viewpoint

[brought to you by the space-time continuum]

Time is a man-given label applied to a concept seemingly inseparable from the universe itself, an attempt at framing the idea in terms we lesser beings can understand. The fullness of time’s own truth is quite possibly enough to drive one mad.  An endless spiral exists on a plane which, itself, spirals eternally. A dimension somewhat higher than the third presents itself in a ghostly fashion, unnoticed except for the face of change. Space intersects. A million and one possibilities manifest for each of a countless outpouring of happenstances.  Life becomes?

inquisitive

[a proud sponsor of higher learning]

Every now and then a scenario is brought to my attention that really gets my gears cranking, mostly hypothetical ones, you understand.  This one was pretty fun.

Delusion: purpose?

Suppose someone says “You know, it seems to me that it would just be easier to pick something to believe and go with it.  I mean, what’s with all the questioning and evaluating?  Really, what’s the point?

pandumbic

from the makers of tuberculosis…

Every now and again, people around me start acting crazy, stupid, or both, and I feel it is my duty to step in and speak out against this nonsense.  Now, keep in mind, while I do not have any particular abundance of knowledge regarding the specific details of this situation, I am quite astute at recognizing patterns, and, therefore, consider myself something of an authority on this matter.

Swine Flu.  Oh, if you could only hear me sigh right now.

Here’s the thing.  People are going to get it.  People are probably going to die from it, but it is important to note why.

We live in a society where disinfecting, cleaning, scrubbing and spraying are all the rage.  We shelter ourselves from every possible germ imaginable, forgetting the fact that germs live within us, and actually help us to survive, no less.  These people are the ones that need worry most about the new illness that has come from us from the south….those who have deprived their immune system of any kind of exercise whatsoever.  So be it.

From what I understand, the human immune system is something like an athlete:  if it stays in shape and practices a lot, it’s good to go.  What happens to an athlete who ceases to exercise or practice?  Their strength, speed, agility and skill all go on permanent vacation.  Again, I am no doctor, this is just how patterns and other educated folks have imaged this for me.

This being the case, what happens when these germophobes come into contact with a serious illness that packs a punch?  Simple.  They get sick and they possibly die.  I don’t mean to sound heartless about it, but when these same people are hitting every grocery store and pharmacy in their state looking for anti-bacterial wipes for their children to take to school, it becomes painfully obvious that they do not understand how this problem came to be in the first place.  So I pity them, but I do not feel sorry for them.

Incidentally, I wonder how these people feel about kissing, or otherwise exchanging bodily fluids with those they don’t know too well.  They really ought to think about that….

As for me, germs do not frighten me.  The swine flu doesn’t stand a chance in hell when it comes into contact with me.  I may not be the physically strongest person in the world, but if my immune system were a human being all on its own, it would likely kick the crap out of you.

inspiration

[batteries not included]

I had a really good idea..

Wrapped in a shell that is my own consciousness, an idea formed, giving a certain spark of life to something new.  A concept, or envisioned thing, if you will, springs forth from the impenetrable fortress that is my brain.

checkmate

[from the depths of who really knows where...]

I’d like to relate a story about someone named Luke.

When I went to attend class on Monday, only to find out that the first two of my three classes were cancelled, I found myself sitting outside near the large chess board located near the center of campus.  Imagine this thing measuring around fifteen feet on one side, the plastic pieces standing about knee-high.  There are always casual players about and at least several spectators engrossed in watching.  I’ve taken quite a liking to designating this spot for sitting.

I arrived at school about 30 minutes early, as is typical for me, and headed for that very spot, noticing a game in progress as I approached (also typical).  Sitting down, it occurred to me that there was something quite different about this particular game of chess.  Not different in that the pieces were upside-down or spray-painted green or anything like that, but still, there was something usual about the present game.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

derivative

[the incessant babbling of a future mental patient]

I met myself.  I must say, I was not impressed.

This was not the me that I know, or think I know.  This was another me, one that rears his head when least expected, to plant the seeds of negativity in the minds of those around me, while I am left to deal with the rampant crop of idiocy that blooms soon after.  In others, he inspires doubt, disbelief and uncertainty towards me, my integrity, my ideals and my resolve.  Through action, through words, he commands a presence of a nature that is the polar opposite of that which I strive to be.  Ignorance and apathy are his playthings, lies become his weapons, and cruelty his entertainment.  He is contradiction.  He is violent anger and withdrawn depression.  He exists as my favorite enemy, a nemesis to be sure.

Would it be considered suicide for me to kill this veritable doppelganger?

anon

["eccentric and pretentious..."]

At the time of this writing, I know that I don’t necessarily know what it is that I think I know.

At the time of this writing, there are still forces in the universe I do not understand.  Their whims, their almost imperceptible moods continue to influence my environment in ways I cannot comprehend.

At the time of this writing, I await that one person who, by her nature, can bring an extra dimension of meaning to my life, without fear of letting me know when I’m totally full of crap.

correspondence

This is a letter to you.  Yes, you, with the slack-jawed look on your face.  You, who are probably, at this very moment, as you read these words, scratching your ass.  This is for you.

This is not the letter, however, but merely a precursor, if you will; a mere message of preparation for the letter which follows.  You will know when the letter begins, I am fairly certain of that.

This will be no ordinary letter, mind you.  Not like the letter from grandma, or the kind you get when your wife leaves you, or a notice of past due amount from your credit card company, or even the officious type of letter you received a couple of weeks ago telling you that you don’t qualify for federal student aid because you totally forgot to sign up for selective service when you were eighteen, even though you swear you remember doing it.  No, this is quite a different kind of letter.  You have never been the recipient of this kind of letter.  I know this because I haven’t written it to you until now.  It is quite possible, in fact, that after I write it, you may still not be such a recipient, even after you’ve recieved the damned thing.  I’m not sure, as I haven’t decided yet.

affliction

[Take one tablet twice daily with food.]

Delusion: Take a pill.  It seems, more and more, that we assign to the category of “disease” a number of conditions which seem to me to exist not so much as illnesses, but instead are misconstrued as such.  This sort of misguided perception threatens to slow, or even completely halt, our progress as a species.

How long can we get away with inventing mental conditions in order to excuse our dumb behavior patterns?

Seclusion: I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.  If one were to search diligently enough, one might find entire towns full of children who have been diagnosed with a condition which is aptly named “attention deficit disorder.”  While I do not deny the existence of this condition, I do highly doubt that the sheer number of cases diagnosed are, in fact, justifiable. 

electile dysfunction

[brought to you by The National Association of We're Just Asking For It...]

Is everybody ready? It’s almost time to play that silly game we involve ourselves in every four years or so. Keep in mind that while I do not consider myself an expert on politics, I do consider myself a relative master of pattern recognition.

Delusion: We the people. Yep, it’s nearly that time again, when the two party system engages in battle via television, radio and what is loosely termed “public debate.” This election, at least the choices seem a bit more colorful, if you’ll excuse the unintended pun. Personally, I find it rather exciting to see an African American candidate, with potential for female vice presidential candidates in the mix. This, at the very least, gives the impression of progress, in a manner of speaking. One must ask oneself, however, will this really amount to any measurable change?

Seems to me that no matter what color you happen to be, or what religious background you may have, or what sexual organs you possess, that if you make it far enough to actually run for president, you probably share many of the corruptible traits that any presidential candidate possessed. I imagine that they all have the same taskmasters, anyway.

erroneous

[...this has been a message from the emergency broadcast system.]

It is important to be aware of those times when we are in error.  It is on those occasions that our true character can be tested.  One’s response to such a realization, or whether the realization occurs at all, can speak volumes about a person’s dedication to that which can be deemed “true.”

I have, over the years, developed a particular fondness for finding myself in the wrong, and admitting it.  There are times, I will concede, that I still find it difficult to do so.  However, as this kind of circumstance tends to be one of our best learning mechanisms, the pride I hold for my ability to admit such a fault typically outweighs the difficulties associated with doing just that.