So some helium walks into a bar...

Or, rather than walks, floats; for helium, at room temperature, is a gas, and thus has no legs with which to walk, and, due to its lighter-than-air nature, does not sink to the ground. The bartender himself is confused, for not only is helium invisible to the naked eye in the absence of another object to contain it, should quickly dissipate. Furthermore, a cloud of helium, lacking any sort of motor system, is at the mercy of atmospheric currents and cannot enter a bar under its own power. It should not have been capable of opening the door to the bar. Even if it could, hypothetically, propel itself in such a manner, the lack of any semblance of a nervous system would make meaningful coordination difficult, if not possible. And, if the cloud of helium has no nervous system, how can it think to enter a bar? How can it be self-conscious enough to know that it desires a drink? To question it is to question the nature of the self itself. What is the self? Is the self the physical body? But when the body is wounded, and, say, a limb is lost, the removed tissue is no longer considered part of the self. Is the self the consciousness? Yet nobody denies that an individual is no longer himself when he sleeps. Is the self a spiritual force, invisible and nebulous like the helium which provokes these questions? No scientific, empirical evidence of such exists; it is the domain of scholars, priests, and mortals who chase the shadows of the unknown. Who could say? It is a question that mankind has struggled to solve since the dawn of time without success.

The bartender is facing an existential crisis when he recalls the bar's policy towards noble gases and his psyche is once again put at ease. "You're going to have to leave, we don't serve your kind here," he says, grunting at the mass of atoms.

The helium doesn't react.
(note:I didn't write this, I just thought it was funny).

Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)

Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) by Don McLean

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...

Get the MP3 here

Remembering Challenger

It has been 25 years, but I will always remember the moment when I first heard about the Space Shuttle Challenger tragedy.

I wanted to be an astronaut. I was an eager follower of anything to do with the space program, and NASA. I had written to NASA and received lots of information about the Space Shuttle program, including a ticket to attend the launch of the Columbia the previous month while we were vacationing in Florida (that launch was scrubbed at T-14 seconds).

I was sick that day with the flu, and because we didn't have a TV, I was listening to the radio to try to listen to the launch.  The station was playing a commercial, and they interrupted to say that, "The Space Shuttle Challenger lifted off from the Kennedy Space Center a few seconds ago..." I felt elated, yet wishing I could be there, "...and there has obviously been a major malfunction."

Huh? What did that mean?

Another announcer cut in, "The Space Shuttle exploded. Oh my God!"

Suddenly it was as if the rug was pulled out from under my feet. I called my dad and interrupted his work, and he couldn't really talk. Yet I wanted to talk about it, and I was at home by myself, so I paced the floor and cried and called everyone I could think of who might be home.

Within days, people started telling NASA jokes that were sometimes morbid, sometimes crass, but tried to cover our national uncertainty with something less horrific. After the Columbia broke apart on re-entry many of those same jokes were bandied about as a new generation saw their hopes in the space program tested.

The last time humans walked on the surface of the moon, I was a very small child. Yet, we have not gone back since. From one administration to the next, our national vision for the space program changes direction. Challenger was rushed to launch, with the warnings about the o-rings becoming brittle in freezing temps ignored.

Our current space program needs more direction than it has. Today we have space tourism, and more satellite launches. One administration wants to land people on Mars, another wants to land on an asteroid. Yet we founder as to what our Space Mission should be.

NASA has lost its place in our National Psyche, Space has dropped out of our National Dream.

The Apollo program was a very real response to the Soviet Union in the Cold War, and it captivated our nation. The Shuttle program captivated us too, on a slightly smaller scale.

Yet on that January morning, 25 years ago, our national dream of space exploration took a major blow as millions of people witnessed the death of 7 brave Americans, in a tragedy that we now know was easily avoidable.

America needs a new dream for space. Not just America--our entire world needs a new goal to push towards. In 2001 we were supposed to be sending people to the outer planets. And if our progress continued at the same pace it did in the 1960's we would be there.

How are we going to get to Star Trek-like exploration, if we can't even figure out what to do next?

Flickr link

My Flickr Photostream has lots of photos and more to be added soon

There once was a fellow named Wright...

There once was a fellow named Wright,
Who could travel much faster than light.
He started one day
In a relative way,
And returned on the previous night.

It happens in September up here but--

October

~Rose Fyleman

The summer is over,
The trees are all bare,
There is mist in the garden and frost in the air.
The meadows are empty
And gathered the sheaves-
But isn't it lovely kicking up leaves!

John from the garden
Has taken the chairs;
It's dark in the evening
And cold on the stairs.
Winter is coming and everyone grieves-
But isn't it lovely kicking up leaves!

Longest day of the year

Sunrise today:     4:11 am.
Sunset tonight:   11:45 pm.
for a total of 19 hours and 33 minutes of daylight.

Albuquerque Training

The Iditarod--"The Last Great Race"

Last weekend we went to the official start (or restart) of the Iditarod dog-sled race in Willow, Alaska.  On Saturday they had the ceremonial start in Anchorage--but that one is just for show.  The real race is from Willow, Alaska, to Nome, Alaska.  Officially the race is 1049 miles (but the 49 is because Alaska is the 49th state), but the actual distance is around 1100 miles.

There was quite a crowd of people on the frozen lake (Willow Lake) where they start.

Flags of the Nations of the mushers (From left to Right--Alaska, Norway, Jamaica, Canada, Germany, and USA).

We hiked about 1/3 of a mile out onto the lake before they started to find a good spot.  The mushers left in 2 minute increments.

Flat Stanley watches a dog team and musher race by.

Justin and Flat Stanley wait for the next team.

Sometimes the dogs wear little booties, so their paws don't get too cold.

Off to Nome...

Shadowrise--Volume 3 of Shadowmarch

Yesterday, I received a copy of Shadowrise: Volume Three of Shadowmarch By Tad Williams.

I promise you I will have a complete review of the whole series (up to this point--one volume remaining) as soon as I can.