I make no secret of hinging on perpetual geekdom, and anybody who has spoken to me recently knows that I caught the Battlestar Galactica (re-imagined) bug last winter, watched the whole series in a matter of weeks, cried through the series finale in March and bought the prequel, Caprica, the day it came out. And yes, as the closing credits of Caprica rolled I sat at the edge of my seat, my mouth agape, yelling "What? That's the end? That can't be the end!" Geek enough for you? Alas, this has nothing to do with me.
A basic element of the plot of Caprica is that a girl who is a "computer genius" dies. In his mourning, her father discovers that his daughter had created a virtual copy of herself - an avatar, and had somehow programmed that avatar to see and feel what her creator saw and felt out in the real world, in real time. Another element, without giving a spoiler, is that a common trend with teenagers was to live vicariously through their avatars by going to virtual reality nightclubs full of anything hedonistic and entirely depraved. The story in itself leads to the creation of the Cylon, an endeavor that the seasoned geek knows will result in two wars and the end of the world.
This is science fiction at its finest. Or is it? The biggest complaint I hear about science fiction as a genre is that it is just too unbelievable - for for the most part, I would agree. But Battlestar Galactica is slightly different, and Caprica even more so. Ultimately, the reason the Battlestar can survive attacks by highly superior robots through five seasons is quite simply that the commander has not allowed for the ship's computers to operate on a network, because computer networks are too vulnerable to breach. This is not a science-fictional phenomenon - our own computer networks are the reason computer viruses spread as quickly as they can. But this isn't a big stretch to find anywhere in the real world.
The same is true for Caprica's techno-savvy teenagers living vicariously through their avatars. I find it both interesting and slightly terrifying that the video game consoles my generation grew up with have evolved the way they have. Our video game consoles now alllow us to create a cartoon avatar that may or may not look like us. It may not be a mirror image, but we can be represented in the virtual world by a character we essentially create. And gone are the days where our video game opponents sit next to us in the room - we can now interact with people from just about anywhere over a video game. We even communicate through headsets and speakers - just a small jump from the visors used to interface by the Caprica teens. These headsets are commonly used to volley obscenities at opponents, though it most certainly could not have been their intended use.
Further similarities lie in the actual creation of the Cylon - a top-secret project and military contract on the line, coinciding with the dark side of the justice system and the influence of gangsters. I make no allegations by this against the way things actually fall in terms of our political and military systems, but in the media-driven fear that has consumed so many of us since 9/11, there are many rumours and conspiracy theories not entirely dismissable, and not entirely different from Caprica's reality.
The cherry on top in all this is an article I read this morning in the Toronto Star that cites virtual reality sex toys that allow people in front of screens, regardless of where they are, to see, feel, and in essence do things to each other in real time. This is a pretty far jump from the all-talk cyber-sex in chat rooms everywhere when I was growing up. The toys are now letting us, in a way, to reach out and touch someone. So tell me, where do we go from here? How fictional is science fiction? I don't want to be taken as a doomsday prophet, but we're slowly reaching a point where the possibilities will be limitless. Perhaps the time is coming to step back, appreciate the distance we've travelled, and make some conscious decisions and conclusions regarding where our actions can lead us. I'm not saying not to move forward, but rather to do so carefully.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Our Integrity, Our Defining Quality
Integrity - the keystone of clear conscience. Everybody has some sort of principle, or I'd at least like to think they do. Whether that principle is good or bad is for you and me to decide if we so choose. Having some principle is easy. How hard can it possibly be to instinctively decide that certain things are right and certain other things are wrong, or that rightness and wrongness are purely circumstancial?
Then life throws you a curve ball, or crashes you full force, head first into a concrete wall. When you come to and feel the ache in your head, see the world spinning around you, face the puddle of blood in which you lie and struggle to peel yourself off the ground, how will you react? Things won't look quite as clear as they did before, your surroundings won't look so familiar, and dammit you're bleeding! Is there anyone there to hold your hand? Is anyone going to show you the way? They may very well not. They'll look at you, and they'll panic, and their judgements will only be about as useful as your own. Your principles won't help you.
Or maybe they will. It's all a game in the end, anyhow. You establish principles and values, you hit the wall, and your integrity is put to the test. How do you measure up? Are your principles still in place? Do you act in accordance with them? Does it turn out that you were wrong? Or are you just too weak to finish what you started? Do you persevere?...
Then life throws you a curve ball, or crashes you full force, head first into a concrete wall. When you come to and feel the ache in your head, see the world spinning around you, face the puddle of blood in which you lie and struggle to peel yourself off the ground, how will you react? Things won't look quite as clear as they did before, your surroundings won't look so familiar, and dammit you're bleeding! Is there anyone there to hold your hand? Is anyone going to show you the way? They may very well not. They'll look at you, and they'll panic, and their judgements will only be about as useful as your own. Your principles won't help you.
Or maybe they will. It's all a game in the end, anyhow. You establish principles and values, you hit the wall, and your integrity is put to the test. How do you measure up? Are your principles still in place? Do you act in accordance with them? Does it turn out that you were wrong? Or are you just too weak to finish what you started? Do you persevere?...
Wasn't Western Mississauga Safer Once?
I know I'm not alone in saying I'm saddened by yesterday's stabbings at St. Joseph Catholic Secondary School in Mississauga. For those of us who went there, we remember fights and drugs and prostitution, but it never reached these heights. I hate to say it seems that times are changing, and there was a time when these sorts of things simply did not happen in our backyards. I could sit around and contemplate which precise factors in our neighbourhoods have made this sort of thing possible, but what's the use? What's done is done.
Somebody lashed out at me last week for thinking that Mississauga is some Shangri-La, some amazing city where no wrong ever happens. I found it amusing, mainly because I talk enough about wanting to move to the country, to Peterborough or Port Hope or Acton or Northern Burlington (if I must stay in the city), and in general about wanting to get the hell out of Mississauga. The allegation was entirely misinformed, and I may have been insulted if my accuser was not quite simply ignorant through and through - no better can be expected of such people. Regardless, I could bring on the social commentary in response to the new violence in our neighbourhoods, but I'd rather not. I'd rather leave, and hope that the world doesn't find me wherever I go. I'm sad to say it probably will.
Somebody lashed out at me last week for thinking that Mississauga is some Shangri-La, some amazing city where no wrong ever happens. I found it amusing, mainly because I talk enough about wanting to move to the country, to Peterborough or Port Hope or Acton or Northern Burlington (if I must stay in the city), and in general about wanting to get the hell out of Mississauga. The allegation was entirely misinformed, and I may have been insulted if my accuser was not quite simply ignorant through and through - no better can be expected of such people. Regardless, I could bring on the social commentary in response to the new violence in our neighbourhoods, but I'd rather not. I'd rather leave, and hope that the world doesn't find me wherever I go. I'm sad to say it probably will.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Losing What We Cling To
The Buddha said that we can only lose what we cling to. It seems like such a stretch to not cling to people or things or events, but there is another side to this that changes everything. The other side says that we can't change other people or past events, or sometimes even our own situations. The only thing we can change is ourselves. Our actions, our thoughts, our reactions, our own outlooks, our behaviour. The idea of making the best of a bad situation is entirely possible, but it's internal. Nobody can do this for us, and we need to accept that. Likewise, when the world around us isn't to our liking, we need to realize that if it isn't within our power to influence it for the better, then there is no use in holding onto an ideal that exists in our own minds. When we come to peace with living in the world without affecting it, it becomes easier to accept change. Emotional pain comes from the attachment we have to an ideal that either has never existed or no longer exists. But when we come to the realization that the ideal does not transcend into reality, the pain also becomes illusory, a figment of our own mind. We realize that we haven't lost what we never had in the first place, and leave behind our illusions. By letting go, we find ourselves at peace.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
A Quote From Robertson Davies
"Science, which seems to offer certainty, is the superstition of ignorant multitudes, who think it means toothpaste and tampons."
(From "Murther & Walking Spirits")
(From "Murther & Walking Spirits")
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
"Orchestral Zeppelin" June 27 @ Danforth Music Hall!
On June 27, Michael White and The White will be performing the music of Led Zeppelin with a 50-piece youth orchestra at the Music Hall (www. themusichall.ca). Tickets cost $30-$40. Partial proceeds will be donated to the music programs at Father John Redman Catholic Secondary School & Regional Arts Centre and the Sherway Academy of Music.
Yes, the music will be awesome… Michael White and The White have been playing a tribute to Led Zeppelin since the dawn of time, and will not disappoint. I’ll certainly be there. I hope you’ll be there too, and here’s why:
Children and youth need outlets to explore and express themselves. They should have the opportunities to try new things and explore their abilities while they are young. That’s when talent gets discovered and developed. That’s where arts schools come in and do a fantastic job. For artistic youth, the arts aren’t just subjects they study for an hour in school. They become a passion, a way of life. There is no good reason for us not to support them… we, who complain that there isn’t enough for kids to do, there aren’t enough after-school programs to keep kids active, or that kids watch too much television. We need to support the kids who use their talents. We need to support the programs that make it possible. Now, what’s wrong with sitting back and listening to some great music while we do some good in the community?
Yes, the music will be awesome… Michael White and The White have been playing a tribute to Led Zeppelin since the dawn of time, and will not disappoint. I’ll certainly be there. I hope you’ll be there too, and here’s why:
Children and youth need outlets to explore and express themselves. They should have the opportunities to try new things and explore their abilities while they are young. That’s when talent gets discovered and developed. That’s where arts schools come in and do a fantastic job. For artistic youth, the arts aren’t just subjects they study for an hour in school. They become a passion, a way of life. There is no good reason for us not to support them… we, who complain that there isn’t enough for kids to do, there aren’t enough after-school programs to keep kids active, or that kids watch too much television. We need to support the kids who use their talents. We need to support the programs that make it possible. Now, what’s wrong with sitting back and listening to some great music while we do some good in the community?
Monday, June 1, 2009
I deal in an exchange of favours. Not necessarily one for one, but rather if I do something for you today, someone else will help me out when I need a hand, and because I helped you this time, you'll help someone else, and so on, and so forth. Call it what you will. I call it a system that helps everybody get everything done, and none of it gets declared on our taxes. Win - win.
Being Like Mom
The stigma is that no woman wants to become her mother. Telling her she is becoming like her mother, or worse, has become like her mother, is considered one of the harsher truths we ever have to confront.
On Saturday my wonderful boyfriend and I went out to Kelso Conservation Area to do some mountain biking. I planned for it to be a perfect afternoon. I packed a picnic cooler (baskets just don't work anymore), bought sunscreen and bugspray, the morning had been warm and sunny, and it would be just the two of us for the day. We mounted the bikes onto the back of the car and drove out to Milton, paid our entrance fee, and started a rough climb directly up a ski hill, so excited to hit the trails I could taste it!
And then the single storm cloud crept over us. We were 3/4 up the hill, and it was only a single cloud. Thunder started pounding, but the wind was moving pretty fast, and at the moment when we stopped, looked at each other and discussed our options, I was opting to try to make it to the top of the hill, ride out the storm under the trees as it looked as though it would only last about five minutes, and then hit the trails and hope the rain wasn't too strong. His idea was to ride down the hill as quickly and carefully as we could because if we walked, we'd never make it in time. He was pretty sure there were more clouds behind the one above us. We took his advice, rode down the hill as quickly and carefully as we could. The rain went from a light drop here and there to a pretty strong rainfall by the time we reached the bottom, and upgraded to a torrential downpour seconds before we found shelter in a see-through fiberglass-walled covered bridge. We stayed there to watch the storm. We were both right and we were both wrong. The storm was only a few minutes long, but it was as strong as I've seen them. Hail pounded against the walls and the noise was deafeningly loud. We felt for the bikers we had seen on the hill. The storm was so strong that the trails would certainly be too muddy to ride at least for the next few hours. We went back to the car, disappointed.
Trying to make the most of the afternoon and the $11 we spent on admission, we decided to at least sit around and have our picnic, albeit in the car because everything was damp. I pulled out the chicken salad sandwiches I had made, the popcorn, the apples, and the large ziplock I'd brought to use as a garbage bag. And he laughed at me for a second. I told him that I'd had no idea where we'd be eating, but the lunch wasn't exactly "litterless", so I had to be prepared to carry out everything we carried in. And he laughed some more.
"You're just like your mother", he told me. I'm not sure exactly what my face did at that moment, but it couldn't have been good. He quickly backpedalled. Sort of. "Not in a bad way!" Of course not. "I love your mom. She cares about things. She cares about the environment, and recycling and composting and anything to do with that. And she cares about animals. I love that about her! It's so cool! Most people don't pay that much attention to these things!"
I'm not sure what to make of this. If he actually meant it the way he said it, then I guess I'm flattered. If what he admires about my mom is her unending compassion for living things, I couldn't be happier... it's one of my mom's best qualities. But I also know some of her other qualities, and as much as I love her, in some ways, I never want to be like my mom. And I'm sure my dad would love to step in here with a j'accuse!
On Saturday my wonderful boyfriend and I went out to Kelso Conservation Area to do some mountain biking. I planned for it to be a perfect afternoon. I packed a picnic cooler (baskets just don't work anymore), bought sunscreen and bugspray, the morning had been warm and sunny, and it would be just the two of us for the day. We mounted the bikes onto the back of the car and drove out to Milton, paid our entrance fee, and started a rough climb directly up a ski hill, so excited to hit the trails I could taste it!
And then the single storm cloud crept over us. We were 3/4 up the hill, and it was only a single cloud. Thunder started pounding, but the wind was moving pretty fast, and at the moment when we stopped, looked at each other and discussed our options, I was opting to try to make it to the top of the hill, ride out the storm under the trees as it looked as though it would only last about five minutes, and then hit the trails and hope the rain wasn't too strong. His idea was to ride down the hill as quickly and carefully as we could because if we walked, we'd never make it in time. He was pretty sure there were more clouds behind the one above us. We took his advice, rode down the hill as quickly and carefully as we could. The rain went from a light drop here and there to a pretty strong rainfall by the time we reached the bottom, and upgraded to a torrential downpour seconds before we found shelter in a see-through fiberglass-walled covered bridge. We stayed there to watch the storm. We were both right and we were both wrong. The storm was only a few minutes long, but it was as strong as I've seen them. Hail pounded against the walls and the noise was deafeningly loud. We felt for the bikers we had seen on the hill. The storm was so strong that the trails would certainly be too muddy to ride at least for the next few hours. We went back to the car, disappointed.
Trying to make the most of the afternoon and the $11 we spent on admission, we decided to at least sit around and have our picnic, albeit in the car because everything was damp. I pulled out the chicken salad sandwiches I had made, the popcorn, the apples, and the large ziplock I'd brought to use as a garbage bag. And he laughed at me for a second. I told him that I'd had no idea where we'd be eating, but the lunch wasn't exactly "litterless", so I had to be prepared to carry out everything we carried in. And he laughed some more.
"You're just like your mother", he told me. I'm not sure exactly what my face did at that moment, but it couldn't have been good. He quickly backpedalled. Sort of. "Not in a bad way!" Of course not. "I love your mom. She cares about things. She cares about the environment, and recycling and composting and anything to do with that. And she cares about animals. I love that about her! It's so cool! Most people don't pay that much attention to these things!"
I'm not sure what to make of this. If he actually meant it the way he said it, then I guess I'm flattered. If what he admires about my mom is her unending compassion for living things, I couldn't be happier... it's one of my mom's best qualities. But I also know some of her other qualities, and as much as I love her, in some ways, I never want to be like my mom. And I'm sure my dad would love to step in here with a j'accuse!
To a Certain Friend
This is really to a friend who may or may not need a friend today.
It's been a long couple of weeks, hasn't it? It hasn't all been bad, either! You've done yourself a lot of good, but the harder moments were certainly there. Today you make a choice, and I don't for a second doubt that you've given this choice more than enough thought.
I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you today. I'll be here whichever way you choose. I hope we end the day celebrating, but if it doesn't fall out that way, well, you have my cell number. I'll keep the battery juiced.
It's been a long couple of weeks, hasn't it? It hasn't all been bad, either! You've done yourself a lot of good, but the harder moments were certainly there. Today you make a choice, and I don't for a second doubt that you've given this choice more than enough thought.
I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you today. I'll be here whichever way you choose. I hope we end the day celebrating, but if it doesn't fall out that way, well, you have my cell number. I'll keep the battery juiced.
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