Another Time Round

In approximately 4 hours as of the beginning of this post, I'll have achieved somewhere around 24 rotations of Sol on this crazy rock hurtling through space that we call Earth.

It's not a bad way to hurtle through space at something like 67,000 miles an hour.

That's pretty fast. At least comparatively. For us, the fastest man made vehicle (considered to be the Space Shuttles) can travel around 9, 528.12 meters/second in the atmosphere or more, which is about 6 miles a second, and thus around 6*60*60 = 21600 miles an hour.

Then again, light travels at 299,792,458 m/s in a vacuum, which is a big ass number in miles/hour.

So compared to our puny definitions of speed, based on what human beings have been able to travel at, the Earth is the one to beat. When compared with light though. It might as well be standing still.

The reason I'm going through this (somewhat) tedious speed analysis is basically to draw a little mind picture of perspective.

We are small. Very small. Incredibly small. Some would say we are insignificant. I agree that we are incredibly small, moving on a rock through space around one of billions of stars with the next nearest star to ours, Alpha Centauri (which is actually three stars) approximately 4.37 light years away. Remember that light travels at around 16,108,252 times the speed of our Earth. For earth to even travel the distance that light travels in one year, we'd have to have a planet around three and a half times older than it is. In order then for it to travel to Alpha Centauri, it would have to be nearly 16 times older than it is (Assumed at around 4.5 billion years). Lets keep in mind that a generous estimate of the earliest humans is put at 200,000 years ago. That implies that we've been around for around 1/360th of the time needed to traverse the distance to the nearest star to ours on the fastest vehicle we have: the Earth.

That's only the closest. No one knows the true expanse of the Universe, although it is generally agreed through rampant estimation that there are around 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars.

Alpha Centauri and Sol make up four of those.

Here's another way of looking at it. Lets say we live 100 years and that all stars are equally spaced (They aren't due to the distances between galaxies, but this is for simplicity's sake).

In order to visit one star that is not ours, we'd have to live 720,000 times longer than we do. In order to visit all stars... we'd have to live, assuming perfect course choice among stars, 720,000 * 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 = 720,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 times longer than we do. Seven Hundred and Twenty Septillion times longer.

We are incredibly small.

I would argue that we're not insignificant. We can in our heads visit the end of the Universe. We can travel at speeds overtaking anything that nature can do. We can create and destroy our ownUniverses, we can do amazing things.

All by just closing your eyes and imagining it.

Imagination is what makes us significant, for even though we may never physically visit the furthest stars, probe the deepest secrets of the Universe, we can already do it in our minds. Anything that can exist, the mind can contrive of, there is no limit on human imagination.

Push yours once in a while.

As I reach what is (nearly) a quarter of my life by my assumed standards I like to think that I've lived more than many people get to in their whole lives. Who knows what will happen in the future for sure? I know that I see a future in my mind for the human race. It's private, my ideal society.

I also have explored more than many others will get to. Exercize your imagination... be light! Be a wave and a particle at the same time and blast through space. Or be something more! Be a spiral, a springloaded beam of intelligence speeding up and slowing down as you compact and spring out through the depths of eternity. Fly around the sun, take a trip to Mars. Go anywhere you want.

I've got (maybe) another 76 trips around Sol on this planet.

I intend to enjoy every single one of them.

Creature

I call it the: Cylomortis.

It's a scaly creature, about the size of a football, and somewhat pod shaped. It has four legs at the back and two at the front, as well as a pair of claws which stick out the each side at the front. It's head is muzzle shaped supporting it's carnivorous/scavanging nature. It has the appropriate teeth, and simple slits on the sides of it's head which serve as ears. Again, simple slits for nostrils, but great big eyes. The eyes are most effective since the Cylomortis can swivel it's head about 270 degrees in both directions. It has a long tail, used for balance when running or jumping.

The most interesting thing about the Cylomortis is it's reproductive style. The females lay eggs, and the males come by and pick them up. They store them in a special protective sac and the eggs remain unfertilized. At the moment of death, the Cylomortis explodes spikes out of every side of it's body. The spikes are about an inch apart and 5-9 inches long, and usually serve to kill any animal capable of killing and eating the creature. At this point, as the spikes fire out, the eggs that the male has collected (up to 5 depending on size and availability) are all fertalized and released. The purpose of this, is upon hatching, the young have two corpses to feed on, usually holding them for long enough for them to develop into a reasonably defensive state. It takes the young about 3 days to become capable of supporting themselves.

This all came to me just randomly by closing my eyes and watching the images float by.

Random Night Thoughts

I was lying in bed, just taking some time to think, and it occurred to me to wonder if the ratio from an acorn to an oak tree is the same as an egg to a human. I thought on this for a while, trying to do the mental math, but the answers stayed just out of reach.

Is the night sky black? No. It appears black or dark blue to us sometimes, but it doesn't have a color. It's more the absence of light, which is kinda neat.

That's all I really remember. After that I must have slipped into that sweet state between sleep an awake, where the subconscious and the conscious minds fight for control. It's a wonderful place, so many amazing things go through my head... I wish I could remember them all. I need to keep pencil and paper by me when I sleep so that I can write down these things.


Meanwhile, maybe I'll meet Julia Roberts there.

Waste

Don't waste your life.

Just something that's on my mind. If you have something you want to do in life, do it. Don't let society's way of urging you to spend your whole life working 9 to 5 to buy more things prevent you from doing what you want.

I like thinking. I want to do it, but I don't want other people telling me what to think, especially arrogant people who think they know everything or think that art should be critiqued based on how scientifically correct it is. Especially those who think that those who create comedy that isn't exactly right and true need to be taken seriously and shut down as people who aren't as worthy as them.

Maybe that's what really bothers me. People who think they're better than others. Everyone is a person, no matter what. Some are more intelligent than others, some are more talented at other things, but we're all people.

[selfexperience] Congratulations, you know the difference between a meteor and a comet. That's a good reason to act all high and mighty when it comes to an obvious work of comedy, and shut it down as nothing. [/selfexperience]

For those who happen to read this before meeting me, if you're stuck on yourself, don't expect me to even bother listening to you. You're a waste of my time, and I'm not even remotely interested in listening to your self serving garbage.

I've got one life, I'll have who I want in it, I'll be friends with who I want to (which is most people) and I'll do what I want to do.

Don't waste your life, and don't waste mine.

Creations

I had an amazing experience the other day, initiated by me walking into a small, out of the way used book store.

There were thousands of old books there, wrinkled, bent, worn. It's amazing how many people have created these things, and I've maybe heard of one or two of them.

It occured to me, as I was sitting there with this incredible feeling of awe at the creations made by all these people, that there is absolutely no way for anyone to experience all the creations.

People don't create so that everyone will experience what they've created... they create so that some will experience it. We're all connected by what we experience together and apart. I've read a book that you've read, then lots that you haven't. Others have read some of those and some that I haven't read. It's like, collectively, as a species we are made to experience all art. We're all connected through it. I'm mainly talking about books because it was a book store that prompted this, but the same goes for movies, songs, paintings, all creations.

I found a book in a small shop beside the book store that was all creations done by people around my town. This book was approximate one inch by two inches and hand crafted, pasted together. There were several copies of it, each individually made, and so I picked one up and flipped through it. One of the pages had a simple phrase on it.

"Did you find me?"

Yes. I found you. Your creation has been experienced by me, someone you don't know and probably never will. It's entered the flowing ocean of experiences, and is connected through me to others now.

Along those lines, I had an idea recently... what if we were to create a forum in which everyone finds connections to other people through the books they've read? Write a list of your say, top 10 or top 20 favorite books or series and then other people can see books they've read and enjoy others that you have too. Perhaps I'll start this one day, or, if it already exists, join it.

Treasure your experiences.

You are an essential link in the chain.

Sphere

http://technology.newscientist.com/article/dn14229-roundest-objects-in-the-world-created.html


Perfect spheres... the ultimate in perfection, yet still not completely achievable. Nothing is nature is perfect, nothing is absolutely flawless. Some things are close, but everything has it's problems.

It's an imperfect world in which we live.

Good.

Courtesy

I've been sitting here, in a coffee shop, listening to people talk.

There are some really loud obnoxious people in this world. I'm fairly certain that at least one, check that, I'm positive that one of them was drunk (he just said that he was). The conversation they chose to have started with.

Big words.
Antidisestablishmentarianism
What does it mean, and how can 'Anti' and 'Dis' be combined in that way.
Then on to people wasting food at tables and how they had chosen to eat said food.

They were talking about all these things in really loud voices, with liberal use of the word "fuck" while a baby was at the table, not two feet away from them, and the other patrons were starting to look at them.

I understand wanting to have free speech, and the ability to talk to each other freely. What I don't understand is how they don't feel embarrassed about them in front of a tiny baby. In a public coffee house. At five in the afternoon.

Seriously, yell all you like. Drink all you like, no brain cells out of my head. Do your drugs. Just please, have a little bit of common courtesy and stay away from public places when you're yelling fuck every two words.

Ignorance is bliss I guess. When all you can care about is yourself, when you're ignorant of the feelings of others, it must be a good time.

I for one can't turn those feelings off.

I'm glad.

Flow

'Twas brillig, and the keen eye sees,
Between the forest and the trees;

A flowing dance, with leaps and jumps,
While dodging trees; evading stumps,

Intricate moves; simple ones too,
That hypnotize you, through and through;

The dancer moves, it's muscles swell;
Knows naught of Heaven, nor of Hell;

For to be free, to feel the call;
You cannot be tied down at all;

Not fearing from hell, all the flame;
Nor hope from Heaven, sweet reclaim;

Forever on, the dancer moves;
Consumed within the song's deep groove;

Eternity, the length of it;
Around and round; lifetime commit;

The flow of life, inside the dance;
Fulfilling way to spend your chance.

Judgement

Running through the forest, dodging trees, leaping over rocks, speeding away and laughing.

Murderer ran.

Killing was not just a way of life, it was a job, a passtime, a pleasure. Victims lived on only in a small book, kept well hidden.

A river... deep... too deep to cross without swimming, and cloaks are hard to dry.

Running along the banks, trying not to slip, but with a solid pace and excellent balance. Top physical form was required for this profession, absolute precision in all things.

A bridge yet... how is that possible? A bridge with the waters not only running under it, but encircling it, flowing around it before continuing the trek downstream. The color of the water... bright, clear yet deep blue and are those creatures swimming around it? How can it be? It is only perhaps a meter in diameter.

Stopping in front of the bridge, a sign catches the eye.

*************************

A soul goes through;
Will one come out?
Be judged as who
You are; don't doubt...

For should you fail,
Your death awaits.
The water stales,
For those who hate.

*************************

Murderer smiles. Hatred is a waste of energy and time. It is easier to feel pleasure.

Across the bridge, stopping under the waters, looking around. Where is the judgement?

A glint; sunlight reflecting off the water. Then it is gone, the sunlight. Complete darkness, blinded by pitch black. Nothing happens. Murderer grins, awaiting the end of the test.

From the outside, a figure stands unmoving on a bridge, more still than should be possible, for a few, brief moments before tumbling sideways into the water.

For a sliver of time the arcing waters around the bridge turn bright red, then black; cleansing themselves. Then they return to the color they had been.

The only indication that anyone had ever been there was a small book, drifting off down the river, making the journey home.