In Six Easy Pieces, Richard Feynman supposes that if only one idea could be passed on to the next generation, the most important would be the atomic hypothesis, that everything is made up of atoms -- little particles that move around in perpetual motion, attracting each other when they are a little distance apart, but repelling upon being squeezed into one another.

It got me thinking, just now, about what my idea would be; if not to as grand an audience, then perhaps only to a future version of myself.

Here it is: No matter what the circumstances, it is possible to be happy. No matter how other people treat you, where you are or whom you're with, it is possible to be genuinely, unashamedly happy. You can see people embody this, sometimes -- the friends enjoying every minute of what by all rights should be a tedious chore; the radiant mother and child seemingly oblivious to the noise and stress around them. There's more to it, of course -- not the least of which is wanting to be happy, but also knowing how to share your happiness with those around you. But the most essential part, I think, is in knowing, and really believing, that it is possible.

I'm in the process of moving to the Seattle area. I'm excited about living in the northwest and starting my first post-graduate job.

Well-defined tasks.

My retroreflective clothing.

There are several different meaningful answers to this question. First, there are the books, movies and the like that I enjoy the most (this is seemingly the most literal interpretation). There are also the books and movies that convey the most information about who I am -- my temperament, personality and values. Finally, there are the books and movies that I think you would enjoy the most. While difficult to answer without a specific you in mind, this question is still answerable in the generic case, with answers different from the first two interpretations.

I will attempt to answer the question from all three perspectives.

My favorite work of written literature is Ted Chiang's short story Story of Your Life. My favorite comic is Calvin & Hobbes. My favorite movie is Before Sunrise. My favorite music includes much, most recently Death Cab for Cutie, Vienna Teng, and Clare Burson.

Gene Wolfe's short stories and novels are perhaps most revealing about my taste and temperament. Wolfe has a distinctive style of writing, immensely dense and incredibly lucid. While often difficult to read quickly, the experience is an intellectual high, to understand so clearly. ButtercupFestival.com is my favorite active comic. Its mix of absurdist humor and nostalgia lacks universal appeal but makes me laugh consistently. The opening scene of David Gordon Green's All the Real Girls is some of the most romantic cinema I've seen. Henryk Gorecki's Symphony number 3 has such a viscerally calming and moving effect on me that I can only presume that there's some deep connection I don't understand.

If you would like to read a story I suggest Jeffrey Ford's Empire of Ice Cream, http://www.lexal.net/private/scifi/scifiction/originals/originals_archive/ford4/ford41.html. Or, with even less of a time investment, read Michael Swanwick's short-short stories on each of the periodic elements, http://www.lexal.net/private/scifi/scifiction/periodictable.html (try Nitrogen, Tin (Sn), or Neon, for example). For movies I recommend many of the films show at CMU (http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/org/AB/films/). If you live in Pittsburgh, or are otherwise lucky enough to have your local cinema show it, you really must see Turtles Can Fly. If you would like something to listen to, try The Slip's Reddish Moon or Lots of Socks (http://theslip.com/mp3/041002-ReddishMoon.mp3, http://theslip.com/mp3/socks.mp3).

"The things I value most":

Good stories, live concerts, music on my headphones late at night, being outside, understanding and being understood, my sister.

User interface design.

Attending Friday Night Improvs in the basement of the Cathedral of Learning. (This is not actually true right now, only in part due to the FNI's summer hiatus, but it was once important enough to me that I can't see this question without feeling the compulsion to spread the word.)

Ghosts are, as a rule, an unhappy lot. Tethered to earth by their guilt, anger or shame, they each have something for which they cannot forgive themself. Yes, they may smile at you, the translucent young woman behind the counter at the deli, the floating, flirting waitress. But behind each of their see-through smiles is a sadness the living cannot comprehend.

My first girlfriend was a ghost. The first time I saw her she was lounging on a park bench, cigarette in hand, exhaling small plumes of smoke more substantial than she was. It was her wistful look of nostalgia on as she watched the living walk by that caught my attention, made me hesitate and then walk over.

The dead are hesitant to talk about their lives and it took months before she opened up enough to tell me her story, of her mother and her sister and the fire. I didn't know what to say, so I just held her, and didn't let go until morning. It was a week later that she smiled after dinner and told me she was planning to go back to school. That night, as we lay in bed and talked of our plans, she started fading. Realizing what was happening, she gave me one last kiss before disappearing.

I've been with three ghosts since. It's a slow process of trust and understanding. I used to try not to fall in love, to try not to make it hurt so much afterward, but I've given up. I don't think it's possible to understand, forgive and accept someone enough so that they can forgive themself without falling in love.

So I lie here alone when they disappear. With no one watching, I let myself flicker back into translucence, and think about things that cannot be undone.

You want to hang out and help me find the cool coffee shops, hiking trails, and beautiful nooks and crannies in and around Seattle.