TITLE: Life, Artificial and Oh So Real AUTHOR: Eugene Wallingford DATE: September 29, 2009 5:51 PM DESC: ----- BODY: Artificial. Tyler Cowen writes about a new arena of battle for the Turing Test:
I wonder when the average quality of spam comment will exceed the average quality of a non-spam comment.
This is not the noblest goal for AI, but it may be one for which the economic incentive to succeed drives someone to work hard enough to do so. Oh So Real. I have written periodically over the last sixteen months about being sick with an unnamed and undiagnosed malady. At times, I was sick enough that I was unable to run for stretches of several weeks. When I tried to run, I was able to run only slowly and only for short distances. What's worse, the symptoms always returned; sometimes they worsened. The inability of my doctors to uncover a cause worried me. The inability to run frustrated and disappointed me. Yesterday I read an essay by a runner about the need to run through a battle with cancer:
I knew, though, if I was going to survive, I'd have to keep running. I knew it instinctively. It was as though running was as essential as breathing.
Jenny's essay is at turns poetic and clinical, harshly realistic and hopelessly romantic. It puts my own struggles into a much larger context and makes them seem smaller. Yet in my bones I can understand what she means: "... that is why I love running: nothing me feel more alive. I hope I can run forever." -----