It would be throwing the baby out with the bathwater (or the bacon with the grease, since I’m hungry).
All of this is towards my perfectionist use of rhetoric, which would be to say that it would be better to say that they should leave their rhetoric unspun and uncontentious, plain and unadorned. They should present schematic reasoning (such that we can see the progression of ideas clearly) rather than self-obscuring feats of magical explanation that would make Lord Voldemort glad. Good rhetoric isn’t bad; it’s by practical examples and the good placement of words that truth sings rather than simply plods along. It’s also how lies sing, but in such a case we ought to manage the choir in such a way that they get placed in the back, rather than leaving the church in silence.
Sep 20, 2008
Things I've Read: Love in Excess
It's about 1720. 60 years ago was the beginning of the Restoration, and about 40 years ago was the bloodless revolution. Since then there has been an upswing in theater and the arts which had been stifled by Oliver Cromwell. After some forays into rakishness and debauchery, books (and people) started getting very sentimental. There came the rise of a new virtue. It wasn't a Puritan one, where they kept it all in and only released it into personal diaries (though those diaries did still exist). No, it was poured outward. Men and women were affected by emotions and they celebrated showing them. Love was a passion that could not be restrained, bringing tears, rage, and confusion along that path to felicitous marriage. Oh, the tears.
Love in Excess is one of those early novels. It isn't quite sure of its position as a novel. The dialogue is still rough, the divisions are not neatly put into chapters, and the descriptions are still full of authorial interjections by Eliza Haywood on the nature of love, a voice that talks less melodiously than Jane Austen's would nearly a century later. And that's not to mention the overflowing uses of the comma, the use of a false negative, and the frequent use of "it's" in the possessive which may've been correct then, but isn't so now. But in its own way it amuses.
Alovisa and Ansellina are sisters that have an uncommon freedom, having been given an inheritance without any man over them (father, brother, or guardian) to decide for them how it should be spent. Alovisa lives in comfort in the luxurious Parisian court, when Count D'elmont comes back from the recent war, aglow with conquests. Receiving an anonymous note from Alovisa seeking to pique his desire for her, it unlocks instead an outflowing of love where none existed before. He notices women. And soon his search for love begins, Alovisa hoping it comes her way, others competing for it, and still others (like the Count's brother) hoping that they find their own.
The characters turn out to be tragically wrong about love sometimes, and a marriage can turn out awry. Love can be confused and nearly lead to rape. Other times, love creeps up unbidden where obligations would have the two be, say, guardian and godfather's daughter rather than lovers. And then love is sought where love cannot be in the other, because they are already taken. It's a sorting of the passions, and Haywood, while conventional in some ways, is sensitive to these shifts in a way that men and women of that time had some difficulty doing, and people of this time have even greater difficulty with.
If you study a literary period long enough in class (say, a week) there will be some claim that the issues there carry over into the modern day. Indeed, that juggling of marriage and love still occurs, though the specific terms of dating and propriety have changed radically, as well as the expression of feeling (which is to say that we might cry within or cry alone where D'elmont and his brother embrace and cry together). Though I wouldn't recommend reading the book in a single day, it is interesting enough for at least a peek.
Love in Excess is one of those early novels. It isn't quite sure of its position as a novel. The dialogue is still rough, the divisions are not neatly put into chapters, and the descriptions are still full of authorial interjections by Eliza Haywood on the nature of love, a voice that talks less melodiously than Jane Austen's would nearly a century later. And that's not to mention the overflowing uses of the comma, the use of a false negative, and the frequent use of "it's" in the possessive which may've been correct then, but isn't so now. But in its own way it amuses.
Alovisa and Ansellina are sisters that have an uncommon freedom, having been given an inheritance without any man over them (father, brother, or guardian) to decide for them how it should be spent. Alovisa lives in comfort in the luxurious Parisian court, when Count D'elmont comes back from the recent war, aglow with conquests. Receiving an anonymous note from Alovisa seeking to pique his desire for her, it unlocks instead an outflowing of love where none existed before. He notices women. And soon his search for love begins, Alovisa hoping it comes her way, others competing for it, and still others (like the Count's brother) hoping that they find their own.
The characters turn out to be tragically wrong about love sometimes, and a marriage can turn out awry. Love can be confused and nearly lead to rape. Other times, love creeps up unbidden where obligations would have the two be, say, guardian and godfather's daughter rather than lovers. And then love is sought where love cannot be in the other, because they are already taken. It's a sorting of the passions, and Haywood, while conventional in some ways, is sensitive to these shifts in a way that men and women of that time had some difficulty doing, and people of this time have even greater difficulty with.
If you study a literary period long enough in class (say, a week) there will be some claim that the issues there carry over into the modern day. Indeed, that juggling of marriage and love still occurs, though the specific terms of dating and propriety have changed radically, as well as the expression of feeling (which is to say that we might cry within or cry alone where D'elmont and his brother embrace and cry together). Though I wouldn't recommend reading the book in a single day, it is interesting enough for at least a peek.
Sep 18, 2008
Creator
I won't write about school now. I'm trying not to think about it right now, not because it's bad, but because I think about it so much.
So I just wanted tos how off my creations in Spore. Though I enjoy it as a game, it's also very fun to just create shapes of creatures, buildings, and vehicles. It's like playing with clay or Legos.
You can scroll left or right, and the multiple iterations of a creature correspond to the multiple evolutions and modifications that go on during the creature phase. But, yes, that's the game I've been playing for a couple of weeks. I make things.
So I just wanted tos how off my creations in Spore. Though I enjoy it as a game, it's also very fun to just create shapes of creatures, buildings, and vehicles. It's like playing with clay or Legos.
You can scroll left or right, and the multiple iterations of a creature correspond to the multiple evolutions and modifications that go on during the creature phase. But, yes, that's the game I've been playing for a couple of weeks. I make things.
Sep 9, 2008
The Ad Hoc Chef
I've been absent for a while. I was enjoying myself, getting little things to work, spending time with Leslie, going to Dragon*con, or most recently, reading intensively for class and playing Spore.
It's been a month since I've moved in. Most days, I've cooked or prepared meals for myself, the exceptions being when we go out or when Leslie makes something for both of us because it's just as much trouble as cooking for one.
I haven't cooked for myself this much before. At college, I always relied on the dining plans offered to me because I was living in a dorm without handy access to more than a microwave and a microfridge. In some senses, that was good - I always ate a warm meal, I always had plenty to eat, and I never had to put any time into preparing the food. However, it left me apprehensive of cooking for myself, was inefficient cost-wise, and made me reliant on whatever the menu happened to be.
During this summer, and summers previously, I would make lunch for myself, but those were either occasional or, in the case of the pretty good Thai noodle boxes, also cost-inefficient. So without much forethought I had a gas oven, lots of food I picked from the grocery without much insight into how to combine them, and cooking implements I knew how to use in theory. Oh, and a hungry tummy to act as impetus.
I shouldn't have been scared, though. I was imagining all of these possible disasters, when really the worst that could've happened was me messing up a meal. And I'm happy to say I haven't messed one up yet.
When I make instant noodles, that's nearly impossible to not mess up. The same goes with pasta and rice; I learned to boil water in high school, adding an ingredient into the mix wasn't any trouble. The same goes for boiling or simmering formerly frozen vegetables. As for things like mushrooms (one of my favorite foods to prepare, baking or sauteeing them), the packaging instructions carried me most of the way. Turning raw red or white pieces of chicken and pork into fully cooked portions I could be proud of isn't that difficult either, provided I remember to season them and don't scorch the pan.
And so I have meals like last night, where I threw together scrambled eggs (how I did it I'm still not sure... I whisked the eggs, put the eggs in a pan, and then made sure they didn't burn... right?), baked some mushrooms coated in peanut oil in a shallow pan at 450 degrees F for 10 minutes or so, and then put some jam on bread. Or I'll pop a calzone into a microwave. Or I'll boil up some pasta, toss some soy sauce in there, and whip up some corn as a side. It's fun. And my reputation of never more than three ingredients has become a cooking mantra. It really helps focus the selection, helps me not get overwhelmed. Yeah, I'll get around to recipes sometime. But right now, with the reading I still have to finish and the video game I want to get to and so on and so forth... I'll just cook to eat. And since it still happens to taste pretty good, who's to complain?
It's been a month since I've moved in. Most days, I've cooked or prepared meals for myself, the exceptions being when we go out or when Leslie makes something for both of us because it's just as much trouble as cooking for one.
I haven't cooked for myself this much before. At college, I always relied on the dining plans offered to me because I was living in a dorm without handy access to more than a microwave and a microfridge. In some senses, that was good - I always ate a warm meal, I always had plenty to eat, and I never had to put any time into preparing the food. However, it left me apprehensive of cooking for myself, was inefficient cost-wise, and made me reliant on whatever the menu happened to be.
During this summer, and summers previously, I would make lunch for myself, but those were either occasional or, in the case of the pretty good Thai noodle boxes, also cost-inefficient. So without much forethought I had a gas oven, lots of food I picked from the grocery without much insight into how to combine them, and cooking implements I knew how to use in theory. Oh, and a hungry tummy to act as impetus.
I shouldn't have been scared, though. I was imagining all of these possible disasters, when really the worst that could've happened was me messing up a meal. And I'm happy to say I haven't messed one up yet.
When I make instant noodles, that's nearly impossible to not mess up. The same goes with pasta and rice; I learned to boil water in high school, adding an ingredient into the mix wasn't any trouble. The same goes for boiling or simmering formerly frozen vegetables. As for things like mushrooms (one of my favorite foods to prepare, baking or sauteeing them), the packaging instructions carried me most of the way. Turning raw red or white pieces of chicken and pork into fully cooked portions I could be proud of isn't that difficult either, provided I remember to season them and don't scorch the pan.
And so I have meals like last night, where I threw together scrambled eggs (how I did it I'm still not sure... I whisked the eggs, put the eggs in a pan, and then made sure they didn't burn... right?), baked some mushrooms coated in peanut oil in a shallow pan at 450 degrees F for 10 minutes or so, and then put some jam on bread. Or I'll pop a calzone into a microwave. Or I'll boil up some pasta, toss some soy sauce in there, and whip up some corn as a side. It's fun. And my reputation of never more than three ingredients has become a cooking mantra. It really helps focus the selection, helps me not get overwhelmed. Yeah, I'll get around to recipes sometime. But right now, with the reading I still have to finish and the video game I want to get to and so on and so forth... I'll just cook to eat. And since it still happens to taste pretty good, who's to complain?
Aug 17, 2008
Food Land
I've been in Atlanta a week now. It's been fun settling in, and less than fun having no stable internet access until sometime this coming week, and in total, it's been an adventure. Spirits are high though, and I've enjoyed this vacation time before I start school.
Leslie and I went out yesterday, exploring and getting some things from the cool Wal-mart with the escalator for both people and carts. But on our way, we decided to stop by a Spanish bakery that looked bright and promising. There wasn't anything we wanted right then (though I'll be back for delicious pastries), and soon we went around the building to the other side, to the Atlanta Farmer's Market.
Or so the front of the building said, in bright letters. I was expecting a basic concrete floor, an array of locally grown vegetables, and a massive gathering of all kinds of people. Instead what we found was a fully stocked international supermarket with all kinds of food and a massive gathering of all different kinds of people.
Here are some of the things I saw: tons of vegetables and fruit, half of which I'd never heard of, many kept refrigerated, some lying open, and a few soaking in water; 25 lb. bags of good rice (Basmati, several other kinds I'm less familiar with) for 85 cents per pound; an array of packaged meats next to a fully functioning butcher shop including the normal, the uncommon (duck meat, sheep), and the strange and bewildering (duck hearts, chicken gizzard, chicken liver); very inexpensive ramen; all kinds of crackers, cookies, pastas, sauces, drinks, and other items, mainly Spanish and Southeast Asian, some of which I had never seen before in or out of their package; a complete seafood section with fish, frogs, and turtles all swimming around in large tanks or already packaged with good prices for catfish and salmon in particular; inexpensive tofu; the best cashier I have ever seen, who could identify the vast amount of different vegetables and punch in their numbers without hesitation, whose hands worked magic on the scanner and kept what would've been a 10+ minute line in Wal-mart moving in under 5.
There was also a kind gentleman who let us go ahead of him when he saw that we were only buying some muscadines, tofu, and a couple of bottles of Mexican soda.
And the whole atmosphere... was festive. Bustling. Active. It didn't have a sterile atmosphere like some supermarkets, but it was well-kept, well-organized. With a lot of diverse groceries, the food and everything are fine, but it feels like a hole in the wall, and I feel vaguely uncomfortable being there because what they have are, to me, novelties. There, I feel like a gawker, a trespasser. Here, I only felt like I was in a great store.
What I am trying to say is that this is an excellent place to get rare ingredients or decently priced food. And it's a good spot for people-watching as well. And though I"ll probably still buy a good deal of my food at such tame places as Kroger, I'll probably shop here for noodles, rice, and some vegetables, anyway.
Oh, and the name? It turned out to be a Honk Kong Supermarket.
Leslie and I went out yesterday, exploring and getting some things from the cool Wal-mart with the escalator for both people and carts. But on our way, we decided to stop by a Spanish bakery that looked bright and promising. There wasn't anything we wanted right then (though I'll be back for delicious pastries), and soon we went around the building to the other side, to the Atlanta Farmer's Market.
Or so the front of the building said, in bright letters. I was expecting a basic concrete floor, an array of locally grown vegetables, and a massive gathering of all kinds of people. Instead what we found was a fully stocked international supermarket with all kinds of food and a massive gathering of all different kinds of people.
Here are some of the things I saw: tons of vegetables and fruit, half of which I'd never heard of, many kept refrigerated, some lying open, and a few soaking in water; 25 lb. bags of good rice (Basmati, several other kinds I'm less familiar with) for 85 cents per pound; an array of packaged meats next to a fully functioning butcher shop including the normal, the uncommon (duck meat, sheep), and the strange and bewildering (duck hearts, chicken gizzard, chicken liver); very inexpensive ramen; all kinds of crackers, cookies, pastas, sauces, drinks, and other items, mainly Spanish and Southeast Asian, some of which I had never seen before in or out of their package; a complete seafood section with fish, frogs, and turtles all swimming around in large tanks or already packaged with good prices for catfish and salmon in particular; inexpensive tofu; the best cashier I have ever seen, who could identify the vast amount of different vegetables and punch in their numbers without hesitation, whose hands worked magic on the scanner and kept what would've been a 10+ minute line in Wal-mart moving in under 5.
There was also a kind gentleman who let us go ahead of him when he saw that we were only buying some muscadines, tofu, and a couple of bottles of Mexican soda.
And the whole atmosphere... was festive. Bustling. Active. It didn't have a sterile atmosphere like some supermarkets, but it was well-kept, well-organized. With a lot of diverse groceries, the food and everything are fine, but it feels like a hole in the wall, and I feel vaguely uncomfortable being there because what they have are, to me, novelties. There, I feel like a gawker, a trespasser. Here, I only felt like I was in a great store.
What I am trying to say is that this is an excellent place to get rare ingredients or decently priced food. And it's a good spot for people-watching as well. And though I"ll probably still buy a good deal of my food at such tame places as Kroger, I'll probably shop here for noodles, rice, and some vegetables, anyway.
Oh, and the name? It turned out to be a Honk Kong Supermarket.
Aug 5, 2008
So... suggestions?
I'm going to be on the road for at least 8 hours on Thursday. I have to go to Atlanta (or at least Georgia, I'm trying to figure this part out) to put in a deposit for the electricity so that we have air conditioning when we move in. Does anyone have any suggestions for free and legal entertaining radio shows or podcasts to download to my MP3 player?
Aug 4, 2008
The Long Drive
Friday I drove to Atlanta and back.
I'm ambivalent about driving versus riding on long car trips. I honestly wish I could do both.
The driving part requires me to be alert and keeps me busy at doing something, and it is easy enough to break the monotony with some news or good programming (NPR is my best friend). And when someone else is in the car, it's easy enough to talk to them. But after a while it can still get tedious.
While riding, I'm limited to sedentary activities, sedentary in the mental sense. Reading, playing a handheld game, and doing crossword puzzles are fine, but to do only that for hours and hours upon end gets me bored and more importantly makes me drowsy. And when I get drowsy on car trips, it's very difficult to get me to sleep. (Whenever I've slept on car trips, it's because I was already exhausted before I got in the car.) And yes, you can talk to the driver or other people, but on a particularly long car trip, it's likely you aren't going to constantly talk. Jaws and vocal cords need breaks, if the conversation never does.
In this case, I chose to drive the entire way since it was the simpler solution. I'm carrying a load of stuff to Atlanta. Leslie is carrying herself and about six empty folded boxes. We will meet in Chattanooga and carpool down. The solution presents itself.
I leave just before 6 AM. The first fifteen miles or so on the interstate are always the longest, because the stretch from Clarksville to Nashville is painfully familiar, and I'm still counting every mile marker and exit, having not yet let that go in favor of the zen-like, "Another twenty miles has passed?" Luckily the morning news is on, so I listen to that for the first two hours. Then... it repeats. I know it's repeating because I heard the last part of their first broadcast. And I'm not so bored that I want to hear the news again. So music comes on... the Mirrormask soundtrack, because I need something quirky to keep me going. Coasting into downtown Chattanooga, I find a parking spot, take a walk around a block of high-priced restaurants and parking lots, and and then read The Two Towers until Leslie gets there.
At this point, I must say Leslie brings pie. And I am also obligated to say that she makes a damn good peach pie. She brought it, and it gets devoured at intervals on the ride home. (It was so good the plastic Panera fork we got to eat it starts breaking down or something, with the tines slowly crumbling away after contact with it. Maybe the fork just had issues.)
And so for the next two hours we enjoy some music she brought (including some from a rather mature anime called "Speed Grapher") and talk. And then lunch at Panera at around 12:15, a brief walk around, and... leasing office of doom!
No, the leasing process actually went fairly easily. It was just slow, reading and skimming through all of the paperwork, items sometimes repeated two or three times. Initial, initial, sign sign sign. Then we got to see our new apartment!
The layout looks exactly like Diana's apartment when she taught at the high school for a year, my freshman year in college. (Being intentionally vague here, since it isn't *my* information.) The door is positioned differently by 90 degrees, and the kitchen look differs a little, but that's about it. Big open space with patio on one side, kitchen on the other, and then a hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. Must've been a common design... I like it.
Once we got done checking it out, listing about every thumb-tack and spot on the walls and ceiling, we went back, turned that in, offloaded my stuff, got chores assigned, and drove back to Chattanooga. By then it's around 5. I drop Leslie off, and then listen to the news while it remains on. Then Market Place. Then Fresh Air. After I listen to a 2005 interview with Neil Patrick Harris, there's another guy that comes on. I listen to his swing interpretation of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and then decide it's time for "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me." It's last week's episode and Peter Sagal is on vacation, replaced with someone more overbearing in their humor, but it keeps me well enough engaged. Plus, Mo Rocca's on there, my second favorite panelist after Paula Poundstone.
By the end of the day, I've logged 12 hours. Was it worth it? Definitely, if I get an apartment out of it. I hope the next time there's a vacation in the mix though. It's not as satisfying to lounge in a bath as it is to lounge on the beach.
I'm ambivalent about driving versus riding on long car trips. I honestly wish I could do both.
The driving part requires me to be alert and keeps me busy at doing something, and it is easy enough to break the monotony with some news or good programming (NPR is my best friend). And when someone else is in the car, it's easy enough to talk to them. But after a while it can still get tedious.
While riding, I'm limited to sedentary activities, sedentary in the mental sense. Reading, playing a handheld game, and doing crossword puzzles are fine, but to do only that for hours and hours upon end gets me bored and more importantly makes me drowsy. And when I get drowsy on car trips, it's very difficult to get me to sleep. (Whenever I've slept on car trips, it's because I was already exhausted before I got in the car.) And yes, you can talk to the driver or other people, but on a particularly long car trip, it's likely you aren't going to constantly talk. Jaws and vocal cords need breaks, if the conversation never does.
In this case, I chose to drive the entire way since it was the simpler solution. I'm carrying a load of stuff to Atlanta. Leslie is carrying herself and about six empty folded boxes. We will meet in Chattanooga and carpool down. The solution presents itself.
I leave just before 6 AM. The first fifteen miles or so on the interstate are always the longest, because the stretch from Clarksville to Nashville is painfully familiar, and I'm still counting every mile marker and exit, having not yet let that go in favor of the zen-like, "Another twenty miles has passed?" Luckily the morning news is on, so I listen to that for the first two hours. Then... it repeats. I know it's repeating because I heard the last part of their first broadcast. And I'm not so bored that I want to hear the news again. So music comes on... the Mirrormask soundtrack, because I need something quirky to keep me going. Coasting into downtown Chattanooga, I find a parking spot, take a walk around a block of high-priced restaurants and parking lots, and and then read The Two Towers until Leslie gets there.
At this point, I must say Leslie brings pie. And I am also obligated to say that she makes a damn good peach pie. She brought it, and it gets devoured at intervals on the ride home. (It was so good the plastic Panera fork we got to eat it starts breaking down or something, with the tines slowly crumbling away after contact with it. Maybe the fork just had issues.)
And so for the next two hours we enjoy some music she brought (including some from a rather mature anime called "Speed Grapher") and talk. And then lunch at Panera at around 12:15, a brief walk around, and... leasing office of doom!
No, the leasing process actually went fairly easily. It was just slow, reading and skimming through all of the paperwork, items sometimes repeated two or three times. Initial, initial, sign sign sign. Then we got to see our new apartment!
The layout looks exactly like Diana's apartment when she taught at the high school for a year, my freshman year in college. (Being intentionally vague here, since it isn't *my* information.) The door is positioned differently by 90 degrees, and the kitchen look differs a little, but that's about it. Big open space with patio on one side, kitchen on the other, and then a hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. Must've been a common design... I like it.
Once we got done checking it out, listing about every thumb-tack and spot on the walls and ceiling, we went back, turned that in, offloaded my stuff, got chores assigned, and drove back to Chattanooga. By then it's around 5. I drop Leslie off, and then listen to the news while it remains on. Then Market Place. Then Fresh Air. After I listen to a 2005 interview with Neil Patrick Harris, there's another guy that comes on. I listen to his swing interpretation of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and then decide it's time for "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me." It's last week's episode and Peter Sagal is on vacation, replaced with someone more overbearing in their humor, but it keeps me well enough engaged. Plus, Mo Rocca's on there, my second favorite panelist after Paula Poundstone.
By the end of the day, I've logged 12 hours. Was it worth it? Definitely, if I get an apartment out of it. I hope the next time there's a vacation in the mix though. It's not as satisfying to lounge in a bath as it is to lounge on the beach.
Jul 31, 2008
Chronos Book I: Failing Fortress
So the last time I visited Leslie, she showed me a story that she had started but didn't continue. She had a few of these, it seemed, and this one was a couple of pages long. It was a Lord of the Rings fanfic. [EDIT: She wrote it and the other things she discussed yeeaaars ago.]
Well, I'm currently looking through stuff for my move, deciding what can stay here (including most of the nostalgic items), what should be taken, and so on. And... I found it. A notebook from about 1999, when I was 13 or 14. It's mostly illustrations. Some of the illustrations are flat-out amusing, some of them are slightly disturbing, and the rest are Star Wars ships, most of which I made up, and most of which I made up with stats. (I also designed several characters in this way, both for Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.) I was a budding roleplayer then, and at the end of that year I would join a Lord of the Rings roleplaying community, Elendor, which I am still a part of today. The concepts for the characters in this booklet, though, are hilarious for anyone that knows Lord of the Rings.
But there is a story in here too, or at least the start of one. I must've had a whole book series in my head. It stops after two pages. The handwriting is surprisingly legible, but the writing is about what I've come to expect. XD
It took a lot of effort to not edit myself.
Well, I'm currently looking through stuff for my move, deciding what can stay here (including most of the nostalgic items), what should be taken, and so on. And... I found it. A notebook from about 1999, when I was 13 or 14. It's mostly illustrations. Some of the illustrations are flat-out amusing, some of them are slightly disturbing, and the rest are Star Wars ships, most of which I made up, and most of which I made up with stats. (I also designed several characters in this way, both for Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.) I was a budding roleplayer then, and at the end of that year I would join a Lord of the Rings roleplaying community, Elendor, which I am still a part of today. The concepts for the characters in this booklet, though, are hilarious for anyone that knows Lord of the Rings.
But there is a story in here too, or at least the start of one. I must've had a whole book series in my head. It stops after two pages. The handwriting is surprisingly legible, but the writing is about what I've come to expect. XD
"Brought you some food, rookie!" Landos's voice rang as he opened the door to the guardpost. "What is it?" Crasnell emerged from the window, facing west toward the sunset. "You'll like it! Roasted slug!" Crasnell cringed, but Landos reassured him, "Just kidding! Here! Have some lashnog!" Crasnell examined the blue root, smiled, and said, "Thanks! I'm starved!" "Heh, knew you wanted food!" Landos smiled and went to the window. Crasnell finished his food and joined Landos. "At your permission, sir, but, may I ask why we guard this pass?" Landos laughed a jolly laugh and answered, "Tradition! Why, hundreds of years ago, a great army, led by a powerful wizard named Sisen, came to our kingdom to wage war! We were ill prepared, though, and fought us to this pass. Here, several thousand archers gathered and guarded this place from take over. Within a day the army of Sisen arrived. Thinking that we fled, they stormed through. Halfway, they stopped. Their commander heard something. Suddenly it came! With a rain of arrows, our archers took out their top men. Scared, they fled. Thereafter a post was set here to guard from their return." "Wow!" said Crasnell, as he walked into his room. "Get some sleep!" Yelled Landos, "I'll guard." Crasnell spoke up another question from his room. "Was our kingdom that large to inhabit the Western Reach?" "Yes, certainly, though now this is the frontier," Landos answered, "The wild men took the west before we could come back. Not wanting war, we extended to the east, to the ocean. Now get some sleep!" Crasnell complied, and fell asleep with a thousand questions inside him.
"Rookie!!! Wake up!!!" Landos ran into his room, grabbed his sword, and approached Crasnell's room. He smelled of fear, his eyes wide awake. Crasnell emerged, and yelled a few dirty words. "Shut your mouth!" Landos yelled. "Ok, listen." In the silence at first nothing was heard, but then a faint, and orderly march was heard. Crasnell grew serious and grabbed a sword and his chain mail armor and followed Landos to the horses. "Get on either one, but make sure it will fly, for there is no time to be slow!" They mounted their horses and looked at the army.
The army was gigantic. There were about 10,000 knights with plate armor gleaming in the moonlight. Leading them were 10 robed figures, probably high wizards. Behind them were 5,000 archers, bows ready but not drawn. Then came the terror. In the back were 2,000 mages and 1,900 priests. No known mage army was that huge, save maybe the magic kingdom to the north, Inor Malis, but they weren't here now. Suddenly they spotted, but a mile away, and coming fast, 6 lightning scouts, of the other outpost, 6 miles down. But they were summoned, for only two manned that outpost.
Let's go!" Crasnell said. Landos, about to say the same thing, left with him. They sped long, but the scouts overcame them and they had to fight their way. Landos took down 2 of them easily, but his partner was knocked off. Crasnell yelled, "Go! I will draw them away!" At that he got up, drew his sword, and ran south. Landos yelled, but Crasnell was gone. Landos, knowing that Crasnell's sacrifice must be taken advantage of, fled east.
It took a lot of effort to not edit myself.
Jul 21, 2008
Space Center!
Today we went to the space center down in Huntsville, AL. (It's AL, right? Because AK is Alaska and AR is Arkansas and ABBA is ABBA.)
Considering I found out we were going yesterday, I might not have gone had it not been a place I really wanted to go. That, and it's not that long of a car ride. Certainly not as long as it takes to get to Atlanta.
So, why would I want to go to the Space Center? Ever since I've known how to read, and perhaps even a little bit before, space has been a fascination of mine. Astronauts in their suits, floating through space, stepping across the Lunar surface picking up rocks, piloting a rocket to some distant planet or moon, engaging orbit, and rolling down the windows to collect space dust in my fingers as it trailed by. As I read more, I learned about nebulae, galaxies, stars of all different sizes, quasars, black holes, dark matter, antimatter, and all the other concepts that have collected in the hundred years after Jules Verne dreamed a rocket.
At one point, I wanted to be an astronaut. A scientist. They said that we would be the ones to land on the Moon again, the ones to land on Mars again. What a dream! I had no clue of what either job entailed, but the rewards of discovery would be more than enough.
But somewhere, I got it stuck in my head that I wouldn't be a scientist after all. I wouldn't work in a lab or sit in a dusty room doing calculations with a team of mathematicians. No, I would sit in a dusty room to read books, write about them, lecture about them, and teach them to others. The allure of literature caught me, and I wasn't content to just read some in my off time, because then I knew I'd never really get as into it as I like. I still loved math and science, but they became something to know of and respect, and not necessarily something to do active research in, at least not right now. And, as far as I know, they don't launch English graduate students into space.
After looking at the exhibits today, I hesitated. Just a little. Seeing the Saturn V rocket, the space shuttle, all the different equipment and testimonies from various rockets and scientists, and that little girl in the IMAX movie who wanted to be an astronaut too, it made me wonder. Now I've looked at the requirements; if I went back to college and finished my degree in mathematics, I could technically be one. The maximum height is only an inch above mine, but I could promise to duck. My vision isn't 20/20, but I could get it corrected with lasers. Either that, or I can wait (and hope) for the day that space tourism becomes viable and relatively inexpensive.
Maybe, but it's not something to wait for.
No, no, maybe there'll be no going into space for me, not for a while. But considering the small number of people that are able to go, and the astronomical costs of getting them into space, and given the path I've chosen, I can live with that. I still have my dreams, my fantasies, and lots of science fiction to console me. Even Jules Verne in all his dry glory.
Considering I found out we were going yesterday, I might not have gone had it not been a place I really wanted to go. That, and it's not that long of a car ride. Certainly not as long as it takes to get to Atlanta.
So, why would I want to go to the Space Center? Ever since I've known how to read, and perhaps even a little bit before, space has been a fascination of mine. Astronauts in their suits, floating through space, stepping across the Lunar surface picking up rocks, piloting a rocket to some distant planet or moon, engaging orbit, and rolling down the windows to collect space dust in my fingers as it trailed by. As I read more, I learned about nebulae, galaxies, stars of all different sizes, quasars, black holes, dark matter, antimatter, and all the other concepts that have collected in the hundred years after Jules Verne dreamed a rocket.
At one point, I wanted to be an astronaut. A scientist. They said that we would be the ones to land on the Moon again, the ones to land on Mars again. What a dream! I had no clue of what either job entailed, but the rewards of discovery would be more than enough.
But somewhere, I got it stuck in my head that I wouldn't be a scientist after all. I wouldn't work in a lab or sit in a dusty room doing calculations with a team of mathematicians. No, I would sit in a dusty room to read books, write about them, lecture about them, and teach them to others. The allure of literature caught me, and I wasn't content to just read some in my off time, because then I knew I'd never really get as into it as I like. I still loved math and science, but they became something to know of and respect, and not necessarily something to do active research in, at least not right now. And, as far as I know, they don't launch English graduate students into space.
After looking at the exhibits today, I hesitated. Just a little. Seeing the Saturn V rocket, the space shuttle, all the different equipment and testimonies from various rockets and scientists, and that little girl in the IMAX movie who wanted to be an astronaut too, it made me wonder. Now I've looked at the requirements; if I went back to college and finished my degree in mathematics, I could technically be one. The maximum height is only an inch above mine, but I could promise to duck. My vision isn't 20/20, but I could get it corrected with lasers. Either that, or I can wait (and hope) for the day that space tourism becomes viable and relatively inexpensive.
Maybe, but it's not something to wait for.
No, no, maybe there'll be no going into space for me, not for a while. But considering the small number of people that are able to go, and the astronomical costs of getting them into space, and given the path I've chosen, I can live with that. I still have my dreams, my fantasies, and lots of science fiction to console me. Even Jules Verne in all his dry glory.
Jul 19, 2008
Distrust
(Quick! Watch Dr. Horrible before you have to pay for it tomorrow! Warning: it's part musical! Dr. Horrible.)
Someone wrote an interesting letter to the editor today. It was talking about doing research on candidates. A quote: "Most politicians are transparent, some are translucent and some are even dishonest."
Okay, ignore the lack of a comma that should be there. Now, let's think about the progression going on here. When I was reading it, I was expecting something like this:
Transparent---->Translucent---->Opaque
Someone wrote an interesting letter to the editor today. It was talking about doing research on candidates. A quote: "Most politicians are transparent, some are translucent and some are even dishonest."
Okay, ignore the lack of a comma that should be there. Now, let's think about the progression going on here. When I was reading it, I was expecting something like this:
Transparent---->Translucent---->Opaque
Remember that progression from some science class? Yes. Instead, what I find is this:
Transparent---->Translucent---->Dishonest
Now, what they are suggesting is that , for politicians, the best way to ensure that they are honest is to study how much they disclose, that is, how little privacy they allow for themselves in public life. Except... openness has nothing to do with honesty.
A person who maintains the privacy of their tax records and other things is not wrong for doing so, and doesn't have anything to hide. Such an argument holds for anyone who chooses to withhold information without a warrant. They are not obligated to give it, and their refusal to give it is not any sort of incrimination. Maybe they don't see why it is any business of the taxpayer. Maybe they are guilty of something. There is no way to derive possible guilt from a refusal, and if we are to assume they are innocent and profess an American love for privacy, we cannot force records from them without probable cause.
To be a cynic for a moment, it is entirely possible for a person to fake being open and still cheat the system. Of course, that most often happens in totalitarian places where we call that an exercise of liberty and intellectual honesty (Václav Havel).
But I point out that statement because it strikes a common thread with the argument that, as we have done nothing wrong and have nothing to hide, we should hide nothing. Wiretapping, ISP monitoring, spying, bugging, credit records, crime records, tax records, travel records, phone records, camera surveillance, library records, all able to be violated as part of keeping us that little bit safer. When privacy is granted, it comes with the trust of the people granting it. The parents trust that the kid behind closed doors isn't concocting a bomb. When people are allowed to buy a house with opaque walls, those walls are inviolable except for when others are invited in, or when sufficient evidence of wrongdoing comes to light. We trust people in their other houses. When we walk amongst other people, we trust that the person wearing a long skirt isn't about to pull a gun from there or doesn't have shoplifted goods taped up the thighs. Society, at least the one we live in and tend to enjoy, requires trust, and that trust requires privacy, or the space for a person to act without being spied upon.
Don't we say that true honesty is doing the right thing when no one else is around? Can we be honest when we know someone is always watching? For politicians, perhaps they should be more open because so many people put their trust in them to go with the convictions for which they were elected. But in return, we should trust them when they choose not to disclose certain things, and recognize that openness and honesty are not the same thing.
Jul 9, 2008
Some Wordles
Linked from Katie's blog...
Very interesting. One of this journal.
And this one is of a journal I had before this one.
And this one... is of CNN.
BBC World News.
Wikipedia!
And *snicker* Conservapedia.
Very interesting. One of this journal.
And this one is of a journal I had before this one.
And this one... is of CNN.
BBC World News.
Wikipedia!
And *snicker* Conservapedia.
Jul 7, 2008
Because I'm on a Write-page!
Think of the word rampage. And then think of the word ramp. Now think of a wild onion fight. That's kind of where my mind is right now. Punning itself into redundancy. (Who put the pun in punishment, the torte in torture?)
I kept losing badly in Cranium Conga yesterday. Basically, you write an answer to a question down in a box, start a timer, and (for the category I kept losing in) tell them the first letter of what you wrote. If they guess in time, both people get points. But I would never get a chance to guess, or guess correctly, and when it was my turn, no one could get it! Admittedly an ingredient I'd always put in a favorite ice cream recipe being "milk" is dumb, but my dream profession being "astronaut?"
It always gets me on the Price is Right when someone bids $1 higher than someone else and then wins. I get some consolation if the person originally trumped gets up there, but that's some ruthless bidding. The worst is when someone bids $1 and then someone else bids $2. It's pretty ruthless. If I'm ever a contestant (ha) and the person next to me bids an amount one dollar higher than the other one, and I'm the last one to bid (50% chance), I'm going to bid one dollar higher than that one. I would do it when I was third, except that would allow the fourth person to basically guarantee getting it by bidding one dollar higher than me.
And I post this just because any comparison with Kaylee is a favorable one. :D
I kept losing badly in Cranium Conga yesterday. Basically, you write an answer to a question down in a box, start a timer, and (for the category I kept losing in) tell them the first letter of what you wrote. If they guess in time, both people get points. But I would never get a chance to guess, or guess correctly, and when it was my turn, no one could get it! Admittedly an ingredient I'd always put in a favorite ice cream recipe being "milk" is dumb, but my dream profession being "astronaut?"
It always gets me on the Price is Right when someone bids $1 higher than someone else and then wins. I get some consolation if the person originally trumped gets up there, but that's some ruthless bidding. The worst is when someone bids $1 and then someone else bids $2. It's pretty ruthless. If I'm ever a contestant (ha) and the person next to me bids an amount one dollar higher than the other one, and I'm the last one to bid (50% chance), I'm going to bid one dollar higher than that one. I would do it when I was third, except that would allow the fourth person to basically guarantee getting it by bidding one dollar higher than me.
Your result for The Attachment Style Test...
The Cuddleslut
24% Anxiety Over Abandonment and 18% Avoidance Of Intimacy
You're mostly secure, but sometimes you need a little extra reassurance to make it through the tough times. You are usually affectionate and sweet, and you find it easy to fall in love. An encouraging word from a crush or a loved one can motivate you for weeks.
Fictional character with whom you might identify: Kaylee (Firefly/Serenity), Hiro Nakamura (Heroes)
| Other Attachment Types: | |||||
| Secure: | The Unicorn | | | The Cuddleslut | | | The Free Agent |
| Preoccupied: | The Cling Wrap | | | The Squid | | | The Insect |
| Fearful: | The Doormat | | | The Leper | | | The Exile |
| Dismissing: | The Hermit | | | The Stone | | | The Player |
| Confused: | The Waffler |
Take The Attachment Style Test at HelloQuizzy
And I post this just because any comparison with Kaylee is a favorable one. :D
Jul 2, 2008
Because They Make Me Smile
The Count and Cookie Monster - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7hTkzEwFZ0&feature=related
Grover and the Big Hamburger - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GOGNE0nWHk&feature=related
Grover and the Big Hamburger - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GOGNE0nWHk&feature=related
Jun 23, 2008
Rules of a Pundit
1. When a poll says something you don't want to have to explain around, adjust it. Multiply the margin of error by two, add or subtract to the actually reported number as desired, and claim, based on expertise as a statistician, actuary, mathematician, or other numbers expert, that you think it's more like that.
Example: "The recent poll by Quargnax shows Bocain ahead by 15 points." "Oh, I think that's more like six or seven, but..."
2. Talking more loudly and interrupting the other person shows that you care. About your argument. Which is right.
Example: "Well, when you look at France and the way it's handled - " "FRANCE WAS HANDLING THINGS GREAT, AND THEY DON'T SHARE A BORDER WITH A MAJOR ... BLAH BLAH BLAH."
3. Don't forget to pluck that personality in the morning! A well-groomed personality acts as a mask if you happen to not know what you're talking about. Every question that puts you out of your depth is a good question, and a smile of condescension.
Example: "So what about those negative power couplings?" "Well, that's a good question. Certainly, smile smile smile, gab gab gab."
4. When you have five seconds left before the host will stop you, talk faster.
Example: "And as for those marriages in California, just-think-of-the-children-and-ask-whether-you'd-want-children-coming-from-that-marriage-because-ewwww!"
5. If it is your distinction in life to have a verbal pause, either make it as quiet or as distinctive as possible.
Example: "The tomatoes are auuuuuughm delicious."
6. Credentials, credentials? Remember that one time you worked under President George H.W. Bush? That makes you more knowledgable about every policy under the moon than 99.99% of Americans.
Example: "I recall when I was working in the white house... they had good chicken strips."
7. Twenty-four hour news means that you're truly needed to make, discuss, and otherwise interpret news. Be like the third stomach of the cow; after the anchors report it, and then discuss it, get ready to receive that cud and digest it out until the fourth stomach, the news summary broadcast, can reduce it to mind-numbing oblivion.
Example: "And of course you've heard about the guy who bought a slushie. I don't think that picking raspberry was a good thing. Especially with that murder that happened twenty feet away."
8. It does good to use some phrase that other people were using, if it's effective.
Example: "And Harry Potter 7 is truly the battle of the hexes." "And then the battle of the hexes." "Har har blah blah battle of the hexes." "And now the battle of the sexes, I mean hexes."
Example: "The recent poll by Quargnax shows Bocain ahead by 15 points." "Oh, I think that's more like six or seven, but..."
2. Talking more loudly and interrupting the other person shows that you care. About your argument. Which is right.
Example: "Well, when you look at France and the way it's handled - " "FRANCE WAS HANDLING THINGS GREAT, AND THEY DON'T SHARE A BORDER WITH A MAJOR ... BLAH BLAH BLAH."
3. Don't forget to pluck that personality in the morning! A well-groomed personality acts as a mask if you happen to not know what you're talking about. Every question that puts you out of your depth is a good question, and a smile of condescension.
Example: "So what about those negative power couplings?" "Well, that's a good question. Certainly, smile smile smile, gab gab gab."
4. When you have five seconds left before the host will stop you, talk faster.
Example: "And as for those marriages in California, just-think-of-the-children-and-ask-whether-you'd-want-children-coming-from-that-marriage-because-ewwww!"
5. If it is your distinction in life to have a verbal pause, either make it as quiet or as distinctive as possible.
Example: "The tomatoes are auuuuuughm delicious."
6. Credentials, credentials? Remember that one time you worked under President George H.W. Bush? That makes you more knowledgable about every policy under the moon than 99.99% of Americans.
Example: "I recall when I was working in the white house... they had good chicken strips."
7. Twenty-four hour news means that you're truly needed to make, discuss, and otherwise interpret news. Be like the third stomach of the cow; after the anchors report it, and then discuss it, get ready to receive that cud and digest it out until the fourth stomach, the news summary broadcast, can reduce it to mind-numbing oblivion.
Example: "And of course you've heard about the guy who bought a slushie. I don't think that picking raspberry was a good thing. Especially with that murder that happened twenty feet away."
8. It does good to use some phrase that other people were using, if it's effective.
Example: "And Harry Potter 7 is truly the battle of the hexes." "And then the battle of the hexes." "Har har blah blah battle of the hexes." "And now the battle of the sexes, I mean hexes."
Jun 21, 2008
Reference Books
I have found one of my dream reference books.
First, what makes the ideal one to buy? Of course they're all good for something or another. But the book has to be full of information of specific interest. That is, it's no good just buying an encyclopedia set, or an almanac on everything, but a book on mythology is good, and if it's a book about a specific mythology, that is great. But the book also has to convey information that isn't easily found elsewhere in such an easily accessible form. So this hypothetical book on, say, Greek mythology can't be simple retellings of certain myths and 200 word descriptions of each major god. It has to go through all kinds of stories, talk about all the gods and goddesses, heroes, heroines, princes, princesses, magical creatures, and villains. It has to be as detailed as it could reasonably be, even discussing different versions of certain tales.
And so I've found it. The Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature. From the table of contents and introduction, it appears to be everything I would ever want from a reference guide on the subject, detailing the history and literature of Arthur from the fifth century to the twenty-first. When it retells stories, the retellings are barebones, but enough so that I can be intrigued into searching certain stories out... or not.
First, what makes the ideal one to buy? Of course they're all good for something or another. But the book has to be full of information of specific interest. That is, it's no good just buying an encyclopedia set, or an almanac on everything, but a book on mythology is good, and if it's a book about a specific mythology, that is great. But the book also has to convey information that isn't easily found elsewhere in such an easily accessible form. So this hypothetical book on, say, Greek mythology can't be simple retellings of certain myths and 200 word descriptions of each major god. It has to go through all kinds of stories, talk about all the gods and goddesses, heroes, heroines, princes, princesses, magical creatures, and villains. It has to be as detailed as it could reasonably be, even discussing different versions of certain tales.
And so I've found it. The Oxford Guide to Arthurian Literature. From the table of contents and introduction, it appears to be everything I would ever want from a reference guide on the subject, detailing the history and literature of Arthur from the fifth century to the twenty-first. When it retells stories, the retellings are barebones, but enough so that I can be intrigued into searching certain stories out... or not.
Jun 15, 2008
I've been visiting Leslie for the past several days. It's been fun. :D
I was walking through Best Buy tonight (alone, since Leslie's working), and I was looking for a particular DVD, Labyrinth. But I was flummoxed for a moment about what place to look for it. Once I thought about it a bit, it was easier to guess (ah, sci-fi). But the better I know a particular movie or book, the tougher it is for me to place it in only one genre. At first, genre will mean those different sections in a book or video store where items are arranged electronically.
For Labyrinth, it can fit into a few different genres. It could be considered a children's movie, because it has muppets and fantasy. It could be considered fantasy, because it has trolls and such. It could be considered sci-fi, because many stores put fantasy in sci-fi.
Pride and Prejudice DVDs can occur in a few different places. Drama, romance, TV miniseries, BBC productions... what have you. The book itself can appear in romance or general fiction, though it most often gets placed in some classics section.
But these easy ambiguities are only a small shadow of the more difficult ones that come when considering a book, not for where it appears in the bookstore, but for how we might describe it.
To start with a familiar example, the Harry Potter series is certainly intended to appeal to children, so they might be called children's books. At least in the earlier books, the reading level and other aspects, including the ages of the characters, maintain that. However, it also has very potent roots in modern fantasy and mythology, drawing ideas of wizards and witches that are already apparent in Earthsea and other novels, centaurs and other magical creatures from various mythologies (and some fantasy like Narnia), and dragons from both. It is also a Bildungsroman depicting the growth of a boy into a man. It could be considered an educational treatise from the way Hogwarts is depicted, a satire of real world politics in a world of magic, a travelogue in an imaginary world, a journey of friendship, or any number of other things. Not all of them have to be genres or are typically considered as such, and alone, they carry nothing of what Harry Potter actually is. But like any body, where marrow in the skeletal system produces cells for a circulatory system run by a muscular pump, they are an interconnected part. And so while for brevity one might pick the most prevalent genre to describe the book as a children's book or fantasy book, it is difficult to pick between one, the other, or any other, for prime descriptive value.
But it is occasionally because we do so anyway, trying to describe something with the greatest efficiency with a limited vocabulary and capacity to articulate thoughts, that we sometimes come out with such travesties as making an introduction to a book sound pretentious when it is coy, vain when it is witty, and so on.
I was walking through Best Buy tonight (alone, since Leslie's working), and I was looking for a particular DVD, Labyrinth. But I was flummoxed for a moment about what place to look for it. Once I thought about it a bit, it was easier to guess (ah, sci-fi). But the better I know a particular movie or book, the tougher it is for me to place it in only one genre. At first, genre will mean those different sections in a book or video store where items are arranged electronically.
For Labyrinth, it can fit into a few different genres. It could be considered a children's movie, because it has muppets and fantasy. It could be considered fantasy, because it has trolls and such. It could be considered sci-fi, because many stores put fantasy in sci-fi.
Pride and Prejudice DVDs can occur in a few different places. Drama, romance, TV miniseries, BBC productions... what have you. The book itself can appear in romance or general fiction, though it most often gets placed in some classics section.
But these easy ambiguities are only a small shadow of the more difficult ones that come when considering a book, not for where it appears in the bookstore, but for how we might describe it.
To start with a familiar example, the Harry Potter series is certainly intended to appeal to children, so they might be called children's books. At least in the earlier books, the reading level and other aspects, including the ages of the characters, maintain that. However, it also has very potent roots in modern fantasy and mythology, drawing ideas of wizards and witches that are already apparent in Earthsea and other novels, centaurs and other magical creatures from various mythologies (and some fantasy like Narnia), and dragons from both. It is also a Bildungsroman depicting the growth of a boy into a man. It could be considered an educational treatise from the way Hogwarts is depicted, a satire of real world politics in a world of magic, a travelogue in an imaginary world, a journey of friendship, or any number of other things. Not all of them have to be genres or are typically considered as such, and alone, they carry nothing of what Harry Potter actually is. But like any body, where marrow in the skeletal system produces cells for a circulatory system run by a muscular pump, they are an interconnected part. And so while for brevity one might pick the most prevalent genre to describe the book as a children's book or fantasy book, it is difficult to pick between one, the other, or any other, for prime descriptive value.
But it is occasionally because we do so anyway, trying to describe something with the greatest efficiency with a limited vocabulary and capacity to articulate thoughts, that we sometimes come out with such travesties as making an introduction to a book sound pretentious when it is coy, vain when it is witty, and so on.
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