The kid's summer break threw off my morning routine and I haven't been exercising. My shoulders have opinions about this, so I took a break to do some simple yoga. While I was lamenting the lack of technology to work from corpse pose, I realized I could at least do off-camera meetings on the floor.

As he worked
on next semester’s syllabus
the academic told me
that he worries
his students are preparing
for careers
that won’t exist for long,
but then he paused and added
that he really worries
his students are preparing
for a world
that has already stopped existing.

I'm having one of those annoying days where my brain has fallen into melancholy reminiscences. I also just noticed a couple of splinters in my hand from the weekend's garden work.
I know how to deal with the splinters but what's the metaphorical equivalent to a sterilized needle for the brain?

One of the research projects I work on that's been in limbo for the past six weeks finally got the notice of award for next year's funding. In normal times getting the 4th year of funding on a 5 year grant is the expected outcome. But in these times it was very uncertain so it's worth celebrating.

We've reached a point where it's inevitable that things will get worse before they get better. I just selfishly wish I didn't live so close to where that breaking point is likely to happen.

My promotion and raise are finally official. I worked so hard to get here, and I'd like to just be proud of that for a bit, but in the current environment pride's drowned out by anxiety and grief. How long will research continue to be a viable career? What do I do when it isn't?

Me: the current administration's anti-science bullshit may eventually put me out of a job so we should spend less.

My car: I guess now is a good time to mention my potentially expensive problems.

My vacuum cleaner: you know, I've served you well, but it's time to retire.

"Like a sharknado in a shitstorm"

That's how someone characterized the current situation (re research specifically, but it probably applies more generally) in a meeting today.

So, how does one stop a sharknado? (I didn't watch the movies).

It's only day 9 and the stress is getting to me (granted I wasn't at baseline to start because of the fires).
Knowing that their intention is to wear us down doesn't keep it from working. I need a better survival strategy.

In the past as I've read various predictions about climate disasters I've thought to myself that when they happened my work would just carry on for anyone not directly affected.
And well, here I am writing R code while the city burns.

My son 100% did not mean to punch me in the nose. Knowing this does not make my nose feel less punched. I'm not mad because I'm clumsy enough I could punch my own damn self in the face (Also I'm not injured). I'm still gonna whine about it. (Here on the internet where he won't hear and feel guilty).

For a game with such simple game mechanics, Blockus requires a surprising amount of concentration.
I suppose it's probably easier without a 7 year old playing drums in the next room.

Sitting on the front porch and the neighborhood flock of parrots came careening overhead. Sometimes I think of leaving LA but after 23 years living in a city with palm trees and parrots nowhere else will ever be ridiculous enough.

This basically sums up the day.

(And for those who follow me elsewhere, yes, I do take a picture pretty much every time he does this on the couch in my office.)

When even the cats start complaining about how messy the house is it's time to get your shit together.

(Priority 1: full litterbox clean because the squeaky wheel gets the clean litter.)

I fully admit this isn't any worse than the rest of the current everything but Dr. Oz as the head of the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services? Wtaf!?

I think I need book (fiction) recommendations because I have got to stop reading the news.

I'm juggling a lot of things at work right now.

Juggling is the one where you throw a bunch of balls up in the air all at once and hope they don't break when they land, right?