Seeing stars

Weird. I just tried to get in to start a new post from the main Blogger page, but couldn't. Went back to the blog and signed in from there, and it was fine.

Weird, did I mention?

Anyway. Here I am. Tired. I've spent most of the week out at a school with the mobile planetarium -- sorry, mobile planetarium, for those who aren't familiar with the thing -- and spending that much time sprawled out in odd positions on a gym floor (um, in order to point at and talk about different constellations. I don't as a rule choose to sprawl out in odd positions on a gym floor just for fun) when you have a buggered-up ankle and a very unhappy knee tends to hurt.

And make you tired.

I should say at this point that today's photo has nothing to do with the planetarium. By choice.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, sore and tired.

I find it odd that I spend so much time talking about astronomy these days, especially considering the fact that until I was in my late twenties I knew next to nothing about constellations or any of that. I'd always assumed that I was too nearsighted and astigmatic to be able to pick out anything in the night sky, so I never bothered to try. In those days we didn't have our own planetarium at work but we used to rent one for a few weeks every couple of years. I didn't know my stars but I did know my mythology, so if I had to do a star show I'd spend a grand total of about fifteen minutes on the normal sky projection (Can everyone see the Big Dipper? Ok then. Let's move on) and then put on the mythology projection and spend the rest of my time telling the stories behind the constellations.

Most of which I couldn't have recognised if you paid me to.

Which, come to think of it, I was being paid to.

Ah well.

What changed is that my father built a telescope. A six-inch Newtonian reflector, which he painted teal. I don't remember why. I didn't even know what a Newtonian reflector was at the time, but all of a sudden the father figure had a teal one. He figured that since I'd been doing planetarium shows for years at work that I should be able to help him find some of the things he was interested in looking at with his telescope, but I... couldn't. And I was embarrassed. And for the first time, star maps in hand, I tried to figure out the sky.

And it wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.

And -- much to my amazement -- my pathetic eyes were able to see the same shapes in the sky that were drawn on the star maps.

I know. It shouldn't have surprised me that the actual constellations would resemble the constellations on the maps, but to be honest it did.

I can be a bit simple at times, you know.

Well, once I realised that I was capable of learning the sky I actually (for a change) applied myself to doing it, and nowadays I'm not too bad. I'm no expert by a long shot, but I'm a helluva lot better than your average city dweller who hardly ever gets to see the stars.

Once of my favourite stories (Wait. It sounds wrong to say favourite about something that was really quite horrible. Hmmm. Substitute in something I found fascinating, then) about the earthquake in Southern California a few years back is that 911 operators were getting calls from people who were genuinely worried that there was something really wrong with the sky. The power had been knocked out, you see, and it was the first time some of those Los Angelinos had ever seen so many stars.

Aaanyway. I'm tired, I've been down in the basement long enough, and it'll be supper soon. If you're desperate for something to read and want a taste of the kind of storytelling I do in the planetarium, hit the European mythology label on the sidebar and you'll find some of my retold myths.

Oh, wait.

I took the label list off of the sidebar because it was getting too cluttered.

Hmmm.

Maybe if you try searching European mythology at the top of the page? That should work. Either that or I'll put the label list back on the sidebar at some point during the weekend.

Or not.

Whatever.

I'm tired, did I mention?