Wednesday, April 18, 2007

wimps and machos

I am now two and a half weeks into my second student teaching position in Bloomer, Wisconsin. Bloomer is a larger town than Boyceville, the jump rope capital of the world, and home to Main Street Cafe which makes really good pie. The drive is longer and coming home into the warm sunshine can be quite a challenge. If it weren't for the cost of gas and the fact that I am currently not working I would completely enjoy the drive. So far my car seems to be making an effort to keep me awake. I've had oil lights flashing, the cruise control resuming at will (not my will), and strange rumblings and bumpings in the suspension. Although I have appreciated the jolts back to wakefulness, I hope that the car perseveres past 250,000.

I am listening (during this lovely commute) to Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything (I heard the first chapter in January) and am learning a lot of terribly useful information. I now know (but may not remember next week) that there are subatomic particles called wimps and machos - neither of which may actually exist. There is a large crater impact in Manson, IA. Australia is sinking. You should not run around Yellowstone Park in the dark without a flashlight. Mount St. Helen erupted from its side. The catastrophic destruction of the earth is 'overdue' on several fronts (or faults, supervolcanos, or meteors showers). In the twinkling of an eye a landslide carried away the tent of the parents of a family, leaving the children sleeping and unhurt. Every year 30 000 metric tons of space dust land on earth. Scientists are now more certain about the age of the earth (~4.5 billion years) than they are about what causes gravity. (although there is ample evidence of its existence). It seems reasonable to assume however that in 4.5 billion years from now - we won't be here.

The more I examine the universe and study the details of its architecture, the more evidence I find that the universe is some sense must have known we were coming. --Freeman Dyson