Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
The Beauty of Space
Such an unfamiliar place to all is slowly becoming my home. I fear it will be my resting place.
Where I Lived and What I Lived For
There is a story not unlike yours and mine about the two routes a bird can fly. One way is to prosperity and the other is to perdition. Into the heart of happiness or into the mouth of the cat. The light orange-brown ruffles of this particular bunting’s plumage suggests an easy childhood of warm weather and easy food. And warm weather indeed has been its usual home. For its short life it needed no predatory protection, nor did it need blankets or fire. It jumps from branch to branch with alertness and a quick flutter of both wings and will. It has brothers and sisters of the same size and color but not the same audacity. Like the monkey named George this bird had an eye for borders. In age it flew no closer to its family and home as the paper I write on strays from the pine or spruce originated from. On the outskirts of its home a house-cat lived – a large furry mound of danger. It crouched in silent voracity in the expansive wheat field below. Most of its killing had been in regards to mice, but it would snack on a bunting, a bluebird, or a bullfinch if the opportunity arose.
By the time the bird had reached two months in age it routinely flew over the field to feast on the hearty wheat it offered. This type of behavior was heroed by youngsters, condemned by loved ones, and largely ignored by others. But after a few months of daily travels to the field virtually every fellow bird had all lost interest in the new route to sustenance. They had the winter to worry about. Luckily, our main character had also realized the potential of the wheat stalks as a fantastic weather barrier. Instead of building the traditional shelters as his peers, he merely settled down mid-field in a particularly dense tuft of plants. On one blizzardy evening he scoured the hillside for suitable protection. It came in the form of the sleeping house-cat. The bird lightly landed beside his overnight shelter, and was pleased in his approach to find it pleasantly radiating heat. The bird pressed its weight against the warm mass. This place was the best resting place of all. Warm, soft, comfortable, and large. The bird relaxed and lay still for a while with its beak pressed against the flesh of its den. Its last few moments consisted of a swift strike across its mid-section – one that sunk deep and stung bad– ; a feeble attempt to regain bodily control; another otherworldly blow which tore one wing off and snapped the other loudly. He did a bloody dance away from the cat that only made him an even easier target for a third and final strike. The birds eyes flushed with blood and it continually opened its beak in reflex, a sort of silent apology across the snowy field to other buntings. Within minutes it is devoured by the cat. Its memory is lost. It lived for no one, and no one lived for it. Fellow buntings recall it only as a reminder to stay put – to follow the path more followed, to choose safety over exhilaration, and to realize when your family no longer needs you it is time to say goodbye.
By the time the bird had reached two months in age it routinely flew over the field to feast on the hearty wheat it offered. This type of behavior was heroed by youngsters, condemned by loved ones, and largely ignored by others. But after a few months of daily travels to the field virtually every fellow bird had all lost interest in the new route to sustenance. They had the winter to worry about. Luckily, our main character had also realized the potential of the wheat stalks as a fantastic weather barrier. Instead of building the traditional shelters as his peers, he merely settled down mid-field in a particularly dense tuft of plants. On one blizzardy evening he scoured the hillside for suitable protection. It came in the form of the sleeping house-cat. The bird lightly landed beside his overnight shelter, and was pleased in his approach to find it pleasantly radiating heat. The bird pressed its weight against the warm mass. This place was the best resting place of all. Warm, soft, comfortable, and large. The bird relaxed and lay still for a while with its beak pressed against the flesh of its den. Its last few moments consisted of a swift strike across its mid-section – one that sunk deep and stung bad– ; a feeble attempt to regain bodily control; another otherworldly blow which tore one wing off and snapped the other loudly. He did a bloody dance away from the cat that only made him an even easier target for a third and final strike. The birds eyes flushed with blood and it continually opened its beak in reflex, a sort of silent apology across the snowy field to other buntings. Within minutes it is devoured by the cat. Its memory is lost. It lived for no one, and no one lived for it. Fellow buntings recall it only as a reminder to stay put – to follow the path more followed, to choose safety over exhilaration, and to realize when your family no longer needs you it is time to say goodbye.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Missed Opportunity after Missed Opportunity
I am sorry to inform you that the ship's mission has been jeopardized. Unsubstantial funding and dismal public support have left Nomiki and I in deep space irresolution. We are still trapped between the helio-sheath and the helio-pause of the milky way galaxy; not a particularly spectacular or pleasant place to be -much like being stuck in a cave without lights. However, my first blog posting increased public support by a few percent, which always helps, so I feel compelled to perservere.
To continue the persuasion process, in this blog I plan to re-enlighten everyone
about the purpose of the mission.
It is a sort of new-age Columbian Exchange. For those unfamiliar with the Columbian Exchange I will clarify. It started when Columbus made his epic voyage across the high seas of the Atlantic on the Santa Maria in 1492. Within months of Columbus reaching the fertile New World hundreds of other ships started making the journey. This sparked a contamination of sorts that had not been witnessed in human history previously. Thousands of new plants and animals hunkered down in the New world for better or worse. And the same thing happended with New World organisms on journeys back home.
The concept of this 'exchange' is not a secret. In fact, schoolchildren learn about it as early as the third and fourth grade when teachers announce "the pilgrims brought over guns and metal the indians had never seen, and the indians taught the Pilgrims how to plant potatoes and corn". This is what happened but the teacher has only scratched the oh so crucial surface. The actual amount of exchangable items from Old to New or vice versa is astounding. It is staggering to think that Europe had not tasted a red ripe tomato before 1500. Thats right, Italians had been cooking their food tomato-less for thousands of years until the Columbian Exchange. Furthermore, the Old World had been without vanilla, cocao (chocolate), peanuts, strawberries, blueberries and turkies. The New World benefitted edibly from the Old World as well. They received cows, chickens, cats, pigs, apples, bananas, cotton, wheat, rice, pears...etc. The list goes on. Perhaps most interesting, is that horses weren't around in North or South America until the exchange. Not a one indian riding on horseback until the white man came ashore. Now this may seem like a trivial matter with respect to the Nomiki mission, or space travel in general, but its parallel implications are clear. The effect of the Columbian exchange was astounding. Besides the death from exhangable diseases, the population soard. Europeans and New Worlders alike thrived off of new crops, animals, and ideas. The same needs to happen today. Think of planet earth as the current Old World and any other astronomical civilization as the New World. In seeking out celestial colleagues we stand the chance of repairing our earthly damages, feeding our children, improving our standards of living, discovering new types of energy and most importantly, expanding our ideas, our conceptual databases, our love and understanding of the universe. It would be the "Nomiki Exchange", and could very well mark the next breakthrough in human history.
Nomiki seeks to find that New world and most humbly requests your support.
Kindest Regards,
Nomiki and its Captain, Daniel Kerr
To continue the persuasion process, in this blog I plan to re-enlighten everyone
about the purpose of the mission.
It is a sort of new-age Columbian Exchange. For those unfamiliar with the Columbian Exchange I will clarify. It started when Columbus made his epic voyage across the high seas of the Atlantic on the Santa Maria in 1492. Within months of Columbus reaching the fertile New World hundreds of other ships started making the journey. This sparked a contamination of sorts that had not been witnessed in human history previously. Thousands of new plants and animals hunkered down in the New world for better or worse. And the same thing happended with New World organisms on journeys back home.
The concept of this 'exchange' is not a secret. In fact, schoolchildren learn about it as early as the third and fourth grade when teachers announce "the pilgrims brought over guns and metal the indians had never seen, and the indians taught the Pilgrims how to plant potatoes and corn". This is what happened but the teacher has only scratched the oh so crucial surface. The actual amount of exchangable items from Old to New or vice versa is astounding. It is staggering to think that Europe had not tasted a red ripe tomato before 1500. Thats right, Italians had been cooking their food tomato-less for thousands of years until the Columbian Exchange. Furthermore, the Old World had been without vanilla, cocao (chocolate), peanuts, strawberries, blueberries and turkies. The New World benefitted edibly from the Old World as well. They received cows, chickens, cats, pigs, apples, bananas, cotton, wheat, rice, pears...etc. The list goes on. Perhaps most interesting, is that horses weren't around in North or South America until the exchange. Not a one indian riding on horseback until the white man came ashore. Now this may seem like a trivial matter with respect to the Nomiki mission, or space travel in general, but its parallel implications are clear. The effect of the Columbian exchange was astounding. Besides the death from exhangable diseases, the population soard. Europeans and New Worlders alike thrived off of new crops, animals, and ideas. The same needs to happen today. Think of planet earth as the current Old World and any other astronomical civilization as the New World. In seeking out celestial colleagues we stand the chance of repairing our earthly damages, feeding our children, improving our standards of living, discovering new types of energy and most importantly, expanding our ideas, our conceptual databases, our love and understanding of the universe. It would be the "Nomiki Exchange", and could very well mark the next breakthrough in human history.
Nomiki seeks to find that New world and most humbly requests your support.
Kindest Regards,
Nomiki and its Captain, Daniel Kerr
Thursday, November 20, 2008
It's Hard to Type in Outer-Space
My name is Daniel Kerr and I command and pilot the spacecraft Nomiki. Largely, this blog is a plea to the world to understand and support the importance of current and future space travel. It is a reminder of the passion society once had for exploration; and the apathy sociey sadly has for it in the present. Whats more I am stuck in limbo between the helio-sheath and the helio-pause of our galaxy. It is cold, dark, and lonely out here and without sufficient funds I will be stuck out here until my demise. Luckily, I've got access to the internet so I can keep all of you informed.
Kindest Regards
Kindest Regards
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
