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.
30 December 2010
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!
11 June 2010
Soft
Why are the backs of the conference room chairs padded?
I don't mean the seat back that I lean against when I'm sitting in the chair. I understand that padding, and I prefer it over hard plastic or metal.
I mean the back of the chair--the part I look at when approaching the chair from behind, the part that gets pushed up against the wall. Why is that part of the chair padded?
It's not like anybody's going to sit there...
I don't mean the seat back that I lean against when I'm sitting in the chair. I understand that padding, and I prefer it over hard plastic or metal.
I mean the back of the chair--the part I look at when approaching the chair from behind, the part that gets pushed up against the wall. Why is that part of the chair padded?
It's not like anybody's going to sit there...
08 June 2010
Absorbency
I noticed something this morning. My breakfast cereals absorb the milk differently.
I think I always knew that, but it registered consciously today. I have to pour more milk in the bowl for some cereals than I do for others. It seems the "puffed" varieties require less milk to make the bowl look full enough but soak up more of it as I eat them, sometimes almost leaving me dry at the end, so I have to compensate by adding more than I think I need. The flakes seem to need more to make the bowl look full, but I often have too much milk left over when the cereal is gone, so I have to compensate for that by using less to begin with.
Now that I think about it, though, I realize that I'm assuming this has to do with cereal absorbency. I do think the "puffed" cereals can take up more fluid than the flakes can, simply because of their more porous nature, but it is possible that what I'm observing has more to do with the cereal's density, making me think that one type needs more milk than another because of some kind of optical illusion effect.
And here I just wanted breakfast.
I think I always knew that, but it registered consciously today. I have to pour more milk in the bowl for some cereals than I do for others. It seems the "puffed" varieties require less milk to make the bowl look full enough but soak up more of it as I eat them, sometimes almost leaving me dry at the end, so I have to compensate by adding more than I think I need. The flakes seem to need more to make the bowl look full, but I often have too much milk left over when the cereal is gone, so I have to compensate for that by using less to begin with.
Now that I think about it, though, I realize that I'm assuming this has to do with cereal absorbency. I do think the "puffed" cereals can take up more fluid than the flakes can, simply because of their more porous nature, but it is possible that what I'm observing has more to do with the cereal's density, making me think that one type needs more milk than another because of some kind of optical illusion effect.
And here I just wanted breakfast.
02 June 2010
Redundancy
I took a different route home from work today. I passed a furniture store. It sold only furniture, as evidenced by its name and slogan. For example's sake, let's say the store was Lots of Furniture and its slogan was "The best place to buy furniture." It had an elaborately painted advertisement on its front windows that said, "Furniture Sale."
Couldn't they have just called it a sale? Did they really have to specify that the sale covered furniture?
Couldn't they have just called it a sale? Did they really have to specify that the sale covered furniture?
01 June 2010
Graduation
For a long time, I thought that big graduation ceremonies and such were reserved for high school and college graduations. Those marked major milestones and/or major accomplishments. When I first heard about kindergarten graduations, I rolled my eyes. I didn't think that completing the first year of the American public education system deserved any special recognition.
I didn't get a kindergarten graduation ceremony.
My problem was the source of the idea for kindergarten graduation ceremonies: building a child's self-esteem. I don't want to make anybody think that self-esteem is bad or unnecessary, but I noticed the trend of kindergarten graduation during a time in which the self-esteem movement had many followers. People--parents, teachers, mental health professionals, family therapists, and many others--claimed that a positive self-esteem is so absolutely vital to a child's well-being and ability to grow up without becoming a serial murderer that everything had to have a positive spin. No more keeping score in sports, no more honor rolls listing the top achievers, easier assignments, more praise. I even heard that one teacher regularly responded to incorrect answers from her students by saying, "Well, that's the right answer to a different question." I found this movement absurd. A child who does not deal with childhood disappointments and failures will not grow up knowing how to deal with adulthood disappointments and failures.
I assumed that kindergarten graduations were part of the self-esteem thing, and it's likely that they were, but I have changed my opinion of them.
In some other "first world" and "developing" nations with compulsory education, the children perform better in nearly all subjects than American children do. Researchers propose that a major cause for this disparity has to do with culture. All children in all schools have to learn some difficult subjects, and few will report that school is always easy. But some have a different attitude toward it than others, and the attitude is usually that engendered by the adults in their lives.
In Russia, the first day of each school year is a national holiday, and it is customary for each child to bring flowers to his or her teacher. In another Asian country, children wear yellow hats on their first day of school, are escorted to the school by their parent(s), and are welcomed to the school by the older children. I've heard of schools in which children are rewarded with honey dropped on a writing tablet so that "learning becomes sweet" to them. In Jewish cultures, the most educated are the most revered; to be wealthy was good, but to be wise was better, as evidenced in Fiddler on the Roof when the lead character stated that he would like to be rich so he could spend his time studying scripture.
In America, we take our kids clothes shopping and plan what we're going to do when they have a vacation. We place more emphasis on sports or performance prowess than on learning. School and studying are viewed as means to an end, as unpleasant chores, almost as necessary evils.
Perhaps kindergarten graduation ceremonies, if they are used as a way of celebrating school and learning and not as a joyous escape from burdensome labor, can help us recapture the love of learning that should exist in childhood.
I didn't get a kindergarten graduation ceremony.
My problem was the source of the idea for kindergarten graduation ceremonies: building a child's self-esteem. I don't want to make anybody think that self-esteem is bad or unnecessary, but I noticed the trend of kindergarten graduation during a time in which the self-esteem movement had many followers. People--parents, teachers, mental health professionals, family therapists, and many others--claimed that a positive self-esteem is so absolutely vital to a child's well-being and ability to grow up without becoming a serial murderer that everything had to have a positive spin. No more keeping score in sports, no more honor rolls listing the top achievers, easier assignments, more praise. I even heard that one teacher regularly responded to incorrect answers from her students by saying, "Well, that's the right answer to a different question." I found this movement absurd. A child who does not deal with childhood disappointments and failures will not grow up knowing how to deal with adulthood disappointments and failures.
I assumed that kindergarten graduations were part of the self-esteem thing, and it's likely that they were, but I have changed my opinion of them.
In some other "first world" and "developing" nations with compulsory education, the children perform better in nearly all subjects than American children do. Researchers propose that a major cause for this disparity has to do with culture. All children in all schools have to learn some difficult subjects, and few will report that school is always easy. But some have a different attitude toward it than others, and the attitude is usually that engendered by the adults in their lives.
In Russia, the first day of each school year is a national holiday, and it is customary for each child to bring flowers to his or her teacher. In another Asian country, children wear yellow hats on their first day of school, are escorted to the school by their parent(s), and are welcomed to the school by the older children. I've heard of schools in which children are rewarded with honey dropped on a writing tablet so that "learning becomes sweet" to them. In Jewish cultures, the most educated are the most revered; to be wealthy was good, but to be wise was better, as evidenced in Fiddler on the Roof when the lead character stated that he would like to be rich so he could spend his time studying scripture.
In America, we take our kids clothes shopping and plan what we're going to do when they have a vacation. We place more emphasis on sports or performance prowess than on learning. School and studying are viewed as means to an end, as unpleasant chores, almost as necessary evils.
Perhaps kindergarten graduation ceremonies, if they are used as a way of celebrating school and learning and not as a joyous escape from burdensome labor, can help us recapture the love of learning that should exist in childhood.
28 May 2010
Beverage
For a variety of reasons, I rarely drink carbonated or caffeinated beverages. Today, I got a free 16-ounce Pepsi with my lunch. I made it last through the last four hours of work, drinking from it at a very slow but steady pace. I was able to observe the effects it had on me.
My body is simply not accustomed to carbonation or to caffeine.
The caffeine affected me first. I could actually feel when the chemical entered my bloodstream. My heart rate increased slightly. My blood pressure increased slightly. I had a marginally easier time keeping my eyes open through some mind-numbing tasks. After a little more of the drink, I noticed a vague tingling sensation within my chest that resembled the feeling I get when I've been flexing a muscle for too long (like when lifting and holding a heavy box) and suddenly relax it. I also noticed a tightness in my neck. Those sensations didn't increase any further as I finished the Pepsi, but I did become significantly more fidgety toward the end of my shift, to the point that I wondered if I could handle sitting still for the last half hour or so.
The carbonation affected my stomach a bit, giving me the tiniest hint at a suggestion of bloating. It affected my breathing more. As the carbon-dioxide entered my bloodstream and affixed to the red blood cells, there was less room for the necessary oxygen. I found myself breathing just a little deeper and just a little faster as a result.
I think I understand why I rarely drink such things any more, and I find myself becoming increasingly confused by people who have a soda with nearly every meal and/or several times throughout the day, by people who give soda to their children, and by people who live on coffee.
My body is simply not accustomed to carbonation or to caffeine.
The caffeine affected me first. I could actually feel when the chemical entered my bloodstream. My heart rate increased slightly. My blood pressure increased slightly. I had a marginally easier time keeping my eyes open through some mind-numbing tasks. After a little more of the drink, I noticed a vague tingling sensation within my chest that resembled the feeling I get when I've been flexing a muscle for too long (like when lifting and holding a heavy box) and suddenly relax it. I also noticed a tightness in my neck. Those sensations didn't increase any further as I finished the Pepsi, but I did become significantly more fidgety toward the end of my shift, to the point that I wondered if I could handle sitting still for the last half hour or so.
The carbonation affected my stomach a bit, giving me the tiniest hint at a suggestion of bloating. It affected my breathing more. As the carbon-dioxide entered my bloodstream and affixed to the red blood cells, there was less room for the necessary oxygen. I found myself breathing just a little deeper and just a little faster as a result.
I think I understand why I rarely drink such things any more, and I find myself becoming increasingly confused by people who have a soda with nearly every meal and/or several times throughout the day, by people who give soda to their children, and by people who live on coffee.
27 May 2010
Footwear
I saw another one. I'm no closer to an understanding of where they come from or how they get there. I haven't noticed any correlation of weather, time of day, or location. In fact, there's probably no pattern at all, but I will wonder every time I see one.
A shoe on the side of the road.
Just one shoe.
A child's shoe this time.
Still tied.
A shoe on the side of the road.
Just one shoe.
A child's shoe this time.
Still tied.
25 May 2010
Inequality
I have discovered an advantage to working in an office with a 1:4 ratio of men to women. That advantage is that, for me, the bathrooms are almost always vacant. No waiting, no awkward conversations, no running into someone opening the door. Just quiet.
22 May 2010
Smile
Thinking about my most recent visit to the local DMV office, I started wondering why so few people (according to my observations, anyway) smiled for their driver license pictures.
Is it because the folks behind the counter running the camera don't tell them to smile?
Is it because they've had or seen bad license photos of people smiling, so they don't want to risk repeating that?
Is it because they're aggravated with DMV for some reason related to getting their license?
Is it becoming the societal norm to not smile for these pictures?
I don't know. I smiled. I always have for my license picture. I have no reason not to. And I certainly don't want to have to present my license as ID with a picture of me that looks like a prison mugshot.
Is it because the folks behind the counter running the camera don't tell them to smile?
Is it because they've had or seen bad license photos of people smiling, so they don't want to risk repeating that?
Is it because they're aggravated with DMV for some reason related to getting their license?
Is it becoming the societal norm to not smile for these pictures?
I don't know. I smiled. I always have for my license picture. I have no reason not to. And I certainly don't want to have to present my license as ID with a picture of me that looks like a prison mugshot.
20 May 2010
Stereo
I like to listen to music while I work. I usually go for things with complex harmonies and a good, strong rhythm. With that broad base, my musical preferences span several genres, so there isn't much I don't like.
If the work I'm doing is manual labor, then I want my music to have lyrics that either tell me a story or let me sing along--general rock, Broadway, a little bit of country. If the work I'm doing requires thought, then I prefer to stick with instrumental stuff--techno, classical, big band, etc. Most of the time, I have speakers playing the music from my computer, radio, or CD player, but I'll occasionally use headphones. In any case, the music enters my brain through both sides of my head, and I know how to keep doing my work even with that stimulus coming in.
At my job, I'm allowed to listen to music, but I have to use headphones. I find it funny that the policy states I'm to use "headphones" (plural) when it really means just one headphone. I can only listen to music in one ear. That didn't bother me. I tuned the balance of the work computer's audio all to one side, creating monophonic sound instead of stereophonic, and put the earbud into my left ear, which was simply closest to the computer at the time. I continued using it that way for several weeks.
Today, my left ear was irritated for reasons I don't yet know, so I tried to switch the earbud to my right ear while I processed my paperwork, and I suddenly found that I could not focus! My ability to multitask with music and documents was paralyzed until I put the earbud back into the left ear. Of course, then I was stuck thinking about that for a while.
Did it have anything to do with the sides of the brain? Did one half process the music while the other processed the paperwork, and did I just happen to pick the sides correctly the first time around? Doubtful. The research I've read says that the auditory nerves send sound from each ear to both sides of the brain.
What's more likely is that I had become accustomed to music from one side. Moving it to the other side was a significant change in the source of the stimulus, dramatically changing my work environment on the sensory level, even though I knew it was the same music coming from the same place as it had been for the past few weeks.
I have to wonder how long it would take for me to adapt--to get my performance level back up to what it is now--if I made the switch from one ear to the other. Too bad I'm not being paid to do that kind of research on myself...
If the work I'm doing is manual labor, then I want my music to have lyrics that either tell me a story or let me sing along--general rock, Broadway, a little bit of country. If the work I'm doing requires thought, then I prefer to stick with instrumental stuff--techno, classical, big band, etc. Most of the time, I have speakers playing the music from my computer, radio, or CD player, but I'll occasionally use headphones. In any case, the music enters my brain through both sides of my head, and I know how to keep doing my work even with that stimulus coming in.
At my job, I'm allowed to listen to music, but I have to use headphones. I find it funny that the policy states I'm to use "headphones" (plural) when it really means just one headphone. I can only listen to music in one ear. That didn't bother me. I tuned the balance of the work computer's audio all to one side, creating monophonic sound instead of stereophonic, and put the earbud into my left ear, which was simply closest to the computer at the time. I continued using it that way for several weeks.
Today, my left ear was irritated for reasons I don't yet know, so I tried to switch the earbud to my right ear while I processed my paperwork, and I suddenly found that I could not focus! My ability to multitask with music and documents was paralyzed until I put the earbud back into the left ear. Of course, then I was stuck thinking about that for a while.
Did it have anything to do with the sides of the brain? Did one half process the music while the other processed the paperwork, and did I just happen to pick the sides correctly the first time around? Doubtful. The research I've read says that the auditory nerves send sound from each ear to both sides of the brain.
What's more likely is that I had become accustomed to music from one side. Moving it to the other side was a significant change in the source of the stimulus, dramatically changing my work environment on the sensory level, even though I knew it was the same music coming from the same place as it had been for the past few weeks.
I have to wonder how long it would take for me to adapt--to get my performance level back up to what it is now--if I made the switch from one ear to the other. Too bad I'm not being paid to do that kind of research on myself...
17 May 2010
Towing
I bike to work. Nearly every morning, on a few blocks that make up part of my commute, I see another man on a bike going the same direction. He's usually ahead of me, but he turns down some other street long before I make my turn. He wears a bright orange reflective vest like many other cyclists do, but his has the name of a towing company printed on the back of it.
I have to assume that this guy works for the towing company, that the vest is part of his work uniform, and that he just bikes there and back every day.
Still, I can't help picturing a guy on a bike trying to do the job of a tow truck... It's absurd, but it makes me laugh just the same.
I have to assume that this guy works for the towing company, that the vest is part of his work uniform, and that he just bikes there and back every day.
Still, I can't help picturing a guy on a bike trying to do the job of a tow truck... It's absurd, but it makes me laugh just the same.
14 May 2010
Fanfare
Operant conditioning is a psychological concept that involves, essentially, teaching a behavior by a system of rewards and punishments. It is this concept that has brought the often-misused terms of positive and negative reinforcement into everyday conversation. I understand this concept, and I use it from time to time--deliberately on my son and unintentionally on others such as co-workers. Everyone uses it to some extent, and everyone is affected by it, but we usually don't notice it acting on us.
Today, I noticed it.
I was required to watch a series of safety training videos for work, and each video was followed by a short quiz. The quizzes were on a computer, and they were all multiple-choice or true-or-false questions. I answered the first question correctly and was rewarded with a peppy musical fanfare sound effect. I rolled my eyes, thinking that such a thing was silly. It continued, playing that fanfare after every question I answered correctly (which, for the first series of videos, was all of them).
When a series of videos completed, I was presented with a cumulative quiz that repeated some of the questions I'd previously answered. It looked exactly like the short quizzes from before. I answered the first question correctly and fully expected to hear the fanfare. But the computer did not play it! I was initially perplexed. After a few more questions, I determined that the format of the cumulative quiz was slightly different from the short quizzes, and I inferred that it did not have sound effects. I was disappointed.
And I was surprised by disappointment!
As I completed that quiz, I found myself thinking about what I was experiencing (an activity called metacognition, or thinking about thought). I had become accustomed to the fanfare, as silly as I might have thought it to be. I had subconsciously enjoyed it and had come to expect it. When it didn't come, I missed it. When I realized that the cumulative quiz was not going to reward me at every turn with the happy sound effect, my motivation faded.
During the second and third sets of training videos, I was again rewarded during the short quizzes, but the sound effect had lost all the absurd excitement it had previously carried with it. I didn't care about it anymore because I knew it was just going to disappear again. Thus, I did not care at all when I answered a question wrong and got what amounted to the descending "Sorry!" scale so often heard on game shows. It would go away, too, and would therefore be meaningless to me.
Today, I noticed it.
I was required to watch a series of safety training videos for work, and each video was followed by a short quiz. The quizzes were on a computer, and they were all multiple-choice or true-or-false questions. I answered the first question correctly and was rewarded with a peppy musical fanfare sound effect. I rolled my eyes, thinking that such a thing was silly. It continued, playing that fanfare after every question I answered correctly (which, for the first series of videos, was all of them).
When a series of videos completed, I was presented with a cumulative quiz that repeated some of the questions I'd previously answered. It looked exactly like the short quizzes from before. I answered the first question correctly and fully expected to hear the fanfare. But the computer did not play it! I was initially perplexed. After a few more questions, I determined that the format of the cumulative quiz was slightly different from the short quizzes, and I inferred that it did not have sound effects. I was disappointed.
And I was surprised by disappointment!
As I completed that quiz, I found myself thinking about what I was experiencing (an activity called metacognition, or thinking about thought). I had become accustomed to the fanfare, as silly as I might have thought it to be. I had subconsciously enjoyed it and had come to expect it. When it didn't come, I missed it. When I realized that the cumulative quiz was not going to reward me at every turn with the happy sound effect, my motivation faded.
During the second and third sets of training videos, I was again rewarded during the short quizzes, but the sound effect had lost all the absurd excitement it had previously carried with it. I didn't care about it anymore because I knew it was just going to disappear again. Thus, I did not care at all when I answered a question wrong and got what amounted to the descending "Sorry!" scale so often heard on game shows. It would go away, too, and would therefore be meaningless to me.
13 May 2010
Four
Two girls--probably around age seven--were rollerblading around my neighborhood today. What caught my attention was that each had on one rollerblade and one normal shoe.
They were sharing. Four wheels each.
I had a hard enough time doing that sport with eight wheels, so I was impressed both by their sharing and by their abilities to make themselves mobile and still keep control with wheels on only one foot.
They were sharing. Four wheels each.
I had a hard enough time doing that sport with eight wheels, so I was impressed both by their sharing and by their abilities to make themselves mobile and still keep control with wheels on only one foot.
10 May 2010
McBreakfast
I just saw a television commercial for McDonald's, and I found myself rolling my eyes at it.
A woman claims that she likes to bike to work "when the weather is right" and that she often stops for breakfast at the McDonald's at the top of a large hill. The ad did successfully show the potential pleasantness of a morning outdoors, and the woman (as portrayed by the actress, of course) was clearly happy. Still, I can't help thinking that the writers and producers here missed the mark.
If McDonald's was trying to appeal to cyclists, they failed. I doubt many cyclists stop for McDonald's food on the way to work. And most cyclists don't just ride "when the weather is right. Instead, they try to ride unless the weather simply won't let them.
The advertisement did manage to suggest that a McDonald's breakfast was tasty and could be a pleasant part of a person's morning, but I don't believe it. I had a breakfast from there once. I was not impressed. In fact, McDonald's would be the last place I thought of for breakfast on the go.
Finally--and, though I could elaborate, I'll leave it at this--I have a difficult time connecting fast food breakfasts with the generally healthy lifestyle required for biking.
A woman claims that she likes to bike to work "when the weather is right" and that she often stops for breakfast at the McDonald's at the top of a large hill. The ad did successfully show the potential pleasantness of a morning outdoors, and the woman (as portrayed by the actress, of course) was clearly happy. Still, I can't help thinking that the writers and producers here missed the mark.
If McDonald's was trying to appeal to cyclists, they failed. I doubt many cyclists stop for McDonald's food on the way to work. And most cyclists don't just ride "when the weather is right. Instead, they try to ride unless the weather simply won't let them.
The advertisement did manage to suggest that a McDonald's breakfast was tasty and could be a pleasant part of a person's morning, but I don't believe it. I had a breakfast from there once. I was not impressed. In fact, McDonald's would be the last place I thought of for breakfast on the go.
Finally--and, though I could elaborate, I'll leave it at this--I have a difficult time connecting fast food breakfasts with the generally healthy lifestyle required for biking.
08 May 2010
Traps
At some times in human history, land has been left in such a state that future generations of people (or animals) can safely inhabit it. This does not necessarily stop them from settling there--because they may not know of the dangers--and suffering some unpleasant results.
One example would be valleys downriver from mining complexes. Dangerous elements and chemicals (lead, arsenic, cyanide, mercury, etc.) leach into the rivers, soil, and water table. Those living nearby are, essentially, slowly poisoned.
Another example might be modern toxic waste dump sites or areas downwind from nuclear testing ranges. In such cases, dangerous chemicals again play a role, but they're joined by radiation and its long-term harmful effects.
Today, I thought that spiderwebs made a good parallel to such unhealthy areas. A spider builds a web and lives there for a time, doing spidery things. Then it leaves. Perhaps it dies; perhaps it just moves. From personal experience and from movie sets, I know that most spiders don't remove their webs before leaving. Bugs come along and get stuck in those webs, just as they would normally do, but now there is no spider around to do anything with them, to clean the web, to shove out the bugs it doesn't want to eat, and so on.
What I'm trying to say is that I should probably sweep up the abandoned spider webs that have built up around the front porch light.
One example would be valleys downriver from mining complexes. Dangerous elements and chemicals (lead, arsenic, cyanide, mercury, etc.) leach into the rivers, soil, and water table. Those living nearby are, essentially, slowly poisoned.
Another example might be modern toxic waste dump sites or areas downwind from nuclear testing ranges. In such cases, dangerous chemicals again play a role, but they're joined by radiation and its long-term harmful effects.
Today, I thought that spiderwebs made a good parallel to such unhealthy areas. A spider builds a web and lives there for a time, doing spidery things. Then it leaves. Perhaps it dies; perhaps it just moves. From personal experience and from movie sets, I know that most spiders don't remove their webs before leaving. Bugs come along and get stuck in those webs, just as they would normally do, but now there is no spider around to do anything with them, to clean the web, to shove out the bugs it doesn't want to eat, and so on.
What I'm trying to say is that I should probably sweep up the abandoned spider webs that have built up around the front porch light.
07 May 2010
Segue
When I first saw the device called a Segway, I must admit that I was perplexed. I gave it the same look a dog might give to someone who just made an unusual noise. On one hand, I was intrigued. On the other hand, I couldn't think of any situation in which such a thing might actually be useful. And somewhere in between those two hands, I was vaguely insulted by the horrific misspelling of "segue" (a word meaning a direct transition).
The Segway transportation device has become oddly popular in a geeky and openly-mocked sort of way. I have yet to encounter one in my day-to-day travels, though.
I don't know where the idea for the Segway came from, and I don't really have the ambition to look it up. But while on my bike today, I determined one possible source of inspiration for it. When I have enough momentum, I sometimes like to stand up on the pedals on my bike. It gives me a break from the effort of pedaling (a welcome rest after six miles), and it's a different perspective. I did so today, rolling down the street about two blocks from home. I was still moving rather quickly for that stretch of the commute--around 8-10 mph, I believe. I thought idly that it might be fun to be able to stand about a foot off the ground (as I was currently doing) and cruise along effortlessly at those speeds. After all, that's what I enjoy most about biking down hills: the effortless movement and the ability to just stand up and enjoy the ride.
I couldn't help wondering if the Segway developers had a similar experience. And then I couldn't help wondering exactly how such an experience could actually lead to that strange "people mover" they then created.
The Segway transportation device has become oddly popular in a geeky and openly-mocked sort of way. I have yet to encounter one in my day-to-day travels, though.
I don't know where the idea for the Segway came from, and I don't really have the ambition to look it up. But while on my bike today, I determined one possible source of inspiration for it. When I have enough momentum, I sometimes like to stand up on the pedals on my bike. It gives me a break from the effort of pedaling (a welcome rest after six miles), and it's a different perspective. I did so today, rolling down the street about two blocks from home. I was still moving rather quickly for that stretch of the commute--around 8-10 mph, I believe. I thought idly that it might be fun to be able to stand about a foot off the ground (as I was currently doing) and cruise along effortlessly at those speeds. After all, that's what I enjoy most about biking down hills: the effortless movement and the ability to just stand up and enjoy the ride.
I couldn't help wondering if the Segway developers had a similar experience. And then I couldn't help wondering exactly how such an experience could actually lead to that strange "people mover" they then created.
05 May 2010
Insectivore
It is a mistake for cyclists to be talking to themselves just as their commutes take them through clouds of gnats.
02 May 2010
Performance
In a Calvin and Hobbes strip, Calvin referred to the Shakespearean quote about all the world being a stage and said, "We need more special effects and dance numbers." I think I agree.
Wouldn't it be fun to encounter a spontaneous musical number in, say, the grocery store or the mall? Think of all the aggravated people stuck in traffic jams every day and how much easier it might be to cope with that stress if they all rolled down their windows, tuned to the same radio station, and sang along.
I think it would be fun. I can't dance, but I could sing. And, if nothing else, it would be amusing to watch. Of course, not everyone knows the same songs, but we have public address systems, radios, and portable music players. Those who know the words could sing along, and those who don't could just dance.
The problem comes when we consider the current American society's view of singing and dancing. Apparently, that's supposed to be reserved for children and trained professionals. If you're over age 12 and can't do it well enough record and sell your performances, you're expected to clam up. I'm not brave enough to challenge those societal expectations, so I suppose I'll just have to be content with singing the songs I know and like while I bike to work or do my shopping. And I'll just have to put up with the looks from other people that all seem to say, "He must be crazy."
Wouldn't it be fun to encounter a spontaneous musical number in, say, the grocery store or the mall? Think of all the aggravated people stuck in traffic jams every day and how much easier it might be to cope with that stress if they all rolled down their windows, tuned to the same radio station, and sang along.
I think it would be fun. I can't dance, but I could sing. And, if nothing else, it would be amusing to watch. Of course, not everyone knows the same songs, but we have public address systems, radios, and portable music players. Those who know the words could sing along, and those who don't could just dance.
The problem comes when we consider the current American society's view of singing and dancing. Apparently, that's supposed to be reserved for children and trained professionals. If you're over age 12 and can't do it well enough record and sell your performances, you're expected to clam up. I'm not brave enough to challenge those societal expectations, so I suppose I'll just have to be content with singing the songs I know and like while I bike to work or do my shopping. And I'll just have to put up with the looks from other people that all seem to say, "He must be crazy."
30 April 2010
Breath
There are days when I almost envy smokers.
Air quality laws force smokers to take their cigarettes and other such things outside and away from buildings. I suppose it's a way to regulate respect for others' health, which is good (because those who don't smoke don't have to be subjected to it anyway) and bad (because regulated respect is not real respect and reduces the personal senses of responsibility and community that are so rapidly fading in this world).
At the same time, those who smoke seem to spend more time outside during a normal day than those who don't. I don't bother going outside during my work breaks, and I don't step out of my apartment for ten minutes a dozen times on my days off (the days off I stay home, that is). I could do those things, but I have no reason to. Smokers do have a reason to go outside frequently, even if it's only for a few minutes at a time. They can enjoy the scenery--watch the birds fly by, watch the clouds drift along, observe the changes in weather and seasons, and even enjoy some fresh air (between drags on their cigarettes) instead of the stale, recycled, climate-controlled atmosphere indoors.
I wonder if the smokers see it the way I see it.
Air quality laws force smokers to take their cigarettes and other such things outside and away from buildings. I suppose it's a way to regulate respect for others' health, which is good (because those who don't smoke don't have to be subjected to it anyway) and bad (because regulated respect is not real respect and reduces the personal senses of responsibility and community that are so rapidly fading in this world).
At the same time, those who smoke seem to spend more time outside during a normal day than those who don't. I don't bother going outside during my work breaks, and I don't step out of my apartment for ten minutes a dozen times on my days off (the days off I stay home, that is). I could do those things, but I have no reason to. Smokers do have a reason to go outside frequently, even if it's only for a few minutes at a time. They can enjoy the scenery--watch the birds fly by, watch the clouds drift along, observe the changes in weather and seasons, and even enjoy some fresh air (between drags on their cigarettes) instead of the stale, recycled, climate-controlled atmosphere indoors.
I wonder if the smokers see it the way I see it.
28 April 2010
Sugar
Nerds (tiny candies that consist of mere blobs of flavored sugar) bounce much higher and much more erratically than I would have expected them to do.
Of course, I didn't expect them to bounce at all, but I suppose that's what they should naturally do when I spill several of them on my desk...
Of course, I didn't expect them to bounce at all, but I suppose that's what they should naturally do when I spill several of them on my desk...
27 April 2010
Excuses
Since switching from retail work to a "standard business hours" job, I've noticed a few interesting patterns. For one, I have come to look forward to weekends again where I previously disliked weekends (because they meant that I would be working and inevitably busy). I've also noticed how people in these Monday-through-Friday jobs react to the rest of the days of the week.
Friday is momentous because it is the last workday. On Fridays, I'm frequently reminded of the Friday-ness of the day. "Happy Friday!" "Hey, it's Friday!" "T G I F." And so on. I'm also pleased to know that I don't have to work the next day, but I don't think I need everyone to remind me of it.
Wednesday is remarkable because it is in the middle of the week. It gets a treatment similar to Friday, but without any extra fanfare. "We made it to Wednesday." "It's Hump Day. Halfway through." To me, it's just another workday.
Nobody likes Mondays. "Ugh. It's Monday." "I hate Mondays." "Looks like someone's got a case of the Mondays." As a friend pointed out, part of this attitude may be due to excessive drinking and partying on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday with little--if any--time allowed for recovery. I think it is mostly due to simply returning to work and being generally unhappy with the prospect of another full workweek looming.
But Monday is singularly unique in that it can be used as an excuse. When mistakes happen on that day, it is not at all unusual to hear. "Oops! Well, it is Monday." I laughed at that as a joke the first time or two I heard it, but I have discovered that it is generally accepted as a valid reason for making the mistake! As if apparently forgetting how to properly do one's job over a mere two days is normal. It doesn't make sense to me because, if the mistake is minor enough, on any other day of the week the same mistake would be grounds for a reprimand from managers.
It makes me wonder if I could get away with the same thing on other days of the week...
"Oh, I wasn't supposed to shred those documents? Oops. Well, it is 3:15 PM on Tuesday."
Friday is momentous because it is the last workday. On Fridays, I'm frequently reminded of the Friday-ness of the day. "Happy Friday!" "Hey, it's Friday!" "T G I F." And so on. I'm also pleased to know that I don't have to work the next day, but I don't think I need everyone to remind me of it.
Wednesday is remarkable because it is in the middle of the week. It gets a treatment similar to Friday, but without any extra fanfare. "We made it to Wednesday." "It's Hump Day. Halfway through." To me, it's just another workday.
Nobody likes Mondays. "Ugh. It's Monday." "I hate Mondays." "Looks like someone's got a case of the Mondays." As a friend pointed out, part of this attitude may be due to excessive drinking and partying on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday with little--if any--time allowed for recovery. I think it is mostly due to simply returning to work and being generally unhappy with the prospect of another full workweek looming.
But Monday is singularly unique in that it can be used as an excuse. When mistakes happen on that day, it is not at all unusual to hear. "Oops! Well, it is Monday." I laughed at that as a joke the first time or two I heard it, but I have discovered that it is generally accepted as a valid reason for making the mistake! As if apparently forgetting how to properly do one's job over a mere two days is normal. It doesn't make sense to me because, if the mistake is minor enough, on any other day of the week the same mistake would be grounds for a reprimand from managers.
It makes me wonder if I could get away with the same thing on other days of the week...
"Oh, I wasn't supposed to shred those documents? Oops. Well, it is 3:15 PM on Tuesday."
25 April 2010
Comparison
When an American writer or director wants to create a point of reference to convey the size of something large, he or she often goes for the football field. I've been noticing with increasing frequency lately sentences that end with the phrase "...which is the size of X football fields," (where X represents a number).
What does that say about American society? Are we all so interested in and familiar with football that such a thing really is the best point of comparison? Is this going to become a standard unit of measure? (If so, I live almost 40 football fields from where I work.)
And I can't help wondering what other cultures might use for similar size comparisons.
What does that say about American society? Are we all so interested in and familiar with football that such a thing really is the best point of comparison? Is this going to become a standard unit of measure? (If so, I live almost 40 football fields from where I work.)
And I can't help wondering what other cultures might use for similar size comparisons.
24 April 2010
Nomenclature
I have discovered that there is a road somewhere in Oregon called Dead Indian Road. It wouldn't be hard to guess where that name came from.
I have also discovered that there is a town in Oregon called Boring. I believe I shall have to visit it to see if I can determine the origins of its name. If it turns out to be particularly mind-numbing, I'll just wander over to the town of Happy Valley for a while.
I have also discovered that there is a town in Oregon called Boring. I believe I shall have to visit it to see if I can determine the origins of its name. If it turns out to be particularly mind-numbing, I'll just wander over to the town of Happy Valley for a while.
23 April 2010
Defiance
My office building has a small atrium near the center. We're only allowed to look at it through the windows, though that is quite pleasant. I suspect it used to be open for employee use because of the stone paths that cross it.
Still, it has a couple of trees, some bushes, lots of green ground cover, and a few decorative rocks. I have seen flowers in there, but they're not prominent. And though I've never seen a person enter it, it is obviously well maintained... to a point.
Today I observed one dandelion in the atrium. Among the other plants that had been carefully selected for their aesthetic qualities, it stood out like... well, like a weed. It had a single stalk about a foot tall rising from a small cluster of leaves. It had already gone to seed, so the flower had been replaced by a sphere of white fluff. It stood defiantly, appearing proud at its feat, having grown where no dandelion is allowed, like the first human to swim the English Channel, hike across Antarctica, or do any of the many other things that had previously been seen as impossible.
I know it's a weed. I know it's a pest. I won't allow it in my own lawn (when I have one). But for one brief moment, I almost admired that dandelion.
Still, it has a couple of trees, some bushes, lots of green ground cover, and a few decorative rocks. I have seen flowers in there, but they're not prominent. And though I've never seen a person enter it, it is obviously well maintained... to a point.
Today I observed one dandelion in the atrium. Among the other plants that had been carefully selected for their aesthetic qualities, it stood out like... well, like a weed. It had a single stalk about a foot tall rising from a small cluster of leaves. It had already gone to seed, so the flower had been replaced by a sphere of white fluff. It stood defiantly, appearing proud at its feat, having grown where no dandelion is allowed, like the first human to swim the English Channel, hike across Antarctica, or do any of the many other things that had previously been seen as impossible.
I know it's a weed. I know it's a pest. I won't allow it in my own lawn (when I have one). But for one brief moment, I almost admired that dandelion.
21 April 2010
Punctuation
I find one of my co-workers perplexing. She perpetually has her iPod on and earphones in, cutting her off from the outside world as she bobs and bounces through the office to the beat only she can hear. As a result, I've not had much chance to converse with her. However, after hearing her speak to some of my other co-workers from time to time, I don't think I'll complain too much.
She does seem to be an upbeat person, but the way she expresses that is unusual. She ends nearly every sentence with a laugh. That in itself is not bad, nor is it necessarily strange. I know many people who laugh after they express their thoughts. This co-worker, however, laughs as she expresses her thoughts.
I had a hard time figuring out how to write it, but I think this will suffice. A statement from her comes out something like this:
"Hey, that's a good ide-eh-eh-ah-ha-ha-ha!"
"I don't know what I'm going to do today for luh-huh-huh-ha-ha-nch ha ha."
"Oh, I know exactly how you fee-heh-hee-hee-heh-heh-ha-hull."
I think having to converse with her daily would slowly drive me ma-hah-hah-ah-ad.
She does seem to be an upbeat person, but the way she expresses that is unusual. She ends nearly every sentence with a laugh. That in itself is not bad, nor is it necessarily strange. I know many people who laugh after they express their thoughts. This co-worker, however, laughs as she expresses her thoughts.
I had a hard time figuring out how to write it, but I think this will suffice. A statement from her comes out something like this:
"Hey, that's a good ide-eh-eh-ah-ha-ha-ha!"
"I don't know what I'm going to do today for luh-huh-huh-ha-ha-nch ha ha."
"Oh, I know exactly how you fee-heh-hee-hee-heh-heh-ha-hull."
I think having to converse with her daily would slowly drive me ma-hah-hah-ah-ad.
19 April 2010
Mist
I've seen many commercials for air fresheners in my life, and their frequency seems to be increasing. I was unaware that bad smells were becoming such an epidemic in this country.
I think air fresheners can be useful to a certain degree, but I sincerely doubt I will need to use them as regularly or as heavily as the advertisements say I should. That's not what annoys me, though. What annoys me are the names given to the "scents" that are offered.
It's not the silliness of some of the names. It's the misrepresentation. "Tundra Mist" doesn't smell anything like the arctic tundra. "Ocean Surge" does nothing to remind me of the beach at high tide. "Blossoming Meadow" will never conjure images of flowering fields. "Spring Morning" and "Summer Breeze" smell the same to me.
Today I saw a commercial for another new air freshener. This one claimed to impart the refreshing scent of a waterfall. I will admit that the air around a waterfall is particularly pleasant in an invigorating way, but I sincerely doubt any manufactured chemical spray could ever duplicate it. There is much more to smell than the simple matter of particles of matter coming into contact with olfactory receptors in the nose and causing neural activity.
- Temperature makes a big difference. Think of an apple pie. Does it smell the same fresh from the oven as it does from the fridge the next day? The air surrounding waterfalls is generally cooler than my living room, and I'm not about to turn on the AC to duplicate that aspect of the experience.
- Humidity and moisture are factors. Would you rather share a room with a wet dog or a dry dog? Waterfalls involve water, so the air around them is wet. The air in my house is dry.
- Waterfalls involve rocks, soil, plants, and algae. If some air freshener manufacturer managed to fit all those aspects of their scent into one package, I don't think I could carry it home, let alone afford to buy it.
The only way to really get my living room to smell like a waterfall would be to build my living room around a waterfall.
I think air fresheners can be useful to a certain degree, but I sincerely doubt I will need to use them as regularly or as heavily as the advertisements say I should. That's not what annoys me, though. What annoys me are the names given to the "scents" that are offered.
It's not the silliness of some of the names. It's the misrepresentation. "Tundra Mist" doesn't smell anything like the arctic tundra. "Ocean Surge" does nothing to remind me of the beach at high tide. "Blossoming Meadow" will never conjure images of flowering fields. "Spring Morning" and "Summer Breeze" smell the same to me.
Today I saw a commercial for another new air freshener. This one claimed to impart the refreshing scent of a waterfall. I will admit that the air around a waterfall is particularly pleasant in an invigorating way, but I sincerely doubt any manufactured chemical spray could ever duplicate it. There is much more to smell than the simple matter of particles of matter coming into contact with olfactory receptors in the nose and causing neural activity.
- Temperature makes a big difference. Think of an apple pie. Does it smell the same fresh from the oven as it does from the fridge the next day? The air surrounding waterfalls is generally cooler than my living room, and I'm not about to turn on the AC to duplicate that aspect of the experience.
- Humidity and moisture are factors. Would you rather share a room with a wet dog or a dry dog? Waterfalls involve water, so the air around them is wet. The air in my house is dry.
- Waterfalls involve rocks, soil, plants, and algae. If some air freshener manufacturer managed to fit all those aspects of their scent into one package, I don't think I could carry it home, let alone afford to buy it.
The only way to really get my living room to smell like a waterfall would be to build my living room around a waterfall.
18 April 2010
Nationality
When we say that someone is from America, we say they are American. Many other countries can be altered to have -an at the end in the same way.
When we say that someone is from Japan, we say they are Japanese. Many other countries can be altered to have -ese at the end in the same way.
When we say that someone is from Spain, we say they are Spanish. Many other countries can be altered to have -ish at the end in the same way.
Of course, there are minor adjustments that have to be made for all of the above examples to work, but they're common enough that we are familiar with them. France seems to be mostly unique in that the entire country's name is changed when referring to the nationality instead (from "France" to "French"). I can't think of many similar examples other than Welsh (for Wales) and Dutch (for the Netherlands).
Wouldn't it be funny, though, if the -ch used for France worked with other countries? Well, perhaps not in all cases, but it sure would for people from Belgium! We could call them the Belch!
When we say that someone is from Japan, we say they are Japanese. Many other countries can be altered to have -ese at the end in the same way.
When we say that someone is from Spain, we say they are Spanish. Many other countries can be altered to have -ish at the end in the same way.
Of course, there are minor adjustments that have to be made for all of the above examples to work, but they're common enough that we are familiar with them. France seems to be mostly unique in that the entire country's name is changed when referring to the nationality instead (from "France" to "French"). I can't think of many similar examples other than Welsh (for Wales) and Dutch (for the Netherlands).
Wouldn't it be funny, though, if the -ch used for France worked with other countries? Well, perhaps not in all cases, but it sure would for people from Belgium! We could call them the Belch!
17 April 2010
Arbor
Many paved parking lots--such as those of malls or grocery stores--have "islands" of dirt, decorative rocks, weeds, wood chips, or malnourished trees. Today my wife and I visited a permanent farmer's market establishment in the north end of our town. Their small parking lot was paved, and it had "islands" too. But Those islands were populated by tall, old trees that had obviously lived there long before any people thought of selling produce near them.
Instead of clearing ground, paving the parking lot, and trying in vain to put back a little greenery, these folks just paved around at least some of what was already there. I would like to see more of that. If nothing else, at least parking lots would have more shaded spaces to fight over in the summertime.
Instead of clearing ground, paving the parking lot, and trying in vain to put back a little greenery, these folks just paved around at least some of what was already there. I would like to see more of that. If nothing else, at least parking lots would have more shaded spaces to fight over in the summertime.
15 April 2010
Doppler
The Doppler effect ruins techno music.
While biking home today, I stopped at a red light next to a car from which I heard some loud techno music. Heavy bass beats, repetitive synthesized melodies, that sort of thing. I can't say I didn't like it, though I doubt I would buy the CD for myself.
The next light was red, too, but it had a line of cars, so I passed the techno car (slowly because of a truck that was turning ahead of me) and pedaled my way up to the light. After it changed and I got going again, the traffic, naturally, sped up to a higher speed than I could go. The techno car passed me again, traveling somewhere between ten and fifteen miles per hour faster. I heard the music again, but the Doppler effect (that perceived change in pitch caused by compression or decompression of sound waves as one object moves in relation to another--like the horn of a speeding truck) ruined it. It sounded like a warped record or an audio cassette in a Walkman whose batteries are failing.
See if I ever try to listen to somebody else's music on the road again.
While biking home today, I stopped at a red light next to a car from which I heard some loud techno music. Heavy bass beats, repetitive synthesized melodies, that sort of thing. I can't say I didn't like it, though I doubt I would buy the CD for myself.
The next light was red, too, but it had a line of cars, so I passed the techno car (slowly because of a truck that was turning ahead of me) and pedaled my way up to the light. After it changed and I got going again, the traffic, naturally, sped up to a higher speed than I could go. The techno car passed me again, traveling somewhere between ten and fifteen miles per hour faster. I heard the music again, but the Doppler effect (that perceived change in pitch caused by compression or decompression of sound waves as one object moves in relation to another--like the horn of a speeding truck) ruined it. It sounded like a warped record or an audio cassette in a Walkman whose batteries are failing.
See if I ever try to listen to somebody else's music on the road again.
14 April 2010
Hero
I enjoy video games. I'm a big fan of the classic space shooters like Galaga, Invaders, R-Type, and the many, many clones thereof. However, I'm much more interested in the genre of RPG (Role-Playing Games), whether action-oriented or turn-based. I like them because I get the entertainment of a video game and a story. It's the story that makes those games entertaining, and the deeper the plot, the better.
One of my current favorites is a recent installment of a classic series--Nintendo's The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, released for both the GameCube and the Wii. It has the typical RPG-style story: save the world from an encroaching evil. Of course, that remains the overarching theme throughout the game. But there's more to this one, and it's the added depth of plot that particularly impressed me, even more than the rich landscape and detailed effects.
While the player's character does end up saving the world, that's not his primary goal. The game forces it's world-saving objective, but the player's character focuses on smaller tasks that involve helping people. And the impetus that drives him from the beginning is as simple as a neighborly concern for the children of his home village. The player's character's ultimate goal is to save the children and bring them home. And if that means saving the world while he's at it, so be it.
Don't believe me? Either pick up the game or browse your way to YouTube. Watch the opening scenes and the first few game objectives, then compare them to the ending animations that play during the credit roll.
Not all games promote violence.
One of my current favorites is a recent installment of a classic series--Nintendo's The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, released for both the GameCube and the Wii. It has the typical RPG-style story: save the world from an encroaching evil. Of course, that remains the overarching theme throughout the game. But there's more to this one, and it's the added depth of plot that particularly impressed me, even more than the rich landscape and detailed effects.
While the player's character does end up saving the world, that's not his primary goal. The game forces it's world-saving objective, but the player's character focuses on smaller tasks that involve helping people. And the impetus that drives him from the beginning is as simple as a neighborly concern for the children of his home village. The player's character's ultimate goal is to save the children and bring them home. And if that means saving the world while he's at it, so be it.
Don't believe me? Either pick up the game or browse your way to YouTube. Watch the opening scenes and the first few game objectives, then compare them to the ending animations that play during the credit roll.
Not all games promote violence.
13 April 2010
Inefficiency
At work, I process some documents from various state government agencies. One of the Great Lakes states (Minnesota, I think) uses abbreviations for their courts, such as "MUN" for municipal, "JUS" for justice, and so on. But I think the purpose of an abbreviation is lost--even countered--when it always appears with an explanation.
Every time this state prints the court abbreviation (at least on the papers I handle), it reads:
"Court: MUN ('MUN' = Municipal Court)"
Could they not just write it "Court: Municipal"?
Every time this state prints the court abbreviation (at least on the papers I handle), it reads:
"Court: MUN ('MUN' = Municipal Court)"
Could they not just write it "Court: Municipal"?
...To Begin With
Charles Dickens' most famous book opens this way: "The Marleys were dead, to begin with." It's an excellent opening line, even if one already knows the story.
I doubt I shall be so eloquent, even if I have had some writing practice, but with this entry I begin a new blog, having become disenchanted with LiveJournal, having decided that my journal should be for my own thoughts that I want to keep to myself, and having lost interest in maintaining a photographic record of shopping cart rescues.
Instead, this will consist simply of my observations--the ideas that enter my mind while I'm walking, busy doing other things, or trying to sleep. These are the things that are not quite worthy of my personal journal but are interesting nevertheless. They will seldom be political, and readers will have to dig deep to find any profound meaning. This is just a dumping grounds for the things I wonder about, the things I think about, the things that boggle my mind, and the things that I sometimes discuss out loud with myself.
My observations.
Hence, the squirrel was dead, to begin with.
I doubt I shall be so eloquent, even if I have had some writing practice, but with this entry I begin a new blog, having become disenchanted with LiveJournal, having decided that my journal should be for my own thoughts that I want to keep to myself, and having lost interest in maintaining a photographic record of shopping cart rescues.
Instead, this will consist simply of my observations--the ideas that enter my mind while I'm walking, busy doing other things, or trying to sleep. These are the things that are not quite worthy of my personal journal but are interesting nevertheless. They will seldom be political, and readers will have to dig deep to find any profound meaning. This is just a dumping grounds for the things I wonder about, the things I think about, the things that boggle my mind, and the things that I sometimes discuss out loud with myself.
My observations.
Hence, the squirrel was dead, to begin with.
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