28 08 2009

that title promises a little something that the post surely won’t provide, though it’s clear to me already that i’ve decided thoughtlessly that this one shall go forth without proper capitalization.  i do not seek your forgiveness or understanding.  i have had an abnormal day of repeated naps, general isolation, and a peanut butter sandwich.

one of the rudimentary concepts in particle physics, and one that i feel is taken for being unremarkable by many, is schrodinger’s wave function.  it’s simple enough, which i think is why it’s overlooked—it basically says that from any moment, there is a certain number of possibilities moving forward in a timeline, and possibilities further forward in a timeline for every possibility there is.  the point is that when you’re not measuring anything, you can’t know what is happening, but you can know what might be happening.  BUT.  the moment you check it, the moment you measure what’s happening, the wave function collapses, and only what you see happens.  the rest of the possibilities are quashed forever.

Get it?

Get it?

i may have never known that my primary neurosis in decisionmaking could be so beautifully described by an austrian theoretical physicist who was born nearly a century before myself, but if schrodinger’s wave function doesn’t do just that, the awesomest cat in the world isn’t named wesley. and can we all just face the fact that he is?

Mr. Awesome!

Mr. Awesome!

i’ll admit that i don’t think it’s a good way to live any longer; it drives me crazy how habituated my brain is to ceaselessly reappraising the situation and extrapolating all possible outcomes from all of my possible actions.  but this is what i do.  what good is it?  i’m sure there are practical applications, but i do this during perfectly normal conversations.  “i like your shirt, doug” is all it takes for my brain to open 5 wormholes of chance (at least):  1.  take off shirt and throw it at them  2.  compliment something of theirs if at all possible  3.  say “thanks”  4.  pretend i’m not this “doug” of whom they are speaking.  and each of these must be thought through to be sure i’m not offending, freaking out, or inviting more conversation than i’d like.  regardless of the fact that i nearly invariably choose the one to keep everyone comfortable (or get a cheap laugh), i will then start walking through the rest of the possibilities in my mind, often laughing at the awesome things i chose not to do.

can you imagine what it’s like when i’m making actual decisions?  do you think shock therapy would help?

sorry, i was just fantasizing about different soup flavors that might be soaked into the wooden spoon on which they make me bite down.

i’m joshing around a bit too much.  what i’m really talking about is the sincere regret i feel every time i make a decision to the exclusion of other things i don’t find objectionable.  does anyone else have this problem?  with the possibilities in front of me, with the wave riding amplitudinally high, i’m satisfied enough, but as soon as the moment of truth comes and i have to pick something, the wave collapses, and i’m standing on the desolate spot of my choosing.  what i need to teach myself is that the wave equation itself provides for a whole new amplitudinally rancorous wave at the very moment of my choosing, and that’s good stuff, right?  there’s never a lack of choice.  still, this is a tough trick for me for some reason.

seriously, does this affect anyone else?  i have a decision to make, and, as often, i have made it like as such:  i will not reread this for coherency or grammar correction.  not that any of the dolts who read this page would know the difference.  zing!




2 responses

28 08 2009
all is on

First off I always hated that shirt on you, anyway, and your narrative isn’t gonna make me toss some complimentary fluff at you. So don’t ask!
And I don’t know if you’re familiar with the specs of my fabric stash, but for *real* man I totally hear you re: widing the raves. The tricky thing about being a perfectionist comes with the concept and completion of activity (though not so much with the latter, for me at least): you sort of have to get started somewhere, and when I saw that navy and white ribbon faille I was all oooh! it will make a fantastic boxy cropped jacket. But then I thought about it some more and wanted an A-line pieced sheath, or a pencil skirt, and now it’s just sitting in all its unpretreated glory on a shelf in the sewin’ room. Along with about sixty-two other cuts of fabric that I had similar half-baked ideas for.

My beef, with myself, is that I feel capable of imagining beauty and light and perfection in the guise of a dress with goldfish all over it, but any step that I take to more closely appropriate its existence on, like, my torso makes the idea fade in its idealized essence and lose some of that cloudy, ether-y austere perfection, the kind you see surrounding the lady in the lake circa 1981. Also there is that sewing is hard.

29 08 2009

It’s all a matter of resources then, isn’t it? Time and energy, fabric and thread. But isn’t there always more amazing fabric around the corner? Isn’t there always the fact that you have to try stuff to improve? Is the problem that we’re worried that the fabric around the corner is not as amazing and we need to conserve the fabric at hand for when our hands are steadier, our eyes better trained?

OR… is there a chance that I could learn to step into two places at once??!! You’ll forgive me for changing literal metaphors. Litaphors. Thallison.

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