I reached a milestone yesterday: I donated my 24th pint of blood — 3 gallons!1 I used to have a rule: no talking about needles while I’m driving.2 We want to keep the driver conscious. I decided my fear of needles wasn’t optimal and decided to donate blood to get over it.
What do we do when reality is more complex than our taxonomy? What if we collect colors and discover the rainbow is a continuum?
Some might say, get more small, square boxes. And maybe that’s okay as long as we recognize that small, square boxes can’t fully capture reality. That small, square boxes can’t change reality. That small, square boxes can’t change a rainbow.
With my many trips to Cannon Beach already this year, I’ve started to notice changes in the sand level on the beach. Another trip, the rocks on the inland side of Haystack rock were completely covered by sand. Yesterday, the rocks were exposed and surrounded by water even though the tide wasn’t in. Even though I wasn’t able to talk anyone else into going with me1 it was a good day at the beach. Warm weather, sunshine, and cousins.2
Your name. Your location. All your friends. Your family. Your work history. Your schooling. Your birthday. Your checkins. Your events. Your hometown. Your likes, photos. Your relationships. Your religion and politics.
And not just for you, but for one and a half billion other people.
To be honest, I’m not even sure I know what the Facebook platform’s terms of service dictated that I do with user data acquired from Facebook. Technically, users could revoke certain app permissions later, and apps were supposed to remove any impacted data that they had stored. I doubt most apps did that, and I suspect users never knew—and still don’t know—that revoking access to an app they used eight years ago doesn’t do anything to reverse transmissions that took place years ago.
Insert pithy statement about closing the stable door after the horse has bolted here.
Since our visit the previous weekend, massive breakers scrubbed the Oregon coast. Ecola Creek rerouted north again, much closer to bluffs. The loose sand that was on the beach washed away. The tsunami evacuation maps normally posted on the seawall are gone. Have they also washed away?
Ordinarily, we would walk from Second Street down to the Rock, take some pictures and walk back. But it was a cold, blustery, cloudy day. After a hot drink and walking down the steps to the beach, we decided to drive to Tolovana Beach Park and walk to the Rock from there instead. Our assumption was that this would be a shorter walk. Checking the map, I’m not convinced this is the case, which makes me feel a lot better — and confirms what the walk felt like.
Another great day on the Oregon coast! I can’t wait for the next one.
Many years ago, I noted that you could name a starand get the name recorded in the Library of Congress for free — with just a tweet. This is possible because every single tweet is currently being recorded in the Library of Congress.
You still have a few days left. Name any star. Create and print your own certificate.
Most importantly, go outside, look up, and enjoy the night sky.
Update. I wrote on Facebook in response to a friend who noted this could be “the perfect anniversary gift”:
You’re not limited to naming just one star. In researching this post, I found a bunch of star registries. Most of them don’t claim to get them “registered” with the Library of Congress, just recorded in their “registry.” I have a Google Sheets spreadsheet handy… ;-)
For that matter, you’re not limited to naming just stars. Name a galaxy. There’s one 2.5 million light-years away in the constellation Andromeda that you could (re)name. Then, in a dark spot on a romantic summer evening, you could find 200-400 billion stars honoring your love — no telescope or binoculars needed. :-)