I'm supposed to write something here today. I'm supposed to have written many things here over the last few weeks. Maybe it was the poetic justice involved with a turbo and exhaust manifold transplant into the pickup - but I can't write about that. Or maybe I could write about how families who have come to hate each other over generations - all over disputes regarding land that they live on but don't own. But I can't write about that. Maybe I could write about the betrayal of trust by someone who was so tantalizingly close But I can't write about that. Or maybe I could write about how a visit to an Aunt helped me put another nail in the casket of my own father's expectations of me. That would require way too much time to write.

Or I could write about how various members of a family admit the dysfunction of their family but, somehow, each one of them thinks that they are the 'normal' one. But I can't write about that because I, too, am guilty. Or maybe I could write about the woman in the wheelchair who burned her fingers while taking a shot with me. But I won't write about her, either.

Maybe I could write about the young women I see around and the strangeness of being that comes with the knowledge that my nieces are older... and even wiser... than them. But I won't write about that.

Maybe I could write about how much time research awaits serendipity. But I won't write about that.

Life, you see, is pretty boring when you put the filters on.

Take anything the human eye can see and decide where the center is. Then split it at the center - you get two centers. Do the same with those remnants and you'll get 4 centers - 1 for each object that is derived. We can go on and on until we find something that can't be split, which defies the recursion. Our logic allows us to split things as long as they have a center... but does that something that can't be split not have a center? If it's physical, it would have a center.

But think about it again, forget about all the new centers. You've created very fine pieces of the original object - and that original object still has a center.

It just has more space between the pieces.

All too often the human race becomes the victim of its own methods of measure. We become caged in ideas that, for better or worse, were largely created over a generation ago. And we protect those cages quite well.

New ideas are generally accepted based on who says them - not how worthy they are. Those of us who think through an idea presented find ourselves awash in people who are quite happy parroting the cerebral flatulence of someone else instead of risking their own cerebral flatulence being made public. And if the someone who said it was considered highly by other generations (not necessarily their own), then the idea becomes as much fact as the planet we are on... to us.

This is the resistance to change. It's not necessarily a bad thing - it filters out a lot of bad stuff too, like an idea to combine a razor with a toothbrush. Unfortunately, it makes us 'measure' everything within an imperfect rating system and build things with an accepted scaffolding that defines the shape of our ideas.

So many people are talking about innovation and creativity when our very systems of deciding what innovation and creativity are could use some...

In my life, I've broken a tooth or two - part of being invulnerable is finding out you're not. It's the last part and, if done properly, isn't too painful. While I could talk about the problems of having sore knuckles, elbows and knees on a morning this is a story about a tooth. Just one tooth.

The story begins many years ago with a sadistic dentist in Ohio. His name is unimportant. A seven year old clambered into a chair where he was to have his two front teeth out because the adult ones were pushing the young right out. The boy wasn't happy with the gas - dancing pretty pink elephants are a little freaky. So the dentist pulled the teeth with no anesthetic, leaving a 7 year old with a toothless scream that he used without spare. The dentist asked the mother to shut the kid up because he would scare the kids outside. Nice guy. I imagine it was a matter of time before someone rattled his teeth.

So for that reason, dentists aren't happy people for me to visit. And so, when I broke this particular tooth - this story is about only one tooth - I heard the crunch and felt the pain, and immediately allowed myself to fall into denial. There was absolutely nothing else that could have caused the pain and the cracking sound, but I was holding out for something better.

When the gum became swollen it was obviously an infection, but I held off for something better. That meant antibiotics that the dentist would prescribe before... doing something I probably wouldn't like. So I decided to wait and see if the swelling would go away - 3 days, I decided. And 3 days passed. The infection decreased, but the pain was still insistent and the gum wasn't healthy. A week later, I go see the dentist.

He looks inside the mouth. You confess it is probably broken. The dentist gives the knowing look. That bastard in Ohio probably stayed pretty busy for all these dentists to have that knowing look. { Read more }