The Unblogged

The following post is a collection of posts that I didn't post, or simply gave up on before they got anywhere. I find it interesting what some of my old thoughts and feelings were, as well as entertaining to imagine my half thoughts.
If you hadn't picked up, the new notes will be brought to you by the colour RED.

1/20/10 Scientific Exhaustion
I was going to continue a discussion on my Facebook page,
BO-ring!

12/19/09 When Did It Happen?
I've stopped being honest.
I'm not sure, but I think this may have been about hiding (or trying to hide) my feelings for someone. Kinda like a Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca kind of deal, only, you know, not as good.

10/25/09 (Untitled)
I fight such an odd war. I have nothing against my enemy, but I know that he hates me. He even seems like a decent enough guy. It's not political, I want to destroy him and it is most malicious. Maybe it's the testosterone, but I'm not usually a guy who feels the need to win. I can't tell you what it is. What I can tell you is that I like it. I love it. Even though I'm terrible at it.
I don't know about anyone else, but I fucking love being hated sometimes. In my old situation, being hated was the next best thing to being loved. Being a threat to someone is empowering.
But that is an underdog thing too. When you're at the top, you're not a threat to anyone. In an ironic sense, you lose that power.

10/20/09 My Ultimate Team
Skip this one if you want. It's exactly what it sounds like.
In response to TK's Ultimate Team blog, here is my Ultimate Alliance 2 Team:

Storm.
What can I say about the master of the elements? Her in game taunts are the most justified of anyone. She controls the weather itself. She defeated Magneto. She is through and through awesome. I'll admit that when I started I was wary of Storm, since in UA1 she refused to use her one good power of Lightning Blast. But in UA2, her Lightning Blast is unparallelled and her Gale Force is the first and best of its class. The ability to dismissively blast an oncoming troop of enemies off a ledge is nothing short of god-like. While the rest of my crew is busy hacking away at single targets, Storm is blasting small armies away and causing massive random lightning damage all over the field. Inescapable lightning damage, too. It cannot be blocked and it cannot be dodged.

Wolverine.
Begrudgingly. There is a reason this guy is such a cliche. He's a-goddamn-mazing. Massive damage, massive hit points, regeneration, and a good spread of attacks. Some characters I find have a tendency to have just one good move and the others are simply there for show. He spins, he charges, he dives, he slashes... things wind up dead. I have the damage numbers on and when Wolverine comes in contact with someone there is just a stream of numbers. I wanted to trade him in, and he was usually on the bench while I was trying other guys out, but when it comes to an Ultimate Team, you'd be crazy not to bring in this cat... dog... monster-thing. What the hell is a wolverine anyway?

Venom.
He didn't get added to the roster until late in the game, but jesus tits this guy is a monster. Like, literally. In every sense of the word. Here is a case of someone who was pretty much a one trick pony, with other skills to fill the skill points out. He has this move where he leaps at someone, tackles them, and then devours them. For the little guys, Venom is unstoppable! Combined with his Pull move, if the first attack doesn't kill the guy, the second surely will. A big sack of hit points that can beat people to death with other people. Venom has always been pretty awesome.

Other.
There are honestly too many people that could fit into this last spot. Spidey was fun, but not great at anything. Ms. Marvel was hot, but I don't know who the fuck she is. Gambit was classic, but he never wowed me. I honestly never tried Deadpool, but that guy comes off as a more obnoxious Spider-man. Luke Cage was on my team for a while for racial diversity. He was okay. Ironman was denied from my team, so when I got him back I thought he could go suck a dick. Jean Grey was wicked powerful, but awfully dainty. Honestly, I never became that attached to anyone. I got Hulk late, and he was doing well, but he didn't seem to be pulling his weight. I wanted him to devastate people.

Anyway, I'm going to play it a second time around on hard and go Pro-Regulation. Maybe Ironman will grow on me again, but I somehow doubt it.

10/15/09 Contending the Winter of Discontent
I'm trying to work out the logical cycle of the miserability scores of the winter. The last two years have been horrible cold, but
Did winter get better this year? Depends where you start and finish winter. This post was obviously in mid-October and winter didn't technically start for another two months. If it's based on the weather, then winter was over by the beginning of March, and even then things started looking up. But maybe that's just the thing: cold = suck.

5/25/09 Recess
So I was at a party the other night to substantially increase the man count of the evening. Little did I know I was to increase the man count by an infinite percentage. First, let me drop some knowledge on you. Being the only guy in a group full of girls is only beneficial when these girls are deprived and competing over, or better yet, considering sharing you. However, even if you arrived before many of the women, you are on the outside
Ha ha! I can't even tell you where I was for this, but I'm sure it was entertaining! I have a feeling I was in Lethbridge.

4/4/09 My goals
#1 Outlive Thom.
#2 Failing Goal 1, outlive wife so I don't have to tell people
What don't I have to tell people? I don't know. I'm too busy laughing at goal #1!

4/3/09 Secrecy
I find it funny that despite all the honest feelings we can express to each other there is always a level we feel the need to hide. There are always things we don't want to say because we're worried what the other person will think. Worse, sometimes we worry what the other person will do. More often than not, I think we're wrong. I think people are a lot more calm and reasonable than we give them credit for.

But despite all that logic, I still can't bring myself to explain the truth. I don't even know how to say it. I can make a lot of fuss about things that don't really matter, but when it comes to the important things... I don't know how to say them. I tried to once and it blew up in my face. I suppose wildly bitching to the internet hasn't been productive either.
Seriously. But I still do it. What's the deal with that?

I suppose what I need to say is that I'm sorry. My feelings were misdirected and my action was out of line. I know this is an open place, and that doesn't bother me. But if I'm going to be open, I need to be open.
So, here it goes.

Dear Blog,
I've fallen in love.
At least to the point that I understood love a year ago. And the irony kills me that a year ago I could only understand that level of love and it might have happened, and now I can see the infinite ocean of emotion that I hadn't yet reached. But at this ledge I am stopped. I am unable to explore. And maybe that's for the best. Maybe if I were to explore, I would soon run out of air (or maybe vice versa) and would have to resurface. Getting dumped out of the ocean is one thing, but the bends is another. Maybe diving in and exploring this is a bad idea. But I see something in the depths. I feel it. How can I ignore it? How can I stay here and never go? I could go to the reef. Reefs are safe; stable. But how can I ever forget those endless depths of the unknown? Even if I had to come back, why couldn't I try? Why couldn't we try?
This right here is why I never posted this. What the fuck am I talking about? That metaphor is constructed worse than slip n' slide built with bristle blocks. It is literally painful to read.

Blog, I'll cut the metaphor for a minute here. Thank God. I want to try this out. Even if it's built to break, even though there are so many signs that say we shouldn't, even though I've done so much to damage it... I want to try. And if I experience a whole new level of heartache, then I have experienced a whole new level of love. I know all the pain I've been through, and I remember it all as I bring those memories back. And all of that heartache, all of those tears and all that regret combined is worth a shot at this.
Wisdom, if I do say so myself.
...

If I'm being honest with you, I wonder now if I've placed her on a pedestal. I've ignored anything with her picture because she is too fucking beautiful. I sometimes think I might be the only one that really sees that. I mean really sees it. I can't even describe the feeling. It's like I want to... absorb her. I don't know, that's really all I can think of. Like I want to hold her so close that we occupy the same space to a scientifically impossible degree, as if our images overlapped. Is it all in my head, or is it all in my heart? I don't know. I wish I knew. I wish I didn't regret running away as much as I have. I wish the conviction I felt once hadn't been so terribly battered. I'm breaking down.

I don't know if I'm making sense. I don't know about you, but I'm following along. I guess I wrote it, though. I'm starting to get the bed ("bad". Though I imagine I was having bed feelings at this point too) feeling that this whole post is a mistake. But I'm going to push through it because I think there has been a lack of communication. And yes, I should say a lot of ("to") this in person. But, like I said, I'm scared. So much for pushing through and communicating. A coward to the end, I suppose.

...I'm trying to be interested in other people. It's a hard thing to say and I don't know why. I guess it goes back to worrying what people will do; how they'll react. I think a lot of the time, I promise feelings that I can't deliver in circumstantial situations. "We'll always be friends" is the biggest one, I think. It's not that the prospect of being together was the only thing holding us together, but sometimes things change and there is no overlooking it. I can't dissolve my feelings. I need to escape and dispose of them. I've got to get away. But it's so hard when I want to stay. Fuck you, old me! I'm doing it.

I didn't really get to say everything I wanted, but my head is killing me.

This is why it's good not only to keep a record of what you think, feel, and do, but also to go back and read it once in a while. If you take anything from this whole thing, take this piece of advice: go back and look it all over. Revisit your thoughts. The insight you gain about yourself is incredible. Everything changes when you take a trip back to visit who you were. I've been known to say it before, but I don't like me 5 years ago. 5 years from now Alex won't like Today Alex, even though Today Alex is fuckin' awesome. I'm sure even 6-months-from-now- Alex won't really be fond of Today Alex, but what can you do?
Learn.

3/13/09 Post it
(I'm trying this quick summary thing. Read this; get the jist. Read on for more info. I don't know whether this girl likes me back or not.) Semi- spoiler! I don't know who I'm talking about yet, but I bet she doesn't!

I have a note on the side of my computer that reads "Keep it to your goddamn self!"
I don't know why she troubles me the way that she does. It has got to be in my head. So, here I write to the abyss of the internet. Remember you're reading my blog. I'm not complaining to you. Aha! A loophole! Stuff it, Thom!

Is it bad that I can't tell if I'm the hero or the villain in my own story? I suppose good or bad is the same as right and wrong; good and evil. These are the things I cannot determine. Am I the heart of the righteous stuck in the body of the wicked, or the malevolent soul presented in a body of innocence? I want to do good, but am I the good that resists the temptation of evil, or am I the evil that seeks redemption? Is my destiny to be all the good which I wish to be, or is it to lay ruin to the supposed goodness I have created?
I really write like this sometimes, not a word of a lie. I just normally don't show anyone. There's a fucking reason for that. These longwinded posts are embarrassing bullshit!

Let me explain. I pride myself in goodness. I am fulfilled by doing what I think to be right, even if it is not the easiest route. But there has been a record so far of 100% violation of supposition among past lovers. Whether this be violation of ideas of fidelity, temperament, deceit, opportunism, or abandonment, there is always an aspect that appears in a relationship, or post relationship, that serves no purpose greater than destruction. Simply put, I hurt the ones I have loved and cared for.

Enter the girl. Yes, the girl. I would be remiss in believing that this girl is the end-all be-all of womankind purely by nature of her virtues - there are many thing that are simply incongruent among us - but somehow she attains the position in my mind of the girl ("the" should be in italics). And perhaps is something that I will talk about later. But for now, I ponder, does not the woman that corrupts man cancel the man that corrupts love?

Perhaps it is the man that corrupts woman? Very well. To an extent, I am that man. Should not then we two form a unison of which none more is perfect? I fear not.

I apologize. In my state I confuse eloquence with verbiage. Yeah, no shit, you pretentious wanker! What the fuck are you trying to say. Jesus Christ, this is the worst thing ever...

Why aren't things working? Why aren't we together? We want what we cannot have. Perhaps, by making up my mind on the course of action to take, I am no longer available. Perhaps I project this emotion more than I am aware. I know in my mind that it is impossible, and purely by virtue of impossibility is it something which I desire? Do I want what I cannot have because I have concluded that I cannot have it? Perhaps, though I did want it before I reached such conclusion. Is she so observant, though, that she perceives my decision and thus has become attracted to that which I have decided she cannot have? Perhaps. Now, supposing that both of these are true, am I not free to retract my previous conclusion and thus formally admit that my conclusion was invalid and that we two must be together?
I think I was in a philosophy class at the time, and they all write like this. Maybe I could make sense of it then, but I sure can't pull it apart now. Maybe philosophers need to stop being philosophers for a few months before they review their own work. It's like living in France for a few months and coming back to America and ordering jus d'orange. It's orange juice, motherfucker, and you're not cultured, you're a fucking idiot.

Yeah, it confuses me sometimes too. Here it is: if I gave up and the girl now likes me because I am unavailable, can I really just say, "hey, I'm all yours!" and things will work out dandy because she likes me? See? That's concise. I get that. I know what I'm talking about here.

They won't. She won't. The feelings are contingent. There is only one course to take.

I really should keep it to myself.
Okay, I was wrong. The girl may have liked me at the time. Although, that was a full year ago! That's incredible. Maybe I was right then. Maybe she didn't like me a year ago. A year is a longer time than I give it credit. It doesn't feel that long looking back, but it really is a long time. I could go on about "what ifs" and muse about the possibilities of what could have been, but that'd end up sounding like all the garbage I wrote a year ago! So here is my conclusion: I made my choices.


These next ones are over a year old, but they were in my "draft" folder, so what the hell!
1/28/09 Proof that Women are greater than Men
A lot of people on both sides of the gender spectrum (oh, it totally is a spectrum) believe that men are better than women. But I have proof that this is not the case.

All women carry our future sons their entire lives.
All men are born of women.
It takes the defiance of many men for a boy to become a man, yet only the love of a single woman.
Through hail of bullets and rain of bombs, between polished swords and sharpened spears, under thrown rocks and over the pitched fires of men a man can resist, but the absence of a woman can leave a man destroyed.
Oh how poetical... shit. To put it another way: women are man's only weakness.

1/23/09 Inequality
Men an women are different. I don't care what you say, but they are. There is a reason why boys like practical academics and girls like visual aesthetics (not that one does not grow to appreciate the other).

Men were made by scientists and women were made by artists.

This is where I wrote a little play about the creation of man and woman.
Genitus: Hurry up, everybody! The deadline's here and God needs these last bits!

Enter Penus.

Genitus: Ah! Penus. What do you have for us?

Penus: Check this out.

Penus whips out the first wang.

Penus: I call it The Penus!

Genitus: Wow, that's... something.

Penus: No, check this out!

The Penus erects.

Penus: Eh? Eh?! Totally involuntary! No bones or nothing.

Genitus: Ha! That is totally awesome! God's gonna be stoked!

Penus: I know, eh?

Penus plays with his newest invention.

Genitus: "The Penis," right?

Genitus scribbles on his clipboard.

Genitus: ...N, I, S.

Penus looks up from the willie.

Penus: Hmm?

Genitus: So, how does it work.

Penus: That's the best part. I was working with Testiclulus on this one. It shoots stuff. Testucles

Enter Testucles, slightly out of breath.

Testucles: Sorry, boss. Here it is.

Testucles holds up a pair of testicles.

Genitus: I don't follow.

Testucles: They're like mini factories. They make these little tiny cells with tails that can swim.

Genitus: Can I see?

Testucles: Just be careful. They're a little delicate.

Genitus: How delicate?

Testucles: Well, it's a complicated system. They're really sensitive and need to be kept at about 33 degrees.

Genitus checks his clipboard.

Genitus: Not 37 degrees?

Testucles: No.

Genitus: So what the hell are we going to do about that?

Testucles: I got it all planned out. We keep 'em in a bag.

Genitus: In a bag?! They're going to lose them!

Testucles: No, like a skin bag.

Genitus: A skin bag? Testucles, we can't afford that much material.

Enter Scrotus hurriedly.

Scrotus: Master! Master! I found something!

Scrotus hands Testucles fistfulls of skin.

Scrotus: They're elbow skin that God was just throwing away!

Testucles: That explains all the hair.

Penus hits Testucles with The Penus.

Penus: I thought we agreed on no hair!

Testucles: I'm sorry! Look, it's the best we can do.

Genitus: I'll let you sort that out for a minute while I check the design for Woman.

Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus huddle together.

Enter Vagino and Ovariam.

Genitus: Vagino! Ovarium! What do you have for us?

Vagino: Genitus, I say with no ego that this is our greatest creation. It's hidden, protected, sleek, soft, runs like clockwork, never needs replacing.

Genitus: Impressive! How does it work?

Ovariam: So, I've got these two little balls-

Genitus slaps his face into his palm.

Genitus: Calibrated to 33 degrees?

Ovariam: No. 37. Who calibrated to 33?

Genitus looks over his shouler at Penus, Testucles, and Scrotum.

Testucles: -no, no, you've got to pin it here!

Genitus turns back to Vagino and Ovariam.

Genitus: Doesn't matter.

Vagino looks over.

Vagino: What are they doing?

Genitus: Please, continue.

Ovariam: Right. So I have these balls. We can call the ovaries to avoid confusion. Anyway, so they are filled with, like, thousands and thousands of eggs-

Genitus: And the woman simply releases an egg when she wants to bear a child! Brilliant!

Pause.

Ovariam: We were thinking more of a timed release.

Genitus: So, they just sort of leak eggs from time to time?

Awkward pause.

Ovariam: You could say that.

Genitus: What happens?

Ovariam: Well, it's more than just an egg. But don't worry. We've devised a hormonal mechanism to keep it hidden.

Genitus: All right, I'll trust you know what you're doing. So, the egg comes out and then the man shoots Testucles' swimming cells onto it and it makes a baby, right?

Ovariam: Well, no. The baby has to grow inside here in this big chamber.

Genitus stares.

Genitus: And then...

Ovariam: Then you have a baby.

Genitus: How does the baby get out?

Ovariam and Vagino exchange looks.

Vagino: Ohhhhh no. No no no no no. No way. This is a masterpiece!

Ovariam (lowered voice): Vag, you're making me look bad.

Vagino: Ovariam, you make yourself look bad. We're not cramming a baby through my Vagina.

Ovariam: It's too late to change everything. C'mon, Vagino. It's the only way!

Vagino (sighs): Fine.

Genitus: Great! I've got to write up a report for God right now. Feel free to share your project with the other.

Genitus exits.

The huddled group of Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus opens up to reveal their package.

Penus: Ta-dah!

Vagino: eugh.


Next week: Gentius tries to explain to God how these parts are used to make new people.

I'm not thrilled with Ovariam and Vagino. They're not quite as entertaining as the stooges that are Penus, Testucles and Scrotus. Also, I'm more of an expert on the poor design of male genitalia than I am with regards to how women feel about their genitals. I don't know if anyone else finds it as funny as I do, but come on, a man's junk is the most poorly designed part of nature on a whole.



Hooray! You either read everything or scrolled to the bottom and said "Fuck that!"
Either way, thanks for getting to this point!

I had a dream...

Last night was all sorts of crazy. It was about death, in three parts.

Part 1
I'm on the river rafting with my first girlfriend. I didn't really want to be there, but it seemed like such a great day for rafting that I might as well enjoy it. We rafted down the wide, winding river lazily; we soaked in the sun and the sights. But before we knew it, the river picked up speed and we started to collide with other deserted rafts. I should mention that when I say "raft" I don't mean an inflatable dingy, but a traditional planks-and-logs kind of thing. I was sure I could navigate us through, but my ex was worried and sceptical. What's really strange is that we came out to a labyrinth of aqueducts and waterways. The raft became a hover-raft (don't ask 'cause I don't know) and I simply flew over the whole system toward the lake on the other side. My ex insists that we're skipping over the best part, so I land it in the waterways. Turns out they're part of the zoo/amusement part and are those water-type rollercoasters. Our raft gets picked up on the unreasonably fast conveyor and brings us up to the top. We whip around a corner and are plummeted down towards the waterways again. I'll admit, while there was an element of fun, there was also the absolute terror in the fact that we were not attached. The raft was not designed for this track. We were taken up another ramp, but we hadn't lost much momentum. We round the corner at the top and, with nothing to hold onto, I am cast off the edge. From a wide angle shot from the shore I see my body fall seventy feet towards the water with speed and grace like I fell out of the back of a pickup truck. Just before contact, I wake up.

Part 2
I went back to sleep A) to see if I could resume and save myself (with the brilliant plan of pulling myself into a dive and cutting through the water like a dolphin in a show. I did not. The ending was cut from when I last woke up. But soon after, I start a new story.
It's me and the love of my life. It's the holidays and her parents (who are actually another girl's parents, I just know and like them better) are having their friends over constantly. I suggest to the girl that we get away from it all and hide away in my treehouse, which is literally a modern cabin built in a tree. Before I know it, there are two men at the door (of my treehouse). The girl opens the door. They don't say a word. They shoot her and walk quickly through the house. I duck out a side door and and call the secret service (again, don't ask. I just know them, I guess). I scream and panic and threaten the men.

Part 3
My sister's boyfriend (the love of her life) who lives across the street from the treehouse came to investigate. He opens the door and before he gets a chance to even speak, the men kill him too. I could try and stop them, but I've already died in my dreams once today. I would barely step in the room before I was shot dead too. Though, given the rest of the dream, it may have been better to have died.

Epilogue
I return to the parents' house. It all happened a minute ago to me, and is years ago for them. The same holiday party. The same people. The livelihood is superficial, but they're trying. I remember a line to a song:
"Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind to follow you into the dark."
I've almost got myself convinced to kill myself, but I knew she wouldn't want that. If she was waiting there for me, she'd wait for me until my time came. But she wasn't waiting. There was no sense dying. No real sense in living other than you can't change your mind about it later. So there I was, the world around my moving while my life had ground to a stop under the burden of a lost love and the guilt of the loss of another's love. I don't know what I could have done to stop him from being killed, but I feel like I could have done something.

-

I'm on that old raft again, drifting down the river. The world lacks even the indication of colour. I look at the shore and there is her mother driving her car on the road along the bank. She looks at me and I stare at her. She's drained, somewhat emptied, but hopeful at the same time. She is who the girl would have been. She is who the girl will never be. She is the woman I will never know.

Maturation

I must be getting old.

Remember back in the day when you were a teenager and the most important part of a sexy dream is that you totally boned someone? Sort of like how the most important part of a sex scene in a movie was the fact that you saw boobies. But as we grow older we refine our tastes and understand that sometimes less is more. Sometimes an implication is better than a statement (or visual statement, as the case may be). We even come to realize that not getting what we want is often more enjoyable than getting it right away. We no longer have a need for the gratuitousness of sex (on a side note, why is the word "gratuity" used for tips? Shouldn't it be gratituity? I henceforth will object to paying gratuities on the basis that it is completely unnecessary).

I'm not going to go into details about this dream I had. Though I'm sure it is inferred that is was a particularly good dream, I assure you that you assume too much. It was good in the sense that a cup of tea is good compared to the goodness of a Dirty German (French Toasted Cheese and Bacon Pancake Sandwich grilled in Maple Syrup. Don't ask why it's a called that, I don't remember). Again, it wasn't gratuitous.

Some might say that it is boring or sad to have the realism of a dream be not in the vividness of boundless experience but rather in the modesty of situation. While some people have dreams about flying or superpowers or whatnot, I have dreams about attending lectures, volunteering to speak at a seminar, and all my real relationships being exactly the way they are in real life. But in the end, there is always something to be learned, something to be taken away and even shared here on the internet with the people who are even just curious about what I have to say.

From this dream I have learned this: It feels better to be wanted than to be had.

Maybe you can apply this to your lives. I know, much to my chagrin, that I can.

We're a stupid lot

Regret is like a hangover. You wake up after what you feel was a wonderful night and you ache. You vow never to drink again, never to fall into the folly of what was once your ways. You never want to hurt like that ever again. But the opportunity arises once again to feel something wonderful and before you know it, it's the next morning and you feel regret once again.

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king's horses and all the king's men,
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

I think we're all missing the point of this nursery rhyme.

If I were to give you the rhyme:

A man once lived in indecision,
His heart divided with great precision,
He finally succumbed,
The devil had won,
And it was all out of the king's jurisdiction.

you wouldn't think "Oh, well it's obviously about eggs. Devilled eggs, right?"

No, you'd see the collapse of a man that could not be saved by the king. No eggs. Now, obviously these two rhymes are similar, but not entirely the same. Mine is about the folly of bureaucratic law, whereas Humpty is about the ineptitude of so called power; not eggs.

Now, I have come across another version that reads:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
Threescore men and threescore more,
Cannot place Humpty Dumpty as he was before.

Now, this makes more sense as a riddle, only a riddle with "egg" as one of thousands of possible answers. Why not pie? In fact, it makes more sense to rest a pie on a wall to cool than to put an egg on a wall. And anyone who has ever dropped a pie would know that sixscore (I don't know if my -score math is correct on this) men couldn't fix a floor pie to look like a normal pie.

Though, I'll admit, after reading some other Mother Goose rhymes again, I can't say I've figured out what they're about either.

Thinking about love

So, I've been thinking a lot about love lately and I've come to the conclusion that it isn't as cinematic as I once thought. The concept of unconditional love is simply insane. I understand that it sounds really good of a person to be able to love unconditionally, but the term 'unconditionally' is misused or misunderstood.

Unconditionally means without any conditions. I was in love with a girl once. She left me for someone else. That sort of condition radically changed the way I felt about her and allowed the dismantling of the construct of love in my head without any remorse. Actually, that happened twice, but details...

We all understand that this is an extreme case (although suspiciously common to me) and isn't exactly the kind of thing when you consider when it comes to love. But, as I am proof, it happens. Furthermore, the reciprocation of love is something worth taking a critical look at. The romantic weight of loving someone that doesn't love you back is incredible. It shows... well, I can't exactly put my finger on what it shows. Maybe shows that you're crazy.

Let's take a look at an analogous situation. Say you're a sports player and you go to the training camp for your favourite city's team. You work hard and give it your best, but your best isn't good enough. The team refuses to sign you a contract. But you are dedicated to this team. In fact, you are so dedicated that you submit to only playing for that team. You practise and you train and you ignore the scouts from any other team because you will only play for that one team. But they never ever recruit you. Maybe you're not good enough. Maybe their roster is full. Maybe the team just can't afford you. You're dedicated to a team, but you're giving up a chance for a mutually beneficial relationship with another team. To give up your shot at the big leagues (in other words, love) because you've committed to a team that hasn't committed to you is, although romantic, absolutely fucking insane.

To this respect, love is to be earned and some of us are just too eager to give it away.

Girls are like Subatomic Particles

I can't decide whether they are more like protons or electrons...

Like electrons, they historically go one way, but in reality go the opposite way. Also, they are attracted to protons, but always keep a distance by moving. And finally, like electrons, you can't keep track of a girl.

However, girls are also like protons. They hang around in clusters and prefer the company of neutrons; the "support" particles that are otherwise useless and might as well be protons themselves without the properties of protons. Electrons swarm around protons at various and complicated levels away from them and, given the right motivation, can jump from level to level.



My final thoughts...
This is the kind of thing science nerds think about. They draw similarities between scientific fact and incomprehensible nature to allow them to better understand. For scientifically oriented guys, science will always be an easier concept than women. The Big Bang Theory should be taking notes.

The Groundhog

The other day I was walking to school and I found a groundhog dead on the top of the hill. He must have frozen to death that night. It upset me a little to think that he had survived through such a long winter only to fail now at the dawn of spring. By the time I walked home that evening, the birds had picked him clean. Only the bones, feet, and head remained.

I started to wonder why this had been shown to me. I suppose it could be a coincidence that I saw it and a coincidence that the birds had not carried it off. But I don't really believe in coincidences. I believe that something that I took such great notice of is something that I was meant to notice. And now I wonder what the message was.

After a long, cold winter, do I give up? Do I submit my insides to the birds to tear out and leave me hollow? Is this a sign that this is the end? Or is it a warning? Am I to persevere through the cold and the darkness? If I hold on just a little bit longer, will I survive?

I don't know.

Let It Be

I don't know if this is a good idea.I think scientists are getting too caught up in "how to keep things the same." Things die. That's just how it works. Furthermore, new things can't grow until old things die. Take a look at these helpful examples.

1. Pine trees. Pine trees drop hundreds of pinecones, an incredibly small percentage of which will ever grow into trees. The larger trees make it impossible for new things to grow around them. But when these trees burn, the pinecones open up, the sun breaks through, and the remains of the fallen trees nourish the next generation.

2. Ideas. You have to let old ideas die, or even actively kill them to allow new ideas to spread. Sub-example: the Metric system. You can't use two systems just because you're kind of fond of the old system. In order to let this (very old) new idea reach its objective (of making everything easier for everyone and allow for a cooperation of standards) possible. While some countries understood that you have to abandon old ideas to let new ones take root, others have held on to their no-longer-useful ideals. (see Liberty, Freedom, God, and the Imperial System. Actually, that's not a bad title for a satirical book.)

3. Relationships. You have to let past relationships die before a new one can grow.


I'm not saying that we should ignore preservation, but when something goes extinct... it's like a breakup. Sure, you can be sad, but you have to get over it. The worst thing to do is get that idea that you can get her back. In fact, nature is a lot like a woman. Take care of her, treat her right, and when she goes away, lament. But always move on.

The Weather of Life

Everything is a metaphor. I'm always saying it. I don't think good fiction resembles life; a good life resembles fiction. And it's obvious to see. Take me, for example. I love movies, so my life is enjoyable when I have the right music, the right pacing, the right scene, and so on. I particularly enjoy romantic comedies (not actively, but statistically), so the two things worth living for are love and laughs. I laugh, I cry, and in between, I watch and enjoy.
Perhaps you like science fiction, and you enjoy imagining the unimaginable. Life can be more enjoyable when everything works; when your toast comes out just right, not because of luck, but because of science!
Or maybe fantasy novels are your cup of tea. Finding your path; your destiny. A purpose that is not yet seen, but a willingness to let it take you where it may. It can be a compromising burden, but it's yours to carry.

We all have some fiction that tune our happiness into. Even if it's hard, we enjoy it on some level. Otherwise, we would change it, most simply by not giving a fuck. After all, plenty of people live not giving a fuck. It can't be that hard. But we're different. Fiction gives rise to so many literary devices that make us follow the lives we live. Catharsis, foreshadow, and, obviously, metaphor.

Which brings me back around to my main point. Metaphors.
I hope the weather isn't a metaphor for life. It is so beautiful and sunny and warm. I don't want it to get cold again. I don't want the wind to pull tears from my eyes. I don't want to curl up under the blankets alone to keep warm.
January has come and gone, and it's been hard, metaphor or no. Likewise, February is not known to be any better. But there's even less I can do about life than I can about the weather. All there is to do is go outside and enjoy it. Bask in the sun while it shows itself to you. Let it fill you up.