The irrational shack

This afternoon I began reading The Shack by William Young. I've only read ninety pages or so, so I don't want to recommend the book yet, but I must confess it is intriguing. The novel, which claims to also be a true story, describes Mack's encounter with God in the shack. Mack's youngest daughter is killed by a serial killer, and the book deals with his struggle to cope with what he's been through. I find that what's most difficult to believe in regarding God is his existance. The belief in God seems absurd - uncomfortably similar to the grown up version of Santa Claus. One might claim that this is because we are brainwashed by popular culture, though in order to percieve the belief in God as rational I experience that one must be brainwashed to another extreme. However brainwashing has never sat too well with me. If you can put yourself in my shoes for a minute you may understand why the following paragraph grabbed my attention.

"There are times when you choose to believe something that would normally be considered absolutely irrational. It doesn't mean that it is actually irrational, but it surely is not rational. Perhaps there is a superationality; reason beyond the normal definitions of fact or data-based logic; something that only makes sense if you can see a bigger picture of reality. Maybe that is where faith fits in."

The scientist in me is not comfortable with believing in the irrational. Yet is embrasing the irrational any worse than ignoring the issue? I am also left asking myself whether I truly want the universe to be rational, in a way I think I might just prefer that it isn't.

seedless grapes; what a rip-off

After my last lecture yesterday afternoon I decided I'd walk to North Kensington Library. The Chelsea Library didn't have the next book in Simon Scarrow's series, and I wanted to read the book on the train to Canterbury tomorrow - so I decided I'd make trip of it. Now, obviously I could have taken the bus or the tube, but being stingy and felling up for the exercise I trudged off, although I didn't really know exactly where I was going. I headed north off campus and through Hyde Park, before I took a left and started walking down a broad residential street. Both pavements and the street between them were covered in some sort of sandy tarmac. It was hard and smooth, but not black, giving the street a slightly exotic feel. Along both sides there were large, impressive detatched houses behind locked gates. I quickly realised that I was walking down the main embassy street in London, and my heart gave a strange jolt as I recognised the Royal Norwegian Embassy. As I walked down the long street the houses just got bigger and more imposing, especially the Japanese embassy was quite impressive. When I finally got to the end of the street I made a left onto a busy road lined with shops on both sides. The contrast was striking, although still in the West-End this road had none of the majestic feeling about it. I had to pop into an estate agent to get redirected towards the library, where I ended up borrowing the three next Simon Scarrow books, not just the one. By this time I was hot, and I'd resorted to carrying my jacket over my arm. I knew I needed to to some shopping, but due to the fact that I was now three miles away from halls I didn't want to buy anything just yet - untill I stumbled upon the Portobello Road market. I ended up bying six oranges and a huge bunch of green grapes, which I munched on more or less continuously while negotiating my way back to halls.

I stopped to rest and eat some more grapes in Kensington Gardens, the west end of Hyde Park, and found myself in a reflective mood. As I left the library I'd decided I wouldn't listen to music on my way back, which meant I actually had the opertunity to think. If I'd known that the grapes I bought weren't seedless, I probably wouldn't have bought them, but in hindsight I'm glad I did. I was sitting on the bench eating my grapes, as I began to bite off half of the grapes, suck out the seeds, and spit them out. Normally I'd just swallow them, but for some reason I decided not to, they don't exactly add to the flavour. All of a sudden it struck me, that from the vine's perspective I was missing the point entirely. The vine only makes the grape in order to spread its seeds. Performing hormone treatment to make seedless grapes is really quite rude; I mean, we still get the grapes, but the vine that does all the work is ripped off. The grape is there to protect the seeds, and to be eaten, so that the seeds will be spread as the animal eating the grape disposes of them - quite ingenious really. This all made me think of how we sometimes miss the point. Like if someone throws away a present, but saves the wrapping paper.

On Friday I also talked to Ms Sandanandan, the Undergraduate Academic Administrar of the Chemistry Department. I told her that I wouldn't attend late afternoon Friday lectures because of my religious convictions. Well, as I've written earlier, my religious convictions are ever so slightly in termoil at the moment. Despite this I decided I wasn't prepared to go to letures. Since talking to Ms Sandanandan it has struck me how I've always maltreated the Sabbath, and still do. Living in a religious bubble most of my life I've often taken it for granted. This week-end I've be thinking. What justifies my claim not to attend lectures on Friday nights, not to play volleyball competitively on Saturdays? I might say that I don't see anything wrong with playing recreational sports on the Sabbath, or hanging out with friends, even spending time with family; but do these things justify skipping lectures, or telling my employer that I can't come in to work? After all, I don't tell my lecturers that I'll be missing their lectures because I want to spend time with my family, or because I want to read a novel; that quite simply won't do. I don't tell them that I won't be able to make it because I need to catch up on some sleep either. Yet often these are the things we spend our Sabbaths doing. We eat the grape, but spit out the seeds; we accept the part of God's gift that we like, and spit out the rest. Despite shunning legalism, Sabbath keeping seems to be all about what we can't do; but do the things we do justify our time off? Either I need to decide to keep the Sabbath properly, or give up my lame excuse for a day off.

attitude of an eagle

I was born into a family of books. Whenever my parents or my brother had time to spare they'd bury themselves in some novel. I'd often wander between them nagging for them to play. I mean, who'd sit still reading a book, if they could play instead? With time I learnt to appreciate books as well; some might say I had no choice. Looking back over the past six or seven years I realise how easily I forget how great books can be though. Because of all the textbooks I have had to read, I haven't wanted to pleasure read much. Although reading novels differs greatly from reading textbooks, it's still reading. There comes a point when your brain and your muscles tell you they have had enough - or too little respectively. On Tuesday I picked up The Eagle and the Wolves from the Chelsea Library, the fourth book in Simon Scarrow's bestselling series. I read the three first books summer. I'd only stopped reading them because I was unable to find the next book in the series at the local library in Norway. Despite the fact that I had to write a lab report this week, which has taken me far too long; I have spent a great number of hours over the last couple of days plowing through the book. I don't think I put the book down once becuase I was tired of it, every time I did, it was because I had to.

A recurring theme in The Eagle and the Wolves is the importance of morale. Even when facing certain death, the centurions Macro and Cato are forced to remain positive. The power of positive thinking is emphacised again and again. Unless we believe we can accomplish something we seldom do.

When I graduated from school in Norway, one of the things I left behind was the knowledge of that complaining could be uplifting. Many of my friends told me of how they had come to really appreciate my cynical sarcastic sense of humor. Despite this, I have also come to realise the importance of positive thinking. Intimately connected to this is the fact that we enjoy what we are good at. I hated physics for the majority of my last year in Norway, but towards the end, when I began to get to grips with the material, I was able to see why others enjoyed it. One would have thought that I'd learned my lesson, but you can't win them all though, right?? After last week's lab on thin layer chromatography I was utterly demoralised. I hated chemistry labs. I've never been a big fan of labriatory classes, usually they are a complete waste of time. And they sure do consume time!!! They munch it up like bitesized chocolate chip cookies... Well, anyway, last week I did not understand much of what we were doing. On the first day my lab partner and I didn't finish on time and we were both really stressed out. I've tried to sit down with my report all week, but things didn't really fall into place until today. Having read multiple web-pages, journals and books I am now beginning to feel that I understand what I'm working with - it's a really good feeling, trust me. The thing I like the most about teaching is seeing when my students get it; I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to finally understand something myself!

Although wallowing in self pity often produces a strange soothing sensation; it doesn't get much done. The mind is an amazing thing, we so seldom utilize its power effectively. If you feel like you need to get to grips with things though - brainwashing yourself will usually do the trick! Don't forget good old Tom.

time is overrated

The clock is ticking, but time is standing still....

My friend told me that her clock had stopped working - but it was still ticking. From time to time, we all want time to stand still. There is quite simply too much to do, and too little time.

My volleyball coach at the university wants me to join another team he coaches, London Lynx. The Lynx play in the English Premier Division, so this is quite an opertunity for me to improve. Practice is all about improving, but it is so much easier to improve if you are playing with people that are better than you. This is the case in all areas of life, it's one of the reasons I wanted to move to London and study at Imperial. Today I was supposed to bring £27 and two photos of me to practice. That was what my coach needed in order to register me for the Premier Division. Well, this moring came, but I still didn't have the money or the pictures. I got up a little before 11 am so that I could get free breakfast in the Willis Jackson common room. Practice begins at 12, and it takes 20 minutes to walk to the Ethos centre, so I figured I'd have enough time to get the cash and have the pictures taken on the way. I didn't leave my room untill 11.35, and somehow the picture booth I was convinced I had seen in the tube station, had vanished. Well, that was inconvenient, most inconsiderate considering the fact that I didn't have the time for this. I ran back to a photo shop where I knew I could get the pictures taken; but time was racing by - and the shop owner was not. He was dealing with the customers ahead of me so slowly, it almost seemed as if it was all planned as a cruel joke. Now, I must add that being late to volleyball practice is slightly more serious than it sounds. My coach hates people being late, and makes a show of demanding five push-ups for every minute you come late. Those of you that know me well realise that I am rather lazy, and not the biggest fan of push-ups around. Although I wanted to tell the shop-keeper to hurry up, I was able to restrain myself; settling with casting impatient glances at the clock on my mobile phone. As my pictures were printed out, I got ready to pay, only to realise that the guy was getting ready to carefully cut out the pictures, removing the white frame around them. I couldn't believe it! As I left the shop it was already past twelve and I still had to run from South Kensington Station to Ethos. One of my natural abilities I treasure the most, is being able to sneak around and seem inconspicuous, despite my height; arriving at least ten minutes late, I was somehow able to evade the fifty looming push-ups. In the end I didn't even need the pictures, I won't be able to register untill tuesday.

When I was in the picture shop I wished time would stand still. I wished life would go on, and leave time behind. I wished life would keep on ticking, without any clocks in the world moving. Time is something we all wish we have more of. I'm halfway to fourty, and my life has barely started!!! Yes you guessed right, time for a cliché. But seriously, if there was more time, we'd just make more plans - we'd be just as busy, we'd still be wishing we had more time. Besides, we don't want to give up the best excuse ever, now do we? "sorry, I don't have the time."

ice-cream is cold

- My feet are really cold.
- I could put on some socks.
- Clothes get dirty when you wear them, do you really want to wash clothes?
- I'm craving the chocolate ice cream I've got in the freezer.
- My feet are really cold.
- Then put on some socks and go get your ice cream!!!

Above is a pretty accurate picture of the way my brain sometimes works. I have now finished my ice cream - I have a nice little brown dot on my white shirt to prove it. Isn't it strange how a new factor can convince us to do something we've been putting off all day? There is something about putting socks on, something I cannot quite describe. When I have the day off and I'm not planning on going outside, I rarely put socks on. I only wear socks if I really have to - like if I'm going to put shoes on, or if I'm going to be around people.

Personalities are complicated, my personality is actually quite paradoxical. I love having deep, probing discussions about things that are important to me; yet I am surprisingly introverted. I've come to realise that it's way easier to open up to strangers, that to someone I already know. I guess that's probably because if you make a fool of yourself in front of a stranger, it really doesn't matter, because more likely than not you'll never see that person again. One of the few times I actually talked to the person next to me on a plane I received the full fledged love story of a sixty year old woman who was flying to Spain to meet her new boyfriend. She told me all about how her first marriage had gone wrong, and that she had been convinced there would be no more love in her life. All that had changed though, it was never to late. She was madly in love - and hoped everyone could have the same experience as her. This woman is probably the reason I haven't talked to anyone on a plane since. The problem with talking to people on planes is that if the person next to you turns out to be a nutcase, you can't really move. You're stuck with that person for the rest of the trip. You can't really start reading a book, listening to music or try to fall alseep while some person is talking to you either. Nonetheless for good or bad, you'll most likely never see that person again; so talking about personal issues really isn't that uncomfortable.

Now, opening up to someone who's going to see you pretty much every day is completely different. That person will now know something about you that not everyone else knows. All of a sudden you feel vulnerable. Well, no pain, no gain - right? Anonymous blogging really isn't that hard, no one knows who you are, so you can write more or less whatever you want. Hopefully the link to this blog on my facebook page won't change the way I write. If it changes the way people look at me - well I guess I'll have to live with that, at least they'll know who I really am.

fresher citations and other geeky tendencies

For the second year running I am a fresher. No, I didn't fail my freshman year in the States, but I am officially a dropout; a fact I somehow failed to tell my new university - Imperial College. Once again I am living the highs and the lows of the fresher experience, although the fact that I've already "been there, and done that" and that I am older than everyone else; I am purposefully experiencing a bit less than some of my fellow classmates. During my freshman year in the States I had to go through the painstaking ordeal of learning how to make citations in different formats under the perfectionistic, eagle-like Dr Leatherman. Now, at Imperial College in London, I have discovered the joys of Endnote. Endnote is a lifesaver, a grade-saver at the very least. It automatically imports sources from online journals, saves them in databases, and exports them to Microsoft Word in the format of you choice, amazing. Though my second freshman year may be more challenging in some ways, wrestling with citations will be the least of my worries.

Alright, so I guess it is about time I admitted that I am a geek. As I was sitting in lab today drawing this molecule (and enjoying it) I realised that most people probably wouldn't be fascinated by chemdraw to the extent that I was. Now, having said that, I wasn't exactly jumbing up and down in my seat, but I did enjoy it none the less. Also, I must make it entirely clear that I am far from being among the worst. Since I began studying at Imperial College I have seen my fair share of science geeks. After all, a university of 13000 undergraduates, which only offers degrees in science, technology and medicine, is bound to have an unusually high proportion of nutcases. In fact one might argue that the atmosphere resembles that of the TV-show Eureka. Once again, I feel the need to reassure both myself and my readers that I do not follow Eureka, however hard you might find that to believe. The reason why I decided to write about this in the first place is that I tend to distance myself from the average geek. Usually I am annoyed by people who are overly fascinated by a subject to the extent that they are unable not to talk about it. Please don't misunderstand, I still do find this annoying. I still find myself shaking my head at some of my fellow students' questions and topics of conversation; not to mention "extracurricular activities." Yet my fascination with Chemdraw was a wake up call nonetheless. To some extent I guess I am a geek; I am OK with that. Yet despite this I must be careful, lest my personality should slip and slide - just like my accent.

cooking

Today I cooked my first meal. I guess, having lived in London for a week now, it was about time. I share my kitchen with four other people, which has been no problem at all, so far. The kitchen is nice enough I guess, it is rather small though; though as long as only one or two of us wants to cook at once we'll be fine. The most annoying thing about the size of our kitchen is the amount of cupboard space we have. My cupboard isn't big enough to fit my frying pan or my chopping board for instance. This means that my cupboard gets really full and disorganized, and that I need to keep some of my cooking equipment in my bedroom.

I guess it's rather ironic that the times I've felt the least like cooking, is when I've had to. I guess it makes sense that something is less enjoyable when you have to do it. Somehow everything seems more enjoyable when you have the opertunity to do it, in contrast to not having a choice. Tom Sawyer's fence springs to mind. Mark Twain illustrates this phenomena so well; the power of attitude. Being able to choose makes everything so much more attractive - in the third world kids actually love school. Also, we attain far higher standards when we enjoy what we are doing. Someone who wants to learn an instrument will practice far more intently than those who practice merely in meet their parents' expectations. In school we work hader in subjects we enjoy, we also perform better in classes taught by teachers of professors we like and respect. Likewise, those who truly love their deighty serve him or her more fervently than those who do so in order to fulfill a requirement. This is why legalism is so dangerous, it will never produce true worship; this can only be obtained through love.

the second chance - at last

Today I watched Second Chance starring Michael W Smith. I don't really know what I think of it. First of all I must confess that when it comes to watching movies I am rather naïve, I'll fall for and enjoy almost any story line. So when watching the movie I wasn't really that critical. Although the plot is ever so slightly cliche, and the acting isn't the best I've ever seen - it was actually OK. As religious movies go it was actually quite enjoyable. The plot is predictable, but as long as you try not to think too much, you'll be OK. I must say though, that the message of the film is a good one, it runs along the same lines as "The Voice of Truth" by Casting Crowns. Although I find the song by Casting Crowns more compelling, Michael W and the crew do a decent job as well.

You may be wondering where I heard of the movie in the first place. Those of you that know me realise that in general I don't like Christian tv-shows or movies, such as 7th Heaven. Actually, I found the picture in this post while searching for something quite different. I was looking for an illustration of one of my earlier posts. This leads me to the second part of this blog "at last." Today I actually took a stand. Though most of you must be sick of hearing about my inability to make up my mind, I must add just one more thing. Today I walked over to my volleyball coach and told him about my situation. I don't know what he was thinking, but it turned out OK in the end, he even asked me to join another team he coaches... Now obviously this doesn't mean that I've made up my mind about everything ;p there is still a long way to go, yet I cannot help but feel relieved that I finally made up my mind about which road to take - and that I ended up taking a right.

past or present, insight or bliss

Earlier I wrote that I needed a clean slate, a chance to invent a new me. Over the past few weeks I have begun to realise that there is little point in running from your past; it runs faster than you think. However far you go, sooner or later your past will catch up with you. Rather than leaving my past behind, I have discovered that I must learn to live with my past. I don't need to let the past determine my future, but I must deal with it nonetheless; the good as the bad.

Whether you believe the bible to be fact or fiction, one of the greatest stories of perseverence and devotion ever written is the story of Joseph. Despite being sold as a slave by his own brothers, being thrown in prison by his master who he had served impeccably, and being forgotten in prison by a man he had helped when in distress; Joseph still found the strength to carry on somewhere. The story potreys god as his source of refuge, his source of strength.

As a child I found the term "traumatic childhood" intriguing for some reason, almost to the extent that I wished I could claim that I had one. Well, some years later I remembered this when filling out a form asking whether or not I had had a traumatic childhood. I no longer knew what to answer. My mother, the person closest to me in the world, had been killed by a car when crossing the road a few years earlier. I could claim to have had a traumatic childhood, but it brought me no joy. I value the perseverence of Joseph, that he stayed true to god despite his hardship, and that with god's help some good could come as a result of all the horrific treatment he had received. Joseph's fortune later in life does not justify the torment of his youth, yet when he already had been sold as a slave he chose to make the most of it despite the bleak prospects. This is an attitude I admire, is there proof it comes from god though?

On multiple occasions I have told groups about how god is able to make the most of whatever the situation, yet can we not do this ourselves? After all, it is all about having the right attitude, the strength to fight on despite our situation. I attributed my ability to live on after the death of my mother to god, it was natural to do so; yet looking back, do I know he gave me the strength or may the strength have come from my belief in him? There is a difference, the first is based on the fact that god exists, the second takes no stand as to whether god exists or not. I guess the reason I began contemplating this was that I recognised that many others experience similar tragedies to mine; they live on, yet they do not necessarily belive in god. I wish I could thank god for everything he has done for me, but how can I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he has done anything for me at all. Belief is bliss. Uncertainty is torment. Yet I would choose painful insight over blind bliss any day.

volleyball and the tube

Whoever said that university life was hectic, sure is right. Add the buzz of a metropolitan capital to that and you've got my first week so far. Yesterday was the day i treated myself to the pizza hut buffet, which was nice enough, but also reminded me that stuffing oneself full of greasy food is rather gross. (By the way, gross is a word that makes me think of what the word describes just by looking at it; who came up with that spelling????) I also went to my first Imperial College volleyball practice last night. The gym in Wilson House was pretty crowded, but it was still great to be playing again! Half-way through the practice I was told that I hade made the team, which is great, but which also brings me to this next issue. You may remember that I wrote about taking a stand for what you believe in and living up to the consequences a few weeks ago. I also wrote that I needed to make my mind up about some core issues before I began studying; well, I didn't really. As I had predicted I was forced to decide last night. Sly as I am I managed to sneak away and evade the problem, but I'm going to have to face it, VERY soon.

At the freshers fair I realised that the people I had been looking for, the kind of people I want to get to know can be found in Imperial's clubs and societies. Having common interests is a great way to start off stimulating relationships. I guess it's kind of obvious that I'd find these people in the societies I am interested in joing. Obviously friendships are based on more than merely having things in common; some of the people i find the most annoying have one or more of the same interests as me. A place full of people with my passions and hobbies is a great place to start looking though.

After volleyball practice fate had something very specific in store for me. I experienced being stuck in the tube for almost an hour. Although this was really inconvenient and annoying, especially since I had to walk all the way home, I guess it's one of those things you just need to experience whilst in London. Because of the delay on the train I also got to know Owen and Pro from volleyball. I actually ended up showing Pro the way back to Imperial since we were forced to get off the underground earlier than we had planned (good deed of the day). Cyprus has been my dream vacation destination for years, so making a Cypriot friend comes in at a good second place.

catching up

Wow, it is far too long since I last wrote! So much has happened, I don't know where to start. Most importantly my trip to Austria was a great success, other than the fact that I picked up some bug and had to tour Salzburg with a fever. I've also moved in to my new room in London. London is both amazing and intimidating, as is my new university.

Before I forget, or decide not to write this after all, I must confess that despite my ridiculously high self-esteem, I am an idiot. If I ever try to tell you that I am really intelligent, or if I go rambling on about how great I am at pretty much everything, then remind me of this. Today I got lost, I mean really lost. Having bragged about my sense of direction yesterday, my ego got a well deserved slap as I blindly walked in circles trying to find my way back to my hall. To make matters worse I couldn't ask anyone for help either, obviously, that would simply be too embarrassing. The two times I did get my act together and ask for help I was told that I was heading in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go, and red-faced forced to turn around and try again. In order for both you and I to understand which way I should go next time I am posting a street map of the area ;p





















My hall is at location A, you can see Imperial College at the top of the map. How hard can it be, right?