BlakeCharlton.com

Sunday on a Soapbox

There are so many things about America I passionately love: superbowl sunday is not one. This because I played football for most of my non-adult life. It’s a beautiful, brutal game that should be protected from beer commercials, Justin Timberlake, and other frivolities of capitalism. The game is lost in the noise.

That said, I do love the camaraderie the day inspires: it’s provided an excuse for me to spend time with Dad, which given the craziness of my schedule is hard to do.

And of course, the textbooks and manuscripts are never far. I don’t have much time to turn around Endosymbiont and am about to get cracking on that.

Oh, and in the good news department, when I told JJ that I’d like him to donate my advance to a cancer research charity of my choosing, he did some asking about and got a tentative agreement on the part of Prime Books to match my donation. Now I just need to figure out which charity I should name. I know charities vary widely in how impartially they award money, how much money they keep for themselves, etc. I’ve pinged some of my Bio Chem professors who are also oncologists, but if any of you are sitting on some knowledge of research charities, now’s the time to let me know.

Then, after the editing, I need to spend some QT with Dr. Netter’s thalamus plate. I had a dream last night that I was being attacked by a giant brainstem. CN VIII kept knocking me off balance. (Sorry, you’ll only find that funny if you’re an exceedingly dorky med student.)