My existentialism class was hilarious today, even though we were talking about the meaninglessness of life and the connection of this belief with suicide, Camus-style. They were slap happy from having had to turn in papers and not having gotten enough sleep as a result, but it was, surprisingly, a good discussion. Somebody mentions a connection between Husserl and Camus, I get some furrowed brows at the mention of Husserl, so I write "Husserl" on the board. One of the previously-non-furrowed browed students suddenly transforms into a furrowed browed student, so I raise my brow in query.

"Doesn't 'Husserl' have an umlaut, or am I just wrong about that?" he asks.

"It doesn't have an umlaut, so I guess you're just wrong," I respond. He's had me before, so he's pretty used to being told that he's wrong. "It's different from this," I say as I begin writing something else on the board under "Husserl."

At the same time that I begin writing, I hear a former student blurt out, "Don't write 'Husker Du'," which is, of course, precisely what I am in the process of writing. Ahh, they know me so well! Then things just go nuts for about 5 minutes.

Another student exclaims, "Let's really mess with the next class that meets in here. Make a connection between Husserl and Husker Du!" The door has been opened. I rush in. I proceed to circle "Husserl," underline "Husker Du," and draw a big, thick double arrow from the former to the latter. Under "Husker Du" I list "Mould," "Hart," and "Norton" on different lines, put a double-underlined "phenomenology" next to "Husserl" and draw an arrow from it to "Mould." "Sugar" (band Mould was in after his brief first solo career) gets put next to "Mould," "Nova Mob" (band Hart was in after his brief solo career) next to "Hart," "chef" (which I hearn Norton had become after leaving Husker Du) next to "Norton," and "Hart" and "Norton" get bracketed with a "}" for no reason in particular.

I stand back, admiring the creation, the students admiring my work as well. They are pleased. I am pleased. A former student says someone should take a picture of it. We go back to talking about absurdity and suicide.

Lost (2)

I can't make out a lot of the Latin words, and I'm not even sure what to look for or expect (not knowing the language very well), which is key to understanding/translating language. But here are a few interesting things about the outer notes, most of which I've transcribed. The notes are contained in certain areas in keeping with the sides of the octagon. So, if you were to draw lines from the center, through the points on the octagon where the sides meet, to the edge of the outer writing, you would have the area in the octagon to which the writing outside of the octagon is relevant. For instance, the notes about the medical station occur only in that outer area beside the sketch of the medical hatch inside the octagon. (The "/"s with spaces on either side are the line breaks in the notes as written. The "..." means that I couldn't make out what was there.)

CERBERUS ACTIVITY

There are several notes that mention "CERBERUS":

• "PRIMARY NEXUS OF / CERBERUS-RELATED / ACTIVITY." (underlined, next to a box in the octagon labeled "CV III" near the Swan hatch sketch)
  
• "ACTIVITY MINIMAL / DURING LOCKDOWN AND / RESTOCKING PROCEDURES" (underlined, in same area of the diagram as above, probably talking about the same cerberus activity)
• "CAUDUCEUS / STATION / BELIEVED TO HAVE / BEEN ABANDONED / DUE TO AH/MDG INCIDENT OF 1985" (beside the Staff/medical hatch - the "cauduceus" is that snake-on-the-pole sign of all things medical)
• "OR [circled] / POSSIBLE CATASTROPHIC / MALFUNCTION OF / CERBERUS SYSTEM" (written right under the previous note)
  
• "ALLEGED / LOCATION OF / #4 - THE FLAME." (underlined, written under the previous note - both the Staff and Flame sketches are in the same area in the octagon)
• "BUT / UNLIKELY DUE / TO CERBERUS / ACTIVITY" (written under previous note)

So, what is this "cerberus" all about? I dunno. The vaccine Desmond was taking began with "C" ("CR" I think), so I thought it might have to do with whatever the Swan and Arrow hatches were supposedly being quarantined against. But the note mentions a "possible catastrophic malfunction of cerberus system" and it's more than passing weird to call a disease sort of thing a "system."

I suspect that "Cerberus" refers to the black smoke creature. In Greek mythology, Cerberus was the three-headed watchdog of Hades. At one point in the season, Danielle refered to what (I am pretty sure) turned out to be the black smoke as the "security system," suggesting both a system and a watchdog kind of purpose. Some experiment or security system gone bad. What it is supposed to protect or what harm it is supposed to do to intruders is beyond me, but it puts on a really good show. Nonetheless, the notes suggest that both the abandonment of the medical hatch (as early as 1985) and the unlikelihood of the alleged location of the Flame hatch are both due to Cerberus screw ups.

This week's episode suggests that the lockdown (blast doors coming down, lights going out, etc.) happens when there is a food drop, and the food probably comes every several months. So, the notes could not have been written during the time that the Losties were on the island, since it's only been a couple of months. But if Claire's memories are correct, the medical hatch was not abandoned but was in full operation when she was taken. A few possible explanations:

1. Claire's suppressed memories are inaccurate.
2. The notes are wrong, a ploy, or purposefully misleading.
3. The medical hatch was re-opened after the notes were written.
   

Regardless, most of the Cerberus activity, according to the notes, is in the area of the Swan hatch. If the Cerberus system, which could also be active in different places on the island, were the black smoke creature, this would explain why the Losties are getting waylaid by the black smoke creature where they are.

THE AH/MDG INCIDENT

A couple of notes refer to this "incident," but none say what it was, only when it happened (1985). One of the notes is listed above. The other is

• "... FOLLOWING AH/MDG / INCIDENT." (at very top - it is cut off, since the door didn't come down all the way - there is obviously something written just above this part of the note)

"AH" could reasonably refer to Alvar Hanso; it would make sense that the DG in "MDG" referred to De Groot (sp?); both of these guys were mentioned in the training film found in the Swan hatch and were centrally involved in the Dharma Initiative stuff. But what does the "M" stand for? The De Groots' first names were Karen and Gerald. Perhaps the AH/MDG is meant (by the producers) to steer us in this direction while the truth of the matter, if there is any, lies elsewhere.

THE INTRANET AND DHARMATEL

Several notes talk about computer-related telecommunication network things going on on the island.

• "SYSTEM-WIDE / FAILURE OF / DHARMATEL INTRANET / 4.08.00, 8.15.01, / 01.06.0[3] - COMPLETE SHUTDOWN / IN EFFECT."(below the Swan sketch)
• "NO CONNECTION / TO ISLAND-WIDE / E.E.P. NETWORK" (written to the right of and perpendicular to the previous note, suggesting a later addition)
• "NO SAFE LOCATION FOR DHARMATEL / SERVERS/HUB CABLING OR / INFRASTRUCTURE." (written between the Swan and Flame hatches)
  

The very idea of an intranet includes communication via computers between stations at a distance. That there is something called "Dharmatel" (Dharma's very own telecommunications company?? After all, they've got their own cereal, peanut butter, and macaroni supper!) setting up servers and laying cables means, at least before "the incident," that the computer in the Swan hatch was meant to communicate with other computers on the island. This lends credence to the suggestion in an earlier episode that Walt was communicating with Michael via computer. At the very least, somebody communicated with Michael.

The first note, however, says that the intranet failed and that there is a complete shutdown in effect at the time of the note. If part of what this means is that the computers cannot communicate with one another, then how in the heck is Michael able to converse with someone via computer network? Perhaps They got it working again. Who knows.

THE POLAR BEAR

Okay, one last tidbit and then I'm done with this nonsense for the night.

• "STATED GOAL, … / ACCELLERATED DE-TERRITORIALIZATION / OF URSUS MARITIMUS THROUGH / GENE THERAPY AND EXTREME / CLIMATE CHANGE" (underlined, appears to be a late addition to the tapestry)
  

Ursus maritimus is another name for a polar bear. Apparently, there was an experiment that quickly adapted the polar bear to a polar opposite (pun intended) climate, from really cold to really tropical, through messing with its genes. I'm not sure about the de-territorialization part, since that sucker seemed pretty upset before Sawyer shot him, but this would explain the polar bear being on the island.

Anyway, all of this is just a little bit of the notes on the blast door. They show a lot of in-the-know awareness of what the Dharma Initiative is up to on the island, a lot of information gathered what appears to be over a substantial period of time (given the infrequency in which the blast doors probably come down and the short time someone would have to write on them).

Abduction

No, not alien abduction. The form of reasoning called abduction, also called "inference to the best explanation." You've got a set of facts, like, say, a bunch of scribbles in flourescent ink on the inside of a blast door that can only be accessed every several months for about 15 seconds at a time. You ask yourself, What is the best explanation for how that got there? When you find an answer, you've been abducting. It's the classic Sherlock Holmes method of reasoning: muddy shoes and flared pants cuffs (the facts) means your client biked in from the English countryside of Wherever There Is That Kind of Mud (the best explanation), etc.

So, this morning I found a dead baby bird in the chair on my porch. The chair that is about as far as it can possibly be from the nest snuggled in the top corner on the other side of the porch. There is bird poop on the chair and on the ledge beside the chair. I ask myself, What the heck happened here? How did this little featherless pink body that couldn't fly even if it were alive get way over here? Yep, that was my first response. I wasn't sad. I didn't think, Oh, poor little guy. I thought, How'd THAT happen?

The porch is screened in, so I suspect an inside job. No cats climbing up there and plopping him in my chair. There was bird poop around where the little guy was lying, so at least one other bird was involved close range, perhaps a concerned bird. There was poop on the ledge beside the chair, maybe another onlooker, or maybe the same bird flitting about in anxiety. I'm pretty sure the chair poop wasn't there before; the ledge poop might have been. But if it were, I would expect ledge poop on the ledges in other areas of the porch; there is none. I don't know that much about how mobile little featherless pink baby birds are, but I suspect the answer is not very. So, something had to have put it in that chair. But what? Another bird. A parent? A disgruntled neighbor? That, I couldn't say. I'll have to stop the inference with "Another bird" and try to be content with my ignorance.

Lost (1)

Those punks. Not four hours after the show aired, we've got incredibly clear Photoshopped pics like this one of the hatch blast door and most, if not all, of the Latin phrases already translated. Not four hours after the show aired, we've got 300+ comments in one Lost forum alone. As of the writing of this blog, it's up to 610 comments. And I've either read or scanned every friggin' one of them. Sigh.

Sketched on the blast door (having been revealed by the black light):

• The Dharma octagon with sketches of six hatches, a seventh one scribbled out. Two of the six are sketched with dotted lines, the other four with solid lines.
  
• The four solid-line hatches: "THE SWAN," "THE FLAME," "THE STAFF," "ARROW." The two dotted-line hatches have no names: one is labeled "C4?", the other "C3?". Beside one of the dotted-line hatches is "THE PEARL?", which suggests the name of an additional hatch.
  
• In the center of the octagon is a dotted-line circle with a huge "?" in it.
  
• The hatch sketches overlay what appears to be a crude topographical map. There are lightly sketched straight lines connecting some of the hatches to other hatches and lines connecting all of the hatches to the center circle.
  
• Inside the octagon are eight Latin phrases written in cursive, a few notes in all caps, numbers (square roots of 16, 64, and 225 [= 4, 8, 15]), a set of coordinates ("x4, y8, z15"), and what appears to be a physics equation.
• The only cursive writing outside of the octagon are two other Latin phrases. All other notes are in the same all caps handwriting.
  
• Outside the octagon are notes--some of which are underlined, some that have dates attached and more physics equations.
  
• The most obvious and, it appears, most recently written, note outside the octagon is the phrase "I AM HERE." that is circled several times with a big arrow pointing from it to the Swan hatch.
• The octagon and the lines connecting the hatches/center circle are in flourescent blue. The hatches and the "I AM HERE." are in flourescent purple. The question mark in the center is in heavy bright pink, while the circle itself (and the writing inside the circle) is in bright yellow. The scribbled 7th hatch looks to be scribbled out with yellow. All of the other notes/writing are in yellow/white.
  

Obvious questions:

1. Who wrote this stuff?
2. Why did he/she/they write this stuff?
3. When did he/she/they write this stuff?
4. What does the writing say?
   
5. What the heck does the writing mean?
   

I don't have time to answer these questions even if I could, though I'll hazard a guess or two below. For now I'll just direct you to this wiki article and let you soak it up.

The sketch was done by more than one person, given (1) he stark differences between the cursive and all caps handwriting and (2) that these two sets of handwriting are in two different languages.

The order in which they were written can be partially ascertained by how some writing is covered up by writing of a different color. The pink/purple seems to be the most recent, the blue the least recent, and the yellow in the middle. Whether the different colors point to different sets of people, I'm not sure. The "I AM HERE." in purple looks like the same AC handwriting of the majority of the notes (which are in yellow), which makes me think it's the same person.

The AC notes are detailed and in some cases very specific to Dharma Initiative goings-on. But the numerous "ALLEGED," "POSSIBLE," and question marks that qualify many of the notes suggest a limited knowledge. The notes indicate a timeline of piecing information together a little at a time, like the writer is note-carding bits of research to keep all in one spot.

The Latin phrases (why Latin??), on the other hand, seem almost to be phrases from other works that seem to be relevant to the D.I. stuff or the hatches but in a non-specific way, almost like a sort of philosophical-literary commentary. For instance, the phrases near the Staff hatch (which is the medical hatch found a few episodes ago) mean "The treatment is worse than the disease" (outside the octagon) and "It's a bad plan that can't be changed" (inside the octagon); this makes sense given the medical nature of that hatch, but the meaning of the commentary is up in the air (at least to me). (Note: I'm getting the Latin translations from others, so I don't know how accurate they are--I don't have my Latin texts out of their boxes!) There are some pretty creepy Latin phrases, like "I think therefore I am depressed/I grieve/I suffer" and "Save yourself from hell." The sursum corda, "Lift up your hearts" (for all you liturgical types out there), also makes a showing--repeated three times inside the octagon. Significance to the thrice repeat? Probably.

Where this information is coming from, I have no idea. Why it is written in a flourescent substance on the inside of a blast door which, apparently, only comes down when there is a food drop, I am at a loss. Why this wasn't written on the pages of the books in the library, beats me. There is a feeling of secrecy here. Possibly a mole in the D.I. group. Or a few of them. Desmond, of course, comes to mind. Perhaps he is an infiltrator and the "him" he was asking Locke about during their first at-gunpoint meeting is his fellow conspirator. He certainly seemed to know some things and yet he was very touchy about having hatch guests, to the point of drawing firearms on them. The actions of a man who thinks he might have been found out or who is worried about being caught and who thus needs to know the identity of his guests. He also seemed to not be very worried about where he was headed when he took off out of the hatch, suggesting that he knew where other things were in relation to the Swan hatch, i.e., he knew the map on the blast door.

More later...maybe.

I just found out that The Southern Journal of Philosophy will be publishing the manuscript I sent them back in January! First hurdle cleared. And with no suggested corrections, which came as a surprise. I'm excited about my first publication, to say the least. My neighbors are probably wondering what all the ecstatic hooting is about. Hopefully it will lead to many other publications...and to a good tenure-track position somewhere. With the philosophy job market the way it is, I'll probably need a few more. But for now, I will celebrate with a post on last night's Lost episode, a pint of my most recently homebrewed pale ale, and grading a set of essay exams that I'd like to hand out tomorrow. Probably in that order. Which means the exams might not be finished until Monday. Which is when I take over my soon-to-be-having-a-baby officemate's two classes for the remainder of the semester.

The Simple Pleasure of Carpenter Bees

In my past life I would sit on my porch swing, facing a few acres of fallow dairy farmland circumscribed by woods and scattered with a handful of white-bloomed stinky (for a few weeks of spring) pear trees. On the warm days the sound of female carpenter bees buzzing inside the supporting rafters of the deck above and the sight of the male bees chasing each other around. Territorial probably isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind. They seemed to have a space - their space - the boundaries within which no other was allowed to pass. I would even receive intense scrutiny at times, the fat little critters hovering in front of me scanning looking scanning running off intruders. I caught a female in the handle of my broom, angry buzzing at every shake. I imprisoned her with duct tape. Life without parole. Dead bee walking.

I thought those days were over in this life. But as I sat on my porch swing this afternoon, my friends returned in full force. Peeping Bees hovering in front of the second story windows of the apartment next door chasing off intruders. Playing tag. Burrowing behind the useless shutters. I only wish the mesh screen weren't there. So I could be part of their play. But I was really content enough to watch. To remember.

What is it like to be a carpenter bee? What is it like to flit around at such high speeds over such short distances? It has been suggested by philosophers that an answer to this question is impossible for us, that this constitutes a refutation of materialism. There is something it is like to be a bee that can't be fully discovered by science. We could know everything there is to know about these chubby organic helicopters, every objectively discoverable fact, but still never know all the facts, never have access to the phenomenal feel of the experiences they enjoy. (Nevermind the anthropomorphism of this suggestion of enjoyment.) But we do have access to our experiences, to what it is like to be Me. This, it is suggested, is likewise off limits to the realm of objectively discoverable facts. Insofar as materialism claims that everything that is is objectively discoverable, materialism is in trouble. Of course, others disagree.

1. Saw Syriana Saturday night. It seemed to get good critical reviews, but I found it pretty boring and (as Simon Cowell would say) unmemorable. Political thriller? Well, they got the political part right. Very hard to follow. So was Memento, but at least that one kept my attention. The coolest part of Syriana was when Clooney's character got all of his fingernails ripped off with pincers. Mmmm, pincers.
   
2. Speaking of movies, I replaced my special edition copy of This Is Spinal Tap. Some sap ran away with it a while back. This one will not leave my place of residence. Period.
3. I've been listening to Death Cab For Cutie's early album (their first one, I believe). For the most part, it's very different from the bulk of their two latest albums. Less airy and ethereal both musically and vocally. More of the rough-and-tumble driving feedback guitar that I dig, some of it with a decidedly alt/punk feel. With 18 songs on the album there's definitely a mix, some songs anticipating the path they took on their latest albums, while some of their latest (I'm thinking mainly of "We Looked Like Giants" and parts of "Expo '86" from Transatlanticism) is reminiscent of this early stuff. I like it a lot. There's also a fabulous cover of The Smith's "This Charming Man" on it--alone almost worth the purchase.
   
4. Headphones just keeps getting better.
   

Vamos A Jugar Por La Playa II

Little did he know. . .














Coolest cat on the beach!












A GQ moment before church. (Gramps in the background.) Is he cute or what? He must get it from his mom. . .

At church I got to catch up with a couple of ladies who I hadn't seen in a while (and who didn't recognize me with my new 'do). One of them had this look in her eye that reminded me of a wolf admiring an easy prey, scanning the room for some eligible young lady that I "had to meet." Hehe. Not really, but for sure the second question I was asked was whether I was married yet.

For some reason they recalled some crazy things I used to do. Me? Do crazy things? They must've gotten me confused with someone else. One of the ladies ended the amusing anecdote with something like "But I'm sure he's calmer and wiser now." Ha! I quickly divested them of that illusion. At least the calmer part.

Vamos A Jugar Por La Playa

The weekend before last was spent near Destin with the fam. We enjoyed some beautiful weather biking down to the beach.







Silliness is a family disease. Dad, me, and little brother.



















Little brother and family. My nephew really enjoyed his first bike ride!

















Somehow we managed to get the Camera Lady, aka Mom, aka 2004 Presidential Award for Excellence in Mathematics and Science Teaching awardee, aka 2005 Disney Teacher Award awardee, aka 2005 NEED Teacher of the Year, in a shot!

Meeting A Stranger

Existentialist thought is very much concerned with the existing individual. Heck, the existing individual (as opposed, say, to the abstract, metaphysical, or theoretical individual) is absolutely central to existentialist thought, as it is that around which existentialist themes and issues revolve. The center of the existentialist solar system. The music in the Sartrean iPod. The creamy nougat center of...well, maybe not that, but for an atheistic existentialists like Sartre the absolute freedom and complete autonomy of this creamy nougat center is jeapordized by the Other, by the outsider, the not-I who imposes limitations on the self. What others think of me limits the possibility open to me as to how I not only could imagine but also could create myself to be. And if I'm interested in keeping hold of my absolute freedom and complete autonomy, others are my existential enemies. They put me in a box, but I cannot be caged. They see what I am not; they perceive an illusion, that I am "this way" or "that way," that I have this essence or that essence. There is no essential nature that I fall into in my existing; rather, it is my existing, my making the choices that I make, that creates whatever responsibility-inducing "essence" I may have.

As Jules in Pulp Fiction says: "I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth." It strokes my ego. It tickles my pride. It romps around with my fancy. But it is I who perceive the illusion. The heart is deceitful above all else. Sartre was particularly concerned about the essence-existence relationship in light of God's existence: if God exists, then there is an essential nature that we have according to which we should (but might not) conform in our existing. This creates ethical obligations for us as existing individuals, and obligations get in the way of our freedom and autonomy, which is bad, so let's do away with God's existence--at the very least, let's say that "Christian existentialism" is an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms.

This idea that God as Creator and us as creation creates ethical obligations upon us is something that Horton focuses on in Lord and Servant. Horton even talks about our being in the image of God in covenantal-ethical terms rather than in terms of essence or ontology. Horton puts the relationship between God and man in terms of meeting a stranger. While some (like Tillich) would say that in meeting God we meet some aspect of ourselves that once remained hidden but now is revealed, while others (like Derrida) would say that we cannot meet God because is being is simply unavailable to us, Horton strikes a middle ground in saying that, yes, we actually meet God, there is a relationship to be had, but we do not meet God as He is in Himself or to Himself. He is still a stranger to us in the sense that his being is undisclosed, it is forever veiled from our mind's eye. But this ontological (regarding God's being) and epistemological (regarding our knowledge of God's being) situation is not a problem, for our relationship to God is essentially ethical (and personal) in its being covenantal. We don't need to know God in the fullness of His being in order to know Him or have a relationship with Him. We need only know Him in the ways in which He reveals Himself, ways that truly reflect who He is, ways that force a response on our part--to heed the call or to reject it.

Sartre was right that God as Creator creates ethical obligations for humanity. Sartre was right that we, in our self-righteous, rebellious autonomy, don't like it. It's tough to be told that you are breaking rules imposed by an Other, rules that you neither agreed to nor desire to follow. That's what really rankles someone like Sartre. That's what really rankles us. But we are either covenant breakers or covenant keepers. That is what essentially defines us, whether we like it or not.

Judy Is A Punk

What the heck? Pre-haircut ceremony. Sumbudy hepme!


This is what happens when you give Alisha the clippety clips:



Man, I need a good teeth cleaning. Which I should get in April or May--that's how long the waiting list is for the Dental Hygiene department at Athens Tech. Give those future dentists something to do for 4 or 5 hours and get a cheap cleaning while I'm at it!






As good as the mohawk looks, it eventually ended up on the porch floor along with all my other hair. Why the shave? Heck, why not?

1. Heather's wedding reception Saturday night was great fun. (Can't really comment much on the wedding proper, as I came in 20 minutes late from the gun show.) It was nice having everyone there to celebrate my birthday. And to camp out at the open bar. Mmmm, gin and tonic.

1. RE and I went out to EJ's new land purchase on Sunday afternoon to do some fishing and shooting. With proper ear protection, this time. For the shooting, not the fishing. There's a little pond, where we were fishing, and also an abandoned quarry filled with water and, probably, fish on the land. Perfect swimming/fishing hole. The .22 pistol that RE bought on Saturday was great fun. We practiced some shooting tips my Special Agent for the DEA high school bud gave me. Not bad shots for a minister and philosopher.

1. Birds and biscuits. That's what woke me up at 6:15 one morning last week. I guess there are worse things to wake up to than the sharp, shrill chirp of birds on (or at least way too near) one's porch...but then there are better bird sounds than that to wake up to. While the birds were happily screeching away (instead of getting the early worm, like they should have been doing), some guy was in the apartment hallway talking on the cell phone--or his imaginary friend--about someone who didn't know the difference between biscuits and scones. I couldn't really guess at why that conversation was happening via cell phone at 6:15 in the morning. The biscuit man hasn't returned, but the birds have been full force ever since.

1. I bought a really cool old leather briefcase at Agora the other day.

1. Brewed another pale ale last Tuesday. It should be ready to consume next week. I think I hopped it into the India Pale Ale category, but no worries--hops and I get along just fine.

1. Been listening to Headphones, the latest musical venture of David Bazan (Pedro the Lion). Bazan's writing is as strong as ever and his syrupy vocals remain steadfast, but the music itself takes a little getting used to, especially if you're expecting something along the lines of Pedro the Lion. The drums are real, but the rest is synthesizer. Not my choice of instrument to be the main ingredient, even though I am a musical child of the 80s. The engaging melody lines are still there, but it just sounds so cheesy sometimes. Did he think he was getting too popular with Pedro?
   

Ring pics

Here is my latest jewelry aquisition. Story: I lost my other one and wanted a replacement. A cheaper replacement, in case I lost this one, too. There was one I almost bought that had three black lines - one in the middle and two on either side of it. But it was $4 more than this one, and after going back and forth between them for about 10 minutes, I grew to genuinely like the cheaper one better. At least I think it was genuine...it probably just took me that long to convince myself that the cheaper one was better. I bought it from the guy who sets up downtown at the corner of College and Clayton. Nice guy. Decent selection. Good price. Why do I want a ring? Beats me. It currently resides on my right hand middle finger.

1. Bought a new ring the other week. It fits better than the other one, which I lost not a month after I bought it. Fortunately, it didn't find me. Unfortunately, I didn't find it.
   
2. I have a birthday coming up. Why birthday parties? Another reason to have a party? A celebration of God's graciously granting us another year? Heck, I could've celebrated that yesterday. Or the day before. Or on any other un-birthday (after my first birthday, of course). A celebration of the friends and family that God has graciously provided us with? Whatever the reason, I'll be at a gun show buying a knife to skin little critters with. And maybe even a gun.
3. Got all of the PJs episodes on DVD. They were never officially released, so I'm guessing it's not illegal to have copies of them. Are TV shows copyrighted when they're aired? Is this one of those self-incriminating entries? Should I practice a bit of selective editing?(If you're reading this, you already know the answer.)
   
4. I started a Yahoo! radio station a couple of years ago. I forgot about it until about an hour ago.
5. Another one of those "preachers" showed up in front of the Main Library yesterday. One of my students told me about him as we were heading downtown to chat about presuppositional apologetics. "He's arguing from a presuppositional apologetic standpoint." "Hmph, I seriously doubt that," I said suspiciously. Well, I come to find out that my student was absolutely right. This guy was doing presuppositional apologetics right there on North Campus. It was interesting to witness, to see what he would do to, in Bahnsen's words, take it to the streets. Sitting there on the little marble wall assaulted by a decent spring day took me back to my college days to some extent. Former students passed by, stopping to chat. The RUFI minister, on campus meeting students, came over to visit for a while. It made be remember that I'd forgotten what is was like just being-on-campus, just sitting and visiting and watching for a moment.
   

Journaling and the Other

Blogging and journaling. I'm not quite sure what the proper grammatical etiquette is for turning 'journal' from a noun into a verb into a gerund. 'Blog' involves that sneaky extra 'g,' but a parallel extra 'l' just didn't look right for 'journal'--not a good ground for grammar standards, I know. (But nice alliteration, right?) Anyway, back to the topic that hasn't yet developed into a topic...which begs the question of whether I can legitimately refer to said topic. What exactly am I referring to? Not the topic as I intend it to be, since that has yet to happen. The topic has been introduced but not developed, so I could be said to be referring to the topic generatim at some stage of its being, or, more accurately, the topic in the possibility of its closed actuality. So, I am referring to the topic as I intend it, in terms of its future rather than its present, and at the same time to the topic as I don't intend it, void of the particulars I wish to attach to it. Enough of paradox.

"After my death, no one will find in my papers (this is my consolation) the least information about what has really filled my life, find the inscription in my innermost being which explains everything and what, more often than not, makes what the world would call trifles into, for me, events of immense importance, and which I too consider of no significance once I take away the secret note which explains it" (Kierkegaard, Journals, IV A 85).

One commentator claims that Kierkegaard knew that his journals would be published someday and ransacked for biographical clues to help unravel mysteries behind his published works. Doesn't it sound odd to say that when he started them at twenty years old he wrote with an audience in mind, an audience other than himself? Not really. The very act of bringing our private thoughts outside of ourselves into a common medium, whether by writing in a diary or typing on a blog, automatically involves an Other, someone else to witness it. (Not the 'Other' of the Lost kind, but the 'Other' of the existentialist kind.) No matter how small the audience, there is an audience, an audience that is other than ourselves. Despite Kierkegaard's quote above, we all want to be understood by someone else, we desire to be heard, we yearn to be acknowledged. It may be that we never actually experience this, it may be a mere possibility, a tiny hope in the back of our minds, but the longing is there. If only someone, somewhere, at some point says "Yes," it is enough. Writing out our thoughts, feelings, hopes, and desires--burying a chest that we hope will someday be considered a lost treasure. Bringing the private into the public--this is what we do when we journal, even when we purposefully place the notebook among those books on our shelves that we trust no one will go near. We entertain the guilty pleasure of someone else seeking us out even in those dusty places.

At the same time, it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Other. Sartre had this in mind when, in his play No Exit, he has a character exclaim, "Hell is other people." In Being and Nothingness, he says a great deal about the fear that engulfs relationships, the fear of being misunderstood, the fear of losing one's freedom in the tyrannical gaze of the Other, of having one's self stand bare before it. We seek the welcoming Embrace of the Other, yet our fear of being known and judged in that Embrace also repels us. In journaling we walk the thin line of the embrace. No, we have a foot planted firmly on both sides. Once in high school, I remember my mom read some of a journal I was keeping. I remember she snickered about it. My fear realized? I suppose. Did I get angry? Sure. But I wasn't angry that she read it. I was angry that I was present in the Embrace. Fear lends itself to this distance, to not-being-present in the Embrace. There is even a certain self-referential fear I have in reading what I've written in the past--I'm my toughest critic. I distance myself from it to the extent that it becomes merely interesting, a "Hmph, how cute," a parental snicker at myself-become-Other. That's not me in those pages. Yet, it is.

Blogging is different. It is geared toward the public from the outset. In its very composition, it is published for public consumption. I suspect our blogs would look very different from our journals, were we to do both. Yet, what interests me is that, I suspect, even our private publications contain a public component, though I also suspect that we would rather our unveiling be postponed until we are no longer present.

Lost (4): Mythology of Media

The executive producers/writers of Lost have used the term "mythology" to describe the world they've created, as in "part of the mythology of the show. . . ." With Tolkien, mythology, in the sense I think is approached here, figures prominently. His literary work (namely, The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings) is only the surface of a story that runs much deeper, and searching those depths offers a broader context, a greater comprehension, and a heavy satisfaction that only increases my admiration for it. His world is like but very much unlike ours. Perhaps the writers of Lost posture themselves in a similar situation: creating a world of which the TV show is a part--though I should think a much larger part than the Tolkien analogy allows.

For instance, the ABC network is behind a website about The Hanso Foundation, the foundation that provided the financial backing for the Dharma Initiative we see in the Orientation film in episode 2-3 "Orientation." (The original website, www.thehansofoundation.org, is currently down, but one Lost writer assures us that it will be up and running again at some point.) The home page has a quotation by Alvar Hanso, the first line of which Mr. Friendly repeated in 2-11 "The Hunting Party." Searching the Active Projects of the Foundation, we find a letter concerning the Hanso Life Extension Project and its celebration of succesfully extending the life of an orangutan, named "Joop," by (at that time) 45 years. (There is a list of other projects, but as of yet they are inaccessible. Scroll down below the list and a hidden link to the Orientation film appears.) In a recent podcast, Lost creator Damon Lindelof was asked how they would have finished the season if they were getting low ratings and weren't going to continue the show. In part of the response, he mentions a glass box that contains script pages answering all of the mysteries of the show and that has the words "In case of cancellation, break glass" on it. They playfully call the ending in which those pages would be used "the Joop ending," where a talking monkey with a pipe in his hand would reveal the mysteries to the viewers.

Another interesting and, I think, related find has to do with "Orientation." When Desmond is high-tailing it out of the bunker, there is a shot of a book on his bed, The Third Policeman by Flann O'Brien. Although I can't find the article, supposedly one of the producers/writers claims that the book was chosen for a reason and those who read it "will have a lot more ammunition in their back pocket as they theorize about the show." Hmmm, makes me want to go out and buy it! Plus, it looks like a really cool read. Point being, concerning the mythology angle, is that this is no mere obscure reference but a carefully placed piece of context to consult for thinking about what is going on in the text of the show itself. Very cool, indeed.

Lost (3)

In the medical bunker, Kate stumbles upon some dingy clothes that "Mr. Friendly" (what the creators of the show named the same guy that Sawyer called "Zeke" in 2-11 "The Hunting Party") was wearing on the boat when Walt was kidnapped, theatrical glue, and a false beard. Nice. And Mr. Friendly also appears--all clean-shaven and well-dressed--at the door talking to Ethan while Claire is hanging out in the nursery.

A few things about this:

1. Why would this incriminating stuff be left behind? It seemed like the bunker had been deserted for a while, or at least that when they left they decided to trash the place first (ripping down electrical wires from the hall ceiling, for one). They couldn't have left in that much of a hurry, since just about every bit of equipment had been carried off.
   
2. The bunker looked pretty run-down--too run-down to be accounted for by the month or so since Claire had been abducted. One thing to keep in mind, perhaps, is that our introduction to what had happened to Claire during the abduction could very well be twice removed from how things really were. The first remove is that she was always well drugged up and could have been seeing things as a bit more rosy than they actually were. The second remove is that these are memories of her time there brought up with the help of our resident island psychologist (Hurley's new woman!). Memories are reliably deceptive in their details. I'm not quite sure how much to place on this twice-removed idea, though.
3. The most interesting part of Kate's find was that there was a medical station Dharma insignia on the bottle of theatrical glue! What?? Now we're getting into the realm of conspiracy theory. Mr. Friendly was the guy on the boat who kidnapped Walt. How did they know they were out there? (They knew where they were, thanks to the flare gun. But they were obviously patrolling the area, suggesting that they knew to look for them in the first place and that they knew Walt was with them.) Mr. Friendly was the man who confronted Locke, Sawyer, and Jack in their hunt for Michael (who is who-knows-where) and took their guns. Who is this guy and what the heck are these DI people up to? Some even go so far as to suggest that DI had something to do with the plane crash, but that just seems too far-fetched...even for Lost.
   

Speaking of Mr. Friendly, he says some very curious things during the fireside chat with Jack, Sawyer, and Locke.

1. He quotes Alvar Hanso, the head of the Hanso Corporation that funded the DI, and refers to Hanso as "somebody a whole lot smarter than anyone here." Could Hanso be the "him" that Mr. Friendly refers to while talking to Ethan?
   
2. He calls Walt "a very special boy." How does he know that he's special? What is special about him? We get indications of how "special" he is from Season 1 when weird things are happening around him and from what Michael says about him. Something of a curse comes to mind, similar to that of Hurley's numbers. (Of course, the lady he talks with in Australia objects to the curse of the numbers.) One of the things that the Orientation film mentioned as part of the DI experiment subject matter was the paranormal, ESP, or something to that effect. That seems to accord with the "special" nature of Walt, so far as we know anything about Walt in this regard.
   
3. He talks to them about "opening doors [bnb: or possibly "a door"] to rooms [they] got no business opening" and "eat[ing] food that doesn't belong to [them]" in that cool host-guest metaphor. I imagine the "rooms" are the bunkers, since he puts particular emphasis on that part of the speech and looks at Locke when he says it. (Locke, of course, was the one who "opened" the door to the Swan station.) Why don't the DI people want them to pry? What experiments are they still performing? Why are they so interested in the children? (In addition to Walt, they took two other young survivors of the crash early on in the show.)
   

Lost (2)

Given the mention of B. F. Skinner as an influence for the DI in the Orientation film, my original suspicion concerning the Swan station was what Jack loosely voiced in #1: the Swan is one big Skinner box.

Skinner (died 1990) thought that behavior is simply a function of reinforcement and even went so far as to propose the use of behavior modification techniques, such as operant conditioning, as a way of improving society. His book Walden Two, for instance, tells a story about a commune whose inhabitants are much happier and better off than those in the outside world, at least partly due to their use of operant conditioning on their children. Not a great read, but an interesting concept and one that might very well fit with what's going on on the Lost island. Put simply, operant conditioning is a way of using reinforcement (either positive or negative) in order to bring about certain desired behaviors. Using this technique, you could teach an animal to do just about anything, from teaching pigeons to bowl to teaching chickens how to play baseball (both of which have been done, BTW). The Skinner box is a simple contraption used to reinforce whatever desired behavior you have in mind. A typical Skinner box will have some sort of operandum or something for the subject to operate (usually a lever that can be pressed) and a way of providing a reinforcer (like a feeder that dispenses food when the lever is pressed). The subject (in most experiments, a rat or pigeon) will first learn that pressing the bar dispenses the food. When you want the subject to learn a certain behavior, no reinforcer is given for bar-pressing until the subject performs the behavior. Eventually, the subject learns that the behavior brings the food and so will keep performing it.

Skinner also played around with reinforcement schedules. Interval schedules are ones where the reinforcer comes at certain intervals of time once the desired behavior is performed. In these cases, the subject expects the reinforcer at regular intervals and so does not perform the desired behavior until the right time. This seems to fit the Swan scenario where the button must be pushed (desired behavior) every 108 minutes (time interval). But what is the reinforcement? Saving the world, as Kelvin told Desmond?

One thing Skinner was pretty famous for (in certain circles, anyway) was getting his subjects to do the most ridiculous things: getting pigeons to turn counter-clockwise or stick their head in a certain corner of the cage. He called these "superstitions," suggesting that the subjects thought that such ridiculous behaviors had some sort of causal influence on getting the reinforcer when there really was no inherent causal connection (but only the connection made by the conditioning). Pushing that stinking button seems like a pretty good candidate for a superstition: it is somehow causally related to saving the world when in reality it is not. The timer has made it to zero at least once already and nothing bad seemed to happen. But one of the beauties of operant conditioning theory is that even with a few intermittent non-reinforcers, it is very difficult to extinguish the behavior.

The Orientation film mentioned that the Swan station was originally meant to conduct experiments on the electromagnetic signal on that part of the island (which seems to be supported by the metal key around Jack's neck mysteriously gravitating toward something when he got close to a makeshift wall in the hallway of the station) but that some "incident" occurred that made them change plans--change to pushing some stinking button on some stinking Apple II computer for no apparent reason whatsoever! What the heck? What was the incident? The only thing that keeps me from holding wholeheartedly to my Skinner box theory is that it seems too obvious, especially when we have a doofus-about-weird-stuff-happening-on -the-island like Jack saying that it must be some twisted behavioral experiment. But then again, wouldn't it be sweet if it were true, if "he" were just seeing how long these pea brains would keep pushing the button. What a great, but nowadays unethical, experiment.

Lost (1)

And now for a bit of fun.

Where to begin? It's not exactly like beginning a book after Chapter 1 or like watching a movie that is already in progress. It's more like stopping once you get to Chapter 2 or pausing the movie you've been watching to think a bit about where the story is--if it is an engaging story, it will take you back to where you've already been. So, I guess it doesn't really matter what you start thinking about.

In the latest episode (2-15, "Maternity Leave"), we find yet another Dharma Initiative station, another "hatch," where Claire was kept during the two weeks she was missing. It was some sort of medical bunker, given the medical symbol in the middle of the main Dharma symbol (based on a Taoist symbol) and the advanced medical equipment (e.g., an ultrasound machine). What it's main purpose was, I'm not exactly sure. I suspect it is an experiment station rather than a main medical station for DI people. I don't think it is a main medical station, since it looks pretty rough around the edges, like Station 3: The Swan, the original hatch where Desmond was found, and Station 3 had a particular (experimental?) purpose. In both of these bunkers, the hallways and outlying areas are rough, whereas the main areas are well furnished and kept nice. The Orientation film for Station 3 (2-3, "Orientation") says "3 of 6" at the beginning, suggesting that there are five other films, five other stations, or both. We know of three stations: the Swan station, the medical station, and the "arrow" station (where the survivors of the tail section were found). My guess is that we'll find three more stations before it's all over. I'm not as certain that there will be six films, though. My only reason for thinking this is that the film found in the Arrow station seemed to be the same film as the one in the Swan station but with extra footage. There was no film found in the medical station (at least not yet). Why the extra footage? Why was some missing from the Swan film?

Little baby Aaron had been drugged by "Dr. Ethan" by the same stuff that Desmond was injecting into himself in "Orientation." Both sets of vials had the same markings, with the same numbers on them (CR 4-81516-23 42). Not sure why Desmond was doing that--it wasn't in the film. Did Kelvin tell him to? What did Kelvin tell Desmond when he took him into the Swan? D wouldn't say. The jerk just ran off into the woods with some of the vials, the injector, and food. Dr. E said it was some sort of antidote (I don't recall his exact word). For what? Both the Swan and the Arrow stations had "quarantine" painted on the inside of the doors, so there is some evidence of a connection and that those in the medical station were aware of it; that is, there is some evidence of some central connection among the stations. But Desmond seemed rather unaware of anyone else on the island. I mean, in #1 when he and Locke were talking, he asked Locke if there was still a world out there. But then when he was convinced that the world was still there and when the computer seemed beyond repair, he took off either like he knew where he was going or like some crazy guy just running off into the woods with no purpose. Was he going to another station?