Visit the kelpforest....

Well, I don't know why I allowed myself to get sucked into Code Geass: Lalouche of the Rebellion,as I try to avoid series based on political intrigue and masked antiheroes. Not to mention mecha, although I don't mind them. It finally finished last night. I think you could tell how it had to end, as it was leading inevitably in that direction. God, how depressing. ( Spoiler )

I also finished Watchmen earlier this week; someone in my book group had warned me it was not a fast read despite being a graphic novel, and he was certainly right. Most of the chapters have several pages of regular text in the form of news articles, describing character backgrounds. It's a pretty intense story, and it didn't really have a happy ending either.

And the first disk of Six Feet Under. I had caught a few episodes of this when cable let us have the channel for free a while ago and had been intrigued. Not quite happy either, plenty dark, but a lot of black humor too. And I'm slightly amused that I'm familiar with a lot of the outdoor locations - the intersection where Dad gets hit by the bus is on the street where we often went out to lunch at our old office in downtown Long Beach. I'm having difficulty finding the time to watch it, as it's definitely not for the kids, but John doesn't want to watch it either. I have to wait until he's out in the garage for a few hours. Anyway...

Something cheery, now, please?

So, have not seen Dark Knight (although I loved the graphic novel - it's based on the one of the same title, right?), and probably won't until it shows up at the $2 theater, on DVD, or maybe even HBO, where John will turn it on in the last third of the movie (or I'll come home from work and catch him in the middle of it), and then catch earlier bits of it on subsequent showings. It seems most of the recent movies that have come out lately, I see in chunks. It was thus we saw the most recent Die Hard movie. I've now seen the end three times in the last week, and still haven't seen the beginning.

One thing strikes me though. For the last month, the Joker movie posters have been all over the place, especially bus stops, and it kept niggling at me that they reminded me of something. I finally figured out what it was.

This is the bus stop poster:



( And this is what it's reminding me of... )

What is really weird is that I have been thinking about death a lot lately. Not like I want it to happen to me or anyone, but that it's a natural part of life. I realize many of my entries over the last couple of months have mentioned it, and also I tend to post more when I 'm depressed. Thursday I had to leave work early to take Avalon to the doctor, and while returning home I passed the cemetery where the brother of an old friend is buried. On a whim, I turned into the drive, parked, took Avalon out of her carseat, and tried to find Paul's headstone. It took a while, I haven't really been back there since the funeral. When I finally did, I was shocked to realize how long ago it was - 1979! I was still in high school, the beginning of my senior year. I remembered at the time I never wanted anyone to tell lies at my funeral the way they did Paul's. Paul was a whiny bratty kid, and anyone who said he never complained didn't know him very well. He did have a hard life though; his kidneys had failed and he had to go to dialysis several times a week and he was plagued with health problems. He also wasn't the best looking guy in the world. I figured we could give him a little company. His parents live in Flagstaff now so I'm sure he doesn't get many visitors. We sat there on the grass for a little bit, then wandered around and looked at some of the other stones. Avalon was quite happy to be outdoors being carried around, looking at the sun through the leaves, and watching the workers digging with a Bobcat across the road.

California has such boring cemeteries; all the headstones have to be perfectly flat and flush with the ground so they can just run the mower over them. Only the older cemeteries have upright stones. The one I used to live near in Dover, New Hampshire was much more interesting; some of its stones predated the Civil War and it was still in use. Much smaller town though.

And now this happens. Maybe I was having premonitions, although I usually leave that psychic shit to my Irish husband. He mentioned he's been feeling a 'presence' around lately that he told to go away.

I need to get back to him - he need a lot of comforting right now, and for a long time to come, I'm afraid.

From an article in the OC Register on the Mortuary Science/Restorative Arts program at Cerritos Community College, reportedly one of the best in the country (but there are only 52). One of the characters in Six Feet Under reportedly touted getting his license there.

Whose face is that?


*Trek that is...

As I was leaving the office a couple of hours ago, I noticed the flock of starlings in the sycamores surrounding the building were making ruckus and a crow picking at something on the grass. I stopped to watch for a moment. A resident great blue heron, who stops on our lawn to catch gophers, sauntered over and imtimidated the crow away from his object of interest. The heron struck at the object, tossed it into the air, and caught it in his beak. It turned out to be another starling, already wounded by the crow, but loudly protesting nevertheless. The heron tossed it around a few times, seeming a bit puzzled as to how to swallow it. The crow began diving at the heron, upset by the loss of its dinner. The heron finally flew off with the starling in its beak, with several other crows on hot pursuit.

I'm always conflicted by scenes like this. I always want to rush to the poor helpless birdie's aid, and yet I know I would not be performing a good deed. Predators need to eat too, and starlings are a non-native pest that, along with English sparrows and eucalyptus trees, are displacing native species. Not that much of anything is native in the city where I live; I chose to let native bird keep its meal.

This led to some thoughts on the human species in general. I have the urge to protect my family and friends from harm, and yet, as a biologist, I know that humans as a population are subject to all of the cycles that natural wild animals are. Aids, Ebola and war are the methods nature is using to keep us under control. Childhood accidents and third world starvation are a means of thinning the excess of the new generation, despite any doctor proclaiming both are preventable. So I type as I use only one hand, because I'm holding my 8 month-old daughter with my other arm. Sometimes being a biologist and mom don't mix well.

I just learned at lunch today that Sandy's sister passed away back in October. She didn't seem to want to talk about it so I didn't press. It seems there have been a lot of deaths over the last 18 months or so:
John's Grandfather
Ian's father
Mary's grandmother
Monica's mother and her husband's mother
My grandmother and the year before, my uncle (my uncle)
Cliff, who used to work in our office
Mardie, my sister-in-law's mother
Beth's mother, who is not dead, but has contracted both Alheimers and cancer. She no longer knows her daughter or anyone else, so Beth feels about the same as if she had.

Although I'd only known a few of these people, I do know the people who lost them. Mary was saying we are about the age when this is going to be happening to us more and more as we get older. Plus that whole 9/11 thing. Hearing about a plane crash at an airshow in Pt Mugu yesterday nearly reduced me to tears. Is it any wonder I've been in a depressed and morbid mood lately? I can barely stand to watch the news any more.

On the other hand, John and I are in charge of three little people just beginning their lives. Everyday, when I get home from work, one or all of them will say or do something that makes me chuckle or just makes me go "Awww!" (and I am not a person easily overpowered by cuteness). I have to remind myself not to take these moments for granted. The passage of years seems to be speeding up more and more; before I know it they'll be teenagers.