Daisy, Daisy...

Comment by John Corey (Guest)

John Corey (Guest) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 08:45:32 +0000

Having kids does greatly accelerate this process. This post reminds me of two articles that I have read recently.
The first was in atlantic monthly
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/google
It suggests that the style we use to absorb information on the web has turned us more into information processors, instead of information analyzers. This may be a ludite approach, but it might have bearing on what you are talking about.

The other article was in the new yorker, and it discusses the difficulties with creating a conversational computer. It does not have a lot in common with your post, other than the HAL 9000 analogy.

Comment by baketown

baketown — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 16:46:27 +0000

Vodka will do that to ya.

Comment by Amy Kato (Guest)

Amy Kato (Guest) — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 10:38:16 +0000

We need more pictures.

Comment by Brett (Guest)

Brett (Guest) — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 04:13:55 +0000

This would be an excellent time to plug my Alzheimer's fundraiser. My grandfather had Alzheimer's... The only time I remember my father crying was when we visited my grandfather... after the visit, we were leaving, my grandfathers said "who was that?" My father cried... It worries the hell out of me that some day I may be visiting my father only to hear "who was that?"

Hence my fundraiser...

http://alzheimersteamcare.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=264988&supId=222022934

Comment by Ed (Guest)

Ed (Guest) — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 11:19:24 +0000

word. this has already happened to me. note that having kids greatly accelerates this process.

Daisy, Daisy...

Ken — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 09:49:55 +0000

The other day on NPR, neurological research Jill Bolte Taylor was discussing her experience of having a stroke. It occurred in the left hemisphere of her brain, affecting her ability to speak, read, and put events together in order. Because her logic was impaired, she had a hard time even recognizing that she was having a stroke, or figuring out what to do about it. She was barely able to call for help, having to match the "squiggles" on the phone against the printed phone number of a neighbor.

After the stroke, she was left without her memories and her sense of self for years. She had to relearn how to read and speak, and reestablish relationships with friends and family. But she did recover, for the most part, and has since written a book about her experience called My Stroke of Insight.

The reason I mention this story is because it touches on one of my greatest fears: losing my mind to the point where I lose my sense of self, whether it be due to old age, a stroke, Alzheimer's, or some sort of brain trauma. If I lost my identity, it'd almost be like dying. And aside from being mauled by a thresher, being buried alive, or being digested slowly in the belly of a Sarlacc, I can't really think of too many worse ways to go.

And here's the thing: I can already tell that I'm not as smart as I used to be, at least in some respects. It's like I'm the HAL9000 and I've lost a couple of computing modules. I can feel it. Compared to when I was in college, I'm not as able to absorb information and grasp concepts as quickly now. It takes more mental effort; I have to make analogies to things I already know, draw pictures and diagrams, and write things down. I know it's a natural process; I mean, that's just the way the brain works. Over the years, it's less capable of taking in raw data, but tries to make up for it by organizing information more efficiently... like, by making analogies.

But when confronted with a completely new idea, or when needing to memorize large amounts of information, I just can't do it as well as I used to. So I have to wonder: is this the start of the eventual decline? Thirty years from now, will I even realize (or care) that my mind is going? Maybe I'll look back on this blog entry and say, "What a load of hooey... and hey, look at that shiny thing!"

There are a number of times in my life when I wished I'd had a "Save as..." command on myself, preserving the ideas and feelings and abilities of my life at the time. This is one of those times. I have a happy marriage and great friends, and I want to preserve a snapshot of that. If I do have a stroke or something and I lose my identity, please don't let me forget all that I have.