Yeah, when anybody wins some $100M lottery prize, it spawns some wishful thinking and downright envy in the population at large.
Now why so many of us are even at large, I have no idea. Probably has to do with that whole 'deinstitutionalization' movement back in the late 1970's. Deinstitutionalization is a VERY fun word to type though...
When non-lottery winners are daydreaming about owning castles and such? There's one aspect of material wealth they probably fail to consider. $100M means you never again have to do anything you find uncomfortable.
You'll never again have to speak with someone you don't like. You'll never have to go anywhere you don't want to go. You don't even have to floss your own teeth.
Well congratulations! Because in that aspect of obscene material wealth, you've arrived, in spirit at least. We're all of us already avoiding things we find uncomfortable, every chance we get.
Some things that make us uncomfortable, there's a darned good reason they should. I'm not talking about that kind of thing. I'm talking about learning shoe repair at home!!!
Has oft been said, You never understand a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. Let's attribute that to Abe Lincoln. What the heck, he always gets the folksy platitudes laid to his legacy, right?
Well, I think shoe swapping is questionable from a hygeine perspective, unless you know the person really well. If you already know him well, no point in the whole mile walking experiment anyway. Why not walk a mile in YOUR shoes instead?
What makes you uncomfortable, and why? Naw, it's not a trick question! I realize that many things where a sense of unease attends, these things happen real quick in dynamic situations.
You know it darned well when you're experiencing it, but it's not the sort of situation lends itself to your calmly taking notes.
But there are some recurring themes, if you'll think about it. These are your shoes you're wearing, so why don't you go nuts and walk a mile in them and really understand you?
Maybe your shoes are just dandy, but mine are rundown at the heels and the laces keep coming untied. So here's some of what makes me uncomfortable. You make your own list, send it to me if you wish.
I'm uncomfortable around retarded people. Nope, that's not lead in for a lame self-deprecating joke. I really am intensely uncomfortable around retarded people.
Reason for that is likely cause my identity is so wrapped up with my alleged intellectual powers.
I'm uncomfortable when I walk up to any soldier or veteran and say 'Thank you for my freedom.' Used to say 'Thank you for your service' which didn't bother me. But at length I came to decide? The tepid sterility of 21st century English won't be applied by me to those who've protected me. 'Thank you for your service' sounds like something you tell a waitress at Applebee's.
Most recent time I said 'Thank you for my freedom' was to a guy doddering around the grocery store wearing a "WW2 Veteran" ball cap. It made me uncomfortable. Reason for that I think? 'Thanks for your service' is impersonal. Served this great nation, Mom's Apple Pie, etc. while 'Thank you for my freedom' expresses MY need, MY dependence on another.
But after you know, after you come to realize mealy-mouthed platitudes don't pass the Sullivan Ballou test for expressing gratitude to our soldiers, it makes you LESS comfortable to mumble 'Thanks for your service.'
And I guess that's what I'm getting at. Sure did take me a lot of words, huh? If you'll think, really think about some recurring things that make you uncomfortable, maybe you'll decide you don't want to be the sort of person who avoids that brand of discomfort. And by doing that, some metaphysical transmutation occurs where your shoes are repaired; it's lots more comfortable walking around in them. You might try it? Crazier plans have succeeded.
Deinstitutionalization, Deinstitutionalization, Deinstitutionalization, Deinstitutionalization... I LOVE typing that word!!!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Oh Prometheus!
Thinking you are totally in charge of your life's direction is like being the optimistic deckhand on the Titanic.
On the one hand, your delusion isn't going to influence outcomes much. On the other hand though? If it makes you happy to think you're in control right up to the minute you learn you're not, what the heck!
It doesn't really matter whether your last words are "I think I see the Carpathia coming!" or "Damned Iceberg."
My question though? In the words of Paul Simon, you 'lived so well so long' with supreme confidence in your ability to choose your battles, so...
What kind of person are you going to be now you know, well... you're pretty good at doing complex math problems. How will it change you to learn that somewhere in that huge quadratic equation you've always believed describes your life, you've got a math term transposed?
It's not a math term at all really. I was just trying to be nice. It's a Hopi pictograph; a turtle on a fence post.
1. The turtle didn't get up on that fence post all by itself. (Even if the turtle thinks he did.)
2. The turtle's next move, without the beneficent intervention of some external force, likely isn't going to be pleasant.
That beautiful quadratic equation you worked so hard to perfect, and it's got a dang Hopi pictograph slap in the middle of it!
If someone showed that to you, what kind of person would you be after that?
Well I don't know either, all right? Just cause I have a blog doesn't make me some sort of Nostradumbass!
I would kinda suspect finding a Hopi pictograph in the midst of one's beautifully formulated, uhm... formula, would negatively influence the output of declarative sentences in the future.
You can't do everything, so let it be. But don't turn jackass of another color on me, and comfort yourself that you can't do anything. You can do lots of really cool stuff.
Like me for instance? For one thing, when it gets cold in this apartment, I go upstairs, look and see if a little red light is blinking. If it is, I unplug the heating unit and then plug it back in. Now I ask you, isn't that cool?
Well it sure is cool in here when that red light is blinking, I'll tell you that. But wait, there's even more!
Thursday I'm driving to St. Louis to look at a mold! That's not all I do though, I do other stuff! Last night I cooked spaghetti... it was bloody inedible! I ate two plates of it just to be certain.
And I'm being dragged kicking & screaming to speak out on child hunger. I sure don't want to. People will think I'm an annoying jerk (psst... they already do already David) which would be fine if I felt confident I'm getting through to people, which I don't think I am.
But I just have a burden in my heart for child hunger, and the only thing makes it go away is when I'm doing something about it.
So I'm doing some cool stuff. What cool stuff are you doing?
I'm going to have to figure out a way to manage with this Hopi pictograph in the middle of my otherwise beautiful quadratic equation. I've tried erasing it, just comes back. And now the turtle is grinning at me! I didn't know turtles could do that, did you?
On the one hand, your delusion isn't going to influence outcomes much. On the other hand though? If it makes you happy to think you're in control right up to the minute you learn you're not, what the heck!
It doesn't really matter whether your last words are "I think I see the Carpathia coming!" or "Damned Iceberg."
My question though? In the words of Paul Simon, you 'lived so well so long' with supreme confidence in your ability to choose your battles, so...
What kind of person are you going to be now you know, well... you're pretty good at doing complex math problems. How will it change you to learn that somewhere in that huge quadratic equation you've always believed describes your life, you've got a math term transposed?
It's not a math term at all really. I was just trying to be nice. It's a Hopi pictograph; a turtle on a fence post.
1. The turtle didn't get up on that fence post all by itself. (Even if the turtle thinks he did.)
2. The turtle's next move, without the beneficent intervention of some external force, likely isn't going to be pleasant.
That beautiful quadratic equation you worked so hard to perfect, and it's got a dang Hopi pictograph slap in the middle of it!
If someone showed that to you, what kind of person would you be after that?
Well I don't know either, all right? Just cause I have a blog doesn't make me some sort of Nostradumbass!
I would kinda suspect finding a Hopi pictograph in the midst of one's beautifully formulated, uhm... formula, would negatively influence the output of declarative sentences in the future.
You can't do everything, so let it be. But don't turn jackass of another color on me, and comfort yourself that you can't do anything. You can do lots of really cool stuff.
Like me for instance? For one thing, when it gets cold in this apartment, I go upstairs, look and see if a little red light is blinking. If it is, I unplug the heating unit and then plug it back in. Now I ask you, isn't that cool?
Well it sure is cool in here when that red light is blinking, I'll tell you that. But wait, there's even more!
Thursday I'm driving to St. Louis to look at a mold! That's not all I do though, I do other stuff! Last night I cooked spaghetti... it was bloody inedible! I ate two plates of it just to be certain.
And I'm being dragged kicking & screaming to speak out on child hunger. I sure don't want to. People will think I'm an annoying jerk (psst... they already do already David) which would be fine if I felt confident I'm getting through to people, which I don't think I am.
But I just have a burden in my heart for child hunger, and the only thing makes it go away is when I'm doing something about it.
So I'm doing some cool stuff. What cool stuff are you doing?
I'm going to have to figure out a way to manage with this Hopi pictograph in the middle of my otherwise beautiful quadratic equation. I've tried erasing it, just comes back. And now the turtle is grinning at me! I didn't know turtles could do that, did you?
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Among the Natives
I will have to work hard to keep this journal of my time in this dark, mapless land.
Dr. Throckmorton discovered an entirely unknown species of boa constrictor last week. Unfortunately it discovered him before he discovered it. We will miss him.
Two weeks ago I joined the savages for worship in their house of prayer. It was crowded, but the service was pleasant. The sermon was about before Jesus came into the world, nobody was required to forgive you, and you weren't required to forgive anybody.
In the pre-Jesus days, the entire world operated on 'eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.' What that gets us eventually is a lot of blind people who can't enjoy corn on the cob.
Corn on the cob is quite delicious, although I don't believe it was a staple of Mediterranen diets back then. Must remember to ask Dr. Throckmorton about that... oh, never mind.
A question has come up among the natives about whether one should forgive those who've not asked for forgiveness. In this land, I'm not regarded as a learned sage, nor even a basil or oregano for that matter.
I'm accepted as a fellow tribe member who crazily went off wandering. To the natives, it would seem all I learned in my journeys is of less value than what I'd have learned by staying around the village. The natives don't ask my counsel; they tell me the code of their tribe.
I understand they feel no need to forgive those who've not repented. But if all dialogue stops there, well? I can't change the laws of this tribe. Yet if we say in our hearts we won't do forgiveness until another has repented, aren't we washing our hands of the matter, as Pilate did?
Dr. Throckmorton discovered an entirely unknown species of boa constrictor last week. Unfortunately it discovered him before he discovered it. We will miss him.
Two weeks ago I joined the savages for worship in their house of prayer. It was crowded, but the service was pleasant. The sermon was about before Jesus came into the world, nobody was required to forgive you, and you weren't required to forgive anybody.
In the pre-Jesus days, the entire world operated on 'eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.' What that gets us eventually is a lot of blind people who can't enjoy corn on the cob.
Corn on the cob is quite delicious, although I don't believe it was a staple of Mediterranen diets back then. Must remember to ask Dr. Throckmorton about that... oh, never mind.
A question has come up among the natives about whether one should forgive those who've not asked for forgiveness. In this land, I'm not regarded as a learned sage, nor even a basil or oregano for that matter.
I'm accepted as a fellow tribe member who crazily went off wandering. To the natives, it would seem all I learned in my journeys is of less value than what I'd have learned by staying around the village. The natives don't ask my counsel; they tell me the code of their tribe.
I understand they feel no need to forgive those who've not repented. But if all dialogue stops there, well? I can't change the laws of this tribe. Yet if we say in our hearts we won't do forgiveness until another has repented, aren't we washing our hands of the matter, as Pilate did?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Thoughts on this strange land
Lexington, TN was founded around 1830 and sits at 300 ft. above sea level halfway between Nashville and Memphis.
Around 7,000 live in Lexington, ten percent of them below the poverty line. The poverty line runs diagonally with Main St. then takes a sharp right turn at the housing project. Naw, just kidding about that last part. The poverty line isn't formally demarcated in geographical terms; it's more vividly delineated in other ways though.
Why doesn't Lexington have a food pantry? There is the old City school that's been turned into a 'community center.' Surely it has at least one former classroom that'd suffice for food pantry HQ rent-free.
There are at least a dozen and perhaps two dozen Churches in Lexington. Added to that, there is the usual mix of fraternal groups. So potential volunteers exist, and a serviceable organizational infrastructure exists. So why doesn't Lexington have a food pantry?
Uhmm... let me see. Because they'd stay out of food 3/4 of the time? Well that's likely true, but what about that other 1/4 of the time? Wouldn't they be sending people home with some canned goods and a few boxes of macaroni & cheese?
A loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter? This week I will contact Hope Ministries. It sits in threadbare dignity in one of the poorest sections of Lexington; street I used to live on in fact.
I want to learn more about the faith of these natives.
Around 7,000 live in Lexington, ten percent of them below the poverty line. The poverty line runs diagonally with Main St. then takes a sharp right turn at the housing project. Naw, just kidding about that last part. The poverty line isn't formally demarcated in geographical terms; it's more vividly delineated in other ways though.
Why doesn't Lexington have a food pantry? There is the old City school that's been turned into a 'community center.' Surely it has at least one former classroom that'd suffice for food pantry HQ rent-free.
There are at least a dozen and perhaps two dozen Churches in Lexington. Added to that, there is the usual mix of fraternal groups. So potential volunteers exist, and a serviceable organizational infrastructure exists. So why doesn't Lexington have a food pantry?
Uhmm... let me see. Because they'd stay out of food 3/4 of the time? Well that's likely true, but what about that other 1/4 of the time? Wouldn't they be sending people home with some canned goods and a few boxes of macaroni & cheese?
A loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter? This week I will contact Hope Ministries. It sits in threadbare dignity in one of the poorest sections of Lexington; street I used to live on in fact.
I want to learn more about the faith of these natives.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Back at base camp
These few days away from Lexington have been nice, but I want to get back to the job. There is much to learn, there are ongoing projects I'm expected to lead soon.
It was comforting to have the Mustang with me in Lexington last week. While grateful for the use of company truck, I didn't feel free to move among the natives in that wild savage land during my first week.
I've been this last week to some of the natives' homes. I find them friendly and open-hearted. One of them gave me a Joan Baez record.
The coming week will be filled with activity. I will be inducted into some fraternal organization the primitives call 'Friends of the Library.' It's possible too I may run out of pot pies and canned chili, so a provisioning excursion into the bush seems likely.
I've invited members of a hostile tribe to join me at a neutral location for a meal. That will happen Thursday, if I get my will updated by then. I've been warned about one warrior of this splinter group; it's said he's a dopehead. That may be, but he is my blood relative. So I will break bread with this hostile tribe, while watching out for blow guns.
The atmosphere at base camp alternates between relaxed and tense. While it's refreshing to be surrounded by familiar sights & sounds, I can sense the wilderness calling me.
I can't push myself too far into the unknown regions without periods of rest. But it's my job to explore.
It was comforting to have the Mustang with me in Lexington last week. While grateful for the use of company truck, I didn't feel free to move among the natives in that wild savage land during my first week.
I've been this last week to some of the natives' homes. I find them friendly and open-hearted. One of them gave me a Joan Baez record.
The coming week will be filled with activity. I will be inducted into some fraternal organization the primitives call 'Friends of the Library.' It's possible too I may run out of pot pies and canned chili, so a provisioning excursion into the bush seems likely.
I've invited members of a hostile tribe to join me at a neutral location for a meal. That will happen Thursday, if I get my will updated by then. I've been warned about one warrior of this splinter group; it's said he's a dopehead. That may be, but he is my blood relative. So I will break bread with this hostile tribe, while watching out for blow guns.
The atmosphere at base camp alternates between relaxed and tense. While it's refreshing to be surrounded by familiar sights & sounds, I can sense the wilderness calling me.
I can't push myself too far into the unknown regions without periods of rest. But it's my job to explore.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
How Endothermic Human Reactions Work
A guy told me today about last night's scene in his wife's six years and counting battle with cancer. Pain med perscription hadn't come in mail on time; he was driving 30 miles to get a few 'get-by' pills for her. All agreed to by Doctor, and then he got jammed up with a nurse who misunderstood. Worked out OK this time though.
Interesting how people open up to you, when you come across as a safe place to unburden. It's not that you're so wonderful, just that you're neutral polarity. Wonder what the equation for something like that would look like, hmmm...
Well shear force is what acts in a non-direct angle against another force. So a person with troubles, there's a force inside him wanting other humans just to understand what he's going through. Humans have lots of ways besides verbal to convey, "I don't really care; I've my stuff to worry about." That's the human shear force.
Gotta be a way to graph human shear force. More narrow the angle of deflection or greater the shear force, the more energy is applied against the force that wants to unburden a little to a fellow human.
If the human shear force graphs high enough, the unburdening force is stopped cold. But not really cold. Sir Isaac proved energy is indestructible. A man so smart, he got a fig cookie named after him!
When it's about forces in motion? The shear force slows or even stops motion. The motion energy is changed to heat at point of contact. Friction. An object in motion by some force can get really hot on the outside when it's stopped suddenly.
But humans are made of chemicals, so I think the shear force acts against the unburdening force in an endothermic reaction.
There are some chemicals, you can bring them to full boil separately, then pour them together and the beaker is cold to the touch. That because the kinetic energy of heated liquids is suddenly trapped in chemical reaction. The heat's still there, but it's now inward heat.
Maybe that's how shear force/unburdening force works among humans, like an endothermic chemical reaction. You can stop people from telling you their troubles. You're not stopping the force that makes them want to feel fellowship though. Perhaps you're turning it into unhelpful interior heat.
I'm glad I listened to the guy. I hate there've been so many times I'd have brushed him off. Hope there won't be any more such times of that behavior from me.
Interesting how people open up to you, when you come across as a safe place to unburden. It's not that you're so wonderful, just that you're neutral polarity. Wonder what the equation for something like that would look like, hmmm...
Well shear force is what acts in a non-direct angle against another force. So a person with troubles, there's a force inside him wanting other humans just to understand what he's going through. Humans have lots of ways besides verbal to convey, "I don't really care; I've my stuff to worry about." That's the human shear force.
Gotta be a way to graph human shear force. More narrow the angle of deflection or greater the shear force, the more energy is applied against the force that wants to unburden a little to a fellow human.
If the human shear force graphs high enough, the unburdening force is stopped cold. But not really cold. Sir Isaac proved energy is indestructible. A man so smart, he got a fig cookie named after him!
When it's about forces in motion? The shear force slows or even stops motion. The motion energy is changed to heat at point of contact. Friction. An object in motion by some force can get really hot on the outside when it's stopped suddenly.
But humans are made of chemicals, so I think the shear force acts against the unburdening force in an endothermic reaction.
There are some chemicals, you can bring them to full boil separately, then pour them together and the beaker is cold to the touch. That because the kinetic energy of heated liquids is suddenly trapped in chemical reaction. The heat's still there, but it's now inward heat.
Maybe that's how shear force/unburdening force works among humans, like an endothermic chemical reaction. You can stop people from telling you their troubles. You're not stopping the force that makes them want to feel fellowship though. Perhaps you're turning it into unhelpful interior heat.
I'm glad I listened to the guy. I hate there've been so many times I'd have brushed him off. Hope there won't be any more such times of that behavior from me.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Day Two in this Strange Land
Trevor got in quicksand yesterday and the last we saw of him was a pith helmet... no wait, that's a Tarzan movie. My journey of exploration without a map goes fairly smooth so far; no quicksand encountered yet.
I'm happy but surprised that Lucy the Mustang only needed a new battery. Sounded to me like the motor was doing sufficient rpm's to crank, but I'm glad to be wrong this time. It's tremendously helpful my boss gave me use of the company truck this week.
April will come fetch me on Friday; Sunday after Church I drive Ms. Lucy back into this wild, uncharted country.
I'm getting along well with the natives, but then again many explorers have thought that right up to the last minute, agreed? There is a machine at the convenience store at bottom of the hill... I need to say a few words on that topic.
It's a modified version of the penny pitching machines I was first introduced to at Long Beach's New Pike amusement park, around 1964.
Penny pitchers, glass covered table with many sets of little concentric circles, each having a number. Goal is to scoot your penny through the narrow slot so it lands to complete electrical circuit between the concentric circles. If done, whatever number is on that spot, that's how many pennies the machine shoots you back.
Were such machines to even exist nowadays, I think they'd have to up the voltage in the concentric circles. Pennies are now copper clad zinc, and zinc's not a good conductor. Besides, who wants to win a bunch of pennies? So both electrically and intrinsically, a penny ain't what it was in 1964.
This quarter machine down at the convenience store? About the size of a jukebox. It's a moving shelf gag. One scoots his quarter through the slot in hopes it will achieve some critical mass with other quarters on the moving plate, and a bonanza of two bit pieces will fall into the payoff slot.
Sounds complex I know, but the handwritten sign on the machine isn't complex at all. It's beautiful prose, so succinct I think Hemingway would be jealous.
"Have enough quarters because if you have to go get change you lose your place in line."
Something about exactly like that I'm pretty sure, is what the sign said. So there's often a line of people waiting to feed quarters to that monster, huh?
Wonder how many police officers stop in that convenience store every week and walk right past that machine? That's an illegal gambling device.
I'm happy but surprised that Lucy the Mustang only needed a new battery. Sounded to me like the motor was doing sufficient rpm's to crank, but I'm glad to be wrong this time. It's tremendously helpful my boss gave me use of the company truck this week.
April will come fetch me on Friday; Sunday after Church I drive Ms. Lucy back into this wild, uncharted country.
I'm getting along well with the natives, but then again many explorers have thought that right up to the last minute, agreed? There is a machine at the convenience store at bottom of the hill... I need to say a few words on that topic.
It's a modified version of the penny pitching machines I was first introduced to at Long Beach's New Pike amusement park, around 1964.
Penny pitchers, glass covered table with many sets of little concentric circles, each having a number. Goal is to scoot your penny through the narrow slot so it lands to complete electrical circuit between the concentric circles. If done, whatever number is on that spot, that's how many pennies the machine shoots you back.
Were such machines to even exist nowadays, I think they'd have to up the voltage in the concentric circles. Pennies are now copper clad zinc, and zinc's not a good conductor. Besides, who wants to win a bunch of pennies? So both electrically and intrinsically, a penny ain't what it was in 1964.
This quarter machine down at the convenience store? About the size of a jukebox. It's a moving shelf gag. One scoots his quarter through the slot in hopes it will achieve some critical mass with other quarters on the moving plate, and a bonanza of two bit pieces will fall into the payoff slot.
Sounds complex I know, but the handwritten sign on the machine isn't complex at all. It's beautiful prose, so succinct I think Hemingway would be jealous.
"Have enough quarters because if you have to go get change you lose your place in line."
Something about exactly like that I'm pretty sure, is what the sign said. So there's often a line of people waiting to feed quarters to that monster, huh?
Wonder how many police officers stop in that convenience store every week and walk right past that machine? That's an illegal gambling device.
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