Friday, May 10, 2013
Professional Courtesy: Dr. Mercy's Last Words
Hang on, just a minute...
Hang on, just a minute...
Just in case you kind of stumbled here, by chance, this is the fifth and final part of a series within a series, within a... you ___ ___ _____ . Near the bottom.
Go ahead, click stuff, I'll wait.
Now, that we're as close to being on the same page as we're probably going to ever be, here goes:
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
“For the people who are interested in what I happen to be doing, rarely does anyone express interest in who I may be, which is not really the point anyway. This might take a minute...look...”
“So, what is the point?”
“The point is that none of this is systematic. No, none of this is systematic in a sophisticated sense of the word. There is nothing coercive going on - nothing deliberate along the following lines:
- The number of choices do not lead to the same conclusion
- Ideas and phrases are rarely repeated
- Information is not provided in a manner designed to dampen intelligence
- Anger and fear are not used to put a person in a heightened state
It's important to be able to see the forest from the trees... so we are not being taken down one of two vary narrow paths at all.”
“We end up having discussions while walking outside in daylight. The key here being an activity… an activity… any activity that requires constant and steady motion without it becoming hyp…not…ic…”
“Urban areas are often too ‘busy’ for this type of exchange. There is simply too much going on that could emerge and suddenly pose a risk. In such an environment, the stress of continuous shifting of focus on what is near and far is too great; simultaneously pushing and pulling a person’s attention, the oscillation tends to distort the message(s).”
“So, now that we are walking along this open path, what is on your mind?”
“What’s on my mind? What’s on my mind is how we edit our realities. We edit our realities without thinking about it… without thinking about it to the point where we don’t see the possibilities. That is what's on my mind.”
“I suspect that we’ve effectively 'reformed our thoughts' to the point where it takes something akin to a near-death experience to ‘wake up’. And that state of being awake only lasts for so long.”
Top Animated Gif
Hypnotic Spiral Gif
A Good Photographer
The Last Thing You Remember
P e a c f u l
R e l a x e d
Monday, April 15, 2013
"You said you thought you heard something? Grab his chart… thanks. His drip… no, tubes are fine. His heart rate’s been pretty stable and his breathing's been steady."
"Wait.. there it is. No. Don’t touch him. His fingers twitched and it looks like his eyes are moving under there. "
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Everything becomes a question of morals.
To get here:
Of all the things I expected to find, this was not on the list.
But it happened.
And the cherry blossom(s).
All that there was was a curiosity about algorithms. In this case, what one feels like. Three or four days before the viewing, Wifey brought home a cube.
Nobody could figure it out.
Having been down that road to nowhere once before, Dad was determined to read the instructions this time. The idea is that, over time(s), let’s say one hundred of them, Dad should have the patterns memorized.
Only problem is, Son didn’t understand that Dad needed another ninety-seven tries to be able to do it without reading from the manual. And, on top of that, the phone’s battery was running low, so accessing the collective electronic medium was not considered a practical option.
Dad couldn’t figure out why ADHD son was so almost freaking out about his father not regurgitating the solution on demand. Even after the careful and explicit explanation of the first level (Stage 4). ADHD had asked Dad early on in the day and Dad was surprised how this could be upsetting the hyperactive offspring hours after the initial discussion/request. No, he hadn't forgotten. And yes, he didn't understand.
Then Wifey's steady voice of reason explained, probably for the second time that day... she explained that Son had told his gang of cohorts, those little rascals who he’d been running full-speed and non-stop with while smashing just about every fallen petal in the park… offspring had said that his Dad could solve the cube. A simple kid’s father-brag.
At his age, I hardly knew mine.
In trying to show how to go about solving a problem, I have ended up creating one.
Which is kind of how the problem gets solved.
The first level’s easy.
Got 96 more times to go to really understand what an algorithm feels like.