So I’m writing a memoir, right… and I have like 10,000 words, which feels awesome, because it seems super far along. The thing is, the majority of those words are from two or three years ago, and, let’s just say I’ve grown and developed as a writer a lot since then.
They’re dreadful. Like, absolutely unreadable, and I’m not just being critical or modest or any other modifier you can think of. They are, quite simply, bad.
To put it into perspective for you, Continue reading
As you may remember from my last post, which stated very simply: “i got accepted and now I want to throw up.” I got accepted to my chosen University, which is great, because it’s the only plan I have. It’s also just straight terrifying, though. Why? Reasons.
So many reasons: Continue reading
Solar Flare Captured by NASA’s Van Allen Probe August 2012
I went boating this past weekend and, as usual, didn’t wear sunscreen. Why? Because I want a tan and I’m impatient. Still why? Because I used to get sunburn all the time and it eventually just turned into a tan. So fuck it, right? Wrong. Sunburn hurts. Continue reading
I have anxiety about school being over, whether or not I’ll be accepted to my potential new school, whether or not it’s Continue reading
Today is the most insecure I’ve felt in some time. I called my friends crying after I didn’t win more contests. I know. So unreasonable. I made the mistake of having an expectation that of course I would win, of course a presentation exposing shame–the most devastating of affects–would be recognized as important.
Because if it isn’t then the judges may as well be my parents, and the world too, and if the world is my parents I don’t want to participate in it. Continue reading
This morning I woke up from a dream where my best friend’s Mom called me saying that he was hit by a car and killed, which is terrible and thankfully not true [I made sure]. Then, I checked a voicemail letting me know that two of my entries won first place at my school’s writing contest. It’s official: Mechanical Love and town kendall are award winning, folks! 8D
Also, we’re one day closer to Star Wars, so great day all around!
I received some super negative feedback about my essay shame orbiter and I’m not sure how to take it. It’s funny, I’m always saying how I wish I would be more critiqued in workshops.. well.. I got my wish. Continue reading
I’m only applying to one school. Is that crazy? Not sure. Yet. What if I’m rejected? Then I’ll apply to another. Or not. Whatever feels right at that time. What if I’m accepted but the loans required are astronomical, as I’ve always feared? Then I’ll get advice and seek out scholarships and see what’s out there. What if it’s not enough? Then maybe it’s God trying to tell me it’s not right. Or. Maybe it’s just time to take a risk and bet on myself.
To succeed. Or whatever. What’s success anyway? Well, to me it’s the ability to live comfortably. A sense of peace and joy. A sense of purpose. Someone to love and be loved by. Good friends. A child or two. Letting go of control. Getting published. Spreading hope.
Hope’s a big part of it. A really big part. I hope I’m a good parent. I’ll apologize when I’m wrong, and take responsibility. At least I’ve got that much. Anyway, I’m not a parent. Or a wife. So. Doesn’t really matter at the moment. I hope everything miraculously works out [no I don’t. I hope I make educated decisions based on whatever information I’m provided, and whatever doors remain open and closed.]
I’m anxious, I think I’ll play google maps pac-man. Or work. Whatever.
Do you have a moment you want to XXXXX out of our memory bank forever? But time flows on ignorant, of your desire to change the past. Or does it? We perceive time as moving forward as an arrow, however we may just be bad at “seeing” time.
In Physics, time is the fourth, interconnected dimension [with the three dimensions already defined in space]. The problem is, we can’t see and move through time like we can see and move through space, even though they’re intertwined. So, if time is attached to space, and space is laid out for us to see and move through freely, it stands to reason that time is also laid out. Our optical receptors just blow at sensing it.
If you’d like to go back and blot out some regrets, there may be a [totally practical] way for you to live your life over. All you need to do is borrow a spaceship from NASA [or, ya know, build one of your own and heist some fuel] and rocket over to the nearest black hole–which happens to be at the middle of the Milky Way, a measly 27,000 light years away.
Now, assuming your rocket ship can travel faster than light [it can’t. Not near Earth Anyway], and you don’t die before you reach the center of our little solar system [you definitely will, there’s absolutely no hope of you making it whatsoever] you can pilot your little craft right into our galaxies’ very own black hole.
[Fun fact I: if your buddy also jacked a spaceship and was cruising along behind you while you made your way past the event horizon and into the black hole, but he waited to, ya know, make sure the coast was clear or whatever; he would actually never see you enter because the spacetime right before you enter stretches infinitely. So he’d probably think you were fucking with him all slow motion-y, when really you’ve crossed over into the dark.]
So now you’re in the black hole, awesome. Great decision making, seriously. Assuming you survive [You won’t. In fact you died like 435 billion years ago on your spaceship, but hey at least your littering contributed to the dark matter floating around up there. But lets say you made it, even though you definitely didn’t, it doesn’t matter anyway because black holes are like the trash compactors of the Universe; and if they can gobble up stars I’m not super confident about your life force past this point.], mathematicians have extrapolated their observable calculations past the swirly, garbage-laden accretion disc just above the event horizon and theorized that space and time swap places!
So there you have it! Here’s your totally achievable-y practical chance to go back and do it all over again! Never mind you’ll totally die before you get there, and also on your way in, traveling back in time is totally worth it! Right?
[Disclaimer: While it’s true you’d be physically changing your place in time and therefore your age, you’d still be stuck in a black hole forever, and that’s no fun. The space in which your time was spent aging isn’t in the black hole with you, so you can’t go back to the time that’s connected to the space where you fucked something up, or got fucked over. You’re just stuck in a black hole forever, unless the black hole separates you into particles and sprays you out of it’s jets, I suppose. I apologize if that was misleading and you’ve already made it in to the black hole. If I were you I’d make myself super old to die quicker, although that’s awful redundant of you because stars have literally formed and supernova-ed in the amount of time you’ve been dead. Let it go already, dude. Spend your life developing a fancy gadget that allows you to see time and move around in it, that’s a way better investment. I promise. You definitely won’t die before developing your spacetime position modulator. You could even go back and visit Einstein at the patent clerks office, I’m sure he’d be happy to set you up with the rights.]
[Fun fact II: I wrote this in lieu of completing my Physics homework. Note: If my Physics professor is reading this I did it after, the one article has Universes based on Krispy Kreme.–Also, in the word’s of @midnight: Points!]
photo credit: Softpedia
So I’m sitting at work minding my own business and I get a phone call from a number I don’t recognize. Now, normally I don’t answer calls like this, but the area code was local, so I thought it might be someone I know. It was the Army.
How did the Army get my phone number? Evidently my school gave it to them, trying to entice me with GI Bill tuition benefits. Thanks, but no thanks.
A woman is on the other line and she tells me she’s with the Army Reserves and asks how I am. I say I’m okay, but I’m extremely concerned by the Army contacting me. She tells me not to worry, she’s just wondering if I’ve ever thought about joining. I tell her I have absolutely no interest in joining the Army and being told where to live or sent to war. That’s okay apparently, because I’m “unlikely to be sent to the front lines”. Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I’m even less likely by not joining the Army, lady.
She tells me it would only be a part time commitment, and–knowing that she’s talking to a [most likely] broke student–tries to lure me in with grants for college. Always curious about improving my monetary situation, I ask her how much the jobs pay: ten measly bucks an hour. Are you friggin’ kidding me? That’s how much we pay soldiers? What’s wrong with us? I mean, fuck if I want to join, but shit, how can anybody want to at that pay rate?
I’m not patriotic, so I guess I don’t understand that motivation, but lets be real, ten bucks an hour blows. If your job could kill you at some point you deserve a lot more than than that. Plus, no way am I gonna choose to make less money, army lady.
I’m a terrible candidate for the military, anyway. Picture me at boot camp. The moment someone started disrespecting me I would tell them not to talk to me like that. If they tried to punish me with push ups I’d just say no. I’m pretty sure I’d get kicked out after being severely hazed, and if I was any way injured in response to my behavior I’d press charges. Not something I’m even remotely interested in subjecting myself to.
I don’t respond awesome to unreasonable authority. Also uniforms blow, and the likelihood I’d be raped would increase significantly. The shape I’d get into from boot camp would be pretty boss, but I already have a gym membership, so…
Am I stereotyping? It’s hard not to when the idea of being a soldier is so compacted down into a singular personality. You can see how I got to the title “How To: Insult the Army”. They really aren’t looking for an overly curious, independent, opinionated, assertive rule breaker like me. When I told my best friend about the conversation he said, “Did you tell them you hate being stabbed?” Another great reason to avoid the army: death by gutting.
I knew there was a good reason never to answer unknown numbers.
whatareyourwords 