News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets


News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets
News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

It was the fall of 2014. Jennifer Robertson was struggling with the fallout from a messy divorce and juggling weekend waitressing gigs to make ends meet. One night, at the urging of friends, she swiped right on Tinder—and met the love of her life.

Gerald Cotten was a Bitcoin entrepreneur. Robertson didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she didn’t think she needed to. Cotten was smart, successful, and kind. Over the next four years, as his company, QuadrigaCX, expanded exponentially, Cotten and Robertson, twentysomethings in love, became wealthy beyond their wildest imaginings. They acquired property, bought yachts and planes, travelled to exotic destinations. So much money rolled in so fast that they occasionally ended up with huge piles of cash on their kitchen counter.

In November 2018—one month after celebrating their wedding in a Scottish castle and just twelve days after Cotten signed a will naming Robertson his executor and sole beneficiary—they set off on what was supposed to be an extended honeymoon. Instead, suddenly, unexpectedly, almost inexplicably, a seemingly healthy thirty-year-old Cotten died in an intensive care unit in India, of complications from Crohn’s disease.

Overnight, their dream life became Robertson’s worst nightmare. Cotten possessed the only key to the online vaults where his customers’ investments were supposedly stored. No one knew where to find $215 million belonging to more than 76,000 investors.

Read the rest of this article at: The Walrus

News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

Surrounded by rugged peaks so high they tear clouds apart, the tractor-size groomer backs over a 40-foot-tall mound of compacted snow, unrolling a bolt of white fabric. On top of the mound, six workers are stitching fabric panels together with a handheld, heavy-duty sewing machine. It’s June at Kitzsteinhorn in Austria, one of the highest and coldest ski areas in the Alps, and meltwater is gushing into ravines on the flanks of the mountain. But up on the glacier, the slope maintenance crew is preparing for the next season.

Even at 10,000 feet, counting on natural snow has become too risky. So the team led by technical manager Günther Brennsteiner is taking out insurance. They’ve spent a month plowing the last of this season’s snow into eight multistory mounds, of which the largest are bigger than football fields. They’re now spending another month covering the mounds with fabric to insulate them over the summer. When the new season begins, if it’s too warm for fresh snow to fall—or even for artificial snow to be made—dump trucks and groomers will spread old snow on the slopes.

Figuring out how to stockpile snow at this scale hasn’t been easy, says one of the workers, Hannes Posch. Before the crew started stitching the panels together, wind gusts sometimes ripped them apart, uncovering the mounds. Other times, the fabric froze solid into the snow.

Read the rest of this article at: National Gepgraphic

Having a mentor isn’t something you outgrow no matter your age. Whether it’s a role model for success in your industry or just someone you know who embodies the habits and values you wish to possess, the lessons we learn from watching our real-life and aspirational mentors are imperative to our self-growth. Below, 25 famous women discuss the women and men they’ve looked up to. Read on for Amandla Stenberg on Rihanna, Laverne Cox on Tracey “Africa” Norman, Beanie Feldstein on Barbra Streisand, and more.

Read the rest of this article at: The Cut

News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

In December, I did my last day on call. My last ever out-of-hours session in general practice. In a 13-hour shift on Boxing Day, I did a lot of home visits, during which I offered advice and treatment for rashes, pains, Covid, injuries and infections. I saw newborn babies and I certified deaths. In addition to the usual workload, the pandemic meant filling in for absent colleagues who were shielding or infected with the virus. From 8am to 9pm, at the out-of-hours centre and on home visits, I didn’t stop. The plastic container of leftover Christmas dinner I had brought with me remained unopened.

This last day was in many ways symptomatic of the changes I have seen over the course of 30 years. Today, with advances of medicines and technology, patients are living longer, often with three or even four serious long-term conditions, so having one patient with heart failure, chronic respiratory problems, dementia and previous stroke is not at all unusual, whereas 30 years ago the heart failure might have carried them off in their 60s. This makes every patient much more complex, and it can be much harder to manage them and to get the balance of treatments right.

Today, unlike 30 years ago, all patients are strangers and, as my catchment area now extends into different London boroughs, even the places I go are unfamiliar. Gone is the relationship between my community and me. Instead, I am part of a gig economy, as impersonal as the driver delivering a pizza. I ended the shift with a profound sense of loss and sadness.

One of the patients I saw was a man in his 90s, with a history of dementia, living with his adult children and grandchildren. The call had come in that he was not drinking or eating, and had not passed any urine for 24 hours. I wasn’t expecting to be able to offer much. I knocked loudly. By now it was raining and very cold, and I waited shivering while someone came to let me in. The patient’s room had been taken over by the clutter of ill-health. A hospital bed, commode, wheelchair, a table covered with medicines and surgical dressings. Incontinence pads (unused) lay piled on the floor, and used ones in a sanitary bin in the corner of the room contributed that unmistakable odour of old age. My patient sat sleeping in a chair. The story, as told to the call centre that arranged the visit, was a background of dementia and infirmity, recent Covid, previous stroke, and now not drinking.

Read the rest of this article at: The Guardian

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News 23.02.22 : Today’s Articles of Interest from Around the Internets

“They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen the highest perfection in the other, or which had been the happiest: she, in receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted.”

So begins Jane Austen’s final completed novel, Persuasion—and perhaps no two sentences describe as succinctly the traditional romantic ideal of falling in love. Rapid and deep, true love, for Austen, leaves no room for doubt; once it is declared, lifelong commitment—barring intervention by ill fortune or meddlesome relatives—will surely follow quickly on its heels.

Many today would recognize the appeal of such a picture, however skeptical they might be about the likelihood of this fantasy coming to life. The way we actually date, though, could hardly be more different. Today, love takes time. When looking for a soul mate, people no longer rely on blind dates or chance encounters. They cast a wider net than ever before—dating across great geographical divides—and test the waters for long periods over text and videochat before meeting in person. They vet partners for financial stability and compatible interests. They have less sex than previous generations. Every stage of the relationship is drawn out: They wait longer to become “official” or exclusive, to move in together, to introduce their partners to their families, to marry and have children. In a 2016 reissue of her book Anatomy of Love, Helen Fisher, a biological anthropologist at the Kinsey Institute who has served as an adviser for the dating site Match for more than 15 years, gave these new, extended courtship practices a pithy name: “slow love.”

Read the rest of this article at: The Atlantic

P.S. previous articles & more by P.F.M.