A note on my desktop (the wooden one, not the screen) made me think about how computing has revolutionized language.
Remember when emulation meant imitating the behaviour of an admired mentor, and an icon was a religious symbol?
Not so very long ago, a bug was an insect, and a virus a disease-carrying organism that caused such physical ills as a cold. Backup meant physical or moral support.
To boot was an action carried out mostly by bar or club bouncers, who ejected undesirable people from the premises. A browser was an animal -- a giraffe, say, that wandered around eating leaves from trees, and encryption was something done in secret by military organizations.
The term mining was applied to gold, not data, and firewalls were safety features of large buildings. Hardware meant tools and home repair equipment sold in brick-and-mortar stores named accordingly. Java referred to a cup of coffee, and lurking meant standing unseen in the shadows, often wrapped in an overcoat and wearing a hat pulled low.
The net was a requirement for waitresses, intended to prevent stray hairs from landing in the customers' food. A notebook was something you wrote in with a pen, or carried in your purse to make lists in those days before cell phones became ubiquitous.
An option was any choice you made, and a path was a way through the forest. Pasting meant handling a sticky substance, a program was a radio show, and resolution meant determination, or else a January promise about what you would and wouldn't do in the coming year.
Spam was sandwich meat, and surfing a pleasure restricted to seaside vacations. A terminal was a bus station, a thread went through the eye of a needle, and the Trojan horse was an element from the plot of a nearly forgotten epic called The Iliad.
Virtual meant almost, user was a euphemism for drug addict, and cookies were for eating.
The field of computing has created a whole new range of vocabulary, proving once again the enormous creativity, flexibility and expansive capacity of human language.
Monday, December 31, 2018
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Jarvis didn't touch this one
Here's one puzzle Jarvis didn't get his mitts on. For the past five years, he's been creating puzzle mischief. The first Christmas jigsaw anomalies came to light in 2013.
Is it possible that Jarvis been caught at last? Or perhaps he's just not an art fancier.
In any case, all the pieces were there, and no extra ones came to light. I can hardly believe Jarvis has retired from the field. In a weird way, I kind of miss him.
Is it possible that Jarvis been caught at last? Or perhaps he's just not an art fancier.
In any case, all the pieces were there, and no extra ones came to light. I can hardly believe Jarvis has retired from the field. In a weird way, I kind of miss him.
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Jigsaw puzzling mystery continues; new technique applies
To explain the appearance of mischievous extra puzzle pieces over the past several seasons, we posited Jarvis, a disgruntled employee who messes with the puzzles. This time, he took nothing away, but added a plain gray piece that obviously couldn't be part of this puzzle.
Below is a dismantling innovation from a neighbour who also enjoys mind-soothing "puzzle therapy." Take the ends off first and store them in a separate bag in the box to make it easier for the next person.
Below is a dismantling innovation from a neighbour who also enjoys mind-soothing "puzzle therapy." Take the ends off first and store them in a separate bag in the box to make it easier for the next person.
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
White Rock after the storm
Friday, December 14, 2018
Nocturnal conversation liberates insight and faith
A couple of days ago, I missed a call from a friend in Ireland. My phone was on silent while I beavered away on the latest draft of my novel, The Habit of Secrecy, (but publishers have been known to change titles). Part of the story takes place at Bletchley Park (seen in the photos).
I was getting into bed around 3 am after the long bout of editing. Spotting the missed call, I tried to call Jackie back. This time, she didn't pick up. Then my phone rang; nobody there.
In Ireland, it was a sunny late morning. Jackie's phone had dialed me while she was taking her dogs outside. When she heard me speaking from her pocket, we launched into a long-overdue catch-up. The talk ranged round to writing, and I told her about one of my Bletchley Park scenes.
"I was just thinking about the codebreakers at Bletchley Park the other day," she said. Jackie is an energy healer. She'd been sitting with a group of fellow healers, working to break prevailing negative codes of belief.
Every day we re-program ourselves, unaware that we're reinforcing long-held negative beliefs. But it doesn't have to be this way. As we become aware of our thought patterns, we can alter them.
The other day, I was shocked to hear a friend say of a dear one suffering from anxiety, "She's doing better, but she's had this for a long time; I assume she'll struggle with it for life." Hearing this statement shocked me into a moment of clarity. This is precisely what Jackie means when she says we routinely (and often unintentionally) put spells on ourselves and each other.
Photo left: At Bletchley Park in World War II, women operated these "Bombe" machines to help break Enigma, the German naval code.
Today we must break belief codes, the social and family programming that we often allow, even invite into our lives. But energy can be shifted. Orienting our lives in more positive directions is only a decision away. As I travel the healing path, I love talking to Jackie, who helped me take those first crucial steps toward the self-awareness that guides my life today.
I was getting into bed around 3 am after the long bout of editing. Spotting the missed call, I tried to call Jackie back. This time, she didn't pick up. Then my phone rang; nobody there.
In Ireland, it was a sunny late morning. Jackie's phone had dialed me while she was taking her dogs outside. When she heard me speaking from her pocket, we launched into a long-overdue catch-up. The talk ranged round to writing, and I told her about one of my Bletchley Park scenes.
"I was just thinking about the codebreakers at Bletchley Park the other day," she said. Jackie is an energy healer. She'd been sitting with a group of fellow healers, working to break prevailing negative codes of belief.
Every day we re-program ourselves, unaware that we're reinforcing long-held negative beliefs. But it doesn't have to be this way. As we become aware of our thought patterns, we can alter them.
The other day, I was shocked to hear a friend say of a dear one suffering from anxiety, "She's doing better, but she's had this for a long time; I assume she'll struggle with it for life." Hearing this statement shocked me into a moment of clarity. This is precisely what Jackie means when she says we routinely (and often unintentionally) put spells on ourselves and each other.
Photo left: At Bletchley Park in World War II, women operated these "Bombe" machines to help break Enigma, the German naval code.
Today we must break belief codes, the social and family programming that we often allow, even invite into our lives. But energy can be shifted. Orienting our lives in more positive directions is only a decision away. As I travel the healing path, I love talking to Jackie, who helped me take those first crucial steps toward the self-awareness that guides my life today.
Sunday, December 9, 2018
Anne Lamott's notes on hope
This delightful book by Anne Lamott speaks of diverse topics including puzzles, addiction, and bitter chocolate. But the greatest of these is hope. Only hope, the author tells us, stands in opposition to her "stockpiling antibiotics for the apocalypse." Hope indicates spiritual progress: these days, when visited by the "mental roommate" who tells her to jump from a great height or wrap her car around a tree, she simply rolls her eyes. "Oh, you again."
Lamott's fundamental message is the value of story, that soul food so necessary for humans. Good stories needn't be "hot." Indeed most often they portray "modest salvation." But they make us feel "more connected to life," make it "more spacious and welcoming." For children especially, they serve as "mirrors, mentors, guide dogs." Stories feed us, and hold us together. "Truth and awareness mend."
This author encourages writing, because it "dilutes our habitual fear and our need for control." Also, it "breaks the trance of our belief that life is going to hell in a handbasket." In a signature switch, she adds, "But do not tell your family this. They'll want to know if you have an agent."
Sadly, society does not encourage its members to have a wide view, so even though humans are "truth-seeking missiles,"..."not many of us were encouraged to challenge our convictions and identities." That's sad, because "the bigger bandwidth of truth, the more our understanding aligns with what truly is."
Lamott explains the societal hunger for ever more stuff as a misguided attempt to correct internal spiritual imbalance. "The desperate urge to own and control in order to fix our psychic holes, relieve anxiety...and cauterize old wounds takes root at an early age, and is doomed." Since we "cannot arrange lasting safety or happiness for our most beloved people," and "Not one single person in history has gotten an alcoholic sober," what remains is the inner spiritual work. Being at peace is "an inside job," and "silence is medicine."
Finally, "if the earth is forgiveness school, family is your post-doctoral fellowship." Challenging though life can be, Lamott tells us, the path to liberation is kindness.
Lamott's fundamental message is the value of story, that soul food so necessary for humans. Good stories needn't be "hot." Indeed most often they portray "modest salvation." But they make us feel "more connected to life," make it "more spacious and welcoming." For children especially, they serve as "mirrors, mentors, guide dogs." Stories feed us, and hold us together. "Truth and awareness mend."
This author encourages writing, because it "dilutes our habitual fear and our need for control." Also, it "breaks the trance of our belief that life is going to hell in a handbasket." In a signature switch, she adds, "But do not tell your family this. They'll want to know if you have an agent."
Sadly, society does not encourage its members to have a wide view, so even though humans are "truth-seeking missiles,"..."not many of us were encouraged to challenge our convictions and identities." That's sad, because "the bigger bandwidth of truth, the more our understanding aligns with what truly is."
Lamott explains the societal hunger for ever more stuff as a misguided attempt to correct internal spiritual imbalance. "The desperate urge to own and control in order to fix our psychic holes, relieve anxiety...and cauterize old wounds takes root at an early age, and is doomed." Since we "cannot arrange lasting safety or happiness for our most beloved people," and "Not one single person in history has gotten an alcoholic sober," what remains is the inner spiritual work. Being at peace is "an inside job," and "silence is medicine."
Finally, "if the earth is forgiveness school, family is your post-doctoral fellowship." Challenging though life can be, Lamott tells us, the path to liberation is kindness.
Thursday, December 6, 2018
Words of wisdom from characters in Chance Encounters
Alexander McCall Smith is always a delight to read. A book of short stories is a departure from his usual novel writing, which he has described a "serial condition." These stories were inspired by old pictures of unknown people. The settings vary: Glasgow, rural Australia, New Westminster, BC. The characters are just as diverse. One young man gets work with the circus and finds himself at the funeral of a ventriloquist's dummy; another thinks war is all drill and boredom until he is rudely awakened by being taken prisoner.
This author's work is infused with humour, surprise, and compassion. Each book contains individual lines that sparkle and resonate. In this collection, I delighted in the internal philosophical pespectives of Flora, a thirtyish Glaswegian ex-nun and heiress who visits Jenner's, Edinburgh's finest department store, in the hope of meeting a man.
And indeed she does meet one, a nice one. Inevitably for an Alexander McCall Smith character, this fortuitous meeting evokes thoughts about the nature of living. Flora's ideas resonated strongly: she feels that "one should never fight destiny. Go along with it, and with the tides that carry you through life. They know where you're going, and you do not."
This author's work is infused with humour, surprise, and compassion. Each book contains individual lines that sparkle and resonate. In this collection, I delighted in the internal philosophical pespectives of Flora, a thirtyish Glaswegian ex-nun and heiress who visits Jenner's, Edinburgh's finest department store, in the hope of meeting a man.
And indeed she does meet one, a nice one. Inevitably for an Alexander McCall Smith character, this fortuitous meeting evokes thoughts about the nature of living. Flora's ideas resonated strongly: she feels that "one should never fight destiny. Go along with it, and with the tides that carry you through life. They know where you're going, and you do not."