Infinity Squared.

Imagine the universe as being infinitely large. Now, know that the world as we know it, had a random probability of occuring.

As in, there is a 1 in a 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.... chance that it has turned out eactly the way it has.

Assuming the that the universe is infintely large, which it must be, considering outer space must be endless, then we must assume that that 1 in a Ga-Jillion chance that our world took to occur is being reproduced somewhere else.

There is, in other words, another clone of me somewhere, due to random chance.

There is, in other words, a person that has done everything I have done, but in a world where McCain beat Obama, where George Bush didn't go to war, even where I decided to wear a green shirt instead of a white shirt, all due to possibilities in a infinitely large amount of occurances.

Disattachment

People aren't equal. 

Humans just can't accept the fact that some people are born better than others. I'm not a racist, but if Mike is a bit smarter than Larry, I would rather have Mike working for me, regardless of how hard each worked beforehand.

Sure, it's not fair, and due to my inherent selfishness, I would get annoyed if I felt I was "wronged," but in the grand scheme of things, nobody is equal.

Everyone, however, should be granted certain natural rights, but beyond that, everything else is a privelage.

In thinking this, I've noticed a distancing between myself as a person, and my intelletual self. When considering things such as this, it is as though I am viewing humanity from a distant planet, as a solitary alien observer. I no longer consider myself as an individual, and categorize myself as just another Homosapien. 

Some might argue that we each have distinct characteristics that seperate us from each other, but do we really? 

All of us have had years of experience between distinguishing, but when thrust into a new enviroment, this ability dissapears. Many people state that "All Asians look alike," while my parents will staunchly claim that "All Blacks look alike." They are, in short, not used to distinguishing the subtle differences between others of different nationalities. Physically, we are not individuall disalike, despite being able to seperate into significant races and groups.

Clarification

I also feel that I need to state the following.

There is no mathematical, scientific, or any kind of backing other than logic, hopes, and creativity in most of these posts. 

These posts are here to 

1) Give myself a way of viewing the world in creative and different ways.

2) Give you, the reader, a different perspective on many things

3) Allow myself to think in ways that defy normal convention. Since I have little/no scientific background, I try to think in ways that are a bit fictional. 

In other words, they'll work great in a fiction novel, but probably won't fly with the scientists.

Just to let you know.

Favorite Pastimes

Are your memories really in the past? 

What is time? Untangle yourself from conventional thinking. Unfix your thinking, and think with me.

What happens in the "past" has already happened, correct? Yet, what happens in the past is merely what we remember, as it is what our minds feel important enough to process, digest, and present. 

Stare at the wall. How do you know, that at this exact instant, there aren't aliens crawling around on the wall? Your senses tell you so, but it is entirely possible that your eyes aren't processing the information to your brain because your brain has been trained to believe that aliens are nonexistant, thus impossible, thus rendering this information as irrelevant. First mathematical FACT of this blog: your brain processes 2,000 bytes a second, yet it is capable of 2,000,000,000 bytes a second. Something like that. I can't remember the exact numbers, but it was similar to that.

The past is nothing but a memory. We tell ourselves what has happened by what we have percieved, and thus it no longer becomes real, as it is what has happened in our own minds. I might percieve the past differently from you, thus making us process the past differently, giving two different realities. Because there cannot be two different realities, they must no longer be realities, and only different perceptions on realities. 

Now, conventional thinking tells us we get older as time goes on. However, time is an abstract concept. I personally feel that the passing of time is not so simple as to be able to confine it to clocks and lines. It is not, in fact, a river, but rather a sea. 

You also happen to be riding in a Yellow Submarine.

More on this later. 

Empty promises...

Decisions, Collisions.

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. 

Something I wrote a while ago. I wrote something about the subject, but after further thought, I expanded my hypothesis. 

Assume, for a minute, that what you percieve as the world is false. How do you know that the person in the room next to you is really there? How do you know that you aren't just a random thought floating in space, imagining all of this happening? There is no real way to tell for certain that the person next to you is really there. You could touch them on the arm, but your brain would tell you they're there. You could talk to them, but they might just be figments of your imagination. He, or she, is something you have created with your mind. Not entirely unplausible, if you consider the fact that everything you know is through your own perception.

Assume that you are the center of the universe. Less difficult for some than for others, but for the moment, that is what you are. Everything around you is what you've created with your mind, thus everything around you is merely a memory. 

What happened 5 minutes ago? Think back. Now, what tells you this really happened? Your memory tells you that you you wrote something down. Now, how do you know this really happened? Your memory informs you of what happened. What is recorded in your memory may not be entirely subjective. There may be millions of things that could have happened in the past 5 minutes, but you merely forgot about them. 

Going back, because you may merely be a formless and shapeless thought in space, there may be millions of instances where you remember what else could have happened. 

Confusing? I hardly get it myself. I don't accept it as any kind of hypothesis, as there is absolutely no scientific or mathematical background to nearly any of my thoughts, making most of this blog ramblings of an overcreative teenager, yet everything I write about is perfectly logically plausible. Your brain tells you what you want to know. Therefore, it may be tricking you into what is happening at this precise moment by percieving certain things. 

My Shoes (First Person Fiction)

Dear Owner, my wonderful Owner,

            I represent the epitome of form, and function. A presumptuous statement, to be sure, but not one that is entirely unwarranted. A collector’s item, but the general apathy associated with those bums the Baseball Cards does not apply to me. You'll take me out to the longest of jogs, but I don't need the constant washing of those sweaty Shirts. Everywhere you go, I follow. I'm definitely more loyal than your average cat, and even a dog would be hard pressed to be more loyal than I, unless this dog happens to be a combination of Ol' Yeller, Lassy, and your dog Tutu.

            What would you do without me, your shoes? Sure, I may be more than a bit smelly at times, but I never leave your side, or more accurately, your feet. The padding, cradling your feet in what seems to be the softest of sensations, brings to you a bliss rarely found on this Earth. Every movement is a yet another perfect moment of absolute ecstasy upon your feet, my offering to you, and I ask nothing in return. I am always there for you. I will never walk away from you, as long as you never walk away from me. I happily wait for you when you need a rest, never being impatient. If you run, I shall run with you. If you creep, I shall creep with you, even if you are one yourself.

            Without me, what would come to your feet? The numerous foot afflictions, such as flat foot, frostbite, or even god forbid, a stubbed toe, make me nervous just to think about them, much less to have you experience them! Every scuff mark I suffer, every stitch that is torn, every square inch of soiled fabric is a badge of honor. I gladly endure the winter chill, the endless rains, the blazing heat; the elements are all endured for you. Even on the occasion when you left me outside overnight, where I must play host to spiders and night crawlers, I forgive you for your forgetfulness, and continue to perform at my best. It is a dangerous world out there for a pair of bare feet, and I shall be your ever vigilant protector.

             I must admit, though, I often feel nervous as time goes on. I often see you throw out other of my comrades in a painful selection, yet you often skip past me in this process. Whether for nostalgic or cosmetic reasons, I have yet to be submitted to the Trash Can, a place of mystery to us who reside in the shoe rack. I fear that perhaps one day, this state of affair will cease, and you shall discard me as you have so many others before, resigning me to the mystery of the Trash Can and whatever heaven lies beyond.

            With Love,

            Your Shoes

             

            PS: Excuse me for the recent stink. I blame your socks. Please change them more often.

            Because you and I both know you wouldn’t change me.

            Or would you?

Hm. Experimentations with size, font, and color.

Leave a comment, tell me what you think.

Thoughts. Much like everything else.

Perception. What do we hold of it? Is everything really as we see it? Is this shade of green the same for everyone? People will all see it as "Green" because they were taught to see it as green, but perhaps my green looks like my blue, from their perspective.

Fear. A survival trait, or a deeper human emotion? Some fear spiders, while others do not. Once again, a matter of perspective, it is often difficult to rationalize a fear. 

Comfort. Why become comfortable when it all ends the same? We, as humans, live for the moment. We fear the future, the past, and anything else that isn't now. How do we know that what we know to be the "past" is really the past? We know that something happened, but the only reason we know is because we tell ourselves these things. Lying to ourselves is tremendously easy, as anyone who has suffered through a traumatic experience may (or may not) be able to tell you. We percieve what has happened to ourselves, and with no one to check it, it can quite often lead to imperfections.

Art. A reflection of our culture, and how we percieve it. We show changing views about what is accepted, how we percieve the rest of the world around us. It can show us the greatest of joys, or the harshest of fears. 

Don't get comfortable friends.

Conundrum

I am no mood to write, yet, I feel as if I should be recording something.

Save. Me.

Terrible, is it not? I am lost, yet I know where I am. I am confused, yet I know what troubles me.

Save. Me.

Forever gone from my life, a complete fault of mine, yet I can do nothing to change it.

Save. Me.

I've got to get out, but it's not what I need. I'm stuck here, with no where to go.

Save. Me.

Dancing

What a wonderful game this is!

Ah, morning time once again. As the night recedes back against the horizon, a tremendous yawn is emitted from what looks like a strange, hunchbacked creature on two legs shuffling down a flight of stairs. Eyes barley open, the creature proceeds to use it's sense of touch to navigate it's habitat, occasionally colliding into the corner or outlying handle. Undettered, the creature continues its search.

After much shuffling of feet, seemingly random arm waving, and cursing of stubbed toes, she finds what she was looking for. A bag of coffee, obtained from no other than the business juggernaut that is Starbucks.

As the bleary fingers work through the familiar process that has long ago etched a groove into thousands of drinker's mental process, literally enabling the user to perform the motions nearly half asleep.

And yet, after a few sips, an amazing transformation occurs. The wonderously and famous bitter taste of coffee seems to have no effect, instead energizing the person, causing an interesting transformation to occur. No longer are the feet attached the the floor, where they swing evenly, rather than shuffle awkwardly; eyes are open, and somewhat bloodshot, yet still open!

It is, all in all, a wonderful invention. Until someone overdoses on that and goes batshit crazy, but hey.

There's always a downside.

Chinky

I swore to myself I wouldn't make racist remarks in this post.

A delightful crescendo of noises, escalating from a single source. It seems impossible that a single instrument, despite how massive, could create a sound as varied and beautiful as it is now. The notes flow seamlessly from the piano, spiraling forever into the air, every note transferred from the fingertips to the keyboard, a tribute to those who played on this grand instrument before her, every note sounding out in perfect unision.

The pianist, lost in the moment of creation, sits at the the bench, a silent figure among the noises around her. The mute figure is a testament to the works in process, fingers working at the keyboard, slender fingers jumping from notes with a speed that would confound even the most astute of observers.

This is creation, pure and simple. They say God created the universe from nothing, but even that incredible feat is rivaled by the beautiful sounds of the piano. It is in that moment, at the climax of the piece, when the rich, dulcent tones surround the single member that consisted of the audience, if only for a second, when all noises but the rich tones of the music are blocked out, and everything in the world seems to be at a perfect harmony.

The music, so beautiful it was, seemed to make everything perfect for just a single moment, the final note sending out a wave of innocence and beauty throughout the world, making the world seem like a better place, if only for a second.

And then, it is lost. The reality returns with a crash, a crash of silence signaling the end of the piece. A roaring, deafining silence, one that fills such a void after the music is over.

Music is the epitome of human creation. Few scientists have created things as wonderfully satisfying as a wonderful, perfect piece of music.


Hey, I made through that entire post without referring to asian people.
Awesome.

Undead

The afterlife is certainly one of the more interesting, and ultimately uninspired creation of the human imagination.

The purpose of life? To die. Humanity invented the afterlife, religion, and most things spiritual to cover up our lack of importance in the universe. Look at any ancient civilization, and nearly every one of them had, at one time or another, the belief that they were the center of the universe. This is a very common belief even today, with people acting, living, and believing as though they are indeed the center of the universe. On a grand, cosmos-esque scheme of things point of view, we are insignificant.

Ironic how everything we've created is a direct result from the fear of losing everything we have. We fear that all the hard work we perform on this earth will go to waste, so we imagine an afterlife that rewards us for all the sweat and effort put into doing things that we don't want to. T'is heaven, and since it didn't make sense to send those people who defy to do good deeds there as well, we send them to hell.

To describe death without any concept of an afterlife, however, is literally impossible. If there is no afterlife, than dying would be loss of every perception. Every adjective we have is linked to how we perceive the world around us, such as sights, feel, and sound, among others. You cannot even compare it to someone who has lost every sense in their body, as there is no mind, there is no thought. There isn't even a "nothing," as there is no conception of nothing.

Sometimes, I really scare myself.

Electricty!

As far as we know, the human body is made of nothing more than flesh and bone. Both of these are controlled by, or so the scientists say, electrical impulses in the brain.


Now, as far as I'm concerned, lightning bolts and such have never developed a complex personality. Thoughts must come from somewhere, and thoughts are more than mere whispers in the air. Thoughts have significance, the right thought in the right person potentially changing the world. They may not be tangible, but they can hold a person mesmerized.

Thus, leading me to do something I rarely do. In support of religion, god, and the supernatural, there must be something other than mere electricity inside of ourselves. It is impossible to express myself in such a way as to properly describe this, but anything that has self awareness, anything that has the ability to create such monumental testaments to our own humanity, there must be something else at play. Divine intervention is always something humanity as a whole turns to when there is no other explanation, the "get out of jail free" card if you will, and I find myself playing this card once again.

A Voting Process

For the sake of ease of reading, any time I refer to "man" or "he," this also applies to females as well.


A leader is any man who is willing to take authority of a group of people. We fear leaders, and most of us fear to be a leader.
Failing by yourself is hard enough, yet to be the cause of a downfall among a body of people is perhaps the most frightening of any scenario. Guilt, a terrible emotion to be held to, is among the first of many emotions to assault the mind, causing doubt in future leadership opportunities, and to lose faith in oneself is to lose one's ability to act.

Yet, every so often, we come across an amazing person, one who stands against the rest. This is a man, that when standing in a crowded room, everyone else fades to the foreground. Shy people generally tend to blend in well with the background, but a man like this, no, shall stand out among the rest, giving cause to even the most courageous of men to pause.


This post made no sense.

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.