Say-So

I resisted Blogger and Friendster while in hype, dismissed the popularity value, sullied the inherent self promotion factor.
Because the two phenomena focus on outward expression and communication with others, I understood “the others and their response” to be the central focal point and the purpose of engagement in Blogger and Friendster activity…

Having had some experience, my Bayesian Inference would have to be seriously re-adjusted.
Both are forums for self expression, “I” is the topic, the public nature is secondary, a response whether in form of site hits or new friendship invitations is trivial. I do obsess about the hit statistics, length of visits, origin and ISP. Work my social network to acquire new friends, write messages to strangers, search demographics and interests, compare friends in common, the number of friends, admire size and vitality of an extensive Friendster network. But, my drive is expansively Apollonian, I am very proud to say. It is about acquisition, numbers and status.
As I revel in my cyber persona, muse about being a disembodied sentinel, watching and reading, absorbing and ingesting news and information online, I reflect about my stat tracking and the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. How much the information I gather about my visitors affects my posts? I also occasionally follow the entry pages back to the visitor’s homes. Read their posts. Do they track? Do they revisit my Blog? Would the reality of my blogging experience be different if I didn’t track?
Since the subject borders on esoteric why not check out your past life experience? Only make sure to read the disclaimer, next.

Roman Polanski knows himself. In his 1962 film Knife in the Water, he dives deep into the male psyche. The setup: a married couple, the glory of whose romance is long gone substituted by petty bickering and mutual boredom, come across a hitchhiker eager to test his limits. He stops cars by standing in the middle of the road and refusing to budge.
The husband and the hitchhiker are of the same ilk, barely 20 years apart. They enter a dynamic of power play and intense competition… , challenging each other while the brief acquaintance extends over a 24 hr sailing trip. The female role is most diminutive while the fascination of the two men borders on the homo erotic. Constant handling of a knife raises the tension which is only occasionally interrupted by carefree moments of laughter, play and fooling around. The young man’s sexual interest in the wife becomes soon apparent as personal space is scarce, bathing suits wet and change of clothes often required. The husband’s suspicion is aroused as he wakes from sleep and discovers that both are gone from the cabin. Even though the two are found engaged in fixing a sail before the morning departure, the husband’s temper is spoilt. The hitchhiker is thrown outboard in a fight. In the same continuos spirit of challenge and competition the young man hides behind a buoy while the couple keeps diving to find him, setting up the mood for a scene where a possible murder took place. Further confrontation and bipartisan loathing is intensified between the man and his wife. The husband swims away to the shore, while she remains behind and some time later hauls the boat back to the dock. Back in the car, she questions her husband whether he intends to turn himself in, to the police. He emotionally accepts the reality of having killed a man and takes the route towards a police station, the wife confesses that the young man in fact hasn’t drowned and that they had a sexual encounter before sailing in. The car is stopped at a crossroad. The husband must decide which to believe - that he has killed a man, or that the youngster has deceived him and his wife has betrayed him. The car remains at the intersection as the film ends - beautifully.

A few days ago I finally shelved a book which in many respects was an undercurrent in my personal life for the past 2 years.
The title: “The Mating Mind” by Geoffrey Miller. The glossary section at the end of the book defines terms such as “assortative mating”, “fitness indicator”, “extended phenotype”, it also lists - “death”. Death is defined as “A misfortune that precludes further courtship or reproduction”. The meaning of life, according to Sexual Selection Theory promoted by this book, can be inferred
from that definition.
It is a tremendous leap to understand how the biological reproductive differences between genders, expressed through social behavior, altered by evolution over a couple of million years, have amounted to our modern society where we all share in the pool of “millions of acts of courtship, in which we are neither the producer nor the intended receiver”. Humans as species, have been pre-selecting creativity, fantasy and flare as exciting courtship models, conditioning our minds to produce most amazing works of art and fiction. Yet these are the same qualities which make us fallible to “forms of ideological display:
(such as) armchair speculation, entertaining narratives, comforting ideas and memorable anecdotes”, making it easy to deviate from logical scientific reasoning and analysis. I will quote this witty and insightful paragraph, which sums up the point:
“Imagine some young hominids huddling around a Pleistocene campfire, enjoying their newly evolved language ability. Two males get into an argument about the nature of the world, and start holding forth displaying their ideologies. The hominid named Carl proposes:
‘We are mortal, fallible primates who survive on this fickle savanna only because we cluster in these jealousy-ridden groups. Everywhere we have ever traveled is just a tiny, random corner of a vast continent on an unimaginably huge sphere spinning in a vacuum. The sphere has traveled billions and billions of times around a flaming ball of gas, which will eventually blow up to incinerate our empty, fossilized skulls. I have discovered several compelling lines of evidence in support of these hypotheses…’. The hominid named Candide interrupts:
‘No, I believe we are immortal spirits gifted with these beautiful bodies because the great god Wug chose us as his favorite creatures. Wug blessed us with this fertile paradise that provides just enough challenges to keep things interesting. Behind the moon, mystic nightingales sing our praises, some of us more than others. Above the azure dome of the sky the smiling sun warms our hearts. After we grow old and enjoy the babbling of our grandchildren, Wug will lift us from these bodies to join our friends to eat roasted gazelle and dance eternally. I know these things because Wug picked me to receive this special wisdom in a dream last night.’ ”
Needless to say, Eve and Candide got together and went on to produce many children and great, great, great grand children. And so we are today, still believing in the ancient bed time story made up by our great grand father - Candide.
Thank You, Juan.