I was messing with the questions on my profile the question asked me to tell the story of the bald frog and the wig, it was too long for the box so I'll post it here, I liked it.
Once upon a time there was a frog. As frogs are amphibious sorts you could expect the frog was a bit hairless. This frog was tired of the same old mucus and warts so he thought to take the role of Louie the XIV and try the wig.
The wig was a beautiful powdery thing, white as the night stars and as fancy as a Drag Queen on opening night. Oh he loved this wig, and he preened and he prodded. "not a hair must fall out of place!" he proclaimed. But as the day went on the sun grew hotter and hotter. Amphibians are not to keen on the heat which is why they are always so hairless. The frog started to worry, "I need to swim, but my beautiful wig will be left unattended! What shall I do!" To leave the wig would be dangerous, but to swim with it on would make it go flat. But to not swim would make the frog go flat.
The Frog cried and cried as the sun grew hotter, and just as the frog couldn't take it any longer a Crane Fly approached. "What is that on your head my friend? and why do you cry?"
The frog looked on in wonder, "Don't you know who I am? I am a frog, we are hairless gents, but I thought it would be fancy to have a wig! Now it grows hot, and I would like to swim, but I dare not remove the wig, I fear for it's safety!"
"Well friend, I tell you what, I can watch your wig, you take a dip and be back to this pad and the problem will be solved!"
Agreeing upon this solution the frog removed the wig and dove deep into the pond. The crane fly sat cautiously beside the wig, to not disturb the hairs. Concentrating as hard as he could to stay still he did not see the approach of the Bull frog who gobbled up the poor fly and the wig and was gone before the frog was back to claim it.
The moral to this story, Why split hairs when your food is in front of you and the water is nice.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
The Architect's Beginning
I've been wanting to start writing a series, I've no intention of getting published, but who knows. Any way here I am with the problem of where to go, what to start with. I've wanted a story where the universe is whole, like J.R. Tolkien and Middle Earth. I don't plan on living in the world I create as he did, but I would hope that I could create an history that is so complete you could see yourself standing with the characters in the story. So what best to begin a world, then to begin at the beginning... So here is my creation myth, enjoy.
In the age of Celestial proverbs, the Architect and the void were all that existed. The great Architect saw that this was a lonely existence. From the emptiness of the void the Architect created the Celestial Stag, everything that was and would ever be existed in this stag.
The Architect enchanted the stag with song and dance. The Celestial Stag was joyful and danced throughout the void. To the Architect's delight, with every step and twirl, a new star, planet, and galaxy was formed. Thus the void was filled with beauty and twinkling from the stag's cosmic dance.
The Architect was delighted with the spirit of the Celestial Stag, but sensed in it much loneliness. So the Architect created a companion from the new cosmic forces. A companion silent as night but wise and stoic. This Snowy Owl watched the stag as he danced and twirled among the cosmos. The wise owl knew what the cosmos needed, so she took a small planet and flew around it's form and created mountains and valleys, weather and time.
The Snowy Owl cried out to the Celestial Stag, "Come! See what I have created upon the surface of your creation! Let us bless our masterpiece!"
So the two breathed on the small world and created the elements; Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Spirit. And so combined created life on this now fruitful world.
In the age of Celestial proverbs, the Architect and the void were all that existed. The great Architect saw that this was a lonely existence. From the emptiness of the void the Architect created the Celestial Stag, everything that was and would ever be existed in this stag.
The Architect enchanted the stag with song and dance. The Celestial Stag was joyful and danced throughout the void. To the Architect's delight, with every step and twirl, a new star, planet, and galaxy was formed. Thus the void was filled with beauty and twinkling from the stag's cosmic dance.
The Architect was delighted with the spirit of the Celestial Stag, but sensed in it much loneliness. So the Architect created a companion from the new cosmic forces. A companion silent as night but wise and stoic. This Snowy Owl watched the stag as he danced and twirled among the cosmos. The wise owl knew what the cosmos needed, so she took a small planet and flew around it's form and created mountains and valleys, weather and time.
The Snowy Owl cried out to the Celestial Stag, "Come! See what I have created upon the surface of your creation! Let us bless our masterpiece!"
So the two breathed on the small world and created the elements; Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Spirit. And so combined created life on this now fruitful world.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
How the Muffin Crumbles
Part 2
None of us knew what was happening. You'd hear a snippet of conversation or the occasional mourning family. None in which are too far from the norm.
Norm, now that's a funny word. I remember reading somewhere that a norm is established in any social and psychological situation, to be able to decipher what is good or bad, sane or insane.
I saw a woman on the bus today, she didn't look to be the most gorgeous of women, but who am I to judge as I'm not the model of excellence either. There she was, silently leaning on the plexiglass wall at the front of the bus. Her interlaced fingers fluttering gently to the beat of whatever song was playing on her headphones. Slowly the reverberating fluttering decreases in intensity as her head gently lulls forward into a silent slumber.
I couldn't help but wonder about this girl. Someone whom I have never had the chance to speak with, let alone meet formally. She seemed sad and lonely. Here she sits silently amongst the hustle bustle of daily life, surrounded by groups of friends and couples, she sits alone. Is this the norm? Why does she choose to sit alone? Is it internal? Mental? Why?
Through all this meandering in my own mind it dawns on me that I have missed a part of my argument that could have made all the difference. I too was sitting alone. Could I too have been watched by her, contemplated in silent thought. Did I look sad or alone? Me sitting with my notepad and pencil, scratching away madly in my steno pad. Could the surrounding people be wondering what words of madness I was scribbling?
I was reminded of a philosophy, we are all alone. There is no such thing as an unselfish deed, even one's “love” for their child leaves a sense of gratification to the parent. We all live alone, all die alone. The task is to fill our lives with as much as we can in our short lifespan. A blink in an era of the giant time continuum of the universe.
This is exactly as the outsiders had thought, as they neared our young planet. Several millennia before this planet lay quietly propagating genomes and germs. A simple scan of the structure of the planet as they passed revealed that now lay much more. We primates had created an industrial age of primeval capacity and had even created weapons that could destroy our own world. Why would anyone in their right mind find the possibility of killing millions of their own profitable? This is why they came. To observe, to find the reason for our primal urge to kill that which means the most to us. They did not come in a display as George Orwell had told, but in more subtle approaches. No one knew of their existence, no instrument made by man could fathom the technology they had accomplished in their lifespan. Multidimensional space continuum was the least of their worries. So they came, they watched. No one knew of their presence, and no one knew of their intentions.
Here I sit in my daily routine, listening to the revving drone of public transportation. The smell of sweat and humidity of a dozen people surrounding me as I scribble madly on my steno. Little did I know how that excruciatingly long bus ride was a mere synapse in a much larger more intricate series of events that I could never fathom.
To be continued...
None of us knew what was happening. You'd hear a snippet of conversation or the occasional mourning family. None in which are too far from the norm.
Norm, now that's a funny word. I remember reading somewhere that a norm is established in any social and psychological situation, to be able to decipher what is good or bad, sane or insane.
I saw a woman on the bus today, she didn't look to be the most gorgeous of women, but who am I to judge as I'm not the model of excellence either. There she was, silently leaning on the plexiglass wall at the front of the bus. Her interlaced fingers fluttering gently to the beat of whatever song was playing on her headphones. Slowly the reverberating fluttering decreases in intensity as her head gently lulls forward into a silent slumber.
I couldn't help but wonder about this girl. Someone whom I have never had the chance to speak with, let alone meet formally. She seemed sad and lonely. Here she sits silently amongst the hustle bustle of daily life, surrounded by groups of friends and couples, she sits alone. Is this the norm? Why does she choose to sit alone? Is it internal? Mental? Why?
Through all this meandering in my own mind it dawns on me that I have missed a part of my argument that could have made all the difference. I too was sitting alone. Could I too have been watched by her, contemplated in silent thought. Did I look sad or alone? Me sitting with my notepad and pencil, scratching away madly in my steno pad. Could the surrounding people be wondering what words of madness I was scribbling?
I was reminded of a philosophy, we are all alone. There is no such thing as an unselfish deed, even one's “love” for their child leaves a sense of gratification to the parent. We all live alone, all die alone. The task is to fill our lives with as much as we can in our short lifespan. A blink in an era of the giant time continuum of the universe.
This is exactly as the outsiders had thought, as they neared our young planet. Several millennia before this planet lay quietly propagating genomes and germs. A simple scan of the structure of the planet as they passed revealed that now lay much more. We primates had created an industrial age of primeval capacity and had even created weapons that could destroy our own world. Why would anyone in their right mind find the possibility of killing millions of their own profitable? This is why they came. To observe, to find the reason for our primal urge to kill that which means the most to us. They did not come in a display as George Orwell had told, but in more subtle approaches. No one knew of their existence, no instrument made by man could fathom the technology they had accomplished in their lifespan. Multidimensional space continuum was the least of their worries. So they came, they watched. No one knew of their presence, and no one knew of their intentions.
Here I sit in my daily routine, listening to the revving drone of public transportation. The smell of sweat and humidity of a dozen people surrounding me as I scribble madly on my steno. Little did I know how that excruciatingly long bus ride was a mere synapse in a much larger more intricate series of events that I could never fathom.
To be continued...
Sunday, February 7, 2010
How the Muffin Crumbles
The Story of My Life
"Space is big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind- bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space."
To be continued...
I also included this story on the Realm Runners page as a possible NPC story, but I figured since it is my writing and I have been told to try my hand at Science Fiction I might as well post it here as a full story.
"Space is big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind- bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space."
Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Have you ever wondered if we were alone in the universe? Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror and wonder if what was there was really the truth? I did, regularly actually. You see, I'm what those other beings like to call a Carbon Bipedal Epidemiological Neanderthal, C.B.E.N. for short. I currently reside in what they call a sterile homeostasis tube, in which they watch me live. No, I'm not in a test tube by any means; I have room to move, quite a bit actually. It’s like my own little studio apartment. I still cook for myself; I clean, and vegetate on the computer or television like I did on Earth... They don't call it Earth either, it's 4.2236.235 Class R planet. Sometimes they even try to get me to "breed" with one of their "female" prototypes they place in my tube every few days. Tempting, but not quite that desperate yet. To tell the truth, I'm actually quite comfortable in my living here, other than it being lonely as hell. I'm sure you're wondering how I know all this, but that is why this is the story of my life.
Two security guards arguing over a muffin, this is how my story begins. The muffin was left on the desk of one whilst the other decided to take an extended smoke break during his rounds. Things quickly became a little physical since neither had brought their lunch that day and neither wanted to give up the muffin. To make a long story short, in a comic childlike tussle the two had completely desecrated the muffin and in the end made nothing more than a mess of the floor, desks, and their uniforms. This of course lead to both grumbling grudgingly back to their desks about the loss of said crumbly muffin. Little did they know, the muffin was not the only thing that crumbled, it was also the pillars that held the two stories below them.
I had just flicked on the television after a long restless 3 hours of unsuccessful sleep and was raiding the fridge for something that wasn't past the expiration date, when I heard it. The sudden interruption of the "News Break", the assumption of a terrorist attack and an image of a destroyed superstore. I chuckled a little as this was the normal time of the late night comedy acts, but as the news report droned on it began to hit me as truth.
"Recent update: No signs of outer impact to the building. Further investigation will tell if the destruction is the result of an explosion. Keep tuned in for more details, we now return you to your normal broadcasting."
The television flickers a few times and then switches to the obnoxious noise of the late night shows. Completely baffled at the audacity of some people I stare blankly at the wall, my thoughts drown out by the drone of the false laughter on television.
To be continued...
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Fate and Blackholes
In a world where communication was nonexistent in verbal tongue what would it be like? It's hard to imagine since the verbal is what we have grown in this world expressing. How would a thought pass through your mind? Visually? Chemically?
The first thing that comes to my mind is instinct; the instinct to fight or run, the instinct to reproduce. You can look at an animal, their instincts to run when in danger, but they too have some sort of way to communicate as well. How would it work, would there be some sort of switch that the brain would somehow flip on or off according to the situation? Would you just picture yourself doing something instead of having that verbal thought? Be presented with something wanting to attack you and picture yourself being eaten, or picture yourself running away or standing on its defeated corpse?
And while I am on this thought, how exactly does instinct work. I know it's some sort of thing that has been passed through our animal sides, but what is it exactly? Could it be possible that instinct is a learned condition? Theoretically thinking if you were to raise a child with rabbits and not have any connection to the child in the means of acknowledging that the child is human their instincts would be different than that of a human. Same goes for a child that was raised with anything higher in the food chain. That child would grow up living as if it were that creature and have the same instincts. Now what if a child were to be raised in a situation where there were no instinct like environment presented to the child? How would that child grow up, would they not know what danger is? Would they not care or embrace it? How would the fight or flight instinct work, or the need to spread your seed and legacy? Would that child still get that crawling feeling on the back of the neck when in danger, or that sinking feeling when they know that something is amiss? It's all psychological, not so much in your genes.
On the topic of the sinking feeling, the crawlies on the neck, and the chills down the spine when things are going to go wrong. The sort of "Intuition", this ability to scry forward in time and feel the upcoming "fate"? I see fate as some sort of black hole, the closer you get to it the stronger the force is telling you something is near... unless you are one of those people that don't really care about those feelings and go on with it anyway. For those who are lost, in theory- the closer to a black hole you get the stronger the gravitational pull becomes. The stronger the pull of gravity the faster you travel toward the event horizon, the faster you travel the slower time travels. Eventually you reach the event horizon, that center point, the paradox that decides your fate... will you be warped to some other dimension, or will you be ripped to shreds in the process? No one can know because no one has tried to test the event horizon and no one should tempt fate.
hmm... it's an interesting though.. keeps me up sometimes wondering... I hope to sleep now since I wrote it down.
The first thing that comes to my mind is instinct; the instinct to fight or run, the instinct to reproduce. You can look at an animal, their instincts to run when in danger, but they too have some sort of way to communicate as well. How would it work, would there be some sort of switch that the brain would somehow flip on or off according to the situation? Would you just picture yourself doing something instead of having that verbal thought? Be presented with something wanting to attack you and picture yourself being eaten, or picture yourself running away or standing on its defeated corpse?
And while I am on this thought, how exactly does instinct work. I know it's some sort of thing that has been passed through our animal sides, but what is it exactly? Could it be possible that instinct is a learned condition? Theoretically thinking if you were to raise a child with rabbits and not have any connection to the child in the means of acknowledging that the child is human their instincts would be different than that of a human. Same goes for a child that was raised with anything higher in the food chain. That child would grow up living as if it were that creature and have the same instincts. Now what if a child were to be raised in a situation where there were no instinct like environment presented to the child? How would that child grow up, would they not know what danger is? Would they not care or embrace it? How would the fight or flight instinct work, or the need to spread your seed and legacy? Would that child still get that crawling feeling on the back of the neck when in danger, or that sinking feeling when they know that something is amiss? It's all psychological, not so much in your genes.
On the topic of the sinking feeling, the crawlies on the neck, and the chills down the spine when things are going to go wrong. The sort of "Intuition", this ability to scry forward in time and feel the upcoming "fate"? I see fate as some sort of black hole, the closer you get to it the stronger the force is telling you something is near... unless you are one of those people that don't really care about those feelings and go on with it anyway. For those who are lost, in theory- the closer to a black hole you get the stronger the gravitational pull becomes. The stronger the pull of gravity the faster you travel toward the event horizon, the faster you travel the slower time travels. Eventually you reach the event horizon, that center point, the paradox that decides your fate... will you be warped to some other dimension, or will you be ripped to shreds in the process? No one can know because no one has tried to test the event horizon and no one should tempt fate.
hmm... it's an interesting though.. keeps me up sometimes wondering... I hope to sleep now since I wrote it down.
Initial Post for a New Blog
Woot! New Blog, I'm always looking for new more effective ways of addressing my random thoughts and pondering. I'm hoping that this location will become my primary location to vent those scientific, often philosophical rants, as I find that when I do so I exercise my brain meats and allow my brain to be empty when I lay it down to sleep at night, interesting? No, but it's still a way for me to allow myself to empty my busy mind of my random thoughts every once and again.
Those that don't know me, I would recommend reading my extensive "about me" section to the left of the page... it's probably toward the top, once this post gets further along towards the bottom of the page. Something I forgot to add to that, is that I count myself a seeker of knowledge, I may not know much, but I seek much. I will not ask too many questions of those things that mean very little in the end, and ask much with those that do. I warn you now, some of my rants will be about theoretical physics, some may be about a book that I am digesting, and other random thoughts that seem to be running through my brain at the time. Enjoy!
Those that don't know me, I would recommend reading my extensive "about me" section to the left of the page... it's probably toward the top, once this post gets further along towards the bottom of the page. Something I forgot to add to that, is that I count myself a seeker of knowledge, I may not know much, but I seek much. I will not ask too many questions of those things that mean very little in the end, and ask much with those that do. I warn you now, some of my rants will be about theoretical physics, some may be about a book that I am digesting, and other random thoughts that seem to be running through my brain at the time. Enjoy!
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