Been trying to skip between several jobs: grant proposal with a looming deadline, modeling experiments for a paper revision with a looming deadline, looming conference presentation... well, the conference is over, and the grant is coming along, though I still do not believe I will make it.
The paper.. okay, another paper: poked an editor yesterday, and he came back with a 'minor revision' request, which I fulfilled by late afternoon today. So, finally, we have a journal article - in a 1.0 impact factor journal - to show for a 3 year postdoc. Sigh. Another in revision, in a better journal, but that's the big problem: I'm doing all these model tests, but I can't get any real momentum because I keep flipping back to the grant. Sigh. I keep complaining about the same thing. Need to set a deadline - 3 more years? - after which if I'm still making the same complaint, something needs to change.
Let's talk about the model stuff. I've talked about it already in the past few posts: in the original paper, I proposed a modification to an existing model, a minor modification, which was able to closely fit our data, but which was a bit complexified, and difficult to explain exactly why it worked as well as it did, and also unable to show how varying its parameters explained the variance in our data, etc. So, it "worked", but that's about all it did. It didn't explain much.
The existing model we call the "simple model". The simple model is indeed simple. It's so simple that it's almost meaningless, which is what frustrates me. Of course it's not that simple; you can interpret its components in very simplified, but real, visual system terms. And, it basically can describe our data, even when I complexify it just a bit to handle the extra complexity of our stimuli. And this complexification is fine, because it works best if I remove an odd hand-waving component that the original author had found it necessary to include to explain his data. Only... it doesn't quite work. The matching functions that make up the main set of data have slopes that are different in a pattern that is replicated by the simple model, but overall the model slopes are too shallow. I spent last week trying to find a dimension of the model that I could vary in order to shift the slopes up and down without destroying other aspects of its performance.. no dice.. fail fail fail.
So, I'm thinking that I can present a 'near miss': the model gets a lot of things right, and it fails to get everything right for reasons that I haven't thought hard enough about just yet. I really need to sit some afternoon and really think it out. Why, for the normal adaptor, is the matching function slope steeper than the identity line, but never steep enough? What is missing? Is it really the curvature of the CSF? How do I prove it?
Now, out of some horrible masochistic urge, I'm running the big image-based version of the "simple model". This version doesn't collapse the input and adaptation terms into single vectors until the 'blur decoding' stage. It seems like, really, some version of this has to work, but it hasn't come close yet. Looking at it now, though, I see that I did some strange things that are kind of hard to explain... Gonna give it another chance overnight.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Sunday, September 16, 2012
too far, too far
one hundred words
in haiku form
while waiting for
my flight on a
sunday evening
in september:
Rochester airport
September Sunday evening
me and three women
80s pop radio
electric piano solo
fluorescent lighting
now another man
sneakers, backwards baseball cap
the sun is setting
PA announcement
the guy's voice croaks like Stallone
a fine disco beat
two smartphones, a book
two pair boots, one pair flip flops
not a conjunction
what will our plane be?
CRJ, Boeing, Airbus?
another man comes
three women, three men
the humans are trickling in
going to Boston
the sun sets slowly
slower than it usually does
suspicious liquids
dinner of junk food
reflection of ceiling lights
in my laptop screen
in haiku form
while waiting for
my flight on a
sunday evening
in september:
Rochester airport
September Sunday evening
me and three women
80s pop radio
electric piano solo
fluorescent lighting
now another man
sneakers, backwards baseball cap
the sun is setting
PA announcement
the guy's voice croaks like Stallone
a fine disco beat
two smartphones, a book
two pair boots, one pair flip flops
not a conjunction
what will our plane be?
CRJ, Boeing, Airbus?
another man comes
three women, three men
the humans are trickling in
going to Boston
the sun sets slowly
slower than it usually does
suspicious liquids
dinner of junk food
reflection of ceiling lights
in my laptop screen
Saturday, September 15, 2012
morning aura
in rochester for the OSA vision meeting.
woke up this morning about 6:30ish, with terry yelling at me to wake up. went to take a shower, and while there, realized i couldn't see my fingertips as i was washing, grabbing soap, etc. got out of the shower, got dressed, left the room and went to the lobby. got there a little after seven, and the scotoma was well into the periphery, flickering etc. it was just like the last three: left field, straight right-left through the upper field and arcing downward into the lower field.
the last one i managed to record, back in june, had a time gap between the foveal scotoma and the peripheral arcs, which i had post hoc explained as me needing to recalibrate some part of the perimeter or something. but during the last two, i noticed that the scotoma actually does seem to disappear between the foveal appearance and the peripheral arcs. wonder what is going on with that...
didn't notice any peripheral rough spot this time, but it was so early that i might just have been too dazed.. these morning scotomas that i've experienced - the last one a few weeks ago, and the one last year in the winter - they seem to have started just as i awoke. may be coincidental, since it's just a sample size of three, but i haven't had one start a half hour after waking, and i haven't woken up halfway through one (though the first time, i think i lay there with my eyes closed for the first 10 minutes or so). might be interesting to look up what sort of neurochemical changes occur in cortex, esp. visual cortex, during waking.
headache was ok, took some tylenol this time. nauseated all day long.
**
yesterday (or maybe thursday night, not sure), i remember feeling suspicious that something might be about to happen: i had the thought, i should keep track of these suspicions, to see if they're actually correlated. it is possible that i am suspicious very frequently, and just notice the coincidences..
woke up this morning about 6:30ish, with terry yelling at me to wake up. went to take a shower, and while there, realized i couldn't see my fingertips as i was washing, grabbing soap, etc. got out of the shower, got dressed, left the room and went to the lobby. got there a little after seven, and the scotoma was well into the periphery, flickering etc. it was just like the last three: left field, straight right-left through the upper field and arcing downward into the lower field.
the last one i managed to record, back in june, had a time gap between the foveal scotoma and the peripheral arcs, which i had post hoc explained as me needing to recalibrate some part of the perimeter or something. but during the last two, i noticed that the scotoma actually does seem to disappear between the foveal appearance and the peripheral arcs. wonder what is going on with that...
didn't notice any peripheral rough spot this time, but it was so early that i might just have been too dazed.. these morning scotomas that i've experienced - the last one a few weeks ago, and the one last year in the winter - they seem to have started just as i awoke. may be coincidental, since it's just a sample size of three, but i haven't had one start a half hour after waking, and i haven't woken up halfway through one (though the first time, i think i lay there with my eyes closed for the first 10 minutes or so). might be interesting to look up what sort of neurochemical changes occur in cortex, esp. visual cortex, during waking.
headache was ok, took some tylenol this time. nauseated all day long.
**
yesterday (or maybe thursday night, not sure), i remember feeling suspicious that something might be about to happen: i had the thought, i should keep track of these suspicions, to see if they're actually correlated. it is possible that i am suspicious very frequently, and just notice the coincidences..
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Deja Trompé
When I was in graduate school, I lived in Old Louisville, and walked, most days, down 3rd street to campus. Whenever I crossed the big road separating the neighborhood from campus, Cardinal Avenue, at a certain spot, I would see something up in my right peripheral visual field, and think, "Starlings!"
It was never starlings. It was always the tattered insulation hanging off a bunch of power lines strung over Cardinal. I remember this because even though I learned, pretty quickly, that I wasn't seeing starlings in that instant whenever it occurred, the fastest part of me - whatever part just automatically identifies salient stuff in the vast periphery - always thought that I was.
"Starlings!"
It not that I was hallucinating starlings. A bunch of speckly black stuff fluttering against the sky kind of looks like birds, even when you know it isn't. You can't blame me. I don't blame my visual system. It's an honest mistake. The interesting thing is that I kept making it, over and over again, with apparently no control over it. An inconsequential and incessant perceptual mistake.
I've noticed similar situations over the years, but right now I can't remember the others. I should start making a list. I bring this up because recently someone cleaned out the shared kitchen on this side of the institute, and because I always turn the lights out in the same kitchen.
I think that, because I always turn out the light when I leave the little kitchen, other people have started following my example, and now, often, when I go to the kitchen to get hot water for my tea, the light is already out. This makes me happy. It's happened very gradually. Change is slow, usually.
Usually. Recently, the development office got a new temp who is apparently a complete OCD clean freak. It's great. She cleaned this kitchen and the other one. She put up little signs everywhere telling people not to be such pigs. I love her.
Anyways, now, when I go into the little kitchen to get my water, I stand at the dispenser, watching it to make sure my hand doesn't stray and I don't get scalded, and the microwave with its little sign sits down in my lower left field. Often, lately, the light is out when I get there. I leave it that way, because there's enough light trickling in from the hallway. Every time I am in this configuration, with the light out, it looks for all the world that there is light coming out of the microwave window.
This happens over and over again. It's very robust; I can stand there and look straight at the microwave and its little paper sign, and that's what I see; then I look away, and the sign becomes an emission of lamp light from within the microwave. I can turn the mistake on and off by moving my eyes back and forth.
Again, I don't blame my visual system. It's doing the best it can. I've seen so many microwaves, and when they're cooking, they usually have little lamps inside, so you can see your whatever rotating on the little turntable. If the room is dark, the image is basically of a luminous rectangle in the front door of a microwave. Not many microwaves that I have known have worn little paper signs on their doors. To their disgusting, disgusting peril.
There must be a name for this, but I can't find it. So for now I'm going to invent a term: deja trompé, "fooled again". Deja as in deja vu, "again seen"; trompé as in trompé l'oeil, "deceives the eye". Seems like the right flavor for this sort of thing. I'll start keeping track of these, however rare they are. I'll inaugurate the list with a new entry label.
BACK TO WORK
It was never starlings. It was always the tattered insulation hanging off a bunch of power lines strung over Cardinal. I remember this because even though I learned, pretty quickly, that I wasn't seeing starlings in that instant whenever it occurred, the fastest part of me - whatever part just automatically identifies salient stuff in the vast periphery - always thought that I was.
"Starlings!"
It not that I was hallucinating starlings. A bunch of speckly black stuff fluttering against the sky kind of looks like birds, even when you know it isn't. You can't blame me. I don't blame my visual system. It's an honest mistake. The interesting thing is that I kept making it, over and over again, with apparently no control over it. An inconsequential and incessant perceptual mistake.
I've noticed similar situations over the years, but right now I can't remember the others. I should start making a list. I bring this up because recently someone cleaned out the shared kitchen on this side of the institute, and because I always turn the lights out in the same kitchen.
I think that, because I always turn out the light when I leave the little kitchen, other people have started following my example, and now, often, when I go to the kitchen to get hot water for my tea, the light is already out. This makes me happy. It's happened very gradually. Change is slow, usually.
Usually. Recently, the development office got a new temp who is apparently a complete OCD clean freak. It's great. She cleaned this kitchen and the other one. She put up little signs everywhere telling people not to be such pigs. I love her.
Anyways, now, when I go into the little kitchen to get my water, I stand at the dispenser, watching it to make sure my hand doesn't stray and I don't get scalded, and the microwave with its little sign sits down in my lower left field. Often, lately, the light is out when I get there. I leave it that way, because there's enough light trickling in from the hallway. Every time I am in this configuration, with the light out, it looks for all the world that there is light coming out of the microwave window.
This happens over and over again. It's very robust; I can stand there and look straight at the microwave and its little paper sign, and that's what I see; then I look away, and the sign becomes an emission of lamp light from within the microwave. I can turn the mistake on and off by moving my eyes back and forth.
Again, I don't blame my visual system. It's doing the best it can. I've seen so many microwaves, and when they're cooking, they usually have little lamps inside, so you can see your whatever rotating on the little turntable. If the room is dark, the image is basically of a luminous rectangle in the front door of a microwave. Not many microwaves that I have known have worn little paper signs on their doors. To their disgusting, disgusting peril.
There must be a name for this, but I can't find it. So for now I'm going to invent a term: deja trompé, "fooled again". Deja as in deja vu, "again seen"; trompé as in trompé l'oeil, "deceives the eye". Seems like the right flavor for this sort of thing. I'll start keeping track of these, however rare they are. I'll inaugurate the list with a new entry label.
BACK TO WORK
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