Nothing

So astronomers have found a huge chunk of space with nothing in it.  No stars, galaxies, black holes, dark matter…just nothing.  A void with absolutely nothing exerting any force on anything.  Now, if they can just prove that it’s the center of the universe, followers of zen will have a perfect metaphor for their teachings.

I do find it fun to imagine what it would be like to be present in the emptiness(thereby no longer making it a void, I know) to look out and simply watch everything as it goes about it’s business.  Not like a god, but as a witness to the dance of the universe.  Watching everything, yet being nothing.

Ow…head…hurting…

I’m such a sci-fi geek, my mind swirling with possibilities of how this can be worked into stories…

Perhaps it could be a futuristic prison: with no gravity and possibly no light reaching the region, it could be a labyrinth from which the can be no escape.  Like that created by Daedalus for the Minotaur…

No, really…

When I started this little experiment, I tried to make myself believe that I was going to post every day.  Well it’s clear that that lasted for what, maybe a month?

Well, I’m hoping that soon I’ll be able to at least bring quality over quantity.

Owch!

There’s a video game in Japan that is a bit too interactive for my taste.  It’s an arm wrestling simulator that increases skill and strength as you progress through the game.  Well, that sounds nice until you learn that the final level(s) are responsible for a few broken arms.  Ahhh!  I’m competitive and all but ehmnnn…the thought of fighting a machine, for fun, that’s programed to that strength/intensity…

I’m squeemish about broken bones as it is.  Nope.  I bow out to the robot on this one.

Terminology

I’ve been searching for an adjective to describe myself or to be more precice, an aspect of my life.  Allow me to explain:

My primary means of transportation is my bicycle, and I enjoy it very much.  It gets me connected to the journey, keeps me active and to be honest, I just like to ride.  The difficulty for me is that there is no term which captures this lifestyle.  I’m not a cyclist or cycling enthusiast(which I equate with the spandex clad road warriors), nor am I involved in BMX, trail or other extreem forms of bicycling(and I’m not against or ridiculing these activities, I just don’t engage in them).  I commute.

When I tell people I ride, I watch as a wave of confusion washes over them as they run through the recreational options and the eventually get to, “You bike from place to place?  Oh…” and the the look of pity as if I’m some reject unable to secure an automobile.  Yet that is not the case, I just love to ride.

How then, to describe my utilitarian use of this mode of transport?

So far the best I’ve come up with has been to repurpose the term “Commie.”  It does seem so suit me as I’ve decided to link it to not only to the commute from a to b, but the communion with the route and the road and(to get grand) the world.  Your linked to the world more on the bike(and be careful there too, as many assume that you ride a motorcycle and are confused when they ask if it’s a Harley and you tell them you ride a Kona/Schwinn/whatever).

For now I can think of nothing better to describe this aspect of myself, and I do like taking a word linked to negativity and, at least for me, making it positive.

Fundamental

One of the days I looked forward to in elementary school was RIF(Reading Is Fundamental) day.  For those of you unfamiliar with this wonderful program, it is a day when children are given the opportunity to select a book of their choice(out of what has been provided/donated), and then they get to take it for free.  Oh, the glory of a new book.  The smell of the pages is amazing.  The sense of discovery and the anticipation of a new world about to unfold.  I would choose carefully, not rushing like my classmates.  Reading the backs and looking for the one that leapt up and caught my imagination.

Yes, it’s true that RIF is responsable for what I refer to as my Barnes and Nobel “habit,” but it aslo brought me some early freinds, adventures and role models.  Most memorable(at least today), was Encyclopedia Brown.  What a great character, Sherlock Holmes in prepubecent form.  Who better to capture the mind of a young knowledge seeker whose physical abilities were not as great as the imagination trapped inside.  He made it (dare I say) cool to be smart(at least for me), using his mind to solve the problem.

It’s been an age or two since I last revisited his world, and I’ve since learned that brain and brawn are needed cooperatively for optimum efficency.  His presence for a young smallfry/egghead however, to learn that knowledge is a great tool, in my mind was definately, FUNdamental(oh, I know it’s a bad pun, but it is true).

One of those days

Not bad.  Well, bad for some.  Today was a bit surreal.  Things happening, swirling around me.  They had nothing to do with me, yet played out in front of me like a reverse theater in the round where I was at the center and the action explodes all around me.

I’ve had these day before, though not often, and they always place me in a state of confusion.  Again, the events had nothing to do with me and my activities and I did no mediation, but the drama was all encompassing.

No insights gained as of yet, but these rare days at least remind me that there are other stories in the world as well as my own, and it’s okay to let a chapter or two go out without my presence.

Wanderlust

I have not explored enough of this world in reality.  I’ve read and looked up and absorbed facts here and there, but I have not physically interacted with most of the places I’ve visited in my mind.

“I want to see mountains, Gandolf.”

To be fair, I’ve seen mountains(not lately, and I do miss them) but I’m speaking of other mountains in other places with other cultures.  Other plains and valleys and rivers and islands.  The siren call in the back of my skull is strong.

I fight with the logic of how, and who is to pay for these expeditions.  I use this to keep me where I am but I hope that soon I can ignore this logic/fear and simply set off on a journey of exploration.

Into the Wells

I’ve been pondering the possible future of humankind, not for any deeper purpose really, just for fun.  I recalled a program(probably on the Discovery channel) that stated that both primitive forms of man coexisted around the same time and while(forgiving my lack of archaeological terms knowledge) Neanderthals failed as a race, (let’s say)Homo Erectous went on to give us, well…us.  The “missing link” of legend to me then represents more than the common ancestor that proves…whatever, but the fork in the road that provided the two possibilities.

Now, what if were near the point of another split(cue scary music)?

Take a journey on the crazy logic train:

Remember H.G. Wells “The Time Machine,” the book or the 1960’s film(I didn’t like the one in 2002)?  The hero travels hundreds of thousands of years into the future and humanity has been split off into the simple and childlike Eloi and the scary Morlocks whose favorite dish is, the Eloi.  While each represented a different social order and lifestyle, they both lacked any sort of acceptable intellegence level(at least to the traveler).

Wells might not of been that far off, and it may be sooner then we think.  Stay with me and I’ll explain.

There’s a high pressure to look a certain way and for a certain amount of time(hyper-attractive, for your entire lifetime), at the same time there’s a more sedated mass group working hard and spending free time in the caves of technology and spending time and income on the (supposed)lives of the other group as well as their own sedated existance.

Now project this out over lets say 500 years, barring any major catastrophy while letting our techno-addictions run rampant and throwing in an evolutionary bump which is overdue, and where might we be?  Perhaps two races of humanoid?  One a hyper-attractive(to them)/augmented yet simple folk and the other a bloated, jacked into the matrix, hover-racsal riding agoraphobes.  And perhaps, barring robotics evolution, a third race left behind to be subjugated as the brute labor to maintain the “worlds” that the more “important/advanced” beings need to survive only until the day when that link to the past can be replaced and disposed of, or assimilated into one species or the other, and of course, forgotten.

It’s a bit unnerving to think that we may be the missing link of the future and yet, in a darkly humorus way, fun to imagine what may spawn from our efforts to advance or evolve.

…the gift of song

Singing.  It’s one of the various skills that I have.  I’ve been told that I’m good by family and friends(required by law), as well as others(usually karaoke patrons who’ve had a drink or seven).  I’ve some raw talent and some formal training and in some moments of vanity, I imagine I’m a fair vocalist.  Most importantly, it’s something that I enjoy doing even if I can’t stand to hear it in playback(with live performance monitors I focus on the volume, not the sounds).  The oddity that I’ve never been able to figure out(one of them anyway) is that I have no clue as to how I aquired the desire to sing.

I understand the talent/genetic factor of a voice that some find pleasing and that choirs, schools and some coaching have allowed me to advance to a certain level, but I know not where the want, the need came from.  Outside of the manditory “Happy Birthday to You” once a year, I have no memory of anyone singing to me.  Ever.  No lullabies that I know of were ever used to coax me into slumber.  I cannot even pick out anyone in my family singing outside of church(the only time anyone other than myself has ever sung, they outright refuse to do it otherwise) and I was to young at the time to have developed the skill to pickout voices during those hymns(plus most of the church just droned the melody, men an octive lower), not that I found the hymns all that musically enticing.

My very first performance, and one of my early memories, was when I was five.  Christmas Eve service at the church.  I have a fairly vague recollection of rehearsal but I know I practiced and learned, because I was singing “Silent Night” in English and German and oh yeah, I was signing it too(I was so much smarter as a kid).  I do not recall being nervous, I might have been, but I did not recognize that feeling until later in life.  What I do remember is singing and signing and feeling that I was breathing something beautiful that I could not explain(then or now).  I’ve seen what I think is the only picture of this, but it pales in comparison to the love I felt in that moment for the singing.

Since then I have sang with, for and to many people and even if I’ve aquired more technique, the adoration of the act still hums right along with me.  I should dabble in it more than I do to be certain, as it feels great and I think/long for a time when I can find someone to not only sing with me, but to me.  It’s one of those thoughts that count presents.  I’m not looking for perfect pitch, just one who might give me…

Marathon

There’s a few commercials for a beer company that I find very interesting.  The premise is basically that regular(read: followers/sheep) drink other beer so, to be unique, drink this beer instead.  Conform through non-conformity.  Needless to say I’m not impressed by these ads, but it does get the mind a-thinkin’.

From my generation(at least as categorized by the general populace), I am a bit of an anomaly as I have not been modified through either tattoos or piercings.  Not that I’m against them, they have the ability to be powerful expressions and beautiful works of art.  I’ve just rarely had the urge to get one and whenever I’ve thought about getting one, I’m quick to remember that I’m not a fan of needles in flesh(mine especial), and that I’m not the kind of person who could pull off that kind of a statement.  There was a time though, when it seemed as the majority of my peers(not precisely friends, just cohabitors of the age range) were getting themselves altered in these ways.  In some way/shape/form, it was the rebellion of choice that has(seemingly for a great part of the populace) become the norm.  The exotic become commonplace, the new and shocking now the tried and true and tired now slowly being displaced by newer and/or more elaborate transformations.

Oh and yeah, these and other augmentations/mutilations have  also been around in one form or another since pretty much forever and a day(watch Taboo on the National Geographic Channel).

For now, I’ll focus a bit on what tats and piercings meant in my “world” and times:

Tattoos – Though not uncommon, a tattoo resembled different things to me.  As a child I related on men to be either military or scary(Hell’s Angels) and now, eventhough exceptions abound, I find them laughably conformist(tribal armband I’m talking to you).  On women, I was conditioned to perceive that as a sign of a ease(so to speak) and again regardless of the amount of exceptions, there are some tattoos that only increased this perception exponentially(small of the back tat, can you hear me?).

Piercing – Women went from one in each ear to multiples(and I’m a fan) to other areas of the face(not so enamored) and then other areas…but the navel ring draws my focus due to the fact that it’s now, along with the ears commonplace.  On men, other than pirates, It went from NO, to which ear means you’re gay, to whatever/reaching for youth.

These rambling thoughts brought to you by Sidetrack: The Game.

Back to what I think is the point of the musing:  “Rebelling”

There is of course a brilliant film that deals with this better than a simple post could ever cover and yet, as I reflect on the core concept of conforming to the “different/unique”, I’m brought back to the writings of the author/mystic/teacher known as Osho.  He seems to have a valid point as to why rebellions fail after they succeed, but that will remain for another time.  If I’m going to quote/reference that I need to be accurate and this has gone on too long for now…

Quickie

Some time ago, I purchased a book entitled: “The World’s Shortest Stories,” edited by Steve Moss.  In short(bad pun, I know), it is a collection of the best submissions to a story contest wherein the guiding rule is 55 words or less.  Sound easy?  You try cramming your grand opus onto a business card and still have it mean something.  Moving on…

One night after finishing the book(and a couple glasses of the wine), I attempted to create my own under 55(I came in at 38, but that’s neither good or bad).  It is what it is(aren’t all things), but I thought I put it out there/here.  I have no title, but thoughts are always welcome.

The look.  The dance.  The exchange.  The call.  The courtship.  The love.  The ceremony.  The life.  The children.  The joy.  The sorrow.  The years.  The moment.  The prognosis.  The machines.  The decision.  The love.  The plug.

The end…

Double Down

I missed yesterday, hence I feel the need to double post today.

 There’s a new show on the Sci-Fi channel called Mind Control with Darren Brown.  If you can find it, watch.  Mr. Brown(out of respect I address him, so hoping that he will not ever reduce me to a puddle of mental goo), makes no claims to the supernatural upfront.  He has simply(?) studied human behavior, psychology, confidence and other techniques that allow him to not only anticipate, but manipulate behavior.

The show is of course edited for the benefit of the viewing public(even Mr. Brown admits that his experiments are never 100% successful), but the results are creepy good fun.  Tonight though, he accomplished one of the ultimate geek fantasies: The Jedi Mind Trick.

 Actually that is basically what he does, but in his experiment at the dog track(which he’s admitted to profiting from before) he looked like he needed a hooded cloak and a lightsaber.

Taking a clearly loosing ticket and it’s owner to the pay window(multiple times and for increased stakes) they hand the “winning” ticket to the cashier.  The cashier and verification machine say no but then Mr. Brown steps up and says(I kid you not), “This is the dog you are looking for.”  He is then promptly paid and apologized to.

The world is so lucky that I do not have that ability(for now), though I would only use it for good(or a good joke).