tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19484205877797872982024-03-13T22:39:54.511-07:00EllipticaThis is what happens when a mathematician tries to write poetry.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-79941651291401703502009-03-08T12:18:00.000-07:002009-03-08T12:52:24.378-07:00Goodbye, and Thank YouIt's time for me to end this blog -- I think for good. The flimsiness of its anonymity has always felt like a liability, and the truth is I simply don't feel like posting any more.<br /><br />Stuff is <span style="font-style: italic;">happening</span> in my life at the moment. A lot of the groundwork for that stuff was laid with some help from this blog, which was a sounding board, a creative outlet, and a means to connect with some wise and wonderful people. Not for the first time, I'd like to thank <a href="http://lfab-uvm.blogspot.com/">C. L. Hanson</a> for some unconventional common sense on sex and feminism, and the <a href="http://www.nomorehornets.blogspot.com/">Exterminator</a> for some encouragingly useful poetry feedback. I thank <a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com/">L. L. Barkat</a> for her open friendliness and a window into a different viewpoint, and the <a href="http://thechapel.wordpress.com/">chaplain</a> for commenting sometimes when no-one else did. And <a href="http://www.daylightatheism.org/">Ebonmuse</a> -- dare I say that you enriched my life gratuitously? I didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">need</span> your blog, I just happened upon it and couldn't stop drinking it up (I think I'm still responsible for a couple of hits per day, even though I don't comment as much). Then I must thank Joffan and <a href="http://bridgingschisms.org/">Eshu</a>, who I remember engaging with in the comment section, and of course all the <a href="http://yunshui.wordpress.com/non-believing-literati/">Nonbelieving Literati</a> contributors -- and I must thank and apologise to everyone else who I have neglected to mention. Although I've stopped writing, I haven't stopped reading, so you may find me commenting now and again.<br /><br />Sorry, this is sounding like an Oscar acceptance speech, but it's heartfelt. I have gained so much from all of you.<br /><br />Now, I always meant to blog about <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=330-Zdk5myk">this clip</a> from Doctor Who, and by luck the BBC have put it on Youtube almost exactly as I wanted it. Regrettably, it cannot be embedded, so if you wish to watch it, please disregard the youtube title. It is in fact the creation of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Earth</span>, not the Universe, and it's a wonderful exposition of humanist philosophy, too.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">No, but that's what you do, the human race. Make sense out of chaos! Marking it out with weddings and Christmas and calendars!</span><br /><br />Yes. Yes, and blog posts. This blog has helped me to mark out a few things, but now its time is done. Goodbye, and thank you all.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-83034440253388498402009-02-21T13:04:00.000-08:002009-02-21T14:12:46.910-08:00Eliot, Woolf, Plath, Mitchell...I live and exist through art.<br /><br />The older I get, and the further I get from my rebellious pre-teen years, the more it seems like my identity and existence are defined through my interactions with others. To <span style="font-style: italic;">be</span> a thing, I must communicate, and no meaningful self can be communicated without artistry.<br /><br />Further complications arise both from my liberal upbringing and from the near-proverbial "changing times" in which we live. In a conservative society, the basics of identity come from ideas which are well-known to all and easy to communicate: gender, religion, social class, familial relationships. By contrast, in a more liberal society, such things must always be in a state of flux.<br /><br />Personally, I find that it's the changing status of women that affects me most. Partly this is due to being a woman in a male-dominated field, but mostly I would like to cantankerously blame it on the fact that nearly every notion of feminine sexuality out there either <span style="font-style: italic;">stinks</span> or doesn't suit me. Creativity is clearly called for.<br /><br />I look back gratefully to the strident feminists who fought for <span style="font-style: italic;">space</span>, who took principled stands and rejected all that came before. Yet I must also bow before the artists who filled that space, borrowing from the culture that feminists repudiated even as they showed how it was flawed or how it might be changed. I'm thinking of George Eliot, whose women accepted the social order and yet you could always see how it was wrong for them. I'm thinking of Virginia Woolf, who could sneak female sexual desire in behind literary curtains. Sylvia Plath, whose self-absorption preserved a somewhat unconventional femininity that others might borrow from if they wished. All three of them had skills that took them far beyond the subject of femininity, yet all three of them could fold in their womanhood as they understood it. For all three of them, that womanhood was cutting edge.<br /><br />In the past five decades, novelists and singer-songwriters have pasted cutting-edge pictures of womanhood all over the map. I admire Joni Mitchell, who has an unquestioned strength behind her self-questioning. Then there's k. d. lang, who was, I think, my first introduction to the way the queer movement completely redefined sex. The women in many of Anne McCaffrey's novels seem to be inhabiting a different universe (funnily enough...). Sometimes I wish I lived there.<br /><br />None of what has gone before me is enough. I have a task to do; I believe that every woman does. Perhaps every man does, too. But I look on in awe at the creativity and courage of men and women, past and present. They are my inspiration and my light.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-45230217485762839372009-01-17T18:10:00.000-08:002009-01-17T18:10:54.077-08:00LettersDear Orchid,<br /><br />I didn't know what it was you needed. In fact, I still don't. Did I give you too much water, or too little? Is the controlled environment indoors too warm at night? Do you need sunlight on the windowsill rather than artificial light, or would the sunlight fry you? Was the statement on your packaging about fertilizer a command rather than a suggestion?<br /><br />I realise, of course, that it's probably too late by now. I should not have kept thinking your remaining leaves would save you. I guess now all I can do is hope that you don't turn into a metaphor for something more important.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Lynet.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Blog,<br /><br />We've been limping along for a while now, haven't we? I was considering just resurrecting you for the <a href="http://elliptica.blogspot.com/2009/01/lying.html">Nonbelieving Literati</a>, but then LL made that cool <a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com/2009/01/kiss-before-typing.html">suggestion</a>, so I kind of had to do that, too.<br /><br />I guess we're still friends, funny old blog.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Lynet.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Dear Readers,<br /><br /><a href="http://www.daylightatheism.org/2008/11/on-blogging.html">This</a> post from Ebonmuse made me feel really guilty, a while back. My blog is a <span style="font-style: italic;">shambles</span>. I'm not going to tidy it, either. All I can say is this: I appreciate you dropping by, occasionally, and when I'm not here there's a fair chance I'm over at your place, reading very quietly and commenting if I've got something to say.<br /><br />I wish you all a happy new year.<br /><br />Lynet.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-50165434916748937782009-01-12T00:01:00.000-08:002009-01-12T00:01:00.702-08:00LyingCurrently the <a href="http://yunshui.wordpress.com/non-believing-literati/">Nonbelieving Literati</a> are writing posts about, or in response to, <a href="http://www.davidbrin.com/postmansample1.html">The Postman</a> by David Brin.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Postman</span> takes place in a post-apocalyptic dystopia. After wars and famines and the breakdown of civilisation, people have -- yes, I'll say the word -- they have lost <span style="font-style: italic;">faith</span>. They don't believe in their fellow human beings any more. People band into groups whose attitude to outsiders varies from <span style="font-style: italic;">apathetic</span> to <span style="font-style: italic;">completely ruthless</span>. The social contract has broken down. There's no point in showing compassion to a stranger who might never be able to repay -- who might, in fact, be much more likely to simply take advantage of your weakness to steal the things that you need to survive and leave you to die. So Gordon Krantz struggles across America as a sort of wandering minstrel, trading scraps of half-remembered Shakespeare for small things where he can and trying to survive off food found in the wilderness and valuables salvaged from the shattered cities, and finds himself, as the book begins, just about to enter Oregon.<br /><br />Perhaps because of its distance from the major trouble spots in the war, or perhaps just because enough time has passed since the destruction, Oregon is the most civilised place that Gordon has seen. It's a borderland. Times are harsh, but the potential for civilisation bubbles around the edges. It only takes one thing to make a <span style="font-style: italic;">big</span> bubble of civilisation.<br /><br />All it takes is a lie.<br /><br />Gordon's lie is initially inadvertant. He's found an old postman's uniform and he needs the clothing. Stopping at a little village he finds that the people there are nice to him because of it. He offers a nice reminder of the old world they miss. They give him food, a soft bed, even <span style="font-style: italic;">sex</span>. They also give him letters.<br /><br />Gordon Krantz, in his small way, has been trying to peddle hope for a while now. Maybe that's why he's chosen to try to survive through a little one-man show, through <span style="font-style: italic;">art</span>. He doesn't like lying, but hey, the next village is rougher and the people are nastier and he starts to feel like maybe lying to people like that would be justified. So he blazes right in as an official of the Restored United States. It's a scam. But he has the letters to prove it, and by life-saving luck, one of the ones from the previous village is to an old relative, now living in <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> village.<br /><br />Soon Gordon has convinced others to become postal officials of this 'Restored United States' (It's too far off to communicate with us, just take the existence on faith. After all, <span style="font-style: italic;">I'm</span> here, aren't I?). There's a whole chain of post offices, restoring communications between people who thought they'd lost each other and bringing the hope of civilisation wherever they go.<br /><br />Then Gordon discovers that his lie is not the only one. There's a whole other civilisation further along, based on the hope of technology -- and on a big lie supporting that hope.<br /><br />Partway through the book, Gordon starts to wonder if America was a lie to begin with. "We hold these truths to be self-evident . . . " Really? Are you sure about that?<br /><br />Is justice a lie? Are we lying to ourselves when we think that there exists a true notion of justice? Mercy, charity, morality -- are these lies? If so, then they are lies which make all our lives better and happier and more worthwhile, and my commitment to the truth must be hampered by my love and respect for such notions. But perhaps they are not lies. Perhaps we can say that morality and charity and justice exist <span style="font-style: italic;">because</span> we believe in them. They are ideas, and ideas exist only in the human mind as a matter of course.<br /><br />Perhaps the most remarkable thing is not that the Restored United States is a lie, but that the mere idea of such a thing can cause so many true and good things to spring up. It's a sort of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stone_soup">stone soup</a>. The real substance is given by the people themselves.<br /><br />What will save us? We will. But do we need to be lied to in order for that to happen?Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-12533574607778587382008-11-25T11:52:00.000-08:002008-11-26T00:03:08.389-08:00The Land of High MetaphorPlain-language poems are easiest. Say it honestly, say it in verse, say it without obvious contrivances of rhyme or style and you've done well. But once you enter metaphor-land, well, it's a bit like pulp science fiction. Anything is possible, but not everything is advisable. "You have eyes like vampire fangs," I once wrote of a man. It was true, but a bit lurid, and the poem it was part of had every pitfall of free verse, from ramblingness to, yes, metaphors shoved in purely for the purpose of reminding you that this is a poem rather than just some stuff I felt like getting off my chest.<br /><br />In improv there's this idea known as the <span style="font-style: italic;">absurdity curve</span>. Those new to improv -- the brave sort, rather than the ones who start off hiding in a corner -- occasionally enter a scene and jump straight off the wall:<br /><br />"Hello, Jess."<br /><br />"Hello, Joe. Here, help me move this crate."<br /><br />"Okay."<br /><br />"Oh, no! An octopus just fell on my head!"<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong, this can be a great way to approach improv when you're new to it. Just jump out there and say whatever and don't be afraid to look silly. However, as you get slightly better at it, it's as well to develop a little more finesse. The idea of a 'rising absurdity curve' is that you start a scene with the small and ordinary. If you <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> introduce anything remarkable at the beginning, you take the time to establish it. But sudden dramatic events do not happen until later in the scene, as you reach the climax, at which point elements of the story that seemed normal earlier can and do blossom into full-blown absurdities.<br /><br />Poetry doesn't<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>have a set 'curve' of the sort that improvisers are taught to consider. Nonetheless, the effectiveness of a vivid metaphor really does depend on context. A poem might go with the improv curve, starting with the ordinary and deepening into metaphor as it draws you in. If you do start with a strong metaphor, you might need to broaden and establish it to make it seem at home. And, as I said at the beginning, sometimes you'd do just as well to leave the metaphors out altogether.<br /><br />So anyway, I'm fiddling with a memory that I'd love to put into poetry. I write<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I never saw a man so golden</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">as you were, lying by my side</span>.<br /><br />It's a shoddy approximation of what I felt, but the tone is right. I can't really go anywhere with it, though. I'm writing about something I don't understand. I don't have enough angles. Reluctantly, I give up on describing the exact feeling and decide perhaps I'll just put a little of that in a poem that includes some other stuff.<br /><br />Late one night, when I'm supposed to be going to sleep, I hammer out a couple of lines that capture so much more of it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The dawn that rose when I awoke tonight</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">was only in the halo of your hair</span>.<br /><br />I can't abandon those lines. They work. It's just that they set a level of metaphor that's going to be jolly hard to keep up with sensibly. This isn't going to be a plain-language poem. Look out, darlin', you're in the Land of High Metaphor. Whatcha gonna do to continue that? Bring out the octopi?<br /><br />I've started in High Metaphor and now I need substance. Lots and lots of substance, because metaphor, if done well, can eat up substance like nothing else. It's a powerful and dense way of expressing things. One of the reasons I'm finding this so hard to write is that I'm expressing something remarkable that I haven't felt before. It's in the 'Whisky Tango Foxtrot' subgenre of love poetry. However, there have been several times in my life when I've felt something remarkable that I haven't felt before, so I have a better handle on that part of it than on the feeling itself. That helps. I might be able to use that in the poem, but, of course, this now means I'm negotiating two dangers. On the one hand we have Scylla the octopus. On the other hand we have Charybdis, the never ending whirlpool which consists of saying things in a poem like "I don't know how to say it" or "words cannot express this". If words can't express it, why are you trying, dude? Give up and start writing drippy pop songs instead.<br /><br />It's been a few months, now, but so far I've been able to build this:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The dawn was rising when I woke, tonight</span><span style="font-style: italic;">,<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">but only in the halo of your hair,<br />and I, bemused, perceiving by its light<br />a whole horizon waiting for me there,<br />say nothing. I am waiting for a phrase<br />to catch some faithful gleam inside the haze.<br /><br />If I could always have a minute more<br />to stay within the compass of your hand,<br />then by your touch and mine I could explore<br />the whole of you and I, and understand<br />the half-remembered dreams that shimmer through<br />this little world that takes its light from you.</span>Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-50183970268935346072008-11-05T19:42:00.000-08:002008-11-05T19:51:27.503-08:00Jumping the BroomIn marriage, let communion of the mind<br />meet with your bodies on the earthy ground,<br />and as the ordinary days unwind,<br />embrace the roses where they may be found.<br />Together, let your understanding grow.<br />Have patience when you think you've grown apart.<br />I revel in the joy and love you show,<br />and give you my support with all my heart.<br />By lies and lucre, in a narrow race,<br />today we lost a battle in this land,<br />and you may think your love must hide its face.<br />Well, let me speak for those who understand.<br />For better, for worse, whatever may arise,<br />have hope. Lovers, be married in our eyes.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-20846073832069793162008-11-05T16:45:00.000-08:002008-11-05T16:55:08.814-08:00Grad Student Election Night<span style="font-style: italic;">Slightly altered excerpt from my most recent email home:</span><br /> <br />There were two tubes of paint: one red, one blue. The rule was, generally, that you couldn't paint the state on the map until CNN had called it. Occasionally, polls would close all at once and CNN would call several as soon as they closed -- I guess when their exit polling made them sure. Illinois, for instance, turned blue immediately. By contrast, North Carolina stayed yellow on the screen and white on our map for as long as I was there.<br /><br />The plan was that we would start watching Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart on Comedy Central at 7pm. Perhaps that might have worked in previous years, when the outcome took forever, but I left to go make myself some dinner before it started, and when I got back the room was full of people and the grudging consensus seemed to be that it was better to be watching CNN. If nothing else, the information on CNN was visible despite the noise in there, but the election jokes on Comedy Central weren't. Besides, things were moving fast. Obama had more than two hundred electoral college votes. People were sharing their voting stories: when they voted, how long the lines were. The polls in California closed at 8pm, our time. CNN was counting down, and we counted down with it: "Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! . . ." CNN's screen suddenly whirled away from the countdown ". . . Two! One!" we shouted, and the room bubbled with applause and cheers, as CNN, having called California immediately, called the race for Obama, and someone stepped up to the map to paint California blue.<br /><br />It was about then that the pizza arrived. Nobody was leaving yet. You could see a slight smugness on people's faces whenever we switched over to Fox News while CNN had advertisements.<br /><br />We had a respectful silence for McCain's concession speech. There were nods and occasional slight applause. The only flicker of tension was after he had finished, as Sarah Palin walked past the microphone. "Don't let her speak!" someone yelled. She didn't.<br /><br />Then we waited. The crowds in Chicago were going wild for I don't know how long as we chatted and wondered how Obama's speech would go. What's he like, now that he's won? We had silence again for the President Elect, but it wasn't the same silence. There was an edge of resistance. This speaker had newfound authority. We listened critically. We had a few smiles and applause through the thanks, especially as Obama's campaign manager was mentioned, and patient silence as Obama said that those who thought real change could never come were now proved wrong.<br /><br />Then Obama's speech got Presidential, honest about the challenges as he asked for the support of the whole nation and pulled his central campaign message of hope into a faith that America would get through the financial crisis, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He stepped boldly into the leadership vacuum and we listened. We listened without noticing or caring how we were listening until Obama got into the recitation of what one century-old woman had seen through her life, and the challenges she and the country had faced in that time. By the third 'Yes we can", some guy over to the right was repeating it back with a parodic edge: "yes-we-CAN!" Obama was losing us; we were still mostly quiet, but we shifted a bit, until Obama mentioned how science had connected the whole world, and someone at the back yelled "Science!" and we all grinned.<br /><br />Yeah, we'll be there, Mr. President Elect. Just don't ask us to recite slogans.<br /><br />Over and out.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-11304837655827244892008-10-29T21:38:00.001-07:002008-10-29T22:13:42.466-07:00AtheismImagination suffers, being free.<br />The real world gets more curious with time.<br />So play with method. Study how you see,<br />and by a prism<br />unweave the rainbow<br /><br />and do not fear to write in red on lime,<br />but if the colour scatters carelessly<br />then look for method, metre, even rhyme,<br />and by a prison<br />shape a poem.<br /><br /><br />Yes, this is <a href="http://elliptica.blogspot.com/2008/09/rainbow-poem.html">rainbow--poem</a>, take 2.<br /><br />[Edit: I've edited the title, because, staring at it after it was up, I realised that my original title of 'Humanism' mostly just fogged things up by linking it to a whole slew of ideas that were only partially related. Atheism has a much sharper denotation.<br /><br />I don't know what it is about this poem that makes me so impulsive in posting it.]Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-14605791696461517022008-10-25T07:06:00.000-07:002008-10-25T19:37:07.496-07:00If you tag people, people tag back . . .. . . which is why I'm now doing <a href="http://intrinsicallyknotted.wordpress.com/2008/10/21/atheist-meme/">this atheist meme</a>, courtesy of Susan over at <a href="http://intrinsicallyknotted.wordpress.com/">Intrinsically Knotted</a>.<br /><br /><strong>Can you remember the day that you officially became an atheist?<br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />Nope! If I'd wanted to <span style="font-style: italic;">stop</span> being an atheist, <span style="font-style: italic;">that </span>would have required an official change.<br /><br /></span></strong><strong>Do you remember the day you officially became an agnostic?<br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />I remember being quite taken by the notion of agnosticism when I was eleven years old or so. I knew the term referred to God-belief but frankly, I was going through an ultra-skeptical phase and I wanted to be agnostic about the existence of everything besides myself. You see, my mother explained to me about Descartes when I was ten, and whilst Descartes' argument about the existence of God never seemed very sensible to me, I did go through a stage where the fact that it was possible to doubt almost everything was just fascinating.<br /><br /></span></strong><strong>How about the last time you spoke or prayed to God with actual thought that someone was listening?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">I've never prayed with the <span style="font-style: italic;">belief</span> that someone was listening. On the other hand, eight years old is the earliest time that I can remember others' belief in God bothering me, and one of the things that bothered me was the whole "if you don't believe you'll go to hell"<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">line. I'm very sensitive to disapproval from authority, and even an imaginary authority who disapproved of me badly enough to condemn me to the worst punishment anyone could dream up was a really painful thought. So around that time I prayed quite a lot of "Dear God, if you exist, I'm really sorry I don't believe in you but I care about what's actually true and I'm honestly not doing this out of malice or anything . . ."<br /><br />The last time I prayed in that sense was three years ago when I was twenty. That story is <a href="http://elliptica.blogspot.com/2007/08/infidels-have-dreams-too.html">here</a> and I don't really want to go over it again.<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></strong><strong>Did anger towards God or religion help cause you to be an atheist or agnostic?</strong><br /><br />Well, no, because I've pretty much always been one! Critical thinking, a love of the truth, and the simple fact that my parents didn't believe were the major factors, not necessarily in that order.<br /><br />Getting angry with God for being so unreasonable as to dole out infinite punishments for finite crimes never helped me much in the whole internal "Gosh, there's an imaginary authority who really, really disapproves of me" debate, either. That debate stopped once I had been through the mill on that issue -- once I <span style="font-style: italic;">knew</span> that I had been in a situation where I had a strong reason for wanting to believe. It was much less credible after that for me to worry that I was just disbelieving because I didn't want to change my worldview.<br /><br /><strong>Here is a good one: Were you agnostic towards ghosts, even after you became an atheist?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">I read a book about skeptics when I was quite young. I thought skeptics were awesome, running around finding the truth behind the lies. The notion that there were people for whom 'skeptic' was a doubtful classification implying an unwillingness to believe the truth never occurred to me. Mind you, the first person I heard saying 'skeptic' in a tone of voice that implied that it was something bad was 'psychic' Sylvia Brown, and <span style="font-style: italic;">she's</span> got a mercenary reason to make that implication!<br /><br />I never believed in ghosts.<br /></span></strong><strong><br />Do you want to be wrong?</strong><br /><strong></strong><br />Very much not.<br /><br />Okay, this time I tag <a href="http://evolutionarymiddleman.blogspot.com/">John Evo</a>, <a href="http://chromiumoxidegreen.blogspot.com/">Maria</a>, and <a href="http://bridgingschisms.org/">Eshu</a>. If you feel like doing a meme, go ahead and pick this one up.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-1829071898602756222008-10-20T01:38:00.000-07:002008-10-20T01:40:52.431-07:00Meme: Five ways blogging changed my life.This meme was begun by L. L. Barkat. The rules are as follows:<br /><br />1. Write about <i><b>5 specific ways</b></i> blogging has affected you, either positively or negatively.<br />2. link back to the person who tagged you<br />3. link back to this <a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com/2008/09/for-better-for-worse-5-ways-blogging.html">parent post</a> (LL says she's "<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>not so much interested in generating links, but rather in tracking the meme so I can perhaps do a summary post later on that looks at patterns and interesting discoveries.")<br />4. tag a few friends or five, or none at all<br />5. post these rules— or just have fun breaking them<br /><br />LL didn't originally tag me for this meme, but she asked me to take part after remarking in a comment on this blog that she "created the report after reading a truckload of blogs and today realized the responding group was rather homogenous (read <i>Christian</i>)." Broadening the sample? I approve! Here goes, then.<br /><br />I don't know that blogging has actually changed my life <span style="font-style: italic;">dramatically</span>. Blogging has reflected my life. Important parts of my development have drawn on blogging to help them along. But, at least with some of them, if I didn't have a blog, I'd have drawn on other things. Here, then, are a few small ways that blogging has changed me:<br /><br />1. I have -- or at least <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> -- an <span style="font-style: italic;">alter ego</span>. 'Lynet' was created to play with ideas that I didn't yet wish to include, or didn't yet feel capable of including, in my usual self. Where I was still playing by the 'rules' as laid down by my childhood, Lynet was able to go out and play at being more separate from her parents, more (I think) rambling and indeed <span style="font-style: italic;">un</span>sure of her opinions, and less afraid that having a sexuality would automatically degrade her. Lynet was nice. I liked her. She's still here, it's just that around the time I wrote <a href="http://elliptica.blogspot.com/2007/11/penelope.html">Penelope</a> we sort of merged.<br /><br />2. I have a small audience for my poetry. I think I would have written poetry in any case, and my foray into rhyme and metre and other strict forms was begun before I started blogging, but having an audience certainly does change the way I write. Thinking about whether I would post it changes my standard for whether a poem (or a draft of it) can be said to be 'finished'.<br /><br />3. Even before I came to America, I knew a heck of a lot more about American politics than any outsider has reason to know! Actually that's not quite true. America affects all of us, so it's not like the information isn't interesting. Still, the blogosphere is skewed towards America, and my political knowledge has been skewed accordingly.<br /><br />4. I've got a perpetual source of reading material. This also means I've got a perpetual source of procrastinatory material, of course. For example, I'm writing this late at night when I should be in bed and I have an assignment due tomorrow :-).<br /><br />5. I've come to feel like my atheism is worthy of at least the same respect and courtesy that I would afford to a religion. I had sort of internalised the idea that atheists ought to keep their heads down for fear of offending people. These days, I still wouldn't go out to offend, but I find that simple honesty about my beliefs ought not to be offensive in the first place. That's a deep change with just a few subtle effects. For example, I wouldn't feel the need to be apologetic about not joining in when people say grace. And yes, <a href="http://www.ebonmusings.org/">Ebon Musings</a> deserves most of the credit.<br /><br />I tag, with no obligation:<br /><br /><a href="http://lfab-uvm.blogspot.com/">C. L. Hanson</a><br /><a href="http://intrinsicallyknotted.wordpress.com/">Susan</a><br /><a href="http://talesofordinarygirl.blogspot.com/">Ordinary Girl</a><br /><a href="http://jd2718.wordpress.com/">JD2718</a><br /><a href="http://thechapel.wordpress.com/">The Chaplain</a>Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-88833359824825067462008-10-07T18:52:00.000-07:002008-10-07T20:01:27.831-07:00Attack Highlights the Best of Atheist BloggingNow is not a good time to be a Republican politician. Way back in August, Republican Senator Elizabeth Dole found that defending her seat against Democratic challenger Kay Hagan might not be as easy as she thought. One of her ways of fighting back was to demonise Hagan for meeting with atheists and taking donations from them. The <a href="http://www.elizabethdole.org/docs/articles/Godless-Americans-PAC.html">press release</a> from her campaign said:<br /><br /><blockquote><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">On September 15th, Kay Hagan is heading to Boston, Massachusetts to attend a fundraiser for her Senate campaign. What may surprise mainstream North Carolinians is that the fundraiser will be in the home of leading anti religion activists Wendy Kaminer and her lawyer husband Woody Kaplan -- who is an advisor to the "Godless Americans Political Action Committee."<br /><br />. . .<br /><br />"Kay Hagan is trying to run a campaign in North Carolina that casts her as a moderate but the money that's paying for it is coming from the left-wing fringe of political thought," said Dole Campaign Communications Director Dan McLagan. "You can tell a lot about a person by their friends and these are friends most North Carolinians would not be comfortable having over for dinner."</span></span></blockquote><br />Got that? Atheists are people "most North Carolinians would not be comfortable having over for dinner." Note also that the Dole campaign's description of the Kaminers' activities suggests to me that the Kaminers are activists for church-state separation and for the civil rights of atheists rather than "anti religion activists" as labeled by the Dole campaign.<br /><br />At the time, atheists in the blogosphere seized the opportunity to show support for the acceptability of atheist voices in the political process by donating to Hagan's campaign (see, for example, <a href="http://friendlyatheist.com/4272/email-to-the-elizabeth-dole-campaign/">here</a>) and writing to Elizabeth Dole to explain why.<br /><br />For a variety of reasons, I'm sure, <a href="http://www.pollster.com/polls/nc/08-nc-sen-ge-dvh.php">Hagan has now shifted ahead of Dole</a> in the polls. The Dole campaign is fighting back -- and they haven't given up on the atheist connection! A recent mailout from the Dole Campaign, <a href="http://importantandsmart.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-message-to-elizabeth-dole-fuck-you.html">displayed</a> on the blog of an understandably angry North Carolinian atheist blogger, attacks Hagan yet again for daring to accept support from atheists. The mailout includes two quotes from the atheist blogosphere. Fairly innocuous quotes, at that. One is from a <a href="http://friendlyatheist.com/4272/email-to-the-elizabeth-dole-campaign/#comment-223636">comment</a> on <a href="http://friendlyatheist.com/">Friendly Atheist</a>, and reads:<br /><br /><blockquote>I don’t know that I’ve ever been to North Carolina besides driving through, but I just donated [to Hagan's campaign].</blockquote><br />The other is from a <a href="http://www.daylightatheism.org/2008/08/kay-hagan.html">post</a> on <a href="http://www.daylightatheism.org/">Daylight Atheism</a>:<br /><br /><blockquote>Kay Hagan ought to be rewarded for inviting nonbelievers onto her platform . . .</blockquote><br />I'm startled that the Dole campaign thinks this is a good move. Only voters with a truly overt prejudice against atheists are likely to find a website name like "FriendlyAtheist.com" threatening.<br /><br />Whether or not Dole has helped her own campaign, she has certainly helped the atheist movement! She's promoting the atheist blogosphere at its best. Any North Carolinian who follows the attribution of those quotes will be led, not to some scary den of atheist supremacy, but to the open-minded affability of <a href="http://friendlyatheist.com/">Friendly Atheist</a> and the even-tempered eloquence of <a href="http://www.daylightatheism.org">Daylight Atheism</a>. American atheists couldn't choose a better pair of blogs to represent their cause.<br /><br />[By the way, here are the respective reactions to this news on <a href="http://www.daylightatheism.org/2008/10/elizabeth-dole-anti-atheist-bigot.html">Daylight Atheism</a> and <a href="http://friendlyatheist.com/5016/republicans-smear-senate-candidate-kay-hagan-for-meeting-with-atheists/">Friendly Atheist</a>].Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-47727776236689980072008-10-02T21:47:00.000-07:002008-10-02T23:01:40.451-07:00This wasn't what I wantedI was worried by <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2008/sep/24/wallstreet.georgebush">Paulson's initial bailout plan</a>. Only three pages? No oversight? $700 billion?<br /><br />Worse, Paulson didn't seem sure he knew what to do with the money. When Lehman Brothers went under and things suddenly got dramatic, well, quite frankly, it looked like <span style="font-style: italic;">nobody</span> had any idea what to do (Certainly not John McCain or Barack Obama, and, unsurprisingly, not the current President either). It was as if Paulson had stepped into the vacuum and said, well, since we're not sure what to do about it, how about we throw lots of money at it and hope it works?<br /><br />So I hoped that additions would be made to the plan. I was glad there was questioning and opposition. I hoped somebody would come up with some more specific suggestions!<br /><br />What I was not hoping for was <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26993487/">this</a>. Now, I'm glad that the bill that passed the Senate <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/02/business/02bailout.html?_r=3&hp=&adxnnl=1&oref=slogin&pagewanted=2&adxnnlx=1223011149-mdOx9bOWKRb8eoyWEGWDSw">includes more oversight</a>. I approve of giving the money in installments. But I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">deeply</span> disappointed that the critical eye of many Senate members, even at a time like this, seems to be mostly on the lookout for irrelevant but costly concessions.<br /><br />I'm not even sure I approve of the suggestion that we help out "Main Street" by bailing out the small people who owe on their mortgages as well as the big companies. Not if it costs more money. I don't want to see lots of random spending. I don't necessarily want that spending to be based on who is more deserving. I want to see 'bailout' money used as <span style="font-style: italic;">wisely</span> as possible. If <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26994238/">this article</a> is to be believed, the approach currently outlined is well short of shrewd.<br /><br />There's a real, scary problem here that needs solving. <a href="http://slacktivist.typepad.com/slacktivist/2008/09/she-doesnt-care.html">Slacktivist</a> points out <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95099470">this</a> incredibly informative piece from NPR and This American Life detailing the problems faced by small businesses and areas of the market which had nothing to do with sub-prime mortgages. There's nothing fundamentally wrong with those areas of the economy, it's just that they need day-to-day credit to survive. They pay off that credit, and quickly. We're not looking at dodgy loans here. But the whole credit market is in danger of freezing because loans that looked secure before -- mixed packages of mortgages -- have been shown to be stupidly risky, so nobody really feels like lending money to <span style="font-style: italic;">anyone</span> right now.<br /><br />I am not an economist (IANAE). Still, here's a thought. What if, instead of trying to bail out the purveyors and packagers of dodgy mortgages and hoping that this will make everyone forget what happened, the government were to focus on finding a way to secure the <span style="font-style: italic;">rest</span> of the market? Protect the innocent, so to speak. IANAE, and I've got no clear idea of what we could do with any amount of money, but what could we do with $700 billion focused directly at the problem of availability of credit in general? For example, could we find a direct way to make the <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95099470">commercial paper market</a> more secure? After all, I get the impression (with many repetitions of IANAE) that it's not that insecure to begin with, it just feels that way. I would have thought propping up a system that is still mostly sound but with a lot of uncertainty might be easier than mopping up a system that is fundamentally unsound. What if the government proposed temporary insurance on certain kinds of lending that probably won't fail, just for a few months until the crisis eases?<br /><br />IANAE. Is bailing out banks and investors the only way to make credit available out there, or is there another way?Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-62546907796621347882008-09-22T22:51:00.000-07:002008-09-22T23:14:43.178-07:00rainbow -- poemWhen everything we see is bland and white<br />with platitudinous false prophecy<br />then look for method, study even light,<br />and by a prism<br />unweave the rainbow,<br /><br />and do not fear to write in red on lime,<br />but if the colour scatters carelessly<br />then look for method, metre, even rhyme,<br />and by a prison<br />unlock a poem.<br /><br /><br />I should leave this for a day or two to see if I want to change it, but I can't resist showing it off. I've been trying to write the above as a blog post for ages, but there were too many interlinked ideas to be able to fit them all into a linear prose structure. Additionally, I've been thinking for ages that I should write a poem about atheism, but I kept finding that I didn't have any really good ideas. I suppose I ought to thank Maria for <a href="http://chromiumoxidegreen.blogspot.com/2008/09/matter-is-better-than-spiritualism.html">this</a> post at <a href="http://chromiumoxidegreen.blogspot.com/">Chromium Oxide Green</a>, which made me realise that not having any good ideas for a poem about <span style="font-style: italic;">reality</span> is kind of silly.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-69190098568689173342008-09-17T14:01:00.000-07:002008-09-17T14:03:56.795-07:00Announcements1. I've arrived in California and am too busy to post at the moment. Sorry.<br /><br />2. If you want to read other people's posts, the <a href="http://freethoughtfortwayne.org/2008/09/14/humanist-symposium-25/">latest Humanist Symposium</a> is up at <a href="http://freethoughtfortwayne.org/">Freethought Fort Wayne</a>.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-90405058395933858422008-09-07T05:18:00.000-07:002008-09-07T05:28:53.224-07:00The Sea-ChildI'm too distracted for a proper post, sorry. Here's a poem --<span style="font-style: italic;"> not</span> one of mine!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Into the world you sent her, mother,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fashioned her body of coral and foam,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Combed a wave in her hair's warm smother,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And drove her away from home</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In the dark of the night she crept to the town</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And under a doorway she laid her down,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The little blue child in the foam-fringed gown.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And never a sister and never a brother</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">To hear her call, to answer her cry.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Her face shone out from her hair's warm smother</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Like a moonkin up in the sky.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She sold her corals; she sold her foam;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Her rainbow heart like a singing shell</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Broke in her body: she crept back home.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Peace, go back to the world, my daughter,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Daughter, go back to the darkling land;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There is nothing here but sad sea water,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And a handful of sifting sand.</span><br /><br />We sang a rather lovely arrangement of that when I was in high school. It's by Katherine Mansfield, better known for her short stories. She was, and I will be, in a week, an expat Kiwi.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-4726102925274293012008-09-02T00:32:00.000-07:002008-09-02T02:26:31.994-07:00Plain LanguageI fear that the embrace we shared back then<br />has lost its meaning in your mind today.<br />It's waiting for some other moment when<br />we're once again together. When I play<br />with memories in verse, do I disturb<br />the balance of our delicate regard?<br />Relationships are precious, and to curb<br />my muse is only wise. It's not so hard.<br />But, ah, the things you've given me! They sing,<br />seductive as the call of distant lands.<br />My fingers, clumsy with such substance, bring<br />no talent, but I shuffle with the strands<br />of silken colour, soft and light as air,<br />and beg forgiveness for my lingering care.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-72274667861179878682008-08-29T23:18:00.000-07:002008-08-30T03:02:07.825-07:00Compassion<a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com">L. L. Barkat</a> doesn't usually post about political happenings. She's more interested in personal growth and morality and how to live well; in <span style="font-style: italic;">spirituality</span>, I guess I may freely say, since LL is a Christian blogger.<br /><br />"I don't claim to understand it." In a recent <a href="http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com/2008/08/love-affair.html">post</a> on Senator John Edwards' recently-revealed <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/09/us/politics/09edwards.html?_r=1&ref=politics&oref=slogin">affair</a>, LL quotes this response and then looks more deeply at the matter at hand. Do we <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> not understand how an illicit love affair could start? LL is willing to try, and I say <span style="font-style: italic;">brava</span>!<br /><br />"I don't claim to understand it" is the easiest response to an action or a viewpoint that you disagree with. It stops you from having to confront your own fallibility. To 'understand' in this sense is to identify the impulses that you, too, have which could in other circumstances prompt you to act that way. Claiming not to understand how someone could, say, have an extramarital affair is a way of claiming that you are innocent of all such deplorable impulses.<br /><br />Having established that whatever prompted this action could not have been anything that <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> feel leaves you free to make the imagined motives as unpleasant as you like. LL herself notes that the picture <span style="font-style: italic;">she</span> can imagine "is a radically different frame than that of the 'lurid affair' that the media loves to paint". Yes, it is. Similarly, the motivations of most atheists are radically different to the picture sometimes painted by apologists of people who simply don't want to obey God, being an anti-abortion activist doesn't actually mean that you hate women, and some "family" activists really need to learn that the sexual feelings of homosexuals do not consist entirely of 'lurid affairs' either.<br /><br />Atheists are as guilty as anyone of painting an unrealistic picture of their opponents. I wince, sometimes, at the swiftness with which certain sections of the online atheist community will give up the attempt to explain religion in terms of anything that <span style="font-style: italic;">we</span> feel and instead impute it to stupidity and smallmindedness, to greed and fear. Stupidity, smallmindedness, greed and fear are real phenomena, it's true, but if you choose to see those motives at the expense of others, you are showing a smallmindedness of your own.<br /><br />The truth is, there are reasons to show compassion to others that even extend beyond the way it can help us to get along. If you truly want to understand the world, and if you truly want to understand <span style="font-style: italic;">yourself</span>, then showing humility about your own motives and compassion about the motives of others is the only way to reach a semblance of truth.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-27839107293297880172008-08-11T03:52:00.000-07:002008-08-13T12:12:30.891-07:00Physics and PoetryYes, it's another <a href="http://nomorehornets.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-nonbelieving-literati-right-for-you.html">Nonbelieving Literati</a> post [Edit: This one's about <span style="font-style: italic;">Cosmicomics</span> by Italo Calvino. How could I forget to say that?] . I'm late again, but, as I posted on <a href="http://nomorehornets.blogspot.com/2008/08/unending-ooooh.html">the Exterminator's contribution</a>, this one did sort of look like one that I should make the effort on. John Evo, responding to the comment, was kind enough to characterise me as a poet, specifically by saying "I'd definitely like to hear what a poet has to say about this". But did I read this book as a poet?<br /><br />I started out reading as a <span style="font-style: italic;">physicist</span>. What can I say? When I was younger I used to love the slide and switch of reference frames, the pure and perfect mechanics of Galileo, Newton, Einstein. The characters' names in this book even sort of look like arcane mathematical expressions with symbols incomprehensibly juxtaposed: Qfwfq, (k)yK, Mrs. Ph(i)Nk<sub>o</sub>. So when I read Qfwfq babbling away like an old man about how the Moon used to be closer to the Earth in those days, I started mentally checking the details. "She rolled around the sky like an umbrella chased by the wind". Well, the Moon <span style="font-style: italic;">would</span> have to go fast. To be in orbit is to cross the horizon before you can fall to the ground. If the ground is closer, the Moon must reach the horizon more quickly! Indeed, the necessary speed bothered me a little.<br /><br /><blockquote>This is how we did the job: in the boat we had a ladder: one of us held it, another climbed to the top, and a third, at the oars, rowed until we were right under the Moon . . .</blockquote><br />What's wrong with this picture? I kept finding myself imagining the Moon falling until I realised that, at the distance I was imagining it, the Moon would probably have to be travelling a lot faster than the average rowboat. Ah, but isn't it fun to imagine that you could climb to the Moon on a ladder? Poetic license. Never mind.<br /><br /><blockquote>Yes, the Moon was so strong that she pulled you up; you realised this the moment you passed from one to the other: you had to swing up abruptly, with a kind of somersault, grabbing the scales, throwin your legs over your head, until your feet were on the Moon's surface. Seen from the Earth, you looked as if you were hanging there with your head down, but for you, it was the normal position, and the only odd thing was that when you raised your eyes you saw the sea above you, glistening, with the boat and the others upside down, hanging like a bunch of grapes from the vine.</blockquote><br />I was skeptical of this one at first. It is, however, true that the closer you get to the Moon, the stronger the Moon's pull. The question is, how close do you have to be? If the Moon is that close to the Earth, might not the point at which the Moon's attraction becomes stronger actually be <span style="font-style: italic;">inside</span> the Moon?<br /><br />A quick calculation informs me that I was wrong, however. As the distance between the Earth and the Moon increases, the point of equal gravitational pull becomes outside the Moon <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span> the distance becomes greater than the Earth's radius! So that's all good.<br /><br /><blockquote>"Cling together! Idiots! Cling together!" the Captain yelled. At this command, the sailors tried to form a group, a mass, to push all together until they reached the zone of the Earth's attraction: all of a sudden a cascade of bodies plunged into the sea with a loud splash.</blockquote><br />Okay, this is <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> poetic licence. It's not my fault for being picky either. This isn't something I could fail to notice. It's blatantly wrong. In fact, there's a nice thought experiment due to Galileo that tries to disprove the above using basically that example. You see, bigger things do <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> fall faster than smaller ones. Not unless the smaller one is a feather, in which case the key phrase is <span style="font-style: italic;">air resistance</span>. Without air resistance, all objects would fall at the same speed. With air resistance, well, the air resistance does not have to be as big in order to affect the fall of a small thing as it would need to be in order to affect the fall of a large thing. This is what creates the disparity. However, I can <span style="font-style: italic;">assure</span> you that tying the lace of one shoe to the lace of the other will not make your shoes fall faster; it affects neither the air resistance nor the gravitational pull on each shoe. Similarly, coming together in a group will not make each person fall faster. Gravity does not check whether you are holding hands before deciding how hard to pull each of you!<br /><br />Thus began an uneasy balance between science and poetry. The delight of these stories is in the way that they take a snippet of science and build around it an absurd flight of fancy, an almost narcissistic reflection of human foibles created around a simple detached fact. Moreover, although the science may sometimes be bent or broken, the humanity never is. Who cannot sympathise with the narrator of 'The Light Years', suddenly realising that the inhabitants of other galaxies have been watching him and worrying desperately about what they must think of him, but knowing that they are so distant that they will not see any improvement he makes to his behaviour for millions of years?<br /><br />As with all stories that have an allegorical component, there is always a temptation to try to find the more commonplace 'meaning' behind the fantastical description. I suspect that, having begun my reading thinking like a scientist, I was slightly more prone to this than I might otherwise have been, and spent a certain amount of time reminding myself <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> to try to decode.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span> The stories are sympathetic in their own right, and their meaning is in their sympathy. A reader should not need more.<br /><br />Ah, but I loved the final story! I had settled down into poetry far enough that I could dispense with the science by means of a mere 'of course evolution couldn't really have this sort of purpose' and enjoy the pretty story of how we create beauty -- the beauty of a <span style="font-style: italic;">spiral</span>, no less! How very mathematical. This book is not all true, but it is clearly truthful.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-34125727973946603542008-08-02T17:05:00.000-07:002008-08-02T18:23:56.942-07:00". . . secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects . . ."A laptop is among the most personal of objects. Sometimes just having somebody look over my shoulder when I'm on it gives me a not entirely comfortable prickle across my shoulder-blades. It's so terribly revealing: my list of Google contacts, the things I choose to have shortcuts for on my desktop, the fact that I play FreeCell often enough that it's currently got higher listing on my 'start' menu than iTunes -- to say nothing of my list of Firefox bookmarks (that's 'favorites' for all you people still stuck on Internet Explorer), which happens to include a favourite Doctor Who screencap of mine (<a href="http://davidtennant.albumpost.com/album552/afs">this</a> one, if you must know) just because I like to look at it occasionally.<br /><br />So I really want to know why it is that <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/08/01/AR2008080103030.html">this</a> does not seem to violate any laws (Tip of the hat to <a href="http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2008/08/who_needs_civil_liberties.php">Pharyngula</a>):<br /><br /><blockquote>Federal agents may take a traveler's laptop computer or other electronic device to an off-site location for an unspecified period of time without any suspicion of wrongdoing, as part of border search policies the <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/related/topic/U.S.+Department+of+Homeland+Security?tid=informline" target="">Department of Homeland Security</a> recently disclosed. . . .<br /><br />DHS officials said the newly disclosed policies -- which apply to anyone entering the country, including U.S. citizens -- are reasonable and necessary to prevent terrorism. Officials said such procedures have long been in place but were disclosed last month because of public interest in the matter.</blockquote><br />You can view the policy <a href="http://www.cbp.gov/linkhandler/cgov/travel/admissability/search_authority.ctt/search_authority.pdf">here</a>, which does contain partial exceptions for business information and attorney-client privileged material, and which does state that most of the information gathered (unless it relates to a crime) needs to be destroyed afterwards.<br /><br />Now, I am not silly enough to let Firefox remember the password to my internet bank account, but anyone with access to my laptop could find their way into my email. Theoretically, when I enter the United States next month, immigration officials are allowed to look at every silly story or diary-like ramble in my 'documents' folder.<br /><br />For some reason it doesn't bother me half so much that they're probably also allowed to read my paper diary if they wish. Electronic information is easily searched, easily copied, easily secreted, easily sent. Sure, you're <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to destroy it all, but I bet that's unenforceable in practice. So I have to rely on the disinterest of customs officials and anyone else deemed necessary to decode my data. In my case, maybe that's not so bad. I'm not doing anything terribly secret or interesting, don't own any pornographic material of myself that could accidentally find its way onto the internet, and if all else fails, I'm white and I speak English and I bet that counts for more than it should in avoiding being searched in the first place. Travellers shouldn't have to rely on luck like that, though!<br /><br />The Fourth Amendment, which I quoted in the post title, does not apply with the same force to border searches (see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Border_search_exception#Electronic_materials">Wikipedia</a>). Although they need reasonable suspicion to search me bodily, currently thay can search me <span style="font-style: italic;">mentally</span> (via my laptop) for any reason or none. Frankly, I think I'd rather be searched bodily.<br /><br />Although it will be to late to protect <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>, I hope Russ Feingold's plan to introduce legislation to stop this sort of thing is successful. Squick. Seriously, this is what I call an invasive search!Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-38740840930903202472008-07-23T04:58:00.000-07:002008-07-23T05:02:07.836-07:00For ---<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">Here’s fourteen lines on impulse – like the way<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">we hide beneath your jacket in the rain<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">and find that, since we have the chance today,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">I might as well be kissing you again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">This one’s for friendship; this, for pleasant lust.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">This one’s for luck, and this one is for trust.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">We tell each other secrets, you and I,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">and still can look each other in the eye.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">So sit down here beside me on the grass,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">and never mind the mud, and take my hand,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">and kiss me on the mouth, for time will pass<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">and things won’t always go the way we planned,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">but sometimes we find serendipity –<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;">I hope, for now, you find it here with me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">(You are reading this, aren't you? Hope you don't mind.)<br /><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-63755135862650603452008-07-07T17:06:00.000-07:002008-07-07T22:11:20.637-07:00OrlandoOur last book but one for the <a href="http://nomorehornets.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-nonbelieving-literati-right-for-you.html">Nonbelieving Literati</a> was <span style="font-style: italic;">A Room of One's Own</span> by Virginia Woolf. Having read that and rather liked it, I pulled <span style="font-style: italic;">Orlando</span> off the library shelves a while back, took it into a cafe and began to read.<br /><br />I loved it, I swooned over it, I laughed with delight. It's one of my favourite books ever, I think, particularly the first half, where the title character is male. <span style="font-style: italic;">Orlando</span> is known, among other things, for the unabashed lesbianism in the second half. That's all very well, and I appreciated it for the ground-breaking daring that it was, but to me, it was passages like this that really stood out:<br /><br /><blockquote>The King was walking in Whitehall. Nell Gwyn was on his arm. She was pelting him with hazel nuts. ‘Twas a thousand pities, that amorous lady sighed, that such a pair of legs should leave the country. <p>Howbeit, the Fates were hard; she could do no more than toss one kiss over her shoulder before Orlando sailed.</p></blockquote><br />Now, really! Oh, some may say that Orlando's legs may only be sighed over because he is somehow androgynous. Some may call the fact that Orlando is an object of desire a mere foreshadowing of his eventual femininity. Not I.<br /><br />There is no denying it. I'm afraid I'm heterosexual.<br /><br />***<br /><blockquote>Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?<br />Thou art more lovely and more temperate . . .</blockquote><br />There's many a fictional version of Shakespeare who has written that poem to some beautiful leading lady of the story; we love to wonder who could inspire such verse. In truth, however, it's probable that this famous sonnet was written to a young <span style="font-style: italic;">man</span> -- and to me, this is a lovely thought. I've seen a few men I'd love to apply it to, men with sunshine in their smiles and a sloppy grace to their form. Shakespeare's eighteenth sonnet is more than just a superlative love poem. It's a rare literary glimpse of the beauty than men can have.<br /><br />I'm not sure that I love men in the way that men want to be loved. I wouldn't mind loving women. It might be as much easier in some ways as it would be harder in others. It's just that when it comes down to it, I'd much rather compare a man to a summer's day than a woman. Not every man wants to hear that.<br /><br />Hush, now, don't say it too loud, but men are beautiful. It's one of the best-kept secrets of all time.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-42915984936004934052008-07-02T03:17:00.000-07:002008-07-02T03:06:50.453-07:00He really should have had a blog.This post is for the <a href="http://nomorehornets.blogspot.com/2008/03/is-nonbelieving-literati-right-for-you.html">Nonbelieving Literati </a>and refers to Voltaire's <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/18972">Zadig</a>.<br /><br />Voltaire should have had a blog. Look at him, right there on the page, Mister Magpie Mind himself in fits and starts and 'and thens', in conceits and delights slopped messily onto the page with very little editing. Make that no editing at all. He'd have been right at home in the blogging world, being witty and sarcastic and off-the-cuff with the best of them. I'd love to read Voltaire's blog. Wouldn't you?<br /><br />I laugh, almost, at the way that nothing that happens is Zadig's fault. It seems disingenuous to me, almost tongue-in-cheek. "Oh please, good sirs, I acted with the purest of intentions!" I can't shake off the feeling that Voltaire is sitting inside the page laughing at us, protesting his own innocence when he knows his own tongue was downright <span style="font-style: italic;">wicked</span> at times! It's conceit, I tell you, pure careless conceit, and I don't think Voltaire cares who knows it. There is a liberation in it, a sort of permission to love yourself with wry honesty and accept that, deep down, you're rather partial to yourself. Now, aren't you? Admit it.<br /><br />Zadig might be the character Voltaire would <span style="font-style: italic;">like</span> to be, cheerful and rational in the face of adversity, penetrating but still diplomatic, conveniently following a course of events that demonstrates everything Voltaire feels like demonstrating. Time and again, science and rationality triumph in the hands of Zadig -- as does the notion of a more abstract Supreme Being, a Creator that does not depend on petty religious details.<br /><br />It's not an easy story to follow; basically one thing happens after another and that is very nearly it. You could break it up into small pieces and maybe enjoy it more. Indeed, while reading it, I found the best way to enjoy it was simply to enjoy the moment and not care about the mess it made as a whole. No doubt it would also be easier to understand if you were reading it at the time it was written, because there are plenty of references that no longer make sense.<br /><br />So, yes. It would have been better as a blog. Oh, but I thought it was fun for all that.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Apologies for my long absence. The closer I get to leaving, the more urgent this real world over here feels. I've found my passport. I've told the guy I like that I like him (He does not quite return the same sentiment, alas, but at least I've said it). I'm supposed to visit my dear old gran, and buy my sisters birthday presents, and I still have paperwork to fill out, and -- well. It's not for a couple of months, yet, but it feels awfully close.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-87030054059903044182008-06-06T18:58:00.001-07:002008-06-06T19:08:41.676-07:00Girlishness<span style="font-style: italic;">Kick up your heels, and wear</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Pink flowers in your hair</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And stop to feel the echoed kiss upon the air</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Stand on the brink, and be</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Catch breath in brevity</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And string each fleeting note into a melody</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Live from the heart, and know</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Your mind works even so</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">For sometimes all of life is in the letting go</span><br /><br /><br />I like this one. I know it's sappy and I don't care. Pink flowers! Gotta love it.<br /><br />On the other hand, I'm alternating between thinking the title is perfect and thinking it's a flimsy attempt to lower expectations. Maybe I'll come up with something else, who knows?Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-14588925496658044542008-05-31T01:23:00.000-07:002008-05-31T02:11:27.578-07:00I may be wrong, but I believe that . . .Well, I picked this meme up off the <a href="http://nomorehornets.blogspot.com/2008/05/ten-things-i-believe-that-may-be-wrong.html">Exterminator</a>. And yes, I know I owe at least two of you a meme from way back that I may or may not ever get around to giving you (sorry about that), but this one just sort of looked like fun. The rules are:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Think of some things you believe that may be wrong. Write them on your blog. Don’t tag anyone, but drop the hint that if your friends really care about your feelings, they’ll follow through with their own lists</span>.<br /><br />1. My passport has vanished off the face of the Earth and if I'm going to get a visa in time I'll need to apply for a new one pronto. Pity. That passport was an old friend.<br /><br />2. String theory is not an accurate description of reality on the small scale. Oh, and we're stuck with quantum weirdness. The sensible way to react to quantum mechanics is simply to accept that many things that we would consider basic truisms are actually merely the product of having evolved at a level where quantum effects are not perceptible.<br /><br />3. Death is the end. When you die, you cease to exist.<br /><br />4. It's not quite so evil to download Series Four of Doctor Who off the internet if you've already paid the show quite a lot of money by buying the whole of Series Three.<br /><br />5. Philosophy is not a waste of time.<br /><br />6. If I turn up to this cute, witty short guy's show on Thursday, I've got half a chance of kissing him if I can get him alone. Hope my cold has cleared up by then.<br /><br />7. Nobody reading this really cares whether I end on a 'lucky' number like seven or a perfect number like six.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1948420587779787298.post-59751798244273359912008-05-23T16:12:00.000-07:002008-05-23T17:23:30.973-07:00Wonderfully mad.It's been a while. Sorry. I <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> been somewhat busy -- notably with the wonderfully mad <a href="http://www.48hours.co.nz/2008/">48 Hour Filmmaking Competition</a> last weekend. I know so many great crazy people here. Why did I want to leave, again?<br /><br />(It's not till September, mind, but I've made my choice now. I'm going to be in California, that's as much as I've decided to say on this blog. Perhaps wonderfully mad people won't be so difficult to find over there, either.)<br /><br />Speaking of wonderfully mad people, last night I had the absolute <span style="font-style: italic;">privilege</span> of taking part in a public reading of an unfinished play written by a friend of mine. It's the first proper creative interaction I've had with her since I got back from the UK, actually. I walked into the auditorium where the reading was taking place and the first thing I noticed was the smell of incense. The second thing I noticed was that -- well, of course -- she'd had the sense to eschew the separation between stage and seats in favour of setting up cushions and a few benches on the stage itself. She had candles and nibbles, and a few friends along to help her out, and when she asked me how I was, I felt the uncomfortableness in my simple 'fine' (who is <span style="font-style: italic;">ever</span> simply 'fine'?) -- but she said nothing of it and I knew I'd loosen up. It's been too long since I've entered one of her spaces, carefully and fearlessly imagined with absolute openness. She was playing the Beatles over the sound system while she set up and I had the odd urge to dance. The last character I played for her loved to dance. It was my character's central metaphor (she was a poetic type). I think my character would have liked to be a dancer, actually, but she worked in a craft shop, which she liked, too, because it was fun to play a small part in helping people make stuff. And yes, that's mostly just back-story which only made it to the stage in little things like having her knitting in one scene.<br /><br />My playwright friend believes in a hundred things that ought to be anathema to my skeptical self. She believes in astral projection and yoga whatnot and in a sort of global consciousness and I don't know what else. If it wasn't <span style="font-style: italic;">her</span>, maybe I'd say more often that I don't believe a word of it, maybe I'd make more firm statements like I do when my best friend from high school starts talking like she thinks Tarot cards could actually tell you something. But it is her. This is her space and I <span style="font-style: italic;">worship</span> her space with its free-flying creativity. Cutting takes place elsewhere; this is where things grow. I just can't say 'Don't think that'.<br /><br />She almost <span style="font-style: italic;">never</span> asks anyone else to believe along with her. She asks people to imagine. I think she prefers imagination. She believes in the power of the mind to subtly influence the world, and for that purpose an imagined thing might even be stronger and more organic than a believed thing. And so, in her space, I leave behind the truth of the world and accept the truth of myself. This is subjective space. Objective space is important, too, but it can wait.Lynethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06357023675142716573noreply@blogger.com7