First snow
It's been a crazy weather day today. I'm just cracking open my 11th straight hour in my office, so I've only been able to enjoy this weather at a distance, through a big picture window, looking out on a sky filled with crazy banks of clouds and white sparks of cold snow. At around this time last year, if the snow flew then I'd be outside underneath it, tongue out to catch the flakes, feeling the tiny burning kisses on my eyelids. Those freedoms are a bit further from reach at the moment.
It's funny that the snow flew today. I spent a long chunk of an afternoon seminar talking about stereopsis with my class. Because of an abnormality of development, I don't have it. Some students were intensely interested in knowing how my world looked. How could I explain it to them? I'm told that one of the most useful things about stereopsis is that it allows you to fully appreciate the appearance of a cloud of snow. I see snow fall in flat sheets. You (if you have stereo) see it fall in three dimensions. I'll never really know the difference. You can get some idea of how my world looks by closing one eye (but it's not quite the same -- both of my eyes work, but they argue about what they see like a tetchy old married couple). In some ways, my world is flat. Does that account for my obsession with space? My predilection for becoming lost in the simplest of settings?
In a way, I'm looking forward to the turn of the seasons. I like walking on rock hard ground, feeling the cold air freeze my nostrils. Outside sounds are denser and more real when they travel through air cooled to minus 20 degrees. It might also push away some of those sad global warming thoughts for a few months. It's a pretend reprieve, really, but I'll take it nevertheless.
A student today asked me why I don't talk more about time. Time and space he argued, correctly of course, are inextricably linked. I've been thinking about that. And about the problems caused by mixing spatial scales in lived environments. And about traffic flow, both vehicular and pedestrian. Lots of muddled thoughts are rumbling through my head. I'll need to get my head out there into that snow to see if I can make anything clarify.
It's funny that the snow flew today. I spent a long chunk of an afternoon seminar talking about stereopsis with my class. Because of an abnormality of development, I don't have it. Some students were intensely interested in knowing how my world looked. How could I explain it to them? I'm told that one of the most useful things about stereopsis is that it allows you to fully appreciate the appearance of a cloud of snow. I see snow fall in flat sheets. You (if you have stereo) see it fall in three dimensions. I'll never really know the difference. You can get some idea of how my world looks by closing one eye (but it's not quite the same -- both of my eyes work, but they argue about what they see like a tetchy old married couple). In some ways, my world is flat. Does that account for my obsession with space? My predilection for becoming lost in the simplest of settings?
In a way, I'm looking forward to the turn of the seasons. I like walking on rock hard ground, feeling the cold air freeze my nostrils. Outside sounds are denser and more real when they travel through air cooled to minus 20 degrees. It might also push away some of those sad global warming thoughts for a few months. It's a pretend reprieve, really, but I'll take it nevertheless.
A student today asked me why I don't talk more about time. Time and space he argued, correctly of course, are inextricably linked. I've been thinking about that. And about the problems caused by mixing spatial scales in lived environments. And about traffic flow, both vehicular and pedestrian. Lots of muddled thoughts are rumbling through my head. I'll need to get my head out there into that snow to see if I can make anything clarify.
posted by Colin at 7:20 PM
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