take that eddington

first check out the required reading.

i remember learning about extremophiles (literally meaning extreme-lovers), ancient organisms that survive in very extreme environments, adapting to crazy things such as underwater sulphuric outflows, extremely saline-rich waters, Antarctic temperatures, etc. they fascinated me because of their ability to survive in such ridiculously extreme situations. although still carbon-based, they also expanded the definition of life.

it is in this same spirit of extremism that i find these ultra-massive stars so fascinating. these stars are the ones your grandfather told you bedtime stories about: spewing out ultra-hot plasma at velocities on the order of thousands of metres per second, erupting in supernovae near the end of their lives, and spending there (assumed) final days as exotic stellar objects such as neutron stars, pulsars or black holes. studying these types of objects usually result in some sort of modification or restructuring of the laws of physics, as these extreme-etoiles are usually at the limit of our understanding of the universe.

a silly little straw

It's amazing how long we can spend building walls. The Great Wall of China; The Berlin Wall; Fortress America; these are all wondrous examples of man keeping man out. None are more malicious and destructive than the wall protecting the every-day man however. It is this wall that truly hinders humanity from fulfilling it's true potential. Food and medicine flow are not hindered by this wall, but love and affection are. Perhaps they are not so different.

Yet, despite this pessimism I hold, it never ceases to amaze me how easily these walls will tumble if one pushes it at the right spot. Just this very evening, the simple act of listening to a song entangled in a mess of old emotional strings tore my walls down in an instant, affording me an excellent viewpoint.

When history beckons you onward, what do you do?

My dilemma: I'm pretty sure I was born to be a doctor. Everything about my personality points me in that direction. I am passionate, my reflex to help people in need is as strong as ever, I enjoy solving problems, my primary source of motivation comes from people, I can relate to people from nearly every walk of life, and all of my friends and family repeatedly tell me what a great doctor I would make (to further add to the emotional complication of it all).

Yet here I am, age 24, holder of a newly minted B.Sc. in Biology/Psychology and I am happily toiling away on my second degree, an B.Sc. in Astronomy/Physics. It's not that I think I would want to do research for the rest of my life. Really, I don't think I'm cut from that cloth. However, astronomy is in the middle of a fantastic golden age; one that is certainly unprecedented and perhaps only even touched by the great astronomers of the Enlightenment and the philosophical and scientific golden age of ancient Persia. What a time to be alive! All of the subject matter simply fascinates me and gives me that "wow" feeling. I am addicted to it.

Yet the constant, nagging questions persist. Do I spend a few more years of my life exploring the universe? Won't that waste some of my precious professional development years? But is it wasted time if I am truly enjoying myself? If I love it so much, why do I not enjoy the research as much as the learning?

The key is to be confident in my direction, which is to become a doctor. Perhaps I will make a detour through the cosmos on the way though. That might be nice. If I am presented with an opportunity to be a part of the Golden Age of Astronomy, should I not take it? Most people toil through their lives, never becoming a part of something like that.

"Not all those who wander are lost." - JRR Tolkien

If I had a quarter for every time I have had to tell my self that. Here's to wandering.