Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Swim
Sometimes it seems as though I'm always biding my time, which isn't too far from the truth. I'm biding my time until I get well, until I graduate. When I'm feeling inspired, and want to work hard, it's always in anticipation of the future. From what I've seen/read/heard/witnessed, this is not the best mentality, for at the end of each day we all find ourselves trapped within the present, over and over again. It is difficult to escape, but no matter how many times you may ask me what I choose to do with my fleeting existence, my answer is truly "Just you wait and see."
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
{0,1,MAYBE}
Turns out the worst work to be doing as you slip beyond the reaches of sanity and into the following morning is computer programming, as the very nature of the beast is that of madness, irrespective of the time of day. It is a world where two lines of code, identical both in syntax and in hexadecimal content, will lead to two completely different outputs, in brazen defiance of the causal structure you were led to believe lay beneath the unassuming surface of your computerbox. You have a midterm due tomorrow, but the bits within the beast won't have it: they have something far more sinister in mind.
Addendum 11/26/08: I wrote this entry one week ago, yet it seems to have only been two days in my restless mind. For all the merits of sleep, perhaps the most overlooked is that it serves well to divide the days.
Addendum 11/26/08: I wrote this entry one week ago, yet it seems to have only been two days in my restless mind. For all the merits of sleep, perhaps the most overlooked is that it serves well to divide the days.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Lying In The Rain
You know those dreams you have when you're growing up, alone and confused, when you fall in love?
You've never seen her before at school, but as she's walking out of the class the two of you have shared since the beginning of time, you suddenly find yourself next to her. And you don't try to search for the right words, because you feel.
And even though you don't know her name, or her face, or even her voice, your fingers find hers and you walk together, hands clasped. And there is no question that you've found her. Her hand represents everything you've wanted, and you know you don't have to say anything, because the moment says it all.
It starts to rain a little and you open your umbrella. You hold it over her, but she pulls you in so that you can both share it. And you feel her against you, the warmth of her sweater, hand in hand, never once saying a word, and you walk.
-----------------
You meet a girl and it's nothing like the dream, but you accept that this is how love works in the real world. You give it a try, and over the years the hopes and doubts cross your mind and your expectations change, and eventually an equilibrium is reached where the unexpected has given way to mutual understanding and the day to day. But no matter how much the bond is stretched or broken, you're always drawn back to her. She has worked her way into the very foundation of your life.
One day you're lying in bed with her, and you remember your dreams from high school. But wait, no... you are reminded of your dreams.
Suddenly you're in the rain again. Only now, you don't have to dream.
You've never seen her before at school, but as she's walking out of the class the two of you have shared since the beginning of time, you suddenly find yourself next to her. And you don't try to search for the right words, because you feel.
And even though you don't know her name, or her face, or even her voice, your fingers find hers and you walk together, hands clasped. And there is no question that you've found her. Her hand represents everything you've wanted, and you know you don't have to say anything, because the moment says it all.
It starts to rain a little and you open your umbrella. You hold it over her, but she pulls you in so that you can both share it. And you feel her against you, the warmth of her sweater, hand in hand, never once saying a word, and you walk.
-----------------
You meet a girl and it's nothing like the dream, but you accept that this is how love works in the real world. You give it a try, and over the years the hopes and doubts cross your mind and your expectations change, and eventually an equilibrium is reached where the unexpected has given way to mutual understanding and the day to day. But no matter how much the bond is stretched or broken, you're always drawn back to her. She has worked her way into the very foundation of your life.
One day you're lying in bed with her, and you remember your dreams from high school. But wait, no... you are reminded of your dreams.
Suddenly you're in the rain again. Only now, you don't have to dream.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Slowly, It Returns
The night is ending. The sun is rising; the warmth glows a beautiful golden orange and I feel it on my face. I smile as it approaches. No greeting is necessary.
Slowly, the audacity is returning to me.
Slowly, the audacity is returning to me.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Nature Likes Recycling Too
I was sent an email today with the subject line "Fascinating" and a link to the following image (click to enlarge):
As it would just so happen, I wrote a few paragraphs recently about how as you zoom out from the smallest of small things (sub-atomic) to the biggest of big things (galaxies), you go through a sort of pattern with regards to "how things look" at each scale along the way.
There are scales where things seem nice and orderly (an atom, an object in your hand, a solar system, a galaxy, etc) and scales where things seem very disorderly (sub-atomic particles, large collections of molecules, a pile of dirty clothes, asteroids, a cluster of stars, etc). As you "zoom out" from one of the scales where everything is orderly, things become chaotic as more and more of these "orderly" things come into view, until all of a sudden you reach a point where things are orderly again, just on a different scale. It's interesting that nature seems to "reorganize" itself periodically like that.
And so I think the image above goes along very nicely with this idea, and even suggests that some of the ideas are "recycled" as you jump from one scale of order to the next. Fascinating indeed.
As it would just so happen, I wrote a few paragraphs recently about how as you zoom out from the smallest of small things (sub-atomic) to the biggest of big things (galaxies), you go through a sort of pattern with regards to "how things look" at each scale along the way.
There are scales where things seem nice and orderly (an atom, an object in your hand, a solar system, a galaxy, etc) and scales where things seem very disorderly (sub-atomic particles, large collections of molecules, a pile of dirty clothes, asteroids, a cluster of stars, etc). As you "zoom out" from one of the scales where everything is orderly, things become chaotic as more and more of these "orderly" things come into view, until all of a sudden you reach a point where things are orderly again, just on a different scale. It's interesting that nature seems to "reorganize" itself periodically like that.
And so I think the image above goes along very nicely with this idea, and even suggests that some of the ideas are "recycled" as you jump from one scale of order to the next. Fascinating indeed.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Integration Is Art
I don't have the patience for homework. Once I learn something, I'm ready to move on to the next link in the chain. Or maybe the next chain over. Who knows? And what do I do instead of homework? Study. Physics, mostly. I study physics instead of doing my physics homework. Go figure. I have no intention of becoming a 'classical' physicist. The days of the well-rounded physicist are behind us. There's too much to learn if you want to contribute to the field. You have to specialize. My background will be in physics from the century I was born in.
I learn best when I have to apply knowledge I haven't acquired yet. I read the book while I'm taking the test. I use examples to solve the problems I am already accountable for. There's a sense of urgency that ties my new knowledge to experiences that are real, not contrived. In the real world I will always have my bookshelf. My computer. Let me reference, apply, and learn through experience.
I have trouble explaining to other people what it is I'm trying to do. At least, I think I do. I feel pressured to emphasize the practical applications of theorizing about realms of physical reality which humans will never know. I extrapolate history to suggest that applications will follow; they always follow. But truth be told, the applications will arise long after my satisfaction is complete. I am a practitioner of natural philosophy.
It is very humbling to work with a senior physicist. I pride myself in knowing more than I should. In answering questions with information to come later in the lecture, and in having a strong enough qualitative description of things I don't really understand to pretend that I do. And sometimes I get caught. And I learn. And it's a shame that I have to be forced to shift gears like that. I like to impress.
My health did not permit me to study over winter break. I got lost in the mud, and now I'm scared to try again. I've cleaned up. But I flirted with failure, and I'd rather hope it was a fluke than learn that it wasn't. The day I open the green book again is the day I learn more about myself than I do about Einstein notation.
I learn best when I have to apply knowledge I haven't acquired yet. I read the book while I'm taking the test. I use examples to solve the problems I am already accountable for. There's a sense of urgency that ties my new knowledge to experiences that are real, not contrived. In the real world I will always have my bookshelf. My computer. Let me reference, apply, and learn through experience.
I have trouble explaining to other people what it is I'm trying to do. At least, I think I do. I feel pressured to emphasize the practical applications of theorizing about realms of physical reality which humans will never know. I extrapolate history to suggest that applications will follow; they always follow. But truth be told, the applications will arise long after my satisfaction is complete. I am a practitioner of natural philosophy.
It is very humbling to work with a senior physicist. I pride myself in knowing more than I should. In answering questions with information to come later in the lecture, and in having a strong enough qualitative description of things I don't really understand to pretend that I do. And sometimes I get caught. And I learn. And it's a shame that I have to be forced to shift gears like that. I like to impress.
My health did not permit me to study over winter break. I got lost in the mud, and now I'm scared to try again. I've cleaned up. But I flirted with failure, and I'd rather hope it was a fluke than learn that it wasn't. The day I open the green book again is the day I learn more about myself than I do about Einstein notation.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Scientific Uncertainty
No one is ever really 100% sure about anything. You can always conceive of some way for what you expect to happen to turn out to be completely wrong.
Sometimes scientists can sound like they have no idea what they are talking about. Will the latest batch of high-energy particle experiments destroy the Earth? Probably not. Could a nuclear power plant start a chain reaction that ignites the atmosphere, destroying all life? Unlikely. Are you acknowledging the possibility that you are completely wrong, and that scientists may be bringing about the end of all humanity? That is correct.
You see, we all deal with uncertainty in our lives, but it tends to make us uncomfortable. So we make assumptions, use them to fill in the gaps, and give ourselves a sense that we know what to expect when we head out into the world. Anything less would leave us feeling unprepared. But our certainty stems from inductive logic, not deductive. We never really know what will happen under any circumstance, no matter how may times we've seen the same thing happen again and again. As such, any truly honest prediction will include some level of uncertainty.
An honest scientist is rarely certain: this is the key to discovery. While a scientist may be in the business of controlled experiments, cataloguing of observations, and in the development of applications to industry, we would be very limited if the great pioneers of knowledge simply stuck to what was already known. Every great discovery was at some point unexpected, and time and time again we have learned that nature doesn't give a damn about what we are "certain" of.
So when a scientist tells a news reporter that we may be on the verge of blowing ourselves up in an experiment of unprecedented size and power, it is not to say that the scientist is incompetent, pessimistic, or unfit to discuss matters in which he* is clearly misinformed. It is rather that he has forgotten how uneasy the average person is with uncertainty, and that it would be better if certain assumptions were made for a moment, lest people get the idea that scientists are all a bunch of madmen. One can never be too careful when playing a game of telephone with a media based upon sensationalism.
Or perhaps the scientist is right. Perhaps the desire for people to feel certain is based on an unfounded fear, and that acknowledging uncertainty in all things would lend itself to no more uncertainty than is already present in the world. To be knowledgeable and yet still uncertain is to see the world as it is. All progress is made through questioning and change, and any time we feel like we have all of the important answers in our possession serves only to keep us from developing further. In a time when human society is developing rapidly, an open mind is absolutely essential. Complete certainty must never be imposed. The key to progress and discovery may be to look out into the world and to simply say "I don't know."
* Arbitrarily masculine pronoun
Sometimes scientists can sound like they have no idea what they are talking about. Will the latest batch of high-energy particle experiments destroy the Earth? Probably not. Could a nuclear power plant start a chain reaction that ignites the atmosphere, destroying all life? Unlikely. Are you acknowledging the possibility that you are completely wrong, and that scientists may be bringing about the end of all humanity? That is correct.
You see, we all deal with uncertainty in our lives, but it tends to make us uncomfortable. So we make assumptions, use them to fill in the gaps, and give ourselves a sense that we know what to expect when we head out into the world. Anything less would leave us feeling unprepared. But our certainty stems from inductive logic, not deductive. We never really know what will happen under any circumstance, no matter how may times we've seen the same thing happen again and again. As such, any truly honest prediction will include some level of uncertainty.
An honest scientist is rarely certain: this is the key to discovery. While a scientist may be in the business of controlled experiments, cataloguing of observations, and in the development of applications to industry, we would be very limited if the great pioneers of knowledge simply stuck to what was already known. Every great discovery was at some point unexpected, and time and time again we have learned that nature doesn't give a damn about what we are "certain" of.
So when a scientist tells a news reporter that we may be on the verge of blowing ourselves up in an experiment of unprecedented size and power, it is not to say that the scientist is incompetent, pessimistic, or unfit to discuss matters in which he* is clearly misinformed. It is rather that he has forgotten how uneasy the average person is with uncertainty, and that it would be better if certain assumptions were made for a moment, lest people get the idea that scientists are all a bunch of madmen. One can never be too careful when playing a game of telephone with a media based upon sensationalism.
Or perhaps the scientist is right. Perhaps the desire for people to feel certain is based on an unfounded fear, and that acknowledging uncertainty in all things would lend itself to no more uncertainty than is already present in the world. To be knowledgeable and yet still uncertain is to see the world as it is. All progress is made through questioning and change, and any time we feel like we have all of the important answers in our possession serves only to keep us from developing further. In a time when human society is developing rapidly, an open mind is absolutely essential. Complete certainty must never be imposed. The key to progress and discovery may be to look out into the world and to simply say "I don't know."
* Arbitrarily masculine pronoun
