Archive for August, 2005

Turmoil and taste

Wednesday, August 31st, 2005
Bad taste

Turmoil can cause bad taste.
But clearly bad taste can also cause turmoil.

“I can only imagine that this is what Hiroshima looked like 60 years ago.”

— Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour, about the damage caused by Hurricane Katrina

Whooops. As disaster characterizations go, this one does not exactly lean on the tasteful side.

In Hiroshima, not counting later deaths (lots of them) from radiation sickness, about 78,150 people were killed.

… on purpose.

Louisiana and Mississippi are in pretty bad shape today, no denying that. Their misfortune is not denied or slighted by appreciating that at least they don’t have 78,150 corpses with no skin on, some of them staggering around crying for water before finally keeling over, and they don’t have the prospect of decades of radiation diseases and deformed babies to worry about. And Katrina wasn’t ordered by the president of any country.

To be fair, in terms of buildings and economic havoc, Hurricane Katrina may well have caused even more damage than the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I don’t know. But surely we all agree — even those who have the stomach to find the bombings justified — that this comparison was best left unraised. Probably Gov. Barbour agrees too; he probably let this out in an unsettled emotional state and is now bleeding profusely from biting his tongue afterwards. I sure hope so.

Political opponents are probably having a field day with his remark, as well as with that of Biloxi Mayor A.J. Holloway, comparing the disaster to the December tsunami in Asia (death toll: 237,000).

In a state of emotional turmoil, we are all prone to blurting out unfortunate, ill-thought-out remarks. I’ve done plenty of that, and will probably do plenty more in the future. Is that tendency a useful measure of a person? It is certainly a lazy one. My first reaction was “what a jackass,” and then I realized that I knew nothing else the man has ever said or done. He may well be a jackass, but at present my basis for concluding that is flimsy.

I hereby publicly challenge myself to be (a) less prone to letting my turmoil affect my taste, and (b) less quick to judge others for the same.

You stand challenged too: the next time you are seriously stirred up, conduct yourself in a manner you can be proud of afterwards. And the next time an opportunity for hasty judgment presents itself — hold your horses.

The Eight-Second Shift

Tuesday, August 30th, 2005
A startled bride

Probably she has just experienced The Eight-Second Shift

Let’s say you are sitting at your computer (running Windows), home alone, no music, late at night.

It is very quiet, just the faint whirr of the fan lulling you into a sense of serenity as you lean onto your keyboard and lazily pause your typing to think, with your right pinky resting on the shift key.

You are partly lost in your own thoughts and partly starting to fall asleep. Your pinky is still on the shift key.

Your computer is playing no sound, but the volume is jacked up high after your Beastie Boys constructive self-therapy session earlier in the evening.

Keep that finger on the right shift key. Right through those magical eight seconds.

Try it.

I am grateful for my strong heart and weak speakers.

Update: never mind; I just tried this at work, and apparently it isn’t insanely loud on all computers. On my home computer, it produced in me a reaction similar to that of the young woman pictured here.

(And I hope you appreciate my Ultimate Sacrifice: my friend Vanessa will most likely assassinate me for using this picture. Slide your mouse over the picture to see what she normally looks like.)

Craving affirmation

Saturday, August 27th, 2005
Garðar frowning at me

Uh-oh. Garðar seems to be rejecting me. Calamity!

Garðar looking open-eyed at the person next to me

But apparently he is accepting the person next to me. Oh no! That makes it worse!

Garðar looking pensive

Okay, now he’s mulling it over.

This was in a comment on a previous post:

Your disclaimer, that since you have no goal of convincing anyone you get to say whatever you want — do you really believe that when you publish your thoughts for the world to see, you have no desire at all for anyone who reads your thoughts to think “I agree” or “I can relate to that” or “He has a good point” or “I know that feeling”?

Sure. I have that desire. Thankfully I don’t need to indulge it at all times, but it is there, and quite strong. But that doesn’t mean everything I write is written to manipulate my readers’ minds or win them over to my beliefs. Nor is it written to pander to anyone’s beliefs or win anyone’s approval.

The context of my disclaimer matters: I had just criticized another man for writing in a manner poorly suited to the purpose of his writing, by not keeping the nature of his target audience in mind. And I stated that in my own writing on this blog I had neither a particular purpose nor a target audience, so I was not subject to the same criticism. I stand by that. In my first and second posts mentioning astrology, my opinion of it was fairly clear, but I was not attempting to convince anyone to jump on my bandwagon. (The peer pressure of scorn notwithstanding)

I run this blog for my enjoyment, or to share interesting or amusing things, when I feel like it. That’s my only purpose with it.

I obviously do not publish all of my thoughts. In particular, I skip a lot of thoughts that I am not proud of. When I am afraid, or feel I have failed, or feel rejected or dejected, I generally will not post that here. A lot of private goings-on are not topics for online discussion, but some of them I am skipping not because they are nobody’s business, but because they would embarrass me.

I hope I also don’t write for the purpose of self-aggrandization (if I do, please comment to point it out), but sure, I cherry-pick what I write about to make myself look okay in public. I put stuff in my hair before going out, too, and I don’t need to be ashamed of that.

To some extent I do want to feel that people like what I write; I do want the perception of praise or admiration. Of course I do. I don’t want to be lambasted for crappy writing. Of course I don’t.

I want affirmation.

That desire is an interesting topic in its own right, and one I think about a lot these days. We all crave validation, of our wisdom, our looks, our charm, our piano playing, whatever. Acceptance is delicious, especially from people whose opinion we value. Rejection is painful; rejection by people we care about is pure agony. I’ll bet many people who are fired feel terrible not so much because they miss the job or fear unemployment but because the rejection hurts. Likewise for people who “get dumped” from a relationship. Affirmation and rejection can work wonders or wreak havoc in our minds.

But more interestingly, the anticipation of affirmation and rejection is a very significant influence on the way we think and act. Thus it is valuable to give some thought to that.

There are dangers in our craving for validation. We tend, to different degrees, to shy away from saying things and thinking things that would not go over well with those whose validation we want. I have a very-right-wing friend whose very-right-wing friends heckle him for being into organic foods recently. “What next, tie-dyeing? Equal wage for equal work? Collectivization?” It is a credit to him that he got into organic foods at all, because he could probably see this coming. But that’s small. In larger things, the fear of rejection causes serious problems: how many people are torn to shreds by their inner conflict about being homosexual or atheist or Framsóknarmenn or anything else that they know their homophobic, devoutly religious, conservative family just will not accept?

The urge to seek agreement or affirmation tends to keep us out of trouble, but it also discourages us from “thinking different” (if one can even use this term anymore, now that the Apple marketing people have had their way with it). At its extreme, it would make vacuous yes-men out of us. But even without going to extremes, it is influential: the more we shy away from trouble by acquiescing to conventional wisdom, the more we allow our immediate environment — the people we interact with directly — to determine how and what we think, and by extension, what we are. And the less we determine it ourselves, by critical self-reflection and by seeking influences in a wider context.

Going along with things and avoiding disagreement might have spared me this marathon discussion, for example. My exasperation with that marathon might lead me to be less willing to dissent in the future; I need to be wary of that effect.

We should appreciate and enjoy affirmation when we get it (if we deserve it!) … but also ruthlessly recognize when we are letting our desire for it affect our thoughts and choices.

The self-appointed guru has spoken. :-þ

Goldenrod

Sunday, August 21st, 2005

Nicknames (other than “Gulli”) that have been used for me at one time or another:

Daujau and Dauþóbin
My own pronunciations of “Gunnlaugur” and “Gunnlaugur Þór Briem,” respectively, in my early days of speaking. Picked up by others and still used now and then.
Kristján
Used by my mother off and on through my entire life. I have no idea why. It is a fairly common Icelandic name, and has no special significance in the family. It means “Christian,” of course; not the most apt descriptive term, but probably not intended as such anyway.
Proffi
Used by kids at school for years. Can’t imagine why.
Goldenrod
Used by several smart-alecs, including Kristján Valur at OZ, and Snæbjörn at Landsbankinn. It is a name of a plant, but also used by Han Solo for the robot C-3PO in the first Star Wars movie.
Gulldrengurinn
Used by several people, including the musical Gröndal family. Means literally “the golden boy.”
Brímarinn
Used by remote or recent acquaintances who want to use a teasy kind of name for me and can’t think of anything better.
“Gullu-thor, big bore”
Used by Ketu the chutki, invariably sung in a cheerful taunting tone.
Goolie, Gully
Used by English speakers in general. Not their fault: the ‘u’ sound in my name does not exist in English. Incidentally, “Goolie” is old British military slang for “testicle,” derived from the Hindi word “gooli” (small pellet). I trust that most English speakers are unaware of this. Finnish speakers, however, are fully aware that “Kulli” (where the K is pronounced like a G) means “penis.” I had introduced myself to dozens of them in a business setting before discovering this.
Several unacceptably and unpublishably corny nushymushy names
Used by my sister in outbursts of sororal affection. Sorry, I cannot post these publicly. My dignity does not allow it, and anyway I wouldn’t know how to write them.

The hurried departure of homo mastercardiens

Thursday, August 4th, 2005
Mastercard

I’m in London now, for my friend Vanessa’s wedding. Ran a little late setting out, as is my custom. I had a deadline that needed finishing at work before leaving, and 2.5 hours before takeoff I was still writing code, sleepless, nothing packed, wedding gift not bought (but decided on, thankfully).

I made the deadline (at least it seems done), but ended up packing in a bit of a hurry. Still remembered pretty much everything: the gift, sheet music to play in the ceremony, book to read on plane, tickets, passport, etc. Except for … the credit and debit cards. Left those at home. All of’em. Took no form of monetary representation with me.

Whoops.

Realized it at the airport and managed to withdraw some cash there using my passport as ID. That will be harder to do in a foreign bank; I should have taken more. Will figure something out, Visa emergency cash or whatever. But it’s remarkable how reliant one has become on these little pieces of plastic. It’s more than a nuisance to be without them — it feels downright insecure. What a silly feeling!

Big relief

Wednesday, August 3rd, 2005
Relief of Ardeshir I, Naghsh-e-Rostam, near Persepolis, Iran

A big relief in Iran, the country believed
to have invented ice cream. Sort of.

Normally, at this time of year and in the beginning of December (and a little bit in late October but that’s just a midterm), I am trembling in my shoes and seeking psychiatric counseling because of the impending requirement that I write and grade an exam.

Writing an exam is not a task I enjoy much. Grading I enjoy even less.

The August exam is a makeup exam for those who failed the previous December exam, or couldn’t make it, or applied to retake it to raise their grade. I once had to write a makeup exam for three people. Two of them failed it, with obviously minimal preparation, and the third scored a perfect 100%. It felt oddly pointless.

I just found out that this year there is no makeup exam in my class; only one student applied for it, and that student apparently is not eligible for some reason. Writing a whole exam for one person would have been a bit of a bummer (although grading it would be mercifully quick). Now I don’t have to write an exam for two-and-a-half months! Tough luck for him, big relief for me.