Whirlpools, Part II

Here is the question that launched my interest in grad school: does randomness exist? To some degree, it's a silly matter of definitions. Think about the premise. Randomness means: events to which we cannot ever (in the quantum dynamical sense) or cannot reasonably (in the deterministic sense), attribute cause. If the former, then yes randomness truly exists. If the latter, no.

The latter interpretation (randomness does not in principle exist, but we lack the means to detect cause) changes depending upon our technology. Therefore probability is nothing but a shortcut, right? We invoke probability to say, I see no discernible cause, but is there any bias in the data that suggests a cause of which we're unaware? Shorter interpretation: "I call it random b/c I can't see a cause". In that case randomness as a concept is based on ignorance, not arguable reality.

Another interpretation of randomness is "unlinked events". In this scenario, take the following example. A cosmic ray hits and mutates a key residue in the DNA of a cell. That cell ends up surviving better as a result. Obviously the cell's viability and the cosmic ray are not causally related (teleologically), yet ended up having a beneficial effect for the cell.

It's still causal, though. And, assuming some relatively constant rate of impingement, we would do well to adopt probabilistic models to seek it out. Yet the assumption underlying that model is false. The universe in this case did not randomly act. Does that matter? Does the usefulness of a tool outweigh its (perhaps faulty) assumption of an acausal universe?

This relates directly to the previous post. Can your actions - in principle - be predicted?

Free-willed whirlpools

Free will vs. Determinism, part I.

You have free will, so far as you know. There you are, thinking “I can do whatever I choose to do”. Everything you think about who you are is roughly divided into two categories: 1) the history that has influenced your choices and 2) a mysterious and unpredictable source, which you perhaps define as quintessentially “you”, that makes you who you are.

Let's probe that some. When asking who I am, I refer to my past and to previous choices I have made. Maybe you too. But what if I were to tell you that I had a sufficiently powerful and well-informed computer program (that knew everything that had ever happened to you) that could predict with perfect accuracy what you would do in any situation? And what if I provided data that it had been doing so, accurately, for months?

If told that, my first instinct would be to do two things. First, I'd bring up all my own actions that had surprised me, as evidence that I cannot be so reduced and predicted. Because I think I know “me”. Second, I'd begin to act more randomly. Why? Because if a program can predict my actions, I cease to be an independent “self”. Not just in the you're-stealing-my-soul sense. But in response to a more fundamental drive: I am “me” and no other entity can be “me”.

What's your reaction?

For the pedants out there like me: I understand that this is basic philosophy. Bear with me. I have left turns and I doubt you see them coming. If I'm wrong, kudos to you. But still. Have fun answering the question. Let's see where it goes: are you “you” because of what you have chosen, because of what you cannot know about what you would choose - or both? Why?

Mangosteen pollen

(Written April 13th)

Macha Loves Bedhead is aural porn. Despite getting up in 5 hours for a joyously grueling climb day, I keep hitting repeat. The sounds light me up. It's like being on the receiving end of that rare, arrestingly naked look women sometimes give. I'm entirely present.

It wasn't so much the weather today as what it did to the city. Flowering plants ate it up and gave full-on back with scented mating calls. Everyone poured out of their homes intent on ravishing the city during its unusually welcoming demeanor. I imagined that the warm front came from Indonesia, bearing mangosteen pollen. Every other woman addressed her city with floral prints today. No Orangutans or active volcanoes though (that I saw).

So I bought fruit, which is rare. Never seen Fiji apples that size before. No mangosteens, durians or jackfruit for sale. The papayas were distinctly not SE Asian sizes. Not that I'm a size queen.

"You return to what you were looking for, after this detour. Not kind, not unkind. A smoke and a drink. No more signs of life." Macha Loves Bedhead.

Anyway. Moaning rocks. Good coffee, hops in the nose, the perfect song, aching and worked muscles, watching a cherished friend do something that reminds you why you love them, suddenly understanding a new thing. And any particular moment of sampling today's air. Moaning? Absolutely.

Time for bed.

Don't view this profile anymore!

I'm at 666 views. Yes!!

In other news, I quit smoking and am ecstatic about it. As of Day 2 anyway. No cravings, huge energy, no crankiness, nothing. And my crazy nose, already sensitive, can now smell YOU. That's right, I'm looking at YOU.

The Allen replacement

It’s official. You no longer need to invite me to parties.

walkingdead.net/perl/euphemism

I did a car bomb with Quentin Tarantino today

And he seemed chill. Just sayin. Could have been anybody, but it was him.

Time to act up.

That's what I'll be doing in 2008. The trouble we're in is irrefutably real. It takes less than 10 minutes to read and decide for yourself:

www.salon.com/opinion/gre...y/index.html

www.slate.com/id/2179934/

(image taken from www.keelynet.com)

Fuck Kerry.

Kid asks Kerry three (favorable) questions, gets hauled out, ziptied and threatened/hit with a taser. At a Kerry event (Kerry the ex-war protester that is), who didn't lift a fucking finger to stop it. Well I got a finger to lift on the kid's behalf.

www.youtube.com/watch