:: Isn’t that breathtaking? This image shows a portion of a much larger complex which currently has over a dozen stars forming inside it. Several of the stars you see here are quite young, only a few million years old.
:: Can you blame them? 76 years later, we are still seeking answers when it comes to the question of life on Mars. Curiosity is the latest tool in that scientific quest to see if we are alone in the universe. One can't help but wonder what our 2011 astronomy textbooks will look like when they're pulled from a dusty shelf by future generations. (I'm feeling astronomical and science-y lately. I like it when this mood comes!)
:: There are lots of people who consider themselves “old” who yet were born in the age of microwave popcorn. I maintain you can’t really consider yourself old unless you’ve cooked Jiffy Pop on the stove. (I remember Jiffy Pop...and not at all fondly. It's terrible popcorn.)
:: It it important that you compose, without delay, our Standard Opening Narration for Bill Shatner to record. It should run about 15 seconds in length, as we discussed earlier. (Wow!)
:: These characters haven’t just lost their race, their culture, their home, and their age to this adaptation. They’ve lost what made us love them to begin with. They’ve lost their souls. (I suppose I should watch Akira one of these years....)
:: How is it, for whatever reason, ST:TNG always manages its way into the upper echelons of science fiction lists despite the weight of its first season, an unbalanced second season and a good number of lemons to boot along the way?
:: That's what I kept thinking about, watching that little flap of flesh. It's one of those little things in our bodies that we are never really aware of, those small working parts that flick a tiny fraction of an inch, or release a certain chemical just when it's needed, or do a thousand little things that they do day after day. Until they don't. Because we are delicate things. We imagine ourselves to be strong or tough or even big, but we are not. We are made up of little, bitty, breakable things, only as strong as the weakest bit, and vulnerable in ways we dare not imagine.
:: My poor kitty was alone and terrified and dying and I wasn’t there…and now he’s gone. (These posts invariably make me terribly sad. I hate when beloved cats die.)
More next week!