Today, I Begin to Fight Again

I started this blog as an attempt to motivate myself, and it has done a poor job of that. Today I have acknowledged why. What truly motivates me, more than anything else, is not creativity, free expression, or even hedonistic happiness. What motivates me is having an enemy. Not a rival. Not an opponent. I am driven by having people in my life for whom I have made it my mission to make miserable. I had forgotten this as my developmental years helped turn me into a person who was genuinely more concerned with the well-being of others than that of himself. The idea being that I could find a good-natured reason to be driven. So I slowly stopped making enemies. What enemies I did have, I no longer strived to hurt. But I have found that without people whom I deem deserving of my active hatred, I lack drive to be all that productive. I became relaxed and complacent with where I was in life, but the world doesn't put up with complacent people. Not for very long anyway. I admitted all this to myself today, because today I felt a drive like I hadn't felt in awhile. The sort of drive that makes you want to do something more than anything else. The sort of drive that will push you to do anything you need to do to accomplish your goal. Today, I have made enemies of certain people who will go unnamed. And I really want to make those people regret waking the anger that I have kept bottled for so long; feeling sad when I should have felt rage. All I can think about is making that happen. No one is going to be physically hurt and nothing illegal is going to take place. I am still as reasonable as ever. But as of this moment, I'm not standing by and feeling sad or frustrated about things I disagree with. Once again, I am going to allow myself to get angry about things. And when I get angry, I get stuff done. This is the last post I'm making to this blog. I will likely start other blogs based on central themes, but no more rambling about myself into the internet with no direction. It never did me any good and I simply don't have the time for it.

Been Awhile and Mullets

Been awhile since I've checked in around here. Just thought of something neat though, but it's too long and pointless to put on Facebook. So I figured I'd put it here.

Like most people I know, I've never been a big fan of mullets. But just a moment ago I thought of something; the mullet is simply long hair for conservative males. You might be thinking, "Well, yeah. You see conservatives and hipsters wearing mullets all the time." But I think there's more to it than that. For a second, think to yourself how often you see an unshakably right-winged man sporting long hair. Probably not often. Now out of those select few, how many were NOT wearing mullets? For me, it's none.

So why does the mullet completely shut out all other wears of long hair among the rebellious yet flag-waiving youth and youth-at-heart of America? Probably something to do with homophobia, if you ask me. The Republican Party tends to make it clear that they don't like gay people. Or at least not enough to let them get married. And I think most people have seen at least one real instance (and a dozen or so in movies) of males being called on their sexual preference based on the length of their hair, sometimes even when said hair is a mullet, but they tend to get by. And whether or not a man with long hair is suspected of being gay, just about anyone of any political leaning would probably suspect him of being a liberal. That is, suspect him of being okay with gay people having the same rights as other people.

For whatever reason, the mullet is typically excluded from this. Possibly because it's too universally perceived as such bad hair that gays or other liberals would only wear it out of "irony." So I suspect there's at least a portion of mullet-wearers who know they look bad, but they want to have long hair while making it clear they believe in Uncle Sam, apple pie, and heterosexuality. So what they're left with is the mullet. Those poor SOBs.

Yoda the Survivor

I'm watching The Empire Strikes Back and noticing some odd things about Yoda. As every fan learned in the prequels, Yoda and Kenobi are the only two surviving Jedi after Palpatine enacts a sort of genocide against them. These two manage to survive and then go into hiding. Kenobi settles on a sparsely populated desert planet with little to do. He also happens to live near one of the children he's hiding from the government. It's definitely a step down from living on Coruscant where he served on a sort of special forces for the government, but it could be worse.

Yoda lives in a swamp. On a swamp planet, actually. He is completely isolated from intelligent life and modern civilization. If you look closely during the movie, you can see that he's actually filthy. It makes sense since his robes are apparently his only clothes, and he has no known means of washing those or himself, other than use inhabited swamp water. We are also led to believe that he has no way of leaving this planet as there isn't a ship in sight besides Luke's sinking X-Wing. Why would he do this to himself?

One might argue that he prefers a life of solitude but he seems to enjoy himself enough with Luke around. We even gain the sense that he genuinely enjoys having him there as company rather than just a student. Sure the freaky cave for testing training Jedi is there but that doesn't mean he has to live there. In case no one noticed, spacecraft is plentiful and available in the Star Wars universe.

All I can think is that Dagobah is actually Yoda's home planet and he feels comfortable there. The obvious question then arises of where others of his species are. My conspiracy theory is that some event wiped his people out, and this is why we never see another creature of his type in the films. This would mean Yoda has survived two genocides against his kind; his species and then his beliefs.

Yoda is freaking awesome.

Exams Are Stressful

As midterms roll around, I'm reminded of a conversation I had with some fellow students about the horrible feelings of stress that come with big, important exams. As we sat around a table in a frozen yogurt shop during finals week, the conversation turned to how stressful that time of the semester can be. I'm pretty open with my friends, so I went out on a limb and asked them if they stressed out the same way I did.

I forget my exact wording, but I talked about how at a certain point, an urge occurs to inflict bodily harm upon oneself just to get out of the semester. I'd never acted on these thoughts, but as finals and procrastination pile up, I admitted that these easy ways out start looking a little better than the alternative. I wasn't surprised that they understood; that's kinda what friends do.

I was surprised that they agreed wholeheartedly, resulting in a talk about all the different things one might do to get out of the responsibility of a semester at school. Included were:
- get hit by a vehicle or in some other way suffer a serious injury
- develop a drug addiction / spend semester in rehab
- get pregnant (probably give baby away)
- contract a temporarily debilitating disease (ex. mono)
- break a limb
- get sent to an asylum
- enlist
- go hobo
- go into an illegal business (drugs, etc.)

Of course, we would never actually do these things just to get out of finals, but the thoughts do occur. If you have any other examples of things you've thought of to get out of your responsibilities for a while, please post them in the comments.

We All Come Out at Night

I like the night. That's no secret to anyone who actually knows me and my sleeping habits. I used to think it was because staying up resulted in valuable alone time, but I had a recent epiphany. Yes, I do enjoy having some time alone but I what I really like about the night is being with other people.

At night, people take off their masks and become their true selves. When people are out in the daytime, everyone plays to the image they're supposed to be, whether it's student, cashier, businessman, or the President, few of us act 100 percent ourselves. Those who do don't fit societal norms are thought to be strange simply because they're honest in their daily self-portrayal.

But as the sun comes down, so do the lies. The layers of deception are peeled back and, for the most part, people don't bullshit each other about who they are. As it gets darker out, we have the subconscious realization that we're not at school or work anymore and we act accordingly.

A Dialogue With God

I was walking through a yellow field one cloudy, summer day when I was approached by a man claiming to be god. He didn’t look like god, for he lacked a big white beard and robes or any resemblance to Morgan Freeman. He looked more like a hobo. The traditional train-living variety complete with hunched back, a big coat, torn beanie, and red handkerchief tied around a stick to hold his belongings.
He addressed me, “Could you spare some change?”
“Sorry, I don’t have any,” I answered before walking past him.
“Well, that’s a lie.”
I was a little peeved that he would assume I’d simply refused him any charity so I turned around and asked, “Now how can you be sure of that?”
“Because I’m god.”
“Oh, really? Well, that’s a lie.”
“No, it’s not. I know because I’m god,” the hobo retorted with a six-toothed grin.
Never having been a fan of circular logic, and having nothing else planned for the day, I decided to debate this surprisingly intelligible homeless man, “So you’re saying you’re god because you know you’re god?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s to stop me from saying I am god?”
“Because you know you’re not. And so do I. On account of being god, you know.”
“I got that. So if you know everything, why did you even ask me for change? Wouldn’t you know that I wouldn’t give you any?”
“Yes, I knew. I also know that you actually have thirty-seven cents in change.”
“Then why would you ask for it? Besides I have...” I fished through my pockets and counted through the coins, “Sixty-four cents in change.”
“See, you were lying.”
“Yes, I’ll admit that. But you we’re wrong.”
“Not really. I purposefully told you a wrong number, knowing that you’d try to prove me wrong. May I have it?”
“Why would god need money?”
“Because I want to get by while still blending in with society.”
“Then why not make your own?”
“That’d be counterfeiting. I’d rather not break the law.”
That baffled me, “You follow the laws of man? As god, wouldn’t your law be ultimate?”
“It would, but I haven’t made any laws.”
“What do you mean? What about the ten commandments?”
“Those are from an ancient storybook written by men. The ten commandments are man’s laws.”
“Then what about the physical laws of the universe. Gravity and light and whatnot?”
“Those things came about on their own.”
I paused to try and formulate my next question but was interrupted by the stranger, “You want to know just what it is I do?”
“Um, yes. I suppose,” I said while ignoring my suspicion that he knew what I was going to ask.
“I don’t do much of anything, really. I have the ability to, but I choose not to.”
“Wh-”
“Why? Because despite popular belief, I didn’t make this universe. It made me. And I don’t feel comfortable messing around with it.”
“Please don’t answer me before I ask the question. It’s rude. I think...”
“Not a problem. Most people aren’t comfortable with it.”
“Yeah, thanks. So apparently you’re all-knowing?”
“Yes and no.”
“Then why are you afraid to change the universe? Wouldn’t you know how it’d turn out?”
“That’s where the ‘no’ applies.”
“... um, explain.”
“It’s a long answer. You’re going to be tired of standing in a few moments, so you should sit down now.”
I somewhat reluctantly took a seat on a wide tree stump.
He began, “Let’s start with time. Most beings believe time is linear because that is how they perceive it,” he used his stick to draw an arrow in a patch of dirt.
“So time’s not linear?”
“Once again, yes and no. Time is, as you have heard various smart people claim, curved. So curved in fact, that it winds back in on it self, making a circle. But it only circles one way. ”
Next to the arrow, he drew a circle that didn’t quite close, with an arrow pointing back to the beginning of the line, “You see, time is linear in that in travels in one direction. But since it comes back in on itself, it’s constantly repeating itself. There is essentially no beginning and no end to time. It’s simply rounds in on itself over and over again.”
Intrigued, I asked “Is there a reason behind this?”
“Of course. You’re familiar with the big bang theory?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that theory is correct. It’s just a bit unfinished. All the matter of the universe was compacted into one incredibly small ball that exploded under the pressure, creating the very spread out universe we have about us today. For simplicities sake, we’ll refer to the big bang as the beginning, even though there is no beginning or end. But this of course leaves the question of where the compacted universe ball came from.
“This is where gravity comes into play. Gravity is the force that gives objects a pull on other objects in direct proportion to the object’s size and it’s proximity to other objects. Gravitational pull is never reduced to nothing; it just becomes inconsequential when objects are spaced far enough apart that another force pushing on said object overrides the pull of gravity. Like how a spaceship escapes the force of earth’s gravitational pull by having more force from the push from the rockets.”
“So the universe really is run by the force?” I joked, “I guess Uncle Ben was right.”
The man smirked, “I can do without the Star Wars references.”
“Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“As I was saying, gravitational pull never dies, it just becomes too weak to notice it. Keep that in mind as I go back to the big bang. When the bang occurred it pushed everything out with a massive blast of energy. So massive, in fact, that everything in the universe is still being pushed away from the area of the blast, despite that gravity want to pull it all in on itself. The popular belief is that this latent energy will continue pushing all the matter in the universe until everything is so dispersed that nothing can form and the universe, as a whole, will die. This is true. The universe will die. But, it will be reborn.”
“Like your son.”
“If you choose to believe that fairy tale, then yes.”
“I do.”
“I’ve noticed a lot of people have. Anyway, the nothingness that the mass and energy of the universe has dispersed through is not only infinite but round. As you know, the vast majority of space is empty. The universe is merely our name for the all the matter that has spread its way through this nothingness. So long after everything has dispersed and died, it will begin to come back in on itself again as it rounds through the nothingness.”
“But if the nothingness is infinite, wouldn’t it take an infinite amount of time for everything to round it?”
“Yeah. What’s your point?”
“Well, that means it’s never gonna happen. There is no rebirth.”
“Ah, but you misunderstand infinity.”
I’d found a flaw in his theory, “No, I don’t. Infinity means endless, unreachable. If something is infinitely big, you’d need an infinite amount of time to traverse it.”
He pointed at his circle in the dirt and retorted, “But we do have an infinite amount of time. And as we close in on infinity, all the mass from before is near each other again, pulling into each other because of the force of gravity. And just as the infinite circle of time comes back to where it started, the universe is once again pulled into on incredibly small fist of mass and energy. Before too long, it explodes in the big bang, in exactly the same way it did before, causing everything to happen the same way it did during the last eternity; successfully repeating time. I was created during the big bang and when the ball is formed yet again, the mass and energy that I’m made up of will be reabsorbed and I’ll be re-birthed with the rest of the universe. So yes, I do know everything but only because I’ve been around to witness everything. I don’t know what will happen if I alter the cycle in any way. So I go about each eternity just as I did the one before.”
“So you’re saying that eternity as we perceive it is merely one cycle of time?”
“Yes.”
I took off my cap and scratched my head before getting up from the stump and conceding, “I suppose it makes just as much sense as anything. Um, here. You can have the change,” I held out my handful of recycled mass to him.
“Thank you,” he said as he clenched the change into a fist and shoved it into a pocket.
As he turned and started to walk away, I called out to him, “So we’ve had this conversation before? And you knew we would and you knew exactly how it would go?”
Without turning around, he answered, “Yes. I actually look forward to this conversation, too. It’s one of the few times I get to explain myself to someone. Most beings won’t listen to a person ramble on about being god,” he laughed as he hoisted his stick and red handkerchief over his shoulder.
There was no final goodbye as I watched him walk out of sight. It didn’t seem necessary, knowing that we’d see each other again in one eternity.

Limited Albums: Billion Dollar Babies

The sick and dead
raped sweet Mary Ann.
The landslide
elected Mr. Guy,
Mr. Dollar
raped the freezin’ babies.
No more generation:
Mary
elected
unfinished things.