Saturday, April 27, 2019
Perhaps our lives should be measured in half years to get more out of them. How old can I manage to get by measure of all these thick and sprawling years? A century? Some decades? But in half years, today I would be then celebrating my 109th halfbirthday? And all of that with ever so many to go.
Oh, a present?
That is so kind of you but completely unnecessary.
I mean, if you absolutely insist.
For a gift I'd just like you to get everyone to read clerkmanifesto everyday. But only until I've taken over the World. At that point I'll become...
But you don't have to do anything for my halfbirthday.
Just, you asked.
Or, I pretended you asked- same thing.
I am spending my 109th halfbirthday reading about dark matter. It turns out that most of what makes up the Universe is impossible to ever see, or hear, or touch. Poor dark matter. It is flying wildly through you right now, operating under its own mysterious rules.
They say it holds the Universe together.
And it is also what sends the Universe wildly expanding.
The Universe is tearing itself apart. But it is doing it so much more slowly than even our halfyears are tearing us apart that we probably don't need to worry about it.
But then, just because worry is always optional doesn't mean we can always choose whether or not to do it.