An explanation for my rather odd blog title

Have you ever had one of those brilliant ideas, you know, where it's so perfect that you have to act on it at once, or you'll burst? It makes you want to run to the nearst person and tell them, but at the same time you want to hold it tightly to your chest, and savor it as being yours.
And then it happens. You act on it, and every thing seems great untill that one thing you didn't know about, that there was no possible way for you to take into account, that one thing sneaks up and bites you on the rear end leaving you sore and smarting and not just a little embarassed.

That is not a uranium nightlight.

Uranium nightlights are much, much bigger, but I think you understand. They hold wonder, awe, and beauty, as well as the key to countless discoveries that change the course of history. And they hold death, shame, weakness, and posion that cannot be seen.
The story goes, as I remember, that the Curies placed hunks of uranium in their childrens' rooms to act as a nightlight, not understanding the consequences radiation has on the body. Marie's studies would lead to two Nobel prizes and ultimately cancer. As I know it, both generations of Curies did astounding things for the world and all died from some form of cancer.

That is a uranium nightlight.

And this...who knows what it'll be, or what it will cause, every big idea has potential for success, for failure, for harm and triumph, and all that we silly mortals can do is try: we think, we invent, we become.

We are all uranium nightlights.
~Rose