Found That Song

In one of my previous stream of consciousness posts, I mentioned that I thought a couple of the lines were from a song. I found the song, it's All We Ever Wanted by Bauhaus. I think it might actually be a misquote. Now you know.

Science Goes Mad

...creates a twelve-assed jellyfish. I mean, twelve-headed jellyfish. No word on giant version of said monstrosity.

Getting Paid to Scare You

Picture this scenario. You're at the office working late, pretty much everyone but you and cleaning people have left, the whole office is pretty quiet. You're about finished up for the night, and decide to make use of the restroom facilities before leaving for the night. The lights in the bathrooms are off because the cleaning crew has already been through. You turn on the lights, walk up to the sink, and begin washing your hands. Then I come out of the stall behind you.

This tends to scare people, pretty dependably. It's also usually followed by an odd conversation like so:

coworker: "What are you doing in here with the lights out?"
me: "Whistling."
coworker: "What?"
me: "Never mind."

This isn't a daily occurrence or anything, but I imagine I find myself in this situation more than most people do. For those still wondering why I would be in the restroom with the lights out, it's because the cleaning people turned the lights out while I was in there. I also find myself scaring people rounding corners, or walking up behind them. This isn't just being startled, or pulled up short, it's often that jerking, flight-or-fight kind of response. Often followed by "Haha, you scared me.", to which I sometimes reply "Yup."

I've worked late hours for most of my working career. I currently work until 7pm, and quite awhile ago, I worked from 4 pm to midnight. Working these odd hours, I often find myself scaring people. During my graveyard hours it was much more frequent, but of course at that job only the secondary lights would be on at night making everything very dim, and I wore all black. I tend to move quietly, and quickly. Also, the cleaning crew there didn't even show up till 8 or 9 pm, and were usually there when I left. Mix all those things together, and I scared that poor cleaning lady at least once a week. I think she stopped listening to headphones when she cleaned my floor so that my sneaking up on her wouldn't be a given. She also probably thought I was crazy, which probably didn't help. Apparently, when I round a corner and come face to face with someone I wasn't expecting who lets out a small yelp, I feel compelled to say something. Working alone all night, I was usually lost in thought, and would just blurt out whatever I was thinking, like a Freudian apology. I would run into her and then say things like, "That's not true", "Automation", and "Bad monkey". Luckily I was able to break myself of this habit, and now I just walk right past people I've startled.

Giant Cannible Fish

How can you resist a science article with the phrase "oversized freaks" in it?

Also, I don't usually do sports news, because I don't have a clue what I'm talking about, but I came across this article about how two physicists say there aren't enough games in a baseball season for it to be statistically accurate, (i.e. the best team doesn't always win). My first thought was, "who cares, sports are supposed to be semi-random". I then immediately rethought that, isn't that the whole point of the season and the world series, to find out who's best? Do normal sports fans accept randomness as a part of the game, or is it because I recognize that it's random that I don't care about sports, unlike the fans? Hmmmm.

Booze And Sabotage

NASA probes sabotage; report says pilots flew drunk CNET News.com

Ever since the love triangle/hostage taking incident, there seem to have been a number of weird stories about NASA personel. What's going on with the space agency?

Sane Old Games

This is half stream of consciousness and half letter. I went through a period where I wrote a lot of stuff specifically for people I had known, but never sent them. I was angry when I wrote this, not because of anything that had happened, but because no one was willing to own up to what had happened. There was a period where anytime the people I knew did something they knew I wouldn't like, that's what they would tell me, "I did something you won't like". And that's all they would tell me. It was then up to me to guess all the terrible things they might have done. I got really good at it, which is not a skill you really want to hone. The things that had been done were easy to forgive. Having to name them myself was much harder. I also began to feel that there were unasked questions behind a lot of conversations. People had begun to walk on eggshells, and things became more guarded, which just made things worse. I was in an information vacuum, which is the worst place for me to be. Fear of the truth became a wedge, one much worse than the truth would have been. It's a lesson I've tried to remember. Of course, even the truth can dance sometimes, but direct questions deserve direct answers. Conversation became a game I didn't want to play.

(I just recalled a time years after this was written when someone who reads this was my room mate, and one day the first thing he said when I came through the door was "I did something you won't like", and it really freaked me out. Having become used to that sentence being followed by revelations like "I stole your parents car" or "I've committed crimes against humanity twice since brunch", I no longer consider it a good conversation starter, but it does make whatever you did seem insignificant when you get to it.)

Written: Winter 1998
There are echoes in the bedroom. The walls have become my ears for conversations I'm not having. I used to think I followed the storms. Now I think that they're following me. When will this pessimistic paranoia stop self-fulfilling? My name is a sickle and a seagull leaving ground. Nostalgia can kill. When you get blamed for something you haven't done, it makes you want to do it. But you don't owe me anything, and I've more than paid my dues to you. But that's not me. It's just what you expect to hear. I used to think that we were like the kids in cheesy movies. The ones that believe in something more. The ones that believe in forever. Would you be insulted if I thought I was the only one now? Should I be if you are not? Some things forgotten lovers should never hear, but I've written that so many times you've never read it. But when being completely honest, how can I accurately draw those lines? Doesn't that just bring us back to playing the sane old games? So I speak. Hinted at so frequently but never asked. Do you even want to know? If you do you should ask, or we're back to the games again. You always paused. Waiting for a response to you have yet to say. But I didn't know how much you wanted to hear. So I speak. And Yet there are still things I will not share without.

Who Do You Blame

Global warming is being blamed for all kinds of things, draughts, floods, hurricanes, mushrooms. Another thing we may be able to blame on global warming, is twenty years of lawsuits. The way "big oil" is generally demonized, I'm sure they'll get the treatment that "big tobacco" has gotten. Will gas pumps now come with a surgeon general's warning? "This product may cause climate change." Insert joke about lawyers and hot places here.

The Democratic YouTube Debates

I guess this was probably on TV (I wouldn't know, having no TV), but the YouTube debate is available online, along with FactCheck's corrections.

I do have one comment on something Gov. Bill Richardson said.

Question - "Does your health care plan cover undocumented workers?"

Gov. Richardson - "No matter who you are, whether you're a ditch digger, you're a teacher, you're a CEO, you're a waiter, you're a maid, every American deserves the right to the best possible quality health care."

Is that a no? You know, because undocumented workers aren't Americans yet. Ha ha, I outsmarted a governor. Yeah, I feel small.

I Forgot About The Space Trash

In my round up yesterday, I forgot to mention the space trash. The International Space Station had some junk they needed to get rid of. They pushed a 96 kg camera stand, and a 635 kg tank of ammonia away from the station and into orbit, where they are expected to eventually burn up on re-entry. While I suppose that's one way to get rid of stuff, I believe there are better options, especially given todays political aversion to burning chemicals in the atmosphere.

Option 1 - Make Another Moon, A Trash Moon
I've often wondered what the night sky would look like if we had more than one moon, and this seems like as good a way as any to satisfy my curiosity. If you're going to put trash in orbit, make it geosynchronous orbit, and just keep adding to it, like a space landfill (spacefill?). It might also one day give us a great platform for dropping peace bombs on others, or shooting them with lasers.

Option 2 - Throw That Trash Into Space, It's Right There
On the other hand, why put it into orbit at all? Why not just throw it directly away from the Earth? The universe is a pretty big place, and our trash is already in it, why don't we just put some more distance between ourselves and our junk? If you think about it, littering in space is kind of like peeing in the ocean. We could even aim the trash at the sun if that would make people feel better, but I don't really see the need, since the universe is expanding at an accelerating rate, we'll never see that garbage again. Yes, there is the chance that we could end up making first contact with another intelligent species by hitting them with our waste, but I think the value of being able to write that down in the history books far outweighs the social faux pa.

Stuff That Rudely Happened While I Was Reminiscing

Ever wanted to classify galaxies? Now you can.

Lifehacker has a nice list of government websites.

'Sweaty Feet' Orchids are a rare and precious resource. Heh, botanists crack me up.

From the "things I knew when I was 9" file, New Mexicans may have been exposed to radiation during atomic testing. Good work CDC, those are timely findings.

Birds bend rules of flight. Headline writer bends truth.

Scott Adams of Dilbert fame has an amusing take on presidential candidates and their haircuts.

33 Names of Things You Never Knew Had Names. There will be a quiz on Friday.

The 9th district court takes a beating in this amicus brief. I know you're going to read it, so I won't even tell you what it's about.

The New Republic has a terrible story supposedly told by a soldier using a pseudonym. The milbloggers are pretty upset about it and trying to find out if it's true or not. Anecdotal evidence so far makes it sound like it's been made up. The story certainly isn't impossible, but it does seem unlikely.

Parents worry about 16 year old daughter's relationship with 40 year school teacher. Teacher resigns from school, asks 16 year old to marry him. Teenage girl convinces suspicious parents to sign consent form allowing her to marry 40 year old ex-teacher. Parents turn around and sue the school district, losing all my sympathy. via: Overlawyered, a new blog I've been reading, which I find both entertaining and rage inducing.

Total lunar eclipse coming up. August 28th. Now you know.

If you like touching people, here's how to give a back massage. (hat tip: Lifehacker)

A giant duck has been sighted.

If you end up a prisoner in the Philippines, they will make you dance.

Whew.

What Is The Moral Of Your Life?

It seems like a disservice to Amie and Nolan to try to sum up my experiences with them in five days. Which, of course, is part of why I changed their names. What they wrote wasn't meant to describe who they are, but how they related to me at a complicated time in all of our lives. I think we each viewed ourselves at the center of events, and to a degree, we each saw those events differently. One of the things that struck me the most, was when Nolan said "They must see this." I think that sums up the whole situation. Egocentricity. Surely you must be feel what I feel, believe what I believe. It was a mistake we all made, one that I still make.

I wish I had something more profound to say about the whole ordeal. I guess I'll end the week with a poem that Nolan wrote before any of this happened.

Again

There is no thief like tomorrow
As empty as the splinters of an eggshell
I can sit and stare forever
And I can imagine this, right here, right now
I wander like shadows under strobe-lights
Bits and pieces of everything for a split second
Against the wall surrounding
And I can tear it all down, wherever, whenever

Signing Goodbye

[The last words from Nolan]
I have a strange fantasy about raising a beautiful child w/Omen and Amie. Their child.

Now I'm realizing. Where has my youth gone. I don't get giddy. I don't get hyper. Is this why I want a child. Has my mind grown old? Is this nature? Then why does that matter. Where I a now I can see why death was so immanent. I have become old. I didn't take long. I feel that I haven't genuinely laughed in years. Is this the loneliness I get from being so far away from Amie and Omen. Amie has youth. I think she may save our lives. I see Omen accepting it, embracing it. I feel that I may be making Amie older, or fear it. Then I don't know if that's possible. Marrissa was right about me needing to have more fun. I just came back from a party. It's about 1:00, very early. I can't enjoy myself around strangers with alcohol. The word doesn't even look right to me. I think that's how you spell it. I used to be able to. It's so hard for me to meet people this way. How did I do it before? I don't remember. I'm beginning to enjoy this self analysis thing. But this is not fun.

It is nice, sharing souls. Jealousy cannot exist.

I'm so alone tonight, my bed feels larger than when I was small
Lost in memories, lost in all the sheets and old pillows
So alone tonight, I miss you more than I will let you know
Miss the outline of your back
Miss you breathing down my neck
- James

These things I cannot say, but I know that it is easier to be alone when I'm by myself then when I'm with Amie and Omen.

[After this, Nolan presented what he had written to me and Amie, and we both read it. I think we all saw the end coming then. I received one more letter from Amie.]

Letter 4
2/26/1996
Dear Omen,

I'm sorry I couldn't talk this weekend. Bob was over, he wasn't happy. He has always suspected things between Nolan and I. Anyway, I wasn't trying to avoid you or anything. Also, I am sorry I missed your phone calls... pouty face :(

Nolan is acting strange around me, I'm not sure what is going on. I guess we are having communication problems again. I hope we can work through it. I hope he doesn't think it isn't worth the trouble anymore.

So, what are you doing for spring break? I might be going to Arizona :)!!!! I've never been West before. Anyway, I need a place to stay over break, so it's cool.

I've been missing you and Nolan lately. I've been studying my Buckland's Complete Book of Witchcraft. Meditation and Dreams. I'm trying to learn to take things better and communicate with you. I'm sure it will take a while. I haven't done this sort of thing in forever.

Everything seems to be going pretty good with Bob. Also, Tate and I are starting to become good, close, mutual friends.

Thank you for coming back to the Dorm and talking to me. I appreciate it and needed it. I was happy to know that you and Nolan were (are?) here for me.

I know this letter is short, but I've somehow bruised the muscles in my wrist and hands. My arm is starting to hurt. Well, I've got to go. Write me back, call, anything! I love you.

Amie

P.S.
I still want to form an energy circle!

[Our friendship was short lived after this. I think the last time I saw them I was driving them back from a restaurant, and I was singing this Quicksand song loudly.]

Scared Into Living

[Nolan's "With" continued...]
For some reason I kept thinking: I didn't feel the closeness. I hope it was/is already here. The same way one doesn't feel air. I kept thinking Joe & Amie need each other, so where am I. I'm one lost mother$#%@er. I need them both, now I see that. I need Joe to keep me sane and Amie to keep me alive. And so much more. I have built walls with barbwire inside. I've decided I am alone. I will end alone. Maybe it wasn't a decision but what's a good work I thought? believe? know?! I don't and maybe I didn't decide. Amie told me tonight that Joe (Omen) had asked With if he and Amie were to be together when the Ouija went to yes 3 times. I know they are to be together. Ashly just came in. I saw it coming. I know she knew. I still don't like her. I keep thinking I'm bound to Die empty & unfinished. Death doesn't usually cross my mind. I need to cry. I haven't in a long time. That night was also the first night I felt alone around Amie. I keep thinking: They are I'm not. I always wanted to be the 1st in my family to have a name. To go somewhere, less and less do I see that. I can't tell anymore if this is Depression or reality. I can't tell the difference. I love them both. I've never felt that before. Love. Love is Pain. I know I won't find anyone else who can come anywhere near Omen & Amie. That even sounds almost perfect. To add a Nolan to that is Perverse. I need a new name. But that doesn't matter. I don't want to die empty and unfinished, I don't want to be without. I don't want to lose Omen and Amie. I don't want them to lose me. Suicide, option? I don't think I can take my own life. I don't see a point right now. I need to cry. I can't. What the #*%^& is my deal with suppressing this. They must see this, I do feel left out. "I wonder why With didn't like you?" Amie asked. Maybe this. I don't know if I can stay sane or alive around them. For the first time I've seriously considered not going to Kansas City this summer. I've thought that I won't make it that far. If I do I hope it has answers. Omen called me today and said he feels lonely without me or Amie around. For some reason I don't think I would have helped. I hope I am not telling the truth. Amie is the happiest I have ever seen her. She keeps calling everyone Joe. I don't know if I exist. I think my purpose on earth may be done. Bring them together and Die. It seems so Bland. I don't want to lose them. I want them to see "sleep with me". I think the Irony may Kill me. I know now why I'm writing this. This is for them. I make my will right here on Jan 30th 1996.

Everything I own, have done, possess, thought, or felt belongs to Amie and Omen.

I still haven't cried. Am I not alone enough. I want to write more. I think I am totally dry. I feel empty. I feel unfinished. I feel clogged. I feel null. I feel useless. I feel so alone. I feel like changing the title of this book to “Without”; I don't think I can.

I keep picking this Damn Thing up. I don't feel much better. Just a little more explained. I think I may try to send some loneliness some me to Omen & Amie.

I'm not even quite sure if I want to die or not. How pure. I must be &$%#ing enlightened. I feel cheated. Yes, that sums it up best. Cheated. God Damn that Ouija board and I hope I'm wrong.

Irvin Downstairs got busted by one big ugly &%$#ing swat team. How #%$#ed. I was meditating trying to release some pain, and I heard a %*@#load of ruckus. I was waiting for gunshots. I seriously thought that I was going to die. My adrenaline has sort of quenched (suppressed, covered) my sorrow. I feel better alive. I don't think I needed to write this; just perverted inclination...

Yesterday I went to this ice arena with Amie. I watched her as she skated. I concentrated to hold her pain. I felt all of its sharpness swell into the side of my ribs then to my solar plexus. It was stressing. I concentrated it into my hands and released it on people walking by. When she came out she said she was hot so when she went back out I let the heat transfer. I burned. It was so very hot. Hard to hold even. I couldn't stay watching the whole time. So I released it on the bitchy mom with a crying child. She looked redder the next time I saw her after I sat down. I felt all the heat leave my body. My palms stopped tingling. I won't say if it was magic, coincidence or whatever. It doesn't matter. I felt better but I don't want to be an outlet. I need one. Amie let me read a journal entry about this relationship triangle and we talked. I think her mind is more at ease now. I don't know. That's all there is to it. I just don't Know. I just hope that they read this together it wouldn't seem right any other way. I don't want to be with them at the time. I don't think I'm going to die soon anymore. This relationship could be very good or evil and horrible. I doubt the horrible but I can see it as possible. I hope that we don't take communication for granted. Maybe we can read minds, each others at least but to talk and share words. To show feeling in articulation is to stay human in someways. I kind of like that feeling. I like mortality. This doesn't seem like a proper ending and since there really wasn't an actual beginning. I will leave it hanging. Maybe someone else will make another title page, and let some worries go. Worries that drain to much to mold into sounds. Or bits of happiness that are too precious to entrust to an ever fading memory. I call this book a door. I call the key my eyes. I can not give either away but I don't object to them being taken. I am not going to $@%# myself into belonging. I am, and that is good.

[As a matter of fact, I have let other people add more title pages, and more chapters to this book, and written some myself, but that's a story for another time...]

Cardboard, Destroyer Of Friendships

[We became fast friends, almost a month later things began changing. Unknown to me and Amie, Nolan had begun to chronicle events]
With
for Omen & Amie
I should have written this yesterday.
(But what is should?)
I suppose I can start with the gift. I really don't think this story actually begins. Or should I start here on this paper, about this book? It was given to me by a good friend at the time. She said that someone once said that valuable writings should be stored in nice books. I guess I never found my work that valuable or perhaps I found the hard, black and white, spotted covers of my composition books more fitting. The answers run together. I don't even know why I'm writing all this down. I just realized that this will all be written upside down. How unbelievable fitting. Well Annie gave me the Ouija board for my birthday last Friday (Jan 26, 96). Joe and Amie and I broke it out the next night looking for fun or answers or time to slip by a little slower at least for a while. No. I remember. We had just consulted the gods of chance [flipped a coin] about hanging around the apartment or going out. They said leave. I wonder if they knew. A conspiracy of the supernatural. How fine. We didn't know where to go and who better to ask than Mr Ouija. We lit my candle to keep tract of the spirits and I put in my Masochist Religion CD. The Ouija board spit out random letters & numbers. I suppose the spirit world is advance enough to use codes. Perhaps it was dialing or warning or just warming up. Joe recalled that the spirit should always be asked if it wanted to talk. It did. With, our spirit, made reference to Amie's dead grandmother. Who knows. It didn't like me because of a spirit named Luk. I'm not sure how I feel about that, I would like to talk to Luk. It talked abstractly about the soul. It responded to every word, every thought. I had never been pointed at by a Ouija board pointer. It was enlightening. In short the Ouija said we all shared one soul. I think With, the nameless spirit, rests now. The spirit left, the candle was gone, and the gothic cries slowed to stop. We lit cigarettes off of the last bits of flame. Amie felt nauseous. Joe went to put out the candle. I think it wanted to burn to its oblivion. Joe put it out again.

One of the Three
by James
You were one, one of the three
one in three must find some peace
You were one, one of the three
I need proof before belief
Oh well, you just knew they'd
come for you so it was suicide
Oh well, now you got just what
you want I hope you're satisfied
You were one, one of the three
Oh well, I guess you're not to
blame for what they've done to me
in your name
Oh well, It's a shame you got
so famous for a sacrifice
You were one of the three
Send forth your lamb to the slaughter

I suppose that must not make much sense. I feel it. That whole album talked at me that night. I wish I could write down all of it. Oh well. I realized why With didn't like me. It all seemed so crazy but so right. Joe and Amie stayed close that night. I wanted to be far away. I suppose I was. I tried to make it fit like it was a puzzle and not just beautiful information. I think I might have cried. They seemed to have a unbreakable bond. I seemed to stretch away. For the first time since I had known Joe I felt alone with him in the room. I had already felt the bond with Joe. We had discussed it. Amie and I had a bond of insanity cast in hate and dried in shared depression, understanding, and a trust that only comes from knowing exactly what about a person drives you nuts. My brain confuses me now. I've told them both that they're the only people I can see myself in a relationship with. That grinds me. I know but I can't accept. I think that's it. Simple, huh.

Letter 3
1/29/1996

Hello my 1/3 soul. How are you? I've gotten my energy to write, but my tummy is still hurting. [She had surgery] I just can't get this weekend out of my mind. I think maybe it was just a figment of my imagination, or someone else's. It all just seems so unreal. For some reason I can't help but believe it is true. I have this weird sort of inner peace - nirvana. Like although everything in the world seems wrong, everything in the world is right. Crazy hu?

I am at Tate's right now, he is in the other room doing his homework, I am alone in the living room watching a Cure video & writing you (obviously).

I wish I could remember what we talked about in my dream, it's puzzling me. I guess I can remember, I just don't know the words. I read your letter again, I guess All I can say about it is that I could Feel everything you wrote. I would say that I am sorry all this has happened to such a beautiful person - and in some sense I am, but it has made you who you are. I have been in some pretty crazy things, but nothing to that extent. Now we are watching The Breakfast Club. Teen angst movie. It's funny, but I'm trying not to laugh because it hurts my belly. I hate not being able to laugh. I guess I'll just learn to laugh on the inside.

I apologize if my letter is jumping around so much, I'm still not totally coherent. I must be going now. There are seven other people here trying to talk to me. I'll write you later, perhaps the next letter will be a little more interesting. Please write back soon.

Love, Amie
P.S.
I really feel close to you and feel as though part of me is gone when you are away. I think of you always. It sees so strange after knowing you for such a short time. Is that strange? Should I be feeling this way? I feel kind of unsure or over-attached. Scared. How do you feel?

Well, it's still the 29th, almost the 30th. I laid down for a while & now I feel better.

I was married once Also. Chase may think it was a Joke, but we were both serious. I told you about him. I'm not sure why we aren't still together. I still love him and think he feels the same. I guess he is just to young. Not in the sense of years but in the sense of experience and knowing. He is a very sad individual, I hope everything works wonderfully for him. He cried and said he envied me because I have me you and Nolan and Liza. I told him he should just open up. I don't know. I'd rather not think of it right now, it's a waste, everything will work out. This is one thing I am totally sure of.

I sort of miss you, I know that you are still with me. I guess it's not really missing, just looking forward to the 3 of us seeing each other again. You'll have to remember to introduce me to Elmo, or whoever it was that wanted to meet your pen pal. I am really looking forward to Kat (is that how you spell it?)

Like All Catastrophes, It Began With A Pen-Pal

[A Blasphemous Punk Rock Pen-Pal. This was my introduction to Amie, I saw a lot of myself in her, she was just more... uncensored.]
Letter 1
Jan 9, 1996
Dear Joe,

Hello curly haired boy, I bet you thought I wouldn't really write. Well here it is, the letter you've been waiting all your life for, or not. I don't know you too well so I'm not sure what I will write about, but I'm sure I will come up with something.

By the way, What in the hell is your last name? I was reading your poem and trying to read your last name and I couldn't. Not that last names mean much, what it really is doesn't matter to me, it's a name that you probably was given to you by generations of a family that you had no choice in accepting. What bothered me was the fact that I couldn't read it. I guess I may seen anal retentive but that Kind of stuff Drives me crazy.

Your poem, however, is really good. I'm glad you gave it to me I like it. I don't mean to sound like an English teacher, but it has great imagery! I guess It's OK for me to Say that since I am an English major.

Maybe I should tell you about myself, I'm sure your very anxious to hear about me! :) Lets start w/the silly things. Well, I guess everything is a little silly isn't it. Anyway, I'm 19 human years old. Actually right now I am 19 years 3 months and 3 days old. Its around 7:45 pm right now so that would at 12 hours. In spite of what age I am I feel physically 7 yrs old, playful, lighthearted and probably very ignorant of a lot of things, also, I don't care enough to be polite (typical 7 yr old) So maybe that means I'm "immature", but who cares? I also feel like I'm built like a 30 yr old who has already had 3 children. But that is because I am free of the health fad :). I also feel like a 19 yr old, slightly stressed over trivial things and curious about sex, pretty much willing to try anything. Not to sound conceited, but compared to a lot of the people that surround me, I feel, I guess "older and wiser" opening my eyes and mind to everything. I think maybe if people looked past my outside appearance, my silly "air headed" attitude, they would see a beautiful Intelligent, artistic, sexual, "young" woman. Unfortunately, too many people suffer from ethnocentrism to look inside.

A lot of the way I feel about myself I have Nolan to thank for. After absolutely hating each other, to having a, what I consider, close friendship. He showed me that I am Somebody special. He didn't have to say it though. I suppose most everyone is special, just in different ways. Most of the people I meet hide it very well. :(

I love little kids, they have so much to learn, and teach. I worked with them either by teaching art, Ice Skating, or Just being a nanni since 7th grade. The way they are born though, doesn't seem natural.

I am very excited about moving to Kansas City, I imagine it will be a good experience for me. I wrote a poem about myself, I'll share it with you... just don't laugh, it's slightly elementary. The day I wrote it I was looking out the window and decided I would close my eyes, and open them, the first thing I saw I would compare my self to, it was a tree. (I think a rose bud.)

I am a tree -> I am strong and tall
My arms reach up -> Nothing is there
The wind blows -> I Lose my life
My life regains -> The wind comes again
I grow up -> I grow out
I am stuck -> I can't leave
I observe my surroundings -> Horrid, tedious, dull.
It's Hot -> I shade
It's cold -> I freeze alone
I go unnoticed -> But I still live
I am alone, I am strong, I am me -> a tree

Remember, your not supposed to laugh. :) I wrote another poem. You are allowed, almost expected, to laugh at this one.

"Escape to Country Kitchen"
I sit at my favorite restaurant
Not happy, sad, or angry... content.
I write, read, eat, Drink, and smoke.
I ponder over everything that comes to mind.
Sometimes I am joined by others
It doesn't matter to me, It's my vacation.
Away from home, work, school.
A time alone, or with friends
It may seem sad that this Is my Dream vacation
But it's mine, warm, nice, inexpensive.
People are nice and serve me (They are paid to)
It's better than Hawaii, less stressful.
No air fair, travel agents, or hotel accommodations.
Just a dollar, and a cup of coffee.

There is some weird guy sitting near me. He is eating like a horse, steak, fries, onion rings, potatoes, corn, wine, and dessert. He is gorging out, even chicken fingers. He acts like it's his last meal, I wonder what the Story is?

Well, I'm finished writing. Feel free to correct any grammatical or punctuation or spelling errors. The letter may seem to be pointless babbling and may not make sense, but it doesn't matter. It's my letter and I wrote it as much for myself as for you. I hope you enjoy it. If you get around to it, I'd love for you to write back. It's your turn to tell me about you! (If you truly have no secrets) I will look forward to hearing from you. :)

Sincerely
Amie
(The greatest ACTRESS of all.)
The stage however, is questionable

Letter 2
Dear Joe,

Hello, how are you? I am doing pretty good. I got in a fight the other day, it was with this stupid country gangster girl is Ashland. I hate fighting.

Right now I am in History class. The teacher is good, but I'm not really into it today. I guess I am Just kind of Down. About what? The world is over - chaos exists now more than in the day of the caveman. (political correct = cave person) I want chaos, but not organized chaos - oxymoron? Civilized? I wonder what that is, not 1996 I know that! Dying, Growing - weakens, strengthens, Hypocritical world. Everything is true and a lie. The world is not a stage - we players. I am a player -> actress. The world is my audience. Learning what???? God is not religion! I am religion! I am "Barbed wire laughter." I a cancer, a tumor, spreading, or trying to. $#*%ing Doctors stopping me, killing my growing life. Does that make any sense??

I wrote a poem. Do you want to read it? I know you do! But not yet. I'll stick it in and the end of the letter. I'm not going to write it in now, I don't want it to seem as though I'm using it to take up space because I don't know what to write.

Honestly, I don't know what to write. It is strange writing you when I haven't received a letter from you to go by. Oh well, I shouldn't worry about things so much.

Do you like school? I hope so. It would make me feel better if everyone didn't hate school. I actually kind of enjoy it. The students I don't like, but that's because most of them are fashion majors.

So, are you looking forward to seeing me? I don't know why, but I always look forward to hearing from or seeing you. I know you don't have any secrets, but I do. Except when it comes to you. I feel like I could say anything to you and it would be O.K., like you wouldn't hold anything I said against me. Am I right?

Joe, I a so very tired. It is almost impossible for me to keep my eyes open. I hope this letter isn't to hard for you to read. I feel like I haven't slept in days. I guess I really haven't actually. God this class sucks!!!!! I wonder what time it is, how much longer I have in this hell hole. I am exhausted I want to go to sleep. I Don't Mean to just Sit here and Bitch but I can't seem to help myself.

Have I told you how glad I am that we've decided to be pen pals? I'm just rambling on so you'll have to excuse me.

My mind hasn't been working well the last few days. I'm afraid I might be going insane. Every thought or emotion I have I uncontrollably analyze. I find myself trying to understand peculiar things. I can't help it now, it seems as though the world is ending. I'm not depressed about it though, I am absorbing it, living it, asking for more. It's some sort of strange rush for me. I want hell to totally break loose from beneath us and take over Earth all at once. It has already started, just little bits at a time. I want it ALL. Now!!!

Nothing around me seems real anymore. I am Dating Tate for convenient reasons. I do like him and all, but he isn't the "one" He is just another passing victim. I like his friends. I get along with them well. I'm scared though. I have no time for myself anymore. Used to, everyday I would have at least 2 hrs to myself to write or Read, Draw, whatever I wanted. Now I don't have time, and when I do, I do nothing. I miss my private times.

I had just begun to think that I was controlling my own life. WRONG! Some "Higher" being is controlling me. I've lost my values and priorities to something, but I don't know what it is. I want to take this "Higher" being on and say "$@#% you! Let me go, take the bondage gear of me and let me be Free!" But he won't. Every once in a while the rapist will loosen up the cuffs and make me believe I am in control, then he grabs me and $*#% me again.

In my life and torn and try to control the weak around me -> Tate. He has become somewhat attached to me, but I can't get close to him. He won't let me, so I can't #*($ him. I don't want to. For some reason, unless it's a one night stand I Feel like I must have some sort of emotional or mental connection with him. I sound like a Hippie, oh well. The 2 times I have @#*$ him it's been out of Hatred, For myself and For his weakness.

If I seem overly joyful and Happy at the party, it's a lie. Denial. Cause I don't know how else to be. Well, this brings me to the end of my letter. I hope it wasn't to Horrid. You must try to excuse my spelling. Now, my poem.

[The last page is missing sadly.]

Full Frontal Crazy

This is a book.

A book called With.

These are some letters.

I had been looking for this book, and these letters, since shortly after I started this blog, thinking it would be neat to share these with you all. Then I found them, actually read what was in them, and had some serious second thoughts about that whole plan. This is a pretty personal story. It's so personal, I'm going to change the names of the people in it, because I'm pretty sure the other people involved wouldn't want this story told quite so publicly. Using this handy random name generator, I'm going to call them Nolan, and Amie.

Next week, I'm going to share with you what what was written in these. I didn't write any of it, but it's about me, and some people I knew. I refer to this time period, as one of the soap operas of my life. That makes next week "Soap Opera Week". Because both Nolan and Amie were writers, this is the only documented soap opera from my life, and I think it's probably the only way I could share a story like this, through other people's words. Some of you will be able to relate to this story, to varying degrees. Some of you will think I'm nuts, and the people I hang out with are nuts.

There are two reason I decided to go ahead and share this story with you. First, this should give a unique view of who I used to be, and how the people in my life perceived me. I hope that won't be confused with who I am now, but it is something that made me who I am. Second, I'm sort of testing my own conception of how useful being completely honest and open about yourself is. It actually mentions in one of the letters that I claimed I have no secrets, I'm not sure if that's still true. Plus, there's less than a dozen people that read this blog, and most of them knew me back then anyway, so it really doesn't seem like that big a deal. I guess we'll see.

Giant Animal News

Giant squid on beach, I think that's the most boring giant animal.

For anyone thinking of a calamari feast, Walker-Smith said giant squid contain high levels of ammonia in their bodies as a buoyancy aid. “It would not taste very nice at all,'' she said.

Less boring, there was once a giant bird that weighed 150 lbs, with a 20 foot wingspan. The article discusses how it was capable of flying.

Stuff Keeps Happening, I Keep Having Opinions

Best headline ever.
Here's a better story about what happened, headline not as good.

Exercise Stimulates Brain Growth.
The growth is in the hippocampus, which apparently has an antidepressant affect. The next time you're weeping like an infant, go for a jog. If it doesn't cheer you up, at least it will freak out your neighbors.

There seems to have been a rash of stories lately over-hyping privacy concerns caused by search engines, a lot of it directed at Google. Search engines have been around for quite awhile, almost all the privacy issues being brought up now are not new, and they aren't that big a deal if you use some common sense, and educate yourself about privacy on the internet. I think people just like picking on industry leaders. Which sucks, because it gives people that don't know any better the impression that switching search engines will protect them. Remember, headline writers a devil whispering into one ear that just wants to sell you the story, and the other ear has an iPod headphone stuck in it. In other news, could your neighbors lawn ornaments be poisoning your children? Check back tomorrow to find out!

Procrastination: Ten Things To Know
The article is actually pretty good, but as I was reading it, this is sort of what I was thinking:
(ten things edited at my whim)

1. They don't pay bills on time. They miss opportunities for buying tickets to concerts. They don't cash gift certificates or checks. They file income tax returns late. They leave their Christmas shopping until Christmas eve.

Check, check, check, ....

2. And there may be more of it in the U.S. than in other countries because we are so nice; we don't call people on their excuses ("my grandmother died last week")

Jesus Christ! Dead relatives can't be used as excuses anymore? What the hell do I do now?

3. "Telling someone who procrastinates to buy a weekly planner is like telling someone with chronic depression to just cheer up"

Wait, is there advice in here somewhere?

4. Procrastination is learned in the family milieu

What does milieu mean? Eh, I'll look it up tomorrow.

5. Procrastination predicts higher levels of consumption of alcohol among those people who drink.

Is this the advice?

6. Procrastinators tell lies to themselves. ... In addition, they protect their sense of self by saying "this isn't important." Another big lie procrastinators indulge is that time pressure makes them more creative. ... they only feel that way. They squander their resources.

Where's my corkscrew?

7. Procrastinators actively look for distractions, particularly ones that don't take a lot of commitment on their part. Checking e-mail is almost perfect for this purpose.

I like duin thish blogg.. u guys r all great. Dont changE! lik ever

9. There are big costs to procrastination. ... compromised immune systems as more colds and flu, more gastrointestinal problems. And they had insomnia. ... destroys teamwork in the workplace and private relationships

Wait, did I skip one? Eh, I don't care at this point.

10. Procrastinators can change their behavior—but doing so ... doesn't necessarily mean one feels transformed

That's it? Well thanks doc, I feel real motivated now. Well done.

Ginormous

Ginormous is now in the dictionary. There's actually about 100 new words that were added, but that one is the most cromulent.

Copyright Infringment In Court's Opinion

Viewing copyrighted material on YouTube seems to be invading all corners of American society. In a recent judgement by the seventh circuit court, a judge provided a link to a video about George Brett's "pine tar" incident, and apprently the MLB asked that it be taken down.

Hat Tip: Seventh Circuit Opinion Cites Infringing YouTube Video--Stoller v. Brett

Free eBooks

The World eBook Fair is going on this month. Who can pass up free ebooks?

Second Annual World eBook Fair: July 4th to August 4th

• 620,000 Free eBooks + ~110,000 Commercial eBooks


• Grand Total about 3/4 Million Total eBook Files Available


• eBooks in over 100 Different Languages!


• Created by Contributions from 150+ eLibraries Around the World


• Last year 1,000 newspapers carried this story when 1/3 million eBooks were
  offered free of charge at The First World eBook Fair.


• This year there will be twice as many eBooks!!!


• Last year The World eBook Fair gave away about 1 million eBooks a day for 30
  days between July 4 and August 4.

Speaking Out Both Sides Of My Mouth

ZOMG! I CAN SEE FOREVERz!
OK, now that that's out of the way...

Throwing Away More Trash
I once took a Public Speaking class. Speaking is easy, I was in drama for four years in high school, I had the lead in a couple plays, talking in from of people never bothered me. Trying to come up with something to say though, that's always difficult. This was a night class, so there were only about 20 people in the class, and it was a fairly disparate group. How do you pick topics to speak about to such a group? Well, you cover the stuff you're familiar with, because that takes the littlest effort. I spoke about AIDS & HIV, having gone through Teens TAP, I was pretty familiar with the topic, so why not. I also spoke about how my mother was HIV positive, to pull on those emotional heart strings. No one gives an F to the kid whose mother is dying. After class, someone gave me this:

Ah yes, herbal immune boosting secrets from strangers I met at a public college night course on how to talk so good. I'll be sure to pass that along to my immune deficient mother. Actually it was sweet of her, and I did think it was a nice gesture to make, but I would just like to say that I am not giving medical advice, and if you kill yourself following these directions, our gene pool thanks you.

After a few more speeches, I ran out of the familiar. At this point I fell back on my stand-by method for making decisions. Do whatever amuses me the most, that usually means weird topics. I gave speeches about how to read tarot cards, how modern religions stole their holidays from older and stranger holidays, and nonviolence. I have my notes from the nonviolent speech. It basically boiled down to saying that violence sucks, and that nonviolent people can do something about it, like setting themselves on fire. Then I read a poem about gassing woodchucks.

I'm not sure why I did these kinds of things, I think it was because I was depressed and/or bored. I suppose the last speech was one part me acting out, and two parts me getting a kick out of trying to be ironic with no one noticing, or maybe that's the same thing. I also have the notes the teacher gave me for this speech. This may vary well be the greatest commentary I have ever received. When you read this, pretend this is someone grading my life, instead of a speech.

Dance, Puppet, Dance!

Once upon a time I drew a puppet. A puppet with, uh, jousting poles for arms.

It seems like I drew this puppet a lot, but this was the only picture I could find. And his arms only show up in the reflection of his eyes, which is kind of annoying.

And then there was Pictaps, and I was amused.

I can't seem to find a way to get Blogger to play nice with the flash object if it can't be displayed, I'll figure it out later, but for now if you don't see the Pictabs movie, you can try viewing it here.

I Wish My Life Was Recorded

I tend to hold on to things. You may have figured this out from the 15 year old Teens TAP material I was able to produce. Hey, look what I found, I got a certificate too!

My pictures are coming into focus.

Having all this stuff around, is kind of unnecessary. I don't really need boxes of the past, when I can put my past online, and throw the hard copies away. That lets me get rid of my junk, but still have something to refer to in case I ever suffer from amnesia. The problem is, so much of it doesn't make sense anymore. I have lots of pieces of things, and I don't really remember how they're supposed to fit together. For instance, this letter I wrote, sometime around 1998:

This is a letter I wrote to Fideleus. I have no idea who that is. I signed it Bode, which I think is something from mythology. It is also typed, that's kind of weird. I must have been at work, but why type it, why not just print it out? It's almost like a riddle. What does it mean? Why did I do it? Doing a couple searches, I find interesting quotes like these.

April 29, 1841.

I said that Bode placed Homer in the tenth century before Christ, and Orpheus in the age just preceding, say the thirteenth century before. CHARLES WHEELER said that late discoveries proved that there was a complete knowledge of electricity among the ancients. There were lightning-rods on the temple at Jerusalem, and they are described by Josephus, who however does not know what they are. Caroline Wells Healey Dall (1822-1912)

Hmm, intriguing. I do like the coincidence of my name being in there. Nostalgia always makes me feel a little mystic anyway.

Fideleus Charm- A spell which hides a person(s) completely, and they can't be found except by their "Secret Keeper."

Thanks Harry Potter, I'll take that into consideration. Now please stop traveling through time to steal my thoughts for your books.

This is what happens when I start going through some of my old things. So many of the things I've collected are vague enough to sound like there's a deeper message in them. Of course, the meaning I do find, is only what I can get from it today, in this moment. But I've lost what it was at that moment that I wrote it. I worry that these bits and pieces of my life are tokens of all the mistakes I've made, but I've forgotten what those mistakes were, and now I'm doomed to repeat them. I need better fidelity, more focus. But would that really help, or would I just fall even further inside my own navel? Surely if we must remember history on a global level, then the same can be applied on a personal level. Which would be a problem, as I've been a terrible historian, and memories make for poor parchment.

Music For Myself

I bought an iPod last week. I have finished loading music on it, and I am paradoxically impressed that my music collection contains 3,123 songs, and disappointed that over 9 straights days worth of music fills less than half of my palm sized device. My entire musical library can now join the electro-magnetic warfare in my pants. And no, I will still not be downloading music, even using iTunes. I crave jewel cases and little booklets with pictures and lyrics. Downloading music is like drinking wine from a garden hose. I could probably expand on that, but I've gotta go sip on some music.

Blow To The Head

Unfortunately I rarely dated most of my old stuff, so the further back I dig the more of an estimate my dates become. I decided to pull out a couple of items with guest contributions. I'm sure they never imagined that what they wrote would end up on the internet one day when they wrote in my journal. I really didn't either.

Written: Fall 2003

I didn't bother trying to translate the foreign language text in the video. If this is some awful propaganda or something, please let me know.

Mars Rovers My Die Slow Robot Death

A giant dust storm on Mars may empty the batteries of the solar powered Mars rovers, which apparently could put them out of commission for good.

SPACE.com -- 'Scary Storm' on Mars Could Doom Rovers: "In exactly two weeks, the larger dust storm ballooned from 230,000 square miles (600,000 square km) to its present size at nearly 7 million square miles (18 million square km), said Michael Malin of Malin Space Science Systems in e-mail interview. In just a few days, however, its smaller counterpart has emerged as a 3-million-square-mile (7.7-million-square-km) dust bowl. Together, they cover an area larger than the United States, Canada and Greenland combined."

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

New Drug Deletes Bad Memories | LiveScience: "Do you have a really bad memory, or past heartache, that you would prefer to forget? Researchers at Harvard and McGill University (in Montreal) are working on an amnesia drug that blocks or deletes bad memories."

More News Items - Brain Is On Vacation

Giving BFE A New Meaning
Refugee flees Sudan for Israel, despite rumors | Jerusalem Post:

"'I would rather that the Israeli government shoot me here, in a clean, humane way, than send me back to Egypt. To send me, and my children, and my wife back there is to sentence us to a cruel and violent death,' Peter said."

Somehow, Israel ends up being condemned by Amnesty International in this story. Can't we cut them some slack already? Maybe condemn Egypt instead?

Now That You're Done Blowing Stuff Up
A few days late, here's something patriotic for your consumption.

God Warms Up To Science
The article talks about how science doesn't appear to turn people off God, it's just that church goers dislike lab coats. But that may be turning around, as young scientists are more churchy.

No Longer Smoking, Wondering Why
I quit smoking about a month ago. So far I stopped sleeping, gained 20 pounds, seem to have developed social anxiety disorder (or it just went into overdrive), and generally feel like crap. I can breathe without wheezing though. Congratulations sound ironic.

All The Little Stories That Couldn't

In Friday's stream-of-consciousness post, I mentioned that I never felt the need to write something happy, that only happened with darker emotions, and I used it to "release pressure". Apparently on that same day, I missed an article that describes how putting negative emotions into words calms the brain's emotion center. Of course, I wouldn't use the word negative. The article discusses meditation in particular, and mentions the importance of 'labeling your emotions' to provide this control. I think I would use the word "express" rather than "label", while I'm sure self identification is important, there does seem to be a need to creatively express the feeling in some people, rather than simply verbalize it. So, if you feel like you need creative inspiration, stop talking about your feelings, and start bottling it all up. Also, don't take advice from strangers on the internet.

The drive to abbreviate has resulted in a free database's unfortunate moniker, freebase. I would be afraid to discuss this software on my cell phone, or use a search engine to find it.

In giant-sized-animal news: Giant Penguins. Unfortunately they're extinct, as of 30 million years ago.

This coming Saturday is 07/07/07. This is the last year you get to pretend like the matching of number on a calendar we made up to begin with means anything to anybody. If I hear anything from 08/08/08 to 12/12/12, I'm kicking you in the shins.

There is a new reigning champ for the World's Ugliest Dog. This is bound to end up in your email at some point.

This interview with a crazy person I found entertaining. I would like to state that this person is not representative of gamers. At all.

Well, ok, maybe a little, I may have had a conversation about elves once or twice, but generally not so much.

Instructional Videos

A different take on surface computing:

And:

VideoJug: How To Give A Great Man To Man Hug

Hat Tip: My Dad

A Thousand Different Floodgates

The days of print news seem to be limited. I think most people have seen this coming for a while, with digital distribution having so many advantages over print it seems fairly inevitable. The major advantage being how quickly news stories can be brought to the audience. Other print media that is not as time sensitive, such as magazines and books, are probably not in as much danger, and will probably stabilize around a hybrid offering of both print and online products.

While speed may be an advantage, I'm not sure it's better. The time between an event taking place, and the news story becoming available can be measured in minutes instead of hours. Vetting a story has now become a follow up task. Rumor, allegations, and unverified sources have become news worthy. Generally, this unverified information will be what people hear first, what they remember, what gets discussed around the water cooler. How often do people try to verify the facts of a story themselves, or check back a day later for updates?

When I was in school one of my teachers warned his students to "beware those who control the information floodgates", perhaps one of the most important things I learned. Those who produce the news get a lot more information than they can report to the audience, and they have to decide what is or is not newsworthy, and at the same time, decide how a story should or should not be portrayed. I didn't realize how important that was at the time, I really wasn't that interested in news stories then, being almost entirely inwardly focused. As current events began to attract my attention, I recalled his advice, and began looking for the other side of the stories I was seeing on TV, and there always was one. Usually, the truth was much clearer to me when seeing both stories. I came a cross an interesting interview between Hugh Hewitt (a conservative radio host) and Thomas Edsall (a liberal, author, and former senior political analyst for the Washington Post) about bias in the media, which of course, is the main problem with the information floodgate.

As the primary source for news moves online, what affect will that have on the quality or trustworthiness of the news we get? The internet has already had some affect on media, the Rathergate episode being the most prominent one I can think of, though there are others that didn't get as much attention. It also has given us much greater options for where we get our news. We can pick and choose among thousands of news sources now, though that may just muddy the water. One of the trends that seems to be occurring with young males is using social media as a news source, such as Digg, Reddit, and the new Thoof. However, these types of services like Digg & Reddit where news stories can be voted up and down means that if you're only reading the popular news, then the information you're getting is passing through two floodgates, the first being the original editors, and the second being your fellow readers. Site's like Thoof which attempt to tailor the news to suite your tastes, mean that you man your own floodgate, which may be like putting blinders on. If the trend for the future is "personalized news", where the information you get is stuff that you're already going to agree with, then the internet really wouldn't have promoted the free exchange of information, but only the convenient perpetuation of ideology.

This is the kind of thing that provoked the Fairness Doctrine, which some legislators have been asking for the return of. I can understand how this may have been useful in the 50's, when consumers options for information were limited, this could be used as a protection for citizens, to ensure that the information floodgates were not being abused. But that certainly isn't the case now. Does anyone really think that American citizens don't have access to the information from both sides of controversial public policy debates? If those citizens choose not to listen to the other side of the debate, do you really think you can force them to by legislating it? We certainly aren't suffering from a lack of options these days, but could we be headed towards a system that encourages people to limit their news exposure? Customized information is certainly being promoted, and since those controls are being placed in your hands, that's really a question you have to answer for yourself. Do you want the internet to be a mirror, or a window?