12 years ago
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Another Celebrity Sighting
Ideally while you read this, you should also listen to this:
I saw Edward Norton on the subway the other day. Or was it Tyler Durden? In any case, he was standing there on the far end of the platform, motionless and isolated. A vacant look occupied his face. His arms hung limply at his sides. The sleeves of his tan trench-coat rippled slightly in the wind originating from the depths of the tunnel. I don't know what Tyler Durden was doing down there, but he almost certainly wouldn't want me writing about it on the internet. I may have to go into witness protection.
There are electronic boards hanging in the stations. They display information about incoming trains such as train length and estimated time of arrival. Sometimes there is no ETA, only the word: ARR. I assume this is because you can never tell when a pirate-train will arrive at the station.
This one time, David and I saw the most badass thing to ever happen on the metro.
A train pulls up to the station unannounced. All the windows are blacked out. Once the train stopped, three dudes (dressed in all black and carrying shotguns) step out simultaneously from three different cars. Then a guy, also dressed in black, pushes a large wheeled box from the front car to one of the middle cars. The three armed men step back in and the train moves on.
We had just witnessed an elaborate bank heist. The robbers had dug into a bank vault from a nearby subway tunnel and used a hijacked subway train to move the take, disguised as metro employees, through the metro system until they jumped the tracks onto an abandoned rail line and rode off into the post-apocalyptic sunset.
This is what we witnessed.
I really don't know if this bothers anyone else, but. Some of the time the speed of the escalator handrail is slightly more than that of the escalator stairs themselves! This bothers me to no end. It threatens to pull me off balance and drop me into the pit of elephant seals below. "Elephant Seals?!?" you say. I promise to record them one day.
I saw Edward Norton on the subway the other day. Or was it Tyler Durden? In any case, he was standing there on the far end of the platform, motionless and isolated. A vacant look occupied his face. His arms hung limply at his sides. The sleeves of his tan trench-coat rippled slightly in the wind originating from the depths of the tunnel. I don't know what Tyler Durden was doing down there, but he almost certainly wouldn't want me writing about it on the internet. I may have to go into witness protection.
There are electronic boards hanging in the stations. They display information about incoming trains such as train length and estimated time of arrival. Sometimes there is no ETA, only the word: ARR. I assume this is because you can never tell when a pirate-train will arrive at the station.
This one time, David and I saw the most badass thing to ever happen on the metro.
A train pulls up to the station unannounced. All the windows are blacked out. Once the train stopped, three dudes (dressed in all black and carrying shotguns) step out simultaneously from three different cars. Then a guy, also dressed in black, pushes a large wheeled box from the front car to one of the middle cars. The three armed men step back in and the train moves on.
We had just witnessed an elaborate bank heist. The robbers had dug into a bank vault from a nearby subway tunnel and used a hijacked subway train to move the take, disguised as metro employees, through the metro system until they jumped the tracks onto an abandoned rail line and rode off into the post-apocalyptic sunset.
This is what we witnessed.
I really don't know if this bothers anyone else, but. Some of the time the speed of the escalator handrail is slightly more than that of the escalator stairs themselves! This bothers me to no end. It threatens to pull me off balance and drop me into the pit of elephant seals below. "Elephant Seals?!?" you say. I promise to record them one day.
Meta
For those of you (if there are any) that read this blog: I hope that you do so out of nothing more than idle curiosity. I use this thing mainly as a cathartic emotional outlet. I don't usually write about the things that are bothering me at the time, but I find that simply writing helps. I don't promise any quality of writing, nothing here is true until proven otherwise, and the content will be banal at best.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Part I
Shorty after Halley's Comet last banked round the sun, shooting back out of the plane of the solar system, a rather unremarkable event took place on the west coast of North America, in a town called Eugene. A small, squirmy little larval human was born. Well lots of them were, but one of them was me, or at least would become me at some point. I scored a 10/10 on the APGAR test and I probably fucking cheated.
I don't remember anything about Eugene, but I am told that it rained for months and months and there were many bums and many hippies. When I was around six months old, my father was offered a post-doctoral position at the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology at Starnberg south of Munich. We all packed our bags (except me: I was a bag) and hopped the pond. My cat, Miss Kitty, had to stay in my aunt's basement in Waukesha, I wouldn't see her again until I was five. I don't think she ever really forgave us.
Erling (the village we lived in) is the first home I can remember. We lived in a few houses there but I'm fairly certain I can only really remember the last one. Here is the address:
I don't remember anything about Eugene, but I am told that it rained for months and months and there were many bums and many hippies. When I was around six months old, my father was offered a post-doctoral position at the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology at Starnberg south of Munich. We all packed our bags (except me: I was a bag) and hopped the pond. My cat, Miss Kitty, had to stay in my aunt's basement in Waukesha, I wouldn't see her again until I was five. I don't think she ever really forgave us.
Erling (the village we lived in) is the first home I can remember. We lived in a few houses there but I'm fairly certain I can only really remember the last one. Here is the address:
Panoramastraße 6
82346 Andechs, Germany
I think that's it.
Some of my earliest/most pleasant memories revolved around the strawberry patch in our back yard. The strawberries must have been planted there for a long time because they were abnormally small and sweet, the way that strawberries that have been planted there for a long time sometimes get. I would sit on my ass and eat those things like candy right off the plants. One day, I waddled out to my strawberry patch to discover that it had been picked clean of all its berries. I guess my landlord must have been in the backyard too, because I remember asking him where all the strawberries went. He replied that an albatross had eaten them all. I accepted this as a plausible explanation. In retrospect, that motherfucker lied to me. What a lie to tell a child.
I think that's it.
Some of my earliest/most pleasant memories revolved around the strawberry patch in our back yard. The strawberries must have been planted there for a long time because they were abnormally small and sweet, the way that strawberries that have been planted there for a long time sometimes get. I would sit on my ass and eat those things like candy right off the plants. One day, I waddled out to my strawberry patch to discover that it had been picked clean of all its berries. I guess my landlord must have been in the backyard too, because I remember asking him where all the strawberries went. He replied that an albatross had eaten them all. I accepted this as a plausible explanation. In retrospect, that motherfucker lied to me. What a lie to tell a child.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Not quite right. A bit off.
I'm manic. I'm reeling. I'm not directionless. I'm omnidirectional.
I'm caught in loops that can't escape my mind. Spinning around; they cant get off the conveyor belt. They sit there with legs crossed and arms folded, a dull look in their eyes. Not quite human: malicious dolls waiting their turn in the uncanny valley. Chop chop chop.
chop.
Carve it down. Whittle and hew. Sculpt a place in the universe. Make it change. Tear it down.
Don't know what flipped the switch. Matters not. Switch got flipped. Bitch got tipped. Turned on.
Nothing is ever going to be the same again. Until it is.
Plugged in and passive. Consuming and excreting at a constant rate. Unfazed and content while the other half is screaming. Ultrasonic, unheard. Looking for the few brief moments of clarity.
There is a chance. An opening. In that time the words come flooding out rapidly and without order. Streaming out into a puddle on the floor. Its all there but its all wrong.
Try to scoop them up into piles but they just sink back together oozing and dripping and mixing. Diluted and devoid of meaning. Signal to noise ratio.
Night ride: panic and excitement. Branches grasping for the stars streaming by. Faster till blurred. Pothole. They are still streaming, I'm motionless.
Pretending to read. Words stare back, so many hieroglyphs spread about the page. Got to fit in, good at blending. He thinks he can blend with any medium. They have their suspicions: he's not quite right. Telltale signs and inconsistencies. Its all a bit off.
Humans like consistency across individuals. They like nothing more than to relate to something they thought was their own. I thought I was the only one who did that! wow.
All the same. Be the same. Behave. Beehive.
Apoptosis. Its autumn and you haven't changed a thing. Just another small part of the pile of leaves. Soon the tree will rot and the leaves will become fodder for a new tree. Meet the new tree, same as the old tree.
The fuzzy blue print of the mimeograph. The old cassette tape. Follow the instructions. You can be us too!
Its rude to tell people that their German last names are oddly fitting. Don't be rude to Andrew Klein.
Mobius.
I'm caught in loops that can't escape my mind. Spinning around; they cant get off the conveyor belt. They sit there with legs crossed and arms folded, a dull look in their eyes. Not quite human: malicious dolls waiting their turn in the uncanny valley. Chop chop chop.
chop.
Carve it down. Whittle and hew. Sculpt a place in the universe. Make it change. Tear it down.
Don't know what flipped the switch. Matters not. Switch got flipped. Bitch got tipped. Turned on.
Nothing is ever going to be the same again. Until it is.
Plugged in and passive. Consuming and excreting at a constant rate. Unfazed and content while the other half is screaming. Ultrasonic, unheard. Looking for the few brief moments of clarity.
There is a chance. An opening. In that time the words come flooding out rapidly and without order. Streaming out into a puddle on the floor. Its all there but its all wrong.
Try to scoop them up into piles but they just sink back together oozing and dripping and mixing. Diluted and devoid of meaning. Signal to noise ratio.
Night ride: panic and excitement. Branches grasping for the stars streaming by. Faster till blurred. Pothole. They are still streaming, I'm motionless.
Pretending to read. Words stare back, so many hieroglyphs spread about the page. Got to fit in, good at blending. He thinks he can blend with any medium. They have their suspicions: he's not quite right. Telltale signs and inconsistencies. Its all a bit off.
Humans like consistency across individuals. They like nothing more than to relate to something they thought was their own. I thought I was the only one who did that! wow.
All the same. Be the same. Behave. Beehive.
Apoptosis. Its autumn and you haven't changed a thing. Just another small part of the pile of leaves. Soon the tree will rot and the leaves will become fodder for a new tree. Meet the new tree, same as the old tree.
The fuzzy blue print of the mimeograph. The old cassette tape. Follow the instructions. You can be us too!
Its rude to tell people that their German last names are oddly fitting. Don't be rude to Andrew Klein.
Mobius.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Bike Ride
I went on a bike ride yesterday and it was fun. I went south from my house along the capital crescent trail. Stopped along the Potomac for a bagel:
After that, I meandered through Georgetown for a bit crossing over rock creek park. I wasn't really sure where I was going but I saw a cool TV antenna:
I crossed the Dumbarton bridge, which sucks compared to the Duke Ellington Memorial bridge, except that it is guarded by four of these rather impressive gents:
I liked the moon:
Thats all folks.
After that, I meandered through Georgetown for a bit crossing over rock creek park. I wasn't really sure where I was going but I saw a cool TV antenna:
I crossed the Dumbarton bridge, which sucks compared to the Duke Ellington Memorial bridge, except that it is guarded by four of these rather impressive gents:
I liked the moon:
Thats all folks.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Ethics and Empathy
I've been struggling with this.
I would like to think of myself as a logical being, I would like to think I make the choices that I do based on a logical thought process with a minimum of emotional interference. A problem that I have with this is that a completely logical being is completely selfish. Any altruistic acts are inevitably designed to benefit the actor in the long term.
This troubles me.
The explanation, I assume, is that I am not a logical being. There must be enough sentiment in me that I am troubled by the consequences of completely logical action. This is nice, I guess.
But wait.
What are emotions? Where did they come from? If emotions are just a set of tools with which evolution has equipped us with to further our genes, then they too have a logical basis of action. We feel sad when others are hurt because most likely they were our kin or would have provided some evolutionary benefit to us. Our empathy serves an extremely logical purpose: the proliferation of the individuals' genetic material and that of their kin. These emotions are based in logic, but they do not always work in concert with each other or with the other logical systems of our minds.
Which brings me back to...
my logical self. Perhaps there were some things I was overlooking. I made the assumption earlier that a logical being would only be interested in its own survival. That simply isn't true. It might be that the root of logical morality is curiosity. I realize that as a human I can accomplish a finite number of things before I die. If my goal is experience the world to its fullest in my time on it, I must act unselfishly to facilitate others in achieving their goals, no matter how small, so that I and the rest of humanity can appreciate them.
It is possible and convenient when the emotional side syncs up with this process but care must be taken identify when it does not.
There is more to this, but I'm hungry.
I would like to think of myself as a logical being, I would like to think I make the choices that I do based on a logical thought process with a minimum of emotional interference. A problem that I have with this is that a completely logical being is completely selfish. Any altruistic acts are inevitably designed to benefit the actor in the long term.
This troubles me.
The explanation, I assume, is that I am not a logical being. There must be enough sentiment in me that I am troubled by the consequences of completely logical action. This is nice, I guess.
But wait.
What are emotions? Where did they come from? If emotions are just a set of tools with which evolution has equipped us with to further our genes, then they too have a logical basis of action. We feel sad when others are hurt because most likely they were our kin or would have provided some evolutionary benefit to us. Our empathy serves an extremely logical purpose: the proliferation of the individuals' genetic material and that of their kin. These emotions are based in logic, but they do not always work in concert with each other or with the other logical systems of our minds.
Which brings me back to...
my logical self. Perhaps there were some things I was overlooking. I made the assumption earlier that a logical being would only be interested in its own survival. That simply isn't true. It might be that the root of logical morality is curiosity. I realize that as a human I can accomplish a finite number of things before I die. If my goal is experience the world to its fullest in my time on it, I must act unselfishly to facilitate others in achieving their goals, no matter how small, so that I and the rest of humanity can appreciate them.
It is possible and convenient when the emotional side syncs up with this process but care must be taken identify when it does not.
There is more to this, but I'm hungry.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Forecast
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning”
My grandpa always says that. Not the grandpa that lives on a boat though. When I see a red sky, I think of both of them.
mask on metro count: 3
swine-flu threat level: pale cornflower blue
My grandpa always says that. Not the grandpa that lives on a boat though. When I see a red sky, I think of both of them.
mask on metro count: 3
swine-flu threat level: pale cornflower blue
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wherein I talk about the subway some more.
I am sitting in the concrete tunnel. I like how the plants grow where the condensing water meets the eerie fluorescent glow from below.
There he is. He is waiting for the Glenmont bound red line train. It's Theodore Roosevelt. And, he has been shot. The stuffing of his red, weather-inappropriate parka is streaming out.
"It's okay," he says, "These saved me." He produces a shattered pair of spectacles from his left breast pocket. My face is blank with disbelief.
My train comes and Teddy is lost in the crowd.
There is an unwritten rule on the subway not dissimilar to a simplified concept of orbital sharing by electrons: when the train first begins to fill the (two person) benches are all initially taken by lone passengers. For the most part, riders do not begin to sit two to a seat until all the available seats have at least one occupant. The interesting part is that once this point has been reached, there is more initial resistance to seat sharing (activation energy, if you will) than there is later on when the majority of seats are shared, regardless of the fact that the seat seekers are just as in need of seats. It's as if people are resentful that they were picked first to sit next to.
I kind of like it when someone picks me to double-seat with. It makes me feel approachable.
I am thundering through the tunnel at a tremendous speed. The lights on the walls lining up perfectly with the star guitar in my head.
I am a goddamn cliche.
"Timothy." My meditation is broken.
"Timothy Lanik, your presence is requested on the roof of the train."
After a moment I make my way to the doors.
"Doors opening."
The wall, the concrete and cables, is streaming by a few feet out. It is a belt sander moving past the train at reckless speed.
I slowly clamber up the side of the car from the open door. Inside some of the passengers watch, but when I catch their glances they redirect them to the floor. I pull myself up onto the roof.
"Please stand back, doors closing."
Now the belt sander surrounds me on three sides. I hold my hands up like hooks above my head. They tear two parallel grooves into the belt. As the grooves deepen, my body is pulled up by capillary action, catapulted into the sky.
There he is. He is waiting for the Glenmont bound red line train. It's Theodore Roosevelt. And, he has been shot. The stuffing of his red, weather-inappropriate parka is streaming out.
"It's okay," he says, "These saved me." He produces a shattered pair of spectacles from his left breast pocket. My face is blank with disbelief.
My train comes and Teddy is lost in the crowd.
There is an unwritten rule on the subway not dissimilar to a simplified concept of orbital sharing by electrons: when the train first begins to fill the (two person) benches are all initially taken by lone passengers. For the most part, riders do not begin to sit two to a seat until all the available seats have at least one occupant. The interesting part is that once this point has been reached, there is more initial resistance to seat sharing (activation energy, if you will) than there is later on when the majority of seats are shared, regardless of the fact that the seat seekers are just as in need of seats. It's as if people are resentful that they were picked first to sit next to.
I kind of like it when someone picks me to double-seat with. It makes me feel approachable.
I am thundering through the tunnel at a tremendous speed. The lights on the walls lining up perfectly with the star guitar in my head.
I am a goddamn cliche.
"Timothy." My meditation is broken.
"Timothy Lanik, your presence is requested on the roof of the train."
After a moment I make my way to the doors.
"Doors opening."
The wall, the concrete and cables, is streaming by a few feet out. It is a belt sander moving past the train at reckless speed.
I slowly clamber up the side of the car from the open door. Inside some of the passengers watch, but when I catch their glances they redirect them to the floor. I pull myself up onto the roof.
"Please stand back, doors closing."
Now the belt sander surrounds me on three sides. I hold my hands up like hooks above my head. They tear two parallel grooves into the belt. As the grooves deepen, my body is pulled up by capillary action, catapulted into the sky.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Fraud
Even though I'm selling you this computer, I don't really know anything about it.
I know next to nothing about windows 7 and have never had a copy of windows vista or 7 installed on my home computer (if I had to use windows all the time, I would be using windows 2000).The sum total of my hands-on windows 7 experience has been while showing it to customers just like you.
I don't know any more about this computer than you do. When I help you compare it to other computers, I am simply comparing the specs, which are printed on a little card situated directly in front of the display model. Any additional information I provide you with was obtained (mere seconds ago!) from google.
I have no idea if brand X is any better than brand Y. I have my suspicions that they are all exactly the same. I am, however, trying to get you to buy brand Y, just to see if I can. The next customer I have is going to be sold brand Z. I feel this gives the department some consistency, as if it were an evenly buttered piece of bread.
Printers are worse. Much worse. Please don't buy a printer from me. I am frantically making shit up.
I know next to nothing about windows 7 and have never had a copy of windows vista or 7 installed on my home computer (if I had to use windows all the time, I would be using windows 2000).The sum total of my hands-on windows 7 experience has been while showing it to customers just like you.
I don't know any more about this computer than you do. When I help you compare it to other computers, I am simply comparing the specs, which are printed on a little card situated directly in front of the display model. Any additional information I provide you with was obtained (mere seconds ago!) from google.
I have no idea if brand X is any better than brand Y. I have my suspicions that they are all exactly the same. I am, however, trying to get you to buy brand Y, just to see if I can. The next customer I have is going to be sold brand Z. I feel this gives the department some consistency, as if it were an evenly buttered piece of bread.
Printers are worse. Much worse. Please don't buy a printer from me. I am frantically making shit up.
Subway
Things I like:
lights on the tunnel walls
lights on the station floors
covertly watching people through the reflections in the windows
when the escalator handrails are warm (why is this? they aren't always warm)
how windy it is in the entrances
bouncing my wallet on the smartrip reader
when it's foggy in the station
Things I don't:
people who stand on the left on the escalators
teenagers who look like they are going to jump on the tracks
when the train stops in the tunnel and I think its going to be the station but then its not and I'm like "awwww man"
slow people walking in front of me when I am trying to transfer
Best:
overly informative conductors
lights on the tunnel walls
lights on the station floors
covertly watching people through the reflections in the windows
when the escalator handrails are warm (why is this? they aren't always warm)
how windy it is in the entrances
bouncing my wallet on the smartrip reader
when it's foggy in the station
Things I don't:
people who stand on the left on the escalators
teenagers who look like they are going to jump on the tracks
when the train stops in the tunnel and I think its going to be the station but then its not and I'm like "awwww man"
slow people walking in front of me when I am trying to transfer
Best:
overly informative conductors
Sunday, October 18, 2009
I am probably a crazy person
View Larger Map
Sometimes when I am alone, or think I am, I open my mouth and words come out. They are not my words; I didn't think of them, they just come out. Sometimes, the really creepy times, they are relevant to my current situation but not conscience thoughts.
Is this a thing?
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Things
Need to:
Clean the Kitchen
Get Canadian Passport
Apply to more jobs
Apply to grad school
Done:
Ate bacon
Spilled orange juice on carpet
Read
Clean the Kitchen
Get Canadian Passport
Apply to more jobs
Apply to grad school
Done:
Ate bacon
Spilled orange juice on carpet
Read
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Und dass so was von so was kommt
Panda
Scissors
Spectacles
T8 Torx Screwdriver
Sharpie
Towel
Post-it
Suitcase
Shortwave Radio
Notebook
Receipt
Tire Iron
Rucksack
Small Wooden Box
Bread is mocking me.
Scissors
Spectacles
T8 Torx Screwdriver
Sharpie
Towel
Post-it
Suitcase
Shortwave Radio
Notebook
Receipt
Tire Iron
Rucksack
Small Wooden Box
Bread is mocking me.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Ball
My father patiently tries for over an hour to teach me to hit a ball with a bat. I give up and climb a tree.
View Larger Map
View Larger Map
Friday, October 9, 2009
Human Condition
Occasionally I am quite surprised to find myself in this body. I'm struck by how bizarre it is: I visually observe the world through these imperfect eyes, have telekinetic control over a lump of matter extending to my extremities.
It isn't me, the lump that is. One could cut most of it off and I would still be me for a while. I am just a brain sitting in a a skull attached to a body. It isn't me. Is it?
Am I these thoughts? Electrical impulses and chemical signals and neural connections. Or is the body me too? Am I my feet and hands and torso and face? Are my toenails me? They are now dead, but were once living cells in my body. What about the five or so pounds of bacteria that inhabit my digestive tract (some of which are necessary for survival)?
Arbitrary.
The point is: there is no me. Just a vast organization of cooperating systems that promote their own survival and self-replication. Some of these systems work together and form the illusion of consciousness, more of a hub for interaction than a control center.
Occasionally several systems in this organism experience a temporary and incomplete self-awareness.
It isn't me, the lump that is. One could cut most of it off and I would still be me for a while. I am just a brain sitting in a a skull attached to a body. It isn't me. Is it?
Am I these thoughts? Electrical impulses and chemical signals and neural connections. Or is the body me too? Am I my feet and hands and torso and face? Are my toenails me? They are now dead, but were once living cells in my body. What about the five or so pounds of bacteria that inhabit my digestive tract (some of which are necessary for survival)?
Arbitrary.
The point is: there is no me. Just a vast organization of cooperating systems that promote their own survival and self-replication. Some of these systems work together and form the illusion of consciousness, more of a hub for interaction than a control center.
Occasionally several systems in this organism experience a temporary and incomplete self-awareness.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Who Knew?
Did you know that there are times zones that differ by an odd multiple of 30 minutes from most other time zones? Here is one. WTF Newfoundland.
Collapse
I prefer the wave function before it collapses. One could run simulations to predict the possible outcomes, explore the ramifications. Once the measurement is made, it cant go back to the indeterminate state.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Affair
It's like drawing
where the pavement meets the grass
from the balcony
its not hard
coming up to meet me
you are alien
surrounding me
I breathe you in
choking
keep my calm
a splayed branch
twisting up and through
guts spill out my back
an illusion of choice
force of tension orthogonal
to confusion, resolve
seen you in dreams
reaching out in flashes
dancing light, cavern walls
I am no more me than you
or I
Pass the baton
where the pavement meets the grass
from the balcony
its not hard
coming up to meet me
you are alien
surrounding me
I breathe you in
choking
keep my calm
a splayed branch
twisting up and through
guts spill out my back
an illusion of choice
force of tension orthogonal
to confusion, resolve
seen you in dreams
reaching out in flashes
dancing light, cavern walls
I am no more me than you
or I
Pass the baton
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Trashed
You know when there is a really nasty, full of broken shit house in a movie or tv show (usually a wretched hive of scum and/or villainy)? Do they pay people to trash the house? Can I have that job?
Monday, September 14, 2009
Dream
Last night I had a dream that I was in New Hampshire. I was also going to move there soon but I had to get a job in DC first. Also moving to NH involved sailing on a ship. I was worried I wouldn't be able to get my bike there.
Today, in addition to freaking out about job interviews I looked at grad schools online and freaked out about those as well. Then I bought some cheese. I didn't eat any, but I think the act of purchasing the cheese and knowing that its there makes me feel better.
I know very little about working retail, but I think I know enough that I don't want to do it for the rest of my life. Maybe I should go back to school. Like undergrad. Maybe just a few biology courses. Why didn't I do that before?
Need to:
Get Job
Get Apartment
Get Life
Transcend
Today, in addition to freaking out about job interviews I looked at grad schools online and freaked out about those as well. Then I bought some cheese. I didn't eat any, but I think the act of purchasing the cheese and knowing that its there makes me feel better.
I know very little about working retail, but I think I know enough that I don't want to do it for the rest of my life. Maybe I should go back to school. Like undergrad. Maybe just a few biology courses. Why didn't I do that before?
Need to:
Get Job
Get Apartment
Get Life
Transcend
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Looking Back
Searching for a job and filling information about my previous employers has shoveled up more employment related memories than I thought I had. Here is a list of some of my previous jobs, listed in approximate chronological order and labeled with their most memorable tasks:
- Warming House Sitter
- Football Field Sitter
- Softball Field Sitter
- Computer Takaparter, Putterbacktogetherer and Starter Uper
- Can Crushing Machine Operator
- Pool Nightwatchman
- Mail Getter
- Bucket Filler
- Light Bulb Changer and Stealth Sleeper
- Column Runner
- Computational Chemistry Homework Doer
About three quarters of my jobs have involved unlocking a room or building and then sitting in it.
- Warming House Sitter
- Football Field Sitter
- Softball Field Sitter
- Computer Takaparter, Putterbacktogetherer and Starter Uper
- Can Crushing Machine Operator
- Pool Nightwatchman
- Mail Getter
- Bucket Filler
- Light Bulb Changer and Stealth Sleeper
- Column Runner
- Computational Chemistry Homework Doer
About three quarters of my jobs have involved unlocking a room or building and then sitting in it.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
A Bit of a Change
I didn't procrastinate today. Or yesterday for that matter. I've been in DC looking at apartments and applying for jobs. I think the new situation has disoriented me and distracted me from my mission. I'll have to get back on the procrastination jet as soon as I can.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Self vs. Life
Suppose the technology to back up or replicate the human brain existed. Now suppose you made a copy of your brain, and turned it on. The brain in the computer would believe it was you. It would believe that it had been the living breathing you then it was scanned and copied into this hypothetical technology. When it awakened it was as if it had simply jumped from your body and woken up in the machine. In a sense it is just as much you as your biological self is.
Now suppose the same situation, except that the moment your brain is copied to the machine, your biological self dies. The copy in the machine is the same as the previous example but this time it is the only existing manifestation. To the brain in the machine (you), you were living in a biological body and then the next second you awoke in an artificial form. One continuous entity.
Now you are dying. There is no machine. Your heart stops beating. You loose consciousness. You are technically dead. But by some stroke of luck you are resuscitated. The you that wakes up in that body. Is it the same one that was there taking its dying breath?
Could it be possible that you are dying every second of every day? Not in the biological sense. But in the sense that the information in your brain, the personality that you have, your stream of consciousness does not survive indefinitely in you body.
I have to finish:
Packing
Cleaning Dayton
Canceling Utilities
Finding a Job
Finding a Life
Now suppose the same situation, except that the moment your brain is copied to the machine, your biological self dies. The copy in the machine is the same as the previous example but this time it is the only existing manifestation. To the brain in the machine (you), you were living in a biological body and then the next second you awoke in an artificial form. One continuous entity.
Now you are dying. There is no machine. Your heart stops beating. You loose consciousness. You are technically dead. But by some stroke of luck you are resuscitated. The you that wakes up in that body. Is it the same one that was there taking its dying breath?
Could it be possible that you are dying every second of every day? Not in the biological sense. But in the sense that the information in your brain, the personality that you have, your stream of consciousness does not survive indefinitely in you body.
I have to finish:
Packing
Cleaning Dayton
Canceling Utilities
Finding a Job
Finding a Life
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Post Graduation Procrastination
I had thought about not updating this blog anymore as I don't have anymore schoolwork.
However, I still find things to put off: cleaning out my hood, finishing my resume, just about everything except sleeping and interneting.
Daft Punk is on the radio (!)
However, I still find things to put off: cleaning out my hood, finishing my resume, just about everything except sleeping and interneting.
Daft Punk is on the radio (!)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Movie
Went through a bunch of crap today with the registrar. Apparently I never actually took chemistry seminar last semester... I guess I was hoodwinked! Who knew that you could be on the class list, attend all the classes and turn in the assignments without taking the class.
I went home and watched a movie. Its called Traitor. It stars Don Cheadle as a traitor. It was definitely one of the better movies I have seen lately. There was a bit of action, but that wasn't the main point. Cheadle played his character very well, everything came off very realistically. Combine this with the subject matter and you get a movie that is very thought provoking. I give it three point five out of four bow wows.
Also there was a scene with a TTC streetcar in it and I was all like "Toronto!" next line: "Welcome to Toronto Samir"
I went home and watched a movie. Its called Traitor. It stars Don Cheadle as a traitor. It was definitely one of the better movies I have seen lately. There was a bit of action, but that wasn't the main point. Cheadle played his character very well, everything came off very realistically. Combine this with the subject matter and you get a movie that is very thought provoking. I give it three point five out of four bow wows.
Also there was a scene with a TTC streetcar in it and I was all like "Toronto!" next line: "Welcome to Toronto Samir"
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Things I have done today rather than write about compounds containing interpnictogen bonds.
1. nap
2. smoke a cigarette
3. make tea (tey), at least three times
4. sweep the stairs
5. look at the garden, just look
6. stay up to date on digg
7. stay up to date on slashdot
8. read the majority of impudent strumpet
9. browse the bikes section of craigslist
10. browse the farm and garden section of craigslist
11. read trivial pursuit questions to my housemates
12. read the wikipedia page for atheism
13. read the wikipeadia page for llamas
2. smoke a cigarette
3. make tea (tey), at least three times
4. sweep the stairs
5. look at the garden, just look
6. stay up to date on digg
7. stay up to date on slashdot
8. read the majority of impudent strumpet
9. browse the bikes section of craigslist
10. browse the farm and garden section of craigslist
11. read trivial pursuit questions to my housemates
12. read the wikipedia page for atheism
13. read the wikipeadia page for llamas
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Lights
Right now I am supervising a computer lab. The lab has large windows with an abundance of natural light. Two students and myself were happily working in this environment until a third showed up and with out a second of hesitation flipped on the florescent lights. I get the feeling that if a student were to walk into a room and do the opposite (turn off the lights) there would be some kind of backlash for this behavior. Why the double standard?
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