I see the light

What is he on?

I was waiting for my bus to bring me to salsa last week.¹ It was drizzling at the time, with some driving gusts. I'm wont to stretch my neck, tilting an ear to a shoulder² and pointing my nose upwards. Due to my off-kilter gaze my attention was caught by raindrops, falling.³ They were back-lit by a street lamp. Against the night sky, it looked like a swath of comets, like something in the opening of TNG. I had a moment of vertigo, like I was inside an optical illusion. It was amazing.

There's the rub.

Yet another reason why humans make terrible scientists. Our thoughts colour our perceptions; Giving us preconceptions, if you like.

We are convinced the next time it will come up heads, since it came up tails so many times already. We are shocked when famous people turn out to be other than virtuous paragons... surely all the money, good-looks and social influence correlate to a good nature.^4,5 If we are feeling all happy, we are more likely to get the wool pulled over our eyes.⁶ If a person annoys me, he/she can't be right.⁷

And, at the end of the day: do what I say, not as I do.

I can't wait for the robots to take cover, everything will move smoothly.

*****

¹In the main, I am better at at keeping the beat now, thanks to the... clave!

²The more possible one.

³Sure, it sounds poetic, but since the water spheres and I were standing near a bus-stop, as opposed to a volume of space removed from objects of a significant mass, poised at the apogee of a parabolic flight in a gravity well, or a high magnitude magnetic field, the water obviously falls.ⁱ

4

⁵It seems rather recursive if you ask me.

⁶Forgas & East, 2008

⁷Heck, I probably didn't bother listening in the first place, since he's obviously going to be wrong.

*****

ⁱOther exceptions are welcome.

Railroaded

I went back to Clare last week. I booked the tickets on-line, an 0700 Thursday train down. The perfect plan.

In other news:

We had a fantastic Christmas Party on Wednesday night. I dominated in the inaugural Daniela Baum Bake-Off .ⁱ I made a marbled, cocoa and plain, madera cake replete with raspberries and blackberries.ⁱⁱ I partially covered it in chocolate. My reason being that some berries were still visible on the surface- albeit sunken like... um... like a pock marks on a plague survivor- and it seemed wasteful to hide the Technicolor delights under a bushel-not an actual bushel- of chocolate. After our dinner, we scampered/swayed to Whelan's. It was a good laugh, better than last year's party by far.ⁱⁱⁱ It was after 0430 when I got to sleep.

Already, I can hear you saying: "Hmmm. Going to bed at that time is not very responsible, given your early start, Mairtin." I can even see you peering over your horn rimmed glasses at me to complement^iv that disapproving tone of yours.^v

I awoke with me alarm clock in plenty of time for the train.

A couple of hours later, I awoke of my own accord, in negative plenty of time for the train.

In hopes of clemency, I rang Irish Rail. Bluntly was I informed "No Mercy" was the order of the day.^vi I got over it and acquired one of the nifty 10Euro train tickets - plus credit card charges.

Cue Rant:

The online bookers must choose a train time and get designated a seat. For everything to work out hunky dory, fewer casual users- commuters, people without internet/credit card, otherwise disadvantaged or disorganised bums- can alight than there are unbooked seats.

This could be ensured: if there was a bouncer that stopped the commoners coming on before VIPs,"Sorry folks, regulars only today." Or the computerised turnstiles could be programmed to prevent more casuals than there are free seats getting on the train at the beginning of its route (It could beep something rude like R2-D2 at them, Morgan Freeman could tell them,"Now just isn't your time, son/girl [please select gender]"^vii, or Kanye could interrupt their scheduled promenade to the train with,"People that book on-line are the best train users ever. You should leave.").

This reminds me that most of the stations I have gone through don't even have these turnstiles, which brings us back to the labour intensive bouncer option. For interim stations, does the train only stop for people that booked tickets? Do the bouncers travel with the train. We could have a scanner on the door and it could trigger countermeasures against the casuals that try to get on the train- that would do great for the flagging Funniest Home Movie franchise.

I smell a calculus/algebra problem brewing at this point, no longer are we interested in when Train A will meet Train B, but whether Sally can get on the train in Athlone if there is a football match in Naas that has a connection on Ballina.

Alternatively, they could just stop looking for seats and train times. Otherwise it just sounds like they want to get everyone to use automated methods and reduce the number of positions required in the running of Irish Rail Services.

End Rant.

ⁱThere were just two entries :/ "Though we try, we can never match her"

ⁱⁱSimilar to the "berry" special cake I made for some young lad's 21st a while back, but this time I got to eat it :)

ⁱⁱⁱSorry, Gleb and Julia, the truth/subjectivity can be a cruel mistress

^ivAn easy way to remember the difference between complement- to complete a pairing or group, e.g. "that tie complements that shirt" and compliment- to praise, etc.- is the first "e" in complement matches with complete [no booing!]

^vYou know who you are!¹

^viAdmittedly, I am lemon-coating the response to my request. That is right, I lack the emotional maturity to accept the consequences of actions, despite having clearly ticked the box that says I accept the T&Cs.² Do you have a problem with that?

^viiI'm sure the budget could stretch to getting him in, it would certainly take the sting out of being treated like second class citizen

¹At least I hope so, since I don't

²link

the swinging bag and the leg

Earlier this week, I was walking home from a particularly late night in the office.

I carry my lunch box in a reusable fabric bag of some sort (unfortunately I cannot be more particular because it lacks labels and my ability to identify fabrics is in its infancy at the very least, if it even nascent).

It was an almost chilly night, the epitome of an Autumn night.ⁱ As such I had my hands in my pockets, with my right wrist through the baggage handles. Gravity being what it is,ⁱⁱ the bag lay against my leg.

It is a 20-25 minute walk from campus to my house. It gives a man time to think. Time to notice things. On this occasion, what I first noticed and then thought on was how the lunch box in the bag bounced and pendulummed about my swinging leg.

Starting from closeⁱⁱⁱ to the same point- I paused in my walk to confirm this- the bag had two distinct periodic motions.

1. The centre of a long side of the box bag touched my advancing shin and the box-bag system was rotated clockwise and swung back to catch the shin as it was going back, so that it could be pushed out once more clockwise and repeat the motion.
2. A point near the front end of a long side of the box touched my shin imparting more angular velocity clockwise than observed in 1, such that the bag swung greater than 90 degrees in the time it took for my swinging leg to repeat its cycle. The rear most narrow face of the box-bag system touched my shin and was pushed outwards again, continuing the pattern.

I found that for any set of mode 1 or 2, it repeated anywhere from 1-30 times before switching to the other motion. Every now and again, the very corner of the box would catch instead of either side.^iv If that is included, then we have a scenario where three reasonably stable periods are possible. [I'll pause for those amongst my ones and ones of readers that has/have read books on Chaos theory, and are aware that period three means that any period is possible and the system can tend to unpredictable behaviour.]

I decided to see what happened when I walked faster. I kept to walked as a change in motion to trot, canter or gallop- heh! I can use the terminology, we all move the same [read section 2.2]- would have changed the basic dynamic of the system.

Of course the box-bag went nuts. For a finish, I had to unwind it.

I mused whether or not my mathematics was up to modelling the system, but the level of interplay between above the knee and below the ankle for locomotion distracted me.^v

My wonder at the chaotic nature of a bag and my leg was shortlived.^vi I recalled that technicians, scientists, engineers, farmers, and people across the world battle to make things predictable and regular- Buses, clocks, electricity supply, wireless data transmission, the pressure in a pocket filter [it took far too long to get sorted], our nap times, car engines, lunchtimes, meetings, women, crops and the stockmarket. Chaotic behaviour is the norm.

In the course of a stroll:

• I marvelled at a scientific principle (from similar initial conditions can come manifold different results), like unto Gary Oldman's Rosencrantz
• I suffered ennui for seeing the thing as trivial, akin Tim Roth's Rosencrantz.^vii

Now. It is well passed my bed time, I was close to nodding off for a while, but I powered through the get these thoughts out to my devoted reader(s) (called Martians).

ⁱUsually Ireland is too busy going from bad to worse to honour the seasons but as I always say: "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day."¹

ⁱⁱMuch like the world existed only in grayscale before the advent of colour photography, we bobbed blithely along minding our own business until a certain I. Newto- that is too obvious... Let's call him Isaac N. invented gravity so that he could steal apples from Farmer Maggot's field with Frodo and Samwise without getting twigs in his eyes or leaves in his hair.

ⁱⁱⁱClose only counts in horseshoes and handgrenades

^ivSimilar to, but far more likely than a coin landing on its edge instead of heads or tails.

^vSome interesting links about walking: in a qualitative sense; why we walk and run as we do; Bishop et al talk of prowling Felis Catus; Usain Bolt's Froude Number has to be over 5; This guy really seems to know his stuff when it comes to 100m sprints

^viawwwwww :'(

^viiOr was it Guildenstern...<sup>2

1</sup>I hoped to link to a previous post where I said it for the first time, it seems I have not said it before. I am disappointed in my past self and am relieved for his and my sakes that there is an unfordable temporal gulf between us [shakes his fist in the direction of the past]

²I like to seem intelligent, well read and cultured, there's no telling who is watching; That is one thing Sir Digby Chicken Ceaser has taught me.

HLMV (Hear Little Master's Voice)

On Sunday, I left my phone in the sports centre studio - clearly, remembering to put it in my pocket after 2 hours of copas, shines, single, double and even quadruple turns* was expecting a bit much. Always one to cling to superficial simulacrum of zen, I accepted its absence.

I went into town and did my grocery shopping.

While man-about-towning, I'd find myself worrying my pocket. Checking for that yoke that was not there [the phone... obviously]. Phantom-phone syndrome. An unconscious tick. Nothing more. I'm telling you.

Half a day without the ball-and-chain, I felt liberated and naughty, like pulling a sicky. Forsooth, all good things come to an end. The sports centre staff found the phone and reunited me with it.

My Stockholme syndrom begins anew.

It beeps. It buzzes. It looms.

My musings of enslavement to a hand held device are not novel. In Gulliver's Travels, Swift pokes fun at the pocket watch. His Lilliputians hypothesize that it is either "an unknown animal or a God that he worships". They felt the latter more likely since "he seldom did anything without consulting it".

P.S. If this has evoked an dormant feelings of confinement by and resentment towards this impossibly handy piece of kit we call a phone, then, by golly, you are ready for this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dib2-HBsF08
Brian Rice [read with the gravitas of the Times]** describes it as "...the best rant ever..." And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to shout out a window.
*I did the doubles myself, but I made the girls do the quadruples :)
** He is my guru after all

Jonnie Onion Rings

In the vending machine in Engineering there is a rack loaded with Jonnie Onion Rings. It is an old corn based snack, from when the Celtic Tiger was a glimmer in some Lepracháin's eye.

A simpler time.

[Dramatic pause before beginning rant disproportionate to its cause]

The image on a Jonnie Onion Rings bag (above) is a man in a horizontally striped navy and white shirt, a twisted moustache and a beret. The man is holding a string of onions. A google of "stereotypical Frenchman" produces similar images... Really. How many other snack foods support a stereotype?*

I am reminded of Steve Coogan's Knowing Me Knowing You when he says,"That's not racist. French people chomp onions and go "hoh-hee-hoh-hee-hoh", that's a fact."

Maybe the Jonnie depicted on the bag supposed to be something to enjoy a chuckly while chomping on the snack? Maybe the creators of the product name have more going on under the hood than I would credit. Maybe I am making a mountain out of a mole-hill. Maybe the weather will decide if it is going to be sunny or rainy today. Maybe they were right not to consider prosthetic claws for Mr Jackman in X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Maybe the shot 25s into the latest Transformers: Revenge of The Fallen trailer is unnecessary. Maybe the key to Sherlock's release is not under the pillow. Maybe I am still on topic...

Since we live in a country where blasphemy is a crime and someone can get in trouble for making caricatures about a public figure, it probably fits with how we are marketed abroad.

[This outburst is kindly brought to you after listening Bill Hicks' misanthropic ragings]

*Rereading this, I decided I better cover my ass when it came to the truckloads of rhetorical questions I fired out. America, being PC happy as it is, has had a number of studies regarding stereotyping in marketing. The link goes through an analysis of a children-aimed commercials and ethnic portrayals determining whether there are stereotypes being enforced.
A quick glance through the paper indicates the answer is yes there are stereotypes. Asians and Caucasians are more likely to appear where toys and other "discretionary" wares are being pedalled, with other minorities relegated to side-roles and in those cases usually only with snack foods and lower value items. There are some other points in it but some of them were survey based, which I don't care for because [1, 2- cheers Neil for pointing me to them]. Plus people have trouble answering things well.** And "people lie"³

** Some interesting Ted Talks about Cognitive Biase, we are suckers for illusions

I had a dream... rant

Saw the inauguration speech. Amazing stuff, I was overcome by positive feelings for the future. He has a rich voice. He evoked powerful imagery. He said all the right things with jaw-dropping eloquence and smoothness. Fantastic stuff.

He has my sympathy.

Anyone else coming after Bush would have a cakewalk, but he carries a messianic burden. Nothing but perfection will be lauded. Considering the hand dealt, perfection will have to be more perfect than usual.

Good luck Obama!

___________________________________________________________

[EDIT: after sleeping on it. This little ditty really does not paint me in a nice light at all. So I changed bits and pieces to seem nicer]

Went to my first room-viewing. On the walk over it struck me that a viewing is like a date. After a pause, I pffffed derisively at myself. Any social interaction is like any other. One illustrates by action, word and appearance the values one wishes to represent and provoke or evoke in others. [EDIT: We do like to be liked]

The viewing went well, it is the kind of place I would like to live- lots of space, friendly housemates and a choice of white walls to shine the projector on. 8D

I believe: "If you can't be rude to your friends, you can't be rude to anyone"

At Salsa last week, I bumped into one of the lads I know by name. To be friendly, I offered an opinion about the current meteorological state of Dublin, with which he agreed.

Three years ago an American exchange student and I spent a lot of time together. We were in Dublin for the summer away from our families and our classmates had more groups than us vying for their time. Once, walking down Henry st, Courtney commented on the weather. I met this with stony silence. She knew my stance on idle banter.

The word bastard has been used in reference to me, and I will admit that the above anecdote supports the malediction. I have a reason.

Idle banter is far from idle. When idle banter is brandished, somebody is probing, testing, either consciously or unconsciously, obliquely checking for common ground and appeal. It is amazing how much we give away by word choice and mannerisms.

I think conversation serves a purpose- it teaches, entertains, informs or instructs.* I think idle banter is proto-conversation, a precursor, a prelude and other things pre-.

I was affronted when Courtney brought idle-banter to bear on me. Since that summer, I am less irked by idle banter amongst friends. Some have trouble with silence. Depending on how entertaining- some people babble**- and sensitive- my mother doesn't care for it-they are about being met with silence, I'll accommodate them [and we dip back into the bastard region]. But I feel justified in loosing a bolt of it at a stranger. So I ain't a hypocrite, but maybe a sophist. :|

I concede that appearances can be misleading. Apparently idle banter can be pregnant with subtext, be it flirting or some kind of verbal fencing, which of course is not idle at all and lots of fun.

I dealt Gleb a bout of silence today, I've seen brooks that babbled less :P

*It is an idea my junior certificate English teacher mentioned with regard to written compositions. I figure it holds for all media, except maybe the internet.

**In the Discworld books based in Ankh-Morpork (Guards, Guards, Feet of Clay, Jingo, The Truth, Going Postal, etc.), the Patrician's favoured interrogation technique is silently letting babble run rampant