klog

I’m sitting here, at 11:30pm, reading through Richard P. Feynman’s “The Pleasure Of Finding Things Out“.

I have two copies of the book of his lectures, “The Character Of Physical Law“. The reason is, I bought a copy a long time ago, and read it straight through. After a few years, I wanted to read it again, but couldn’t find it, so I bought another copy. Now I have two (If anyone wants the spare one, please mail me).

Anyway - I came across a poem, which impressed me:

I stand at the seashore, alone, and start to think.
There are the rushing waves…
mountains of molecules, each minding its own business…
trillions apart…
yet forming white surf in unison.

Ages on ages…
before any eyes could see…
year after year…
thunderously pounding the shore as now.
For whom, for what?
…on a dead planet, with no life to entertain.

Never at rest…
tortured by energy…
wasted prodigiously by the sun…
poured into space.
A mite makes the sea roar.

Deep in the sea, all molecules repeat the patterns of one another ’til complex new ones are formed.
They make others like themselves
…and a new dance starts.

Growing in size and complexity…
living things, masses of atoms, DNA, protein
…dancing a pattern ever more intricate.

Out of the cradle onto the dry land…
here it is standing…
atoms with consciousness
…matter with curiosity.

Stands at the sea…
wonders at wondering…
I…
a universe of atoms
…an atom in the universe.

I wish I could speak with the man. He would have been a joy.

I’ve been thinking recently that my life should reflect my coding.

With my coding, I like to write an application out in “full” (ie, no shortcuts), then look over the code I’ve written, and try to abstract out as much as I can, which helps to simplify the code, making it easier to understand and to extend.

As some people know, I’m a diagnosed depressive, which means that I tend to get overwhelmed by things pretty easily. I came to an understanding recently that this was partly because I had been living my life “in full”, where it was now time to abstract out as much as possible.

One example is my books and media. I have a very extensive library, with hundreds each of books, VHS videos, and DVDs. Whenever I need to find something, I have to go digging through all those things, which are scattered around my house, crammed wherever they will fit.

It is that “scattering” which I think is an apt description of how my life is at the moment - I have too many different types of bill, there are too many projects I’m trying to keep track of, and in general, my attention is too scattered to be able to progress with anything.

So, it’s time to abstract it all. I’ve started, by calling up almost every company I have a bill from, and organising direct debits with them. Next, I need to convert all my media into one single format (divx), and pack away the originals (in computer terms, the divx files might be considered an “abstraction layer”). Then I need to prioritise my projects, and cut myself off from those that I have no time for.

Then, I can sit down again and see if my life is still complex. If so, then there is more pruning to do. If not, then I can finally progress with my life.

I just watched Robin Williams’ Bicentennial Man, based on Isaac Asimov’s robot story of the same name.

This was an incredibly powerful film! I was blubbering by the end of it, trying to keep quiet, in case I woke my daughter up (she was asleep in my arms).

The story is about a robot, Andrew (played by Robin Williams), who is purchased by Richard Martin (played by Sam Neill), who is “flawed” in a way which means that he is emotional and creative, whereas all other robots are mere tools.

This “flaw” inspires Andrew to become more and more human. First, by adopting clothes, then a bank account, then cosmetic appearance, and by inventing prosthetic organs which can be used by himself and by “real” humans.

I really loved this film. It may have been a flop in the box office, but that appears to have just been unfortunate timing.

Andrew’s wish to become human opens up the question - what is “human”? When it is brought up in a court case, he points out that it cannot be just based on what a person is made of - after all, that would make people with artificial limbs or organs somehow less human!

The answer he is given, which I disagree with even though it makes a good story, is that to be human is to die. It is the awareness of ourselves and of our impending non-existence that defines the human condition. As Andrew was a robot and essentially immortal, he could not, therefore, be considered “human”.

Interesting logic, but a trifle unfair.

Watch the film. You’ll be glad you did.