Today, I learned a secret so deep and dark that even *I* did not know it.
Today, I learned that I...
...am part of the Illuminati conspiracy.
You see, I was born on November 23rd.
It all makes sense now, doesn't it? (I wish.)
Personally, I think it has much more to do with my other new thing for the day: apophenia, the tendency to look for patterns in random or meaningless data.
(Which to me, isn't such a bad thing...yeah, the universe is complex and chaotic and the human mind has a tendency to make up explanations for things it doesn't understand, which is how we wound up with myths and superstition, but... without those patten-seekers, how much would we know about the world we live in? After all, the "random" patterns aren't *really* random, all the time... there's some very complex math behind such seemingly random, natural patterns as are found in lightning, sunflowers, and snowflakes. I think there's some pretty sophisticated order going on in the midst of all that disorder. One can't know whether a pattern has inherent meaning or not until some science has been applied to it, and meanwhile, random patterns *are* amusing. (Or it could just be that, as a librarian, I naturally tend to try to classify and organize things. ;) )
The problem lies in assigning deep, hidden meaning to patters that are, say, mere accidents of our own numbering systems and calendars. Would the 23 Enigma work with the Venusian calendar? (Probably, yes, but I'll bet it wouldn't work with the same calendar dates!) Would it work in hexadecimal? (The "0x17 Enigma"? O_o) Conspiracy theorists make me crazy because they defy scientific method and laugh sweet reason all to scorn in the pursuit of their pet notions. They ignore historical record as suspect (which it is, because it's written by people, but it's certainly written by people with LESS of an agenda than the conspiracy theorists), and twist facts into pretzels to suit their preconceived conclusions. And you can never completely refute them, because yes, practically anything IS possible! But that something is *possible* does not make it in any wise *probable.* (And yes, I know. That's exactly what "They" want me to think.) ARGH! I want to take Dan Brown and Kevin Trudeau and bonk their heads together. Seriously, have these people never heard of Occam's Razor? (But of course I would say that, as I am part of the Conspiracy.)
(By the by, a really long parenthetical spinning off the main theme like this is known as an excursus, from the Latin excurrere, "to run out," which is where we get the word "excursion" from. Nice to have you along on the trip.))
Don't ask me why (I'm fairly certain it had nothing at all to do with what I'd dreamt the night before, or work, or anything else), but I woke up this morning trying to remember how one gets out of quicksand. (Yes, "remember"-- no, I've never been stuck in it myself, but if you haven't read the Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook, you're doomed, friend, DOOMED!)
As it turns out, I learned two new things in the process, so this is both Two New Things *and* a PSA! See? It's good to know a librarian! I could save your life with this information someday, should you ever become trapped in the Lightning Sand of the Fire Swamp, being threatened by fierce, bloodthirsty R.O.U.-- no, wait, wrong reality. (And actually, Lightning Sand is more like dry quicksand-- thought 'til recently to be a myth, never reliably documented in nature (although I have my suspicions about the hungry sands of the Desert of Lop), and considerably more dangerous... but I digress...)
Public Service Announcement: How to Escape Quicksand
Where to beware: Naturally-occurring quicksand can occur near marshy, brackish areas, shorelines, salt flats and other tidal regions, regions of recent flooding, and yes, even deserts. Earthquakes are also said to create quicksand-like regions along the fault by destabilizing and liquefying the sand/soil. (If you get caught in quicksand during an earthquake, you probably have bigger things to worry about.) Gravel and sand quarries are another place to be on the lookout and step carefully. (You remember that 10' pole that was part of the standard D&D adventurer's kit? This would be a good use for it.)
Point One: If you're ever trapped in quicksand, STAY CALM. Do not thrash about. Thrashing only helps to separate the sand and water into uneven globs of solid (trapping you) and liquid (making you sink), causing you to work yourself deeper and mire into it. Trying to just yank a foot out is going to take a lot more force than you can exert-- like, enough "to lift a medium-sized car," according to an article in Nature. (Good luck with that.)
Point Two: Most naturally-occurring quicksand is only a couple of feet deep, not deep enough to actually *sink* in. (Of course, if you've tumbled in head-first, you've got yourself a bit of a problem, as our redundant air intake system is unfortunately located only an inch or so away from our primary air intake system. Poor design, there. ;) )
Point Three: If you have successfully navigated Points One and Two, relax. Lie back slowly and spread out your arms. The human body is less dense than quicksand. By lying back and floating (pretend you're in the pool), and wiggling your legs in very small circles (to encourage the water to flow down your legs and back into the solid sand trapping your feet), you should be able to free yourself, float to the surface, and paddle gently to the edge. (Remember, no sudden movements, they'll only get you stuck again.)
Point Four: Don't panic, but do be alert to your surroundings. The good news is that most people trapped in quicksand don't die of suffocation or drowning-- they die of exposure, flash flooding, or rapidly returning tides. Isn't that comforting?
Onward! To the Two New Things
Thing One-- the fact that you can actually float in quicksand? That's a recent discovery. So is the fact that quicksand is made with *salt*, not *fresh* water. Read more about it here.
Thing Two-- the most dangerous, notorious spot in the world for quicksand? Nope, it isn't hidden in the rainforests of South America or the deep African jungle or anything like that. It's in the far north of England, in Morecambe Bay, a place where the footing is so treacherous that royal guides are appointed to lead people across, and the tides come in faster than a racing horse. (Note that, although this reminded me a great deal of Castle Aaaaarrrrrr-- er, Stalker, that turns out to be located in Scotland.)
Thing Three-- And while I'm at it, this has spurred a Third New Thing, because something about Morecambe Bay's fast tides tickled my memory, and I wound up learning all about St. Michael's Mount (which is, alas, iin Cornwall, which is the southwest of England) and other tidal islands. I have an incomplete recollection of a book (children's? young adult?) featuring a ruined castle on a tidal island with a disappearing causeway, and fast, treacherous tides that could drown the unwary. If you approached the ruin at the right time of day from the right angle, it wasn't a ruin at all-- the causeway would take you across to a magical land in a medieval setting when the castle still stood, and that's exactly what the kids do in the book, following a rider onto the magic causeway and getting themselves into no end of trouble (of course). But for all that I can remember the details-- the rival baron's colors were red and black, I believe-- I can't remember title or author of the book.
::wanders off to do searches for an hour::
AHA. Sneaky, sneaky. It's not a whole book! I'm almost positive the story I'm thinking of is the novella "Everard's Ride," included in Diana Wynne Jones' Unexpected Magic. Now I'm going to have to check it out and read it again to be sure... ah, such a wearisome life I lead.
Oh, and (Thing Four!) by the by, did you know that sand dunes really *can* sing? Go, Marco!
I have a headache.
Our quiet, planned, SIMPLE server upgrade is a mess, thanks to a stupid mistake someone (no, NOT me) made about 8 years ago (the guy hasn't worked here in nearly that long, but I think there's still a voodoo doll with his name on it in the server room).
I'm going to run off and become a Luddite, and this will be my doctrine:
"LANs are T3H 3V1L, and there is a special place in Hell reserved for networked printers."
. o O (you know... it isn't terribly convincing in L33T, is it?)
I love when a book forces me to look up words; not surprisingly, historicals do it to me more often than others. It *does* surprise me, though, when it happens in a trashy romance. ;) (Although, true, Regencies-- tho' this technically is a "Georgian"-- still fit the bill of "historicals.") So, from the pages of Jo Beverley's Malloren Chronicles, I give you:
muniment room: An archives room, generally in a noble house (though the same term was used for churches, universities, guilds, etc.), where important business documents were kept-- specifically, documentary evidence, bills of sale, proof of inheritance, deeds, etc., proving ownership of property or right to title. The word shares a root with munition (Medieval Latin munimentum, defense, protection, from Latin munire, to fortify) in that muniments were used to defend a title, as munitions defended the physical holding.
greensickness: a.k.a. chlorosis (think "CHLOROphyll" and you'll get the connection). A malady of young women characterized by a yellowish-greenish cast to the skin (hence the name), menstrual problems, irregular heartbeat, and shortness of breath. Curiously enough, yes, plants can get it, too. Today, it's believed to have been caused by hypochromic anemia or iron deficiency (although other vitamin deficiencies, tight corsets, TB, and anorexia might've complicated a diagnosis). It was occasionally used as an excuse for a young woman's behavioral irregularities (in much the same way that "that time of the month" is used today).
Look, it's spreading all over the site!
Right, so:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
::looks at her closest pile:: Too short, too short, I'll spare you the dictionary-- ah, here we go, Alberto Manguel. ... aaaand p. 123 is the end of a chapter, with insufficient lines for the meme. Right. Next....
Peter Earle. Wow, this guy writes LONG sentences. More than halfway down the page, the sixth sentence begins (pray note that this is 18th century spelling, NOT my typos):
"The campaign has been 'soe much unfortunate', he wrote, 'as not to have accomplist any part of the designe sent for, which indeed must be imputed in a great measure to the mispending our time and loytering away in port'. His judgement was confirmed a couple of months later in a letter from Bombay, though this writer believed that, despite the navy's negligence and preference for private trade over duty, the very presence of royal ships in the Indian Ocean had had the desired effect. 'The men of warr sent out to suppress them have not taken one right step to effect what they were designed for, though it's our opinion that the very noise of their being come out hath kept this coast clear ever since last rains.'"
-Earle, Peter. The Pirate Wars. (New York: Thomas Dunne Books), 2003, p. 123.