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.