Over the past few months, I have worked on a story that I hoped would turn into my next novel. Usually, once I get started I work to completion, the story idea having enough originality to hold my interest, mixing as it always does bits and pieces of my [supposed] unique life.
In my dreams last night I discovered that my life is unoriginal. I am a chameleon at all times, copying and reflecting the lives of those around me. I might as well be invisible.
My story followed a few college students who came from diverse backgrounds and met up in the same class. Their class instructor was planted in the university as a recruiter for a previously unknown group of people interested in creating the next evolution of society, using some students as test subjects and some students as potential members of the group.
Eventually, the story would reveal truth in the fiction and expose the active recruiting that takes place in real life at college, university and institute facilities all around the world.
This morning, I woke up in a sweat. I realized that my story is already fact. There is no fiction in what I have been writing. I am reflecting and not creating.
No wonder I have felt out of balance lately. I have enjoyed teaching but I have been teaching while my life is out of balance, a disservice to my students.
Why am I out of balance? Because I have not been true to myself, putting others' goals and desires (like retail shopping therapy disguised as a remote-controlled toy airplane hobby) in place of my own. Time to take a couple of days and meditate upon the joy of the eternal moment and not the temporary joy of material goods.
I live in a labyrinth and just walked into a dead end. Time to turn around and try another path. Now you see why I like to walk alone. I have no grand vision that'll lead others to great riches or wealth. All that interests me is the next discovery around the corner, especially enlightening dead ends that enhance the moment. I live to learn about myself, not to create or destroy for others. I am you. We are each other, are we not?
31 July 2009
Nothing Wrong With Being Thankful
Pam,
You and I don't talk much so I thought I'd send you an email to express my appreciation.
I had never really considered teaching as a career because growing up I had heard the good and bad, the ups and downs, of the education field. My grandmothers were both teachers, my mother was a first grade teacher, my father is a professor, my uncle was a college dean and my in-laws were both teachers (my father in-law also having been a school principal).
Therefore, I figured I knew all there was to know about teaching, especially since I'd also been a student and seen teachers from behind a school desk, both in primary/secondary school and in college. I still have good personal relationships with many of my former school teachers.
You told me you've been teaching for about 14 years, including time at the technical institute, so you know about public education, too.
I suppose you asked me to teach because you saw something in me I do not see in myself. I have lived long enough to know that we don't always know our own potential - often, it takes someone you don't know well to pinpoint your strengths and weaknesses. In this case, you found one of my strengths. For that, I am deeply grateful, and will never be able to repay your kindness except by showing the students what you saw in me that one night many months ago in Marsha's math problem solving class.
Perhaps I will not be teaching students in the fall. If so, that is my destiny. I thank you for the opportunity you gave me to help a few dozen students find their own strengths and weaknesses as discovered during classes at the technical institute for two quarters. They will always be near and dear to me like children - I hope they continue on to successes unimaginable.
Once again, thanks for holding a mirror up to me and showing me my capabilities. I may not have always been good at following all the administrative rules, policies and paperwork at the technical institute, but I hope I was a good teacher.
May you find your own successes at the technical institute - I believe you have what it takes to be dean one day, especially as your children grow up and free time for your career, should you choose to follow that path.
Have a great weekend!
Regards,
Rick
Adjunct Instructor
You and I don't talk much so I thought I'd send you an email to express my appreciation.
I had never really considered teaching as a career because growing up I had heard the good and bad, the ups and downs, of the education field. My grandmothers were both teachers, my mother was a first grade teacher, my father is a professor, my uncle was a college dean and my in-laws were both teachers (my father in-law also having been a school principal).
Therefore, I figured I knew all there was to know about teaching, especially since I'd also been a student and seen teachers from behind a school desk, both in primary/secondary school and in college. I still have good personal relationships with many of my former school teachers.
You told me you've been teaching for about 14 years, including time at the technical institute, so you know about public education, too.
I suppose you asked me to teach because you saw something in me I do not see in myself. I have lived long enough to know that we don't always know our own potential - often, it takes someone you don't know well to pinpoint your strengths and weaknesses. In this case, you found one of my strengths. For that, I am deeply grateful, and will never be able to repay your kindness except by showing the students what you saw in me that one night many months ago in Marsha's math problem solving class.
Perhaps I will not be teaching students in the fall. If so, that is my destiny. I thank you for the opportunity you gave me to help a few dozen students find their own strengths and weaknesses as discovered during classes at the technical institute for two quarters. They will always be near and dear to me like children - I hope they continue on to successes unimaginable.
Once again, thanks for holding a mirror up to me and showing me my capabilities. I may not have always been good at following all the administrative rules, policies and paperwork at the technical institute, but I hope I was a good teacher.
May you find your own successes at the technical institute - I believe you have what it takes to be dean one day, especially as your children grow up and free time for your career, should you choose to follow that path.
Have a great weekend!
Regards,
Rick
Adjunct Instructor
30 July 2009
The Observation Deck
My wife and I went to see a movie the other day ("The Ugly Truth"). Before that we saw the second Transformers franchise flick. During previews for the latter film, a story idea was fleshed out onscreen - taking video gaming to the next level by replacing virtual warfighters with real people, a mix of "Death Race," "The Running Man," and [pick your favorite violent video game].
Today, while researching the latest in technology for finding lost airplanes, including the old keyfinder and a new RF beacon, I came across an advert for immersion flight kits (discussion).
I am just like you, capable of imagining futures galore, utopian or dystopian, with an ecumenopolis or solar system of ecumenopoleis, ruled by a dictator, triumvirate, oligopoly, democratic republic or communist state. Typically, the futures I see are not homogeneous; rather, they contain a wide variety of conditions due to our species' degrees of taste for change.
But a future where we can virtually fly planes and drive vehicles is no future. Instead, today's technology allows us to be there now.
I think I mentioned to you the story from my youth about the magician, Merlin, who transformed his protege', Arthur, into animals. Well, with the right-sized equipment, I can now see the world through another animal's eyes using an immersion kit, can't I, directing the animal as if I'm in the animal's body? While the Richard Bransons of the world build their astronaut programs, I'm getting closer to my dream of being another species for a day so I can see our planet's interconnectivity from other than a single species' perspective - that's a frontier worth exploring, in my view [pun intended].
Today, while researching the latest in technology for finding lost airplanes, including the old keyfinder and a new RF beacon, I came across an advert for immersion flight kits (discussion).
I am just like you, capable of imagining futures galore, utopian or dystopian, with an ecumenopolis or solar system of ecumenopoleis, ruled by a dictator, triumvirate, oligopoly, democratic republic or communist state. Typically, the futures I see are not homogeneous; rather, they contain a wide variety of conditions due to our species' degrees of taste for change.
But a future where we can virtually fly planes and drive vehicles is no future. Instead, today's technology allows us to be there now.
I think I mentioned to you the story from my youth about the magician, Merlin, who transformed his protege', Arthur, into animals. Well, with the right-sized equipment, I can now see the world through another animal's eyes using an immersion kit, can't I, directing the animal as if I'm in the animal's body? While the Richard Bransons of the world build their astronaut programs, I'm getting closer to my dream of being another species for a day so I can see our planet's interconnectivity from other than a single species' perspective - that's a frontier worth exploring, in my view [pun intended].
Picture The Moment
Some pics to go with previous blog entries:
- Piece of polished Labradorite that sits on my desk, showing schiller effect (also called aventurescence or labradorescence), highlighted with camera flash and without camera flash
- Plastic model kit of B1 bomber I won at 1977 National Boy Scout Jamboree
- 32-year old balsa-and-paper models I built at 1977 National Boy Scout Jamboree
- Granddaddy longlegs gathered en masse on a window screen
Have a great day!
Till Death Do Us Part
When I was a small boy, my father taught me one of the many lessons he's given me through the years: everybody is the same. With this lesson, my father showed me that one person separates himself or herself from another through perception only. Thus we get management-vs.-labor, left-vs.-right, man-vs.-woman and other two-sided concepts that make for easy comparison.
My family traveled from city to city, following my father's progression through the ranks of the business world. In our travels I discovered for myself that my father was correct. No matter what a person looked like or acted like, the person in front of me was made of the same stuff - skin, bones, and organs - and found ways to express actions tied to a central nervous system.
Therefore, my playmates were from many areas of the world, including the Indian kids who lived next door to us while my father was pursuing his graduate degree at a Florida university, and kids of many races who attended primary school with me in Tennessee.
My father and mother made sure my sister and I learned to count to 10 in more than one language, including English, Spanish, German, French and Latin (and later Russian - I would have to learn Chinese and Farsi on my own), so that we understood that the culture in which we were born was not the only culture in the world.
Why did my father and mother care about raising kids with a multicultural understanding? I don't know. I guess my parents are the results of WWII and want the world population to reach out to one another in order to prevent another worldwide war. I believe their generation succeeded. So far, the post-WWII military-industrial complex has only generated regional skirmishes.
We are all the same. We have differing opinions and modes of living that often conflict with one another but that doesn't change the fact we were born of the same species.
I just finished watching the movie, "The Entrepreneur," which reduces to an hour and a half the years-long process Malcolm Bricklin created to bring a new car line to the United States.
Despite our being the same species, our perceptions make a big difference, long ago turning regional groups of people into cultures. As our regional cultures merge more and more into a global culture, we will experience the pains and setbacks of misunderstanding that changing from one culture to another causes.
For example, the idea of trust is not universal, as Bricklin learned, because cultural expectations differ. A handshake is often only a matter of introduction after hours, days or months of negotiation, a starting point for the next level of business bargaining. In the movie, we watch Bricklin build relationships with people from more than one culture in hopes of setting up a distributorship for the Chinese-made Chery automobile. I hope Bricklin takes the long view with the Chinese deal and sees the future of U.S. distributorship of Chinese-produced cars as inevitable, despite the setback mentioned at the end of the movie. In my experience, legal paperwork is often only a suggestion, not binding, and the person who maintains the belief that a business relationship is lifelong or eternal (like a marriage) will be successful.
The potential for our species is unknown and thus as great as we want it to be. I believe it is not in our interest to promote one group of humans over another, culture being an artifact of, not a designation for, our species. Sure, as we move into the global arena in all aspects of our lives, some people will prosper greatly at the cost of many other people's lives - we've always been that way. Keep in mind that any one person can succeed - your background, your culture, your failures and successes, do not determine who you can or will be, only who you were at one moment. All moments in your life are yours in which to excel.
My family traveled from city to city, following my father's progression through the ranks of the business world. In our travels I discovered for myself that my father was correct. No matter what a person looked like or acted like, the person in front of me was made of the same stuff - skin, bones, and organs - and found ways to express actions tied to a central nervous system.
Therefore, my playmates were from many areas of the world, including the Indian kids who lived next door to us while my father was pursuing his graduate degree at a Florida university, and kids of many races who attended primary school with me in Tennessee.
My father and mother made sure my sister and I learned to count to 10 in more than one language, including English, Spanish, German, French and Latin (and later Russian - I would have to learn Chinese and Farsi on my own), so that we understood that the culture in which we were born was not the only culture in the world.
Why did my father and mother care about raising kids with a multicultural understanding? I don't know. I guess my parents are the results of WWII and want the world population to reach out to one another in order to prevent another worldwide war. I believe their generation succeeded. So far, the post-WWII military-industrial complex has only generated regional skirmishes.
We are all the same. We have differing opinions and modes of living that often conflict with one another but that doesn't change the fact we were born of the same species.
I just finished watching the movie, "The Entrepreneur," which reduces to an hour and a half the years-long process Malcolm Bricklin created to bring a new car line to the United States.
Despite our being the same species, our perceptions make a big difference, long ago turning regional groups of people into cultures. As our regional cultures merge more and more into a global culture, we will experience the pains and setbacks of misunderstanding that changing from one culture to another causes.
For example, the idea of trust is not universal, as Bricklin learned, because cultural expectations differ. A handshake is often only a matter of introduction after hours, days or months of negotiation, a starting point for the next level of business bargaining. In the movie, we watch Bricklin build relationships with people from more than one culture in hopes of setting up a distributorship for the Chinese-made Chery automobile. I hope Bricklin takes the long view with the Chinese deal and sees the future of U.S. distributorship of Chinese-produced cars as inevitable, despite the setback mentioned at the end of the movie. In my experience, legal paperwork is often only a suggestion, not binding, and the person who maintains the belief that a business relationship is lifelong or eternal (like a marriage) will be successful.
The potential for our species is unknown and thus as great as we want it to be. I believe it is not in our interest to promote one group of humans over another, culture being an artifact of, not a designation for, our species. Sure, as we move into the global arena in all aspects of our lives, some people will prosper greatly at the cost of many other people's lives - we've always been that way. Keep in mind that any one person can succeed - your background, your culture, your failures and successes, do not determine who you can or will be, only who you were at one moment. All moments in your life are yours in which to excel.
29 July 2009
Bartered Theatrics
Hey, Rob. Haven't heard from you in a while so I thought I'd check in and see how you're doing. Do you remember when we went to the National Boy Scout Jamboree in 1977? When was that, 32 years ago? Amazing, huh?
Anyway, while I've been working on my latest toy plane, I had a few memories pop up that I wanted to share with you.
There's much to discuss about those warm summer days in Pennsylvania...
If you're the same person you were, you still have compassion for those less able to participate in normal social activities, folks with severe physical ailments or mental challenges. I'm glad people like you exist in the world, who have the drive, commitment and patience to care for folks like that. Even when we were teens, you volunteered to help other Boy Scouts at Camp Davy Crockett during the week set aside for "special" kids.
While I was sorting through these thoughts three decades old, another memory came to me. When I was a teen, I built framed-and-papered balsa wood flying models. So, while at Jamboree, when we found out about a contest to see who could build and fly a balsa model, you encouraged me to try.
I still have the two planes I built at Jamboree. They sit on a shelf a few feet from me in my study, a reminder of my youth I like to keep handy. Somewhere behind me sits a box that contains the prize I won at the Jamboree balsa plane contest, a scale model of the B1 bomber.
I suppose you have kids by now. I don't. My wife has me as her "child." Otherwise, we spoil our nieces and nephews, although they've grown up and are past the spoiling age. Pretty soon, we'll start spoiling our great-nieces and great-nephews.
Speaking of spoiled, do you remember what happened after the contest was over? As you may recall, another Scout brought with him a large, beautiful balsa wood model he had built for the Jamboree. He was upset that the judge would not let him enter the model that he'd built with his father's guidance. After the contest, he approached me and offered to buy the B1 bomber from me. When I declined, he offered to trade his balsa wood plane for the B1 bomber, wanting to take home something to show his father that he'd won the contest with this special plane he'd built.
I have a dim memory of what that kid's plane looked like. His design was something outside my budget at the time, my being somewhat restricted to plane size/cost because of my income (lawnmowing), which was eaten up by double dates and church outings.
We all have our dreams. We have family. We have our reasons for interacting with others. Can I say why I didn't trade the little B1 bomber for a big balsa wood model I'd never build for myself? Not really. I can guess that I had a form of integrity and fairness in my thoughts, balancing my ideas of what others would say about me in keeping the B1 bomber against trading it for something bigger and better.
Today, you're probably sitting behind a bench or sitting in your chambers balancing the lives of one part of a family against the lives of another part. More than likely, you operate with your compassion first and foremost, weighing it and comparing it to the laws and regulations with which your education and on-the-job training has provided.
When we were 15, you congratulated me on winning the contest fair and square, even though I had officially gotten second place. You saw the facts for what they were - my plane had flown farther than any others - and ignored the judge's verdict that the other boy's plane had ended up farther down the hill than mine because a gust of wind cartwheeled the boy's plane across the ground.
Today, I sit here and ponder the wisdom of a fellow 15-year old. You showed me that it's what we count in our thoughts that matters, not what others say, think or do. You showed other kids it's not what you're missing or what others say you don't have that matters - make miracles with what you have. I hope you're stilling making miracles.
Your friend,
Rick
Anyway, while I've been working on my latest toy plane, I had a few memories pop up that I wanted to share with you.
There's much to discuss about those warm summer days in Pennsylvania...
- The cold showers from spring-fed water.
- The rain that soaked just about everything for days.
- The patch trading.
- The lack of girls, except when Junior Miss Teen rode through the camp in her limo.
- The demonstration tents - how to make paper from scratch and stuff like that.
If you're the same person you were, you still have compassion for those less able to participate in normal social activities, folks with severe physical ailments or mental challenges. I'm glad people like you exist in the world, who have the drive, commitment and patience to care for folks like that. Even when we were teens, you volunteered to help other Boy Scouts at Camp Davy Crockett during the week set aside for "special" kids.
While I was sorting through these thoughts three decades old, another memory came to me. When I was a teen, I built framed-and-papered balsa wood flying models. So, while at Jamboree, when we found out about a contest to see who could build and fly a balsa model, you encouraged me to try.
I still have the two planes I built at Jamboree. They sit on a shelf a few feet from me in my study, a reminder of my youth I like to keep handy. Somewhere behind me sits a box that contains the prize I won at the Jamboree balsa plane contest, a scale model of the B1 bomber.
I suppose you have kids by now. I don't. My wife has me as her "child." Otherwise, we spoil our nieces and nephews, although they've grown up and are past the spoiling age. Pretty soon, we'll start spoiling our great-nieces and great-nephews.
Speaking of spoiled, do you remember what happened after the contest was over? As you may recall, another Scout brought with him a large, beautiful balsa wood model he had built for the Jamboree. He was upset that the judge would not let him enter the model that he'd built with his father's guidance. After the contest, he approached me and offered to buy the B1 bomber from me. When I declined, he offered to trade his balsa wood plane for the B1 bomber, wanting to take home something to show his father that he'd won the contest with this special plane he'd built.
I have a dim memory of what that kid's plane looked like. His design was something outside my budget at the time, my being somewhat restricted to plane size/cost because of my income (lawnmowing), which was eaten up by double dates and church outings.
We all have our dreams. We have family. We have our reasons for interacting with others. Can I say why I didn't trade the little B1 bomber for a big balsa wood model I'd never build for myself? Not really. I can guess that I had a form of integrity and fairness in my thoughts, balancing my ideas of what others would say about me in keeping the B1 bomber against trading it for something bigger and better.
Today, you're probably sitting behind a bench or sitting in your chambers balancing the lives of one part of a family against the lives of another part. More than likely, you operate with your compassion first and foremost, weighing it and comparing it to the laws and regulations with which your education and on-the-job training has provided.
When we were 15, you congratulated me on winning the contest fair and square, even though I had officially gotten second place. You saw the facts for what they were - my plane had flown farther than any others - and ignored the judge's verdict that the other boy's plane had ended up farther down the hill than mine because a gust of wind cartwheeled the boy's plane across the ground.
Today, I sit here and ponder the wisdom of a fellow 15-year old. You showed me that it's what we count in our thoughts that matters, not what others say, think or do. You showed other kids it's not what you're missing or what others say you don't have that matters - make miracles with what you have. I hope you're stilling making miracles.
Your friend,
Rick
28 July 2009
It's a Mod, Mod, Mod, Mod World
With a rainy day forecast, I decided to put my flyboy enthusiasm on hold another day and completed all the mods on the Super Cub LP, including:
1. 
Added red-and-white checkerboard vinyl stickers to distinguish one side of the plane from the other while flying.
Added red-and-white checkerboard vinyl stickers to distinguish one side of the plane from the other while flying.
2. Replaced stock wheels/tires with larger wheels/tires, 2.5" on the front (Maxx EPW250 Light Weight Foam) and 1" on the tail (Dubro). Super glued small metal nuts to front axle, with brass washers as spacers to compensate for smaller width of larger front wheels/tires. Bent wire of rudder axle to accommodate wider rear wheel/tire.
3. Trimmed width of strut skirt, then drilled holes and cut slots in order to secure skirt to strut with small cable ties.
5. Glued popsicle sticks to fuselage underneath battery box lid, drilling holes in sticks to mount battery box lid through sticks to fuselage.
6. Glued popsicle stick on back of wing saddle and marked center line front and back of wing for alignment on wing saddle.
8. Wrote name and contact information on wing and inside fuselage.
Something odd about this blog entry - every time I preview it, the pictures and comments are misaligned. Oh well, not the end of the world, eh?
Later this week, I'll make a few tests, including taxiing on ground and short hops/landings, to better acquaint myself with this plane before taking it up for long flights (and crashing?). Then it's on to GPS, onboard cam and other interesting cargo. Think a wireless Internet router will fly in something like this? Of course it will. But can I keep it airborne for very long? Ha. No. Maybe an RC balloon would better serve as a node in a citizen brigade set of instant Internet connections - iSkyRouter, here we come.
Researching subjects for my next story involves more than reading. Fieldwork rules!
Time for the evening meal. CU later.
27 July 2009
Ground-Up Secrets
I have friends all over the world. Colleagues and acquaintances also have me as a contact point. Occasionally, a stranger will give me information with no motive in mind. Overall, people communicate with people all the time and sometimes I'm one of those people. Like I say, easy and simple living in the moment.
Yesterday afternoon I ran into a person I don't know but with whom I established immediate rapport. The guy had a weathered face that he'd earned while working for an offshore oil rig company, transporting workers back and forth from the company's bayside docks. He called himself Johannsun, a unique spelling he attributed to his mother's sense of humor.
Johannsun told me he drove without an official government-issued driver's license because he believed in the freedom to operate a vehicle on the open road as long as he obeyed traffic laws. He wasn't a free loader, however. He owned a maintenance company that serviced equipment for a line of global speedy-service fried food restaurants.
He and I sat at the bar of a new Cajun restaurant and flirted with the female servers. His favorite server from another bar in town, Chaztutee, had just started at the Cajun place. For two straight hours, she kept both of us waterlogged and rolling on the floor laughing.
Chaztutee excused herself and left the bar. While Johannsun and I sat with our elbows propped up on the shiny, lacquered counter, an old Cambodian woman walked up between us.
"Hello, fellows."
I turned and looked down, drawn into the dark pools that served as the woman's eyes. "Hi there."
The woman grabbed our shoulders and pulled us closer to her head. "My name is Viven. Much is here is not what it seems."
Johannsun let out a big laugh. "You ain't kiddin', old lady. Why don't you set here beside me and share a brew?"
Viven looked at me. "You know what is going on, don't you?"
I searched my thoughts and then searched the Web for "viven cajun." In my vision appeared a set of websites and blogs about "Viven the Powderer." What in the world? I blinked my eyes and cleared the Web browser from my thoughts.
"You're Viven the Powderer."
Viven bowed her head at me. "And you are B the Knowledgeable."
Have I told you that I don't read science fiction, fantasy, children's, mythological, or other books and tales of make-believe? Well, I don't. I did when I was a kid, mainly because I thought that was the only reading source available, my parents having read such books to me in the crib. As an adult, though, I read business philosophy books, medical journals, scientific treatises, PhD theses and other information tied to reality which most humans on the street would agree with. In other words, I don't walk around with titles attached to my name, although I once carried business cards with me that gave my name, work address and the title, "Miracle Worker."
Johannsun punched me on the shoulder. "You're B the Knowledgeable. Well, fuck a duck. Glad to know you really exist."
I smiled and snorted a laugh at Johannsun. I looked around the restaurant and spotted an Asian man leaning against the kitchen door, his face hidden in shadows. He was texting on a cell phone. I turned back to Johannsun and the woman. "Yeah, I guess I do."
A man in his late 20s or early 30s with Chinese features walked across the room. "Are you having a good time?"
We all nodded.
"I'm Frank, the owner of 'Boiled and Cajun Mad,'" his accent a cross between the movie actor, John Wayne, and the basketball player, Yao Ming.
Johannsun stuck out his hand. "I'm Johannsun. This here's Rick, or 'B the Knowledgeable.' And this ol' lady is..."
We looked at the barstool beside Johannsun and no one was there. We snapped quick glances around us and couldn't find Viven.
"Pardon me?"
"Well, Frank, I was going to introduce you to our new friend but seems she had more important business to attend to."
"I see." Frank's cell phone buzzed. "If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise, Chaz will take care of you."
I nodded. "Thanks, Frank."
Frank patted me on the back and I felt a shock as if static electricity had discharged between us. However, on a hot July day it seemed unlikely that static would build up to that extent. He walked back to the kitchen.
Johannsun stood up. "Rick, when a person appears and disappears while you're sittin' at a bar, 's time to call it a day. Plus, them cops are cruisin' the streets extra careful-like this week. Think I'll skip out of here before I start seein' little green leprechauns promising me a pot of gold."
I shook Johannsun's hand. "See you later. I'm going to finish this drink before I go."
I looked around the room. I put my hand against my neck and felt for a pulse. Yes, I was alive and yes, the restaurant appeared normal.
I tilted my head up, eased the last drop of liquid lightning to the edge of the glass tumbler and let it drop onto my tongue. I sighed and slammed the drinking glass on the counter. Looking back at me in the mirror was Viven.
"Hello again."
I nodded, deciding to let my imagination have its way.
Viven scratched her chin and scrunched her face, her tightened eyelids barely revealing the obsidian orbs in her head. "There is no meat in ground beef. Sausage is made of rice."
I shrugged my shoulders, neutrality the very essence of my being.
"Crushed rocks become radio waves."
I scratched my crotch, my scrotum itching from the sweaty heat in the bar.
"You have no leaves without trees."
I felt an itch in the middle of my back and concentrated on it, knowing my fingers could not reach the space between my shoulder blades.
"You believe me but put on a show of indifference for Frank. Very wise."
I closed my eyes and yawned, not having slept well in the past few days.
"I will meet you again soon. Think about what I said. Dangling earrings make a woman's neck look longer. A woman should not powder her nose unless her lips sparkle like jewels."
I opened my wallet and put some money on the counter. I spun around a couple of times on the barstool for fun and stood up. Viven was gone.
Suddenly, in my thoughts I saw the plans for a network of amateur-launched UAVs and microsatellites communicating using the interplanetary Internet standards, bypassing government regulations through the guise of religious research called the UniVerseNet. A set of botnets on the ground controlled and operated the amateur UniVerseNet. Across the amateur network, I watched a computer program calculate the ease with which any ordinary citizen could create new substances using readily-available material like quartz, other rocks/minerals, water and cleaning products sold in internationally distributed general merchandise stores. The new substances turn everyone into their own home-based pharmaceutical suppliers, making expensive drugs no longer marketable. Holistic healing becomes universal. Expertise loses its exclusivity. Research and development moves out of secret corporate/government labs and into the public domain.
I walked out of the restaurant and into the sunlight, momentarily losing my bodily connection to the Internet. I was temporarily free. I took a deep breath and smelled Chinese food. I remembered the dim sum restaurant next door to the Cajun restaurant and realized they were owned by the same person or family, just like the French and German restaurants in town were owned by a different family. Several Mexican restaurants in the area were owned by another family, just like Italian restaurants before them. Probably the same for the Thai restaurants.
Family. That's what it's about it, isn't it? Get behind the "it" and it is us. People. Perhaps now's the time to tell my students about clustering and the value in virtual parallel computing, leading them to the Next Big Thing they carry deep in their thoughts. Let them figure out if they want to overcome the consumerism and retail shopping therapy ingrained in them from childhood and seek life outside the box. Time to close this box and spend time with the rest of the universe, networked long before our species showed up.
Yesterday afternoon I ran into a person I don't know but with whom I established immediate rapport. The guy had a weathered face that he'd earned while working for an offshore oil rig company, transporting workers back and forth from the company's bayside docks. He called himself Johannsun, a unique spelling he attributed to his mother's sense of humor.
Johannsun told me he drove without an official government-issued driver's license because he believed in the freedom to operate a vehicle on the open road as long as he obeyed traffic laws. He wasn't a free loader, however. He owned a maintenance company that serviced equipment for a line of global speedy-service fried food restaurants.
He and I sat at the bar of a new Cajun restaurant and flirted with the female servers. His favorite server from another bar in town, Chaztutee, had just started at the Cajun place. For two straight hours, she kept both of us waterlogged and rolling on the floor laughing.
Chaztutee excused herself and left the bar. While Johannsun and I sat with our elbows propped up on the shiny, lacquered counter, an old Cambodian woman walked up between us.
"Hello, fellows."
I turned and looked down, drawn into the dark pools that served as the woman's eyes. "Hi there."
The woman grabbed our shoulders and pulled us closer to her head. "My name is Viven. Much is here is not what it seems."
Johannsun let out a big laugh. "You ain't kiddin', old lady. Why don't you set here beside me and share a brew?"
Viven looked at me. "You know what is going on, don't you?"
I searched my thoughts and then searched the Web for "viven cajun." In my vision appeared a set of websites and blogs about "Viven the Powderer." What in the world? I blinked my eyes and cleared the Web browser from my thoughts.
"You're Viven the Powderer."
Viven bowed her head at me. "And you are B the Knowledgeable."
Have I told you that I don't read science fiction, fantasy, children's, mythological, or other books and tales of make-believe? Well, I don't. I did when I was a kid, mainly because I thought that was the only reading source available, my parents having read such books to me in the crib. As an adult, though, I read business philosophy books, medical journals, scientific treatises, PhD theses and other information tied to reality which most humans on the street would agree with. In other words, I don't walk around with titles attached to my name, although I once carried business cards with me that gave my name, work address and the title, "Miracle Worker."
Johannsun punched me on the shoulder. "You're B the Knowledgeable. Well, fuck a duck. Glad to know you really exist."
I smiled and snorted a laugh at Johannsun. I looked around the restaurant and spotted an Asian man leaning against the kitchen door, his face hidden in shadows. He was texting on a cell phone. I turned back to Johannsun and the woman. "Yeah, I guess I do."
A man in his late 20s or early 30s with Chinese features walked across the room. "Are you having a good time?"
We all nodded.
"I'm Frank, the owner of 'Boiled and Cajun Mad,'" his accent a cross between the movie actor, John Wayne, and the basketball player, Yao Ming.
Johannsun stuck out his hand. "I'm Johannsun. This here's Rick, or 'B the Knowledgeable.' And this ol' lady is..."
We looked at the barstool beside Johannsun and no one was there. We snapped quick glances around us and couldn't find Viven.
"Pardon me?"
"Well, Frank, I was going to introduce you to our new friend but seems she had more important business to attend to."
"I see." Frank's cell phone buzzed. "If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise, Chaz will take care of you."
I nodded. "Thanks, Frank."
Frank patted me on the back and I felt a shock as if static electricity had discharged between us. However, on a hot July day it seemed unlikely that static would build up to that extent. He walked back to the kitchen.
Johannsun stood up. "Rick, when a person appears and disappears while you're sittin' at a bar, 's time to call it a day. Plus, them cops are cruisin' the streets extra careful-like this week. Think I'll skip out of here before I start seein' little green leprechauns promising me a pot of gold."
I shook Johannsun's hand. "See you later. I'm going to finish this drink before I go."
I looked around the room. I put my hand against my neck and felt for a pulse. Yes, I was alive and yes, the restaurant appeared normal.
I tilted my head up, eased the last drop of liquid lightning to the edge of the glass tumbler and let it drop onto my tongue. I sighed and slammed the drinking glass on the counter. Looking back at me in the mirror was Viven.
"Hello again."
I nodded, deciding to let my imagination have its way.
Viven scratched her chin and scrunched her face, her tightened eyelids barely revealing the obsidian orbs in her head. "There is no meat in ground beef. Sausage is made of rice."
I shrugged my shoulders, neutrality the very essence of my being.
"Crushed rocks become radio waves."
I scratched my crotch, my scrotum itching from the sweaty heat in the bar.
"You have no leaves without trees."
I felt an itch in the middle of my back and concentrated on it, knowing my fingers could not reach the space between my shoulder blades.
"You believe me but put on a show of indifference for Frank. Very wise."
I closed my eyes and yawned, not having slept well in the past few days.
"I will meet you again soon. Think about what I said. Dangling earrings make a woman's neck look longer. A woman should not powder her nose unless her lips sparkle like jewels."
I opened my wallet and put some money on the counter. I spun around a couple of times on the barstool for fun and stood up. Viven was gone.
Suddenly, in my thoughts I saw the plans for a network of amateur-launched UAVs and microsatellites communicating using the interplanetary Internet standards, bypassing government regulations through the guise of religious research called the UniVerseNet. A set of botnets on the ground controlled and operated the amateur UniVerseNet. Across the amateur network, I watched a computer program calculate the ease with which any ordinary citizen could create new substances using readily-available material like quartz, other rocks/minerals, water and cleaning products sold in internationally distributed general merchandise stores. The new substances turn everyone into their own home-based pharmaceutical suppliers, making expensive drugs no longer marketable. Holistic healing becomes universal. Expertise loses its exclusivity. Research and development moves out of secret corporate/government labs and into the public domain.
I walked out of the restaurant and into the sunlight, momentarily losing my bodily connection to the Internet. I was temporarily free. I took a deep breath and smelled Chinese food. I remembered the dim sum restaurant next door to the Cajun restaurant and realized they were owned by the same person or family, just like the French and German restaurants in town were owned by a different family. Several Mexican restaurants in the area were owned by another family, just like Italian restaurants before them. Probably the same for the Thai restaurants.
Family. That's what it's about it, isn't it? Get behind the "it" and it is us. People. Perhaps now's the time to tell my students about clustering and the value in virtual parallel computing, leading them to the Next Big Thing they carry deep in their thoughts. Let them figure out if they want to overcome the consumerism and retail shopping therapy ingrained in them from childhood and seek life outside the box. Time to close this box and spend time with the rest of the universe, networked long before our species showed up.
26 July 2009
Fly the Friendly Skies
Well, when you get tired of auguring, you try something else. In my case, auger in, as in taking a five (or six?) year-old electric RC plane out for a flight, getting it airborne, making a sharp right-hand turn and then diving into the ground at full speed.
Out pops the battery pack. The fuselage splits into two. The wing cracks into pieces. Pride takes an extended vacation. Talk to wife about options. Buy a new fuselage and wing? Get a bite to eat for dinner?
How about head to the locally owned and operated hobby shop(s) - RC Hobby Barn or HobbyTown - and look for spare parts, instead.
While this big kid [me] walks through the aisles smiling, the shopkeeper describes the boxed goodies on the top shelf. Well, being the cheapskate I am, I drooled over the 7-channel beauties but opted for a hobbyzone Super Cub LP.
Now I sit here a day later collecting my courage and accumulating modification ideas, including:
Out pops the battery pack. The fuselage splits into two. The wing cracks into pieces. Pride takes an extended vacation. Talk to wife about options. Buy a new fuselage and wing? Get a bite to eat for dinner?
How about head to the locally owned and operated hobby shop(s) - RC Hobby Barn or HobbyTown - and look for spare parts, instead.
While this big kid [me] walks through the aisles smiling, the shopkeeper describes the boxed goodies on the top shelf. Well, being the cheapskate I am, I drooled over the 7-channel beauties but opted for a hobbyzone Super Cub LP.
Now I sit here a day later collecting my courage and accumulating modification ideas, including:
- Popsicle stick behind wing
- Battery box strengthening / landing gear strut skirt narrowing and securing
- Larger landing wheels / better prop
- Fuselage/wing considerations
- Onboard camera
- Larger battery
- GPS logger (discussion)
- Other???
- Nothing
More later. Time for bed.
25 July 2009
The Four Signs of The Pending Democracy
Last night, while sittin' with friends at the ol' waterin' hole, quenchin' our thirst that looks for sexual objects but finds real people starin' back, I finally realized what an ol' drunkard like me has goin' for 'm.
Fuckin' nothin'. [Hiccup.]
Pardon me while I gulp down a few cups of hot tea. And who opened the blinds this early in the mornin' - it's barely 10:30. Damn cook. He thinks I like my hangovers? Mmm, but those blueberry muffins and egg casserole spell mighty good.
[Cough.] Where was I?
Is it me or is the laptop screen spinnin' more than usual? Oh well. I'll just type between the tossin' waves and try not to get sick.
Hmm. You see, my friends and I don't give a fuck about politics, nations, governments, taxes, fees, regulations, laws, rules, ethics, or anything else that interferes with our normal lives.
Hoo boy. My headache is pounding my temples today. Who put the sledgehammer in my head?
Give me a moment...ooooo-ooo-ooo-ooooo. I just just hear the melody of that song that gal was singin' next to me. What the hell was it?
Oh well. You know, maybe I should step away from this laptop and eat breakfast. [Stomach gurgling.] Then again, maybe not.
Let's see. I had an epiphany last night. When you get drunk with a physicist, a physician, a plumber and a dog like me, you're bound to figure something out, right? Maybe even something out right? Maybe something right? Wooph. If it weren't for this nuclear bomb of a headache.
Wait! I know what it is. I wrote some notes on a cocktail napkin. It's in my pants pocket. Okay, it's not this plastic-wrapped peppermint...not the pocket knife...not the coin purse...not the rubbing stone...not the lucky charm...not the condom...aah, here it is.
"Autism, Pepsi, Granddaddy Longlegs, and Spouse Swapping." What the hell?
And it was important, too, let me tell you. Okay, fuck it. I'm going to eat breakfast and be right back. You can wait on me, can't you?
.|3|.
.|2|.
\1/
I'm back. My stomach's full [burp!] and my head's only slightly swimming in the breeze, or something like that.
I think I've got it all solved. I'll start with the last item on the list and work my way to the front of the line.
Number 4: Spouse Swapping.
Democracy, in its purest form, is equality, n'est pas? One person, one vote. But like I said, me and my guy/gal pals don't like government crap. So what's the equivalent of democracy in society? Simple. One person, one fuck. Crude, you think? Well, yeah, maybe...but true. After all, you and I are here because one person fucked another person and vice versa. Therefore, extending equal rights to fuck means anyone should be able to fuck anyone else if both parties are willing. Thus, spouse swapping equates to pure democracy. Anything else and it's a restriction of a person's right to do what s/he wants to do with his/her body.
Number 3: Granddaddy Longlegs
You ever live in a house long enough to see the patterns of animal population swings? If you ain't never done it, then you're a sorry son of bitch, and I say that in the kindest way possible, insulting you, not your mother, who wasted nine long months to bear your sorry ass and then spent sleepless nights ruining her beautiful breasts so you could bite and suck on them for nourishment which only meant she later had to put up with and change your stinky, crapped up diapers. In other words, if you're a transient house-hopper, a mobile job shopper, a scourge that robs businesses of valuable revenue while you continue your breast-sucking ways begging for more salary, then you've missed out.
You see, I've lived in the same hovel for over 20 years now. In my observations and records of the living things growing up and dying around my abode, I've noticed the cyclical cycles, the undulating waves of population changes. Some years, I completely miss the overabundance of one species because something prevents its appearance but give it a few years and POW! there they are again. This year, granddaddy longlegs are all over the place. Some of them are brown. Some of them are gray. Some of them have white dots on all their joints, looking like living snowflakes.
Number 2: Pepsi
In the midst of all the information that blogs, news reports and movies are making about not drinking bottled water because of a) bisphenol A is poison, b) plastic bottles take eons to decompose, c) tap water is just as good or better than bottled water, and d) once again you're sucking on a virtual tit, one of my drinking buddies pointed out an interesting fact none of us knew about. In order to capture this new wave of change, soda pop companies are buying up water treatment companies and private water treatment plants. Pretty soon, you'll get the option to have your tap water still or sparkling, with addons at the faucet for flavoring. I can't wait to shower under the scent of melons, can you?
And last but not least, or first and best, Number 1: Autism
You know me. I'm no mad scientist or corporate baron. I'm just this guy who walks around accumulating a lot of facts and then weaves them into flying carpets, taking off on flights of fantasy. However, I do like to stay in touch with those for whom smart is an insult and genius is a slight. So it was last night while we were tossing back shots of whatever the barman hadn't run out of that I discovered a fact that I had imagined but never thought I'd see in my lifetime.
Did you know that humans have evolved in the last 20 or 30 years? I mean not just little things like inbreeding among blue bloods but actual changes meant to improve our species' survival? Turns out that what we call autism is actually our species moving on to the next phase.
I'll explain the best I can, the clutter of alcohol messing with my rational reasoning this sunny Saturday morn.
You familiar with mirror neurons? I'm not. From what my gal pal said last night, many species have these brain structures called mirror neurons. With these in place, we mimic or mirror one another through sympathy. In other words, if one person sees another person get hit in the head by a football, we grimace in like pain.
As it turns out, that's a form o' learning. A baby watches its mother and father, and through the use of mirror neurons the baby learns to perform actions that its parents are showing it. But this learning is very inefficient.
Autism...one, two three... If I could remember that tune from last night, I could share with you a mnemonic phrase to share with you about the forms of autism. Hell, I can hardly remember my university dormitory phone number, let alone last night's drink-soakin' singing.
Anyway, it appears that the wave of autism that's sweeping through our species is a sign that we're evolving. Some scientists and examining physicians think that autism is linked to the lack of mirror neurons. If that's the case, then no longer will we have to rely on mirror neurons for species development but through evolution are preparing ourselves for cybernetic implants that'll allow us to directly send memories to our growing brains.
Amazing, huh? The researcher who put these organic circuits in my head has posited the same theory, comparing my mirror neuron set to those of others who are more closely knit into the fabric of society. He's about to publish a paper showing that positive social behaviour is proportional to number of mirror neurons. My drinking buddies plan to jointly publish a paper showing that the lack of mirror neurons prepares an individual for a life of highly-complex mental calculation capabilities and thus a type of walking computer, the next evolution, the next leap forward, for our species. With wireless circuits implanted in our bodies, we'll be able to communicate with anyone, anytime, anywhere.
Once all of this happens, there will no longer be any reason one human has more power or prestige than another. Every one of us will contain the knowledge and capabilities of our species. We'll work together to overcome the DNA defects that cause individual specimens to become antisocial misfits and murderers.
I'm Rick, or as my close friends like to call me, B. Some of you want to cause dissension in our species. I have your DNA profile and know where you live. I'm a reflection of you and you're a reflection of me. I know who you work for - me. I know who I work for - you. I'm everywhere and nowhere. I'm everyone and no one. I'm a product of computer programmers in the former Soviet empire, I'm a byproduct of Latin American living, I'm an Asian persuasian, I'm an African cancan can-do and I'm a result of Western ideals. We're all part of the same species and it's time we started acting like it.
It's getting way too stuffy and serious in here. Time to get out and enjoy the fine summer weather, maybe grab a couple of beers and grill some skewered veggies. Definitely good enough to fly my electric RC plane. Blue skies to all of you!
Fuckin' nothin'. [Hiccup.]
Pardon me while I gulp down a few cups of hot tea. And who opened the blinds this early in the mornin' - it's barely 10:30. Damn cook. He thinks I like my hangovers? Mmm, but those blueberry muffins and egg casserole spell mighty good.
[Cough.] Where was I?
Is it me or is the laptop screen spinnin' more than usual? Oh well. I'll just type between the tossin' waves and try not to get sick.
Hmm. You see, my friends and I don't give a fuck about politics, nations, governments, taxes, fees, regulations, laws, rules, ethics, or anything else that interferes with our normal lives.
Hoo boy. My headache is pounding my temples today. Who put the sledgehammer in my head?
Give me a moment...ooooo-ooo-ooo-ooooo. I just just hear the melody of that song that gal was singin' next to me. What the hell was it?
Oh well. You know, maybe I should step away from this laptop and eat breakfast. [Stomach gurgling.] Then again, maybe not.
Let's see. I had an epiphany last night. When you get drunk with a physicist, a physician, a plumber and a dog like me, you're bound to figure something out, right? Maybe even something out right? Maybe something right? Wooph. If it weren't for this nuclear bomb of a headache.
Wait! I know what it is. I wrote some notes on a cocktail napkin. It's in my pants pocket. Okay, it's not this plastic-wrapped peppermint...not the pocket knife...not the coin purse...not the rubbing stone...not the lucky charm...not the condom...aah, here it is.
"Autism, Pepsi, Granddaddy Longlegs, and Spouse Swapping." What the hell?
And it was important, too, let me tell you. Okay, fuck it. I'm going to eat breakfast and be right back. You can wait on me, can't you?
.|3|.
.|2|.
\1/
I'm back. My stomach's full [burp!] and my head's only slightly swimming in the breeze, or something like that.
I think I've got it all solved. I'll start with the last item on the list and work my way to the front of the line.
Number 4: Spouse Swapping.
Democracy, in its purest form, is equality, n'est pas? One person, one vote. But like I said, me and my guy/gal pals don't like government crap. So what's the equivalent of democracy in society? Simple. One person, one fuck. Crude, you think? Well, yeah, maybe...but true. After all, you and I are here because one person fucked another person and vice versa. Therefore, extending equal rights to fuck means anyone should be able to fuck anyone else if both parties are willing. Thus, spouse swapping equates to pure democracy. Anything else and it's a restriction of a person's right to do what s/he wants to do with his/her body.
Number 3: Granddaddy Longlegs
You ever live in a house long enough to see the patterns of animal population swings? If you ain't never done it, then you're a sorry son of bitch, and I say that in the kindest way possible, insulting you, not your mother, who wasted nine long months to bear your sorry ass and then spent sleepless nights ruining her beautiful breasts so you could bite and suck on them for nourishment which only meant she later had to put up with and change your stinky, crapped up diapers. In other words, if you're a transient house-hopper, a mobile job shopper, a scourge that robs businesses of valuable revenue while you continue your breast-sucking ways begging for more salary, then you've missed out.
You see, I've lived in the same hovel for over 20 years now. In my observations and records of the living things growing up and dying around my abode, I've noticed the cyclical cycles, the undulating waves of population changes. Some years, I completely miss the overabundance of one species because something prevents its appearance but give it a few years and POW! there they are again. This year, granddaddy longlegs are all over the place. Some of them are brown. Some of them are gray. Some of them have white dots on all their joints, looking like living snowflakes.
Number 2: Pepsi
In the midst of all the information that blogs, news reports and movies are making about not drinking bottled water because of a) bisphenol A is poison, b) plastic bottles take eons to decompose, c) tap water is just as good or better than bottled water, and d) once again you're sucking on a virtual tit, one of my drinking buddies pointed out an interesting fact none of us knew about. In order to capture this new wave of change, soda pop companies are buying up water treatment companies and private water treatment plants. Pretty soon, you'll get the option to have your tap water still or sparkling, with addons at the faucet for flavoring. I can't wait to shower under the scent of melons, can you?
And last but not least, or first and best, Number 1: Autism
You know me. I'm no mad scientist or corporate baron. I'm just this guy who walks around accumulating a lot of facts and then weaves them into flying carpets, taking off on flights of fantasy. However, I do like to stay in touch with those for whom smart is an insult and genius is a slight. So it was last night while we were tossing back shots of whatever the barman hadn't run out of that I discovered a fact that I had imagined but never thought I'd see in my lifetime.
Did you know that humans have evolved in the last 20 or 30 years? I mean not just little things like inbreeding among blue bloods but actual changes meant to improve our species' survival? Turns out that what we call autism is actually our species moving on to the next phase.
I'll explain the best I can, the clutter of alcohol messing with my rational reasoning this sunny Saturday morn.
You familiar with mirror neurons? I'm not. From what my gal pal said last night, many species have these brain structures called mirror neurons. With these in place, we mimic or mirror one another through sympathy. In other words, if one person sees another person get hit in the head by a football, we grimace in like pain.
As it turns out, that's a form o' learning. A baby watches its mother and father, and through the use of mirror neurons the baby learns to perform actions that its parents are showing it. But this learning is very inefficient.
Autism...one, two three... If I could remember that tune from last night, I could share with you a mnemonic phrase to share with you about the forms of autism. Hell, I can hardly remember my university dormitory phone number, let alone last night's drink-soakin' singing.
Anyway, it appears that the wave of autism that's sweeping through our species is a sign that we're evolving. Some scientists and examining physicians think that autism is linked to the lack of mirror neurons. If that's the case, then no longer will we have to rely on mirror neurons for species development but through evolution are preparing ourselves for cybernetic implants that'll allow us to directly send memories to our growing brains.
Amazing, huh? The researcher who put these organic circuits in my head has posited the same theory, comparing my mirror neuron set to those of others who are more closely knit into the fabric of society. He's about to publish a paper showing that positive social behaviour is proportional to number of mirror neurons. My drinking buddies plan to jointly publish a paper showing that the lack of mirror neurons prepares an individual for a life of highly-complex mental calculation capabilities and thus a type of walking computer, the next evolution, the next leap forward, for our species. With wireless circuits implanted in our bodies, we'll be able to communicate with anyone, anytime, anywhere.
Once all of this happens, there will no longer be any reason one human has more power or prestige than another. Every one of us will contain the knowledge and capabilities of our species. We'll work together to overcome the DNA defects that cause individual specimens to become antisocial misfits and murderers.
I'm Rick, or as my close friends like to call me, B. Some of you want to cause dissension in our species. I have your DNA profile and know where you live. I'm a reflection of you and you're a reflection of me. I know who you work for - me. I know who I work for - you. I'm everywhere and nowhere. I'm everyone and no one. I'm a product of computer programmers in the former Soviet empire, I'm a byproduct of Latin American living, I'm an Asian persuasian, I'm an African cancan can-do and I'm a result of Western ideals. We're all part of the same species and it's time we started acting like it.
It's getting way too stuffy and serious in here. Time to get out and enjoy the fine summer weather, maybe grab a couple of beers and grill some skewered veggies. Definitely good enough to fly my electric RC plane. Blue skies to all of you!
24 July 2009
File Under "M"
I give no power to my nighttime dreams but sometimes my dreams are funny or interesting enough to record. Today is such a day...
"Welcome to i on the news. I'm Anna Fillipo. We're here with Mr. Ballych Turnstone, known to many as the 'trillionaire you've never heard of.'"
"Good morning, Anna."
"Good morning to you, Mr. Turnstone."
"You can call me B."
"All right, B. Tell us what we're all interested in hearing. Just how did you make your money?"
"Well, Anna, if I told you that, I might be giving away all my secrets. haha."
"Indeed. But that IS why you're here, isn't it?" Anna smiled and waited for a cue from the show's director in her earbud.
"Anna, I have a question for you. How healthy do you think you are?"
"B, I'd say I'm pretty healthy. Wouldn't you?" Anna winked at her guest.
"Anna, if you don't mind, I'll tell you what I see."
Anna nodded.
"You have a precancerous growth on the side of your nose. There's some plaque buildup in your arteries, which indicates to me a high level of cholesterol, quite possibly tied to heredity since I'm sure you carefully control your diet. You have cocaine in your bloodstream and..."
"Excuse me? I have what in my bloodstream?"
"Cocaine. Also a diet supplement that is banned called 'fen-phen.'"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Turnstone, but those are accusations or conjectures, are they not? You can't expect me to sit here and let you make these unsubstantiated comments, can you?"
"Anna, I'm quite right in this diagnosis. You see, my business is to know what's the matter with people. You asked how I made my fortune and this is how I did it."
"Uh-huh. Pardon me a moment. I want to assure my viewers, listeners and readers around the world that I am not a drug user. Mr. Turnstone's comments are his and he's free to make them. Now, back to you, B. What are trying to say here?"
"Anna, I care about you. I'm concerned about your health as I am about the health of all people. That's why I started the Holistic Healing Center, with satellite centers all around the globe. You see, when I figured out that the corporations and governments around the world were interested in the flow of money, I looked at the flow of money and figured we're all entitled to share in the monetary system. Now, 'entitled' and 'entitlement' are two different things here. I'm not saying that an entitlement is part of the system, simply that every person can participate if he or she wants to."
"Uh-huh. And this is tied to my live diagnosis how?"
"Anna, let me explain."
"Gladly."
"As a child of medical doctors, I have seen the power of healing firsthand. Some people gave credit to my parents for saving their lives but most gave credit to prayers and religious figures for miraculous cures. No matter what their symptoms were, real or imagined, people came to my parents' medical office with preconceived ideas about how they would recover."
"I can understand that."
"Yes, we're all convinced our world views are accurate, are we not? In any case, while growing up, I spent time observing some of my parents' patients. The number one thing that made a difference in healing rates was the patients' level of personal support and attention from others."
"Makes sense to me."
"Yes, it does, doesn't it? Well, after compulsory schooling, I left my parents' house and took a three-year trip around the world. Everywhere I traveled, I discovered the same thing - local medical experts depended on their insight into their patients' lives for healing their bodies, oftentimes administering a placebo or set of rituals familiar to the patients and their families, but in all cases, involving close friends or family in the process of recovery."
"Interesting. And where all did you travel?"
"I traveled to every continent but Antarctica. However, I did correspond with scientists living in an Antarctic outpost and reached the same conclusions. The colleagues who felt closest to one another were least likely to develop illnesses."
"Almost common sense, isn't it?"
"Precisely. However, in developed nations we have pushed aside such information in the interest of scientific research and development."
"But so much has been discovered in the last 10 years. You aren't saying that modern science is hiding something, are you?"
"Not at all. I depend on such results myself. In fact, the Holistic Healing Center funds a research foundation. What I'm saying is that treating the body as a person, rather than pieces and parts, provides the most benefit to the patient."
"So how did the Holistic Healing Center get started?"
"Anna, I'm glad you asked. Have you ever visited a church, mosque, synagogue, or temple and looked around you?"
"Of course."
"What did you see?"
"Oh, the cathedrals of Europe are fantastic. I've seen temples in Asia that made me feel small and inconsequential but at peace with myself, too."
"As you should. The purpose of religion is to reach out to the whole person and that person's connection with other people in relation to the rest of the world. After I returned from my travels, I borrowed a small sum of money from my parents and set up the first Holistic Healing Center. I figured out that people who congregate with those who have the same interest tend to live longer and happier lives. At the same time, many people still get ill and need medical attention. By putting people in one place for both their common activities and health recovery, their sense of community grows."
"Sounds very positive."
"It is. Well, one issue I ran into in the early days of the center was government regulation. Local politicians wanted to know my purpose and what tax category to put me in. I had first thought about opening a medical clinic much like my parents but felt the financial burden, the overhead of malpractice and health insurance administration, was more than I needed to worry about. Instead, I formed a religious center."
"You did?"
"Yes, and I based purposes of the religious center on all the holy books of the world, going back to ancient times."
"So if your company has reaped you billions and billions, why can't we find a Holistic Healing Center in any town of this area?"
"That's the thing, Anna. 'Holistic Healing Center' is a name for a holding company. Because people are hard put to change their beliefs, I brought their beliefs to them in order to build their local sense of community."
"I don't understand."
"Well, many of the local centers around here are based on the majority religion."
"You mean..."
"Exactly. I have bypassed the whole problem of creating a new market. I have bypassed the problem of new government regulations. In other words, I took what people wanted and gave it to them. When some people think they're attending religious services, they're visiting my center. When some people think they're going to the health clinic for a checkup, they're visiting my center. When some people think they're going to a sports event, they're visiting my center. When some people think they're going to their job at the office, they're visiting my center. Your job, this studio, is one of my centers. Your network broadcasts my center's messages 24 hours a day."
"Are you kidding?" Anna heard her director say B was not kidding. "I mean, what are you saying?"
"Anna, I have stepped out of the shadows because I think it's time I worked the health side of my center a little stronger."
"How's that?"
"Well, by showing the people that they all work, play and pray for the same organization. Because of that, they have no enemies, no people against them, no hidden agendas. In other words, they are now one people."
"I see. Sort of a New World Order?"
"Not at all. People are still the same, aren't they, with their same beliefs? It's still the same world. Instead, I am showing the people that it's time to move past their beliefs that set them apart from one another. It's time to start seeing each other as supporting the world of people, not split apart. Only through making this transition can we reach the level of full health I know we're capable of."
"Wowee. That's a lot to take in, B. Seems like you're setting yourself up for a lot of criticism here. I mean, you're taking all these people's money. Wouldn't you think they'd want some of it back so they can figure out how to heal themselves or go off on their own three-year trek? I know I sure would."
"Ah, Anna. That's the misconception I want to clear up. Although the Holistic Healing Center was founded in my name, I hold no actual monetary value. All the money belongs to the Center. I planned to wait to say this but now's as good a time as any. Last year, the Center funded a private launch of a special probe to Mars. On board the probe is a declaration of independence with a claim that the Holistic Healing Center owns the planet. Later this evening, your network will broadcast a remote feed from Mars with more details of the declaration so I won't waste your time about it now. However, in answer to your question, all the Center's money has been converted to Martian currency. I have saved the planet Mars for the people, giving our species a future that any one or combination of Earth-based governments cannot promise in the next few years."
Anna whispered loud enough for her director to hear. "Is this guy serious?" Her director gave her the affirmative. "Well, B, this is more of an exclusive than I thought. I appreciate you picking my show to make this announcement."
"No problem, Anna. I felt like you'd be the most amenable to my plans."
"Amenable?"
"Yes, I'd like you to join me on my trip to Mars to establish the first co-executives of the planet. As leader of the new world, I want an equally-ambitious person by my side. To meet the general understanding of a monogamous relationship in our species, I think we should also be married."
"Married?"
B dropped to his knees. "Yes, Anna. Will you marry me?"
The director told her the answer she already knew. "Umm, B, seems I have no choice. You've really put me on the spot here. Yes, I will marry you."
B stood up and reached for Anna's hand. "Anna, you've truly made me the happiest man in this solar system. Now, let's get your person healed so we can prepare for our trip."
"Folks, you heard it here first. Not only does Ballych Turnstone ...B, that is... run Earth, he has just declared his executiveship of our neighboring planet, Mars, and I am to be his bride. With this new adventure in mind, I look forward to bringing you broadcasts of my preparation for space travel and my life on the red planet. Until next time, this is Anna, your friend and confidante, saying farewell."
"Welcome to i on the news. I'm Anna Fillipo. We're here with Mr. Ballych Turnstone, known to many as the 'trillionaire you've never heard of.'"
"Good morning, Anna."
"Good morning to you, Mr. Turnstone."
"You can call me B."
"All right, B. Tell us what we're all interested in hearing. Just how did you make your money?"
"Well, Anna, if I told you that, I might be giving away all my secrets. haha."
"Indeed. But that IS why you're here, isn't it?" Anna smiled and waited for a cue from the show's director in her earbud.
"Anna, I have a question for you. How healthy do you think you are?"
"B, I'd say I'm pretty healthy. Wouldn't you?" Anna winked at her guest.
"Anna, if you don't mind, I'll tell you what I see."
Anna nodded.
"You have a precancerous growth on the side of your nose. There's some plaque buildup in your arteries, which indicates to me a high level of cholesterol, quite possibly tied to heredity since I'm sure you carefully control your diet. You have cocaine in your bloodstream and..."
"Excuse me? I have what in my bloodstream?"
"Cocaine. Also a diet supplement that is banned called 'fen-phen.'"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Turnstone, but those are accusations or conjectures, are they not? You can't expect me to sit here and let you make these unsubstantiated comments, can you?"
"Anna, I'm quite right in this diagnosis. You see, my business is to know what's the matter with people. You asked how I made my fortune and this is how I did it."
"Uh-huh. Pardon me a moment. I want to assure my viewers, listeners and readers around the world that I am not a drug user. Mr. Turnstone's comments are his and he's free to make them. Now, back to you, B. What are trying to say here?"
"Anna, I care about you. I'm concerned about your health as I am about the health of all people. That's why I started the Holistic Healing Center, with satellite centers all around the globe. You see, when I figured out that the corporations and governments around the world were interested in the flow of money, I looked at the flow of money and figured we're all entitled to share in the monetary system. Now, 'entitled' and 'entitlement' are two different things here. I'm not saying that an entitlement is part of the system, simply that every person can participate if he or she wants to."
"Uh-huh. And this is tied to my live diagnosis how?"
"Anna, let me explain."
"Gladly."
"As a child of medical doctors, I have seen the power of healing firsthand. Some people gave credit to my parents for saving their lives but most gave credit to prayers and religious figures for miraculous cures. No matter what their symptoms were, real or imagined, people came to my parents' medical office with preconceived ideas about how they would recover."
"I can understand that."
"Yes, we're all convinced our world views are accurate, are we not? In any case, while growing up, I spent time observing some of my parents' patients. The number one thing that made a difference in healing rates was the patients' level of personal support and attention from others."
"Makes sense to me."
"Yes, it does, doesn't it? Well, after compulsory schooling, I left my parents' house and took a three-year trip around the world. Everywhere I traveled, I discovered the same thing - local medical experts depended on their insight into their patients' lives for healing their bodies, oftentimes administering a placebo or set of rituals familiar to the patients and their families, but in all cases, involving close friends or family in the process of recovery."
"Interesting. And where all did you travel?"
"I traveled to every continent but Antarctica. However, I did correspond with scientists living in an Antarctic outpost and reached the same conclusions. The colleagues who felt closest to one another were least likely to develop illnesses."
"Almost common sense, isn't it?"
"Precisely. However, in developed nations we have pushed aside such information in the interest of scientific research and development."
"But so much has been discovered in the last 10 years. You aren't saying that modern science is hiding something, are you?"
"Not at all. I depend on such results myself. In fact, the Holistic Healing Center funds a research foundation. What I'm saying is that treating the body as a person, rather than pieces and parts, provides the most benefit to the patient."
"So how did the Holistic Healing Center get started?"
"Anna, I'm glad you asked. Have you ever visited a church, mosque, synagogue, or temple and looked around you?"
"Of course."
"What did you see?"
"Oh, the cathedrals of Europe are fantastic. I've seen temples in Asia that made me feel small and inconsequential but at peace with myself, too."
"As you should. The purpose of religion is to reach out to the whole person and that person's connection with other people in relation to the rest of the world. After I returned from my travels, I borrowed a small sum of money from my parents and set up the first Holistic Healing Center. I figured out that people who congregate with those who have the same interest tend to live longer and happier lives. At the same time, many people still get ill and need medical attention. By putting people in one place for both their common activities and health recovery, their sense of community grows."
"Sounds very positive."
"It is. Well, one issue I ran into in the early days of the center was government regulation. Local politicians wanted to know my purpose and what tax category to put me in. I had first thought about opening a medical clinic much like my parents but felt the financial burden, the overhead of malpractice and health insurance administration, was more than I needed to worry about. Instead, I formed a religious center."
"You did?"
"Yes, and I based purposes of the religious center on all the holy books of the world, going back to ancient times."
"So if your company has reaped you billions and billions, why can't we find a Holistic Healing Center in any town of this area?"
"That's the thing, Anna. 'Holistic Healing Center' is a name for a holding company. Because people are hard put to change their beliefs, I brought their beliefs to them in order to build their local sense of community."
"I don't understand."
"Well, many of the local centers around here are based on the majority religion."
"You mean..."
"Exactly. I have bypassed the whole problem of creating a new market. I have bypassed the problem of new government regulations. In other words, I took what people wanted and gave it to them. When some people think they're attending religious services, they're visiting my center. When some people think they're going to the health clinic for a checkup, they're visiting my center. When some people think they're going to a sports event, they're visiting my center. When some people think they're going to their job at the office, they're visiting my center. Your job, this studio, is one of my centers. Your network broadcasts my center's messages 24 hours a day."
"Are you kidding?" Anna heard her director say B was not kidding. "I mean, what are you saying?"
"Anna, I have stepped out of the shadows because I think it's time I worked the health side of my center a little stronger."
"How's that?"
"Well, by showing the people that they all work, play and pray for the same organization. Because of that, they have no enemies, no people against them, no hidden agendas. In other words, they are now one people."
"I see. Sort of a New World Order?"
"Not at all. People are still the same, aren't they, with their same beliefs? It's still the same world. Instead, I am showing the people that it's time to move past their beliefs that set them apart from one another. It's time to start seeing each other as supporting the world of people, not split apart. Only through making this transition can we reach the level of full health I know we're capable of."
"Wowee. That's a lot to take in, B. Seems like you're setting yourself up for a lot of criticism here. I mean, you're taking all these people's money. Wouldn't you think they'd want some of it back so they can figure out how to heal themselves or go off on their own three-year trek? I know I sure would."
"Ah, Anna. That's the misconception I want to clear up. Although the Holistic Healing Center was founded in my name, I hold no actual monetary value. All the money belongs to the Center. I planned to wait to say this but now's as good a time as any. Last year, the Center funded a private launch of a special probe to Mars. On board the probe is a declaration of independence with a claim that the Holistic Healing Center owns the planet. Later this evening, your network will broadcast a remote feed from Mars with more details of the declaration so I won't waste your time about it now. However, in answer to your question, all the Center's money has been converted to Martian currency. I have saved the planet Mars for the people, giving our species a future that any one or combination of Earth-based governments cannot promise in the next few years."
Anna whispered loud enough for her director to hear. "Is this guy serious?" Her director gave her the affirmative. "Well, B, this is more of an exclusive than I thought. I appreciate you picking my show to make this announcement."
"No problem, Anna. I felt like you'd be the most amenable to my plans."
"Amenable?"
"Yes, I'd like you to join me on my trip to Mars to establish the first co-executives of the planet. As leader of the new world, I want an equally-ambitious person by my side. To meet the general understanding of a monogamous relationship in our species, I think we should also be married."
"Married?"
B dropped to his knees. "Yes, Anna. Will you marry me?"
The director told her the answer she already knew. "Umm, B, seems I have no choice. You've really put me on the spot here. Yes, I will marry you."
B stood up and reached for Anna's hand. "Anna, you've truly made me the happiest man in this solar system. Now, let's get your person healed so we can prepare for our trip."
"Folks, you heard it here first. Not only does Ballych Turnstone ...B, that is... run Earth, he has just declared his executiveship of our neighboring planet, Mars, and I am to be his bride. With this new adventure in mind, I look forward to bringing you broadcasts of my preparation for space travel and my life on the red planet. Until next time, this is Anna, your friend and confidante, saying farewell."
23 July 2009
A Sneak Peek
Next door to us, our neighbour has his house on the market for resale. Because of this, almost everyday I watch automobiles, trucks and SUVs move past our house, slow down and then either drive on or pull up to the house. Just now, a white Nissan crossover/SUV pulled into the driveway, backed up and drove back by our house.
For some reason, I do not feel like typing. Is it the driver who was just now peering in at me or my mood after finishing the book, "Tuesdays with Morrie," at lunch this afternoon? Perhaps being down a pint of blood platelets has affected my desire to write here right here. Maybe I scratched my writing itch in a couple of comments I posted on a newspaper website.
Before I completely lose interest in typing, I'll mention something that all of us know but rarely think about:
- Businesses provide employment for a lot of people. Businesses, consumers and employees pay the taxes that fund governments (bondholders of all types provide gov't funds, too). Businesses and governments are composed of people. You and I are people.
Having voted for neither McCain nor Obama, I have no interest in whether the general news websites quote reliable statistics to support or refute the author's letter to the editor about national government policies. With that stated, I believe all of us will find that the world economy will continue to grow, showing the long-term effects of every country's investment in national infrastructure improvements, be it bank support, healthcare reform, school/road construction, etc.Here's what I responded after the person said, "Who are you, besides apparently being morally superior, to challenge me on anything I choose as a free human being to do with my time on matters that are of interest to me? Such elitism certainly takes a lot of nerve. Do your remarks apply to every other author of postings in this newspaper or just me? Pretty arrogant. Your opinion of what is socially responsible and what is not smacks of elitism and reeks of arrogance.":
It may appear that the stimulus funds went to targeted areas of the country but so what? Do you own a company that failed to receive funds or got laid off from a company that is cutting back due to a shift in resource allocation; in other words, what is your personal involvement in this? We can all be armchair political quarterbacks.
Instead of waiting to hear from political pundits, let's hear about changes we're making to improve the lives of others. For instance, I retired in 2007 but have taken a low-paying job teaching technology courses at ITT Tech in order to prepare students for future IT jobs, putting my own sweat and shoulders into stimulating the economy, regardless of what's going on in Washington, D.C, Nashville or other government locations.
Since you live in Church Hill, Mr. Lorenz, there's a couple who live off Goshen Valley Road, Jim and Anne Small, who share their enthusiasm with children during this economic downturn. What are you doing for your fellow citizens, other than posting comments and letters to the editor? I challenge you to get up off your bum and away from the computer and demonstrate social responsibility on the local level rather than complain.
I thank you, Mr. Lorenz, and others like you, for sharing your opinions. I was like you one time - sitting at home contemplating the universe through the eyes of a citizen of one country. Then I traveled and worked in other countries around the world. I discovered that we better serve each other through work, paid or volunteer, than commenting about and waiting for government action.Am I elitist? Yes. Am I arrogant? Absolutely. Am I morally superior? Are you kidding me? if anything, I am morally absent, living here and now, having no need for the past and no plans for the future.
By the way, moral superiority or inferiority have nothing to do with deciding to take action. Frankly, in my case I was bored with reading others' comments on the Internet and found something to do as a change of pace - teaching - which has enlightened me, entertained me and kept me busy. In a few minutes, after my comments here, I'll drive over to the local Red Cross office to donate blood platelets.
Yesterday, while taking a break from grading student papers, I happened to check the Times-News website to see what people were doing/saying in my former hometown and came upon this discussion of goverment policies.
Once again, thanks goes out to you and other folks in upper east Tennessee for sharing your opinions. I hope all of us learn that we should never wait for government decisions before making our own. At some time in our lives, we should all get involved in local activities, including government, to see how influence peddling works. Reaching consensus about how money and other resources are distributed is not as easy as it looks. There's no cut-and-dry solution, no book of answers that tell what's right or wrong in who gets government support. Many times it's a matter of degrees of what looks right at the time, which changes at the whims of public opinion. Local politics is both fun and frustrating and gives you an appreciation for what being a citizen means, no matter whether you're a business owner/worker, a government employee, a student, a retiree or unemployed.
Mr. Lorenz, don't wait for answers. Be proactive and help create solutions. As a business owner and teacher, I tell my students that one can be a victim or one can own one's life and take control. The decision is yours. It begins with recognizing that we're all human and fallible, living on this planet together, and truly depend on each other to make this world better, no matter who we are or where we came from. I look forward to hearing about the wonderful changes you're going to make in others' lives, including mine. For starters, your letter to the editor that started this discussion has shown me that we need better access to government information, especially in a location where all of us would agree is politically-neutral. Does your list of comments mean there's a website called MSM that fits the description for politically-neutral? If so, let me know so I can contact my friends in government and see what we can do to get you the information you want.
I live because I have no choice, my self and my cells desiring to live every moment they can, regardless of their impermanence. With no choice but to live, I choose to live in happiness and mirth.
I close this blog entry and see the economy greatly improving as we move into 2010, beginning with people forming new and exciting small/medium businesses all around the world. Government taxes will increase proportionally and give another shot in the arm of the corporate body electric, igniting speedy growth in 2011. As the world population ages, though, we need to figure out how to grow without milking our elderly completely dry, giving our senior citizens the opportunity to contribute to society in ways unimagined, aided by technology that makes infirm or disabled bodies an unnecessary concern for corporate citizenship. I know you know what I'm talking about. Will you beat me to market with these new ideas and inventions? Are you going to join me to push to raise the mandatory retirement age?
22 July 2009
Fissures
As a relatively simple person, I wonder what goes through the synaptic connections of a person considered smarter than I am. In fact, how many more synapses does a genius have?
In parallel, how complex is the web of connections between living things on our planet compared to other planets?
While pondering these thoughts, I used ask.com to absentmindedly surf the Web for others' opinions on the subject, encountering a debate among scientists and mathematicians about Stephen Wolfram's books/presentations/blogs on a New Kind of Science.
I had heard about Wolfram's new search engine (or "computational knowledge engine"), located at www.wolframalpha.com, which has impressed some people and turned off others.
I sometimes wish that I was born with more interconnected brain cells so that I could with confidence and direct brain memory access join live debates about complex subjects, no matter whether the subject lies in the field of physics, mathematics, traffic engineering, extraterrestrial exploration, social science, philosophy, astronomy, astrology, politics or sports. As I've said, my measured IQ is above average but that's all I know - it implies nothing more than test-taking skills. However, I can usually tell during a debate which person represents reality but usually only after detecting body messages. Reading these online NKS debates puts me in a position of analyzing strings of words to determine the validity of one person's argument over another. All I can do is read, smile, laugh, and go on, unable to offer any mathematically-drawn, partially-tested universal theories of my own to contradict others. Don't be surprised, though, if I offer an alternative!
Okay, according to the computational knowledge engine, the question "Who am I?" results in a geoIP address, IPv4/IPv6 IP address set and registered host information. I can't argue with that answer - all of us here have similar answers to who we are when gathered or passing each other on the Internet.
The issue is not finding the answer but what we do with the answer and whether we're satisfied with what we found.
After all, you still have to eat, you probably wear clothes and you often seek shelter from inclement weather conditions.
I can simulate the natural environment, making artificial trees that bend according to fake breezes, with virtual birds, bees, flies and squirrels moving about but I can never exactly say which path a drop of rain will make through the air from cloud to leaf, or across the leaf and to the ground.
A spider hangs from a thread less than a meter from my face while I sit in the garage and type this blog entry. The spider holds its arms out in anticipation of touching a surface. I call the spider a cellar or attic spider because of its local common name. We humans have other names for it, including the Latinized name as well as arachnid. The spider doesn't care about names. It's looking for a place to hang out to increase its chance of catching a bite to eat. However, our encounter, random as it is, occurred in real and virtual space.
I believe I know where I'll exist the rest of the day, planning out locations that correspond to slots of time. Most of us live that way. The spider didn't expect me to grab the end of the silken thread and move it over to another place in the garage but it'll use the daylight hours to find a good place to park its posterior.
As the debate rages on about the universe, universal Turing machines, universal joints, and universal healthcare coverage, you and I have other issues to resolve. Who am I? Who are you? What are we doing here? What can we do to increase each other's chance for survival? When will I have a good belly laugh?
Otherwise, the sun keeps shining, Earth's cracking and crevicing crust keeps folding in on itself, plants and animals move in after humans have moved out, and nothing stays the same.
The universe does not depend on humans although the universe is composed in part by what we like to call humans. We cannot choose to be other than part of the universe. Some humans will debate the merits of beauty while some will debate the beauty of bestowing meritorious awards. Regardless of what we perceive, we live in random moments. If this moment is all I have, I choose random happiness - intelligence and hunger being moot points.
In parallel, how complex is the web of connections between living things on our planet compared to other planets?
While pondering these thoughts, I used ask.com to absentmindedly surf the Web for others' opinions on the subject, encountering a debate among scientists and mathematicians about Stephen Wolfram's books/presentations/blogs on a New Kind of Science.
I had heard about Wolfram's new search engine (or "computational knowledge engine"), located at www.wolframalpha.com, which has impressed some people and turned off others.
I sometimes wish that I was born with more interconnected brain cells so that I could with confidence and direct brain memory access join live debates about complex subjects, no matter whether the subject lies in the field of physics, mathematics, traffic engineering, extraterrestrial exploration, social science, philosophy, astronomy, astrology, politics or sports. As I've said, my measured IQ is above average but that's all I know - it implies nothing more than test-taking skills. However, I can usually tell during a debate which person represents reality but usually only after detecting body messages. Reading these online NKS debates puts me in a position of analyzing strings of words to determine the validity of one person's argument over another. All I can do is read, smile, laugh, and go on, unable to offer any mathematically-drawn, partially-tested universal theories of my own to contradict others. Don't be surprised, though, if I offer an alternative!
Okay, according to the computational knowledge engine, the question "Who am I?" results in a geoIP address, IPv4/IPv6 IP address set and registered host information. I can't argue with that answer - all of us here have similar answers to who we are when gathered or passing each other on the Internet.
The issue is not finding the answer but what we do with the answer and whether we're satisfied with what we found.
After all, you still have to eat, you probably wear clothes and you often seek shelter from inclement weather conditions.
I can simulate the natural environment, making artificial trees that bend according to fake breezes, with virtual birds, bees, flies and squirrels moving about but I can never exactly say which path a drop of rain will make through the air from cloud to leaf, or across the leaf and to the ground.
A spider hangs from a thread less than a meter from my face while I sit in the garage and type this blog entry. The spider holds its arms out in anticipation of touching a surface. I call the spider a cellar or attic spider because of its local common name. We humans have other names for it, including the Latinized name as well as arachnid. The spider doesn't care about names. It's looking for a place to hang out to increase its chance of catching a bite to eat. However, our encounter, random as it is, occurred in real and virtual space.
I believe I know where I'll exist the rest of the day, planning out locations that correspond to slots of time. Most of us live that way. The spider didn't expect me to grab the end of the silken thread and move it over to another place in the garage but it'll use the daylight hours to find a good place to park its posterior.
As the debate rages on about the universe, universal Turing machines, universal joints, and universal healthcare coverage, you and I have other issues to resolve. Who am I? Who are you? What are we doing here? What can we do to increase each other's chance for survival? When will I have a good belly laugh?
Otherwise, the sun keeps shining, Earth's cracking and crevicing crust keeps folding in on itself, plants and animals move in after humans have moved out, and nothing stays the same.
The universe does not depend on humans although the universe is composed in part by what we like to call humans. We cannot choose to be other than part of the universe. Some humans will debate the merits of beauty while some will debate the beauty of bestowing meritorious awards. Regardless of what we perceive, we live in random moments. If this moment is all I have, I choose random happiness - intelligence and hunger being moot points.
21 July 2009
Port-O-Johnny
One advantage you need when wanting to advance the state-of-the-art in technology sits squarely in your lap like a hot potato, mixed metaphors and misplaced modifiers, notwithstanding.
When I became a toy man, I opened myself up to experimentation, allowing my body to become a guinea pig.
I gave up my birthright as a natural human animal to join the cybernetic movement. I no longer belong to any group, not even the species into which I was born.
I exist outside of time and space because I no longer exist. I live everywhere and nowhere.
I am you and can see you anytime I want, having access to the World Wide Web 24 hours a day. I never sleep because I no longer have to sleep, only giving my natural biological parts the rejuvenating time they need while the part called "I" / "me" roams the universe.
Let me back up a bit. You see, one day not so long ago my curiosity about the advance of organic circuitry carried me into a research lab not far from here. At the lab, the professor in charge walked me through the work his team had performed, demonstrating the flexible organic circuits they had designed and built.
I asked him about the possibility of getting such circuitry through a metal detector, worried as I was at the time about terrorists using organic-based technology for destructive purposes. The professor had no assurances for me but promised to pass on my concerns to his corporate sponsor.
Instead, he showed me how he had implanted a small set of organic circuits into a sea creature which has simple nervous system functions. The circuitry gave the creature the feeling it had an extended body with built-in memories for pain-response behaviours.
The professor told me the company which had sponsored the research hoped to use the new technology to develop flexible displays. The professor, however, hoped to use the technology to overcome his pending dementia, knowing as he did that his DNA profile indicated his high-likelihood of developing brain deterioration.
At the time, the professor could not afford to experiment on himself and ethically felt challenged to search for volunteers.
Enter "me." I asked the professor about his plans. He showed me a set of documentation he had developed which would theoretically allow him to implant organic circuitry within a person's skull without adversely affecting a person's brain functionality. The circuitry contained probes which, like devices in use today for epileptics and schizophrenics, triggered pulses in specific brain locations but had no current use. More importantly, a wireless connection allowed the brain to "see" the Internet by sending images through the optic nerve and sound through the auditory nerve. A microphone picked up vocal chord vibrations and converted speech-to-text, allowing a person to surf the Web vocally. The professor looked forward to the day he could capture voice intent without vocalization so a person could use a computer without talking aloud. He had an idea for a cochlear implant that could pick up sounds outside the normal human hearing range.
The professor hoped to use brainwaves for other functionalities but had not fully developed his prototypes sufficiently to say what he'd do with them.
Well, what else have I got to do but sit here and pontificate?
So here I am with you now, looking to all the world like I'm talking to myself but actually dictating this blog to you in realtime. I can walk through most any city, town or suburban neighborhood and connect to the Web. I can find research bots or zombie computers and set them up to decode username/password combinations. I change my "computer" settings at will, playing with IP addresses, MAC addresses and such to my liking.
Luckily, I'm not a malicious person. Unfortunately, I'm not a genius, evil or good. I'm just this regular guy who's searching for the Next Big Thing.
For example, I've figured out that I can look at text and "enter" it on websites or other computer interfaces - I write down command sequences on pieces of paper and then think them into existence. I'm sure there's a better way and if I could hack my head, I would. However, most of the organic circuits are hard-wired. The professor promises an upgrade with reconfigurable organic traces but it's a year or two out. For now, I spread myself over the Net and collect my thoughts when I need them, such as my gene sequence, the positive results from the SETI search (we are our own aliens but that's another subject) and other things I can't talk about right now (not just because they're government/corporate secrets but also because I'm not sure of their purposes, which might include having people like me finding these secrets and leaking them).
The professor has learned much during my experimentation for him. He believes that the unused probes will be able to stimulate brain tissue and keep it from deteriorating. I have no idea if he's right or wrong but I hope for his sake, he's right. When activated, the probes make me jerk and then drop to the ground like a rag doll because the professor didn't have specific loci to target in me. He uses the probes to "reset" me in cases where bugs in the organic circuits have caused an infinite loop. Where's a good test set when you need one?! Is there a WHQL for people like me?
Recently, the professor showed me a new device in the lab that lets him "print" organic circuits in large quantities. It's this breakthrough that has his corporate sponsor most excited.
To celebrate my second month as a cybertoy (cyborg sounds too retro and I'm not a cyberpunk), I sat down with the professor and his assistants to watch the movie, "Johnny Mnemonic." Thank goodness, the future is not as bleak as William Gibson depicted in 1981. Corporations come and go. Government administration leaders rise and fall. All is not lost. Besides, I don't live in the future. I live in the present, where Earth has circled the Sun from the time of the early hint at our species' potential to the time of our next species type. Change is constant. Today I'm part of the Next Big Thing and tomorrow I'll be ancient history. Hey, at least I'm having fun. Wanna play a game?
When I became a toy man, I opened myself up to experimentation, allowing my body to become a guinea pig.
I gave up my birthright as a natural human animal to join the cybernetic movement. I no longer belong to any group, not even the species into which I was born.
I exist outside of time and space because I no longer exist. I live everywhere and nowhere.
I am you and can see you anytime I want, having access to the World Wide Web 24 hours a day. I never sleep because I no longer have to sleep, only giving my natural biological parts the rejuvenating time they need while the part called "I" / "me" roams the universe.
Let me back up a bit. You see, one day not so long ago my curiosity about the advance of organic circuitry carried me into a research lab not far from here. At the lab, the professor in charge walked me through the work his team had performed, demonstrating the flexible organic circuits they had designed and built.
I asked him about the possibility of getting such circuitry through a metal detector, worried as I was at the time about terrorists using organic-based technology for destructive purposes. The professor had no assurances for me but promised to pass on my concerns to his corporate sponsor.
Instead, he showed me how he had implanted a small set of organic circuits into a sea creature which has simple nervous system functions. The circuitry gave the creature the feeling it had an extended body with built-in memories for pain-response behaviours.
The professor told me the company which had sponsored the research hoped to use the new technology to develop flexible displays. The professor, however, hoped to use the technology to overcome his pending dementia, knowing as he did that his DNA profile indicated his high-likelihood of developing brain deterioration.
At the time, the professor could not afford to experiment on himself and ethically felt challenged to search for volunteers.
Enter "me." I asked the professor about his plans. He showed me a set of documentation he had developed which would theoretically allow him to implant organic circuitry within a person's skull without adversely affecting a person's brain functionality. The circuitry contained probes which, like devices in use today for epileptics and schizophrenics, triggered pulses in specific brain locations but had no current use. More importantly, a wireless connection allowed the brain to "see" the Internet by sending images through the optic nerve and sound through the auditory nerve. A microphone picked up vocal chord vibrations and converted speech-to-text, allowing a person to surf the Web vocally. The professor looked forward to the day he could capture voice intent without vocalization so a person could use a computer without talking aloud. He had an idea for a cochlear implant that could pick up sounds outside the normal human hearing range.
The professor hoped to use brainwaves for other functionalities but had not fully developed his prototypes sufficiently to say what he'd do with them.
Well, what else have I got to do but sit here and pontificate?
So here I am with you now, looking to all the world like I'm talking to myself but actually dictating this blog to you in realtime. I can walk through most any city, town or suburban neighborhood and connect to the Web. I can find research bots or zombie computers and set them up to decode username/password combinations. I change my "computer" settings at will, playing with IP addresses, MAC addresses and such to my liking.
Luckily, I'm not a malicious person. Unfortunately, I'm not a genius, evil or good. I'm just this regular guy who's searching for the Next Big Thing.
For example, I've figured out that I can look at text and "enter" it on websites or other computer interfaces - I write down command sequences on pieces of paper and then think them into existence. I'm sure there's a better way and if I could hack my head, I would. However, most of the organic circuits are hard-wired. The professor promises an upgrade with reconfigurable organic traces but it's a year or two out. For now, I spread myself over the Net and collect my thoughts when I need them, such as my gene sequence, the positive results from the SETI search (we are our own aliens but that's another subject) and other things I can't talk about right now (not just because they're government/corporate secrets but also because I'm not sure of their purposes, which might include having people like me finding these secrets and leaking them).
The professor has learned much during my experimentation for him. He believes that the unused probes will be able to stimulate brain tissue and keep it from deteriorating. I have no idea if he's right or wrong but I hope for his sake, he's right. When activated, the probes make me jerk and then drop to the ground like a rag doll because the professor didn't have specific loci to target in me. He uses the probes to "reset" me in cases where bugs in the organic circuits have caused an infinite loop. Where's a good test set when you need one?! Is there a WHQL for people like me?
Recently, the professor showed me a new device in the lab that lets him "print" organic circuits in large quantities. It's this breakthrough that has his corporate sponsor most excited.
To celebrate my second month as a cybertoy (cyborg sounds too retro and I'm not a cyberpunk), I sat down with the professor and his assistants to watch the movie, "Johnny Mnemonic." Thank goodness, the future is not as bleak as William Gibson depicted in 1981. Corporations come and go. Government administration leaders rise and fall. All is not lost. Besides, I don't live in the future. I live in the present, where Earth has circled the Sun from the time of the early hint at our species' potential to the time of our next species type. Change is constant. Today I'm part of the Next Big Thing and tomorrow I'll be ancient history. Hey, at least I'm having fun. Wanna play a game?
Pocket Social Engineering Scientist
Some of you know that I keep a dusty crystal ball in my study. The last time I looked in it I saw the harbingers of the medical future which showed me that all of us will be required to visit neighborhood clinics for annual checkups; thus, I increased my investment in IT infrastructure technology providers who will specialize in servicing publicly-owned medical clinics. Regardless of the ongoing debate in the national political arena, economies of scale will be reached that will make medical IT departments worth their weight in bits and bytes (no doubt some people will find ways to turn them into profit centers, too).
I know that the government leaders want to push universal health coverage while more people are uninsured than in a long while due to the extended recessionary economic conditions but an improved economy will get more people on payrolls and into health insurance plans than a government-backed plan. I prefer the affordable health insurance method the government used in getting cost concessions from private companies on Medicare, Medicaid and prescription drugs. The time to push universal health plans that may require more taxes will come but only when the majority of Americans see themselves in prosperity and willing to share the load, not when many Americans are cutting their household budgets in fear of losing their jobs. In any case...
Today, I rub the crystal ball against my shirt, amazed at how quickly small particles of lint, skin, carpet fibers, and other components of dust cling to a smooth surface. I suppose one could figure out a way to repel dust that doesn't get sucked into the central air heating/cooling system, but I digress.
I see the smoke inside the ball clearing. There's a message. What does it say? "Your winning lottery numbers are: 7 14 18 21 27 34 54 57 -6-". What in the world? Oh, I get it. Let's have a national lottery that pays for universal health coverage. Wow! Why didn't I think of that?
Now, how do I figure out a way to make money from that crystal ball prediction? Hmm...
I know that the government leaders want to push universal health coverage while more people are uninsured than in a long while due to the extended recessionary economic conditions but an improved economy will get more people on payrolls and into health insurance plans than a government-backed plan. I prefer the affordable health insurance method the government used in getting cost concessions from private companies on Medicare, Medicaid and prescription drugs. The time to push universal health plans that may require more taxes will come but only when the majority of Americans see themselves in prosperity and willing to share the load, not when many Americans are cutting their household budgets in fear of losing their jobs. In any case...
Today, I rub the crystal ball against my shirt, amazed at how quickly small particles of lint, skin, carpet fibers, and other components of dust cling to a smooth surface. I suppose one could figure out a way to repel dust that doesn't get sucked into the central air heating/cooling system, but I digress.
I see the smoke inside the ball clearing. There's a message. What does it say? "Your winning lottery numbers are: 7 14 18 21 27 34 54 57 -6-". What in the world? Oh, I get it. Let's have a national lottery that pays for universal health coverage. Wow! Why didn't I think of that?
Now, how do I figure out a way to make money from that crystal ball prediction? Hmm...
20 July 2009
A Toy Life
Upon what do you focus your thoughts? This morning I finished reading the Maya Angelou book I bought the other day, having completed E.M. Cioran's book a day or so ago. In the news this morning I saw that Frank McCourt died during the weekend.
Right now, I charge a pack of NiMH batteries to use in a remote-controlled, electric-motor powered, RTF (Ready To Fly) glider that can climb close to 1000 m. I flew the glider often many years ago, letting the winds aloft and the loss of remote control drift the plane far away so I'd have to search for it - something in me wanted to give the plane a life and set it free, I guess. One day, I flew the plane as high as I could get it with the controller and let it go, determined not to look for it. A few weeks later, while flying a second plane, a man returned my plane to me - it just couldn't get free.
At the time that I and others played with these "park flyers," I created a website, Research Park Flyers, which will disappear in October per news from Yahoo that Geocities will close down in the fall.
These days, kids are playing with indoor sport flyers that can hover, twist, make box turns and carve other creative flying patterns that take virtuality out of video gaming and place it in your hands. The military, too, takes RC flying to other playing fields, launching UAVs to observe and participate in wargames, using technology beyond my budgetary dreams.
So, while new development makes hobbies smaller and cheaper, with battery packs changing from NiMH to LiPo to ???, I pull out my old early 21st century flying gear to be a grownup kid again on this relatively cool summer day in mid-July.
I saw a moving picture show a while back in which a man transformed from his humble middle-class life to the life of a wealthy man who owned a collection of rare, vintage automobiles. The man still carried his humble dreams in his head so he built a plastic model of one of the antique cars he owned. His wife and/or his butler didn't understand why he got more pleasure from assembling the scale model than from driving the real thing.
I suppose many of us are made of plastic, aren't we, with our toys and our humble dreams? I've concluded that's what separates me from others, in that the dreams I mold are just as good or even better than reality. My imaginary worlds have more richness, less dirt, more fun, less boredom, easier fixes, fewer ambiguities, and reversible time. I don't have to wait for consensus to be made, committees to form or arguments to be settled. I can be young or old, healthy or sick, everything all at once or nothing. I can be a materialistic, nihilistic futurist and a bifurcating combinationalist, if I want.
I don't know what or if any of that has to do with putting food on the table, perhaps contributing to why I'm as frugal (or cheap) as I tend to be. However, I am a toy man, pliable and poseable, living in a toy world. It's a wonderful toy life. Time to play!
Right now, I charge a pack of NiMH batteries to use in a remote-controlled, electric-motor powered, RTF (Ready To Fly) glider that can climb close to 1000 m. I flew the glider often many years ago, letting the winds aloft and the loss of remote control drift the plane far away so I'd have to search for it - something in me wanted to give the plane a life and set it free, I guess. One day, I flew the plane as high as I could get it with the controller and let it go, determined not to look for it. A few weeks later, while flying a second plane, a man returned my plane to me - it just couldn't get free.
At the time that I and others played with these "park flyers," I created a website, Research Park Flyers, which will disappear in October per news from Yahoo that Geocities will close down in the fall.
These days, kids are playing with indoor sport flyers that can hover, twist, make box turns and carve other creative flying patterns that take virtuality out of video gaming and place it in your hands. The military, too, takes RC flying to other playing fields, launching UAVs to observe and participate in wargames, using technology beyond my budgetary dreams.
So, while new development makes hobbies smaller and cheaper, with battery packs changing from NiMH to LiPo to ???, I pull out my old early 21st century flying gear to be a grownup kid again on this relatively cool summer day in mid-July.
I saw a moving picture show a while back in which a man transformed from his humble middle-class life to the life of a wealthy man who owned a collection of rare, vintage automobiles. The man still carried his humble dreams in his head so he built a plastic model of one of the antique cars he owned. His wife and/or his butler didn't understand why he got more pleasure from assembling the scale model than from driving the real thing.
I suppose many of us are made of plastic, aren't we, with our toys and our humble dreams? I've concluded that's what separates me from others, in that the dreams I mold are just as good or even better than reality. My imaginary worlds have more richness, less dirt, more fun, less boredom, easier fixes, fewer ambiguities, and reversible time. I don't have to wait for consensus to be made, committees to form or arguments to be settled. I can be young or old, healthy or sick, everything all at once or nothing. I can be a materialistic, nihilistic futurist and a bifurcating combinationalist, if I want.
I don't know what or if any of that has to do with putting food on the table, perhaps contributing to why I'm as frugal (or cheap) as I tend to be. However, I am a toy man, pliable and poseable, living in a toy world. It's a wonderful toy life. Time to play!
19 July 2009
Quartz Crystal Oscillator
"Two."
"What is your full name?"
"Two."
"How old are you?"
"Two."
"He really can say his full name. What is your full name?"
"Two. Twotwotwotwotwo." The little boy held up the forefinger on each hand and pushed them together.
I nodded. "That's right. One plus one equals two."
"Two."
"How old is your brother?"
"Two."
"Uh-huh."
The mother turned to her infant son. "No, you're nine months old, aren't you?"
The little boy bent the yellow pipe cleaner. "An arch."
The father turned to me. "Did he just say 'arch?'"
I nodded.
"There's a future engineer for you. We're designing flying buttresses at home." The father smiled at me.
I nodded again and looked down at the strawberry pretzel salad on my lunch plate. My wife and I had stopped at Blue Willow Cafe on our way to Chattanooga to look at some stone cuttings we'd ordered. I cut into the salad with my fork and imagined it was a soft piece of red-and-white rock that had transformed into edible food. Hey, if the moon can be made of green cheese, why can't our planet be made of fruit-flavored gelatin?
AND THEN IT HAPPENED.
I felt the ground under my feet get loose. The room started jiggling. The kids in the room were giggling. The parents were smiling. All was normal and yet...
I looked at my wife. She nodded, knowing without speaking that a major change had occurred. She silently signaled for me to order dessert, hoping that a last course of sugary food would return our planet to normal.
"Excuse me, miss. We'd like a Coca-Cola cake and an ooey gooey cake."
"Sure thing. Anything else? Oh, I'll get your plates for you, if you're done."
My wife and I nodded. We looked at the ceiling, the walls and the floor. The change was still there but what was it?
You see, I don't believe in magic. I live in the moment, which exists after the previous moment which had a practical explanation for its existence, leading to the next moment which is now the previous moment because I'm now in the next moment. In any case, every moment exists, doesn't exist, has an explanation, and then goes on to the next moment. Quite simple, really.
Despite all that, my wife and I have lived in moments in which some objects had no meaning and some effects had no apparent causes. You know, everyday life, like those days when a person walks up to you and says something totally incoherent for no reason whatsoever. But then some moments seem completely disconnected from previous and following moments. Like right now.
I look down at the dessert while I write this passage. The cake or pie or large slice of brownie is like a biscuit or soft scone with a layer of egg custard in the middle with tiny trails of caramel dancing across the plate and over the crust, while at the same time the boy, his brother, his mother and father across the room are holding imaginary forks in their hands and eating my dessert, then proceeding to eat my wife's. By the time I get around to jabbing my fork into the ooey gooey innards, there's really nothing left for my imagination to devour.
Thank goodness the Earth's crust is now a giant strawberry pretzel salad. That also explains this moment, the iron rust that makes clay red and the aluminum that permeates the ground that doesn't cause dementia.
A water clock becomes a pendulum clock becomes a quartz clock becomes an atomic clock seconds away from going off but never will because its half-life is like cutting a second into twos over and over again, getting infinitely closer to never striking midnight. Nothing makes sense anymore and because it's the next moment, nothing has to make sense because the previous moment no longer exists and I can't really prove it did. Can you?
Just because you and I stood together and had a conversation together doesn't mean we shared the same moment. None of us really knows what the other person saw or experienced. I see a baby begging for food. You look at your child for signs of significant behaviour changes. The person next to you thinks about her new great-grandchild. The server thinks about the food on the floor she has to clean up after you're gone. Which one of our moments is the right one? What about the people thinking about us in the other room, listening to our conversations and making comments to their companions in response, which we hear in the back of our thoughts and change our conversations without knowing why?
The earth changed to strawberry pretzel salad today. Did you see it? Did you bend down and eat it? Did your toddler taste it? Can you really believe it?
"What is your full name?"
"Two."
"How old are you?"
"Two."
"He really can say his full name. What is your full name?"
"Two. Twotwotwotwotwo." The little boy held up the forefinger on each hand and pushed them together.
I nodded. "That's right. One plus one equals two."
"Two."
"How old is your brother?"
"Two."
"Uh-huh."
The mother turned to her infant son. "No, you're nine months old, aren't you?"
The little boy bent the yellow pipe cleaner. "An arch."
The father turned to me. "Did he just say 'arch?'"
I nodded.
"There's a future engineer for you. We're designing flying buttresses at home." The father smiled at me.
I nodded again and looked down at the strawberry pretzel salad on my lunch plate. My wife and I had stopped at Blue Willow Cafe on our way to Chattanooga to look at some stone cuttings we'd ordered. I cut into the salad with my fork and imagined it was a soft piece of red-and-white rock that had transformed into edible food. Hey, if the moon can be made of green cheese, why can't our planet be made of fruit-flavored gelatin?
AND THEN IT HAPPENED.
I felt the ground under my feet get loose. The room started jiggling. The kids in the room were giggling. The parents were smiling. All was normal and yet...
I looked at my wife. She nodded, knowing without speaking that a major change had occurred. She silently signaled for me to order dessert, hoping that a last course of sugary food would return our planet to normal.
"Excuse me, miss. We'd like a Coca-Cola cake and an ooey gooey cake."
"Sure thing. Anything else? Oh, I'll get your plates for you, if you're done."
My wife and I nodded. We looked at the ceiling, the walls and the floor. The change was still there but what was it?
You see, I don't believe in magic. I live in the moment, which exists after the previous moment which had a practical explanation for its existence, leading to the next moment which is now the previous moment because I'm now in the next moment. In any case, every moment exists, doesn't exist, has an explanation, and then goes on to the next moment. Quite simple, really.
Despite all that, my wife and I have lived in moments in which some objects had no meaning and some effects had no apparent causes. You know, everyday life, like those days when a person walks up to you and says something totally incoherent for no reason whatsoever. But then some moments seem completely disconnected from previous and following moments. Like right now.
I look down at the dessert while I write this passage. The cake or pie or large slice of brownie is like a biscuit or soft scone with a layer of egg custard in the middle with tiny trails of caramel dancing across the plate and over the crust, while at the same time the boy, his brother, his mother and father across the room are holding imaginary forks in their hands and eating my dessert, then proceeding to eat my wife's. By the time I get around to jabbing my fork into the ooey gooey innards, there's really nothing left for my imagination to devour.
Thank goodness the Earth's crust is now a giant strawberry pretzel salad. That also explains this moment, the iron rust that makes clay red and the aluminum that permeates the ground that doesn't cause dementia.
A water clock becomes a pendulum clock becomes a quartz clock becomes an atomic clock seconds away from going off but never will because its half-life is like cutting a second into twos over and over again, getting infinitely closer to never striking midnight. Nothing makes sense anymore and because it's the next moment, nothing has to make sense because the previous moment no longer exists and I can't really prove it did. Can you?
Just because you and I stood together and had a conversation together doesn't mean we shared the same moment. None of us really knows what the other person saw or experienced. I see a baby begging for food. You look at your child for signs of significant behaviour changes. The person next to you thinks about her new great-grandchild. The server thinks about the food on the floor she has to clean up after you're gone. Which one of our moments is the right one? What about the people thinking about us in the other room, listening to our conversations and making comments to their companions in response, which we hear in the back of our thoughts and change our conversations without knowing why?
The earth changed to strawberry pretzel salad today. Did you see it? Did you bend down and eat it? Did your toddler taste it? Can you really believe it?
17 July 2009
News Flash
In a tactic unforeseen by the investment community, LawnChemPest today announced it was switching from servicing customers through the application of lawn fertilizers and pesticides to the growing and care of fruits, vegetables and livestock in suburban neighborhoods throughout the United States and Canada.
In a joint statement with Congressman Bethelia Marygold (G), Harold Moneymaker, the CEO of LawnChemPest, said, "We can no longer stand beside the ways of the old. My company, with a $5 billion dollar People's Health Initiative grant from the U.S. Government so generously provided by our Congresswoman, has stepped into the future, working with the fine people of North America to set a new course. From this day forward, you will look out your front window and see 'green gold' growing in your yard, turning once barren stretches of grass into cornucopias overflowing to feed our children. Your lawn will no longer be a hole into which you pore money month after month but a fountain of wealth waiting to be weeded and picked by the enthusiastic and forward-thinking employees of LawnChemPest!"
In other news, the WHO declared that large quantities of beer are to be served and consumed at every meal to counteract the spread of the H1N1 virus, unable to infect or spread between drunken humans. Farmers around the world are now filling troughs with beer to protect their swine stocks, in the process providing meat markets new barley-and-hops flavored ham, bacon and pickled pigs' feet. We say buy brewery stocks before their bubbles start bursting!
In a joint statement with Congressman Bethelia Marygold (G), Harold Moneymaker, the CEO of LawnChemPest, said, "We can no longer stand beside the ways of the old. My company, with a $5 billion dollar People's Health Initiative grant from the U.S. Government so generously provided by our Congresswoman, has stepped into the future, working with the fine people of North America to set a new course. From this day forward, you will look out your front window and see 'green gold' growing in your yard, turning once barren stretches of grass into cornucopias overflowing to feed our children. Your lawn will no longer be a hole into which you pore money month after month but a fountain of wealth waiting to be weeded and picked by the enthusiastic and forward-thinking employees of LawnChemPest!"
In other news, the WHO declared that large quantities of beer are to be served and consumed at every meal to counteract the spread of the H1N1 virus, unable to infect or spread between drunken humans. Farmers around the world are now filling troughs with beer to protect their swine stocks, in the process providing meat markets new barley-and-hops flavored ham, bacon and pickled pigs' feet. We say buy brewery stocks before their bubbles start bursting!
Obligated
As she opened her eyes, she sensed something familiar but the surroundings cleared the sensation from her thoughts.
Maroon, royal blue and goldenrod stripes held up the walls. Beeping sounds echoed around the room and drew her attention to the tubes dangling off her.
Where am I?
The room whispered 'hospital' in tiny letters. Easy guess but why?
She sensed that familiar thought again.
What is it?
No response.
Who am I?
No response.
She felt an itch and scratched her nose. The sensation pulsed in her brain again.
What is this?
More sensations flooding her brain with no memories or other comparisons with which she could discern their meaning.
Am I dead?
The room whispered 'hospital' in tiny letters. Easy guess but why?
A change in the sensation preceded a gentle knock on the door.
"Hello, Adelyne. How are you this evening?"
Adelyne? "I'm Adelyne?"
"Oh yes you are. Can you remember your full name?"
"Full name?"
"Guess we need to lower the pain medication. I'll just note that for the doctor."
Scribbling sounds.
"How are you feeling today?"
"I feel fine. Only..."
"Yes?"
"Why am I here?"
"The doctor'll be here later today to explain all that. I'm Megan, your floor nurse. Is there anything I can get you?"
"Do I have to wear all this plastic tubing?"
"Well, Adelyne, until the doctor gives the say-so, we can't do anything unless you have a drastic change in health. Is any of it making you uncomfortable?"
"Yes."
"Which one?"
"All of them."
"Oh, I see. Well, again, let's wait until the doctor arrives before taking anything out."
"At least tell me what they're for."
"Dear, you're not lucid enough for that. Let's just say you had a serious fainting spell so we're giving you fluids and medication to restore your equilibrium. How's that?"
"Okay, I guess."
"Good. I bet you can smell dinner by now, can't you?"
"Dinner?"
"Yes, indeed. We've got fresh fried chicken, mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas. Your favorite, according to your mother. Mmm-mmm...doesn't the smell of dill just ride up your nose?"
Adelyne took a deep breath. She felt sensations but nothing that matched the words dill, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, plastic tubing, starched scrubs, clean sheets or anything else she'd seen or heard about. What's the matter with me?
"I can't 'smell' anything."
"Oh, that's right, honey. Well, the doctor will explain all of that to you in good time. You just enjoy your dinner and he'll be here in a jiffy. Okay?"
Adelyne nodded. She sniffed the air. Lots of sensations but nothing that 'smelled.' She remembered the word smell and knew it meant the passing of chemicals from the air to the membranes in her nose and then converted to signals sent to her brain. But that was it. No memories of the moment in which one experiences the verbal sense, "to smell."
Adelyne ate in silence, enjoying the food in ways she'd never let herself, rolling pieces of chicken from one place on her tongue to another, pushing the peas against the insides of her cheeks, savoring bites in more than just masticating and swallowing.
Another knock. "Ah, Adelyne. You are fully awake. Very good. I'm Doctor Shah. I'm your hospitalist."
"Hospitalist?"
"Yes. You had a very bad event but you have recovered well. You have lost some brain function but we believe it will return. We will run more tests and then..."
"Bad event?"
"You had a cerebrovascular accident."
"A what?"
"Very sorry. I forget myself sometimes. You had a small stroke."
Stroke? Like what an old person has? "A stroke?!"
"Only a very small one. Your motor skills are completely unaffected. However, according to tests we ran yesterday, there is a small area of your brain that does not function at this time. You may not recall certain memories at this time. Other functional deficiencies may include the loss of taste and smell."
"But I can taste this food just fine."
"You can? Very good." More scribbling. "Would you describe your taste as good or worse than before."
"Better."
"Better? I see... And your sense of smell?"
"Umm...I don't know. I know what the word means but I can't seem to grasp the concept of smelling, as if..."
"Yes?"
"I don't know. That's my problem. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be 'smelling.'"
"Uh-huh. Well, we will see about that. In the meantime, the nurse mentioned you are having problems with the IV. Since you are eating your first real meal, I believe I will order the removal of them for now."
"Thank you, Doctor Shah."
"My pleasure." Doctor Shah sat on the end of the bed. "Now, as part of our new hospital procedures, I must explain your situation. For you to receive full health insurance coverage of your visit, it is your obligation to show to us before you leave your ability to return to full functionality, including your sense of smell."
"My what?"
"Yes, you see, full coverage means that upon your discharged you display no abnormalities or disabilities incurred before entering the hospital. Your voluntary admission to the hospital means you agree to become a regular citizen again, complete with all functionality returned to normal."
"Huh? You mean if I had a major stroke and couldn't return to normal, it'd cost me extra?"
"Adelyne, let's not worry about the details of what you are not experiencing. You have all of your rational faculties and bodily functions, minus one or two small issues that we fully believe we can clear up before you leave. I will let you finish the rest of your meal with your tastebud functionality at or only slightly above normal parameters. Further tests tomorrow will determine the timeframe in which you are obligated to recover your capability to smell."
"But, Doctor, I don't understand. Why does it matter if I can smell or not?"
"That, Adelyne, is a question you answered yourself. Your CV shows that you are a tester for the Everlasting Perfume company. Your company health insurance specifically states that coverage will be fully provided if and only if you can return to your job as a perfume tester. Otherwise, you will be expected to pay your hospital fee yourself. But let's not worry about that right now. You need to eat your meal and get a good night's sleep."
"But what about the new universal health coverage? Doesn't it pick up where my company's coverage left off?"
"Adelyne, I'm a medical doctor, not an insurance expert. However, I believe the government agreement with private insurance companies for universal coverage excludes overriding denial of services if the insured cannot fully recover or refuses to meet one's obligation to fully recover from illnesses contracted that led to one's hospitalization."
"My goodness. Is that all?" She laughed to herself satirically, thinking this was some absurd dream.
"We all are obligated to serve one another in full health, Adelyne, you as well as I. I came from a family who worked hard to put me through medical school, sacrificing many long hours for my good success. Not once did my family call in sick or have any excuse to stop working for me, operating both a small convenience store and hotel 24 hours a day. Their example should be an example for all of us. I am not worried about your small problem. You will smell many wonderful things before you know it. I am confident in your future." Doctor Shah patted Adelyne's feet and stood up.
As Doctor Shah walked out, Adelyne bent over her food tray and took deep sniffs. Okay, that one has a different sensation than this one and that one...
Maroon, royal blue and goldenrod stripes held up the walls. Beeping sounds echoed around the room and drew her attention to the tubes dangling off her.
Where am I?
The room whispered 'hospital' in tiny letters. Easy guess but why?
She sensed that familiar thought again.
What is it?
No response.
Who am I?
No response.
She felt an itch and scratched her nose. The sensation pulsed in her brain again.
What is this?
More sensations flooding her brain with no memories or other comparisons with which she could discern their meaning.
Am I dead?
The room whispered 'hospital' in tiny letters. Easy guess but why?
A change in the sensation preceded a gentle knock on the door.
"Hello, Adelyne. How are you this evening?"
Adelyne? "I'm Adelyne?"
"Oh yes you are. Can you remember your full name?"
"Full name?"
"Guess we need to lower the pain medication. I'll just note that for the doctor."
Scribbling sounds.
"How are you feeling today?"
"I feel fine. Only..."
"Yes?"
"Why am I here?"
"The doctor'll be here later today to explain all that. I'm Megan, your floor nurse. Is there anything I can get you?"
"Do I have to wear all this plastic tubing?"
"Well, Adelyne, until the doctor gives the say-so, we can't do anything unless you have a drastic change in health. Is any of it making you uncomfortable?"
"Yes."
"Which one?"
"All of them."
"Oh, I see. Well, again, let's wait until the doctor arrives before taking anything out."
"At least tell me what they're for."
"Dear, you're not lucid enough for that. Let's just say you had a serious fainting spell so we're giving you fluids and medication to restore your equilibrium. How's that?"
"Okay, I guess."
"Good. I bet you can smell dinner by now, can't you?"
"Dinner?"
"Yes, indeed. We've got fresh fried chicken, mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas. Your favorite, according to your mother. Mmm-mmm...doesn't the smell of dill just ride up your nose?"
Adelyne took a deep breath. She felt sensations but nothing that matched the words dill, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, plastic tubing, starched scrubs, clean sheets or anything else she'd seen or heard about. What's the matter with me?
"I can't 'smell' anything."
"Oh, that's right, honey. Well, the doctor will explain all of that to you in good time. You just enjoy your dinner and he'll be here in a jiffy. Okay?"
Adelyne nodded. She sniffed the air. Lots of sensations but nothing that 'smelled.' She remembered the word smell and knew it meant the passing of chemicals from the air to the membranes in her nose and then converted to signals sent to her brain. But that was it. No memories of the moment in which one experiences the verbal sense, "to smell."
Adelyne ate in silence, enjoying the food in ways she'd never let herself, rolling pieces of chicken from one place on her tongue to another, pushing the peas against the insides of her cheeks, savoring bites in more than just masticating and swallowing.
Another knock. "Ah, Adelyne. You are fully awake. Very good. I'm Doctor Shah. I'm your hospitalist."
"Hospitalist?"
"Yes. You had a very bad event but you have recovered well. You have lost some brain function but we believe it will return. We will run more tests and then..."
"Bad event?"
"You had a cerebrovascular accident."
"A what?"
"Very sorry. I forget myself sometimes. You had a small stroke."
Stroke? Like what an old person has? "A stroke?!"
"Only a very small one. Your motor skills are completely unaffected. However, according to tests we ran yesterday, there is a small area of your brain that does not function at this time. You may not recall certain memories at this time. Other functional deficiencies may include the loss of taste and smell."
"But I can taste this food just fine."
"You can? Very good." More scribbling. "Would you describe your taste as good or worse than before."
"Better."
"Better? I see... And your sense of smell?"
"Umm...I don't know. I know what the word means but I can't seem to grasp the concept of smelling, as if..."
"Yes?"
"I don't know. That's my problem. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be 'smelling.'"
"Uh-huh. Well, we will see about that. In the meantime, the nurse mentioned you are having problems with the IV. Since you are eating your first real meal, I believe I will order the removal of them for now."
"Thank you, Doctor Shah."
"My pleasure." Doctor Shah sat on the end of the bed. "Now, as part of our new hospital procedures, I must explain your situation. For you to receive full health insurance coverage of your visit, it is your obligation to show to us before you leave your ability to return to full functionality, including your sense of smell."
"My what?"
"Yes, you see, full coverage means that upon your discharged you display no abnormalities or disabilities incurred before entering the hospital. Your voluntary admission to the hospital means you agree to become a regular citizen again, complete with all functionality returned to normal."
"Huh? You mean if I had a major stroke and couldn't return to normal, it'd cost me extra?"
"Adelyne, let's not worry about the details of what you are not experiencing. You have all of your rational faculties and bodily functions, minus one or two small issues that we fully believe we can clear up before you leave. I will let you finish the rest of your meal with your tastebud functionality at or only slightly above normal parameters. Further tests tomorrow will determine the timeframe in which you are obligated to recover your capability to smell."
"But, Doctor, I don't understand. Why does it matter if I can smell or not?"
"That, Adelyne, is a question you answered yourself. Your CV shows that you are a tester for the Everlasting Perfume company. Your company health insurance specifically states that coverage will be fully provided if and only if you can return to your job as a perfume tester. Otherwise, you will be expected to pay your hospital fee yourself. But let's not worry about that right now. You need to eat your meal and get a good night's sleep."
"But what about the new universal health coverage? Doesn't it pick up where my company's coverage left off?"
"Adelyne, I'm a medical doctor, not an insurance expert. However, I believe the government agreement with private insurance companies for universal coverage excludes overriding denial of services if the insured cannot fully recover or refuses to meet one's obligation to fully recover from illnesses contracted that led to one's hospitalization."
"My goodness. Is that all?" She laughed to herself satirically, thinking this was some absurd dream.
"We all are obligated to serve one another in full health, Adelyne, you as well as I. I came from a family who worked hard to put me through medical school, sacrificing many long hours for my good success. Not once did my family call in sick or have any excuse to stop working for me, operating both a small convenience store and hotel 24 hours a day. Their example should be an example for all of us. I am not worried about your small problem. You will smell many wonderful things before you know it. I am confident in your future." Doctor Shah patted Adelyne's feet and stood up.
As Doctor Shah walked out, Adelyne bent over her food tray and took deep sniffs. Okay, that one has a different sensation than this one and that one...
16 July 2009
A Plan of Ataraxia
Who is the wisest among you? To whom do you turn for advice?
Today I am alone. Not lonely, mind you, but here by myself with no other humans I could hold a discussion between us and see what we lift up or drop down.
Do you officially belong to a group or feel you belong to a group (or groups)?
I owe no allegiance to any group, being born my only entrance fee paid to join our species.
I carry no secrets within me. I hold no sacred bonds.
I am tethered to or rather intertwined with others around me because of our planetary home and place in the solar system / galaxy / universe.
Otherwise, I have nothing wise, nothing new, nothing old, just myself stuck to a chair on a July morning in the muggy fog.
We have our troubles, our worries, if we want them for ourselves and to share with others.
Or we don't. What if we...
What if we listened rather than attacked? What if we talked before we fought?
A "what if" is a gnat or mosquito we too often swap away, unaware of its significance in the grand scheme of things.
Are you afraid of anything? Sometimes I am. I have stage fright in the sense that when I'm up in front of a group of people I'm afraid they won't enjoy what I'm doing to entertain them, no matter whether I'm presenting a corporate business plan, sales strategy, training seminar or set of college-level institutional instructions. Why am I afraid? Because they might see my own disinterest in myself and the words I'm presenting.
Is that why we fight each other? Is that why we'd rather jump up and down, grunt and carry on, shaking our fists and rattling our swords, because we're afraid others will see our fear of being boring?
The future doesn't belong to me. I gave it up to others a long time ago. I live in the present now. Every second is precious to me, irrecoverable and wonderful, observable or transparent, mine because it's all I've got.
I lost track of who I was supposed to be to others because I couldn't find interest in their ways of being (I found them not interesting to me because it required too much effort for me to pretend to be a reflection of them for their sakes, complete with their fears and envies, including fear and envy of a person like me).
I am me, which happens to be a reflection of you. But then I am not you, only me. Logic doesn't apply. Reason has no purpose. I was born and now I live in the moment. Nothing else applies. You are the most important person in the universe which means I'm not. I want you to believe in you without having me as an important piece of the jigsaw puzzle that makes up your life. I could look in your eyes and tell you how important you are but then I lose myself and how important I am to myself. I can't have both - it's my flaw which I'm willing to live with, believing that I am not only the most important person in the universe but the only person in the universe worth believing in.
Every person I meet is a god of perfection, the ideal embodiment of who that person is supposed to be at that moment. Every person is the rocks I collect, with inclusions and clouds that reflect light in a way no other single person or rock specimen can.
I walk the path of ataraxia now, letting the world flow off of me like water off a duck's back. To stay on the path means turning off some of the environment to which I was once tuned. Some of you want me to hear about your children's health issues, your marriage problems, your political opinions, your business plans, your likes and your dislikes. All of these are important to you and should be. I apologize for the appearance it gives but I walk in a fog now, less aware of others' personality traits and daily activities.
I belong to the rest of the universe just as much as I belong to the world of our species. I give the universe more of my time, letting the insects bite me, the sun burn me, the stars amaze me and wildlife teach me. You can have my part of the world of our species I used to worry about. I'm somewhere else now.
Today I am alone. Not lonely, mind you, but here by myself with no other humans I could hold a discussion between us and see what we lift up or drop down.
Do you officially belong to a group or feel you belong to a group (or groups)?
I owe no allegiance to any group, being born my only entrance fee paid to join our species.
I carry no secrets within me. I hold no sacred bonds.
I am tethered to or rather intertwined with others around me because of our planetary home and place in the solar system / galaxy / universe.
Otherwise, I have nothing wise, nothing new, nothing old, just myself stuck to a chair on a July morning in the muggy fog.
We have our troubles, our worries, if we want them for ourselves and to share with others.
Or we don't. What if we...
What if we listened rather than attacked? What if we talked before we fought?
A "what if" is a gnat or mosquito we too often swap away, unaware of its significance in the grand scheme of things.
Are you afraid of anything? Sometimes I am. I have stage fright in the sense that when I'm up in front of a group of people I'm afraid they won't enjoy what I'm doing to entertain them, no matter whether I'm presenting a corporate business plan, sales strategy, training seminar or set of college-level institutional instructions. Why am I afraid? Because they might see my own disinterest in myself and the words I'm presenting.
Is that why we fight each other? Is that why we'd rather jump up and down, grunt and carry on, shaking our fists and rattling our swords, because we're afraid others will see our fear of being boring?
The future doesn't belong to me. I gave it up to others a long time ago. I live in the present now. Every second is precious to me, irrecoverable and wonderful, observable or transparent, mine because it's all I've got.
I lost track of who I was supposed to be to others because I couldn't find interest in their ways of being (I found them not interesting to me because it required too much effort for me to pretend to be a reflection of them for their sakes, complete with their fears and envies, including fear and envy of a person like me).
I am me, which happens to be a reflection of you. But then I am not you, only me. Logic doesn't apply. Reason has no purpose. I was born and now I live in the moment. Nothing else applies. You are the most important person in the universe which means I'm not. I want you to believe in you without having me as an important piece of the jigsaw puzzle that makes up your life. I could look in your eyes and tell you how important you are but then I lose myself and how important I am to myself. I can't have both - it's my flaw which I'm willing to live with, believing that I am not only the most important person in the universe but the only person in the universe worth believing in.
Every person I meet is a god of perfection, the ideal embodiment of who that person is supposed to be at that moment. Every person is the rocks I collect, with inclusions and clouds that reflect light in a way no other single person or rock specimen can.
I walk the path of ataraxia now, letting the world flow off of me like water off a duck's back. To stay on the path means turning off some of the environment to which I was once tuned. Some of you want me to hear about your children's health issues, your marriage problems, your political opinions, your business plans, your likes and your dislikes. All of these are important to you and should be. I apologize for the appearance it gives but I walk in a fog now, less aware of others' personality traits and daily activities.
I belong to the rest of the universe just as much as I belong to the world of our species. I give the universe more of my time, letting the insects bite me, the sun burn me, the stars amaze me and wildlife teach me. You can have my part of the world of our species I used to worry about. I'm somewhere else now.
15 July 2009
New Book On the Open Market
Well, I finally got around to harvesting a few trees and published "A Space, A Period, and A Capital" at this location, here.
As I mentioned previously, I dedicate this book to those for whom silence forever bears grave witness, people who took the next bus stop, the next train station and exited life early. I have delved into their thought processes, read many books upon the subject and present to you my view of what such people face. To look into the abyss takes courage, to step off the edge and fall in takes but one step. Although death meets us at the bottom of the abyss into which we all must fall one day, I'm not ready for death. After covering this subject, I prefer the view from the top or even from the dangling end of a bungee cord, ready to be pulled back up. There's too much to see and too much to laugh at to take the plunge prematurely.
As I mentioned previously, I dedicate this book to those for whom silence forever bears grave witness, people who took the next bus stop, the next train station and exited life early. I have delved into their thought processes, read many books upon the subject and present to you my view of what such people face. To look into the abyss takes courage, to step off the edge and fall in takes but one step. Although death meets us at the bottom of the abyss into which we all must fall one day, I'm not ready for death. After covering this subject, I prefer the view from the top or even from the dangling end of a bungee cord, ready to be pulled back up. There's too much to see and too much to laugh at to take the plunge prematurely.
Have I posted the reviews I received of the novel excerpt I submitted for the last Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award? I don't remember. If not, here they are:
If we weren't told that Lee was checking himself into an inpatient Psych ward, this excerpt would have seemed scattered, messy, and rambling. However, because we are given that information right from the start we are given a small idea of how Lee's mind works. We don't know what is torturing him, but we know it is something big. Or perhaps it is just a lot of small things that are eating away at him. What exactly it is, we don't know, but because of the care the author took to set the scene, I sure want to find out.
I want Karen to get her husband back. I want Lee to give up the gun and let the pain go. But most of all, I want to know what the big secret it. I want the answer to the riddle.
"A Space, A Period, and A Capital" is too jumpy for a non-crazy reader. I realize that the narrative style is trying to imitate the world of a mentally ill person, but I really had a hard time getting into the story because it shifted gears so fast and so often. I would suggest that the author tone down the random stream of consciousness style. I think some stream of consciousness would be okay, but the author just needs to stay with one topic a little bit longer.
This story could be really interesting if the narrative quirk is worked out, particularly since "The Big Layoff" at Lee's firm is a relevant topic with the current state of the economy and the massive layoffs. I think examining what a layoff does to the psyche is interesting, and this narrative has an interesting perspective on it.
Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Reviews
ABNA Expert Reviewer
This is well written. The excerpt jumps around a lot, and there is a touch of paranoia, but in light of who the main character is, that fits well with the reality of what is going on in this story. Lee seems like a nice enough guy. A hard worker, has a loving wife, it sounds as if he has a nice home, but something is going on. Some sort of internal struggle. From what is written it could be an affair, perhaps he knows something about someone having an affair, or maybe he is just tired of keeping everyone's secret. Whatever it is, Lee is not happy. In fact Lee is so unhappy Lee wants to die.If we weren't told that Lee was checking himself into an inpatient Psych ward, this excerpt would have seemed scattered, messy, and rambling. However, because we are given that information right from the start we are given a small idea of how Lee's mind works. We don't know what is torturing him, but we know it is something big. Or perhaps it is just a lot of small things that are eating away at him. What exactly it is, we don't know, but because of the care the author took to set the scene, I sure want to find out.
I want Karen to get her husband back. I want Lee to give up the gun and let the pain go. But most of all, I want to know what the big secret it. I want the answer to the riddle.
ABNA Expert Reviewer
"A Space, A Period, and A Capital" starts with Lee, the protagonist, and his wife sitting in a hospital waiting room, where they are waiting for Lee to be admitted to the psychiatric ward. Lee has just tried to commit suicide again, so he's checking in. Lee then proceeds to take the reader on a roundabout assessment of his life, his job, and why he is suicidal. The excerpt ends with Lee being admitted, and him being paranoid that the hospital is already watching him."A Space, A Period, and A Capital" is too jumpy for a non-crazy reader. I realize that the narrative style is trying to imitate the world of a mentally ill person, but I really had a hard time getting into the story because it shifted gears so fast and so often. I would suggest that the author tone down the random stream of consciousness style. I think some stream of consciousness would be okay, but the author just needs to stay with one topic a little bit longer.
This story could be really interesting if the narrative quirk is worked out, particularly since "The Big Layoff" at Lee's firm is a relevant topic with the current state of the economy and the massive layoffs. I think examining what a layoff does to the psyche is interesting, and this narrative has an interesting perspective on it.
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