Phew! I took a break from posting while I was on paternity leave (I just had my second son... or rather my wife did). Father's Day also just happens to be this weekend. So what better way to celebrate my return to public life than to post about the physiology of fatherhood?
For this post I wanted to talk about "writer's block." People normally picture writer's block with a writer sitting by him or herself, pulling their hair out for days or weeks because they can't think of how to finish a scene. Typically in this motif there is a wire trash can sitting on the floor overflowing with crumpled up sheets of paper with failed scenes on them.
The sun is amazing. Long ago, the ancients thought the sun was a god--an ever-present, never-changing, all powerful ball of perfection. And they were partially right. The sun is the source of all life on Earth. Without it, we would wither and die (quickly). It holds the power of life and death in its metaphorical hands, i.e it essentially is a god (although not a sentient one).