theNoosphere.com

Uncertainty.

A principle; an allure of unfound experience: for some exhilaration, for others bottomless, irrational fear.

So came back test results.

Not for BC Calculus, not for spelling, not for an IQ, not for what kind of household hero I am.

No, these results were those that could instantly shatter dreams of crib building and stroller buying and distort them into doubt and excrutiating statistical analysis.

Instead of contemplating whether my wife and I preferred the Bugaboo to the McClarren, it was instead a discussion of what a heightend level of AGP in her blood meant and how we would proceed.

My approach in these matters is cruel in its method: always looking for the worst case and determining how to proceed in the event it came to pass.

But not my wife's. She was unwilling to discuss the cold truth and instead relied on her book reading and general optimism. We tried to discuss...

Pravda

Childhood memories - those seminal, bittersweet moments of our youth burned indelibly into our consciousness. Few things in the running timeline that is our 'life' burn with the intensity of our early memories. I grew up in the 1960's and 70's in a typical Northern Virginia suburb on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. In those days, you got your entertainment wherever you could find it. For the grown-ups, there was Redskins football (if you were lucky enough to be a season ticket holder or, pre-Ebay, know enough of the right people to get tickets). There were a wealth of bars and restaurants, and a handful of museums and cultural tourist attractions. Born in a fiscally conservative household, we settled for Washington Diplomats season tickets. The Diplomats were an NASL (North American Soccer League) soccer franchise who played at RFK Stadium, whenever the Redskins weren't using it that is, and when no major swap meets needed the space. It was a poor substitute for Sonny, Billy, and...

Boone

Hello and welcome to my blog. This is my first, so congratulations for witnessing history. I’m am amateur writer, and hell, I’m an amateur at quite a few things, one of which I will be relating to you here from time to time: A few months ago my employment situation changed and I suddenly found myself with quite a bit more free time than I’m accustomed to having. I decided to take up running again. Now ‘again’ implies that I was once a runner. That’s not exactly true. I’ve never really been a ‘runner’ as in ‘someone whose hobby or pastime or profession involves running.’ But I did run once. I guess I’d better start there.

When I was a kid I went on vacation to New York City with my parents and we happened to go when the New York Marathon was being run. While walking around Manhattan my family stumbled upon Mile 24 and decided to watch for a while. I watched all manner of people running the race, struggling through perhaps the most difficult mile, pain on their faces, forcing...

Henry

It's not easy being free.

I'd not like to have to make that case to a large tattooed gentleman locked in solitary, mind you ... or to someone who, by accident of birth or circumstance, has never enjoyed a day of freedom at all. But it's true nonetheless.

How so? Because being free means making choices; every minute, of every day, for a lifetime. And then living with them.

Most day-to-day choices, of course, if not always "easy," are certainly manageable. The kind we are unlikely to find ourselves, at 85, rocking slowly on a veranda somewhere a little unclear on how we got there but pretty sure someone will be along shortly to wheel us back inside for tunafish, regretting.

T-shirt or polo?
Turkey or pastrami?
Left lane or right?
Seinfeld or Science Channel?

Other daily choices don't register as important in the moment, but laying in the dark later, waiting for sleep, you find your conscience whispering...

Om

After several months of trying to figure out what this blog would be “about,” I think I’ve finally stumbled on an answer.

All my life, I’ve wondered what my counterparts a hundred, a thousand, five thousand years ago, did, felt and thought in their daily lives.

Our libraries are full of history books that tell us what happened in their times.

We have writings from a handful of learned individuals—the precious few who could, had the time and occasion to write—telling us of the events of their day … as often as not, one suspects, as much with the intent to influence their times than objectively record them for posterity.

And we have wonderfully written historical novels that do their best to interpret history, place it in the hands of fictional characters and thus hope to give us a flavor of their day.

I don’t believe, however, I’ve ever had the opportunity to know, first-hand, the life and mind of, say, a farmer living...

Om

How the hell did I get HERE?

We’ve all probably asked ourselves that question as we lived through the myriad twists and turns of our unpredictable lives.

It was 1987. I was a Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps and had decided I’d had enough of sleeping in the mud, and the misery, loneliness, and isolation inherent in the life of an infantryman. My plan was simple – serve out the last few months of my 5 year Marine Corps obligation, move back to my hometown of Alexandria Virginia, go to veterinary school, and marry my girlfriend. I had a roadmap ready for the rest of my life.

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas.

I was serving out my last days of service as my unit prepared to wrap up a 6 month deployment to Okinawa Japan. I loved Okinawa. It was a recreational paradise with some of the best scuba diving anywhere in the world. And getting the chance to train at the foot of Mount Fuji, one of the most beautiful spots...

Boone

Dear Humans of 3020 AD,

I wonder how a story like this might read in your time.

...

Om

The little man has arrived and he is indeed a bundle of joy. He's just starting to get the social smiles and it's a pleasure to see what's new each day--he's also a cutie (but what parent doesn't say that, right?)

From birth until 4 weeks, he was generally smooth sailing, sleeping and eating with just a touch of wakefulness peppering each day...but lately, I've been learning some lessons on what most babies usually go through in the first months.

Having spent my life up to his birth completely unaware of the term colic, I have now been schooled, largely vicariously through my wife's sleep-deprivation, time and understanding, on what it means to have a colicky baby.

The little guy arrived about five weeks early, and after battling and beating the standard jaundice which so many premies get and do, he was generally doing really well...cute as a button and learning to nurse and sleep.

But among other things that babies get, particularly...

Pravda

I used to write. I used to have things to say. I used to think that what I had to say was interesting enough and that I could say it well enough that others would not only read it if they stumbled across it, but seek it out. I imagined that I would be interviewed by obscure literary magazines with clever titles that only Joyce fanatics would understand. I would talk about the role of art in our intellectual and social evolution, how it could bring gods to their knees and free us to expand indefinitely, to realize the inherent sameness of us all, thereby eliminating the desire to make war, to step over one another for gold and glory, to shroud ourselves in imaginary borders and create enemies out of brothers and sisters. And I would believe it, with a passion deep and hot, and that belief would spread communicably, infecting whoever came within proximity, crossing continents and large bodies of water, jamming automatic weapons and penetrating weapon silos. And then everyone would...

Sasparilla Gretsch

Some twenty odd years ago, I was what you would call an avid motorcyclist. One factor had to do with the change that not so long ago, I came to the conclusion I want to reverse. From a very young age, I had a passion for everything that is motorcycling. Knowing how dangerous an activity it truly is, I walked away from being in the saddle when my daughter was born. I wanted my daughter to grow up with two parents, and while there were no visions of impending demise, I’m quite the realist and know myself, and riding style. I went as far as not owning a motorcycle for over 10 years. A huge part of my life was gone, and it wore on me every day.

Four years ago this month, there was a change in my life. Frustrated with my employment situation, I took a chance, and applied for a position with a first class motorcycle dealership. Before I knew it, I was back in my element. Motorcycles, all day, every day. My wife could see the gleam in my eyes get brighter every day, and buy month...

Pete