Fruits of my labor

I got the best instant message today. More than what I could ask for, actually. I write these weblog for my enjoyment, but more over, to feel like I can make a subtle little change. Maybe make someone think a different way. Maybe to allow me to let myself think a differnt way.

My received message was the following "...your welcome! I just thought you should know cuz it always cheers me up." Couldn't ask for anything more. And I relay the following knowledge to describe my feeling of joy from hearing these words.

Humans have always thought because they have power, we have wisdom. Therefore people through history would farm for power, in order to feel the influence of their wisdom. From the short time of writing these posts, I have come to remember that power can be fought over, wisdom cannot. There are more things in heaven and earth then the glimps of human philosophy. Why then are we so cock-sure about the power we posses over other humans? I'll take the life altering wisdom of a impovereshed man over the clouded wisdom of a powerful man every time. Why? Because the art of being wise is a learned trait, not one that is taken with a sword.

Speaking of swords, I should really post a picture of my Christmas present. It is a utility katana -- utility in that it came sharp enough to cut paper in half that mearly dropped on top of it. If you light a candle in the room, the sword will reflect it, and the entire room will glimmer with its brilliance. One of my best friends gave it to me, and I love it, the amount anyone can love a wordly item. I almost attacked Brad with it when he busted into my house one day.

But hey, these are just ramblings. All this discussion about love and power and wisdom...doesn't matter to me. What really matters is that message I got from my friend, telling me their appriciation for the posts I've been writing. That's really all the wisdom in the world I need, is how to make someone happy. How to make someone thing a bit differently.

The person who messaged me earlier closed the conversation with this: "superyay for the 'cop ahead' story."

GOD

YES God can microwave a burrito so hot that He Himself cannot touch it. Simply stated

To Prove: God may burn himself with a microwave'd burrito.
1) Let us assume that God is all-powerful.
2) We assume for argumental purposes, that the temperature a burrito can maintain, is infinite - 1.
3) We assume that God posseses a microwave -- or may create a godly microwave -- able to raise the temperature of a burrito to the temperature of infinity - 1.

4) We must understand that God cannot be hurt or harmed by anything, even a burrito that possesses hyper-nuclear tempuratures.
5) Using prefis #1, we know that God is all-powerful. Therefor he may change prefis #4, which states he cannot be harmed by a particulare entinty, in order to satisfy the proof, that God may burn himself with a microwave'd burrito.

There fore I conclude that God is able to maintain his omnipotence while possibily being able to NOT handle a burrito that He microwaved.

Q.E.D, Quad erat deminstratum

I remember

I have a story. I'll tell it like it happened last week, because it sounds a lot better that way.
So last week -- which was actually august two years ago -- students were coming back to school, and Bush had finished cutting taxes so cops had to give more tickets to get more funding. I just did the research too, so all you conservites who are about to belch anti-corbel-blog...it's a fact. I'm not the Observer. Anyway, cops were at every corner. Tickets were up 400% in Clemson for August. There were two possible reasons for this: First, they wanted to set precident for the new students. Second, they needed more funding. One particular cop sat behind some large bushes on the road into Clemson. I saw him while heading to Bi-Lo. The police officer was hiding, trying to trick drivers into believing it was okay to drive fast by creating the illusion that no law enforcment was around. The idea of the police encouraging law breaking to fund their department irked me. It festered in my Eclipse, like a fart in an old car. So at Bi-Lo, my lid spilled, and I suffered from a macho adreneline rush: I bought a floresant poster and a big black marker. I drove a quater mile down the road from the cop, who still sat there. I stood out of my car and held up my yellow-florecent poster that now read: COP AHEAD.
Within about 30 seconds, break lights were everywhere, and I was the hero of Clemson. Girls waved at me and guys wanted to be me. That second part was made up in my head, but girls defintily waved at me. Here's an interesting side fact of my assholivness; 100% of the people who saw my sign slowed and went the speed limit. 0% of the people slowed down because of the unseen cop hiding behind the bushes. I enforced the law more effectivly than any officer of the law could. Out in the open, my sign was slowing people down. Hiding, waiting for fund his department, the cop was looking to stop one-of-a-thousand, so he could slow 0.01% of the population. The law enforcment ended when some guy disagreed with my sign, and pulled over next to the cop. He told the cop what was going on. Bam, I was off like a prom dress. People went back to speeding. And 0.01% of the community who would otherwise get caught, got away with speeding because the cop was chasing me. Heh, the law enforcer was being chased by a police officer.

Funs stuff. Fun stuff with a moral.

I remember the first "blog" I wrote 6 years ago. Back when the internet was young, and the creator of mozilla just got rich because of his creation. Back then, browsers didn't exists, and weblogs were writen in telnet, with pico or xi editors. When programers needed to view other people's development by doing a whois or finger user. It's interesting seeing people jump on the bandwaggon -- by that I mean people who have done it in the past two years or so. Makes me wonder if they'll still be doing it six years from now. I guess having Mr Netscape make the web availible for everyone, so anyone with a browser can make a web log. "WEBLOG".

Hope

I got to speak to my buddy who is in Iraq. He's 50 miles north of Bahgdad. He is a medic. He cannot go to the bathroom during the day in fear of mortors. During a mortor attack, two people got hit. He saved one but couldn't save the other.

The following is the epitomy of hope. In all the shit he's in....between all the mortors and all the doctoring and saving people....in the middle of the storm he's living in, the other day he managed to get online, and play Eve Online with the rest of us. He was able to be with all the people he knew and talked to, thousands of miles away. Hunkered in his bunker-or-wherever, he got online and chatted with us. Talked to us about how things were going and sent us pictures.

Eve is just a video game, tis true. However, it's something my buddy loves to do. And in the middle of guns and wars and hate, he was able to do the thing he loved to do, with the people he loved to do it with; a simple video game. He flew his spaceship in and out of in-game combat. Nobody else he flew with knew he was in Iraq, while they were in the comfort of their homes -- in their wives and girlfriends arms -- with a coffee or milk in their hands. While they had pajamas on, he had his fatigues, ready to run out and patch people up who would otherwise bleed to death. A microcosom of light in an other wise brutal existance. That is hope in its purest.

Time to go cut my hair for the party tonight. I'm going for the Tyler Durden look, from the later half of the movie.

Gentle Night

...raise your fist and march around
until the blades of grass
break through the concrete.

I enjoy abrupt stops

I enjoy playing pool. I enjoy playing chess.

Brad is currently down stairs cleaning or something, making a whole bunch of noise.

I enjoy mello yello. It's like fuel to me.

I cannot seem to get a coherent group of things together to talk about, and it upsets me, because I don't want to make these posts just a rambling. I like to make my posts at least entertaining. Almost like a fiction work, only it really happened. That way people are entertained as well as reading what I have to say. And if I accomplish that, then every writer in the world is jealous of me.

I enjoy writing.

I have a few stories I woud like to tell, but do not have the energy to say them right now. One is about love-at-first sight dealies, the other is about stewie and his first thunderstorm, another is about the date I was on a few years ago.

Hey Seth is supposed to call me and we're supposed to go to frankies fun world, which is a land dedicated to putt putt, fast food, and I think arcades? Maybe a go cart track or something...it's been a while since I've been there. Hey have you guys ever been subjected to an abrupt stop?

beauty

I would like to tell everyone about love.

Now, this isn't your church Godly love, or your married-75-years-chicken-dance love. The kind of love I would like to talk about, is the kind that God intended us to have. The kind you'd see, if a caveman and cavewoman saw each other across the river.

I saw a girl. She came into Airimba. She had highheels, or some form of elevated shoes. I don't know if they were heels, but somthing that made her legs look longer. And her legs were long. They were slender. They went all the way up to the shortest pair of jeans they sell. Express Jean Shorts...goddam what a rush. Midrift was showing, and her tank top was stretched to it's limit by a pair of breasts that ... well, I later found out that she had just given birth, and her chest was meant for reproduction. Proportionally, they were the largest I have ever seen. Tanner than a filipino, dirtier blond than sand.

Beauty.

Carnal ferocity would not describe the things I wanted to do to her right there, infront of my boss, infront of my customers, in front of all of creation. My heart was going crazy...not the kind of crazy where you're in love, but the kind of crazy where so much blood is pumping that your eyes get blurry, and you can't hear anything. I started sweating like those stupid school boys who see a bra for the first time. In the theatrical sense of sex...if 1 were your average thursday afternoon mantinee, and 10 being the most depraved act of sexual reproduction known to the stage, not to be modest, but I would have commited an 11. I was a caveman. She was beautiful.

Now, all that description of beauty doesn't matter. Doesn't matter what she looked like really, what matter was the feeling. I was a caveman. I wanted her in the most basic way a human can need something. Ladies, this is the imporant part of the post. it doesn't matter what you look like...fat, skinny, blond, brunette...hundreds, even thousands of guys may see you every day, and every single one of them at least glances at you. It's natural, it's hereditary. They have to. Now, out of those guys who look at you, there is one who feels the same way towards you that I looked at that girl who came into my office. Honestly, she wasn't that pretty...I looked at pictures I took with my phone camera, and she's not someone that everyone would think is pretty. However look at that description; she was perfect in my eyes, and that description is how she came accross when I first saw her. So ladies reading this. Like I said...no matter what you look like, there is some guy who will see you as that perfect object of survival desire. Now THAT is beauty. I am sure a guy has seen you today and thought that.

This girl who came into Airimba..w e called her Lauren McHottie because we didn't know her name. Now this has happened several times in my life. I've seen the end-all girl. However all the girls I've met like this fall into one of the following catagories: 1) Dating someone else 2) Way out of my league 3) Off limits for varius reasons. And I hate that last one.

Okay, that's the first part of what I have to say about beauty. The second part I would like to say, I will say some time if I am feeling more bold.

Monday, February 21, 2005 | Permalink   

Intoxication

This post has been deleted in an interesting reverse censorship move....I invited my parents to read my weblog, so I must clense it of anything inappropriate for parents to see :) Now I just need to figure out a way to prevent them from reading my book.

Beauty

I went to a bar tonight with Ama and Sooz. Was a whole lot of fun.


I used to be the King of Clemson. Yes, I owned Clemson. I am sure in a later post, I will describe my syndicate. But for now, I will describe the feeling. The essence of being the King Of Clemson. The Heir to the Town. Everywhere I went, subjects would look at me. And I would look back at them, through my sharkcage sunglasses. I owned them. When ever someone looked at me funny, I would silently dare them. Dare them to challenge who I was; what I did. Because I knew no matter what happened, I was still in charge. I could control what happened to them. I knew several people who loved life the same way I did, and who would grasp it the same way I did. They would destroy anything in our way, just like I did. And if one of these people walking across campus looked at me funny, he would be in my way. He would be in our way. And because of that, I knew I owned Clemson. Nothing was in my way. I'll tell you a story.
One time I walked down the street with my friend. We owned the sidewalk. People moved out of our way. We crossed the street. We did not turn both ways because obviouslly we owned the street aswell. Someone honked their horn. We turned to look at who dare challenge our athority. A sports car. The owner yelled at us. Cussed at us. Threatened us.
My friend squinted. THe sports car owner was in the dominant position because of his vehical, but that did not phase us. The guy yelled something about "kicking" and "ass". My friend said it perfectly.
"Go ahead" he temped. "Kick my ass." Defeat me, he begged. "While you're doing that, my friend will steal your car."
Dominance in its perfection. A trump card that nobody can top. He let us cross the street with no further problems. He would have let us lay in the road, because he knew we were dominant.

I need to get laid. I was down town tonight, and I saw girls. I was exposed to the female population, and it was beautiful.

Several years ago, I was on a date.

And I will totally recount this when I am not intoxicated. Oh man I wish I could tell this story. It is beautiful.

Weddings

I attended an online wedding today. It took place in World of Warcraft. There was a bride in a wedding dress (created by an ingame tailor), and a groom with a tux, (created by the same ingame tailor). Similarly, there was a lvl 41 human priest. A couple dozen people attended, with a coordinated cerimony. They gave their vows, and traded expensive rings (traded them like goods traded by merchants). When the bride and groom kissed, audiance members shot of ingame fireworks which blew up in the sky. Afterwards, there was a wedding procession through the main city, to the bar, where the online characters got drunk . I left shortly afterwards. I wonder if there was a honeymoon?

That was an interesting little phenominon. Where is the gaming world going? Did these people really love each other? Were they just trying to get attention? It was a lot of coordination and work trying to get this put together. Someone even challened the groom to a fight for the hand of the bride (dueling is allowed amungst alliance members) and the groom of course won. Scripted most likley. It was a lot of fun...not because I went to a wedding, but because someone turned this game into their private chapple, and went through a holy matrimoney. If the lvl 41 human priest was an ordaned minister, would these people be married in real life?

I really wonder if they love each other. Are these people dorks? Should we be making fun of them? Or are they truley in love, and should we be jealous of them. In either case, it was a lot of fun watching the bride and groom summon their mounts, and trot through town, with fireworks going off everywhere.

Or are they the most lucky people we can think of?

Pizza In Video games

New day new blog. Btw, I hate that word because it makes me feel like a sell out.
They're starting to implement ordering pizza to online games. So now in order to receive pizza, you just type in /pizza, and it gets ordered. I'll type my prospective on that in a bit, but I don't have the energy now, as I just spent the past hour e-arguing it's necessity. And no, it's not just laziness, it has to do with progression. (well hey, maybe I do have the energy to explain it). It has to do with progressing our integration. Just like a hundred years ago someone said "if pizza is delievered, all people will become lazy." Now buisnesses order food all the time, just to get half an hour more productivity in the day. And the usefullness doesn't just come into play because video game addicts can now stay online longer. The big deal comes when programmers can click a few buttons and order food without hemming and hawing at the coffee pot with the rest of his fellow workers for an hour before ordering food. Midday hunger will evade people who like to work-till-it's-done. You know those moments of creativity, when you think you can work for hours and hours on end? Well that comes to an abrupt stop when you have to get up and collaborate your lunch time with a bunch of people , and spend the thirty seconds it takes to stop and talk to order food, and think about your credit card number, and all the other variables that get in the way of you continuing your stream of conciousness. Yeah, take that 2004 society!

When I was sick last week, stewie stayed in bed with me the entire time. I think Stewie logged about 40 hours of sleep in a 5 day pieriod. Crazy!

Goddess

I know a girl, and she's a goddess. And no no, I don't mean there's a chick that I wanna bang because she's the uber hottie, but rather she has royalty status. She's the only girl working in an all-male staff of computer nerds. I don't really know if they're nerds, but I don't like one of the guys that works there so they're giving me the benefit of the doubt by me calling them nerds. N-E-way, I found that very interesting. I want royalty status! I want to be able to ask all the silly questions and everyone rush to answer them as quickly as possible. In fact, I want everyone to rush to answer my question, and fight over which one gets to answer my silly question. That would be awesome, and that would make me a god, with a lower case G.

I just killed a horde member in World of Warcraft. He was bothering a noobie character. The noobie character saluted me (yes he typed /salute and his pixelated character stood up straight and put his hand to his face as if blocking the sun, in an aparent attempt to show his respect for killing the horde member that was killing him over and over. Does that make me a god? To some person out there, I was the idol of respect. Something that would make someone, somewhere in this world type something that would show me, my character, that he respected me. It was nice, but I want that in real life. I want to do something good enough to someone where they salute me. Maybe not salute, but to smile. Smile with the whole heaerted dilligence that someone under appriciation gives. That would be nice. It's happened on occasion, and that makes life worth living you know? Maybe if I were to become a steward, I could possibly be on a flight where the plane crashed, and maybe my instructions would save a bunch of people's lives. In the event of an emergency, exits are here, and here. Note that your closest exit might be behind you. I am a god

2nd post Musings

I was sitting around one day, trying to come up with the best way to describe how I felt about one particular person I do not like. And it was hard, because I can't just say "I hate this person" because 1) it is incorrect use of the word hate, 2) that phrase is over used to the point of mental bludgoning. Eventually, I decided I could not accuratly describe how I felt about this particular person. Which then lead to another thought. What if I described my loathing, but describing how undescribable it is to grasp my level of loathe? Well here it is...I decided that: "It would be difficult to express my distaste for this person, because the feeling is partially bound with infinity"
That's right. An .u.ber phrase to describe the .u.ber feeling.

By the way, did you know that uber came from an old german gaming termanology? Yes it's a word in the German language and everyone's all "yeah I know where it came from", but what they don't know is that it came from a sporting event. Yup! And of course now I can't remember what the name of the game is, so I look like an idiot.

Did you know urine is sterile? You could drink it

BANDWAGON

I seem to be the last one of my friends who started a blog. The best part, is i KNOW at least one, maybe two, people don't know what a "blog" is, or where it comes from. And for those of you who do not know, it comes from the term "Web Log", originally used for programming developers to communicate with each other and interested parties on the progress of the programs, for either historical or developmental purposes.
So, just as email started off being a privalaged net-savy-only-please doctorates' method of communicating the highest level of importants.....and is now used for every day communication by five year olds....so does the weblog evolve into something everybody uses.

So holy crap, I'm not going to be the last one on this bandwaggon! I admit it, I'm joining it to be trendy. I'm wearing an abercrombie shirt right now. Back in the day, I would have graduated college without stepping foot onto campus if I had developped a weblog. Now I'm doing it just because.....well, am I jealous? Am I jealous I didn't do it first? Am I upset that people are doing it to be trendy? Both, but probably mostly the ladder. People boast their "blogs" on their webpages and talk about it without knowing what one is. And it pisses me off so much so that I now HAVE to get a weblog and be cool like the masses!

I am just overly venting because in reality, I'm sure most people know what a blog is...or maybe I'm just saying that as not to offend anyone who didn't know what it was. In any event, I'm writing again, and no matter the reasons I started.....it's going to be fun :)