This morning there was a feature on autism in females on the BBC World Service. I can’t find it online, but there’s something in the Independent about the issue.
Apparently one trait that is a symptom of autism in females is when someone is talkative one-on-one but super-quiet in a group. I’m definitely not autistic (at least I don’t think so), but that social awkwardness one of my defining personality traits. At least people with autism have a medical reason for being different, I’m just difficult.
But tonight we’re covering criminal profiling in my psych class, and that’s pretty cool. I’m sure I share way fewer personality traits with serial killers. Because I’m not a psychopath, I’m just difficult (hehe).
Guess what we almost froze our toes off doing last weekend? Watching the police from the Lothian and Borders, Strathclyde, Tayside, Fife, and Northumbria constabularies keep the far left away from the far right on the Royal Mile, that’s what!
The original plan was to head out for a long walk but my curiosity was piqued when we couldn’t cut through to the Mile. So we hung around near Holyrood Palace (well away from any protestors) and stickybeaked. There was a huge number of police out in force. All we saw of the ‘conflict’ were the ‘anti-Fascist’ protestors, who seemed blissfully unaware that their demands to purge fascists from our streets were pretty fascistic in the essence (something I’ve bleated about before), and all we could hear from their chanting and singing were the words ‘Nazi’ and ‘fascist’ — not the effect they were intending, I’m sure.
And Neil pointed out that a large number of anti-fascist protestors were part of socialist / communist groups, who are ignoring that the Nazis were the National Socialist party. The far right and left live next to each other in the circle of political extremism.
Via Dave (on Facebook).
We’ve watched a couple of episodes of The Virtual Revolution, presented by Aleks Krotoski. Neil is slightly cynical and scornful of what’s been said, but as my mum likes to say, stuff on the telly needs to be pitched at the lowest common denominator (hence the series Snog Marry Avoid?, which is an abomination). We spend a lot of time online and we’re a bit older, so I like to think we’re a bit wiser about the whole Ingterneck thing than the yoof today.
For starters, it was really refreshing (or super geeky) to watch a documentary on the Beeb and recognise the names of almost all the people being interviewed. It’s really amazing to think that the Web is 20 years old. I’ve been using it regularly for about 15 years!
This final episode about Homo Interneticus was very interesting, because I can’t imagine not knowing what life was like without being connected to a digital network 100% of the time, while 12-18 year olds can’t imagine their lives without the always-on nature of the web network. I do agree that if you spend a huge amount of time online, like I do, you’re in danger of forgetting that it’s only a tool that enhances our real lives. That’s what the yoof need to learn and understand.
What I’ve noticed that’s changed in me over the last five or six years is my already-short attention span is getting shorter. I continue to read books, which is probably the only thing that’s preventing me from having the memory of a brain-damaged goldfish, but I zip in and out of things much more quickly — as described in the interview above. I find the Internet invaluable when I’m researching something in depth (especially if it puts me in contact with an expert), but if I’m just browsing, I pick up a hell of a lot of shallow information.
(Plus I really liked the empirical proof that having lots of ‘friends’ on Facebook means bugger all because we still, in reality, have an upper limit of around 150.)
I have a penpal in Knoxville who I write to on an extremely (disappointingly) infrequent basis. She’s a lot better than I am at it.
So I write on this site and a lot of copy as part of my job (the wonders of marketing). They’re all on hard drives. Sometimes I note things down on a little notebook — even though I have a fancy phone that I can make notes on (it’s got a QWERTY keyboard, I think I love this phone). Somehow the act of picking up a pen and writing something down seems more final, like I’ve made a decision about something.
(I sound like a teenager. Hitting the DEL or backspace key is too easy, so the physical act of writing feels more permanent, even if you cross something out. The thought was there.)
Is this the time for more letter-writing? I think so. I’ve accumulated loads of postcards in my years of “Oh that’s cute I might use it some day” hoarding, so I’m going to start writing to some of my friends, the ones I think I’ve got current addresses for, and let them know I’m thinking of them. Without poking them on Facebook in a randomly irritating fashion. And wouldn’t you know it, some of my pals don’t actually have Facebook profiles!
(Does anyone poke anymore?! It seems quite old-fashioned given all the weird apps you can get there now.)
Chest, Heart and Stroke Scotland are doing another urban obstacle race this May. Not the Urbathon, it’s the much more tongue-twisty Urbanathlon. It took over two months for my ankle to heal when I twisted it in October doing the Urbathon, so I’m not sure if it’s the right challenge for me. Plus I still haven’t sent in my sponsorship form (but all the cash was donated on the day) from that run because I’m extremely crap. But it’d be a good thing to get me into training again — I now have gloves and a hat so my fingers and ears don’t fall off with the cold and wind running in Holyrood Park.
Neil and I saw the Mastercrafts episode on green wood craft last night. It was really lovely to see people pushing themselves to acquire a new and very cool skill (Neil didn’t have anything too troll-like to say, which is an indicator of a good production).
I’d love to say that I’d like to go on one of these programmes to learn something new, but given that these first three novices had already proven some competence with woodworking — either as a hobby or profession — I believe I’m a bit fucked. I can barely look after myself in a world filled with modern conveniences. I’m ridiculously accident-prone. And I don’t think being able to sew sock monkeys and crochet ducks are skills that would be highly prized when The Shit Hits The Fan and we end up in some Dark Angel-like dystopia.
In other words, if the apocalypse is comes and there are a finite number of people you can save to re-populate the human race, I would advise against selecting me.
Nothing like a new theme to try and make up for crappy non-writing-ness.
This is quite funny, too. Welcome to Glesgae!
Heeheehee.
Neil and I saw Die Welle on the weekend. It’s based on a true story, and in this version the seemingly ultra left-leaning teacher Rainer Wenger sets up an experiment with his students to see if fascism could thrive in Germany today.
At first the students are completely sceptical, but once the experiment starts, many of them are wholly absorbed in The Wave (the name of their group) — especially the social outcast, Tim, who finds a real sense of belonging as The Wave ends up becoming a real phenomenon.
You can see where this is going. I don’t actually need to spell it out for you, do I — it’s got a fairly predictable plot, but it’s still a decent film. It was also interesting to note that German neds are pretty much the same as Scottish neds.
(Neil drew my attention to this film because I’d told him about something I’d heard about in my Psychology class, the Stanford prison experiment. That was really fascinating.)
Verdict: Predictable, but worth renting on DVD.
Under ordinary circumstances my eyes will glaze over when dance music is put on. I’m not much fun in clubs. Neil usually knows better than to torture me with the stuff. But I’m happy about the day he made me listen to BT, the man’s super-talented.
Fame beckons. The Culture Show (BBC 2) featured an interview with the boss, and they came to our office to shoot some extra stuff (meetings, the office, our books). After years of having a camera stuck in my face (thanks, Chuen), I’ve become very good at deliberately ignoring cameras.
The shot through the office features a slightly out-of-focus me in my favourite stripey cardigan, horribly hunched over at my PC. It’s only a second but my mother would be very disappointed that my posture is so incredibly poor.