Today is my wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe it's been 18 years. That's a lot of water under the bridge, but it just keeps getting better, year by year.

I'm a very blessed man.

From the U of C alumni magazine, I just learned of the death of my second roommate from college.

Jeff and I were in the same year. We were in the same physics and calculus classes, and we each suffered the same humiliating realization that a physics major was utterly the wrong course of study. We both flailed around at the end of freshman year and the beginning of sophomore year before settling on majors better suited to our talents and temperaments: biology for me, economics for Jeff.

Jeff's original roommate was a smelly, self-absorbed nitwit. By the end of the first term, he had more or less moved in with his girlfriend. His girlfriend's roommate (who happened to be my girlfriend) was flexible and patient.

At the end of the second term, various turmoils and official personnel actions created a vacant single room. My roommate, Pat Q., took it, and Jeff moved in with me. This worked out pretty well for all concerned.

There were a few "established" couples in our dorm, the kind of pairings that were said as though they were one word - Jennyandcharlie, Jeffandchristine, Belaandandrea, etc.

Jeff told us that early-onset Alzheimer's had taken his father, grandfather and other members of the family in their forties. He fully expected to have only a short life. He and Christine were so deeply in love that they talked of getting married before graduation, so they could be together in the few years ahead.

It was romantic twaddle, of course, but no less heartfelt for all of that. They broke up, or grew apart, in our third year. As a senior, Jeff fell in love with a freshman. They dated for several years, then married. Though he and I lost touch, I knew that he and his wife had a good life together in Chicago. He worked as a stockbroker, started his own firm, did very well, and then found a passion for baking, of all things. He became an accomplished pastry chef. He participated in a Washington University study on memory and aging.

He died in April of complications from early-onset Alzheimer's, at the age of 39. He leaves behind his wife, mother, grandmother and several aunts. He was apparently the last male in his family, all of his previous male relatives having died of the same disease.

It's not been a good year for my former roommates.

UPDATE: Jeff's obituary.

I found out last week that the book I helped edit will come out later this year on my 40th birthday. That's not a bad birthday present.

I was going to add a bunch of stuff discussing how I feel about turning 40, but I'll spare everyone the oversharing. In short, I feel OK about it.

I went for a walk over lunch, something I started doing a few months ago. I try to walk 2 or 3 miles through the surrounding neighborhood, at least 2 or 3 times a weeks. I walk fast, so it only stretches lunch out a bit.

Today, as I left the building, a small bug landed on my glasses. I pout a finger up and squashed him. I then had to take my glasses off and clean them, which took a moment or two.

Here comes the adventuresome part: I didn't put my glasses back on.

I should explain that my eyes are pretty bad. This image shows what an eye chart looks like with a 0 diopter (perfect vision, 20/20), and what it would look like for someone with a -1, -2 or -3 diopter. My left eye has a diopter of around -4, my right is around -4.8.

The long and short is that I can't see for crap without my glasses, which is why I've worn glasses since I was 8. The only time I go without them is when I sleep, shower or swim.

Today, however, I did my walk without them. The world was blur of greens, browns and grays. I usually walk the same route, and I'm quite familiar with it. I could interpret the color changes in front of me as that one section of uneven sidewalk that could cause a stumble, that one low hanging branch that could mean a poke in the face, the curb, the streets, the cars, the traffic lights, etc., etc.

It was interesting, but not nearly as terrifying or thought-provoking as I thought it would be. Mostly, I fleshed out a scene I've been working on. Maybe the lack of detail in the world around me made it easier for me to focus internally?

I'm sure that if I'd been anywhere less familiar, I'm not sure I could have managed the sense of dislocation and uncertainty. When you can't read a street sign, even though you are standing under it, a certain sense of unease would begin to creep in after a few blocks.

I started posting in this Slashdot journal on a regular basis five and a half years ago, as a way to publicly throw my hat over the wall as I began a serious diet.

Back before the turn of the century, when I was a postdoc at Michigan State, I had a blog for a year or so. It was under the website I'd designed for the lab where I worked, hosted on the web server I'd set up. This was back before the neologism "blog" had been invented, back when the Internet Oracle was the Usenet Oracle, and back when 2400 baud at home was common and 14.4 was fast.

This Slashdot journal, in one of the most obscure, difficult-to-use parts of the blogosphere, was originally intended to be about dieting and science. I never really cared much about "traffic". If I had, I would have moved it out into a more visible arena, although in 2003, there were many fewer venues for someone to start up a zero-cost blog. I just wanted a place where I could talk without interruption or editorial edict, interact with people who were like-minded (or not), and update on my own schedule. I was never very controlled about topics, so it's since covered work, career, family, sports, books, and various and sundry other topics.

In the last year and more, I've laden it with cathartic rants and crese-de-cour arising from my unpleasant foray as a manager of a toxic, bitterly divided group of unhappy people. I've been climbing out from under the stunned depression arising from that experience, and have been working through (if not sharing) more thoughts on the nature of success, failure, happiness, fulfillment and motivation. Let the record show, however, that this journal grew to cover writing and fiction in a significant way back in the halcyon days of 2006.

I've started three other blogs in the past couple of years, under various monikers. I let one go dormant, shut down the second and re-launched it as the third. The third blog was done in combination with a concerted effort to explore social media, something I'd not done previously. None were linked to this one, as I prefer to keep these spheres separate. Although I wanted to use a different voice as I covered different topics, I find that my native personality guides what I write. I'm not a firebrand, a troublemaker or a braggart. I prefer to be polite and respectful, even when I'm disagreeing with someone. If I have controversial opinions, I tend not to voice them unless I have a reason for doing so. I'm uncomfortable using profanity in public, and I don't talk much about sex, politics or religion. I don't go looking for fights, but I don't like to be pushed around or to lose.

I know that there are other people who have been blogging longer, on Slashdot and elsewhere -blogging more steadily and to greater accolade. Some are wide-ranging, some have a laser-like focus on one topic, and one topic only, be it baseball, politics or knitting. Some of them are insightful and eloquent, others stir up trouble and do wacky stunts in order to build an audience. Why? Well, if my heart and soul were tied up in my blog, if it were the sole source of satisfaction I had in life, I'd be blogging all the time. Similarly, if it were a place for me to practice my craft or build up a following that supported my livelihood, I'd do the same.

So why am I saying all of this? Because someone in one of those other spheres just congratulated me on having a blog for an impressive eight months. Setting aside how impressive that actually is, has it really been eight months? And is that a long time? Since many blogs sputter out after two months and a dozen entries, I suppose that eight months is notable enough. Nothing like five and a half years, but not a bad start.

Ahh, the old "I'm sure I have a slow metabolism" line. It's as familiar as "I really don't have time to work out" and "Diets just don't seem to work for me".

Sniff. The nostalgia is just heartbreaking. I couldn't bear to chime in on the front page story about the metabolic (and gravitational) effects of starting a new job.

Eat less. Exercise more.

If only it were that simple. It *is* that simple, but you know what I mean.

Article from the Chronicle of Higher Education bemoaning the poor writing skills of academics. In a telling fashion, the author says:

If graduate students in the humanities are not being taught how to write, how can we expect those in the sciences to do any better?

Oh, those poor scientists, so stammeringly incomprehensible. If only someone would teach them the basics of English grammar and punctuation. With great effort, some of them might even one day be able to master the use of the more complex tools of language, but that expectation should really be reserved for the humanities:

Writing, as Plato reminded us, is a risky business. It should be approached with fear and trembling. Doctors and scientists might sometimes need a reminder that they are writing for humans.

Piss off, beanhead.

Today, tried to address a couple of "potential issues" before they become "real problems". Had one of the members of the team tell me I'm a very good leader for doing so. If only good leadership were as simple as punctuality coupled with clear, succinct communication, I'd have it made.

I'd like to be able to claim "fairness" in there, too, but I suppose that's for others to decide.

1. Got the hardcopy for one of my books. Rather, it's a book in which I have a chapter, but nomenclature aside, I'm not very happy with it.

Terrible index, ugly cover. Also, and more importantly, the preface, the conclusion and the back cover blurb all pretty much stick to the tired old conventional paradigm, the unworkable one, the very one that I've been trying to challenge. It's depressing to read a description of "a wiser course of action would be X", with X being the exact opposite of what I'm working on. The implication is that X! is unwise. 17 chapters restating "wise" conventional approaches (that don't work) and 1 chapter of "unwise" advanced approaches (that DO work).

Like I said, depressing.

I have another book which is being indexed at the Library of Congress at the moment, and should be out in August. There are a couple of others in the pipeline, too. I'm looking forward to a break from writing them.

2. I submitted an application for a temp detail. Not the speechwriting gig, but one that would be far more significant, the kind of thing that would represent a stepping stone to a pretty significant career shift. It would also come with a bigger pricetag, personally and professionally, so I'm not sure I'd be able to do it even if they offered it for me. Still, I threw my hat into the ring, if only to see how far my app would go.

3. Two monitors are DEFINITELY the way to go. E.mail typically stays open in one window. When I need all of the real estate for writing, it's a beautiful thing. The only downside is the fact that these are different monitors, so the screen resolution changes when you drag a window from one to the other. If I were doing this from scratch (instead of w/ whatever is on hand), I'd get two identical monitors. Each of them 26". ;-)

Was just invited to give the keynote address at a meeting in Beijing.

Cool - I've never been to China. I wonder if the food will taste anything like it does over at the Golden Palace on Stenton Avenue?

Terminator - not bad.
Angels vs. Demons - dumb.
Wolverine - kinda dumb.

Been mulling this one over - an e.mail came down from on high about a position as a speechwriter & communication coordinator. Duties are to write up briefings, talking points & speeches, handle traditional media interactions, manage social networking outreach, and craft presentations. All of this would be about our science - selling its impact, value and utility.

The job is a temp assignment, up to one year. Job is located ~3 hrs from my house, obviously too far for a daily commute. Though advertised as an open applications, this was probably written with someone local in mind, since they will not pay relo expenses. It's possible that I could do this via telework. Not likely, but possible.

I'm not going to move for a temp assignment, and I can't afford to maintain two domiciles.

Quals are "outstanding" written and oral communication skill, "excellent" conceptualizer, "good" knowledge of science. Must also be flexible, results-oriented and fast.

Deadline is in 2 days.

I just noticed that this little gem is about ready to see the light of day, too.

I'm in Amazon, IMDB and 21CFR179. Now I just need a page in Wikipedia.

I've got a chapter in a forthcoming reference text. The publisher sent me an e.mail to let me know that the book has been finished and published, and is now on sale. Would I like my author's copy in dead-tree or e-book format?

I opted for dead-tree. Call me a traditionalist.

The other books I've written for, as well as the book that I'm editing, should be done by the end of the year. I'll get those in dead-tree format, too.

It's an unexpected honor, and I'll do my best to live up to the responsibility.

If nothing else, I can splice those funky simultaneous-translation earbuds to swap in the feed from my iPod. I figure I can listen to podcasts and books-on-tape while the reps from the unimportant countries drone.

As a side note, it's interesting to me how these Cabinet picks call forth some of the Ancient Ones from whatever astral planes they currently imbue with the main parts of their essences.

Regent to the Last Emperor: "This society... this race... this world... all of it is dying."
Lars Nova, Space Pioneer: "No. It all died a long time ago. You and your kind just never noticed."
RLE: "No, not yet dead. Passed into the hands of a new race, perhaps, and those of us who remained are nothing but fossils. Ghosts. Figments of a time long ago."
LNSP: "Why didn't you leave?"
RFE: "Some of us did. The ones who felt as you do now. But the rest of us... we stayed to keep alive the culture that gave you life. We knew that one day, you would tire of your life among the ever changing spaceways. You would come here to seek peace. You would come home."
LNSP: (turning away) "Only to visit. Only to lay a wreath on the grave. Goodbye, great-grandfather."
RLE: (whispered, watching him leave)"Goodbye, Lars. I love you. I will be here for you and for your children... forever."

For the first time in a VERY long time, I finished a video game. Downloaded the demo, paid $20 to unlock the upper levels, got all the power-ups, defeated the Big Boss in a hard-fought final battle.

The game was Plants vs. Zombies. Yes, it's a cute little version of a tower defense game, and its a far cry from Far Cry, but it was actually pretty engaging, at least for a (very) casual gamer like me.

Now that I finished it, more of the puzzle levels and mini-games are unlocked. More, but not all. It's interesting that to get them all, you need to go back through again, starting with level 1-1. The kicker is that, instead of picking the best weapons to balance what you'll be hit with, your weapons will be chosen for you at random and you'll have to make do. An interesting twist, I think.

The Zen garden mode promises to be rather peaceful.