Going Beyond Absent-Mindedness

The secret motive of the absent-minded is to be innocent while guilty. Absent-mindedness is spurious innocence. ~Saul Bellow

Bloody hell! I’m going senile and for heaven's sake, I'm barely 19!

I suffer from memory loss all this while. Misplacing items, forgetting things… Those are but the typical ones. But what happened today is by far the most brainless act I’ve ever committed. Sad to say there could be more, considering my deteriorating mental condition. I’m losing my precious braincells exponentially as the ageing effects set in prematurely. It is terribly depressing to be aware that it’s just a matter of time before my grey matter shrivels into a peanut.

Get your thesaurus and fire me with anything you can find under “stupid” and I promise you I won’t be so much as retort. How could I be so absent-minded? How could I return home from school with her car key in my pocket, not realising it until I’ve almost reached home? Bah! What a shitty memory I have!

Needless, she was stranded in school for something like an hour before I rushed all the way back to return her the key. But who have I to blame if not myself?

Congratulations! I’ve just proven myself to be one who cannot be entrusted with responsibility. Hey, even I can’t forgive myself for my absent-mindedness; self-esteem is at an alarmingly low level. Shucks! How can you trust someone who could not even trust himself?

It’s normal to be angry of someone; you can tell that straight in his face. But to be mad at oneself is totally a frustrating experience; what can you do? Splash yourself with a bucket of cold water?

For the first time, I hit 90km/h on a cranky Kancil with four gears, and could have gone faster had the parts not rumble in resonance as if they were going to fall apart. (It felt like flying a jet – at turtle speed.) Now, I understand why they say it is unsafe to drive when you’re under emotional stress.

I could feel the negative energy overwhelmed the body. I felt much better after a cold bath and typing this away at the computer. Nevertheless, I reckoned I needed to vent out the emotions one way or another. Ten laps in the swimming pool was a feat I had not attempted since a long time. It was indeed tiring, and I was not left with any surpluss energy to depreciate myself after that.

Bah! I don’t feel like talking about it anymore! Perhaps I should do some meditation to let go of the malicious qi, if only I can get the right vibrations… Om…

Enslaved by Determinism

The Oracle: Candy?
Neo: You already know if I'm going to take it?
The Oracle: Wouldn't be much of an Oracle if I didn't.
~The Matrix Revolutions

One disadvantage of not having a religion is that atheism doesn’t hold the key to the intrinsic purpose of the universe. Neither does sciencism nor existentialism. An atheist, must therefore seek another means for the answer. What else can be a better candidate if not philosophy? After all, it is the fundamental component of any religion ­– minus the fables, of course.

A mere mention of philosophy would naturally project the image of a contemplative Zen monk in some monastery far away from human civilisation. On a contrary, the quest for philosophical truth doesn’t necessary require a visit to the abode of some legendary old sage in Mount Ararat. You may, for starters, get a taste of the philosophical aspects that permeate The Matrix.

Even though cinematography and computer manipulation are the oft-quoted plus-points of the trilogy, the equally significant part that made it stand out from other high-budget Hollywood movies is the philosophical issues it presents. Unlike the typical dumb action-packed blockbusters that do nothing good other than serving as adrenaline boosters, the Wachowski Bros – um, siblings – effectively delivers some subtle philosophical messages that keeps the less dumb viewers pondering long after watching the movie.

Beginning from the first installment, determinism has been one of the themes, as illustrated by the Oracle and the Merovingian. For instance, in one scene from The Matrix Revolutions, the Oracle offered Neo some candy, even though she very well knew Neo’s decision. She “wouldn’t be much of an oracle” if she didn’t. Yet, Neo was given the choice to choose. But, is there free will? Are choices a mere thin veil that deludes us from the fact that we’re ruled over by determinism?

In Newcomb’s Paradox, reverse causation is introduced into the system. Unfortunately, the average Joe would fail to see the significance of the paradox from the arguments put forth by different philosophers. Show it to ten persons and chances are nine of them would only analyse the problem skin-deep.

Wikipedia has a full version of the paradox, together with the analyses and its variant conditions. But, it is thus, in essence:

There are two players named Predictor and Chooser. Chooser is presented with two boxes: an open box containing $1000, and a closed box that contains either $1,000,000, or $0 (he doesn't know which). Chooser must decide whether he wants to be given the contents of both boxes, or just the contents of the closed box.

The complication is that the day prior, Predictor predicts how Chooser will choose. If he predicts that Chooser will take only the closed box, then he will put $1,000,000 in the closed box. If he predicts that Chooser will take both boxes, he will leave that box empty. Chooser knows this rule of Predictor's behavior, but he does not know Predictor's actual prediction.

The question is: should Chooser take just the closed box or take both boxes?

(†Source: Wikipedia: Newcomb’s Paradox)

The idea that the Predictor’s prediction will affect the Chooser’s choice brings unimaginable consequences. One of them is reverse causation. It suggests that events may not affect outcomes in a chronological way, as we naïvely presume. The future may determine the course of events in the past.

Another troubling conclusion is, if time machines or perfect Predictors were to exist, then, there is no such thing as free will – the Chooser would have to do whatever he is fated to do. We are but slaves to determinism. We are merely pawns manipulated by Fate… or Destiny… or Providence… or God… or whatever you want to call it.

Mortals, you may struggle till the end of your days in the attempt to liberate yourselves from this eternal slavery but “behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind”. Perhaps, one should heed Solomon’s advice and be a God-fearing person.

As for me, the revelation brings more frustrations. Nevertheless, it is my rebellious nature to go against Fate.

†http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newcomb's_paradox (accessed on 31 July 2005)

Sheer Escapism: Total Denial

… The subject recognises on some feels, and so finds himself overcome by fatigue, boredom, and indifference, to conceal from him his fundamental helplessness in the face of a genuine problem which must be rectified. ~Michael Crichton

His remark came so unexpectedly that I was instantly taken aback.

“Huh?”

“I mean, something seems to be bothering you.” He explained.

“What makes you think so?”

“Instinct.”

The problem is, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me, even now. Heck, I was feeling totally fine – until that moment. Trust me, lapsing into a bout of depression isn’t enjoyable. The fact that his comment had such an effect on me proved beyond doubt that there is something wrong.

Is it because so many incidents have occurred – and mostly with undesired outcomes – that the subconscious mind has chosen to ignore them altogether? Is this the skill that I’ve picked up and perfected over the period of recuperation from those agonies – agonies inflicted by various incidents which I’d prefer to relegate to the misty realm of the memory? Did this stem from the natural reaction to protect oneself from further hurt?

I have never felt so helpless before. To me, all these years, life has been smooth sailing; no obstacles in the path. With sheer arrogance, I presumed that everything will be going fine till the end of the jouney. Everything has been fine.

But then, the wind does change its direction once in a while. And when that happens, it is hard to accept that you’re just another pawn on the board, subject to the whims of some unseen manipulator.

They say the higher you climb, the harder you fall. Of all, that moment of free fall feels the worse, for you have no idea when you will land. Throughout the whole ordeal, you can only fear for the worse, while wondering if you could survive the fall in the end.

In front of the others, I’ve always told myself to be tough and not to weep. However, things have changed in such a short period of time. Now, even when there is the privacy and the liberty to cry my heart out, the tears just somehow doesn’t show, however hurt is the heart beneath. If this is a way to handle emotions, I swear this it is the worst one I’ve ever come across because no matter how blasé you try to act, the problems would still have to be addressed at the end of the day.

However, how to handle the problems is yet another problem, especially when I can’t really identify them. Again, I’ve chosen to shun – at least for the time being.

Cuddly Pussy

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?
I've been to London to look at the queen.
Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?
I frightened a little mouse under her chair.
~Nursery Rhyme

I like furry pets, cats and dogs especially. Like the stereotypical lot, I have always considered cats as gentle princesses blasé to the world outside and dogs as playful companions loyal to their owners.

But odd though it sounds, it never crossed my mind to own a pet. Rearing a cuddly cat or dog is undoubtedly a great idea but when it comes to feeding them or cleaning their poo… No way! Do you think I have nothing better to do? Unless you have a pet who doesn’t eat or pee or poo, then I might reconsider…

Of course, there is always an alternative, provided that you have a neighbour who rears a cat and is kind enough to let you play with her anytime you want. The neighbour pays for the cat food and the vet bills, takes care of the cleaning jobs while you on the other hand, get to spend time with the pet without enslaving yourself.

And I’m one of those privileged persons.

I have a Malay neighbour living opposite my house. Like most typical Malays (I guess it runs in the genes), they are fond of cats. A few years back, they managed to a female Persian and crossbred it with some lucky local cat. Then, about two months later, the kittens were delivered to the house by the stocks.

How many kittens exactly were there I could not remember. But I recall that a couple of them were given off to friends and relatives, leaving only two with them. The elder one is an orange tom cat, Ciku, and the youngest of the litter is a female kitten with gray patches, Kitty.

While Ciku is an active kitten who got along easily with strangers, Kitty was exactly the opposite. Shy as was her nature, she hid behind her mother when we tried to stroke her soft fur. Naturally, we bonded easily with Ciku.

Cats do not like to be confined in the house all the time. So, Ciku was allowed to roam outside the house whenever he felt like it. One day – perhaps Ciku was paying too much attention to another female cat on the opposite side than the ongoing traffic – he was killed while crossing the road. There goes the myth about cats having nine lives.

We thought Ciku’s death was going to be an irreplaceable loss. But little did we expect Kitty to outgrow from her shy nature and constantly wheedles for attention. Stroke her under the chin and she’ll purr in satisfaction. She earned our affection with little effort.

Ironically, Kitty doesn’t show much interest in other tom cats even though for a cat her age, you’d be expecting her to bring her boyfriend home to meet the parents. I guess her owner forsaw that and neutered her long ago.

Sometimes, I feel so sorry for those tom cats that tried to woo her. There was once a white cat who remembered wrongly Kitty’s house address (she gave her the wrong one purposely, perchance), came over to our house and “meowed” some love serenade in front of the door. Despite showing him to the right unit, he refused to leave, mistaking me as some over-protective parent who bars his daughter from meeting boys. Heck! I’m not Kitty’s owner in the first place!

However, that poor, confused cat is not Kitty’s only suitor. There are many more besides him. One of them, I believe, regularly pee in another neighbour’s flowerbox downstairs, warning off other potential suitors.

Some cats are not so fortunate, unluckily. There had been several occassions when Kitty did not hesitate to engage in a cat fight with those tom cats that tried to make harsh sexual advance. Let’s just say that they ended up quite disgracefully.

On the other hand, Kitty has her elegant side too. Most of all, she carries herself with a poise full of dignity, ever so sexy and always remaining alert to her surroundings, except when she’s just returned from her late night venture and drops into a deep slumber in the balcony. Yes, Garfield is not the only lazy cat.

People say that cats live somewhere between our world and the other world. They can just stare out of the window as if pondering on some deep philosophical problem. Nevertheless, they do not seem to have any concept of time; they idle their time from the past to the present, and from the present to the future.

Sigh, how fast the little one grows! It was as if yesterday when she first opened those adorable little eyes that melts the heart–the way all kittens do. Now, she has matured into an elegant princess but Kitty shall always remain as the cute kitten I first met.