you are likely to be eaten by a grue
Jun. 7th, 2006 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenEither about a million people are eating chips outside my window or Hassan's van has exploded or something, but I swear I can smell vinegar through the attic porthole. I live four floors up. That's a lot of vinegar. And I can't close the window either, because it is so hot in here. Because she's sadistic like that, Claire emailed round the five-day forecast, and I am quietly boggling at it. Thirty degrees, here? How can it be so hot? And, especially, how can it be so hot when I'm missing all the beautiful weather through being stuck in the library? Today, I actually had a tute in the Fellows' garden, because my tutor couldn't stand being inside either. It was very nice indeed. And I had dinner, as I have most days this week, outside on the lawn in the garden quad, bathed in sunshine. It was lovely, but argh. Too much work. And procrastination. But mostly work. And libraries. And more work, and more libraries.
But I'm okay. I'm getting things done, I'm not upset or bitter about it, and best of all, I'm actually getting out of bed in the morning (as opposed to the afternoon). The only side-effect, in fact, is the fact my brain is slowly melting. Very slowly, but it's happening regardless. I was working upstairs in the Social Science Library just before closing, sitting by a window and watching the last of the daylight over the river, and then my pen stopped working. This is a current point of severe irrationality with me, because someone stole my pen two days ago and I have very few of the things left. So I shook it, and scribbled ineffectually at it, and sucked at the point and generally was incompetent. Pat took her own pen and wrote "IONA'S PEN = RUBBISH" across the top of her notes. "And thus, by strict assumptions of transitivity," she said, and wrote underneath "IONA = RUBBISH."
I thought about that for a while. "Doesn't that mean that I am my pen?"
"You equal rubbish," she said, "and your pen equals rubbish, if you both equate to rubbish then you equal your pen."
I thought about that one even longer. "But that doesn't work," I said after a bit. "You're arguing with a stated premise that's contingent on the truth of the conclusion. In fact," - and there are no prizes for guessing what I was revising today - "it's analagous to the original problem of induction. We can't say the future will always resemble the past because it always has done, because we're justifying the conclusion with the criteria we're attempting to prove to start with that."
Pat got very excited, and wrote:
"IONA = RUBBISH
IONA'S PEN = RUBBISH
IONA = HER PEN
Hence: PAT = DAVID HUME."
"Ah," I said, and fell apart laughing. I'm pretty sure that if the library hadn't been closing, they would have thrown us out. I'm also pretty sure that I don't generally laugh at such patently ridiculous things.
On that distinctly unfunny note, I leave you.
Oh, but before I go, one more thing. It has finally happened. After many, many years, it has happened. I AM A BNF OMG. PLEASE TO BE WORSHIPPING ME NOW KTHXBAI.
But I'm okay. I'm getting things done, I'm not upset or bitter about it, and best of all, I'm actually getting out of bed in the morning (as opposed to the afternoon). The only side-effect, in fact, is the fact my brain is slowly melting. Very slowly, but it's happening regardless. I was working upstairs in the Social Science Library just before closing, sitting by a window and watching the last of the daylight over the river, and then my pen stopped working. This is a current point of severe irrationality with me, because someone stole my pen two days ago and I have very few of the things left. So I shook it, and scribbled ineffectually at it, and sucked at the point and generally was incompetent. Pat took her own pen and wrote "IONA'S PEN = RUBBISH" across the top of her notes. "And thus, by strict assumptions of transitivity," she said, and wrote underneath "IONA = RUBBISH."
I thought about that for a while. "Doesn't that mean that I am my pen?"
"You equal rubbish," she said, "and your pen equals rubbish, if you both equate to rubbish then you equal your pen."
I thought about that one even longer. "But that doesn't work," I said after a bit. "You're arguing with a stated premise that's contingent on the truth of the conclusion. In fact," - and there are no prizes for guessing what I was revising today - "it's analagous to the original problem of induction. We can't say the future will always resemble the past because it always has done, because we're justifying the conclusion with the criteria we're attempting to prove to start with that."
Pat got very excited, and wrote:
"IONA = RUBBISH
IONA'S PEN = RUBBISH
IONA = HER PEN
Hence: PAT = DAVID HUME."
"Ah," I said, and fell apart laughing. I'm pretty sure that if the library hadn't been closing, they would have thrown us out. I'm also pretty sure that I don't generally laugh at such patently ridiculous things.
On that distinctly unfunny note, I leave you.
Oh, but before I go, one more thing. It has finally happened. After many, many years, it has happened. I AM A BNF OMG. PLEASE TO BE WORSHIPPING ME NOW KTHXBAI.
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no subject
on 2006-06-07 11:43 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-07 11:52 pm (UTC)Bleen > Grue
on 2006-06-07 11:48 pm (UTC)11 days to go, omg.
Re: Bleen > Grue
on 2006-06-07 11:53 pm (UTC)It amuses me that within minutes, I get comments from GP-revising PPEists. We are becoming a species unto ourselves.
no subject
on 2006-06-07 11:57 pm (UTC)*converts to Fahrenheit* *collapses in helpless laughter*
Oh, sweetie. 84F is the point where I might, if it's really sunny and I'm going to do some physical labor outside, put on some shorts. (Then again, I do have air conditioning. And lots of sweet iced tea in the fridge.)
(We've had this conversation before, haven't we? Possibly I'm the only one to still get any amusement out of it...)
no subject
on 2006-06-08 12:04 am (UTC)Out of interest, how cold/wet does it get where you are? *g*
no subject
on 2006-06-08 12:42 am (UTC)Do you at least have a little 6-inch electric fan or something?
Out of interest, how cold/wet does it get where you are? *g*
Colder and wetter than you. Promise. *g* (Actually: the BBC on the average temp/rainfall in Nashville, with rainfall totaling 1195 mm/year; vs. the 642 mm/year quoted for Oxford here.) Ah, the joys of temperature extremes induced by living near the middle of a large continent (and I'm not even in the midwest). We do, however, get our rain in massive dumps rather than the near-constant drizzle y'all seem to have. I have never been so cold on a regular basis as I was in Exeter, and I think it was mostly due to the drizzle and the excessive wind that I think was coming off the sea.
Although there was definitely a year where it rained every day from the beginning of May until the middle of July, to the point where my mom's roses grew mold, and all of our shoes mildewed. That was a rotten spring/summer. I think it was directly after my freshman year of college.
no subject
on 2006-06-08 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-09 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-08 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-09 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-08 06:46 am (UTC)IONA'S PEN = RUBBISH
IONA = HER PEN"
Genius. Sheer genius. As a scientist, I am definitely inclined to believe her over the philosphical excuse you made up.
Iona= Rubbish= Iona's Pen
Therefore Iona= Iona's Pen
Does that influence you more towards believing you are a piece of stationery? ;)
no subject
on 2006-06-09 09:30 pm (UTC)And what do you mean, do I believe I'm a piece of stationery? It's gospel truth!
no subject
on 2006-06-08 06:54 am (UTC)You and this Pat are silly, interesting, and uh scary *nods* that is all.
xx
no subject
on 2006-06-09 09:29 pm (UTC)And yes, we are scary.