Misgivings and Regivings.

So the PM is pregnant, gentle reader, as I believe I have mentioned.
This is my second marriage, and my second kick at fatherhood, ish sha Allah.
I have had some worries over the last couple of weeks about redoing all the childbearing things.
Music lessons
Parent teacher meetings
Gifts for teacher at Christmas.

BUT. Thanks to the frickin' baby boom that is underway, I have the antidote:
Teaching Peanut to read.
Having over all the cousins for sleepovers.
Pictures.

I feel no less anxious, but more excited.

Renos Ohnoes!

So in the process of de-Kening my main bathroom last night, I did significant damage to the old floor. I am very sad.
I really hope that a) businesses that market hardwood floor repair actually provide it, or b) that I can invent hardwood floor repair.
Also, I have a new source of horror: that moment when you, having removed some floor from your second storey and gone to have a cup of tea, hear THUMP THUMP above your head in the kitchen, and you realize that this THUMP THUMP is exactly what you imagined it would sound like if your cat was exploring your ceiling cavity.

World, Peanut. Peanut, World.

Peanut is very small, only 2.3 cm long.

Moral authority

An external moral authority (MA) is important, because humans who
believe that they are the source of MA are notoriously wrong.

Caveat: the MA cannot be quoted as a justification for actions, only
used as a reminder to constantly question one's actions.

Ok, how am I doing? (hard to concentrate while blogging on the bus).
External MA should be recognised, and internalized.

Otherwise, self is considered the MA, which means actions are moral
across the board.

Is it possible to have an MA that is current? I think not. I think
te MA needs to not be an actor, always an abstract to remain distanced
from any real-world concerns. It's a silent mirror, not an in-person
guide.

Blog ideas.

I have a list of blog ideas. I make little notes to remind me of blog topics. It keeps me organized. For instance, a note that says "4 Horsemen of Entropy" reminds me to blog about Broken Dark and Dirty.

So what the hell did I want to write about when I wrote "Breakfast is coming?"

Age and population.

Givens:
Anyone older than me is old.
Anyone younger than me is young.
I am neither old nor young.

When I was born, the entire world was old. As I age, there can never
be any more people that are old than there were when I was born.

However, as I age, there is an ever increasing number of young
persons. If population stays the same, I slide across aging like a
steel slide over guitar strings, with a steadily growing proportion of
the world that is younger than me.

However, population is not constant, right? The population is
steadily growing, so rather than a gentle slide, I am more like a
finger on a string. Between the moment of my birth and my current
age, there is a geometrically growing chord of youth.

I have a responsibility to people who are young. From the birth of my
little sister, when I was instructed to be nice to her, to the
mentoring I do at work to students, to the inevitable grand patenting
I will have to do, that responsibility is not only present, but
increasing logarithmically. The world is getting younger all the
time.

By extension of this, when I reach the end of my life, when there will
be the fewest old people (not the most), that responsibility will be
the sum of my existence, and the world will be the youngest it has
ever been!

Sitting very still... sweating a little.

Words can barely express how much I would like a cigarette right now. I don't NEED ONE OH MY GOD OR I WILL GO OFF THE DEEP END; it's not that kind of feeling. I just know that nothing right now would feel better than a deep warm throatful of hot smoke.

The funniest part? I also know, contradictorily, that it would taste awful, I would retch and spit, and then I would have to brush my teeth and wash my hands like a Lady MacBeth understudy to try and hide the lingering odour. Would you like to know more?

It has some weird correlation with having accomplished what I set out to do with the evening, and now having nothing else to do.

Oh well, off to find something to do! That isn't smoking.