The Fall of Television Science Fiction

I just watched an episode of Star Trek (Next Generation to be specific-¡Picard rules!) and afterwards thought about playing some more Mass Effect 3.  I actually turned off the TV and did some reading, but my mind got caught up considering the state of sci-fi these days.

I think most any fan of the genre will happily, or I suppose more like disgruntled-ly, tell you there really isn't any good sci-fi on TV anymore.  Personally I think this ended with the show Firefly, and maybe that's why it holds such a fond place in my heart-it was practically television science fiction's dying breath.  Don't get me wrong, there's been a good one or two in the last while. I liked Sarah Conner Chronicles, and Dollhouse.  I might debate whether or not Lost counts as sci-fi, but that doesn't mean it wasn't quite enjoyable.  I hear lots of praise for Fringe, though I lost interest somewhere about halfway through the second season.

Television science fiction isn't going away, for sure, but I remember the days of Star Trek, Babylon 5, Farscape, Stargate, and Sliders.  I lived in a time where I could watch something that truly imagined something outside normal human experience and embraced that concept to explore.  You have to dig for that on TV nowadays.  Of course, you have to dig for anything of remote worth these days.

I recently heard that when TV was first invented people thought it would change the world for the betterment of humanity.  TV may have been a major part of winning the cold war.  It changed the way people communicated, allowing a story to reach millions from all around the world.  People thought that this power could be harnessed to spread messages of thoughtfulness, enlightenment, and truth to better humanity.  Such a grand vision is now swallowed up in banality as we're treated to a parade of vapid celebrity voyeurism and bad parenting, lack of life skill, or legitimate mental illness freak shows.

TV may be no more than a plethora of pathetic pandering to the "lowest common denominator," but there's still great science fiction out there in literature (I listen to a weekly sci-fi short story podcast that's wonderful) and also in one of our emerging art forms, the video game.  I'm getting a little long on this post already, so I think I'll make this a two parter and express my love for video game science fiction separately later. So, ¡Tune in again for the exciting conclusion!

What to write when nothing comes to mind

So I like to post at least once a month, and here I am sitting on about an hour left to August and I still haven't written a thing.  There's lots to write about, I can always launch into another mathematics and society rant, or if I'm watching my blood pressure something about computer science and beauty has been ruminating lately.  A friend put forth the interesting idea lately that computer literacy is the new literacy, and I'd like to write on that but felt oddly compelled to do some research before doing anything with that idea.  I'm engaged now and should have lots of ideas and feelings about relationships, love, and weddings.  I've even thought about doing some amateur tech journalism, but the most interesting thing I can think of now the big moves Microsoft is making, and since I'm currently working for them I'd prefer not to get into NDA territory, even though I probably wouldn't say anything that hasn't yet been said on most other tech news outlets.

So, plenty of interesting things to write, but just can't bring myself to put the words down.  Why?  Well, writing is hard.  It takes a mental effort to organize ideas and thought, and even more if an idea isn't quite yet fully formed and needs additional thought to be complete.  I got home tonight, ate some snacks for dinner while putting on some TV shows I wanted to catch up with, and then started thinking about writing.  But I wasn't really thinking about writing, I was thinking about the show I was watching, and I'm only finally banging this out by pausing the show and focusing on writing.

My mom is a six time published (and that's just the novels) author, so I've picked up a thing or two about writing.  One thing about it, which I suspect extends to any art in general, is that the most important thing is to sit down and do it.  While the romantic thought of waiting for inspiration to strike and then whipping up a masterpiece overnight in a frenzy of artistic furor may be appealing, it's just not reflective of reality.  The Sistine Chapel ceiling was painted because the pope offered a large commission, and Michelangelo signed it "Michelangelo, a sculptor" to express his feelings that he didn't consider himself a painter and would rather be working on his statue of Moses.  The Sistine ceiling is well known as one of the greatest pieces of art in the world, and I've always liked the thought that Michelangelo didn't even want to paint it.  I think we can learn a lot about how we can do great work even when we really don't want to do it.

Have I learned how to be happy at a job?

This question occurred to me earlier and I've been wondering ever since. There's a whole bunch of people moving to a different jobs where I'm working and I've been browsing other jobs as well.  It's possible this is perfectly reasonable and the place I work now is just a horrid place to work, but I've come upon another possibility: I haven't learned how to settle in and enjoy a workplace.

It's not that hard to believe. I haven't had a really long term job since high school. I've popped in and out of on campus work and temporary summer positions. And for most of the last year I've worked hard continually looking for a full time job, so I'm already in the habit of searching out opportunities.  Even in all those years of schooling much of the experience was putting in the time at one class and then excitedly looking at the course catalog to see on to which class I would move.  All in all, it does seem that I lack any recent life experience in finding a way to say, "I like where I am now, no hurry in finding something else."

Of course there's nothing wrong with a little ambition and trying to improve one's position in life. It's actually a great virtue, trying to better oneself.  I worry that I may be being all to quick to give up a good thing, though. I live very close to where I work and would almost certainly have to give up the short 20 minute walk to work in favor of either buying a car or finding public transportation options. Both of these possibilities are more costly and neither provides the modicum of exercise that I enjoy with walking.

Putting aside these practical considerations, though, I have a greater unease that I'm finding gratitude and satisfaction difficult.  Which I shouldn't because I have much for which to be grateful, even in the narrow field of my career.  My job went through quickly, allowing me to set myself up in Salt Lake near my beloved.  I think I should make more, but then again when is that ever not true and I make enough to live quite confortably and make good progress paying off my debts.  I'm providing a service that does help people and hopefully makes others' days just a little better.  I get to talk to people from all around the world.  While there's plenty to complain about, there's also plenty to appreciate.

It's interesting to consider how we learn to be happy with a job, and moreso how we do so without becoming complacent or stagnant with our position.  I look back and I see a life spent working hard to get to the next level and move on to the next thing, and while in many ways I plan to continue doing this, I also want to make sure I can simply enjoy the situation I'm in as long as it's not one in desperate need of change.

Mathematics is a Godly pursuit

I had this thought after tutoring one day and I've been meaning to write on it for a while.  Many friends and family of mine will be familiar with my love for mathematics and my feelings of anathema toward the apparently acceptable innumeracy of current American culture at large.  While there are numerous arguments on the basis of how useful mathematics is, what a powerful tool it is and how important it is to understand statistics (such as opinion polls or study results) there is another argument to be made.  Like we appreciate art, literature, and other humanities for their inherent beauty and the way they open our eyes to new ways of seeing the world, so should we appreciate mathematics similarly.

Mathematics teaches us (or can if taught and learned with aplomb) humility.  The superior attitude of some of those capable with numbers may seem to contradict this, but this may emulate from the sad way in which mathematics is taught.  An excellent author about mathematics in culture, John Allen Paulos, has often pointed out that math is taught and subsequently perceived as being about computation.  He says that this is similar to saying writing is about typing, and reminds me of a professor of mine saying, "To say computer science is about computers is like saying astronomy is about telescopes."  I will endeavor to avoid further digression about mathematics education, but will point out that when we tell people that they can find a certain answer following a couple basic steps we should not be surprised when they come to believe that they understand everything.

Mathematics is a harsh mistress.  When not teaching algorithms and their application (not a study of algorithms, which is rather enlightening, but instead essentially programming students in a manner shockingly similar to the way a programmer programs a computer to do specific computations), mathematics is about logic.  For the few reading that have actually done proofs, I feel this is a core of mathematics.  Working through with rigor new knowledge and insights from a handful of basic, known, accepted axioms.

What I learned taking a basic concepts of mathematics class (which with a name like that you may be surprised to learn was a junior level college course) is that this process is unforgiving.  One must be utterly cautious and unrelentingly precise.  One must avoid at all costs projecting one's desires, feelings, and possibly even intuition onto their work.  Instead one must choose to strictly follow what is known and established, to do what the axioms and previously derived theorems allow, and nothing more, and to consider every case and possibility

It is this, that makes me say mathematics is a Godly pursuit.  When I say mathematics is godly I mean that it is greater than ourselves.  We must be willing to practice humility and recognize laws that are beyond our instincts, hearts, and preconceptions.  The laws of mathematics do not bend to our desires because we feel they should.  Mathematics isn't a vehicle for our own ideas or agendas, but rather a manner in which we examine how we came to these and whether or not they require additional scrutiny.  Mathematics brings us to truth that we discover for ourselves but are independent form who we are.  Mathematics is bringing something beyond us and greater than us into ourselves.  This is what religion (like mathematics, when it isn't perverted into a degenerate form that is only good for frustrating students or wrongly justifying our preconceptions) does for us as well.

I will end repeating the refrain that mathematics teaches us humility, and this is what makes it at least nigh on divine.  To learn and to do mathematics is to seek knowledge and learn how little we know, what the limits are to our knowledge, and how easily we can err.  Is not such a pursuit godly?

Torn between two loves

Today is the release of Mass Effect 3. Like most major modern video games it costs $60 new, or $80 for the collector's edition. I haven't purchased it, though I absolutely love the series and can't wait to play the latest installment. My mom pointed out earlier that I do have the money. I still have some money in my bank account and credit on my credit card. I could buy it, but I'm saving my money for something else. Specifically, I'm saving for someone else.

I started dating a long time friend on new years day. The near 400 miles separating us are frustrating. We'd like to be together, but she lives in Salt Lake city and I'm in Denver. There's not much tying me down here, though. I'm planning to move once I have enough money to pay my student loans and other basic costs of living until I can find a job (which, after seeking full time work for about a year I worry will be quite a while).

So, I find myself torn between two loves. Many reading this might find my love for a video game frivolous or even downright foolish, so let me defend my already scorned love. The Mass Effect series continues developer Bioware's traditional of strong, character driven, intelligent writing. As discussed here, the game has raised questions about the nature of life and what it is that makes us who we are. It's been called the Star Trek of our generation, and I dare say that's correct. It's an original and epic space opera, in an unfortunate age where well written fiction, let alone science fiction, often loses out to the latest iteration of milf island, some dude dates fifteen women, or watch the train wrecks when it comes to entertainment. Mass effect is one of the games elevating the medium of gaming, a hobby I feel is at least capable of being very uplifting and intellectually engaging but is so often maligned (and not always unfairly) as being a waste of time at best or a mind distorting influence of evil at worst. Mass Effect enriches things I enjoy (science fiction and video games) by adding to worthwhile examples, and its success is a proof to those who finance entertainment that intelligent video games and well written sci-fi make money.

My love for my girlfriend is somewhat less easy to explain, but many more have written about love of a woman than love of a video game so I probably don't need to belabor that point. I've chosen to save what I can to hasten a long term reunion of me and my beloved. I can only hope that I'll be able to earn enough to actually go through with the move, and work hard enough to make it worth it when I get there.

Better to fail with honor than to succeed without it

Just a thought I had earlier, but surprisingly profound. We focus a great deal these days on success, be it in a career, academics, or even romance. How well do we remember honor? The size of communities might be a factor. People are less likely these days to know about your character or integrity so it's easier to throw out a job title or specific qualification when making introductions. Even when true, declaring oneself honest, diligent, or kind rings hollow without the actions to back it up.

The internet is no help either, with the famed (or infamous) "anonymity" allowing people to act reprehensibly with little to no repercussions. Maybe though, the internet can one day save honor in some small way. Consider if everyone had a sort of 'master online account' (similar to google or facebook accounts). If these had a 'integrity' score on them, which was easily viewable by anyone like an ebay or amazon seller scores. After interacting with many people integrity could be averaged and scored like so many other things are these days.

The possibilities (both good and bad) of a system like this are just barely blossoming in my mind, so maybe I'll let this simmer for a while and take the idea up again. To anyone reading, what do you think about being successful vs. being honorable, or having an integrity score indelibly linked to your name through the power of the internet?

The family and the schools

I was thinking about prayer in schools lately. For the record I'm not for it, though being a spiritual individual I wondered why. I am at the conclusion that what I'm for is prayer in the family and that's many times more important and beneficial than prayer in school.

One reason for this is that it means I'm afforded greater control over my child's development and involvement in his or her life. I want to be part of my kid's spirituality, rather than have it dictated by whatever principle, teacher, or school board member would do such things. When the schools teach my kids to pray, or any number of other things for that matter, my kids are taught what the school wants them to learn, rather than what I want them to learn.

Exposure to other ideas is important, but it's not unreasonable for a parent to wish to raise a child with certain values. It's imperative, actually, to raising a child with any moral compass who grows up to be anything other than, well actually just a child who grows up. Without learning to follow a set of principles rather than be tossed to and fro by every whim and impulse a child never grows up, but I digress. I want to teach my child values, and don't confide in the schools to teach my child the right values or even to do it well if they did.

The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, and so the issue extends to who do I want as my ruler. As a strong willed individual I only want myself, with my family in positions of power. Leaving the individual to be free means that families raise the children. A friend of mine teaches at the local high school, which isn't a great school. He was once asked, "How can you trust the school to teach your kids," and his answer was a simple "It's not the school that's going to teach my kids." He then mentioned that he and his wife has already taught their children some basic reading and writing skills, and he never plans to surrender all the responsibility of teaching to the school system.

I've always agreed with that sentiment, and as such only expect the schools to provide a good supplement for the teaching I and my wife will provide for our children. On my part, I know that some grammer, history, and literature will be something I want my kids to hear from someone more expert than myself. Still, though, I hope to be a part of my kids learning all of this, sharing and discussing the ideas. I might learn something myself, I might provide an new perspective for my kid to think about, or I might just help my son or daughter to better understand something new to him or her but well known to me. One way or the other, my child will learn something and I will be a part of it. That's the kind of parent I want to be.