O Captain! My Captain!
i’m not ready i’m not ready i’m not ready i’m not ready i’m not ready
i’m not ready to have to try, to be forced to make an effort
to be around these people
its just too hard.
January 2012
“For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin — real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.”
— Fr. Alfred D’Souza (via bloodisthenewblackk)
remember that time when we all thought that pottermore would fill the emptiness and sadness of the end of harry potter?
I just uploaded some more polaroids from my birthday party onto flickr as well as the scarce few pictures I took at Parachute that weren’t of bands.
I sort of want to upload the pictures of me with the bands. But my photostream is already flooded with polaroids. It looks kind of strange.
The third rule of Fight Club is to have fun and try your best.
I was going to write a short post about Parachute but I haven’t even finished talking about Alaska yet and it is already a ridiculously long post. So here are some bullet points in a read more with some super derpy pictures of me with bands:
Malandragem: You Want a Physicist to Speak at Your Funeral
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
- Aaron Freeman
