Contemplative Wednesday

June 6, 2007

“Meet your descendants. They don’t know what it’s like to be involuntarily lost, don’t understand what we mean by the word “privacy”, and will have access (sooner or later) to a historical representation of our species that defies understanding. They live in a world where history has a sharply-drawn start line, and everything they individually do or say will sooner or later be visible to everyone who comes after them, forever. They are incredibly alien to us.”

- Charlie Stross

And from Dave, a commenter from the excellent article:

“Forget privacy, just not being connected all the time to your social circle is going to be a rare and [traumatic] event. Having anything we would call a “private” life isn’t going to be a quaint notion, it’s going to be a terrifying perversion.”


How do you say “Bird of Prey”?

June 6, 2007

It’s been several years that I have been looking into taking a Chinese class. During the undergraduate years it was always blocked due to some class requirement or another. Finally, next semester I will be able to take the Monday through Thursday class. *punches air with fist*

I had been looking to get a head start and found several programs, both for the computer and audio/book versions, which would let me practice at my own pace during the summer.

Last night I bought a microphone to make use of a function in a specific program which would gauge my ability to form the tonal sounds. It would measure my pitch, my form, and my emphasis in a given phrase. It was interesting to see that there was this continuation/merging of sounds between words, creating a contstan burr that neither English nor German can recreate. (Even if the running joke is that German has an ungodly connection of consonants, that’s not something I can really judge as a bad thing.) One of the books did note that the German “ch” sound, as in “Ich”, is used in Chinese as well. Score one for the team, because I need what I can get.

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How hard the trees must work

June 6, 2007

I started riding my bike to work again the last couple of weeks. Things have changed since a couple years back when I attempted the same idea. Back then, I arrived at the Archives (me, with the steady and boring life), out of breath and heart nearly bursting from my chest. As I wobbled to my desk, face ashen, I remarked how everything seemed darker…yet, lighter.

My boss, as if popped out of her chair by springs, jumped up to loom over me and demanded my intake of water or juice. After my typical stubborn refusal, she went downstairs to purchase some juice for me anyhow, lest her student worker slumped over, unconscious, onto her keyboard.

Later that day I sheepishly asked if we could stuff my bicycle into her cute [Read: Small] VW and if she could give me a ride home.

Things now aren’t so dire.

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