Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Emilie du Chatelet

She was a French mathematician, physicist, and author in the 1700's. She broke some rules. She got busy with famous brains of the time (including Voltaire, y'all). Thanks for the tip, Katie!

Childhood. Emilie was awkward and showed no signs of growing up to be beautiful, so she was given lessons in fencing, riding, and gymnastics to improve her coordination [FN1]. She was remarkably well educated for the time: she learned a lot of math, science, and literature; she danced, played harpsichord, sang opera, and acted; she was fluent in Latin, Italian, Greek, and German (she later translated Greek and Latin plays and philosophy into French). She was also a high-stakes gambler, and although she used her mathematical skills to lay out strategy, she once lost the equivalent of $1million at the table at Fontainebleau, assumedly to card cheats.

Work. In 1737 she published her research into the science of fire, which predicted what is today known as infra-red radiation and the nature of light. In 1740 she published a book with new ideas on science and philosophy that sought to reconcile complex ideas from the leading thinkers of the time. In the book she combined theories to show that the energy of a moving object is proportional to its mass and the square of its velocity (E ~ mv²), and not directly proportional, as had previously been believed by Newton, Voltaire, and others. The correct formula was later shown to be Ek = (1/2) mv². In 1749 she completed her outstanding achievement by translating into French -- ith her own commentary-- Newton's Principia Mathematica, including her derivation from its principles of mechanics the notion of conservation of energy.

Education. Emilie was excluded from the University education that was open to male students. Additionally, she was asked to leave the cafes where intellectuals met and talked because of the "men only" custom of the time. She had a suit of men's clothing made and reappeared in that.

Marriage. In 1725 (at 19) she married a Marquis. After bearing three children, she considered her marital responsibilities fulfilled and arranged with her husband to live separate lives while still maintaining one household. In the upper classes of France at the time, it was acceptable for both the husband and wife to take lovers.

Liason: Duc de Richelieu. In 1730, she started a 1.5 year affair with the Duc de Richelieu. The Duc was interested in literature and philosophy, Emilie was one of the few women who could converse at his level. She read every book of consequence, attended the theater regularly, and enjoyed intellectual debate. She expressed an interest in the works of Issac Newton and he encouraged her to take lessons in higher mathematics to better understand his theories.

Liason: Voltaire. From 1733-1748, she had a relationship with Voltaire. The Duc de Richelieu and Voltaire were close personal friends. Emilie wrote to him saying, "Why did you never tell me that M. de Voltaire is the paragon of Men?" Emilie invited Voltaire to live in her country house in northeastern France, and she became his long-time companion under the eyes of her tolerant husband. There she studied physics and mathematics and published scientific articles and translations. The couple collected a library of 21,000 books, which was the equivalent of a university library at the time. They spoke in English when they argued.

Both Voltaire and Emilie had a desire to discover Truth and to write about their findings. They both wanted to make an impact on the world. Their bond was based on their work and how they supported one another. Judging from Voltaire's letters to friends and their commentaries on each other's work, they lived together with great mutual liking and respect. Voltaire once declared that Emilie was "a great man whose only fault was being a woman."

Liason: Jean Francois de Saint-Lambert. From 1748 until her death, she had an affair with the seductive (young) poet Jean Francois de Saint-Lambert. She became pregnant in her early 40's. In a letter to a friend she confided her fears that, because of her age, she would not survive the pregnancy. Emilie bore the child, but died three days later at the age of 42.

When she died, Voltaire wrote "It is not a mistress I have lost but half of myself, a soul for which my soul seems to have been made."

[FN1] You know the old saying "If a man cannot have beauty, he chooses coordination"? Neither do I. It makes no sense.

Rad Bitches

I write the "rad bitches" profiles because I'm fascinated by old timey rebellious or progressive women. I'm thirsty for untraditional role models. I like knowing my life can be a deliriously interesting rush of foreign travels, books, and love affairs if I never hit the marriage-mortgage-kids trifecta.

Book tips appreciated! Specifically biographies or anthologies of such women.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Police Dogs to Wear Shoes

High rate of paw injuries on duty is the impetus behind the canine footwear.



BERLIN - Police dogs in the western city of Duesseldorf will soon be equipped with blue plastic fiber shoes. "I'm not sure they like it, but they'll have to get used to it," Andre Hartwich said.

The unusual footwear is not a fashion statement, but rather a necessity due to the high rate of paw injuries on duty. Especially in the city's historical old town — famous for both its pubs and drunken revelers — the dogs often step into broken beer bottles.

"Even the street-cleaning doesn't manage to remove all the glass pieces from between the streets' cobble stones," Hartwich said, adding that the dogs frequently get injured by little pieces sticking deep in their paws.

The shoes comes in sizes small, medium and large and were ordered in blue to match the officers uniforms.

"Now we just have to teach the dogs how to tie their shoes," Hartwich joked.

I want it now.


Today I booked tickets to Morocco. Whee! If you have taken a cooking class in Marrakesh, trekked the High Atlas Mountains, or ridden a camel in the Sahara, please provide recommendations.

Drunk History

Volume 1 (starring Michael Cera)



Volume 2 (starring Jack Black)



Volume 3 (starring Jack Black)

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Dedicated to the Memory of Norman Mailer

I posted recently about Sarah Silverman f*cking Matt Damon.
Now it turns out Jimmy Kimmel is f*cking Ben Affleck (in grand fashion).

Monday, February 25, 2008

Amazing Stories

Does anybody else remember the TV series Amazing Stories? It ran from 1985-1987. It was a Steven Spielberg creation. Each week featured an independent story and included guest stars like Harvey Keitel, Gregory Hines, Kevin Costner, Keifer Sutherland...Dom DeLuise, Gary Coleman...all the great actors of our time.

I remember the episodes brimming with drama and mystery. They were like television storytime crack. My family eagerly gathered around each Sunday evening to watch them. The
theme music still excites me. Through the years, the series has come up in conversation. The one episode our family always remembers featured a WW2 plane damaged in battle such that the landing gear was broken and the gunner was trapped down below. The gunner was a likeable daydreamy lad, if maybe soft and wimpy. He ended up saving the day by frantically drawing huge puffy cartoon wheels on the plane; they appeared when it landed and everybody lived. Magical.

My parents gave my brother and me the first season on DVD for Christmas. Sadly the two episodes I've watched have been COMPLETELY LAME. In No Day at the Beach, a sweet but dim and unworldly WW2 soldier is witnessed by his squad heroically killing enemies after an amphibious assault on Italy, thereby saving their lives, only to realize afterward that he actually died before they got off the boat you guys, omg, it was his ghost! In the so-bad-it's-good Hell Toupee, a toupee crawls from one person's head to another compelling them to murder lawyers.

I am disappointed. I declare a moratorium on revisiting childhood loves. They will only be tainted by adult cynicism and sophistication.

This also applies to food. I ate some Cheese Whiz recently. Turns out it's gross.

Knock Knock. Who's there? Middle Age.

Behold a conversation between my Gentleman Friend and a Friend with whom he used to party really hard a lot until the break of dawn:

Gentleman Friend: Hey man! Great to run into you.

Friend: Yeah man! What have you been up to?

Gentleman Friend: Not a lot. I subscribed to a CSA box [Fn1], it's awesome, I love it, last week I got a ton of kale and chard and apples and pears and potatoes and also purple cauliflower!!!

Friend: Sweet. I moved in with my girlfriend. We might get a second cat.




[Fn1] CSA = Community Sustained Agriculture

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Parents.

I make fun of them a lot on here. I can't help it. They do a lot of funny things. But I also think they're awesome and I feel lucky I got such good ones and I love them to pieces. Look at the cuteness!!!



That's them on the Golden Gate Bridge last weekend. I'd been sick for a few weeks, and it was a nice weekend, and when they left it made me surpringly emotional. They love me in a completely unselfish way, nobody but one's parents do that, and I watched them sacrifice financially for us growing up, and it was always clear we were their whole life, my dad worked his ass off but never mentioned it, and my mom has endless patience and cheer, and they're getting so OLD!, and soon my mom will stop being beautiful and my dad will stop being strong, and they're going to die, and one will die before the other, and the remaining one will be lonely because they're still in love and I catch them kissing alone in the kitchen, and my dad grabs my mom's ass when he comes home from work, and when they're gone I'll have no safety net, I'll be alone, which I basically already am, which we all are, which is depressing, and it makes me sad, except not really, because they're supposed to die before me, and they don't feel sorry for themselves, in fact they're incredibly happy, and they know I love them, and it's all okay and maybe actually beautiful.


So I reconciled myself with their inevitable aging and loneliness and death. But knowing something intellectually and feeling it are completely different. I read "Meet Me in St. Louis" in Jonathan Franzen's How To Be Alone the other night and it triggered a random cathartic cry:


"My mother had long ago reconciled herself to staying in the house while her children fled to the coasts. We invited her to move to one of the coasts herself, but the house was her life, it was what she still had, it was not so much the site of her loneliness as the antidote to it...For the last week or so before she was hospitalized, my mother couldn't keep any food down, and by the time I arrived her refrigerator was empty of almost anything but ancient condiments and delicacies. On the top shelf there was just a quart of skim milk, a tiny can of green peas with a square of foil on top, and, next to this can, a dish containing a single bite of peas. I was ambushed and nearly destroyed by this dish of peas. I was forced to imagine my mother alone in the house and willing herself to eat a bite of something, anything, a bite of peas, and finding herself unable to do so. With her usual frugality and optimism, she'd put both the can and the dish in the refrigerator, in case her appetite returned."


Ooof. Ambushed and nearly destroyed indeed.

Lived in Bars

Not the newest video with the kids on the Facebooks, but it'll either be a lovely trip down memory lane or an introduction to your new favorite video. Everybody wins!