The Other World

The Meme of the Day.

Almost forgot that. Today's meme has nothing to do with mathematics, but music. I came across with one of the numerous questionnaires and decided to put it here. After all, people are alway saying that one's record tower tells so much about the owner. So, here we go.

The album that changed my life:
'Oceanborn' by Nightwish. This cast me into the infinite depths of heavy metal.

The album I’ve listened to more than once:
Almost all albums I own I've listened to more than once. Well, 'Reckoning night' by Sonata Arctica comes to mind. It's good.

The album I would take with me on a deserted island:
If we think I was to end up there this spring, I would take Sonata Arctica's new album 'Unia' with me, despite the fact that it isn't released until 25th of May.

The album that makes me a scatterbrained:
'Scatterbrained' is a little disrespectful word to use, but in a milder definition... 'The Best of Roxette'.

The album that makes me burst in tears:
It's not the albums, it's the songs. Last night I cried while listening to 'You don't understand me' by Roxette. I couldn't help thinking of Her. "You don't really see that I live for your touch..."

The album I wish had been recorded:
I think I'm satisfied with the current assortment.

The album I wish never had been recorded:
Anything by people who don't take music seriously. This includes Paris Hilton, Tony Halme and Matti Nykänen, to name a few.

The line I’m listening to right now:

"In the break of new dawn
My hope is forlorn
We will never meet
Only misery and me

By the light of new day
I'll fade away
Reality cuts deep
Would you bleed with me,
My Selene"

The album I’ve been meaning to listen to:
I should get hold of Within Temptation's 'Silent Force', especially now that they're coming to Rockperry.


Happy Pi Day!

Today is the 14th of March. But if you write the date, instead of the British version I used, with the American spelling you get the date 3.14. Hence the name Pi Day.

A little information on pi:
- it can be defined as "the ratio of a circle's area to the area of a square whose side is the radius"
- Babylonian mathematicians were using ð = 25⁄8, which is within 0.5% of the true value
- Krishan Shanal from India currently holds he world record for memorising exactly 43 000 digits; he broke Hiroyuki Goto's record of 42 195 digits on 19th of June 2006, and it took him 5 hours and 21 minutes
- you can start by memorising the first 1000 digits:

3,
14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937510582097494
45923078164062862089986280348253421170679821480865132823066
47093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938521105
55964462294895493038196442881097566593344612847564823378678
31652712019091456485669234603486104543266482133936072602491
41273724587006606315588174881520920962829254091715364367892
59036001133053054882046652138414695194151160943305727036575
95919530921861173819326117931051185480744623799627495673518
85752724891227938183011949129833673362440656643086021394946
39522473719070217986094370277053921717629317675238467481846
76694051320005681271452635608277857713427577896091736371787
21468440901224953430146549585371050792279689258923542019956
11212902196086403441815981362977477130996051870721134999999
83729780499510597317328160963185950244594553469083026425223
08253344685035261931188171010003137838752886587533208381420
61717766914730359825349042875546873115956286388235378759375
1957781857780532 171226806613001927876611195909216420198

- if pi doesn't light your fire, try e (Napier's constant); the world record of memorising e's digits is only 905 by Marc Umile (USA)
- the first 950 digits of e (this would be enough to beat Ulime!):

2,
718281828459045235360287471352662497757247093699959574966967627724076
630353547594571382178525166427427466391932003059921817413596629043572
900334295260595630738132328627943490763233829880753195251019011573834
187930702154089149934884167509244761460668082264800168477411853742345
442437107539077744992069551702761838606261331384583000752044933826560
297606737113200709328709127443747047230696977209310141692836819025515
108657463772111252389784425056953696770785449969967946864454905987931
636889230098793127736178215424999229576351482208269895193668033182528
869398496465105820939239829488793320362509443117301238197068416140397
019837679320683282376464804295311802328782509819455815301756717361332
069811250996181881593041690351598888519345807273866738589422879228499
892086805825749279610484198444363463244968487560233624827041978623209
002160990235304369941849146314093431738143640546253152096183690888707
01676839642437814059271456354906130310720851038375051

The chances are you’re never going to need to know even the first ten digits of either of them, but try it just for fun. Or as a tribute to Albert Einstein whose birthday happens to be today, too.



My name tastes like honey.

I am being perfectly serious.

It appears that someone I know has synesthesia. In Scientific American issue from last fall (volume 16, Number 3, 2006) there was an article about synesthesia "Hearing colours, tasting shapes", which says:

"They [the synesthetes] experience the ordinary world in extraordinary ways and seem to inhabit a mysterious no-man's-land between fantasy and reality. For them the senses -touch, taste, hearing, vision and smell- get mixed up instead of remaining separate. In the most common form of synesthesia, looking at a number evokes a specific hue. This phenomenon apparently occurs because brain areas that normally do not interact when processing numbers or colors do activate each other in synesthetes."

So, in a way, the brains of synesthetes are more advanced since they have more synaptic connections that the brains of lesser mortals like us.

Anyway, I couldn't resist asking her what senses does my name evoke. According to her, whenever she hears my voice, or sees me or my name, she tastes warm tea with honey mixed with it. She feels warm, and sees a sunny field on a summer day, a meadow. The colour of my name, however, is difficult to define (the same situation as if you were trying to describe the colour blue to a person who's been blind all of his life). My personal weakness of not understanding the dozen shades of the colour white, for instance, creates I have difficulties to understand what kind of colour she sees when I enter the room; not pink or fuchsia, but something like the shade of red that appears on the sky during sunset and dawn; cherry juicy colour; the colour of the roses many people have decorated their gardens with. I think I have an idea of what she means.

- - -

I saw Her today (hey, I saw you rolling your eyes!). I saw Her yesterday, too. And last Friday I was in close proximity with Her. My mind keeps running wilder and wilder; this time, as She was sitting there, I kept imagining how I would open that one button on Her shirt... take it of and kiss Her neck, lightly caressing Her arms with my fingertips... opening Her hair and running my fingers through them as I would watch Her beautiful eyes and lips...

Was there really a time when I seriously thought I was over Her, ready to move on?


Ta-tata-ta, tatata-tatata-tatata-ta-ti-ta-ti-ta.

There's a seventh weird thing about me, and I can't believe I forgot this. I don't suppose it's that rare but I do have a very good reason to believe my roommate would definitely name this very annoying.

I talk out loud when I'm alone (or, as the roommate has noticed, when I think I'm alone). I don't really talk to myself. Instead, I talk to my things; when the stereos are on Bartleby-mode I tell them to work, and my tiny yucca-tree has gotten it's share of greetings and trivial babble. But most of the time I talk to real, existing people who I imagine to be there although they aren't really there. One of the most maniacal things my roommate's had to suffer is (I admit, this IS weird) my habbit to laugh out loud. Must have been slightly scary to hear me laughing on the other side of the wall for the first time while being hundred per cent sure and perfectly aware that I'm there on my own.

- - -

I've noticed that writing here is so much easier than writing an essay on Word. The second I start writing these entries on Word the writer's block hits me. But when I write here with all those colours surrounding me on the screen all my texts become so much longer than I originally intended them to be. Maybe the programmers at Microsoft plotted a conspiracy against the innocent students fighting with endless boring analyses 'till the Judgement Day. Or maybe it's the angry monkeys.

Or I'm just chronically lazy. What do you think, would 'eligi pigritia infinita' sound like a believable disease? "No, I'm sorry, I cannot be expected to write an above-average analysis on that play. You see, my eligi pigritia infinita has been terrible this spring..." Too bad the teacher I should write the drama analysis for has studied Latin at university.

I have a vague memory I've wrote about this before. And after pouring all the complaints I actually wrote something that was supposed to give me energy to write some analysis. I have to read it again.

- - -
And since it’s either very late or very early, it is time for The Meme of the Day:

http://www.bored.com/videogames/4webgames/JATC/

A highly addictive, and true-to-the-original version of the one and the only: TETRIS! After the first round my record stands 4035 points in 170 lines. I managed to survive to the level 12. It’s a great feeling to notice that I still have my touch left. When I was eleven I beat my male classmate in Tetris on h i s computer. I even beat his older brother’s record. He wouldn’t speak to me the following day. Shut up, Triplet.


Sleepless.

My caffeine-filled brain tell me it's almost midnight. I can't sleep, and I should be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on my phonetics lecture tomorrow at eight in the morning. Bullocks.

Maybe I should watch 'Sleepless' from second season of The X-Files. Why some do people drink wine or some kind of alcohol when they can't sleep?


Sacred Power of Raging Winds... especially in my home town.

I've been reading Svar's blog the existence of which I just discovered. Some of the entries sounded exactly like excerpts from my life. I started thinking... if I were to have a schizophrenic co-personality whose existence I didn't know, how much alike we would be? Would she be that much like I was two years ago? Would she be prone to write a blog? Here? Would she even be 'she'?

Maybe I could try prevent that from happening and consciously create a schizophrenic co-personality that would roam somewhat freely here. That I, Splenetic, could be the person taking other people into consideration, whereas Me, Myself and I (Siamese triplet; three heads sharing the same body) could then be the narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac(s). So whenever I go over the line of the "normal" narcissism (after all, blogs and dairies are the temples of egocentric behaviour) blame the triplet.

- - -

I subscribed the Z magazine yesterday. Now that I am completely and thoroughly in terms with what I am, I no longer wish to avoid the subject. I mean, Wanderer even said it’s ”cool”. I might told you that before. Yeah, I’ve told you that before. Well, grin and bear it. Which reminds me… one of my teachers returned our exercises today. He had underlined and decorates the phrase ”fact forbid” with a couple of question marks. I really expected him to know it’s from Charles Dickens’ Hard Times. After all, he graduated from Oxford, which to me is THE university on this planet. He’s supposed to know everything since he got excepted to one of the top universities in the world, damn it.

- - -

I am now officially desperate to get a job for the forthcoming summer. The last nail in the coffin to determine this was what I did last night; I looked up my possibilities to be a translator for the Harlequin novels. Well, at least it’s translation. Rather that than going back to having the questionable honour to enjoy the encouraging and absolutely intriguing field of telemarketing.

- - -

The Meme of the Day:
I can't resist hailing Rhapsody of Fire here, even though I'm not quite sure if this classifies as a meme. Anyway, I re-discovered Rhapsody again today, and I am now listening to Symphony of Enchanted lands II: The Dark Secret album. I've noticed that if I listen to the first track loud enough, I can actually feel Christopher Lee's voice. Did you, by the way, know that Lee fought in the Winter War alongside the Finnish soldiers? Since it is highly unlikely I'll ever meet Lee myself, I am going to do this here: thank you, Mr. Lee.


The Even Bells.

I was just reading Aboa's blog, and I can't resist posting a response to the Even Bells text.

Six o'clock on Saturday evenings on springs and summers... I have to say I almost detected a hint of Jones' syndrome in the air. Why should only children and single trying to run away from their loneliness be outside walking at six p.m.? Is there some kind of an unwritten agreement I'm not aware of concerning this time of the day? I suppose I'm just so happy with my single state I don't really care of the weekly events that rhythm the lives of those around me, the normal people, like my roommate who came home last night at 3.30 a.m. Ah, well. Quod licet Iovi, non licet bovi.

- - -

I just finished reading The Devil Wears Prada yesterday, and also saw the movie based on the book last night. While reading the novel it became quite clear that I'm not exactly the book's target audience. This feeling was reinforced when I watched the movie. Both made me have these moments of frustration or just pure terror. If Andrea says something happens when Mirandra wears some Massimo (or something) trousers, is it a good or a bad thing? And as for the horror... if I didn't know there actually were people who "breath fashion" and live only to be judged by others based on what brand their clothes are... It would be funny, ir it were fiction.

We all have had a boss from hell. The person Miranda Priestly reminded me of my boss I had two years ago. Their presence had exactly the same impact on the work environment. The second I stepped through the door to my work place I could see whether she was there or not. Usually the presence or absence of relaxed behaviour gave it all away. She also looked like a macabre version of Miranda. There were three things that told you she was approaching; the noise coming from the shoes with high heels she wore; the thick cloud of parfume surrounding always surrounding her that made me feel like suffocating; and the glittering of the huge rings on her fingers and jewelry she wore (she was also kind of partial to sequended shirts, actually). I'll die happy if I never have to see that psychic vampire again.

I was glad they had almost completely omitted Andrea's parents in the movie. It was way too sentimental to me even in the book. I really don't have an opinion on Anne Hathaway, but I could relate to her character a little at least for the first twenty minutes. I don't really care about fashion. I was so proud of myself whenever I recognised some designer's name; "Hey, I've heard of Louis Vuitton before! I know they mean shoes by Manolos!! But who the hell is Oscar de la Renta?" Meryl Streep was of course great. She's an excellent actor, especially in The Hours. And Miranda... By all means do the decisions years before for me when it comes to different colours and so on, but I think I'm going to stick with the band shirts.

I think I'm going to give the book to my sister. She's closer to the target audience, since she subscribes Cosmopolitan and everything.

- - -

The Meme of the Day:
Minesweeper. I've been playing it far too much. I'm still trying to brake J.K. Rowling's record of getting through the hardest level in 98 seconds, though. My fastest time is so far 109 seconds. I need practise. In the mean time, say hello to Jack!


A counterpart to ”Ravings of an Insane Mind?” posted by Druusi

Does it really matter whether being gay is God’s way to test our faith, or Nature’s way to wipe out the bad, not-offspring-producing genes, or outcasts, or a result of a more or less conscious choice? In my opinion the answer to that question is up to everyone to decide for themselves. I am quite happy with a simple ‘no’ for we can’t be sure it is the right answer. More importantly, we don’t know whether there even is a right answer, a right path.

I want to believe that whatever we decide, it is our decision. And if there is a god or many gods that created us… they created us. All our genes and thoughts and insecurity came from them. I don’t want to think that we, all humans as well as animals and inanimate things, that we are just an experiment, thrown in the universe with nothing else but the certainty of death, to see if we would end up by accident do what they want us to do.

The number of different religions alone states that there is not one right way for all of us. The only thing we should live by is goodness, the rest is just a collection of details, things that do not overcome the goodness. The goodness, that we should at least try to get along with everyone else, no matter how different. We don’t have to like or love them, just to co-exist peacefully, without violence. To try to make Dr. King’s dream come true, not for him but for us and for our children.

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.’-- I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. -- So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. -- Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring. And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!’”

We have to understand that the undefined abstract concepts, such as what is “normal” and “natural”, are all subjective concepts, that they are defined throughout the majority. But one should acknowledge that what is natural also includes all the beings in addition to humans on this earth. There are several animal species, including humans, to express homosexual behaviour: many, in not all, species in the subfamily Hominae; lamantines; penguins; some birds; some octopuses; some insects, such as banana flies; some toads; and dolphins, of course. A certain American lizard species consists only of females, which reproduce themselves by cloning. It is my opinion, as well as that of all the evolution biologists I have ever encountered, that homosexuality is anything but unnatural.

As for us human beings, homosexuality has become despised for all the monotheist religions that wanted to make a clear distinction to all the pagan religions that valued other forms of sexuality that just heterosexual interaction. In the ancient Greece being gay had prestige status. We know that Plato and his student Socrates had a sexual relationship, that Aristotle had relationships sexual in nature with other men, that the Roman emperor Nero was even married to a man. Julius Caesar had a nickname due to his bisexuality; he was said to be “the husband of every wife and the wife of every husband”. In the present-day world there are non-Christian communities that consider homosexuality as a necessary part of development, such as a tribe in New Guinea.

”Every day some people do get beaten up because they are different from the main population. Some do because they are black, some because they aren’t black, some because they are gay, some because they want their country to change. Is this the kind of world we want to live in? It seems as a world of clear injustice and racism. Maybe we should really do something to it. We cannot change the world overnight, but if we start the change today then tomorrow will be already a step taken on a road to a better world.”

”My genes may not be passed on to my children, and my soul might end up in Hell for all I know. But currently, while I am alive I might stand a chance to make something that has some value. It would make my life, whether it is just a genetic failure or God-given choice, worthwhile to live.”


The six weirdest things about me.

This is my response to Aboa's challenge.

The rules remain the same: tell six spectacular and weird things about yourself in your blog and challenge six other people to do the same in their blogs and spread this forward to six other people. The blogger is to write down the six people they've challenged as well as the rules of this game. The challenge should also notify the challengee (if there is such a word...) so that they notice the challenge for sure.

Now, since I am so late with this particular meme, I am quite sure every person who has added an entry during the last six months. Therefore, I am extending the circles and challenging people outside our beloved LGBT virtual community. And since I am as social in the web as I am in nature, I may only send this to the only person with whom I am in somewhat regular contact: Wanderer.

But the six things, albeit not in any particular order, that make me a weirdo (this really is the wet dream for a narcissistic, overzealous, self-righteous egomaniac like me... a bow for those who recognised which X-Files episode that quote is from):

1) I have some kind of a fixation on ice, be it in form of winter and frost and icicles, or in something as mundane as frozen food. I like chewing icy French fries and peas, for instance.

2) I have a fixation on long hair. According to Georges Canguilhem it is a fetish of the second level; in other words, I have "a strong interest towards a certain partner, stimulus or activity. This level is the lowest level of actual fetishism." (Kari Heusala: Miehen seksuaalisuus [2003], Helsinki: Like, page 219.)

3) I have a somewhat rare and seasonal phobia. It's ridiculous and I know it, but I can't help it. No more of this in public. People usually find it so terribly funny that they want to see me in action. Not very funny from my point of view, I can assure you that.

4) Sometimes I want, without any specific reason, just to turn of all the lights in the evening or during the twilight time and open all the curtains and doors wide open (apart from my front door, of course), and just wander around the apartment watching out of the windows, or sit on the table or floor and do nothing, just stare in front of me. Occasionally, if my roommate's home I alter the ritual and only darken my room, put on some music (Metallica, for instance) and lie down on the floor where I stay for half an hour almost completely immobile.

5) I don't drink alcohol. The idea of an absolutist Finn seems to bother some people. They all seem to assume that I must have been an alcoholic at some point of my life or some religious fundamentalist. Newsflash: I'm neither. Those of you who have read one very long entry from, I believe, last December... well, you know why.

6) I'm not very social (having already said that several times). I can go on for days without really talking to anyone but greeting and thanking when buying my groceries or going to the gym. Last summer I didn't have a real discussion with another human being at best for about five days, not face to face nor over the telephone. The situation will probably be different in the forthcoming summer; I have opened myself during the past year and learned to trust and talk to someone pretty much about anything. I'm afraid that now that my dam I may not be able to close it again and just end up feeling miserable for not having anyone to talk to. This previously so remarkable unsocial behaviour has probably led to the fact that I don't have a single photograph of another human being in my room. The few people who have visited me seemed to find that rather strange. Well, I have the three flags on my wall; does that count?