Knowledge is Dangerous

So I'm flying out of Logan Airport to see my parents (50th Anniversary!) in the A-T-L when my bag gets flagged by the TSA on way to the gate.  (left the laptop charger in there!)

The officer asks if there's some device in there and I point out which pocket the charger is in.  After identifying it, he then asks "Looks like you've got some books in here."
(Hmmm, I think - interesting, he says that as if it is some kind of exotic item.  I look around and see all my fellow travelers deeply immersed on their tiny screens.)

"Yes, a couple of paperbacks" I reply.

"Well, I'll have to a look." He says apologetically.  When I stare at him incredulously, he clarifies "Since you were flagged, I have to take a look."

(Is he going to judge me for my predilection for low brow science fiction?)

He pulls out the two paperbacks and quickly flips though them. "Nothing in here, do you agree?"

(I so want to say "Well, reading can lead to knowledge which can lead to ideas and some of those ideas might be dangerous on the flight, but I can limit my reading if that will make the other passengers feel safer."  but I look up and think, this guy probably doesn't have much of a sense of humor.)

"Well, they do have words in there...." I can't resist.

He silently hands me the books and my bag. "Have a nice flight."

1 year older and 2 minutes slower

At least I finished!  The Bro (Phil) and my new sister-in-law (Ramya) came out for the latest Rideout tradition (does 2 years make a tradition?).    I was the slowest, but I am also the oldest!



I caught up with KC for the reward beer at the end.  She smoked us all:



Part 2 of the tradition:  Lunch at the Local after:

Zero Hero

Fresh off of watching the two part documentary "Everything and Nothing" from Dr. Al-Khalili in Astronomy class and I am thinking about the nature of reality.  That unsettling feeling that some profound insight is lurking in my mind that is too big to be held inside my head bothers me in a self indulgent way.

Carlo Rovelli's book on Reality resurfaces in my mind tinged with my partial understanding of Alan Guth's seminal work on inflationary theory.  Sean Carroll's The Big Picture is a huge contributor as well to the nebulous thought that some kind of epiphany is lurking, not quite ready to emerge from my subconscious.



Al-Khalili reminded me that there is no nothingness - the vacuum is teaming with virtual particles.  Guth calls the Universe the "ultimate free lunch" as it inflates from a quantum fluctuation.  Rovelli showed me that it is the fields that bring about reality not the other way around.  These ideas are swirling around in my head like Sean Carroll's argument about complexity: now is the only epoch in the evolution of the Universe that is interesting (like the cream not yet stirred completely into the coffee).  In the past, it was all energy with no structure; in the future it will be all structure with no energy.  Only now do we have both.

All of the conserved quantities (charge, energy, momentum, etc.) add up to zero in this vast Universe so far as we can tell.  But what a glorious zero it is!

2 + (-2) 

has quantities within and operations between and implied relationships beyond and I could build a more complicated and even more exciting zero by squaring and square rooting the expression.  Take this mathematical game out as far as it will go and we might even build a Universe of our own!

I too am undeniably a zero.  Pretty insignificant in the scheme of things for sure and yet, also undeniably, the most important thing in my own life is my own consciousness.  Without my own perspective, there is no me to love the others around me, to hold these crazy thoughts in my head and to share them out to the two or three people who will eventually read this far into my post.  I can wallow in my inconsequence or, in my relations with others, I can create a reality of sorts around me. I can choose to be the hero of my own narrative and add up to zero in an interesting way.

Photograph 51

Just back from Central Square Theater with Isabelle, having see this play about Dr. Rosalind Franklin.  The rampant sexism, her contribution to the determination of the structure of DNA, the possibility of slight changes in choices affecting destiny, faith, love, death, loneliness, and the power of collaboration all came together in this intimate, modern theater.

The play is running through April 14 - I highly recommend you see it if you can get to Cambridge!

Astro Field Trip

MIT's Haystack Observatory.

You can see the radome for their 37 meter radio dish in the background. 

When a Six is Not a Zero

I've always had bad handwriting, but usually I'm the only one who pays the price.  However, check out this story that just played out much to my chagrin:
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A student (AA), who usually does well in class, came by to take a look at her recent test on rotational motion (grades were posted online but I hadn't returned the tests themselves as some kids still need to take it).  A little testy about her not waiting until I return them to the entire class, I reluctantly agree to let her take a look ("I thought I did well and I just want to see where I went wrong." - how do you say "wait another week until everyone has finished taking it" to that?)

As I dig up the various sections of her test, I start lecturing her on playing the long game rather than the short game: "It's just one test, maybe you had a bad day".  Then I find her open response section: a B+ on a test that had a C average. "Ouch - you must have really bombed the multiple choice section" I say helpfully as I hand that over to her.  Now she's visibly agitated as something must have really gone wrong; her confidence is really shaken as she worries about what shenanigans happened on the other section.  I unearth her multiple choice section and see another B+.  Unable to contain myself I start lecturing her on the dangers of perfectionism and maybe even point a finger at her while saying "What? You did great on this hard test - what are you worried about?"

She looks confused for a moment and then looks at me and calmly says "If I have a B+ then why does it say I have a C- on Eschool?"

As the tower of righteousness inside of me crumbles into sheepish embarrassment, I look at my grade book for the first time and see that a 16 out of 18 really (really!) looks like a 10 out of 18 when I recorded her multiple choice grade in my chicken-scratch handwriting.  I show her the grade without making any eye contact and as I hope to just disappear somehow when she says "How come you didn't double check my grade when you know I normally do better?"

"Everyone has a bad day every now and then, don't they?" I stammer and melt into a puddle...