zephomega

Cyborgs.

There are cyborgs among us. Most do not look at all like cyborgs - hulking abominations of flesh and machine wrought into existence by a cackling madman in a white lab coat - indeed, you yourself may be a cyborg without even knowing it (But don't worry, I don't mean in a creepy amnesiatic manchurian candidate sleeper cell kind of way). A Cyborg is simply a living being who's body has been purposefully augmented by some technological means, often with some part of the body replaced with an artificial component
There are of course different levels, or 'classes' of cyborg based on the amount and intention of the modification, and a quick explanation of each follows.

-=Note=-
For this argument to make more sense, think of yourself as a character in an RPG [role playing game]. Or pretend that your resume has a 'stats sheet' listing your strength, speed, agility, intelligence etc. as some value from 1 to 20, with the absolute peak of human perfection being someone with 20's across the board.

Class 1: A Class 1, or restorative cyborg is a person who's physical or mental capabilities are for one reason or another less than the human norm and has thus been modified in order to raise said capabilities back to normal human levels.
Good examples of Class1's are people who are without the use (or in some cases the presence) of their legs, and instead have artificial legs of one type or another. Anyone with an artificial heart valve or indeed an artificial heart is a Class1. I myself am a Class1, as a team of doctors installed a permanent metal staple into the bottom of my jaw after it was broken a few years ago - the idea being that the staple would help restore some of the structural integrity that was lost when the bones were first broken. Not to mention that I have fillings in at least a few of my teeth (as I imagine you, dear reader, do as well). Anyone who wears glasses or contacts, or who has had laser eye surgery is a Class1.
When you think Class 1 cyborgs, think of the modification as restoring something that was lost. (Someone who had 12 speed but broke their leg and went down to 9, then used some form of tech to bump themselves back up to 12.)

Class 2: Upon reaching the definition of the Class2 we move officially into the realm of the nifty, and in many people's minds into the realm of science fiction. A Class2 Cyborg is again someone who's abilities were sub par, but have since been modified in such a way that they are left 'ahead of the game' so to speak. One of the most well known fictional examples of a Class2 in popular culture would have to be Geordi La Forge from Star Trek: The Next Generation. His character (for those of you who somehow don't already know) was born blind. However with the use of that spiffy visor of his he is able to see not only the usual EM spectrum that humans are sensitive to, but numerous other types of radiation as well as anything else the writers had need of.
For those of you more fond of pop culture fantasy rather than SciFi - think Mad-eye Moody from the Potter series. He replaced the normal eye he lost with a magical eyeball construct that could rotate and swivel more freely than a normal eye, as well as see through the back or sides of his own head (and probably any other matter if he really wanted). Mad-eye is therefore one of the few Class2 Cyborgs in the Harry Potter series.
A perfect example of a Class2 in real life is Oscar Pistorius, the so called 'fastest man on no legs.' Oscar is a double-amputee who's personal best of 46:25 in the 400 meter brought him juuuust short of the 45:55 qualifying time for the 2008 summer Olympics. But while there were certainly countless athletes who found themselves just that tiny bit short of qualifying, none of them but Oscar could ensure they made the qualifying run next time by calling a design firm and ordering a faster pair of legs.
In a nutshell, Class 2 cyborgs are still replacing something that was lost, but the replacement (either intentionally or not) ends up being better than what was being replaced. (instead of the tech restoring them to a 12, they end up at 14)

Class 3: And finally we reach the Class 3 cyborg, the 'true' cyborg. A class3 is someone who willingly modifies him or herself [or is modified on behalf of someone else's will] with the intent of becoming something more than they were before. There may be nothing wrong with a Class3 before they are modified, no physical or mental detriment that is being compensated for. Were I to replace my eyes with cybernetic implants just because I think it'd be cool as hell, I would be a Class3.
Back to Trek examples, the Borg are Class3s. While the individual may not be all too willing to be assimilated, the intention is still to improve on the existing biological system.
One real-life example of a Class3 is the UK's own Kevin Warwick. Warwick is not by any means one of the planet's most prominent Class3s, though. Any human female who has chosen to control her own reproductive cycle by modifying her own body's hormone balance[any chick on the pill] is a Class 3 Cyborg. She has significantly modified her own body for her own gain (ok, for her bumperbudy's gain as well).
Class 3 cyborgs are not making up for any prior loss or lack with their modifications, and are instead modifying themselves purely to become better than they were. (skipping the step of breaking their leg and going strait for the modifying tech to change their speed from 12 to 14 just so they can be faster.)

Class 4: The class 4 cyborg is not defined by intent or resulting abilities due to the modification the individual has undergone, but rather by end result and % of surviving original tissue. A Class4 is at least 51% artificial. Think Robocop here.
Once we pass the 51% mark the individual can be just a human brain in an artificial body (the most extreme 'upgrade' possible) and would still be a Class4. Only barely defined as human, Class4's are a long way off but still kinda spooky to think about.

So go now, and look with your newly educated eyes at this world filled with cyborgs. And be sure to call me as soon as you hear about anywhere that's looking into cyber-eye implants.



Good god I want robot eyes...

This is the beginning of a series of posts that I hope will help illuminate for you, dear reader, our current state of scientific understanding and achievement in areas that have generally eluded common knowledge, but are now very quickly becoming part of our everyday lives, and are clinching proof that while we may lack flying cars, we none the less officially live in the future.

A few nice stencils have been appearing around campus. These ^ are on the power boxes of the toaster. Last week I noticed these though, and figured they might be worth posting about.

Damn you, nelson.
http://twitter.com/zephomega
Damn you for getting me into this evil evil realm of awesome

My weekend was deceptively boring. Hung out with a few people friday, had apples and pizza and comedy (possibility of recurring 'apples and standup show and tell night'?) Went to the Shimer 'Orange Horse' night thingy, sang some songs with hippies 'i heard you've been runnin from the man somethin somethin shines like an eagle in the eye of a hurricane thats abandon' and heard some good, some bad, some bewildering poetry 'my vagina wants everything' and one of the organizers had a great thing about jesus that he supposedly did on the L, he looked a lot like my friend Andy. It was weird.
Today's TEDtalk kinda sucks, but its about why little girls dont play videogames so I suppose im not the target market. woo yea, social roleplaying exploring emotional flexibility. Fuck that noise, I just want to kill some aliens. Where's my xbox.
Not having cash really sucks, and I'm really far too used to incredible amounts of mountain dew. I mean really, I'm surprised sometimes that I don't bleed green.
Here's an odd thought. I've heard more than my share of bad poems about the writer's vagoo. There's always a sense of misguided pride about the ones ive heard. Personifying their vagoos as being moody, demanding, and generally very very feminine. Where are the poems about 'my balls'?

/class

The USB thumb drive has been described as the refrigerator magnet of technology, because it can, and presumably does, come in every color, shape, and size imaginable. However I have been pondering this presumption and I've found it to be particularly problematic.

Here, let me illustrate while i alliterate. This is my USB thumb drive, as it currently is – attached to my keys:

Innocuous as such an incarnation of itinerant information storage as this may seem, it is actually ripe with the potential for tiny disasters. Just this morning in fact, I was nearly befallen of such a disaster. My carpooling flatmates had left for work and I was mustering – by the way, is the past tense of 'mustering' 'mustered'? – to head out to campus. Being February in Chicago, I found the morning pissing rain. A quick IM verified that while my crappy umbrella was broken, a spare could be found in said flatmates' car. So out the back door I poped, clad in my usual boots, jeans, Tshirt and hoodie with naught in hand but said flatmates' fancy car key/unlocker remote thingy. But as the door swung to close behind me my so far un-caffienated brain wobbled in warning. I caught the door with my boot and checked my pockets for good measure. [I have a ritualized pattern for leaving my apartment that I've kept to since highschool. I pat my pockets in order with one hand, saying aloud 'phone, keys, wallet' while holding the door open with the other. It ensures that I do not – nay, can not lock myself out or forget any of these vastly important personal rectangles] I realized with a sluggish start that my keys were plugged in – via the attached and above pictured flash drive – to my desktop pc.

I unlocked the door and a few quick moments later and I had gathered the spare umbrella and a fresh disdain for such a terrible and disastrously dangerous data disc design.

Is a keychain really the best we techno-geeks can come up with for a solution to the derelict data docking device? I tried a few other ideas for places to keep my thumb drive, but the design was working against me all the while. The only decent one I could come up with was to replace the little dongly thing that broke off my favorite hoodie's zipper.

Clearly I think the issue here is not where to keep these cleverly crafted keychain companions (close enough) but rather how we design our portable data storage solutions. The problem is certainly not one of size or form factor. Here next to my 1Gb flash drive is a 2Gb micro SD card I just pulled out of my phone:

So with data storage is so small and efficient, why not integrate said storage into a watch or wrist band? An anklet? A subtle and manfully simple (yet elegant) necklace? Such products have been attempted to be sure:

But clearly as a product marketed to fashion-sensible 'tweens [or to put it another way, someone who would buy any 'Bratz'-related product]. What of us sensible young techno-geeks who prefer a simple fashion statement of the black Tshirt and dark jeans? Is it too much to ask to be granted a more sensible solution to the simple storage of selected slices of saves and WAV's?

Don't drop your phone!

If you're a guy like me, you've probably had a thought similar to this "Christ I hope I don't drop this in the toilet."  

Well perhaps not, but if you're a fan of portable gaming, or if you have a fancy cell phone and you're a guy - then you've more than likely stood infront of your toilet with one hand on your device, and the other on your phone.  I was doing just this the other day, and it suddenly struck me to wonder if men or women go through phones more quickly on average.  And what percent of the loss of those men's phones was due to a simple lack of something else to do while peeing.

So what can we do to save these poor gadgets from a watery grave?  (other than simply refrain from using them around open bodies of water)  Feel free to leave a comment with your ideas - because as our phones get more complicated, expensive, and entertaining they will only more often be held precariously above that terrifying goldfish graveyard.  And we should do all we can to ensure that it does not become a grave for our phones as well. 

Sometimes I dream that I'm the doctor.  I run around solving some huge problem and saving people's lives with a drive and energy that I haven't felt in real life in years.  The location changes, the dilema to be resolved varies.  They always end the same though.  The problem solved, the people saved, my companion and I embrace.
And I wake up sobbing.

You're ugly.
And your mommy dresses you funny.

Now smile ya fuckin' douche.

I was thinking the other week about behavioral psychology [specifically this talk] and how much my life sucked. "I'm 21, a civil-environmental engineering student at a high-rated school, I've got Satellite TV, high-speed broadband (to be used with my high-performance gaming rig and tablet pc, as well as my recently acquired G1) all in my own bedroom in a downtown apartment that's waaaay too nice for someone like me to be living in, I'm in good health, decently good looking (as made apparent by my beautiful and loving girlfriend) and I have a swarth of marketable skills and talents, I'm capable, smart, and dagnabbit, people like me."

...so waitaminute. Why am I saying this sucks? My life is awesome.

So I stopped and asked "well, what's the deal self?"

to which myself replied "Well, maybe if you weren't such a mopey prick all the time you'd stop, count your toes, and realize that you're actually pretty happy."

"Hmmm, good point self. But what do you mean 'count your toes?"

"That's just an expression I thought of for this experiment. It's like the athiest's version of 'count your blessings.' If you can count your toes, it means - that for one, you can see them so you're not morbidly obese, AND you're not blind (despite your parent's warnings of what that adolescent hobby of yours would do) and that you have some kind of home in which you can take off your shoes and look down - or even better that you live in a tropical or sub-saharan climate and don't need to wear shoes. If you can count them it means you're at least partially intelligent, and if there's still 10 of them it's just a little bit of a cherry on top."

"That's awefully clever of you, self."

"Still keeping up with that hobby I see."

"Oh, screw you."

"Exactly."

And with those closing words to my inner sociopath I decided to preform an experiment. I would spend a month smiling, and see if it changed my overall attitude towards life, the universe, and everything. I promptly spent three days smiling then overslept one day, forgot about the whole thing, and went back to being sour until I found a scrap of paper and remembered my experiment and the post I was going to make about it.

So Dear Readers, I level my challenge thusly. Mark today as the beginning of your own month of smiling. Put a note on your door or TV or something [it helps to set reminders, especially if you see them after your morning coffee] and we'll meet back here in a month and discuss any effects we've noticed.

Ready.

Set.

GO!

(No, you can not take singles awareness day off)

Yes, you! The scientific community needs you!
I've had an idea knocking around my noodle since an offhand comment made at a noodle house after emptying my pockets, and I'd like to make use of you, dear readers, to expand on it. Take a moment, grab your camera, and take a quick pic of the contents of your pockets. Go ahead and post the pic here or email it [and please do leave a comment here saying you did so] to pocketpic@gmail.com. Go ahead and list your sex [hehe] and age, and profession if you really want.
Ladies, if wearing pocketless pantaloons [or skirts for that matter] then grab the items from your desk/coat/purse/Sherpa team that you would carry with you on a casual trouser/jean/khaki wearing day.

It will only take a minute, it will lead to further interesting reading, and as always - remember It's for Science!

I'll get us started.




side note: yes, that's a G1. Yes, it rules. No, it doesn't make me cooler than you. But it helps.

Intro: well I'm bored. I'm home for some old hippie's birthday and Ive got nothing to do. So I've decided to start up an idea I've had for a few days now, and start writing about random things that I know too much about.

**Disclaimer**
I do not claim to be an expert, nor even much of a reliable source on anything posted here. Much of it was learned years ago and has been skewed by re-tellings, amendments and years of alcoholism. Feel free to quote it to your friends as interesting trivia, but be humble if they point out that you're full of shit - because you (and hence I) probably are. That being said I will not look up anything in preparation or during the production of these pieces. It's all memory-based.


Shit I know about vol. 1

Dolphins.

Dolphins are mammals, which means they give live birth (fuck off, platypus) have body hair, and nurse their young via milk produced in their mammary glands. They breath air through a blowhole on the top of their head (like having a nose in your hair). They have flippers rather than arms, with bone structures indicative of past fingers/toes. They have large brains and streamlined bodies to help them travel through water easily.
Dolphins are social animals that live in groups and use verbal communication. They are top-line carnivores and feed on large fish such as tuna (Tuna are huge fucking fish). Because of their diet (eating other carnivores) Dolphins are often killed at an early age from heavy-metal deposits in their bodies, or other types of poisoning. This is due to a phenomenon known as 'biological magnification' [more on that later]. Bio-mag also causes a consistent trend where the females of any group greatly outlive the males, and the first born of any female nearly always dies within a very short time following birth. Again, more on that later.
Dolphins use verbal communication for hunting in groups and general social interaction. Each dolphin has a name specific to only that single individual. The name is determined at birth and females chose their own, while males use an amended version of their mother's name.
Bottle nose dolphins make weird ass use of their vocal abilities in not only echo-location but as one kid i once heard put it 'they are the closest animal to a dragon.' This is because by using a super-sonic blast of concentrated sound waves they are able to flash-boil the water directly in front of their mouths and stun (if not kill) the fish they are trying to catch. Remember that dolphins do not eat the little snacks that trainers in zoos and seaworld-esque places toss them, but rather they hunt large predatory fish that could probably eat you if you were to be caught in front of them for some reason.
The tail structure of a dolphin is horizontal rather than vertical (think sharks) which makes them much more agile, but sacrifices the boost in cruising speed (both velocity and ease of traveling) the vertical oriented tail provides. With a vertical aligned tail it takes very little energy to go very fast for very long periods of time, but the ability to turn sharply is reduced. So while Dolphins are not very scary looking, they are intelligent hunters who have been honed to perfection by eons of evolutionary trial and error. They can find prey in pitch darkness, shoot freaking stun-beams out of their mouths, and they work and hunt in packs (just like raptors, baboons, dogs, and humans).


thats all I can think of right now. I didnt feel like going into detail about general anatomy or behavior, just skimming the interesting bits that you'll get bored, read about, then impress your families with at dinner this week.

On a side-note, I think I just realized why Great white sharks are as scary as they are. Great whites, and indeed most sharks are more physically geared towards being scavengers - think the famous ability of a great white to detect blood in the water, or their tendency to attack flailing [read: injured] animals. They can detect and make a B-line for something that's sitting still (that's already been injured or killed by something else) and i wouldn't be too surprised to find that whatever had just killed the thing they come upon takes one look at the shark and fucks off as fast as it can.
Meanwhile Dolphins are built and programmed to be super badass hunters (somewhat like we primates are) to be agile and organized and I don't know about you, but they don't seem all too scary looking.
(Now when I say scary looking I mean reptilian fear. The kind of fear that triggers your fight or flight mechanism. Not learned fear that keeps you from poking the 'do not press' button, or touching the stove)
What I propose is that we have been hard-wired by evolution to be afraid of scary-looking things (like poisonous things [spiders, scorpions]) because its good for us, just like its good for birds to be afraid of monarch butterflies b/c they're poisonous. But covergent evolution shows that things like the viceroy butterfly have evolved to look like the monarch because its suits them to be frightening. So would it then not make sense for scavengers to evolve to be scary looking to us predators? If their goal is to steal the stuff that a predator just risked his life for, it would probably help if they were able to make said predator think they could kick their ass (even tho some experiments have shown that not only can dolphins kill sharks, but that they're good enough at it that sharks are afraid of dolphins. Told you, super awesome hunters.).


ok, that's enough of that. I'm going to go jot some notes on what should be next. Requests?

HAH. All Bs and a .... C in physics? Eh, good enough.


/dance

It's monday morning at 6 am and I've been up for about 8 hours. Its done snowing outside and the plows are out, clearing the streets. I got kinda bored a little bit ago and shoveled the sidewalk outside the house. Decided I'd keep goin for a while and wound up clearing the sidewalk on about a quarter of the quad. I came back in to find some salt but didn't find any. So I came back in to warm up and started reading my morning news and webcomics.
The thought hardly crossed my mind to check my LJ friends page or my facebook. Which of course I started to wonder about once I ran out of other bookmarks. I'm sick of the singularity. Constant connectivity to everyone I know and used to talk to. Because that's just it. I used to talk to them. They used to talk to me. I used to have friends at hand. At least a few.
Now I'm banned from talking to my best friend (as per his parent's demand) I've been kicked out of my fraternity (yaaaay, i get to move in 2 weeks) and I can't find my damn lighter.
Ah, matches.
Just like life. Can't find my lighter but I've got a box of matches. I suppose I could try and become an introvert. Lead a rich inner life... /facepalm
I hate my life. A few bits are pretty good, but for the most part it sucks. I feel very alone. But I think it's my fault. I dunno, I'm probably just moping. Or clinically depressed. fuck, I should write more.
But then again, I always used to write so someone would read it and we'd have something to talk about.
But who the hell do I talk to now? I need to make some liberal arts friends... Or some philosophy major friends. Or I need a drink.
good times, 6:21 am monday morning after a 4 day weekend and I'm almost ready to give up.
Hell, I already gave up. I'm not doing any work, I haven't for weeks. I just feel dumb, I feel useless, I hate feeling things.

And I hate bitching.
-waves hand dismissively-

I first pledged Triangle fraternity in the fall of 2005, when i was at the Milwaukee School of Engineering. I completed the pledge process and spent another year and half there waiting for my gpa to get up to the nationally required minimum so I could become a full member. This was not an uncommon occurrence. Several brothers had spent time in such a limbo, one in fact had done so for four years before becoming a brother.
After I left Milwaukee I spent a year living at home and attending community college for a lack of any better ideas. At nearly the end of this last summer I found out I had gotten in to The Illinois Institute of Technology (IIT) in Chicago. One of my first orders of business was to stop by their chapter of Triangle and introduce myself. It seemed to go well and I started once again the pledging process.
Last night, November 10th, 2008 - I was voted to be de-pledged from the Armour chapter of Triangle fraternity. I was not present for the vote, nor was I given a chance to defend myself or even told honestly why I was being ever so politely to fuck off and find somewhere else to live at the end of the semester.
So that's it. three years of trying and waiting. All for nothing, but don't worry 'we still think you're a great guy and you can still come by and hang out and whatnots.' But be sure to fuck yourself on your way out.
I guess being 'a great guy' who is always willing to listen, who tries and does the best he can just isn't enough.


great.

Chicago marathon was today. We left the house at 4 am, and i just got home (5:45 pm). It was freezing ass cold all morning, then stupid hot all day. Liam and I were running the Med2 info tent. The smaller of the two medical tents' information station. We had NOTHING to do all morning, (Liam napped while I putzed online) then as the first few people finished the marathon, people just started pouring in. If anyone was hurt or if anyone was missing they came to us to check the medical registry and the digital tracking thing. (everyone was given a little plastic thing with an RF tag in it that recorded their elapsed time at intervals of 10 km and we were the only ones with internet connectivity to check it). So from about 11 till 4, there was a constant stream of people. Yelling people. Confused, worried people with very strong accents. And they just didn't stop showing up. It was basically just super intense database filtering, but it didn't stop until the very end of the day.
So I'm all kindsa exhausted and I'm going to finish my chineese, take a shower, and go to bed. O yea, and I didnt get home from work till 11 pm last nite, so I got like 3 hours of sleep.

cliffs: bitch bitch bitch bitch
Marathon runners are fucked in the head, and 45 thousand of them in one place is goddamn wrong.

At least I really fucking hope so. The slightly singed and heavily worn and tattered remains of my near-human emotional core really cant take much more of this kind of thing. I think its been said that I'm in a pretty lonely place at IIT. I really dont fit anywhere, nor have i clicked very well with anyone. Funny what being bitter can do to your social life. I'm supposed to be some kind of leader, and I'm trying. Good lord am I ever. But I'm a leader of kids, and an outcast among my fellow adults. Its lonely, yea. But I have a feeling its just gotten less lonely.

Call it a hunch.

I was half-excited to think that I'd end up with a single dorm because by 9 pm when i started to pass out last nite, my roommate was nowhere to be seen. Then of course, at around 10 he did.

I kept on sleeping, pausing at one point to throw my extra pillow and blanket at him as he was curled on his matress in his clothes. His name is Nam Su Kang or something like that. And he is very upset that some of you voted for Kodos.

Destroyer of worlds

One: Go buy the Freakazoid DVD. I actually did. Yes, I paid money for media. In hard format. It's that good.

Two: I will be attending the Illinois Institute of Technology come this fall for Civil Engineering. I thought I wouldn't get in, but now I have and I'm going to poop myself. I'm moving downtown and I'm going to do my freaking homework and LIKE IT!

Two point five: I am going to teach those Armour Triangle kids how to drink. =p