I picture myself standing on a beach looking out to the ocean. Sometimes it is sunny and sometimes it is overcast; one moment day, the next night. On occasion, my friends and I are wading or splashing about, no more a part of the ocean than we normally are of the land or sky. The only constants of my vision are the waves. They rise and they fall, unaware of my wandering gaze, sliding unconcerned around the obstructions that my friends and I present. Without fail each wave rises too high and moves too quickly. It crashes down and recedes, feeding the next wave in the chain. Each wave, I think, is no more than a tendency of plethora water molecules reacting to one another, but that water undergoes a change; at moments it truly becomes the wave. The waves do not understand the water of which they are composed, just as the water is helpless to overcome the indomitable force that this undulating cycle represents. The waves are but a pattern in which the water is trapped. I look out upon my imaginary ocean, feeling great empathy for its vast and impotent water, and I ask myself for a moment if this is how God sees us.
I've got my third speech on quantum computing due tomorrow. As much as I don't want to kick downward that last extensive post, I really feel the need to write, in part to further procrastinate, waiting until necessity forces a stronger impetus to work upon me than it is now, and in part because I've had a night. I got a full dose of rest yesterday, which allowed me to recover from the mental gauntlet I suffered two nights ago (or three if you're in to the hour thing). I got up today, did some Tae Kwon Do, played with my dog for a bit, and listened to set list music. I read a small portion of the last real Dune book; the portion small because I'm trying to extend and thus savor the closing events/arguments of the series. None of this was very satisfying, overall. I called Phillip and got a null response. I called Brad and left a message. I called Jill and was invited to Lipsynch, a Fraternity/Sorority/Organizational competition at Rollins involving, you guessed it, lip synching. It was overall pretty lame, to be honest, but the event itself was secondary to hanging out anyway. I picked Cherie out of the crowd and she and Brad and I went to go play pool. We did so, and it was good. Cherie went home, Brad went to an emergency Pinehurst meeting, and I thought I was going home. Kevin and Phillip, however, called to invite us to Denny's, and Brad and Molly and I eventually complied. I was concerned about this because I was beginning to have a panicked sensation, much moreso than the simple need to write my speech should have provided, but I had no idea of its source.
I had a huge freaking paragraph explaining some things, but I scrapped it. Long story short, I was very comfortable once we got to Denny's. Because I wasn't preoccupied with other nonsense, I figured out what was bothering me. Oh yeah, and I didn't get charged for my drink, so I left that money for the tip. I'll be out of town until Sunday, so start hatching in my absence.
There it goes... I have to start my speech now. Good night everyone, and take care.
Man oh man. I've lost three of my last four attempted posts, one because the server died, one because I clicked the Strongbad Email link in TJ's profile that took over the window, and one for general stupidity with the back button. A less stubborn man would write in a text file and then copy it over when done, but since it's just a blague, I don't much see the point.
Jackie: awesome job with Video Game night last night. For the rest of you she was the (for all I could tell) prime organizer of this video game competition/get-together in the down-under at Rollins last night. They had Soul Caliber on Dreamcast, Smash Brothers for the Gamecube, and Halo for XBox. On top of that, there was Dance Dance set up with a PA on a huge freaking projector screen, as well as some karaoke which Brad and I, among others, could not resist. There were a ton of people in attendance and some overall glee. Prior to all of this Chris and Odile ran a program on Salsa and Merengue dancing, which was also a blast. I ran in to Cherie there again, a person who left an indelible impression on me when we met a month or so ago. It's good to be reminded of such things. After all this (my mind jumping around like a rubber ball is a sure sign that I haven't slept enough... i'll get to that), Brad and I met Phillip up at Rocky's where we played a ton of air hockey, some Time Crisis, and some rally DDR. It was fun as usual. After dropping Brad off, I got home in time to be yelled at by my mother for--get this--planning on not bagging the leaves.
Back up a bit. Yesterday she woke me up at seven in the morning to tell me to rake the leaves. I couldn't get back to sleep. The night before, I had not only stayed out late after three and a half hours of Tae Kwon Do, but I read the second half of Heretics of Dune before finally dropping out. This left me on two working hours of sleep and as frustrated as I have been in a good long while over the fact that this mission could have been just as easily stated in a note. When I realized the futility of rolling around in bed, I got up and raked her leaves in to piles. It was hot. I was exhausted. I decided that I would bag them later. I came in and read the first third or so of Chapterhouse Dune. I ran to Home Depot and picked up some toilet repair supplies and had put an hour or so of effort in to fixing the one in my bathroom when she came in and yelled at me for letting my lunch, the one she didn't bother telling me she prepared, get cold. I put my wrench down and ate the cold lunch, too mentally tired to argue. Finally, my savior Brad called to remind me about the dance program. I showered, left, and carried out the aforementioned chain of events, glad to be out of the house that angst built. I returned with every intent of bagging the leaves. With the sun down and the hateful things already piled up, it would have been a piece of cake. Unfortunately, contrary to my knowledge, I had no such intent. Apparently, I had raked the leaves in to piles only to emphasize their unruly presence, and had no intent whatsoever of doing anything with them. The idea that it would be easier to bag them without the sun and its only-slightly-less-oppressive-than-my-mother's glare beating down upon me was promptly called bullshit, as was the idea that I hadn't slept very well the night before. She said she woke me up to tell me because had she written a note I would not have read it, and if I had I would not have done it. I was further assaulted for not cleaning the bathroom, a laughable thought if one has read my form versus substance rant, considering that rather than cleaning the bathroom I spent my day trying to make it function. Fortunately, to quote Brad, I am very good at cutting off my emotions, otherwise the night bagging might not have been worth its benefits. Sometimes, though, I truly tire of making excuses for people.
One thing that I like about Kevin and Phillip is the ease with which we are able to have philosophical discussions. I argue consistently that the physicist and the philosopher are in the exact same business, but even though physics discussions generally upset Phillip (perhaps intimidate or bore are better, and both more accurate, terms), we can discuss philosophical concepts freely and enthusiastically. The specific discussion we had two nights ago at Denny's involved sources of frustration.
Phillip is not offended by anything. Let me say here that the world would be a carnival if more shared his views. His sources of frustration are those people who are offended, unduly he feels, by the things people are innocently prone to say. The real issue here, as I see it, is one of identity. Many people define themselves in a very rigid fashion, which is in absolute contradiction with the very abstract means through which the mind operates. When a person who identifies themselves solely by beliefs hears those beliefs come under attack, the larger attack is transitively cast upon that person with all the relative weight such a shift implies. A tension is generated when the offended individual responds on an inevitably personal level to the blanket attack. I've met very few humans who deal well with criticism, very often myself included; it's simply not a socially acceptable phenomenon in this country, and this leaves most of us sorely lacking practice. The offensive statement reveals a fundamental difference in belief between two people, something too often viewed as a point of contention or natural, albeit irrational, fear, rather than an opportunity for reconciliation and understanding.
Kevin is frustrated by stupidity, voluntary ignorance, etc... I really wish I had more to say on the matter, but I've expressed my opinion on this plenty of times. To recap: stupidity is a waste of life.
Ready for this one? My frustration is racial shortsightedness. As a preface, once I had babbled to Kevin and Phillip long enough, Kevin suggested that I write an essay for the ubiquitous "them" ("they" like to read essays, I hear). I don't know who would be interested in mucking through a half-assed exercise in futility by yours truly, but since my journals have often turned in to science briefs on my psychological experiments, I'm considering putting all of my nonsense in one place so it will be easier to find when I'm failing. Welcome to part one, revision zero.
I'll begin by posing the age old question, "Who am I?" on behalf of the human race. Since no answer has been forthcoming over the generations, it's past time we take the argument into our own hands. On a basic scientific level, humans are mammals. We are warm-blooded. We reproduce sexually. We're generally omnivorous. Our physiological definition, the subtle core of our personal nuances and the source of our diversity, is written on chains of protein. Wait, genetics, with it's two-to-the-whatever possible permutations, defines us as a species? Does that response not trivialize our multitude accomplishments? Who in their right mind would provide so narrow a response to so vast a question? Genetic code doesn't speak of great mathematicians, musicians, painters, philosophers, or writers. It does not tell the epic tales of men who conquered the known world, romantic tales of love and sacrifice, or inspiring tales of man reaching out to the stars. There is no denying, however, that it is our heritage. From the cradle of civilization onward we have evolved, tempering our genes and trading out our bad qualities for better ones as the cycle of natural selection continues. A child, a potential person with neither name nor accomplishment, is no more than the catalogue number of its particular genetic permutation. Humanity, however, is certainly much more than the sum of its ever-breeding components.
This dichotomy presents itself as a natural factor of sentience. At some point in social evolution, perhaps upon a divergence into clashing cultures, perhaps upon the discovery of genetic code, perhaps when someone finally poses the very argument I am presenting, natural selection becomes ineffectual. By definition, natural selection requires random breeding potential to eventually produce ideal gene combination(s). Between the geographical, political, financial, and cultural boundaries of our world, there are now insurmountable obstacles to the random breeding scheme. Natural selection can no longer be the key to our evolution; we have created sociopolitical boundaries that lead us to evolutionary stagnation.
It is through our mental capacity, our sentience, that we have blocked the source of evolution from which we ourselves were fostered. However, this problem carries with it the solution. At this point in our development, we have the ability to assume control of our evolution, no longer in genes but in the mind as well. As members of the most advanced race this planet has produced, it is our responsibility to ensure our own survival. The first step, the hardest one, is accepting that responsibility personally.
I'll leave you with that for now. I'm around tonight and Thursday. Friday and Saturday of this weekend I'll be in Miami at the AMS test/ceremony/party. I'll probably be around Sunday as well. Peace.
