UPN announced earlier this month that they were canceling Star Trek: Enterprise due to poor ratings.  No surprises there.

I’ve been an avid Star Trek fan since I was quote young, an obsession I can thank Mom for.  I loved the original series, The Next Generation and Voyager — and even enjoyed some episodes and story arcs in Deep Space Nine (although I never liked the series as a whole).  When Enterprise premiered, I of course found myself sitting and watching it with the expectation that it would be another seven-year run.

Much to my dismay, the series sucked.  It’s too drab (aren’t there other colors in the future besides blue and gray?).  The stories have been terribly boring.  The characters are flat and uninteresting.  The ship design is a cheap knock-off of the Akira class starship we saw in Star Trek: First Contact (simply flip the Akira over and you have the Enterprise knock-off).  The writing was horrific.  Shall I go on?

Despite attempts to save the series with pathetic season-long story arcs, cameos by Star Trek alumni such as Brent Spiner, and some advancements in technology, Enterprise was doomed from the beginning because the same tired people were in charge (hear that, Rick Berman?).

Having ruined the movie franchise for the Next Generation cast (every one of those movies should have been an episode instead), the so-called creative minds behind Star Trek had used up all of their creative talents over the last 18 years and should never have been trusted with a new series.

Although I tried to it, I just couldn’t.  A few episodes here and there were all I could take before I had to, for the first time ever, turn my back on the latest Star Trek series.

I bid farewell to a very bad show that never should have made it on the air.  If Paramount ever wants to try it again, start by getting new people involved instead of the same ol’ schmucks who saw to the demise of the Next Generation movie franchise and burned out their creative talents many years ago.

When I first picked up a copy of Prey by Michael Crichton I was in the airport with Jenny heading to Derek's hometown due to his rapid decline in health.  I tend to read when I fly and, in this particular case, needed a wee bit of literary stimulation to keep my mind off of the reason we were traveling.

I read the synopsis of Prey and was immediately intrigued.  Nanotechnology is a budding scientific pursuit that even today is becoming a reality.  Crichton often provides a very real scientific background for his fictional works (this is part of what lends credence to his writing — there is real science mixed in with the fiction).  Knowing that even if the book was bad I would learn something, I purchased a copy and read it.

Despite the locomotive start to the story (the first 50 pages or so really grabbed my attention), I slowly became disappointed in it and, by the end, found that it was far less enjoyable than I expected from the author of Jurassic Park and The Andromeda Strain.

The scientific aspects of the story are phenomenally high-scaled, so don't pick this one up if you want a light read.  Crichton adeptly integrates very new and real science into the story about nanotechnology going astray.  His description of the nano-manufacturing apparatus is quite interesting.  The explanation of nano-evolution is even more intriguing as it poses questions I believe we should be asking about this technology.  As I had hoped, Crichton even provides a bibliography of reference material that he used to develop the scientific aspects of the story (which gave me lots of really nerdy follow-up material to digest).

I found it terribly sad, though, that he allowed the plot of the story to devolve so quickly.  The characters suddenly became frightened flocking targets with little realism in their interactions.  Too many questions are left unanswered at the end of the book, leaving the reader wondering if they only purchased part of the story.  The last-minute attempt to wrap up the loose ends with what amounts to a two-page excuse seems to be a last-ditch effort to pardon the story itself — a rushed closure seemingly spun from Crichton's lost interest in the material.

Another aspect of my disappointment came from the eerie similarity between Prey and the nanotechnology-related material in Decipher by Stel Pavlou.  Decipher, released some two years prior to Prey, includes a story arch regarding nanoparticles that can mimic humans, eat flesh and which ultimately become a formidable foe.  That the entire premise of Prey.  I realize that Decipher is a far more complex story and that the nanotechnology aspects are only one of its many parts, but Prey seems terribly similar.

The misuse of nanotechnology is a frightening prospect, one which Crichton failed to fully realize in this story.  It wasn't disturbing enough.  The realism got lost in his zeal to tell a story — any story.  Suspension of disbelief became impossible as the nanobots began to demonstrate abilities that were laughably unbelievable, including perfect human emulation that even a spouse could not recognize during intimate encounters.

Crichton's minimalist approach to what should have been a fantastically disturbing story is disappointing at best.  I expected a synthetic version of The Andromeda Strain to unfold.

The book is worth reading just for the science, but don't expect much more than that (you can get the full science by skipping the story and going directly to the bibliography).

Since writing the original Relativity series last April, I have spent much time evaluating my relationship with Rick.  That's not a simple task as our relationship is complex and rich and not easily categorized.

We spend a lot of time together and share everything in our lives.  He takes care of The Kids when I'm not able to, I take care of his dog when he's not able to, we see each other almost every day, we talk on the phone every day, we'd rather spend time with each other than anyone else, we know all of each other's secrets, we enjoy visiting each other's and mutual friends, we find no discomfort in silence, our relationship has no need for small talk or shallow pleasantries, and the list goes on.

In Relativity IV I said that only time would tell if what I felt for Rick at that time was more than a transient crush.  As I said then, "to feel a certain way for ten years is an indication to me that my emotional state is not unstable (i.e., I'm not wishy-washy on this matter).  But it doesn't mean that some shrouded and indiscernible combination of recent and ongoing events hasn't somehow brought me to this place."

Many months later I can say that my feelings for him have not diminished.  They have instead continued to grow in strength and depth.

My mindset over the months which have passed since I wrote those words continued to be equally concerned about revealing what I felt at the risk of hurting what we already had (a very strong relationship that went beyond friendship) and subjugating the eager desire to pursue something more with him.

When you've felt a certain way about someone for 11 years, does it mean that what you feel is true and accurate?  Does it mean that an emotional attachment to someone is more than just a crush?  Do I "…continue to subjugate my own confusion by pure resolution" or do I act on it and risk ruining "that which I already have and cherish so dearly"?

The answers to these questions are unknown to me and likely depend greatly on each individual situation.

I am still left wondering what could be.  This is true of most humans, and I am no different.

Part of my hesitancy in this matter has been the normal concern that my "soul mate" could still be out there.  We all believe that there is someone for everyone.  I don't believe that's true, but I do believe that there is a chance for each of us to meet someone special, someone who can add to our existence and provide the emotional fulfillment most people want to find.

But everybody dances with one eye on the door, waiting for something better to walk in.  Would we even recognize it if it did?  Would we be too busy watching the door to realize that what we're looking for is the person we're already dancing with?

The axiom under which I view my feelings and relationship with Rick is this: genuine eros makes us desire a particular person; crude desire is satiable by fungible bodies.

In this case, fungible bodies fulfill only the wholly and primitive physical desires but can in no way satisfy the specific feelings I have for him in particular.

I do love Rick.  There is no doubt in my mind about that.  Part of that love is based on our friendship which has survived good and bad times alike for more than a decade.  The love does not end there, though, but is instead much deeper than mere friendship might explicate.

I am in love with Rick.  There is no doubt in my mind about that.  I fall more in love with him every day.

Our relationship is too complex to understand completely.  It's more than a friendship with benefits.

I said in the original series that I wanted to discuss this with Rick, that I wanted to explain my feelings to him and see where it went.  That hasn't happened for a myriad of reasons.  My life became overly complicated last year, especially with regards to Derek's health crisis and eventual death.  Work has gradually become far busier and more demanding, rapidly consuming more and more of my time and energy.  My mother fell ill and, as a result, I've quickly become the only child who still seems to give a damn about taking care of them.

Despite having explicitly said I would act, I have not.

This story is still not finished, little rug rats, yet I have no clear indication of where to take it.  The plot is in my hands — what do I do with it?

Rick is far too important a person in my life for me to endanger in any way what we already have together.  This in no way negates the fact that what I feel is powerful and seems to demand action from me.

In order for people to move forward, we often have to let go of what has held us back.  When what has held us back is a different aspect of what we need to move forward, the options are no longer as clear.

The dynamics of this relationship are not easily defined or understood — even by me.  There are times when I think we two are pursuing the same thing, then there are times when I think we two are quite content with what we have.

I feel as Lily Tomlin must have felt when she said, "If love is the answer, can you rephrase the question?"

Love is a very difficult emotion to understand.  It is without a doubt one of the most complex emotions we have.  It readily intertwines itself with aspects of relationships in ways that brings doubt and uncertainty.  We are left asking if what we feel is one thing or another, if it means something more than what we already have in our hands.

I am left without a clear understanding of the path I should take.  But isn't that normally the case in matters of love?

I have no closure on this issue nor with regards to my confusion on what to do, but there is no confusion about how I feel.  Perhaps what I have with Rick now is all I should expect.  Perhaps it will develop into something else on its own.  Either way, I close with the chorus to "Hanging by a Moment" by Lifehouse since these words seem to best describe how I feel.

 

…I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and I'm not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you