Obligations to Fill

Vegetarian, n. Native American word for bad hunter


Religion could also be said to have stemmed from our overactive imaginations. Certainly when humans began living together and creating tools and using advanced methods to hunt and gather food imaginations were very useful. But as we advanced and found time and room to exercise our abstract thinking abilities beyond just sustenance, I believe we found a problem. We quickly found the truth that we are no more significant than the animals we hunted. This would cause a massive amount of cognitive dissonance in any individual.

Most individuals believe that they are significant and important. However, the truth of our reality is that we are insignificant. So in order to resolve these two conflicting ideas we have social structures like religion. Religion gives the life we lead in this reality a purpose and an ultimate goal. We delude ourselves into believing we are important and descended from an important being.

When faced with certain death it is hard to tell what people will think or do resolve the dissonance regarding death. Death is ultimately a bad state of being. It's an unknown place where you cannot return to the life you live here. Almost universally we do not want to die.

Good time for a reminder

Browsing through an old blog of mine.

Rules to Funny:

1) Repetition. This one is stupid, but it works. Say something over and over, and then repeat it, and then say it some more. Two or three times. Example: "In his spare time, young Luke Skywalker enjoyed driving his land speeder, whining, shooting womp-rats, cruising for chicks in Mos Eisley, whining, nerf-herding, and whining." Sometimes, driving a joke into the ground makes it funnier. Other times, it just makes the joke dead, so please be careful, cautious, and vigilant if you decide to use this technique. And also be careful.
2) Misdirection. A little more sophisticated and "witty" than repetition. Appear to go one direction with your writing, but end up in a completely different place. Like Australia. For instance: "Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."
3) Escalation: The key to the absurd style, but all around a good technique. Start out reasonable and sensible, then become increasingly extreme, irrational, and absurd. Example: "Among the monastic sins listed by Saint Anselm are sodomy, bestiality, wearing clean underwear, touching oneself anywhere below the neck, heavy breathing, and approaching closer than 40 furlongs to a female of any mammalian species." Starting out absurd and staying that way is rarely funny. Absurdity can be funny, but it helps to work up to it from a serious- or at least, less-absurd- starting point. This is true whether you're dealing with a single sentence, a whole article, or putting live moray eels down your pants.
4) Repetition.
5) Being Self-referential. Again, sort of an obvious technique but it can be funny. "Repetition" repeats, "Misdirection" veers off into Australia, "Escalation" escalates. See this article's section on Being Self Referential.
6) Understatement. For instance, "many people would say that the Holocaust was not a good thing". Writing "OMG this kid in my class Joe Shmoe is so stupid!" is not as funny as taking a more understated approach such as "Joe Shmoe is not quite as intelligent as a mildly retarded woodchuck suffering from late-stage syphilus." Not that you're allowed to write about your classmates, though.
7) Repetition.
8) Circularity. For an example, see Being Circular.
9) Being Circular. For an example, see Circularity. (again, this is a dumb but effective technique, if it isn't overused).
10) The Straight Man. A common beginner's mistake is to be ridiculous the whole way through. However, being serious is a vital part of being frivolous. They're yin and yang, opposites that need each other. In a comic routine, this role is served by the 'straight man'. Marge Simpson's seriousness throws Homer's idiocy into sharp relief; Graham Chapman plays his King Arthur completely deadpan, making the rest of Monty Python and the Holy Grail that much more absurd by comparison. Generally speaking, you'll need some sections of your writing to serve as the "straight man". These are all the non-joke things: the background information, facts or factual sounding statements, the stuff that builds up to and supports the jokes, the punchlines, the non-sequitirs and the bizarre twists, making them sound that much more brain damaged by comparison. If your goal is to sound like a lunatic, it helps to have a sane man in the room.
11) Write in a Consistent Style. Some articles read as if they're been written by a college professor, many sound like they're written by a mentally challenged thirteen-year-old, and most of the... well, it's not entirely clear that these were written by something with opposable thumbs. However it usually works best to write a single article in a single style. That is, you would read it and assume a single person wrote it. It should not read like paragraph 1 is the work of a five year old girl, paragraph 2 is the work of a crotchety old man, and paragraph 3 resulted from a collaboration by a epileptic goat, a squid with Alzheimer's, and an emo kid. There are exceptions (say, writing on multiple personality disorder) but quality articles usually follow this rule.
12) Pick your targets. Some people are just asking to be taken down a notch. The rich, the powerful and the famous. People who are liars, hypocrites, arrogant or jerks are also perfect targets for satire. Generally speaking, people who are helpless aren't. Making fun of cancer patients is hard. Let me tell you, I've tried and the cancer ward was not amused. Nice people are also poor targets; Mother Teresa doesn't lend herself to parody.

Truth Seeker and Soul Eater

A person has once asked me, why does God send such trials toward us?

The bible states that he has the power to be all beneficial, to rid of us of all sufferings, and if he did not, then what god would he be?

Yet he does not. He chooses to force us to suffer through these tribulations, and it is a quite common question to ask "Why?!"


A child, taken from the most sheltered of homes, when thrusted into the cold, cruel, and largely uncaring world, will likely be unprepared. Despite the fact that his upbringing was happy, and carefree, his childhood was far from perfect. We learn more from our mistakes, and we learn the most from these trials and tribulations. It can be taken, then, that God is merely giving us a proper "upbringing," spiritually and secularly.

Yet, this in itself raises a question that isn't heard as often as the other one. Wisdom seekers often find themselves satisfied with the above answer, never questioning the answer given.

When a child is forced to be put through discipline and tribulations, it is to teach him and prepare him for the adulthood that is to follow.

What is god preparing us for? If heaven is the wonderful land that it reputably is, then why must we prepare for entrance? Sheltered children have a more innocent and romantic view of the world, while the cynical children are those that have experienced troublesome times.

I am quick to doubt cynicism is a quality that is sought after in God's Kingdom of Heaven.

An Empty Quiver and Twitching Fingers

Once again finding myself with an empty reserve of thoughts, yet a strange urge to write, I am at my blog once more. So with no ideas, I proceed to write, yet, why write with no ideas?

I end up sitting in front of the computer, desperately casting my eyes around the room and set my mind to roaming, with many potential subjects of literature, yet with no motivation to write upon. There, a bowl sits upon the table, empty except for where my mind attempts to fill it with something that is a revelation, and something that would awe my audiences.

Sometimes, however, a bowl is merely a bowl. No advanced metaphor for its existence other than to contain things. Empty like my mind, yet as I continue to stare upon this bowl, my mind continues to fill.

Filling this empty rice bowl of my mind, not with rice, but with the most delicious of soup's, nourishing the body, stimulating the mind to reach the apex of its mental activity, not the normal dreariness of normal thinking, but the perfect reactions of creative thinking. Certainly felt by great artists, writers, and song writers when they reach the climax of their production, this mental clarity is brought upon the reflection of the ordinary, taking from seemingly the ordinary and turning it, unbelievably, even more ordinary.

Inspiration, much like it's distant cousin knowledge, is everywhere.

Writing about a lack of writing. Interesting concept, yet one that needs working.

We Be Jammin' Now!

Alot of people think that randomness equates to hilarity, that making no sense is a surefire way to be funny.

These people tend to think that because they create a sentient piece of toast slathered in strawberry jelly, holding a purple umbrella, and naming him Highway Man's Friend, they are comedians.

They are sadly mistaken.

There is no specific formula into creating funny, as there is to much that goes into creating it.

Is it a gift from the heavens? A perfect series of synapses in the brain that causes hilarity?

Strawberry Jam. T'is the lifeblood of comedy.

Certain death.

Recently, I spotted something ridiculous on the internet (Hah, thats new)...

"If you are an Atheist, believe that religion is ignorance, and are 100% proud of it, put this in your blog."

When faced with certain death, will you stare back into the eyes of your conquerer, tall and proud, and to the very last second, die without the thought of God in your mind? Will you not seek the religious comfort of an afterlife, but instead face the cold and calculating secularism that is Atheism?

Your last thoughts will not be on of your networks, your money, your sciences, but on what happens after. When you're faced with losing everything secular, you're forced to think about what you have spiritually.

Humans are, by nature, greedy. We always seek to posses something, despite our best efforts to remain generous. There is hardly a man on the earth that will dispense of all his earthly possessions so readily, and those would do so are almost always highly religious.
Religion in itself is a possession. Because of the amazing growth of a middle class in America and many "developed" nations, many individuals posses enough objects to feel that they have no need for a religion.

When alone, with no worldly possessions, they will desperately cast around for something to own. When on your deathbed, everything worldly is gone and meaningless. Spiritualism gives us something to hold onto after we lose our last possession; our lives.

In the past, this has pushed us towards religion. Peasants and wanderers, who owned little more than what they could carry on their backs, wanted something to call their own, and created religion, a god they could turn to in the event of tragedy, and a set of rights and wrongs through which they attempted to control their own human nature.

Role Models

Who is to say what a hero is to me? One that I look up to? There are many people to whom I respect and look up to, yet to classify them as a hero seems to immortalize them as indestructible.

The only person that would fit into this category would be the Big Man himself, but he is so mysterious, that to model myself after him would be similar to following instructions written in Greek. Translated from Spanish, by a child who speaks only Italian.
He leaves us with only the ability to question ourselves so, and with what we should and should not do. Nothing wrong with that, but I find that I don't think I should model myself after someone who seems so faithless as to trust humanity to faith.

I don't have heroes, but I do have great friends and family, and really, what else do you need?

Now, Be Myself.

Food for thought, piece of cake.
Make a promise, lead the way.
Pay some homage when they reach the stage.

Common sense is often preferred to logic, against all conventional common sense. Common sense dictates that the job of a policeman is to bring back the peace. If, for example, a domestic dispute between two neighbors because a Mr. Smith's dog has crapped in the wrong place for the last damn time, Mr. Blake and Mr. Smith are now having a vicious row over the 4 foot hedge spanning the properties, which Mr. Smith is sure Mr. Blake is watering much to often, and Mr. Blake is sure that Mr. Smith shouldn't be trimming it so often. Mrs. Blake and Smith are off having their own private arguments around the back, or else having a quiet sit down over tea and biscuits.

In this case, a policeman's job is to quell the nagging urge to bang together the heads of the two men, and drag them away from each other, to a later fair trial. Their job is not, as is often expected, to solve the argument, merely bring back the peace. They are keepers of the peace, and no more. Solving the argument requires a really good contractor, or perhaps a lawyer or two.

Now, if Mr. Smith clambered over the hedge and stabbed Mr. Blake with his hedge shearers, in which case it became the case of the Notorious Hedge Murderer, then it was the police's job to solve the case, but at least it's one they're damn well trained to do.

People in our country expect to much from to little people. Spread the work, it's not communist, it's "Common sense."

That little voice

Dreams are truly an interesting part of humanity; what caused our bodies to produce images while we rest? Imaginative situations and equally imaginative solutions so oft produced at a time when our brain is supposedly at rest, it leads me to wonder the nature of a nightmare.

Producing dreams where we escape from the bleakness of our lives is understandable, as these images are almost certainly enjoyable. Creating something enjoyable, in short, is easily understood, yet to create nightmares is something that is inexplicably both terrifying and exceptional to be an observer of, much less take part in, is something that I find interesting.

Why frighten ourselves? A precedent can be taken with the horror genre of literature, where fright is created and observed consciously. We enjoy this fear because in the back of our minds, we know its not true. The fright is an interesting and delightful feeling when you know the terror is fictitious.

Similar to thought process involved in playing in the rain. When you can play in the rain with a hot bath to look forward to, it's quite enjoyable. When you can walk in the rain with only the prospect of getting even wetter in the near future, it is anything but enjoyable.

The lingering effects of a nightmare can be emotionally scarring, leaving one to feel its effect for days to come, sometimes extending to weeks or months in some unfortunate cases. So, the question remains. Why?

Perhaps it is the nature of humanity, where we must understand our fears before we can feasibly overcome them. To see your fears materialize in front of you, whether in a waking state or not, you soon acclimate to such fears. In other cases, you realize what it is you truly fear, which is the first step towards overcoming it.

Yet, oftentimes, they are presented in elaborate metaphors that even the most analytical of persons can conjure up in a waking state. Is the creative state enabled while the rest of the mind is at rest? Is this why I prefer to write later on at night, as opposed to in the afternoon?



Maaayybbeee.

Finale

Three posts in a row, my. Isn't someone creative?

The past is nothing but a memory, and a memory is not a thing that we can travel back to and re-live easily.
Humans live for the moment, and because the past is nothing more than a memory that cannot be accessed in any way other than our minds, we long for the past, no matter how impossible it is. The past is a refuge, where we know the ending to every sad story, and the answer to every problem. Where the moment can once again be re-lived by us, and thus, people often get stuck in the past, lingering where they shouldn't, longing for days long gone, never to come again.

True, certain things are understandable to linger in the past(I really shouldn't write that, I'm just enabling and rationalizing for myself.), yet, looking back at the past often causes you to crash blindly into the future.

Everything ends. Relationships always end with breaking up, or death. There is never an everlasting relationship, as it a single interaction shared between separate people, of which must always end. It is my advice then to enjoy what is to be had from a relationship while you are still able to enjoy it, as such enjoyment may never come once again.

Everything is a once in a lifetime opportunity; it just depends on how you take it.

Rationale

Physics classes everywhere state the fact that every force in the world requires energy to operate and function.

Thus, the abstract concept of time must require copious amounts of energy to run. Moving through the plane of time is something that does not come from within us, as anatomy has yet to find a discreet green organ that can freeze the human body with its disability, and death will not stop a body's progress through time, only subject it to the cold grip of lifelessness.

Therefore, this energy must come from somewhere, but where? What drives us through every second, minute, and hour? It must be massive, as to go against such great amounts of energy, IE Time Travel, is something we haven't yet managed, or even gave any significant amount of energy.

Why do I think of this? Because I recently thought of the concept of a universal tick, or the smallest amount of time for anything to happen, to actually happen.
Imagine a ray of light.
The fastest thing known to man, capable of traveling to the moon and back in about 1.3 seconds. Now, take the smallest distance known to man. An atom, but broken down into hundredths. So small that over a billion cover an invisible spec of dust on your very computer screen. Now imagine smaller.

Then take the amount of time it takes for light to travel that distance. It is at that amount of time that is the universal tick, when present becomes past, and future becomes present. Referring back to a previous post (Epiphany), I now think.

That it is time for bed.

Flat on my back

Death is a personification of all human fears, yet there is nothing we can do but await it with a bated breath, awaiting this inevitable final hurdle into a dark void of forever.

A place that lurks behind every thought of every child, man, and woman, conjuring terrible images of fear and loss, tearing us unwillingly from what we perceive as a perfect moment. It is always on the boundaries of our sight, ready to come rushing back at a moment's notice, to envelop our sense, and return us to the void from whence the world was created. This place, it has no name but the dark. It is the space behind our eyes where we think our terrible thoughts, where we do things to people who we despise beyond belief, and our fears are realized.

Without it, we are not human, but with it, we cannot be truly satisfied with our lives.

Way to be emo.

Is it true that because my life is boring, I don't write about it?

Pretty much.
Really though, I just feel that the events of my life don't merit enough interest to earn any kind of spot on my blog, and I find my personal thoughts to be much more interesting than what happens to me.

Fact is stranger than fiction, although this hardly occurs in my life.

Everybody Else

The Kneecapper is quite an interesting name for a shotgun, yet it speaks volumes of truth.

On a more important note, what is fiction? It is merely the telling of an untrue story. Yet, why would one by compelled to create lies with absolutely no benefit? Imagination is a dangerous thing, especially when wielded by those with considerable influence over the general public.

Take, for example, The Davinci Code, written by Dan Brown. A "Number One Bestseller!" proclaims it's cover, which is fitting, seeing as it capture the imagination of millions across the world hoping to find the Holy Grail. Even yours truly, this pinnacle of cynical thinking, had to remind myself several times that the events never occurred, and are more than likely to be untrue. Yet, this amazing work of fiction managed to worm its way through my mental defenses, and enter my thoughts as something close to the truth.

If, for example, someone suggested that the Holy Grail was actually a person, I would not be as quick to doubt them, whereas before reading the book, I would have laughed at their ignorance, so quick to be lead to believe in internet hoaxes.

So my fellow writers, beware this considerable influence you hold over young, developing minds everywhere.




Stephenie Meyer.

Claudia. Santi.

I don't have the foggiest idea what the second word means, but the first word refers to a, to say the very least, interesting girl at my school.

Recall that "interesting" is not synonymous for "bad".

Either way, this leaves me to ponder my recent lack of creativity. Sitting here, in my relatively uncomfortable sofa, the words do not appear to my fingers as they once did. Perhaps I have exhausted my entire reserve of ideas?

Am I one of those, who slowly harbor thoughts and ideas over a long period of time, and bury those deep into my subconscious, only to dig them up when the opportunity for a creative outlet appears?
Many type of people show this characteristic, such as old people, who lose some mental facilities after long periods of time, or the song writer for Linkin Park, who seems to have lost ceased all mental activity after finishing Meteora.

While I haven't lost any of my mental capactiy, and I certainly haven't became some sort of vegetable song writer leeching off the trust of my fans, but I certainly have seem to hit a mental block. Perhaps it just needs time.

Meh.

Tasting deliciusly of chocolate.

You can't possibly make a diagram of the human body. You can't map all the feeling that we feel, and what is it to be human other than all these feelings in our body? What is something as abstract as this be anything but a space beyond which There Be Dragons? In my body, we know There be Dragons Everywhere; they may not all have scales and forked tongues, but they Be Here all right, shouting and jostling and trying to grab my attention.

At last, perfection.

To live in a perfect world is a conundrum within itself. For nearly all people, with the exception of a few deranged individuals, a perfect world would be one without suffering. However, how can we enjoy perfection if we cannot suffer the imperfections? Would you enjoy a delicious cup of coffee as much if you have never had the most bitter? What would you compare the feeling of victory to if you have never experienced loss? How would you know at what standards to set?

Yes, we love, and we live. We hate, and we die.
If everything must end, then love must end at one point, and we will feel the pain of ending a relationship. But through a relationship, there is so much joy derived from the fact that you know one day, it must end. Subconsciously, you know that this is true. If you knew that you would always have a delicious food, would you not take the fact for granted? We already do, in that we have our emotions to help us through life. We know that we will always have them, and yet, they are hardly ever recognized for what they are.

If you knew that a relationship would last forever, it would be taken for granted, forgotten, and potentially ruined.
So please, I plead for all of you who read this to never grow bitter and hateful toward the past, for the ending of one thing has always been the product of joy from something else.

This time, with feeling.

There are great writers, and there are great speakers. I find myself in the latter group, with all efforts to remain modest. As ever, I've always had a knack for articulating my thoughts better through the use of a written language than orally. I often look back at myself in the past, and kick myself for being crude, pointless, or even flat out wrong when attempting to speak, but in words, I can rally the ideas into some sort of organizable rank and file, and march them through my finger tips and into the computer, as opposed to a forced, and very inefficient advance through speech.

So I must say this. Why did I do it? For many reasons. One of the simplest reason is that I didn't feel the same for her as I used to. Simply put, I lost the feel. This is an often enough occurrence between couples, and I find myself no exception to this saddening phenomena. However, several factors affected this, and I still feel that the entire blame for this situation falls on me, and me alone.

Then, there was the distance. On both sides of the relationship, we found ourselves drifting apart, causing her to be more insecure, and myself, hurt. I knew she was sad, due to conversations I would have with her, and conversations she would have with my friends. I knew she was sad, and I couldn't do much about it, other than rework my entire schedule, which is something I just can't commit to. Therefore, I knew she would have to live while being sad, insecure, and afraid of the moment when I would break up with her. This, inturn, made me feel extremely guilty, as well as sad. The weight that this bore upon me was enormous, and well, I might have panicked a little bit.

Granted, I still think I made the right choice, but I did it without thinking it all the way through first. If I had thought it through... well, the end result would have been the same, just much delayed.

There were other reasons, but explaining all the little ones would seem trivial to those who do not understand the mechanics of how I think.

To summarize how I felt for that entire week before, I present one song that summed up all my emotions.

Enjoy.

An over-analyzation of "Rock Vs Rap"

Take one of the worst examples of a rap song (Sure, some people like it, but general consensus is that Soulja Boy destroyed the rap genre. Play along for a second, mkay?), and add a kickass drummer with an awesome beat. Suddenly, we have rock fans claiming that this has made the song awesome/given it meaning/much better. Take a look at the youtube comments, or the iTunes page with this remix.

Therefore, is it safe to assume that the only reason that people who like rock hate rap, and vice versa, is because of the underlying beat? It is quite true when many drummers say they are the most important part of the band; they often set the tone of the song. A person singing slow can keep a high energy song if the beat is made well enough at a fast pace.

You might say that people like the song only for the beat, and the beat alone. However, take the words out of it. Imagine it without the words. To me, I would find this boring. To the drumming enthusiast, who would be better suited to enjoy the beat, perhaps, but to the average listener? Not likely.

So why would Crank That do better as a rock song then a rap song? Is it just because he improved on such an apparently hopeless song that made it seem so much better? Perhaps. This is a problem for another time.

For now, enjoy the awesome beats of Travis Barker.
:D

Giant Space Sharks

Religious Debate? How bland.

However, I must point out something I wondered about earlier today. Christianity, a religion with millions of followers, has nothing backing its story other than a book that was meant to promote itself. There are very few third party documentations of this book being the truth. Now, taking that into account, from a completely scientific standpoint, wouldn't a Giant Space Shark be just as believable as the Christian God?

Yes, many people will cite sources showing that God is the truth, and all that, but how do we really know its truthful? Thus, I cannot pick a faith. To have faith, one must abandon some part of intelligence and awareness about themselves. Not to call religious people stupid; on the contrary, some of the greatest minds were also religious minds, but its a different kind of intelligence. Its nearly impossible to believe that evolution took place if the Christian god made everything on earth.

Therefore, I find agnosticism the most logical belief. Adopting the ancient technique for explaining the unexplainable, I turn to religion, but not to any specific religion. Rather, this is a custom tailored religion, a religion of one, in which I embrace certain scientific facts, but allow some beneficent god to solve all the other problems.

Some may view this as being simplistic, but what else can I do? Turning strictly to science would leave me craving for a religious experience, leaving me nowhere to seek comfort or explain the unexplainable, but turning to a mass religion would leave me scientifically craving for answers other than "God Did It."

I don't seek to have others join me, and I do not spite those who hate me for what I believe in. In the end, isn't it all that really matters? Isn't that what almost all religions teach, to love others and live a good life? Maybe experiencing god takes changing your choice of religion all together, or believing in your own.

Perfection

Small children have no perception of good and evil. They have no past experiences to refer to as to tell them what is right, and what is wrong. Right and wrong is not built into people, it is something like social etiquette, where it must be picked up as a child grows into adulthood. Therefore, someone has to have told them what is right, and what is wrong.

Those who did tell them, someone else had to tell those people.


Now, you can probably see where I'm going. The chain goes on and on, until we reach the distant past, where we have no recordings of history. From the moment one caveman hit one caveman over the head with a rock, someone declared it wrong.

But who did? From Christianity's viewpoint, it was God. But as the famous Latin quote goes, Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, or "Who Watches the Watchers?"

Yes, this may seem like blasphemy to some (man, I love that word), and I'm pretty sure that this might offend quite a few as well, if they ever get around to reading it (I mean come on, this blog was pretty much meant for my eyes only anyway), but if he was the sole creater, then he must have made up what is wrong and what is right. How do you define what is wrong and what is right? How do you know if this is really right? After all, everyone who has taught us these morals are those who learned them as children themselves.

The only answer to this would be "Because he said so," but now, really. Is this a good answer?

I have no answer to this. Perhaps one day I will, but not today. Not at 2 in the morning.

Humanity (on the other hand)

***Refer to post before this one. This is the same topic, just approaching it from a different angle***

Humans, on a whole, are inconsistent. It is impossible to brand us with any particular pattern or brand, unlike other animals. Inhumane can mean many things, depending on how one interprets it. If we define being "humane" as the ideal of humans, then yes, it is the dictionary definition.

However, if we defined things by the ideals that we hold, then we are merely covering up the truth with words that are, essentially, boosting the idea of humanity being perfect. Nay, humanity is far from perfect, but it is impossible to forget those who strive for perfection.

Yes, it is impossible to obtain perfection, as defining perfection would be difficult, due to the inconstancy of humans. However, striving for perfection in ones personal goals and ideals would lead us to this glamorous idea of "humanity". However, striving for perfection requires a herculean effort that can't be obtained by picking up a copy of Bettering Yourself in 30 days from your local bookstore.

It is possible to obtain this ideal of "humanity", because to be human is to make mistakes, so a perfect human would make mistakes as well.

From the perspective of an all powerful god, then it is impossible to be perfect. But to ourselves, to those we live with it, is possible to spiritually and mentally perfect.

Humanity

In general, words that are used to compare things to humans hold no ground with me. Take, for example, the term "Inhumane." By definition, it means when someone is cruel or heartless that goes against human nature. A person might describe leaving a child without food "inhumane."

However, I have 2 basic arguments with this
1) If it was against human nature, why do so many violate it?
2) When given any amount of thought there is no animal that would abandon its child. Yes, some reptiles and fish would lay eggs and leave their young to live by themselves, but they are a species as a whole. Turtles don't leave out their young out of cruelty, they do it because its hardwired into the turtle. Its what makes the "turtle" what it is.

Certain mammals do indeed abandon their young, but not out of apathy or cruelty.
Rather, it is usually attributed to lack of resources or competition between siblings. Given the chance, if there was no competition between siblings, then they wouldn't shun their young.

Some might even make the argument that certain species eat their young, but this is out of survival. No animal would hunt another for sport. You don't see antelope heads hanging over a lions den.

Humans, on the other hand, have evolved malice, spitefulness, and a lust for power. Next to boredom (refer to previous post), malice, spite, and powerlust have propelled humanity up the evolutionary ladder, but at what cost? Some managed to retain their basic, shall we say, inhumanity, but everyone holds in them some sort of hatred that can't be found in any other animal.

Inhumane is inaccurate. To be inhumane is to act with extreme kindness, and to act with no prejudice.

Epiphany. Not the Paintball gun.

A few days ago, I began to wonder about the concept of time. I marshaled my thoughts together into something where I could even begin to ask questions. From what I could come to, I had two main questions, one of which was actually answered with the help of a friend.

1) What is the past? What prevents us from going backwards in time?
Remove the human element. Imagine a time line, and everything moving forward through that time line. Now, things can move through dimensions. Take a step back, leap forward, lay down, or jump up, all these change your position in a physical plain. However, no matter what a person does, it is physically impossible to take a step backwards in time.

I wondered why this is. However, I realized after some thinking, that what exists is not the past, but merely a memory of the past. After we live through the past, it destroys itself, and it no longer exists. If the past did exist, we would be able to move through it at will, thereby making past and present indistinguishable.

To put a simple metaphor, imagine a room. Every step forward represents a day in your life. Now, with every step, the section you were once in is blocked off by a wall. It no longer exists, and you can no longer reach it. Therefore, the past doesn't exist. The memory of it does.

2) What drives our movement through time? What makes "Now" into "Before?"
Another metaphor; every step we take requires energy. Moving through time must also require some driving energy that allows us to push through time. This, I doubt I can think of any theory.

If you still do not comprehend, imagine this. "Now" is the smallest moment. The moment it takes for the thing that happens the quickest to move. "Now" is the moment in which the thought of the thought of the thought of moving enters a person's mind and when its processed. "Now" is the fastest moment, faster than a millionth of a milisecond. Now, if we go back to question one, what makes this now destroyed, and turned into the past?

Alas, there are somethings a freshman in high school isn't meant to know.

Dedication

In books, many people would flip through the first few pages to find a dedication page. Many people like to dedicate it to their mom/dad/Sasha/supporters, and a few more creative like to dedicate it to the little people/the oppressed/the writers. A few special cases even dedicate it to "The Motherland!". Myself, I like to dedicate things I write to you. Not just readers, but even those who somehow subliminally pick up on these words. Just because we haven't met/chatted/started a rivalary/gone crazy over each other, this ones for you. You, in your nice comfrotable chair, or you in your bench, or you, yes you, in the Oak tree hiding from the savage black bear. This ones for you.

He can ride a bike with no handlebars

Alas! Our time in school is short. Time has come and gone by quickly, and if I was one for using cheap cliches in my writting, I would say that time flew. Hardly. Flying suggests that a constant pace is kept, and that it passes with little to no turbulence. Unless of a sudden and random storm, in which case, I found myself placed into the only seat with a broken seat belt.

Time, for me, instead of flying, jogged by as an inexperienced runner would; at times, it seemed sprint by and leave me exhausted, while other times the apathetic nature of my experiences lead me to feel as if I was merely walking along the race track of life.

I believe that I have stretched this metaphor quite far enough, and shall quit while it hasn't crossed into the realm of being another cliche, and added to the list that I already despise.

My entire point is that I hardly ever experienced time at a constant fast pace. At times, it seemed that a few weeks stretched a few months, while the next month could be squeezed into the entirety of a single week.

Unfinished. Apathetic. Going to play Texas Hold 'Em

Physical Exahustion

At this point, I would believe that practice in the desert may actually be enjoyable, as it has to be cooler in the desert than it currently is. At least in the desert, you don't have water standing there. Taunting you.


It stares at us coolly while we run, while we work, while we stand. It celebrates every lap and mile we take, and when we have water, it laughs forever still, for it knows that we're still thirsty, and laughs at the poor fools who drink to much, and suffer from the dreaded stomach cramp. Downing more than 3 drinks of water results in the illusionary knife to be thrust into your stomach, but less than 3 results in a barren mouth, your tongue scraping every drop of moisture from the sides of the walls of your mouth.

The sun continues to beat down, while our feet continue to pound on the unforgiving grass. Everyone believes that grass is a soft and comfortable padding, up until the point where you nearly collapse on it due to a rubberized sensation in your legs.

And still, the water cooler taunts us. The bottles drip with beads of condensation, and the clink of ice promises us a cold salvation. We run pass it not once, not twice, but thrice times around it. You lose count of the distance, and just keep your legs propelling you around the track.

The burning sensation in your lungs worsen, until you feel as if breathing is more painful than holding your breath, until you actually try the process. Then, a brief reprise; a quick break to regain your breath. You take deep breaths, trying to quell the trembling in your legs, trying to ignore the burning lungs, and the darkening vision envelops the world, only to retreat with each breath.

You ask for the time.

4:17.

Fuck.

Spill to me your woes

Unleash upon me your deepest fears and regrets, confide upon me in your saddest moments, as I am a person who truly cares, and always will. When all your friends have left you out in the cold, when you feel as if the world has nothing for you, then come to me, and I shall hear your woes out. Advice, I cannot always lend, but my deepest sympathies and my undying care you will receive. In your times of isolation, I can take you and shelter you from the bitter cold of the world, and make the world seem right for just a few minutes at a time.


Life comes with many surprises and sadness, but as long as you know me, theres always someone to hear you out.

Its that Racism.

I begin this post with an anecdote about this week. Those of you who attend Diamond Ranch High School in California should know this very well, and those who know people who go there probably have heard entirely different versions of the story, ranging from black kids jumping a mexican, mexicans jumping a black kid, asians actually getting in a fight, and in a theoretically possible story where all the Indian kids attacked the European kids.

In fact, it actually all began with a single shove. The actual details of the fight are somewhat sketchy, as I found out most of it from overexcited kids who explained the fight with an excess of energy, usually incorporating a wild swing into the air while talking. What I know for sure is that there were actually only two initial fighters, one black one mexican. After it started, people from both nationalities on both sides poured into help their friends, which resulted in even more people entering the fight.

On a side note, I recall an email sent out on the very same the day, the principal said to the parents saying that the fight was not racial, although I do think that when the black kid with who it initially began started yelling (and I quote directly) "Fuck ya'll Mexicans, I hate ya'll," really puts some doubt into this.

Yes, while what started may not have initially been racial, it escalated into something racial, into what it is now.

Continuing, the next day, tension were running high.
To explain what was happening, picture this. You have an overhead view of the school, and everybody has a sticker on their head.
White = Neutral
Red = Mexican supporter
Blue = Black Supporting

Now, what happens is that you will see groups of reds, and groups of blue, both standing in a place where they are far away from each other, but still enough to eyeball each other in the way that says "I gotch'u I gotch'u. Just wait until after school".

Now note, that I say supporter, not directly black and mexican. In the main groups, you can see lighter shades of blue, the kind that indicates that "I don't really want to go into anything, but I'll back them up if shit really starts to fly," or the lighter shade of a salmon pink, also designating the same thing. Within the main groups, about 70% were of this shade, although many would turn darker with prolonged exposure to darker colors.

Then, you would have the neutrals, those who know both sides. They feel "Why can't we all be friends?" There were many pockets of these scattered around everywhere. However, prolonged contact with darker colors would often fade into a lighter shade of whatever color they are with, into the aforementioned supporters, but not really into it. These made about 25% of the groups.

Now, this means that there are only 5% who really wanted to fight, but 5% of 1000 is still quite alot. So, of course, police came, and the rest everyone knows. Nothing happened, except for a huge scare about what might have happened, but never really did.

My, wasn't that long? Anyway, on with the main point. Racism.
Why? Its a basic human trait to hate. Hatred defines our species. Animals don't kill to be cruel, they kill to reproduce, to meet basic needs, but never just because they can. Torture is not inhumane. It is possible the most humane thing a person can do, as no animal would ever torture something.

It doesn't have to be just killing. We disrespect, we hurt feelings, we fear those who different. We say we're more intelligent, but are we really? Those who destroy things that we can't use, and hate those who we do not know? Are we really more intelligent than the animals we call "unevolved?" Is hatred the defining marks of an intelligent species?

Humans may have invented mercy and justice, but you can't have those without having coldness and crime.

We have had countless scientific breakthroughs and renaissance periods, but there has been no worldwide period of spiritual bettering. Yes, we may have removed slaves, but the hatred still remains. There are public speakers, leaders, and many more who work to end this, but how much effort do we actually put into it?

We cannot tell people how to think, or change their views, but its hardly right to stand and watch as people act out in hatred against others.

And for those who experience racism every day, all I say is this. Be the better person. Let them say things about you, because acting out only proves what they're trying to say about you. Why do people have to prove themselves to to others? Insulting a person who really hates you only escalates the hatred, and all it ends with is violence, and a continuation of the bitter feelings. Let them say it to you. It's not as if it actually hurts you.

For perhaps the first time, I talk about my day.

Breaking from a pattern of just randomly posting, I decided to actually right a post explicitly about my day. Well, not today. The past week, seeing as it being spring break, this made it extremely uneventful, for the sole reason that everyone pretty much left on some exciting adventure in Grand Canyon or Canada or something.

Go figure, I guess that means that I'm left here by myself, with nobody but my 2 friends and my girlfriend.

Saturday - What a day, what a day. When I pretty much made it all official, and the first time we kissed. Other than that, I can't really remember what happened that day. All of it was just a blur.
Sunday - I went to visit my Grandma that day. It was pretty awesome, because she can actually walk. That particular hospital wing also shelters and serves the mentally incapable (fancy word for insane), so I had plenty of opportunity to chat with a women who thought she was somewhere in Brazil, talking to her mother.
But really, my Grandma was doing alot better, and that was cool
Monday - Everyone was gone by then, so I pretty much lay at home, playing Guitar Hero and doing my Chinese project. Rode my bike, talked on the phone
Tuesday - Erica came over today, and surprise surprise, she doesn't know how to play Guitar Hero! I totally thought she did, with her completely Scene haircut and white clothes.
Wednesday - Surprise visit with Ellie at English Springs Park. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful park in the area, and even more so when I'm with her. Oh, and the ducks. Have to love those ducks.
Thursday - That would be today. I saw Ellie again at the park, and for a short time at my house. Both settings were extremely nice to be with her.


And that sums up my week. Upon reflection, I find that writing randomly is much more entertaining than writing about my day. Therefore, this very well may be the last time I write about my day.

Silver Tounged

A person has once came up to me, and told me that the way I write is silver tounged


I reply now, only silver?

Philosophy

This post has no purpose other than to vent the creativity that has been building up inside of me.
Enjoy.

Upon asking for a topic from a friend, I was asked to write about my philosophy for life. On this, I realized that I have no philosophy. Apparently, this is a quite amazing, and I need a philosophy on life. However, upon giving it some thought, I realized that I do have a philosophy in life.

Life is a bitch. Get over it.
Bad shit happens to Good people.

Nearly every philosophy relating to life eventually boils down to this. Many of the others try to masquerade it using wordplay, or adding some trivial detail, but the core of it is this. Indeed, I have found this to work out for nearly any situation.

Dropped some money? Fuck you life.

Lost a pet? Oh life, you bitch.

Why did this happen to me? Bad shit happens to good people.

The last is quite possibly the most important. Most people in denial never seem to grasp this concept. They always question, and they never find an answer. There is no answer. Bad things happen to good people. Bad things happen to bad people as well.

Shit happens. Whatever happens, happens. Mourn the loss for seconds. Embrace the fact that reflecting and crying doesn't bring things back. Bad shit. Good people.

Its how the world works, and its happened to many times to people that I know.

Not love

At a time like this, language is extremely constricting. A time when you need the word that would accurately describe the feeling you get when she's in your arms. A time when you need the word that could describe the moment that you kiss. A time when you need the word that describes the moment when she leaves, and you close the door, straining to catch one last glimpse of her back as she leaves, through the smallest of gaps in the door.



Feelings so unique, that any linguist trying to accurately use a word that would describe the complexity of such situations would end up with a severe migraine. Such feelings do not have names.



If there was such a word, every syllable in the word uttered by a person would linger on the lips, tasting of the finest of chocolates. Not any dime store Hersey bar, but confectionery, in stores where one does not do anything so crass as to buy things, but rather exchange hands through the process of commerce. It makes you picture the face that creates the feeling of lightness in the your heart, causing your heart to flit lightly in your chest. You feel the word as it travels down your body, causing every nerve ending on your body to both relax and tense up at the same time. It continues to linger in your body after she's gone, lurking behind every day tasks, and appearing once you let your mind relax. You see her, and it comes back stronger than ever, pushing its way to the front of all your thoughts, leaving you once again with this feeling

They call it love, but capturing this feeling is impossible with any word, in any language.

Lol Pies.

A rabid hunger claws at all your thoughts, distracting you from your task at hand. You throw your pen down, and storm off to the kitchen, ready for a snack. Raiding your pantry, you look at the measly selection in disgust. Oatmeal? Half empty jar of peanut butter? Two year old Raisin Bran? Disgusting. You slam the door in exasperation, stomach rumblings calling for you to find something soon. Desperately, you reach for the fridge door handle. You shift the gallon of milk over to the side, and peer over the yogurt containers, searching for anything that you might actually enjoy. Then, an apparition appears to you, lounging in the back of the fridge. You reverently lift the pie, in all its glory, out of its box, and onto its waiting plate. The perfectly cut peaches lie on a bed of flaky, golden crust, creating the picture of a dessert that makes a slice of Angel Cake look like something made by a few bored atheists. This, truly, must be the perfect dessert.

Hungry yet? Picture, if you will, this perfect dessert. Focus on its golden crust and the explosion of sweetness onto your taste buds. However, there are some who still manage to claim that there are other desserts better than this. A raging debate has taken place over such a subject, with dessert connoisseurs supporting both the cake and the pie (a few supported other minor, trivial desserts, but the sheer numbers on the cake and pie sides banded together and crushed them). Of course, anyone who does not suffer from some sort of disease afflicting the taste buds, the answer is obviously the far superior pie. Pie is more than just a dessert that we all enjoy. There are many more types of pies than types of cake, such as the meat pie. Some types of pie have even managed to work their way into being a symbol of America! Even the plain whipped cream pie has great comedic value in any half decent clown routine or 80’s cartoons.

The sheer variety pies have is unrivaled by any cake ever baked. Yes, there is both chocolate pie and cake, as well as a strawberry cake and pie. However, I am highly doubtful that there has ever been a chicken cake that has broken out into the market. A cake, you see, is dependent upon its sweet icing. Therefore, this limits the cake to only a sweeter variety of dessert. Now, a pie however, has the neutral crust, which complements both savory and sweet toppings equally well. Therefore, a chicken potpie will make an excellent entrée, unlike a chicken cake, which would not.

Much like the bald eagle, baseball, and faulty engineering, apple pie is a symbol of America. Picture this scene: an astonishingly jolly looking boy playing under the shade of a tree. His words are muffled, which is probably all the better, with all the words boys know these days. His father sits on the porch, reading the daily newspaper. The mother walks out, looking so cheerful that you would probably place her in some sort of cleaning commercial. She is holding a dessert of some sort. What is the dessert? An apple pie, of course! Apple pie can be found all across our nation, and can be enjoyed in nearly any half-decent diner. It is something associated with America, and something that is enjoyed by many Americans.

There are few foodstuffs where you would do anything to it, other than eat it or cook it. Pies, however, are a remarkable exception. Look back to old 80’s cartoons. Remember the black and white hilarity of the mouse and the cat? Didn’t many jokes rely somehow on the famous whipped cream pie? Yes, that they did. Pies play an integral part of many comic routines, from cartoons to clowns to game shows. Picture 4 clowns, just going through a routine. One jumps into a cannon, another throws whitewash at another, and one squirts the other with a fake flower. The next part of the routine is classic; pies everywhere. Yes, pie throwing is found in clown acts as well and usually with much hilarity and laughter of the crowds. Pies are not just a food, they are icons of comedy.

With so many qualities, you can see why pies are much more superior to the half-baked idea that is a cake, pun and all. There are enormous varieties of pies, from the delicious strawberry pie to a savory meat pie. They are icons for comedy, and a symbol for America. Its hard to imagine a world without pies. Now, if you would excuse me, I believe I hear an oven calling my name.

Loophole

A warranty on electronics states "We do not refund if it is damaged ... after 30 days...or by any act of god"

What if I'm atheist. If it gets destroyed by a rainstorm, it was not an act of god, but merely a change in high low pressures, creating a movement of thickly condensended water vapor over the area that I am standing it. Not an act of God.



I want my money back Apple.

Conspiracy Theories

Naturally, humans as a race love to blame things. Famous man gets murdered? I heard it was the CIA. Unexplained dissapearance? Aliens man, I swear I saw a saucer over there last night. A suprising, although not unpleasant, dream about some happy animals while singing a song about the porcupine? Lay off the crack man.

With the exception of the last, all the blame is on the unknown. Anything that holds a veil of secrecy tends to attact more attention than something that is pubically known.

Take, for example, Area 51. Government denial of its existence. Workers sworn to secrecy. High Security. A guard working that front gate that isn't eating donuts or sleeping. We don't know what they do, so we then center everything on them. If Area 51 admitted that they had aliens, I'm pretty sure the hype would die down in a week. People would start saying, "Aliens? Is that it?" and all the speculators would go away, simply because there is no longer anything to speculate about. Secrecy opens alot of possibilities. Is the secret cave an innocent bear den, or is it actually the lair of BEAR MAN, CRIME FIGHTING EXTRORDINAIRE! Does the secret safe contain something that is worth scaling 70 flights of stairs, crawling through 50 feet of sewage lines adnd dueling the demonic guard of the 4th dimension in a pokemon battle? Or is it just some worthless jewels and land grants?

Secrecy is hardly ever secret.

Desktop Bakcground

Nothing interesting today.
12:56 at night seems to disagree with my thinking and motor skills, as my stubbed toe will gladly show, but heres a little something for you people with boring desktops.

http://codefromthe70s.org/desktopearth_dl.asp

Sick ass background to have, it updates the map every 5 minutes, and and you can customize it so it shows how it looks

For best quality, I suggest turning the view to "Add Black Bars if Needed," close to minimum cloud coverage, and abundant city lights. Also, make sure you chage "Cloud Updates" to on.

It'll update automatically every 5 minutes, so you can watch as the darkness marches across the world, swallowing entire countriesin its slow progress across the world. Or you could just cover it up with an Internet browser, I don't really care.

Chess

My computer may be able to beat me in chess, but I can kick its ass in boxing.

Thoughts

I have spent the past half hour thinking about a blog topic. I spent 10 minutes creating a blog about fear, then realized that it made no sense. Deletion was the only option. I spent some more time reflecting on human history, but then realized that it was completely boring and utter bullcrap. I placed it where all my other bad ideas went; into the retirement home of literature, where it will spend the rest of its days eating tapiaco pudding and arguing with all the other worn out ideas. Then, I remembered something that my english teacher once told me.

"Its not the first, second, or third idea thats exciting. Its the 17th idea."


Bull shit. No way in hell I'm thinking of another fifteen good ideas, only to trash them for the 17th. What makes seventeen a good number? Why not eighteen? So, I used my third idea, which was to write about my third idea.

Theres a damn reason why the 17th idea is the good one to. Because you were the only person who had enough damn time to actually go that far. Most others would have looked at the 5th idea, said "fuck this" and went for the A- that took half an hour, as opposed to the A+ that took three days.

Its not the idea, its the words. Any dumbass can write a good essay about an original idea. Give a master of writing an assignment about writing a story where the knight must save the princess, and they will tear down all cliches ever held about such fairy tales, and possibly make their own.

To do an common thing uncommonly well shows more skill than to do an uncommon thing commonly well.

I spent so much time thinking about it

Then, two nights ago, I realized that I should stop thinking and just do it.
So I asked her, and you know what? I think I made the right choice.



If I was the type of guy, I would totally write a poem about her right now, but I lack creative writing skills. Therefore, I'll just leave it at this.



Ellie, I've hardly known for you 2 and a half weeks, but damn, it sure has seem like a longer time. Just talking to you makes me feel happy.

Hope I see you soon.

Evolution

Specifically, human evolution. What pushed us to the top of the food chain? I know many people who would likely say, despite much evidence to the contrary, that it was due to our intelligence.

Obviously, these same people have never spent a negligble amount of time on the internet.

What I believe, however, is not our intelligence, or our dashing good looks. Rather, I feel that our ability to get bored provided us with the ability to evolve rather quickly. Animals do not get bored. I have seen this in my dog, who appears completely satisifed in chasing it's own tail day after day.

Human boredom has led to many discoverys. Only a human with that much time on his hands would fly a kite during a thunder storm. Only a human would see what happens when you throw a rock at the sleeping behemoth (which upon awakening, will probably spend some time trying to line up its brain cells to figure out whether to trample you, or gouge you, before having the third cell wander away and think about the nice rock it found yesterday).

Boredom has pushed us to the top of the evolutionary ladder. Therefore, I think I should stop playing Guitar Hero, for the sole purpose of gaining an evolutionary advantage over my peers.

Beliefs

I have never had a cause in life. I want to believe in something, but its quite hard to at most times. I would like to believe in a supreme God and join a religion, but I'd prefer a half hour talk with him before committing myself, to clear up a few points, such as the entire issue of "crush the heathens" and "smiting" and what not. Not that I have a problem with smiting, but it seems that people these days take it to seriously.

Then I tried to be an Atheist, but I don't have the type of strength of disbelief even for that. Also, I find the lack of something to blame disturbing. It takes a really strong atheist to say "Damn the supernatural entity of an outdated system of beliefs that doesn't apply to my life."

Then I tried believing in science, but thats pretty damn hard as well. The Universe, for example. All the words like "Chaos" and "Time" and "Quantum" that are thrown around as casually as we use "Book" or "Think" or "I." I've even found people whose job was to think about the Universe, and didn't even believe in it, and constantly doubted its existense with aformentioned words. They seemed quite proud of the fact that they don't know what it really is, or even if it exists.

I am, however, quite prepared to believe that my iPod seems to want to avoid me.

Dude, wheres my iPod

First off, lets get things straight. I did not lose my iPod. Everything else placed themselves misproperly, therefore making this not my fault.

I've tried everything, from carefully quartering the room and then searching every inch, to the frantic "throwing everything out of the way" approach. I've even attempted the method which every romantic cell in my being insisted would work, which consists of flopping down on a couch exasperated, and then letting my eyes casually fall to a place where they have to be.

Apparently, the universe does not know how these things should go.

This experience has really pushed me to be more organized, so that way, the next time I lose something, I know exactly where it should have been (Honestly, I put it there yesterday), and then proceed to destroy the order that I have carefully established, only to find it laughing at me on a nearby book shelf.

Honestly, the problem with being organized is that its insanely easy to lose things. You memorize where things should be, not where they actually are. Then, when you actually lose something, you spend the first 10 minutes searching a 5 foot square where it should be. When everything's disorganized, well, at least you didn't have to spend the time organizing it in the first place.

Hey

Me to.

Rant on Overrated Restaurants

Restaurants are overrated.

Seriously. For centuries, humans have relied on these types of places more than they need to. Why? First, we use supermarkets to buy food. So instead of actually hunting and gathering, we pay a store to pay a supplier to pay people to get your food for you. But at least you cooked it. Then some random person in China decided to make some place called Ma Yu Ching's Bucket Chicken House, according to Wikipedia. The most reliable source on the internet.

This Ma Yu Ching is a genius. Since that day in 1153 or whatever, people became lazy. Now, not only did people not find/kill their food, now, they buy it cooked! Or sometimes, they decide that cooking is overrated, thus you get badly cooked food! See, it's just a way for people to be lazy. Now, modern restaurants. It's all the same thing. You talk to someone who is either clueless or acts smart, order your food, eat it, and if you're at a place that doesn't have lots of lard, cardboard, and who knows what in the food (in other words, not fast food), you then have to tip!But more on that later. Let's talk about the food.

You know what? Overrated. That describes it. When you get your food, you don't know what's in it. You don't know if it's been cooked properly. Or if the employees wash their hands. I've seen people not wash their hands. I, of course, then tell the manager about this, as I am a germophobe...who eats fast food. Crazy, I know. But still, if you have ever been to Los Angeles County, you would know that we grade places. A-C. Below C, and the place may be shut down by the health department.For good reason! I mean, I once saw someone at McDonald's not wash his hands. I complained about it. A week later, it closed. Okay, that was for renovations, BUT IT STILL CLOSED! Oh, and I once found a piece of metal in a Krispy Kreme doughnut. Krispy Kreme denied that it came from a machine. I would have taken this further, but I was lazy. The place closed, though. Permanently.

You know what is really bad about the food? Sometimes, it is undercooked. Then you get outbreaks of food-borne illnesses. And hey, you also get things like fingers in chili. Damn it, I knew that fast food had human flesh in their food! But I remember another experience. An ant. In my food. Walking. All over my food. I, of course, complained. The people there, although in America, didn't speak American. Yet, I finally pointed out the ant, they didn't seem to care, but took the plate away anyway. Then, those jerks had the nerve to ask for a TIP!

I, of course, thought the service sucked, and gave no tip. Tipping is completely overrated...IN AMERICA! Because not many other places require tipping. See, when you go to eat out, you're forced to tip. Sometimes by the actual rules of the restaurant. 17% or whatever it is for parties above 8. Even if you're not forced to, you still have the obligation. If you don't, even if the service sucks, then you look like a total jerk who should burn in the pit of Hell for all eternity. Why?Because employers suck. They want to make 9001% profit, so they pay employees almost nothing. Thus, more cost on the consumer. From guilt. European and Australian employers know how to pay people. Hey, if you tip in those places, they know you're American. I'm cheap, I don't want to tip people. Why should I have to? Tipping is totally overrated. Make the employers pay the employees properly, not the customers.

Oh, and the service sucks. Once, I was at Denny's. I was basically pointed to where I was supposed to sit. Then I had to grab my own menu. Then I decided what I wanted. No waiter came by. I asked one just walking around. He was rude. Still didn't take my order. I walked out, and complained. Unfortunately, that place is STILL OPEN.

5 Facts about myself

Before I continue to pour my life story out upon you, I would like to list 5 facts about myself

1. I have enormous Dimples. They have been called huge, cute, weird, intense, and pretty damn cool, but nobody has ever got the fuck over them. Listen people, my facial deformity is not that strange, they're not something that I love to talk about at nearly every opportunity, as it usually happens.
2. I despise unreasoned opinions. I do not want to hear that "Bush sux cuz he is the dumb." That just makes me want to get some razor wire, push it through both my ears, and then proceed to floss with them.
3. It's pronounced Steven, not Stephan. It's alright for some people (Yes, you know who you are. Specifically, your name rhymes with Ellie), but only because they make the mistake because they think it sounds better. What I hate is the ignorant people who can't take half a second to read my name fully, and notice that there is an absense of an "A" or the letters "ie" at the end of it.
4. I am a full blood asian, so don't laugh and point, saying "Damn, why you being so Asian?"
Its what I am. Get over it.
5. Yes, I play football. No, I do not munch steriods or attempt to tackle anyone I see, nor do I feel the urge to Soulja Boy at any given time. I do enjoy Jazz occasionally.
6. I love to exceed expectations. Get an A++ when you can, and throw in a 6th bullet for a 5 bullet list.

First there was light, then there was...this.

I create this blog with the fact in mind that any second now, thousands of popup ads will appear, fataly crashing my computer.


So far, I've been lucky.

This is not my first blog, as many blogs have been made before in the hopes of actually recording my brilliant thoughts for future generations, but they tend to get lost somewhere between MySpace and AIM, and usually find their way into the back alley of the internet where creepy old men read people's blogs all day. Perhaps, this fate awaits this blog, but not yet! I gladly await to see what happens to this blog. Perhaps it will push me to stardom, being so unbelievably witty that people show all their friends to laugh at the loser who still posts blogs, or maybe I'll make the wrong comment about the wrong person, and be dragged off by the men in white suits into some suspiciously parked unmakred van.

Enough of that for now. This is my blog.
(How "Dramatic")