Ah, philosophy.

I haven't done much philosophy lately; at least, not in the sense of writing anything down. I have rationally and critically examined ideas and claims around me, constantly, and in that sense, I've been doing philosophy. (Actually, I've got an idea about what philosophy is: an emotion, not a process, and so I can't actually do philosophy so much as feel it, but that's for another post.) I've got to say, I've missed the taste of it.

Anyway, Mike alerted me to the fact that Scott Adams is doing more writing that approaches the intellectual effort of a first-year philosophy student. His first attempt at philosophy is available for free; I recommend it if you're curious about that sort of thing, but it's not the kind of critically developed philosophical text that takes years to develop. His current foray into the battles of the mind is about as well-planned as our current military action in Iraq.

Here's the crux of the argument: People are intelligent. Intelligence is expressed through actions. Actions depend on pre-existing actions. Since actions express intelligence, those necessary previous actions must also express that same intelligence. The Big Bang started it all; without it, nothing. Therefore: The Big Bang is intelligent.

Being a lazy bastard, I'll take the easiest route to dismantling this argument. It's not my thought; the argument that follows was developed in some form by both Socrates and, I believe, one of the ancient Buddhists. It's a simple parts-to-whole analysis: Think of your car. Now think of your left rear tire. These are two distinct concepts, yes? So it's reasonable to say that your left rear tire is not your car. How about your engine? Well, no. It's useful to having a car, but you wouldn't say that the engine is the car.

So let's say you take your engine and your left rear tire and all the other bits that make up your car, and throw them in a pile. Is it a car yet? No. No, it's not. It needs to be organized. So let's say you pile smaller parts on top of larger parts. It's organized now, right? Still not a car, though. It's only once you get all the parts working together by attaching them to each other in a fairly specified way that you've got yourself a car.

So how does this relate to Scott Adams' claims? Well, I'm willing to grant him the idea that there is intelligence. And that that intelligence is possessed by people, who express it through actions. But where does it begin? I feel it begins with me. I am intelligent. I also have that intelligence, in part, because my parents have intelligence, and are directly responsible for my birth. I am not, however, willing to say that my parents' intelligence(s) is identical to my own; I have my own mind. It may have been shaped by my folks, but it is not theirs; I do not know their thoughts the same way that I know my own. They had to, at some point, create an intelligence (or a host for it) which is mine and not theirs. My own intelligence had to be generated at some point. So, if intelligence has to be generated, then it isn't logical to say that because there is intelligence now, the Big Bang must have had intelligence.

Okay, that's a long ramble, so I'll stop soon. I'll keep thinking about this problem, though; think of this as a first draft in my refutal of Adams' blog.

Don't you hate it...

... when this happens?

I walked within two feet of someone I met in college today. Someone with whom I once almost had the makeouts. She didn't recognize me, so I didn't say hello. I was feeling pretty invisible and disconnected after that. Then I ran into a guy I knew from high school. It took me a minute to recognize him. But I did. And we chatted for a little while; apparently, he got both a new girlfriend and a new job, yesterday. He was feeling pretty good about how that particular day went. Hopefully, his good fortune will be split with me. I could use a day of that tremendous fortune.

Gotta go; Rescue Rangers is on. No, really.

It's about damn time,

That's all I can say. Now, all they need to do is mix some Slim-Fast powder into the batter, and you've got yourself the perfect breakfast, my friend.

I could certainly go for some caffeine at, really, any given moment during the day. I fell asleep in biology yesterday, and chemistry this morning. I've had plenty of free time to study for Kaplan, but I just can't bring myself to crack the books. Maybe I'll quit. I don't know. I'll see how things go at my next teachback, and make decisions accordingly.

At any rate, I'll be in CA for spring break. My vacation time at the hospital still hasn't come through, and I'm kind of fine with that- if it gets rejected, I'll just use up my three auto-exempt days. It's not the way I want this to play out, but I've given up more than my share of life to support them; I think I deserve a few days off. Plus, it's always nice to see my nephews, and I've had quite enough of winter.

And now for something completely the same as above, it's about damn time this site got noticed. Good job, CNN- way to keep up with the most recent trends.

P.S. I didn't know PETA allowed their women-folk to shave. I guess I was wrong.

Had to be done;

Couldn't be helped.

I am: William Gibson The chief instigator of the "cyberpunk" wave of the 1980s, his razzle-dazzle futuristic intrigues were, for a while, the most imitated work in science fiction.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Jobbity-job jobs.

I have been on a binge of applying to companies lately. I've been accepted at one, almost accepted at another, and I have yet to hear from the third. I imagine this has some sort of psychological implications, such as that I am restless or in need of change. Okay, that sounds less like psychological diagnoses and more like what you'd hear from the daily horoscope, but still, I'm sure it's important. Y'know, somehow.

Adam Savage, of Mythbusters, decided to test the myth that you can't open a door of a sinking car until the cab fills up with water. He decided to test this by getting into a car which was then submerged in a swimming pool. He panicked a bit, but was ultimately able to escape... with the aid of a SCUBA tank. Cheater.

Music.

My mom got me a keyboard for Christmas. It doesn't arrive until February. But oh, the fun I'll have! Maybe I'll start writing songs. Really, how hard could it possibly be? At any rate, I'm watching the Tick, so all is well. For now.

Notes from a Bio Class

What follows is copied directly from notes I took in my biology class today. My friend Megan in that class asked me if I was still in it, since I'd skipped about a week straight of lectures. I don't think I'll be skipping any more; the potential for blog fodder is just too great.

"Worse comes to worst, you guys will all have to become vegetarians." Presumably, because the earth can far more easily support vegetarian humans than carnivores.
a: There aren't any carnivorous humans! We're fucking omnivores, bitch!
b: This is a very limited definition of the word "worst". Somehow, I don't think being a vegetarian will help with nuclear winter, volcanic explosions, or the moon falling out of the sky.

To clarify, he did show us two charts. One chart showed the number of humans that can be supported by eating meat (few), and the other showed us the number of humans that can be supported by eating plants (less few). As my notes mention, though, this is a false representation; I've never met a person I knew to only eat meat. If I have met a person who only eats meat, I sincerely doubt that person contributed this digestive tendency to the gene pool by a) meeting another pure carnivore and b) reproducing with that person.

In order for the meaty chart to be accurate, there would not only have to be many such people, but they would all have to live in a similar geographic region, which would be devoid of such unnecessary and unwanted businesses as:
a) Fruit stands
b) Vegetable farms
c) Pizza Hut (that pizza crust comes from grains, people!)
d) McDonald's (soaking a potato in animal fat does not mean you don't have potato in there)
and e) Starbucks.

It's these last two that kind of clinch the deal; if a community refuses to allow a McDonald's or a Starbucks in there, then we are duty bound, as Americans, to nuke the holy hell out of that place. Which means, I suppose, that the real amount of people that can survive purely on meat is zero.

They say that waiting is the hardest part.

I'm all about post titles being songs these days. It'll probably clear up on its own; if not, I will find a suitable topical cream.

I still haven't heard back from Kaplan, so I called them. It turns out, the local branch isn't open today, so I assume they will give me a ring tomorrow.

To recap (in case my blog hasn't been nice and clear on this point), I have auditioned to teach for Kaplan Testing Centers. I think it went well, but I haven't heard anything specific. If accepted, I'll be teaching either the GRE or the LSAT. Hell, I should get those tests to work for me somehow, right?

Anyway, this is something I see as a source of additional income, rather than a replacement for my current job. Thus far, no one has mentioned what they pay. I know a girl who actually does teach for them; when I asked her, she started talking about the various things one can do for Kaplan in exchange for money, rather than the money itself. While interesting, it was pretty useless; I now have an idea of what it feels like to talk to me.

In other news, I have decided that my hard drive is insufficient. I have a 25 GB hard drive on my laptop, of which 25 MB are free. That works out to about 1% free space. So anything I download has to fit into those parameters. And I'm just getting into things like Visual Studios and Audacity, to say nothing of all the music I want to fit onto my iPod. So today, I went out and bought a new hard drive. No, no; not one of those external ones. I'm going to crack my laptop open, pull the old hard drive out, and put the new hard drive in. By all accounts, it should go nice and easy, since I'll be using my iPod as a backup hard drive to help with the transition, but I've had mixed luck with this in the past. (Really sorry, Kim!) So you'll forgive me if I can't do anything with my computer in the near future.

In case you don't hear from me, assume I've either screwed something up with the hard drive switch, or else died of songs-as-post-titles-itis. Whichever is more fun for you.

Tiiiiime... is on my side.

Yes it is.

I woke up at around midnight. After going through my wake up procedure (watch a lot of TV until I have the emotional stamina to leave bed), I hopped online. For two or three minutes. Then we had a power outage, which knocked out my modem. So I lit some candles, looked at everything there was to do in my apartment at 2 am with no electricity, and decided to go to Steak 'n' Shake. I don't really understand what the 'n' means; they are probably owned by the same company as Toys 'R' Us. But they have good sandwiches. Or as they might be called back in the kitchen area, "Bread 'n' Meat".

As I was driving around town, waiting out the blackout ("Candles 'n' Boredom"), I remembered Mike! once told me about his theory that it takes at least an hour to make any trip to the video rental place, no matter what. It doesn't matter if you're going to browse, you've made a list of what movies you will get (as well as backups and alternates), or if you just have to drop off a movie you've already rented ("Popcorn 'n' Makeouts"). One hour, minimum. I tend to agree. An hour is about the fastest time you can walk into a movie rental shack and get back out. Now, everyone else would look at this scientifical fact and say "Oh, that means that, if I want to rent a movie, I have to plan on at least an hour." I've noticed that, since I am now full-time nocturnal, time means something different to me. I look at this same set of circumstances, and ("n") I say, "Hey! That's a pretty good way to kill an hour." Tonight, I didn't kill an hour in that manner, but tomorrow, I may execute several. Why? Because the local independantish video place has a coffee joint, with a smoking section ("Hacking 'n' Wheezing"). I might not leave. Ever.

Fear hospitals.

This morning, I spent twenty minutes of my life trying to answer a nurse's question. The question was this: "I can see clearly in front of me that this test on this patient was cancelled. Why are you running it?"

Now, for those not intimately familiar with the computer systems I work with at the hospital, it seems like a reasonable question. If a test gets cancelled, it shouldn't be run. And it wasn't. We'd taken care of it. If we hadn't taken care of it, she wouldn't know it had been cancelled. She put the order in wrong, so we had to fix it. One of the ways we fix wrong orders is to cancel them, and then put them in the machine again properly.

So effectively, her only evidence that we would be running the test was a big, honkin' message on her very own computer screen saying that we WEREN'T running the test. The question, translated, was "I see you guys aren't running this test. Why are you running it?"

I think I broke a few cranial blood vessels smacking my head against my desk.

And this isn't an isolated incident. I once almost killed someone because their nurse ordered a test off of an expired blood sample. Had it not gone through, it would have yielded a wrong result, leading to an automatic and unnecessary blood infusion, leading to a dead patient. I couldn't have known any better; I had only been working there a couple of months, and have never claimed any real knowledge of medicine. It was only because of an intelligent and diligent coworker of mine that this patient continues to, you know, not be dead. Is it any wonder I don't ever want to be hospitalized? I mean ever. If anybody ever sees me get shot, and lie down, bleeding to death, just let me be. Whatever my fate over the next few minutes, I can almost guarantee: a hospital would be the worst possible one.

Technogasm.

Everyone in the world is now excited about the iPhone. I've seen footage of Steve Jobs showing off his latest gadget a couple of times now, and I have to weigh in with a cold shower of actual reality. I am glad at the moment that no one pays any damn attention to me, because otherwise I would have large men with apple-emblazoned lead pipes knocking at my door. I do not wish to be beaten by Mac zealots brandishing their third generation iPipes. But I feel that this must be said:

There is no part of the iPhone that wasn't done by Palm (or Handspring) more than two years ago.

I am not just talking hypothetically; my second cell phone ever was my Handspring Visor Deluxe. I remember trying desperately to find my way around Chicago by downloading, via my cell network, a Mapquest map of the Windy City. I was excited as hell to get my Palm Tungsten T5, two Christmases ago. And when I got my wireless network card for it, so much the better. And if I had had the money to throw around, I would have been on the Lifedrive like feces on a wall of the monkey cage.

To give props to Apple, I will say that they pulled it together in what seems to be a relatively seamless, efficient manner. And the "Cover Flow" application looks fantastic; if it weren't for the significant portion of my CDs for which Apple offers no artwork, I would be getting an inappropriate amount of happy from that. But really, let's look at the three things that Jobs bragged about with his new device:
1. Cell Phone: again, the VisorPhone worked well enough for me, and wasn't limited to just the one network. But it's not like Palm just took that lying down; they've been hawking the Treo for years.
2. iPod: 6 gigs of memory is quite a bit. Something Palm understood when they made their 6 gig Lifedrive. Which included a mono speaker, as well as a headphone jack. Ever see a speaker on an iPod?
3. Portable internet device: The Palm VII is now to PDAs what the brick phone of the late '80s is to current flip phones, but Palm has like eight years in the market now; they've done work in that time. I'm a little bitter that Apple, which until now has completely ignored this capability, will probably make as much money off of the iPhone each year as Palm did, as a whole company, during its entire lifespan. Damn upstart whippersnappers.

So that's life in the high-stakes world of useless crap. But hey, it's electrified, so it's really cool, and not at all geeky, right?

Later that day...

I left for school early this morning because I had something of a complicated question. I still hadn't gotten my student loan paid to my university, much less the check for the spillover. I'm well aware that no business in their right mind would willingly part with money, but these people hadn't gotten paid themselves, so I figured something might be up. My class didn't start until 1 pm, so I tried to get on campus at 8 am, which (much to my surprise) was actually enough time to figure the whole mess out. I even had a half an hour to sit and read before class.

It turned out (after I had been sent across campus and to two different offices) that I wasn't taking enough credit hours through the university to borrow any money at all. The explanation I was given was that "It's too hard to keep track of just one class for a student; you know, if they drop it or withdraw or something."
"Well, how many more credit hours do I need?", I asked.
"Just two." was the nice young lady's reply.
"So, if I take just one more class, that'll fix things?"
"Yes, but you have to finish the class."
"If I register now, when will they cut the check?"
"This afternoon."

... You may think of several reactions I might have had at this point, but by now, I'm sufficiently experienced with the bureaucracy that I just quietly thought to myself, "What two-credit-hour class do I want to take now?" It turned out to be a programming class, which fits nicely into my schedule, is something I find interesting, and had available seats, and for which I was qualified. So I went to register for it, and was turned down because I didn't have some basic algebra class as a prereq.

I have college level calculus on my transcript. It worries me that I couldn't get into the class. So I went to talk to the computer sciences department, which (of course) was on a different campus. So I rode the bus today for the first time in a year or two. It was fun. I found a pen. I got to the CS department, talked to a very nice woman who listened sympathetically, told me she could help me (insert joy-induced heart attack here), and then helped me exactly the way she said she would (insert exploding head due to shock and pleasure here). It turns out that the computer had just interpreted the prereq for the class a little too literally, due (natch) to programmer error, a situation she explained to me, not to avoid fault, but because she thought I might be better off for knowing what was going on. God bless that woman. Her name is Pearl. As soon as I get my spillover, I'm going right out to the grocery store, getting cookie dough, and baking her cookies.

And now I'm a week behind in one of my classes. This is good; I was dangerously close to being in perfect attendance for the first week of school. Hooray! My slackerliness lives!

New semester.

So, I only have two classes this semester, and both of them started in different versions of the same way. My new bio professor, who seems much cooler than the last one, spent the first class talking about science. It turns out, there is a way of looking at the world where you can logically analyze the things you see, compare them quantitatively, and make predictions about what you might see in the future. And they call it: "Science". Ahh, science. I'm glad that the professor spent the entire hour on this important subject; otherwise, I might not be sufficiently prepared for seventh grade.

As for my chem class, which I am taking at the local community college, he actually dove into the material right off the bat. That, I like. I'm paying for fifteen weeks of instruction in these subjects; if I want my time wasted, I can simply skip class. The thing is, he was talking to the class as if we were third graders. He mentioned the same sorts of things my last bio prof talked about; how some people learn visually, others aurally. This is probably solid educational theory, but I'm a little sick of college professors overindulging on educational theory, and underindulging on educational practice. He seems like he's willing to actually teach the material, though, and from the looks of the syllabus, it shouldn't be too hard. So I'm willing to give this guy a lot of leeway on how he wants to do his thing.

I'm starting to enjoy college again. (I may have already written this next bit, but I feel it bears repeating, if only to make me feel better about myself.) I keep thinking of the song from "Avenue Q" that talks about exactly what I'm doing, but it looks at college as a social experience; a chance to get laid and avoid adult responsibility. For me, though, this is a chance to actually learn something I may someday find useful, and I think it is more responsible of me to get this degree than not. So maybe I'm not as pathetic as the hypothetical fictional re-attendee. Or at least, not for the same reasons.

Listening.

First, I want to point out a site I have found. I want this so badly, I will state its URL explicitly, instead of relying on embedded hyperlinks. If you go to www.librivox.org and peruse their library, you might just be pleasantly surprised. I think the poetry section has the most potential, though I would like to see an entire hour devoted to nothing but Dickenson and Poe. Best potential dead poet mash up EVER.

Last night was a full moon, I think. There were too many clouds to properly determine the actual lunar phase, but it was crazy enough at work that I will consider that alone to be sufficient evidence. I am now drunk, not just because I am a lush, but also because alcohol tends to prevent blood clots, which means it will help with the inevitable heart attack I must suffer every time I think about last night.

Without revealing too much, let me say this: in addition to being absolutely flooded with work, we also got calls from someone who wanted to know...
a) what effect gold has on the human body. I assumed at the time that he had ingested a small amount of it, but after hearing his other two calls, I'm not so sure...
b) what effect nuclear waste would have on the human body; for instance, if it were to be rained down upon an entire country. He ended that phone call by saying, "You understand why I'd ask". I must admit, I do not. He seemed neither fearful of someone else raining down nuclear waste on him, nor excited at the prospect of raining down nuclear waste on someone else, so I honestly don't know what to make of it.
c) how many particles are in water. Not, mind you, a specific amount of water, but in normal tap water. I decided to lowball it by saying a trillion trillion molecules of water are in one gram. This is, now that I do the actual math involved, just a tiny bit high. Well, at least I didn't mislead him. God forbid this person should go around disseminating false information.

At around 6 am, I got a call from the laboratory of the other major hospital in town; what I ignorantly refer to as the good one. At least, I assume they are better at the healing arts than are we; they are (unlike my employer) a for-profit venture, and as such can afford more competent low-level lab employees, one of whom called to ask about the very same gentleman who'd been quizzing me all evening. We had a nice chat, and it kind of perked up my whole night's experience to comiserate with a kindred soul.

At any rate, I am safely in my own home now. I am out of beer, and may switch to hard liquor, despite past lessons about its general effect on my digestive system. I mean, it has to be better for me than nuclear waste, right?

Same old job.

Well, after a good night's sleep and much introspection, I have decided I can't take up the job at the animal testing place. I just sent off an e-mail to them telling them so. I suppose I'll just have to get used to the idea of either picking up a second job or not being able to afford all the lovely luxuries I want to become accustomed to.

Stupid integrity. Wait; scratch that- I've got nothing against them, really, so it's just me being a coward for not being able to put animals to sleep. Still, if I want to save face, I can always point out that I'm allergic to about half the animals they'd have me working with, and that just doesn't end well for anyone involved. ("Okay, Fluffy, hold really still... ah-choo! ... Damn, that needle probably shouldn't be sticking out of me.")

"Overheard"...

Thanks to my good friend Wendy, I (re)discovered "Overheard in New York". I am glad that the philosophers represent themselves so very well.

Also, I got a call at around 11:30 am. Who the hell is awake at that time? Oh, right. Normal people. Anyway, it was about a job I'm thinking of taking. They do animal research for medical testing. I may well be on the direct handbasket line for Hell, but dammit, I like eating. I like being able to afford rent. My current job, based on my pay, seems to discourage these things. I know they are quirky hobbies, but that's just who I am.

Firstday (as you might have guessed.)

Happy New Year's, everyone! I spent last night at work! Poking people with needles! Yay!

But I have to admit, my New Year's Eve plans were not as bad as my patients, many of whom were woken up within a few hours of midnight to celebrate by getting poked with needles. Only a couple of them were already awake, and not a one of them was watching the Times Square celebration. And although we weren't busier than usual, that's still setting the bar pretty high. And a nurse spent ten minutes blaming me for her own mistake. And I had to draw blood from a guy who fell on his head doing a keg stand. And I had to explain to the doctor what a keg stand was.

...Okay, the last part was kind of fun.

Anyway, after I got off work I found out that Kim had called me at midnight, while I was poking patients with needles and not watching the ball fall in Times Square. She left a message, that she and Mike were thinking of me.

I think this is going to be a good year.