We’re not missionaries, we’re engineers.

tl;dr – Come check out our new organization scihouse.space
I’m focusing on personal projects instead of other people’s projects.
Expect journal paper summaries.

It’s 649 am and I’m watching steam peel off the sidewalk as the sprinklers of the nearby bank liberally douse both the scrub flat and the concrete around their building. It was cold enough in Florida last night that the water from the pipes is warmer than the ground.

You’re sending me mixed messages here, Florida. You’re drowning and melting, but you’re still watering the asphalt like nothings wrong.

Across the street is a half empty mall. Anything that a person actually needs has left. There is a dollar store, next to the shape of a supermarket blacked out and dusty inside, a couple of hair salons, a bait and tackle shop, and what used to be Sears is now a dialysis clinic. Some needs are being addressed, I suppose.

This is the beginning of the Jackpot.

There supposed to be some amazing posts and pretty pictures about Brazil here. Turns out you can’t always count on things like that.

Leaving and starting again somewhere else is what you do when you’re in a bad breakup. When there is somewhere else to go.

Awkwardly, there is no Western frontier left when you are breaking up with a country or a business. No place to sidestep where you can escape the problems that plague you and displace the people that lived there before. Tough news. Historically, running away was always an option. True story though, Manifest Destiny has always been a lie.

Promises were made and broken and it’s led us here, the heart of the darkest continent, Florida.

There’s an edge when talking with the people that want to build things in this town. Sharp and dark like the bottle tucked in the back of the cupboard. Half the people over 30 in Jacksonville talk about how this is finally it’s time to shine. The other half talk about how the town is doomed to remain this way. A friend of a friend shys away from political talk. No reason to talk, she says, I’m burnt out. Five minutes later I’m talking to a young man, who leans in close, blurry with craft beer but focused on his point. He moves like he would step up on the nearest soapbox given the chance but he whispers his words almost desperately. Change, he says. Things have to change.

After being here awhile, I can understand that feeling.

We’re not missionaries, we’re engineers.

So, it’s time to take a break from that particular mode. More doing, less talking. Not that I’ve been great at posting here, but I was busy starting a Makerspace, finding a house to live in, and getting a job. Blogging just fell to the wayside.

Now there is a new project, scihouse.space, where I’m working with Justin Atkin from The Thought Emporium. We’ve carved out a little niche here in the toxic Railyard District, installed some RO filters, and have started working on the things that make us excited. Bioremediation. Biopolymer design. Fast forests. Nano everything. Carbon everything. Not drowning when the oceans rise. And of course, the casual implant from time to time.

My new goal here is to share the papers I read and the updates for my personal projects along those lines.

Thank you to everyone that still is tagging along.


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