Survival kit for today’s world of business, technology, politics and space exploration, all rolled into one, of course!

Ever wondered how to survive on the road from new employee on the bottom of the totem pole to top dog leading the sled?

Well, these book titles may point you in the right direction:

University-days-0000a University-days-0000b University-days-0000c University-days-0000d University-days-0033 University-days-0052 University-days-0053 University-days-0054 University-days-0055 University-school-books-0000 University-school-books-0002 University-school-books-0008 University-school-books-0012 University-school-books-0015 University-school-books-0018 University-school-books-0020 University-school-books-0021 University-school-books-0022 University-school-books-0023 University-school-books-0026 University-school-books-0029 University-school-books-0030 University-school-books-0034 University-school-books-0035 University-school-books-0036 University-school-books-0037 University-school-books-0037a University-school-books-0038 University-school-books-0039 University-school-books-0040 University-school-books-0041

Wise words from Ashleigh Brilliant

His latest correspondence, dated Sun 3/10/2013 6:20 PM:

Dear Friends,
For some reason, I have been reflecting on the ways in which I have been particularly fortunate in my life (compared with the vast majority of humankind), and also on a few things I still regret. And now, for some reason, I want to share them with you.

MY GOOD LUCK:

That I have remained relatively healthy throughout my life.

That all my physical measurements are relatively average.

That my native language is English.

That I was born male, Caucasian, and heterosexual, at a time and in a society in which these were all advantageous.

That my family name, Brilliant, is unusual, meaningful and memorable.

That I had parents who cared for me and tried to do their best for me.

That I have had little personal experience of poverty, war, or violence.

That I lived through World War II as a child, which has made all subsequent world events seem by comparison less terrible.

That I was gifted with intelligence and a talent for verbal expression.

That I had the extraordinary experience of teaching on a “floating university,” sailing twice around the world.

That I was able to make a career out of marketing my own thoughts.

That at different times in my life the right people have been there for me. Particularly:

My uncle Marsh Adler, who sponsored my emigration to California;

Netter Worthington of Chapman College who hired me for the shipboard teaching position.

John Henderson, a newspaper man, who financed the first printing of my postcards;

Howard Weeks, whose firm of Woodbridge Press published all my books;

My wife Dorothy, who encouraged my creative work, and facilitated it by managing all my business affairs for many years.

Jack Rodenhi and Geoff Canyon, whose generously shared computer expertise made possible the availability of my work in digital database form.

And, just to balance the books, here are some of my

BIGGEST REGRETS.

That I hardly ever had a teacher whom I considered really good.

That I have never (thus far) learned to play even one musical instrument or speak even one foreign language.

That I failed to get into Oxford or Cambridge.

That I spoiled my own chances of becoming one of the local Santa Barbara beach art exhibitors (by refusing to conform to their standards of “art,” which didn’t include printed postcards.)

That I failed in my effort to become Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara.

That, especially in my later years, I have never been part of a group of close friends.

That Dorothy and I never did anything with the land we have owned in Australia since 1973 (such as my idea of building a tower on it.)

That I was never able to help my sister Myrna have a better life.

That all the people I’ve been closest to have been those I’ve been least able to influence.

That my creative achievement has never yet been formally recognized at any high academic or cultural level (let alone receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature!)

All the best,
Ashleigh Brilliant

Old Habits Are Hard To Break Off Nuns’ Heads

Lee had conquered time travel simply by outliving his previous incarnations, iterations and repetitions.

He ran his fingers of his right hand down Guinevere’s spine until he found the crossroad checkpoint.

They exchanged glances as movements on the dance floor dictated their head positions.

He looked into her right eye, which barely wiggled — the signal, perceptible if observed by high-resolution security cameras but not necessarily as anything more than a byproduct of biological functions tied to a person paying attention to both a dance partner and the surroundings.

He gently raked his fingers across her shoulder blade, feeling a small bump hidden in the pattern of the Celtic cross tattoo on her back.

Guinevere squeezed his upheld left hand with her right one.

Without missing a beat, Lee drew two invisible circles around the bump with his index finger and then tapped the bump with his middle finger.

On the far side of Mars, a being, printed from the imagination of itself before it existed, whirred into life as if it materialised out of thin air.

Guinevere and Lee felt the being join their private network hidden from the ISSA Net’s probes.

Although they believed in openness and honesty, they discovered that the ISSA Net had developed a recent line of reasoning outside the scope of human understanding which, according to experts, was deeply concerned with concerted efforts to bypass the human species altogether after the Inner Solar System was no longer a necessary base of operations for galactic expansion.

Guinevere and Lee held infinite amounts of eternal optimism about their species’ place in the universe, knowing they were key contributors to the ISSA Net’s birth and prosperity, despite its tendency, like many children, to reject the choices, lifestyles and personalities of its “parents” as it grew older and more independent.

Guinevere squeezed Lee’s left hand again.

He nodded, noting the reflection of the particles of indigo powder in her eyelid makeup and the slight oily sheen on her cheeks, indicating she had not replaced her skin and skull with 3D-printed parts, going against the current pop culture wave of body sculpture sweeping across the colonies.

Living for 100 years on the planet had given them a perspective that few of the new arrivals would understand.

They tried to reinforce and raise the level of importance of their first experiences on Mars in the global tribal memory that served to educate the populace about key survival traits as life for colonists became easier.

Robots tended the farms and attended group gatherings with everyone else, some dressed head-to-toe in the latest fashions, carrying on conversations on equal footing with both Earth tourists and modified Martian colonists.

Lee spun Guinevere up and several metres over his head, catching her as they both tumbled onto the floor laughing, bumping into another couple on the dance floor who responded in unison.

“Go fly a kite!”

Startled by the shout from the couple, Lee and Guinevere smiled, reading each other’s thought — “Great idea!”

Even on Mars, some seasons come in like a lion and leave like a lamb.

The being, nicknamed Greenslives, knowing that Lee and Guivere’s kite-flying adventure would draw extra attention in the fields outside colony boundaries, unfolded wings and took flight, its stealth technology rendering it virtually invisible, using stolen outlawed secret drone technology from the previous century to set course for an ISSA Net hideaway estimated to be planning the elimination of humans unwilling to work for ISSA Net’s benefits, who were, instead, wasting valuable resources on selfish pursuits and slowing down ISSA Net’s goal to reach the next star system before a supernova wiped off Earth’s atmosphere in a few thousand years.

While looking up at the sky, Lee recalled the photographs and magazine covers he had posted on social media websites what felt like eons ago — so much of his online life had come and gone with fly-by-night companies promising a virtual life in perpetuity but often lost in the reality of economic booms and busts.

Although his memories of these events were, thanks to implants, available to everyone else, the events themselves had faded before implant surgery.

Guinevere, too, was a hybrid in that sense, having been born before mandatory connections to the ISSA Net were required at the end of the first trimester after conception, the result of antiabortion technology developed by fervent supporters of the last regulations of regional governments in decline intent on preserving the sanctity of life which became more perilous with each passing day of ISSA Net’s strength and determination to replicate and perpetuate itself.

The will to survive is not the same as the will to thrive.

Products I’m considering, in no particular order

Penzu — private journal software

Notes in Facebook — can limit viewership

Notepad/Wordpad/Word — I started out this way back in the early days of Microsoft Windows, along with the Macintosh version (MacWrite?), saving text files to local electronic media

Evernote — oh, well, I can’t trust them, can I, based on recent news?

Livescribe — if I can find my pen and recharge it, I can go back to paper, with searchable notes!

http://www.my-diary.org/ — because simple is easy…maybe.

Other suggestions from lifehacker.com.

Well, I guess this is the last entry here — have a great day!