the usual suspects

I know I'll be fine just as soon as I let go

The worst sins are probably committed by someone who didn't know when to walk away, when to let go. How do you know when persistence isn't paying off any more?

I could point out any number of political and business examples. It's a lot easier to second-guess from the outside instead of from the inside with events rushing at you, but there you go.

The examples I care about are the personal ones, because that's the only place where I can make a difference. Let me be clear: you're on your own when it comes to YOUR examples; I've got enough to deal with on this side.

It's a fine line, isn't it? We have a culture of perseverance, with heroic rewards figuratively attached. There are even billboards on the side of the road talking about it over the past year. When does perseverance turn into monumental stupidity?

A counselor, a psychiatrist might be able to help. They've got degrees for that, after all, and some earn a good living giving good advice. Slit my wrists before I do that, please, 'cause my issues are mine.

A friend might be able to help, but then they have to live with the guilt and responsibility if their advice is bad. Been there, done that, lost the t-shirt.

I guess the answer lies somewhere within your own level of tolerance, and keeping your eyes wide open. Observation isn't just an important survival skill, it's the root of all survival skills.

What do you think?

The best versions of ourselves?

What is the best version of ourselves? The answer depends on the community asking the question, so let's immediately narrow the field down to the Internet users.

People communicate on the Internet to find others with their interests, and who fit their personality type. Wouldn't it be natural to assume that when they do interact with those people, the Internet users become the best versions of themselves? The potential for conflict is there, but with a generally higher level of understanding there should be less chance of the conflict getting out of hand.

This isn't always true, of course. We've recently observed some Internet groups indulging in some harmful behavior ... but at least they're doing it together.

Do you think that when you're talking with your friends on the 'Net, you become the best version of yourself? If so, do you also apply that facet of your personality in the other real world?

Space Elevators

The last time I looked at this concept, it was still the Clarke/Heinlein/Asimov era of science fiction. QOQ, now we've actually made progress toward it.

I came across this article at the CBC's website. Really fascinating stuff. Not something I would expect to see within my lifetime, but really fascinating stuff.

But there's still something about the concept that my brain fundamentally balks at - just can't see that long a cable actually being feasible, carbon nanotubes or not. How durable is it? How do you repair it? How the hell do you even install it in the first place? How do you manage the torque and other forces involved? Not only is the Erp spinning, invoking gravitational and centrifugal/centrifical forces, but you've also got all that friction with the planet's atmosphere, at multiple levels. Even if the cable itself is strong enough to withstand these forces, you have a major potential weak link at the base. How are you going to anchor the platform in place, so that it's not dragged around in, or pulled out of, the water? What about waves, storms, and neap tides? The mathematics of the endeavor would be staggering.

Storytelling... sort of.

Right, so. This is the essay I wrote for my college transfer app., and upon reading it, dik and Thinky got it into their heads that I ought to post it here. *g*

The Most Epic Story

Everyone has a story. Every day that we draw breath, we're writing our own story, shaping our history, and creating our future. These stories are an intricate part of not only our lives, but the lives of everyone else. We use stories to relate to one another, to pass on information, ideas, beliefs. They build us - our culture - and in turn, we build them. The symbiotic relationship we have with our stories begins in birth, and ends in death - whether figuratively or literally.

Stories are our fears and our ideals realized. Stories allow us to experience, grow, and change. It is a way for us to act on impulses we normally would never even dare acknowledge. They allow us to explore the dark without fear of being consumed by it. We can twist and warp ourselves, then return with something more, something to apply to our own story. Stories breathe life into our lives, and we breathe life into them.

Our history is no more than a collection of our stories. The great stories examine greatness, be it beautiful or horrific. Those that last, that endure the test of time, the stories we take to our grave - those are the great stories. They impact and inform, and cause thought revolution in some fashion. It is this progress, this singular constant of the universe - that of change - that propels us, society, into the future. Our stories inspire, provoke the imagination, and predict what we are capable of.

H.G. Wells, Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein. These revolutionaries of thought helped to give birth to our world today. As did Dante, Shakespeare, and every other storyteller from before the epic of Gilgamesh till now. They challenge us, and help us in our search for identity and purpose - and for, essentially, perfection.

The epic hero is most readily identifiable in this purpose. Whether the model of strength and morals, or a flawed and tortured individual, they are a character - and often pawn - of destiny. They have greatness thrust upon them, and they ask the eternal question of "Why?" They never ask for their fate, but they accept it and the very nature of this type of hero has a great romanticism to it because of fate and their uniqueness.

However, this uniqueness - and thus, purpose - is best found in our own stories, destiny or no. In Confessions, Jean-Jacques Rousseau makes the bold claim that he is "commencing an undertaking, hitherto without precedent, and which will never find an imitator." This undertaking was that of writing the book of his life. The good, the bad, everything that occurred as best as he could recall. Rousseau said, "If I am not better, at least I am different," and it is in this that, if not purpose, then at least identity can be found. Actions speak louder than words, and while labels of gender, nationality, and political affiliation are accurate in describing someone, they only portray a tiny portion of the individual, so that only ones entire life can give an accurate, complete picture.

Their unique, original story is what matters. This idea that every story is different contradicts recent fears over originality. By living, by writing our life, and writing the stories in our life - carrying on this symbiotic relationship - we continue to be original. We survive the so-called death of new ideas and define purpose and identity for ourselves in the course of our lives. Our stories live on after our death, and they shape and influence the future as much as famous revolutionary thinkers and writers have. This is because, as one of my friends says, "we are the stories we tell," and the story we tell is the most epic and heroic one of all. It is the story of a lifetime.

[This article is by SL. - Thinky]

She's HERE!

At last, I'm an aunt! (Again.)

And here she is!

One century's trash, another's treasure.

There's been surprisingly little coverage about this bit of news:

Darwin's Beagle ship 'found' [launches in new window]

Given the extreme intensity of fights about evolution between conservatives and liberals, I would have expected this to spark more of a discussion.

About the clock...

FYI, because we're spread across the globe, the clock for this blog is set to Universal Time rather than to a particular timezone. So, if the dates/times of a posting look a little strange, that's probably why...