Deep-rooted

When I was a child, I believed that in Heaven, everyone would know everything. All that science had yet to uncover, all the things science couldn't uncover because the evidence wasn't preserved, what happened on the Mary Celeste - everything. I don't remember developing or constructing this idea in my head, it's just my earliest memory of what I thought Heaven would be. My vision of a reward for a good life was an afterlife spent learning everything there is to know. I feel I should say something like "which probably explains a lot," but "which makes absolute sense, all things considered," is probably more accurate.

(I also thought that every person's whole life would be recorded, like a script, so that everyone who had ever known me would be able to read every embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind, every mean things I had said when I thought no-one could hear, and all my heinous crimes, like cheating on that question on a test three months ago. I think children picture the afterlife as "Like this one, but better," and apparently I just assumed the shame would carry over.)

It was rather a let-down to learn that what the religion I was raised in meant by Heaven was the joy of being in God's company forever. That seemed awfully dull by comparison, and probably made the probable non-existence of Heaven less of a loss.

Today, the book I'm currently reading noted that there isn't sufficient preserved evidence for archaeologists to determine whether ancestral humans had done away with Neanderthals by violence, or if they had edged them out through superior technology and ability to exploit the land. I was struck by the pity of the fact that no-one will ever know. And then a reassuring, incomplete thought came to me: "At least we'll find out when we're dead."

I think this particular incident was pretty funny because it was a harmless, childish view, but it does highlight how deep-rooted ideas can be - even those which are baseless and ridiculous under the slightest scrutiny. It's also why when someone says that it's alright for them to use that word or make that joke because they don't really mean it, they're not like that, I don't believe them for a second, even - especially - if they believe it of themselves.

The dullest conversation I have on a regular basis.

Oh, sorry, I can't have those, I'm vegetarian. Thanks for the offer though! No, not that long, about three years now. Mainly the environmental side of things. Em... Beans are pretty good for protein, and eggs, and then there's tofu and quorn. Yeah, I still eat eggs and dairy. Why yes, I suppose I am still indirectly supporting the beef industry. No, I think morally there's nothing wrong with eating meat. Well if I were keeping my own animals and knew they had a decent quality of life, I don't think there'd be anything wrong with eating them, but I think I'd get attached, so I wouldn't want to. Well yeah, if I were stranded on a desert island I'd eat whatever I could catch. I don't know, eating roadkill seems like a sketchy idea anyway, if you have alternatives. You know what, I'm going to go grab a drink, I'll talk to you later!

I like to ascribe people the best possible intentions, and most people who ask about being vegetarianism are authentically trying to be nice, and to ask me about something they think I am interested in. Unfortunately, I find the vegetarianism debate pretty dull, and I think the only points worth making come off preachier than I care to be at a casual get-together. (My stock answer used to be "Mainly environmental reasons, plus you can't know without checking what conditions the animals are kept in" but I whittled it down to be considerate and avoid potentially making people squirmy.)

To set my terms, I am vegetarian for the following reasons:

• Meat production accounts for some 25% of industrial carbon dioxide emissions. (25% was the last figure I heard from a scientific source some years ago, it may have risen or fallen since then without altering the underlying point.)
• Factory farms are pretty rotten, and the laws in some countries are quite lax with what constitutes 'free range'.
• I am pretty into reducing the net suffering I cause before I die.

I am an unabashed hypocrite in the following regards:

• I still wear leather shoes. (I could say that this is because leather shoes last longer than fake leather, so it's more environmentally sound, but I haven't looked into the figure for that at all. Really I just don't like shoe shopping, and don't want to spend ages looking for something non-leather which will fall apart in six months anyway.)
• I'm not vegan. The factory farm argument I made above applies particularly to battery hens, and buying free range eggs might be rather meaningless. Also, according to someone smug at a party, the male calves of dairy cattle are still sold to beef farms if they're suitable, so really I'm not solving anything.

If people are thinking about going vegetarian, or like vegetarian cooking, those are perfectly fun to talk about, I really like food! If someone is treating it as an exciting intellectual debate, in which they try to pick holes in an argument I never made, that is simply not interesting, and there's no way to leave the conversation that doesn't come across as rude or conceding that my worldview is flawed and I am terrible.

But really, shouldn't you be looking for farms that treat the animals well and supporting those, so that they can thrive and not get pushed out of business by factory farming? What about raising your own animals? Do you check where your produce comes from, because some farmers in Third World countries get a pretty bad deal. Are you saying you care about animals more than people? What if the animal died of natural causes? But, like, meat is SO GOOD. Shouldn't you be eating the most sustainable meat? You know some people can't be vegetarian, so what are they meant to do? But we evolved to eat meat! EVER THINK OF THAT?

Some valid points, except I never claimed to be practising the optimal form of reducing meat-related carbon dioxide while also not supporting cruel living conditions. (Also: what people who can't be vegetarian and healthy should do is not be vegetarian. I don't know why people even put that to me, or anyone. And meat is delicious! That is also a non-point.) Given that the answer I give when people ask why I'm vegetarian carries the moral weight of turning off the tap while you brush your teeth, the fact that some people use me to pick apart arguments I haven't made (deliberately, because they lead to tedious conversations) rather makes it seem as though they think I believe myself to have the moral high ground, they themselves believe that on some level, and if they can get me to admit I'm not one hundred per cent consistent and rational then I will be one hundred percent wrong, and they will be the most rational and correct person in the world forever, and have no need to change their behaviour.*

That is a really big mess of insecurities to throw on a stranger just because they passed on the rummy bears.

Short story long, I don't see any moral issue with eating meat. I also don't see any moral issue with wearing shoes. I do think that buying, say, Converse is not morally neutral, as you're implicitly supporting Nike's factory conditions. Going vegetarian or vegan means a few weeks or months of eating boring food while you try to find new recipes, means all but always getting the pasta option in a restaurant, and may not be financially or physiologically feasible for everyone. I don't think there's some moral onus on anyone to become vegetarian or vegan. (Especially vegan. No-one loves a vegan.**) I do think that people should be honest with themselves about where there food comes from, and make an intellectually honest decision, but I would rather they not bounce the thought process off me, because good Heavens, it is simply not interesting.

(I could also gripe all day about angry vegans/vegetarians, but I'll leave it at saying that the term 'carnivore' really grinds my gears because humans are omnivores, and also the term 'bloodmouth' for omnivores is hilarious, as well as a handy red flag that an argument is going to be codswallop.)

*I also get this a lot with volunteering. "Well, going to a homework club for two hours a week isn't exactly solving the problems in the education system and the disadvantages experienced by schools in underprivileged areas, is it? And some charities are more for the volunteers to feel good than to actually fix things in the long-term, and obviously there's no way to check out any charitable groups, so I'll just take the high road and do nothing at all."

** I have known and been fond of several vegans.

I may not be cut out for academia

I had this evening earmarked for asking a PI to apply for a personal grant with me, and catching up on my Coursera. It's a quarter to eleven, and so far I have flitted anxiously between social media sites, eaten all the chocolate I bought to fuel myself through the taxing process of writing a several-sentence email asking someone to invest time in me, and clicked 'Compose'.

Oh, and I've written everything you're read this far! So I feel like there's something to be said for that.

The problem with waiting this long is that my process of emailing people for a job involves writing a self-flagellating email about how great they are and how I don't deserve to work for them and apologising for even contacting them, and saying how it's perfectly understandable if they don't want to take me on, then paring away the grovelling until I sound like a functional, employable human. Unfortunately, the more I let it twist and turn in my mind the higher a level of apologies and self-deprecation I'm going to have to work down from. Currently, no-one will hire me from my first draft of an email because it will sound as though I'll spend all my time lying on the floor of the lab, wailing with self-loathing, not getting any work done and making people step across me.*

Dear Professor C,

I contacted you previously about the possibility of undertaking a PhD in your lab. As you may be aware, the deadline for the submission of applications to IRCSET is next month, and I was wondering if you would consider applying with me. I know you didn't reply to my email asking if it would help if I looked for personal grants elsewhere, and you probably would have contacted me if you wanted me in your lab and thought I had a chance of getting an IRCSET grant, and - oh. I see how it is. I'm sorry for wasting your time.

Best regards,

Jennifer

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Dear Professor C,

As you may know, the deadline for applying to IRCSET is next month. I probably wouldn't get it, but I thought you might like to apply with me. There's only one award though, and I hear the application is quite hefty, and I understand if you're busy. I'd be very enthusiastic about working in your lab, but it's perfectly fine if you'd rather not have me!

Looking forward to hearing from you, unless you're too busy, in which case I'll take your silence as a no, and also I made you a cake,

Jennifer

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Dear Professor C,

I really enjoyed my time in your lab before Christmas, and was wondering if you would consider applying for a personal grant with me. You won't even know I'm there, honestly. I won't even need a desk, I can just sit at a box in the corner. Of course, if you secretly think my work was terrible but are too nice to say so, I will completely understand.

All the best,

Jennifer

P.S. I'm not sure if you realised, but the Santa Hat I gave you as a Christmas thank-you was handmade. Just to say.

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Dear Professor C,

OH GOD, I'M SORRY, DON'T LOOK AT ME.

I look forward to hearing from you.

All the best,

Jennifer

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On the plus side, it's not too late to find a nice cave in  the woods and live off whatever squirrels I can trap. If I only trap the grey squirrels I'd be doing an ecological service, too. It's comforting to have a fall-back option.

*I am good at lab-work! I got a First in my thesis project, and it dragged my overall grade up to a First, and I am good at seeing how the literature connects together! I just worry about sounding arrogant in unsolicited emails, and so I throw myself wholeheartedly in the polar opposite direction.

There is a grandeur in this view of life

This post has been sitting in my drafts for about three weeks, so it will probably go on a different tack than I imagined when I started.

Short version of this post:

I really, really like science. Like, really.

Long version:

When I was young, I wanted to be an artist, or a scientist, or an aid worker.  Of my vague career plans, the only one I knew the name for was 'artist', but the three played roughly equal roles in my imagined futures.

A few weeks ago I finished my degree in zoology, and while I still haven't given up the idea of doing a health science conversion course and running off and helping people (I'm only twenty-two! I have time to do a million things yet!), the idea of being an artist of any description has fallen by the wayside.  The main factors that tipped my hand at the time of making my choices for the CAO were "I probably won't get an A1 in Art, waa," and "Working on a portfolio for art college puts me at risk of not geting A1s in other subjects, waa."

It wasn't just that I wasn't good - that's a matter of work - but I didn't think I could shine. Worse, I didn't think I could contribute. I like to feel I'm leaving things better than they were before - it stems from a combination of helpfulness and insecurity. I didn't think - I still don't think - myself capable of creating something that would change people's hearts and minds and make them see something wonderful in the world.

At the same time, I spent fifth and sixth year falling in love with biology and physics.* I had always read books about nature as a kid, and genetics when I got a bit older, but this gave me more of a grounding in everything. My physics teacher was fantastic, but my biology teacher wasn't anything of the sort, and even that didn't do anything to stifle the thrill of knowing that this was how stuff worked. The fact that we could know these things was so quietly spectacular. If I became a good artist, I could help people see things a different way, but if I became a scientist, I could help people to see things that were there regardless of my part in it. Science only asks for your eyes.

The deciding factor in choosing to study science was that I could be helpful without having to interact directly with the people I'd be helping, because I was seventeen and neurotic and convinced that I would be awkward and people would throw things at me. Being crippingly insecure has worked out pretty well in the long-term though! Reading about what other people have discovered is wonderful, but doing my own research, even if it was my little final year project, is something else.

There are a handful of pieces of art that have made me ache inside. During my degree I got that feeling at least once a day. Both learning how things work and learning how people discovered that makes me happy in a simple, profound way. The first time I saw cells stained with DAPI under a fluorescence microscope was breath-taking. (DAPI is a nuclear stain, used for cells counts. It didn't tell me anything other than that there were cells there, which I knew to begin with. Didn't make it any less beautiful. We had to discover cells, and then microscopy, and then fluorophores, to get there!) My supervisor, who was showing me how to use the fluorescence microscope, was more concerned with the fact that the organelles I was staining for hadn't appeared on the other stains, but I was enraptured.

One of my favourite things about science is that it is not a body of work. It is an approach to the world, and it can be wrong, and that's not just fine, it's vital. All new art movements are a reaction against what's come before, but science builds on itself, discards what doesn't work and improves on what it can. I'm excited to start contributing to that. Even if every path I follow turns out to be a dead-end, I've eliminated one possibility and saved someone else time in working it out.

I'm not sure how I feel about tattoos of text - they can look well, but there's something a but too bald about them for me - but if someone demanded I get any phrase tattooed on my face, it would be "There is a grandeur in this view of life." That is probably one of my favourite combinations of words. Darwin wrote it about evolution, which I think is one of the most elegant theories proposed, and a great example of the simplicity of science - look at the world around you and see what you can make of it. I think this phrase also rings just as true if you take "this view of life" as being "the scientific method" - try to strip yourself of preconceptions, and based on what you can prove to be true, see what you can ascertain about the world. If it's true, it will be true whether or not you discover it, and whether or not it's believed. It won't need the right kind of eyes, and that's pretty wonderful. If I can uncover something new and true, and show it to people who wouldn't have known it otherwise, that will make me happy.

* I didn't take chemistry for Leaving Cert, and having done two years of it in college, it still doesn't hold the same place in my heart. I don't know why. It's missing some wonder.

Natural flair

There's a photo on the mantle-piece of my family's sitting room of me as a toddler, sitting in a little wooden chair unaided for the first time. The photo is a little blurry, either due to the camera or the rush to document the moment before I fell over, and my fat little face is beaming with delight, probably because of the fuss rather than pride at my sitting abilities. Evidently it was a big deal because previous attempts at sitting me upright had been met with failure.

It is crass to brag, but these days I can sit like a pro on all sorts of things. No-one ever feels the need to record it, or tell me what a good job I'm doing, and it just comes naturally.

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I'm perpetually confused and frustrated by the idea that you need to have an innate aptitude for certain fields if you are to excel in them. An inborn knack is certainly a boon and timesaver, but to think it's essential flies in the face of the lived experience of every adult who started out as a baby. Babies aren't great at just about anything, especially vocalisation or fine motor control, but most of them turn into attestments to the species' capacity for complex language and tool use.*

This viewpoint is quite prevalent with regards to maths and art in particular. With maths, it's easy to see how a methodical way of thinking is an advantage, but it's not the be-all and end-all. In fifth year I went on a big maths buzz and got consistent As. In my Leaving Cert, when I was more focused and giving roughly equal time to all my subjects, I came out with a C1. I gave maths as much time as my other subjects, but due to being average at it, compared to quite good at the others, I didn't score as well. But when I put more time and effort in, I did! BIZARRO!

It's not at all hard to see the appeal of the fallacy. There's nothing like trying something and discovering that you're good at it. When I was in Junior Infants and we were given a page of reading to do from our reader, I dicovered I knew how to read. I had always made my very patient mother read stacks of books to me, and apparently I had picked it up without realising it. I was so excited that I made my mum sit with me while I read the whole book.** By the time I was in Senior Infants, when it was my turn to go up to the teacher's desk, I would bring my own book because I had surpassed the levels of the readers.  Seventeen years and many books, textbooks, articles and papers later, that moment of understanding the symbols "Ben the dog rolls down the hill" still stands out as a high point in my life. Man. Reading.

But everyone I went to school with is literate! I might still be speedier at it or have a wider vocabulary than some of my classmates, but everyone got to a level they needed by working at it.

What bothers me, because I'm painfully literal***, is that "I'm not good at X" can be a perfectly true statement, but it comes with an implicit "AND THEREFORE I NEVER WILL BE," which is not a logical conclusion! It is true for me to say "I am not good at dancing," because I am ungraceful, and have made no concerted efforts not to be, so my version of dancing involves wooden flailing and shuffling and accidentally bumping into people. For the time being, I don't mind that (though bumping into people is not ideal), so I will continue to not be good at dancing, though I could correct it by going to classes or something. It is possible I will never be good at it, but that will be through a conscious lack of effort on my own part.

There's a big difference between "I'm not good at it now, and it's not important enough to me to work on becoming good at it" and "I wasn't magically good at it the first time I tried, so I'm doomed to mediocrity." There's nothing wrong with mediocrity, but it's not inevitable!

This wouldn't bother me as much as it does but for how it affects children. I think children should be praised for efforts they make, rather than for being good at something. It is easy to fuss when a child produces a picture better than their age, but if you don't fuss when they produce something average, you might kill their enthusiasm and stop them from having a chance at being good at it, or never being good but taking joy in it anyway.

That just seems so sad.

*It is really interesting how young children learn grammar, especially irregular verbs! For example, they will initially use "ran", then as they work out the general rules of grammar will use "runned", then they will learn that that verb is irregular because English is a nonsense language, and go back to "run".

Also, my friend's three-year-old knew the noun 'hyperbole' but no form of the verb 'exaggerate', and wanted to challenge some ridiculous story his father was telling, so accused him of hyperbolating. What an amazing three-year-old.

** I was surprised to learn that I still had to go back to school the next day. I knew how to read! What else was there?

*** Which makes me quite good at languages, because I'll have an appreciation of how the grammar works, rather than relying on "This phrase is the rough equivalent of that phrase", but means I sometimes fail to realise exactly what conversation I'm having with English speakers. I will leave and realise I answered someone's question inaccurately because the answer to the question with the words the used was "No" but the answer to what those words are commonly understood to mean by native or fluent English speakers is "Yes." It is kind of a problem.

Space oddity and lace gloves

My boyfriend's uncle had a new baby recently, so my boyfriend commissioned toys for him and the existing toddler.  The two(?)-year-old likes playing with machines and gadgets, and I couldn't find a nice robot pattern, so I made him a spaceship.

The pattern is Orbiting Oddity from Knitting Mochimochi.  I used DK yarn instead of worsted, and accordingly smaller needles, so I hope a discrepancy in size between the toys won't be a cause of contention. I think I should have used a more muted colour to stitch the eyes. The pattern used yellow, and I thought white might look less glowing and sinister.  Boy was I wrong. Still, the kid has to learn fear of aliens sometime.

The new baby is only a few weeks old, so doesn't have discernable interests yet. I'm taking the opportunity to make... something I'm quite excited about. Because I'm a child.

It's probably pretty obvious. But I don't want to say until it's finished for reasons of eeeeeh.

I made this gloves to sell at the craft fair, but I left them blocking on Friday night and they weren't dry by Sunday morning.

I bought a lot of Louisa Harding Willow Tweed on sale before Christmas, intending to make a tank top. Then I realised I wouldn't wear it. Now one skein of it is gloves! It knits very nicely, and I'll probably use the rest for similar projects. The pattern is taken from a stitchionary and plugged into my own glove pattern. (I have patterns and tutorials to write up, but I'm too busy being an unemployed wastrel and working through the 'To Read' pile that has been building over the course of my degree.) It took me a while to settle on one, but the yarn is so lovely and light that I couldn't but knit something lacy with it.

There were bees buzzing around while I was taking photos of the gloves. I thought they were aesthetically pleasing.

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I turned twenty-two yesterday! It came with conflicting sentiments based on the facts that 1. I haven't been on any adventures or done anything noteworthy I'm never going to do anything I'm boring. 2. Literally my entire career is ahead of me I am ridiculously young.

When I walk around a house where everyone else is in bed or in their rooms, my heart still sometimes speeds up when I open a door to somewhere empty for fear that there will be something on the other side waiting to rip out my throat and/or eyes. But now in my imagination it's a person, rather than some manner of zombie or hatred-fueled ghoul or Lovecraftian monster. I believe that's what they call growing up.

Science in cinema

for two films, a TV show, and a book. So you can't say I didn't say.

A disproportionate amount of the films and TV I've watched recently have had science as a key plot point. I'm all for creative license - I know if I were to start working in an office very few people would be as fabulous as Joan Holloway - but if a work is trying to address the issues of the day, or raise important questions, I do think they're due some regards for facts.

So, here is what I think of things I have seen recently, and one thing I have read!

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Contact by Carl Sagan (1985)

I like this book an awful lot. I found the writing style to be extremely elegant - it's almost in the style of a report, not florid for its own sake, and yet still evocative and moving. Maybe that's just because the story is told through someone* who loves science, and hot damn do I love science. It seems as though it should be dry, and yet it's not, which I think is some feat.

One thing I love about this book is the accuracy of the timescale. It starts sometime in the eighties, and ends around the turn or the milennium. It's funny, because the back cover of my copy promises "Aliens are coming to judge us" and the book itself describes in loving or masochistic detail the waiting, and the struggles for funding, and the internal power struggles, and the politics of big discoveries, and some further waiting. Between the style and the content - the book is over three quarters of the way through before aliens make any sort of appearance, and they don't really have that much to do with it - I can see how it wouldn't be for everyone, but I really like the respect Sagan shows for the tedium.

The book is also an ongoing discussion of the relationship between religion and science. Sagan was famously good at courteously debating believers in real life, and in his book he doesn't reduce the religious spokespeople to mulishly short-sighted hillbillies, but allows them intelligent discussion. One of them is the strongest characters in the book. It was refreshing to see that degree of complexity explored, when the debate in pop culture is often reduced to "invisible sky wizard, hurr"/"evil soulless monsters spitting in God's face", depending on who the writer agrees with.

If I'm honest, I didn't like the ending - searching for the imprint of the maker of the universe in primes - but Carl Sagan is flat-out better than I, he can do what he wants.

Also, I will never say no to The Future, as predicted by the eighties.

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Contact (1997)

Okay, I realise they can't have three quarters of the film be Jodie Foster sitting in a dark room waiting for something to happen. It was never going to compare well to the book for accuracy. It shows the squabbling for funding at the start, at has a "Four Years Later" cut-scene, but after that, it falls into the trap of having everything happen at once. They discover the message, then they discover the image within the message, then they discover the blueprint within that, the latter two within minutes of each other. Everything is discovered by the one group of people, as well. Sagan allows non-characters to make discoveries and collaborate on research, rather than have his characters be the shining geniuses every step of the way.  These are all pedantic points, but they're so commonly ignored in pop depictions of science, and the source material addressed them so maturely that it's a disappointment. As these things go, it's quite a good depiction of science.

The only part of the film that really jarred with me from a "That is not how science works" perspective was the ending. Jodie Foster leaves the building where she was being questioned about her experience in the machine, having conceded that she can't reasonably expect anyone to take her word for it, to be met by cheering crowds howling signs saying that they believe her. On a personal level, anyone would love that level of support, especially after hours of questions from a mean government man. As a scientist, I'm not sure how I would feel if I had no evidence for my findings, and people chose to believe it because it made a good story. I feel it strays from the point of the book. And science. (Also, surely she would have noticed the crowds on her way in to the building.)

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Prometheus (2012)

Everyone in this film is a terrible scientist, with the exception of the geologist, and I'm only giving him a pass because he doesn't do any geologing.  The stated aim of the voyage was that it was a scientific expedition, and at no point does anyone adhere to anything resembling the scientific method.

The thesis of the two... archaeologists? Maybe? is that as the same images appear around the world, they must represent something real. That it quite a jump, and not a reason to spend trillions of dollars. It's also uncomfortably reminiscent of the argument for theism that all these separate cultures can't have come up with religions and afterlives and creation myths on their own, so there must be something to it.

When it turns out that the space-god-aliens are dead, the male archaeologist sulks and goes drinking and says that the expedition has been for nothing. Then his drink poisoned by morally ambiguous Michael Fassbender robot, so I guess that's a lesson in not giving up the second things don't turn out the way you want them to. Really, I have no idea how he completed a PhD with that attitude.

On a technique-based note, Noomi Rapace and Ford are awfully careless with the two thousand-year-old, immaculately preserved head they find. "Oh look, are those living cells on the outer surface?" Maybe, but it seems more likely that they belong to a detrivorous micro-organism than to the head! And why would they assume the brain has the same structure as a human brain when they start shocking it to see what happens? And why has their DNA apparently not diverged from humans in the interim since our creation? And why did this scene sound like the writes wrote down all the biological-ish terms they knew and tried to work them in?

On a personal note, I hope that one thing that comes out of this kind of sci-fi is that when space travel becomes common, there are safety procedures for dealing with terrifying aliens. Also space-ghosts.

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Jekyll (2007)

I like Steven Moffat quite a lot when he wrotes short, contained stories. It's just a pity he can't carry an arc in  Doctor Who. (Hee.) This one is about a man, Tom Jackman, who learns he's a descendant of Doctor Jekyll, and begins to lose control of the Hyde alter-ego. He also gets chased by a shadowy organisation who want to use Hyde for research

This story isn't hugely grounded in science, but a theory floated by one character is that Jackman is a clone of Henry Jekyll created by the shadowy organisation, since the latter left no children.  She says that Jackman was never born, but "grown here". NOT HOW CLONING WORKS. First of all, a DNA sample is required, which means tissue that's been dead for more than minutes will be useless. Secondly, since cells can't yet be induced to develop fully - or even very far at all - in a lab, an artificially created zygote still needs a surrogate mother. The only developmental stage of 'test tube babies' that occurs in vitro is fertilisation.

The twist is that there was never a potion, Hyde was brought out by Jekyll's love of his servant, Alice. The second twist is that it is Jackman's wife, Claire, who is the clone of Alice. Claire is horrified by this revelation, insisting "I'm a real person!" I wasn't aware of that as a stereotype, that if you're a clone of someone you somehow don't count. I can't see how being genetically identical to someone affects your personhood - after all, identical twins exist. I can see how she'd react like that if she found out she were a robot that had been programmed to believe it were human, but I think writing in that horror - at the fact of being a clone, not that fact of being created to turn her husband into a weapon - shows a fundamental misunderstanding of cloning, to the point of being irresponsible writing.

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In conclusion, science is good, and the scientific method is good, and you can't use your films to accuse scientists of playing god if they haven't performed any science, and if you're writing about hot topics you should understand them, not pander to misinformation.

* I cannot remember the term for the narrative style is omniscient, but focuses on the perspective of a single character rather than jumping between them. Writer people, help?

P.S. I had reached the bust of the top I mentioned in the previous post when I realised it was going to be too wide and rip it all out. It was very sad.

And I can take or leave it if I please

[TW for discussion of suicide]

I saw Terry Pratchett last Friday! I didn't confirm it was him at the time, because "Oh my god, Terry Pratchett!" would have come as embarrassingly fangirlish - or EXACTLY THE RIGHT AMOUNT of fangirlish, but I'll never know now - regardless of whether I had identified him correctly. (He's an honourary lecturer at the English Department in my college, so it wasn't entirely outlandish.) The head of department invited him to see the museum room, and then she and another lecturer got to have Fancy College Dinner with him and sit around afterwards drinking coffee and talking and I am chock-full of jealousy.

When I've bragged to brought this up with people, the subject of Pratchett's Alzheimer's and fight for his right to assisted dying has come up, with mixed reactions. Whenever the topic of euthanasia come up, I worry that I come across as overly clinical, even though my thoughts on it are mixed. On the subject of assisted dying, though, my support comes from purely undistanced selfishness.

I love to make things. I have done ever since I was a wee slip of a thing. I've never been the best at anything, but that has become less important over time. I hope to pursue a career in molecular biology, which requires dexterity, but that will probably end before my crafting does. If I had a degenerative disease where I eventually wouldn't be able to create something of my own, I would find that incredibly distressing. And that's just with it as an unskilled hobby - I can't imagine what it's like for someone like Pratchett, so witty and eloquent and masterful with words, to know that he will lose that faculty, that gift. For my own part, if I can't make something of my own, reading and films and other people's art, however beautiful, will not be enough. I would feel trapped.

Another reason I would like the option to end my life in such a situation is that I would feel isolated within myself. As life goals go, I prioritise being useful more highly than I do being happy. Crafts help with that because if I feel I amn't doing anything sufficiently worthy with my time, at least I made a hat! Not being able to create would be a genuine problem for me. If I lost the use of my hands (my worst-case scenarios always involve loss of my hands, I need them to make and read and talk to people who are far away), I wouldn't be able to work on my own projects, I wouldn't be able to conduct research, I wouldn't be much good to many voluntary organisations. I realise in The Future everything may be voice-automated, so I can just be all "DOOR, OPEN", "PHONE, ANSWER CALL FROM SUICIDE HOTLINE" but I don't want to plan for things that don't exist yet. Loss of my mental faculties frightens me because of the associated loss of independence. (The scene with the signing of King George Dumbledore IV's will in The King's Speech was difficult for me to watch.) I have given showers and bedbaths, and changed adult nappies, and I know that there's no shame in needing or accepting that kind of help, unless you think bodies are icky, in which case you should not be in health care. My fear stems from the fact that I need a reasonable amount of time to myself to remain functional. At the very least, the stability of my mental health requires the option to take a few days to be a recluse. (See also: Why I Do Not Want To Live With Someone With Whom I Am Romantically Involved.) If I need help to eat and clean myself, if it becomes unsafe for me to live alone, I will feel trapped in my own life.

This evening I watched Terry Pratchett's documentary, Choosing To Die. It deals mainly with two men who have elected to end their lives with the help of the Swiss organisation Dignitas. It's a difficult watch in parts, and at the end we see one of the men drink the poison that will kill him, though his death is not shown. Having been composed throughout, he undergoes some physical distress as he falls asleep, asking for water which can't be given to him. This scene made me cry and feel like the worst kind of voyeur, but holding the views I do, I feel it was important for me to watch.

One discomfort expressed by Pratchett is the fact that Dignitas offer their services to people who are not physically and mentally healthy, but have "grown weary of life". While it may sound strange, it reinforced my wish that suicide were more socially acceptable. Part of it is the stigma associated with mental health issues, but the notion that suicide is selfish also contributes. The healthiest take on it I've heard comes from a friend's rommate whose father killed himself - he said that he viewed his father's depression as a disease that could have killed him at any time, making suicide a symptom rather than a choice. While perfectly logical, it seems somehow improper to ignore the autonomy of the situation. Suicide is placing your own happiness before that of your loved ones, but asking someone to live a life they can't bear is placing your happiness before theirs. (Here's a good post about caring about your own needs! among other things.)

A friend of Hunter S. Thompson said after his death

He told me 25 years ago that he would feel real trapped if he didn't know that he could commit suicide at any moment. I don't know if that is brave or stupid or what, but it was inevitable.

In the documentary, a spokesperson for Dignitas said that many people who have been given the green light for assisted dying do not follow through with it - the knowledge that the option is there is enough. If and when the zombie apocalypse comes, I think guns would be a terrible weapon as the noise would draw more zombies to you, but I want to have a gun with a single bullet in it. The primary use would be if I'm about to be torn apart by zombies, but it will also be used if I go for too long without any evidence that the plague is subsiding or that other people have survived and have some sort of plan (for my own definition of "too long").  I would like there to be a similar option in the zombie free-world, but with the condition being "if getting out of bed is a victory for too many days in a row." But I have friends who think that suicide is selfish, and I don't want my friends to think I'm selfish; I have parents who will live for many more years, and no parent should have to bury their child; my mum was raised on fire-and-brimstone Catholicism, and I wouldn't want her to worry I had gone to Hell. (My Catholic guilt has long outlasted my Catholic faith, contributing to my sense of obligation to hang around.) It would also be spectacularly selfish of me to make a decision I would never want my loved ones to make.

And yet. I don't have any desire to kill myself, but the lack of the option does make me feel caged. It makes living feel like an obligation rather than a choice. This is the crux of the issue of assisted dying, but I do think it spills over into every day life. Mental health issues that lead to suicidal ideation are treatable, but some people may not feel comfortable receiving treatment, just as some cancer patients may decline chemotherapy. We are all dying, and I think it would be healthier not to stigmatise those who want to accelerate the rate at which they do.

I have seen seven or eight Missing Person posters since the start of the year.

As searches progress and leads peter out and it becomes more and more apparent that the person is probably not going to be found, I start hoping that they don't want to be found.  That this was their decision, that subjecting their family and friends to days and weeks of waiting and not knowing, never knowing, was a necessary evil for the sake of them escaping.  That they don't have to be afraid of whatever it was anymore, and that they can be free and happy.

I don't know if that's an optimistic or messed-up way of looking at it.  Certainly it's not the best case scenario so much as it is a different kind of tragedy.  This way one person comes out of it better, at least.