Sinking Feelings

I attended two talks today, the first was astronomy, specifically the evolution of stellar clusters in galaxies, the second was on the brain, specifically the mental control of the experience of pain using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI).

I walked out on the first because of a plot that showed a tight correlation between the number of clusters in a given mass range and the mass range. The correlation was super tight, perfect even. This almost never happens. I suspect that the correlation is the result of double dipping, that is, an earlier plot showed calculations determined from independently measured observables, but I think the calculation mixed the two variables, making all the values on that plot suspect. But those values are the origin of the tightly correlated plot, so of course it would be perfect. I may be wrong, but it was enough to leave.

There was nothing new in the second talk and I was mildly bored but interested enough to see it through to the end, almost. A few parts gave me the same sinking feeling I had at the Mind’08 conference in NYC a few years back. This sinking feeling originates from the prospect of producing designer drugs that will allow you to alter your brain chemistry for advantageous ends. Ultimately, what will we create? Advantages for those who can afford it, leading to an ever-increasing income disparity, but this time a class revolution won’t be possible because the masses are pacified by a fluoride-like additive in the water supply.

You might say, “whoa, paranoid much?” But consider information provided by today’s speaker. He showed the health care costs associated with various diseases (these include addiction, anxiety, depression, etc., i.e. the ying to the yang of happiness, part and parcel of what it is to be human) and the costs were astronomical. Hence, a widespread cure is economically motivated.

To some extent we are already at this point of a pacified population. Dopamine rushes from the instant gratification provided by social networking and mind-numbing activities made ubiquitous by handheld devices. It renders one ineffective and incapable of deep concentration and meaningful conversations. These are aspects of a healthy democracy. I find myself slipping into these comfortable traps. I need to make more technology-free days. Neo-Luddite?

I just baked some vegan banana muffins and they are mmm…

Reasonable People Versus Unreasonable People

Blue

Lisza was lying the floor looking upside down out the window. The sky was blue. She said it looked weird. The day before I was sitting at the window watching the horizon. It had been raining all day, but a patch of blue emerged. I screamed, “I see blue!” It was enough for Ryan and I to head for Bernal Heights, a hill in the Mission District of San Francisco. We walked to the summit where a crumbling microwave tower resides. One sign on the fence-enclosed facility warned of the hazards of radio emission levels. Another told use not to stand in the transmission beam which is invisible. We walked an adjoining hill from which we could spot Ryan’s distant apartment window. This was the very window from which we had spotted the patch of blue sky. From the vantage of the window, anything on top of Bernal Heights could be seen clearly against the dull, cloud-filled sky. Ryan transmitted a signal to Lisza and we ran down the hill, arms flailing. She could see us, I felt like I was ten. I waved goodbye even though I knew she probably wasn’t looking anymore. We took a steep and treacherous path down. In hindsight, it was probably an eroded path from runoff and not a trail. I cut my hand on something unseen. We picked up some Hawaiian beer, I spit on my hand to disinfect it. I started to think about the bacteria living in my mouth and wiped my hand on my blue sweater. It started to drizzle again.

I am my own bewitchment

Green, Red, and White Checks

Elizabeth, who is in the bay area by some strange coincidence, picks me up in a borrowed car. We drive towards the north, out of San Francisco, as per the directions voiced by the self-righteous sounding woman in the GPS. “In point one miles turn left.” We look at one another with puzzled faces, furled eyebrows, mutual guffaws. We are thinking the same thing, “what is point one miles?” We turn at the next street, a few moments later, a snippity “recalculating” breaks the uncertain silence. The woman in the GPS is politely calling us stupid, or spatially-challenged. A few more recalculations and we arrive at our destination, the Muir Woods National Monument, a first growth redwood forrest which remains only because it is situated on steep slopes. The forrest is bordered by a highway on the east and the pacific on the west.

In the giftshop everything is made of redwood trees. I shed an invisible tear. We play with the burls, I think of Burl Ives. Finally, we set out for the steep slopes and the gigantic redwoods. After climbing a thousand feet (point two miles, vertically, two linearly), the forrest turns to sunny meadows in the clearcut mountaintop, banana slugs give way to bumble bees, bark to tall grasses, musty odors to fragrant flowers. The sun shines on the Sunny Trail, we view the ocean on Ocean View Trail, and Dipsea Trail has apparently dipped into the sea because it is closed due to mudslides. Being told what to expect and experience, we might overlook the subtext. At the impasse we must improvise, we take Muir Woods road successfully. On the drive back to San Francisco we stop at Rodeo Cove, not, as I would incorrectly recall, Bonita Cove. “This is California,” I say to Elizabeth while taking in the sight of crashing waves, cliff faces, and gathering surfers.