Thinking Trek

Thinking Trek — Blue Ink Alchemy

There's an article on Grunge that posits that living on the Enterprise-D, setting for 'Star Trek: The Next Generation', would absolutely suck. I read through the article a few times, gave it some thought in my off-hours, and I want to refute some of its points. I mean, I list all of the points, but to be honest, some of them aren't completely wrong. Just most of them. The transporter killing you: "death" is too strong of a term. Yes, the matter of the body is broken down and then reconstructed elsewhere, but the neural energy of the person is stored and then transmitted into the reconstructed body. This is the 'consciousness', 'soul', etc. It's possible that a glitch in the transporter's functionality can create a copy of this energy pattern - see the introduction of Thomas Riker in "Second Chances," and why he's less morally inclined than William (DS9 episode "Defiant"). There's more to this, but suffice it to say that "the transporter kills you" is way too simplistic an interpretation. Don't get me wrong; I love CGP Gray and all he does. Including his video on the transporter being a "suicide box". But, given the built-in logic and technical information on the transporter, this interpretation simply doesn't hold up under scrutiny. Bathrooms: The Galaxy-class definitely has more than one bathroom; we see Matt Frewer using a 'refresher' in the episode "A Matter of Time", and there's a 'head' specifically on a bridge layout I saw just off of the Ready Room and, iirc, the conference room. The design team for Star Trek are very smart folks; to claim that this meeting of the minds would put a ship populated by hundreds if not thousands has only one bathroom is ludicrous. Funny, but ludicrous. Cabin Fever: Again, let's consider that Star Trek has its own internal logic and structures. In this case, there isn't just one counselor aboard the Enterprise. Commander Troi is the head of the counseling staff, she's its senior officer. Sure, she could be a 'senior officer' because she is the one person on the counseling staff, but what sense does that make? Sources on this may not be 'canon', but it makes sense to have more than one therapist aboard the ship, just like it makese sense to have more than one bathroom. Let's also consider that all of our real-world space-faring experience has been in very, very cramped quarters. A ship the size of the Enterprise affords plenty of opportunities for privacy and a break from contact with the usual coworkers or family members. There's artificial gravity, fresh food, amusements & physical activities... many things current astronauts, unfortunately, do not have. Spandex: No. There is no way they're wearing spandex in the 24th century. It looks futuristic to our eyes, or at least it did in the late 80s/early 90s, but... just no. Families: Yeah, it'd be really awful if your family was in the section the Borg cut out of the saucer in "Q Who" or died at some point during the events of "Cause and Effect" and, despite the time-loop shenanigans, stayed dead. I'll grant this would suck. Holodeck sex: This one's probably true too. Thankfully, I suspect that there's technology that can clean the place after things are over with. Some sort of technobabble pulse that scrubs the place down in a split-second. No Time Off: See the Cabin Fever entry. Holodeck Glitches: Cars glitch and crash, too. As for the consciousness of holographic characters, some are probably no better programmed than NPCs in Skyrim, and others are complex enough to evolve a form of consciousness yet do not simply cease to exist when the program is shut off. So no, they don't 'die' when the program is ended. Being Insignificant if you're not on the bridge: We're pretty insignificant on the whole as it is. This isn't any different. ... Let's move on before that goes anywhere darker or deeper. Replicator Breakdown: There are hydroponics labs for a reason, people. Medical science has probably progressed to a point where food allergies are cured via hypospray. So kale, soybeans, and other superfoods will be available. And speaking of eating in space, remember what Shepard Book said in Firefly? "A man can live on packaged food from here 'til Judgment Day if he's got enough rosemary". And you can grow rosemary in the hydroponics labs, too. Wesley's your superior: Wil Wheaton's cool and Wesley got a lot less insufferable and a lot more human the further the show got away from its smug first couple of seasons. Let's face it — everybody was an arrogant snot for a while, there. Once Wesley was humbled and managed to man up in Starfleet Academy ("The First Duty" is a great episode), he makes for a great officer. I'd be fine working with him. Evil Bosses: This is, again, art imitating life. Many of our workplaces suffer from horrible bosses. We manage to make do, alien parasites notwithstanding. Our Friend The Computer: So the idea of a computer listening for commands at all times is, on its face, pretty creepy. But the computer is not recording anything unless its told to do so. Now, it's possible that someone with nefarious designs can hack the thing to record and then use those recordings, but given the fail-safe procedures built into just about everything Starfleet touches (I don't know if I ever heard the term "tertiary backups" before O'Brian on DS9), Engineering or Security is likely to get pinged if such a breach of protocol is even attempted. And speaking of Security... The Worf Effect: Let's look at the facts, here. Next Generation ran for 178 episodes, and only 150 or so of those saw Worf as chief of Security. 150 days is just over half of a year. The show ran for seven years, and even if the Enterprise wasn't active for that entire length of time (someone would have to collate the stardates), chances are Worf was in that position for longer than 150 days. So I imagine that for the rest of the time, he did his job well enough to hold the position. When we see Worf in action on Next Generation, it's usually against pretty damn huge threats. Klingons are strong and fierce, but Kahless himself would not be able to overcome every Borg in his way. The Timeline No Loner Exists: Temporal mechanics is a very odd thing. Be it the "fixed points in time" as explained by the Doctor, or "multiverse theory" that's been used in places other than Star Trek, a lot of thought on temporal mechanics argues that original timelines, as well as branches, continue on in their own continuity. This, unfortunately, implies that there exists a timeline in which the Earth was destroyed because Kirk and crew did not get back to the 23rd century with George and Gracie. Being Boring: while Gene Roddenberry brought a great deal to the genre of science fiction, and nobody can deny his accomplishments, the idea of a future without conflict was not one of his better ideas. Which is why subsequent writers ditched that idea entirely.

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I know that normally I post a bunch of political stuff on Wednesdays, but I think we all need a break.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Blamethrowers

500 Words on Blamethrowers — Blue Ink Alchemy

"A lie can get halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on." - Winston Churchill

I don't know for sure if I've coined this term myself, or if it's existed for a while, but I've been using "blamethrower" quite a bit lately. As in: "so-and-so made a mistake or became aware of a mistake someone else made, and they broke out the blamethrower." It's far too common a practice to pawn off responsibility for a mistake, no matter how large or small, onto another person. Let's be clear right from the off: we are responsible for our own actions. When we make a mistake, we want to find some explanation. Ideally, an external source — a diagnosed (or undiagnosed) mental condition of ours, a flaw in another person, extenuating circumstances. If we can seize upon one, out comes the blamethrower. We set alight the explanation quickly, setting it alight so that it draws attention, ours and that of others, away from the bad decision we made and towards whatever we've chosen to bear the brunt of the blame. The insidious part is, it's very easy for others to break out their blamethrowers as well. Fire is fascinating, and it attracts onlookers. All too often, they jump on the bandwagon, contributing fuel to the fire. In these days of social media and infectious groupthink, this can happen at an alarming rate. Even worse, this can happen when the party getting set on fire has done nothing wrong. Victims of assault and abuse are set alight with blamethrowers all the time. In those cases, it is often referred to as 'gaslighting'. The more fuel is added to the fire, the more the person in question is dehumanized and perceived to be something or someone they're not. As the rumor mill spins up to dizzying speed, throwing off flames like a Catherine wheel, it gets harder and harder for the person in question to cope with the situation, determine their true role in things, and assert their inherent personhood. Worst of all, blamethrowing is a tool that can be used to further political agendas. Those in positions of power, be it the potentate of a nation or the vanguard of a social group, can mobilize their key supporters to bring someone forward as a strawman to set alight. The nature of the person or the particulars of the circumstances matter little; what matters is burning down someone so that the "ruler" looks better by the light of the flames. When you exist in a social group, if you make a mistake that offends, or suffer abuse at the hands of, a person or people in power, it's all too easy for you to come under fire; the bandwagon rolls on, and you are crushed underneath. The only thing we can do in the face of blamethrowing is assert our sovereignty, own our portion of responsibility (if any, in the case of victims of abuse), and strive to be the best versions of ourselves we can be in light of everything. It's never easy. But it's all we can do. On Fridays I write 500 words.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Blamethrowers

500 Words on Blamethrowers — Blue Ink Alchemy

"A lie can get halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on." - Winston Churchill

I don't know for sure if I've coined this term myself, or if it's existed for a while, but I've been using "blamethrower" quite a bit lately. As in: "so-and-so made a mistake or became aware of a mistake someone else made, and they broke out the blamethrower." It's far too common a practice to pawn off responsibility for a mistake, no matter how large or small, onto another person. Let's be clear right from the off: we are responsible for our own actions. When we make a mistake, we want to find some explanation. Ideally, an external source — a diagnosed (or undiagnosed) mental condition of ours, a flaw in another person, extenuating circumstances. If we can seize upon one, out comes the blamethrower. We set alight the explanation quickly, setting it alight so that it draws attention, ours and that of others, away from the bad decision we made and towards whatever we've chosen to bear the brunt of the blame. The insidious part is, it's very easy for others to break out their blamethrowers as well. Fire is fascinating, and it attracts onlookers. All too often, they jump on the bandwagon, contributing fuel to the fire. In these days of social media and infectious groupthink, this can happen at an alarming rate. Even worse, this can happen when the party getting set on fire has done nothing wrong. Victims of assault and abuse are set alight with blamethrowers all the time. In those cases, it is often referred to as 'gaslighting'. The more fuel is added to the fire, the more the person in question is dehumanized and perceived to be something or someone they're not. As the rumor mill spins up to dizzying speed, throwing off flames like a Catherine wheel, it gets harder and harder for the person in question to cope with the situation, determine their true role in things, and assert their inherent personhood. Worst of all, blamethrowing is a tool that can be used to further political agendas. Those in positions of power, be it the potentate of a nation or the vanguard of a social group, can mobilize their key supporters to bring someone forward as a strawman to set alight. The nature of the person or the particulars of the circumstances matter little; what matters is burning down someone so that the "ruler" looks better by the light of the flames. When you exist in a social group, if you make a mistake that offends, or suffer abuse at the hands of, a person or people in power, it's all too easy for you to come under fire; the bandwagon rolls on, and you are crushed underneath. The only thing we can do in the face of blamethrowing is assert our sovereignty, own our portion of responsibility (if any, in the case of victims of abuse), and strive to be the best versions of ourselves we can be in light of everything. It's never easy. But it's all we can do. On Fridays I write 500 words.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Blamethrowers

500 Words on Blamethrowers — Blue Ink Alchemy

"A lie can get halfway around the world before the truth can get its pants on." - Winston Churchill

I don't know for sure if I've coined this term myself, or if it's existed for a while, but I've been using "blamethrower" quite a bit lately. As in: "so-and-so made a mistake or became aware of a mistake someone else made, and they broke out the blamethrower." It's far too common a practice to pawn off responsibility for a mistake, no matter how large or small, onto another person. Let's be clear right from the off: we are responsible for our own actions. When we make a mistake, we want to find some explanation. Ideally, an external source — a diagnosed (or undiagnosed) mental condition of ours, a flaw in another person, extenuating circumstances. If we can seize upon one, out comes the blamethrower. We set alight the explanation quickly, setting it alight so that it draws attention, ours and that of others, away from the bad decision we made and towards whatever we've chosen to bear the brunt of the blame. The insidious part is, it's very easy for others to break out their blamethrowers as well. Fire is fascinating, and it attracts onlookers. All too often, they jump on the bandwagon, contributing fuel to the fire. In these days of social media and infectious groupthink, this can happen at an alarming rate. Even worse, this can happen when the party getting set on fire has done nothing wrong. Victims of assault and abuse are set alight with blamethrowers all the time. In those cases, it is often referred to as 'gaslighting'. The more fuel is added to the fire, the more the person in question is dehumanized and perceived to be something or someone they're not. As the rumor mill spins up to dizzying speed, throwing off flames like a Catherine wheel, it gets harder and harder for the person in question to cope with the situation, determine their true role in things, and assert their inherent personhood. Worst of all, blamethrowing is a tool that can be used to further political agendas. Those in positions of power, be it the potentate of a nation or the vanguard of a social group, can mobilize their key supporters to bring someone forward as a strawman to set alight. The nature of the person or the particulars of the circumstances matter little; what matters is burning down someone so that the "ruler" looks better by the light of the flames. When you exist in a social group, if you make a mistake that offends, or suffer abuse at the hands of, a person or people in power, it's all too easy for you to come under fire; the bandwagon rolls on, and you are crushed underneath. The only thing we can do in the face of blamethrowing is assert our sovereignty, own our portion of responsibility (if any, in the case of victims of abuse), and strive to be the best versions of ourselves we can be in light of everything. It's never easy. But it's all we can do. On Fridays I write 500 words.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

The Lonely Road to "Better"

The Lonely Road to "Better" — Blue Ink Alchemy

I have a confession to make. I don't always fully disclose what I'm thinking or how I'm feeling. It's not that I intend to engage in deception, obfuscation, or lies of omission. In my mind, I consider other issues far more important than something that occupies the entirety of a single head weasel's diatribe. When it comes to therapy, I drill down below the layer of the feelings to general, foundational matters that could be holding them up. With others, I take the opportunity to shift my focus from something that refuses to change to something I feel I can change, and ask for help with it. The fact is, the more I tread this road of getting better, the more I realize how lonely it is. This is ongoing work, and precision work at that. When it comes to my own heart and mind, who is more qualified than myself to hold the metaphorical scalpel? Time and again, I've probed into the dark corners of my shadow, finding behaviors that have impeded me, or that even have informed toxic behaviors. I've cut them out like cancers. I try not to feel diminished by this, but liberated, because just like not every child is special, not every part of the self is good or valuable. Certainly, these aspects of ourselves have things to teach us; unfortunately, some of those lessons are learned in very hard ways. Especially when we're called on those problematic aspects by others. Or, worse, when aspects that need to be lovingly touched upon for healthy healing are instead exploited for the gain of others through shaming and emotional violence. But that is a discussion for another time. No matter how we are made aware of what is required for us to get better, the realization can trip us up, perhaps even cripple us for a time. Anxiety over the past and present overwhelm us, attack us. Grief and self-recrimination join forces, twisting knives in our hearts and tying our innards in nauseating knots. We retreat, we hide ourselves away, we grief and we shudder and we cry. We are not okay. And that, in and of itself, is okay. I wouldn't be where I am, able to articulate this, if I hadn't spend a good amount of time not being okay. I'd visited that place repeatedly, falling almost immediately into suicidal despair, only arresting myself and getting the most direct and scorched-earth type of help I could. Doing this got me accused of "attention seeking"; all I wanted was some fucking help, right the fuck now. I wasn't okay. I wanted to be okay. I wanted to get better. I didn't want attention for it. I had to do it alone. And I expected to. I didn't want to. But, on some level, I knew I had to. At one crucial point, it became clear that the lonely road, and hard days of walking it, were my only real option. To say nothing to the outside world, to share nothing of the walk along that road, to make my focus getting better. I was alone in my grief, isolated in my anxiety. I could, and did, get help when and where I could, in person and from professionals, out of public view. I wanted to get better for myself, not for the sake of any public perception. When, in a recent discussion, the subject of 'being on my side' came up, I said this:

I'm not going to say anything calculated to get you on my side. All I care about is showing up, in this moment, in the best possible way I can. People can make their own judgments.

It's taken me a long time to figure out that I don't have to live up to anybody else's standards. Sure, in a working environment, standards must be met if I wish to remain employed. But in my personal life, on personal projects, the only required standards are my own. To be honest, I think a lot of the blame that's been placed on my shoulders for things past came from my personal standards being so low and secondary to the standards of others. When others became aware of the fact that I prioritized their standards over my own, it became easier for them to shirk personal responsibility and push the causes for discord solely onto my shoulders. This isn't to say I had no part in the course of events; indeed, I've had to look back critically to find which of my former behaviors pushed events in one direction or another. I've accepted that it's what happened, I own the things I did wrong, and I'm working, constantly, to get better in that and many other regards. I've had to let go of how others see me, of wanting so badly to be accepted, welcomed, loved by others. I've had to learn how to love myself, to care enough about myself to want to correct myself, shape myself into a version that meets higher standards that I alone set, to be a better self. It's been difficult. It's been heartbreaking. It's been lonely. I've worked to get past the public shame. I've worked to define myself, by myself, for myself. I've worked to get fucking better. And I'm not done yet. I'll still get anxious. I'll still get nauseous. I'll still be haunted by memories, sidelined by grief, temporarily crippled by heartbreak. Some things, some people, we simply do not get over. I am not going to let that stop me. Neither should you. There's an aspect of each of our selves that we've picked up along the way, through informed behaviors of others or the endemic troubles of society around us. It's up to us to push those aspects away, put them down, walk away from them, let them wither and die. That is how we move forward. That is how we meet higher standards for ourselves. That is how we get better. It's not selfish for us to do this for ourselves. It's necessary if we want to survive. And we shouldn't, for a single instant, feel guilty that we've torn ourselves apart, thrown away and destroyed that which has held us back, and put ourselves back together. It's a hard road. A lonely road. For my part, it's the only one worth walking. And when it comes to those parts that were in the way of me finally getting better, when I give them a face and a name, and I cut them free of who I was, away from who I want to be... I'm really, really glad they're fucking dead. [tube]Iys9IHmDJ1w[/tube] Tuesdays are for telling my story.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Grunge

500 Words on Grunge — Blue Ink Alchemy

When I was growing up, and going through some bullying and shunning in junior high, grunge was on the rise. Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden... these names were surging through the airwaves, videos playing on MTV, the sound was all around. For my part, I listened, but I found it difficult to really interface with the content of the songs. I was much more engaged by faster-paced acts like Green Day and the Offspring. I wasn't quite ready to fully examine the meaning and thrust of grunge; the more obvious punkish sounds underscored my unexpressed frustrations and anger. It felt, at the time, more cathartic. I didn't know what I was missing. Since moving to Seattle, and especially in the last year, many of these bands and their music have come back into my life, and I find myself having a newfound appreciation for their messages and meanings. Chris Cornell's sudden and inexplicable death struck a melancholy chord deep within me. I feel that I missed some great opportunities. The more I listen to Soundgarden, Audioslave, and his side projects and solo work, the more I can see parts of myself and my inner struggles in what Chris conveyed in his words and his singular voice. I find myself in another situation where I feel I didn't appreciate the influence and power of someone enough until they were gone from my life; now, I can't deny a desire to say and do so much more, to this person and on their behalf, because they made the world, and my life, better for their presence; both are now the poorer for their absence. I've been thinking a lot about how I've handled my head weasels and the ways in which I've been pushed around by my errant thoughts and rampant emotions. While it's good to know I'm not alone in this, it also breaks my heart at times — why would a thinking, feeling human being wish these things upon another? When I listen to grunge with the ears I have now, I find myself understanding the music and its motivations so much more, and wishing peace for those who feel the same, from the artists to their fans. Mental illness is not something to be taken lightly. Even when things seem 'okay', the victim may simply be projecting an illusion of normality. Worse, something may appear out of nowhere to tip the scales into disaster — one unanticipated phone call, one bit of bad news, one pill too many. When these are conveyed to us, in speech or in song, we cannot take it lightly; we owe it to those we love too imagine them complexly, and offer love and support whenever we can. We have the music of the artists who've left us; we have the good memories of the loved ones we've lost. There have been so many casualties — Kurt, Layne Staley, Andrew Wood, Ian Curtis, and now Chris — but we can hear them, and we can remember. On Fridays I write 500 words.

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Blue Ink Alchemy

500 Words on Elite Dangerous

500 Words on Elite Dangerous — Blue Ink Alchemy

When I finally get home from long commutes down to and back from the home in which my start-up employer operates, I tend to be tired and mentally drained. It's difficult for me to muster the juices I need to fuel my writing — a fact I try not to be too hard on myself over. Still, between the fatigue and my growing disgust over the situation in this country and on this planet, I prefer to wind down my day by going to space. For a while, this was facilitated through Star Trek Online. Star Trek is one of my favorite sci-fi universes, and I've met some wonderful people there. However, I slowly came to realize that in terms of gameplay, I was unfulfilled. Like all MMOs, the world is mostly static; no matter how many times to beat up a certain enemy faction, the missions in which you do so never change. It's hard to feel like you're having an impact on the world around you. There's still a hard divide between your reality and that of the game world, unlike something like Skyrim. Then, I started playing Elite Dangerous. Digging out my old Attack 3 joystick and G13 game pad, I quickly found myself immersed in one of the best space sims I've ever played. A few years ago I played through a few Wing Commander games for charity, and when I was younger, spent hours upon hours in Elite Plus and Wing Commander: Privateer. In addition to the nostalgic feeling of having my hands on a "throttle" and stick, the more I play the game, the more incentive I feel to keep playing. The galaxy is truly vast, with a plethora of options of how to play. Trading, combat, mining, exploration, even hauling tourists to exotic locales — all of these are profitable ways to make your mark on the galaxy. And you can truly make a mark; the game's background sim and Powerplay functionality mean that if you choose to, you can influence system control, shifts in allegiance, and even the course of superpowers. I'm trying a bit of everything. My Commander has made his way far from his home system, has joined up with a like-minded group of spacefarers, and I'm fictionalizing the journey. I'm finding more and more ways to make my time in space more rewarding, more immersive, and more challenging. I'm upgrading my joystick, adding voice commands, and I'm very much looking forward to earning enough cash to fund true exploration endeavors to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. I also want to contribute more to the cause of Princess Aisling Duval, the only member of the galactic superpowers outspoken on the idea that owning people is inherently wrong. The only drawback, so far, is a relative lack of roleplaying. However, I know that storytellers are out there. I hope we'll run into one another eventually. Space is, after all, quite big. Which is why I can lose myself in it for a while. On Fridays I write 500 words.

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Blue Ink Alchemy