Sibyllene's predictions for the future: A melding of manipulated biology and technology (if not pure robotics)
1. Pacemakers, hip replacements, hearing aids, fake legs... humans are already biological beings with "bionic" implements. We obviously still consider a person with a pacemaker or a feeding tube or an artificial arm human. I'm wondering how far that can be pushed. If you are a conscious floating head, are you still human? Is it the mind, or consciousness, that determines our humanity?
That brings us to...
2. A new, technological phase in consciousness. One of the defining characteristics of humanity seems to be our ability for abstract thought. We can consider scenarios and outcomes that exist apart from instinctual responses to the physical world. We can plan for the future. We can daydream about our lovers while sitting at work. We can spend hours working through complex physics problems, without ever having seen an atom, electron, or quark. I see this abstract ability being pushed to its extreme, by things like computers and the internet. Our thoughts and interactions are no longer confined to our physical bodies. They roam -out there- somewhere, in the Ghostly Ether of the Internet. We have passions and furies and curiosities quenched by the wonder of the web - we can even fall in love online! I wonder about the eventual effects of this strange stretching of our conscious realms. What are the repercussions? Will the infinity of the internet (and its evolutionary descendants) create the possibility for an eternal consciousness? Writing and books have kind of done this to some degree - the words remain while the author turns to dust. I wonder whether the nature of the internet could be another stage in that process.
3. So, instead of seeing robots ruling, I think I see humans and robots blending into almost indistinguishable beings. I see robots becoming more like humans. I see biological matter surpassing the dominance of non-living materials in technology. I see more of our lives being lived in a world that inhabits the thickness of a computer chip.
That, or the apocalypse.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
The Revenge of Daily Competence
Here, we come to the dark side of leading a productive day. If I have learned anything, it's that being productive = spiders.
Finally overcoming my laziness, I endeavored to tackle the slowly rising pile of blankets and clothes that has been accumulating in sedimentary layers near the foot of my bed. I was whipping up blankets to pack away, when I was shocked to discover a black leggy mass scurrying down the length of the quilt. It looked something like this, except more evil looking:
I yelped and dropped the blanket. The spider, to my utmost horror, used this momentum as an opportunity to propel itself off the quilt and crawl its creepy self right under my blankets. I rushed to get a wad of toilet paper, because obviously you can't touch a spider with your bare hands without risking certain death. Also, I tend to not kill spiders - I try to trap them in something and then throw them off my deck to fend for themselves, with the understanding that they had better not show up again, or they will be smooshed to smithereens. I generally don't mind spiders so much. They aren't my favorite little critter, but I like to preserve their lives if they live according to the Covenant that I've set down. The Covenant includes the following terms:
All spiders, especially those wishing to apply for citizenship to my room, must...
- Have a diameter not exceeding that of a nickel
- Be somehow not gross-looking enough that I can anthropomorphize them and name them something non-threatening like "Charlie," or "Chekles." (Chekles was the name of the one spider I allowed to stay for a while, before he breached the contract.)
- Be a normal color (black or brown)
- Remain where I can be aware of their presence, or else stay out of sight completely, in a way that does not allow me to become suspicious that they might be lurking in my living space.
- Never, under any circumstance, approach my bed.
I returned to my room - TP in hand - and cautiously peeked under the edge of my bedclothes, half expecting Mr. LegMonster to leap at me with fangs dripping. What met me was even worse than that: there was an absence of spider altogether.
Now, while on the surface this seems like an ok concept, anyone with a "thing" about spiders will agree that the thing that is worse than seeing a spider is not seeing one but knowing it's still there somehow. In this state of affairs, all you have to work with is a creepy-crawly sense that the spider is magicaly everywhere, that it's on the move, that it's on YOU, and there's nothing you can do about it!
Obviously this had to be stopped. The spider had to be found. I called the Bearded Man for moral support. No answer. After resolving that I wouldn't buy him Taco Bell for a week, I did the second-best thing and called my mom. She assured me that she and my dad would be home soon, and that Dad would help me deal with it.
A few minutes later, my dad returned, entering my room like a superhero, vacuum in hand. He started whipping blankets everywhere, as I screeched at him to do it carefully, because I have a weird phobia of spiders somehow getting tangled up in my hair, whichobviously happens. So, carefully, we began to comb through the remaining bedclothes, gingerly treating each article as if it was a biohazard. We went through each blanket, one after another, until only a sheet remained. Knowing this had to be it, I held up my tissue wad an anticipation. My dad lifted the sheet and....
Nothing. It wasn't there. We moved my bed away from the wall and scooped up articles of clothing from the floor... nothing. My dad vacuumed the carpet between my bed and the wall, hoping against all hope that maybe the spider would succumb to the sucking power of Good. About ready to call it a day, my dad said "It isn't under your pillow is it?"
Me, somewhat scornfully: Dad, I don't think it would have had time to....
My snarkiness was cut off with another quick "EEEEE!" as the spider, which was hiding under my pillow, in perfect position to get tangled in my hair made a run for the side of my bed. That's it. It had broken the Covenent. This spider would get no named existence in my room, free to live its spidery life among the bookcases. Nope. This guy wasn't even going to get the benefit of relocation to the World of the Deck. He had molested my most sacred pillow, in his deceit and creepiness, and for that he was going to get relegated to the Otherworld Hell Down the Vacuum Tube.
What followed was a blur of spider shenanigens, vacuum hose brandishings, and me yelling "THERE IT IS! THERE IT IS!" The story ends how was fated to end from the beginning, when the spider decided to betray my trust and hide under my blankets.
All that's left now is a dissembled room, messier than it was before. I guess that's what you get for trying to get things done.
Finally overcoming my laziness, I endeavored to tackle the slowly rising pile of blankets and clothes that has been accumulating in sedimentary layers near the foot of my bed. I was whipping up blankets to pack away, when I was shocked to discover a black leggy mass scurrying down the length of the quilt. It looked something like this, except more evil looking:
 |
| Actual size |
I yelped and dropped the blanket. The spider, to my utmost horror, used this momentum as an opportunity to propel itself off the quilt and crawl its creepy self right under my blankets. I rushed to get a wad of toilet paper, because obviously you can't touch a spider with your bare hands without risking certain death. Also, I tend to not kill spiders - I try to trap them in something and then throw them off my deck to fend for themselves, with the understanding that they had better not show up again, or they will be smooshed to smithereens. I generally don't mind spiders so much. They aren't my favorite little critter, but I like to preserve their lives if they live according to the Covenant that I've set down. The Covenant includes the following terms:
All spiders, especially those wishing to apply for citizenship to my room, must...
- Have a diameter not exceeding that of a nickel
- Be somehow not gross-looking enough that I can anthropomorphize them and name them something non-threatening like "Charlie," or "Chekles." (Chekles was the name of the one spider I allowed to stay for a while, before he breached the contract.)
- Be a normal color (black or brown)
- Remain where I can be aware of their presence, or else stay out of sight completely, in a way that does not allow me to become suspicious that they might be lurking in my living space.
- Never, under any circumstance, approach my bed.
I returned to my room - TP in hand - and cautiously peeked under the edge of my bedclothes, half expecting Mr. LegMonster to leap at me with fangs dripping. What met me was even worse than that: there was an absence of spider altogether.
Now, while on the surface this seems like an ok concept, anyone with a "thing" about spiders will agree that the thing that is worse than seeing a spider is not seeing one but knowing it's still there somehow. In this state of affairs, all you have to work with is a creepy-crawly sense that the spider is magicaly everywhere, that it's on the move, that it's on YOU, and there's nothing you can do about it!
Obviously this had to be stopped. The spider had to be found. I called the Bearded Man for moral support. No answer. After resolving that I wouldn't buy him Taco Bell for a week, I did the second-best thing and called my mom. She assured me that she and my dad would be home soon, and that Dad would help me deal with it.
A few minutes later, my dad returned, entering my room like a superhero, vacuum in hand. He started whipping blankets everywhere, as I screeched at him to do it carefully, because I have a weird phobia of spiders somehow getting tangled up in my hair, whichobviously happens. So, carefully, we began to comb through the remaining bedclothes, gingerly treating each article as if it was a biohazard. We went through each blanket, one after another, until only a sheet remained. Knowing this had to be it, I held up my tissue wad an anticipation. My dad lifted the sheet and....
Nothing. It wasn't there. We moved my bed away from the wall and scooped up articles of clothing from the floor... nothing. My dad vacuumed the carpet between my bed and the wall, hoping against all hope that maybe the spider would succumb to the sucking power of Good. About ready to call it a day, my dad said "It isn't under your pillow is it?"
Me, somewhat scornfully: Dad, I don't think it would have had time to....
My snarkiness was cut off with another quick "EEEEE!" as the spider, which was hiding under my pillow, in perfect position to get tangled in my hair made a run for the side of my bed. That's it. It had broken the Covenent. This spider would get no named existence in my room, free to live its spidery life among the bookcases. Nope. This guy wasn't even going to get the benefit of relocation to the World of the Deck. He had molested my most sacred pillow, in his deceit and creepiness, and for that he was going to get relegated to the Otherworld Hell Down the Vacuum Tube.
What followed was a blur of spider shenanigens, vacuum hose brandishings, and me yelling "THERE IT IS! THERE IT IS!" The story ends how was fated to end from the beginning, when the spider decided to betray my trust and hide under my blankets.
All that's left now is a dissembled room, messier than it was before. I guess that's what you get for trying to get things done.
Daily Competence!
So last night was full of all these crazy dreams. There were hordes of zombies, and I was a master of the head-shot. (Headshot in the "shoot the zombie in the head" vein, not in the "hey Mr. Decompsy, tilt your head to the left and say cheese" vein. I guess that's pretty obvious, though.) The rest of the dream was a mash up of half the psychological epic movies/books of my era, with reality not actually being reality, but actually constructed to control the population. That's right: the zombies didn't actually exist, they were just a plot to confuse us all! Tricky zombie coders.
Anyway, after that eventful night's sleep, I somehow woke up feeling all invigorated and accomplished. (Hmm, maybe it's weird that I find zombies invigorating....) My ability to feel accomplished by doing nothing is really profound, though. For example, my day so far:
Woke up - wooo, zombies!
Read blogs for half an hour
Realized it was August 6th already
Jumped out of bed with gusto
Stabbed myself in the thumb with a staple, trying to tear the tag off new thrift store dress
Got band-aid
And yet I feel accomplished because I put my contacts in and it isn't even 11 am yet!
In fact, it takes so little to make me feel accomplished in my day that it's really pathetic if I go to bed feeling like I haven't done anything worthwhile.
Now for the real test!
Anyway, after that eventful night's sleep, I somehow woke up feeling all invigorated and accomplished. (Hmm, maybe it's weird that I find zombies invigorating....) My ability to feel accomplished by doing nothing is really profound, though. For example, my day so far:
Woke up - wooo, zombies!
Read blogs for half an hour
Realized it was August 6th already
Jumped out of bed with gusto
Stabbed myself in the thumb with a staple, trying to tear the tag off new thrift store dress
Got band-aid
And yet I feel accomplished because I put my contacts in and it isn't even 11 am yet!
In fact, it takes so little to make me feel accomplished in my day that it's really pathetic if I go to bed feeling like I haven't done anything worthwhile.
Now for the real test!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Not A Shark Week Thing!
Sorry.
Day
Early for work - booo
Throw down: withholding lunch until kid eats four mandarin orange slices - mwaahaha
Beach - hot
Bank - money!
Pick up job application - yay! (???)
Drink iced coffee - yum!
omgifeelsonervousithinki'msickamipregnantorisitbotullism?
oh yeah I just drank coffee - duh
Tried to explain why it's sometimes hard to eat a banana - awkward
attempted to clean closet - closetxplosion!
downloaded movie - quicktime update?
computer skillz - assessing.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Have a Good Time and Drink Some Cherry Wine
So I'm taking a wine-making class with my good friend The Fig. It should be interesting, and pretty informational for me.
Things I know about wine:
- Some are red, some are white, and some sneaky ones are pink.
- People who write for wine labels have fun jobs that are mostly comprised of bullshitting.
- Corkscrews hurt when you screw them into your hand.
- If you're in college and don't own a corkscrew, you can use a pocket knife, regular screw, the angry shoe method, or a twist-off variety.
- Twist offs are fine, boxes are fine if you're doing Wine Olympics.
Despite my ignorance, The Fig recently spent a semester in Italy and so is obviously an expert on all things winey. She knows how to tell what it is, how to smell it, how to taste it, how to swish and swill it, and how to spit it out again to taste it better. (???) I'm kind of a wine skeptic, but I'll give this a try, at least so I can pretend to be classy.
Though I'm ignorant, I like drinking wine - particularly with food, or in the evening curled up on the couch with a book. The wines we'll be making in class will all come from non-grape fruits. I'm guessing it's the cheapest and easiest way to make it. My wine will, I think, be centered on berries. This makes me hesitent, imagining a saccharine sugar monstrousity, but I will certainly try to withhold my misgivings and give it a chance.
In other news, my family and Boyfriend of the Wizard Beard went to the Science Museum today to see the Dead Sea Scrolls. They were certainly neat, but I was a little more interested in the other artifacts found in the caves and the settlement of Qumran. I loved being able to see things like hairnets and cosmetic bottles and bolts of woven fabric that have inexplicably survived thousands of years of weather, decay, and neglect. Apart from the awesomeness of the text that the exhibit was centered around, I find something so fascinating in getting a glimpse into another time through objects that were never meant to last. You wonder what sorts of impressions could be left - what shadows these objects hold of the lives of their owners. You can imagine a settler's wife in the year 100, lining her eyelids with thick, dark kohl from a tiny glass bottle. She finishes, closes the bottle, maybe puts it onto a table corner. Time passes; she misplaces the bottle, her family moves away, she dies, etc. And yet the bottle is still here, thousands of years later.
The neighboring exhibit contained pages from the St. John's Bible: in my opinion, one of the best, most beautiful things ever. Handwritten with ink on vellum, it's taken tons of people and tons of time to construct - just like any manuscript worth its salt in Ye Olden Tymes.
That's it for today. Stay tuned for wine updates, cute puppy stories, and maybe some uploaded paintings.....?
Things I know about wine:
- Some are red, some are white, and some sneaky ones are pink.
- People who write for wine labels have fun jobs that are mostly comprised of bullshitting.
- Corkscrews hurt when you screw them into your hand.
- If you're in college and don't own a corkscrew, you can use a pocket knife, regular screw, the angry shoe method, or a twist-off variety.
- Twist offs are fine, boxes are fine if you're doing Wine Olympics.
Despite my ignorance, The Fig recently spent a semester in Italy and so is obviously an expert on all things winey. She knows how to tell what it is, how to smell it, how to taste it, how to swish and swill it, and how to spit it out again to taste it better. (???) I'm kind of a wine skeptic, but I'll give this a try, at least so I can pretend to be classy.
Though I'm ignorant, I like drinking wine - particularly with food, or in the evening curled up on the couch with a book. The wines we'll be making in class will all come from non-grape fruits. I'm guessing it's the cheapest and easiest way to make it. My wine will, I think, be centered on berries. This makes me hesitent, imagining a saccharine sugar monstrousity, but I will certainly try to withhold my misgivings and give it a chance.
In other news, my family and Boyfriend of the Wizard Beard went to the Science Museum today to see the Dead Sea Scrolls. They were certainly neat, but I was a little more interested in the other artifacts found in the caves and the settlement of Qumran. I loved being able to see things like hairnets and cosmetic bottles and bolts of woven fabric that have inexplicably survived thousands of years of weather, decay, and neglect. Apart from the awesomeness of the text that the exhibit was centered around, I find something so fascinating in getting a glimpse into another time through objects that were never meant to last. You wonder what sorts of impressions could be left - what shadows these objects hold of the lives of their owners. You can imagine a settler's wife in the year 100, lining her eyelids with thick, dark kohl from a tiny glass bottle. She finishes, closes the bottle, maybe puts it onto a table corner. Time passes; she misplaces the bottle, her family moves away, she dies, etc. And yet the bottle is still here, thousands of years later.
The neighboring exhibit contained pages from the St. John's Bible: in my opinion, one of the best, most beautiful things ever. Handwritten with ink on vellum, it's taken tons of people and tons of time to construct - just like any manuscript worth its salt in Ye Olden Tymes.
That's it for today. Stay tuned for wine updates, cute puppy stories, and maybe some uploaded paintings.....?
Friday, July 30, 2010
Introductions
Hello blogging world! I'm pretty new here. Besides a halfhearted blog I tried to keep up during a semester in Ireland, and which I rightfully abandoned in favour of things like Guinness and dancing to euro-rock, I have had very little to do with the blogging trend. Normally I would try to avoid this, exactly because it's a trend - and I'm a snob. However, since this is a secret blahg and my snobbish reputation can therefore not be tarnished, I'm jumping aboard. So! Some basics to get started. This is me:
This is me pure and unglamourized. I chose this picture because you can see how charming and quirky I am, with my pear-coffee mug and my book of five minute classics. This picture tells probably indicates a few things.
1. I like to think that I'm charming and quirky. I'm really not. I'm way more awkward than I am charming, and I have a sneaking suspicion that people say I'm quirky because there's really no nice way of telling someone that they're awkward. This way everybody wins.
2. I drink coffee. This, also, is a lie. There is tea inside that coffee mug. The tea is even a bigger deception, though, because however much I think I should be one of those urbane, earthy people who drinks tea every day while earnestly philosophizing about the world (or at least the goodness of tea)... I'm not. I am fully pro-chocolate milk, regular milk, juice, and beer. Every so often I drink tea in an attempt to tell myself and the world that I am indeed one of those hip people at home in exotic coffeeshops. But the fact is: I just don't drink a lot of tea. I'm sorry for all the lies.
3. I like the Iliad. This would probably actually be true, but alas, I have not read the Iliad. I've read the Odyssey a few times, written several papers on it, delighted in books that have been based on the saga, etc., but the Iliad itself is unknown to me. This particular book I'm holding is a collection of famous classic books, condensed into humourous snippets of the original plots. This object sheds light on an actual truth, though, and that truth is that I adore books, of all shapes and sizes and pedigrees.
4. I protect marshes. I don't know if this is true, but I'd like to hope that I don't do anything to outwardly harm them. I mean, I don't give money or anything, but I also don't drive a pickup to preserved wetlands in the dark of night and surreptitiously dump pesticides into standing water, while wicked whispering threats to the geese and otters. The sweater belongs to my boyfriend, who doesn't partake in any strong activities for or against wetlands either. My guess would be that he got the sweater at a Salvation Army for 50 cents back in about 2003. The Boy introduced me to thrift stores a few years ago, so I can now thank him for about 75 percent of my wardrobe. He started to shop there, not because it was trendy, but because he stopped being able to fill his older brother's hand-me-downs sometime in 10th grade and didn't want to pay more than five dollars for corduroys. Boy wore lots of plaid flannel shirts about 3 years before it started to get cool. In fact, they were so cool that they were the cheapest shirts to buy, because pretty much only Bob Vila was wearing them. Bob Vila can only own so many flannel shirts, so obviously places like Goodwill had to take the others off of his hands.
Anyway.... that's his shirt.
After that breakdown of the photo evidence, it seems apparent that none of the things pictured are actually representative of me. I think that brings me to the subject of this blog. I'm documenting this time in my life because I don't know what I am, yet. I'm even wondering whether it's possible to be anything at all without it being some strange amalgamation of ironies, facades, and other people's personalities. I guess we'll see!
This is me pure and unglamourized. I chose this picture because you can see how charming and quirky I am, with my pear-coffee mug and my book of five minute classics. This picture tells probably indicates a few things.
1. I like to think that I'm charming and quirky. I'm really not. I'm way more awkward than I am charming, and I have a sneaking suspicion that people say I'm quirky because there's really no nice way of telling someone that they're awkward. This way everybody wins.
2. I drink coffee. This, also, is a lie. There is tea inside that coffee mug. The tea is even a bigger deception, though, because however much I think I should be one of those urbane, earthy people who drinks tea every day while earnestly philosophizing about the world (or at least the goodness of tea)... I'm not. I am fully pro-chocolate milk, regular milk, juice, and beer. Every so often I drink tea in an attempt to tell myself and the world that I am indeed one of those hip people at home in exotic coffeeshops. But the fact is: I just don't drink a lot of tea. I'm sorry for all the lies.
3. I like the Iliad. This would probably actually be true, but alas, I have not read the Iliad. I've read the Odyssey a few times, written several papers on it, delighted in books that have been based on the saga, etc., but the Iliad itself is unknown to me. This particular book I'm holding is a collection of famous classic books, condensed into humourous snippets of the original plots. This object sheds light on an actual truth, though, and that truth is that I adore books, of all shapes and sizes and pedigrees.
4. I protect marshes. I don't know if this is true, but I'd like to hope that I don't do anything to outwardly harm them. I mean, I don't give money or anything, but I also don't drive a pickup to preserved wetlands in the dark of night and surreptitiously dump pesticides into standing water, while wicked whispering threats to the geese and otters. The sweater belongs to my boyfriend, who doesn't partake in any strong activities for or against wetlands either. My guess would be that he got the sweater at a Salvation Army for 50 cents back in about 2003. The Boy introduced me to thrift stores a few years ago, so I can now thank him for about 75 percent of my wardrobe. He started to shop there, not because it was trendy, but because he stopped being able to fill his older brother's hand-me-downs sometime in 10th grade and didn't want to pay more than five dollars for corduroys. Boy wore lots of plaid flannel shirts about 3 years before it started to get cool. In fact, they were so cool that they were the cheapest shirts to buy, because pretty much only Bob Vila was wearing them. Bob Vila can only own so many flannel shirts, so obviously places like Goodwill had to take the others off of his hands.
Anyway.... that's his shirt.
After that breakdown of the photo evidence, it seems apparent that none of the things pictured are actually representative of me. I think that brings me to the subject of this blog. I'm documenting this time in my life because I don't know what I am, yet. I'm even wondering whether it's possible to be anything at all without it being some strange amalgamation of ironies, facades, and other people's personalities. I guess we'll see!
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