Tide of Endless Information

We seem to be approaching a critical point. Advances in printing technology, then digital storage, have left us with an almost endless ability to record, store, and view data. Prior to this, libraries had to decide which records to keep and which not to, because storing literally everything they came across was simply impossible. On the upside, the ability to store endless amounts of data mean that we can record practically everything with practically no effort, saving the world incredible amounts of work. The problem now is what exactly we do with that data.

In the past, walking into a good library almost guaranteed that you wouldn’t find a bad book. In the process of selecting, libraries had to discard what they felt wasn’t important or interesting, meaning that every book would interest at least one reader, no matter how obscure or specialist it was. The internet has no such qualms. In its power to store vast amounts of information, some problems emerge.

The first problem is the fact that as we store more of the useless, we have watered down the useful. Imagine a library dedicated to your favourite genre of books (let’s say sci-fi/fantasy). Now imagine that the library has every sci-fi/fantasy book ever written, and we begin to see the scale of the problem. At best, walking into a library like this would mean spending your time in the “most popular” section, with books that everyone likes. At worst, you will have to spend ages running between sections looking for the books that you like. But then, what if you’re looking for a good book to borrow? Whether you go at it in an orderly fashion, or pick and choose at random, you may have to read through a thousand books before you find a good one. When you have almost infinite data, even the best sorting system in the world can’t differentiate what is interesting from what isn’t, and you are left with a homogenous ghoulash from which to pick your meat.

Now, imagine what happens if you were a writer, with the daunting task of creating a book that will stand out among the others. You look into this library and see walls of books stretching into infinity, covering every kind of sci-fi/fantasy from every possible angle. Your fingers start to tremble, and as you stare into the abyss you find yourself asking two questions: “Will what I write ever be discovered? And worse, has someone already written what I wanted to?” These questions bring up the next two problems.

As the library grows ever larger, each book, no matter how good on its own, begins to lose its significance – even seminal works like Lord of the Rings fade into the darkness as readers wander confused between shelves. As you bring in more data, readers may spend their entire lives in the library without ever discovering the truly excellent books. And this is a depressing thought.

The next problem is how an author can leave their mark on a vast library like this. How do they know their fresh ideas haven’t already been explored by others, making the new work redundant? Will the new author’s works forever be compared against that of others? Imagine writing what you thought was a fresh new book and having reviewers calling it “a cross between Huxley’s Brave New World and Adams's Mostly Harmless”. Even though those may be two excellent books in the author’s mind, will he really be happy when he realises that his idea was covering old ground? Even more disturbing, does he have any new ground on which to work?

Referencing and quotation are some things I'm also guilty of. In that sense, I have undermined the originality of my own work by comparing it to something already established - If what I wrote was truly original, I'd never have to compare it with anything else, simply because I wouldn't be able to. Referring to past works is an easy way of establishing a landmark in the shifting desert that is our history, and a truly original writer should ideally start with a blank slate, with nothing to compare against so as not to be influenced - so perhaps our most creative works were when we first picked up a crayon as a child.

As a casual blogger, I feel a twinge of concern when I think a post isn’t fresh enough or won't be read by enough people, and I can only imagine how bad it is for someone who makes a living out of making things new and original. But some are compelled to write, simply because the path they take to compose means they can look deeper into themselves. If all else fails, Marcus Aurelius always has something practical to say:

Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in itself, and is complete in itself; praise forms no part of it. So it is none the worse nor the better for being praised.

Perhaps the best way to approach writing then, is not to make sure what you write is unique, but to make sure it is beautiful. And perhaps that will save us from being overwhelmed by the oncoming tide of endless information.

Bumper crop of a fortnight

...or a fortnight of bumper crops?

At long last, a proper blogpost befitting the Insomniac Caffeine Addict. Like they say, when it rains it pours, and this fortnight was a thunderstorm.

First there was a friend's 21st birthday party in Nottingham last week. Much drinking, surrealness and general fun ensued, as well as some rather strange (but in retrospect very funny) moments. As I intend to keep this post a thoughtful one, and drunken nights out usually don't go well with thoughfulness (even though I met a Wiccan who discussed religion with me and quoted Marcus Aurelius), I shall leave out the details of said night.

Secondly, much time was spent on some intense training for a dance battle that took place culminating this very evening. We spent two weeks making up a 5-minute routine, and despite the challenges we made it into the finals. One personal record for which I can be proud, but as is often the case, the journey to the dance floor was more important than the competition itself. (We didn't win by the way, but we were damned close.)

In training there is patience. We spent hours and hours perfecting a routine that we would only use for a single event and never again. We waited for late team members, we tolerated quirky characters and general human nature. We schedule rehearsal on late nights because one member can't turn up in the day. Many people demand hard work from others and even more from themselves, but there is a fine line between being demanding and impatient, a line which we can only truly define by walking it. Kudos to the team leader who managed to bring it all together, despite the issues that she and the group were facing.

This year, I was in a different team from before, and what a relief it was! Last year everyone in the team hated everyone else, and I as the only guy (and therefore insulated) had to constantly dodge the catfights. This time, it was an absolute pleasure choreographing with everyone. We had massive differences between our members, but we always ironed it out because we respected each other's opinions. Clichéd as it sounds, we actually managed to have fun, and in a sense that mattered more than winning.

We may not have won, but we didn't cheat either. The team who won had a professional dancer who choreographed their event and then danced with them, which was strictly not allowed, but they got in by a loophole. They were really, really good - and I will admit that. Still, the choice between getting what you want and giving up what you care about will always be a clear one for me - I'd rather get second place rather than win by cheating. I may not be sure that God exists, but as I shall point out now, not believing in God doesn't mean you can't believe in something.

Thirdly, it's my birthday! Woop woop! In reality I'm not celebrating it much, but I think a simple meal would suffice this time. What's it like being 21? Well, about the same as being 20. Your birthday marks a time period at which you measure change, but in reality change takes place over time and space. I may not be the person I was at 20, but you'd be hard pressed to pin down a day when you could say I no longer was "me". On that note, it's time to get back to work. All this dance practice has thrown me off doing lectures, and even though we do have a week off, other distractions will doubtlessly appear. After all, it's only Murphy's Law.

Social Experiment

What would you do if you had a disagreement with someone, to the point that you aren't on speaking terms and there is no chance of reconciliation?

Now this is actually an interesting one because it opens up all sorts of possibilities. Obviously, if people aren't speaking to you it usually can't get much worse (NOTE: does not apply to people who have access to your property, your parents, your employers, or sensitive information about you), and so technically you could do quite a lot to them. If they retaliate, they break the cold war and the battle moves into Phase II, and if they don't, then you could push it even further. Also a plus is when you share a lot of friends with this person, so that you frequently appear at the same events.

Here are a few suggestions of what you could do to turn the tables a little bit:

When you are in the same room, look intently at their face as if you were trying to work out a very complex puzzle. When they notice you, look even more intently at them. Follow up by shouting "Eureka!" excitedly, then return to normal as if nothing had happened.

Smile widely at everyone in the room including your opponent. If they respond, immediately frown and look away.

When alone in a room with your opponent, sniff loudly as if a strange odour is present, and look around the room trying to identify it.

Accidentally step on their toe and don't apologise.

Look intently at whatever they may be reading.

When you bump into each other, suddenly become very quiet, as if you were caught talking about them.

Text them at 4am as if you were drunk-texting your best friend and accidentally sent it to them.

Arrange a surprise birthday party with all your mutual friends and make sure that everything is terrible (venue, music, drinks, food). Then get all your mutual friends to say that they enjoyed it very much and make sure your opponent knows you arranged it.

At the same party, stand just behind your opponent throughout the party and pull funny faces when someone takes a photo. Inappropriate noises are a plus.

On a social, buy everyone a round of drinks including your opponent. See if they accept the drink.

Spill said drink on your opponent, then carry on as if nothing happened.

Come in one day and speak to them happily as if nothing had happened. If they respond, say that you have temporary amnesia but that doctors expect you to recover your memory at any time.

Shout "ALL HAIL BEELZEBUB!" loudly everytime your opponent opens their mouth to say something.

When they finish a sentence, applaud loudly as if it were the most moving speech you heard. Follow up with an enthusiastic “you really fooled them this time Beelzebub!”.

Talk to your mutual friends about all the good times you once had with your now-opponent whilst completely ignoring them.

Approach your opponent menacingly while brandishing a sharp object. When you get too close for comfort, drop said object, look confused, and apologise profusely while explaining that you are on a new form of anti-schizophrenic medication and that you haven't gotten the dosage right.

Talk about TV shows or movies with characters who share your opponent's name. Bonus points if said character is a porn star.

Spam their account with random emails all starting with the words "YOUR MOMMA!".

Follow them around the room while blowing a trumpet and singing the national anthem of the former USSR.

Every time they stand up, do the MC Hammer dance, complete with lyrics and tune.

Loudly hum the Darth Vader theme each time they enter the room.

Each time they leave, hum the funereal dirge.

Get a pet and name it after your opponent, then show it off to all your mutual friends.

Custard pie them in the face.

On a more serious note, a friend of mine has recently been abandoned by her "friends" when she needed them most. This post is dedicated to those whom we would call weasels, if only the weasels didn't protest on the grounds that they didn't want to be associated with these people.

Just another random schpiel.

Having had a spectacular fallout with God in March (seven months and this blasphemer is still breathing, how could it be?!) detailed in my post here , I've not noticed much difference, except for two quite linked things (or one thing that has led to another thing). First of all, I've again lost the naieve idealism that I used to have and was able to hold on to quite well. Yes, I always was a bitter, sarcastic nut who would sulk in the corners of parties but now I'm even more of one, and most people who know me realise that I vent my pessimism via sarcasm. But then again if you guys are still reading my blog, I'd guess you're the friends who've managed to put up with most of the shit I've thrown at you, and therefore enjoy me pouring buckets of slimy sarcastic comments onto you. Or not, but who cares? Like I actually need somebody to read this crap.

Going back to the main point, the second thing I've noticed is that I've lost a big source of hope that I used to be able to tap into. Having "God" or at least an idea of him (her?) around to comfort me was always a reassuring feeling that I could fall back on if I had a really bad day and simply didn't understand what was going on. Hoping that there was a cosmic wheel of justice and kindness works wonders for the soul, but then when the wheel keeps breaking down over and over again one begins to question whether it even existed in the first place.

I feel a lot more alone out there, and lonely. I've always loved being alone, but then being lonely isn't quite the same. I remember Grandpa telling me that you can be alone without being lonely, and now I know what he means. Being alone means that nobody else is around (which you may actually enjoy), but being lonely means that you want someone around, and very frequently someone specific, someone whom you can relate to and converse with and talk about random ideas that come to you late at night after that extra cup of tea that you shouldn't have taken. And obviously nobody would be around you all the time unless you were joined at the hip, and I'm far from finding anyone who remotely approaches that.

But yes, I am alone, alone and exposed. And lonely, especially after I stopped believing the voice in my head was God and started thinking that it was actually just me talking to myself. And then I stopped talking to myself because it felt slightly schizophrenic, and ever since then being alone has never really been the same. And I'm annoyed for it, hence the frantic typing that I'm doing today.

I'm beginning to wonder how atheists cope with all that pressure in their minds, with no fictional person to vent to. Should I go join an angry venting club where I can call anyone at anytime and just talk? That's silly. No, I'd rather go talk to the other consciousness in my head, even if it does seem weird that I'm talking to myself. But wasn't that what I was doing all along? Me writing all this crap here may never reach an audience, but now that I've committed it to html I somehow feel that my abstract idea has become solid and real. Some would call this prayer, but since when could people not just think to themselves quietly? That at least, nobody has a monopoly on.

Self-Preservation, a Misnomer

Apologies for abandoning the blog for so long, there've been many things going on in the past 3 weeks and I feel like I've aged a year (in the bad way). Lets see, where should we start?

I'm a third year student now. Wow. And it feels like yesterday when I got here for the first time. Among the four of us in my immediate social group, I feel like I've changed the least even though people tell me I am very different from the way I used to be.

But yes, out of the four of us, I am the only one who made it through all the exams (so far), and that is scary. One of us failed first year (for a very good reason) and had to end up doing a gap year before coming back into first year now when I'm a third year. She's been busy working as a healthcare assistant for the past six months, and boy has that toughened her up. She among all of us was moved furthest away from her comfort zone and had to find ways to deal with it, or curl up and die. She chose the former and by my estimate is doing remarkably well.

The second of us failed second year, and has to repeat the year. All this happened while he was in a long-term relationship, and he seems to be coping well also. Next to me, he's probably changed the least, although his self-confidence has probably been severely dented.

Third among us is a friend who failed second year, but was not allowed back into the course and is now going to study physics. Besides having been severely shaken up, he has also got a long-term relationship to juggle with, although the latter seems to have matured him very much compared to before he got into it. I think he will be happier doing physics, but then again the spectre of "not being good enough for medicine" is something that I don't want to have hovering over me.

And then there's me. Yes, the usual suspect, who after all said and done, and despite all the rather traumatic events occuring around me, has been for the most part spared. Of course I have changed: I have an English accent, I'm exposed to so much more of the world, I know how to cook and I'm less judgemental than I used to be. But that's on the outside. Internally, in the core, I remain very much the same - slow to trust, very defensive of my friends, slightly perfectionist and not a little bit anal. But why? Why after all this have I effectively remained the person that I am now?

Firstly, I've never really been taken out of my comfort zone. Moving from a Malaysian school to an international one was more of a culture shock to me than going to England, and for that I am quite grateful. On the other hand, since coming here I've never been defeated and had to pick myself up again, and that troubles me because one day I know I will be knocked down, and I know I'll have to get back up, and I may not have help around. And knowing that I've had almost no experience of this is frightening, like waiting for some impending doom that you know you will eventually have to face, but yet cannot prepare yourself for.

Secondly, I have an extremely strong sense of self-preservation. Or more accurately, identity-preservation. The former implies physical survival, but the latter is what I'm dealing with here - keeping my identity, what is fundamentally me, the same has always been important to me. I'm flexible to a degree, and I will change my opinion when shown that my facts are wrong, but ultimately I reject the things that don't mesh with my understanding of right and wrong. The fact that people are being paid to make youtube videos of absolute rubbish really annoys me and will continue to annoy me, and if that changed, then I would no longer be me anymore. It feels good knowing that I've made a stand for something and against something else, but then obviously standing against something means that you will clash with it, and conflict can obviously damage you.

But the alternative to making a stand is so much worse. How could anyone be content to drift with the current, choosing to accept things because everyone else accepts them as well? Is there no morality to these people? No matter how many shades of gray there are where things are unclear, there will always be black and white examples of pure evil and true goodness, and to deny that is to say that you have no identity at all. How could anyone live like that? Are there people who live like that?

Although I suppose there are some people who can always run away from their misdeeds, there are yet more examples of people who run but fail. War veterans will spend their entire lives plagued by the things they have seen, people commit suicide years after having done terrible things to their fellow man. There is something in the human condition that tells us what is acceptable and what is not, and seems to be common to almost all of us.

The few who don't have this are poor souls indeed. These are the ones with a sense of self-preservation, a sense to stay alive no matter what the cost is to others around them. They will backstab their best friends if it helps them climb a ladder they want, or simply abandon them if they become inconvenient. They would commit genocide if it boosted their position. These people will never understand the meaning of true friendship, for self-interest is the only thing that motivates them. And these are the people whom I am truly disgusted by.

Bit of a pity these are the people who are deemed "successful" by our media then, isn't it?

Tripping

Recently some of you may have noticed my music sense has gone all trippy. You could say that's either because of my recent self-exploratory mood, when I started wondering about the nature of who I am and what's going on in my head and the like, or you could say that it's the other way around, with the music causing the change in my mood. Anyway, this chicken-and-egg debate is yet to be resolved, and I'm not in the capacity to tackle it. So I won't.

But really, what exactly is Trip Hop? The name is a bit misleading, since Trip and Hip are very distantly related (if they met at a party they'd stay at opposite ends of the building, and one would probably leave early so as to avoid meeting the other). You could almost say the former evolved from the latter in a sort of angry father, estranged son kind of way. According to our good friend Wikipedia, Hip seems to have "spawned" Trip in the same way Genghis Khan produced the majority of his descendants - while rampaging across the length and breadth of the known world, the supreme (but not very clever) Hip Hop stopped at a small village, had its way with the local music scene, and went off again. The result was Trip Hop, and it has since been quietly generating waves while Hip Hop continued on blithely, unaware of what it had created. Trip will never be popular, but then it doesn't want to be.

In the same way Hip Hop artists block out the voices in their heads by shouting loudly until they go away, Trippers politely invite the same voices in, and have long intellectual discussions with them. The result is something like a house party with all the kids who are unpopular for different reasons (Acid Jazz, Dub, Jamaican, Psychedelic Rock and Downtempo), but where they are all slightly drunk and therefore trying to behave their best.

Although some drinks are smashed and a few voices are raised, the party gradually gets going. Conversations start reluctantly, sad stories emerge, confused thoughts are exposed, awkward jokes are made and laughed at and nerdiness abounds, but suddenly something beautiful appears, without anyone knowing what it is or even noticing it, drawing us, in yet staying just out of reach.

Whether by convergent evolution or grand design, Trip Hop encroaches into the realm of Classical music, almost as if the only difference between the house party full of unpopular kids and a gala buffet hosted by Bruce Wayne is the lack of pretentiousness and musical inbreeding among the Trippers. While the Classicalists stick to their pre-industrial age instruments (and to be fair to them, they do it very well), Trippers boldly go wherever they so choose, whether it be a well-trodden path (sampling others' music), outer space (electronica) or the untamed wilderness (sampling sounds from nature). The result is sometimes confusing, occasionally hit-and-miss, but every so often, just plain excellent.

Greatest Movie Quotes - Valerie's Speech, V For Vendetta

This speaks for itself. Enjoy.