Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I've found a lot in the last little while. Found out things. Different things about people, places and things, basically I just know a little bit more about the nouns in my life. They're all changing, unfortunately. I know that sounds weird coming from me, some one who loves science, who loves technology, who thinks every step of the way is a slow and tedious progression into death, however, change scares me too. I've gotta flesh out all these new psychological rules for all of the people that have decided to subtly change their psyches. This probably sounds superficial, I apologize, I don't mean to have any one think that I've figured them out, however, I do do my best to fully understand people so that I may help them in the most efficient way possible.
Story's all behind the eyes really, just waiting for me to come read it.
It seems like I've fallen in with a "crowd". Not necessarily a good or bad one, I'm not putting any label on them, it's just a strange concept for me to be so confined to a single group of friends. Sorry, no no, not confined, but to only wish to be with a certain amount of people when I go out, or when I do things. It's just strange I guess, so many people are drifting away from me, just letting themselves slip because I'm busy, or because I'm not always "there" like I used to be. It's sad, and it hurts, but I can't help it. My life's in constant motion, how can I help not being at certain things. But I digress, as I've grown closer to those around me which I wished to. They are my peers, they are those which I compare myself too, and I'm happy with that. I don't mean to sound introverted, but we're a particularly clever bunch for only just being on the brink of graduating high school.
There's the rub hmmm?
We're going to graduate this year, all of us going out into the great big world that is real life.
It's just strange to be faced with something like independence, none of us have had something so immaterial yet so valuable at the same time. It'll be like holding a tiny china doll that we cannot see, cannot feel, can barely fathom. We'll probably come to the mutual understanding at some point that freedom is an incredibly fragile thing, independence being that which provides the torque to keep it in balance. Terrifying thought, being thrown into turmoil by enjoying yourself too much.
I think I'm finally grasping time management, I'm actually understanding when I procrastinate, and I'm trying to convert those wasted minutes into productive time doing something. The best tip I got was to start making lists, detailed detailed lists, sort of like the brain of some one with Autism. Just list out your day in perfect order and perfect detail, and you'll start to plot out your tendancies. One of my tendencies say that when I wake up late, or I "sleep in" I always end up having a particularly lazy day. This could be easily solved if I could some how push my sleep patterns back to a healthy time, however, midnight seems to be my set sleep time, and eight o'clock seems to be my set wake up. I want to fix this like you couldn't even believe.
Well, the band has shirts now, and we have almost five songs written and rehearsed, it's quite something for a fledgling band to have, and I hope you all listen to the tune on myspace it truly is my pride and joy, my little baby panda farm band.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The Ladder of Ancestry
The different letters can add up in a million different ways, gauging how we react, how we are who we are. There's a ladder made up of a beautiful doubled stranded helix in our code that tells us exactly who we are and how we should be.
a-t a-t a-t a-t
You can look at it however you want, be in fate, be it religion, be it some divine hand in your creation, but in the end it comes down to four little letters. It comes down to who you have to be, who you're destined to be through the neurons reacting in your brain. Your corneas know to register light as they do because their DNA holds the process to create the protien that feeds the enzymes that feed your brain.
That hefty old brain of yours that just tick tocks the rest of your life away. It’s tempered by all those enzymes, all of those experiences held within cerebral fluid. This is all made up by double strands of nitrogen, phosphorous, oxygen and a little itty bitty five cardon sugar. Did you know all this code was held together by tiny, incredibly easily breakable hydrogen bonds, the weakest of all chemical bonds? Did you know that the tiny quarks racing through your system as you become subject to radiation could be tearing apart your genetic coding as we speak.
The peculiar thing about all of this is, is that there’s a helix, a solenoid wrapped chromatic that never changes. That remains genetically constant as it’s passed along from one to the other. It’s your mitochondria. It says everything. It is the exact same strand in every body, passed down from the mother. The thing that fuels us, that which makes us move, makes our cells breathe, it comes from our mothers. It is a constant. It is a reminder of just how the same we all are. One day, lying in the ground, we’ll unravel and our mitochondria will be long dead, and it’ll be so hard to tell who we were, but for now, we know exactly who we are. Know exactly what we’re meant to be. We’re meant to be exactly what our mother intended us to be. We’re genetically linked whether we like it or not, and you’ll never escape that guilt.
It’s amazing how simple science can make life to understand.
Our bodies, emitting electromagnetic fields in the heat of passion, maybe more dangerous that high emission power lines. Baby’s mutation is another man’s pleasure. All of that pressure, all of that passion. Did any of you know that we’re all the perfect scientists? We can calculate average velocities and displacements, curve lengths, frequency pitches subconsciously with enough practice. Every time you catch a ball your mind goes through a million processes calculating when it will arrive and how fast it will be going when it gets there. Every time we sing along to a song we’re doing the necessary physics to realize exactly how the wave would look if we could see it.
We’re musical people because we know what makes us, we know we’ll submit.
Cows are the perfect physicists, unconsciously aligning themselves with the earths polar north while they’re trying to rest. They know exactly where to go. Shocked and confused if they point to the rising sun, if they have to face to the east. Magnets and power lines, magnetic fields and ELFs, they fuck the cows up. The mess up the very physical fabric of the natural order of things. We have to understand that it’s all there for a reason. We can’t keep making everything our own device, because really, it’s all going to end up the same way.
We’re genetically coded, and we’re killing ourselves to try to escape it.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
More creaks and more curling, more push push push on account of some unknown mass and it’s multitude of tiny personal angelic dancers. Mind you, these angelic dancers are completely and utterly theoretical, purely necessity. In the center of the room, there’s something a little bit more visible, something actually slightly tangible, though it is not completely understood. A ball of gas, a space keeper between things, simply a tiny ball of gas to contain everything that we understand.
Our own personal bubble.
Within this tiny bubble, there are lights, so many lights, illuminating everything inside. Keeping everything so warm, keeping everything in a perfect elliptical motion. These lights, they may be related to the previously mentioned celestial bodies; they may secretly know each other. One may simply be the dream of another.
Theories upon theories.
Finally, at the center of all things, is Ia, our personal little project: A child, at play, the most basic of all things. Ia, all we understand, simply the smallest part in this constantly expanding room. Though at play, we understand everything about children, about this child, we have them completely understood to a science.
This is everything we know, everything we understand, all that is real, and all that is theoretical. The child Ia, is the world, everything understood. The floating balls of light are stars, are planets, a beautiful little solar system that is being dissected and recreated each year. This makes up only 0.4% of everything. The gas within and surrounding the system. 3.6%. This comes to a grand total of 4% of all matter, completely, or close to completely, understood.
The celestial bodies, not glowing, not giving off any signs of life, this is dark matter. It isn’t actually in existence, not tangibly yet, however it must exist in order for relativity to function correctly, in order for the universe to be in gravitational equilibrium. Seems to be a pity of an existence for so much matter to be simply overlooked except for it’s effect.
Finally, the mysterious force, the mysterious cold kinetic energy slowly breaking the room apart, slowly expanding all that is known. This the theorized entity of Dark Energy. Completely hypothetical except for trace proof that was found from digging incredibly deep into space time. This is Dark Energy.
This is 75% of the universe we know absolutely nothing about.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Our band store's awesome, Jordan did a great job designing a marketable logo, I honestly can't wait to get a t-shirt myself. So soon as I have money online I'll be getting on the Panda Farm diggs. Anyway, I guess I'm off to work for another eight hour later afternoon shift at Sobeys.
The Best to all of you.
Friday, April 3, 2009
You’ll find a lot of things jotted on that back page of that chemistry text book. Maybe you’re bored, maybe you’re seeing it as you squiggle your name down beside theirs’. There’s so many different things. It’s a graphologist’s dream: To take all of these signatures and to break down their personalities. You could make a physical journal out of the names in the back of the chemistry book. Thick dots on the “i”s, Issac Martin was an authoritative kind of person. The end of your “y”s loop down, halfway through the next line of writing. Becky Byron was a free thinker.
You take all these names, and you find out what makes them tick, and then you make their own little journal, each individual’s personal agenda. You can make them seem however their letters indicate. However your graphology background defines. You’ll become biased and make sure all signs point to failed fame though, because psychologically speaking, their name being in the back of a chemistry book points to them wishing they were more famous than they are. You make journals and you find peace in it. Making history the way you’d like it, with everyone’s decisions under your own finger tips. You making everyone else’s personal agenda.
In the back of the biology text book you find directions leading from page to page. It’s indirect attention, it doesn’t matter if the writer is there when the reader begins following directions, just as long as some one does.
Turn to page 63
You skim through the article on the complex phosphorus bonds between Nucleic Acids for the next clue as to where to go. Underneath some one’s scrawled words of caution.
Turn to page 98
You’re onto cell structure by now, explanations of different proteins acting through their amino acid bases within cells; facilitating mitosis, allowing flawless cell division, warning about radiation.
Turn to page 132
Onto the production of gametes through meiosis. You feel a little sorry for the three polar bodies that are produced in lieu of an egg. They never even had a chance, never even got the opportunity to become part of the list of names in the back of this book. You take note to feel a little sorry for them in the future.
Turn to page 200
You’re into human reproduction now, it’s the end of the road. Next to the diagram of the penis some one’s written
Above the word is a person’s name, recently etched into the page.
Bobby Kerns is
Then an arrow pointing down. Somewhere off to the side of the page Bobby Kerns rebuttal is
Fuck all of you
Good come back Bob.
You flip the book shut. You’ve had your own little adventure today, you’ve seen enough to get you through the night. It’s not something you’d dwell over anyway. Trivial people getting their little slices of immortality on the pages of a biology text book.
You never notice graffiti on the AP calculus text books, never. It’s because the people that have committed that far, committed to actually educating themselves beyond a high school level while still contained in these walls, they’re the ones who already know.
The ones who already understand that they’re not going to get famous.
The ones who understand that they’ve already grown up, and that little Miley Cyrus and Jonas brothers’ sized window of opportunity is already closed. They know they’ll be working at some job they know they won’t like for the rest of their lives. They simply don’t have the heart to write their names in that back of those books.
They won’t be immortal.
Existentially speaking, none of us are.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
You missed your naps today, a minor set back, make up for it after you suffer for it.
Just have to learn to get over.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
You can remember a lot of things looking out into an opaque black room. You see the backs of your corneas radiating what little light they’ve retained, causing little flickers, little teases of light to flash through your line of vision. You remember a lot of things in this moment.
Optimistically, this room will eventually be light, hiding the terrifying memories from you forever. Pessimistically, this room will remain dark forever, and you fear you’ll never escape the horrible and daunting memories that flicker past. Existentially, you don’t need light when you’re dead, therefore, this room is just swell.
But the memories are what you think about while you’re here. You never actually remember perfect details because well, the fact is is that things change, and you don’t have tangibility to back up your theoretical image of your past. That old field you walked by when you were just a baby: grocery store. That old school you used to go to: ash. Every person that you knew when you were a toddler?
Existentially, they’ll all be dead someday.
It’s not really important what you see, because quite frankly it’s not exact enough, however, it’s that you see anything at all. That you can grasp some sort of image out of complete chaos. You see the metaphorical silver linings that already passed you and reach out to them to allow yourself to feel again and again and again, missed opportunity.
Take three more steps backwards out of that room now, stop reminiscing just long enough to get a hold of yourself. Now take three steps back, three steps back, and about face. There you are, staring at yourself in a mirror. This is you now. Introducing the ghost of Christmas present. Now look yourself in the face and realize that you’re not who you were in that cold, dark, room. Look yourself in the face and realize what you’ve over come.
Look yourself in the face and realize that, existentially you’ll be dead one day, so why not live now.
Look at yourself long and hard, and realize what it is you’ve accomplished since all those horrible horrible memories, all those bad things you saw in that room, came to fruition. Now go back.
Walk back into the dark and console your past self that everything is going to be just fine. Everything is going to be okay. Take those little flickers in the back of your corneas and say: “It’s all right, really, it’ll be okay”
Notice the consoling hand on your back.
Existentially, the world will implode one day, and the sun will no longer reach us with it’s light. Existentially our only destiny is to be soil. Is it strange that this comforts me?
- ► 2010 (30)
- Acoustic Tracks Finizzled
- December Never
- Writing for a CD
- Insensitive Hiatus
- Insightful Stranger
- Download Free Movies
- Free Super Nintendo Games (Even at School)
- Because sometimes I love Science
- As these shadows fall
- The Trust
- Personal Growth
- Dead Poets Society
- The Man From Earth
- ▼ April (15)