I would like to visit the Obama Presidential Center when it is completed, but that wish is complicated by so damn many obstacles. A piece in today’s New York Times added fuel to my desire to experience, first hand, what I believe will trigger a massive resurgence of understanding and appreciation of President Obama’s contributions to American society and our place in the world. (Unfortunately, our place in the world is diminishing with every passing day, thanks almost entirely to the malignant narcissist-in-chief whose words and actions are driven by revenge and a host of psychopathic traits.) Despite my desire to visit the center, when it is complete, I share some of the concerns that others have expressed, one of which is that the facility will accelerate the gentrification of the neighborhood in which it is located. Yet, the idea that the venue will serve as a community anchor for the area may negate that concern, if the concept becomes reality. Aside from the cultural significance of the Obama Presidential Center, I am drawn to its architectural significance…and to the artworks that will be part of the venue. Chicago is awash in magnificent examples of extraordinary architecture, by the way. The colorful glass windows and other art installations will be draws, in and of themselves, to the Obama Presidential Center, I think. But, oh, the obstacles: the timeframe for completion; cancer; weakness; the limitations of Time, itself; and my distaste for dense crowds—among others. Ach.
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The third law of motion, formulated by Sir Isaac Newton, is “every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” Applied to the physical world, the law makes sense and helps us understand how the world works. But, if applied to actionable intentions, the laws of physics can confound us. For example, if I follow through on my intent to make a donation to a charity, I should expect that action (according to the third law of motion) to result in and equal and opposition reaction…that is, the charity should deposit an equal amount to my bank account. That’s not how exactly how it works, though, despite the aphorism to the contrary that says “no good deed goes unpunished.” One could look at the matter from a different perspective, though. The “equal and opposite reaction” need not be identical—only equal. So the reaction might take the form of a different, but equal, reaction; like a scam in which criminals intercept details of my charitable contribution and use them to siphon money out of the charity’s coffers. I accept that the laws of physics are real and true, but that does not mean I really understand them. I don’t. In fact, if my brain were far better developed, intellectually, I think I would argue forcefully against the universality of those laws. In earlier times, others have argued against the prevailing wisdom, only to be executed (Giordano Bruno and Hypatia) or imprisoned (Galileo Galilei). I might be judicious in sharing my theories, in light of the lessons of history, though.
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Chemotherapy creates havoc with one’s blood. More than half the results of the Complete Blood Count (CBC) taken yesterday were outside their “normal” ranges; either high or low. Similarly, several readings from the Comprehensive Metabolic Panel (CMP) were outside the normal ranges. Those deviations have long since become “normal” for me. I have learned which of the anomalies may signal reasons for concern and which are simply manifestations of the chemotherapy drugs circulating in my cardiovascular system. I would rather not have reason to know such stuff but, on the other hand, I would rather understand the so-called abnormalities than wonder whether they signify that my treatment has gone awry. Yesterday, my oncologist reviewed the just-collected CBC information with me and confirmed that the aberrations were not of concern. But she wants me back next Wednesday to do more lab work, as a follow-up to yesterday’s chemo treatment. It’s nearing noon today (Saturday) and I seem to be feeling the effects of yesterday’s navelbine infusion; lacking energy and ready for another return to a soft, comfortable bed.
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We have watched all but one episode of the recently-released new season of The Diplomat, which was released on Thursday. That should explain how we’ve spent the last two evenings. The show provides solid entertainment that holds my attention.
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When I lived on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico as a child, I visited Padre Island with some regularity. Not infrequently, during those short treks to the beach, the surf and the sand was littered with Portuguese Man-O-War siphonophores (commonly called, incorrectly, jellyfish). I learned quite early to steer clear of them; their tentacles (actually,
cnidocytes) are venomous, capable of inflicting very, very painful stings. No reason for mentioning this, other than the fact that it dropped in on my mind. I think, perhaps, my brain is in the midst of some mental fractures, hence the variety of unrelated images floating through my head.