And evidence that he / she / it / we / they / you loves us!
Unless, of course, some day scientists tell us that coffee is bad for you. In which case, he / she / it / we / they / you is really, really mean and has a bad sense of humor. I mean, come on!
That’s right, curse you! You’ve made it so easy and convenient to make blog posts. Even on my homepage, there’s that nice little “New Post” button. I can just start typing without even leaving the page I’m on. And once I’ve finished my post, I can ignore my intuition that is screaming, “COPY THE TEXT” before I hit submit. Yep, I can just ignore that.
And then you had me.
Poof! It’s all gone. Countless seconds, multiple sips of coffee, part of a scone, and I’ve got nothing to show for hit. Desperately, I hit the ‘back’ key, the ‘forward’ key, the ‘back’ key once again. I try reopening closed tabs, checking my unpublished posts, crossing my fingers, but to no avail. It was too good to be true. You lured me with your promise of easy, convenient blogging and then dashed my hopes upon a merciless, impersonal sea of 1’s and 0’s. I had even used tags! You not only disappeared my words, you disappeared my tags. And if I’m using words like ‘disappeared’ now, it’s because you disappeared all the well grammar I hads, two.
So it’s back to the old way, the tried-and-true method of logging in, going to my Dashboard, and blogging the way God freaking intended us to blog.
No matter where you turn, the rhetoric is flying. As is the hyperbole, the flip-flopping, the promises, and the continual reference to America as ‘the greatest nation on earth’. Now before we go any further, let me just establish that this is not an anti-America blog, so before I get the famous, “Well, if you don’t like this country, get the hell out of here” line, let’s all be good and clear that I love this country, and I think it’s a great nation… I just hate that we call it that.
The problem with both sides calling us a great nation is that it is very easy to be complacent when you’re at the top. The top is the place for victors, for resting, relaxing, shopping, eating, getting fat… for being, here it comes… American! At least, that’s how we often perceive it. We’re king of the hill, so we can drop our guard and it’s smooth sailing from here on out.
But as any #1 sports team that has taken this attitude has soon discovered, #’s 2, 3, and all the way down to 157 are all working hard, training, and eager to steal that #1 title from our collective lazy ass. This is not the time for complacency. This is the time to work even harder.
But we don’t see it that way, myself included. Deep down, we know we are the best and that we will always be so. Our preachers, teachers, and politicians have drilled the idea into our heads… we are the greatest nation on earth, and that will never change. America is a finished, complete, glorious work of art. Let’s all stand back and enjoy her beauty.
What if, instead, we started calling her “a work in progress.”
America: a work in progress.
Rather than relaxing in the things we do right, suddenly the focus is on the things that need to be done. When we’re a work in progress, there are unfinished bits, gaping holes, parts being held on by duct-tape and crossed fingers, as well as many other unsightly areas. There are unemployed, the homeless, and the starving. There is corruption, hatred, and greed.
I can’t be complacent with a work in progress. There are things that I can do, things that I can choose to be responsible for. On a grad student’s income, there are still mouths that I can feed, lives that I can touch, and good that is within my power to bring about. This is my country, a great nation, I love it. And it’s a work in progress.
Yes, I know I shouldn’t, but it smells so good! Just one little taste?! Would that be so bad? A pinch? A nibble? Pretty please!
It has been pretty standard in labs since the middle ages: you don’t eat the chemicals. But I really struggle with this. Just yesterday, I created some light, fluffy, golden brown compounds that looked like meringue cupcakes. To make it worse, they smelled like really yummy lemon drops. Yes, it was a highly toxic heavy metal foam… but it smelled so good!!! Citric acid gave it that sharp lemony bite, while ethylene glycol gave it that alluring, tempting sweetness with undertones of vanilla and apricots. It was maddening! And writing about it is just making it worse. Now I’m salivating and thinking wistfully that I had some here. Just a little pinch… a little taste…
Of course, once the urge starts, it doesn’t stop. My curiosity has been roused. Even the things that don’t necessarily smell tasty, still have these peculiar, unique aromas that call to me. Like aluminum nitrate hexahydrate. It’s got a sharp, metallic fragrance that fills the imagination with thoughts of robotic cuisine. And it’s hygroscopic! Which means it will melt like candy in your mouth! Oh, the torture!
And knowing the chemistry behind these compounds just makes it worse. “Oh, copper oxide? Why, it’s just copper atoms and oxygen atoms, that can’t be too bad.”
Or, “Cyanide? Why it’s just a little carbon and nitrogen… That can’t be too bad.” Knowing the chemistry really doesn’t help. Everything seems so innocent. These big, scary chemicals look so colorful and sweet when you hold them in your hands. I know how they’re made, I even know that the body needs trace amounts of certain ones, I might actually be making myself more healthy by licking the weighing paper after I’m done…
Fortunately, I’ve been well-trained. I don’t eat the heavy metal oxides, I don’t sip from the ethanol container, and I don’t smoke around the flammable cabinet. I don’t smoke at all actually, but if I did, it wouldn’t be around the flammable cabinet. Instead, I suffer as polymerizing organics make my lab smell like a candy shop. I suffer.
And I dream about lemon drops.
Move in progress! Everything’s not gone, it just needs to be unpacked. This cowpoke is headed to greener pastures. Did I really just call myself a cowpoke? Yes, damn it, yes I did. I’m saddling up and galloping away from my old host and their endless stream of unfortunate bovine humor. I’m tired of stepping in… well, you get the idea.
So it’s on to wordpress.com hosting. It’s a new format, and I’m losing my plugins, but there’s a big, bold horizon out there and the air smells clean. Meanwhile, I’m still in the lab, cooking up some tasty science, and soon we’ll be back, serving up quantum dots with our patented alchemical dressing.
Enjoy!
It’s Nanowrimo, and you know what that means!
edit:
Well, it was Nanowrimo 6 weeks ago when I started this post and made it through a whole sentence, but then life happened. Nanowrimo, for those of you that don’t know, is NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth. While I didn’t have intentions of writing a whole novel, I was going to at least do a blog post every day for the month. I would like to write a novel someday, and one of the purposes of the Nanowrimo blogging would have been to develop my writing style. But alas, November has come and gone, and holy crap, December is halfway through.
On the plus side, I’ve knocked out a few research papers, presentations, and finals, changed lots of diapers, and gained a few levels in Skyrim. One more final tomorrow and I will officially be saying no-no wrimo to my PhD courseload. Then it’ll be pure research from here on out.
So Nanowrimo has come and gone, and this introductory post is a little late, or maybe I’m just getting an early start on next year. Yeah, I’ll go with that. I’m planning ahead, 11 months ahead, and there’s more coming your way.
Because I’m totally on the ball here.
I made the mistake of watching an episode of Dr. Who. This was a mistake because it was really good, I’ve got a million things to do, and getting sucked into a TV series is exactly the thing that I don’t need to be happening right now. For a few years, people have been telling me that I need to watch this show, that I would love it. But I’ve steadfastly resisted the temptation and their recommendations because I have so many other things to do. Familial duties, work, research, school, exams, the occasional blog post, plus a myriad of side projects – all demanding my time. Watching Dr. Who should be one of the last things on my priority list.
But the deed has been done. I had a taste, just a small little taste, and even now, I hear the Doctor calling me from beyond the bounds of space and time. I really shouldn’t watch anymore. There’s no good reason to.
…Or is there?
What if this isn’t about entertainment? Yes, I found the first few episodes entertaining, but that wasn’t what drew me back. There was something else going on. Something profound, something… dare I say it, spiritual. There was wisdom in his words, wisdom and power. I wasn’t just watching some ordinary sitcom, this was no reality TV-show. No, this was a spiritual metaphor, a lesson, and a journey for the soul.
Who is this man, this doctor that smiles in the face of the imminent destruction of the human race? About to be incinerated by hellacious fires, or have the life sucked out of him by giant aliens, he stops, makes a joke or two, hits on a hot girl, and then continues running for his life.
What joy! What freedom! He is himself, completely, 100%, no matter what is happening. He is his own master. Death and destruction do not cower him, hatred and judgement can not touch him. The past and the future have no meaning. All he knows is the present. Whether it’s the present today, at the end of the universe, or 1 million years ago, it all exists in the Now. He gives no thought to what tomorrow may bring. In a world that’s fallen asleep, his presence radiates, “Be here NOW. Enjoy this sacred, perfect moment. And while you’re at it, watch out for that death ray that’s pointed at you.”
What passion! What ferocity! Like an arrow, he springs toward his objective. Nothing can stand in his way. He plays the game of life for high stakes. He plays all out. Whether it’s finding a bite to eat or preventing the takeover of London, he does it with all his being. And if he doesn’t hit his target, it doesn’t matter. Yes, the world may end, yes, he might die, yes, the entire universe may be snuffed out, but he’s having fun. He is being himself, he’s truly giving his all in everything he does. And when you live like that, when you enjoy life like that, the outcome really doesn’t matter. You’re there for the journey, for the ride, for the sheer joy of it.
Here’s a man who could have anything. Riches, fame, fortune… but what fun would that be? Instead, he roams the space-time continuum, seeking fun and adventure, fighting the good fight, dancing with death, and enjoying every second of it. From an alien race of time lords, he brings us a message about humanity, about ourselves. What would the world be like if we all had the wisdom and power of Dr. Who?
The phone booth is open. Stop what you’re doing. Heed his words. Find enlightenment in his smile. Take some of the Doctor’s medicine and live life like you’re indestructible.
Ok, I’ve convinced myself, I need to finish the season.
I just saw a production of The Merchant of Venice, and before I get started, let me just say that I had no complaints with the performance. It was fun, original, well-acted, and well-directed. The setting was a sort of idyllic urban neighborhood, with a mid-20th century costume design. Overall, it was a great production, two thumbs up.
But I didn’t get my Shakespeare fix.
Before Merchant, I saw Love’s Labours Lost, also set in modern times. Then there was Midsummer in Japan, King Lear in the future, and a Richard III with airplanes and bombers. I’ve seen Shakespeare set on the beach, set in India, set in the recent past, or in galaxies far, far away. Any place, any time that can be imagined, Shakespeare has been there.
Two households, both alike in technology, on the planet Verona, where we lay our scene.
I get it. We need to shake things up to keep Shakespeare interesting, to make it fun and original. Everyone wants to do something new and noteworthy. Sometimes we like spectacle, so we make the Capulets vampires, we add werewolves, or maybe we set the whole thing in space or at the circus. There have been some truly amazing things done with these very old plays. And it works because these plays are timeless. We identify with the characters no matter where they are, because ultimately, these plays are about being human. They are applicable to all times, all peoples, and all places.
But sometimes, I’m just in the mood for some Vanilla Shakespeare. Shakespearean actors speaking in verse set in old England and dressed as the bard would have dressed them himself.
Maybe it’s just a craving, maybe it’s silly, but that’s what I’ve been wanting to see lately. And after I get my fix, well then, sure, bring out the gore, bring out the brains, and bring out some star-crossed zombies.
Cooking with sulfur 