fortunately i no longer smell like a fruit
we had a staff lunch at work today and i dropped my soda as soon as i opened it and got it all over myself. >.< fortunately it wasn't, like, dark soda - it was prebiotic watermelon, definitively but not aggressively watermelon-y but also metallically fake sugar-y - so it didn't stain but it did make me smell like a watermelon for about half an hour until it dried. yeesh. we got two (count 'em) short faculty presentations while we ate - two separate pi's discussing what they and their groups are working on. the first is working with chatgpt, and she had two students demonstrating some of the things you can do with it (and no, it's not coming for our jobs) including writing, say, passive-aggressive emails to students. one of the other admins allowed as how she likes writing passive-aggressive emails. heh. the other pi is working with, uh, i don't know how to explain this other than to say if you have a sheet of something that bends but doesn't stretch - like plastic or something - you can't form it over, like, round shapes (her example was a computer generated head of max planck, which she referred to by his whole name every time she mentioned it - "the head of max planck") without it bunching up or overlapping itself. so her group is figuring out how you determine the size of the sheet and then basically cut it into geometric shapes - like you'd use an algorithm to figure out where to cut slits in it to make it a bunch of linked triangles or something - so it bends around curves and can easily mold itself into round shapes. so what do you do with this? you can make stents for folks with heart blockages (currently stents are all straight cylinders, which is great if the blockage is in a straight aorta but not so great if it's around a bend) or construct habitats on mars. (MARS.) because i guess it's easier to bring sheets of stuff to mars and blow them up into habitable shapes than it is to build something with flat walls and right angles. i'm probably explaining it really badly (chatbots make way more sense to me) but it was fascinating. i mean, not only did i get a free lunch but i learned some shit.
...even if i did spill soda on myself and smelled like a watermelon.
otherwise work is work. stuff, nonsense, zoom rooms.
Let me begin again as a quiet thought
in the shape of a shell slowly examined
by a brown child on a beach at dawn
straining to see their future. Let me begin
this time knowing the drumming in my dreams
is me inheriting the earth, is morning
lighting up the rivers. Let me burn
my vanities: old music in the pines, sifters
of scotch, a day moon like a signature
of night. This time, let me circle
the island of my fears only once then
live like a raging waterfall and grow
a magnificent mustache. Let me not ever be
the birdcage or the serrated blade or
the empty season. Dear Glacier, Dear Sea
of Stars, Dear Leopards disintegrating
at the outer limits of our greed; soon we will
encounter you only in motivational tweets.
Reader, I should have married you sooner.
This time, let me not sleep like the prophet who
believes he’s seen infinity. Let me run
at break-neck speeds toward sceneries
of doubt. I have no more dress rehearsals
to attend. Look closer: I am licking my lips.
--Major Jackson, "Let Me Begin Again"
...even if i did spill soda on myself and smelled like a watermelon.
otherwise work is work. stuff, nonsense, zoom rooms.
Let me begin again as a quiet thought
in the shape of a shell slowly examined
by a brown child on a beach at dawn
straining to see their future. Let me begin
this time knowing the drumming in my dreams
is me inheriting the earth, is morning
lighting up the rivers. Let me burn
my vanities: old music in the pines, sifters
of scotch, a day moon like a signature
of night. This time, let me circle
the island of my fears only once then
live like a raging waterfall and grow
a magnificent mustache. Let me not ever be
the birdcage or the serrated blade or
the empty season. Dear Glacier, Dear Sea
of Stars, Dear Leopards disintegrating
at the outer limits of our greed; soon we will
encounter you only in motivational tweets.
Reader, I should have married you sooner.
This time, let me not sleep like the prophet who
believes he’s seen infinity. Let me run
at break-neck speeds toward sceneries
of doubt. I have no more dress rehearsals
to attend. Look closer: I am licking my lips.
--Major Jackson, "Let Me Begin Again"