Complex Numbers

Blame it on the Rain

This will be entry #3 for "Journalistic Intentions"  [18+]

9. You have to look through the rain to see the oncoming bus, dump truck, and motorcycle.
Solace.Bring

I'd probably have gone with "clouds." You have to look through the rain to see the clouds.

I don't really know the original quote here, but I suspect I would be disdainful of it. As it is...

Well. I go through optimistic phases, but I'm not what you'd call an optimistic person. There's a scene I vaguely remember from Doctor Who, in the Matt Smith incarnation. I don't really remember the situation or the exact wording, and I can't seem to find it anywhere because most people associate the Doctor with optimism, but in this case he says something like, "It's not like things could get any worse." Things proceed to get worse, and then he says, "There are some sentences I should just stay away from."

In other words, it's always darkest just before things fade entirely to black.

I mean, obviously, I know it's not true. Simple statistics show that if something unpleasant happens, there's a good chance that something nice will happen afterwards, in addition to the possibility that things will get worse or that they'll stay about the same.

But, see, that's not helpful. I like surprises, but only pleasant ones. If I find an unexpected creature in my home, it would be a nice surprise if it were a unicorn, and a lousy surprise if it's a rabid coyote. So if I expect the rabid coyote and then I get the rabid coyote, I can be like, "Yep, I was right," and I'd feel good about being right all the way up until the time I'd have to get rabies shots. But if I expect the coyote and get the unicorn, well, that's a pleasant surprise. On the other hand, if I expect the unicorn and get the coyote, that's all kinds of disappointing unpleasantness.

So, yes, I'm going to expect the worst, because that way, I can feel good about being right, or I can feel good about the pleasant surprise. One thing I can never be is disappointed.

Well, that's the theory, anyway. In practice, I get disappointed quite a bit, so I just keep becoming more negative until I'm no longer unpleasantly surprised.

So to get back to the remixed quote above, I find rain to be generally pretty neutral. I know people who love it or hate it, or maybe it's situational, but to me it's like, well, I don't live in a desert (which makes me wonder just why all of these rabid coyotes are running around) and so I have to expect it to rain sometimes. It does no good to love it or hate it; it just is.

But it does tend to put a crimp in one's plans, and when that happens, I can only expect things to get worse, like I get caught in a three-way weather-induced accident between a bus, a dump truck, and a motorcycle.

And when that doesn't happen, I feel pretty good. When it does happen, I'll be dead.

Yesterday's entry included a mini-contest. The challenge was to describe the smell of coffee, because some stuffy German philosopher once said it couldn't be done.

And there were some great responses. All of them, actually. You guys can't make this easy on me. But as per the above, I expected that.

Based on the responses, I'm starting to think Wittgenstein might have been onto something after all. You can compare the aroma of coffee to some other scent, which is useful but also kind of kicks the can down the road; how would you explain these other scents? You can use metaphor, as in "the liquid essence of a black sun," which I thought was particularly poetic, but none of us have experience with black suns. And then there's the neurological route, as in "triggers the pleasure centre" (which I disagree with, but as I said, I'm not going to dismiss an attempt just because I don't like the aroma myself), but while that's accurate (for people who aren't me), it doesn't really convey the sensation.

But maybe there's really no way to convey it on a practical level. I used the example yesterday of describing "blue" to a person blind since birth, but I suspect that trying to describe the scent of coffee to someone who has never had a sense of smell would be a problem just as intractable.

As I said, I thought everyone provided a great response, but I'm going to go with the one that made me laugh.

How would a non-coffee drinker describe the aroma of coffee? Well, like this. Coffee's aroma is the closest we'll get to someone trying to set moist soil or peat on fire using a non-petroleum based ignition fluid. You could imagine something like vodka, 151 rum, or a very small amount of C-4 in this scenario. These ignition fluids can account for any trace scents that may appear against the soil-based backdrop. If it's sweet, blame the rum. If it's clean, blame the vodka. If there's a flinty or mineral note, well, C-4 could account at least for part of that.
Turkey DrumStik , I owe you a Merit Badge.

This is fun. I'll keep doing it from time to time as long as I keep getting enough responses to make it worthwhile, so everyone will have another chance soon.