IPOD
RADIO
I feel the need to write something, but I don't really know what to say.
Today was kind of a weird day. I was pretty down last night, and I slept pretty early, thought a good night's rest would be good for me. I ended up having a buttload of nightmares and getting a thoroughly crappy night's rest, waking up feeling miserable, and really not wanting to go into work.
I did anyway, and was blessed with it being a really easy day, taking far less time than I'd thought it would, leading to me getting out of work at about half 12 in lovely sunshine. I was certainly feeling a lot better than I had when I woke up.
I've been listening to a lot of podcasts lately in the car, my favourite still being This American Life and I've got quite a backlog of them. I picked one I hadn't got around to listening to from my playlist this morning, which turned out to be about plans, and the repercussions of things that seemed like a good plan at the time. The second story of the podcast was about a guy who'd made a plan at the age of 11, when his dad died, to invent a time machine, so he could go back in time and warn his dad that he was going to die. He worked on this plan in secret for a long time, building a replica of the time machine from the movie based on the H.G Wells story, and when it didn't work, he didn't give up, he set about learning everything there was to know about time travel. He ended up getting a PhD, and becoming a Physics professor, all the time working in secret on his time travel research. He didn't go public with it until he had to leave his position for health reasons, and dived back into it after a long period of having given up on his dream. When he published he made the front cover of New Scientist. His work may be the foundation of actual, real time travel. But, if his calculations are correct, the time travel will be limited, he'd never be able to go back to a point before the machine was turned on, he'd never be able to go back and warn his dad. Apparently, this doesn't bother him now. At some point, the reasons behind his obsession changed. It seemed like he'd finally come to terms with the death of his father, like it was enough now that he was doing something his dad would have been proud of.
Obsession is a strange thing, it can be a valuable tool up to a point, but eventually it seems if it is not satisfied it becomes something different, like the reason you began is lost, and the reason you continue is simply habit.
It's quite contradictory - good may be able to come of it, but the obsession itself is far from good. Would his dad still be proud of him if his work had come to nothing?
Today marks 10 years since my dad died. That's also a strange thing. Enough time has passed that I've pretty much come to terms with my own demons about it, so it's not a day that makes me sad, per se, but I still find myself thinking a lot. I guess it was just strange to come across that guy's story today.
Today was kind of a weird day. I was pretty down last night, and I slept pretty early, thought a good night's rest would be good for me. I ended up having a buttload of nightmares and getting a thoroughly crappy night's rest, waking up feeling miserable, and really not wanting to go into work.
I did anyway, and was blessed with it being a really easy day, taking far less time than I'd thought it would, leading to me getting out of work at about half 12 in lovely sunshine. I was certainly feeling a lot better than I had when I woke up.
I've been listening to a lot of podcasts lately in the car, my favourite still being This American Life and I've got quite a backlog of them. I picked one I hadn't got around to listening to from my playlist this morning, which turned out to be about plans, and the repercussions of things that seemed like a good plan at the time. The second story of the podcast was about a guy who'd made a plan at the age of 11, when his dad died, to invent a time machine, so he could go back in time and warn his dad that he was going to die. He worked on this plan in secret for a long time, building a replica of the time machine from the movie based on the H.G Wells story, and when it didn't work, he didn't give up, he set about learning everything there was to know about time travel. He ended up getting a PhD, and becoming a Physics professor, all the time working in secret on his time travel research. He didn't go public with it until he had to leave his position for health reasons, and dived back into it after a long period of having given up on his dream. When he published he made the front cover of New Scientist. His work may be the foundation of actual, real time travel. But, if his calculations are correct, the time travel will be limited, he'd never be able to go back to a point before the machine was turned on, he'd never be able to go back and warn his dad. Apparently, this doesn't bother him now. At some point, the reasons behind his obsession changed. It seemed like he'd finally come to terms with the death of his father, like it was enough now that he was doing something his dad would have been proud of.
Obsession is a strange thing, it can be a valuable tool up to a point, but eventually it seems if it is not satisfied it becomes something different, like the reason you began is lost, and the reason you continue is simply habit.
It's quite contradictory - good may be able to come of it, but the obsession itself is far from good. Would his dad still be proud of him if his work had come to nothing?
Today marks 10 years since my dad died. That's also a strange thing. Enough time has passed that I've pretty much come to terms with my own demons about it, so it's not a day that makes me sad, per se, but I still find myself thinking a lot. I guess it was just strange to come across that guy's story today.
