Monday, November 11, 2013

tandoori taco sunset


Crab, Dill Pickle, Fully Loaded Baked Potato, Mediterranean Herbs, Salt & Pepper, Soulmate Cheeses & Onion, Ranch, Honey Mustard, Sweet Onion, Cheddar And Sour Cream, Rotisserie Chicken, Spicy Jalapeno, Sour Cream And Onion, Salt & Vinegar, Cheese & Onion, Smokey Bacon, Prawn Cocktail, Pickled Onion, Beef & Onion, Marmite, Spanish Chicken Paella, Japanese Teriyaki Chicken, German Bratwurst Sausage, Italian Spaghetti Bolognese, French Garlic Baguette, American Cheeseburger, Brazilian Salsa, Scottish Haggis, Irish Stew, English Roast Beef And Yorkshire Pudding, Dutch Edam Cheese, Australian BBQ Kangaroo, South African Sweet Chutney, Argentinian Flame Grilled Steak, Welsh Rarebit, Mango Red Chill, Pizza(!), Magic Masala, Nori Seaweed, Basil, Squid, Garlic Soft Shelled Crab (Hong Kong), Soy Sauce, Salmon Teriyaki, Hot & Sour Fish Soup.

I'd be surprised to find this list of potato chip (crisp) flavours had any connection to actual ingredients. In the fast-paced world of food technology today, creating a new flavour is easy, a matter of chemistry. I imagine it's like creating a new shade of lipstick: the hard part is coming up with a name.

...maybe they also do some testing on pigs before they launch to the public.


Wednesday, October 16, 2013

wholly water

God | Squad

personal best






3 x (4 x 75):
#1: free;
#2: 25 choice stroke, 50 free;
#4: 75 stroke (same stroke).





Wednesday, September 25, 2013

owning jesus

Man of faith smashing scripture 
If I was Khalid I would not belong to the Muslim faith. I would not subscribe to its beliefs, nor would I follow its practices. If I was Khalid, I would own Islam.

You may think I am being pedantic, but in fact, I am being Orthodox. This post is about Faith and Religion, chapter and verse.

As it happens, I don't own Islam, although I do have some ideas for how I'd fix it up if I did. It could use some pictures on the walls, for one. I own Catholicism. Yes, the Pope is mine. Sorry about him. He just won't listen. We've been thinking maybe medication would be a good thing for him.

I never asked for Catholicism. I inherited it. I find it unsightly, myself, but my mother likes it. It's not like I can give it away. It's not much practical use, so I usually keep it in the attic, buried under a pile of other accumulated crap. Sometimes I drag it out when we have visitors who are interested in that sort of thing. It's not pretty, it gets in the way, it's poorly constructed, rotting, and often stinks, but it's mine, my problem.

The actual point of this post is to point out the absurdity of the idea of anyone belonging to a faith. In my view, Faith requires free choice. Without free choice, Faith becomes compulsion, or unthinking adherence to culture -- without free choice. If faith is possible without free choice, then Ants can be believers.

My complaint may seem specious. Belonging has 3 senses, roughly: classification, fit, and ownership, and it is reasonable to say that a Christian person belongs to the Christian faith in the same way that an ant belongs to the kingdom Animalia, the phylum Arthroproda, and the class Insecta, i.e., in the sense of classification.

To my ears, however, when people say they belong to a faith, it sounds like they mean the faith owns them. It sounds inappropriately passive. Subscribing to a faith is equally passive. (More often, believers are prescribing the faith, which, at least, is active.) To be a follower of a faith is also passive. All these terms seem dispirited, especially for a faith. Faiths should spirited, not passive.

So is my problem pedantry? YES! My problem is other peoples' pedantry, the pedantry of people of the word. Because language, like mathematics, is a system of symbolic manipulation, processed by the parts of our soul (or brain, if you prefer), that handles logic and analytical thinking, which, if you think it through, are anti-thetical to faith. Salt on the slug of faith. If your faith needs a logical proof, then it isn't faith. If you have a logical proof, then you don't need faith.

Faith and Reason don't mix. Language is a system of symbolic manipulation, inextricable from Reason. So people of the word, i.e, subscribers/prescribers of scripture-based religions, must swallow this indigestible nugget before they can open their mouths to preach. This may explain the constipated empathy for non-believers. Scripture is no place for Faith.

The proper medium of Faith is Art. Art is handled by the systems of the brain that deal with intuition, emotions, fellow humans, and beauty. Compare: which religion you would like to own?

Scripture Art
Rational Intuitive
Manipulative    Open
Consistency Beauty
Eternal Humane

What about Poetry? I grant, poetry is Art, capable of expressing the ineffable. But is religious scripture poetry? Millions of the faithful claim it is. But if scripture is poetry, then is it fiction? No. The categories of fiction and non-fiction don't apply to poetry. Poetry, like music, has its own criteria of Truth, based on Intuition, Authenticity, and Beauty.

So, if scripture-based faith was music, what kind of music would it be? Probably something like this ancient music:
Music of Ancient Greece - First Chorus, Orestes Tragedy of Eurypides - by Christodoulos Halaris - Ancient Greek Music

It may have it's musical qualities, but it doesn't come anywhere near this more recent work in terms of Intuition, Authenticity, or Beauty:

My point is, if scripture is to be read as non-fiction, then believers are literally followers, and that's no way to belong to a faith. If scripture is meant to be poetry, then, it's a crunky, stiff, and unappealing kind of poetry, a poor alternative to other, better, more uplifting and soul-nourishing art on the market.

The best indication of the Truth of scripture-based religions, like Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, is the Art they have inspired, not the scripture they are based upon.

People of the word (followers of scripture-based faiths) may argue that scripture is poetry, and believers do make the free choice to believe in its truth. But poetry, like music, does not give prescriptive truth.  Art does not give Rules.

I'm preaching to the converted. If you are still reading this far, you already agree with me. Otherwise, you would have stopped reading this infidel nonsense earlier, recognizing it for the Sophistry it is. The fact is, dear reader, I don't even believe in the existence of you. I can't think who would be interested to read this far. Oh yes. Sorry. Hi Mum! Yes, I believe in you. I hope you are looking after Jesus.


Tuesday, June 11, 2013

an uncomfortable opinion












Thursday, June 6, 2013

managing conflict in the workplace

plan your meeting in advance 
-Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude










I hope this puts your ridiculous workplace conflict into perspective.


Monday, June 3, 2013

i earned some humility today


I'm sorry for not understanding.
I'm sorry for not listening.
I'm sorry for not seeing you already understood I was wrong.
Sorry for insisting.
Sorry for my pride. 
Sorry for my arrogance.
Sorry for not appreciating you.
Sorry for my insulting tone.
Sorry for false modesty.
Sorry for my ignorance.
Sorry for my preconceptions.
Sorry for my prejudice.
Sorry for my insensitivity.
Sorry for doing all of this again.

I apologize in case you blame yourself.
The blame is mine.

I apologize to make myself feel better.
I do not expect forgiveness.
I will fail to change.
I apologize to you.
I apologize to myself.

I am truly sorry.


Saturday, March 16, 2013

message for your deaf ears

the Arecibo message

blah blah blah

There is of course the satisfaction of composing florid prose. And cryptic terseness. Vanity? Not in the long run. Assertiveness: that's why I write these little essays.

These blog posts are a chance for me to express my point of view in whole, without interruption, and in detail; something I otherwise rarely have the opportunity to do. This is because no one gives a shit about my personal opinions and views.

I get well enough professional respect to keep my chin in the air, and am sufficiently feared at home to maintain my testosterone levels; so I'm comfortable with the general lack of interest in what's going in my personal head. But sometimes I'm curious about what's going on in there. And often I'm not really sure until I see it written down.

Why broadcast my views? Because publishing imposes discipline. It encourages me to consider a hypothetical reader while I am writing a post, and provides a satisfying sense of closure when I click the button when I'm done.

lorem ipsum vanitas

I'd like to correct any misconceptions about self-importance. I have statistically certain knowledge of exactly how many people find these posts compelling and relevant. Nobody. It's a one-way communication into the abyss. Like broadcasting radio messages into space. The situation is stable. I check the statistics daily. In this way, I keep my self-importance in check.

No, dear reader, I do not consider you a "nobody," or an "alien," or in any way like an "abyss". In fact, I am most likely related or married to you, in which case, I love you. Otherwise, I probably know you to some degree personally, in which case, chances are we are friendly. Thank you for reading this. You are kind, and I would be pleased if you left a comment and more pleased if you actually discussed any of the thoughts in these posts with me. If you have come to this blog by accident, then I humbly hope you will find something amusing enough to warrant your time. If you already dislike me and have come to this blog in search of justification, then i) I'm flattered, and ii) you lose, dickhead. Ha!

wankity wankity wank

I enjoy the craft of composition, the pleasure of creation, of forming an argument, of working with ideas. I like the practical reward of having coherent thoughts at hand when the (rare) occasion arises.

However, I have noticed two potential downsides. Since I started to blog, my personal email account has been neglected. Friends can wait days for a reply. I prefer to believe this is a symptom of a general creeping fatigue of the demands of constant connectedness, as well as because time blogging leaves less time for other leisure activities; but there is also an element of cowardly vice. Measured by word count, I seem to prefer unanswerable pronouncements over personal correspondance. But the way I like to think about it is, I'm sparing my friends and family the ordeal of appearing interested. I've seen it. It's not pretty. I'm performing an act of mercy.

The other potential drawback is being seduced by words. By this I mean falling into the world of semantics and logic. Language is limiting. It's wrong to understand the world as something that makes sense. While I use language to reveal my thoughts, I should not deceive myself that all thoughts can be expressed in language. I should not devalue the inarticulate. Because I will become an asshole.

happy ending

So why bother? Why to write down thoughts no one cares about for a blog no one reads? Why anything? Because it gives me joy. It makes at least as much sense as anything else I do.


Friday, March 15, 2013

anachrony in the EU

father knows best

time capsules

An anachronism is a thing that is out of place in time.

In Montreal, Pierre's car is referred to as le char à Pierre; in Paris, it's la voiture de Pierre. The similarity of the Quebecois char to the English car is accidental, it's not an anglicism. In fact, it's an exaptation of the 17th century French word for horse-drawn carriage (a kind of chariot). French as spoken in Quebec contains many such traces of the language spoke in the 17th Century, when French colonies were established on the east coast of what is now Canada. 

When the colonists left home, they took their language with them, and in the new world, the language evolved in its own direction. In smaller, isolated populations, evolution proceeds at a slower pace; hence the survival of 17th century words in Montreal now extinct in Paris. 

Do you remember that kid in middle school who spoke a different language at home? Did you ever have the fortune to eat at their house? Was the food weird and exotic? Did you finally surrender to the  gesticulations of the mother and accept second and third helpings? Did you fail to notice the Father and your friend were not doing the same? Were you surprised and dismayed when the next, main dish came to the table? Did they give you some wine? Did your friend seem to operate under different rules than most of the other kids, rules from the "old country," covering things like curfews, and drinking, and dating?

thousands of miles away and 30 years behind

When immigrants come to a new country, they bring with them a snapshot of their home culture, including moral values. In the relative isolation of their new home, the moral values tend to evolve more slowly than they do back home. Children of immigrants lead a time shifted life. Remember that immigrant girl who wasn't allowed to date? Her cousin in the old country was already on the pill. 

In the age of the internet, these effects are less strong, but I contend they remain strongly relevant. Day to day physical proximity and direct face to face interaction within a community is much more influential to our beliefs and behavior than online news, Skype, or any other mediated communication. I am witness to it.

expats are immigrants

My children have attended schools in 4 countries over the last 6 years. We now live in the Netherlands. My work is nearly exclusively in English, so I don't speak Dutch very well. My children often have to explain the school bulletins to me. Does my family then live in a time bubble?

In several ways, our family is an anachronism. In the Netherlands, 60% of women work, and part-time (flexi) work seems to be becoming the norm. The average family size is 2.2. In our immigrant household however, I am the sole breadwinner. Monday to Friday, I leave the home at 7:30 and return tired at 7:00, when I am served an excellent home cooked dinner. I do almost no housework. My partner, to whom I am married, the first marriage for both of us, is a full time mother of 4 children. It could be a situation from a 1950s TV show. Only the wife in this comedy is much less complacent (more pissed off) about her part.

My children complain about the strict limits on television and computer use we enforce. They claim we are the only parents in the school with such arbitrary rules. 1. I don't believe them. 2. I'm not able to socialize enough in the community to sense how far from the norm we really are.


Wednesday, March 13, 2013

the unbearable lightness of dementia

Nothingness haunts being. 
Sartre claims we yearn for a solidity that always evades us, that however much we are established as, say, a Respected Judge, Competitive Businessman, Resolute Defender, Caring Father, Creative Artist, or even Innovative Pornographer, there is a part of us that knows it is all a pretense  We long for the comfort of knowing that we simply are whatever we are, to be one indisputable thing, in the way, say, that a rock is unchangingly a rock. We long for the solidity of objects. We desire to inhabit our being confidently and effortlessly (the French say "to feel good in one's skin), but our ease is ever eroded by the knowledge that we built our identity ourselves, on a foundation of nothingness. This is existential angst. Our lives are spent fleeing from this reality.

Do you know what I'm talking about? Do you ever feel exhausted by the effort of simply maintaining your own identity in the society of others? Does the foundational flimsiness of your identity prick your confidence from time to time?

Maybe this is what it is like to experience dementia. As our memory and cognitive agility declines, we lose our ability to maintain a solid façade of identity. Like cold winter wind through a broken attic window, Nothingness creeps in, . Life, once solid-seeming, begins to lose its substance. Anxiety, which we had to this point always managed to suppress and conceal from ourselves, now begins to overwhelm. It's the same anxiousness, fear, and nausea hiding in all of us, only unleashed.

Maybe this is why people with dementia sometimes retreat into the well established patterns of their youth. Perhaps, searching for solidity, they lean on whatever ways of thinking are still most intact. Neural pathways established earlier and reinforced over a lifetime are the strongest.

Maybe this is why doll therapy is sometimes effective for people with Alzheimer's disease, because it taps into primal drives to care and protect children. Perhaps these basic drives are solid-feeling and therefore comforting.


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

taxonomy of humanity

Imagination and Fact

There are fiction people and non-fiction people. Non-fiction people prefer their information to be actionable, with clear relevance and direct application. Fiction people prefer their information to be inspirational, evoking new images and experiences. Although I have lately bought more of the second than the first, I am solidly a fiction man. I have had lengthy spells of nearly exclusive non-fiction consumption, in the form of news magazines (e.g., The Economist), history (e.g., Colour), biography (e.g., God's Call Girl) , and analysis (e.g., The Tell-Tale Brain); but I have found that fiction (e.g., Time's Arrow), gives me much more insight into the world around me. Non-fiction gives you a bicycle pump, fiction gives you a map.

Objects and Experiences

There are Art people and Travel people. Art people spend their money on beautiful and inspiring objects. Travel people spend their money on experiences. Art people attend to their day-to-day environment, striving to make each moment unique and meaningful. Travel people seek new perspectives on life, viewing each situation from the standpoint of another. Art people live in the moment, which they seek to transcend; Travel people live in their memories, and in their anticipation of their next adventure. I admire the Art people, but history suggests I am a Travel person.

Leavers and Stayers

There are stay-to-the-end-of-the-party people and don't-to-be-the-last-to-leave-the-party people. I'm a stayer. I do try to be sensitive to the desires of our host, but I don't like to stop when I am enjoying myself. If things are getting crazy, well, to my thinking, the whole point of a party is a change from the normal. Crazy is not the time to leave. It's like leaving the opera before the fat lady sings. I make an exception in cases of impending violence or destruction. No, Karaoke is not covered by these exceptions.

Hard and Candy Asses

There are end-of-the-world people and not-end-of-the-world people. In my experience, most people are not-end-of-the-world people, meaning they do not want to be around when the comet extinguishes all life, or global warming fries the last mammal. Me, I reckon human life will eventually come to an end, and I think humans are the only ones who care much when it comes to an end, and after human life comes to an end none of human history will be of any significance at all, so wouldn't it be a privilege to know how it ended? You may not like how it ended, but you would have the satisfaction of knowing with certainty. I'm not a nihilist. I believe life is meaningful; but only to the living. I have no desire to pro-actively end the world during my existence, just as I have no desire to end a party simply because I must go home. I'm a finisher. I prefer to see the end. Not-end-of-the-world people have their heads in the sand.


logical politics

The Prophet Daniel (Michelangelo)


After listening carefully to the comments, and considering the situation and the personalities, and the motivating forces and preceding events, I have decided everyone is wrong. Where it is not plain wrong, your understanding of the facts is superficial, and your criticism more political than logical. I have therefore decided not to change my perspective, conduct, or approach. I have decided to push back.

I would have expected to relish this situation. Greatness needs fortune in order to rise, like the acorn needs fertile soil. The opportunity to stand firm in the light of truth against the storm of unenlightened opinion is a gift. Righteous indignation is a rare and invigorating joy. 


Then there is hubris. Certainty blinds. Moving tongue, deaf ears. Established experts are often the last ones to notice the changes that make their knowledge obsolete. Perhaps you are all genuinely trying to bring my attention to something new, so new that we have not yet found words for it, and because it cannot be defined, I deny its existence, when I should instead join your efforts to describe it.

What if I am right? You will not thank me. You will remember only the bitterness of being wrong, and you will think of that bitterness when you think of me. Our differences center on certain shared interests, but we also have our own held personal interests which take priority over these other interests, and, no doubt, all of our personal goals include not feeling wrong, or bitter, or an asshole. 

So in the end, looking at the bigger picture, why don't I just go with the flow? As important as we all hold our shared goals to be, let's face it: we aren't talking about rescuing starving refugees from advancing troops on the wrong side of the desert border. We aren't disputing whether the convulsing open heart surgery patient will be saved or killed by tightening of the clamp. Egos are at stake. So why not keep my gunpowder dry and live to fight another day?

Practical Realities

What fight? What day? What's the profit if I sacrifice my integrity? The stand I take now determines the nature of the challenges I will face in the future. If I give up ground, I condemn myself to fight similar battles in the light of a precedent that weakens my position and gives strength to my opponents. "The man who trims himself to suit everyone soon whittles himself away".


Of course, we all succeed or fail together. It is small satisfaction to the man on the sinking ship to have seen the iceberg. The situation calls for influence and persuasion. We must be led gently into the light so that we are able to see the truth for yourself. Because we are too easily distracted by the arguments, and lose sight of the what is really important. Logic often leads away from the truth.


Tuesday, March 5, 2013

bud lite

beer me!

A student asked the Buddha, "Teacher, many holy men profess to show the way to enlightenment. How am I to distinguish those who offer wisdom from the charlatans?"

The Buddha answered, “Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.” Which is why I am an atheist.

Buddhists have described their practice as the Science of Life, and this agrees with my own preferred way of looking at things. I admire Buddhism, but they lose me with the mystical stuff. Call my way of looking at things, Bud Lite.

The approach to life that most agrees with my own reason and common sense is Epicureanism. Here is a sample of the teachings of Epicurus:
  • Truth can only be known by the evidence of the senses. 
  • Pleasure is the chief good of life. 
  • A tranquil state of mind is the chief pleasure. 
  • Learning is valuable only in that it rids us of fear and teaches us to pursue pleasure intelligently. 
  • Virtue is valuable only so far as it leads us to happiness. 
  • It is impossible to live a pleasant life without living wisely and well and justly (agreeing "neither to harm nor be harmed"), and it is impossible to live wisely and well and justly without living a pleasant life. 
  • Fashion, culture and civilization create unnecessary needs. Their pursuit is more likely to disturb than reward. Simple pleasures are more lasting and satisfying. 
  • Who you share a meal with is more important than what you eat.

The History of Philosopy without any Gaps podcast has 3 commendable podcasts on the Principles, Ethics, and Theory of Epicurean Philosophy.


Monday, March 4, 2013

foregone conclusion


2 You saw that coming.

Religion and Science converge on an unacceptable answer

determinism [dɪˈtɜːmɪˌnɪzəm] n

determinist n & adj
deterministic adj



A silly question






Which leads to a pair of questions I've been puzzling :

Religion and Science are both wrong and I am right

  • Therefore, determinism is not a possibility.


Saturday, February 2, 2013

domestic science





easy to overlook what you aren't looking for




Wednesday, January 30, 2013

barrel of monkeys theory

monkey in front of Angkor Wat (Endless Loop)

Angkor Wat. What the hell? How did anyone manage to mobilise such a massive portion of the resources of a civilization toward creating these monuments? Magnificence is sufficient to justify the existence of these works, but is not enough to explain them. To maintain the colossal construction, planning, coordination and effort over several decades, there must have been a practical reality sustaining the dedication, faith and pride.
Barrel of Monkeys
I have a theory. It's called the Barrel of Monkeys Theory of Happiness. The objective of a game of Barrel of Monkeys is to create the longest chain of monkeys. Pick up one monkey by an arm, hook the other arm through a second monkey's arm, continue making a chain... Your turn is over when a monkey is dropped. To succeed at Barrel of Monkeys, you must maintain a certain amount of tension in the chain. Without tension, the monkeys fall apart.

without tension, the monkeys fall apart
Tension as I will use it here to talk about life, means essentially the same thing as purpose, only with emphasis on the unsatisfied, ongoing, incomplete aspect of purpose; tension as unfulfilled need, drive. Religions give this kind of tension, as do competitive sports, street gangs, and addictive drugs.

Without tension we get unhappy and restless. Tension gives coherence to events and circumstances in the same way it holds the monkey chain together. Without tension, life degenerates into "blooming buzzing confusion". This is the Barrel of Monkeys Theory of Happiness:
Without tension, life falls apart.
The theory scales. It applies to nations as much as individuals. A sovereign ruler concerned with keeping her dominion united and subjects content should ensure there is sufficient unifying tension among the people. A command from a god to create a magnificent temple can do this. Or a space race. Usually, though, it's a call to war.


Saturday, January 12, 2013

bad trade

don't do it







Bad trade, my son.


Saturday, January 5, 2013

this is not a post

Exceptions are the rule. They are the barber who shaves everyone in the village who does not shave himself; the spy who declares he never speaks the truth; the science of probability.

Much great art seems to be about exceptions, in the sense that great art often embodies a paradox. I'm thinking of Magritte's "Ceci n'est pas une pipe". The painting clearly depicts a pipe, but it's greatness lies in the fact that the truth that it is in fact a painting and not a pipe is put in our face. The painting of the pipe would not by itself be impressive art. The combination of the painting and the caption make it great.

A beautifully rendered landscape is great to the extent that it captures a truth while not being the truth. We can appreciate the true beauty of a landscape without having the experience of art, but the painting gives us more, because ..."ce n'est pa une landscape".

Psychologists have found we have two modes of thinking: a fast intuitive mode, and a slower, more methodical rational mode. We tend to prefer the first. Neuroscientists have found two distinctive neural systems: an inarticulate, holistic system that attends to relationships among individual entities, and an articulate, precision system used for manipulation. The first system deals with love, the second system science. It boils down to two opposing ways of being in the world, a fundamental conflict which has been variously termed:

Exception v Rule
Absolute v Relative
Specific v General
Emotion v Rationality
Faith v Logic
Religion v Science
Silent v Articulate
Action v Talk

In another post, I've talked about this dichotomy in terms of High Context and Low Context knowledge.

It's possible to look at much art in these terms, as evoking the basic contradiction in the ineffably, indescribably unique nature of every living moment, and the need for us to generalize experience into crude categories to even think about it. Man v. Nature is the struggle of an individual against the laws of the universe. Romeo and Juliet is the the attraction of opposites. Movies are about one man's struggle against the odds.

Once I start looking, I find the conflict of the Exception and the Rule everywhere. An evening's TV shows me Dan Draper firing his friend and colleague, the admirable Laine, on ethical principle, rather than making an exception and forgiving him out of love. Terry Pratchett's Hogwatch concludes with the observation that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and the like are necessary to train children to believe in little lies, so they will believe in Truth, Justice, Morality and the like when they are older. Because science and logic just don't get you there on their on own. Faith and Reason are contradictory, parallel, and omnipresent.

In life and in art, exceptions are the rule.


Friday, January 4, 2013

game of throwns

I read that our brains work by projection. We experience anticipated sensations. This enables us to react faster than our neurons can transmit electrochemical signals to our extremities, a requirement when we need to do things such as catch a ball. We intuitively calculate the trajectory and experience the feeling of the ball hitting our palm before the actual nerve impulses from our hand arrive at the brain. Unless the ball doesn't hit our palm as anticipated, in which case the contradictory nerve impulses from our hand cancel the experienced anticipated impulses. But in the normal course of events, when we catch the ball as usual, then the experienced sensation is very slightly ahead of the nerve impulses generated by the actual event, and a product of what might be called projection, however faithful to the actual nerve impulses.

This is part of the explanation of the phenomenon of phantom limbs, where people continue to experience amputated limbs as if they were still there. In the absence of contradictory nerve impulses (from the missing limb) there is no cancellation of the projected experience. Thus, some people feel their lost arm waving at a friend they see on the street, experience itches that cannot be scratched, or cramps that cannot be eased.

Projected experience is not just the plight of those with amputated limbs. We live slightly ahead of ourselves, shaping reality before it immerses us. We wake up happy and the world is good to us. We wake up grumpy and the world is inhospitable. Even though we know the world would be better if we changed our attitude …we find we can't. We 'find' ourselves in a mood. Mood locates, or orients, ourselves in the world, and our position determines what of the world is disclosed. In revealing our throwness, moods reveal a trajectory -- a direction and velocity, an angle and impetus, a bias and conviction.

We are all projectiles.


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

domestic violins

I was angry at her for being angry at me. How could anyone be angry at me? Do I not make every effort? Do I not consider others before myself? Am I not proactive, self-actualized, and uncomplaining? Are not the everyday indignities, humiliations, and injustices that afflict me the equal or worse of those afflicting others in comparable situations, that is, those of similar health, education, income and nationality? And among these peers, are not my expectations indeed more modest, my outlook more inclusive? The outrage!
She was angry at me for being distant. But this distance is only a reflex of self-protection, defense against unappreciative, angry loved ones. Of course I withdraw! Because I have learned the futility of trying to explain myself. I have learned the futility of arguing. I have abandoned aspirations of being understood. Fighting is pointless. Instead I am silent. I seek only peace; solace I find in my own quiet thoughts, and on the internet on my smartphone.
But I can engage. Yes, I can try to influence the situation. Yes, I can express myself; I can say what I think. I am angry, that's what I think. I am angry about the unwarranted hostility I must suffer. And I don't like how she says she feels unfulfilled. As if to say a relationship with me was unfulfilling!  It's a direct attack. And I don't like the way she talks about my family.
She refuses to discuss her attitude about my family! How can we move forward when she won't talk? We haven't spoken for a day and a night.
She sends me a message: "how about when you come home tonight we forgive one another and move on?" A good idea. I wish I had thought of it. I guess that's why I love her.
...despite everything.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

falling into the looking glass

We came out fighting. Our first intercourse of the New Year was triggered by my spending too much time on the phone. There is something to that. I do have the phone out a lot. It's taken as a rejection of present company, and I can see that it's rude. But I do try to be discrete. For me, the small screen is more a chance to read, to catch up on the world around me, and to keep in touch. It feels like an advance. The phone lets me put idle moments to productive use.

But I guess I overstepped. I slipped into overuse, letting the phone obtrude into my family life. I fell into the looking glass. The phone is just so available ... it's easy to overuse.

Would the reaction have been so strong if it wasn't a phone? What if I was reading a book all the time? Because mostly that's what I'm doing on the phone, reading. Maybe I'm that 1950s cliche husband with his face in the newspaper all the time ..."yes dear". I also use the phone for podcasts. I've always been a radio person. I like to listen in the shower, or as I do chores and duties around the house. I never really pay full attention to the outside world when I'm reading or listening to the radio. So maybe it's not the phone. Maybe it's a middle age man thing.

Not that I appreciate my kids plugged into their phones all the time, eyes or ears. It's like they have something better to do and I'm not invited, which of course is normal for teenagers. I don't blame them. But it's galling that they do the better thing to which I'm not invited in my direct sight. For this, I do blame them. The big offense might be the visibility of it. Maybe I need a shed where I can go to fix things and read and listen to the radio.

I tell my kids that too much time on the small screen is unhealthy. The environment of a small screen is necessarily limited compared to the richer stimulus environment of outdoors or real human interaction. Time spent on the small screen is time taken away from the richer stimulus environment of reality. Do they want to be house cats or lions? Budgies? Or Eagles!?

They don't care. The nature metaphor isn't persuading them. They don't know what I'm talking about.

So I'm going to cut back on the phone when I'm at home. And I'm going to force those kids to cut back too.