I don't write about science anymore

Jun 20 2011 Published by under Uncategorized

...but I want to.

For the past four years, we've been bouncing around the eastern seaboard, and toward the end there, I just wanted to be home. Heather and I have had a recent tragedy that brought us back, and this time, we're staying. I love my home, I love DC, love Maryland. Hopefully we're here to stay.

It's been tough to keep working beyond my dayjob at times. This impermanence, I think, has fostered some interesting ideas for fiction, for telling stories about people, but hasn't given me the stability I had in college for studying, for absorbing more technical ideas and writing. It's something I've grown to miss.

There's a wonderful groundedness that comes from taking new research, pulling from old and spinning it into a clean essay. It's a sharp contrast to the tepid apathy of this age, where ideas have become a kind of currency, assigned a material weight, proposed for acceptance as something that can be measured and held. We want to pin them to our lapel with a flourish, a great red feather, this idea of self, identity defined by this concept or our perception of it. It is with the utmost importance that this idea - the defining idea - is handled with care; only apt fingers - knowing hands - can draw from it the will to stand in a courtroom and demand respect.

But a demand for respect is always inherently a request. The affirmation is sought from an established entity, which adds a fascinating undercurrent to these interactions: if we were truly defined by an idea, would we seek such an approval? A demand is not a request; we demand things by actions, not words. Demands are not things that are sanctioned by others, they are done. Art demands attention and acceptance by its existence. The greatest artists do not request approval to create, they do so with courage to cut deep into themselves and smear the inner beauty, love, anger, hatred, disgust, selfishness, despair over their canvas. The demand to see, to hear, is made by the boldness or subtlety of the piece itself, the skill of the artist to manipulate our senses. It's an argument that seeks no response.

To see ideas treated without such regard is puzzling. We continue to spiral deeper into splintered subculture, siphoning down into tiny minorities seemingly only compelled by the shared acknowledgement of contrast, a shade of a hue. By starting with a wide cultural category, one can trickle down into outlying areas where the subcategory defies its super-category and crosses over into another camp entirely. What a grand star chart you could create with the categorization of identity-defining ideas.

Willingly, we walk fields of post-modernist apathy in These Uncertain Times. I marvel at the depth of despair in some, the depth of ignorance in others and those tiny, peripheral flickers of hope. Blink and they're gone. We're headed somewhere, but I don't think anyone knows where it is. The internet is rife with accusations of intellectual dishonesty and calls for reason, rationality, but the reality is that even most fervently demonstrative of these virtuous human beings is as deeply hypocritical as those they demonize. There are some things in life that are only worth a smile and a shrug. The point is, you have to keep walking.

To find stability again, enough stability to delve into something tangible will be a relief from the ether of creativity. I never said it was a heavy ether, mind you, but enough to compel me to continue writing about people, about ideas, about feelings and irrationality and hands and slips of memory, of sense. To write creatively is a compulsion; to write about nature, about reality - that is work. My saving work.

2 responses so far

  • Kevin Z says:

    I empathize with you Jeremy. As a mercenary scientist and struggling writer who is a primary "bread-winner" (quite in the literal sense) for a family, I yearn for a sort of stability that brings peace of mind mind measured in years, not months. After 10+ years of bouncing around the continent, we find a place we like and fit in only to be faced with the decision once again: who is the highest bidder and do I have to move again?

    Its most frustrating for my family. I can adapt anywhere and be happy. But, my wife loses friends and her freelance photography career jumps off the edge of the world only to climb a steeper cliff with each move. My kids finally have friends as neighbors and it is heart-breaking to consider taking that away from them.

    All I ask for an audience that appreciates the words that I type down. Sadly, the audience appears unwilling to support the years I've spent penning blog posts which they have clearly enjoyed enough to send private emails, comments, and share with their network of science-appreciating peers.

    Like you said, we must keep walking.

  • jeremy says:

    Thanks, Kevin. I suspect that many of us who were dug in early with this science blogging thing have had the same experience. With your children in tow, it must be even more difficult for you and your family to keep moving around. Are you leaving NC then?

    It's nice to know sometimes that we don't walk completely alone.