Procrastination Central

link to the podcast, this section below is from timestamp 24.35

“andy weir provided a packet to the creature shop that was like a packet of eridian biology and stuff but there wasn’t much about eridian culture or eridian sociology and i made a bunch of choices going in because i just needed to have like a ‘who am i?’ right? 

[…] and i made a decision that rocky’s species, that eridians are really social animals that in fact are like a beehive or a pod of dolphins - it’s a unique and really integrated ecosystem of everybody doing their [specific] part. and the fact that rocky had to fly that ship for about 45 years - longer than grace has been alive, i wanna point that out - he’s been alone on that ship, having to run that by himself and- ryan and i would talk about that, one day we sat down and he was like “so what’s the movie from rocky’s perspective?” and i was like “oh it’s like ‘alien’, […] like he’s in a ‘contagion’ movie by himself and he has no idea what’s going on.”

he’s basically in castaway by himself which of course ryan is too but like, one reason why we never cut to the past of rocky is like, i think it was really horrifying! i don’t think rocky has slept in however many years and so a thing i was really struggling with is this idea of like “rocky must watch sleep” because how do you make that a need as opposed to like, a cute idea? and i just had to make the decision that […] he has a lot of unprocessed trauma around the things that he doesn’t understand and how much he is blaming himself because he’s the guy who fixes, he’s the guy who fixes and there was something really freeing about deciding that rocky was a deeply emotional, deeply anxious, deeply horrified person - being - that is trying to move through that in some way and how that affects the early scenes with him until there’s a point in the story where you can see we’ve physically softened rocky’s behaviour, because he’s finally feeling more safe and ok but all of that lore, all of that information [was essential].

I watched it for the first time the other day, and it's like, ohh, I think I get it now, why people love Shakespeare. When it's done well, when the actors give it real energy and life and emotion, when it's not read monotone in an English class, it is fucking good. 👏

👏👏👏👏

Grace isn’t depressed primarily because he’s woken up weak and alone and stranded in space. That part engages his scientific curiosity as much as primal fear. He’s much more overwhelmed by the astrophage situation, when it comes back to him; and he’s mourning his team. Every time he thinks of them, before he even remembers them properly, he starts to cry. His depression seems like loneliness at its core—he needs people to care for. Feels like that foreshadows how he’ll feel about Rocky.

He also thinks warmly of his friend Marissa (old roommate’s ex, still meets him regularly—he can keep a friend!), and Steve (the Carl prototype), and Dmitri, the Russian scientist who makes an astrophage pun—he immediately invites him out for drinks. He enjoys people. He gets annoyed easily but moves on easily too. His internal monologue on the Mary, pre-Rocky, is just constantly returning to everything he loved about his dead crewmates and wishing they could have seen what he’s seeing. It’s not even that he feels sorry for himself all alone—it’s that he adored them for themselves.

Grace is given first look at the astrophage specifically because he’s a middle school teacher; he’s not functionally important in the scientific community, and they need someone brilliant but expendable. Stratt is afraid astrophage might kill whoever works on it (is it radioactive? infectious?), and if that happens she wants it to happen to a lone guy who won’t be too missed, so they can learn from his death how to protect the more important people who work on it later.

And they had no intention of letting him go on working on it! Since he doesn’t become infected and the astrophage disproves his theory, they send him home. But then he has a panic attack teaching his class realizing that they’re all going to deal with the apocalypse. He storms back into the facility demanding they give him astrophage to work with, because he has to do something. I love that, and it feels like it makes his horror at being ordered to go himself even more poignant. He understands the stakes. He’d storm a high security facility for the stakes. He just doesn’t want to die.

He’s completely terrified of zero G—has a phobia of falling. He expects the fear and tries to psych himself up for it but as soon as the engines cut out he doesn’t just scream, he flails and curls up into fetal position and vomits into his jumpsuit (because even while having a full breakdown he remembers the dangers of free floating liquids and aspiration). But in twenty minutes he’s figured out how to get around while floating and is starting to have fun. Everything that terrifies him also wakens his curiosity, and that saves him over and over.

His mind moves a million steps a minute. He thinks of every possible outcome and wants to test them all. He’s deeply impatient—keeps skipping important steps in his science to move faster. The unbalanced centrifuge in the movie actually makes sense when you know he did things like freehand the nanosyringe which should have been attached to a precision machine because he was annoyed and “felt like getting stabby.” He’s also not fully aware how exceptional his mind is—repeatedly excuses his encyclopediac knowledge of physics and complex near-instantaneous mental math with “science teachers know things.”

Not only is he confused and embarrassed by other people’s sex lives, he doesn’t notice at all when people are into him. Dr. Lokken (book-only character) is constantly arguing with him but gets flustered when he smiles at her or praises her ideas, tries hard to convince him of her theories, and looks to him for grounding when shocking things happen; he is simply baffled at this.

Grace theorizes that an ancestor of astrophage is the source of interstellar life—that as it traveled between planets and stars to breed it shed cells onto planets capable of supporting water-based life, which evolved into humans, Eridians (yes, they’re also water-based), and whatever else may be out there. Rocky says that only the two of them met because any other planet with life less advanced wouldn’t be able to travel in space, and more advanced planets could solve the problem without leaving. Eridians and humans are both at the stage of development where they needed to go see Tau Ceti for themselves to learn the answer.

Grace is not just a yapper but a very good listener, when he doesn’t have a theory to prove. He’s gentle with Marissa on the day astrophage is identified, with Stratt when she’s panicking about putting the crew in comas, with the climate scientist grieving the changes to earth needed to survive, with Rocky when he’s asking for help in sleeping and explaining the crew deaths. He’s the one who puts a hand on the divider and tells Rocky he doesn’t have to be alone anymore. Grace may be blunt but he’s deeply empathetic—profoundly good traits both for first contact and for a middle school teacher.

I love how much Grace personalizes inanimate things. His whole ship is full of newly canonized mechanical friends and pets. The man just wants someone to love.

As a kid he used to daydream about being an astronaut and meeting aliens! Hate how he got there, love that he got to after all.

In the flashbacks Grace is consistently surprised when people like and respect him. He’s blown away to find out he’s the top scientist on Stratt’s base. He’s befuddled at being chosen to teach the crew about astrophage biology. He’s absolutely baffled that he’s asked to talk them through the ways they want to die post-mission, because, and I quote, “Stratt said something about the crew liking me more than anyone.” He seems to like and care for them all, even the ones who annoy and confuse him. But he still seems lonely with them, never asking for more than room to work, let alone friendship. And he had no idea other scientists from his former field would think to recommend him to Stratt, and doesn’t seem to properly process that even when she tells him.

Being (my read) audhd and a very young upstart in a very small field with all eyes on him really did a number on him. I don’t know if he’d gotten a lot of argument when he was assertive about his ideas as a student, and had thought it would be different and he’d be appreciated properly in the field—or if he’d always had teachers who were thrilled by his creativity and was brought up short by established scientists wanting more proof for bold new ideas. Either way, when he met pushback he lit a match to his career and left, and here he is years later still convinced people will find him something between frustrating and forgettable, and nothing more.

(The audhd loneliness of not reading cues well enough to know if you’re endearing or annoying people, or when their mood switches or why—it’s exhausting. No wonder he prefers teaching kids, who take his bluntness and snarkiness easily since they’re at a blunt and snarky age, and who are simply looking to him for the shared joy of daily infodumps. But—naturally enough in a facility filled with the top researchers in the world—almost his entire core team reads neurodivergent, to me. That might be why they enjoy and understand him so much more readily than he’s used to.)

In the crisis, Stratt’s anger when he refuses to go really reinforces his idea of being both frustrating and forgettable. She tells him she knows him, that he’s a coward. She calls him a dropout and accuses him of being a teacher only for the respect the children give him, not because he really cares about them. She says she only kept him around as a possible replacement for the science team, not because she really needed a middle school teacher (the opposite of what she says earlier—“there’s more to him than that”—which begs the question of how much of what she’s shouting is just bullshit. It still hurts to read). She says he is a good man but not strong enough to earn her respect.

I don’t know how much of her anger is because of everything she sacrificed for this. I don’t know if she talks to herself like that when she’s scared. I don’t know if she says any of that hoping it’ll galvanize him to prove her wrong, or if she believes it all. I do think she’s describing his shadow self pretty well—the most selfish and lonely parts of him. But I don’t think that’s even close to the whole of him. Even before he’s sent, he pushes and pushes through fear, shock, loneliness and dismissal to be where he is and do everything he can. He does it even though he’d rather be home, with his favorite diner and his friend Marissa and the fog over the Bay and the classroom where he feels safe and loved. He stays where he thinks he’s nobody, out of his depth and outclassed, to fill his part.

And aboard the Mary, that’s what he keeps doing, through the genuinely terrifying amount of setbacks as he and Rocky work on getting the taumoeba ready to take home. Things go wrong over and over but they keep on. When he finally remembers everything that happened with Stratt, it’s right after an essential astrophage test fails completely, and Grace spends maybe five minutes being profoundly heartbroken not that he was kidnapped or demeaned or betrayed, but that he hadn’t had the courage to volunteer for this. And then he gets back up and keeps working. It’s the bravest thing he does in the book, up till the end.

It also really gets me that Rocky coming to comfort him is what gets him up again; and almost the first thing Rocky says to him is, “I know you,” just like Stratt did. But instead of following it with, “You’re a coward,” Rocky says he knows Grace has another idea, because that’s who Grace is: he wants to understand, he wants to help, and he doesn’t give up when he’s needed. And while Stratt tells Grace, “You avoid risk like the plague,” Rocky tells Grace his next idea is too dangerous; but Grace says simply, “It’s worth the risk.” That could say a lot of things, but one thing it tells me is courage is not singular. It comes from all of us together. Stratt couldn’t shame courage into him, but Rocky could call it out as simply as saying they would do it together.

Rocky takes good care of Grace—makes sure he rests; teases and praises and pushes him gently. Reminds him he’s his friend and he wants him safe. And Grace takes very good care of Rocky in turn. Since Rocky showed up Grace has stopped breaking down over his dead crew. He still thinks of them fondly, but now that he has someone to tend to the grief is not crushing. He puts all his spare energy into making sure Rocky feels welcome—fills his living quarters with Rocky’s supplies and his work area with tunnels for him, answers all his million questions with joy, listens when Rocky is mourning his crew and the lonely years alone, praises and encourages him when he’s scared. He gets better and better at reading Rocky’s body language. He grumbles at him sometimes, but he keeps a fond eye on everything Rocky needs to be happy. Grace tends to his loves.

And he doesn’t seem to think it’s especially brave of him to do all the things he does. Not even rescuing Rocky after the spin out—in the book he’s the one who hauls him back into his habitat, and the blast of ammonia nearly blinds Grace, burns his body and his lungs. But he just does it, the same way he just does everything he can to save Earth regardless of the danger. He never questions whether it’s worth caring so much—for his planet, for his students, for his friend.

His utter joy and relief when Rocky tells him there’s a way for him to go home collapses into sadness when it’s actually time to leave Rocky and go. He won’t let Rocky take down his tunnels before he leaves—claims it’s so Earth scientists can study them but it’s clearly that he can’t bear it. He says there’s no joy left in the going, even to see Earth again, and for the first time since Rocky arrived, he cries tears of grief.

He sits and watches Rocky’s ship for hours, until it’s out of sight. Only then does he start for home.

He’s really not ready to go. He can’t stop thinking about how far away Rocky is getting, and how wrong it feels to sleep without him watching; and how the Earth he’s hurtling towards will have passed him by a full generation—his students grown, his friends and coworkers in grandparenting stage, while he’s still young. He does keep planning experiments, papers, Taumoeba calculations, all on his own, just like he did before Rocky. But it’s so clear he will never stop mourning Rocky if this goes on. “I wish Rocky was here,” he says, “I always wish Rocky was here.”

(This doesn’t mean he stops being funny. When the taumoeba get out and he’s trying everything to not end with his ship dead in the water, he calls them “little punks” and tells his taumoeba sterilization formula, “Go forth, my minions, and cause destruction!” Later, desperately running circles while searching for Rocky, he notes that he’s doing “the astronavigational equivalent of donuts in a parking lot.” He is nothing if not ready to laugh.)

So when he gets down to the final choice once more, the same one he couldn’t do for Stratt—go home and live, or go rescue Rocky and Erid and die—it somehow feels like a foregone conclusion. He is facing his own death by starvation, and he mourns; but he says, “All I see when I close my eyes is Rocky.” All the time he had aboard the Hail Mary to learn the habit of courage helped, I think. But being loved helped most. He knows when he dies, he will die held, not alone, satisfied with his choice.

I love not farming

I respect the hell out of farmers and I'm glad that's someone's dream. because it's sure not mine

I would not be taken in by the tradwife influencer grift about milking a cow in a sundress. I have been around cows. my uncle was a dairy farmer. I love not milking a cow. I love getting milk from a store. I love getting vegetables and fruit and meat and bread from a store.

would I rather it be a local farm's store or a local bakery or butcher shop? yes! maybe when I make more money!

Still in pursuit, we followed the ball toward a small lake in Motor World that had been earmarked for a fleet of tiny bumper boats for children. The area wasn’t open yet, but the empty boats were being tested and floated on the surface. The ball soared over the grass and smashed into several of them, scattering the others with rippling waves from the impact, which launched some of the boats several feet in the air.

Charlie and Ken waded into the water looking for the hatch. After some difficulty, they got it open. Charlie pulled Frank out by grabbing him under his armpits like a baby. Frank crawled up the bank, coughing and sputtering. He splayed across the grass as we all stared at the ball, which bobbed in the water like it was attached to a fishing lure.

We did not ask for the inspector’s report, nor did we ever hear of one being filed. Ken Bailey returned to Canada. The snow-makers cleared away the PVC. Told to dispose of the Bailey Ball, they rolled it into the woods, where it remained for many years."

In middle school biology, we did an experiment. We were given yams, which we would sprout in cups of water. We then had to make hypotheses about how the yams would grow, based on descriptions of yam plants in our books, and make notes of our observations as they grew.

Here’s what was supposed to happen: we were supposed to see that the actual growth of the plant did not resemble our hypotheses. We were then supposed to figure out that these were, in fact, sweet potatoes.

What actually happened was that every single student in every single class lied in their notes so that their observations perfectly matched their hypotheses. See, everyone assumed the mismatch meant they had done something wrong in the process of growing the plant or that they had misunderstood the dichotomous key or the plant identification terminology. And, thanks to the wonders of a public school education, everyone assumed the wrong results would get us a failing grade. We were trying to pass. We didn’t want to get bitched out by the teacher. Curiosity, learning, science - that had nothing to do with why we were sitting in that classroom. So we all lied.

The teacher was furious. She tried to fail every student, but the administration stepped in and told her she wasn’t allowed to because a 100% fail rate is recognized as a failure of the teacher, not the class. It wasn’t even her fault, really, though her being a notorious hard-ass didn’t help. It was a failure of the entire educational system.