The chemical is used in the manufacture of jet fuel, and has been known to be contaminating the Colorado River Watershed and Lake Mead for oh, a fistful of years now. It leaches from sites in Southern Nevada (where I live). The government refuses to pay for cleanup.
This is the same government that's building a high level nuclear waste containment facility 90 miles from my house, near Beatty, NV--in the midst of that same watershed.
I'm having tuna salad for lunch. Probably should have gone with McDonald's as the healthier alternative, what?
Okay, so my online writing group had a little chat last night on plateauing, and Celia pointed out that at this juncture we're all more or less in the last semester of Senior Year, waiting for the diploma. And that's the source of a lot of the frustration and the sense that we're not getting better as fast as we used to.
We're not. It's that whole geometric progression thing--it gets harder as you get better. And most of us are pretty competent journeyman writers right now: the odd pro sale, some attention from editors, just enough encouragement to drive you mad with frustration....
We're waiting for the break and the last few details. The problem is that that break could be fifteen years coming, and we all know it.
I meantioned that I understand why writers become alcoholics: You sit down at the table, you open the bottle, you drink.
The results are predictable.
Kind of like the results of dumping toxic waste near a watershed that quenches the thirst of a quarter of the country.