Back again. At home. I mean, I have twittered a bit when I feel bloggy. Yet, here's my domain, less people looking, more space. I have a renewed respect for space, so I won't write and write without sense.

Life seemed to change abruptly, each day harder than the previous one... and then nothing... People didn't seem to notice. All is fine. Well, no, some things are shit and I have no control whatsoever about them. Everyday was harder, because I wanted to fight back. No, I didn't realized the futility of this fight. Nor I got tired. Life just changed so much that it loose any meaning. It's kinda disappointment from a storytelling point of view.

When is it okay to accept fate, when is it coward? Mythology seems to agree that people should accept Mortality. Refer to The Time Machine, Frankstein and so on. All of these have the implicit assumpion that you should accept someone's else Mortality. Your own, that's not settled. Some do, some don't.

Science Fiction in the best possible light, should be understood as stories that talk about "what of Humanity remains when you change the setting". Under this light, Tarzan, Crusoe and so on shows a possible way. I'm reading Stephen Baxter's Vacuum Diagrams. I'm hooked. Contrary to my examples, Hard Science Fiction seems to talk about Humanity without naming a Hero. Dune, Foundation, Ringworld and so on... Yet they are better judged under this light than any other. Their characters suck, and that's not an accident. Baxter is ingenious in using aliens to show us about Humanity. Or am I stretching it too far? Should I redefine scifi as talking about Sentience? I wouldn't mind.

This posts is really me streaming out. Sorry for the lack of structure.