Monday, May 21, 2007
Revisiting the Inner Child
Mauritius, 1978
Been an interesting weekend. Played squash (which I think was the highlight), and then the weather turned wacky.
The Bulls beat the Sharks - wasn't too happy about that. A huge crowd of people gathered at a unit near mine. I'd like to be part of that sort of thing - barbeque on the lawn with pals over a rugby game. Guess I need to be in this country and integrate with the locals more to get there. Could have watched with dad, and organised something I guess.
Went with Chantelle and Gillian - and a black dude - to watch Breach. Not the best movie, but interesting in a way. I think all of us are engaged in a way in counterintelligence. We intuit what people think about us and in some ways we allow them to, but we also have some schemes to put people off the track. It's very subtle, but is happening nevertheless.
Went to fetch a box of things my mother put aside for me on a chilly Sunday. Found a lock of my hair she'd kept, from my second ever haircut at Maison Costa. She even wrote down the name of the hairdresser. The hair itself was still very soft, and a beautiful, bright golden color. Was really touched to find such a personal part of me that my mother had set aside, without me even knowing it.
Also went through school reports. I noticed my averages remained within a certain band (70's), but the percentages for the sobjects fluctuated fairly wildly. I see my first term in matric I got my lowest average ever...57 or something. First time ever below class average. Sad that I did so well at school, and then somehow lost momentum, and got lost. Maybe not sad, just the result of a lot of things we don't like to talk or think about.
I think sensititve children are so at risk from having their talents work against them, if they are not carefully nurtured.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Squish Squash
Image courtesy Erna Nel, enhanced and edited by Nick v d Leek
After a very tough ride, with me making ongoing breaks, we finally called a timeout and jumped into this roadside dam. It was another scorching hot day, so a wonderful roadside cool off!
Meanwhile, just returned from the mall (it's like a mouse infested cheese on a Friday!) with my booty - a Livestrong yellow squash racquet.
GHoing running now at 5:30pm. Been a good week actually.
Where were you when Diana died?
And does it really matter?
On a Sunday morning in 1997, I was in Eton. It was still early in the morning when we triathletes were all called together, shortly before the start of a short course race. The event organizer, describing the course, asked us to be careful, and not quite matter of factly, added that Diana had been killed only hours ago in a car accident in Paris. It seemed incongruous news for the setting, or an incongruous setting for the news. I remember going back to Maidenhead after the race, hungry for news, and somehow, for company, and comfort.
That whole day we watched television, and all the major channels were dedicated to Diana. I remember feeling very resistant to the news, just as everyone else did. It wasn’t denial, but it wasn’t acceptance either. It just didn’t seem right, or feel right. How was this possible? Diana, who had been just like one of us (or that’s how I felt), got married to a prince, something I remember watching in the library of my school in central South Africa, with classmates and teachers watching the screen, for as long as the ceremony lasted.
Back in England, in Maidenhead Berkshire (which is very close to Eton) I remember watching on TV, when Diana’s coffin emerged on the tarmac of some airstrip, the announcer described awkwardly what was happening. “Her coffin is being carried over the airstrip. They’re moving it slowly forward. They’re still moving the coffin, and from here it will be loaded and taken to…”
And yet, many of us were huddled in a lounge, watching on television: the airplane lands, and a coffin is carried slowly towards a waiting vehicle.
Of course, plenty had happened before that. The Queen and the Royal family were in Balmoral, lying low, or hiding out, but apparently doing everything (including hunting) and seemingly pretending that their daughter in law had never been their daughter. Tony Blair understood the ethos, but it didn’t seem enough. Prince Charles had gone to Paris, but only after some hesitation (at first the Royal jet was not going to be provided) which presented the first of a can of worms the Royal Family were unknowingly presenting to the press.
Angry crowds wanted to know where the queen was. They wanted some token, some gesture of sympathy. None was given for a number of days. At a church service the same day Diana had died, as per instructions of the Queen, Diana was not even mentioned.
People gathered in front of an empty Buckingham Palace for several days, and Tony Blair pleaded that the Queen cut short their trip and return to London as soon as possible. But she did not return. Soon people pointed to the bare flagpole at Buckingham Palace. Why no flag at half mast? In fact, Royal tradition decreed that flags demonstrated whether the Royals were in residence or not. The people didn’t care. They wanted a flag at half mast. After some considerable delay, the Royals yielded to intense public pressure, and incredible tabloid scrutiny.
At times one did sense hysteria. It reminded me of religious fanaticism. But it is nevertheless real, and based on a feeling or a belief. It was at times strange to see vivid displays of grief, other times consoling, to see huge crowds of people, mostly silent, looking sadly, almost hopefully at piles of flowers, at the tall gates guarding palaces. One evening I also went. I also wanted to just show some token of what I was feeling. I went at dusk, and bought some flowers on my way to Kensington Palace. There was something humble about the gesture. People were demonstrating their humanity to a fellow human being that we all identified with, and as a result, we also showed and shared our common humanity. I remember walking to Kensington Palace, and seeing the candles, and seeing messages left by children and grandmothers. People, families, couples, bent down to look at the messages. I remember the trees that almost seemed to have their arms around us in the candlelight. But most of all, when I left, a breeze lifted and suddenly the thin, deep, purply scent of thousands of roses pushed deep into my nose. That evening I celebrated a calm, but probably the most elegant and dignified, expression of grief with hundreds of others, for a life lost. And that is very special.
I don’t remember if I wrote in the books that were placed for people to sign. I remember initially thinking it was absurd, for me, since I had never met her. I can’t remember if I did write something. If I did, perhaps it was: “We’ll miss you Diana.”
What made the Royal family’s response, or lack of, so particularly poignant and even troubling, was that people suspected that not only did they not care about Diana, but they were wrong to not care, and even worse, wrong to dislike her. In the movie The Queen this is not acknowledged directly. The Queen makes the excuse in the movie that she was following protocol. But I doubt whether in the privacy of her bathroom, or alone in a Scottish field, she had any genuine sense of regretting Diana’s death. I think Diana was resented to the point of being loathed by the Royals, and this was exposed.
Prince Charles came across fairly positively. So did Tony Blair. But in the end, it was Diana’s brother who said what everyone was feeling. He expressed his unhappiness with the press, he conveyed Diana’s own struggles to find love and happiness. And he became a little choked up towards the end in Westminster Abbey. Following his speech, there was a worldwide sigh of relief. Not relief in the convention sense, but a sort of relieving of tension, the tension of grief and feelings having been somewhat resolved. People outside, masses of them who were watching on specially mounted screens, applauded. So did celebrities present that included Spielberg and Tom Cruise. The Royals of course, did not applaud, but probably felt worse afterward for not at least seeming to care what with the entire world apparently doing so.
I had a dream once, while Diana was still alive. I woke up and was stunned that I had had a dream, such a familiar dream, about someone I had obviously never met. In the dream I was at a social event and I merely commented on something, and Diana turned slightly, looked at me, responded, and there was a brief, probably quite ordinary exchange. But in the moment, in the dream, there was an incredible sense of connection. With her, yes, but also, somehow, with the whole human condition. That’s what I think we all felt she represented, and that’s why her life (and death) mattered so much. Diana seemed to demonstrate every level of the human being. The celebrity, the princess, the excluded, the cornered, the victim, the fighter, the broken, and somehow, once again, the princess.
Elton John’s song, Candle in the wind, still evokes Diana like nothing else. What I experienced in England during those few days, and weeks, was something of what I think it feels like when a person somehow becomes more than a person. People wanted to erect statues and monuments. Some of us felt it was absurd, and yet we felt compelled to pay tribute somehow to her. It’s when individuals have had this sort of profound impact on people in the past that they struggled to convey this magic, and so they wrote stories. They become almost mythical. Jeanne d’Arc was probably similar, and we will probably see the same thing with Nelson Mandela. What we need to remember is to celebrate and care for these people just as much, and each other, while we’re still alive.
Blonde Ambition
Sally holding the Fort at Three Sisters. I got sick a day after this, but as a result of not being able to sleep at all on the bus, and thanks to balke saag (snoring) that night, my 1 hours sleep was enough to obliterate my Immunse Response.
Image courtesy Erna Nel
Dwarskersbos & Wolseley
Lize and me after a walk on the beach at Dwarskersbos, near Veldrif
Cooling off in a fresh water culvert under the mountains in Wolseley.
Image courtesy Erna Nel
200
Felt sleepy, tired and cold and just wanted to cuddle last night, but since my car was parked outside, I decided to turn 'driving it into the garage' into a slightly more elaborate trip.
Went to buy some food, took out a DVD (the Queen), and ina what the hell moment (at 8:45pm) went to gym. I started off with situps and decided to aim for 180. I ended up with 200. No situps this time though.
The Queen was interesting, because I was in England in 1997, and one of the souls wandering around Kensington Palace after Diana died. I've never seen such as outpouring of grief in such a dignified manner.
Going to play squash tomorrow, and watch a kids play, the Grinch. Probably swim also over the weekend.
Above image courtesy Erna Nel
I contend we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours.--Stephen F. Roberts
Do not try to live for ever. You will not succeed. - George Bernard Shaw
More than 90% of the world’s scientists,* do not believe in a personal God, and hence would be considered atheists by many Christians, Jews, and Muslims. Worldwide, there are about 1.1 billion nonreligious people; only two religions have more numbers: Christianity has about 2.1 billion adherents and Islam has about 1.3 billion.*
Do not try to live for ever. You will not succeed. - George Bernard Shaw
More than 90% of the world’s scientists,* do not believe in a personal God, and hence would be considered atheists by many Christians, Jews, and Muslims. Worldwide, there are about 1.1 billion nonreligious people; only two religions have more numbers: Christianity has about 2.1 billion adherents and Islam has about 1.3 billion.*
$6.82
That's how much money this website has earned since launching. It might be a little bit more. I think for 2 years I had adsense running but didn't do something - update settings, or register something - so this is a reflection of the last year or so.
I don't really run this site as a money spinner, but imagine if I did!
One does wonder where some blogs will be 10 years from now. I've seen ordinary websites with over 1 million hits. They're ordinary, but interesting. Probably most will cease to exist. Perhaps this one too. My interest is waning somewhat. Time to call it a day?
I don't really run this site as a money spinner, but imagine if I did!
One does wonder where some blogs will be 10 years from now. I've seen ordinary websites with over 1 million hits. They're ordinary, but interesting. Probably most will cease to exist. Perhaps this one too. My interest is waning somewhat. Time to call it a day?
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Cyclist: We Shave, But We're Not Gay
from: http://www.guardian.co.uk
Two wheels
Matt Seaton
Thursday May 17 2007
The Guardian
As the paramedic dabbed away at my knee with a saline swab, I reflected for a moment that here was an instance when it helped that my legs were smooth-shaven. It made his job easier, as he could get clear, clean access to my gouges and grazes. And afterwards, the dressing went on nicely. The only problem? The scrapes on my forearm and elbow were worse, and I don't shave there. Because cyclists shave only their legs.
Before you think this is a plea for sympathy, let me admit that I had fallen off during a race around the closed roads of a Suffolk village on May Day - so we're talking about a practically self-inflicted wound here. It didn't hurt much - at least, not at first: fantastic stuff, adrenalin.
For an hour, I was so pumped up that the medic could have put in stitches without a local and I would hardly have noticed. That odd immunity from pain - a mad euphoria and a feeling of omnipotence, which army doctors must recognise well - passes soon enough. Then the worst thing about "road rash" is trying to sleep at night: your body keeps forgetting it can't lie on one side.
Keeping those abrasions free from infection is one reason sometimes cited for the leg-shaving business. But it's a red herring. That's not really why we do it. And I know of no medical research suggesting a correlation between hirsutism and slower recovery times from abrasions.
Other authorities will maintain that it is in order to facilitate the application of embrocation before races, and the soigneur's massage after, that male cyclists resort to the razor. Believe that if you like.
Aerodynamics experts may try to tell you instead that smooth legs are worth a couple of seconds a kilometre, so this male depilation can mean the margin between victory and defeat. But if this were true, we would all be shaving our forearms. And perhaps our eyebrows, too.
It sounds plausible; after all, swimmers shave from tip to toe. But water is a much more viscous medium than air. The drag coefficient of hairy, as opposed to smooth, legs is minimal compared with other aspects of a cyclist's profile - handlebars, frame and wheels, position on the bike, helmet, clothing and so on.
No, we shave our legs because we think it looks good. Not even good, actually; just right. For a serious cyclist to ride with hairy legs is a grotesque solecism. It shows a shocking lack of savoir-faire and form. Shaving one's legs, then, is part etiquette, part ontological statement: it is a signifier, written on the body, that we are cyclists. It marks us apart, yet makes us belong. As anthropologist Claude Leacutevi-Strauss put it, we are bound by a system of "attitudes which are stylised, prescribed, and sanctioned by taboos or privileges and expressed through a fixed ritual". The purpose of shaving, then? Kinship. Welcome to the bike tribe.
Two wheels
Matt Seaton
Thursday May 17 2007
The Guardian
As the paramedic dabbed away at my knee with a saline swab, I reflected for a moment that here was an instance when it helped that my legs were smooth-shaven. It made his job easier, as he could get clear, clean access to my gouges and grazes. And afterwards, the dressing went on nicely. The only problem? The scrapes on my forearm and elbow were worse, and I don't shave there. Because cyclists shave only their legs.
Before you think this is a plea for sympathy, let me admit that I had fallen off during a race around the closed roads of a Suffolk village on May Day - so we're talking about a practically self-inflicted wound here. It didn't hurt much - at least, not at first: fantastic stuff, adrenalin.
For an hour, I was so pumped up that the medic could have put in stitches without a local and I would hardly have noticed. That odd immunity from pain - a mad euphoria and a feeling of omnipotence, which army doctors must recognise well - passes soon enough. Then the worst thing about "road rash" is trying to sleep at night: your body keeps forgetting it can't lie on one side.
Keeping those abrasions free from infection is one reason sometimes cited for the leg-shaving business. But it's a red herring. That's not really why we do it. And I know of no medical research suggesting a correlation between hirsutism and slower recovery times from abrasions.
Other authorities will maintain that it is in order to facilitate the application of embrocation before races, and the soigneur's massage after, that male cyclists resort to the razor. Believe that if you like.
Aerodynamics experts may try to tell you instead that smooth legs are worth a couple of seconds a kilometre, so this male depilation can mean the margin between victory and defeat. But if this were true, we would all be shaving our forearms. And perhaps our eyebrows, too.
It sounds plausible; after all, swimmers shave from tip to toe. But water is a much more viscous medium than air. The drag coefficient of hairy, as opposed to smooth, legs is minimal compared with other aspects of a cyclist's profile - handlebars, frame and wheels, position on the bike, helmet, clothing and so on.
No, we shave our legs because we think it looks good. Not even good, actually; just right. For a serious cyclist to ride with hairy legs is a grotesque solecism. It shows a shocking lack of savoir-faire and form. Shaving one's legs, then, is part etiquette, part ontological statement: it is a signifier, written on the body, that we are cyclists. It marks us apart, yet makes us belong. As anthropologist Claude Leacutevi-Strauss put it, we are bound by a system of "attitudes which are stylised, prescribed, and sanctioned by taboos or privileges and expressed through a fixed ritual". The purpose of shaving, then? Kinship. Welcome to the bike tribe.
Penguin Postcard
http://www.paperboy.nl/?PID1=%3A%3DU%2A%22D%5DZ%3DOTN%24G%2F8%2EVQ%2F%5D%5B%3ET%5B%3FE%40BQ%24%2C%3A13%3C%20%0A
Click on the above to link to see a sample of a message. To make your own, go here:
http://www.paperboy.nl/create.cfm
It's a useful site that creates a message on a fun template. Copy the code and email it to the recipient of your choice.
Click on the above to link to see a sample of a message. To make your own, go here:
http://www.paperboy.nl/create.cfm
It's a useful site that creates a message on a fun template. Copy the code and email it to the recipient of your choice.
Hair today, gone tomorrow, back the next day...
from: http://www.guardian.co.uk
Gene therapy holds out hope for baldness cure
Ian Sample, science correspondent
Thursday May 17 2007
The Guardian
Skin cells have been primed to regrow hair follicles for the first time, leading scientists to claim a breakthrough in the quest for a cure for baldness.
Researchers hope that a treatment for hair loss may be within sight after healthy hair-producing follicles were regenerated in adult skin in mice.
The team made the breakthrough by awakening a sequence of dormant genes, which triggered a flood of stem cells into patches of hairless skin. To the researchers' surprise, the stem cells were able to form hair follicles.
The findings overturned scientists' belief that mammals are born with a set number of hair follicles and are unable to grow new ones.
While newts and salamanders are known to be capable of regenerating entire limbs, researchers believed mammals had a much more restricted ability to regrow body tissues. The researchers discovered the effect during experiments into the healing mechanisms of the animals. When thin sheets of skin were taken from the rodents, the researchers found that not only did the skin heal, but it reformed with new hair follicles.
Tests revealed that a set of genes, which are switched off shortly after the embryo stage of development, had been re-awakened, causing stem cells to rush to the site of the wound and generate new follicles.
Further studies showed that injecting a protein called Wnt onto the patch of skin doubled the number of hair follicles that formed. By blockling Wnt proteins in the animals, the researchers were able to stop the growth of new hair follicles.
George Cotsarelis, a dermatologist at the University of Pennsylvania who led the study said: "We've found that we can influence wound healing with Wnts or other proteins that allow the skin to heal in a way that has less scarring and includes all the normal structures of skin, such as hair follicles and oil glands, rather than just a scar." The research is reported in the journal Nature.
The scientists claim the findings have broader implications than a cure for male-pattern baldness, suggesting it raises the possibility of treatments for other follicle-related disorders, such as acne, scalp conditions and excessive hair growth. The researchers are now licensing the technology through a American company called Follica Inc.
"Up to now we thought that the number of hair follicles we have is set before we were born and can only go downhill from there," said Denis Headon, a developmental biologist at Manchester University. "This work shows that new hair follicles are made in adult skin, at least when it is healing a wound. The researchers also found a way to artificially soup up this natural process, causing mice to grow twice as many new hairs by giving the skin a specific molecular signal. The implication is that it might be simpler than we thought to make new hair follicles as a treatment for hair loss."
Desmond Tobin, director of the medical biosciences research group at the University of Bradford, said: "It was long thought that hair follicle development, under physiological conditions, was limited to early developmental process.
"Now Cotsarelis' team have convincingly shown that under the conditions peculiar to the wound-healing environment, the highly complex hair follicle can be created anew from apparently unremarkable cells of the healing epidermis and its underlying dermis."
Copyright Guardian News and Media Limited
Gene therapy holds out hope for baldness cure
Ian Sample, science correspondent
Thursday May 17 2007
The Guardian
Skin cells have been primed to regrow hair follicles for the first time, leading scientists to claim a breakthrough in the quest for a cure for baldness.
Researchers hope that a treatment for hair loss may be within sight after healthy hair-producing follicles were regenerated in adult skin in mice.
The team made the breakthrough by awakening a sequence of dormant genes, which triggered a flood of stem cells into patches of hairless skin. To the researchers' surprise, the stem cells were able to form hair follicles.
The findings overturned scientists' belief that mammals are born with a set number of hair follicles and are unable to grow new ones.
While newts and salamanders are known to be capable of regenerating entire limbs, researchers believed mammals had a much more restricted ability to regrow body tissues. The researchers discovered the effect during experiments into the healing mechanisms of the animals. When thin sheets of skin were taken from the rodents, the researchers found that not only did the skin heal, but it reformed with new hair follicles.
Tests revealed that a set of genes, which are switched off shortly after the embryo stage of development, had been re-awakened, causing stem cells to rush to the site of the wound and generate new follicles.
Further studies showed that injecting a protein called Wnt onto the patch of skin doubled the number of hair follicles that formed. By blockling Wnt proteins in the animals, the researchers were able to stop the growth of new hair follicles.
George Cotsarelis, a dermatologist at the University of Pennsylvania who led the study said: "We've found that we can influence wound healing with Wnts or other proteins that allow the skin to heal in a way that has less scarring and includes all the normal structures of skin, such as hair follicles and oil glands, rather than just a scar." The research is reported in the journal Nature.
The scientists claim the findings have broader implications than a cure for male-pattern baldness, suggesting it raises the possibility of treatments for other follicle-related disorders, such as acne, scalp conditions and excessive hair growth. The researchers are now licensing the technology through a American company called Follica Inc.
"Up to now we thought that the number of hair follicles we have is set before we were born and can only go downhill from there," said Denis Headon, a developmental biologist at Manchester University. "This work shows that new hair follicles are made in adult skin, at least when it is healing a wound. The researchers also found a way to artificially soup up this natural process, causing mice to grow twice as many new hairs by giving the skin a specific molecular signal. The implication is that it might be simpler than we thought to make new hair follicles as a treatment for hair loss."
Desmond Tobin, director of the medical biosciences research group at the University of Bradford, said: "It was long thought that hair follicle development, under physiological conditions, was limited to early developmental process.
"Now Cotsarelis' team have convincingly shown that under the conditions peculiar to the wound-healing environment, the highly complex hair follicle can be created anew from apparently unremarkable cells of the healing epidermis and its underlying dermis."
Copyright Guardian News and Media Limited
Candice on Wednesdays
Wednesday 23rd of May - Itinerary
Going to PMB, to pick up my busted bumper, and...... a pair a GUESS jeans I have just bought for.... Wan Meeeeleon dollarz... which I may add: the store had specifically tailored to my exact size....
....Then........ Darryl ( cutie bean friend that went with me to sani pass) and I are taking a drive through the country and stopping of at a Lipizzaner stud farm, and their 100 year old Victorian Manor house, turned Country Guest House. After admiring these awesome creatures which are born black and turn white once mature, and of course the architecture of the House, the in-house Sangoma, Sara and her trainee Muvo, will be elevating their souls to the astral planes with their ancestors, casting the bones and sharing some light on my murky future....
....Then, with new insights to contemplate on our way, and promises of wealth, wisdom and wanton, we will drive happily through the untouched Kirkwood Forest Nature reserve to our humble little Honeymoon Luxury 3 bedroom Cottage, equipped with a Jacuzzi bath, which we will fire up to a moderate temperature of 38 Deg. We will be wined and dined, exclusively by the hotel staff, as we are the only guests booked in, play a few games of snooker, and hopefully remember what we got up to when we wake up on our Extra King size beds...
...After putting the pieces together of who won the last pool game, and what happened after that, a leisurely greasy breakfast awaits us, overlooking one the many trout dams and indigenous forests on the remote estate....
With filled bellies, and rejuvenated spirits, we meander back through the scenic Karkloof reserve, with the sun on our backs, until we reach the exhilarating canopy tour ( which after all this, really was the point of our whole excursion in the first place )
....at the heart of the reserve
Strapped in to our harnesses, and locked onto the canopy cable, at the top of the forest canopy we glide above the terrestrial creatures and share the eye view of the broad variety of bird life that inhabits this magnificent piece of Africa. After picking up quite a lot of speed, and careening over vast crevices and deep, water filled gorges, a couple of waterfalls, cliff faces and over many trees and underbrush, we only hope to keep in what we had for breakfast....
.... However, beyond our safe landing pad, there is a spectacular little restaurant in the forest, amongst the fairies and fauns to fill any spills, or hungry tummies....
....After the batteries of our cameras are spent, our sense for wild adventure has been curbed, and the golden disk of day moves towards the jagged silhouette of the the Great Berg, we finally return home. On a quiet road. With only the sound of the wind, the gurgling of the Mooi, and the distant braying of the cattle calling the others ahead of them on their way home. And to my own piece of heaven we go, just around the Bend....
.... So! What you doing on Wednesday?
Going to PMB, to pick up my busted bumper, and...... a pair a GUESS jeans I have just bought for.... Wan Meeeeleon dollarz... which I may add: the store had specifically tailored to my exact size....
....Then........ Darryl ( cutie bean friend that went with me to sani pass) and I are taking a drive through the country and stopping of at a Lipizzaner stud farm, and their 100 year old Victorian Manor house, turned Country Guest House. After admiring these awesome creatures which are born black and turn white once mature, and of course the architecture of the House, the in-house Sangoma, Sara and her trainee Muvo, will be elevating their souls to the astral planes with their ancestors, casting the bones and sharing some light on my murky future....
....Then, with new insights to contemplate on our way, and promises of wealth, wisdom and wanton, we will drive happily through the untouched Kirkwood Forest Nature reserve to our humble little Honeymoon Luxury 3 bedroom Cottage, equipped with a Jacuzzi bath, which we will fire up to a moderate temperature of 38 Deg. We will be wined and dined, exclusively by the hotel staff, as we are the only guests booked in, play a few games of snooker, and hopefully remember what we got up to when we wake up on our Extra King size beds...
...After putting the pieces together of who won the last pool game, and what happened after that, a leisurely greasy breakfast awaits us, overlooking one the many trout dams and indigenous forests on the remote estate....
With filled bellies, and rejuvenated spirits, we meander back through the scenic Karkloof reserve, with the sun on our backs, until we reach the exhilarating canopy tour ( which after all this, really was the point of our whole excursion in the first place )
....at the heart of the reserve
Strapped in to our harnesses, and locked onto the canopy cable, at the top of the forest canopy we glide above the terrestrial creatures and share the eye view of the broad variety of bird life that inhabits this magnificent piece of Africa. After picking up quite a lot of speed, and careening over vast crevices and deep, water filled gorges, a couple of waterfalls, cliff faces and over many trees and underbrush, we only hope to keep in what we had for breakfast....
.... However, beyond our safe landing pad, there is a spectacular little restaurant in the forest, amongst the fairies and fauns to fill any spills, or hungry tummies....
....After the batteries of our cameras are spent, our sense for wild adventure has been curbed, and the golden disk of day moves towards the jagged silhouette of the the Great Berg, we finally return home. On a quiet road. With only the sound of the wind, the gurgling of the Mooi, and the distant braying of the cattle calling the others ahead of them on their way home. And to my own piece of heaven we go, just around the Bend....
.... So! What you doing on Wednesday?
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
(Most) Bloggers are Braindead
South African Blogosphere exposed as dumb
In a local newspaper we’ve had an endless debate on ‘Is being homosexual evil?’ If you think that’s sub par, it’s amazing how base the material is that sometimes circulates on citizen websites. Would-be journalists sometimes write as though they have cornered the market on rational thinking. One particularly uninformed writer even made supposedly witty sideswiping comments about Einstein ('male chauvinist pig or relatively crazy?') that are so moronic, I felt like getting off my chair at work and writhing on the floor in pain. I’d quote you paragraphs from the article, but that would mean I’d have to read it again. Yuck! No thanks.
I don’t know about you, but the forums I’ve found on the internet tend to very quickly lose structure and deteriorate into what David Bullard calls ‘playground name calling’. Bullard cleverly wrote two recent Sunday Times columns on the blogging topic and as a result he ‘single-handedly caused the largest amount of daily traffic ever on the South African blogosphere’. The notorious Bullard gloats about this feat: ‘A 50-something freelance columnist in the print media can attract far more attention from one article than much younger bloggers have ever achieved. That’s game set and match to the print media in my book.’ And indeed it is.
The question has to be posed at this point: What are bloggers doing in this crazy world?
In a local newspaper we’ve had an endless debate on ‘Is being homosexual evil?’ If you think that’s sub par, it’s amazing how base the material is that sometimes circulates on citizen websites. Would-be journalists sometimes write as though they have cornered the market on rational thinking. One particularly uninformed writer even made supposedly witty sideswiping comments about Einstein ('male chauvinist pig or relatively crazy?') that are so moronic, I felt like getting off my chair at work and writhing on the floor in pain. I’d quote you paragraphs from the article, but that would mean I’d have to read it again. Yuck! No thanks.
I don’t know about you, but the forums I’ve found on the internet tend to very quickly lose structure and deteriorate into what David Bullard calls ‘playground name calling’. Bullard cleverly wrote two recent Sunday Times columns on the blogging topic and as a result he ‘single-handedly caused the largest amount of daily traffic ever on the South African blogosphere’. The notorious Bullard gloats about this feat: ‘A 50-something freelance columnist in the print media can attract far more attention from one article than much younger bloggers have ever achieved. That’s game set and match to the print media in my book.’ And indeed it is.
The question has to be posed at this point: What are bloggers doing in this crazy world?
Are they lost in endless cycles of self-examination and introspection? Now is possibly the best time for all bloggers to take at least one day off (particularly bloggers who simply must post content every single day). On this day off they need to do one simple thing: ask themselves if they are adding value. Be honest: are you adding a little value, or a lot? Are you adding any value to the collective? Because however you argue your way around it, probably, nobody cares much either way. The point is, are the efforts of bloggers, hypothetically, worth caring about? Right now, on average, the answer is definitely ‘No.’ Sure, bloggers might care about what they do, and they might - as a sort of attention-credit-facility - provide each other with attention in exchange for mutual acceptance and feedback, but why should people who aren’t bloggers care? The most vital question of all is this: is blogging healthy? Do normal people with decent social lives, and sound minds, want to engage in this mirror-mirror-on-the-wall’ talk? No.
Previously I’ve mentioned blogs that I personally despise (www.mushypeasontoast.blogspot.com). I’ve also mentioned blogs that make a lot of sense, and provide wonderful contributions to our everyday knowledge of the world (Low Impact Man). But there is the fringe blog, like www.Kunstler.com that is harder to pin down. This is because the content is so sophisticated and opinionated, it’s difficult to know whether Mr Kunstler’s rants (against Joe Average) are deserved, or somewhat paranoid. Personally, I believe he is a brilliant spokesman, I believe he is spot on with his prognosis for our collective futures, and Jim Kunstler is gaining converts. Another blog that’s a wonderful resource - well, except that it isn’t updated regularly - is www.chomsky.info.
Perhaps as a blogger myself, I can provide some insight into where some bloggers come from. I’ve been writing since High School, I was the best essayist at school, and have published a few pieces in various magazines. I’ve tried to publish several manuscripts, and spent at least a decade working on several ‘works-in-progress’. So I’m a serious under-the-line, online writer. I haven’t published a single book so far. I’ve published literally hundreds of paid-for articles online. I’ve also, from time to time, posted the opening chapters of my latest novel, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone will discover me. So blogs really do function as a vehicle for writers, both established and soon-(possibly)-to-be-established.
Blogging is a useful tool in the sense that it can allow writers to practice their writing, and to immediately place these attempts in a public domain where they might do some good. This happens, but in exceptional cases. Blogging is both useful and vital for well known writers and their readers to stay in touch with each other. After I read Jim Kunstler’s book for example, it remains incredibly inspiring, and I think, valuable, that I can visit his blog as a resource on its own ? a fountain of wisdom. This provides ongoing insight, and the reader gets to interact at last with the writer. Wow. That can be a dizzying experience.
I don’t imagine that my blog offers the kind of mainstream entertainment that mainstream media does, but that’s not the goal. I do think that people who don’t blog in one way vitally underestimate the value of the blogosphere as a resource. What you have are individuals who are leaving constant messages behind, that are readable anywhere and everywhere. That means, using google, someone from a different country, someone at school, someone who is simply curious, can begin to interact with an intelligent blogger and really find out about the world. You can have a vivid window of what it is like ? on the ground ? to live somewhere else, in a way that TV, and movies, and books just cannot convey. How many people use this resource (in this way)? Few.
It seems that because people have this resource at their disposal, it’s almost too much of a luxury to actually use. I remember as a child, writing 50 letters a week to friends all around the world. When these people replied, you saw all the different sets of handwriting, and the stamps conveyed (in colors, tones and pictures) just how different these countries actually must be: Ireland to Canada, or Mexico or Slovenia. Because the internet is so easy, we seem to forget our manners. We no longer make an effort. Those emails that are 1 or 2 sentences long, and have no introductions or goodbyes ? are they real conversations, or is it kicking a soft ball against the wall, and once it bounces beyond our reach we leave it for some other amusement. That’s a convenience-based-laziness orientation which is highly schizophrenic, and incredibly stupid.
Perhaps a Code of Conduct needs to be set up. Code 5 implies a certain casual set of discipline that people voluntarily adhere to. Other users can vote to confirm that certain minimum standards are set and met. Code 4 to 1 involves a higher and higher set of standards. And so you can choose to associate yourself with the internet sector that suits you best.
Bullard describes bloggers as ‘clearly platinum members of life’s loser’s lounge. If they swam with dolphins’, he writes, ‘they would probably get savaged.’
I think in forums and on our own websites, we should know we are judged by the things we say, and bloggers tend to say a lot, too much. Freedom of speech is one thing, but a measure of discipline and common sense is always good, even in a theoretically anonymous space. Hit and run comments, swearing etc may feel good, but it leaves a particularly nasty grafitti behind. Passers by glance or scroll at responses, then sniff, and go back to where they were.
There should be a litmus test for blogs. I’d suggest these 5 guidelines:
Previously I’ve mentioned blogs that I personally despise (www.mushypeasontoast.blogspot.com). I’ve also mentioned blogs that make a lot of sense, and provide wonderful contributions to our everyday knowledge of the world (Low Impact Man). But there is the fringe blog, like www.Kunstler.com that is harder to pin down. This is because the content is so sophisticated and opinionated, it’s difficult to know whether Mr Kunstler’s rants (against Joe Average) are deserved, or somewhat paranoid. Personally, I believe he is a brilliant spokesman, I believe he is spot on with his prognosis for our collective futures, and Jim Kunstler is gaining converts. Another blog that’s a wonderful resource - well, except that it isn’t updated regularly - is www.chomsky.info.
Perhaps as a blogger myself, I can provide some insight into where some bloggers come from. I’ve been writing since High School, I was the best essayist at school, and have published a few pieces in various magazines. I’ve tried to publish several manuscripts, and spent at least a decade working on several ‘works-in-progress’. So I’m a serious under-the-line, online writer. I haven’t published a single book so far. I’ve published literally hundreds of paid-for articles online. I’ve also, from time to time, posted the opening chapters of my latest novel, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone will discover me. So blogs really do function as a vehicle for writers, both established and soon-(possibly)-to-be-established.
Blogging is a useful tool in the sense that it can allow writers to practice their writing, and to immediately place these attempts in a public domain where they might do some good. This happens, but in exceptional cases. Blogging is both useful and vital for well known writers and their readers to stay in touch with each other. After I read Jim Kunstler’s book for example, it remains incredibly inspiring, and I think, valuable, that I can visit his blog as a resource on its own ? a fountain of wisdom. This provides ongoing insight, and the reader gets to interact at last with the writer. Wow. That can be a dizzying experience.
I don’t imagine that my blog offers the kind of mainstream entertainment that mainstream media does, but that’s not the goal. I do think that people who don’t blog in one way vitally underestimate the value of the blogosphere as a resource. What you have are individuals who are leaving constant messages behind, that are readable anywhere and everywhere. That means, using google, someone from a different country, someone at school, someone who is simply curious, can begin to interact with an intelligent blogger and really find out about the world. You can have a vivid window of what it is like ? on the ground ? to live somewhere else, in a way that TV, and movies, and books just cannot convey. How many people use this resource (in this way)? Few.
It seems that because people have this resource at their disposal, it’s almost too much of a luxury to actually use. I remember as a child, writing 50 letters a week to friends all around the world. When these people replied, you saw all the different sets of handwriting, and the stamps conveyed (in colors, tones and pictures) just how different these countries actually must be: Ireland to Canada, or Mexico or Slovenia. Because the internet is so easy, we seem to forget our manners. We no longer make an effort. Those emails that are 1 or 2 sentences long, and have no introductions or goodbyes ? are they real conversations, or is it kicking a soft ball against the wall, and once it bounces beyond our reach we leave it for some other amusement. That’s a convenience-based-laziness orientation which is highly schizophrenic, and incredibly stupid.
Perhaps a Code of Conduct needs to be set up. Code 5 implies a certain casual set of discipline that people voluntarily adhere to. Other users can vote to confirm that certain minimum standards are set and met. Code 4 to 1 involves a higher and higher set of standards. And so you can choose to associate yourself with the internet sector that suits you best.
Bullard describes bloggers as ‘clearly platinum members of life’s loser’s lounge. If they swam with dolphins’, he writes, ‘they would probably get savaged.’
I think in forums and on our own websites, we should know we are judged by the things we say, and bloggers tend to say a lot, too much. Freedom of speech is one thing, but a measure of discipline and common sense is always good, even in a theoretically anonymous space. Hit and run comments, swearing etc may feel good, but it leaves a particularly nasty grafitti behind. Passers by glance or scroll at responses, then sniff, and go back to where they were.
There should be a litmus test for blogs. I’d suggest these 5 guidelines:
1) Your blog must attract more than 5 hits a day (excluding your own) otherwise, why bother (who are you fooling?)
2) Your blog must occasionally or often be about something (or someone) other than yourself.
3) Your blog should be an extension of yourself, but not an end in itself (well, for now at least)
4) Your blog should be good for others (in other words, it should add value to the internet)
5) Your blog should be good for you
Bloggers should externalize. Dedicate one day a month (and then progressively more time) to exposing some issue in your community. It may be poor roads, or prostitution, weather effects, a local economy, beggars, whatever. Take some pictures and tell the world what is happening outside your front door. What’s going on inside your front door is less relevant. Realize that, and the blogosphere might become self aware one day, and eventually a resource for all.
*http://www.reporter.co.za/columnists/article.aspx?ID=RP21A459600
Sympathomimetic
From: http://en.wikipedia.org
Sympathomimetic drugs are substances that mimic the effects of the hormone epinephrine (adrenaline) and the hormone/neurotransmitter norepinephrine (noradrenaline). They all raise blood pressure and are all weak bases.
Classical sympathomimetic drugs are amphetamines (including MDMA), ephedrine and cocaine, which act by blocking and reversing norepinephrine transporter (NET) activity. NET is a transport protein expressed on the surface of some cells that clears noradrenaline and adrenaline from the extracellular space and into cells, terminating the signaling effects.
Substances like cocaine also affect dopamine, and some substances like MDMA affect serotonin.
Norepinephrine is synthesized by the body into epinephrine, causing central nervous system stimulation. Thus, all sympathimimetic amines fall into the larger group of stimulants (see psychoactive drug chart). Many of these stimulants have therepeutic use and abuse potential, can induce tolerance, and possibly physical dependence.
Sympathomimetic drugs are substances that mimic the effects of the hormone epinephrine (adrenaline) and the hormone/neurotransmitter norepinephrine (noradrenaline). They all raise blood pressure and are all weak bases.
Classical sympathomimetic drugs are amphetamines (including MDMA), ephedrine and cocaine, which act by blocking and reversing norepinephrine transporter (NET) activity. NET is a transport protein expressed on the surface of some cells that clears noradrenaline and adrenaline from the extracellular space and into cells, terminating the signaling effects.
Substances like cocaine also affect dopamine, and some substances like MDMA affect serotonin.
Norepinephrine is synthesized by the body into epinephrine, causing central nervous system stimulation. Thus, all sympathimimetic amines fall into the larger group of stimulants (see psychoactive drug chart). Many of these stimulants have therepeutic use and abuse potential, can induce tolerance, and possibly physical dependence.
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