But it's lovely. As far into sadness as I go sometimes, it's nice to be in the middle of the forest with stars. Just stars.
I haven't anything substantial to say at the moment. It's 4:30. I've been thinking as we wait for astronomical twilight.
I've decided that it's time for me to have a child. A little girl. One last attempt at innocence. If and when that doesn't work out, I officially give up on humanity.
Of course, I'm not serious. It's a bit laughable to think that I have time or sanity to give birth pre-PhD. Or even post-PhD. Also there's the slight necessity of having some kind of sidekick to help me produce the kid. Biological details.
Actually, I think what I find intriguing is the thought of having somebody to protect, actually protect this time. Not over-protect. Just protect. To preserve some sort of innocence, to prevent some sort of inevitable destruction. It's silly to think that such a thing is possible, but why not? Why not be able to explore freely? Why not have curiosity without your cat being killed?
The Sombrero Galaxy is staring at me. So is Hiram Perkins. Also some Soviet-era Cold War memorabilia, and seemingly Soviet-era computers. Twenty four-ish minutes until astronomical twilight. I love this job, with or without my imaginary child.