These are a few things I have written over the years... some of which I am proud of; some I am not so proud to have written. Either way, I, for some odd reason, felt that people may want to read some of the random stuff I have written.
On the sidebar menu, I have included a couple booklets of poetry I toiled upon. The first is filled with my most recent additions, which I quite enjoy. The second and third are filled with some of my favourites, which seem to be more depressing than the rest. The fourth is the lot of the more mushy, romanticized poems... a lot of which just plain suck. The fifth is not completed, and are all the left-over poems that did not fit in the previously mentioned booklets. For a printed copy of any of the booklets, either send me $20, or simply press Ctrl-P.
The Dark Sucker Theory
Rewritten and screwed up even more by The Unabeefer
For years it has been believed that electric bulbs emitted light. However, recent information has proven otherwise. Electric bulbs don't emit light; they suck dark. Thus we call these bulbs dark suckers. The Dark Sucker Theory proves the existence of dark. That dark has mass heavier than that of light, and that dark is faster than light.
The basis of The Dark Sucker Theory is that electric bulbs suck dark. Take, for example, the dark suckers in the room where you are. There is much less dark right next to them than there is elsewhere. The larger the dark sucker, the greater its capacity to suck dark. Dark suckers in a parking lot have a much greater capacity than the ones in this room. As with all things, dark suckers don't last forever. Once they are full of dark, they can no longer suck. This is proven by the black spot on a full dark sucker.
A candle is a primitive dark sucker. A new candle has a white wick. You will notice that after the first use, the wick turns black, representing all of the dark that has been sucked into it. If you hold a pencil next to the wick of an operating candle, the tip will turn black, because it got in the way of the dark flowing into the candle. Unfortunately, these primitive dark suckers have a very limited range.
There are also portable dark suckers. The bulbs in these can't handle all of the dark by themselves and must be aided by a dark storage unit. When the dark storage unit is full, it must be either emptied or replaced before the portable dark sucker can operate again.
Dark has mass. When dark goes into a dark sucker, friction from this mass generates heat. Thus, it is not wise to touch an operating dark sucker. Candles present a special problem, as the dark must travel into a solid wick instead of through clear glass. This generates a great amount of heat.
The Dark Sucker Theory is proven even better by the story of the creation of the world. There was already plenty of dark when God took some of it away. It is way easier to take away something existing than it is to make something new. God probably took some dark away and placed it over some more existing dark to form what we call a black hole. Where does all the dark come from? The black hole is just dark on dark, and dark on dark obviously creates unlimited amounts of dark. Therefore, the dark is produced by black holes at enormous speed and the dark suckers suck the dark at a slower speed. That is why there is a lot more dark in space than lack of it.
But why are there more natural dark suckers in space than there are dark producers? Because the more dark producers emit dark, the more dark there is. So the dark suckers suck all the dark, and, like the manmade dark suckers, they will run out of storage for the dark. That is why stars burn out. They are full of dark, and cannot suck any more. Once in a while, these natural dark suckers will suck way too much dark, and create another dark producer, or black hole. Thankfully, when they suck too much dark, it also sucks away more of the existing dark, leaving a space empty of dark. This creates another dark sucker, which will soon suck more dark from our universe. God has created a wonder in His never-ending cycle of dark.
Finally, we must prove that dark is faster than light. If you were to stand in a lit room in front of a closed, dark closet, and slowly opened the closet door, you would see the light slowly enter the closet. But since dark is so fast, you would not be able to see the dark leave the closet.
Thu Way Stuf Shud Be Spelt
Written 3.14.94
Have you ever noticed the complexity of the English language and the way we spell things? I want that all to change. For instance, why isn't "phonics" spelled phonetically? From now on, we call it "fonyks."
Our new system of fonyks spells absolutely everything fonetykly. So, instead of double consonants, we'l just use one, unles we realy need it to pronounce the word corectly. Next, let's just eliminate al apostrophes and other special punctuation. Wel just use periods to end sentences and triple periods for a pause. I see no need for the leter c. We dont need c for anything speshial. We kan just use the leter k or s.
So now weve goten rid of a lot of worysome leters. Lets kut of some silent vowels that are paired with with another vowel that doesnt sound right. We dont need e at the end of sum sertan words and sum vowls just dont seem right when you pronunsiat them. Lyk o and I yn words pronownsd lyk a u or y. Whats up wyth that?
Next we kyl sylent consonants lyk h and gh. Thys wil wyrk prety wel ryt? We just kut ar entyr letyr usaj yn haf. Shur yt may seem kynda hard at fyrst but just lyk any foryn langwaj ytul tak sum getyng yosd to befor we kan ryt fluwently. Yts al worth yt yn thu end. U sav a lot uf rum on yor papyr for mor wyrds and yt savs trys.
Unuthyr way tu sav rum ys to yus numbers yn plas of wyrds. I myself lyk 2 do that wuns yn a wyl. 4 a wyl tho I wastyd lots uf rum wyth thu wyrds for and to. I dont yus thos wyrds 2 ofen now das.
See ther U hav yt. Ar langwaj ys muj betyr than yt yusd 2 B. I lyk thys a lot and ar planyt wyl B a muj hapyer plas with fonyks.
The Right/Wrong Theory
Written 1.23.99
I have decided that I am always right. This is what scares me. I don't WANT to be always right. This means I can never be wrong, and now I have this big expectation to live up to. Also, this means people will come to me for advice... and I don't want to give directions. Thus, I am screwed. If I am always rights, someone else must always be wrong. And if someone's always wrongs, then there must be some guy out there who's always right. I pity that man. It would suck to be always right... all those people asking for directions. I'm glad it's not me. If it was me, I would rule the world with a steel fist. No iron for me. I've heard steel is much stronger. Of course, stealing is bad, so I guess I'll have to settle for iron. It'll match my lead foot. You can't even begin to imagine how hard it is to find shoes for lead feet. I have to wear cement shoes. Oh, by the way, Jimmy Hoffa says hi. I've begun to get a bit off-topic now. Which means I'm on a totally new topic. While I'm starting a new topic, I'd like to be the first to state that I don't like giraffes. They bug me. Always standing around eating the leaves that are really high up, as if to say "Hey, we can reach really far up here, and you're stuck down there killing things like us for food." It's that kind of blatant mockery that made us start eating cows. Those mean cows... Always mooing at us as if to imply we're some form of cattle. I laugh as I eat my cheeseburger. That's right, my cheeseburger. Of course it's right. I'm always right And no, I don't know how to get to Springfield. Find your own way, stupid.
Tediomorphism
Written 1.19.99
The principle of Tediomorphism is a very simple concept to understand. You may not have ever heard the word before, and that is because it is a fairly new principle. By the end of the twentieth century, we have noticed that as the more certain repetitive events occur, the faster they occur, and the easier and less stress bearing they become. This concept of "easier-as-it-goes" is now being referred to as Tediomorphism. Taken from the English words "Tedious," meaning "tiresome, wearisome, or fatiguing," and "Morph," meaning "to change."
In short, Tediomorphism is "the principle of a change from the state of being tiresome." Things that seem tiring, such as lifting heavy objects or typing, appear to be simpler and not quite as difficult as they used to be. What changed? The task has not changed, has it? No. The task is just the same as before. But something has obviously changed, because it seems much easier than before. This is what is called Tediomorphism. Things that once seemed hard are now very simple.
Language is tediomorphic. When you try to learn a foreign language, it is very difficult to properly use the accent or to speak fluently. As you learn more about it or speak it more often, the language comes out more smoothly. It gets easier for you to speak the language properly. Also, when a new word is introduced in our slang usage, such as "cool," it takes some getting used to, but after a while, you will find yourself saying that word incredibly often, even more so than you ever expected.
...not completed...
Computers: The War Against Reality
Written 11.17.98
Modern American society is based around three basic categories of people: those who can use a computer, those who can fix a computer, and those who make the computers we all use. This trickle-down of cyber-power is the same old class war, with newer technology. Same classes, but a lot less class.
This reliance on computers and the ever-changing technology has become unbearable. Philosophers and sociologists of the ages are turning over in their old cliched graves. How did these machines become such a necesity to every day life? No one but the senile old war veterans can even remember what life was like before computers.
Our lives are lived simply, at a computer console. You take a step out of the chat tomb, and take a deep breath of cyber-air. Stale and sweet, you choke on old memories of a 386. Ah, the "good old days" of dot matrix printers and floppy disks that were really floppy; of small 100 megabyte hard drives and 56k of memory... but no memories beyond that. Finding it difficult to believe in real cards, you conjure up another game of solitaire.
Fill out an online form and send some charity money to those poor unfortunate souls in smaller countries who don't have access to computers. How will they ever use the internet if we don't civilise their society for them. We don't want to keep their children in the streets playing, while we're launching missiles in their direction from our high-tech bunkers underground. That would be inhumane. Let's bring them into our virtual reality, where they can go outside from the safety of their own homes.
Always rebooting, but never disconnected, we've searched our way into a hole we can't hack our way out of. Honey, I blew up the world...
The Two Faces of Our Lives
Written 3.14.98
In my past experience, I've found that everyone has two sides to their inner selves. Often represented as "love" and "hate", each person has a good and a bad side. Most often, people will tend to use their good side, leaving the bad alone until their anger flares. There are some that succumb to their bad side and go on what we call a "mean streak." Despite what people say, it has been proven through thousands of years that people are basically two-faced, dual-natured creatures.
I have been through many experiences when this has come up, both in me and in people I know. Say, in the case of submission to authority that we don't like, we go along with any of his ideas, but when he's not around, we'll complain about how we don't like him or his ideas. This type of hypocrisy is common in large groups, where respect is a must-have when you're in leadership. As long as you think they respect you, it's okay, but when someone voices their opinion to your face, it's considered unacceptable and rebellious.
This has happened to me once, well okay, several times. I was under certain leaders that I disagreed with, and instead of saying bad things behind their backs, I told them straight out that I didn't agree. Most of the time, the leader told me to submit or leave, but once in a while, I found a leader that talked with me and found my problem. He then would help me work out any differences we had, and we both grew spiritually and knowledgeably. He became a better leader and I became a better follower. I also learned a few good things about leadership: what to do and what not to do.
Friends can end up being two-faced . . . especially when they're not really your friends. You think someone is your friend, but when anything happens to you or your reputation, in comes that bad side. All of a sudden, you have fewer friends than you had last week. All the "friends" you once knew are ignoring you, and there's only a few people who will actually talk to you. Once in a while, you may have a true friend, who sticks by you and remains your friend. That treasure can be very hard to find.
There are so many other ways that people are two-sided. Guys may do something nice, pet an animal or give a baby a lollypop, but their motives are to get this one girl to notice them and think they're sweet. Anything that a person does when they really don't want to, but they feel they have to, is dual-natured. A boy cleans his room, but he really wants to go outside and play. A woman makes copies for her boss, but she really wants to be at home reading a novel. Doing anything with an appearance different than what you feel inside is dual-faced. A person goes to an event and seems happy enough, cheerful and social, but when he gets home, all of a sudden, he's like a different person. He yells at his kids, thrashes about, sits down in front of the television and wants to be left alone.
Everything has two sides . . . people, actions, minds. It all has two natures, good and bad, love and hate, that we have the ability to control in some circumstances but don't even have the knowledge of in other circumstances. Many people are aware of these natures and have recognized them in forms of art. Music, poetry, painting, acting . . . they all celebrate the dual-natured humanity in some from or another. I, myself, don't believe any of what you have just read . . . and yet, I do.
An Untitled Observation
Written 6.6.00
Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me. The rest of the time, I wonder what's wrong with everybody else. There are a lot of really stupid people in the world, and they all seem to be telling me how stupid *I* am. Sure, I don't do well in school. I slack off on my homework, get C's and D's. It's not that I don't know any of it. It's simply that I don't care to do any of the shit work that is required of me to get a good grade. I don't rank myself on grades. I know what I know; I learn what I wish to learn. Everything I need or want to know, I know. Plain and simple. I have learnt more information, knowledge and wisdom, attributes that can be used in life, OUTSIDE of the classroom and textbook. Sometimes, I would read all the textbook that wasn't going to be covered in class simply because the topic interested me. I know more about the workings of governmental structures from reading books and my online news server. They say that "history is a way of not repeating the past" and that may be true. But if we end up repeating that past, then we obviously brought it on ourselves anyways. Why do I need to sit through a class to learn about the names of all these dead people that I am never going to meet, nor would I want to? Who needs to take a physical biology class, except for the people who are going to dedicate their lives to biology? I don't care about the growth life of a flower or the way genes are transmitted from frog to frog. So, I got a D in biology. That doesn't mean I am stupid. That just means that I suck ass in biology. I have gotten low grades in subjects I am good at too. That is simply because I didn't apply myself. I apply myself when I feel I need to apply myself. Every other time, I am just not into the busy work. That's not to say I am not interested in the topic. I payed attention to history whenever I would show up to class. (about a third of the time) I payed closer attention to the teacher than I do to my own pets. But when it came to writing a bunch of shit to PROVE that I know the subject, I just didn't feel it necessary. I know what I know. I know a lot. Hell, I know more than the average adult does. I do not see why a degree is necessary in life, especially since most of the people I have met with a degree don't have the first clue about what they are doing. I know what I am doing at all times. So many people are blindly pushing their way through life, just because they have been told that that is the only way to live. I would rather not worry about pushing and shoving through all the processes, but flow to wherever life takes me. Worrying about grades and what others think will only wear you out and kill you off nice and easily. I don't wish to stress myself out by proving myself to anyone.
Drifting
Written 11.7.99
His ship had been blown into the water, but the enemy hadn't finished him yet. Sure, he didn't have a life-vest, a raft, or anything else to float on. He was in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but the wet clothes on his back. For a while he tried to swim. "I can make it..." he thought. "If only I give it my all and try." Wasting his energy, he struggled to move closer to where he figures land might be. Struggling to safety, but to no avail. At last, he gave up. He lay on his back... floating... drifting... "At least I'm not drowning... yet." he thought to himself optimistically. Thousands of miles from any land, safety, or warm dryness of a fire. Strangely, he didn't think of any of this at all. The only thing he longed for was his love. He wished the girl he loved back home were with him. Sure, he didn't wish for her to go through ANY of this, but the only thing that he really longed for, yearned for, was her company. He suddenly realized that it didn't matter a bit where he was. He could be in a log cabin somewhere, and all that would make him truly happy was her company. He could be in the largest city, and his only happiness would be because of her. He could be out, floating in the middle of the ocean... he could be... he WAS out, floating in the middle of the ocean.
Suddenly, to his left, he felt a movement in the water... Was it a boat? No. It wasn't big enough to be any form of boat. Maybe a rock. Yeah... right... A rock... drifting in the ocean. "I've gone crazy," he swore to himself. He decided to find out what this thing moving alongside him was. Turning his head slightly to the left, he spotted the fin of a shark. "Oh crap." Jerking his head back up straight, he followed the movement of this shark out of the side of his eye. "Oh man. I'm a goner." His breathing grew slight but heavy. The inside of his head began to spin from the hyperventilation. And as quickly as it came... the shark was gone.
"Did I dream that? Did that just happen? How long ago was that anyway?" Confusing himself with time and facts... it had been merely minutes since the shark had been there, and it felt like days... years even. "I am SO not sane. What is this? I am driving myself crazy," he thought aloud.
A day passed. He hadn't eaten anything in a couple days. His lips were dry from dehydration. He wasn't sure if he should drink the water, or if that would just make it worse. He remembered something about that from his classes at the naval academy... just wasn't quite sure which one was correct. "Well, a bit of salt can't kill me, I guess... and I'd rather die of salt than dehydration." He rolled his head to the side and lapped up some of the bitter, salty water. "Ick... oh well. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger, I guess."
"I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't have stepped on that one boat. Would I be here? Most likely not... But where would I be? Maybe something else might have happened to me. I could be dead now. Or I might be back home... with my love by my side... in front of a warm fire. Ok, ok, I don't want to think about that. I won't let myself think about that. Wait. In thinking so hard about how I am NOT going to think about my life back home, I am making myself think about it that much more." He chuckled to himself. "Yeah. I've gone nuts. Some form of sea madness. Hmmm... So THIS is what if feels like to be crazy. Appealing."
Because he was so deep in thought, he failed to notice the ship that pulled up not even ten yards away. It was the middle of the night, so they hadn't seen him. Had he been aware of his surroundings, he probably would have noticed the large, well-lit vessel. But he continued to think... and the boat passed on by without even a single regard from the half-conscious castaway floating nearby.
"I wonder what it would feel like to die. I'm not going to try to find out. I might be rescued soon. If I am not rescued, then I will eventually find out what it feels like, but until then, I had better keep watch for any passers-by. Are my eyes open or closed? What time is it? If my eyes are closed, it could be day and I wouldn't know." He attempted to open or close his eyes, depending on what position they were in now. No such luck. Or had he done something but just couldn't tell? "If his eyes had opened he would have seen the stars or the sun... maybe. Perhaps he had gone blind. Why is he using the third person?" he thought. "What was that? Did I even HEAR anything?" He heard nothing but then solemn ringing in his ears. Everything was quiet. Off in the distance, he could still hear the lapping of the waves. It seemed so far away. About as far away as everything else. Not only was he drifting freely in the ocean, but he was drifting away from life and reality as he knew it. "Am I still floating?" he pondered. "Or have I drowned already? Maybe this is what it feels like to die."
What had happened to him? Was he dead or alive? Where was he? Would he ever see his love again? Would she ever see him again? Would he ever see ANYTHING again? Did he care? Why wasn't he trying to stay alive? Why was he just letting himself drift away? All these thoughts went through his head, and he didn't know the answer. Or did he know the answer but was too afraid to admit it to himself? Did he want to die? Did he want to live? Did he NOT want either of those? Was it his time to go? Has he gone? Maybe this was all just a dream, and in the morning he will wake up... safe... alive... home... and in the arms of the one he loves. Then again, maybe not.