Physics and I just don't get along

I've been reading a book called A Short History of Nearly Everything. When I found out about this book, I thought, "I would like to learn about nearly everything. Seems like a good use of my time." It turns out, though, that they left one important word out of the title: Science.

Science has not been fun since about fifth grade. My science educational path has been littered with characters from the boring (the man whose biology teaching position was merely a placeholder for his career as a track coach), to the creepy (the teacher who was rumored to have once made girls do pushups so he could look down their shirts), to the hopelessly unhelpful (the horse-faced teacher who was convinced we could learn physics from our textbooks, videos, and lab work, and refused to answer any questions). All I remember from my college gen ed science class is that once the professor dressed up like Gregor Mendel, and once he brought in floaty pool noodles as his "dancing chromosomes." His techniques worked to some extent, because I know who Gregor Mendel is (a scientist/monk who was the father of genetics), but I don't remember what a chromosome does. Apparently they dance.

So, now that you know the state of the relationship between me and Mr. Science, let me tell you that I loved this book.

Partly it's the writing; the author is British and I am a sucker for British diction. Partly it's that he actually writes so things are halfway understandable. But it's just so interesting to read about what scientists know, and how they know it.

Things I learned from this book:

• The moon is bigger than Pluto.
• Einstein did basically nothing during the second half of his career. He tried to come up with a Grand Unified Theory of physics, and failed.
• Not only is Yellowstone is a supervolcano that if it ever erupted, we would all die here in Utah (already knew that), but it is the only supervolcano in the middle of a continent, and they don't know why it's here or if it will ever erupt again (fingers crossed). Also, the earth's crust is slowly moving, so the hot spot that is Yellowstone used to be elsewhere in Wyoming, and in another couple million years, it will be in another place entirely.
• Our bodies, and every other surface in the world, are covered in millions of microscopic organisms, bacteria, fungi, mites, etc. The thought makes me want to shower very thoroughly several times a day.
• Our bodies can't live without water (we're what, 80% water?) but it's components, oxygen and hydrogen, are both explosive. Also, why we can't drink salt water (it causes severe dehydration and kidney failure; our bodies can't metabolize that much salt).

The book lost me, though, in the chapters about particle physics. Listen:

"In at attempt to draw everything together, physicists have come up with something called superstring theory. This postulates that all those little things like quarks and leptons that we had previously thought of as particles are actually "strings"--vibrating strands of energy that oscillate in eleven dimensions, consisting of the three we know already plus time and seven other dimensions that are, well, unknowable to us."

What? If these dimensions are unknowable, how can we know they exist? And why eleven? Why not eleventy million? If they are unknowable, one number is much like another, at least to me. I'm in total agreement with the author: "Anything scientists say about superstring theory begins to sound worryingly like the sort of thoughts that would make you edge away if conveyed to you by a stranger on a park bench."

So, particle physics aside, I feel like Mr. Science and I can be dinner-party friends.We'll meet occasionally, enjoy each other's company, and have interesting stories to tell each other.

Nathan would also recommend this book: it has wicked cool pictures.

Because I may have become a hermit

"A person is a personality because he belongs to a community. One has to be a member of a community to be a self."
  ---George Herbert Mead

I've been wanting to post, but have been busy. And what's been keeping me busy is what I've been wanting to post about. So, now that the boy is down for a nap and I've done a little catch-up on my housework, here goes.

The last couple of weeks I've been working on an editing project. I really enjoy doing this, because I like fixing little nit-picky things that no one else cares about, like making sure it's (to use a recent example) "cell phone" instead of "cellphone" or "cell-phone." I also enjoy it because I get to read interesting things. This book was called Free, Rich, and Miserable: The Failure of Success in America. Sound interesting? Well, it was. Mainly because I recognized so much of what I see around me in the book.

The book's premise is that capitalistic market forces have overwhelmed our lives, and so we think we need more and more to be happy. So be able to afford more, we work harder and longer and and as a result, our personal and family lives suffer. Then, to make up for the lack of satisfying personal connection, we buy more to make ourselves happy and to make up to the people in our lives that our relationships are less than satisfying.

Some points I liked:

• Forty years ago the average American had three close confidants that they could rely on in times of trouble. The average today? Zero.
• Because we are so busy working (with or without pay) and being productive, we don't find it worthwhile to attend to anything outside our immediate area of concern (e.g., visiting a neighbor in the hospital, or an elderly family member, or even a phone call to someone we know is having a hard time). 
• We rely on buying expensive gifts to show loved ones how much we care.
• Online interaction (like blogs and Facebook) is allowing us more interaction with a greater number of people, but that interaction is usually more superficial, and relationships are more disposable, than face-to-face relationships.
• Because of the pressures we feel to work more, produce more, and have more, the number of cases of anxiety and depression has skyrocketed in the last two decades. 
• And all of these things are exacerbated by the fact that, no matter what we have, it's never enough. We always need more: new clothes, a nicer car, a bigger house, a trip to Disneyland.

Does any of that sound familiar to you?

I see so much of this: I talk to people who say they don't have close friends, or that they would come out to church more if they knew people better, or that they don't think visiting teaching is important. I also see so much of this in my own life. My purpose in this post is to take a step back and see how I could improve, how I could have more fulfilling relationships and friendships; how I could meet my own needs and still attend to the needs of others. Because I am genuinely happier, my life is so much richer, when I take a few minutes to make a phone call to a friend I haven't seen in a while, or go visiting teaching and get to know somebody better. (Sorry about the harping on visiting teaching; because of my calling I see how vital it can be for some sisters; and I'm really a bad visiting teacher myself, so this is kind of a pep talk). Because I have so much room for improvement. And how ironic that I'm sending this out into the blogging void, instead of sharing this in an actual conversation. I'm a much better writer than I am a talker; has anyone else noticed that about me?

But, lest you think I'm preaching too much at you, let me say this. This book also made me feel a little bad, because I've been on a spending binge lately. I'll post pictures when I get all my newest possessions arranged nicely in my house.The last few months, spring fever, and not being able to go anywhere, have made me want new things. And boy, did I get some new things. They didn't make me happier, but they made my house seem homier (which, I'm ashamed to say, did make me a little happy). Pictures coming...

On Drinking

Do any of you have a drinking problem?

I do.

Mainly my problem is that I forget about it. There are days when, as I sit down to dinner, I realize I am fantastically thirsty. Because I haven't had anything to drink all day since the milk on my cereal. Since I usually don't sit down to eat lunch, this has been happening fairly often lately.

I didn't always have this problem. In high school, a friend and I decided to drink a lot of water. I would have to fill up my water bottle (and empty my bladder) between every class period. I had to carry around my backpack so I wouldn't be late to every class. In between fueling up and emptying out, there was no time to fight my way to my locker (this may be why I actually forgot my locker combination my senior year). In college, I still carried around a water bottle and drank frequently. And at my job, I always kept a bottle on my desk. Drinking was a good way to combat cubicle boredom.

But being at home, I forget to drink. And I'm thinking this is possibly why my cold has been dragging on for three weeks. Three weeks. 22 days, actually.

So today, I'm working on making a dent in the grape juice stockpile I have. I just mixed up a jar that was juiced in 2005 that my grandma gave me, because it needed to be used up. We haven't even begun on the juice I made last year. We've got to kick it in gear to make room for 2010 juice. So today, I will drink.

Current Mood: Annoyed

You know why I'm annoyed? It's not the fact that I was awakened at 1:30 am, was unable to get back to sleep although the baby was sleeping, and was still awake when the toddler got up at 4:30. Nope, that's not it. Or that my baby has decided to cry herself to sleep. Not that either.

I'm annoyed with my body. Darn tabernacle of flesh.

Up until about two and a half years ago, my body was wonderful. Dependable. Rarely sick. Sure, there were things I'd have changed about it (I'd really like new, non-splotchy skin) but basically my body and I got along.

When I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes during my first pregnancy, I felt betrayed. My body was no longer living up to its end of the bargain, which was: I'll feed it, do some measure of halfway regular excercise, and get enough sleep (that was the easy part). In return, my body would function as advertised.

But suddenly I was counting carbohydrates and poking my fingers four times a day to keep an eye on what my rogue body was doing.

Luckily, that resolved itself after delivery, but I had wised up: my body was not to be trusted. So during my second pregnancy, I was so good about my eating, I excercised every day, I was not going to repeat that awful diabetes experience again. And, I didn't.

My body had other plans for me. Low platelets and a previa are a bad combination. Let's not dwell on it.

My platelets had normalized enough for me to have an epidural, and I assumed that was that. At my postpartum visit, my doctor did some routine bloodwork, just to ensure that my platelets had normalized.

They hadn't. They had fallen. And so that's how, just when I thought I could be done seeing doctors for maybe two consecutive minutes, I went to a hematologist today. My low platelets could be any number of things: HIV, lupus, a vitamin deficiency, an inflamed spleen, a malfunctioning liver, etc. Sounds fun, huh? The doctor said my levels aren't low enough to require any treatment, and I don't have any symptoms, so I'm really not worried about it. They're just doing tests and keeping an eye on things. Which means....

More appointments. More needles. More babysitters.

Annoyed.