|vIRTUALLY yOURS:||cAROLYN L bURKE|
|be warned: this is my diary... clb||page 13|
James suggested last night that I write a soap opera here. :) I remember telling a friend a year ago, the fellow off in Paris now that his life was much of a soap opera. He took it as me saying that his life was unimportant. People tend to fix on either the psychological way of seeing things or the social way. James I think has picked up onmy integrating the social views into my person vocabularly. I'm glad its becoming visible, even in what I write. It gets tiring to be only a psychological person in the world.
Surely my brain's wandering through more boring pathways into the commons cannot be all bad. If the world of the scholar had made me feel more at home from the beginning, I would still be there. Now looking in on the departmental party, I see that the pond is internally very self important, and I couldn't step into it again. But the benefits are wondrous... an improved and advanced mind. For that, I will go back again sometime, without fear. Once my fear is gone. Once the burn marks covering my mind have healed completely. I stood around talking, or listening really, to talk about Russell and Wittgenstein, Popper and Zermelo-Franco, fun and exciting but still not right now.
Plant watering time.
So that's my life in a nutshell. Oh there were also interactions with friends, with Peter, with Moppins, etc. And Rit's starting a diary here I think.
What else... I'm not writing anything important. Why? I think I'm burned out on business. Nothing of more import than client contrcts and website construction in the future cross my mind. Are we simply products of what we do all day? I don't think so. What I do think is that I am not strong enough (people laugh when I say this) to encourage my various friends to get out of their object level, how-person ruts to think and talk about things that matter. Yeah right. And what pray tell are those anyway? Subjectively arbitrarily deciphered bits of the unknown that we hold on to with a pathetic desparation? Do we really have to jump up into the spiritual of the whyverse and then down into the engineering byways of the howverse without pause? Cannot both travel around in each of us perahps to share with others who bump our surfaces with friendliness?
Up and down with the swinging trapeze of thought. Public speaking, private writing. Lost intimacy and too much exhaustion. In a circle I travel back to simply "Why? What is the point of this, of life?"
The future will be as I wish it to be. Of course I don't mean that I solely will design the future. but the careful staying inside of the acceptable or of the secretive, and doinghte maximum unexpected withthat range should lead me to cause the world to let me have a big peice of the say of what goes on... bigger than if I sat around couch potatoing. The only part of that that will ever count will be the bumpings on me. Hume described each person a having external access only to those parts of whatever is out there that bump one's sensory bits in a way that one recognizes in some manner. He went on to say that we can think of only those bits and the possible combinations of them. Maybe so. I n some sense this is true. But it seems apparent that some people also choose to ignore some of the bumpings, and others refuse interpretations of those bits to no good end. Why do people want to live in booze?
Fuck it. I'll poke around at the object level some more And try not to sneer so loudly at others who are doing the same... whether or not they had a choice not to. I know I do, and I know that I will continue to talk with people who do have this choice, perhaps evenwhen they are not exercising according to my own tastes.
I feel alone enough that I want to talk about myself more than other things... how icky. I think other things are truly important but I spend no time onlearning enough about them to discuss them interestingly. I mostly rely on conversational partners to fill me in on the details before I then engage them more abstractly. I enjoy this but it takes a lot of lead time. But then imagine a conversation where I talk about the stuff I do know that well, Chomsky, html design, my friends. It seems that I believe that the things I know a lot about are not all that interesting to discuss. Silly me. Why shouldn't I talk about the things I like to think about and to get to know well? Hmmm. Honestly I simply haven't written in a week and what I would have written probably started to leak out my ears. :)
Until Moppins moved in, I had all the windows open most of the time, and I spent a lot of time very cold. Once she is acclimatized to the outdoors, I suspect, I'll do it again. Right now though, I miss the tremendous cold.
What constitutes a friend? Peter has always made friendship his highest relation category. He uses slight of hand so far as I cantell to tell each person that friendship is the highest they can attain to with him because it is the highest relation he holds with anyone. I have always felt betrayed by this view. It does contrast successfully with the more standard view of friendship as that which guarentees reliability - at least this is how Canadians I've met like to think.
I like to think that there are less tangible higher forms of relating that I have acheived, although it seems not lately.
I think I'll go do something easier now instead of writing.
Another award, another day. Cool. I guess I
should have looked to see what Greg has decided to say about my site
before simply linking the award in here. :) Vain. Speaking of
exciting events... Look out for February 8! Thanks Greg.
Wow... I have been so busy that I haven't written here in so long. I'm finding that working can be fun but that I get a little hyperactive when I have been. The discovery channel segment aired last night. Very cool. It'll be on again at noon EST today in Canada only, and for the last time. It was intereting seeingit, and with Tracey and Richard. There had been a part of my life that didn't seem connected to anyone I knew personally and then suddenly, they saw what I had done, and it entered real time again. The segment was shot out of order all over the city, and it was shot over a week ago. What I perceived, what I experienced was a very different cognitive space from what others got. FOr me there are two events entirely separated ... and people can react only to one of them, the one that aired last night. The older one, that occurred ina different sequence, and that occurred so long ago is isolated in my memory, andthat of the crew I worked with. The newer belongs to quite a number of people, some of whom know me personally. Quite interesting. This is the first time something I've done is so distinctly out of phase with others perceptions - and where nevertheless, and I completely justified in my perceptions - no questions asked. Very decent.
I suspect I have been right in wanting to become a member of the smaller and more well-known community of the societally known.
On other fronts:
I have been having it out with Aaron lately. I got hurt by his ability and willingness to enshroud the people he knows and likes with his own vibes. And I told him so. I have been having an interesting discussion about our respective weaknesses and respect for strengths which makes talking about the other somehow worth the trouble. Hmmm.
And Rit has been battling it out with her friends, relatives, and associates to publish her email dialogues with them here. At the moment, they seem to be winning out, and so she is getting more crafty about publishing her intersting correspondances. she called me the other evening to discuss whether she had ethically betrayed her frineds in positng their things (even with altered names) here. Note that the second entry has been censored at this point. :) For now. As I said, Rit is working on changing the style to satisfy everyone's concerns. One of her friends interestingly enough used my diary as an example of how not to insult or abuse one's frineds while writting about them. Yeah right. I suspect that this person just didn't see the extent to which the people here went through in trying to deal with this, from Athena's banning the use of her name and later her biased writings, and Peter's desire to respond in order to get his real self known, to Richard's request to present him properly, and other social gaffs I no longer remember. Perhaps though, the type of persons I know differ from Rit's in some way. Are they more open to being written about because all them are writters themselves? Or more psychologically driven? I am not sure. I don't know Rit's people. But I do invite them to put up their feet and learn to enjoy my and Ritu's openness about who we are.
Rit is coming to Toronto in a week. I am looking forward to seeing her. I've put off my trip to England until the 24th to stay here with her. So I'll be meeting up with Niels over the holidays instead of before. [I had also erroneously suspected that flights were easier to get and cheaper before the holidays. Heh. Conventions strike again. I'll be flying Christmas eve, and landing in London Christmas morning. For a change, I'll go thro0ughthe day of starvation in a different country! My days of jetsetting have only begun.]
[Moppins has met Scarlet Hissy-Face this morning. They are hissing off in the living room. I like having a cat here again. I have been letting her go out in spite of my irrational fear that she'll be hit by a car too. Life has to be lived.]
I cut off the long nails finally... It's simply too hard to keep them long in the dry winter. But I hope that by January, I will be able to scratch happy cats happily again. [The phone rings for some reason, and I just ignore it. And Moppins chirps at me. It is very easy to type without the nails.. perhaps the piano playing will be easier too. Hmmm.]
Today, I'm simply under the weather in that bothersome female way, and quite annoyed about it. But in the scheme of things this silly biology is over half over trying to convince me that breeding is fun. Heh. I really couldn't give two swear words about satisfying the urge - which I seem to lack in all by the pure physical way. Funny that. I just don't regard myself as a dead end. I know that I am simply the best a human can be. Why bother trying to produce a perfect human when I already have .. given the parameter space of course. It is rather nice to be blessed with a high sense of self-esteem, even without also or instead of having a sense of happiness built in. I'll take the self-esteem option any day. Tylenol writings.
And tolerance. I have been renegotiating many relationships recently, in differnet ways. I've simply been in the mood to. Anyone for an old and stale relationship? I've been told you can sell anything using Usenet news. Old relationships for new. :) I did in fact witness Richard selling a bucket of change that he didn't feel like rolling up (which he did count up at $30) by advertising what he represented as approximately $30 of change for sale. Get this.. his ad started a debate about the lack of morality in not simply donating the whole lot to charity. This in turn led to a fellow offering to purchase the lot for $35 unrolled. And the guy, who lived in Ottawa - a 6 hour drive from Toronto when the cops are watching, sent his friend over to make the purchase. He intended to roll the change (atfter a $5 loss) and donate it all to charity. Wwwweeeeeew. There's a fellow who doesn't understand the value of a buck. I wondered what he did value though. There has to be something init. What? A sense of being morally superiour to Richard? (That's easy for most people though.) A sense that a good deed was done? Strange shaped world. So alright ... I will sell old relationships. Anyone want a warm and empathic but overly alpha man, early thirties, desires cooperation and eastern shared selfishness? Honest people only wanted. Or how about a used university buddy. Warm and friendly and although often willing to talk at length about wallpaper and motherly love, still surprisingly intorspective when kept safe. Finally, to round out the package, I through in all of Ritu's friends. Well educated in receiving reports of her life through email, and including the cshocking details that have emerged in contact with her, these people numbering somewhere in the 20's (?), are a fantastic deal for the instant community seeker. Takers call 1-800-178-2537.
I think you'll see my new toy (it's results anyway) very shortly. The paintball organizing is going extremely well. I think we'll have a full contingent of do-baders out to play this Saturday. Good.
I will have to run in a minute as my dinner companion arrives and will expect me to answer the door. Fussy type. You know.
I am enjoying being happy and busy, and mediaed. I like that. Moppins snoozes in comfortable warmth. Biz bizies itself. I should pick up my ticket to England tomorrow, and Carey and I are off to GOodWill to get paintball gear. Let's see.... Well not everything is wonderful... Babylon 5 is a repeat this week. There was a time where such a simple little foolish grouch would have been a fantasy. Life really does get better if you try. Yeah so there might be a nuclear war tomorrow... we can only wish.
tomorrow: Greg and Eamon on me. Ummm... well you know what I meant.
|"If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man." -- Mark Twain|
This is not true of me. I am afraid that I do agree with this in general though even if I'm not a dog person. Moppins is and that should be sufficient... dog person by transitivity. Alright. Why shouldn't I pick up stray people?
My newly acquired, obsessive fear of aids? No. My long standing disgust with default Christianity? No. The complete and utter waste of time that will result inthe end when they bite - and insist on clambering back down / up fromwhence they came? Yes. That's the one.
With thousands of possible reasons on both side of this social dilemma, I think that the most outstanding reason for not helping people beyond where they are is that it simply doesn't work. Playing god as it were is a difficult task to begin with, and fucking it up (I swore just for you) seems only to make things worse. Sure that person will have food for thought forever more. I guess I'm not yet old / experienced enough to judge the longer term consequences of this pattern.
Uplifting (aka David Brin's technology for genetic alteration of other species into sentience) a person into self awareness is a messy job. I've done it to myself, sure. And I allowed others (especially Peter) to be involved when I needed extra resources and patterns to understand. But... [I hate sentences starting with but.] it seems to me that most (read all) people are committed to retaining their own level of sentience along with the other things that they closely monitor. It's so neat that we feel crazy so easily -- it keeps up stable in one configuratin, one person experiment. Neat, and sad for the particular individuals who didn't end up in configuratin that they themselves like. Sad indeed. I believe in uplifting people. And I believe in leaving them maximally functional too. Most of the time then, the latter negates any possibility of the former. Hmmmphf. Thats where all the fun lies. At least me, Peter, and David Brin think so. And since the two of them are optimist Pollyanna's about the nature of humankind, well, I'm in poor company. Me, I think that human nature sucks. If it weren't for human nature, lots of really cool things would work really well. Yeah yeah. Optimist!
So why not uplift the dogs... Well, dogs are slaves. I prefer my slaves to lack emotions. The Internet may be my god, but it is also my servant. [>>>grrrinnn<<<] And dogs are herd animals with carnivorous tendencies. Yawn.
So, why is today's entry entitled curious truth? I'm not sure. I liked the idea of being curious today. Truth popped in as a catchy filler. [Carey just called... we are wondering off to GoodWill to get paintballwear this morning for a little while. :) ]
My mind is elsewhere suddenly. miauu
FSC corporate xmas party coming up in an hour. Nervous... me. I feel like I'm on a prom date or something. Silly me. And I nervously sent Niels a message yesterday asking himif I'm crazy to just jump on a plane to visit him. :) Of course I'm not. I'm skittish abouthte worldly nature of my life. Last year I decided to become a jetsetter. And then for a little while I forgot.. I was too flipped out aboutall the new things that were happening to me. I even turned down a rich guy who wanted to mistressify me in the jetset. Now though.. now I am a little more coherently settled. Peter stabilizes the platform of opportunity and love withme. Richard and I create stuff out of nothing but opportunity. Stuff here there and everywhere. A company party. Out of nothing. We will indeed write inthe future about how to run a company with no overhead, from scratch and brain power. Nervous... so today I write for me.
I should get dressed, dry my hair (the loathed morning rituals), and scat. Carey is taking my car up to Sargeant Splatter's, and I am going up with Richard. I suspect it is safe to write (because noone going will have a chance to read this before the game) that Richard and I have decided to be a secret commando unit. Besides trying to sow corporate security and goodwill, we will go around .. well we haven't decided yet. But all to the good of course. Neither of us needs to win so badly as to start shooting our own team members. :) (I hope.) That surely would not be good for moral.
I am taking the new toy on its trial run today. Stay tuned. (Greg and Eamon are both splitting their seams due to the broken link above. heh)
So the point people have listed the top 1000 sites on the web in a new book, and you're in one of them!! Right now. Neat, eh? I'm impressed.
And on to more serious issues. Paintball was a smash. Everyone showed up, and we shot up each other for hours. I'm afraid that I rather indiscriminately shot people, including my own team members. Ooops. Including the ref. Since it wasn't the cute ref from last time, I simply didn't mind shooting him... with a semi-automatic. :)
And even more seriously... After all that work, I'm tired. The external world stuff takes a certain type of mental energy, perhaps a strain, that ends suddenly with the events. It leaves me alone and empty, without the feeling that I am a person inside. Business stuff often does this. Why? Why can't I switch between these two faster and easier? Perhaps I haven't tried to. I think that might be it.
Lately even though I do feel very empty, I am satisfied that things
go well. Happiness is that elusive garbage that fools seek in the
corners of movie theatres. I was actaully really happy for only one
week in my entire life.. or at least that once was the only contiguous
happiness. Why is it such a difficult state to be in, get to? Why
Butindeed.. I am happy right now. Sitting here thinking out thoughts like this is good enough. I shouldn't be looking to people at all. Only to myself. Silly silly me. My energy comes back after 6 hours of working this morning (it's only 1:30 now), and I realize that the details the technical and social details tire me out. As fast as small talk. Oh for a world in which small talk evaporated, and we each addressed things of significance. Silence prevailed and thought strode forth only with the assurance of a male cock near a hen.
Or something like that.
I'm munching out on melted brie. I've picked up quite a taste for it. And I'm getting morbidly sad. Was it only 4 hours ago that I was writing about being ever so happy? How could that have been..
direction: People need this. A short story I read just a little while ago suggested this. I push in many directions, and take the opportunities as they emerge in whichever direction they point in. I wanted so long ago to be a publisher - this was pre-internet days when printing was difficult and distribution impossible. Now I am. I wanted to be famous, and that is emerging in small but steady steps. And I wanted to be beautiful, loved, cherished, admired...... and on and on. And most of that is coming my way too.
So why am I getting down so easily today? I seem to have some sort of importance detectors telling me that a day of maintenance is a day wasted. And yet maintenance keeps one's direction focussed and in sight. No more brie. But it hurts me to do too much of it. Richard and I have a deal.. I may have mentioned it. I go out and grab new territories, and he maintains them.
I'm dialing Peter now... but his line is busy. I think Athena is using the line to write email with.
Friends in business. Tiring in ways I didn't expect. I like having them involved so much. And I miss the feeling of utter relaxation with them that I used to have. But that relaxation... back and forth. Wow do I need t get away. Just two more weeks! Incoherence. Maybe I should take a bath. Or go have sex with some georgeous creature. Or... Nope those are the two options. Sigh. Escapism. The warmth in me from going to Venezuela last year has gone finally. It's simply too cold outside to remember anymore.
The phone rings.
So all right. I need a vacation. Richard gotto play with the cute techies all day while I played with html, and with phone messages. Hmmphf. Sometimes I miss the days of engineering and the like. The male female ratios were pretty good. And Moppins chirped a little while ago, long fur aflutter.
Time to get dressed up warm for the sub-zero weather and go shopping for granola and eggs. And another brie for the future. Shallllloowwwww!
Emotionally distraught? Fidgety? Uncentered. Certain about too much, and no goals except travel for a month or so besides the certainty that plans place on my head. Tight fisted fear develops anal planning insurance. And I don't keep my money in an interest bearing account, and I don't lock my doors at night. Fear of what? Fear of meeting people. Of violence (which is mostly propaganda). Fear of propaganda. Fear that I will go unnoticed in the world. Walking the fine line between seductive attraction, and dangerous mind games. No the line is farther then that. I don't think I have any today. Perhaps that is the fear. The sociopath's fear of failure is an odd one; being noticed for doing too much too easily. Does Andrea walk amongst the diary thinkers now that she does not talk to Richard anymore? Shall I find out? [yes]And Stephanie? Has she found sustenance in reading about her ex's life here? Perhaps it was the letters that were less than warm and friendly that I had to issue for the sake of business today. My political oils have a bit of sand in them. Fear.
Direction competes with fear. Fear of direction (free association leads to creation). Direction leads to one place in a line, even if curved, discontinuous or non-monotonic. (What other more strange line types are there that I don't know of yet? I collect models.)
All well and good. But, he being good at thesecondtries to convince others that that is where the important stuff is to be done. I'm a little tiffed at this. I acused him of thinking like a scinetist whie I think like a philosopher, and he suggested that he is more like a mathematician. I thought he would have taken that as very insulting, but apparently not. In life, I think one needs to be a philosopher morethan the other things. Our culture is so scientistic (as opposed to scientific) in the worship of facts above all else. But wisdom in using facts comes from thinking about the bigger scheme of things and allowing the two to inform each other. How can he know this three way distinction, and yet normatively tell me off for not being factual enough? How indeed. Alpha male behaviours are annoying when used in personal contexts. It's as simple as that. I find it embarrassing that Richard's behaviuors are easy to explain, and that he gets the explanations about me wrong. I think he wants his self to be built too simply, overly so. Respect for the universe, for the way things are, in other words, respect for what is actually true (and not known / unknowable), has to be more than respect for what we know to be true. Tricky.
Lunch and run.
MM. My stomach is queasy today. Right now. I must run off to a meeting, and I really feel it is silly to go to it. We are setting up a special venue day for the end of January, and I feel so much as if most of the work involved is outside of my skills -- given the magnitude of the day, and of our expectations. Professional success is difficult to conjure when resting also on others' efforts. I spend my time trying to reassure and to ensure others' and their contributions respectively.
I am rather uninterested in the whole thing, and yet it should be done well. It represents a possibly good avenue for the future of the company, and our conversion from a technical software firm to a new media developing firm. I hear some words a lot in business whether they are useful seems to be independent of their use. Buzz phrases, reassuring warmths acting to guard their users from dangerous thoughts of failure. Me, I don't think much about failure. Then again, I don't much have to what with the comfort of Peter on one side of me, distant but close, and the ambition of Richard ont he other side, pragmatic and hyper-competent. They can both spell that word. :)
So I must relieve the tensions of timing and show up enfolded in the arms of my car's heating system. Where is the real world actually?
We guess. We make it up. We conjure into existence warmths and coldnesses, fears and safety. Today I am too cold to go into the outside, and not safe enough not to fear. I'll go anyway, and yet I'll be late as I write now here where it is most safe for me. In my thoughts.
I'd like a safe warm long armed car heater instead I live in cold Canada where the hyper people honk at each other. Move aside, and get out of the way. Time for nothing but work. The most successful thing I do is this diary, and it is not requiring me to be Canadian in the winter. Here, I am stil in Venezuela.
I'll post a few holiday pictures from England while I'm away from Toronto. I enjoy that my diary will travel closer with me than anything else I could've imagined.
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