Lawnchair sudy

My Adirondack chair in late afternoon. Best light I've seen in a long while.

Fen Ditton part 2

My friend finally had to go to class, so I walked to Fen Ditton by myself, about a six mile round trip.


I found this old church. I walked all around it and didn't see a soul.

Just some old gravestones.

It would be cool if this picture were from the church, but it's from a pub that I passed by on the way home.

Fen Ditton

Today we walked along the river to a nearby town, Fen Ditton. The morning started out on the cool side, but then the sun broke through the clouds, and it was perfect walking weather.



The swans are beautiful. (click on the images for their full gory. This may be the best picture I've ever taken.) I understand the necks. And the webbed feet. But what selective pressure would cause them to be as white as new snow? (it doesn't snow here much).

I decided to get friendly with the swan pictured below. Like petting a cat... I kneeled down by the river, camera in hand, and extended my finger. The swan swam up and BIT it, thinking that it was a bit of food. Thankfully their teeth aren't too sharp. I actually thought it was kind of an honor to be bitten by something so beautiful.


We also walked by a several heards of cows. Apparently in England you can have your cows graze on any public lands. They were quite friendly, and did not mind my petting them in the least.



And the culmination of our walk was lunch at a riverside pub/strangely posh restaurant, watching the row-boats and swans go past.

Grantchester part 2

Apparently one trip to Grantchester is not enough, so we went there again the next day, walking this time. On the way, the colleges were having a cross-country race by the river. Scores of exhausted-looking people walked and ran past us.


This time we actually got to go into the pub, which was bustling with people (on Sunday).

Grantchester

Yesterday we rented a canoe to explore the river on the way to Grantchester, about two miles away. We arrived at the town, but couldn't find any way to tie up the canoe. So my friend went to the pub, got three different beers in plastic cups, and we had an in-canoe picnic on the way back to Cambridge.

Schopenhauer

Arthur Schopenhauer, The Art of Controversy

When we come to look into the matter, so-called universal opinion is the opinion of two or three persons; and we should be persuaded of this if we could see the way in which it really arises.

We should find that it is two or three persons who, in the first instance, accepted it, or advanced and maintained it; and of whom people were so good as to believe that they had thoroughly tested it. Then a few other persons, persuaded beforehand that the first were men of the requisite capacity, also accepted the opinion. These, again, were trusted by many others, whose laziness suggested to them that it was better to believe at once, than to go through the troublesome task of testing the matter for themselves. Thus the number of these lazy and credulous adherents grew from day to day; for the opinion had no sooner obtained a fair measure of support than its further supporters attributed this to the fact that the opinion could only have obtained it by the cogency of its arguments. The remainder were then compelled to grant what was universally granted, so as not to pass for unruly persons who resisted opinions which every one accepted, or pert fellows who thought themselves cleverer than any one else.

When opinion reaches this stage, adhesion becomes a duty; and henceforward the few who are capable of forming a judgment hold their peace. Those who venture to speak are such as are entirely incapable of forming any opinions or any judgment of their own, being merely the echo of others’ opinions; and, nevertheless, they defend them with all the greater zeal and intolerance. For what they hate in people who think differently is not so much the different opinions which they profess, as the presumption of wanting to form their own judgment; a presumption of which they themselves are never guilty, as they are very well aware. In short, there are very few who can think, but every man wants to have an opinion; and what remains but to take it ready-made from others, instead of forming opinions for himself?

Since this is what happens, where is the value of the opinion even of a hundred millions? It is no more established than an historical fact reported by a hundred chroniclers who can be proved to have plagiarized it from one another; the opinion in the end being traceable to a single individual.

Quite interesting, I think. I too am guilty of recycling the ideas of others.

In the end, the "norms" must be ceaselessly questioned relative to the evidence at hand. It is evidence and reason, not superstition or faith, that must guide our evaluation of truth.

Do not simply guide your actions from the distilled opinions of others. Form your own from the raw evidence. Look through an impassionate and objective lens.

What you have been taught since birth and what you currently believe may be only a manifestation of others' ideas - not your own. So think, where is the preponderance of the evidence? Is global warming happening? Is evolution real? Sticking your head in the sand and relying on the opinions of others is an insult to your innate intelligence. Review the evidence for yourself.

Brain exam

I just finished my Neuroscience exam. I think I did really well, mostly because of my new study partner.

Kam is from Kentucky. He went to UVA and majored in economics. We've been friends since the beginning of school, but we've only recently begun studying together. We take turns going to each other's places, although today we studied together in the library.

Kam's parents own a restaurant in Kentucky, "Great Wall." So Kam loves to cook. Stews are his favorite. The other day, he put a pork scapula in a pot with some greens, and then sprinkled in a little MSG. "Adds to the flavor," he says. Two hours later, he poured the stew over some rice and had dinner. I politely declined, saying that I had already eaten.

Kam is a die-hard Kentucky basketball fan. Two nights ago, Kentucky had it's first day of official practice.

Who cares, you ask? Well, 25,000 people filled the stadium to watch. It was a huge media production, and Kam and I watched it on TV. Apparently even the first practice is a big deal in Lexington.

Radnor Lake

The weather here has been beautiful lately. High in the mid 70's, partly cloudy.

In the last few months I've been biking more and more with C, a girl in my class. She recently got a road bike because her knees are shot from running so much (she's had several surgeries to try to correct the problem). At first she was pretty slow, getting used to riding. After just a few months, she's become much more comfortable and confidant on the bike. She climbs about as well as I do, and on the flats, I break the wind while she drafts behind me.

We ride about three times a week. Mostly in the park, but recently we've been venturing further. The last ride we did was well over 30 miles, all the way to Radnor Lake and back (generic picture of the lake attached).

Gustav Klimt

I just got a poster of Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss." I don't know what it is about this painting that makes me want to stare at it for hours.

Maybe it's the way that the two bodies blend into one. The way snow falls in the background. The masculine squares on the left versus the feminine circles on the right. And how bright and beautiful and golden the moment is.

Contest

A radio station in town is having a contest of who the sexiest medical professional is. Several people in my class have submitted entries. I'll bet this guy, Dan, a former pro body builder, wins.

Sandy

About a week ago, Sandy H. Came to pick up some stuff that his sister had left with me. Namely a bunch of mason jars, a few books, and two wooden xylophones that he had made years earlier.

He arrived in his usual beat-up pickup, complete with the plethora of bumper stickers on the back. He was wearing on old tie-dyed tee-shirt; I don't remember what it said on the front.

Sandy lives in the hills of eastern Tennessee. There, he works as a carpenter, waiting for capitalism to self-destruct.

He comes to Nashville from time to time. He brought me a pumpkin (or squash, I can't tell which). I put it in the oven, and it was good.

We talked for a long time on my porch. About almost everything. Economics, diet, asthma.

He's a remarkably intelligent and likable person, much like his sister.

I hope he comes by again.

Making my day

I bought a bicycle this summer to replace the one that was stolen in DC. It's a 1981 Schwinn World Sport. Nothing special by any means.

The red paint was starting to flake off, so I went to the store and got a can of blue spray paint. I spent hours stripping off the old paint with sandpaper, and then painted it in the storage room downstairs. Then I got some fake Colnago stickers on Ebay (Colnago makes super-nice, super-expensive Italian bicycles) and put them on, kind of as a joke.

So riding to school today, some guys rode past me (I try to ride slowly so I'm not covered with sweat when I get to school). One of the guys admired my bike, and then promptly offered me 500 dollars for it.

I was taken a bit off guard, and then told him that it was actually a Schwinn that I had repainted. Damn. Could have had 500 bucks.