The Ultimate Paradigm of Thought

[Given I'm not spending time elsewhere, I can start at least trying to write out some of the theoretical aspects I plan to cover when I eventually try to write my book.  I am not going to go about citing references in this poor excuse for a writing exercise.  Where I can note I am using a theory that is not my own, I shall do so, but it should be noted that much of what I believe is nothing more than a combination and/or extrapolation of things I learned from other sources.  Nothing is "new" except for the manner in which ideas are organized, combined or broadened from different perspectives.  Last, I hope to keep this brief.  Just this idea alone is big enough to change Psychology, create a new branch of study, reinterpret volumes and volumes of data from a new perspective.]

When it comes to how we think and how we learn, there is really only one paradigm that applies.  It is the combination of The Structure of Scientific Revolution by Kuhn, and the concept of a neural network, best described through our attempts to create AI, artificial intelligence, or learning computers.

I will not get into each in detail here.  Consider this an intro type page to a set of chapters.

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Kuhn's book is a seriously tedious read. The actual lesson it intends to impart is very basic.  However, it is (or at least was) an attack on the scientific community, so he went through great lengths to give example after example after example in order to make his case.  The problem, which his own theory expresses, was that people would challenge many of the individual findings, as if he had called Newton an imbecile for being wrong (Newton not being entirely correct was the issue), instead of seeing what he had expressed on the broad scale.

Basically, any accepted scientific theory will have a devout following.  They will disregard anomalous data.  Eventually, the amount of anomalous data becomes great, such that a new theory is created which abandons or incorporates the previous theory.  Over a short period of time, it becomes accepted.  I'd say look no further than "Climate Change" for an example you have most likely lived through.  Now widely accepted, early theories on the topic were disregarded out of hand, even laughed at.

WARNING - Anyone that sites Kuhn (including myself) and The Structure of Scientific Revolution has not made their case simply by doing so.  Truly, it only stands for the proposition that anomalous data will be disregarded.  It does not mean an new theory which incorporates the data is correct, only that the theory MAY be correct, the next step in the evolution of understanding within a certain topic.  So, when someone argues Ancient Aliens, it is their actual argument that must be the basis of their theory, not simply citing Kuhn and pointing to structures that can not be built even with today's technology.

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A computer neural network would take me too long to explain.  Basically, multiple connections at several different levels link an input to an output.  As the computer is "taught" to recognize data for desired outputs (a bomb/mine vs. rock program fits best, sonar feedback being interpreted as metal or rock), the various connections are "weighted," some given more strength than others, until the machine can tell if an object is a rock or metal without further adjustments.

This is exactly like the brain, with synapses taking the place of connections, only on a much grander than imaginable scale.  Each synaptic firing strengthens the synapse, and just as a neural network connection is "weighted" for an output, the synapses become "weighted" through the trial and error of the human.

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When combined, virtually every aspect of thought can be expressed, which is why I consider their combination the ultimate paradigm of thought.

Consider depth perception.  The brain first only has inputs it does not comprehend.  Moving pictures the baby perceives as reality.  Over time, the arms waved in front of the eyes, hitting objects, or the recognition of size to proximity of a mother or her breast, creates a new theory.

More apt would be object permanence, given the child is easier to comprehend at that time.  Before becoming aware of object permanence (before the "revolution" of the child's theory of the world), an item disappears when out of view.  Visual stimuli, data, of an item suddenly not apparent is believed gone.  It is not even questioned.  Just like Kuhn's paradigm, however, the anomalous data is eventually confronted by the brain and a new theory of the world evolves, object permanence.

A conceptual take would be the original application of Sabermetrics in baseball compared to the historical reliance on scouting and the disregard for certain statistics.  Watch Moneyball for the gist.

The ultimate realization is that everything you know and believe fits into this category, not merely cognitive psychological issues and "theories" about specific topics.  Everything, every argument you make, every opinion you have, to some extent or another will disregard "anomalous data" that does not fit within your own ideas (yes, presuming any "anomalous data" has actually been presented, because you may be entirely correct given the limited amount you know, or the scope of the concept is so small, like 2 + 2 = 4, to have further data) until you consciously confront the anomalous data, perhaps being taught something new or being convinced of something by someone else.  Then, you develop a new way to look at topic, develop a new opinion, create a new theory.

Basically, though I know I have not flushed it out well, two certainties exist. 

First, you can always gather more data and attempt to identify things which you have, until that point, disregarded.  There may be data you perceive as anomalous and disregard (which makes it hard to identify, doesn't it?).  This can be accomplished by always trying to identify your own presumptions and questioning them with regards to any other information presented.  Of note, the very nature of synaptic connections will reinforce the manner one questions their own thoughts, making the adage "question everything," taught to me by Laura Nader, a path of wisdom.

Second, everything you think you know is wrong, at least partially, at some level, so long as anomalous data exists.  ["I'm looking at you, physicists that claim dark matter means they completely understand the universe through math!"]

Comment Section Blues

[Sigh.  Banned from the one site I still enjoyed, at least mostly.  Feeling down.  Once I post this, I'll erase the site from my favorites to make sure I don't get tempted to try going back.  I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, so I won't change to remain.  This post has little to do with my condition or the continued changes I am having, and there have been more developments in the shoulder and neck, but the same stories of improvement and pain apply, so it's not worth trying to describe the subtly differences I probably can't articulate.  One of the ways I passed time is crossed off the list.  Disappointing.]

I did not have many friends coming out of Law School.  I made several work friends, and had some friends I attended Cal Basketball and Football games with, but when we moved to Sacramento, I became friendless.  At most, I had acquaintances in a few of the people my wife worked with.  I spent most of my time at the dog park, walking the dogs by the American River, or playing video games.  It was during this time that I had focused on myself, changed my walk, and the crap storm of "unwinding" and pain began.

Several years into the pain, I started getting involved on comment message boards.  My first was Extra Baggs, an SF Giants blog.  I later branched out to other San Jose Mercury News blogs, then sfgate, and much later TOTH (The Tower of the Hand, a fan sit of the Song of Ice and Fire books).  It was the only interaction I had outside of my wife and dogs, really.  Over time, I found I liked TOTH and the Merc sites the most, places where I made "Internet friends" or sorts (and some enemies).  As noted earlier, pain made me cut that down to one, then briefly none.

I started going back to Giants Extra, formerly Extra Baggs, and found myself banned this morning.  I don't know why.  Perhaps from an error I made the other day that left an entire blog entry in italics, but that was several entries before this banning.  Last night, the board had devolved and the IT people got involved, so maybe that did it.  I don't believe it was comment oriented banning, but who knows.  I'd enjoy accusing the site of blocking me because I called out Larry Baer so often, but that would be stretching my joke of a mole I was playing a bit thin, and not worth the effort of establishing a new account.

A am apparently the equivalent of the trolls that get banned.  That is more disappointing then losing pseudo-friends.

I'm genuinely upset.  It had become something I could do, both in the morning before rehab exercises, then afterwards while recovering from them. 

Perhaps it was meant to be, in that my wife and I finally found a puppy prospect of interest.  While Maya is still with us, the old girl, it was Matilda that was my dog, whom I miss more than anything, and had really started posting more on the Internet upon her death out of loneliness.  I'm a bit terrified to get a new dog, not being sure I can physically handle the training and care aspects, and that I can't take it out anywhere near what I did the two dogs before I became an invalid.  I used to go hiking or to the dog park with them for hours, even when first ill, until Maya's dominant female crap became too much for me to handle.

Maybe the banning will get me to push all in on this new dog.  There are two females I am interested in, Bull Mastiffs with a 1/8 sprinkling of Rhodesian Ridgeback mixed in.  It's a lot of dog, but the mellow aspect appeals to me.  It should be somewhat similar to Matilda, just 30 pound heavier.  A new dog would be infinitely better than an Internet comment section, right?  How I am going to puppy proof when I picking things up and moving them is about the hardest task I can be asked to do, however, I have no idea.  What I want is my Matilda back.  Can't always get what you want.

Trying to look at the bright side.  It's warm out.  My arm is almost better, though from the headaches of late, I'm pretty certain the concussion was the bigger injury, and one which I ignored.  We may get a spa soon.  That would be great, too, and probably help my rehab.

But I can't help but be sad.  I liked Giants Extra, even some of the enemies that had wit.  A new dog won't be Matilda.  Trying to clean up and train is going to hurt like all holy hell.  Salt for the wound, I could EASILY have just switched over to the new Diablo III video game, I had spent years playing Diablo II, and had eagerly awaited the new version, but my computer can't run it.  It's not an expenditure I can justify as the non-money earner.

Time will tell how things work out.  Should any of the Giants Extra crowd happen upon this, be well.  I know I was not always easy to deal with, but my goal was to be of more benefit then detriment in the aggregate (a positive WAR, if you will), and I think, well, thought I did that.  I had my moments.  I really liked my fake commercial and did have some ideas for others I never got around to, but the banning speaks volumes.  Perhaps my pessimism objectively made me a troll, and I could not see it with my own eyes.

While I hope the tide will turn, the same hope I've carried for 7+ years, my crappy existence gets a little crappier . . .

In Vonnegut fashion, so it goes . . .

There's No Cure For Stupid

[Must type quickly before the Vicodin wears off.  The last line has typos, a certain key repeatedly hit incorrectly.  I should have been using the one just to the right of the one pressed.  It should not be tough to figure out which.]

I did not swim yesterday.  The wind and my leg made me opt for reading instead.  I did make plans, however.  I was going to do mostly breaststroke and backstroke in my upcoming swims.  I had tried some backstroke with the pull buoy on Wednesday, but that was just too awkward, my body getting squirrely, putting too much torqued pressure on the shoulders (though still no separations!).  I would do some smooth backstroke with just enough kicking to keep straight.

Today, I drove to the pool.

I started with 500m of breaststroke, and the last 100m was even reasonably impressive.  Afterwards, I grabbed the kick board and did 250m, alternating between flutter kicks and "frog" kicks each 50m.  Usually, I would do at least 100m on my back with the kick board, doing flutter kicks, but with backstroke in the plan next, I got rid of the kick board.  I actually like to get 500m with the kick board, but I was antsy to see if I could actually incorporate backstroke into my workout.

I pushed off the wall for backstroke, starting nice and easy.  About a quarter the way across (I guessed), I got into a groove.  The flutter kicks were at just the right effort, and I had my head tilted back comfortably.  There was no shoulder pain.  I was even getting a pretty good pull going.  I could really feel the benefit this would add to my swim, and for a moment, I felt good.  I realized that the addition of backstroke and a return to some "inverted" breaststroke (my own creation, it's breaststroke swimming with the back of the hands, very much utilizing the shoulders similarly to classic rehab movements for individuals with hypermobility) would probably be an ideal work out for the next several weeks as I build my endurance again.

That was when I crashed into the side of the pool.

For some reason, the flags that are usually above the water, 15 feet from the pool's edge, to let you know you are about to reach the wall, were not up on that side of the pool.  They were up on the other side, the side I had left, of course.

They have not been up before (though not this yeear, as yet, until today), and I always look and make sure they are up before doing my backstroke flutter kicks with the kick board.  Remember, the set I skipped out of excitement to do backstroke instead?

The lump on the crown of my head is substantial.  I probably got a concussion, though nothing too serious.  It hurt, but I did not see stars or anything like that.  My forearm, however, took the brunt of the impact with the cement edge that circles the pool.  I feared it fractured, given the crease-like raised bump at the point of impact, and that I could not put any pressure on the figures at all, though I did have at least 80% movement. 

X-rays came back negative, a small victory.  The issue now is that the forearm and wrist, needing to be elevated and stationary, wreak havoc on the rest of my body over time.  I had gotten quite used to working out issues in the shoulders all the way down the arm and cracking my fingers.  The doctor thinks I've got five to seven days of  pretty good pain from a bone bruise to deal with before I can swim again.  Good thing I have Vicodin.  It's how I have typed this, mostly with the left hand.

No one to blame but myself for this one.  There is no cure for stupid.

Duck.  Duck.  Motherduck.  Duck.  Motherduck.

Sociopathology And Me

[Sigh.  Not much of a post, again.  I just felt like writing about the social side of things.  I guess it's safe to say I am much more optimistic over a physical recovery than I am about re-entering society.  I'm not exactly cheerful to begin with.  The idea of needing to exert so much effort just to make small talk, it's depressing.]

The past two days have been a wake up call on the mental front.  I always knew I was a bit of a sociopath to begin with, and I knew the two really bad years of pain added to it didn't do me any good, but the past two days shed light on just how bad I have become.  I'm pretty much unfit for social interaction.

The odd change is that fear or anxiety has nothing to do with it anymore.  That was my former crutch.

This time it was so much more out of exhaustion then anything else.  I had no desire to interact with anyone, nor could I summon the energy to try.

The jury duty experience was most telling.  An Adderall, a Vicodin, and a morning cup of coffee got me the 35+ miles to the Woodland court house, though the walk from parking to the jury room was difficult.  Once there, crammed in a room with 100 others, I learned just how much space a compulsive subluxing lunatic needs to do his thing, and I did not have it.  It only got worse once we were crammed into a court room for vior dire.  It took nearly 3 hours before I was in front of a judge to show some paperwork about my condition.  I must have looked the part by then.  I was thanked and excused, never needing (or getting) to drop my last work experience bomb on the judge.

It was early on in the jury room, however, where I got my first and only taste of social interaction.  A relatively normal guy asks me if he was parked in the right place (he wasn't), showing me his summons and the map on the back of it (three buildings atop Court St. with 1st Street between the center building and one on the right, College St. between the center building and the left).

"It's this map," the relatively normal guy said.  "I was on Court Street, crossed 3rd, crossed second, then got to first.  Where the hell was College?  This makes no sense."

I shrugged and mumbled that I didn't know, hoping he'd just leave me alone.

I had no idea how to point out that streets tended to have a block on either side of them, and maybe had he gone one more block he would have found College, but I lacked the energy to do so with any tact whatsoever.  I didn't want to be an asshole, but I didn't want to help, either. 

I was struck with guilt, though not over thinking the guy was an imbecile.  I was thinking of the poor schmuck, probably wearing orange, waiting for a jury for his criminal trial.  I was going to be leaving while Lackwit Mapreader was going to be responsible for his fate.

Seriously, go to jury duty, everyone.  Insist your friends do the same.  Someday you may need a jury.  You don't want a dozen dolts holding your future in their hands. 

Then, yesterday, my daughter had a Spring Jazz school performance.  Her TK class singing, "C is for Cookie," which remained in my head the remained of the night.  The TK through 3rd grade performances were the norm for the age.  The wait for the show was, difficult.  I did have company, however, two co-workers of my wife's, which makes up 3 of the 4 adults I have interacted with over the past few years with any regularity (as in more than three times a year), including my wife.  Of course, they knew many other parents while I knew none, nor did I like the prospect of meeting any.

It's simply too tiring.  Within 4 or 5 sentences, the topic of vocation invariably comes up.  I just can't go there.  Why?  To be further misunderstood?  To create another set of eyes to look upon me with pity over my situation?  To be asked if I had gone to a doctor?  It's really unbelievable how many "intelligent" people have asked if I have seen a doctor.  How in the world am I supposed to interact socially when only sarcasm comes to mind, "No, 8 years of pain, two quite severe, gained an inch and a half of height, physical alterations to my skeletal posture, and I never thought of going to a doctor."  The alternative just takes me further down the rabbit hole.

I guess I could make cards with the address to this blog.  I could sit patiently while they read on their phones.  Everyone seems to be on an intimate level their phones, I've noticed.

I have some hope that I'll find the desire to interact if I ever get some resolution to my condition.  I am always physically uncomfortable, so I suppose comfort in a social situation is already hampered to some extent.  I spend so much time, lonely as all hell, only to find people repulse me when I actually get near them.  That can't be good.

Among The Unlucky

[This is a throw the arms up in the air, scream, "are you kidding me?" kind of post.]

First, my grandmother's maiden name was Murphy.  So, yes, whatever can go wrong tends to for me.

Second, it's been the toughest winter of my life.  The cold and my joints made me stir crazy, stuck in this house.  I have been miserable.  My father died.  The trips to his funeral and to spend time with my mother were taxing such that I spent days hardly moving afterwards.

The entire time, I waited.  Summer.  Not even Summer, I waited for late Spring, when the Sacramento area turns hot, when I could finally go to the pool, when the warmth would allow my joints some good.

Today, the weather finally in the high 80s, jogging to the pool, I pulled my calf muscle.  It is not entirely uncommon for me.  This is probably the seventh time in the past year and a half.  Only once was it severe, though this one will probably keep me from jogging much.  At least I can still swim, right?

Wrong.  Jury duty.

I've had notice six or seven times since living here.  Every time, I logged on the night before to learn I was not required to appear.  Of course, now that it's warm, I have to go, and with a gimpy leg, t'boot.  Unbelievable.  As if any attorney is actually going to put me on their jury.  It should be interesting to see if the judge and attorneys think me insane or a bitter genius or both when I disclose my "disappointing" last experience in the legal system - falsified police reports, lying police officers, lying District Attorneys, irresponsible judges, clear misconduct even on the part of the Public Defender's office I worked for, all likely because (and this is my best guess) the death penalty case I was working had originally started for the police with illegal (or "top secret") wire taps on a Nigerian murder victim, which they had to keep quiet, so they faked the initial stages of the investigation, which I deduced immediately, as well as their subsequent attempts to cover that up, plus other unethical behaviors.  I'll be in pain and trying to explain my least favorite experience.  Sounds like fun!

There is a group of people that experience a statistically significant amount of bad luck, more than your average idiot.  I am undoubtedly in that group.  Damn my Murphy blood!

Things Are Getting Ridiculous

[Just the facts.  No theory.  Not up for it.  I had stopped commenting on the TOTH site over a week ago.  Today I left Giants Extra.  Sitting at the computer is just getting harder and harder, even though I know I am making progress.  Perhaps too much, too quickly, and in cold(ish) weather, however.  I'm still re-reading ASOIAF constantly, though I devoured the latest Stephen King Dark Tower book in a day, and I'll keep watching my Giants.  Otherwise, I'm wiggling like a pupa in a cocoon again, almost all the time.  I had not realized it was so constant until we had a visitor over and I was making her feel uncomfortable because I could not be comfortable.  Posts may be few and far between for a bit.]

Okay, ridiculous may be the wrong word, coming from a guy that dealt with some rather significant physical alterations when all this began, including getting an inch and a half taller, but it's nearing that level of absurdity, once again.

I can only hope that I am close to getting the major perversions undone.

Two hours ago, I put my leg in front of me, up on the table to do a simple stretch, this time keeping the leg square with the hip socket, not allowing the knee to turn to the outside.  When I let it turn to the outside, even the slightest, I can touch my forehead to my thigh quite easily.  Hypermobility at work, I always presumed.  However, with the leg square, my stomach gets in the way, first off, and then there becomes a mass, a collection of muscles that gets pushed up the right side of my body towards the shoulder.

I tried to let it go where it could.  The results are kind of tough to describe.  My right arm has to have rotated 5-10 degrees (within the arm socket) as muscle went up through and around the shoulder, needing to sublux at one point to allow some tension to pass through it.  The tension that had been dogging me all week, down the right side of my face, though the neck and into the shoulder, was at least temporarily released.  Nearly the opposite happened in the left arm, and I can feel things, aligning themselves, throughout my torso, very much so in the muscles to the sides of my stomach.

Lastly, once again, my clothes immediately do not fit the same as before.  The long sleeve Grateful Dead long-john style shirt I wore so much this winter suddenly fits completely different around the shoulders, sagging in spots that were just this morning snug, tight and stretching in new locations.

By day, I am uncomfortable.  By night, pain joins the discomfort.  It has been worse on the days when the cooler temperatures have returned and I have not dared to go to the pool.  So, hopefully the warmth due next week will bring some relief.  You would think I would be used to enduring this crap by now, but it's different every day, and I am feeling mentally taxed as ever.  I probably believed the cold weather was over and let down my guard.

I really don't want to go through another winter like this.

Getting My Wiggle On!

[I keep having "adjustments" daily since the swimming restarted.  Very little is remaining consistent, but I have had some changes of form and thought which I think bear noting, as they may later help to describe exactly what I make of the whole "body in balance" issue / topic.]

What I Was

I believe I have already written much as to how I have felt "segmented" instead of whole, in terms of my body.  Well, another way to look at this is a if I was just like an old plastic action figure.  My arms and legs bent and turned, as did my neck, but everything was a solid.  There was limited movement within the back, really, regardless of what the arms, legs, or neck did.

An example, running track, the coach would emphasize how the right arm would lunge forward with the left leg and vise versa.  I would focus on that and make it happen, but it was in no way natural.  The surge in the right arm in didn't do anything for the left leg except in terms of physical momentum.  It kept me more balanced, as in not falling over, then keeping the arms straight down, but it did no more for me then that. 

There was not real connection between the two.  Hence, I thought them as segments, unconnected.

[It may be worth noting that part of this realization came with where I focus while doing any physical action.  In a later entry, I plan to go into more detail regarding my "leading with the hands and feet" instead of the arm of leg as a whole, using just as much thigh as calf and foot (or proportionately correct, anyways).]

How I Should Be

Two words, IN BALANCE.

This is, of course, the ultimate goal, and to properly explain this concept such that it may become quantifiable by physical measurement or some other diagnostic is the whole point of why I keep writing.

Now, to describe it in terms consistent with this post.  Balance happens while in motion as well as at rest.  The muscles within the back are supposed to be used when running.  They are supposed to work with the swivelling hips I only recently discovered.  They should cause the spine to arc, however slightly, almost oscillating as one runs, from side to side, as if to the left " ) " then to the right " ( " as such.

What I Envision

While doing my almost-but-not-quite-jogs to and from the local swimming pool, I eventually find a groove to maintain my movement and at least some semblance of posture control.  Only recently, after discovering the ability to swivel my hips, have I found an oscillation in my back.  It's still early, and I have only managed to do it once for a full mile (5+ attempts), meaning the body has not always allowed me to do it, perhaps my hips or shoulders being out of position.

Yet, what I find I envision is my absolute love, Matilda.  She was quite simply one of the most awesome dogs ever, a Pit mixed with Sharpei and maybe some Australian Cattle Dog, she was the ultimate little lover, a 55 lb lap dog (once sat on my lap all the way to Lake Tahoe, and every turn was killing my bladder).  Anyways, Matilda was a tail wagger, and the whole body wagged with it, which was pretty cool looking when it was slowish, crazy when fast.  When it happened while she wanted your attention, I'd say "Tilda has her wiggle on."  It just fit.

In very frustrating fashion, I cannot find any video as yet of Tilda doing the wiggle.  Making this whole post very off in terms of my chosen title and such.  As a consolation, at least until I find one of Matilda, here's Lizzie doing her version.  While not anything like what I do envision while jogging, it's at least cute . . .

I'll work on looking for the Tilda video.  I do think it is an excellent example, not just because it is what I envision while jogging, but because it is the natural oscillation of a torso in action, and almost as cute as Lizzie, though in an ugly cute way.  I suppose I could at least put a favorite Tilda pic up since I've been scouring my computer files.

[The Lizzie video hasn't uploaded for some reason.  Color me computer incompetent.]