Day 20: Why do cooler things cool you down faster than only semi-cool things?

I think that when two substances of different temperatures are in contact, an equilibrium scenario occurs. Remember that heat is a type of movement and energy. When two substances are in contact, let’s say a cold substance and a warm substance, there are particles in the cold substance that bump into the particles of the warm substance to give them energy, but this is less likely, and happens less than the event of a particle of the warm substance bumping into the cold substance and transferring more energy. This means that an equilibrium is reached at a lower temperature than if you used a slightly warmer cool substance. Temperature will reach an equilibrium like this, and will have a lower overall temperature at the end, because the overall temperature in the beginning was colder. I think also, that the rate of this reaching of equilibrium may be increased by lower temperature substances, because the probability that heat will transfer to rather than away from the cold substance. It’s far more likely. Another thing to take into account is specific heat capacity. If something is just naturally and usually colder in the open air, this could relate to its specific heat capacity. Something such as a metal would need more heat to make it warm, and therefore would decrease the equilibrium overall temperature at the end of a temperature equalization of two substances. Any of these reasons would seem logical in the case of two substances of different temperatures. I have actually used specific heat capacity in a lab, and know that it definitely plays a huge role in this kind of occurrence. I think it is also important to consider that there is a difference in rate of shift and gravity of shift. I belief that rate of shift is affected by the separation in temperature, and that gravity of shift is affected both by separation in temperature and by specific heat capacities of the two substances.

Day 19: Trying out Some Nonsense

A NURBLE HUBBLE BUBBLE

Brendan: There was a nurble hubble bubble on my wavy gravy in my itsy bitsy ear. It surely had a wobble hobble slobble, for my guide was squishy fishy squash and randle mandling. I ding a darry domphous, and fishy flashy flompous. Down to doom, and doom falls dafter. Half the day was never after.

Noah: Since hefted befted on the crefted, Ted gave me a kaloo (a bamboo sort of hambou, with a kazilimoog chireah on the side). Indeed it snervel scraffoped a bush of welly pride. I had to surp the zoomba to Kroomba with my ma, but after that adventure, I spattled myself drah.

Brendan: Hamine flymer, shooble slimer, winkum, flankum kra.

Noah: Over a hill, there was a lumpy Tomkin Cream, which sent out every hour, a horrible death-ray beam. My mum said, “Never stray, for he has a goat!” But did this stop me from juling my kaboat? No, I put bingues in the chowder ‘til it exploded with gunpowder over the wetter zamboni petting zoo.

Brendan: My hamster began screaming the national flubber crumpet at the top of his screeching leachy lungs. I fumbled for the telly-phone, but stumbled on my tongues. My sprain came feak and weeble, as I fell towards the spade. A rather spightly catapult had slooped a handheld blade. “Oh no!” I screlled and yeamed, cause beanie tree on fart.

Noah: Floating hubber zumpkins had consumed my poochy wummer trelgon zart!

Brendan: Spon-heebie cheebie lobe-a-phobe, my scrombidilious ped. Squishicles forever, even in my powdered shed. When someone has a fomkin, and wooden yabbar smed, I usually sing fo-fairy, before I burn my bed. Although it is quite hairy when snots invade my head.

Noah: Yiddilicuse Marfaroon was my trilly zarber fairy zooze, who made the most traliguous Philbert Zadder poos. Hanford moved to Scranton, chiming mumps about the Crabbaton, while Mrs. Chillybum chewed grombini soggy llama flabby pond.

Brendan: My quindle findle sponder plat, how I detest thee. I fondle mondle spindle hat has Neesy’s steamy tree.

Brendan: Zambiniphobical slug had madarosis, and was plagued by bad mitosis. So the day Aunt Mimi came to stay was spatter worse that I can say. She slumped over for a hug, but quist instead and dratched my slug. His mace ferned bream, and spotty cafter, then spinky gleam and lolled with laughter. A tongue flipped out, and slipped a swipe. My dear Aunt Mimi cursed a pipe. She leamed and steamed and beamed about, but couldn’t stop that genie clout. It slurped and slucked her fingers dry, then jumped right down to mill her thigh. Events of these have spu-glung crafter, while you grenide and flap a rafter. So bend your days, and plonk ever after.

Brendan: Wilbur whiffles past my toes. As hanky pops, Pamozy foze.

Brendan: So as I stred my fu-chung plops, gears drip kibble on my dong crops. Lumpy bomkin came thumpy tomkin along Rockechan Mockechan Road. Fiddle hum-hee rang the mat on the puddle. Moosy had rashed with baboosy gaffudle. Gumpus happatonic marsaroon, my panting fanties chant. How great the eye of moldy cheese and fetitidilious ant.

GUIDE:

The original version, written on very small pieces of paper, was completed in my sixth grade (2007) with the joint effort of Noah and I (Noahs blog: http://noahringler.wordpress.com/). This version went only to the ninth line, at Neesy’s steamy tree. I later lengthened this later that year, adding line ten. Line ten almost stands alone, as a poem. In seventh grade, I once again got into this writing, and added lines ten and eleven. In the end, it’s not as much of a shared work, but it stands as one of the best nonsense works I have ever written in.

BEYOND THE PICKLED PANIAC GROVES

Beyond the pickled paniac groves,

Below their flowering whites,

Grows spotty frops of rosy roves,

Dancing at towering heights.

They rustle and crackle in the wind,

That thistels through the trees.

A crottle sits upon his tin,

And croakes ‘long the breeze.

“So vot a nine, quill and quatter,

My bonnif single kay,

Foodles crog my pilly hatter.

As long rings out the may.”

His song tings out across the roves,

As rosy as their ever.

He rives back down to paniac groves,

And rolls his tin but never.

Wind flimes down on spotty frops,

And cease their shaky manner.

Cottles leap down notty zops,

and ‘lease their tin and kanor.

GUIDE:

I wrote this for a poem assignment in sixth grade. I only edited it just now, and it had many things that were different about it. Some of the words and rhyme did not flow as well in the original. Even now, not all of the words hit the right note at the right time. It is still one of my favorites.

Day 18: Chapter One of The Great Spenley

     Henry left the storage container as quickly as possible. His legs nearly failed him as he made for the door, muscles clenching and protesting at their sudden ability to access such range of motion. He shook his head, as if relieving himself of a veil of confusion, and stretched his arms. The hay on the ground smelled slightly stale, and was a good year past fresh. As he his feet felt the ground for several more steps, it cracked under his feet, dry and shriveled. He stepped into a sliver of light, slid over his face, illuminating the sharp bony curves of him, and his eyes squinted upward, staring in  glorious hopefulness towards the unknown.

     Such light had been unknown to Henry for longer than he could remember. The coming of The Great Spenley was more glorious than he had ever thought it could be. His cracked lips spread, and in spite of the pain it caused him, he let the joy take hold of him, stepping forward more quickly. As he came to the crack through which the light spread, he found he found there to be two wooden doors. Henry wondered at their immensity, towering five feet over his head. The Caputor had not told him of this step in detail, but Henry felt he knew well enough. He slipped his fingertips into the crack, and began to strain against its massive stillness, pulling with all his strength. The wood moaned, dust falling down from above, but would not budge more than a few inches, as if something was in place to keep it stuck.

     ”Es bueno ver que El Caputor me ha dado la verdad,” a deep voice behind him, observed coolly in a flawless Spanish accent. Henry pictured in his head whether it was Silas or Simon. The Caputor had shown him Silas’ crouched figure, and his beady eyes. Although he brought to mind the image of a rat, even from the pictures, he always seemed in deep thought. It must be him.

     ”Silas, nous rencontrons enfin,” Henry ventured, perfectly reproducing The Caputors French accent without difficulty.

     ”Close, Henry, but no cigar. You know, we should really start speaking in our default English” Simon stepped into the light. His curly hair seemed unaffected by confinement, and his face smiled consistently. The voice did not fit into the picture very well, like an unintelligent life form with the ability to speak perfectly. Henry turned, slightly embarrassed, but was interested in his strange comment.

     ”Perhaps you haven’t heard of cigars. They seemed to be one of the many ways the humanoid forms of planet Earth took pleasure in killing themselves with.” Simon looked off and up at the big doors, mind wandering. “I had The Caputor tell me all sorts of things about all of the humanoid form planets. The irrelevance of their idioms is fascinating.” Simon continued to stare upward, uninterested in Henry’s presence.

     ”Give me hand with these doors,” Henry reached again between the crack, beginning to pull again, but Simon stopped him.

     ”Have you tried pushing yet?”

 

     It was the first time Henry had seen The Caputor to inaccurate. The area outside the storage barn was barren, rather than being covered with green grass, the ground was covered with pale orange sand and dust. A breeze whistled by, tossing up the two discoverers’ hair. Simon kicked at the ground with his bare toe, stubbing his toe on a chunk of orange rock, wincing in pain. He swore loudly, and after a few seconds of looking out at the nothingness, swore again, as its it were the spiteful last words that would pass between his lips along with his last breath.

     ”I’ve reviewed the orientation several times, and I know it didn’t mention this.” Henry peered out over the empty horizon. A swirl of dust rose up here and there, but Henry imagined he could hold a ruler up to where sky met the endless desert, and it would match up just about right. Not a mountain or rock dared rise above the untouchable horizon.

     Henry searched his memory for anything the captor had mentioned about their location that was important. It had told him that they had been placed on Lunas Dextras, and would be able to see Lunas Sistris above the horizon at the time of their waking, a single star, and most importantly of all, The Great Spenley, which would appear as a black point, ringed by three green points visible and lit even in daylight. Everything was just as The Caputor had said, but The Great Spenley was nowhere to be seen. Now that he thought about it, Henry also thought something was off about the sun. He remembered The Caputors charming slow voice explaining how Lunas Dextras required a climatic adjustment system to counter cold temperatures. Giant convection generators and core heating charges had been set to rekindled life on Lunas Dextras, but from the pure heat Henry got from the sun made such an idea sound silly.

     Simon had walked back into the storage barn. Henry backed into the barn, still staring out on the horrendous world, and could feel his heart beating. Suddenly there seemed to be a lot less air to breath. He turned and ran back to his storage crate, kicking hay out of his way. He opened the console attached to long-term sleeping device, and realized something he hadn’t before. A red warning blinked on the screen.

 

    WARNING: EMERGENCY AWAKENING

POWER LOW

 

     ”Caputor, output power levels.” Henry tried to keep his voice steady.

     ”Battery levels are at 1%. Please remember that you are in the awakening phase. Please proceed to the doors, see for yourself the majesty of The….. Grrrrrrrrrrreeaaaaaaaa”- the console flashed blue for two seconds, before turning black. Until now, Henry had not noticed the continuous humming sound it had made. Suddenly it had gone, and the silence in the barn, but for the muttering of Simon was like a dream of the days before learning of The Great Spenley. Although he resisted it, this thought gave him a fond and warm feeling. He remembered his family and the smell of his house. Everything had been so warm and had smelled of something cooking. Henry fell against the side of the crate, unable to imagine life if there was no Great Spenley. After years of confinement, waiting for something that would make it all worth it. His stress, anger and fear all tore apart his ability to think, and all he could do was cry. Hunching over, sobs shook him, and his own hopelessness seemed to swallow him up. On the other side of the room, Simon sat, saying nothing, but his thoughts were chanting to him, talking to him about how pathetic he was. If I can’t trust The Caputor, then I can’t trust anybody. He thought to himself. The coming of the Great Spenley will bring joy and happiness. Nothing else matters. The Divine and Great Spenley shall always be our guide and our one true light. Simon rocked back and forth as if taken by a chill. His whole life, even before leaving for Lunas Dextras had been focused on this plan. Neither stood up to look for Silas.

Day 17: We Must all Marvel Humbly

What we accept as truth is very interesting. Information in the form of writing is persuasive, and pictures are even more persuasive, perhaps because of their simplicity. Film is arguably even more persuasive, leaving viewers nothing to do but sit and stare. There is no page turning, the screen mesmerizes the mind, and the seamless production allows itself to be hidden from logic, and in this way, film bypasses the mind in a way that can trick us, and make us believe even the most ridiculous.

I like writing my blog. It brings me joy to know that my ideas exist somewhere, and also to know that some people might read this stuff, and maybe even be interested by it. In my interests in the whole set of infinity and dimensions theories, I have come to realize not only the information itself, but also I have realized that in this field, and indeed in many, nothing should ever be fully accepted. I feel as if I have not pointed out often enough that there are other perfectly logical ideas floating around that perhaps go against specific theoretical statements that I have mentioned. It is my goal to never accept anything fully without science. In experimentation and careful observation, calculation and conclusion, this is where there is truth.

This blog entry isn’t simply here to say what I write may be incorrect. I encourage unsureness of many things that we cannot know for sure. To know the real truth can only ever be to know that we will never know what really is the truth. Argue and discuss for the sake of discovery and learning, not because you must prove yourself right, or because you must prove someone else wrong.

I believe it is important to distance oneself from self-sureness, confidence in the fact that you may be wrong is greatest step towards knowledge.

Day 16: Visualizing “Dimensions”

In another dimension:

1=2 and 1=3 (these numbers are undefined, too small to possibly imagine)

Then we can count in a different dimension. From this view from “a level up”, all integers of our world are infinitely small, and undefined. It’s like we’re assigning all of our real numbers to that number over infinity. It doesn’t even matter if we assigned one over infinity to our one, or two over infinity to our two, it doesn’t matter, because its all past our new capabilities for understanding.

Because they’re so “small” that they’re undefined, our unit one no longer exists as a possible value (it’s undefined), our new unit value becomes something that is undefined on our general terms, but in this new dimension, is simply a basic unit. You may imagine this as infinitely large. Remember that relation between dimensions is NOT straightforward, does NOT match up like in math (there is no conversion), and there is absolutely no way we can accurately, calculate, visualize or find it. Infinity is an evasive value that sits on the brink of our universal reason, and serves as a building block to understand concepts of distant mathematical reasoning and ideas that can never be actually calculated with the math of this universe.

At first, one might try to look at the following mathematically, but remember, don’t even consider doing math with infinity, forget it.

infinity/infinity     and     infinity squared      as simple steps from infinity itself?

This is what is so bizarre about looking beyond our universe. I have sometimes tempted myself into trying to make this kind of math work, but the conclusion will be that mathematics shall never apply to such philosophy, and these ideas shall always remain as philosophy rather than mathematical thought or calculation.

We can use mathematical symbols, equations and ideas to try to visualize such things, but they lie beyond our mental reach. We can’t use ratios, exponents or anything of the sort to represent the steps we take when we talk about infinity or other dimensions. This is madness. Dimensions are not seen, not observed, detected or felt in any way but the mind.

I think of all of this as building blocks to try to begin to imagine what lies beyond our universe, not to prove anything. Infinitely large and infinitely small help us to visualize the invisible, that is all.

Day 15: Videos of the Day

Day 14: Programming Languages

Hello people! I like programming . I haven’t done much, but it is one of the coolest things ever!

Known as the worlds first computer programmer, here is Ada Lovelace. Daughter of the poet Lord Byron, she herself was a writer. Here notes on Charles Babbage’s early mechanical general-purpose engine include the first algorithm meant to be read by the machine. Don’t you wish there were more computer programmers like this nowadays!

Let’s skip forward to 1972 (I don’t really like history), when they actually made decent programming languages. This is C. The basis for many other C languages, like C++, which began as an extension to C, and is still widely used today (because it’s awesome). C++ came in 1983. A slightly simpler but similar language popped up in 1995: java. It took much of its syntax from C++ and C, but made it much simpler. Also, you can’t forget python, which appeared in 1991. It has quite a simple and readable syntax that is very unique in popular programming languages. I have used python with Rhinoceros, and it is pretty amazing. The two put together allows you to create millions of different types of programs. You can use the 3D aspect, there are pop-up windows you can create and you can even ask it to input different commands or press a key without actually pressing it. Anyway, enough boring stuff, let’s tack about a more interesting programming language. It’s called Brainf@#k. It’s awesome, because the only characters you can use are these: > < + – . , [ ]

Here’s an example of a code in Brainf@#k:

+++++ +++++
[
    > +++++ ++
    > +++++ +++++
    > +++
    > +
    <<<< -
]
> ++ .
> + .
+++++ ++ .
.
+++ .
> ++ .
<< +++++ +++++ +++++ .
> .
+++ .
----- - .
----- --- .
> + .
> .

Very funny Mr. Urban Müller. I don’t think your promotion of extreme minimalism is working. All I can say, is that this language was named well. Urban Müller clearly new what a pain in the neck he had created.