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Nøgleordssky, Forfattersky, Nøgleordsspejl
Kommet til
Oct 9, 2006
Real Name
Glenn Becker
About My Library

I suppose it's like anyone's: it's constantly evolving, though there is a more or less 'solid' core of things that never leave (except for the 'ones that got away', like that one-volume OED, alas!); it's probably too large; it dominates my living space; it tells me to do ... weird things; an oblong shard of it takes the place of a lover in my bed; and now I've told you too much about it and it's saying I have to kill you ...


About Me

One day, I will write a book about failure. It will be a great success, because of course I will only be able to fail at failing.

I have been many things, but have always stopped (or been stopped? you decide) short of being whatever it was I was "supposed to" have been -- if there really is such a thing. As a child I really wanted to be an astronaut*, or the next Edgar Allan Poe. I eventually revved up toward what might have been a career in physical science before being derailed by theater (wow -- suddenly girls acted like they liked me! the most addictive drug ever, it led me on through three degrees). Once I had graduated with a Ph.D. I suppose I should have wound up an academic -- but despite an early, pre-dissertation appointment at a SUNY school, that failed to gel, and my first divorce kinda sealed the derailment.

And so my version of a career has mostly consisted of relatively uninteresting jobs in IT. The last, most interesting-sounding and longest-lasting of these has been with the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory (the Smithsonian side of the Center for Astrophysics, Harvard and Smithsonian in Cambridge, MA), where I have been since early 2008. I work with data from the Chandra X-ray Observatory ... sounds cool, doesn't it?

Married and divorced twice. No children, thank ... well, thank everything. My second ex, a published author, is my best friend. I have a lovely black cat named Oort Cloud. At the age of 60 I took up playing the piano. And now I'm just throwing things around, so I will stop.

* Even I have to admit I would have been the shittiest astronaut ever. As a child I was afraid of almost everything, the adult residue of which is called "anxiety" ... if I was petrified of getting on the wrong bus, immobilized by terror at getting up in front of my classmates to speak, how well would I have dealt with being in an environment of almost constant danger and need for split-second judgment? Sheesh.

Arlington, MA
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