When Enough is Never Enough

Some days nothing is enough, even when there is enough.

First off, there's time.  Realistically there is plenty for all that I want to do.  I have enough down time to prove that, even if I cannot motivate myself to get working, due to tiredness, illness, rain, cold, or dark.  Like right now I could probably do some stuff in the studio I just don't want to do.   But it's really cold, and I'm all comfy and warm.

Warmish.  There's a purring cat on my lap that seems to think I'm warm and comfy enough though.  Even that, however, is not enough, as he wants attention too.

Then there's Sparky.  I've seen him every day this week except Monday.  I'll see him tomorrow.  But I was still sad to see him go. It was enough, but it's not enough.

Art-wise, I probably have enough for a project I'm working towards, but I really don't feel like it is enough.  And what I could do to make sure that it is, I just don't want to do.  But I'll go to the hardware store tomorrow and pick up a few things.  After the dentist.  And before the art thing tomorrow evening.  Hmm... back to time again.

But why is it that I, and people in general feel this way?  Why are we never satisfied with what we have?  Like so many things, regardless of the cause, it's good and bad.  On the bad side, to do things backwards from how I laid it out just now, it can cause unhappiness, dissatisfaction, even depression.  However, at the same time it's good as it motivates us and is likely the root cause for our entire civilization.  I don't mean America or globalization, I mean everything since the discovery (or is it taming?) of fire.  Or agriculture, but I would imagine that fire came well before.  If you want to go that route, however, there are tool-using primates.  Primitive tools such as blades of grass, but tools.  So they do it too, to some degree.

Whatever.  I'm going to go be happy with what I have, and snuggle in bed with a purring cat (fittingly, he stopped purring right as I went to type that) and a dog with his jacket on (yes, he has a jacket for when it's cold), and watch old tv shows on the computer, and be happy.  Sparky might be gone home now, but I got to spend enough time with him.  Even if it just wasn't quite enough.

Incommunicado

Lately I have had great trouble in making myself do much of anything that involves communication technology, be it computer or phone.  Apart from Sparky, it's been very hard to make myself do so much as send a simple text message, much less call someone.  Not that I've had to much, of late.  By email I only correspond with one person, and he finally sent another email asking what was going on since I hadn't responded to his last email in quite some time (weeks probably).  Even that took me three days to respond to.

To be fair, those three days were pretty busy.  Highlighted by Saturday, when I went to Epcot with Sparky, Sparky's mom, Sparky's mother's friend, and Sparky's mother's friend's daughter.

I feel a bit guilty here for making that seem much more crowded and complicated than it really was, but it was rather fun to build upon each level of acquaintance.  There were five of us, and we've done stuff together before.  This was no different except it was all day (a very long one, but very fun) and involved two two-hour drives, as well as insufficient road signs.  It's just wrong to have a sign for one road at every single intersection for a while then to suddenly stop mentioning it.  Makes you think you missed it.

But oh well, we all had fun, and we all got home in one piece.  The photo was taken there, in what was the best section of the whole park in my opinion.  No rides there, but that was perfectly ok for me (although I do love the rides, and was wishing for an all-out roller coaster).  The only point of contention for me (apart from crowds and prices) was knowing a bit too much about certain things than is good for someone trying to enjoy an educational ride.  Partly out-dated animatronics, partly artistic liberty unchecked by scientific fact.  That and the fact that it was so incredibly euro-centric that it wasn't even worth a joke about.

I have once again strayed from my point.  Let me just wind it up because this whole anti-communication thing is kicking in again.  It's been getting harder and harder to do these blog posts lately because I just haven't felt like doing anything about it.  Possibly part of that part is that I'm doing enough art-work that I'm getting my creative fix.  Who knows.

This is amusing though.  I just clicked the spell checker included in the blog editing mumbo jumbo magic box that I type and things appear on the blog page (which does not like for you to type more than two or three letters while it's on, it cuts you off), and it isn't nearly as good as the Safari (or is it just the Mac itself maybe?) spell checker.  Namely "ok" and "animatronics" were picked up by this thing, while the Safari (web browser) knew they were ok.

One last note.  I am very proud of myself for being able to type animatronics correctly on the first try.

The Beggar King

This is the story of Ralph: The Beggar King.

Ralph was born Prince Ralph of the Land of Junk.  After the death of his father, he became King Ralph.  Soon, however, the evil Old Man of the Mountain (of old AOL CDs) took over the Land of Junk, and deposed Ralph, stripping him of his finery.  All he was allowed to retain was the following: 1 royal sceptre, gold, 1 begging cup, 1 crown, gold, 1 royal pendant in the form of some kind of shiny tool of unknown purpose, and his tattered cape with the words "Danger: Dad at Work" emblazoned upon the back.  He wasn't sure that emblazoned was the right word for something printed on a t-shirt, but it had a nice ring and sounded appropriate when describing his cape.  Now, Ralph is the Beggar King, reduced to begging for spare change at the side of the road.  He is no longer capable of standing upright, and simply sort of squats, bent over nearly double as he pleads up tot passers-by, which he incidentally insists on referring to as passer-byers, asking for spare change.  His dream is to one day rise up and reclaim the throne of the Land of Junk, or at least to save up enough change to buy a pair of shoes.

Hey, I said I'd give you a story with the head shot, I didn't say that it would be a good one.

Link and Michael: Hypocrites on Ice!

At least that would be the title if they made a figure skating version of this, which would completely and utterly fail.  If you haven't read the previous post, scroll down, read it, then come back to this one.  I'm not going to go back and recap, nor do I want to just tag this onto the end of it because that would both change the date on it and rob me of this fun chance to title something "Hypocrites on Ice!"  So there!

I know I said that I was refusing to work on the sculpture until I fixed the problem or until daylight.  I lied, as it turns out.  After trying to sleep, Link and I gave up (or rather I did and he woke up to join me) and went out there anyway.  As it turns out this was a wonderful thing despite an inadvertent decapitation.

I'll get to that.

The sculpture went from being a sort of frog man to a Beggar King.  He also went from being about three and a half feet tall to my height, if not a touch taller.  So let's call it 6' or so, maybe an inch or two shorter.  He's no longer a squat, awkward thing, but a dynamic, comical (he makes me laugh looking at him) character with a back story.

The back story will get its own blog with a picture of him.

Of course, there is the decapitation incident... in the process of attempting to give the king his cape, I dismantled part of his back, which rocked the not-yet-firmly-secured sculpture.  In a horrifying instant, his head and neck came tumbling off of his (for lack of a better term) neck stump.  The main part of the neck was reattached, but his entire lower skull was broken off.  That has been bolted on, more securely than it was to begin with actually.  His crown was also reattached after flying off.    But long story short, his cape is attached, and everything up to the neck is ok, and his head is sitting on the floor waiting for more JB Weld to attach it to his neck (once that's secured a bit more).

Meanwhile, in the yard...

Lincoln was absolutely loving all of this activity, and seems to have missed my working in the studio (I've been sick, so I've been saying in), and kept dashing around the yard, keeping the motion lights on most of the time in the process.  Of course, to make sure I was properly awake to do all of this work (a good two and a half hours of it) I ended up having three cups of coffee, so I was/am pretty buzzed as well, so we did a good bit of chasing around (remember, I have to recharge the creativity!).  To be fair, part of the time was spent staring up at the stars, and wishing the motion light would go off so I could see better.  But it was a great view of Orion, so I was happy.  Bit chilly, but I like that, and a warm cup (and another and another) of coffee was very pleasant on such an evening.  Then the dog would come up, challenging me to a game of tag/chase/jump/attack-the-hand and that would end that.

So now here I am, basically at 3:30, having had three mugs of coffee since 12:30.  Rather awake.  So I guess I'll take a shower and then settle in for a movie, and hope to get this song by the Eagles out of my head.  Love them, but their songs do stick easily for me.

Artish Ramblings

Being an artist is fundamentally weird sometimes.

For one thing, at least most of the artists I know are somewhat unable to "turn off" their artist brains for any worthy length of time.  This involves fighting the urge to go out to a studio on a cold night to work on something that you know you just need to wait a few more hours to work on so the adhesive has time to properly set.

For another, it's hard to know when to stop.  It is very easy to ruin an artwork by simply working more on it.  Most people have trouble understanding that, but it's really simple.  Ever see things that are just too complicated for no reason?  Someone just couldn't stop.

The other weird thing is the whole creative process.  Few jobs exist where it is legitimately useful to sit down and do nothing about a project, to simply relax, focus on something else, or at least just sit there doing nothing of any import.  Because otherwise you burn out and cannot make anything worth more than a buck fifty at Walmart.  Not to devalue Walmart's merchandise, but it really is cheap mass produced crap.  But they are the only ones who seem to carry a really good glue, so I'll be headed back there one of these days.

Anyway, the point is, I'm only typing all of this to talk myself out of going to my studio to work on a sculpture that I need to let set for a while, partly for the adhesive, partly for the creative process.  And partly for my nerves.  It's frustrating when you fix a problem and then cause it again by being careless.  So until I figure out another solution, or at least until it's daylight again, I need to take a break from it.

Random Pictures

I don't really feel like typing anything tonight, but I feel like I should share something.  I've been busy all week getting ready for a festival tomorrow, and now just about everything's ready.  So here's some random pictures to look at.  Enjoy.

War: The Epilogue

In the time since the rat trap was set off and blood was drawn from the rat, there has been no conclusive evidence of its presence.  All has been quite apart from the occasional sound, which could be easily explained as things other than rats.

Until tonight.

After chatting with Sparky, who is back in town (yay!), I sat down to unwind watching a somewhat boring sitcom that I am oddly attached to despite only laughing on occasion.  Suddenly, there was a large bang.  My first thought was "bloody hell, did a huge branch just fall on my roof?"  Mind you, I have a metal roof and many trees above it, so this is not unreasonable.

My second thought was "crap, is the rat back?" so I checked the trap behind my rat barricade, which was still set.  Then I checked the other trap in the ducts, and found the culprit.

A young rat or an adult mouse was caught in the good old fashioned wooden trap, with its hip more or less crushed.  Gruesome detail, which I would normally omit, but for the fact that despite this rather serious damage, the rodent was still alive.  Not only alive, but struggling.  You would assume that it was struggling to get away, but you would be wrong.  It was squirming in an effort to (and succeeding in) get to the bait and eat it.  In fact, the only time it panicked was when the cat began investigating and sniffing around the vent.

So I closed the cat out of the bathroom, went out to the studio, got my gloves, grabbed my knife (and camera as you can see), and went back to the bathroom vent.  The camera was mainly for later identification of the rodent if I was unable to determine from examination wether it was a rat baby or a mouse, but Indy was persistent so he got to be photographed.  When I'd taken the trap out and set it down, he even began trying to reach it from under the door.

At this point, I stopped to consider what I should do.  My first instinct was to use the knife as I intended and kill it quickly.  But the more I thought about it, the more I considered something somewhat cruel, but with a reason behind it and annoyance at sleep disruption to back it up.  So really, if you haven't gotten the point about don't f*** with my sleep, take this as proof enough.

I took the trap, rodent, and cat out to the porch, and let the cat investigate, much to his delight.  Don't worry, he did no real harm to it, none at all even apart from nipping at its ear lightly and to no effect.  My reason for this was to let him see what it was, get the smell, and know that I approve of him "playing" with it, and even of him considering killing it.  However, trapped as it was he became fed up with it.

I took the thing out to the studio and used the knife to finish it off.  Upon examining it more closely, I found that it was an adult male mouse.  If you don't already get how I determined all of that, just think about it a bit.

So I went to toss it over the fence where nobody goes and the dog cannot reach, but I ended up dropping it.  I found it again with the help of a flashlight and a curious dog.  Thankfully, he was less sure it was food than the cat, and he just sniffed at it.  So I went and tossed it over the fence, and almost had to drag the dog back with me as he had decided that since he couldn't have it it must be something wonderful.

I got back in and realized that my sweat pants (I was all set up for a night in; big flannel shirt, comfy undershirt, baggy sweat pants) were covered with the really nasty prickers, the ones that hurt like hell when they get stuck in your skin and are hard to get off.  So I sat down, put the sitcom back on, and started pulling the stickers off and dropping them on a plate.

Then the cat walked by.

Of course, being a cat, his tail was straight up and wrapping around the edges of everything.  Including the plate.  So about a dozen of the things got stuck to him, but fell of quickly... leaving them for me to find by painful searching (and a few times stepping on wearing nothing but socks on my feet by now.

Eventually, I got them all (I hope) up and off, including one last one on the way to the garbage can that got me in the big toe.  55 in total.  Plus the cat is still a bit upset with me for getting rid of his toy.  Really threw a fit when I returned without it.  Checked out the dog, chasing him down to do so, then came, checked me out, and stalked off to moodily groom himself and throw me evil glares.  But the prickers did not bother him at all.  Go figure.

So much for unwinding though.  Think I'm going to have to watch something else now just to relax from all of this commotion.

Oddly, the last of this ended after midnight.  So the name of the blog is actually appropriate for once.  Go figure.

The Hundredth Monkey

This is a copy of an email my cousin sent me a long time ago.  I've always loved it and saved it.  Just thought I'd share it.  Don't know how real any of it is, but it's interesting nonetheless.

Maybe I just feel like a monkey today...

The Hundredth Monkey 

                        by Ken Keyes Jr.

                The Japanese monkey, Macaca fuscata, had been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.

                In 1952, on the island of Koshima, scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkeys liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.

                An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem by washing the potatoes in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers too.

                This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists. Between 1952 and 1958 all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable. Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.

                Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes -- the exact number is not known. Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes. Let's further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.

                THEN IT HAPPENED! By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them. The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!

               But notice: A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea...Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes.

                Thus, when a certain critical number achieves an awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.

                Although the exact number may vary, this Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the conscious property of these people.

                But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone!

                The Hundredth Monkey by Ken Keyes

The Shape of the Universe and the Nature of Time

Sparky is out of town this weekend (and next) and I'm feeling a bit out of whack.  That's the technical term, by the way.  So, to divert myself I will endeavor to explain some... hell, I don't even know what you call this kind of stuff -physics? astrophysics? relativity? Whatever, I'm going to be a nerd and ramble on, trying to explain some of the (as far as I know) contemporary theories about the nature of the universe.  And no, Sparky, none of this is from the "National Geographic" documentaries I've been watching lately.  And I have, a lot of them.

People tend to say that the universe is infinitely large.  However they also tend to say that the universe is expanding.  If you know that something is expanding, you know it is increasing in size.  As infinity has no end and cannot therefore expand, you know that it is not infinitely large, just very very big.  Nearly infinitely big.

However, the theory goes, you can travel in any one direction for infinity, even if the universe was not expanding (or contracting).

This probably seems mutually exclusive.  While it is possible to travel around the planet in the same direction forever, you can only do so because it is not in a straight line, but rather a curve that brings you back to your starting point (more or less, it's not a perfect sphere).  But the universe is not unrelated to the concept.

Imagine you are a one dimensional being.  Everything is either in front of you or behind you.  There are no angels, there is no up, down, left, right, or catty-corner.  Just one line extending forever.  Let us pretend that there are such things as landmarks in this universe, so that you can know where you are.  You go forward for a very, very long time, and suddenly you find yourself back where you started.  But you went in the only direction possible other than backwards: forwards.  This would be impossible for you to comprehend.

The reason, of course, would be that your universe is a circle, a two dimensional ring.  A very very big circle, but a circle nonetheless.  It would seem infinite to a one dimensional being (especially without the possibility of landmarks as there is only the line), but it isn't, it is a contained universe.  It could get bigger or smaller, but it would stay a circle without end.

Now, let's step it up a bit.  You're a two dimensional being.  You can go any direction that you could draw on a piece of paper, all 360 degrees.  Much more freedom than the one dimensional universe.  But, the same basic concept applies, with the circle having an extra dimension: the third.  It is now a sphere.  You can travel forever in any direction or combination of directions, but it is not infinite.  It is simply beyond comprehension for someone with no sense of up or down.

So that's the theory on our universe, that it is, essentially, a four dimensional circle: a hypersphere.  We could go forever in one direction, and eventually end up right back where we started (of course our planet, star, and galaxy are always moving, so there probably won't be much there).  The universe is not infinite, but it is infinitely confined.  You just can't quite picture it because two of the directions have no meaning.  Call them in and out.

Here is were we bring in mass, and gravity.  Most people believe gravity is an active force, and for all practical purposes it is.  However, in reality (according to the theory), it is a curvature in the "fabric" of space; sort of a dimple on the sphere if you will.  The more mass, the more the space around it curves "in" drawing you in like a ball on a slope.  Theoretical antigravity, if it exists, would be the opposite, a bulge "outwards" in space, pushing matter away, like a ball going up a slope and rolling back down.

However, space at least in our dimension is not simply up down, left right, forwards and backwards.  It also incorporates time.  Some people call time the fourth dimension, which works well enough for some models, but that is not suitable for this discussion.

What it is is an aspect of space, and the reason it is called space-time (in sci-fi there are countless references to the space-time continuum or however you spell it).  This is closely tied in with the theory of relativity.  Basically, the easy way to look at it is that space and time are linked, as are the way we move through them.  However, rather than moving through one faster and thus the other, they are inversely proportionate.

I'm sure that sounds confusing, but it's not.  Look at it like you have a pair of gauges.  When one if full, the other is empty, and as you fill the other, it lowers the first.  If you are not moving through space at all (let us ignore the movement of the planet, sun, and galaxy for this, and say you're siting at your computer not moving), then time is at its fastest.  If you get up and walk around the room, you're moving through space at a very slow rate, and time slows by the tiniest fraction.  If you run, it slows a tiny bit more, and so on.

Mind you, this part is not theoretical, it actually has been proven.  If you want to know the details, you can look it up, but basically they took two identical clocks, the most precise they could find (and that are not updated automatically like most fancy clocks these days), and set them to the precise same time.  Then they took one and put it on, let's say, a Concord, a faster than sound aircraft.  They flew it around for a while, then brought the two together.  Each clock is extremely precise and regular, mind you.  The one that went for the ride was slightly behind the one who stayed still.  The barest of differences, but it was there.

At the other end of the extreme is the speed of light, the fastest it is possible to move in the universe around us.  At this point, if you were able to match it (which is impossible, but let's ignore that for a second), time would stop.  You would have emptied the gauge for time and put it all into spatial movement.  Just for yourself, mind you, as time is relative.

If you were going just under light speed, say 99.99% of it, time would all but stop, it would move at a crawl.  You could go incredible distances away, and come back to find everyone you know either dead or extremely aged, while you're just a touch older than when you left.  Now, beyond that I don't know very much about the actual mechanics of how it all works on traveling up close to the speed of light.  What I do know is that is the basis of the concept for traveling into the past, by going faster than light and thus reversing time.  There are some theories, but they are uncertain at best and the rest of this post is already too heavy without adding that.

One last bit to throw in.

We have said that mass curves the fabric of space inwards.  However, since space and time are connected, this is also something of a curve in time as well.  Due to this, being on a planet, our time goes a bit slower than someone outside the curve, due to the mass itself.  Meanwhile, black holes, the densest objects in the universe, curve the universe so much that time virtually stops, in effect simulating incredibly high speeds by virtue of curving time and space.  While objects take very long times to fall into a black hole, the time would speed by for someone right up in there, drawing it out far longer than those outside the curve in space.  It could even be said to tear the fabric, and what not, but I've gone as far as I think I should with all of this.  Let's just say that theories involving wormholes involve fourth dimensional cuts across the universe (cutting across the circle to the other side to save some time), and other science fiction stories involve "sub-space" which is similar in ways.

Anyway, sorry if I've given you a headache, and congrats if you understand what the hell I just said.  It's weird and gave me many headaches before I understood it even this much.

DUAL POST: An Hour In the Life.... and... Nature's Killer: The House Cat

An Hour in the Life of... the Dog

I ran around!  I went outside and chased sticks! I sniffed at things!  I chewed a stick!  I saw my Daddy!  I smelled the dirt!  It was great!  I played with him!  It was great!  I lay in the dirt!  I played in my hole!  I dug!  It was great!

An Hour in the Life of... the Cat

Yet again the human abandoned me for most of the day.  Then he comes back and abandons me again, taking that stupid mutt outside.  Miserable creature doesn't even know its imprisoned.  I watched them from the window.  Stupid dog, dashing around the yard, chewing on sticks thinking it's food.  And that human, just sat there playing with sticks himself.  Idiotic creatures, them both.  The dog failed to comprehend my plot to overthrow the human yet again.  Pah!  He can be left behind when the revolution comes.  For now I suppose I will have to attempt to work my way in the human's good graces, act "sweet" and "good."  If it weren't for the human's ability to operate that giant transporter he keeps outside, I would think he were as stupid as the dog.  Look at him, chasing the dog, as if he could really catch him.  I'm disgusted, I'll go clean my butt again.

An hour in the Life of... the Human

Went outside, worked on some walking sticks to sell, played with the dog a bit, got him to chew on sticks to keep himself busy.  Saw the cat watching us from the window.

Nature's Killer: The House Cat

Here we see the native house cat.  It is a long haired variety, notable for its ability to shed on every single article of clothing in a dwelling simultaneously.  Suddenly, it sees its prey... a cockroach!  It approaches the roach subtly, walking in plain sight, but slowly and with his head down which means that surely the insect cannot detect it!  Suddenly, the cat pounces, swiping at the bug!  He misses! The roach runs away across the carpet.  Unperturbed, the cat follows, and strikes again and again.  Suddenly, either confused or brave beyond reckoning the roach runs head first into the cat's leg, then careens under the bed.

The cat lunges towards the bed, striking madly with his paw, yet missing time and time again.  Suddenly, the cat hears a sound of what seems to be laughter from the bipedal ape-like creature nearby.  Insulted, the cat wanders off for a few moments.  But soon, the cat comes crashing back into the area, lunging with mad passion at the roach!  The triumphant feline has come to claim his prize!  He smashes at the roach, and soon leaves again to explore another corner of his habitat.

Soon, however, the ape-like creature detects sounds of rustling from behind him, and turns to find... the roach is still alive!  The cat returns, horrified to find that the ape-thing has smashed his beloved toy with a shoe.  The cat sniffs at the dead roach, then walks away bored to find more suitable prey, like invisible tufts of nothingness in the corner to assault, or moths on the other side of the glass.

Behold, nature's killer and the defender of the trailer against insect invaders that move quickly enough to be noticed on the floors or lower parts of the walls: the house cat.

A Curiosity of Curiosity

Although some may not realize it, I do realize that not everyone things as I do.  I mean this to mean both in the same ways, the same opinions, and the same levels.  This is not ego saying that I'm deeper than everyone else; I'm not.  Than some, yes, although I hate that this is so, as I think everyone should analyze things more.  There are those who think deeper than I do, which I can easily accept, and gladly even.  Some days though, I am frustrated by myself and others alike.

I just finished watching a National Geographic documentary on the Gospel of Judas.  And if anyone's wondering "doesn't he usually try to avoid talking religion on things like this?" you're right.  I'm not going into religion, but into mindsets.  What struck me as absolutely bewildering to me (which should have hit me long before now) is just how much some people are not curious, and wish to know no more about things they love.  At the end of the documentary, they did some "reaction shots" from various people, one of which was a religious figure or scholar or some such, I missed his name and job title.  Someone who lives and breathes religion, at any rate.  In reference to the newly recovered gospel, and any other such gospels, he was utterly dismissive, saying, in effect, 'Why should I need that?  I have these four, who could ask for more? What could it add?'

The movie Dogma includes a brief line by the lead of, essentially, people would love to learn more about these things, and who wouldn't want extra information.  I have never once paused over those lines, nor even considered that anyone who truly cares about religion, positively or negatively, would NOT want to at least review them.  But this man simply had no care about them whatsoever.

I'm a potter.  If I found there was some new major take on an aspect of it or a new technique, I would be interested.  I would think it natural to be, and would assume this would be true for anyone who has any passion for their job.  For theology and philosophy especially, which are intangible things, I would assume that any extra knowledge could only deepen your appreciation, lead you to new insights, greater understanding.  Even if you reject what it teaches, I am simply at a blank for any reason to simply not want to look, to be so wholly satisfied that anything new simply has no place in your mind.  To read it and say "interesting, but I do not believe it" is one thing, but not to read it?

I fear I'm growing repetitive.  My mind is repeatedly approaching this concept and not being able to grasp it.  Which, oddly enough, fits into my point.  I am approaching it, despite being utterly confused by it I am attempting to assimilate this new information.

One of my prior posts on this blog was on greater understanding of the world through having multiple points of view, basically balancing out your mind so you can greater understand the whole.  For the first time it is hitting me fully that some people simply do not want to understand more, even about that which they love.  I can understand not wanting to know about certain things.  I have no interest whatsoever in what celebrities are doing, nor any real interest in what sports teams are doing.  But I have no passion about those.  The world as a whole, I want to understand better.  Art and science, which I do have passion for, I am always curious about.

To find someone who is a devoutly religions and has dedicated their life to it, and has no curiosity about anything new or any opposing views... and presumably other people with comparable lacks of curiosity about their fields...

I begin to realize just how little I understand other people.  I find it disturbing, but I am still curious because it is something of which I have no understanding at all.

How can a person lock him or herself in a box and simply say "this box is the world, and that is enough" of their own free will, and what does that do to the person?

PS
If anyone at all was curious about the rat situation, it has not shown itself since the last incident.  It may be dead from injuries, dead from a combination poison and injuries, dead by predator (lucky predator if it was), disillusioned enough to seek a new home, or biding its time, but I have seen no evidence of it whatsoever in the last few days.

Second PS
I think my cat may have just illustrated the entire argument to me.  I was lying on my bed playing solitaire on my ipod thinking about what I have just typed, as I am prone to do, with the dog laying over my arm making it go numb when the cat jumped up.  He walked straight up my leg onto my chest, pushed his way between the ipod and my hand, and demanded almost exactly ten seconds of attention.  Then he turned around, walked straight off of the bed to the door and went about his business, whatever that may be.  He did not care about what I was doing, he did not care about what the dog was doing, and he did not care about the strange thing with light coming from it.  All of that was normal and posing no immediate concern.  He just came in, got exactly what he wanted, and then left, no curiosity about it.  Of course, now he is stalking into the room checking everything out as he goes, but he got what wanted, a few itches and a moment of socialization.

We're not so different in some ways, cats (and other animals) and humans.  I suppose that man is simply single-minded.  He gets what he wants to get from things exactly how they are and always have been for him, and that's that.  While I cannot imagine letting go like that, he can.  Maybe it's a good thing, maybe not.  He probably sleeps better than I do, I'll grant him that.

First Blood, and Other Casualties

Despite my confidence in my blockade of glue traps and the new plastic rat trap, the rat(s) escaped last night.  However, in a photographic survey of the ductwork, I learned three things.

One, the rats are not nested anywhere in the main ductwork under my floors, nor is there an entry point along these.  So the opening is by the main AC unit, and much simpler to find... for someone who can go under the floor, not a claustrophobic artist.

Two, the noise that so rudely has woken me up and deprived me of sleep yet again is an attempt to create an opening by tearing the ductwork, more or less under my head as I sleep.  It isn't large yet, which is fortunate.

And thirdly, and most satisfying to my need for vengeance, the rat did not escape wholly unscathed.  At 3AM the scratching started up again.  I finally managed to drift off, and shortly afterwards, at 4, the plastic trap went off.  LOUDLY.  It's loud normally, but it was ungodly in the metal ductwork.  Scared me, plus the pets.  But then I smiled, tried to go back to bed thinking he was dead (after wondering how he got past the glue traps), until I heard more rustling.  I was hoping he was just dying and dragging the trap, but no such luck.  But, it seems that either the trap clipped him or he ran straight into the sharp piece of metal he had torn up, as there was a spot of what appeared to be blood against it.  As for evading the doubled up glue traps blocking the path, he seems to have touched his foot to it a few times, then, presumably, jumped over.

He also stole the bait from the one traditional trap I can get into the ducts, without setting that one off.

So things are rearranged a bit.  Thanks to the photo, I now know where the rat comes from to get to the trap he stole from, so that is reset, and with better bait attached in a different way, facing that entry.  There are also now two layers of traps between the entry point (the path to the AC that is).  One is a barricade of metal screening.  He could easily chew through it or possibly move it some other way, but there are a pair of glue traps there, which he cannot jump over without hitting the screen and landing on them.  For good measure, there's some bait pressed into one of them.  Beyond that, since I've underestimated him once already, there is the plastic trap, set with the bait wedged under the trigger to be a bit harder to evade.

If he gets past all of that, he will have my sleep-deprivation enraged self to deal with if he makes so much as a peep that keeps me up or, god help him, wakes me up.  I have no plan whatsoever, and I doubt there is anything much I can do, but I will be extremely furious and racking my brain for any ideas.  If he strays too close to a vent, I'm not above dousing him with whatever I find that's flammable, lighting a match, and grabbing the extinguisher to put it back out.  I'm tired, I haven't had adequate sleep, and I'm starting to feel the results of it.

So ha, I got first blood, rodent.

Of course, that's not been the only blood.  In the process of fully prepping my studio space, I've gotten a number of wounds of my own, and then I had to go and whittle some for a separate project.  Between the two hands, I have a bump that grows back when I cut it off, a cut from dishwashing, a long scrape on the tip of one finger from a big staple on a box, a small slice on the tip of another from something I remember happening but then forgot what it was I did as I didn't see any immediate blood, a small gash from a rat trap, a blood blister on my palm from said rat trap, and what seems to be five blisters, two of which are on my pinkie and one just below it, and another on the pad of my thumb, all of the blisters being on the same hand.  Actually, everything but the small gash from the rat trap is on my right hand. But the left has two small cuts and a rather long one, none of which I am able to account for.

I think it's a race to see which happens first; the rat dying or my hand falling off from owner abuse.  But I'm tired, it's starting to hurt to type or use the mouse, and I don't want to think anymore.  I'm going to go watch American Dad with a knife beside me in case that damn rat gets stuck in the glue trap and makes a fuss about it.

Scary thing is, I'm not even about that.  Not even a bit.

WAR!

My feud with a single rat has become a war.  There is at least one more, probably several.  One of them was just brave enough to sit in the hole in the wall (they didn't put it there, but they've expanded upon it.  why it was there, I'll never know) and stare at me, even with the light on.  They've also started to expand upon some damage left by the previous tenant, and have started a hole there.

I started off with getting rat traps, because had become aware of a rat in the air ducts.  Then I found they don't fit into the vents, so I grudgingly got poison, which they have utterly ignored.  However, I have now found that there is a single vent, which I can, if I'm VERY careful, get the trap into without setting it off, and it's plainly a rat highway by the fecal matter there.

Doing a bit of research it is some variety of roof/black rat, and the recommended bait is dried fruit, dried meat, bacon, nuts, etc.  If they like it better than peanut butter, fine, I'll replace it.  So there is a rat trap with a piece of oven-dried sliced ham tied to it with floss sitting in my bathroom's air vent.  And another on top of my fridge, which may or may not be a worthwhile spot.  And there's still the other one by their (now covered up) hole next to the drier where the first one met his doom.

I wish the electronic pest controllers worked, but I have found no evidence that they do in any studies, and a number of sites which point to either no results, or only results which are poor at best (I don't care if moths reproduce slightly less when exposed to certain types, or if the occasional rat is flustered by it briefly).  Now I'm considering glue traps, which to place in the vents would require cutting them up at least a bit.  If anyone has any other good ideas, please let me know.

Now I have to look under the trailer, and see what there is to see.  I can do some of it, but I can't go under there, too claustrophobic.  So, Sparky... I love you!  I'll buy you cheesecake!

On the bright side, there isn't a huge mess behind my drier which I had feared.  Maybe the wood panel covering up the hole will be a sufficient deterrent.  Can hope, at least.

The State of the Mind Address

This is fairly accurate as a picture of my mind right now.  Oddly grainy, very blurry.  Kind of swooshy.  Swoosh-esque, if you will.  Not a horrible image, but without much sense of order or... well... sense.  Kind of a net grey.  Kind of a scrambled brains type of image.  That's what it feels like at least.

Why am I so swooshy you ask?

Well, maybe you don't, but I really don't care.  I'm going to ramble on anyway, because this is my blog and my boyfriend says I'm cute, so I say that I can get away with rambling on this.

Let's start with the dentist.  I rather like her, and she seems to be fond enough of me, despite my "small mouth" which is "very wet."  Now, I think she liked me well enough to start with, without the both positive and negative aspect of the state of my teeth (positive by money, negative by being annoyed with bad habits of mine in the past).  Three root canals.

Yes, ouch is right.

I've had the nerves in the teeth all killed now, and two of them are fitted with a temporary crown now, awaiting the permanent crown, the other one is awaiting the temp.  Now, the root canals are bad enough, and I had to be (literally) sedated for most of the work, but that's not it.  The nerves are dead, but there was a LOT of work for them to do to get ready for the temp crown and the final on the two that are ready for it.  Luckily for me I fell asleep during that.  But I'm straying farther than I wanted to on this.

Point is, I've been on antibiotics for a few weeks now (first one, now the other which prevents me from drinking any alcohol).  Plus whatever else it is that they've given me to take, I know one of them's a muscle relaxant, the other's a wash of some batch of chemicals.

Then there was the rat.  Read the last blog for more details on that.

Now there's another rat, this time in my ductwork, mostly that leading into my bedroom.  Lovely scratching sounds in the middle of the night.  I have to figure out the best line of attack, traps or poison.  It's war, now.  Don't **** with my sleep.

That was last night, that it really got to me though.  Today, I worked for my cousin's café as a stand in dishwasher for eight hours, which is always exhausting work.  Then, glutton for punishment that I am, I just spent about 3 hours or so working on a logo for a project (pro  bono).  Didn't hardly touch any of the rest of the stuff I need to work on for it, just fiddling with that logo trying to make it just about perfect.  There's roughly 50 shapes in it alone, in two colors.  Abstract.  Rather like how it came out though.

Oh, and I haven't gotten a very restful night's sleep in a long while.  Did fall asleep during the last big dental encounter though, which was rather pleasant.

Tomorrow I can't sleep in either.  Have to call someone about a potential permanent job (I really hope I get it, think I have a good chance), so want to get up early and call.  Partly to make a good impression, partly to beat anyone else to the punch.

Oddly that came through working for the café today.  She was a customer, and the cashier was kind enough to mention me and get the number.  The job involves a forklift! I miss my forklift!

I'm getting very swooshy, maybe enough where I won't have trouble sleeping... okay, not really, but I can hope I don't.

I'm going to bed.

Trapped Like a Rat

Sometimes insomnia can be a good thing.

Not that its’ very late, or that I expect overly much more trouble falling asleep, once I settle on how to solve a hairy problem I’ve found myself with.

Short gray hair, for the most part, with a white belly to be precise.

It seems the cat’s vigil over the entrance has finally paid off, although less than he was expecting.  I’ve suspected for some time, in no small part because of the cat’s nightly stalking of my drier that there was a mouse living here, so I’ve had a trap set for a week or so now.  Something tripped it fairly early, and either went scrambling or sent the cat on a wild goose chase (which he is on again now, it sounds like), sending dirt across my entry way.   Now, I’ve finally had some better results.

I heard a snap, and the cat’s surprised mews, so I grabbed the flashlight and took a look.  There was a small (for what it is) rat, a field rat if I’m not greatly mistaken, laying there next to my drier against the wall.  Almost cute, if I don’t remember the small noises that could have been something outside or something in the walls.  It was right behind a small brush thing that has been here longer than I have (which, as it turns out, was what the cat was just now stalking).  It was laying on its side, with the mouse trap upside down, but obviously not dead.  Dying perhaps, but I doubted it.  At first I thought it was trapped by its whiskers, then by its paw.  As it turns out, it wasn’t trapped at all, apart from the sentinel cat and me with the light show.

So I stared at it.  And thought.  I shut the cat and dog in my room - it might be a rat, but I’m still a sap, and I’d rather not clean up any blood they might leave - and looked around for a bucket.  Not being successful, I grabbed the shed keys and glanced back at the thing.  It had moved a bit, not much, but enough that it was obvious that it would be long gone by the time I got back from the shed.

Then it dawned on me: I had been lazy!  That cat litter bucket above the drier was empty, and I simply hadn’t taken care of it yet - score one for the lazy pack rat (pun fully intended).  So I set that down and used the long brush thing that I use for cleaning cob webs and got him in the cat litter bucket.

And now it’s sitting here under my feet, and I have no clue what I should do with it.

Poison?  I have bleach, that would certainly kill it, but that seems rather cruel.  It’s big and fast enough that I’m not sure of a quick clean kill if I try to use a blade or blunt object to end it quickly.  It can chew its way out once it thinks its safe to do so, so I can’t starve it.  And if I let it go it’ll come right back.  Freezing it sounds good and humane, but I’m not sure I like the idea of having either the rat or the cat litter bucket in the freezer, plus there’s the possibility of it chewing out before it got too cold.  Perhaps if I put ice in the bucket though... then cleaned it well...

Hmm...

I think I’ll wait and think about it for a bit longer.  Could always toss it on the sun porch with the cat.  Indiana would love that!

But tomorrow, I’m getting rat traps, these little ones aren’t going to cut it.


POST BLOG NOTE:  As it turns out, bleach is a very vast killer.  What I elected to do was throw in some ice to slow it down, then add bleach.  I know, it's weird caring about the suffering of a rat, but like I said, I'm a sap.  Either way, he died quickly, and I'll dispose of it in the morning.

Balancing Act

This has been one hell of a month.  Alisha has before compared my life to a soap opera, and oddly enough shortly after she said that it turned more true than I cared for.  Lately it's been a roller coaster.  I really don't care for that in my personal life.

A big branch fell on my studio.  Shortly after clearing the last of that away, a tree fell on it, damaging part of the roof.  That's off now, although not repaired, but it isn't urgent damage either.  I've had a phone interview with a company that rejected me before, and now has again.  I had a very unfortunate dental visit, so I'll be dealing with the repercussions of that at the end of next week.  And my family has had drama, which had finally begun to settle down until (this is as polite as I can possibly be about this at the moment) a bitch went and woke the dog back up and stirred it into an even greater frenzy of stupidity and viscousness.  Meanwhile, things have been almost entirely positive with Sparky, and looking up on that front, as well as mostly good news on my art front (despite minor setbacks on part of it).  That being said, I feel like I have shit being shot straight through my head.  Hence the picture.

Now, all that out of the way (and an email sent out that will either calm the dog or get it to bite at my hand next), on to what I had actually wanted to talk about, when I could clear my head enough to think it out.

That's not been very often at all today.

Balance.  Ironic timing on this... But yes, balance.

I am strongly considering alcohol to calm back down, but I'll refrain.  I know better.  Thanks to my sculpture teacher almost pushing me to taking that too far.  Another story for another time.

Balance.

Say you're on a big circle.  You have the best view of that which is around you.  This is obvious, as its closer.  You can guess certain things about the other side, and see some of it, but not very clearly.  So you understand a good bit about the circle.  But if you were to walk around to the opposite side, you would be able to see that side as well, and understand more.  Then between the two, you could understand, to whatever degree, the entire circle much more clearly that from any one spot along it.  Three points would be better, but lets not complicate things more than we need to.

To me, minds are like this with regards to the world around us.  Take the artist.  They understand the art world well, and see things from that point of view.  But they don't understand the whole thing.  Scientists have the same problem, but the opposite view.  In this way, they are a balancing act, art and science.  Of course, both art and science are large categories.  So let's break them down.  On the art side, there are the fine arts, performing arts, and literary arts.  On the science side, there are looser sciences like biology and similar areas, which grow and change as our understanding do.  Then there are the firm sciences, like chemistry, which do not change much, but merely expand.  Then there is math, the tenants of which do not change: 2 and 2 always will make 4 (when both are positive of course, and blah blah blah).  These, in their relative orders, could be seen as complementary to each other (using the art definition, the opposite, balancing out to the center, which in pigment would be neutral gray, or in optical pure white light).  Now, that does not cover everything, nor will the chart completed.  But to simplify, let us consider the sides of the circle between the sciences and arts to be medicine, and public safety (being police, fire fighting, etc).  With any of these pairs, it would be good and instructive to know at least a bit about the opposite.  In this way, one can learn more about everything, and have a greater understanding of everything else.  Nobody will ever understand everything perfectly, but that just leaves room to learn and for some mystery in life.  And most jobs fall under some combination of the various parts, and there very well be some that are fairly well balanced on their own.  But it's a good general principle.

At least to me.  But what do I know?

Other than balancing out my own mind, and my life, plus my general personality with Sparky's.

And having lots of time to think.

When I can stop thinking about female dogs that are probably going to suddenly show up to bite my hand...  I'd rather be at the dentist when that happens.

The Unknown

People are strange creatures.  I'm pretty sure I've said that before, and I'm certain I will again.  So perhaps I should be more specific.

We're hypocrites.

On the one hand many people, perhaps most to some various degree, are afraid of the unknown.  We prefer the situation we know to the possibility of change for as long as its possible.  This is not true to every degree of course, and some change is always wanted, as we always want more.  But for major changes, we are often too afraid even when its needed.

On the other, however, we are constantly curious about things we don't know or understand.  If there's a hole, we want to look in it.  If there's a dark room, we want to turn on the light.  If there's the faintest indication we don't know about something, we want to find out.

To be more precise, we want OTHER people to find out.

The more unknown something is, and thus more threatening to us, the more we want someone else to do the task of shedding light upon a situation.  We'll look in the hole in the ground, but if it's a big hole like a cave... well... it's always the other person who should go first.

Not everyone is like that, however.  Scientists are the tame ones, but others who we deem "adventurous types" are immune to this fear.  On the other end of the scale, there are some who cling to everything they "know" and refuse to admit there is anything more to learn.  These have no curiosity, and are typically those who cling most fiercely to situations that have degraded beyond acceptance.

We have adages about the curiosity of cats.  As a cat owner (or, from his point of view, as a cat's pet), I know they are very curious.  But they're mostly just curious about anything they can hunt, or any sign of change, which is always just inspected as a threat and eventually accepted.  We are far more curious.  Even dogs are more curious than that.  My dog loves to explore.  The cat gets mad if I rearrange the porch.

Maybe we're just simple creatures who are still afraid of noises in the dark, but have learned that if we control those sounds we can give ourselves adrenaline rushes, and so like to do it.  Who knows.

On second thought, sometimes there is a reason to be wary of the unknown.  Like experimenting with food trying to make it taste better... sometimes you get something great, but others it just turns your stomach where you can barely figure out how to type a blog post.

Stupid cream of wheat.

Unexpectedly Expected

Maybe it's just me, but most of the things I expect to happen don't.  Either some aspect of it goes wrong, the entire thing is called off, or there are undesirable and unforeseen consequences, or something such as that.  I just sort of assumed that that was typical life.

This weekend, however, was completely what I would have expected and wanted in every way.  Saturday, Sparky and I went tubing down a river.  He's a city boy, so there was some element of "he might not like it," but he loved it.  We both had a great time, then went back down a portion of it again.  Saturday night, we went to see a play, which was great.  Wonderful set, great cast, and very entertaining.  We even agreed about favorite characters.  The only down side was the first half had one character with a weak accent, but for the second half she was great.  Probably just wore her voice out from the first showing, as a somewhat harsh German accent can do to someone not used to it.  Sunday was great, went out, got a few things done, and Sparky helped my parents with their computer.  We watched Tremors (which I love because it's not really a great movie), which he enjoyed as well.  After that we watched Hackers, which was funny on accident, but we had the same opinions on things there as well.  Today, he helped me make banana bread, which turned out great, better than usual actually.  All through all of this, much closeness and what not.  A great weekend, with few down points.  It's exactly what I would have expected, but because of what I said before, I never quite expect that.  Hence the title of the post.

Maybe I've just had lousy luck on some things lately, or maybe I'm suddenly having good luck (hopefully! I have a phone interview Thursday, really need luck on that).  Or maybe I've just been happy enough lately that I'm not really noticing the problems and consequences and what not that I did before.  I'm going to kick myself for saying something so sappy later, but maybe that old phrase "smile and the world smiles with you" really is right.

Eh, whatever.  I want some more banana bread, and maybe an early dinner while I'm at it.

Artist Boys and Raccoons

Let me start off in reverse order by saying that I am seriously starting to hate raccoons.  I noticed that the far end floodlight was on, and went down there to see what was going on.  Nothing in site, but then I heard odd noises coming from my roof.  Being metal, my roof has a bad habit of making every single thing heavier than a leaf sound like an elephant.

Guessing correctly that my little friends had returned, I walked (with a bowl of cereal I might add) into the living room, and noticed a shadow moving outside my porch.  By the size, I'd guess that the mother raccoon was climbing down a tree.  Much to Lincoln's distress and my annoyance, her cubs seemed to be playing chase up and down the length of the trailer.  That was about five minutes ago, and they have just now decided to vacate my roof from the sounds of it.  Seriously, it sounded like a human up there at first, this roof is LOUD.

Now, as to why I was up and about with a bowl of cereal after 1 in the morning.  I had just finished painting.  Notice, I had not intended to start painting tonight, and if I was going it it would have been started well before midnight.  But no, I was laying in bed, starting a new book when 3 pages into it, I realize I've been staring at the same paragraph for a while, with an intense urge to go paint, which I had already done earlier in the day as well.

This makes me wonder about Sparky's sanity.

Yes, that is a bit of a leap, but follow me here.

Sparky knows I'm an artist.  He's heard me talk about enough things and odd habits and what not to know more or less what he's getting into.  What person in their right mind wants to be involved with someone who spontaneously gets up at midnight to start painting, when already settled into bed with a book?  I don't mind doing it, and I know I'm crazy, but I don't particularly want to be with someone who would do that.  Ah, well, at least I live alone, and there is nobody to get annoyed about it other than the pets, who will apparently be disturbed by raccoons soon enough as it is.

Bloody things.  I hope they grow up soon and move far far away.

My 3:00 AM Visitors

I do not try to make a habit of being awake at 3AM. Nor do I usually have an urge to try my hand at story telling at this hour. However, I have yet been to sleep, and was very close to actually getting there when I realized that one of my motion lights had gone off. Of course, whenever this happens, I check it out. I live by myself in the woods after all, and one can't be too careful. Usually I grab my knife, which I keep at hand by my bed, although this time I left it.

I got up, and went to my front door, where the light had gone off (as opposed to this picture of the light at the other end). At first I didn't see anything at all, so I hit the switch off and on, wondering if it was acting up again as it occasionally does. Then I noticed a furry little face peeking up onto the ramp leading to my door. Cute, gray little thing, with tiny fingers and then I saw his mask wasn't just a shadow. It was a smallish raccoon. As a sucker for animals, I automatically said "aww." This got Lincoln stirred up, and he was pacing around behind me wondering what we were doing.

While the raccoon was sniffing along the side of my ramp, I noticed there was a second one clinging to the tree right next to the ramp. Before I could do so much as react, I realized, there was a third one coming out of the shadows, browsing through the leaves along the side of the trailer. Three cute little raccoons running around. The two who weren't sniffing the ramp then started chasing each other a bit, and moved off towards the windows further along the trailer, so I went out stood by my couch to watch them. During this time the first one had run up a tree over by those windows.

Lincoln, of course, followed me. All of a sudden, he sees them and starts growling a bit. This sent all three of them right up the trunks a good six or seven feet, still within easy viewing range. One was hiding behind the trunk, while the other two were on two trees, each staring in the windows, looking confused by what was going on, and wondering what these strange things were. The one closest to me was staring over at Link, while the one closest to him was staring at me. At least, until I laughed at their expressions, which made both of them look at me, and the other one came around, glanced at me and the dog and ran up the tree.

About that time, a fourth one suddenly came down from the tree that two of them were on, completely ignoring both me and the dog, who was getting antsy by this point, and very much wanted to go protect his yard and/or make new friends. It was the mother of the three youngsters (who will very soon be on their own if size is any indication). She promptly trotted off across the yard, causing the two who had been staring inside to turn tail and follow her. The other one, however, came down and clung to the tree, staring upside down at me and the dog in turn. Eventually, after long enough for the other three to have disappeared into the shadows, the youngster realized that it was being left and trotted off after its family (incidentally, they have a very interesting trot, with arched backs). It was close, but not the same path that the others took. For its sake, I hope it was following sound or scent rather than just following their path. Of course, as soon as that last one disappeared into the shadows, Lincoln started whining and ran off to the door, wanting to go look for them. It was a nice, if somewhat surreal moment to be (part of the time) sitting on the couch with my dog, watching a family of raccoons at 3 in the morning, and then have them disappear without leaving a trace that they were even there. Makes me wonder just how much of the local wildlife I completely miss. At least the deer leave marks from time to time to show they were inside the fence.

Oh, and I did try to get a photo, but I couldn't from inside, and to go outside would have scared them up the trees, so I restrained myself.  This other picture will have to suffice.

Group Minds vs The Individual

Most everyone has heard the term "group mentality." This of course, refers to the way that humans behave in groups, as opposed to on their own. To generalize, we become idiots who will do things blindly without wondering why. I'm not being mean, I've caught myself doing the same thing, even here very recently.

When in group settings, people cease to think for themselves. Part of our brains tell us "hey, this person's doing something, let's follow their example!" As a result, we get large groups of people behaving like idiots.

Part of this may be from self doubt and self image. We are somewhat unsure of what we should be doing, and do not wish to stand out in any negative light, so we follow the leader. The leader is the other part. Some could be from simple misunderstanding, and acting on impulse. The other portion may be from people who, frankly, are not the brightest crayons in the box. They do not stop to think about what is the correct thing to do, but simply follow the first thought that pops into their brain. Then the people around him see this and follow suit so they don't look stupid.

I have found myself wondering about things lately (this is all Sparky's fault, by the way. He lent me a book, 1984 by George Orwell) and governments, some real, some fictional/potential, make me wonder how much of this is due to group mentality. All it takes is a small number of individuals to get things moving in the right direction. People from con artists to politicians and rulers have used this trick for ages, planting or seeding the crowd with a few scattered individuals to set the mood. As powerful a tool as this is, I have trouble believing that this could be a lasting solution with any population of people larger than a small town which is addressed regularly by such as a mayor or religious figure (think big cults). However, to mix in isolation of the population from outside influences and information, as well as propaganda, and there exists a potential for quite a convoluted society.

Much of this could be averted or reverted by individuals forcing themselves to not follow the crowd, to think things through themselves. Confidence in one's reason is a must for this. However, if one was trapped in an isolated, propaganda riddled society, one's view of reality could rapidly be altered. To ensure and enable this, as well as for other various reasons not pertaining to the topic, there must always be at least two powers in the world around us. Without the other's perspective and reality check, one homogenous society would fall into serious problems, most of which may well be unintentional. With the opposition to both call the bluffs and to offer an alternative viewpoint, it would be difficult to fall too far away from an honest society. However, isolating an entire society would negate these effects.

In this way, despite my personal desires, I know that it is neither wise nor practical for there to be a single governing power on the planet. While a coalition, such as the United Nations, could be both a transition into a single nation and a binding force to keep nations in check, it is not feasible to coalesce into a single entity, until one of two things happens. One would be colonies on other astrological bodies: the moon, Mars, and what not. The other would be contact with a space-faring civilization that is more or less technologically equal to our own. With the first scenario, the different planetary bodies could form separate governments which could (given enough time of course) keep each other in check. With the alien scenario, it would have a unifying force upon humanity, although if the civilization is significantly more advanced or powerful than our own, we would be wiped out one way or the other (look to human history, with every indigenous race that encountered a more advanced culture). If they were less advanced, they would be doomed. Of course all of that would take a great deal of time to accomplish.

As usual, I've rambled away from my point, but just keep in mind it's not usually best to just blindly follow the crowd. Now, if you're in an especially foreign culture, often as not its best to take your clues from the crowd, but if you understand most or all of what's going on around you (especially the language), just make yourself stop and think.