If you study computer architecture, you'll eventually notice that there's a lot of analogies with the human thought process. It's not that surprising because designing something after the way you think about it is kinda a given for engineers.
Caching make sense when you compare it to a student studying. Student = CPU, Books = data, Student's own memory = L1 Cache, Study buddy = L2 Cache, and so on.
Likewise, distributed processing makes sense too when you think of when you're driving. You might be focusing on which lane to switch to next, but your arms and legs are doing DMA to your head and managing your steering and acceleration. (In other words, you don't consciously think "oh I should tweak my heel back a little to slow down," you just instinctively adjust your speed.)
So getting back on my original point, there's a little coprocessor in each of us that tells us if something's wrong or something's about to go wrong. Sometimes it gives you information that's useful. Sometimes it gives you hope to calm you down after something goes all wrong. Then again, sometimes it's plain out of whack. It's the alert dialog. It's the error handler. For me, I call it the "oh shit voice."
Thinking back on it, I think mine's been kinda entertaining (in no particular order):
1) When the deer and my car met up on Almaden Expressway, I heard "oh shit. why didn't the airbags deploy?" (in context, the comment was useless because the car was already stopped and I didn't hit my head on anything)
2) When I went off a snowboard jump incorrectly, I heard "um, there's the sun. right next to my board. oh shit."
3) Broken collerbone at broomball. "maybe I just pulled a muscle? maybe?"
4) A clip from my manager's story about him breaking his arm in half while playing hockey, "I heard myself think, you know, maybe it's just dislocated. Now, obviously it wasn't dislocated. But I had a shread of hope."
5) Breaking my teeth during broomball. "Damn, after all that trouble about wearing braces and now this? What a waste."
6) Crying hard enough to have difficulty breathing. "uh, yeah, you know you're not happy, but.....you know... MORON! BREATH DAMMIT!"
7) Running into Albert at football. "....." (chalk that one up to head impact)
8) Attempting and succeeding in drifting a Toyota Camry down the 101 N/Great America Parkway onramp in the rain. "Don't you ever do that again."
9) When in 2nd grade and told by my doctor I'll need to get surgery for intestinal obstruction. "I don't want to be cut open."
10) Sitting at home at my computer after everybody left; maybe a half hour after drinking a half a bottle of vodka; and perhaps minutes before passing out. "You know... you feel like getting a drink of water. Say it with me. I feel like getting a drink of water."
If I can recall any other incidents, I'll have to come back and tag those here.
Despite past history in high school telling me I can't write worth crap when I need to, I've found that, when sad, I actually have a little bit of literary talent. Or rather, I suck much less at writing when I'm sad. (just thinking up profound things to write down seems to get a bonus)
However, if I take a little too long to write down whatever I thought up, it all goes to shit anyways.
Example from last week while driving in the rain:
Regarding hiding from problems. It's like the rear windshield on my car. If I'm driving in the rain fast enough, the rear windshield doesn't get any rain on it and stays dry until I stop. Likewise, if you keep running away you might escape your problem for a while. But you're going to run out of gas at some point and all the shit will come pouring down on your ass anyways.
-Hansel Chung 20060305
I'm not happy. Not happy at all.
You knew and you went ahead anyways.
Didn't even ask me about it.
What kind of friend are you?
I deserve respect.