Plastic Electric 'Blog

7:34 PM

Emails, Blogs, and Somewhere In Between

Inspired by a comment by Rach in the comments on Shauny's mailache entry, it has occurred to me that newsletter type emails could be a sort of halfway thing between public, personal journals and private, personal emails.

The thought has occurred to me a number of times over the years that I could have a newsletter, which I'd write and email to multiple friends. It would save time on sharing news, in much the same way as, say, a personal blog, but would also be private, and have more of a personal feel to it. It would be just for those who I would send it to. Not quite as personal as one-to-one emails, but more personal than public journalling.

There are, however, two reasons why I've never actually started such a newsletter:

• It would feel terribly egotistical, pretentious, 'hey, I've got a newsletter, and it's all about me!' type thing. I mean, who am I to write and send a newsletter that's basically about me? Even if it's just about things I observe but which don't involve me, it's still going to be things that I observe. It would, it seems, suggest that I feel myself to be somewhat more important than others. After all, I've never been on anyone else's personal newsletter emailing list!

• There is very little news in my life. Such newsletters would, in general, be very, very short. Ajnd very infrequent. Of course, I could write stuff that isn't really news (as is the case here in this blog), but what I said in the previous paragraph would seem even more applicable.

And yet, despite the first reason, I have this blog. But, I think, the key difference is that people choose whether or not to come to this blog, but I'd choose whether or not to send them newsletters (though, presumeably, they'd sign up or something to begin with).

Even so, the newsletter idea does seem to me to be a potentially good kind of halfway thing between public journals and private, one-to-one emails. Kind of like regularly having conversations with groups of friends down the pub, but in email form. Perhaps it will be the next big meme? Or perhaps it might just be terribly cliquey.

6:10 PM

Meeting Miss Marybeth

This morning, I travelled up to London on the train (it's handy that I live just outside), and on the tube to Picadilly Circus, where I met Miss Marybeth.

Now, this is the first time that I've met someone off the internet (other than a bunch of Linux nerds a couple of years ago, but that doesn't count (please don't let it count! It was a one off, a mistake not to be repeated. They were Linux nerds, after all.)), so I was a little nervous.

We elected to have luncheon at Garfunkel's (which I've never eaten in before). But just when we were about to head over the road, a parade of Christians arrived, ambling down the road with a police escort. Apparently, Jesus saves us. I couldn't help but cringe a bit. They even did this - what was it they called it? A 'power wave'? Some kind of wave. It was, um, not very impressive! Quite, um, amusing.

Anyway, once the Christians were out of the way, we headed over for lunch.

It was a good lunch, comparing notes on similarities and differences between the US and UK, and the like. She certainly has lots of good, interesting things to say!

(Now, for some reason, I'd always imagined that Missouri was one, big swamp. I was surprised, therefore, to learn that it is, in fact, one, big swamp. Or, at least, that it used to be (and still is when it rains, or the Mississippi (sp?) floods).)

Anyway, it was a good lunch (though I felt my conversational skills were rather rusty). And it's good to know that there are Americans, such as Miss Marybeth, who don't forget that the rest of the world exists (two or three minutes of world news in an hour or so long news programme?). There should be more Marybeth's in the world.

8:41 PM

Time for something interesting to happen to Fictionelle, I think.

12:33 AM

Feeling Horny

We'd be gathered around the teacher's work bench (he had one all his own), in our aprons (which we'd previously made in needlework classes), as he told us about what we'd be doing that metalwork lesson.

Now, I didn't fancy him. I did not fancy him one bit! But, for some reason, with all us boys and girls gathered around in our aprons, I'd inevitably get an erection. I'd just be horny. (Fortunately, having my hands in the front pocket helped hide any evidence. But no, I didn't play pocket billiards!)

I don't have an apron fetish, mind. I'm not sure what it was, but the smell of the metalwork room had something to do with it. Perhaps it was the idea of getting physical with tools and bits of metal, and that I'd be doing this in the same room as nubile girls who'd be getting similarly physical.

As I stood there, standing in more than one sense, I would start to fantasize. I can't remember what, particularly, but as I was a horny adolescent it was probably just the idea of having sex at all. And there were some deliciously nubile girls in the class.

I think it was that we were gathered round closely. This meant standing in very close proximity to one another. Looking back, I can still feel the excitement as a girl next to me moved her arm, and I'd feel it! What a turn on! Wow!

Well, it was a turn on back then. And I'm sure that just having the pleasure of holding hands with one of them would've made me erupt in my pants. Oh, how the hormones surged in my youth.

Not that they don't surge now.

As I walked to the petrol station to get some cigarettes and some chocolate this evening, and began walking across the forecourt, I noticed one of the customers filling up.

Female? Yes. Age? Early twenties, at a guess from behind. Skin? Pleasantly tanned. Hair? Pleasantly tanned. Clothes? Wow! A tight fitting black top with a patterned, see-through panel in the middle of the back, all the way up to the neck line, and all the way down to the waste. And jeans, I think. And no bra! Wow!

A few seconds later, and I had passed, and was entering the shop. On my way out, she was on her way to pay, so I got to see her from the front this time. She looked quite pretty, I have to say. (No, I didn't leer!)

But, of course, I have no idea what she's like as a person, who she is, or anything like that. It was purely physical. Her physically attractive body, adorned in that sexy black top. That's all it was.

It's moments like that that really make me feel like a horny adolescent again. Just briefly.

10:06 PM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey VII

7. Do you believe that there is some stream of conciousness that continues after your biological body becomes a corpse, or do you believe that conciousness is an illusion generated by biological processes that will stop when those processes stop? Feel free to elaborate. (Simple version: do you die completely or continue on?)

Yet again, I do not know. But I hope there's a continuation of consious existence!

A few months back, I found a programme on television in which some experts (philosophers, a neurologist, and some others) were discussing the phenomenon of consiousness, of self awareness.

One thing they agreed upon was that, for centuries in the west, no one's been able to really conceive of a way in which consiousness could arise from mechanical processes (be they biological, or whatever). And I've thought much the same thing for a long time (but much less than centuries!).

Let's suppose there's nothing but that which is physical, and that it's all deterministic. By that, I mean that given a certain state of a complete, closed, physical system, such as the entire physical universe, all subsequent states can, in principle (though, perhaps, not in practice) be calculated. There is no free will in such a universe.

It's like a game, where the rules dictate what each move must be on the basis of the current state of play. Playing such a game is just a matter of following the rules, and finding there are no choices to be made at all. Conway's game of life is an example of such a thing.

But how could consiousness arise from such a mechanical, deterministic system? I don't think it's important, as there would be no free will anyway. And, without free will, we can't help but make whatever choices we make, we can't help but do 'wrong' or do 'right', believe the wrong thing or right thing, and so on. We'd be just automatons. We might think we have choice, free will, and so on, but it would be some kind of illusion.

But what if the universe is not deterministic? Quantum physics seems to mean that the universe is, indeed, not deterministic. At least, not entirely.

But could there be consiousness if there's nothing but a physical, partly random universe? Would randomness, in the sense of unpredictability, be the fundamental source of conciousness?

I don't know.

But something that strikes me about trying to explain consiousness in terms of physical systems is that it seems, possibly, a bit backwards.

Our knowledge and understanding of physics relies significantly on what our senses tell us. We see the outcomes of experiments, we hear phenomena occurring which we then want to explain. We examine things through microscopes, and so on.

But what if the way we perceive the natural universe, of which we seem to be a part, isn't really how it is?

We rely on our senses, but how do we know our senses are reliable in the ways we think they are?

We can examine our senses. We can disect eyes, probe ears, look at tactile sensory nerve endings in labs, but we're still relying on our senses to learn about our senses! If our senses are unreliable, in some way, then we could easily end up being mislead by them about how they work themselves. Seems to be a bit of a conundrum.

When it comes to the phenomenon of consiousness, how do we experience that? It seems to be something so immediate, so direct, that we can often overlook it. It's there all the time that we're aware, rather like the music of the spheres. Is it, perhaps, a more direct, immediate perception of reality than we get through our senses?

Perhaps we should seek to explain physical things 'out there' in terms of what we know from just existing, in terms of the phenomenon of consiousness. But I'm not sure how that would work, and I don't even know if it's an endeavour that needs to be embarked upon in the first place.

What I do know is that, one way or another, there is a mystery about conciousness. The mystery, it seems, could be the mystery of how conciousness could arise from physical processes. Or it could be the mystery of what it really is that we're perceiving through what we perceive to be our senses. I think the latter way of putting it is better, as it doesn't rely on the circular reasoning about our senses being sufficiently reliable.

But back to the question, I can't actually imagine myself not existing. To imagine myself to not exist, I've got to imagine something contradictory. I've got to imagine myself, in some way, not existing. But if I didn't exist, there would be no me to imagine not existing! So I can hardly conclude that the cessation of concious existence is impossible on the basis of my inability to imagine it.

I'm open to the possibility that there is no continued conciousness after death, and I'm open to the possibility that there is.

I hope that there is, because I don't like the idea of people I care about just ceasing to exist one day. I'm not too keen on ceasing to exist myself! Not that I'd mind once not existing, but I would like to carry on existing indefinitely.

Whether or not this issue of continued existence after physical death has anything to do with how we ought to behave, etc, I do not know. But I can imagine it could well be relevant.

After all, if we all just end up ceasing to exist, then what does anything really matter in the end? All pain would be temporary, and erased at death. Perhaps pain matters while we are alive, but for that to be the case, we ourselves have to matter somehow. After all, if we humans don't matter at all, then what does it matter that we suffer?

But if we matter, then what about death? What if we do just cease to exist? How is that consistent with us mattering? I don't know, but I'm wary of drawing the conclusion that we should assume that there is some sort of eternal existence beyond physical death.

12:23 AM

Sarky Sarge

Sarky Sarge, we called him, as he was always sarcastic. It could be a little, or a lot, but there was always an element of sarcasm in anything he said.

He was a good teacher (although there was that one time when he told us something plainly wrong about how phase inversion in reflection of light results in mirror images being the wrong way round, but we soon put him right on that one). He was, in his way, popular. We liked him.

And we enjoyed the fact that he was sarky.

It helped keep physics fun. He was, perhaps, no Richard Feynman (who famously summarised the scientific method as being just a matter of coming up with a guess and seeing if it didn't work), but, in his own, sarcastic way, physics lessons weren't boring.

Well, I found physics interesting, anyway. But there was a good kind of dynamic (most of the time) between him, the teacher, and us, the pupils. Like the aether, the underlying sense of humour just kept things enjoyable, even when they would've been dealthy boring otherwise.

I mean, how interesting is it to count how many times a pendulum swings in a minute? Or measuring the speed of a ball bearing as it grops through glycerine? Or finding out how fast heat conducts through a disc of rubber?

He just, somehow, set the right atmosphere. I hadn't thought about it like that before writing this.

One day, he asked us to speculate about some puzzles in physics that we just didn't feel in much of a position to speculate about. But then he told us that physicists tackling such problems were basically relying on the same grounding we had been given during the course. His view, it seemed, was that doing a degree in physics was more a matter of going into much greater detail than it was about learning new stuff.

Looking back, it was quite an inspirational kind of thing for him to come out with. I wonder if it was intentional? Did he plan to inspire us, and to make physics lessons enjoyable by always being a bit sarcastic?

Probably not. If he had had such a passion for physics, he wouldn't have left to become some kind of head teachers' management trainer, or whatever it was.

9:02 PM

Anyway, enough self analysis!

Let's get back to that freedom!

...

Can't think of anything to say!

No worries, I'll think of something later.

Ahhh, freedom...

8:48 PM

And After Sleeping?

Man, I feel much the same way as I did when I went to bed (yes, I'm craply nocturnal at the moment). But I do like the liberatedness of just typing whatever comes into my head. It is, I think, a case of just letting myself go, to a degree, but perhaps not to the extent I did last night!

But something definitely snapped.

It's not what I wrote that came from the snappedness, though, as I'm sure you can tell if you read it. It really was just typing whatever came into my head. There's nothing insane in that! (And, having read back a couple of things I wrote elsewhere (cringe), it does, indeed, come across as an attempt to sound mad, instead of really being mad. At least, that's how it comes across to me. Even though that's not what it was supposed to be anyway!)

But something did snap, and I got it into my head that just writing whatever popped into my head was the best thing in the world - no matter where I wrote it.

I just got so miserable last night. So miserable, I just kind of fell through the bottom. It was like bursting into tears, but in an all wrong kind of way.

Now I just feel kind of phased, uncertain, unsure. It feels sort of free. But I also feel sort of like I've been crying loads, even though I haven't physically been crying.

I think I need some kind of a break from something.

9:57 AM

Oh, Nooooo!!!

Oh, no! I wrote demented crap last night. And not just in my blog (see the last stream of entries, and you'll see what I mean). There were a few comments, too, and at least one guestbook entry.

I just hope they're, um, somehow interesting. But I was just letting rip with whatever came into my head. Must sound like some kind of drivel, or word association gone wrong. Daren't read most of it.

Now I just feel kind of, erm, phased, I suppose.

Something certainly snapped inside my head last night. 'What a good idea to just be free!' I thought. I don't know if I've made an embarassment of myself or not.

Still, it was fun while it lasted.

hmmm, maybe I should sleep on it, and see how it looks when I wake up.

I do feel rather, um, liberated, though.

But I really don't think I should've done it beyond my blog! It's not what other people's comment things are for.

Sorry about that.

5:23 AM

Mincing Machines

And now it's Hammer To Fall! I like that track, too.

This is so good! It feels so good now! I'm racing along, getting things done, but that's not the point.

I AM MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

At last, after a long subdue, I am finally myself again. Never entirely quite managed it before. Well! Hell! I did, at times, but now I'm really me! It's the release! It's the fluency! Oh, this is so wonderful! I'm back and I'm proud!

Isn't this wonderful? And I'm blogging like never before.

Now, this ain't your old 'practicing to just type freely' malarkey. No! This is an outpouring of self! And not indiscriminately, either!

You see, after a while, the churned up meat clogs things up. It kinda makes it all go slow, and it gets worse and worse. A good clean through, a thorough rinse with industrial Listerine, if you will, is what's required.

Or it's like a volcano that's been smoking, and it finally gets shot of that plug in its vent.

My computer's like that abatoir machine I was on about in the paragraph before the one before this. It gets clogged up and slow. I think it's the screensaver, mainly, but other things, too.

Anyway, my clog's out of the way.

But I wish it had happened over a year earlier. I feel I've made a heel of myself.

5:17 AM

A Small Note

I know I'm being lazy with links, and attributions, and mark-up, and stuff. It's just that there isn't time. Please forgive me, I'll mark it up later.

5:17 AM

The Arse Shines Out Of Some People's Suns

There wasn't much to do. So I said that the planets were about the size of ping pong balls. They believed me! They seemed to think I really meant it. They thought I was going mad. I was just winding them up.

But I had a few, good points. We trust what they tell us or show us on telly. Or even if we're skeptical, we trust that what they're talking about is, somehow, real.

They can argue about the Gulf War, and we can say, 'No! You stupid politicians! You commentators! You've got it all wrong!', but, like the man said, we still believe there's a war. We still believe that part's true. We just get cynical about what we're told about it.

But how do we know? It could be like in 1984, where it's all a fiction, a created 'reality' to replace the truth, and hide the truth, and make the truth go away. It could be that the world is so different to how we think it is, but that the illusion is so thorough, and we're so used to it, that we don't know any different.

They used to think the world was flat. They used to think the sun went round the earth. Someone said to someone else, "Hey! They must've been really thick before Copernicus, thinking the sun went round the earth!"

"Yeah!" said the other person, lulling his victim into a false sense of security. "Just imagine how things would have looked if the sun really did go round the earth!"

5:11 AM

Hector and the rabbits

It's that track! I Want To Break Free! I do enjoy this track, even if it never applies.

I heard of a goose at university. It was called Hector. There were lots of geese there on campus, hanging around the lakes. I used to boldly walk straight through them, and they would part either side of me. If you showed confidence, they didn't bitch ya.

Hector used to guard the entrance to the library from the students. "Can't finish the assignment, 'cause Hector wouldn't let me!" the students used to bawl to their tutors. And so Hector was retired to a place for retired geese to retire to. Or maybe that just meant he was killed?

They used to nuke the rabbits from time to time. Too many rabbits. The campus lie was that two had escaped from the biology department. Hah! Just as much a lie as the one about the library being built upside down. But it was true they got two of the towers in the wrong order.

Once I cycled over a rabbit's neck. I didn't mean to, but it kept dancing in front of my bike as I cycled along. After a few swerves, I managed to neatly cycle straight over it's neck.

I stopped.

The rabbit was in some distress, but got up and sort of danced around a bit, in a distressed kind of way. It got onto the grass, still doing its distressed bit a bit, but had joined the other rabbits. It was okay, it seemed. I cycled on. It was a novelty, but not a good one.

5:06 AM

Skipping and Repeating

No time to waste! I've done that much too much already. So, on I go.

My CD cleaner thing, a CD for cleaning the drive, has been used many times, mostly repeatedly. My drives are ropey. One's not too bad, but the other's rubbish.

Sorry! I've said this before. On to the next post.

5:03 AM

Its' in the Wash Bag

Sorry, I got a bit foggy last time. Still a bit foggy. Losing my concentration?

I was never good at concentrating at school. Not unless I was interested in it anyway. I would concentrate if it was interesting. Maybe I'm tired.

Anyway, I was crap at concentrating. I would do naff at the boring subjects. Or, at best, I'd do okay. But I found it so easy to do really well at the subjects that really interested me. Physics, and various other sundry items that ought not to be mixed up?

You know, I've never been good at that laundry thing of separating whites from others. Sounds like apartheid, as I type it. But it's just to do with dyes and pigments of fabrics, so it's a different kettle of fish. The controls on the knob just confuse me, and it's because of the instruction manual. So I go for the common denominator, the safest option, and things turn out okay.

Don't like fabric conditioner. I like clothes to be hard. And towels. I really feel I'm being dried if the towel is hard and rough. It's more absorbent.

There was a complaint on something on telly, a consumer programme, about fabric conditioners on towels. It made them less absorbive. And in hotels, I've heard it said, the towels are lovely and soft, but leave you just as wet as when you began.

I still haven't done my laundry.

4:58 AM

Still Listening to the Same CD

Sometimes it would be gone, and I would wonder what was wrong. Only sometimes, and not for long. But I would wonder all the same.

But then it would be back, and all would be well, or so it would be said. Dismissed? Or what? I do not know. I do not know, and that's what I know. Or do I? I don't know.

It's a long, hard fight, is what they're singing. Queen, that is. It's not usually that it's still playing a few times later. Not on repeat, I mean the other way around.

But now it's another track. Could be dodgy.

4:56 AM

Having a fit

No time for the dumping diary this time!

Reminded of my cat tigger, by constipation, she sometimes has these fits. She has fits after a gradual build up. Sometimes constipation features in advance. She gets cranky, a bit restless, yowling and stuff. She demands attention and won't settle. She's fussy and not in a very good mood. Then, perhaps because of rustling paper or a plastic bag, she has a fit. Dopey afterwards, and subdued. She recovers okay, and is much more relaxed. Much better.

I remind myself of her sometimes.

4:53 AM

He could wear diapers under those shorts.

There's no other way to cut it. Tim Henman looks skinny. He is English. He is like a thin rod of steel that is difficult to bend anyway. But his clothes always look baggy. He could tuck his shirt in, but then he'd look silly.

But he also looks like what's'is name on Holby City. Only he doesn't get angry like that, with the demon eyes that tell you he's inherited far too much.

I don't want to be like my father. But I remind myself of him sometimes. Not only in the head outside department. But, ugh! That's another story. It's not my concern, now. And it's not my concern, then.

So instead, it's becoming morning outside. My curtains won't hide it. I can see that it is a beautiful day, just by the myriad pinpoints of light between the threads, like the secrets between the infinitesimals of life.

And talking of intestinals, I had a slight bit of constipation the other day. Only a little bit. But when I had a dump, I did a shitload.

4:48 AM

Milk is the Same Colour as Tim Henman's Shorts

Well, that's a few blogs read. Time for another blog.

S'posed to be bangers and mash. But I can't be bothered with that cooking stuff! Anyway, I'm on the poor side of the Big Brother House Hold. Can't reach through those railings.

So it's Queen. The Works. It's got I Want To Break Free on it, but its not there, yet.

I could've made hot chocolate the other night. But there wasn't enough milk. I was going to have Weetabix anyway. But there wasn't enough milk. I had drank some the night before. I was thirsty.

3:16 AM

What A Fucking Moron I Am

How did I get myself into this hole? What a fucking stupid moron I must be.

Here I am, thirty, jobless, a CV so useless it's not even good enough to shit on, and the very few jobs that look like I might just possibly be able to merely apply for turn out to have some requirement that defeats me.

Just had a search for jobs in my home town. Useless. It's making me fucking miserable.

But, oh, no, it must be my own fault. There aren't whole armies of people in my situation, after all. No, it's just me. Messed up or otherwise wasted university (thrice), fucked up a couple of jobs. Got involved in a joke of a business run by morons who were dreaming of easy money from the internet when it was already clear to fucking everyone that the internet doesn't give free money. What the fuck have I done?

Can't see how I can get a job, and it's taken me twelve years since leaving school to get this far. Can't see how I can climb out of this hole. It's Catch-22 all round. Seems like I've doomed myself.

Oh, yeah, I can seek the meaning of life. I can read philosophy books and understand them. I can program in C++, do some web stuff, blah blah blah, but I'm fucking useless when it comes to something as basic and everyday as just even having a job.

So I'm feeling fucking miserable, and venting it here.

Yeah, it's my own fault. It must be. I've just spent the last twelve years royally fucking up my own life.

12:46 AM

My Cars

11:41 PM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey VI

6. Either inside or outside these traditions, what can one do to deepen thier connection to thier life or spirituality?

Again, I don't know.

And I really don't understand the question!

What's meant by 'spirituality'? Just nonphysicality? Would the mind count? Or is it to do with some kind of 'life force' within us? The ghost in the machine?

The question could mean so many things. Emotions? Feelings? Consiousness? Self awareness? Concience?

What is it to be alive anyway?

Alas, I cannot answer this question. I know that I am alive, in Descartes' sense of I think, therefore, I am. But that's about it.

1:09 AM

Perhaps I should just go and live in a cave?

This is getting silly. Well, it got silly a long time ago, but I've managed to keep it going all this time. I'm just far too good at fandankering.

I need a proper source of income.

Intermittent payments for computer assistance isn't sufficient. Getting a grammar description language to be sufficiently widely used for me to then write, and get published, a reference book for it is, at the most optimistic, going to take too long. And I'm just not doing enough to rescue my CV generally.

I need to buck my ideas up, and get some sort of proper income.

But what? Clean toilets? Stack shelves in supermarkets?

I did look at supermarket work, 'cause I've done it before, and I know it's the right sort of mindless activity for my temperament. But the application forms just depress me, 'cause they always want two references. Okay, it's truly excremental that I can't scrape together even two references, but I can't. Somehow, I've managed to get this far through life without being able to think of two referees for me to even be able to apply for jobs as duff as stacking supermarket shelves.

So I need, as Edmund Blackadder would say, a cunning plan. A plan to get me back into the world of gainful work. It can be self employment (at least I won't need references), or working for someone else, but something to bring in more money.

Self employment sounds appealing - but what? What would I do? I'd need some sort of a product or service. And something I could start up with exceptionally minimal investment.

I know I am capable. I know I could do good work. But, for one reason or another, I've got myself into this excremental position of having plenty of evidence to the contrary, and very little to show that I would be a good worker.

But I'm not getting depressed about it. I know it wasn't my fault I became ill with depression and stuff several years ago. I know it's not my fault that society, in its imperfection, isn't properly capable of accommodating people like me (but can I afford to be so arrogant?). But hell, I need money!.

So, um, I'm going to have to rethink my approach to life, and really do something this time.

Any ideas? Or advice? Or anything? Anyone?

12:31 AM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey V

5. What do you make of John 14:6? 'Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.' (NIV)

It's quite a claim for someone to make! But is it true? Again, I don't know.

What I do know is that the name 'Jesus' (pronounced 'Jeezuss', usually, in English) is derived (via Latin, Greek and Aramaic, and, perhaps, some other languages along the way) from the Hebrew name which, in English, is 'Joshua'. Basically, it means 'God saves'. And I can't think of anyone who would be in a better position to save us from our human mess than God!

Interestingly, the reference to God in the name is some form of the name which God used when talking to Moses via the burning bush: 'I am'. Seems that the name 'Jesus' could be interpreted as meaning 'I save', but with the 'I' referring to God. Those believing in the trinity will, I suspect, like that one.

And, indeed, in that quotation of Jesus, he states that I am the way and the truth and the life (emphasis mine).

There seem to be two, basic things being said. Firstly, that Jesus is the way to God (perhaps being God himself). Secondly, that he is the only way to God.

If God has decided that the solution to our mess (and we humans are indeed in a mess, it seems) is to send someone (perhaps someone who is an embodiment of God) to be the solution, somehow, then who am I to disagree?

If it's God's plan, then it would not be a bad thing for me to accept it, regardless of whether or not it's the plan that I would choose if I were God. But is it the truth? I don't know.

What I need to do is to seek the truth, to try to discern the truth about such things, without arrogantly sitting in judgement over God.

As it is, I'm strongly skeptical of the idea that we humans can somehow save ourselves from our own, human mess. We've spent at least a few thousand years failing to do so. I suspect that if there is a God, then, ultimately, only God can save us. And I hope that there is some sort of salvation from evil, from faultiness, from death.

If what Jesus is quoted as saying is true, and if Christianity is fundamentally true, then I trust and hope that God will indeed save us - if we genuinely (honestly, with humility) seek the truth.

9:56 PM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey IV

4. What is your view on religeous traditions?

This is going to be a really inane answer, but I believe it depends on the religion.

I'm reluctant to try to determine whether or not a religion is true on the basis of its traditions. If the traditions are consistent with the religion, then no problem. If they're not, then wouldn't following those traditions be a matter of deviating from the religion?

The thing is that I'm not really able to determine whether or not particular traditions are good or bad without having some sort of criteria with which to do so. But what those criteria should be depends on what the truth about religion is, and what religions (if any) are true. So, I'd first of all have to find out which religions are true in order to be able to know where to stand on religious traditions.

So, um, that's about all I've got to say in answer to that question.

5:34 PM

Who Needs Car Keys Anyway?

We've all done it, haven't we? Locked our keys in our cars, that is. I am reminded of one, particular time I committed this never intended rite of passage with a recently aquired car, 'cause Shauny's just had to solve this classic conundrum herself.

I was going for a little drive, as I was often want to do with my first car, and had just made it out of town, and onto a country road. For some reason, though I can't remember what, I stopped. I got out, and closed the door. But it had just become enough of a habit to lock the door whenever I got out that I locked the door with the keys still in the ignition. And the engine was still running. I felt very stupid.

What could I do? I couldn't just leave it there, on the road, with the engine running, while I walked back home to get the spare key. I stood there, hoping for inspiration while kicking myself, but it seemed like an intractable problem.

As I listened to its engine running, I noticed it was gradually getting slower. Occasionally, it slightly sputtered, sputtering a little more as time went by. I did not have to wait long before the engine stalled all by itself. I was so pleased my car was crap enough to have an automatic timeout engine shutdown feature.

Walked home, got the spare key, and cycled back to my car. Barely managed to fit my bike in the back, but I did it, and resumed driving.

Later, I discovered that the passenger side lock wasn't fixed in place securely, and could be just pulled out a bit and unlocked by turning the whole thing by hand. If only I'd known that before, there'd been no need for me to go on a half hour walk and cycle!

Never underestimate what your car's crapness can do for you.

2:00 AM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey III

3. What (if any) established faiths do you participate in, or have dabbled in, or have observed enough to get some insight into?

When I was born, both my parents were members of the Church of England. I wasn't baptised, but, instead, was christened. This is how my forenames became my Christian names.

I was brought up in the Church of England, and, as a kiddie, was taken along to church every Sunday morning. And, what's more, I went to a Church of England infant and junior school (which happened to be a favoured school among nonChristians, too).

But as I got a little older, approaching my teens, I became less and less interested in such stuff.

One night, while sitting in a caravan, somewhere in Wales, I was thinking about how convenient it would be if it could be proved that the Bible was somehow false. That way, I wouldn't have to even consider the possibility of it being true. (Seems I already knew that agnosticism wasn't going to be a convenient option for me.)

What I wanted was to be free of obligations. I wanted to be free of having to be good, do the right thing, that kind of thing. Not that I necessarily bothered, anyway. But I wanted to know that it was okay for me to be how I wanted, and do what I wanted.

While thinking about how the Bible might be disproved, I wondered if, perhaps, the writers of it had just made it up.

Why?

Who'd asked that question? The voice wasn't that of anyone I knew. It was the sort of voice I imagined a traditional, English father would have. (My father, being Australian, and nowhere near Wales at the time, couldn't've been the source of the question.) I was quite startled, and thought that perhaps the 'father' in question was God the Father!

Following that interesting experience, I suddenly became a lot more enthusiastic about Christianity. My brother, two years younger than me, noticed, and asked me why the sudden change. I was embarassed, and I'm sure my face went red. I recall being annoyedly dismissive.

Anyway, a few years later, and I was lacking in enthusiasm, again. I was still officially a Christian, and had been baptised and confirmed in the Church of England, after my interesting experience. But I was just increasingly not bothering to go to church. I left my position as a server (which had involved wearing a cowly cassock type thing, and processing with candles and stuff), and drifted to the status of being just a nominal Christian. No real commitment.

Then there was 1990: The Dark Times. An exageration, perhaps, but it sounds good. Needs to be more than just a year, really. But anyway.

Basically, I was beginning to stray a little into areas of Occult stuff, Wicca, and so on. I was still officially a Christian, and wasn't actually considering becoming a Wiccan, or anything like that. My girlfriend at that time, though, was increasingly into such things. She wasn't a terribly happy person, though, and I think her own, personal problems, combined with going to a (Roman Catholic) convent school, were behind her interest. Not that Wicca, etc, are wrong, or unhealthy, or anything like that, necessarily, but just her personal motivations in such things were not the most healthily based. And, um, I got a bit screwed up, too.

Following that, I decided to take my claimed religion more seriously. I went along to a sort of post-Brethren, sort of Evangelical church. And, with there being a slight issue with whether or not the sprinkling of water on my head some years earlier had counted as baptism, I was baptised by full immersion. It just seemed a practical way of clearing up any doubt.

Was in that church for a few years, and during that time, I headed off to university.

At university, I got involved in the Christian Union (CU). But I also started a decline into depression. Within a few years, I had reached a crisis of faith.

It would be good, at this point, to give a quotation that another Simon stuck in my guestbook:

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

That was said by Epicurus, according to Positive Atheism. And it sums up my thinking at the time of my crisis of faith.

So, in the end, I conceded to the status of being discomfortably agnostic: I know I don't know, but I'm not content with that.

(Also in my life so far, I've encountered Mormons and others, and have tasted, as it were, a few variations on Christianity, and the like, as well as Islam. So far, I'm yet to find the truth, but I have found that some religions do seem pretty certainly false. Especially the Mormon one.)

Now, something I must say about my crisis of faith, and the apparent reasoning of Epicurus in the quotation above, is that it seems to presuppose something about God. While it was compelling enough to turn me at least agnostic a few years ago, I don't now think it's safe.

God, it seems from Epicurus, has some kind of a moral obligation to act against evil whenever possible. But that, you see, puts God under morality. But if God's the source of morality, in some way, such as having the authority and right to define what morality is in the first place, then Epicurus' reasoning would be fundamentally arse about face.

But even if God is not some kind of source of morality, but is still the supreme moral authority, then why is Epicurus making moral judgements about God? If Epicurus was to allow for God to be the supreme authority on morality, wouldn't he leave it for God to judge for himself whether or not God ought to act? Wasn't he implicitly putting himself in a position of moral judgement over God in his reasoning? And hence was not allowing for the possibility of God being the supreme moral authority?

And who the hell are we humans to sit in moral judgement over other beings when we're so crap at complying with our own, claimed moralities? Hell, we can't even agree on what morality is! We're in no position to judge.

And so, it seems to me, that Epicurus' reasoning is, at best, questionable. Certainly there is no God that is both omnipotent and benevolent according to Epicurus' notions of omnipotence and benevolence, but what about all those possible Gods who don't happen to agree with Epicurus on such matters? They're not disproven by such logic. Not by a long shot!

But I don't know.

Knowing Christianity as I do, I wouldn't have any real qualms about returning to it. It should be just a matter of finding out whether or not it's true. But, having said that, I am rather scared that if Christianity is the truth, and there is going to be a hell, that people I care about may end up there. It bothers me.

I should, perhaps, just add that my notion of hell is that the eternal suffering is basically a matter of never ending regret. I'm skeptical about the ideas of daemons with pitch forks, prodding them into people's behinds. But even so, it scares me. I don't want people I care about to spend eternity in perpetual regret.

Just not knowing what the truth is scares me.

2:40 PM

Creative Blogging

Quite some time ago, must be about a year ago, I thought about creating a blog for a fictional character. A real blog, blogged by a nonexistent person. But I didn't do anything about it. And continued not doing anything about it. Until, that is, a few weeks ago, when I finally decided to actually go ahead with it, and try it out.

Some more laziness later, I've got it started! Her name is Fictionelle, and her site is at http://fictionelle.tripod.com.

The site isn't finished, yet. But, at the same time, it is. It's quite realistic, don't you think, for a new blog to be begun before everything's ship-shape and Bristol fashion? But maybe that's just me. Anyway, it's finished enough for Fictionelle to go ahead with blogging, I reckon.

I quite liked the idea of leaving her nonexistence nonobvious, as something to be discovered by the reader. But, with things like the Kaycee Nicole scandal, I thought it would be better to make her fictional status clear and explicit.

She's even got her own email address, which, of course, actually comes to me. But my intention is to answer any emails in character, if she gets any emails to reply to, that is.

Anyway, she's my current ploy to get me doing (or, at least, attempting) creative writing. It's something of an experiment, and I don't know how it'll turn out in the end, but anyway, I'll have fun with it.

So, um, please go and give Fictionelle a visit!

11:13 PM

Comments!

I've just added enetation's commenty thing to my blog. So, from now on, the 'Comment' link at the bottom of each blog entry will lead to a commenty thing for that entry, rather than the guestbook (but that's still available, if you prefer).

There are still some aspects of the commenty thing for me to sort out, such as getting it to come up in an appropriately sized window, rather than a default sized new window. But I'm getting there.

Rob was the first (other than me, but I don't count) to comment, so that accolade (if accolade it be) has already been taken. (But I deleted the test entry which he commented on, so, um, it can now assume the status of Mysterious First Comment, and live on in legend, passed on from each generation to the next through ever more exagerated tales of courage and heroism.)

12:03 AM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey II

2. If you have some other conception of God then as a being, then what does it look like? How do you interface with it? Do you have some kind of persistant connection to it?

When it comes to how I should or should not behave, what I should or should not do, how I ought to be, or ought not to be, I am inclined to regard God, whether God's a person or not, as the ultimate, supreme moral authority. Or some such thing. Whatever that is.

Perhaps we humans are ourselves, in some way, the supreme moral authority? Or maybe good and evil are things that somehow emerge from life in some way? Perhaps it's just life itself that's the most fundamental basis for right and wrong?

I don't know. But, taking God to be the most fundamental basis for morality, or the supreme moral authority, or whatever the truth actually is, I'm quite open to the possibility that God is not some kind of person.

Having said that, I don't have much idea of what God would then be. I'm open to ideas! Some kind of Jedi force type thing? Some sort of collective, human conciousness? The entire universe itself? Some sort of primordial chaos? I just don't know.

Not a very interesting answer, perhaps, but that's about all I can come up with, really. (Well, I could come up with more on this idea of God being the supreme moral authority, or whatever, but I'll save that for later, I think.)

12:53 AM

Emulation

Sometimes I think, 'Oh, I don't blog like some other bloggers do. I don't blog like the popular bloggers, the high-flying bloggers, the admired and envied bloggers. I don't blog wonderful prose, or critique news articles, or tell amusing anecdotes hilariously.'

'I could try,' I think. 'I could make the effort. But why? What's the point? There are already plenty of bloggers doing that. Why would there be any need for me to do more of the same?' And so I don't.

Seems to me that, in general, the successful bloggers ((questionably) assuming blogging success to be the gaining and sustaining of large readerships) just blog basically what they want to blog. If they happen to have a lot to say about news and current affairs, then they blog about it. Or if they're great anecdote tellers, and enjoy telling stories, then that's what they do. At least, that's what I guess good and great bloggers do. And I wouldn't really be doing the same if I was to try to emulate them. The attempt to emulate would, itself, be what would prevent it from actually being a true emulation. After all, they don't seek to emulate each other, do they?

But, instead, I just blog what I feel like blogging. And I generally just blog it the way I want to. Whatever drivel it might be, however dull it might come out.

I've thought similarly about creating blogging memes (like weekly questions, of personality classification tests). But, of course, I'd just be following the meme of trying to start yet another meme.

4:09 PM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey I

1. Do you believe in God? I mean like...a being that embodies all goodness that one can relate to personally, not some amorphous 'jedi force' principle.

No. But neither do I believe there is no such being. In other words: don't know one way or the other!

But I do know the question exists: does God exist as some kind of person?

Another question that comes to mind is this: if the question of whether or not God is some kind of person is to be answered, what is actually meant by the name 'God' in that question?

Perhaps that's what the question is about, anyway. At least partially.

A common notion of God is that God is the ultimate, supreme moral authority. God is even believed to get to choose what's right and wrong in the first place! With that notion of God, as whoever or whatever has supreme authority over us morally, I suppose the question is: is the supreme moral authority some kind of person?

(Perhaps I should, at this point, state that I don't have any particular, specific notions of morality in mind. Not only do I not know whether or not there are right and wrong ways to behave, but I also don't know what the right and wrong ways would be! I assume there are right and wrong ways, though. I assume morality is real, even though I don't know what it is.)

We have, it seems, free will. And when it comes to free will, there is the question: what should we do with it? How should we apply our free will? What things ought we to do, and ought not to do? That, for me, is where the issue of God may come in.

But does defining the title 'God' to mean 'supreme moral authority' mean that God must therefore be a person? I don't know.

But because I don't know, I am open to the possibility. I am open to the possibility that, if I pray, God may hear me. God might, for all I know, listen to such prayers. And, sometimes, I pray.

It seems sensible, to me, to ask God whether or not God is there. And it does seem to be an approach that implies the assumption that God, in some way, is some kind of person. Maybe God isn't some kind of person, or maybe God is, but, for some reason, doesn't answer. Or perhaps God does answer, but I'm failing to recognise the answers somehow. I dunno.

It's a bit like asking, 'Is anybody out there? If so, and if you're God...'

3:03 PM

Daniel's Spiritual Survey

Last week, I was going to participate in Daniel's spiritual survey. But then I got sidetracked by computer things.

Surveys are things I generally don't bother with, but this one interests me. But, as I will probably write quite a bit for some of the questions, I'll do it a question at a time.

One thing I'll say up front is that, generally, I don't know. I know I don't know, and that's my starting point. It'll be something of a theme, I suspect, in the answers I give.

12:09 AM

Balls

As I ate my Sunday lunch, I found five channels of sport on TV. We only get five channels.

Ended up watching the end (last half hour or so) of the Ireland versus Spain match in the world cup. Decided to support Ireland.

Here's what happens on those few occasions when I end up watching a world cup match. The score, if not already even, ends up even. The game goes into extra time. By the end of extra time, the score's still even. It's a penalty shoot-out. It's tense and exciting. The team I'm supporting misses a penalty, falling one goal behind. The team I'm not supporting doesn't. It stays like that until my team's lost.

Same again, today.

Could've watched Tim Henman playing tennis instead. But much the same thing happens whenever I end up watching tennis.

Five channels of sport.

I remember, before the days of Channel 5, when there'd be three channels of sport, and an old, war film.

It's just not like it used to be.

9:48 PM

London!

Marybeth must be on her way to London now. Well, on her way to being on her way to London, anyway.

I am looking forward to meeting Miss Marybeth. I promise not to get her smoking (she thinks she'll manage to quit, but she underestimates the power of the dark side). It'll be interesting to meet someone off the internet. It'll be my first time. Yes, I am a 'meeting people off the internet' virgin.

Hmmm, I'll have to practice my Estuary English accent, so that I can talk unintelligibley to her.

I'm quite excited!

1:59 PM

plastic electric

There's another plastic electric on the web, at http://www.plastic-electric.org.

Learned of it today, 'cause one of 'em (dunno if it's plastic or electric) emailed me. Which was nice.

Looks like they've got some interesting stuff there. Something to do with language and art. Or something like that.

I wonder if they listen to Kraft Werk?

7:17 PM

The Banyan Tree

The only Banyan tree I remember ever coming across was the one in Jet Set Willy (a popular computer game in the eighties).

I've started a new project, The Plastic Electric Banyan Project. But don't get all excited. It's just a project to develop some sort of tree transformation thing. As in data trees, such as parse trees, and the like. But the idea is that trees would themselves, somehow, determine how other trees get transformed into yet other trees.

Anyway, just thought I'd mention it here, just in case anyone reading this happens to find such things interesting. Which I doubt. I suspect most of you would just find it's the sort of thing that would just make you go to sleep.

Come to think of it, it makes me feel a bit sleepy, too.

2:54 PM

Rain

For some reason, listening to snippets of Gomez has triggered 'Somebody To Love', by Queen, in my head. But that's another story.

Yesterday (I think it was yesterday), there was rain. Proper rain. Not drizzle, or wafty stuff like that, but the sort of rain that was jolly well getting on with its job. It wasn't overdoing it, or mucking about. It was good, steady, British rain.

It was raining in much the same way at some sporting venue on telly. The commentators commented (as commentators are often want to do) that it was really coming down, like a tropical storm. What rubbish! It was just ordinary, British rain. Proper rain. That's all.

9:01 AM

Dreams of Further Education

Hmmm. A dream I had last night has got me thinking.

It was, as ever, a dream in which things kept changing, details were in flux, that kind of thing. But somehow it seemed that that wasn't just because it was a dream, but was being used by the dream as part of the dream. As if it meant something.

I had been naff, missing classes and stuff, in some further education or training course or something. Classes were held, I think, in Billericay, a nearby town (and a very boring one at that). But I had to go and see my tutor (who was a nice young man, and was, I think, really a fellow student who'd been appointed to a kind of supervisory role). This ended up being in Basildon (a dreamworld Basildon that I've been to before).

There was, it seems, some sort of problem with funding. Expenses that were supposed to be paid by some sort of small grant, or something, weren't being paid. Some sort of administrative crapness. So, it seemed, it was understandable that I'd been missing stuff. But it was something that had to be sorted out, and I'd have to go and see people elsewhere about it.

Somehow, this lead me further away from my home town, and I ended up in Colchester, on the far side of the county. More specifically, I was wondering around the lower floors of the university there, which caused a little indignation among a few people, as I wasn't entirely supposed to return there.

But I didn't really travel anywhere as such. It just seemed that wondering around a few corridors in Billericay had meant I was in Basildon, and some more wondering round corridors, and a bit of the dreamworld version of the shopping area, just somehow turned into me wondering around the pseudosubterranean bits of my old university.

It seemed I couldn't help but somehow gravitate back there. Something about getting my life sorted out, getting back into 'the system', just took me back there.

The feel of being in some sort of college of further education was, I have to say, quite appealing. It was a comfortable sort of feeling. Like a cosy, knitted cardigan that should've been put in the wash last week, and is beginning to smell a little, but in a comfortable, familiar way.

When I woke up, I didn't want it to be true that I'm not in any sort of college. It's made me want to get into some sort of further education thing. It's made me want to take that route to getting out of this chronic rut.

So, I think I might act on it.

8:36 PM

Must stop taking naps in the afternoon that end up taking hours.

3:48 PM

Rudy Rucker

Well, I ended up doing a little reading, in the end. Reread a fair bit of the first chapter of a book called Infinity and the Mind, by some bloke called Rudy Rucker. Skipped the bits about physical infinities, though.

'Rudy Rucker'. That's quite a name.

It's an interesting book, though I'm not sure it works too well as a popular science book for everyone and anyone. And I'm not too sure about the Zen Buddhism type stuff towards the end. But, well, I started thinking again about infinities, and the like, so I picked it up, literally dusted off it's cover, and had a read.

So, here's a puzzle for you: how many positive (as in greater than 0), finite, whole numbers are there?

Let's say there's only 1 to 17, inclusive. That's 17 in total. Or 1 to 358? 358. Or, to generalize, 1 to x. x. Simple as that. But if there is no upper limit (which seems reasonable, as we can always say 'x+1', then there must be an infinite number of them. But when we do '1 to x', the total number is x, which is in the set of numbers being counted. Except it's supposed to be just a set of finite numbers. ? It's puzzling!

Talking of puzzling puzzles, conundra that are, um, conundring? Anyway, talking of such things (though not just to do with infinites), here's a puzzle I thought of earlier today: are there things that just cannot ever be referred to?

But hang on, aren't I referring to such things in asking that question? Perhaps, then, it can't be that there's anything that can't ever be referred to. There might be things terribly, terribly difficult to refer to, but nothing that cannot ever be referred to.

So, things that cannot be referred to don't exist.

But I've just referred to them not existing!

Maybe it doesn't count, 'cause they don't exist. But does that really work? What about pink, winged elephants? They don't seem to exist, but I wouldn't even be able to say that if it was impossible to refer to nonexistent things. Seems it is possible to refer to things that don't even exist.

So, um, let's see... Things that cannot ever be referred to either exist or don't exist, but either way, it seems I've just referred to them, again.

Perhaps there isn't anything that doesn't exist? Is there no nonexistent thing? Nonexistent things don't exist? Well, um, seems, in that sense, there are things that don't exist - nonexistent things!

Seems that when it comes to nonexistence, it all gets a bit complicated.

6:20 AM

Bored, Bored, Bored, Bored, Bored!

I am bored, and not feeling like doing any of the various things I could be doing. But I want to do something.

I know! I'll go and watch Episode II, at last. Except that won't be for a few more hours, at least. It's far too early to go to the cinema.

But do I really feel like watching Episode II right now? Not really. I'm not quite in the right mood.

Basically, I'm just feebly groping around for things to occupy me.

When I was a child, a good way to relieve boredom was just to draw on paper. Or scribble, as the case may have been.

It was quite a Saturday afternoon experience. Somewhat soothing, as if the activity was some sort of ointment that one was gently immersed in. I could spend hours just drawing like that. Used up a lot of paper, though.

I use up a lot of paper these days, too. But it's writing stuff down as I think it. Usually computery type stuff, such as programming, or something.

But I don't feel like doing that today.

I just feel like I'm at a loose end. I needn't be at a loose end, but I don't want to, um, go back along whatever it is that it's an end of. If that makes any sense. It's a sort of looking down at the ground, swinging my foot back and forth, listening to the sound of the sole of my shoe brush the ground type of feeling. Like when I was just idly idling in the school playground.

It's the sort of state when someone would suggest that I do something productive or constructive, or maybe creative. Productive I don't mind, but I don't really feel like doing any of the productive things I could do. Constructive is something I'm less enthusiastic about (but I don't know why, it just feels like 'productive' is along, horizontally, while 'constructive' involves an incline). Creative? Nah, just don't feel like drawing pictures today.

I think I just need a change of scene.

10:49 AM

Paedophiles

I don't know what to say. It's just staggering. The numbers are just beyond belief.

I've just watched The Wright Stuff, on Channel 5 (the crap terrestrial channel here in the UK). Not because I intended to, but just because I was eating a microwaved curry, and there wasn't much else on. It's a sort of lightweight, tabloidy, news discussion show.

Anyway, the first topic today was about a BBC programme last night, called 'The Hunt for Britain's Paedophiles' (can't find a page about it, so no link). Didn't see it, but apparently it included footage of paedophiles in action - which has caused quite an outrage. Shocking stuff.

Before the first ad break, they did a quick question, which was to do with the number of victims of paedophilia in the UK. Was it 100 000? 200 000? Or 300 000? It was 200 000.

But in the next part, when a retired police chief was talking on the show, he said that wasn't the right question. It was something like 200 000 paedophiles - and that's as a lowest estimate! The number of victims is estimated to be something like two million! That's what really shocked me.

Now, a few years ago, there seemed to be quite a lot of hysteria about paedophiles and paedophilia. What I didn't realise until today was that the hysteria had given me the wrong impression of how widespread the problem of paedophilia is. I thought, because of the hysteria (which included stuff like a paediatrician (you know, a doctor type person who specialises in the medical care of children) getting chased by an angry mob and beaten up), that the problem was being blown out of proportion. What I now find is that the hysteria had actually made it seem the problem was much less extensive than it now seems it actually is!

Two million victims of paedophilia, out of a population of less than sixty million, would mean something like one in thirty of the population are victims. That means I've probably sat in classes at school with a few victims, that I've known people who've been subjected to paedophilia, without realising. Before, I just thought that I might've come across someone who was sexually abused as a child, at some point in my life. Now I'm thinking that it's likely that I've known at least a few people who've been abused by paedophiles.

Two million! And enough paedophiles to populate a large town, or a city. What would that be, just over one in two hundred? And my home town's got a population of about 70 000, including outlying villages and the like, so that's about 350 or so paedophiles I'm sharing this town with?

I'm staggered by this. Are these numbers really right? And what of the comment that the police bloke made about 200 000 being the lowest estimate he had heard?

I don't know what to say.

4:52 AM

How Does Time Fly?

How the week has flown by! Can it really be Friday already? I'm still thinking it's last week!

So, um, that means I'm falling behind even more on things I've been falling behind on. Some things, anyway. Some things I've been catching up on. But where has my time been going? Sometimes it just seems that time's sped up an awful lot.

Okay, now I really must get back into using patches. Nicotine patches, of course, I really must give up smoking this time. Really.

Erm, what else? Erm, there are various things I should be doing. Catching up on a couple of creative writing groups, which requires me to actually do some creative writing for one of them. And more work on my grammar description language project, which has been stalling a bit recently. And some work on a creative writing project type thing which I finally decided, a week and a half ago, to actually do. And, erm, emails, too. I'm sure there's a few emails I ought to write. I know there's a bunch of emails I should write! Or finish writing, even. And maybe catch up on some more blogs, too, though I've been doing some of that today (and hasn't Marybeth been living a dramatic life recently!).

Interestingly, this 'ere blog o' mine is, apparently, a source for English usage news and/or articles! Or should that be 'a source for English usage new and article'? (The silly but fun discussion in Shauny's comments about abbreviating 'mathematics' is what's got me confused.)

Oh, and my status as a reviewer at The Weblog Review has been restored. That's another thing I should do: log in there and see what's changed. I'll give reviewing another go, and see what I make of it this time.

Anyway, a whole week's flown by, and I'm wondering why. I feel like I must've wasted it, or something. Like I've been negligent, and just lost it somewhere. Put it down for a moment in a public place, forgot I even had it with me, and just walked off without it. That's what it feels like. A bit. But without such a strong feeling of having been utterly stupid.

Perhaps I'm just busier these days. But I bloody well hope this mild level of business isn't always going to mean time'll be flying by! I don't want to die, yet!

8:06 AM

Throw Another Bag on the Barbi!

As mentioned yesterday, I went to a barbecue last night.

It was for a friend's birthday, the friend being Graham. He is turning thirty.

As expected (though over half an hour late), his brother, Dr Andrew, picked me up en route to Surrey (a county pretty much on the far side of London). And, among other things, we talked about flags.

With the world cup, you see, there are lots of England flags around the place. And, with the Golden Jubilee, there's an outbreak of Union Jacks (or is that just the naval term?), too. With Scottish and Welsh devolution (the thing of Scotland getting its own parliament back, and the Welsh getting an assembly, not evolution going backwards), it was surmised, the English have become more aware of the Cross of St George.

Flags were quite an appropriate topic of conversation, Andrew observed, as he just happened to have a couple of Union Jacks sitting on the back seat.

They were for use at the barbecue, and dated back all the way to VE Day (circa 1945). And, as I was the one with (barely) sufficient tallness, it fell to me to stick them (quite unsecured) on the side of the house. I like being useful.

Gradually, some more people arrived, and we got started with the barbecue.

Now, you'll know from experience how it's easy to underestimate the time it can take to get a barbecue going. So, quite sensibly, we got to work on that with plenty of time to spare.

An act of genius I must mention (and which I've only just discovered, but I bet it's been around for years) is this thing of having bags of barbecue starting charcoal stuff which you light. As in lighting the bags themselves. You just stick a bag on the barbi, light it, and let it go! Genius! (As an environmentally concious guest observed, it's a good way of disposing of the packaging at the same time as using the contents, too.)

Anyway, this worked rather too well, and the barbi was ready too cook food on rather ahead of schedule. But that was alright, we just started eating early.

It was a good evening, out in a garden in Surrey, with nice, tall trees along the backs of the houses. Some spits and spots of rain earlier on had given way to intermittent blue skies, though it did get a bit chilly. But we gathered round the glowing embers later on, and enjoyed the warmth.

Conversation was good. The world cup was obviously one topic, but as I have little or no interest in such stuff, I didn't have much to say on that one. Actually, I didn't say much generally, but only 'cause I was feeling rather tired. But it was nice to sit and listen, and soak things up.

Pete (with the 'T' replaced by a glottal stop) talked about cars (quite unsurprisingly), and also insisted on having a look under the bonnet of Graham's nice company car. Not that there was much to see, 'cause this big, plastic thing was in the way. But it was entertaining, all the same. Pete's like that.

I'd've rather been in the neighbouring conversation, though. It sounded interesting, with a discussion on personal perspectives on marriage and threesomes. And hot and cold showers.

Came back with Dr Andrew, and he had me telling him about Socrates and Sophie's World (a crash course in the history of western philosophy in the form of a novel (not to be confused with Sophie's Choice)). I think this was to help him keep awake as he drove along the motorway. (He also kept patting his cheeks for the same reason.)

Anyway, it was a good evening, with good people. Nice to catch up with old friends, and not so old aquaintances. A very pleasant evening.

Must do it more often.

9:53 AM

Not the Golden Jubilee

This evening, it's a friend's thirtieth birthday barbecue. And, at two, I'm being collected by his brother, who'll then drive us round to the far side of London.

The barbecue doesn't start 'til early evening - and even then it's just drinks for a couple of hours. But his brother is going to help with, erm, I dunno. I dunno what he's going to help with, but I'd say it's probably just barbecue preparational stuff. Yes, must be something like that. So, we're going early. And, I imagine, I'll be helping, too.

I'm quite looking forward to helping with the preparations. It helps me to feel more involved. Not just a guest. I guess it's to do with belonging, in a sense. I'm not just a guest who turns up, I'm one who turns up early to help out.

Except I'm not really turning up early to help out. It's just that my lift there is turning up early. But still.

Anyway, it'll be good to catch up with people again. Dunno who'll be there. Generally, that is. I can guess a few people, but I suspect most will be alien to me.

And, I hope, it'll be a good change to unwind.

9:46 AM

Letting it Out!

Starting (not terribly successfully) with the last entry, I'm trying to just write without rereading and rewriting.

I feel I spend a bit too much time, on average, rereading and rewriting. I'll think, 'Oh, that doesn't sound right, that's not what I meant,' or, 'No, that just seems odd there like that,' or whatever.

Not all the time, though. Sometimes I rattle things off no problem. At other times, I'll be effectively going through several drafts before I'm happy with it! And, I think, it's more often the latter.

So, in an attempt to get myself to just write, and, hopefully, write more naturally, sort of conversationally, I'm trying to just let go. I'm trying to let it flow out by itself. I'm trying to, um, just let rip, I s'pose. It's a bit like trying not to try!

So, I'm writing as if in a hurry, seeing how it goes. Dunno how it'll turn out, but I'm actually finding it rather fun!

Anyway, just thought I'd mention it.

Oh, and it's occurred to me why I'm stressed. It's 'cause I'm falling behind on a few things!

9:39 AM

Mystery Stress

Why have I been stressing all weekend? I can't remember it starting, so it's probably built itself up during last week without me noticing.

It's that passive stress. You know, the sort that, um... Maybe it's not that passive stress, as I haven't really been able to sit still. Though sitting is what I've mostly been doing.

What sort of stress is it? I dunno, except it's the sort that has you unable to concentrate for more than five seconds - if it's a passive activity, like reading, that requires concentration.

But I've only just noticed, just this morning, that I've been somewhat tense, pretty stressed.

Hmmm... Maybe I've forgotten to do something really important?