The doldrums are times and areas usually near the equator where winds subside to calm or nearly calm. This traps wind driven ships until the wind picks up, which can be days, weeks or longer. During this time, the sea is usually monotonously calm.
The Pacific Gyre is an area enclosed by normal ocean currents that experiences little to no macroscopic water movement. As a result, water is "trapped" in this area and there is little biomass movement, resulting in little life. Also as a result, our modern flotsam collects in these areas creating huge regions with high concentration of waste.
Colloquially, the doldrums has come to mean periods of boredom. But, I think we are more in a time of gyre. There is very little going on outside of the mundane work-eat-sleep-repeat routine. Vacation is still a way off (people with kids take vacation now, which is a good reason not to). The growth of spring is over, giving way to the summer heat and humidity. A time where not much happens, but the refuse of daily life continues to accumulate.
This isn't so bad though. Lots of little things can get done this time of year. The lawn doesn't need very much mowing. There is an event horizon somewhere out there where vacation will begin, or whatever the next adventure is. And, excitement is not always good. Excitement might mean something unthinkable has happened.
There is also a quiet contentment in pecan waffles early on a weekend morning. Or reading a book watching the sun set through west-facing windows. The doldrums should not be sailed into without expecting a little slow down.
Despite the garbage, the gyre isn't all bad. Who knows what treasure might be lurking in all that trash anyway?
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The sadness of Space
Venus passed between the Sun and the Earth this week. This was widely publicized as a rare event that was a must see. It was cloudy here on Tuesday. With the vastness of the solar system, let alone the rest of the event horizon, every event is rare.
As a physical phenomenon, this was not very spectacular. You can't look at the sun and see this (frankly, you can't look at the sun very long...). And, the images of a spot on the sun are less than stellar, pun intended. I realize people set alarms for all hours of the night to see other more mundane things in the sky. For them, I'm sure this was thrilling.
In 1997, I will admit I traveled a great distance to see a partial solar eclipse. Drive to Fort Lauderdale. Fly to Puerto Rico. Fly to Saint Thomas. Boat to Saint Johns. Camp two weeks on the beach. There were obviously ulterior motives to this. The wild donkey's were a nuisance but funny. The other campers were a source of never ending entertainment. Said one young vagrant to the other very late one night, "Dude, I'm just not used to drinking so much."
Pan Am went bankrupt while on the Island of Saint Johns. The trip was a lot of fun. The trip back not so much.
It is sad what has happened to the space program over the last few decades. As a kid, I remember watching the first space shuttle launch in school and was mesmerized by many other launches. I even had a model rocket in the shape of the space shuttle. It was fairly heavy so not really the best flyer. I painted it with what I had available, flat white house paint. This finish may have been ugly, but was probably more realistic that a coat of pristine shiny enamel.
The NASA space program now is bipolar. The manned space program is plagued with boredom. The last several launches of the space shuttle seemed to be less about putting yet another ant farm from a middle school in Topeka into space (ho hum) and more about answering the question of whether the space shuttle will actually make it safely into and out of orbit. The most critical mission was the backflip done to inspect the shuttle. The space shuttle seemed to be more about discovering the limits of human fear over answering any scientific questions about space.
The unmanned program is more interesting. The mars rovers were able to go places and do things humans are decades away from, if ever. Some of the images from mars are captivating. All of this is done with minimal risk to human life so more risk can be taken to achieve something more interesting. It does not have the sophomoric glee of "astronauts," but that shouldn't be the goal of billions of dollars in research when little is accomplished.
In 2017, a full solar eclipse will be viewable within about 50 miles or so of where I am right now. No risk of reentry. No Pan Am. With a bit of luck, I'll be able to make it.
As a physical phenomenon, this was not very spectacular. You can't look at the sun and see this (frankly, you can't look at the sun very long...). And, the images of a spot on the sun are less than stellar, pun intended. I realize people set alarms for all hours of the night to see other more mundane things in the sky. For them, I'm sure this was thrilling.
In 1997, I will admit I traveled a great distance to see a partial solar eclipse. Drive to Fort Lauderdale. Fly to Puerto Rico. Fly to Saint Thomas. Boat to Saint Johns. Camp two weeks on the beach. There were obviously ulterior motives to this. The wild donkey's were a nuisance but funny. The other campers were a source of never ending entertainment. Said one young vagrant to the other very late one night, "Dude, I'm just not used to drinking so much."
Pan Am went bankrupt while on the Island of Saint Johns. The trip was a lot of fun. The trip back not so much.
It is sad what has happened to the space program over the last few decades. As a kid, I remember watching the first space shuttle launch in school and was mesmerized by many other launches. I even had a model rocket in the shape of the space shuttle. It was fairly heavy so not really the best flyer. I painted it with what I had available, flat white house paint. This finish may have been ugly, but was probably more realistic that a coat of pristine shiny enamel.
The NASA space program now is bipolar. The manned space program is plagued with boredom. The last several launches of the space shuttle seemed to be less about putting yet another ant farm from a middle school in Topeka into space (ho hum) and more about answering the question of whether the space shuttle will actually make it safely into and out of orbit. The most critical mission was the backflip done to inspect the shuttle. The space shuttle seemed to be more about discovering the limits of human fear over answering any scientific questions about space.
The unmanned program is more interesting. The mars rovers were able to go places and do things humans are decades away from, if ever. Some of the images from mars are captivating. All of this is done with minimal risk to human life so more risk can be taken to achieve something more interesting. It does not have the sophomoric glee of "astronauts," but that shouldn't be the goal of billions of dollars in research when little is accomplished.
In 2017, a full solar eclipse will be viewable within about 50 miles or so of where I am right now. No risk of reentry. No Pan Am. With a bit of luck, I'll be able to make it.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
The Big Little Nightmare
I recently stopped by the area where I lived until the age of about 12 after not having been there in over 20 years. Predictably, some things had changed. One of the bigger changes in the neighborhood was to a large field between the church and the Catholic high school. The field was like a giant playground for a lot of kids. It is now less accessible and has been "improved" to be athletic fields for the school.
Many of my childhood memories have faded into the ether, but I still remember vividly some things that happened while playing in that large field. We built "forts" in that field one summer. The forts where really just large and deep holes in the ground. In retrospect, this was probably quite dangerous as some of the holes were deeper than we were tall, and there was at least one tunnel we would go through head first. At the time, there was no fear in this at all, it was just fun. Fun, until the holes were destroyed by bigger kids in the neighborhood.
In one hot summer memory, my older brother (and friends) created two enormous footprints in the sand in a remote area of the field. He then proceeded to bring me to the area and show me the footprints of some giant monster. It terrified me; I was afraid of that part of the field and afraid to sleep. A few days later, an older neighborhood kid Jerry told me they were made by my brother. With adult sensibility, I'm not sure how two footprints with no evidence of anything walking, just two foot prints, could be scary and anything but brother-made. I was terrified.
Fear is a gift of childhood. Fear is primal and there is a catharsis in it. Fear is likely one of only a few emotions we share with our distant animal relatives. Fear diminishes as we get older and it is replaced by stress. Stress has virtually no redeeming qualities.
I rarely have nightmares. I think this is true of most adults who lead typical boring lives. Nightmares where a relatively frequent occurrence as a child though. In a lot of ways I miss them. There is still the occasional vivid or lucid dream where I may wake up in wish for the alternate reality, but nightmares almost never happen.
There is one nightmare I had recurrently while growing up. I don't know why it was terrifying, but it was. I've called this the "Big Little Dream" and I've known several people who after hearing about it remember (presumably) something nearly the same and always as frightening. In this dream, everything is both very large and very small at the same time. There is an overwhelming sense of texture. Absolute terror that must be rooted in something deep in human history. A tactile sense of loss.
I should probably consider the lack of fear as a blessing. I imagine frequent nightmares as an adult is probably quite debilitating. There are a lot of times when I'd be willing to trade some stress for some vivid fear though...
Many of my childhood memories have faded into the ether, but I still remember vividly some things that happened while playing in that large field. We built "forts" in that field one summer. The forts where really just large and deep holes in the ground. In retrospect, this was probably quite dangerous as some of the holes were deeper than we were tall, and there was at least one tunnel we would go through head first. At the time, there was no fear in this at all, it was just fun. Fun, until the holes were destroyed by bigger kids in the neighborhood.
In one hot summer memory, my older brother (and friends) created two enormous footprints in the sand in a remote area of the field. He then proceeded to bring me to the area and show me the footprints of some giant monster. It terrified me; I was afraid of that part of the field and afraid to sleep. A few days later, an older neighborhood kid Jerry told me they were made by my brother. With adult sensibility, I'm not sure how two footprints with no evidence of anything walking, just two foot prints, could be scary and anything but brother-made. I was terrified.
Fear is a gift of childhood. Fear is primal and there is a catharsis in it. Fear is likely one of only a few emotions we share with our distant animal relatives. Fear diminishes as we get older and it is replaced by stress. Stress has virtually no redeeming qualities.
I rarely have nightmares. I think this is true of most adults who lead typical boring lives. Nightmares where a relatively frequent occurrence as a child though. In a lot of ways I miss them. There is still the occasional vivid or lucid dream where I may wake up in wish for the alternate reality, but nightmares almost never happen.
There is one nightmare I had recurrently while growing up. I don't know why it was terrifying, but it was. I've called this the "Big Little Dream" and I've known several people who after hearing about it remember (presumably) something nearly the same and always as frightening. In this dream, everything is both very large and very small at the same time. There is an overwhelming sense of texture. Absolute terror that must be rooted in something deep in human history. A tactile sense of loss.
I should probably consider the lack of fear as a blessing. I imagine frequent nightmares as an adult is probably quite debilitating. There are a lot of times when I'd be willing to trade some stress for some vivid fear though...
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