Category: Life

THis is just mind boggling, from ‘One Light-Day Away: Time incomprehensible.”

Voyager is moving at close to 60,000 kilometers per hour, which is genuinely extraordinary by any human engineering standard.

At that speed it still took nearly half a century to cover a single light-day. The nearest star is about four light-years away. Do the math: at Voyager’s pace, reaching Alpha Centauri would take something on the order of 70,000 years! We built the first stone monuments about 6,000 years ago. 

Midterm elections are in two months, and then it’s two more years of who knows what?

Also from this post, “If the galaxy were the continental United States, one light-day would be about the width of a parking space.”

This butterfly would not leave me alone. First it landed on my shoe. Then it somehow landed on my finger, twice. I went inside, and when I came back it was on my chair waiting for me.

My sister said it’s mom paying a visit, which make me tear up. Miss ya, mom.

Great news for whiny piss-babies who can’t wait five fucking minutes for an actual human to make their coffee.

Source, via the Superhuman newsletter.

Phil Gyford writes about renting a “skip” (a dumpster, for us American folks):

I’m increasingly aware of the psychic weight of belongings and disposing of stuff that is not and will not serve any physical or emotional purpose lifts the spirits.

I did something similar earlier this year when I had to discard of a massive TV that I was gifted, and it felt so good. Our lease ends in less than a year and I’m already in clean-out mode.

If you want to be on social media, be on social media. I am not here to convince anyone, or “win” a debate. I don’t want to challenge anybody. I’m not starting a vertical video show called “why the fuck are you on social media?”

But if you’re tired of social media. Worn out. Depleted. Losing hope. Yeah, let’s talk.

Like social media? Cool. Be on social media if you want.

“A honey bee flew into the house. My dad let it roam the halls, following along, watching as it flitted through sunlit rooms and played among the curtains, before finally slipping out through the front door. He insisted that it was you, visiting, telling us you were okay, that you had moved on. Hello and goodbye.”

From “the saturdays we have left,” by e.

When it’d get “too quiet” during the week I used to default to “oh no, what’d I miss? What’d I forget?! WHEN IS THE OTHER SHOE GONNA DROP!?”

Then a wise friend suggested, “maybe it’s so quite because you remembered everything.”