Seat of Enlightenment

When there is time, things are usually clearer. On the right perch, all sights and thoughts blend in seamlessly. Which then explains my recent inexact train of thought. With a solid twenty-minute shift on my very own can - my last private enclave - it became apparent that I may have been sitting on the wrong seat for a while. You see, although the conveniences at the workplace or gym provide, well, convenience, they serve very poorly as a place for the mind. And when great thoughts are required, they almost definitely fail. Only in your own home, or that of some very understanding friend, will you find peace, comfort, and a well-outfitted library. Together, these form a true vestige for revigoration, innovation, and of course relief. Now that I have this thought out of me, I will be adjusting my daily constitution accordingly. Prophetically, the toilet really is my best friend.

Still moving fast

You can freeze a moment in text. But just because you write about it doesn't mean that time will come to a standstill. In fact, it seems to roll even fast since you sat the last 20 minutes on your fat ass thinking about the past with a pen in your hand. Seems just yesterday that Roger put that lefty punk in his place. And only two weeks before that we had spent a sublime weekend in Montreal to celebrate Eric and Barb along with the rest of the crew. At least the memories are sweet.

Summer is no vacation

Over a dozen years ago, they taught us in physics class that Newton was the first to describe inertia. Although I am certain slaves pushing blocks of stones onto ancient pyramids would disagree, he was thus credited with discovering it. Like any other physical law, intertia is timeless, as I come to reinitiate my blogging efforts after a few months away from the board. Then again, it's been a productive few months trotting over great distances to take care of some mightily important business and then tend to important business of other people. And now, finally at home [one we can truly call a "home"], I can once again pick up from where I'd left off.

The anatomy of disappointment

Despite his genius, da Vinci failed to record accurately the human anatomy. Although swarmed by the populace that was renaissance Italy, opportunities to truly observe the body intimately were rare. So rare that even the master artist/inventor/philosopher never got it right. Galen, Harvey, Aristotle, and Hippocrates also stumbled on what was simultaneously so apparent yet so concealed. Instead, it was the butcher Vesalius who finally unearthed what lay beneath the skin and the sinews stuffed within the bones.

If repetitive association and hands on experience are the requisites of an anatomist, then the pervasiveness with which disappointment and I cross paths should make me its pre-eminent observer. And while it comes in many forms and circumstances, it also resembles the body in that it conforms to certain molds and tenets. Although my enthusiasm has long faded, it's likely that I will end up a life-long pupil of this art. Hopefully, I'll eventually walk away a more well-learned person.

A sore loser

Inadvertently over the years, I've endured a number of failures. Some setbacks, a few catastrophes, and occasionally a simple unembellished defeat. Friday night, defeat reaquainted itself as I lost the title match at some second-rate tourney. Still sore, but in the most literal sense as I'm now sure there is something wrong with my wrist. But since beach activities require very little wrist action, it's not so bad.

Surprisingly, this particular incident has not been shrouded with disappointment. Unlike six months ago when pride and racquet suffered brutally, both escaped unscathed. Rather, both came out stronger as coming second still entailed free food, a crate of giant apples, some silverware, and most importantly a handsome cash prize. To my own astonishment, I was actually happy to see our much younger foes play out a proud moment in front of their beaming parents. Who knows when it'll ever happen again. The combination of aspirations, encouragement, cohesiveness and celebration may never encounter generosity and a soft spot. Victories will always be around us, but will friends, parents, and smiles? Enjoy, young bucks, while it's your time. Someday soon, you'll be happy just for the free food.

Fast and furious

Really groggy at the moment. No, it wasn't a mad Friday night romp. Nor was it some highly charged experiment requiring attention in the early hours of dawn. Instead, it was the fire alarm. A truly loud and stirring one. Unable to hear myself talk on the phone any longer, I attempted to figure out what the alien noise was shortly after midnight. At first, I thought it was the tube. Then perhaps the one next door. Maybe a clipped speaker wire downstairs giving some sort of weird feedback. But when I realized it was coming from all sides, I knew it was none of these. Opening the front door to the light scent of something burning didn't soothe my nerves either.

Throughout the last 8 years, I've been through a surprising number of fires - and survived. The stupid side to it is that I was responsible for none of them. Which means that on almost a dozen occasions, I could have succumbed to someone else's dim witted error. Like the guy who left his oven on while going out shopping, or the cannister of isobutane that took a floor out of the hospital. Last night, someone fell asleep while baking a cake at midnight. Midnight? Part of me says he should have went down with the smoke. Carbon monoxide poisoning from overdone Betty Crocker. I only found this out being the responsible hero I am at times of emergency. As I knocked frantically on doors to alert mothers to take their children outside to the blizzard, I came across a door in a corner that looked suspiciously smokey. In hind sight, I should have just walked away. But I knocked, and when I realized the door was unlocked, opened it. Sure enough, smoke came out, indicating I'd hit the flaming jackpot. Also coming out was a guy who had obviously been out of it for a while. Lack of pants said nothing but (if not nothing at all). Fuming that I had to cut two conversations and lose my train of thought because of him, I decided to let everyone in the building know of the mishap. That the kids didn't need to be outside in the cold anymore, and that this man was unimpressive uncovered. Hopefully, that will teach him a lesson...

The guy who blew this lab up actually went back in despite fireball and all to rescue his laptop containing all his data. Talk about dedication.

Picking wising

Like many other things in life, it's best to pick your mate wisely. That I seem to have done so. And history will one day verify to that.

Same goes for the fights. While some will be appear at your doorstep without beckoning, others you will have the luxury of choosing. Twelve years ago, almost to the day, an intriguing little number landed in my mailbox. Now that I'm recalling more details, it was actually forwarded - meaning that someone else had simply deferred their fight to me. I don't remember how many, if any, punches I threw. But like the times of my youth, they would have been lively (these days, I opt for gnarly, guerilla tactics - I'll be fighting, but you won't see it). With an additional decade of wisdom now soundly behind me, I am reminded that I was right and that the antagonist was only slightly above brainless. But time has also taught me not to reignite old battles, especially those that serve principle alone for if people didn't listen then, they won't listen now. But to the Montreal chapter of the NSBE (the irony!), I hope your intellect and sensibilities eventually reached beyond what you demonstrated back in 1995...

Far more original

It was an ingenius idea. An elegant mechanism with internal filtering devices that would sort out the chaff from the wheat. And then we hit a snag. The clever Phuket algorithm that was meant to graciously excuse crowd the from making an appearance has backfired. Who would have thought we had so many close, dedicated friends who would trek a dozen timezones to share our happiest moment yet? Thanks to those who will be there, sincerely tried, or will be busy running their own show in May. To us, you'll always be close.

How very unoriginal

To quote some joe at smart-popcorn.com : "Let's hope Martin Scorsese polishes this turd". With a $80 million budget, he might have a little, and walked away with an Oscar last night. Wonder how many Americans are furious that the film didn't win an award for Best Screenplay?

Tony says: "In hindsight, we should have realized that Boston is far more convincing as a center for organized crime . Who's that crazy bitch hosting last night?"

Saving us from ourselves

Even when you're at wit's end, there is good and bad. Not black and white, but some things definitely better and preferable to others. Like Thursday and Friday nights at the lab. The former because it usually means the end of a day of meetings, meetings, followed up by one more meeting. As for Friday night, it's actually the only night I close my eyes knowing that I won't have to open them up until almost as late as I'd like the next afternoon.

This week, the streak of good Thursdays came to a grinding halt. Actually, I didn't have a particularly bad day. Instead, someone else's Thursday evening collided with mine, sending debris into the figurative sidewalks of my head. Even now, I don't remember her name. Or maybe I hadn't bothered to ask. But I did ask her if she were alright (it was the most appropriate word I could think of, tired and all). I managed to further gather her hometown, where she went to medical college, and even her wedding date. At the end though, I couldn't bring myself to ask what actually happened. In all fairness, it was really none of my business - though when someone's Thursday runs a junction and awkwardly dents yours, there is some validity to my enquiry. And when they're sitting right across from you nervously waiting for a call from 10 timezones away, it's hard to think of anything else to say.

A bad sleep, and a few days to digest all this and I finally see the irony of all this. We can claim to put our relentless efforts into curing disease, defying aging, and rescinding pain. Yet perhaps the one thing we can't prevent from hurting us is the closest thing there is. Will we ever be able to save us from ourselves? What would the Sartres and Nietzches and Toellueques say? And what if he beat her, then went to take a night class in bedside manner?

But the biggest irony may be for all that I ruse about this, it would have dissolved into the recesses of the big temporal cavern if it weren't for the pain in my wrist from mouse dragging. Perhaps we really do need pain, to keep us aware of what important, progressive, meaningful work we live for. Perhaps we just need reminders. Lots of them.

And so it went like this...

It came and it went. Yet another week, another Superbowl, and another tiring set of experiments when I'd promised no work for the weekend. I guess if scientists break their own promises so easily, it's no surprise politicians slip all the time. After all, lying to one person is manageable. To a country of 300 million, it takes some balls.

At least I made a new friend, Jasmine (the dog... not the set in the back).

Dreamin of a white winter

With manuscript #1 finished, #2 pretty much done, and a rather slow Friday night, I finally had time to indulge in one of my favorite pastimes. Not for the squeamish. See how much you can handle. And if you get addicted, there's lots of it out there. Yes, it's abscess movie night...

Level 1, for novices
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NRHr6M9sbI

Level 2, for regulars
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VbAMkQg3tA

Level 3, why I went into microbiology!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIA7PwWtOec

Roadmap for 2007

The instructions are simple. Do as I do. Get on your knees. Extend your arms skywards. Meditate on my image. Now start worshipping.

Now if only Andy got this advice on friday...

As for me, after two strenuous weeks of watching things happen in the wrong timezone, I can finally revert to my project. Hurray!