Nothing New
2004-01-09,

To quote the song: "There's nothing new for New Year's for me."

I've been reading A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. It's enjoyable and informative reading, but, at the same time, it's quite disheartening. Early sections talk of the early days of what one might call Modern Science, when wealthy men took up pursuits of knowledge as a hobby and great discoveries were made.

But are such discoveries possible now? Is there anything less than a heavily schooled genius could discover? Are the rest of us doomed to stand in awe and wait for the Next Great Thing to be handed to us at someone else's leisure? Our understanding of the world and the universe has become, so complex that there are concepts that cannot be spoken outside the language of Mathematics, simply because there's no way to translate it. Unless one takes up the time to learn the language of Math - something that my limited brain will never be able to do - there are just some things that one can't know, can't comprehend. I do not like this, not in the least.

I shouldn't say 'can't comprehend'... more like, one doesn't have the time to comprehend. I envision in myself an explorer's soul, someone who wants to understand everything he can and find something to contribute to the whole. Were I a son of a successful merchant in the mid 18th century, joining the Geological Society and talking rocks over a pint, I'd be in my glory. But time, finance and complexity do not lend toward these things any longer. One must dedicate one's life to a pursuit and have the brainpower to back it up, these days, and even then, what are the chances of doing something notable? Filling your head with other peoples' ideas, just like the guy before you did, hardly seems worthwhile to me. Sure, one can learn all one can and hope that the One Great Epiphany comes along, but what are the chances of that, truly? It's no wonder that antidepressants are on the rise; who can easily face the fact that a single human life is becoming increasingly and exponentially inconsequential?

At this point you say, "But all life is precious!" And in my heart, I know this to be true. I look at my stepchildren and see naught but hope. I must try to shield my fatalism from them and help them to have a chance at something I could not have. Thus, once again I am faced with the idea of throwing in my intellectual and spiritual towel and giving myself over as a stepping stone to the next generation, like a good workhorse parent, and hope that they not only move forward but also maybe look back a little and say, "thanks for the boost." And don't even get me started on dealing with the fact that I can't possibly ever have my own flesh-and-blood to whom I can pass anything on. Even now, almost a year later after finding out, it still hurts like hell, sometimes ("Even now I wake up cryin' in the middle of the night, and I can't believe it still could hurt so bad." - quiet, Barry).

All of this is stemming from two things;

1. we're finding out that adoption is either more expensive than we thought or takes way longer than we'd hoped; and
2. my workday is extremely slow today, and I've learned to get nervous when things get slow.

-- End Transmission --