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I'm not sick
But I'm not well
And it's a sin
To look this well
Sometimes I'm the epitome of the modern philosophical scientist. Rare breed? Maybe, but that's why I'm the epitome -- there aren't many of us around to create a working sample. Perhaps I should be tagged and my mating habits studied.
Werner Heisenberg, the father of the Uncertainty Principle, one of the Guiding Laws of Quantum Physics, was an Olympic-caliber swimmer (my Caps Keys seem to be stuck in Germanic Mode). Neils Bohr, the dude who invented the modern concept of atomic architecture, used a chinese yin/yang in his family crest. Stephen Hawking, the brain on wheels, was a womanizer, practical joker, and athlete before illness grabbed him and forced him to sit still long enough to notice the workings of the universe.
So, why do I insert myself into such lofty company? Do I have an ego that big? Well, no, I was just thinking about Michael Creighton, in Jurrasic Park (or it's sequel...I forget) in which his mathematician notes that modern scientists go out of their way to be geeks, that scientists these days have no concept of anything outside the realm of science, and don't try, anymore, to experience athleticism, philosophy, or even the insides of their showers.
My left-brain is a reluctant agnostic -- I'd like to believe there is something beyond this world, but without direct experience (a bit too drastic of an experiment to satisfy curiosity), I can't be sure. On the other hand, my right-brain believes there are patterns around everything that imply that there is 'something else'. And, since 'something else' may be beyond science in the same way that a picture of a crisp, cold vodka martini fails to satisfy one's thirst, my left-brain may never be able to functionally grasp the concept.
[I bring up the martini, because there happens to be a crisp, cold vodka martini sitting next to me at this moment. But, since I just started drinking it, it isn't yet affecting the veering journey this entry is embarking upon. Someone take my ASCII keys before I split an infinitive.]
A little more background before I tell the simple little anecdote that prompted this journal entry. As much as my left-brain doesn't believe in this kind of stuff, I've always been psychic. However, it's always been in a completely useless way. (Well, when I was three, my mother never had to call me in from outside when lunch was ready, I'd just show up and say I heard her yell for me. But that was a long time ago). In my childhood and teen years, even into college, I was always able to tell which episode of Gilligan's Island would be on next, even if I hadn't seen an episode in months. I'm pretty good at predicting what the next song on the radio is going to be, too. Neither of these talents (except perhaps in Las Vegas) is much in the way of beneficial, even in a survival sense. Another little quirk is that these psychic revelations are never on-cue. I just think about them in an offhanded way, and then, at the next opportunity, it happens. If I think too much, nothing happens.
So, I'm stuck in traffic on the way home from work, and another inane post-Ten Pearl Jam song comes on, and I think to myself: "Why can't this so-called alternative radio station play something more interesting. Like that Harvey Danger song from a couple years ago. I haven't heard that in months." Of course, that's the next song.
Now why can't this 'talent' be useful? It'd be nice if I could pick stocks that way. My stock portfolio so far has mushroomed to the point where I could live like a king. In Central America. For about three weeks. Unfortunately, if I think too much, it doesn't 'come true'. Hell, let's do an experiment anyway, even though I'm way too left-brainy right now:
3 month stock buy: INTC (Intel, just got nailed by a bad earnings report, but they'll bounce back. At 45.375 now).
12 month buy: Q (Qwest Communications. Telco that just bought out USWest. At 48.69 now).
24 month buy: TGEN (Targeted Genetics. Working on genetic cures for cystic fibrosis and hemophelia. At 11.813 now).
If I were a lawyer, or had more in the stock market than, oh, one full paycheck, I'd disclose that I own these stocks already and it's all part of my master plan to drive up the stock, allowing me to retire in sybaritic luxury by the beach where the fish merely hop onto the hook. But then, we're all just friends here, and I'd never use you all that way. Would I?
But I'm not well
And it's a sin
To look this well
Sometimes I'm the epitome of the modern philosophical scientist. Rare breed? Maybe, but that's why I'm the epitome -- there aren't many of us around to create a working sample. Perhaps I should be tagged and my mating habits studied.
Werner Heisenberg, the father of the Uncertainty Principle, one of the Guiding Laws of Quantum Physics, was an Olympic-caliber swimmer (my Caps Keys seem to be stuck in Germanic Mode). Neils Bohr, the dude who invented the modern concept of atomic architecture, used a chinese yin/yang in his family crest. Stephen Hawking, the brain on wheels, was a womanizer, practical joker, and athlete before illness grabbed him and forced him to sit still long enough to notice the workings of the universe.
So, why do I insert myself into such lofty company? Do I have an ego that big? Well, no, I was just thinking about Michael Creighton, in Jurrasic Park (or it's sequel...I forget) in which his mathematician notes that modern scientists go out of their way to be geeks, that scientists these days have no concept of anything outside the realm of science, and don't try, anymore, to experience athleticism, philosophy, or even the insides of their showers.
My left-brain is a reluctant agnostic -- I'd like to believe there is something beyond this world, but without direct experience (a bit too drastic of an experiment to satisfy curiosity), I can't be sure. On the other hand, my right-brain believes there are patterns around everything that imply that there is 'something else'. And, since 'something else' may be beyond science in the same way that a picture of a crisp, cold vodka martini fails to satisfy one's thirst, my left-brain may never be able to functionally grasp the concept.
[I bring up the martini, because there happens to be a crisp, cold vodka martini sitting next to me at this moment. But, since I just started drinking it, it isn't yet affecting the veering journey this entry is embarking upon. Someone take my ASCII keys before I split an infinitive.]
A little more background before I tell the simple little anecdote that prompted this journal entry. As much as my left-brain doesn't believe in this kind of stuff, I've always been psychic. However, it's always been in a completely useless way. (Well, when I was three, my mother never had to call me in from outside when lunch was ready, I'd just show up and say I heard her yell for me. But that was a long time ago). In my childhood and teen years, even into college, I was always able to tell which episode of Gilligan's Island would be on next, even if I hadn't seen an episode in months. I'm pretty good at predicting what the next song on the radio is going to be, too. Neither of these talents (except perhaps in Las Vegas) is much in the way of beneficial, even in a survival sense. Another little quirk is that these psychic revelations are never on-cue. I just think about them in an offhanded way, and then, at the next opportunity, it happens. If I think too much, nothing happens.
So, I'm stuck in traffic on the way home from work, and another inane post-Ten Pearl Jam song comes on, and I think to myself: "Why can't this so-called alternative radio station play something more interesting. Like that Harvey Danger song from a couple years ago. I haven't heard that in months." Of course, that's the next song.
Now why can't this 'talent' be useful? It'd be nice if I could pick stocks that way. My stock portfolio so far has mushroomed to the point where I could live like a king. In Central America. For about three weeks. Unfortunately, if I think too much, it doesn't 'come true'. Hell, let's do an experiment anyway, even though I'm way too left-brainy right now:
3 month stock buy: INTC (Intel, just got nailed by a bad earnings report, but they'll bounce back. At 45.375 now).
12 month buy: Q (Qwest Communications. Telco that just bought out USWest. At 48.69 now).
24 month buy: TGEN (Targeted Genetics. Working on genetic cures for cystic fibrosis and hemophelia. At 11.813 now).
If I were a lawyer, or had more in the stock market than, oh, one full paycheck, I'd disclose that I own these stocks already and it's all part of my master plan to drive up the stock, allowing me to retire in sybaritic luxury by the beach where the fish merely hop onto the hook. But then, we're all just friends here, and I'd never use you all that way. Would I?
