Wish I'd Said That

From Southern Belle comes this spot-on rant about the current Health-Care hullabaloo. Agree or not, it's very well written, and it certainly speaks for me. And before you go off on me, just remember how great it is that we can openly disagree. I'd go into the difference between the Bush Regime and the Obama Administration, but, well, you probably have a pretty good idea of my point of view by the two descriptive words I just chose for each man's Presidential term.

Life As An Observer

Stephen Hickman's Dragon's Hoard

I have found through experience that whatever my weakness is, it's almost always also my strength. As just one example, because my mind is constantly working and whirring, I often spout ideas/thoughts that people either don't understand or find offensive. Fortunately, because my mind is constantly thinking, thinking, thinking, I often discern patterns and solve problems that others haven't. See what I mean? My weakness and my strength. The yin and the yang of me.

And so it is with my propensity for observation. I'm an observer, an Enneagram Type Five (with a very healthy Four wing and a somewhat less healthy Six wing), and a Myers-Briggs INTP/INFP (I wobble). All that classification jargon simply means I like to watch (why, yes I DO love Jerzy Kosinski's Being There). Makes me an uncomfortable mingler at parties, but if I'm allowed to sit on the sidelines and just watch, I'm happy to attend. The up side of being an observer is that it makes me a far, far better artist. I don't just see, I observe and examine, forming a relationship in the process with the subject of my focus.

By forming that relationship, feelings grow within me, and those feelings get applied to my artistic expression of the observed object or person. To put it another way, when I paint a tree, I don't just paint a brown trunk and branches and some green leaves. Rather, I paint a living entity that moves with the air around it, changes with the seasons, sees things in ways I will never be able to. And with my heart so full of what I've "seen," I create a tree from the inside, out.

That's cool, right? Well here's the downside: having formed a relationship with an item, I am now attached to it. Thus, I have a ton of stuff in my life to which I am attached due to a perceived relationship. I can pick up almost any item in my home and weave an entire tale of its existence in my life. Not so much memories as a recounting of our time together. Makes it REALLY hard to let go of things.

So it's brilliant being an observer because it increases my soul's breath in the process, and it rots because I'm like some great dark dragon, always watching from atop her hoard of "treasure."

Just burn the house down around me, will ya?

Random Thoughts and Questions - Part Two

Niels Bohr, Werner Heisenberg, Wolfgang Pauli

From my journal, 2004 - Part Two:

"If, as many close friend have said, I truly do vibrate at a different frequency than other people, how does that effect my life? Where are the others who vibrate at a similar rate to that of mine? Do I even see the people who vibrate at the extreme other end of the spectrum from me? Again, can this "vibrational spectrum" be quantified and thus measured and mapped?

Vibrational spectrum is not a direct indicator of higher or lower intelligence, except (possibly) as perceived by society, in that quicker pattern recognition (due to higher vibrational rates) results in faster reactions to a broad spectrum of stimuli: human-human, human-machine, human-animal, and human-situational interactions.

It seems I have chosen a path on which tests and measurements of the brain/psyche are important. To wit:

1a) The effect of walking labyrinths
1b) The effect of different patterns & placements
2a) Pattern recognition as a hallmark of evolved intelligence
2b) Pattern recognition across species
3a) Vibrational spectrums

****
Do I know what all that means? Actually, yes, but I suspect anyone else reading it may think I'm a whack job. And who knows, maybe I am. Or maybe I simply vibrate at a different frequency than you.

Which leads directly to my quote of choice for the day:

"We all agree that your theory is crazy. The question which divides us is whether it is crazy enough." - Niles Bohr to Wolfgang Pauli

Random Thoughts and Questions

From my journal, 2004, Part One of some deep thoughts:

"Can everything be made to fit a given theorum? And if so, then can all philosophies/ideas/theories be distilled into/quantified as a single, pure formula?

Game theory would then apply directly, which means that all thought and action is fully predictable and therefore free will does not exist. Does game theory factor in "free will?" It must, or there can be no conclusive pattern recognition.

Is pattern recognition the key to higher (more evolved) intelligence?

How can testing be generated that will measure pattern recognition - within the human species, and across all life forms?"

Tomorrow, Part Two.

And here's the salient quote for the day: "The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible." - Einstein

Gorr'am Great Show - You Can't Take the Sky From Me

If you've never seen Firefly, Joss Whedon's brilliant Space Western, I'm very sorry to inform you that your life is simply far less for the oversight. And oversight it must surely be, as no truly sentient being could possibly intentionally leave such a great experience out of their life! I keep expecting to grow tired of it, but after multiple viewings of both the show and the feature-length film that followed, I find I only hunger for more. The balance of humor and pathos with the delicious and oh-so-delightfully balanced assembly of characters is just perfect. Here's a video that offers but a small but lyrical glimpse of the heart of Firefly...

Random Thoughts and Questions - Mind the Gap

Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster

Almost from birth, I've kept a journal consisting of thoughts, questions, and ideas in written and graphic form. I've been creating what many in the art world now refer to as "art journaling." I fell out of the habit in my late twenties, but picked it back up when I landed at IBM, and have simply carried on ever after. There's some pretty cool stuff contained in my shelf of hard-bound 8x10 volumes, so I thought I'd occasionally share a tidbit randomly selected by opening one book or another and dumping the contents of the page here. That said, here's ...one of my "what if" questions I ask the cosmos...

"Assuming the pundits are right and the world continues in its current education pattern, then if 2068 is statistically the last year a man will earn a BA, what will society be like my 2100? What is the socio-economic impact of a female-dominated world; a world in which women are the educated sect and men the physically adept? Would the division grow and the two sexes eventually divide into two different types (genus) of humans? Would the intellectual and economic power of women inevitably extend to genetic manipulation? Would this be a more peaceful world? Would physical labor suddenly become more valuable? Will childbearing change to a laboratory event and childrearing become largely a male endeavor, and if so, how will that shift the mindset of those children and eventually the balance of power in the world?

Just because females are more successful in their pursuit of the intellect, does it stand to reason that females will eventually control the world again?"

Mind the Gap

And because I collect quotes that move me, I'll close with one from Jean Houston; "People cannot stand the spiritual aridity and meaningless of living on the surface too long."

...And A Bag of Frozen Spinach On My Head

For almost a full month now, Whatever is Wrong With me, or as I like to refer to it, "W3," has been in varying degrees of flare up, resulting in fairly constant iterations of second-guessing, internal sleuthing, and just plain old being tired and bored with myself (yeah, that WAS Bruce singing in the background). The usual suspects, painkillers that is, are doing what they do best, not touching the pain, but making me care less about being in pain. So I'm cycling through trying to figure out the source of W3, just sinking into miserable self-loathing, and occasionally deciding (aGAIN) that I'm doing my situation no good by giving in to the pain.

This morning I decided that since laying low hadn't made the pain go away or even abate in the least, it was time to tell the pain to fuck off and just get up, take a big dose of something strong, and DO something. I mean, come ON. I really like movies and computer games and reading, but it's summertime, the day outside is glorious, and I'm SICK of being down.

So I crabbed down the hall and into the kitchen to whip up the peach cobbler that I've been threatening to make since the peaches showed up in the bowl on the counter a week ago. I plugged Rod the Pod into my ears and queued up Cat Stevens. Hey babe, if you're looking for a hard-headed woman, here I am!

I peeled those peaches, slogged together the batter, melted butter in the baking dish and flung the assembly into the oven. In the process, the Demented One (the ancient weiner dog I inherited from my dad) had one of his increasingly and exhaustingly common "accidents" that required my immediate attention (what!? you need more details than THAT?! what're you, nuts?) in the next room.

As I pitched the paper towels into the bin, I noticed some trash on the floor instead of in the bag, so I kneeled down, grabbed it, and stood up. WHAM! went my head on the forgotten peninsula above me. I staggered backward from the blow, and almost managed to remain upright, but nope, down I went with a howl of pain.

Holding my head as I lay there, I felt just totally overwhelmed, so I let the tears flow. I just let it out as Peter, who'd heard the crash and thought I'd dropped something but came out to check ANYway, and uncharacteristicaly rubbed my shoulder in commiseration. After laying there, sobbing about how tired I was of being hurt, of being in pain; of how sick I am of every. single. day. being another challenge, I finally stopped. I got up, dizzy and with a massive headache building rapidly.

Peter opened the freezer and reached for an icepack for the rising goose egg on my skull. Of course all the icepacks never made it back in from the bus after the Fourth, so he grabbed a bag of frozen spinach and held it out to me. At the look on my face, in a completely guileless voice he asked "Would peas be better?" Rolling my eyes, I took the bag and flopped it onto the top of my head. After a few minutes, I realised that since I was going to thaw the spinach ANYway, I might as well make a casserole, so for dinner tonight we're having spinach and broccoli casserole to go with the short ribs leftover from last night, and a very nice peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream for desert.

Hey, when life gives you lemons; make lemonade, right?