January 15th, 2012

a-links

[links] Link salad stays indoors

Albert Einstein on the intuitive mind — Reminds a lot of how I, and many others, think about writing.

Apostropocalypse NowLanguage Log is funny about linguistic peevery.

Our new basic 'Portlandia' image: One, two, twee

Project to pour water into volcano to make power — What could possibly go wrong?

After Fukushima, fish tales — The possibility of radioactive contamination in Japanese food exports.

Elusive particles could help to stem climate change

Survey: U.S. Protestant pastors reject evolution, split on Earth's age — Proof that theological education is no barrier to willful ignorance. (Via [info]shsilver.)

Evangelicals, Seeking Unity, Back Santorum for Nomination

Untruths, Wholly Untrue, And Nothing But Untruths — Paul Krugman on GOP rhetoric and reality. Mind you, he's talking about objectively, provably false statements, not political spin.

?otd: What are you reading today?




1/15/2012
Writing time yesterday: 1.0 hours (2,500 words on short story)
Body movement: 30 minute stationary bike ride
Hours slept: 8.0 (solid)
Weight: 219.0
Currently reading: Saturn's Children by Charles Stross<

sanguine-moonrise

[personal] Weekend update, a bit of mortality

Yesterday was fairly good in some ways. I got another 2,500 words in on "You Will Attend Until Beauty Awakens". [info]the_child made substantial if rocky progress on homework with an assist from me at several key junctures. She and I had lunch with my parents, as well. We also wound up rewatching the first Harry Potter movie on DVD last night. As an added bonus, my overnight dreaming included [info]kylecassidy talking at me from a television, his head shaven and horky black hipster glasses on his face.

At the same time, my dinner date cancelled due to the flu, which was a mild bummer for me and a much bigger bummer for her. More importantly, yesterday I learned of two recent deaths. An old friend of the family — of my parents' generation — died of complications from a severe stroke. And a young writer friend of mine died of complications from metastatic breast cancer, leaving behind her infant daughter. In neither case was the death especially surprising in a larger sense, but in both cases it was unexpected by me.

I don't walk around in a depressive fugue or anything like that, but I find myself a lot more sensitive to mortality issues these days. As I said to another friend recently, talking about personality changes under extreme stress, the biggest change I see in myself over these past 3.75 years of dealing with cancer is that I've utterly lost my once boundless optimism. (It was John Pitts who pointed this out to me.) I don't think I've become sour or withdrawn, I just have no faith in my future. I've been shot down way too hard too many times in the past few years to feel like flying high any more. Neither of these deaths are about me in any way, and I wasn't especially close to either of the women who passed away, but I still feel them like a leaden cloak upon my bent shoulders.