Diane, a woman from my "teaching days," once told me how she was describing me to another friend of hers: "He doesn't really have a career. He's usually unattached." And then she said something that rubbed me the wrong way. "He just kind of exists." Just kind of exists.
Recently, the wonderful Maria Popova of Brainpickings.org tweeted a link to a fascinating science article. Her tweet headline reads, "Newly found buried microbes may live for thousands of years at the limit between life and death."
Why didn't Diane just tell her friend that I live like a buried microbe? In spite of the fact that, apparently, little is known about their lifestyle, their feeding habits, how they reproduce, etc., she could have had the decency to tell her friend I live like a buried microbe: He lives at the limit between life and death! At least that sounds kind of cool and dangerous, like Houdini or James Dean. But no. Diane said that I just kind of exist. Well, still puts me one up on the gods.
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