In The Pines

I walk off the bus from Detroit directly into the midst of Chicago winter. It's not what I'm expecting, to tell the truth. When I left town it was still coat-and-hat weather. This temperature, on the other hand, requires the full breadth of winter accouterments. But I haven't packed those. So I shoulder up my burdens, trusting the strain of walking to keep me warm, and stride headlong into the wind whipping down Canal Street.

As I move south tiny snowflakes begin to fall and I think of whiskey and fireplaces, and my current demonstrable lack of both those things. Whiskey and fireplaces feel like home. My apartment does not feel like home, it feels familiar. Which is not at all the same. Eventually I make it to the train and there is the picking-up and putting-down of bags that always accompanies travel through public transit systems. And there is the waiting, and the avoidance of grifters and homeless and con-men and guitar players. But parking tickets are too expensive, among the many other reasons.

My key turns in the lock, click. The bags go on the brown thing. The mail goes on the desk. The clock says it is too late to be awake when you have to go to work tomorrow. Here it is, me and the cats, same old life. I sometimes cannot believe I have been here three and a half years. Other times I very much can, and it makes me want to rip things apart. But. Keep calm and carry on.

Chicago/Darwin 2009

Last weekend I attended the University of Chicago's Darwin Conference. It is an apt year for such a thing - 2009 is the 200th anniversary of Darwin's birth, and the 150th anniversary of the publication of the Origin of Species. The price was right and it didn't conflict with my shows, so I thought, "Here is an advantage to living in a big city. I can decide to take a day off and attend a major biology conference." So I did.

I had to miss the Thursday night plenary session. (Side note: "plenary" is academic-talk for "fully attended". So, some irony there.) I did drag myself out of bed Saturday morning and take two Metra trains and a cab down to UC, and made it in time to get my nametag (I got my own nametag!) and sit down in the main lecture hall for the first talk of the morning. (The main lecture hall was for the biology-based talks, the upstairs hall was for history/philosophy. I stuck mainly to biology, but did wander upstairs for a few talks there as well.) My condensed notes are below the jump, so please continue on if you have no fear of science-talk.

All in all it was a good time. I got to meet PZ and Marc Hauser, and even ran into a few friends.

I'll also note that PZ Myers and Jerry Coyne also have posts up covering the conference.

No One In This World Ever Gets What They Want

A few days ago, it was the first day of Chicago autumn. Or as I prefer to call it, "fall". I like fall better for some reason. Maybe because it's an active verb. (Curse you college acting classes.)

I love this weather. It's constantly cool and breezy, even when the sun is out. It makes me think of fireplaces and campgrounds, of sitting by a lake with a bottle of wine and holding hands. Nature is more appealing to me in the fall. Everything is quieter, more relaxed. The world is having a drink before bed.

If I were to anthropomorphize the seasons (and really, who doesn't want to?), fall would be a man in his 50s. An outdoorsman. A man capable of handling things. He would like to work in his garage, and chop firewood, and take walks around his large tree-filled property. Fall is a kind of twilight-time. It signals the end of things, but it is not itself the end. I look forward to that.

There is a kind of sadness in late September, a grey mood, a slowing-down of things. One remembers what they meant to do in the past months but never got around to. One looks forward and sees cold white death. For the meantime, they live quietly in the dusk of fall.

The other seasons are fine. I like the endurance test of winter, the cautious optimism of spring, the warm summer nights. But fall is my true love. Fall and me, we're forever.

And that is beautiful.