Science fiction stories, whether portrayed in movies or books, often feature the idea of what humankind would do if it encountered another intelligent species in the universe. Would our collective consciousness be able to handle the social consequences of realizing that we are not alone? Would the other species be friendly or hostile? Would the other species see us as friendly or hostile (or even intelligent)? Would we be able to establish communication with beings from other star systems, or would we simply have to content ourselves with the knowledge that someone else is out there?
These are interesting questions, and they often make for good stories. But sometimes I wonder what humankind would do if, after developing interstellar travel, we encountered another planet with other carbon-based life forms and discovered that none of them met our criteria for being an intelligent species. If we found a planet like Earth, with its own versions of the African savannas, the South American rain forests, the Middle Eastern deserts, and the North American plains, and if we discovered that those environments each had their own proliferation of plants and animals that vaguely resembled organisms on Earth (as statistically improbable as this scenario might be), how would we react?
I think, if we found unintelligent life on another planet, we would try to eat it.
It makes sense. A team of astronauts—with or without civilians—would have been traveling through the void of space for a long time, subsisting on freeze-dried food, concentrated drinks, and possibly some scrawny vegetables grown in cramped hydroponics gardens. They would likely not be carrying more food than they would need for the journey, leaving more room for the necessary fuel and air. Not only would these people be craving some variety in their diets, they would be a little on the hungry side, and I’m sure the newly-discovered flora and fauna would have some culinary appeal.
I’m not saying we’d promptly wipe out entire species and gorge ourselves in their remains. I’m just saying that scientific conquest would not put up much of a fight when challenged by a hungry extraterrestrial colonist who has come face-to-face with a potential meal. I think we’d do a superficial examination of the plants or animals we first met, determine that they were neither intelligent nor dangerous, and cook them up.
My idea isn’t all that far-fetched. Look at some science fiction stories in which advanced alien races visit Earth. In these fictional representations, isn’t that exactly what some of them try to do us?
09 February 2011
16 January 2011
Acidity
I like pineapple. I like the shape, the color, and the taste. I also like the idea that it can be used in so many different types of foods. I’ve had pineapple plain (fresh and canned), in fruit salads, in ice creams and sherbets, in cakes, on salads, on sandwiches and burgers, mixed with various meats and vegetables in toppings for rice, as a pizza topping, and as a beverage. It doesn’t play well with Jell-O, but I can live with that.
However, it is remarkably acidic. After eating enough of it fresh, I’ve found that my lips feel raw and that the roof of my mouth has a burning sensation for some time. Today, I cut a fresh pineapple, and I was reminded that even a tiny amount of pineapple juice on a negligible cut in the skin (barely more than a paper cut) causes disproportionate amounts of pain. I learned that a long time ago while working for a pizza parlor, but I guess I somehow forgot over the years.
It also appears that a while fungus can grow in crevices on the outside of the fruit without affecting the edible parts inside.
I’ve just got to find an easier way to cut a fresh pineapple.
And I wonder if anybody’s ever tried to make a pineapple pie…
However, it is remarkably acidic. After eating enough of it fresh, I’ve found that my lips feel raw and that the roof of my mouth has a burning sensation for some time. Today, I cut a fresh pineapple, and I was reminded that even a tiny amount of pineapple juice on a negligible cut in the skin (barely more than a paper cut) causes disproportionate amounts of pain. I learned that a long time ago while working for a pizza parlor, but I guess I somehow forgot over the years.
It also appears that a while fungus can grow in crevices on the outside of the fruit without affecting the edible parts inside.
I’ve just got to find an easier way to cut a fresh pineapple.
And I wonder if anybody’s ever tried to make a pineapple pie…
08 January 2011
Telecommunications
I was at the library today. I found myself in the children’s books section, which is an impressive little corner of the library full of picture books and simple story books and even board books for babies. A variety of toys mingle with the bookshelves, many of them more elaborate versions of what one might find in a pediatrician’s office. There’s even a rack of puppets which are also available for check-out.
Two booth-style phones have been set up at separate ends of a long bookshelf. They’re low enough for kids to reach them and play with them, and they look real. It appears that they are connected to each other somehow so that kids can use them to talk to each other, but I’m fairly sure there’s no connection to outside phone lines. Most of the time, I just see one kid pick up one phone, tell another kid to go pick up the other phone, say “Hello” into the receiver, laugh, and move on to something else. The kid I noticed today had a more… elaborate conversation.
If I had to guess his age—which is something I seldom do accurately—I would put him at about four years old, give or take. He had picked up one of the phones and was holding it to his ear while looking around. He mumbled something into the mouthpiece. He looked around the room suspiciously again. Then he emphatically said into the phone, “No! No, no, no! I said no!” He cast one more suspicious glance around the room before slightly raising his volume, intensifying his tone, and swearing into the phone. His mini-tirade, which consisted of a long train of “F-bombs” interspersed with “shut up” and “no,” lasted about a minute. Then he calmly said, “Later,” and casually returned the receiver to its hanger before picking up a book and wandering off toward another section of the library.
Naturally, I had to wonder about this scene.
Was the kid angry about something? Was he venting his frustrations into the phone? Did he feel better afterward, as if he had conducted a little self-therapy?
Moreover, how did he get that vocabulary?
While I could easily be wrong on this one, I have a hypothesis. I think he has heard one of his parents speak in that manner on the phone, using those words and tones. I think he has witnessed such phone conversations regularly and has come to believe that they are common and normal. Without understanding what he was really saying, I think he used this toy phone to play out what he has seen so often and thinks of it as nothing more than mimicry.
At least, I hope it’s something like that. I do not like the idea of a four-year-old using such language to express his anger because that’s how he really feels.
Two booth-style phones have been set up at separate ends of a long bookshelf. They’re low enough for kids to reach them and play with them, and they look real. It appears that they are connected to each other somehow so that kids can use them to talk to each other, but I’m fairly sure there’s no connection to outside phone lines. Most of the time, I just see one kid pick up one phone, tell another kid to go pick up the other phone, say “Hello” into the receiver, laugh, and move on to something else. The kid I noticed today had a more… elaborate conversation.
If I had to guess his age—which is something I seldom do accurately—I would put him at about four years old, give or take. He had picked up one of the phones and was holding it to his ear while looking around. He mumbled something into the mouthpiece. He looked around the room suspiciously again. Then he emphatically said into the phone, “No! No, no, no! I said no!” He cast one more suspicious glance around the room before slightly raising his volume, intensifying his tone, and swearing into the phone. His mini-tirade, which consisted of a long train of “F-bombs” interspersed with “shut up” and “no,” lasted about a minute. Then he calmly said, “Later,” and casually returned the receiver to its hanger before picking up a book and wandering off toward another section of the library.
Naturally, I had to wonder about this scene.
Was the kid angry about something? Was he venting his frustrations into the phone? Did he feel better afterward, as if he had conducted a little self-therapy?
Moreover, how did he get that vocabulary?
While I could easily be wrong on this one, I have a hypothesis. I think he has heard one of his parents speak in that manner on the phone, using those words and tones. I think he has witnessed such phone conversations regularly and has come to believe that they are common and normal. Without understanding what he was really saying, I think he used this toy phone to play out what he has seen so often and thinks of it as nothing more than mimicry.
At least, I hope it’s something like that. I do not like the idea of a four-year-old using such language to express his anger because that’s how he really feels.
06 January 2011
Primacy
I’m a geek. I know it, and I’m not afraid to admit it. Sometimes, though, I surprise myself with my geekiness.
I was part of a conversation in which somebody brought up Egyptian hieroglyphics. I started making a comment that required me to come up with an example of hieroglyphics that could conceivably be used in a modern setting. I was not quite able to stop the thought before speaking it, and I said, “Well, it’s not like you’re going to try to recreate the whole Stargate codex.”
Yeah, the first example of Egyptian writing I think of comes from a science fiction movie.
Now the question that arises is: Do I have an overly strong interest in science fiction (which I think is likely), or does the entertainment media have a more powerful influence on my thought processes than world history?
I was part of a conversation in which somebody brought up Egyptian hieroglyphics. I started making a comment that required me to come up with an example of hieroglyphics that could conceivably be used in a modern setting. I was not quite able to stop the thought before speaking it, and I said, “Well, it’s not like you’re going to try to recreate the whole Stargate codex.”
Yeah, the first example of Egyptian writing I think of comes from a science fiction movie.
Now the question that arises is: Do I have an overly strong interest in science fiction (which I think is likely), or does the entertainment media have a more powerful influence on my thought processes than world history?
01 January 2011
Red
I have 20/20 vision. I don’t see many pictures in which my eyes glow red.
My wife is visually impaired. Her eyes are affected by a condition called retinitis pigmentosa which involves the gradual death of some of the eyes’ photoreceptors. I often have to edit photos of her to remove the red glow from her pupils.
Is it possible that the flash from a camera could serve as an indicator of visual problems?
The red glowing eyes in photographs are caused by a close flash in low-light conditions when the subjects pupils are dilated (to capture enough light to see clearly) and do not have enough time to contract in response to the bright flash, allowing the light to reflect off the blood sources behind the retina.
While I have only a minimal understanding of ocular biology and structure, I consider it a possibility that the more frequent red eye effect I see in pictures of my wife might be due to her visual impairments. If the photoreceptors are dying and not being replaced as a result of her condition, then the retina might be thinner, thus allowing more of the light from the flash to pass through it than my normal retina would allow. Or it could simply be that her pupils are regularly more dilated than mine because her eyes require more light to function properly anyway.
I see the same frequent red eye effect in pictures of my young son, but articles I’ve read seem to indicate that children’s eyes are generally more likely to cause the phenomenon than adults’ eyes, so my idea of using a camera flash as a kind of rudimentary diagnostic aid clearly would not work in all circumstances.
My wife is visually impaired. Her eyes are affected by a condition called retinitis pigmentosa which involves the gradual death of some of the eyes’ photoreceptors. I often have to edit photos of her to remove the red glow from her pupils.
Is it possible that the flash from a camera could serve as an indicator of visual problems?
The red glowing eyes in photographs are caused by a close flash in low-light conditions when the subjects pupils are dilated (to capture enough light to see clearly) and do not have enough time to contract in response to the bright flash, allowing the light to reflect off the blood sources behind the retina.
While I have only a minimal understanding of ocular biology and structure, I consider it a possibility that the more frequent red eye effect I see in pictures of my wife might be due to her visual impairments. If the photoreceptors are dying and not being replaced as a result of her condition, then the retina might be thinner, thus allowing more of the light from the flash to pass through it than my normal retina would allow. Or it could simply be that her pupils are regularly more dilated than mine because her eyes require more light to function properly anyway.
I see the same frequent red eye effect in pictures of my young son, but articles I’ve read seem to indicate that children’s eyes are generally more likely to cause the phenomenon than adults’ eyes, so my idea of using a camera flash as a kind of rudimentary diagnostic aid clearly would not work in all circumstances.
30 December 2010
Ice
Today was clear and cold. That proved problematic for me.
As part of my bike commute to work, I make a left turn through a busy intersection. I usually move into the left turn lane and turn with traffic on a green arrow, as instructed by my state’s bike safety manual. Today was no different… until I reached the middle of the intersection.
A patch of black ice had formed on the asphalt, and I didn’t see it. I started to turn. I had a fraction of a second to realize that something wasn’t quite right about the way my wheels were responding before the bike slipped right out from under me.
For a moment, I felt like I was in some kind of action movie. More than once I’ve seen a scene in which a motorcycle rider turns sharply and drops, letting the bike slide across the ground usually to avoid some deadly collision or to create an explosion. Similarly, though without the flair, I sat down hard on the asphalt and watched for a second or two as my bike skidded across more ice, wheels-first, in the general direction of the opposing traffic (which was still stopped by a red light).
I stood up quickly, grabbed my ride, and rushed it to the sidewalk. I think I even laughed while doing so, which was probably just a side-effect of the flood of epinephrine hitting my bloodstream. I was unhurt save for some minor impact-related pain in my left thigh. The bike was fine save for a scrape on the left pedal and a dislodged chain. It was easily fixed, and I was on my way again.
I think it was more embarrassing than anything else. I was confidently and capably riding through an intersection one moment; I was sitting on the ground and blocking traffic the next moment with a dozen pairs of headlights pointed straight at me. On one hand, I’m glad I was able to get right up and out of the way so quickly. On the other hand, I almost feel like I should have made more of a show of it by looking up at some of the motorists, shrugging nonchalantly, and laughing at my predicament.
I may know how to drive on icy roads. I guess I haven’t quite learned how to properly bike on them yet.
As part of my bike commute to work, I make a left turn through a busy intersection. I usually move into the left turn lane and turn with traffic on a green arrow, as instructed by my state’s bike safety manual. Today was no different… until I reached the middle of the intersection.
A patch of black ice had formed on the asphalt, and I didn’t see it. I started to turn. I had a fraction of a second to realize that something wasn’t quite right about the way my wheels were responding before the bike slipped right out from under me.
For a moment, I felt like I was in some kind of action movie. More than once I’ve seen a scene in which a motorcycle rider turns sharply and drops, letting the bike slide across the ground usually to avoid some deadly collision or to create an explosion. Similarly, though without the flair, I sat down hard on the asphalt and watched for a second or two as my bike skidded across more ice, wheels-first, in the general direction of the opposing traffic (which was still stopped by a red light).
I stood up quickly, grabbed my ride, and rushed it to the sidewalk. I think I even laughed while doing so, which was probably just a side-effect of the flood of epinephrine hitting my bloodstream. I was unhurt save for some minor impact-related pain in my left thigh. The bike was fine save for a scrape on the left pedal and a dislodged chain. It was easily fixed, and I was on my way again.
I think it was more embarrassing than anything else. I was confidently and capably riding through an intersection one moment; I was sitting on the ground and blocking traffic the next moment with a dozen pairs of headlights pointed straight at me. On one hand, I’m glad I was able to get right up and out of the way so quickly. On the other hand, I almost feel like I should have made more of a show of it by looking up at some of the motorists, shrugging nonchalantly, and laughing at my predicament.
I may know how to drive on icy roads. I guess I haven’t quite learned how to properly bike on them yet.
29 December 2010
Characterization
I read a lot of books. When I read fiction, I want believable characters. I can think of several ways in which an author could ruin a good story, but one of the most prominent ways is to write unrealistic characters.
I recently read Sir Apropos of Nothing by Peter David. It was a fairly standard fantasy-style adventure story with several well-crafted satirical passages. The main character was a unique person. He was a kind of anti-hero who did not want fame and glory, who did not want to save the princess or the world, and who really didn’t want much more than to take care of his own personal needs. Through a highly amusing series of events, he finds himself doing much more than he had planned and getting much more than he wanted. I can’t say that he always reacted the way I expected him to react because some of his actions were unorthodox, even in a fantasy realm. However, everything he did was believable because it fit with the personality and history the author had established for him, such as repeatedly attempting to just take the money and run when financial compensation or reward was offered to him.
I followed that book with a science fiction novel called Back to the Moon by Homer H. Hickam, Jr. The science in the book was reasonably sound, involving retrofitting a single large engine onto a NASA shuttle while in orbit and taking the shuttle to the moon to find a rare substance that could provide fuel for clean and safe energy production on earth. Toward the end of the book, I did start to get a little tired of the continuous miraculous escapes from certain-death situations, but overall, I enjoyed the narrative of the adventure. Or, rather, I would have enjoyed it if I didn’t have to put up with such flat characters. They had clear personalities, but their actions did not match their motivations. One main character, Jack, had lost his wife in a tragic accident, and the author repeatedly described how much Jack missed his wife terribly, couldn’t think of being with any other woman, and even scoffed at death because of how little he felt he had left to lose. Another main character, Penny, openly admitted to a strong dislike of men, and her actions toward all the other male characters she met seemed to solidify that. Then, suddenly, while on the shuttle somewhere between Earth and the Moon, Jack and Penny decided to hook up and were portrayed as lovers for the remainder of the story, even with more mentions of Jack’s deceased wife and Penny’s bad encounters with men. The relationships were forced (at best), and I frequently found myself wanting to argue with the author about what a real person would do in these fictional situations.
A story is only as good as the people in it.
I recently read Sir Apropos of Nothing by Peter David. It was a fairly standard fantasy-style adventure story with several well-crafted satirical passages. The main character was a unique person. He was a kind of anti-hero who did not want fame and glory, who did not want to save the princess or the world, and who really didn’t want much more than to take care of his own personal needs. Through a highly amusing series of events, he finds himself doing much more than he had planned and getting much more than he wanted. I can’t say that he always reacted the way I expected him to react because some of his actions were unorthodox, even in a fantasy realm. However, everything he did was believable because it fit with the personality and history the author had established for him, such as repeatedly attempting to just take the money and run when financial compensation or reward was offered to him.
I followed that book with a science fiction novel called Back to the Moon by Homer H. Hickam, Jr. The science in the book was reasonably sound, involving retrofitting a single large engine onto a NASA shuttle while in orbit and taking the shuttle to the moon to find a rare substance that could provide fuel for clean and safe energy production on earth. Toward the end of the book, I did start to get a little tired of the continuous miraculous escapes from certain-death situations, but overall, I enjoyed the narrative of the adventure. Or, rather, I would have enjoyed it if I didn’t have to put up with such flat characters. They had clear personalities, but their actions did not match their motivations. One main character, Jack, had lost his wife in a tragic accident, and the author repeatedly described how much Jack missed his wife terribly, couldn’t think of being with any other woman, and even scoffed at death because of how little he felt he had left to lose. Another main character, Penny, openly admitted to a strong dislike of men, and her actions toward all the other male characters she met seemed to solidify that. Then, suddenly, while on the shuttle somewhere between Earth and the Moon, Jack and Penny decided to hook up and were portrayed as lovers for the remainder of the story, even with more mentions of Jack’s deceased wife and Penny’s bad encounters with men. The relationships were forced (at best), and I frequently found myself wanting to argue with the author about what a real person would do in these fictional situations.
A story is only as good as the people in it.
25 December 2010
Compatibility
Today I received many exciting gifts from friends and family, and I gave them things that I hope they will enjoy as well. One gift from my wife was particularly noteworthy. It was a Christmas tree ornament in which I had recently shown interest. I want to tell its story.
A few weeks ago, we attended a Christmas event that included a display of many “Nativity” or “Creche” scenes depicting the most widely accepted story of the birth of Christ. Among those displays, I found one small ceramic figure that I found fascinating. It showed a baby boy, loosely wrapped in white cloth, laying in a manger of hay. Opposite the baby was a modern Santa Claus figure with the full white beard, red suit with white trim, and black boots. He had removed his hat and was clutching it to his chest, revealing a bald head as he knelt before the child. It was clear that the Santa Claus figure was humbling himself before the Christ child in reverence and respect.
The juxtaposition of the two iconic figures struck me first as an incompatibility. Many Christians often complain that the Christmas holiday, which is, among other things, a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, has become too “commercialized,” and they often cite Santa Claus as a culprit. They do not like the idea that a day they use a religious holiday has been usurped by a figure that, for some, can be seen to stand for greed and obsession with material possessions. This almost makes the Christmas holiday feel like 24 hours of Dissociative Identity Disorder. Santa Claus or Jesus Christ—one or the other, but never both.
But it seems to me that some short-sightedness has come into play here. The American version of Santa Claus is not the only one, and his modern image is far-removed from its origins. Santa Claus was not always seen as a magical fat man who lives to bribe children with toys in exchange for good behavior. His story started with that of the philanthropic Saint Nicholas, an early Christian who must have accepted the Biblical account of the birth, life, and death of Jesus Christ and who, given the opportunity, would naturally have knelt at the manger.
Even the modern story of Santa Claus is not meant to incite greed and condone bribery. It can be used as an example of generosity, which is a trait that often seems sorely lacking in our society.
Some people claim that Jesus Christ is a myth and those who believe in him sorely misguided. More claim that Santa Claus is also a myth and that thousands of children worldwide are deliberately led down paths of inevitable disappointment and disillusionment. However, if we can for just a moment accept that both figures do exist, is it really that great a stretch of the imagination to believe that Santa Claus is just a man (with extraordinary abilities and means) who wants to follow the example of Jesus Christ (whom he has accepted as the son of God and as his savior) by doing some good for the rest of humanity by bringing smiles to the faces of the world’s children?
The two stories can be compatible… if we let them.
A few weeks ago, we attended a Christmas event that included a display of many “Nativity” or “Creche” scenes depicting the most widely accepted story of the birth of Christ. Among those displays, I found one small ceramic figure that I found fascinating. It showed a baby boy, loosely wrapped in white cloth, laying in a manger of hay. Opposite the baby was a modern Santa Claus figure with the full white beard, red suit with white trim, and black boots. He had removed his hat and was clutching it to his chest, revealing a bald head as he knelt before the child. It was clear that the Santa Claus figure was humbling himself before the Christ child in reverence and respect.
The juxtaposition of the two iconic figures struck me first as an incompatibility. Many Christians often complain that the Christmas holiday, which is, among other things, a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, has become too “commercialized,” and they often cite Santa Claus as a culprit. They do not like the idea that a day they use a religious holiday has been usurped by a figure that, for some, can be seen to stand for greed and obsession with material possessions. This almost makes the Christmas holiday feel like 24 hours of Dissociative Identity Disorder. Santa Claus or Jesus Christ—one or the other, but never both.
But it seems to me that some short-sightedness has come into play here. The American version of Santa Claus is not the only one, and his modern image is far-removed from its origins. Santa Claus was not always seen as a magical fat man who lives to bribe children with toys in exchange for good behavior. His story started with that of the philanthropic Saint Nicholas, an early Christian who must have accepted the Biblical account of the birth, life, and death of Jesus Christ and who, given the opportunity, would naturally have knelt at the manger.
Even the modern story of Santa Claus is not meant to incite greed and condone bribery. It can be used as an example of generosity, which is a trait that often seems sorely lacking in our society.
Some people claim that Jesus Christ is a myth and those who believe in him sorely misguided. More claim that Santa Claus is also a myth and that thousands of children worldwide are deliberately led down paths of inevitable disappointment and disillusionment. However, if we can for just a moment accept that both figures do exist, is it really that great a stretch of the imagination to believe that Santa Claus is just a man (with extraordinary abilities and means) who wants to follow the example of Jesus Christ (whom he has accepted as the son of God and as his savior) by doing some good for the rest of humanity by bringing smiles to the faces of the world’s children?
The two stories can be compatible… if we let them.
23 December 2010
Appetite
Spiders do eat other spiders.
I’m sure I’ve read or heard that before, and I don’t suppose it should really come as much of a surprise to me. Still I was skeptical of this “fact” until today, in spite of knowing that some female spiders eat the males that come courting.
Cannibalism is not uncommon. Praying mantises eat their mates. Wild chimpanzees sometimes kill and eat other chimpanzees from rival social groups. Numerous animal species have been known to eat their own young. It may be rare, but humans do eat other humans on occasion.
I suppose it’s just surprising to actually see such a thing happen.
I was at my computer. I noticed a tiny spider (not much larger than the head of a pin) descending on a thread about two inches from the window frame. On the wall next to it was another spider that I recognized as the “jumping” variety (I have long been slightly unnerved by that type of spider because of their tendency to lean back, look at me, and sometimes even wave a leg or other appendage at me), which was two or three times the size of the other one. As the dangling spider slowly descended, the jumping spider would hop a little further down the wall. Suddenly, the jumping spider jumped (which should not have surprised me, considering the name of the creature, but it did anyway) away from the wall, caught the dangling spider, fell back to the wall thanks to an anchor line it had released as it jumped, and hopped a few more inches to the corner between the wall and the window frame.
Fascinating.
I did some research later and learned that this is perfectly normal behavior for jumping spiders. They are predators of other spiders and will typically drop an anchor before attacking. According to my research, they pose little or no threat to humans, and, if allowed to live in or near a house, can even significantly reduce the likelihood of more aggressive or dangerous spiders taking up residence.
I’m sure I’ve read or heard that before, and I don’t suppose it should really come as much of a surprise to me. Still I was skeptical of this “fact” until today, in spite of knowing that some female spiders eat the males that come courting.
Cannibalism is not uncommon. Praying mantises eat their mates. Wild chimpanzees sometimes kill and eat other chimpanzees from rival social groups. Numerous animal species have been known to eat their own young. It may be rare, but humans do eat other humans on occasion.
I suppose it’s just surprising to actually see such a thing happen.
I was at my computer. I noticed a tiny spider (not much larger than the head of a pin) descending on a thread about two inches from the window frame. On the wall next to it was another spider that I recognized as the “jumping” variety (I have long been slightly unnerved by that type of spider because of their tendency to lean back, look at me, and sometimes even wave a leg or other appendage at me), which was two or three times the size of the other one. As the dangling spider slowly descended, the jumping spider would hop a little further down the wall. Suddenly, the jumping spider jumped (which should not have surprised me, considering the name of the creature, but it did anyway) away from the wall, caught the dangling spider, fell back to the wall thanks to an anchor line it had released as it jumped, and hopped a few more inches to the corner between the wall and the window frame.
Fascinating.
I did some research later and learned that this is perfectly normal behavior for jumping spiders. They are predators of other spiders and will typically drop an anchor before attacking. According to my research, they pose little or no threat to humans, and, if allowed to live in or near a house, can even significantly reduce the likelihood of more aggressive or dangerous spiders taking up residence.
22 December 2010
Word
I recently read a book about philosophy. One chapter touched on the difficulties that software developers have encountered while trying to create artificial intelligence. One of their major hurdles has been programming a computer (or robot or other machine) to understand human speech. I understood the explanation in the book well enough to read the chapter without confusion, but I doubt I could repeat it. Suffice it to say that language is much more complicated than it seems and that tonal and contextual nuances in speech can drastically change the meaning of a word or sentence.
As much as I complain about it (which I frequently do), this knowledge gives me a new respect for the programmers who created the grammar-checker in Microsoft Word. It’s not perfectly accurate. It has warned me about sentence fragments when I didn’t have any, and it frequently points out nonexistent subject-verb agreement errors. I even got it into an infinite loop once where it convinced me to correct what it thought was an error only to tell me to correct the correction back to the original, which it thought was still wrong. I realize now what an impressive bit of programming it really is.
However, Word’s grammar-checker is not perfectly reliable. It misses errors all the time because it does not understand the contextual facets of language. It is not a substitute for old-fashioned proofreading.
At work the other day, I received an informational email about a series of health and safety videos available to employees and accessible through the organization’s intranet. One of those videos was about breathing and asthma. It was titled “Breath Easy.” The person who created the title failed to add an “e,” and Word didn’t catch the error. It knows that “breath” and “breathe” are two different words, and it knows that one is a noun and the other a verb, but it does not know which of the two words should be used in a phrase with “easy.”
Shortly after receiving the email about easing my breath, I got another bit of advice about leaving packages and shopping bags in the car. It was suggested that I should keep such things “out of plain site.” This is even more difficult for Word to deal with because “sight” and “site” are both correctly-spelled nouns, but the difference in their meanings is significant.
I don’t think the English language is being destroyed as some die-hard grammarians might insist. However, I do think it is being severely beaten by people who either did not get a good education (because of a poor school system, because of an incompetent teacher, or because of personal inabilities or laziness) and who do not now care enough to take the extra time to make sure their writing is correct.
But until I figure out what to do about this problem, I’ll be sure to keep my purchases out of plain location after I go shopping.
As much as I complain about it (which I frequently do), this knowledge gives me a new respect for the programmers who created the grammar-checker in Microsoft Word. It’s not perfectly accurate. It has warned me about sentence fragments when I didn’t have any, and it frequently points out nonexistent subject-verb agreement errors. I even got it into an infinite loop once where it convinced me to correct what it thought was an error only to tell me to correct the correction back to the original, which it thought was still wrong. I realize now what an impressive bit of programming it really is.
However, Word’s grammar-checker is not perfectly reliable. It misses errors all the time because it does not understand the contextual facets of language. It is not a substitute for old-fashioned proofreading.
At work the other day, I received an informational email about a series of health and safety videos available to employees and accessible through the organization’s intranet. One of those videos was about breathing and asthma. It was titled “Breath Easy.” The person who created the title failed to add an “e,” and Word didn’t catch the error. It knows that “breath” and “breathe” are two different words, and it knows that one is a noun and the other a verb, but it does not know which of the two words should be used in a phrase with “easy.”
Shortly after receiving the email about easing my breath, I got another bit of advice about leaving packages and shopping bags in the car. It was suggested that I should keep such things “out of plain site.” This is even more difficult for Word to deal with because “sight” and “site” are both correctly-spelled nouns, but the difference in their meanings is significant.
I don’t think the English language is being destroyed as some die-hard grammarians might insist. However, I do think it is being severely beaten by people who either did not get a good education (because of a poor school system, because of an incompetent teacher, or because of personal inabilities or laziness) and who do not now care enough to take the extra time to make sure their writing is correct.
But until I figure out what to do about this problem, I’ll be sure to keep my purchases out of plain location after I go shopping.
21 December 2010
Recency
In the first post I made on this blog, I referred to the opening line in Charles Dickens’ novel A Christmas Carol. Today I watched the video version of that story as told by Jim Henson’s Muppets. In doing so, I discovered a mistake.
I quoted the opening line of the story this way:
“The Marleys were dead, to begin with.”
In reality, Dickens wrote:
”Marley was dead, to begin with.”
Where did I go wrong? Why did I make a plural where it should have been singular?
Dickens told of only one man named Marley (Jacob) who had died and returned in spirit to warn his mortal colleague, Ebenezer Scrooge, of the horrors that awaited selfish men in the next life. To make use of their existing characters, the Muppet team pluralized that figure into two men named Marley (Jacob and Robert) and used the two old hecklers (Statler and Waldorf) to represent them. For any Muppet fan, having Statler without Waldorf or the other way around is just not right.
My error was likely caused, in part, by the recency effect. It has been a long time since I read A Christmas Carol. I have seen the Muppet retelling several times after my initial reading, giving my brain a chance to accept that version as correct simply because it is the most recent in my memory.
I quoted the opening line of the story this way:
“The Marleys were dead, to begin with.”
In reality, Dickens wrote:
”Marley was dead, to begin with.”
Where did I go wrong? Why did I make a plural where it should have been singular?
Dickens told of only one man named Marley (Jacob) who had died and returned in spirit to warn his mortal colleague, Ebenezer Scrooge, of the horrors that awaited selfish men in the next life. To make use of their existing characters, the Muppet team pluralized that figure into two men named Marley (Jacob and Robert) and used the two old hecklers (Statler and Waldorf) to represent them. For any Muppet fan, having Statler without Waldorf or the other way around is just not right.
My error was likely caused, in part, by the recency effect. It has been a long time since I read A Christmas Carol. I have seen the Muppet retelling several times after my initial reading, giving my brain a chance to accept that version as correct simply because it is the most recent in my memory.
18 December 2010
Delay
It’s easy to fall behind. I know that this blog has limited readership. It may seem that I have abandoned it. However, allow me to offer my assurances to those few who are interested in the odd ideas that flutter across my mind that I have not stopped thinking, nor have I stopped recording my thoughts. In fact, I have several topics and posts ready to go. I’m just having trouble keeping them organized while keeping up with all the other things that happen in the “real world” around me.
Additional tales of cognitive boredom are forthcoming, and I will backdate some of them according to the time that they occurred, which will fill in the current six-month gap.
Additional tales of cognitive boredom are forthcoming, and I will backdate some of them according to the time that they occurred, which will fill in the current six-month gap.
29 October 2010
Transubstantiation
Moving water and moving air often have the same sound.
When I go camping, I seldom sleep all the way through the night. If I’ve pitched my tent next to a river or stream, I’ll hear it when I wake up (either during the night or early in the morning) and think, in my still-partially-asleep state that it is the sound of wind, not water. I’ll think to myself that the wind must have picked up during the night and begin wondering if I staked down the tent well enough to keep it from blowing over.
As I write this post, I’m in a hotel room near the beach, and through a window to my left, I can hear the waves of the Pacific Ocean crashing against the sandy shore. Every few minutes, the computer’s fan will come on and run just long enough for me to notice it. I hear a rushing sound similar to that made by the pounding surf, but it is coming from in front of me instead of from the window. Confused, I look up and try to locate the source of the sound, wondering whether there is another open window that I didn’t know about somewhere in the room. I quickly notice that it is just the computer fan and go back to work.
Air sounds like water. Water sounds like air. Sometimes fire can sound like air or water. I’ve never experienced it, but I suppose that a landslide could mimic the sounds of a waterfall or tornado.
On one hand, it makes me marvel at the human brain, knowing that, if I pay attention, it can distinguish those sounds enough to recognize them. On the other hand, it also makes me realize that our sense of hearing is not nearly as finely-tuned and well-developed as we might like to think it is.
When I go camping, I seldom sleep all the way through the night. If I’ve pitched my tent next to a river or stream, I’ll hear it when I wake up (either during the night or early in the morning) and think, in my still-partially-asleep state that it is the sound of wind, not water. I’ll think to myself that the wind must have picked up during the night and begin wondering if I staked down the tent well enough to keep it from blowing over.
As I write this post, I’m in a hotel room near the beach, and through a window to my left, I can hear the waves of the Pacific Ocean crashing against the sandy shore. Every few minutes, the computer’s fan will come on and run just long enough for me to notice it. I hear a rushing sound similar to that made by the pounding surf, but it is coming from in front of me instead of from the window. Confused, I look up and try to locate the source of the sound, wondering whether there is another open window that I didn’t know about somewhere in the room. I quickly notice that it is just the computer fan and go back to work.
Air sounds like water. Water sounds like air. Sometimes fire can sound like air or water. I’ve never experienced it, but I suppose that a landslide could mimic the sounds of a waterfall or tornado.
On one hand, it makes me marvel at the human brain, knowing that, if I pay attention, it can distinguish those sounds enough to recognize them. On the other hand, it also makes me realize that our sense of hearing is not nearly as finely-tuned and well-developed as we might like to think it is.
28 October 2010
Explorer
Lately, every time I hear or use the phrase “the other day” at the beginning of a sentence, I think of Unlce Traveling Matt from Jim Henson’s Fraggle Rock. He had a unique way of vocalizing that phrase with a kind of happy self-importance, as if he expected everyone around him to immediately drop whatever they were doing and eagerly listen to his fascinating and relevant tale.
I wonder if anybody would recognize it if I attempted to imitate him.
I wonder if anybody would recognize it if I attempted to imitate him.
07 July 2010
Gesundheit
I find the customs related to sneezing somewhat amusing. It is one of the few "noisy" bodily functions that is socially acceptable and even politely accepted, most cases. Coughing rarely brings out a sympathetic response from others unless it goes on for a prolonged period or is accompanied by choking gasps, but it is tolerated as long as the one doing the coughing covers his or her mouth in one way or another. Hiccups are either ignored or laughed at. Audible burps are considered mildly embarrassing (at least, in most public situations in America) for the one doing the burping, and he or she is afterward expected to request the pardon of the others present. Passing gas generates a wide variety of responses, depending on the individuals present to perceive it, and I won't go into detail on that for now, but it is definitely not socially acceptable.
Sneezing is different. When I sneeze, I cover my mouth and nose, usually by pressing them into the crook of my arm. In nearly all social situations, someone around me will soon say, "Bless you," or, "Gesundheit," or some variant of those phrases. Tales of the origins of this practice are varied, and they are interesting, but I am more interested in the modern usage.
Take my workplace, for example. If one person sneezes, another person nearby will soon say, "Bless you!" The sneezer is then expected to express gratitude for the statement, though it is still a mystery to me as to how anybody truly benefits from it. If the "thank you" step is ignored, the sneezer is considerably less likely to hear a "bless you" after a future sneeze.
I can discern no rules--other than proximity, though that seems to have several variants on its own--that regulate which person is supposed "bless" the sneezer. I have, however, determined that social messages are embedded within the length of time between the sneeze and the invocation of the sneeze blessing.
If it is immediate, then the person offering the "bless you" is aware of the sneezer on a personal level.
If it is delayed by a second or two, then the person offering the "bless you" is still aware of the sneezer, though perhaps on a slightly less personal level, but was likely waiting to see if any more sneezes were forthcoming.
If it is delayed by several seconds, then the person offering the "bless you" is only aware of the social requirements driving the statement and said it simply because he or she was in proximity and because no one else had said it first.
What I want to know is how long the window of opportunity stays open for a person to say "bless you." At what point after the sneeze does the statement lose its positive social value and dive toward insult. If a person waits a full minute and still says "bless you," does that action indicate the person simply does not care enough about the sneezer to do anything right away, or does it indicate that the person is oblivious, forgetful, or not fully aware of the passage of time?
Still, sneezes can be funny. Like the other day...
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 1: Bless you.
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 1: *Laugh!*
Co-worker 2: Bless you! Geez!
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 3: Okay, knock it off already. Now you're just doing it for attention.
Sneezing is different. When I sneeze, I cover my mouth and nose, usually by pressing them into the crook of my arm. In nearly all social situations, someone around me will soon say, "Bless you," or, "Gesundheit," or some variant of those phrases. Tales of the origins of this practice are varied, and they are interesting, but I am more interested in the modern usage.
Take my workplace, for example. If one person sneezes, another person nearby will soon say, "Bless you!" The sneezer is then expected to express gratitude for the statement, though it is still a mystery to me as to how anybody truly benefits from it. If the "thank you" step is ignored, the sneezer is considerably less likely to hear a "bless you" after a future sneeze.
I can discern no rules--other than proximity, though that seems to have several variants on its own--that regulate which person is supposed "bless" the sneezer. I have, however, determined that social messages are embedded within the length of time between the sneeze and the invocation of the sneeze blessing.
If it is immediate, then the person offering the "bless you" is aware of the sneezer on a personal level.
If it is delayed by a second or two, then the person offering the "bless you" is still aware of the sneezer, though perhaps on a slightly less personal level, but was likely waiting to see if any more sneezes were forthcoming.
If it is delayed by several seconds, then the person offering the "bless you" is only aware of the social requirements driving the statement and said it simply because he or she was in proximity and because no one else had said it first.
What I want to know is how long the window of opportunity stays open for a person to say "bless you." At what point after the sneeze does the statement lose its positive social value and dive toward insult. If a person waits a full minute and still says "bless you," does that action indicate the person simply does not care enough about the sneezer to do anything right away, or does it indicate that the person is oblivious, forgetful, or not fully aware of the passage of time?
Still, sneezes can be funny. Like the other day...
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 1: Bless you.
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 1: *Laugh!*
Co-worker 2: Bless you! Geez!
Me: *Sneeze!*
Co-worker 3: Okay, knock it off already. Now you're just doing it for attention.
03 July 2010
Alien
As a kid, I used to make up my own words for things. I don't mean that I made up new combinations of familiar words to describe something with which I was unfamiliar (though I did that--thinking that French toast was very similar to pancakes in the way it was cooked and eaten, I called it "pan toast" until I could pronounce "French"). I mean fully made up words--random syllables strung together in no particular pattern with just enough structure to sound like speech. I was likely following English linguistic patterns (for example, the ng sound never occurs at the beginning of a word, most unstressed vowels are softened to the schwa sound, etc.), but since none of the "words" I spoke were anything I'd ever heard before, it counted as a foreign language to me.
Once, I even sat down with a dictionary and tried to write down a word-for-word translation of my language. I got as far as "aardvark" before deciding that it would take too long.
I still use made-up words, though. Writing fiction, especially sci-fi and fantasy, I have to make up words from time to time to describe objects or events that do not exist in any reality I know. But I use made-up words in other situations, too. And, for some reason that I haven't figured out, most of them are lifted in one way or another from Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi.
My most common computer password is a phonetic spelling of a word spoken by one of the many aliens on Tatooine. Though I combine it with numbers and symbols as well to make it more secure, I can't imagine that any person would be able to guess it, and I expect that it could foil many basic password-guessing hacking tools as well for the simple fact that it is rather long and does not appear in any dictionary or even in a Google search.
When I'm annoyed, instead of swearing, I might mutter under my breath an Ewok utterance. It's one of the first things viewers hear any of the Ewoks say, and it sounds something like "ee-CHOOT-tha." It makes for a good grumble.
I suppose I should be careful, though. I can't use any words from Star Wars languages in my writing. I might get in trouble for copyright infringement or something. That is, if anybody ever figures out how to accurately transcribe Wookiee.
Once, I even sat down with a dictionary and tried to write down a word-for-word translation of my language. I got as far as "aardvark" before deciding that it would take too long.
I still use made-up words, though. Writing fiction, especially sci-fi and fantasy, I have to make up words from time to time to describe objects or events that do not exist in any reality I know. But I use made-up words in other situations, too. And, for some reason that I haven't figured out, most of them are lifted in one way or another from Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi.
My most common computer password is a phonetic spelling of a word spoken by one of the many aliens on Tatooine. Though I combine it with numbers and symbols as well to make it more secure, I can't imagine that any person would be able to guess it, and I expect that it could foil many basic password-guessing hacking tools as well for the simple fact that it is rather long and does not appear in any dictionary or even in a Google search.
When I'm annoyed, instead of swearing, I might mutter under my breath an Ewok utterance. It's one of the first things viewers hear any of the Ewoks say, and it sounds something like "ee-CHOOT-tha." It makes for a good grumble.
I suppose I should be careful, though. I can't use any words from Star Wars languages in my writing. I might get in trouble for copyright infringement or something. That is, if anybody ever figures out how to accurately transcribe Wookiee.
01 July 2010
Backdating
Backdating is entering a previous date on a record or document. For example, if I wrote this observation on 29 August 2010 but marked it as 01 July 2010, I would be backdating the entry.
In the legal arena and in businesses and organizations subject to FDA regulations, this is a federal offense because it falsifies information in a way that could prove detrimental to a person's independence, financial standing, or health.
Fortunately, my blog is not regulated by the FDA.
My reason for backdating? Let's call it "technical difficulties." And by that, let's mean, "Technically, I don't have any difficulty procrastinating."
In the legal arena and in businesses and organizations subject to FDA regulations, this is a federal offense because it falsifies information in a way that could prove detrimental to a person's independence, financial standing, or health.
Fortunately, my blog is not regulated by the FDA.
My reason for backdating? Let's call it "technical difficulties." And by that, let's mean, "Technically, I don't have any difficulty procrastinating."
25 June 2010
Companionship
I often see homeless people as I commute to and from work. Generally, they're just standing or sitting on the side of the road with their standard cardboard signs, hoping a passer-by will offer a handout of some kind. I'll also see some of them relaxing under a tree near a highway off-ramp or at the edge of a retail parking lot. Most of the time, I try to assume that they really are in desperate need of cash for food or other essentials, but I know that's not true for all of them.
Recently, however, I have noticed a number of homeless people who have a pet dog with them. I've seen three or four people now, each with a dog in tow, and it got me thinking.
If you're out of cash and nearly desperate for food, why would you willingly bring along a pet? It needs food and water just as much as you do, and it doesn't understand the concepts of sharing or rationing. It's just another mouth to feed. Having one along seems counter-intuitive to me.
However, I can easily understand the need for companionship. Having a job and an apartment (and even family) can somehow seem lonely at times. Undoubtedly, being alone while surrounded by deliberately oblivious strangers would magnify that loneliness. Having an animal along provides some other being to talk to and share experiences with, even if it doesn't understand what's going on. Still, I can also imagine a point where I would choose food over companionship.
It's also possible that they're keeping dogs with them for protection. I sometimes feel vulnerable enough behind a locked door. An extra set of eyes and ears (not to mention sharp teeth) would easily offer a sense of security in an otherwise completely insecure setting and may even serve to reduce psychological stress.
My first thought upon seeing a homeless person and his pet was that if he could afford to feed and keep the dog, he didn't really need an extra handout from me. Now I'm not so sure. Perhaps the down-and-out man (or woman) and his (or her) dog are really a package deal. Perhaps one really does need the other in more ways than I can know without experiencing the situation for myself.
Now my question is: Who chose whom? Man or beast?
Recently, however, I have noticed a number of homeless people who have a pet dog with them. I've seen three or four people now, each with a dog in tow, and it got me thinking.
If you're out of cash and nearly desperate for food, why would you willingly bring along a pet? It needs food and water just as much as you do, and it doesn't understand the concepts of sharing or rationing. It's just another mouth to feed. Having one along seems counter-intuitive to me.
However, I can easily understand the need for companionship. Having a job and an apartment (and even family) can somehow seem lonely at times. Undoubtedly, being alone while surrounded by deliberately oblivious strangers would magnify that loneliness. Having an animal along provides some other being to talk to and share experiences with, even if it doesn't understand what's going on. Still, I can also imagine a point where I would choose food over companionship.
It's also possible that they're keeping dogs with them for protection. I sometimes feel vulnerable enough behind a locked door. An extra set of eyes and ears (not to mention sharp teeth) would easily offer a sense of security in an otherwise completely insecure setting and may even serve to reduce psychological stress.
My first thought upon seeing a homeless person and his pet was that if he could afford to feed and keep the dog, he didn't really need an extra handout from me. Now I'm not so sure. Perhaps the down-and-out man (or woman) and his (or her) dog are really a package deal. Perhaps one really does need the other in more ways than I can know without experiencing the situation for myself.
Now my question is: Who chose whom? Man or beast?
21 June 2010
Meteorology
Is anyone ever satisfied with the current weather conditions?
Everywhere I go, I hear someone talking about the weather. And, as much as I try, I can't help occasionally joining the conversation. It's a universal topic, I suppose, because we cannot control it, and we are all influenced by it in one way or another. Still, I've been paying attention to how people talk about the weather lately, and I've noticed a few trends.
1- Conversation about what the weather is "supposed to" do. This stems from watching meteorologists on TV attempt to predict upcoming weather conditions based on current conditions and complex atmospheric modeling systems. I find that they're frequently accurate when it comes to temperatures but almost never accurate regarding precipitation. However, there are people who take the weather forecasts as definite plans, explain what the weather is going to do in the next few days, and how they intend to react to it, then promptly complain that the meteorologists are never right.
2- A casual debate about the quality of the weather. One person mentions that he or she enjoyed the previous day's sunshine. Another person will complain that it was too hot. The first person will then agree and express a hope that temperatures will become more pleasant in the near future. The second person complains about the usual causes of cooler weather, such as clouds and rain or wind. The first person agrees that all those things are unpleasant. I (as an observer) note that these people must only be happy in climate-controlled buildings.
3- Pointing out the obvious. "It's raining." "Yes, it is."
I like the rain. When it leaves, I enjoy seeing the sun again. When it comes back, I welcome the clouds. Hot weather means I can leave the windows open at night. Cold weather means soup for lunch and more blankets on the bed.
It's probably a good thing we can't control the weather anyway. Not only would we manage to screw it all up somehow, only the person who had access to the weather-control system would ever be happy with the results.
Everywhere I go, I hear someone talking about the weather. And, as much as I try, I can't help occasionally joining the conversation. It's a universal topic, I suppose, because we cannot control it, and we are all influenced by it in one way or another. Still, I've been paying attention to how people talk about the weather lately, and I've noticed a few trends.
1- Conversation about what the weather is "supposed to" do. This stems from watching meteorologists on TV attempt to predict upcoming weather conditions based on current conditions and complex atmospheric modeling systems. I find that they're frequently accurate when it comes to temperatures but almost never accurate regarding precipitation. However, there are people who take the weather forecasts as definite plans, explain what the weather is going to do in the next few days, and how they intend to react to it, then promptly complain that the meteorologists are never right.
2- A casual debate about the quality of the weather. One person mentions that he or she enjoyed the previous day's sunshine. Another person will complain that it was too hot. The first person will then agree and express a hope that temperatures will become more pleasant in the near future. The second person complains about the usual causes of cooler weather, such as clouds and rain or wind. The first person agrees that all those things are unpleasant. I (as an observer) note that these people must only be happy in climate-controlled buildings.
3- Pointing out the obvious. "It's raining." "Yes, it is."
I like the rain. When it leaves, I enjoy seeing the sun again. When it comes back, I welcome the clouds. Hot weather means I can leave the windows open at night. Cold weather means soup for lunch and more blankets on the bed.
It's probably a good thing we can't control the weather anyway. Not only would we manage to screw it all up somehow, only the person who had access to the weather-control system would ever be happy with the results.
17 June 2010
iFriend
What does this say of our society?
I saw two girls (if I had to guess their ages, I'd say they were sophomores in high school or just a bit younger) walking down the sidewalk today. Each had a pair of earphones connected to her own personal music device. Judging by their proximity to one another and similar clothing styles, I had to assume that they were friends.
They did not speak. However, twice during the period I was stopped at a light and able to observe them, one would look at the other, smile, and nod her head in a rhythm (which likely coincided with the music she was listening to). The other would return the smile and nod her head as well, but to a distinctly different rhythmic pattern.
This counts as friendship these days? Listening to completely different music together? That's not social interaction at all!
I saw two girls (if I had to guess their ages, I'd say they were sophomores in high school or just a bit younger) walking down the sidewalk today. Each had a pair of earphones connected to her own personal music device. Judging by their proximity to one another and similar clothing styles, I had to assume that they were friends.
They did not speak. However, twice during the period I was stopped at a light and able to observe them, one would look at the other, smile, and nod her head in a rhythm (which likely coincided with the music she was listening to). The other would return the smile and nod her head as well, but to a distinctly different rhythmic pattern.
This counts as friendship these days? Listening to completely different music together? That's not social interaction at all!
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