Hyperion(hīˈpi(ə)rēən)

By Dan Simmons

PROLOGUE(-ˌläg,ˈprōˌlôg)

THE HEGEMONY(həˈjemənē,ˈhejəˌmōnē) CONSUL sat on the balcony(ˈbalkənē) of his ebony(ˈebənē) spaceship and played Rachmaninoff(räkˈmənəˈnäf)’s Prelude(ˈprelˌ(y)o͞od,ˈprāˌl(y)o͞od) in C-sharp Minor(ˈmīnər) on an ancient(ˈānCHənt) but well-maintained(mānˈtān) Steinway(ˈstīnˌwā, ˈSHtīn-) while great, green, saurian(ˈsôrēən) things surged(sərj) and bellowed(ˈbelō) in the swamps(swämp) below(bəˈlō). A thunderstorm(ˈTHəndərˌstôrm) was brewing(bro͞o) to the north. Bruise(bro͞oz)-black clouds silhouetted(ˌsilo͞oˈet) a forest(ˈfär-,ˈfôrəst) of giant(ˈjīənt) gymnosperms(ˈjimnəˌspərm) while stratocumulus(ˌstratōˈkyo͞omyələs,ˌstrā-) towered nine kilometers high in a violent(ˈvī(ə)lənt) sky. Lightning rippled(ˈripəl) along the horizon(həˈrīzən). Closer to the ship, occasional(əˈkāZHənl) vague(vāg), reptilian(-ˈtilyən,repˈtilēən) shapes would blunder(ˈbləndər) into the interdiction(ˌin(t)ərˈdikSH(ə)n) field, cry out, and then crash(kraSH) away through indigo(ˈindiˌgō) mists(mist). The Consul(ˈkänsəl) concentrated(ˈkänsənˌtrātid) on a difficult section of the Prelude and ignored the approach of storm and nightfall.

The fatline(fat) receiver chimed(CHīm).

The Consul stopped, fingers hovering above the keyboard, and listened. Thunder rumbled(ˈrəmbəl) through the heavy(ˈhevē) air. From the direction(dəˈrekSH(ə)n, dīˈrekSH(ə)n) of the gymnosperm(ˈjimnəˌspərm) forest there came the mournful(ˈmôrnfəl) ululation(ˈəlyəˌlāt, ˈyo͞o(l)yəˌlāt) of a carrion(ˈkarēən)-breed(brēd) pack. Somewhere in the darkness below, a small-brained(brānd) beast(bēst) trumpeted(ˈtrəmpit) its answering challenge and fell(fel) quiet(ˈkwīət). The interdiction field added its sonic(ˈsänik) undertones(ˈəndərˌtōn) to the sudden(ˈsədn) silence. The fatline chimed(CHīm) again.

“Damn(dam),” said the Consul and went in to answer it.

While the computer took a few seconds to convert(kənˈvərt) and decode the burst(bərst) of decaying(dəˈkā) tachyons(ˈtakēˌän), the Consul poured(pôr) himself a glass of Scotch(skäCH). He settled(ˈsetl) into the cushions(ˈko͝oSHən) of the projection pit(pit) just as the diskey blinked(bliNGk) green. “Play,” he said.

https://www.amazon.cn/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?__mk_zh_CN=亚马逊网站&url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=hyperion

Can Parkour(pärˈko͝or) Teach Older People to ‘Fall Better’?

The sport isn’t just about extreme(ikˈstrēm) jumping. It also focuses on balance and agility(əˈjilədē), which are important for avoiding injury(ˈinjərē) as people age.

By Linda Poon(po͞on)

In a 10,000-square(skwe(ə)r)-foot facility(fəˈsilədē) full of crisscrossing(ˈkriskrôs) metal(ˈmedl) pipes(pīp) in Alexandria(ˌaləɡˈzandrēə), Virginia(vərˈjinyə), kids swing(swiNG) from one bar to the next. They bounce(bouns) off walls and somersault(ˈsəmərˌsôlt) into a foam(fōm) pit(pit) in the back. Near the front, a guy in his 20s leaps(lēp) across the room from one vaulting(ˈvôltiNG) box to another. At one point, he does a backflip(ˈbakˌflip).

Among the crowd(kroud) at the Urban(ˈərbən) Evolution(ˌevəˈlo͞oSHən) parkour gym(jim) is 51-year-old Dan Scheeler(ē). The only thing that makes him stand out among the younger crowd is his full, greying(ɡrā) beard(bi(ə)rd). Scheeler easily scales(skāl) an eight-foot wall before “circling(ˈsərkəl) over” the ledge(lej) and landing lightly back on the ground. That’s one of his favorite moves, he says. It could come in handy(ˈhandē) if he ever finds himself stuck on the roof, an onlooker(ˈänˌlo͝okər,ˈôn-) jokes with him.

Parkour—a free-running, acrobatic(ˌakrəˈbatik) sport that uses the built environment as an obstacle(ˈäbstəkəl) course—is a physically demanding (and sometimes downright dangerous) practice(ˈpraktəs). That’s just one reason why most of its practitioners(prakˈtiSHənər), or traceurs(träˈsər,ˈtrāsər), tend to be young. Resilience(riˈzilyəns) and flexibility tend to decline(diˈklīn) with age; leaping(lēp) off concrete(ˈkänˌkrēt, ˌkänˈkrēt) obstacles can be unkind to older joints(joint). So it’s unusual to see someone Scheeler’s age doing a discipline(ˈdisəplin) known for daredevil(ˈde(ə)rˌdevəl) moves like jumping off buildings and backflipping off walls.

Parkour isn’t just about jumping, though. It’s also about knowing how to land—or, said another way, knowing how to fall. And as more of America’s 76 million Baby Boomers hit retirement(riˈtīrmənt) age—with 10,000 turning 65 every day—some parkour groups are introducing a modified(ˈmädəˌfī) version of this trendy(ˈtrendē) urban movement practice to keep older adults active, and to teach them instincts(ˈinstiNG(k)t) that could save them from death or serious injury during a fall.

…
https://www.citylab.com/life/2018/12/parkour-class-50-plus-aging-fall-prevention-exercise/577900/

Some will always say you’re wrong

By Derek Sivers

Some people are into money. Some aren’t.

Some people are inspired(inˈspīrd) by helping the needy(ˈnēdē). Some aren’t.

Some are into fame(fām), power, and prestige(-ˈstēj,preˈstēZH). Others are into anonymity(ˌanəˈnimədē) and freedom from responsibility.

It gets more interesting when you realize people have different preferences(ˈpref(ə)rəns) in the different parts of their life. Famous online, but anonymous(əˈnänəməs) in their local community. Generous with time, stingy(ˈstinjē) with money. Introvert(ˈintrəˌvərt) when working, extrovert(ˈekstrəˌvərt) when not.

You have to know your preferences well, because no matter what you do, someone will tell you you’re wrong.

If you’re not into money, many people will say you’re foolish(ˈfo͞oliSH).

If you’re not into charity(ˈCHerədē), many people will say you’re greedy(ˈgrēdē).

If you’re not into crowds(kroud), many people will say you’re missing out.

Some careers(kəˈri(ə)r) come with excuses(ikˈskyo͞oz):

The classic(ˈklasik) novelist(ˈnävəlist) thrives(THrīv) in solitude(ˈsäləˌt(y)o͞od). Alone(əˈlōn) in a cabin(ˈkabən) in the woods, writing books that reach millions.

The classic journalist(ˈjərn(ə)ləst) thrives in a crowd. Talking with everyone, building the story from a thousand accounts.

The shy(SHī) librarian(līˈbre(ə)rēən). The aggressive(əˈgresiv) lawyer. The flaky(ˈflākē) artist. No explanation(ˌekspləˈnāSHən) needed.

But some careers need explanations when you go against the mold(mōld):

The entrepreneur(-ˈnər,ˌäntrəprəˈno͝or) who’s not into money.

The musician(myo͞oˈziSHən) who avoids crowds.

The ambitious(amˈbiSHəs) conservationist(ˌkänsərˈvāSHənəst).

The artist into discipline(ˈdisəplən).

The rich poet(ˈpōit,ˈpōət).

But if you expect this criticism(ˈkridəˌsizəm) in advance, and take pride(prīd) in your stance(stans), you can bash(baSH) on with a smile, being who you want to be.

Then every time they say you’re wrong, that’s a sign(sīn) you’re doing it right.

https://sivers.org/wrong

I pay my kids to get dressed(dres), do homework and more. It’s the best decision I ever made.

By Gia Miller

“Please get dressed — we have to leave in five minutes,” I pleaded(plēd) for the 20th time, my patience(ˈpāSHəns) waning(wān). “You still need to brush your teeth. You haven’t packed your backpack! We’re going to be late for school, again.”

This was a typical(ˈtipikəl) weekday(ˈwēkˌdā) morning in my home last year. Unfortunately(ˌənˈfôrCHənətlē), my first- and third-graders(ˈgrādər) couldn’t seem to grasp(grasp) the morning routine(ro͞oˈtēn). All three of us have attention-deficit(ˈdefəsit)/hyperactivity disorder, and we struggle with time management and executive(eg-,igˈzekyətiv) functioning. As a result, my kids were late to school — a lot.

During the last month of school, when I was at my wit’s(wit) end, the principal(ˈprinsəpəl) called me in to discuss my kids’ excessive(ikˈsesiv) tardiness(ˈtärdēnəs), and I knew something had to change. Fortunately, she was understanding, and I left the meeting with the beginning of an idea. By the first day of school this year, I had completely(kəmˈplētlē) transformed our lives — the mornings and the evenings.

“Positive reinforcement(ˌrē-inˈfôrsmənt
) is reinforcing a positive behavior with a positive response, which makes the behavior more likely to happen in the future,” says Lauren Mosback, a behavioral(biˈhāvyərəl) specialist(ˈspeSHəlist). “That can look like anything from verbal(ˈvərbəl) praise(prāz) and encouragement to offering a tangible(ˈtanjəbəl) reward.”

I do both. I praise my kids for a variety(vəˈrīətē) of simple things they do well and reward them with money for behaviors I’m shaping. For example, whenever my kids listen right away or do something well, I praise them. But I also use personalized responsibility charts so they can be at scho
ol on time. As they complete(kəmˈplēt) tasks, they check them off and earn money.

…
https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2018/12/10/i-pay-my-kids-get-dressed-do-homework-more-its-best-decision-i-ever-made/

loss(läs,lôs), and remembrance(rəˈmembrəns)

Mother still loves

By Henry H. Walker

today, thirteen years ago,
Mother took a breath(breTH),
and, then, never took another,
her body gave up the ghost(gōst),
yet her soul(sōl) still lives(liv,līv)

in the Cabin(ˈkabən) we maintain(mānˈtān) and share as portal(ˈpôrtl) into nature,
in the dishes we cook according to her teachings,
in the boundless(ˈboun(d)ləs) love the parent gives the child,
the teacher gives the student,
in the laugh I give when a moment is more lemon(ˈlemən) than sugar(ˈSHo͝ogər),
in the understanding that sugar needs lemon,
that flavor(ˈflāvər) needs the tart(tärt),

Mother believed that we can be better,
that we should be better,
that our politics(ˈpäləˌtiks) should be of the way
Jesus(ˈjēzəs) called us to be, with love,
that a good heart, plus good food,
can knit(nit) us together,
when money, greed(grēd), selfishness(ˈselfiSHnəs), and hate(hāt)
work to pull us asunder(əˈsəndər),

I choose love and optimism(ˈäptəˌmizəm),
even when the tribal(ˈtrībəl) and the lesser(ˈlesər) pull at us,

like Mother, I seek a better world for all.

https://henryspoetry.blogspot.com/2018/12/loss-and-remembrance.html

Hi-tech robot(ˈrōbət,ˈrōˌbät) turns out to be man in suit(so͞ot)

State(stāt) television(ˈteləˌviZHən) praised(prāz) the ‘modern(ˈmädərn)’ tech despite(dəˈspīt) photos revealing(riˈvēliNG) actor in costume

By Andrew Roth(räs)

A “hi-tech robot” shown on Russian(ˈrəSHən) state television has turned out to be a man in a suit.

Russia(ˈrəSHə)-24 praised the ersatz(-ˌzäts,erˈzäts,ˈerˌsäts) android(ˈanˌdroid) during coverage of a youth forum(ˈfôrəm) dedicated(ˈdediˌkātid) to robotics(rōˈbätiks), boasting(bōst) that “Robot Boris has already learned to dance and he’s not that bad”.

But sharp(SHärp)-eyed bloggers were dubious(ˈd(y)o͞obēəs). The Russian website TJournal listed questions about the robot’s performance: Where were Boris’s external(ikˈstərnl) sensors? Why did the robot make so many “unnecessary movements” while dancing?

And why did the robot look like a person would fit perfectly inside of it?

Later, photographs(ˈfōtəˌgraf) of the “robot” posted on social media showed the very visible(ˈvizəbəl) neckline(ˈnekˌlīn) of the person in the suit.

Boris turned out to be an “Alyosha the Robot” costume made by a company called Show Robots.

The £3,000 costume, equipped(əˈkwip) with microphone(ˈmīkrəˌfōn) and tablet(ˈtablət) display, creates the “near total illusion(iˈlo͞oZHən) that before you stands a real robot”.

…
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/dec/12/high-tech-robot-at-russia-forum-turns-out-to-be-man-in-robot-suit

A More Deliberate(dəˈlib(ə)rət) Way of Living(ˈliviNG)

By Leo Babauta

Our lives are often spent in a rush(rəSH), almost on autopilot(ˈôtōˈpīlət), drifting(drift) from one wave(wāv) of busyness and distraction(dəˈstrakSH(ə)n) to another, adrift(əˈdrift) in a sea of crises(ˈkrīsis) and urges(ərj).

There’s noise(noiz) and quick tasks, lots of tabs, messages and requests, demands(dəˈmand) on our attention(əˈten(t)SH(ə)n), multitasking(ˈməltēˌtask, ˈməlˌtīˌtask), mind(mīnd) scattered(ˈskatər) everywhere(ˈevrēˌ(h)wer).

The nature of the world is chaos, but what if we could find a more deliberate way of moving through the chaos?

I’m going to share some ways I’ve been trying to move more deliberately — none of them new to me or you, but more of a coming back to what I know to be helpful. We’re always coming back.

Set intentions(inˈten(t)SH(ə)n) at the start. When you start your day, or any meaningful activity, check in with yourself and ask what your intentions are for the day or that activity.

Pick your important tasks & make them your focus. What tasks are meaningful to you today? Pick just three (or even just one) and focus on that first.

One activity at a time. If you’re going to write, close all other tabs and just write. If you’re going to brush your teeth, just do that.

Use any activity as a meditation(ˌmedəˈtāSHən). This is really the same as the item above, but every single act is an opportunity to be fully with the activity.

Create more space. Instead of filling every minute of the day with space, what would it be like to have some time of rest, solitude(ˈsäləˌt(y)o͞od), quietude(ˈkwīəˌt(y)o͞od) and reflection?

Be in silence more. Our days are filled with noise — talking, messaging, taking in the cacophony(kəˈkäfənē) of the online world. What if we deliberately created a space or two each day for being in silence?

Create containers(kənˈtānər) for messaging & other chaos. We need to respond to emails and messages, read the news and catch up on things. But this chaos doesn’t have to fill our entire(enˈtīr) lives.

Simplify(ˈsimpləˌfī) by limiting or banning. We don’t have to say yes to every French(frenCH) fry(frī) or cookie, or every Youtube video or beer(bi(ə)r). We can choose what we want in our lives deliberately, and what we don’t want (or want less of) … then set limits or ban that activity.

Listen to what life is calling you to do. As we sit in silence, as we move deliberately into spaces we’ve created, as we check in with our intentions … we can listen.

When you add these together — and you don’t have to be perfect at any of them — they flow into a beautiful way to move through life.

https://zenhabits.net/deliberate/

Split(split)
SPLIT

INT: A BASEMENT(ˈbāsmənt)

Kyle is talking to his brother Zack about his recent move back home.
KYLE

Well, I seem to have ended up here again. I forgot how much of a crappy(ˈkrapē), dead-end town this is. It’s so weird(wi(ə)rd)-I went to the city to follow Izzy’s dream and I just hated(hāt) the whole place. I hated being so far away from you and Dad and Aaron(ˈe(ə)rən) and Kim. I hated the faceless sea of strangers walking everywhere all the time, rushing past my apartment like spawning(spôn) salmon(ˈsamən). I hated being a thousand miles(mīl) away from all my friends and being surrounded by people I didn’t know. But the little stuff was the worst. I’d go get a burger(ˈbərgər) and all I could think about was Mike’s Burgers down on Ninth Street. I don’t even likethat place, I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Or I’d be walking to work and every single person I passed looked like someone from here. I kept thinking I saw my old professor(prəˈfesər), or Karen(kəˈren), or Jacob(ˈjākəb)…every day. Like being reminded of how alone(əˈlōn) I was in a crush(krəSH) of people.

I started thinking about how I missed this place. This house with the disgusting(disˈgəstiNG) old carpet(ˈkärpit) and the endlessly ticking(ˈtikiNG) grandfather clock and this pit(pit) of a basement. This quaint(kwānt) little town with the white clock tower and the temperate(ˈtemp(ə)rət) winters. I loved Izzy but she was just one person, you know? How was I supposed to balance my love for a single human being against my whole life? I mean, did she really mean more to me than my family and all my friends and the home where I grew up?

So here I am. And it’s just so…quiet(ˈkwīət) here. Everything closes by nine o’clock(əˈkläk). I wake up alone and I go to the same coffee shop and it’s always Diane from high school serving me and everyone is married now.

At least I don’t see random former acquaintances(əˈkwāntns) plastered(ˈplastərd) all over the faces of strangers anymore. Instead I just see Izzy, all the time, out of the corner of my eye. I see her red(red) curls(kərl) bouncing(ˈbounsiNG) and I hear her big, brassy(ˈbrasē) laugh(laf) everywhere I go.

Did I choose wrong, Zack? Maybe she did mean more to me than everyone and everything else in my life. Or maybe whatever I choose, I’ll always be split and half of me will live one place and the other half will just miss wherever I’m not and it’ll hurt like this for the rest of my life.

https://www.instantmonologues.com/preview/Split

Cleaning Robots(ˈrōbət,ˈrōˌbät)

By Steve Pavlina

I got an iRobot Roomba today (model 550), partly(ˈpärtlē) out of curiosity(ˌkyo͝orēˈäsədē) to see what they’re like and partly because if it works, it will fill a practical(ˈpraktək(ə)l) need. I haven’t had it more than a few hours, but I thought I’d share my initial(iˈniSHəl) observations(ˌäbzərˈvāSHən) in case you’re curious(ˈkyo͝orēəs) about these cleaning robots.

The Roomba vacuumed(-yəm,ˈvakˌyo͞o(ə)m) my floors for at least an hour today and did a decent(ˈdēsənt) job as far as I could tell. It moves around in a very non-human pattern(ˈpatərn), but it’s supposed to cover the floors thoroughly(ˈTHərōlē).

When the battery is low or it’s done cleaning, it automatically(ˌôdəˈmadiklē) returns to its home base and recharges(rēˈCHärj) itself. That part worked as expected. It docked with the home base and played a sound effect to let me know it was recharging itself.

I’ve heard that older models were a bit noisy(ˈnoizē), but this particular(pə(r)ˈtikyələr) model is pretty quiet(ˈkwīət), much quieter than a normal vacuum. You could easily have a conversation(ˌkänvərˈsāSHən) with someone in a normal voice — or talk on the phone — while the Roomba is doing its job in the same room. It’s a bit louder on tile(tīl) floors vs.(-səz,ˈvərsəs) carpet(ˈkärpit), but even at its loudest, I don’t find it bothersome(ˈbäT͟Hərsəm).

…
https://www.stevepavlina.com/blog/2010/10/cleaning-robots/

Workers are ghosting(ˈgōstiNG) their employers(əmˈploiər) like bad dates

By Danielle Paquette

Economists(əˈkänəməst) report that workers are starting to act like millennials(miˈlenēəl) on Tinder(ˈtindər): They’re ditching(diCH) jobs with nary(ˈne(ə)rē) a text.

“A number of contacts(ˈkänˌtakt) said that they had been ‘ghosted,’ a situation in which a worker stops coming to work without notice and then is impossible to contact,” the Federal(ˈfed(ə)rəl) Reserve(riˈzərv) Bank of Chicago(-ˈkägō,SHiˈkôgō) noted in December’s Beige(bāZH) Book, which tracks employment(əmˈploimənt) trends(trend).

National data on economic(ˌekəˈnämik,ˌēkə-) “ghosting” is lacking(ˈlakiNG). The term, which usually applies(əˈplī) to dating, first surfaced(ˈsərfis) in 2016 on Dictionary(ˈdikSHəˌnerē).com. But companies across the country say silent(ˈsīlənt) exits(ˈeɡzət, ˈeksət) are on the rise(rīz).

Analysts(ˈanələst) blame(blām) America’s increasingly(iNG-,inˈkrēsiNGlē) tight(tīt) labor(ˈlābər) market. Job openings have surpassed(sərˈpas) the number of seekers for eight straight(strāt) months, and the unemployment(ˌənəmˈploimənt) rate(rāt) has clung(kləNG) to a 49-year low of 3.7 percent since September.

Janitors(ˈjanədər), baristas(bəˈrēstə), welders(ˈweldər), accountants(əˈkount(ə)nt), engineers(ˌenjəˈni(ə)r) — they’re all in demand(dəˈmand), said Michael Hicks(hik), a labor economist(əˈkänəməst) at Ball(bôl) State University in Indiana(ˌindēˈanə). More people may opt(äpt) to skip tough(təf) conversations(ˌkänvərˈsāSHən) and slide(slīd) right into the next thing.

“Why hassle(ˈhasəl) with a boss(bäs,bôs) and a bunch of out-processing,” he said, “when literally(ˈlidərəlē, ˈlitrəlē) everyone has been hiring?”

Recruiters(rəˈkro͞odər) at global(ˈglōbəl) staffing(staf) firm Robert(ˈräbərt) Half have noticed a “ten to twenty percent increase” in ghosting over the past year, D.C. district(ˈdistrikt) president Josh(jäSH) Howarth said.

Applicants(ˈapləkənt) blow(blō) off interviews. New hires(hīr) turn into no-shows. Workers leave one evening and never return.

…
https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2018/12/12/workers-are-ghosting-their-employers-like-bad-dates/