With colors edited to match my aunt's kitchen. Acrylic on canvas.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
Attack of the Plaid!
I recently returned from a family trip to the mall. Every store was entirely filled with variations on this shirt:
It would appear that hipsterdom is obsessed with lumberjacks. I briefly poked into Hollister's and found that plaid was as thick inside as the atmospheric shadows and pretension.
The whole trip made me slightly ashamed of my pink plaid shirt. I'm working to shake off that shame by reminding myself that at least my shirt is comfy.
It would appear that hipsterdom is obsessed with lumberjacks. I briefly poked into Hollister's and found that plaid was as thick inside as the atmospheric shadows and pretension.
The whole trip made me slightly ashamed of my pink plaid shirt. I'm working to shake off that shame by reminding myself that at least my shirt is comfy.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Magic vs. Technology
I enjoy fantasy fiction, always have. However, I've recently noticed a fantasy trope which bothers me, I think because it reflects the way some people talk about the world.
I am talking about the great conflict between magic and technology. Sometimes this takes the form of an actual war, one army dressed like Storm Troopers, the other like warlocks. In other stories, we have the magical land or zone where technology ceases to work. This first started to bother me when I was twelve or thirteen and reading one of the Harry Potter books.
No technology works at Hogwarts, Hermione explains to Harry, Ron, and the audience, because there's too much magic in the air. What? What counts as "technology"? A computer, obviously. But what about a clockwork watch? Or the wheel? As long as the laws of physics still hold, all of these should work. The same principle governs the electricity in your home and the human nervous system. The kids at Hogwarts can still feel pain and think, right?
In a world where magic actually existed, it would not be antithetical to science. Since science is the process of figuring out how things work, if magic is part of how things work, then magic is part of science. I imagine it as a discipline of science, like biology and physics. And, like biology and physics, it would bleed into the other disciplines.
I think the theme of technology or science vs. magic crops up in books because people see technology as something, for lack of a better word, magical. Or perhaps "unnatural" is a better word. Hmm... I'd better stop myself before I get into one of my rants about "unnatural."
So I'll be brief. I don't see anything as unnatural. It's just not part of my worldview. When, in chemistry class, I mix starting materials together to synthesize something new, the result doesn't seem unnatural to me, synthetic though it may be. It is what naturally occurs when those reactants are mixed together and follow the laws of physics.
I might not really understand how a computer works, but I know that it is an extension of that same principle. A computer works because it's components, specifically arranged, behave naturally. Rain falls, the sun burns, my iPod plays "Hesitating Beauty," and matter holds together. It is all part of the same whole.
I am talking about the great conflict between magic and technology. Sometimes this takes the form of an actual war, one army dressed like Storm Troopers, the other like warlocks. In other stories, we have the magical land or zone where technology ceases to work. This first started to bother me when I was twelve or thirteen and reading one of the Harry Potter books.
No technology works at Hogwarts, Hermione explains to Harry, Ron, and the audience, because there's too much magic in the air. What? What counts as "technology"? A computer, obviously. But what about a clockwork watch? Or the wheel? As long as the laws of physics still hold, all of these should work. The same principle governs the electricity in your home and the human nervous system. The kids at Hogwarts can still feel pain and think, right?
In a world where magic actually existed, it would not be antithetical to science. Since science is the process of figuring out how things work, if magic is part of how things work, then magic is part of science. I imagine it as a discipline of science, like biology and physics. And, like biology and physics, it would bleed into the other disciplines.
I think the theme of technology or science vs. magic crops up in books because people see technology as something, for lack of a better word, magical. Or perhaps "unnatural" is a better word. Hmm... I'd better stop myself before I get into one of my rants about "unnatural."
So I'll be brief. I don't see anything as unnatural. It's just not part of my worldview. When, in chemistry class, I mix starting materials together to synthesize something new, the result doesn't seem unnatural to me, synthetic though it may be. It is what naturally occurs when those reactants are mixed together and follow the laws of physics.
I might not really understand how a computer works, but I know that it is an extension of that same principle. A computer works because it's components, specifically arranged, behave naturally. Rain falls, the sun burns, my iPod plays "Hesitating Beauty," and matter holds together. It is all part of the same whole.
Monday, April 27, 2009
High on the Mountain Top
means it's the Saturday before class starts, freshman year. The bishop has declared that the ward is hiking to the Y, and so we are climbing up a mountain in the near-dark of early morning.
I straggle behind, and if it weren't for the bishop and second counselor hanging back with me I would be the last in line. I miss Mississippi air with its moisture and sweet, sweet oxygen. I've only been in Utah a week, and I can't get used to the feeling of taking deep, desperate gasps of air without really breathing.
As soon as I reach the Y I lie down and close my eyes, waiting for the world to swim back into place. I'm still recovering when the others start to sing. After a few minutes lying on the rock the pain in my chest and sides subside and I'm able to sit up, join the hymns, and watch the sun rise over the mountains on the other side of the valley.
From here you can see the clear demarcation between dark and light. We watch the golden-red line of the sun move over the lake, then the city, then hit the tallest buildings on campus. I have missed the vibrant, pressing greenery of home, felt surrounded by brown. Now, for the first time, I see Utah as beautiful.
High on the mountaintop a banner is unfurled. Ye nations now look up; it waves to all the world.- "High on the Mountain Top"
I straggle behind, and if it weren't for the bishop and second counselor hanging back with me I would be the last in line. I miss Mississippi air with its moisture and sweet, sweet oxygen. I've only been in Utah a week, and I can't get used to the feeling of taking deep, desperate gasps of air without really breathing.
As soon as I reach the Y I lie down and close my eyes, waiting for the world to swim back into place. I'm still recovering when the others start to sing. After a few minutes lying on the rock the pain in my chest and sides subside and I'm able to sit up, join the hymns, and watch the sun rise over the mountains on the other side of the valley.
From here you can see the clear demarcation between dark and light. We watch the golden-red line of the sun move over the lake, then the city, then hit the tallest buildings on campus. I have missed the vibrant, pressing greenery of home, felt surrounded by brown. Now, for the first time, I see Utah as beautiful.
High on the mountaintop a banner is unfurled. Ye nations now look up; it waves to all the world.- "High on the Mountain Top"
In Defense of Evangelicalism
Most of the boys I knew freshman year are leaving for their missions over the summer. A few boys I knew fall semester are already living and working in Canada and Norway and France.
All of the mission calls pouring in over the last few months put me in mind of a boy I knew in high school, and a conversation we once had where I mentioned my brother--then on his mission in California. "No offense," said this boy, "but I don't agree with evangelicalism."
My first thought was that this boy was fooling himself if he thought he himself didn't evangelize. The word means "to preach the gospel," and while it has a Christian connotation, everyone has their own gospel and most everyone has the desire to spread it. The Mormon missionaries and Jehovah's Witnesses knocking at your door are equivalent to the guy trying to get your signature on his petition to save the polar bears. And while all of these people are seen as rude by some, I think it is not only a right but right to try to make the world a better place by sharing your views.
Of course, we were in Mississippi, heart of the Bible Belt, where "evangelicalism" is the domain of Evangelical Christians with a capital E (Mormons are not Evangelicals though we are famous for our evangelizing.) This boy probably associated evangelicalism with the Man, who, where we grew up, is usually a Southern Baptist, and the Man is by definition close-minded and intolerant. But you can spread your views without attacking those of others, and if you want to have a civil conversation that's exactly what you have to do. I believe in civil conversations--they're good for the soul.
I try to be receptive to the evangelicalism of others just as I would like those others to be receptive to the message of my brothers and friends. That's why I have a slim book on my shelf called "The Perfection of Yoga" by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, which I took from a man on a New York street. Let's all listen to each other. Let's evangelize away.
All of the mission calls pouring in over the last few months put me in mind of a boy I knew in high school, and a conversation we once had where I mentioned my brother--then on his mission in California. "No offense," said this boy, "but I don't agree with evangelicalism."
My first thought was that this boy was fooling himself if he thought he himself didn't evangelize. The word means "to preach the gospel," and while it has a Christian connotation, everyone has their own gospel and most everyone has the desire to spread it. The Mormon missionaries and Jehovah's Witnesses knocking at your door are equivalent to the guy trying to get your signature on his petition to save the polar bears. And while all of these people are seen as rude by some, I think it is not only a right but right to try to make the world a better place by sharing your views.
Of course, we were in Mississippi, heart of the Bible Belt, where "evangelicalism" is the domain of Evangelical Christians with a capital E (Mormons are not Evangelicals though we are famous for our evangelizing.) This boy probably associated evangelicalism with the Man, who, where we grew up, is usually a Southern Baptist, and the Man is by definition close-minded and intolerant. But you can spread your views without attacking those of others, and if you want to have a civil conversation that's exactly what you have to do. I believe in civil conversations--they're good for the soul.
I try to be receptive to the evangelicalism of others just as I would like those others to be receptive to the message of my brothers and friends. That's why I have a slim book on my shelf called "The Perfection of Yoga" by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, which I took from a man on a New York street. Let's all listen to each other. Let's evangelize away.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
It's All Relative
Learning about relativity in physics, it's struck me that many of the things we assume to be true--like the idea that velocities add--are just illusions caused by living in a slow world. Last semester in chemistry I learned about quantum mechanics and realized that we only think we can know exactly where things are because we live in such a massive world.
It makes me wonder what assumptions we make--about science, about philosophy, about everything--just because we live in a very limited sphere.
It makes me wonder what assumptions we make--about science, about philosophy, about everything--just because we live in a very limited sphere.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Dear Kristian and Kennedy
I realized that you have no way of knowing that I fulfilled my responsibility to comment on two blogs this semester. Here are the relevant links:
http://meandblue.blogspot.com/2009/02/few-thoughts-on-equality.html#comments
https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3575751491068070568&postID=1730374354117317171
http://meandblue.blogspot.com/2009/02/few-thoughts-on-equality.html#comments
https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3575751491068070568&postID=1730374354117317171
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