Cleverbot: What game. |
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| MERRY FUCKIN WEEKEND, CYBERLAND! (if you want to cyber, call me) |
10.3.12
Cleverbot is clever
1.3.12
Q and A, how to catch a tiger.
Here are the rules:
- Post the rules.
- State 11 random facts about yourself.
- Answer the questions your tagger asked.
- Create 11 new questions of your own.
- Tag 11 people.
- Notify the tagees via their blog of their taggage.
My random facts:I day dream about craft projects I can do with my unborn childrenWhen I'm really hungry, I usually make something with more complex flavors and more ingredients.I'm not a dog or a cat person, I like them both well enough but am not willing to own either.I only like sharing bottles of wine with no more than 2 other people. After that, the party is just too large to drink it slowly and appreciate its strength.I wasn't willing to marry a man who didn't speak at least two languages.I like maple syrup on my bacon.I had my first HIV test well before I was sexually active.I plan to move to China when my oldest (and as yet unborn) child is ready for first grade.I can roll my R's, but I never excelled at Spanish.I met my first boyfriend on a plane, we're still friends of Facebook.
- If you could go back and change one thing that happened in your life, what would it be? Nothing very important has ever really happen to me that I wish I could change. I was run over by a car as a toddler for example, but that's how I paid for college. I guess sometimes I miss the music I had on one of my old hard drives. It had a lot of good samples and all the tracks were organized quite efficiently. If I could go back in time to college when I asked my band mate to take care of that for me, I wouldn't have, because I'm pretty sure he's the one who stole the hard drive, anyway.
- What is your astrological sign, and how does it reflect your personality?
I know way too much about my astrological chart. My sun sign is Scorpio but everything else in my twelfth house and all in Sagittarius. This is supposed to mean that I am run by passion and reflection--which is all well enough true. I don't read my horoscope, but I do think that people that are born at a certain time of year might have similar environmental factors that reoccur as they develop as a group. Their natural traits will be exaggerated and reinforced by what we associate with people born at the same time as them, if they are cognizant of these prescribed demands, such as "Scorpios are passionate and obsessed with sex," then perhaps these things are to be celebrated or at the very least, excused in one's self. In reality of course, other people have all of these characteristics as well. It's just amuses us all to think we are important enough to have mystical attributes. Plus my husband is a Cancer and they're supposed to be perfectly matched with Scorpios. So that's fun. - Which would you give up for the rest of your life: sex or food?
I mean, as long as I can orgasm, sex isn't really necessary. Plus the hierarchy of needs (as well as logic) mandates that food comes first... - If you had to choose between killing the person you love to save the world or killing the rest of the world to save the person you love, which would you do?
Gawd, my older sister used to do this to me, asking me who I would save in a fire, my mom and dad--or my blanky. I told her I would use my blanky as a breathing mask to save our parents. This has always been my approach to the The Kobayashi Maru. Sebastien will always come first in this world, but he might hate me if I only saved him, so I'm going to go for them all--what the heck, he'd have a vested interest in saving the world anywa. Plus any reasonable person would want Sebastien on their strike force. Give this man a combead! - What is the most valuable lesson you have ever learned, and who taught it to you?
A few sages along my life's road popped immediately to mind. Sadly, a slim few of them were women. I am a culmination of all my lessons learned and ignored; the most valuable one, should it exist, may not have even come to me yet. - If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
I've always quite liked my name. There is of course a small matter to settle with an embarrassingly prolific romance writer...not worth mentioning exactly but there may have been a short period of my life, if you like, when I wished nobody would have called me Erin McCracky. - If you could get a degree in anything without having to worry about finding a job in that field, would you get a degree in?
Hmm just one? Neurolinguistics would be cool. You know, I can't think of a single degree that I wish I was ready for that wouldn't result in an awesome job. But I'm quite unlikely to pass the GRE 2 in garbology or any other -ology for that matter... - What do/did you study in college, and what will/did you do with your degree?
I designed my degree using a loophole in western philosophy, called the gestalt switch, where the background becomes the foreground. In this way I was able to take all the 101 classes from every domain and use this with higher level creative writing, social science and philosophy classes to construct a degree aimed at non-specialization towards the enrichment of my whole mind. I also used a feminist critique of Anthropology to create a work of "fiction" and a sociological document at the same time, filming certain scenes from it. I escaped my language requirement at university through a lengthy written appeal to the linguistics department, I now live in a foreign country and speak their language on a daily basis, having never studied it in a classroom, and I also spent three years after college as a cross-discipline elementary school teacher in the DC public schools. - What song/movie/food/book is your guilty pleasure?
My brother died right before Christmas one year and I got those tawdry vampire books on the 25th. I read all three of them over a 6 day period. (And all I can do is read a book to stay awake, and it rips my life away--but it's a great escape...) - You have a fortune that will make or break your country's economical [sic] state. Would you give it to your own country to prevent a decade of substandard welfare, or would you give it to a Third World country to start a lifetime of quality living?
It's not as simple as that. Is my country the United States? Right now money is not what we need, it's leadership and to disentangle our political future with the wants of big business and the lobbyists that represent their interests. As for a developing nation, what resources do they already posses? Who runs their government? What would the greater environmental impacts be of say, elevating this peripheral nation to an industrialized state? Even one billionaire isn't enough to change the world. You can build as many schools as you want, if the people are starving, they won't go. - How would you spend your last day on earth?
Hopefully not in pain. Possibly as blissfully unconcerned with my mortality as I am today.
My questions to the peoples:
What is the worst pun you've ever heard?
Which blog do you never skip a posting of, why?
Share your current favorite animated gif
Use your MP3 player on shuffle to answer the following two questions:
"What would best describe your personality"
"What is the worst thing that could happen?"
In your opinion, which day is the best day to blog
Tell us a little bit about your first road trip...
Burma or Myanmar? Be specific.
What book do you super wish they would turn into a movie?
What book do you super wish they would turn into a movie?
What's your go-to snack?
Is the color that people say looks best on you the same as your favorite?
My 11 Bloggers are:
Couch Dwellers (you BOTH have to do it, damn it!)
And that, my friends, is how a tiger gets caught.
27.2.12
The cover sheet of my TPS report
Well, I quit my job yesterday.
I literally took a nap after I wrote that line.
I cried when I told my mom I was thinking of quitting because I didn't even make it a full month there. But just trying to meet the physical and mental demands of the job would have been hard enough, if they didn't run counter to every other aspect of my life.
Let's pretend you're a new recruit. First, don't worry-you'll get two days off a week, not Saturday and Sunday, mind, but any two days off in a row if they can swing it. The other days you would go in at 10:45 have a coffee and start work at 11. You would work till 3pm, have a big lunch and come home. You are now off until 6:30 when sit down to eat and start work at 7. You're probably not hungry, but there will be no more food options until after midnight so get some protein in your belly. Work from 7 to 2 AM, at least three times a week, though on the early nights you'll be home before 1 AM.
Remember: 10 drinks, three normal cokes with no ice, two Zeros with no lemon, 2 of one kind of beer, two of another--one of those is only a demi, and the rest easy to spill martinis...you remember which burger is well done, right? Is that tartar préparer or poêlé? How many people need a sharp knife? Did you really forget to put bread down on table vingt-deux? They want the ribs, but no pomme au four, substitue frites. But just for one-- Je sais qu'elle a dit, "aparaît" mais, elle vas prendre haricots verts, supplémentaires !
You got that?
The quesadilla comes out first, but they want the soup with the meal. Wait, have three people told you yet: He wanted a large salad, but you tapped a small.
Is there really no new silverware on table trente-deux? Their second course is almost done, reclaim it! Table quarante-cinq is just drinking tap water, lots and lots of tap water. When you have a second, can you bring them more of that? Great, the total bill comes out to cent quatre-vingts-neuf et cinquante centimes, split it four ways.
They are not tipping.
But if you've got a good sense of balance and a good mind for factorial trees, you'll rarely screw up. Don't expect anyone to care if you do your job properly, they will only notice the times you fall short of that mark. And no, you're not changing lives, you're serving lunch, so pretending that what you do ultimately has any meaning and is therefore worth stressing out about may be difficult for you. It certainly was for me.
It was also really hard for Sebastien who suddenly had to be in charge of cleaning, laundry, all the dishes ever as well as cooking for himself....which means he ate soup nearly the whole time I worked there. Sometimes he laid down to cuddle with me for my midday nap, but that was really all I saw of him.
Look, I know I have basically been on a two year vacation in France. It's made me feel pretty shitty about myself, but jumping off the deep end into extreme physical labor was not (apparently) the answer. Not while I live in a colocation with six other people who have normal day jobs and don't care that I have to work brunch on Sunday morning--because if you haven't gone to sleep yet, it's still Saturday night, and if they want to play guitar in the kitchen to impress a trio of girls at 6 am that's just what they're going to do.
I could always move out. But that means that my days off are spent looking for new places to live and then moving there....something I couldn't really put on the table as an option until I had a full contract with this company--which would only be granted to me a few months from now in the best of circumstances.
So anyway, I have a part time gig a few days a week for more money per hour than I ever made in the States. I can read and write blog posts again and take short trips on the weekends. I can cook with my partner and have a social life in the evenings. Obviously, I still feel bad about giving up...but I'm sure I'll get over it, I have a lecture to prepare..
I literally took a nap after I wrote that line.
I cried when I told my mom I was thinking of quitting because I didn't even make it a full month there. But just trying to meet the physical and mental demands of the job would have been hard enough, if they didn't run counter to every other aspect of my life.
Let's pretend you're a new recruit. First, don't worry-you'll get two days off a week, not Saturday and Sunday, mind, but any two days off in a row if they can swing it. The other days you would go in at 10:45 have a coffee and start work at 11. You would work till 3pm, have a big lunch and come home. You are now off until 6:30 when sit down to eat and start work at 7. You're probably not hungry, but there will be no more food options until after midnight so get some protein in your belly. Work from 7 to 2 AM, at least three times a week, though on the early nights you'll be home before 1 AM.
Remember: 10 drinks, three normal cokes with no ice, two Zeros with no lemon, 2 of one kind of beer, two of another--one of those is only a demi, and the rest easy to spill martinis...you remember which burger is well done, right? Is that tartar préparer or poêlé? How many people need a sharp knife? Did you really forget to put bread down on table vingt-deux? They want the ribs, but no pomme au four, substitue frites. But just for one-- Je sais qu'elle a dit, "aparaît" mais, elle vas prendre haricots verts, supplémentaires !
You got that?
The quesadilla comes out first, but they want the soup with the meal. Wait, have three people told you yet: He wanted a large salad, but you tapped a small.
Is there really no new silverware on table trente-deux? Their second course is almost done, reclaim it! Table quarante-cinq is just drinking tap water, lots and lots of tap water. When you have a second, can you bring them more of that? Great, the total bill comes out to cent quatre-vingts-neuf et cinquante centimes, split it four ways.
They are not tipping.
But if you've got a good sense of balance and a good mind for factorial trees, you'll rarely screw up. Don't expect anyone to care if you do your job properly, they will only notice the times you fall short of that mark. And no, you're not changing lives, you're serving lunch, so pretending that what you do ultimately has any meaning and is therefore worth stressing out about may be difficult for you. It certainly was for me.
It was also really hard for Sebastien who suddenly had to be in charge of cleaning, laundry, all the dishes ever as well as cooking for himself....which means he ate soup nearly the whole time I worked there. Sometimes he laid down to cuddle with me for my midday nap, but that was really all I saw of him.
Look, I know I have basically been on a two year vacation in France. It's made me feel pretty shitty about myself, but jumping off the deep end into extreme physical labor was not (apparently) the answer. Not while I live in a colocation with six other people who have normal day jobs and don't care that I have to work brunch on Sunday morning--because if you haven't gone to sleep yet, it's still Saturday night, and if they want to play guitar in the kitchen to impress a trio of girls at 6 am that's just what they're going to do.
I could always move out. But that means that my days off are spent looking for new places to live and then moving there....something I couldn't really put on the table as an option until I had a full contract with this company--which would only be granted to me a few months from now in the best of circumstances.
So anyway, I have a part time gig a few days a week for more money per hour than I ever made in the States. I can read and write blog posts again and take short trips on the weekends. I can cook with my partner and have a social life in the evenings. Obviously, I still feel bad about giving up...but I'm sure I'll get over it, I have a lecture to prepare..
17.2.12
What a fool believes
So a few things about things, my favorite convocation, I've been a wicked may-jah losah about commenting on all my friends blogs lately--even though I've been reading them in bits and snippets when I can. Frankly I've been working like a skinny tie, 80's upstart with an expensive drug habit. Or a mom with 10 children that are never going to college, if you like. (One of them really should though, there is good money in that.)
I was very tempted to post and highlight the difference between my teaching resume and and my service/sales resume, but, for the sake of brevity, I will say instead that writing a curriculum vitae is all about constructing a narrative you can sell...
So anyway, I'm waitressing.
I have to balance plates on my hands and my arms, and I'm just learning to trust myself as I navigate the dining-rooms.
The staff I work with is fluid and flexible and are all totally unafraid to put me in my place--which sometimes made me want to cry, but ultimately, is making me better.
The other night when I returned for my second shift, the back dining room was set up for a cocktail party. Upon inquiring with one of the old timers behind the bar, I was told the space had been rented by"Some theater thing, some--I don't know, film--we had them here last year too." He waved his hand dismissively and impressed me yet again with another perfect pour.
I was like, ok it's Paris, people are putting on little film things all the time, whatever. We closed the whole place down at 10 to the regular customers , who, while being forced to leave, were whispering to me about how there were famous people in the next room and they wished they could get their autograph. I was like, lol, the French. Them and their little icons whom no one else has heard of because they're not making films in English. Lolzorz. Lol. Sofunnyahahah.
Ignorant American?
Yes, I believe that passport needs a stamp.
So, the party gets going and my arms are totally loving their workout. I'm moving around the room collecting glasses and giving out finger foods. It's almost midnight, but I'm wide awake and feeling pretty nostalgic reflecting back on that the idyllic Cape Cod summer my best friend and I catered for the company my sister was managing. The clip on ties and the Doobie Brothers all the time. Some Dj's never change, we were dancing till September everyday...
Atanyrate, being as disconnected with the world as I am, I had no idea who that good looking guy was or what other films he was in. So when I proffered a tray of sweets and pulled it away a few times il a'dit, "vous etes une blaggeur, non?"
"Pas trop" was my response.
Nothing more than that. But I googled the movie and the guy when I got home and realized belatedly that that guy was Jean Dujardin. This is why I don't have a bucket list, because how could you ever arrange to tease a famous actor who's up for an oscar?!
Anyway, in the name of balance, I was horribly sick the next day, my day off, and our anniversary. Sebastien is such a good, good man. His gift to me was a living document of the memories he could remember about our relationship in it's early years. We've only been together six, which makes me chuckle a little about what an old man Sebastien has always been. It's a good read. It obviously made me cry and I would post it for you, but some of it is pretty naughty. There totally came a point where I said, 'Oh my, we must never let our children see this!'
He's better than I deserve, but I made him chocolate covered chips and Boeuf Bourguignon. We spent all of my tips from that shift on high quality ingredients and were not disappointed. I wanted to break out the champaign and try out some new cocktails but I'm generally not in favor of drinking when I am sick. And when I say genrally, I mean totally.
I had a fever for part of this sick-show and two of our friends came over because they didn't see my cancellation email. They had never seen me in my PJs either, or so near tears as when Sebastien accidentally bumped my arm.
YUP.
It was two single dudes, too. I'm sure they left greatly impressed upon.
Oh, speaking of my friends, Aude defended her dissertation on whether localizing circuits would increase pattern coherence of electrons in low-temperature environments would lead to, yeah I stopped reading too...
Whatevski--she did it! We so proud!
And if you're feeling mathy, and I know some of you are, please check out my other friend's post doctoral project, Micro GP. He and his team have developed an evolutionary algorithm to solve hard problems. It's open source and free, so use it and share it and see if you can give it something truly masterful to consider. That is your homework. Well, that and this:
Yeah, he's one of those. But we don't hug, we french kiss. ;P
Don't worry about me, friends--haven't died, you and I are still cool. Even if you're not the sort of friend who will tell me when I've got something stuck in my teeth, that means, at least, that I will never fart in front of you...
WHAT?
I fail to see how this is in any way a downside for you, I've been eating steak tartar.
Ok.
It's time for sleeps, my peeps. Hasta luego.
I was very tempted to post and highlight the difference between my teaching resume and and my service/sales resume, but, for the sake of brevity, I will say instead that writing a curriculum vitae is all about constructing a narrative you can sell...
So anyway, I'm waitressing.
I have to balance plates on my hands and my arms, and I'm just learning to trust myself as I navigate the dining-rooms.
The staff I work with is fluid and flexible and are all totally unafraid to put me in my place--which sometimes made me want to cry, but ultimately, is making me better.
The other night when I returned for my second shift, the back dining room was set up for a cocktail party. Upon inquiring with one of the old timers behind the bar, I was told the space had been rented by"Some theater thing, some--I don't know, film--we had them here last year too." He waved his hand dismissively and impressed me yet again with another perfect pour.
I was like, ok it's Paris, people are putting on little film things all the time, whatever. We closed the whole place down at 10 to the regular customers , who, while being forced to leave, were whispering to me about how there were famous people in the next room and they wished they could get their autograph. I was like, lol, the French. Them and their little icons whom no one else has heard of because they're not making films in English. Lolzorz. Lol. Sofunnyahahah.
Ignorant American?
Yes, I believe that passport needs a stamp.
So, the party gets going and my arms are totally loving their workout. I'm moving around the room collecting glasses and giving out finger foods. It's almost midnight, but I'm wide awake and feeling pretty nostalgic reflecting back on that the idyllic Cape Cod summer my best friend and I catered for the company my sister was managing. The clip on ties and the Doobie Brothers all the time. Some Dj's never change, we were dancing till September everyday...
Atanyrate, being as disconnected with the world as I am, I had no idea who that good looking guy was or what other films he was in. So when I proffered a tray of sweets and pulled it away a few times il a'dit, "vous etes une blaggeur, non?"
"Pas trop" was my response.
Nothing more than that. But I googled the movie and the guy when I got home and realized belatedly that that guy was Jean Dujardin. This is why I don't have a bucket list, because how could you ever arrange to tease a famous actor who's up for an oscar?!
Anyway, in the name of balance, I was horribly sick the next day, my day off, and our anniversary. Sebastien is such a good, good man. His gift to me was a living document of the memories he could remember about our relationship in it's early years. We've only been together six, which makes me chuckle a little about what an old man Sebastien has always been. It's a good read. It obviously made me cry and I would post it for you, but some of it is pretty naughty. There totally came a point where I said, 'Oh my, we must never let our children see this!'
He's better than I deserve, but I made him chocolate covered chips and Boeuf Bourguignon. We spent all of my tips from that shift on high quality ingredients and were not disappointed. I wanted to break out the champaign and try out some new cocktails but I'm generally not in favor of drinking when I am sick. And when I say genrally, I mean totally.
I had a fever for part of this sick-show and two of our friends came over because they didn't see my cancellation email. They had never seen me in my PJs either, or so near tears as when Sebastien accidentally bumped my arm.
YUP.
It was two single dudes, too. I'm sure they left greatly impressed upon.
Oh, speaking of my friends, Aude defended her dissertation on whether localizing circuits would increase pattern coherence of electrons in low-temperature environments would lead to, yeah I stopped reading too...
Whatevski--she did it! We so proud!
And if you're feeling mathy, and I know some of you are, please check out my other friend's post doctoral project, Micro GP. He and his team have developed an evolutionary algorithm to solve hard problems. It's open source and free, so use it and share it and see if you can give it something truly masterful to consider. That is your homework. Well, that and this:
Yeah, he's one of those. But we don't hug, we french kiss. ;P
Don't worry about me, friends--haven't died, you and I are still cool. Even if you're not the sort of friend who will tell me when I've got something stuck in my teeth, that means, at least, that I will never fart in front of you...
WHAT?
I fail to see how this is in any way a downside for you, I've been eating steak tartar.
Ok.
It's time for sleeps, my peeps. Hasta luego.
9.2.12
I saved Latin, what di you ever do?
The digital world has swallowed me whole. This occurred to me last night on my walk whereupon seeing a hand scrawled note on the ground I immediately thought to myself, maybe it's a quest!
This fact was only reenforced by my recent trip to le Musee Cluny on Free museum day. After standing before a massive disembodied statue's head and I found myself wishing for my camera and a respectable block print font in post production so that I could turn my would-be photo into the dat ass meme, como esto:
I pointed this out to Sebastien and Christian and had to give a brief history of what exactly I was talking about. Uh, not even for the first time...
Their reactions sort of gave me the impression I've gone in too deep. This was only naturally reenforced later when viewing a bas relief of Jesus in scrimshaw holding the heads of two choir boys with lacquered mahogany backsplash. Some people would have made a molestation joke, or by contrast, actually enjoy the art in the spirit it was created in...but for me, seeing it instantly called to mind something I had seen in my tumblr feed the day before...
With all of this stuff going on in my head, compounded the fact that I keep playing Skyrim before bed, I'm really glad I've got a new music project going with a few very talented musicians. I did my first shift working as a waitress at a restaurant last night. It was fine, except I needed to stretch for 20 mins once I got home. My friggin' back!
But, ever since I got my visa worked out, my focus has been finding work in an immersive French speaking environment. I thought about trying to intern at some office but I hate sitting around all day--even if it means I'd get to wear my pearls.
True enough, I can always fall back on teaching, but that would have to be in English. Or I could always nanny, but people who can afford that live at least 40 mins outside of Paris. Not to mention, I loath people who outsource the parenting of their children.
It's funny, here in Paris I've had all the time in the world but no money. If I work out well at this gig, however I'll be working so much enjoying my money will be hard. But this is exactly the kind of trade off I'm in the mood for. One of the hardest things about moving to France was losing the freedom to buy the things I wanted or needed. I'm really not used to having to budget for lotion.
Thankfully I'm exaggerating, but it's wintertime and I'm ashy! Oh well, Aude defends her dissertation today, so Sebastien and I are going to watch her be all smart and hot about it. Plus, they're serving free lunch! Maybe we'll pick her up a balloon on the way? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyway, I have to get in the science mood, (cuz I'm still running on sleepy mode) So I leave you with this:
This fact was only reenforced by my recent trip to le Musee Cluny on Free museum day. After standing before a massive disembodied statue's head and I found myself wishing for my camera and a respectable block print font in post production so that I could turn my would-be photo into the dat ass meme, como esto:
I pointed this out to Sebastien and Christian and had to give a brief history of what exactly I was talking about. Uh, not even for the first time...
Their reactions sort of gave me the impression I've gone in too deep. This was only naturally reenforced later when viewing a bas relief of Jesus in scrimshaw holding the heads of two choir boys with lacquered mahogany backsplash. Some people would have made a molestation joke, or by contrast, actually enjoy the art in the spirit it was created in...but for me, seeing it instantly called to mind something I had seen in my tumblr feed the day before...
With all of this stuff going on in my head, compounded the fact that I keep playing Skyrim before bed, I'm really glad I've got a new music project going with a few very talented musicians. I did my first shift working as a waitress at a restaurant last night. It was fine, except I needed to stretch for 20 mins once I got home. My friggin' back!
But, ever since I got my visa worked out, my focus has been finding work in an immersive French speaking environment. I thought about trying to intern at some office but I hate sitting around all day--even if it means I'd get to wear my pearls.
True enough, I can always fall back on teaching, but that would have to be in English. Or I could always nanny, but people who can afford that live at least 40 mins outside of Paris. Not to mention, I loath people who outsource the parenting of their children.
It's funny, here in Paris I've had all the time in the world but no money. If I work out well at this gig, however I'll be working so much enjoying my money will be hard. But this is exactly the kind of trade off I'm in the mood for. One of the hardest things about moving to France was losing the freedom to buy the things I wanted or needed. I'm really not used to having to budget for lotion.
Thankfully I'm exaggerating, but it's wintertime and I'm ashy! Oh well, Aude defends her dissertation today, so Sebastien and I are going to watch her be all smart and hot about it. Plus, they're serving free lunch! Maybe we'll pick her up a balloon on the way? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyway, I have to get in the science mood, (cuz I'm still running on sleepy mode) So I leave you with this:
 |
| Congratulations, you are no longer normal. |
3.2.12
GTKYFB
Have you ever taken one of those quizzes that were all over myspace and live journal? Of course you have. I even designed one and sent it off to all of my friends via email. For the sake of brevity, let's just say they're so fun that I still love doing them!
Speaking of brevity, if you want to watch me totally ignore the prompt for a video blog where my assignment was filling out one of those quizzes, head over to Shades of Shayes and check it out. But hang out here for awhile and see what Shayes has to say...you know, so you have some idea of what I was suppost to be doing.
Be cautioned, she has very good taste in what looks sexy on men.
Ok, thanks again for checking this out. Hit up Smile Big and Pretty for a master list of all the blogs in the swap!
Speaking of brevity, if you want to watch me totally ignore the prompt for a video blog where my assignment was filling out one of those quizzes, head over to Shades of Shayes and check it out. But hang out here for awhile and see what Shayes has to say...you know, so you have some idea of what I was suppost to be doing.
Be cautioned, she has very good taste in what looks sexy on men.
Ok, thanks again for checking this out. Hit up Smile Big and Pretty for a master list of all the blogs in the swap!
25.1.12
The Multiverse: An Erinistic Approach
Yes friends, the multiverse, or how I came to think of it last saturday night:
"The Quantum Physicist's Spirituality."
I attended a party la samedi dernier. A fun little social affair where we made our own pizza and mixed fruity drinks. All the lights were on and the music never got above an audible whisper. There were even cats there, and we all took turns holding them.
In short, a far cry from the Friday night gig chez nous for which the cops were called and the shit shut down at 5 Am. People stayed until first metro, 45 mins later, but I had my heels off and my slippers on by then.
This shindig was much different.
There were only 12 of us, 5 of whom were quantum physicists, nbd. Sebastien and I were the only Americans and a German and I were the only ones for whom French was not our first language.
I mention Friday's party by way of explaining, I was beyond exhausted. I had to get up at 10 to proctor an online speaking class Saturday morning and Sebastien was up at 8 to lecture a full day of Critical Reasoning. That is to say, I got about three hours of "sleep" and was definitely still tipsy when I logged on to discuss the difference between American house party culture as compared to that of France. (I'm kind of epic level on the subject, btw.)
Listening and using a foreign language is hard enough dead sober and wide awake. And even though I wasn't having a drop of anything---fruity drinks be damned, (drunks of the world, I don't know how you do it!) I was so sleepy that I had to restrain myself from randomly snuggling people standing next to me.
Does that happen to anyone else?
I can begin to feel so fatigued that I'm willing to cuddle with any warm breather who gets within 10cms of me.
Fact is, Sebastien only dragged me away from our 4 pm nap by promising me plenty of PDA....
So this Saturday thang goes crazy late (on no sleep any time after 1 AM = crazy late) and I am eventually sick of anything anyone says to me in French.
I'm sorry, but it happens.
I go sit on a couch and try to forgive myself for not wanting to practice French in le wild by reading a magazine dans le meme lang.
Finally almost everyone leaves, just Christian (the aforementioned German) the hostest, Aude, Seba and I. Aude lives outside of Paris and we missed the last train back in so we decide to spend the night.
She and Christian are colleagues. I gather they work at the same atom smasher or something. Anyway Sebastien and Aude were cleaning up the kitchen and twittering in French two rooms away, whilst Christian sprawls comfortably along the length of an old leather couch and I busy myself with stacking desert plates, cups and spoons; suddenly dropping a mug.
"Is it broken?" he asks lazily.
"Thankfully, no."
"Why are you thankful, it wants to be broken."
I glance up at him quickly, trying to gauge his mood as I right the cup.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"In any closed system the level of entropy either stays the same, or it grows. And since the universe is a closed system, the objects in it want to move to a higher state of entropy. Take that piano over there. It's particles are highly organized. Yes?"
"Yes," I respond automatically, falling under science's spell.
"Entropy is a property that wants to disorganize or randomize energy. So I never feel bad when I break a plate or a cup because, it wants to be broken."
"I should probably know this, but when I think of entropy, I think of the mac program," I say, disappointing even myself.
"Entropy is the second law of classical thermodynamics. We use it to determine the amount of energy unavailable for work."
"Oh, so that's why the highly organized want to disorganize, to free up energy for work?"
"Right. That's why, when I break a cup, I just think--that was another universe."
"We've talked about this before." I say abandoning my charge, plates and spoons making soft clanks as they impact against each other and the floor . "All the things that I've wanted to happen which haven't, HAVE, just in another universe."
"Correct, that's why I'm not afraid to die. I just think that if there is another copy of me around the multiverse somewhere, I won't be dead."
"But that won't really be you. What about your consciousness?"
"My consciousness is tied to it."
"So there is a version of me that is awesome at the piano?"
"Why not?" His smile making his eyes crinkle and glow.
"Why not just sit and do nothing then?" I say as I sit down with a shrug, "Why not wait to die and wake up in a better world?"
"Well, the longer you live, the more likely that the universe you are in is the most stable one. In theory, there is a suicide machine which you could hook yourself up to. And the the longer you stay alive through the various iterations of the experiment, the more probable it is you should be dead."
"Wait a minute, this sounds familiar."
"Precisely, it's like the Schrodinger's cat experiment from the perspective of the cat."
"Oh...that sucks."
"Let's assume if you had a fifty percent chance of survival if you stayed hooked up to it for 10 seconds but you lived for 20 seconds that chance would decrease by...." He does all the math out to 50 second and smiles a little when my face betrays how impressed I am. Taking the ball back I time perfectly, "I guess the better question is, why would you hook yourself up to a Suicide Machine--they make terrible music."
"What?"
"It's a band."
"What is?
"The Suicide Mach--look, I think what your getting at is if the multiverse is real, your consciousness would transcend this reality and you would wake up in another, um, like, meta-reality?
"Right, it's also called metaverse."
Ok, cool--you'd wake up in a different metaverse then, because you can't observe being dead, if you actually are. "
"Exactly. Exactly, I just think of all the times I should have died. Like this one time when I was changing a socket on the light fixture, and I forgot to turn off the electricity."
"Oh man."
"Yeah, everything blew out. The fuses--there was sparks--the circuitry were all just totally fried.
"Wow."
"And I just thought to myself, I should to be dead."
"So would you say that was a wave function--or a reality collapsing?"
"Yes, but the whole universe is a wave function. So it's not logical that it could collapse. That's another reason why the many worlds theory is real."
"Wait, I I think I need you to define wave functions and what you mean by collapse."
"There are two theories in quantum mechanics, the Copenhagen interpretation and the Multiverse or Many Worlds theory. With the Copenhagen premise, there has to be an independent observer who takes measurements, of one form or another."
"Oh, it's the same with light particles--by observing it, you cause the collaps." I say, nodding with enthusiasm.
"Definitely. Yes. So, imagine you come to a choice--"
"Like a quest branch, from a video game." (Subtext: skyrim)
"Maybe so. Yes, like a quest branch, as soon as you make a choice, the wave function for the other choices collapses. "
"Well, that seems to be true. At least for the independent observer. And, once you've made your decision, the other realities that could have come to pass based on other choices aren't options anymore."
"Exactly- but maybe we just can't interact with the other realities. Maybe they go on independently of us."
"Hence the multiverse."
"Quite. And the wave function collaps is just a really easy algebraic equation." He explains the equation in detail. He waves his hand in front of his face, as if conducting a piece of music.
"That's an easy algebraic equation?"
"Yes, it's quite simple, I think."
"I never really applied myself to math. At the time, it felt like I was getting away with something. I kind of felt smart for it, I guess."
"You need instant gratification, maybe?"
"Yeah. I need to have a natural aptitude for anything I love. That, or a hot teacher!"
"Really?" After a pause. "Why are you smiling?"
"I'm just think about a few things that I really wanted to happen that haven't- but have, if the multiverse is real."
"Like what?
I run my hand over my face, trying to push my actual thoughts down and come up with something small and cute that will make him laugh and force a drop of the subject.
"Uh, I can't really think of anything PG, at the moment," I report with a giggle.
"Oh, uhhh..." He reads confused, not embarrassed, so I ask
"Do you know what PG means?
"No, what is it?"
"It's a rating for films in the States. PG means acceptable for children if their parents approve."
"Ok, well--it doesn't need to be PG."He smirks, stretching his right shoulder and relaxing once again.
I look at him, dark hair cut close. Glasses. Button down shirt. Legs crossed at the ancle, hands laced behind and supporting his head. I rub my hands across my tired eyes once more and stand up.
"You look sleepy." I say, "I'm going to go see what Sebastien is up to."
"Sure, no problem."
As I move towards the light of the kitchen, I hear myself thinking how like faith or religion this experiment is. True, the multiverse is neat-o libido for your science fiction hardon, or indispensable for listening to a great solo and wishing you could play it, but it won't factor into how I construct my reality. It's no more apart of my choice map than heaven or destiny. The things which I can't predict, factor for, or relay on are not apart of the equation. I may not be great at math, but my Introduction to Piano teacher back at university said I was very logical.
If the multiverse is real, there is a me out there who is already awesome at French. There is one who has been to South America and can tell you the difference between mainland Portuguese and Brazilian. One of me is in a touring band. Some of me have died. Some have taken dark paths past bullets the me right here and now has dodged. Some versions of my life would be better, some aspects would undoubtably be worse. But why stare at the Mirror of Erised? You can't have what you see there if all you're capable of doing is desiring it. Like heaven, if the multiverse is real, I am consoled. But I don't live for that consolation and I won't be controlled by it.
The fallibility of my own perspective has been tested and proven countless times, times ten, I therefore concede that I may be wrong, but I still believe I took the road less traveled, and I still content that it will make all the difference.
"The Quantum Physicist's Spirituality."
 |
| What's this? Oh, this is just a feature of the regular universe. Borrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiing. |
In short, a far cry from the Friday night gig chez nous for which the cops were called and the shit shut down at 5 Am. People stayed until first metro, 45 mins later, but I had my heels off and my slippers on by then.
This shindig was much different.
There were only 12 of us, 5 of whom were quantum physicists, nbd. Sebastien and I were the only Americans and a German and I were the only ones for whom French was not our first language.
I mention Friday's party by way of explaining, I was beyond exhausted. I had to get up at 10 to proctor an online speaking class Saturday morning and Sebastien was up at 8 to lecture a full day of Critical Reasoning. That is to say, I got about three hours of "sleep" and was definitely still tipsy when I logged on to discuss the difference between American house party culture as compared to that of France. (I'm kind of epic level on the subject, btw.)
Listening and using a foreign language is hard enough dead sober and wide awake. And even though I wasn't having a drop of anything---fruity drinks be damned, (drunks of the world, I don't know how you do it!) I was so sleepy that I had to restrain myself from randomly snuggling people standing next to me.
Does that happen to anyone else?
I can begin to feel so fatigued that I'm willing to cuddle with any warm breather who gets within 10cms of me.
Fact is, Sebastien only dragged me away from our 4 pm nap by promising me plenty of PDA....
 |
| Ask me how I bargin. |
So this Saturday thang goes crazy late (on no sleep any time after 1 AM = crazy late) and I am eventually sick of anything anyone says to me in French.
I'm sorry, but it happens.
I go sit on a couch and try to forgive myself for not wanting to practice French in le wild by reading a magazine dans le meme lang.
Finally almost everyone leaves, just Christian (the aforementioned German) the hostest, Aude, Seba and I. Aude lives outside of Paris and we missed the last train back in so we decide to spend the night.
She and Christian are colleagues. I gather they work at the same atom smasher or something. Anyway Sebastien and Aude were cleaning up the kitchen and twittering in French two rooms away, whilst Christian sprawls comfortably along the length of an old leather couch and I busy myself with stacking desert plates, cups and spoons; suddenly dropping a mug.
"Is it broken?" he asks lazily.
"Thankfully, no."
"Why are you thankful, it wants to be broken."
I glance up at him quickly, trying to gauge his mood as I right the cup.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"In any closed system the level of entropy either stays the same, or it grows. And since the universe is a closed system, the objects in it want to move to a higher state of entropy. Take that piano over there. It's particles are highly organized. Yes?"
"Yes," I respond automatically, falling under science's spell.
"Entropy is a property that wants to disorganize or randomize energy. So I never feel bad when I break a plate or a cup because, it wants to be broken."
"I should probably know this, but when I think of entropy, I think of the mac program," I say, disappointing even myself.
"Entropy is the second law of classical thermodynamics. We use it to determine the amount of energy unavailable for work."
"Oh, so that's why the highly organized want to disorganize, to free up energy for work?"
"Right. That's why, when I break a cup, I just think--that was another universe."
"We've talked about this before." I say abandoning my charge, plates and spoons making soft clanks as they impact against each other and the floor . "All the things that I've wanted to happen which haven't, HAVE, just in another universe."
"Correct, that's why I'm not afraid to die. I just think that if there is another copy of me around the multiverse somewhere, I won't be dead."
"But that won't really be you. What about your consciousness?"
"My consciousness is tied to it."
"So there is a version of me that is awesome at the piano?"
"Why not?" His smile making his eyes crinkle and glow.
"Why not just sit and do nothing then?" I say as I sit down with a shrug, "Why not wait to die and wake up in a better world?"
"Well, the longer you live, the more likely that the universe you are in is the most stable one. In theory, there is a suicide machine which you could hook yourself up to. And the the longer you stay alive through the various iterations of the experiment, the more probable it is you should be dead."
"Wait a minute, this sounds familiar."
"Precisely, it's like the Schrodinger's cat experiment from the perspective of the cat."
"Oh...that sucks."
"Let's assume if you had a fifty percent chance of survival if you stayed hooked up to it for 10 seconds but you lived for 20 seconds that chance would decrease by...." He does all the math out to 50 second and smiles a little when my face betrays how impressed I am. Taking the ball back I time perfectly, "I guess the better question is, why would you hook yourself up to a Suicide Machine--they make terrible music."
"What?"
"It's a band."
"What is?
"The Suicide Mach--look, I think what your getting at is if the multiverse is real, your consciousness would transcend this reality and you would wake up in another, um, like, meta-reality?
"Right, it's also called metaverse."
Ok, cool--you'd wake up in a different metaverse then, because you can't observe being dead, if you actually are. "
"Exactly. Exactly, I just think of all the times I should have died. Like this one time when I was changing a socket on the light fixture, and I forgot to turn off the electricity."
"Oh man."
"Yeah, everything blew out. The fuses--there was sparks--the circuitry were all just totally fried.
"Wow."
"And I just thought to myself, I should to be dead."
"So would you say that was a wave function--or a reality collapsing?"
"Yes, but the whole universe is a wave function. So it's not logical that it could collapse. That's another reason why the many worlds theory is real."
"Wait, I I think I need you to define wave functions and what you mean by collapse."
"There are two theories in quantum mechanics, the Copenhagen interpretation and the Multiverse or Many Worlds theory. With the Copenhagen premise, there has to be an independent observer who takes measurements, of one form or another."
"Oh, it's the same with light particles--by observing it, you cause the collaps." I say, nodding with enthusiasm.
"Definitely. Yes. So, imagine you come to a choice--"
"Like a quest branch, from a video game." (Subtext: skyrim)
"Maybe so. Yes, like a quest branch, as soon as you make a choice, the wave function for the other choices collapses. "
"Well, that seems to be true. At least for the independent observer. And, once you've made your decision, the other realities that could have come to pass based on other choices aren't options anymore."
"Exactly- but maybe we just can't interact with the other realities. Maybe they go on independently of us."
"Hence the multiverse."
"Quite. And the wave function collaps is just a really easy algebraic equation." He explains the equation in detail. He waves his hand in front of his face, as if conducting a piece of music.
"That's an easy algebraic equation?"
"Yes, it's quite simple, I think."
"I never really applied myself to math. At the time, it felt like I was getting away with something. I kind of felt smart for it, I guess."
"You need instant gratification, maybe?"
"Yeah. I need to have a natural aptitude for anything I love. That, or a hot teacher!"
"Really?" After a pause. "Why are you smiling?"
"I'm just think about a few things that I really wanted to happen that haven't- but have, if the multiverse is real."
"Like what?
I run my hand over my face, trying to push my actual thoughts down and come up with something small and cute that will make him laugh and force a drop of the subject.
"Uh, I can't really think of anything PG, at the moment," I report with a giggle.
"Oh, uhhh..." He reads confused, not embarrassed, so I ask
"Do you know what PG means?
"No, what is it?"
"It's a rating for films in the States. PG means acceptable for children if their parents approve."
"Ok, well--it doesn't need to be PG."He smirks, stretching his right shoulder and relaxing once again.
I look at him, dark hair cut close. Glasses. Button down shirt. Legs crossed at the ancle, hands laced behind and supporting his head. I rub my hands across my tired eyes once more and stand up.
"You look sleepy." I say, "I'm going to go see what Sebastien is up to."
"Sure, no problem."
As I move towards the light of the kitchen, I hear myself thinking how like faith or religion this experiment is. True, the multiverse is neat-o libido for your science fiction hardon, or indispensable for listening to a great solo and wishing you could play it, but it won't factor into how I construct my reality. It's no more apart of my choice map than heaven or destiny. The things which I can't predict, factor for, or relay on are not apart of the equation. I may not be great at math, but my Introduction to Piano teacher back at university said I was very logical.
If the multiverse is real, there is a me out there who is already awesome at French. There is one who has been to South America and can tell you the difference between mainland Portuguese and Brazilian. One of me is in a touring band. Some of me have died. Some have taken dark paths past bullets the me right here and now has dodged. Some versions of my life would be better, some aspects would undoubtably be worse. But why stare at the Mirror of Erised? You can't have what you see there if all you're capable of doing is desiring it. Like heaven, if the multiverse is real, I am consoled. But I don't live for that consolation and I won't be controlled by it.
The fallibility of my own perspective has been tested and proven countless times, times ten, I therefore concede that I may be wrong, but I still believe I took the road less traveled, and I still content that it will make all the difference.
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