I keep one with me all the time, because, well, there are times when you will wish you had it with you. Besides, how will you know what times those are if you don't?
*
I go here twice a day, or maybe four times a day. Or six. Unless, of course, I just go home across the border.
*
I'm always telling you things, but don't try to tell me things back, because I'm not a good listener. I don't make a sound, but I try to be very loud. Sometimes I make you angry, but I can make you warm inside with a hug if you really need it. What am I?
*
I'm often well dressed, but I wouldn't be much fun at a party... At least I can keep you ready for one! What am I?
*
People look at me all the time, but I feel like nobody is actually paying me any attention. Maybe I need to open up a bit more. What am I?
*
Some people love me by getting rid of me, some people love me by hiding me away, and some people, well, they just don't deserve me. You'll sure miss me when I'm gone, though. What am I?
*
You only leave me behind when things are messy... but eventually, I'll be gone. Unless of course, you're on the moon. What am I?
*
You won't find me before 11, and if it's afternoon, you're out of luck. What am I?
*
Everybody has one, and everybody knows it, but some people do not like to admit they do. Some people want some other person's, and others are happy with what they have. The ones who haven't had it long aren't aware of how good theirs is. I get a new one every now and then, and sometimes it's a big deal, and sometimes it doesn't really matter.
Sorry if these are too vague, too obvious, or too... well, you'll know what I mean. I've never tried to make riddles before. Ask me if you want answers.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
I think that I haven't been able to blog as much (or at all) because I don't read books anymore. My main inspiration for writing is reading, and I've been stuck on page 157 of Dune Messiah since sometime during the summer, and on book 2 of The Brothers Karamazov since last December. I haven't determined if I enjoy being tortured by Dostoevsky or not.
*
Recently I was pondering why some things are so transient and others are so permanent. I was looking at my plate of finished spaghetti, and thought to myself about how if i put the plate outside for a week, the left over sauce would be gone, but the plate would remain. In fact, after a hundred years, the plate, or at least bits of it, would probably still be there, barring somebody going out of his way to destroy it. This lead me to wonder about permanent objects and transitory objects on a grand scale, a cosmic scale. If the spaghetti sauce and the plate are only separated by their differing transience, then any two objects or substances or merely "things that exist" are only thus separated. At the farthest ends of the spectrum lie pure energy like a photon, and pure matter. I concluded that energy and matter are only separated by transience, and that they are otherwise the same. Then I realized that this was also concluded many decades ago by Einstein.
*
One of my major concerns during the winter is of how to keep my feet warm in my apartment. The main problem that I face is that my feet, and in particular, the area around my toes, tend to sweat when they are covered. If I do not cover my feet, they become cold. If I cover my feet, they become sweaty, and then the effect of the cover diminishes until they become cold anyway. I have tried every combination of the following: socks, wool socks, fuzzy slippers, long pajamas which wrap over my feet, and placing a blanket over my feet. The most effective thus far was long pajamas and fuzzy slippers, since there tends to be enough cover, yet aeration as well. This was still not completely effective, though. Suggestions? Anything short of turning on the heat is good.
*
Last month one of the fire detectors in my apartment (not the one in my room) started making an intermittent beeping sound, indicative of waning battery power. The first day I heard this, I was lying in bed at about 11 in the morning trying to fall back asleep to avoid again realizing that I have a life to which I am enslaved when a loud and unexpected beep sounded. I was confused, but I did not allow the disturbance to rouse me, and I lay in bed for another half hour, waiting for this beep which occurred at an irregular interval of roughly every 140 seconds. Eventually, I got up, closed my door, then fell back asleep until 3 in the afternoon. When I woke up, the beeping had ceased. Of course, it continued again the next morning, and did not cease. As of today, the beeping has been going on for about 3 weeks, and I have grown so accustomed to the sound that I can sleep with my door open and not even notice it. It is as if the sound does not even happen. If I can learn to ignore something so obvious and irritating which could be easily solved by removing the battery from the ceiling contraption, I am probably one of the most lazy and accommodating people on the planet.
*
Skim milk tastes like blood.
*
Interesting things on my desk at this current moment: used Jasmine tea bag which I intend on reusing, two combination locks for which I do not remember the combination (Both are open, and I am afraid of closing either. This is ironic, since they are useless to me open or closed. Surely this means something philosophically.), a post-it on which I have written "Don't wait to be brought low, before you try to reach higher.", Dune Messiah dogeared on page 157, 4 packs of mint-flavored floss, both a N64 controller and a PS2 controller connected to their respective consoles (which are on the ground), half a can of cashew "halves & pieces" (Did you know that buying "halves & pieces" is cheaper than buying "whole"? It's cashews regardless of how complete they are... madness, I say.), 3 contact cases each containing a set of contacts, 4 sheets of loose-leaf with the 12 cranial nerves written on them repeatedly (I've already forgotten them), a bottle of prescription medication for migraine which actually worsens my migraines, my mouse on a mousepad on a mousepad (the bottom one has better traction with my desk, the top one has better smoothness for my mouse), and a random toothbrush, of which I do not know if it has been used, and if so, by me.
*
I've taken to watching movies like an addict in order to replace any sense of purpose or direction that I once had. What started as a desire to increase my film vocabulary (and kill time before going to sleep, like a young child who says "just 10 more minutes!!" while hunched over a book, flashlight under the pillow to continue whenever his mother's patience runs out) has become a necessity, as if not entering the world of a film with absurd plot twists and dues ex machinas would prevent me from moving forward into sleep and the next day of repeatedness. In some ways, I feel like more of a film connoisseur; I can understand why directors would take certain shots to help the audience understand a plot point, or the way that the camera is aimed a certain way in order to change the audience's impression of a scene, or how the music or the colors or the positioning of extras emphasizes or alters the mood. Unfortunately, life is not a movie.
*
I think what has changed in me since college is my vision of the future. Before, I could look in any direction and visualize a career, a family, a community, a life that I was in and had worked toward and enjoyed. I did not look at the present moment and extrapolate it. This is no longer. In some ways, I have become a man without hope. The feeling of knowing that something really exciting waits up around the next bend is no longer in me, nor has it been for some time. When I was young, the thought of watching cartoons after school kept me going during the day, the thought of a play date on the weekend kept me through the week. There are no such cartoons or play dates anymore, nor do their equivalents bring about the same sense of anticipation. Perhaps this is what is meant by the term "jaded", a concept which I had once considered impossible. At least I have something to do which takes up most of my time. I can't imagine what I would do if I did not even have that. I would like to think that I would find something interesting to look forward to, that I would find a goal and work toward it. Instead, I wonder what carrot-on-a-stick can bring me into the next month.
*
Recently I was pondering why some things are so transient and others are so permanent. I was looking at my plate of finished spaghetti, and thought to myself about how if i put the plate outside for a week, the left over sauce would be gone, but the plate would remain. In fact, after a hundred years, the plate, or at least bits of it, would probably still be there, barring somebody going out of his way to destroy it. This lead me to wonder about permanent objects and transitory objects on a grand scale, a cosmic scale. If the spaghetti sauce and the plate are only separated by their differing transience, then any two objects or substances or merely "things that exist" are only thus separated. At the farthest ends of the spectrum lie pure energy like a photon, and pure matter. I concluded that energy and matter are only separated by transience, and that they are otherwise the same. Then I realized that this was also concluded many decades ago by Einstein.
*
One of my major concerns during the winter is of how to keep my feet warm in my apartment. The main problem that I face is that my feet, and in particular, the area around my toes, tend to sweat when they are covered. If I do not cover my feet, they become cold. If I cover my feet, they become sweaty, and then the effect of the cover diminishes until they become cold anyway. I have tried every combination of the following: socks, wool socks, fuzzy slippers, long pajamas which wrap over my feet, and placing a blanket over my feet. The most effective thus far was long pajamas and fuzzy slippers, since there tends to be enough cover, yet aeration as well. This was still not completely effective, though. Suggestions? Anything short of turning on the heat is good.
*
Last month one of the fire detectors in my apartment (not the one in my room) started making an intermittent beeping sound, indicative of waning battery power. The first day I heard this, I was lying in bed at about 11 in the morning trying to fall back asleep to avoid again realizing that I have a life to which I am enslaved when a loud and unexpected beep sounded. I was confused, but I did not allow the disturbance to rouse me, and I lay in bed for another half hour, waiting for this beep which occurred at an irregular interval of roughly every 140 seconds. Eventually, I got up, closed my door, then fell back asleep until 3 in the afternoon. When I woke up, the beeping had ceased. Of course, it continued again the next morning, and did not cease. As of today, the beeping has been going on for about 3 weeks, and I have grown so accustomed to the sound that I can sleep with my door open and not even notice it. It is as if the sound does not even happen. If I can learn to ignore something so obvious and irritating which could be easily solved by removing the battery from the ceiling contraption, I am probably one of the most lazy and accommodating people on the planet.
*
Skim milk tastes like blood.
*
Interesting things on my desk at this current moment: used Jasmine tea bag which I intend on reusing, two combination locks for which I do not remember the combination (Both are open, and I am afraid of closing either. This is ironic, since they are useless to me open or closed. Surely this means something philosophically.), a post-it on which I have written "Don't wait to be brought low, before you try to reach higher.", Dune Messiah dogeared on page 157, 4 packs of mint-flavored floss, both a N64 controller and a PS2 controller connected to their respective consoles (which are on the ground), half a can of cashew "halves & pieces" (Did you know that buying "halves & pieces" is cheaper than buying "whole"? It's cashews regardless of how complete they are... madness, I say.), 3 contact cases each containing a set of contacts, 4 sheets of loose-leaf with the 12 cranial nerves written on them repeatedly (I've already forgotten them), a bottle of prescription medication for migraine which actually worsens my migraines, my mouse on a mousepad on a mousepad (the bottom one has better traction with my desk, the top one has better smoothness for my mouse), and a random toothbrush, of which I do not know if it has been used, and if so, by me.
*
I've taken to watching movies like an addict in order to replace any sense of purpose or direction that I once had. What started as a desire to increase my film vocabulary (and kill time before going to sleep, like a young child who says "just 10 more minutes!!" while hunched over a book, flashlight under the pillow to continue whenever his mother's patience runs out) has become a necessity, as if not entering the world of a film with absurd plot twists and dues ex machinas would prevent me from moving forward into sleep and the next day of repeatedness. In some ways, I feel like more of a film connoisseur; I can understand why directors would take certain shots to help the audience understand a plot point, or the way that the camera is aimed a certain way in order to change the audience's impression of a scene, or how the music or the colors or the positioning of extras emphasizes or alters the mood. Unfortunately, life is not a movie.
*
I think what has changed in me since college is my vision of the future. Before, I could look in any direction and visualize a career, a family, a community, a life that I was in and had worked toward and enjoyed. I did not look at the present moment and extrapolate it. This is no longer. In some ways, I have become a man without hope. The feeling of knowing that something really exciting waits up around the next bend is no longer in me, nor has it been for some time. When I was young, the thought of watching cartoons after school kept me going during the day, the thought of a play date on the weekend kept me through the week. There are no such cartoons or play dates anymore, nor do their equivalents bring about the same sense of anticipation. Perhaps this is what is meant by the term "jaded", a concept which I had once considered impossible. At least I have something to do which takes up most of my time. I can't imagine what I would do if I did not even have that. I would like to think that I would find something interesting to look forward to, that I would find a goal and work toward it. Instead, I wonder what carrot-on-a-stick can bring me into the next month.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Ghost Legacy, Part 1
I've grown tired of writing introspective bits and parts that really fail to live up to the emotions that I am trying to express. Therefore, let's do something different. This is the first half of a short story based on a dream I had recently.
Ahead of me the room stretched wide, dim, dreadful, like a murky cave. Some vague blue-green light transpired from the glowplates on the walls, adjacent to the ceiling. We crept slowly along the raised edges of the room, eyes straining through goggles, feet not contacting the metal deck through the soles of jumpsuits. Every room had felt this way, though some were larger, some smaller, some filled with strange instruments, some empty and vast. The ship was a series of innumerable caverns within a massive hull. Unseen beyond that hull was the void of deep space. We were lost.
It must be close. In my gut I knew that it was surely nearby, stalking us as it had been for some days now. We knew not its form, but it made its presence felt by the disappearance of several of our team, along with several flooded chambers that we dared not enter. There was no chance of succeeding in our original mission, the rescue of a previous team sent to investigate. We knew they had arrived, yet beyond that there was nothing but whispers. There was now only the thought of escape.
ES0014-J6, crouching next to me in the dimness, turned her head toward me. She motioned up above her, at the metal walls, to the space between two glow panels. In the faint light I could see a thin rubber streak, grayish-blue, a residue similar in color to the tread underneath our feet on the sole of the jumpsuits.
"Deliberate." ES0013-C1's voice breathed into my headset. He was crouched opposite us, also looking at the wall. We had not been to this room before, probably, and even if we had, surely we had left no such smear. I looked at J6, and then to the others. J6 nodded. ES0015-S5 came over from around J6, and I stood upon his shoulders to examine the wall. It seemed to be perfectly smooth, but I detected upon contact a slight crease. I turned to my right, and looked down to ES0015-R9, who passed me the appropriate tool. The crease became a cleft, and the cleft became an opening wide enough for a man to crawl through on his knees. The opening continued into a similar passageway that faded until it turned abruptly left some distance away. I got back down off from S5's shoulders.
A sudden thick vibrating coursed through the floor and the walls. It was a powerful tremor without noise which erased all other sensation momentarily. The room remained silent. My palms and back abruptly felt cold as I began to sweat. R9 looked over his shoulder. It was coming.
I motioned for R9 to climb up into the opening in the wall, offering him a boost. He looked at C1, who nodded quickly, and started across the room toward us, followed by the others who had crouched with him on the opposite side. Their movements were quick. I pushed R9's feet up and he disappeared into the hole. J6 was next. The floor rumbled again. J6 was pulling herself up, her right foot in my hands, her arms reaching into the opening, S5 supporting her left foot. Their movements were sharp, deliberate. She went up, pulled through by R9.
Sprinting, C1 and the others were more than halfway across the room now. The walls shook, more intensely now, for a longer time. I pushed S5 up, and his feet came off my shoulders as he slipped into the gap. I was alone on my side now.
I looked up to see J6's face and hand appear. I leapt up, but her hand was still at least an arm's length out of reach. She frowned and disappeared into the hole. It was too high. The ground shook again.
I looked around for something, anything that I could stand on. There was nothing but the metal panel that I had removed to expose the opening. I went through a mental checklist of all the objects in my pack: data master, toolkit, compressor, dehydrator, catalytic, powerpacks... nothing that would move me upwards. I looked toward C1. He was almost here, maybe fifteen paces away.
Something knocked against the side of my head. I jumped back reflexively, but saw only a metal cable dangling. I looked up to see J6 waving for me to climb up. The cable seemed thick, capable of sustaining my weight. The ground shuddered, violently, and my vision was blurry from the vibrations. I climbed.
I turned back as I clambered into the narrow space to see C1 reach the wall. He immediately grabbed the cable and thrust it into the hand of ES0010-ZX2, then crouched. I pulled her up.
Just as she reached top, a massive vibration tore through the room. It continued, increasing in amplitude until suddenly C1 and the two others with him began to glow with a dull light. C1 looked up at me, his mouth opened to say something, and then all three abruptly vanished. I pulled vigorously on ZX2, and we fell backward into the passage. The vibrations continued. "Go, go, go!" R9 called from ahead. We went.
Ahead of me the room stretched wide, dim, dreadful, like a murky cave. Some vague blue-green light transpired from the glowplates on the walls, adjacent to the ceiling. We crept slowly along the raised edges of the room, eyes straining through goggles, feet not contacting the metal deck through the soles of jumpsuits. Every room had felt this way, though some were larger, some smaller, some filled with strange instruments, some empty and vast. The ship was a series of innumerable caverns within a massive hull. Unseen beyond that hull was the void of deep space. We were lost.
It must be close. In my gut I knew that it was surely nearby, stalking us as it had been for some days now. We knew not its form, but it made its presence felt by the disappearance of several of our team, along with several flooded chambers that we dared not enter. There was no chance of succeeding in our original mission, the rescue of a previous team sent to investigate. We knew they had arrived, yet beyond that there was nothing but whispers. There was now only the thought of escape.
ES0014-J6, crouching next to me in the dimness, turned her head toward me. She motioned up above her, at the metal walls, to the space between two glow panels. In the faint light I could see a thin rubber streak, grayish-blue, a residue similar in color to the tread underneath our feet on the sole of the jumpsuits.
"Deliberate." ES0013-C1's voice breathed into my headset. He was crouched opposite us, also looking at the wall. We had not been to this room before, probably, and even if we had, surely we had left no such smear. I looked at J6, and then to the others. J6 nodded. ES0015-S5 came over from around J6, and I stood upon his shoulders to examine the wall. It seemed to be perfectly smooth, but I detected upon contact a slight crease. I turned to my right, and looked down to ES0015-R9, who passed me the appropriate tool. The crease became a cleft, and the cleft became an opening wide enough for a man to crawl through on his knees. The opening continued into a similar passageway that faded until it turned abruptly left some distance away. I got back down off from S5's shoulders.
A sudden thick vibrating coursed through the floor and the walls. It was a powerful tremor without noise which erased all other sensation momentarily. The room remained silent. My palms and back abruptly felt cold as I began to sweat. R9 looked over his shoulder. It was coming.
I motioned for R9 to climb up into the opening in the wall, offering him a boost. He looked at C1, who nodded quickly, and started across the room toward us, followed by the others who had crouched with him on the opposite side. Their movements were quick. I pushed R9's feet up and he disappeared into the hole. J6 was next. The floor rumbled again. J6 was pulling herself up, her right foot in my hands, her arms reaching into the opening, S5 supporting her left foot. Their movements were sharp, deliberate. She went up, pulled through by R9.
Sprinting, C1 and the others were more than halfway across the room now. The walls shook, more intensely now, for a longer time. I pushed S5 up, and his feet came off my shoulders as he slipped into the gap. I was alone on my side now.
I looked up to see J6's face and hand appear. I leapt up, but her hand was still at least an arm's length out of reach. She frowned and disappeared into the hole. It was too high. The ground shook again.
I looked around for something, anything that I could stand on. There was nothing but the metal panel that I had removed to expose the opening. I went through a mental checklist of all the objects in my pack: data master, toolkit, compressor, dehydrator, catalytic, powerpacks... nothing that would move me upwards. I looked toward C1. He was almost here, maybe fifteen paces away.
Something knocked against the side of my head. I jumped back reflexively, but saw only a metal cable dangling. I looked up to see J6 waving for me to climb up. The cable seemed thick, capable of sustaining my weight. The ground shuddered, violently, and my vision was blurry from the vibrations. I climbed.
I turned back as I clambered into the narrow space to see C1 reach the wall. He immediately grabbed the cable and thrust it into the hand of ES0010-ZX2, then crouched. I pulled her up.
Just as she reached top, a massive vibration tore through the room. It continued, increasing in amplitude until suddenly C1 and the two others with him began to glow with a dull light. C1 looked up at me, his mouth opened to say something, and then all three abruptly vanished. I pulled vigorously on ZX2, and we fell backward into the passage. The vibrations continued. "Go, go, go!" R9 called from ahead. We went.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Things I Never Expected About Myself When I Was 12
I absolutely LOVE football. I hated football when I was younger. True, I decided to call myself a Patriots fan when I was 2nd grade, but that didn't really pan out until college.
I enjoy being outdoors to no end. I hated going outside when I was younger, since there were no video games or TV or books (reading inside on a couch is much easier) to be had.
I enjoy being with people. This sounds a bit absurd, since who prefers not being with people? I was an only child until 8, and did most things alone, and that's just how I saw myself. I figured that I was bad with people (still true) and thus would not have too many friends (also true), and so would be happiest alone. As it turns out, activities that I would find uninteresting on my own I find wonderful and fulfilling in the company of friends. That said...
I enjoy being alone more. Perhaps best reflected by my desire to take long road-trips. If I could, I would take a life-long road-trip to everywhere (assuming of course that one can drive across oceans). The freedom to think about whatever and for however long you desire, wherever you wish, whenever you want...
I absolutely love playing sports. When I was 12, I thought that dumb people played sports and smart people made money. I have since found that dumb people and smart people play sports, and that smart people make money... and dumb people often make more money.
Also, I enjoy playing team sports far more than individual sports. When I was younger I liked to prove that I was better than everybody else, and that meant not having teammates. Now I prefer playing a role like a cog in a contraption (or hopefully a bolt in a well-honed machine). The idea of parts and meshing and just... teamwork gives me goosebumps.
I gained mass (both muscle and fat) on my absurdly skinny frame from the age of 12. With terribly short legs and terribly narrow shoulders and protruding rib cage, I did not expect my physical bearing to change much, but, alas.
I'm still awful at studying. I figured that I would eventually figure out how to motivate myself and study, but this has not come true. In a position where simply "figuring things out with what you know" is just not possible, I have not yet adapted, and thus I am unable to reach my potential. I feel like a computer without sufficient data when I take tests, like a car whose wheels spin madly but do not touch the road.
I'm not married. I had high expectations when I was 12. (and 18.)
I haven't done something of note, like writing a book or making a scientific discovery. I had (and have) an excess of confidence, mostly unfounded, and yet it has yet to amount to much. I still firmly believe that I will eventually do something of note. Maybe most people do.
I am still learning how to be a real person. I once thought that a college graduate was a real person. I have learned since reaching that state that this is not true, for I have yet to become a real person.
I'm not friends with the same people. But who still is at this point? No 12 year old child would predict having totally different friends.
I'm 10 years older than when I was 12. Logically, it makes sense. To the mind, however, comprehending 10 years in the future is just not possible. A massive paradigm shift requires such a gradual progression. Maybe I'll try this again in 10 years.
I enjoy being outdoors to no end. I hated going outside when I was younger, since there were no video games or TV or books (reading inside on a couch is much easier) to be had.
I enjoy being with people. This sounds a bit absurd, since who prefers not being with people? I was an only child until 8, and did most things alone, and that's just how I saw myself. I figured that I was bad with people (still true) and thus would not have too many friends (also true), and so would be happiest alone. As it turns out, activities that I would find uninteresting on my own I find wonderful and fulfilling in the company of friends. That said...
I enjoy being alone more. Perhaps best reflected by my desire to take long road-trips. If I could, I would take a life-long road-trip to everywhere (assuming of course that one can drive across oceans). The freedom to think about whatever and for however long you desire, wherever you wish, whenever you want...
I absolutely love playing sports. When I was 12, I thought that dumb people played sports and smart people made money. I have since found that dumb people and smart people play sports, and that smart people make money... and dumb people often make more money.
Also, I enjoy playing team sports far more than individual sports. When I was younger I liked to prove that I was better than everybody else, and that meant not having teammates. Now I prefer playing a role like a cog in a contraption (or hopefully a bolt in a well-honed machine). The idea of parts and meshing and just... teamwork gives me goosebumps.
I gained mass (both muscle and fat) on my absurdly skinny frame from the age of 12. With terribly short legs and terribly narrow shoulders and protruding rib cage, I did not expect my physical bearing to change much, but, alas.
I'm still awful at studying. I figured that I would eventually figure out how to motivate myself and study, but this has not come true. In a position where simply "figuring things out with what you know" is just not possible, I have not yet adapted, and thus I am unable to reach my potential. I feel like a computer without sufficient data when I take tests, like a car whose wheels spin madly but do not touch the road.
I'm not married. I had high expectations when I was 12. (and 18.)
I haven't done something of note, like writing a book or making a scientific discovery. I had (and have) an excess of confidence, mostly unfounded, and yet it has yet to amount to much. I still firmly believe that I will eventually do something of note. Maybe most people do.
I am still learning how to be a real person. I once thought that a college graduate was a real person. I have learned since reaching that state that this is not true, for I have yet to become a real person.
I'm not friends with the same people. But who still is at this point? No 12 year old child would predict having totally different friends.
I'm 10 years older than when I was 12. Logically, it makes sense. To the mind, however, comprehending 10 years in the future is just not possible. A massive paradigm shift requires such a gradual progression. Maybe I'll try this again in 10 years.
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