He’d never quite felt comfortable on land, though neither in the sea or sky. But here, deep in the forest by a small lake, he had found his home. Perhaps ironically, it wasn’t the place that was home, but just about everything else about it. The sense of peace, the way the winds pass through the trees and the rain falls on the leaves. He’d never been one to depend on his external senses, but always longed to explore the world in ways he never really dared. Scared to be alone, terrified of being surrounded by anything other than his own thoughts.

But now, surrounded by the trees which had started to shed its leaves in preparation for winter, he found himself sitting quietly, just looking around and listening to the sounds of the forest. For now, ignoring the pen and paper in his hands, instead taking the time to think about his past, his present and his future. A flow of words, images and pure thought flowed around inside his mind, flowing from the gentle warmth that seemed to leak away from his very soul into the world around him. It was a strange experience, but he had grown used to it over time and learned what it truly was. An equivalent exchange, a non-verbal agreement between him and the universe to give each other life in a symbiosis often overlooked by others.

Of course, no such trade comes without its difficulty. Equivalent though the exchange may be, it is still a compromise.  Something gained for something lost. The key to happiness is finding the right loss for the right gain. And that kind of wisdom only comes with experience of life’s intricacies. There is no one guaranteed road to happiness, though if there was, it would probably be bumpier than most. His own path hadn’t been an easy one either, with his own woes and ‘bad trades’, but in the end, he’d found where he had wanted to go. Home.

There are always more than two sides to a story, more than just Good against Evil, no matter the victor. All acts affect everything else in the universe, in ways we don’t always comprehend, even as we try to label and categorise them. But in the end, the universe has a balance which cannot be changed. In the beginning, there was nothing. In the end, all that will remain is nothing. Everything else is fluctuation and change, all ultimately adding up to nothing again. One could assign positive effects to Good, and negative effects to Evil. But from the perspective of any living being in this universe, no single act only ever affects a positive change.

The natural state of Everything is Nothing. All things add up to null and void. Every action is balanced out eventually. Religions have tried to explain this, but ultimately it comes down to physics. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The best we can hope for is a local maximum, in mathematical terms. And that is what many of us choose to strive for. Mathematically, ‘many of us’ are 50% of ‘all of us’. Half, a balance. Mankind is not by definition Evil, nor is it Good. Mankind is. And it will be until it is no longer.

That is exactly how I choose to live my life. Everything matters, exactly because by the end of it, it will become Nothing. It’s all we have. And for every action I take, somewhere, somewhen, an equal but opposite reaction will occur. Knowing this, I will make choices that will benefit myself and those around me. Knowing that somewhere, somewhen, something will occur to make up for this local maximum. Because in the end, Everything will become Nothing.

By this reasoning, one might think heroes are the true villains. But Good and Evil do not exist. Everything balances itself out. All we know is the world we live in, and this is all we can knowingly affect and influence. 50% of us will have a negative effect on Everything, 50% of us will have a positive effect. In the end, it doesn’t matter. But right now, it matters to those of us who know this. But in terms of Good against Evil, consider this: If you choose to affect your world negatively, you will be directly responsible for misery to those around you.

Life is inherently destructive because it is stronger than anything else. Life is what affects the Scales of Everything and Nothing. It will, eventually, destroy everything. Which is exactly why we should strive to go against our nature. Me, I’ll strive to do ‘Good’, to affect life around me in a positive way. Because, for all I know, the Universe will balance this out by destroying a sun in an empty part of the Universe, where it will harm no-one able to experience suffering. The net effect of Everything will be Nothing, but this tells us nothing of the net effect of Every Little Thing. Time will balance everything out, but it is not sentient, nor sapient.

I’m not certain about a lot of things, in fact pretty much everything is just one big guess to me. But I do believe in Hope. I see Hope as a driving force of all living things, no matter how destructive we are. Something, somewhere, started this imbalance, this flux state of Nothing into Everything. Something created Life, even if its sole purpose is to return Everything to Nothing. Let’s just try to make it last. Everything is all we’ve got.

I’m near enough the quiet cold everlasting to find myself afraid of what’s to come. But there is still an ember burning inside, with a passion reserved only for those who know themselves. I won’t fall into the abyss, not before I find what I was looking for in the darkness I find myself surrounded in. My words and my actions are not who I am. They have shaped me, but the spark was given by something else. I will continue to burn away the cold with my desires, until the candle is lit and the world becomes bright enough for me to open my eyes. The quiet cold everlasting does not stand a chance against a single hope, a single dream, for its mere existence is a victory that in and of itself cannot be undone.

The fire flickered and died, the embers still glowing slightly in the dark. Nothing much else happened on the camp site and all that could be heard were the sounds of night-time in the dense forest around it. Only one person was still awake, but the figure just sat silently, slowly breathing in the cold air. The area was safe enough for the travellers not to worry about dangerous animals, so the darkness was not unwelcome. The early autumn days were followed by cold nights, so all four of them had wrapped themselves up in blankets before all but one of them went to sleep. They still had a long road ahead of them in order to rejoin some semblance of civilisation, which meant they could not risk exhaustion, especially not when their youngest was injured…

The other Mages, young as they were – just like himself, really – were already too deeply entrenched in ritual and tradition to see the true reality of Magic. He’d never been one for rigid rules, certainly not when it came to something like magic itself. No living, breathing entity should be imprisoned in the constructs these so-called Wizards weaved. Even the Apprentices were learning only to enslave and imprison, rather than to nourish and share a bond with the power that rested within their very souls. He detested every moment he spent here, it wasn’t the right place for his ideas, but it was the only place remotely like what he sought. He wanted to learn Magic, learn what it was, but more importantly who it was.

Unlike the rest of them, he already knew its potential – he didn’t need to step foot in the Library Halls to know that all magic had unlimited potential, because it was not limited by anything beyond the laws of nature. While the Elder Wizards thought they needed to build stronger, better prisons for their ‘wizardry’, his mind conjured up greater feats of power than any of their little tricks could hope to achieve. Of course, he had yet to develop a way to bring his ideas into reality, which was precisely why he had travelled to the Academy in the first place. But he knew he would not spend a lot of time here – the place felt evil, evil in a way that should not exist in any world. But he would seek out the knowledge he needed to take his first steps into a realm even Wizards considered to be pure fantasy.

Her feet sank slowly into the wet sand as she looked out at the sunset. The giant ball of destruction that somehow managed to be the cause of life on the planet she found herself standing on. The beach was abandoned, but she still heard some stray calls of seagulls. She closed her eyes and just felt the calm sea breeze and the water lapping at her ankles. It wasn’t often that she found herself at the ocean, despite the fact it covered two-thirds of the planet. But, like the sun, the ocean helped sustain the life around her, and the life inside her. Without either one, she would not be there, she would never have smiled like this because she would never have existed.

Her contemplations about life, the universe and everything else are what drove her to her art, even if others would never deign to call it such – it wasn’t art in the sense they were used to, therefore it wasn’t art at all. She moved the world with her hands alone, yet the days still passed as they always did. The sun still rose every day, or rather, the earth still spun as it had for a thousands of years. And it would continue to do so, whether she was there or not to gently guide its way. After all, she was but a speck of sand compared to the rest of the universe. Ever so small, but crucial nonetheless to so many things around her.

My world seemed darker than it ought to be – as if other worlds were somehow brighter and that this one should be too. But, child that I was, I dared to dream. The darkness never really caught onto my heart, as it had done to many others. They’d grown old and grey, well before they were meant to. I had never quite let go of my childhood, however, and I was younger than my peers, yet in my youthful arrogance I also felt wiser. I felt I’d suffered more than any others because I was somehow more vulnerable, like a phoenix in the rain.

But it was exactly a phoenix which showed me how untrue my world views were – though at the same time it reminded me that childhood is something one should never surrender to anything, even to adulthood. A bird of flame could withstand the endless downpour of rain not because of some higher power, but because it would never surrender, never let its flame be doused by anything at all. I came to learn that my weaknesses were in fact strengths, if only I learned to use them in my favour. I let the flame of the phoenix brighten my heart even more, and I promised myself I would never surrender to the rain or anything else. My inner flame would be what made the world as bright as it should be: bright enough to uplift those around me without blinding them to reality.

Light and dark are often used as a metaphor for good and evil, at least in the stories I’ve been told throughout my youth. But people never seem to realise that light can be just as blinding as darkness – it takes a careful balance to allow us to truly see the beauty of the world around us. For every phoenix, there will be a shadow dark enough to counter its light, but this is no reason to surrender. Quite the opposite, it’s a reason to shine bright, be proud of who you are and to never close your eyes to the world around you. It takes a balance tipped just slightly in favour of the light, for the spark of magic to exist. The slight spark that makes all the difference, a spark which exists in every world, no matter how dark it may seem.

The light danced in his eyes as well as in his hands – a small creature that seemed to be made of moonlight crawled quickly back and forth between his fingers. It was hard to tell what kind of creature it resembled – it seemed both furry and scaly all at once. It had a soft, ethereal glow about it that to stretch out further than it should in the darkness. He smiled as he watched it play, keeping half an eye on the camp fire and of course his dinner. He had no idea where the critter came from, had never even seen one before. He knew, of course, of Magic and of Sorcery, Witchcraft and Wizardry, but he’d never seen anything remotely magical back home. He’d grown up far from what others would call ‘civilization’. In fact, he’d never even seen a castle or a house not built of wood.

But he’d gone out into the world to explore it and discover new things. And now, he caught his first glimpse of something new, something unique and different.  He knew it could hardly not be magical, this creature of moonlight. He could feel its tiny, sticky feet clinging to his fingers, yet it had no weight of its own. He just watched it play for a while when the little thing suddenly glowed brightly and then vanished into nothingness.

He looked at the sky. It looked back, its face clouded and grim, about to burst out in anger, to lash at the world with storm and wind. But he smiled, as he usually did when the world around him grew dark, knowing that he’d weather the storm. It’s easy to be scared, especially when the world around you speaks so loudly it drowns out your own voice, it’s easy to feel lost and alone and forgotten.

But that’s not why the storms are there. They exist to wash away the past, to renew the world and to offer it a glimmer of hope, a small chance at overcoming past mistakes. Every raindrop was an offer of life, an offer of hope. Even the lightning served its purpose in discharging the stress of the world itself – to calm it, soothe its very soul even as it shudders in response.

Every storm will end, but it will leave behind the gift of renewal. One would need to lose all hope to not appreciate what the winds brought them. Even something as regular as rain gives chance an opportunity to change the world. And that’s why the young man smiled as he looked up at the sky as it started to rage. It would calm, it would pass, and the world would grow once again.

His thoughts drifted like the leaves falling from the trees around him. Short, unconnected memories followed by feelings, interspersed with hopes and tiny little dreams. It wasn’t often he just let himself go, to just be, to just let the world move past. He’d always been on the run from his past, aiming for a future so vague it seemed almost mythical. He’d learned to bend reality around his fingers like a child learning to braid strings together, never stopped learning until he could weave his dreams into the world. Never did he consider himself an artist, however, for every strand in his every weave served a purpose, a higher goal than just creating something new.

But soon, it would be time to start his grandest project yet. Enough with the little tricks, the years of endless refinement and practice. He’d been a street magician for decades,  travelling the lands and amazing the people with sleights of hand that twisted their perception, beguiled their senses and sometimes betrayed their souls. He’d fooled children, he’d fooled Kings, earned their respect and their gold, but he’d never found what he was looking for, in all his travels. But he’d never given up, never stopped practising his skills, perfecting them until he felt he could bring his dreams – his nightmares – to life. And every autumn, as the leaves started to fall, he’d take a moment, be it a minute or many hours, to reflect upon the reality around him, leaving it untouched, unspoilt by his desires.

Because he knew what the future would hold. So there he stayed; watching, thinking, hoping. Until again, it was time to move on, time to return to playing God with the minds of men, chasing down a dream that might end the world.

She never thought she would have had to make these choices, of almost life and death, of right and wrong and far beyond. Reality is often just the slightest bit more complex than we anticipate, than we ever seem to realise, in that beyond our perception lies yet another infinity we rarely even consider. But she knew that the fairy tales, the amazing stories she was told in her youth, simply weren’t true, simply couldn’t be real. Not within her world, at least. Even if it truly was a world of magic and spells – fairy tales were something altogether different. But no, her fairy tales had no place here, even after a great Evil had been Vanquished not too long ago.

Of course, this just made her want to leave, to run away and find a new world, a world more suited to who she believed herself to be. But unfortunately, reality is a harsh prison from which the mind can only escape for brief moments, little more than distractions. She always thought she didn’t quite fit in, didn’t quite belong, that there should be more to reality than just this miserable existence. But dreams and fantasies only exist in the mind, so she pushed them away in order to properly face the reality that was so evident around her, though it left a bitter taste not quite in her mouth but somewhere deeper.

But she wasn’t a child anymore. She could face this bleak dark world without the comfort of things that never existed, that never were nor could ever be. She’d have to learn a different way to deal with reality – a colder, darker way. Reality itself would numb her emotions, force her to grow up, grow away from the innocence of childhood. There would be no room for fantasy, for fairy tales or even for dreams that don’t quite seem possible. She wasn’t a child anymore, after all.

There isn’t much to say. Not yet, at least. But I’m watching, I’m learning. Trying to discover what must be done to improve upon the misery that is Mankind. To convey to them all that there is more to this universe than their petty perceptions of reality. They are a disease that must be cured, but without destroying their potential. More intelligent creatures than I would perhaps seek to destroy them, in order to save the universe from their greed.

But I feel that would be the greater injustice. The end of awareness, the end of sentience, no matter its form, is a tragic loss to the universe as a whole. Without awareness, there are no more stories. And in the end, it is stories that make the universe alive. Perhaps I won’t succeed in my efforts, but they will be sincere, honest, and it will be a story worth telling, no matter its ending.

Machinae Supremacy – Timeline

Imagine a future where instead of facing Death, you face a choice. Either you die, or your conscience gets uploaded into a machine. A machine inside of which you control your own universe. You would literally be a deus ex machina. A god (and a ghost) of the machine. You could create any virtual reality you desire, with no limits beyond your own imagination. Would you feel free? Or would you always remember the fact you live inside a machine, never to step out of your own boundless, infinite universe? You would be stuck in a universe of your own creation, unable to get out, unable to get away. Knowing that out there is another universe, another reality, one you left behind. One beyond your control.

Omnipotence is, in that sense, more restrictive than our own limited abilities. If only because we don’t control everything. This gives us a freedom no God could ever have. We don’t know everything, we can’t do everything. This gives us the means to explore and to discover. A God knows every single part of his cage, because he was the one to build it. It’s sometimes said that the most effective prison, the most effective punishment, is imagined by he who should receive it. In a sense, this is true. Once you know everything, all hope is lost. Once every little detail of something is known to you, you can no longer escape it. There will be nothing ‘new’, nothing to distract or escape to.

Being left alone in a cage, even one you can fill with whatever you please, will eventually destroy your hope. The only escape would be the brief interactions with the world outside, the things you can’t control. The things you haven’t known forever. Many would initially think omniscience, omnipotence would be a gift. Knowledge is power, but like many things, once something approaches infinity, it loses all meaning. Instead, it becomes a cold, soulless, abstract thing. With infinite knowledge and power comes the loss of emotion. The loss of true life, of discovery and learning.

To become a God is worse than Death, because it requires you to give up not just your life, but your soul. Rather than become oblivious, you lock yourself into a cage forevermore, to never again be truly free. I have no desire to become God, or even immortal. I wish to merely live long enough to discover the universe, learn its secrets, only to fade away into nothingness. To start over, perhaps, in a different universe. It seems, in my limited knowledge of any religion, that Western philosophies would put us each into gilded cages, whereas the oriental ideas take into account the limitations required for freedom.

I have no idea if any religion is in any way correct, but I’d like to believe my own beliefs are true. Like anyone else, I suppose. But I find I don’t need to be ‘right’ to live a worthwhile life, even if I don’t live forever. I intend to live long enough to be happy, not so long as to stop being able to learn. Imposing my beliefs on others would change nothing of either my own, or their future. Except in that it wastes the time we have now, to discover, to learn, and to be happy.

The things that happen every moment are at once so simple and so complex that we can’t comprehend what it takes for us to ‘simply’ breathe. We know the rough process of our lungs contracting and relaxing to suck in and expel air, but we’re not quite sure how all of that works, how every individual cell does its part, how they all know when or what to do. We just have vague ideas, ones only a precious few of us indulge themselves in discovering.

Most of us just exist, content to leave the ‘why’ behind, to instead find meaning in other things. Things like art, beauty, abstract concepts that somehow came into being through endless iterations of the simplest of events, on the smallest of scales. When you imagine atoms, have you ever imagined that every single atom has its own story to tell, unique in every way, just like you? Perhaps the tale is slightly less complex, in some ways, but in others it’s just as unbelievable. Consider that every atom of your body once belonged to something else, and will again some time in the future. They live longer lives than we will.

Humans… Complex creatures, but at our core we’re made of simple stories.

“The universe is made of stories, not atoms.” – Muriel Rukeyser

It’s been two months since what people are now starting to call the Eclipse. Or at least, the people around me. Without technology, communication is limited to local news only – no TV, no internet, no radio. Nobody knows what’s going on, though there are a few people who claim otherwise. They say it’s God’s will, or just a fluke of nature, that it will pass and life will go back to normal ‘soon enough’.

But nobody knows for certain, we can do nothing but hope for the best and get on with our lives, despite our losses. I suppose I’m lucky, in a way, having been an orphan before the Eclipse, rather than having become one right after. Many, many people are far less lucky. But even an orphan can lose friends and loved ones, as I have. There are still a few positive bits of news – people reunited with friends and family. But unfortunately, bad news is vastly more common these days.

Nobody knows what to do now, though many have started looting and pillaging whatever they can find, mostly food and such, since that’s what’s most desperately needed, especially in the cities. Which is exactly why I’m intending to leave once I have gathered (through more honest means, of course) sufficient supplies to last me through my journey. There will be a food shortage in the cities soon enough, but I’m hoping to find food and shelter in the rural areas, to ideally find work on a farm. Our modern farms weren’t designed to be sustainable without technology.

Perhaps tractors and such would still work. At least, insofar as there is fuel to run them on, but it seems any and all electronic devices have ceased to function. Who knows how long that will be the case, but I’d rather take my chances in a place where food is readily available, even if it’s through labour. Finding a farm seems my best option, so that’s what I’ll do.

Add to that a constant flow of random ideas that are hard to mesh together, it’s hard to stick to one thing at a time.

Here’s another one of those ideas:

Two hundred years after the Eclipse, Earth has become a world where technology is no longer mankind’s greatest achievement, but its greatest downfall. After the first Solar Flares, the world experienced a technological blackout that soon became known as the Eclipse. During this event, the first of many Uprisings began, with many different groups – religious, political, military and otherwise – seeking to gain control of our shattered civilizations.

This new, fledgling world, orphaned by its own birth, would give rise to a new age of magic to replace what was lost in the destruction wrought by the many groups who tried in vain to save a world that could no longer be sustained.

For example, if I were to speak of you, to tell you how I see you, I would never truly capture what I perceive you to be, just how my perceptions are never quite enough to describe who you know yourself to be. I could not even describe to you the way my heart beats, at least not in a way that captures every single nuance and emotion attached to the simple contracting of muscles that were designed to keep me alive.

There is nothing which can be described accurately, nothing that we even perceive fully and completely. But we still try, every chance we get. Prose, poetry, music, or just scribblings on a bathroom wall; every word expresses a nuance crying out against the limitations of our perception and expression. We may not even be aware of it when we’re speaking, how difficult it is to get our thoughts across. We just ignore that niggling feeling that something in our words is missing.

Sometimes, however, the things we can’t say out loud are expressed nonetheless in subtle ways — through subtext, context and more importantly, connotation. Every word, every sound carries its own feelings with it. Throughout our lifetimes we learn the meaning of words, long after we’ve figured out the definitions. Every new experience affects our vocabulary in ways we often aren’t aware of.

It’s often said that to explain a joke, it loses its meaning and will never be fully understood by the one you explain it to. This is precisely why writing is exceedingly difficult. Writers need to figure out those nuances, those hidden meanings, in everything they put to paper. To convert blots of ink on a piece of paper — pixels on a screen — with so many intrinsic and extrinsic meanings. To put to paper things which can mean completely different things only by the way they’re spoken is a task that’s very often similar to the act of explaining a joke.

It’s the things that aren’t said that often shape the meaning of the things we do say.  Even in writing this, I’ve said a thousand different things to every person who’ll ever read these words. What you take away from this little essay is altogether different from what anyone else learns from it. There are meanings hidden away that only people with certain experiences can see — things I didn’t even see in writing this. But that is part of the beauty of words. They mean more than we’ll ever know, even if we were to live forever.

Words are more alive than we give them credit for.

A language, yes, not of science, but of magic. Because, in many ways, the two are the same, yet polar opposites. One describes the Laws, the other the Nature of them. But one without the other is virtually meaningless. Law without Nature lacks flavour, Nature without Law lacks substance. And it’s up to us humans, as well as any other sentient lifeforms, to find the balance, to discover both the science and the magic behind our Universe.

We’ve only just started expressing these Laws in a coherent manner… But have we even found a language to express their Nature?

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.”
- Samuel Beckett

We are not without flaws, or mistakes. They’re what make us unique, together with our positive  elements. It’s the mistakes we learn from, the flaws we improve upon, that allow us to grow. Without them, we would exist, nothing more. We wouldn’t live, or even be alive, truly, in the sense that life is worth living. Without our flaws, we have nothing to gain in being alive, nothing at all.

Perfection is a noble goal to strive for, but a sad goal indeed to have reached. For what’s left to do, after attaining perfection itself?

It would escape many a person’s thoughts, the idea that fey are masters, not of trickery, but merely of irony. A word, ironically in fact, oft-mistaken to mean something altogether more akin to trickery than what the Fey truly represent. Irony is used in mockery of its true meaning, out of ignorance instead of understanding.

Most would say irony is merely a type of bad luck. The Fey do not cause unfortunate events to happen. Instead, they merely toy with your expectations. They don’t change the Fates, they’re merely its agents, in a way. They are what makes life interesting, not cruel. Other creatures are responsible for that, darker creatures.

I might reference an ancient curse, “May you live in interesting times”. Again, a misunderstanding of the Irony of the Fey, is the root cause of this expression. Where the Dwarves concerned themselves with controlling the Fates, it wasn’t the Fey who stopped them, but their own expectations.

One would think a race of Metallurgists would understand Fey irony.

“He bested the heroes, killed the defenders, overtook the world. Then he killed the narrator and he was the villain no more.”
- Vijayendra Mohanty

The lingering concept that emotion lies in the heart, not in the mind, is one which always leaves me with a sort of amusement.

It’s the organ that makes us bleed when we’re cut, which drives us past our own strength in the moments we need it. It’s the organ that gives life to everything we do, good or evil. We try to control it, but in the end, not even our minds can change the heart. No amount of rationality can change what we feel.

The only thing we can do is drown out what we feel, to the point we think we no longer feel at all. But the blades that cut us don’t lose their sharpness by our will alone.

The reason negative emotions linger is because unlike cuts and bruises, they can’t be healed with time, just pushed away by other emotions. Over the course of a lifetime, love and resentment grow constantly. They don’t diminish. They linger even if they are forgotten by the mind, both the good and the bad.

But it’s the bad we feel most, because that’s what makes us bleed, what makes us lose ourselves to apathy and injury. Negative emotion leaves visible scars, while positive emotion leaves no visible signs behind for us to remember them by.

I have brought this upon myself; this endless downpour, this storm beyond words wreaking havoc on the very soul I sought to complete. The human soul was never made to be two things all at once. To be the ever-burning flame and the endless rain washing down upon it. I don’t remember when this pain all started, nor do I know when it will end. Perhaps from birth ’til death, I couldn’t tell you. I’ve lived with it for as long as I remember, only finding solace in fleeting moments that pass by between heartbeats.

I can’t tell you what’s missing that keeps me from finding my answers, because that’s the very question I have. Why are we born broken into a world just as broken as we are, if nothing we do can fix the broken realities that we tried to bend to our will and whimsy; can you tell me?

Contradictions are synonymous to the soul. It is, after all, harbour to both rationality and emotion, vessels which can withstand the greatest adversaries but can break apart at the merest whispered word. Whatever desires fuel the soul, it will exist for as long as these desires exist, regardless of their impact on reality. At least, until these desires are shattered, be it by destroying the illusions that created them, or quite simply a lack of nourishment.

The light behind a person’s eyes can be snuffed out without any physical reason, or burn brighter the more it has to endure. It can be defined by a single moment that encompasses an entire lifetime. It can sometimes be expressed in a single word, but sometimes the universe itself is not enough to describe it.

This, to me, is the human soul.

It hadn’t been long since the first snow fell, but a thick blanket already covered the entire city. She wasn’t about to go outside, as the evening news had reported the weather was bound to get worse, possibly turning into a blizzard.

So she chose to go back to her bedroom and turn on her computer. It wasn’t much of one, already a few years old, but it did what she wanted it to do. And tonight in particular, she longed to play her favourite game. Her own private addiction, one only few people knew about. Aside from, of course, the other players, in particular her clan mates.

She’d always been something of a geek, not particularly in regards to computers, but she didn’t really fit in with most other people. Her reality was what others would consider a fantasy, mostly because it was better than theirs. She didn’t care about their opinions; she was her own person and fully capable of making her own choices, even if her parents didn’t always agree with them.

Scarlet, though already twenty-five years old, hadn’t yet left her parents’ home, mostly because she couldn’t afford it. Not when she’d spent all her hard-earned money fixing up her grandfather’s last gift to her, her very own Familiar. Her parents had never allowed her to own a pet larger than a rabbit, despite the fact she’d always wanted a cat. So the half-sized Lioness soon became her pride and joy.

But the story of Sketchy isn’t important just yet. This cold winter night would signify a subtle but momentous change in Scarlet’s life, all brought into being through a game often thought childish by outsiders.

I hope I’ll update it regularly, but I won’t make any promises in regards to that, or the actual quality of writing involved. I’m treating it mostly as an exercise in actually writing something longer again after ages of not doing so.

Feel free to read it as I post bits and pieces.

Guilty. Not innocent. That’s what I am. Guilty and left behind for my failures to be what I could be, had I only known my own truth. The subjective truth, that perhaps is the most objective one any of us can know, is our own truth. Someone else’s truth is inevitably biased, but our own may yet be the only truth there is.

We can’t be sure, of course, that any truth is truth, but the only facts we know are our own. And even then, in my case, I often wonder. I know I rarely make the right choice, while I also know my heart is in the right place. It may not be the right size or even temperature, but it’s not misplaced. Though I feel it’s often misjudged. Most often so by myself. I don’t know myself as well as I should, and it’s hurt me and mine in ways I can’t begin to forgive myself for.

Don’t we all live with some kind of guilt in our hearts, knowing we aren’t being who we really are, but instead cheap imitations hiding behind fears that don’t really exist outside of our heads? I wouldn’t know. But I do live that way myself, far too often. And it’s not the right way. Giving in to fear is never the right thing to do. Listening to your fears can help you, but giving into it without rational and intelligent reason is merely cowardice at its best. At its worst.

“Courage isn’t not being afraid, it’s facing your fears.” is something that could be considered common knowledge, almost. But what’s oft forgotten is that every one of us, by that definition, can be courageous. To at least one person, be it yourself or someone else, you may even be a hero, in your own way.

Will you let your chances slip away because you’re afraid of things that may never happen? I know I’ve done so far too often.

Every decision changes you in some way or another, whether you realise it or not. Generally speaking, it’s better to know what the effect of your decisions are, unless you like being surprised more than you like being prepared for what may happen.

Choices are the only real thing you have in life, after all. Everything you do or don’t do is based on a choice. They define everything about you. Even the things you can’t change are still affected by your choices, because you can choose to accept them or to live in denial of the truth.

Don’t let your choices guide your way because you’re ignorant of their effects. Learn to look at every choice and see where it may lead. Perhaps you’ll start doing things differently. Perhaps not. The choice is yours.

There’s one promise I did make you, you know, and that was to never give up on you. And I’m keeping that promise. Beyond reason, perhaps, but it’s a promise I made and meant, and so I’m bound to keep it until my own existence has been long-forgotten.

You’re the only family I ever truly had. The simple thought that I’m not alone in this world gave me more pleasure than any other thing, and that’s a memory that will stay with me forever, even if you’ve moved on.

Whatever the future may bring me, the past has given me a gift I’ll always cherish, because any orphan knows that family is everything, and you’re the only family I’ve ever had.

It hurts to have your family torn away from you, especially the way it happened with us. And it’s still tearing away at me even now, every day, but I’m keeping my promise to never give up trying to find you again, no matter what.

Even if you hate me for it. No matter what.

I promised.

Teddy Bruisepaw,
Orphan only in fact.

Just lingering ideas, lingering thoughts, forming patterns that don’t make any sense, that don’t really belong, that fit in a puzzle that isn’t actually there, but may have been if things were different.

We don’t always know where the future will find us, except that it’ll somehow fit into that bigger picture. No matter how out of place things seem to be, if they didn’t belong, they wouldn’t be. Even if the only place they are is in your own mind.

Think about what happens every day, and you’ll find there are more patterns than you’d expect. Some good, some bad, some you can change, some you can’t. Look for the ones you can change for the better. But take care not to be changed by the ones you can’t change, simply because you noticed them.

Patterns exist everywhere, but they don’t always mean anything. It’s up to you to decide what’s out there.

Take care.

A subtle mix of runes and technology, with just a hint of my own madness to put it all together. That’s the source of my particular brand of magic, and I found it to be superior to any other kind out there. So far, at least. A lot could be done with a bit of creativity, after all. I’d proven that much in my time.

The masters of the arcane arts are more painters than scientists, but they’re equally effective in their own way. Myself, I’m just an engineer, a builder of machines covered in large amounts of quirky scribbling as my trademark. Scribbling that would change the very nature of my toys as well as my more volatile contraptions.

The way I went about using and abusing Magic was a careful mix of artistry, science and simple entrepreneurship. My glyphs and runes are always, always hand-drawn onto whatever object in need of just that extra bit of power to do whatever it is that needs to be done. Be it killing hundreds of vicious creatures, or just plain amusing a child for a minute or two. This world doesn’t deserve anything less than the best, good or bad, because it really is one of the worst out there.

Sure, there’s plenty of good to be found if you know just where to look, but you’d have to look long and hard to find anything at all worth smiling about, except perhaps in grim satisfaction at a job well done. And I did my job damn well indeed.

I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Sanity, sweet sanity… They say not to gape into your maw, because infinity might stare back. Perhaps this is isn’t even true, but you’re a precious gift like a white horse for a valiant knight of truth.

We often ask ourselves why the world is as it is, but then we recall the things that never made any sense, that shouldn’t be nor could even be if the universe made sense. So we ignore its flaws and return to sanity’s gleaming eyes, ignoring the maw just below, so inviting, so threatening.

Because, as it were, we’re fickle creatures destined to never fear or worry that the lies we tell ourselves are lies at all. The sincerity of a thought doesn’t make it truth itself, not until proven right time and time again.

Every test is one of sanity against insanity, and we’ll always tell ourselves sanity conquers all, but we need only think of love to know this shall never be true, as emotion is by definition a lack of sanity, rationality.

Staring into the maw of the monster we call reality will cost us our sanity. But what sanity is there in a universe where sanity is by nature self-deception?

~ Filix Garnesworth, My Memories of Living

There are many things that can go so terribly wrong every day, and even thinking about it can be an incredibly terrifying experience, but it’s something we tend to ignore because we can do nothing else. We can’t stop, we can’t avoid the future that’s heading towards us at the insane speed of sixty minutes an hour.

Sometimes, we all wish the future came by a little slower. Or even a little faster, depending on just how interesting our lives are at any given moment. “May you live in interesting times” can indeed be a curse. But living a life where nothing ever happened, good or bad, wouldn’t be worth living.

A perfect life is one of ups and downs, but above all it is one of experience and learning. This world was not designed for perfection, nor intended as such. It’s a place in which we exist to learn and grow, to become better equipped to handle our future, even if that future, ultimately, is death.

There are no real goals in life, except the ones you set yourself. The ones you set yourself completely unaware of what the future may bring you. They may be easier than expected, or even impossible to accomplish. But in the end, the journey is everything, because achieving a goal just means you need to find a new one. After all, you can’t ever really stop.

You can’t even give up, because even that is a goal you’d need to accomplish. Every moment is a decision, a decision that can’t always be considered good or bad. We are limited in our perspective. We can’t see everything that’s in the past, nor even in the present. We certainly can’t predict the future. But we try to do so with every moment that passes, even when we’re not aware of it.

A simple gesture, enough to change the world. An outstretched hand; one of friendship and peace, held out in offering, not in threat of violence. Not turning the other cheek, not retaliating with equal force, but to forgive without forgetting. Never forgetting.

That one crucial change of the norm could change the way one sees the world. The active and the passive weren’t mutually exclusive. We’ve all been told not to judge, but we can never quite stop ourselves. We’ve all been told an eye for an eye is a cruel form of justice, if justice at all.

But what if we stopped looking at the world as being black and white? What if the world was a place of vivid colours as well as dull hues, not the static checker board of merely Good and Evil.

To judge everything but to not judge harshly — to forgive but not to forget. The past forgiven but remembered as a warning, not as a certainty. Nothing is certain after all, except perhaps that all things are by nature uncertain. Not even the past as we know it is set in stone — history is written by the victors, not by the truth.

Be not Judge, Jury and Executioner. Be both cautious Judge and optimistic Jury, and leave the cynical Execution to Necessity.

There wasn’t enough time to stop him. His arch enemy’s Grand Evil Plot Device was about to be triggered and there was nothing he could have done… Which is exactly why he was standing in the lab of his best friend, Vance Sockstein, Good Genius, about to enter a time machine in order to defeat his nemesis before he could complete the building of his Device.

So there he went, ignoring all the known dangers of going back in time, such as the Grandfather Paradox and what-not. Therefore, he was quite surprised to run into himself. His past self was surprised too, as he hadn’t quite expected to travel back in time and meeting himself just yet. What was even more unexpected though, was the fact his past self suddenly fell through a hole that suddenly appeared beneath him.

He had to laugh, really, seeing his own dumbfounded expression as his past self hovered in mid-air for a moment before dropping down into the hole. He suddenly remembered that Vance had once told him about the dangers of time travel, sometime when he was still developing the prototype. Something about Contradictions and Plot Holes and kissing your grandfather, though he wasn’t all that sure about that last one.

So, his past self had fallen down a Plot Hole, as he’d caused a Contradiction in time… Ah well, he’d just have to go save himself, wouldn’t he? He was the hero after all. Or would be… He wasn’t sure any more. Time travel is confusing business. Anyway, on to business. He jumped down the hole and fell for what seemed to be eternity but really must’ve been about fifteen minutes or so, leaving him thoroughly disoriented to the point he thought he was falling sideways. Which is why he wasn’t overly surprised when he suddenly rammed straight through a wall before crumpling down on the floor to his left.

When he regained his sense of direction and recovered somewhat from the pain of crashing through a wall, he looked around and realised he’d just fallen through the fourth wall of his own apartment’s living room. This is where he found himself sitting on the sofa and watching TV. So, cleverly, he struck up a conversation with himself, talking about the football match that was to happen that evening. Of course, they quickly surmised that they could earn quite a bit of money betting on it, so that was exactly what they did.

Having done so, they settled down for a relaxing evening to watch the game, despite his future self having watched it already. He found it amusing to narrate what was about to happen to his past self, though, so he wasn’t all that bored. After that, however, he realised that if the last time he ran into himself his old self had vanished. When he mentioned this to his old self, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing as the same thing suddenly happened again. As if you had to be consciously aware of a contradiction in time in order for time to fix it… It made no sense at all.

But this time, he didn’t follow himself. He’d not enjoyed the trip too much last time. Or the last two times, if his old self experienced both falls before becoming who he was now… Which couldn’t have happened unless he recalled having fallen, which he did not… Desperate to shake off the incoming headache, he violently sneezed. Twice.

After having composed himself, he left his apartment to find his nemesis. Though at this time, he had no idea where to find the guy. So he did what any hero would do. He set off in a random direction and hoped for the best. Which seemed to work out all right as he found himself in a perfectly generic forest which had a strange tendency to get darker the further he got in. Along the way he found a house that looked like it were made of candy, but he ignored that. He’d had plenty of snacks and beers when watching the football match with himself. So he carried on, deeper into the forest.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at a big neon sign advertising this particular location as Evil Genius’ Lair: Do Not Enter! So, naturally, he entered and found himself in a gloomy corridor. He chose to go left, where he found a room filled with various gadgets. He looked around curiously until he found an interesting-looking one labelled Retcon Device. Next to it was a manual that looked to be roughly twice the size of the device itself. Which probably meant that it was the coolest gadget in the room. So he pocketed it and took off to face his arch enemy.

Of course, the room he was likely to be in was locked. As usual, there was a nearby ventilation shaft, which, after a bit of climbing and more than a little squeezing, he traversed until he found his way into the main room. He stuck to the shadows and sneaked closer to the Grand Evil Throne, which he found to be empty. Appalled, he looked about and quickly located a random minion clearly belonging to his nemesis. He interrogated the idiot and quickly found his nemesis had needed to go to the loo.

Settling down on the throne, he looked around the room with little interest. And did so for the next ten minutes, before he got bored and retrieved the Retcon Device from his pocket. He started fiddling with it at random, pressing buttons and flicking switches, until suddenly a creature appeared in front of him and promptly slapped him in the face before vanishing again.

In a belated response, he threw the Retcon Device at the wall, where it shattered and tore a hole in the fabric of the universe. He could tell by the fact Vance and another version of himself were waving pleasantly at him. He walked over to the rupture in space/time and stepped through, which made him feel as if he’d just been hit on the head with a sledgehammer. Vance cleverly threw one of his many gadgets through the headache-inducing hole before closing it with some other device.

And that was the end of it, the lair destroyed, his nemesis vanquished. Unfortunately, soon afterwards the rest of the universe exploded  as well, out of sheer shock at its own ridiculousness.

She wasn’t really sure why the dreams bothered her so much. They weren’t nightmares, not at all. But somehow… They didn’t make sense. They weren’t right. As if they weren’t her dreams. Dreams belonging to someone else came to her at night, leaving her confused and wondering about her own mind and even her sanity.

Why were her dreams not her own, whose dreams were they?

Were none of her dreams her own? The one about the kittens seemed to be something she’d dream of… But was it?  It was strange, she didn’t feel scared or threatened, but the dreams did bother her. Whoever dreamt them needed help, somehow. She didn’t know how she knew, but she could tell. Something wasn’t quite as it should be in those dreams.

Perhaps the colour of the sky sounded wrong, or the hallways were a little too high, but it was something she couldn’t define, couldn’t quite put her finger on. She needed to find out what was wrong and find out who dreamt such strange dreams. Perhaps she could fix them, make them as they should be.

But she had no idea where to start.

The world had changed since he last looked upon it. Night had turned into day. As it had every time he slept. But today, today was different. It wasn’t really anything significant; at least, not in the grand scheme of things. But something was missing. Something special, something that should have been.

It was hard to say what it was, but it felt like ‘family’, something which had always been an alien concept to him. Something he’d never really had before. The one thing he’d always longed to have. Maybe that had been what he had dreamed about this particular night, perhaps. The reason the world looked different, sadder, lonelier.

But the sun shone as bright as it did the day before, the grass as green as ever, birds chirping and singing happily. Nothing was different except his perspective. So he shook his head, got out of his small bed, and did what he always did. Continue on, hoping for the best, hoping for his dreams to become a reality. Settling for less had never been his style, after all.

Waking up is no reason to stop dreaming.

Everyone. Including you.

Once you figure this out, there’s a lot more you can learn. Like why some people act like they don’t care about anything. Why people will face their problems head on, or why they’ll run away as fast as they can to avoid them.

We’re simple creatures, ultimately, all with similar goals, similar needs, and similar desires. We just express it differently sometimes. Even the people who seem to hate everything, really want nothing more than to be happy.

Some think money will make them happy. Others think it’s fame, or popularity, or some other meaningless goal. Some find what they’re looking for, some don’t. But we never stop looking, because we know things  can always be better than they are. We can always be better.

Some don’t think they can find their happiness, and they’ll give up searching. Some even give up on life, hoping for peaceful nothingness instead. Sometimes, we can’t see how anything at all could make us happy any more. When all seems lost. But when you think you can’t sink any lower, remember this: You have solid ground beneath your feet. You can only go up from here, unless you stay there, wallowing and alone.

People want to be happy. If you help them, chances are, they’ll help you.

Who cares how we’re supposed to live our lives? Right-side up, upside-down, our perspective is all that changes. Not what is and isn’t. So why worry what the right way of seiing things is, when every perspective is different anyway? Live the perspective which grants you happiness, not the perspective you think you’re supposed to have because ‘they’ tell you you should. Never stop dreaming.

It’s time to wake up, precious child.
I know you’re afraid those nightmares of yours will reach out into the real world if you let them, but it’s time to face the day, no matter where its demons came from. It’s out here where all your dreams can come true, but only if you let them. It’s up to you to shape your own world.
But know that in the waking world, you’ll never be alone. You’ll always have your friends, now and in the future to come. So let us help you shape our reality into a dream, not a nightmare. Know that you have more power over your dreams than they have over you.

Burn bright, little star. Burn bright and light the way.

There are many theories on why we exist, often boiling down to either chance or a higher power. Dice or God. We’re here for no reason, or we’re here to do something for some reason. Mankind as a whole has either a purpose, or none at all. To me, however, this ultimate reality makes no difference. I’ll live my life, long or short as it may be, just being who I am. Every choice I make, I make not knowing what my future holds for me. Not knowing what impact it has on mankind as a whole.

I’m ignorant of the higher reality of things. Why we exists, what we’re here for. I just don’t know. What I do know, is that I’m here with no real personal purpose. Perhaps I’m a tiny cog in a giant machine, but I’m no different from any other cog in the sense that I’m replaceable. If I were to die tomorrow, the world would go on, mankind would not cease to exist, it’d continue into a future unknown, leaving me in a place unknown.

What happens after my life or before it has little effect on how I’ll live it. I’ll make my choices looking for things that make me happy, doing the things I want to do. This is perhaps a selfish view. However, ultimately, every act of any person is a selfish act. We only ever (deliberately) do things which (we hope) will improve our lives in one way or another.

Why we’re here isn’t really a question worth answering, in my book. All I know is that I’m here to find happiness, silly as that sounds. Whether I find it or not is up to the future, though at present I could be doing a lot worse. Of course, there’s always room for improvement.

Democracy forever teases us with the contrast between its ideals and its realities, between its heroic possibilities and its sorry achievements.
- Agnes Repplier

I don’t believe in democracy. It’s an awkward system designed to let every person involved have a vote towards what happens to them. As if they’ll ever agree on any topic whatsoever. In theory, this sounds perfect. In practice, it’s not. Because, as always, people are not perfect. They’ll rarely know what they’re even voting for, and they can never trust that what they vote for will actually come to pass.

Most democracies vote for politicians rather than ideas. They vote for imperfect people who put forth perfect plans which are then executed imperfectly, or even not at all. This alone is enough for me to not bother voting at all. An imaginary stock in a corrupt company won’t do me any good. The system doesn’t work.

Of course, voting for ideas isn’t going to work either. It’s nearly impossible to put together a workable solution to a problem, that can be executed without a million problems. We can never account for every little detail required for a plan to be effective, so we muddle along with temporary fixes, never fixing the root of the problem, because this is practically impossible to do.

I’m not suggesting there’s a better form of government than democracy, because its alternative, a dictatorship, has its own flaws, which I doubt require explanation. But ultimately, the problem is the divide between theory and practice, as always. In theory, both democracy and totalitarian regimes can be effective, but they never are. And any middle way is just as inefficient and unlikely to succeed.

Every vote counts, maybe, but counts towards what, really?

It should have been impossible. The expression of emotion, even something akin to empathy. Even with the rapid evolution of the PME, this shouldn’t have happened, not this soon at least. The Prospective Memory Engine was never designed for emotion, only a basic sort of instinct. The first Emotive familiars had been a surprise. Casual updates to the code had caused different distributions to behave in certain ways, but no familiar had ever truly expressed any emotions.

I’ve decided to start writing again, going back to Project: Jinx. Above is a bit I wrote just now, just to dabble in the universe Jinx is set in. I’ve removed the password on the Project page on the right here, so feel free to take a look. I’m going to use my blog to write up random bits and pieces, aside from the usual gibberish I write when the mood strikes.
I’m not sure yet if any of it will be used when I finally do write the actual story. This is just an exploration of a multiverse that’s inside my head, in order to distill it into a single universe, with a multitude of stories I may or may not tell.

Don’t much expect people to read this at all, don’t much care if you do. I’m here to express myself, not to be listened to. Just a place to say what I have to say. So we’ll see what happens here.

It’s awesome. Go see.

Concepts often considered diametrically opposite to eachother. Concepts often misunderstood and misconsidered.
The above ideas share one common characteristic: Passion. If we choose to love or to hate, to do good or to do evil, we do so because, one way or another, we’re passionate about it.

The opposite to passion? Apathy.

Infinite plane, energy,
Trembling foundation,
Destruction, creation.
This is the beginning;
Is it the Hand of God?

The Question Everyone Asks, Eventually.

Why am I here? Why is anything here? Why is anything?

It’s perhaps a tricky question to answer, and everyone has a different perspective, myself included. So I’m taking the time to write them down, roughly explaining my perspective on everything around me.

I’ll start off with a tricksy question, one that gets asked a lot, in various ways.

Do I believe in God?

No. No, I do not. Equally, I don’t believe in monkeys, but I know they exist, I’ve seen them. As to God, no, I can’t say I’ve even seen pictures. However, I’m not absurd enough to claim certainty on anything, whether it be belief, disbelief, or lack of belief. Which are, in my opinion, different things each. To clarify a little: I don’t believe in God, as such. Whether God exists or not, is a different matter. My belief doesn’t drive God’s existence, nor is it required in any way for him to exist or not exist. If he does exist, I’m sure he’s happy with it. If not, then I doubt he cares.
Which, in turn, leads me to my own perspective: Whether monkeys believe they exist, and whether they exist or not, are unrelated things. Whether I believe they exist is yet again, different. But they’re not dependent on one another. So no, I don’t believe in God, but I don’t claim to know for certain whether he exists.

Next, I’ll give you my “answer” to the main question.

Why is anything?

I don’t know. And frankly, it’s not that important to me. I mean, sure, it’s interesting and really quite intriguing. Did God create everything, or did something else? If God created everything, then everything could be proof God exists. But if God didn’t exist, then everything is proof God doesn’t exist. Meaning, ultimately, everything tells you nothing. Arguing complexity is another futile issue: Either God is more complex than the universe he created, which would require an even more complex creator to create God. Ad infinitum.

And that, right there, is my personal theory. Ad infinitum. Imagine an infinite plane of existence, stretching out in all possible directions (Including those beyond the third dimension, perhaps). Now, this infinite plane contains absolutely nothing but pure energy. Essentially, it’s an infinite void of nothingness, containing an infinite amount of intangible energy.

Imagine what would happen if one tiny, tiny bit of that were to shift or change just a miniscule bit. You’d probably say that ‘nothing’ can’t become ‘something’ for no reason. But I’ll get to that later on. See, that tiny change is the start of a universe. Ours, to be exact. It’s possible there are others out there (On an infinite plane, it’s likely there is one, somewhere inside infinity.) This, you could call, the Big Bang. Tiny in comparison to infinity, but the start of our entire universe as we know it today.
Thus, we explain everything. Kind of. An infinite supply of energy that somehow got tapped into to create a lot of physical matter, for some reason.
The why is where it gets tricky. So yes, why did the universe get sparked to life?
Again, my answer is simple. I don’t know. But perhaps this is where I may start giving a few surprising answers. Because, if I were to guess, there are two basic possibilities as to what sparked the Big Bang, or whatever mechanism was set off to create our little universe.

Possibility one: Because it could.
This takes a bit of an explanation, perhaps. But essentially, it’s probability: If you wait for long enough, anything can happen, and I do mean anything. If you walk against a wall often enough, you may possibly eventually just walk through. This, of course, is infinitely unlikely to occur within the next billion years and you’re most likely dead far beyond that. Getting stuck partially inside the wall is actually likelier, but not by much. Anyway, I’m digressing from my point.
Probability can make anything happen, given infinity. And guess what, if there’s an infinite plane of existence with an infinite amount of energy? Yes, everything that can happen, will happen. Makes sense to me, in a weird way. Don’t ask me for details: I don’t know.

Possibility two: God did it.
Yeah, perhaps probability isn’t so much the right theory as it’s just a sentient creature who’s either incredibly bored or has an incredibly peculiar sense of humour, that lives in that infinite plane, who decided he wanted to create a universe, put us in it somewhere and watched what happened. This is possible. Everything is possible as per possibility one.
So yeah, long story short: Whether God exists or not, the spark that started the universe did happen, and that’s why we’re all here. Beyond that, I don’t know. God could exist, he could not exist. Whether he does is about as much of a concern to me as I might wonder if an ant might be devoured by a termite in Antarctica right now. It could be true, but I’ve no proof nor certainty.

Essentially, either infinity spawned God, who spawned the universe, or infinity spawned the Universe, who spawned the idea of God. That’s what I think, but I claim no certainty as to which one is true. I just think these are the likely options.

If there’s one thing I do not believe in, it’s certainty. I don’t believe I can be absolutely certain one thing is true, or another. I just think everything is possible. If you think you know better, then you’re welcome to try and convince me, but you’ll need some pretty damned undeniable proof to manage that. Whether you’re an atheist or a theist, you’re just as fallible as I am, no matter how strong you think your theory of Everything is.

We think we make choices. But this is in fact a misconception. Choices make us. Everything we decide, we decide for our own benefit, in one way or another. Choices, therefore, aren’t so much choices as they are means to improve yourself or your circumstances. We will always choose the choice that we think will make us better. This means that essentially, your choice will be made before you made it.

Choices make you better. Or at least, they make you better insofar as you hope or think they will. You won’t always make the right choice, or a choice that, in hindsight, you think you shouldn’t have made. But in the end, that ‘wrong’ choice made you into who you are today.

We change based on our choices, our responses to our circumstances and our realisations of who we are and who we think we should be. In that, we strive to become who we think we should be. We have no other choice.

Sighing, the moon looked down towards a small house standing in the midst of trees, far away from the big, industrious cities that seemed to sprout from the ground quicker than the most malevolent of mushrooms.

“I think it’s time for me to go. I’ve slowly been going crazy for hundreds of years,” said the moon. It looked sad, but it was hard to tell through the many clouds trying to obscure his face.

“Going crazy, sir?” questioned a child, “How can the moon be crazy?”

The moon shook back and forth, as if shaking its grand head. “I used to believe this world was a place of magic, but it is no longer.”

His young companion blinked sleepily upwards, confused at the moon’s obvious mistake, “Of course there’s still magic, there’s magic all around!” he cried out, slightly indignant. The child shuffled a bit, gathering his blanket a bit closer around in an attempt to stay warm near his open window as the candle next to him had long since burnt out.

“No, my child… Magic is leaving this world, ever so slowly. I’ve seen it.” Again, the moon shook, this time looking even sadder than it did before. “Fewer and fewer people can see the way things truly are represented. They look around and see only darkness, bitterness, greed and loneliness. It’s as if adul ts are slowly losing their minds as they were forced to lose their youth. But it’s steadily getting worse than that as time passes. And it passesâ… Ever so slowly, but it does.”

“But, Mr. Moon, there’s still magic, there’s still stories and there’s still people who believe in them.”

“Are there, my child? Precious few, these days, let me tell you. It’s been an age since I even spoke to anyone but you. And I’m afraid, my child, that you are the very last person I shall ever speak to. Did you know some adults are planning to live on my face?” The moon quite definitely frowned at this idea.

The child sat up a little more straightly as he thought about that idea. “I know that, Mr. Moon, but I doubt there’s anything that’s going to stop them. Adults never know when to stop and take a step back to just enjoy things anymore.”

“It’s disturbing, you know. Would you want ants building homes on your forehead? I don’t think so. But alas, one cannot escape the advance of time. One can only wish wistfully for days gone by, nights where I still captured the hearts and minds of youth and adults alike.” And with this, the moon shook again as it heaved a heavy sigh.

“I shouldn’t be lingering where I’m wanted no longer. I’m sorry, my child. I hope you can forgive my lunacy,” said the moon, one last time. And it stilled forevermore.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,
even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

(c) Max Ehrman 1926

Once you understand this, even if only about a few things rather than all of the things around you, you can reach a state of mind sometimes described as a feeling of sympathy or affinity with something. The ability to care about other things. Be it a person, a cat, or even just a well-written book, all things have inherent value in some way, and that value is nothing more than how much you care for it. It really is as simple as that, this seemingly-complex thing called love. It’s our ability to care.

Quietly, certainly, I walk along my path. Whether the road ahead is easy or difficult is no matter. I know where it leads. Once I set my goal, I knew I would get there sooner or later. It’s amazing how your worries fall away from you when you’ve decided on a goal you intend to reach inevitably. Whatever may get in your way, you’re prepared to deal with in order to reach that goal. It’s a strange state of mind. It’s not something dealing with the comfort of prescience, as no-one can foretell the future. But it’s still a sense of inner peace, with a certainty of at least part of the future.

The ability to adapt to circumstances is something that can be found in all things, to a greater or lesser extent. The more alive something is, the more it adapts consciously. Me, I’ve not felt as alive as I did when I realised my goal, my intentions and the certainty in them. I’ve noticed it’s doubt and uncertainty that stops one from adapting, from consciously deciding on the best way to respond to any given situation. If you know where you’re going, certain that you’ll get there, you’ll find the best road, even if it’s not necessarily the quickest (and potentially more dangerous) path ahead of you. There are usually multiple solutions to problems, but it takes a certain calm confidence to pick the one best suited to your needs.

The goal I set for myself is an easy one, as it is one that can take on many forms. To be where I need to be to take care of myself and mine. That, truly, is my only goal in life. And that is what I’ve set out to do, will do, for as long as is possible. And given that, I will even try for the impossible. The impossible is merely the untried, and as a wise little man once said, “Do or do not, there is no try.”

I am Florence Mooncatcher, though my name is not important.
I have stated my goals and intentions, and this is how it shall be.

I shall see what the future brings, already knowing what I will bring the future.

“Serenity,” I whispered softly to the statuette in my hands, “I wish you were here with me.” Shaking my head, I stood up and carefully slipped the phoenix figurine back in my satchel.  Moving quickly, I made my way to the castle, passing by the guards who gave me no more than an idle glance. Being the Intercessor’s Scribe had its advantages. Still, this was only the easiest part of my plan. Hurrying along the bridge, past the gates, I noticed nothing around me but the path ahead. Left, straight ahead until I reached the stairs, then up two floors, following the corridor to the Judgment Hall, but entering the first door to the right.

I closed the door behind me before I looked up and around. The room was blessedly empty, and I’d heard no attention called on me. I was safe, for now. The room was mine. Well, sort of. It had been assigned to me by the Intercessor himself, years ago. Stacks of paper lay on the huge desk, to the point there wasn’t much to see of its dark wooden surface. So much work I’d done over the years. And it was all about to be undone. I was tasked to destroy the Logbooks, all of them. Not by the Intercessor, he was the one that had wanted me to transcribe the events in the Judgment Hall in the first place.

The task was given to me by someone whose power went well beyond that of the Intercessor. A Judge of a higher order. One of the few with divine power, one of few people even the greatest of Kings wouldn’t hesitate in obeying. Rumor had it they were beyond human, but those were only rumors. Perhaps with a core of truth, but no more than that. Still, my task to destroy the Logbooks was one that left me feeling uneasy. It was a task of years, undone in perhaps minutes. Luckily, the stone walls of the castle would prevent the fire spreading beyond this room. I hoped, at least.

With no small amount of sadness, I went to work, executing my task as dictated by the Judge.  Like with the Intercessors, no-one but their own Order knew any Judge by name. Me, I didn’t even know the name of the Intercessor, my direct superior. For me to be given a task by a Judge was one entirely unheard of, they dealt with higher matters than those of common folk and rarely even interfered with the business of Intercessors.

The tiny bottle in my satchel contained a substance unknown to me, but would be the basis for a white-hot flame that would burn everything in the room to ashes. Nothing more would be left than that, I had been told. Sprinkling the smallest of droplets on every surface I could find, it took me about ten minutes before I had depleted the bottle entirely. All that was left was for me to leave the room and toss in a flame and close the door with no hesitation. So that’s what I did, lighting a match against the castle wall and throwing it into the room, closing the door as quick as I could.

And then, I ran. Faster than I ever did before, knowing that I needed to be gone before anyone found out. The Judge had told me that on the completion of my task, I would not be rewarded or contacted, that what was done would be enough. I dared not question a Judge, yet a small part of me still wondered why I listened to him even as I ran from what would be the start of a chain of events that changed the world.

Like a door, like a chest, secrets held within, nothing but what you don’t know, everything you want to know. Ignorance may be the best course of action, but curiosity inevitably takes hold of even the most cowardly when the unknown lies waiting. Just beyond the grasp of reality as you know it, just a little bit beyond. That edge of your world, a sudden edge that shouldn’t be there while the rest of the world just is, explained away so carefully the edges just fade away in the distance. But anything with a lock that can’t be opened with a thought, a bit of knowledge of what lies behind will be inevitably attractive to the curious mind.

The here and now is in the past before we even realise it’s now. But it’s always right where we are in time. It is then, perhaps, disconcerting to realise that the present is the one part in our lives that is always beyond our control. The past is something that doesn’t fluctuate, and it’s something we can control merely by understanding it’s the past. Each and every one of us can control the past by accepting that it is what it is and doesn’t change. The only thing that can change is that fleeting moment that decides our entire life: the present. The future is anything that hasn’t yet occurred, the past is what has already occurred. The present is change, chance, opportunity. It’s the only part of our lives we cannot control, and the only part of our lives where we actively make decisions.

We decide based on the certainty the past is what it is, and that the future is what it will be. But we never really stand still and think about the present. We can’t stand still in the present. Every single moment we stand still is a moment wasted. Reflection on the past teaches us valuable lessons, reflecting on the future gives us hope or despair. Reflecting on the present only gives doubt and often confusion. It’s a concept we don’t understand very well, which we only think of in relative terms. We don’t live in the present, we just live one moment ahead of the past, one moment before the future. That moment in and of itself has no real meaning to any of us. And yet it means everything. Everything we’ve ever done, we did in the present. Everything we neglected to do, we didn’t do in the present.

It’s the present that defines us, not our past or our future. The past defines what we know in the present, but it need not define who we are. Every moment is brand new, never the same as the last one, or the next. What we choose to do in the present is entirely up to us. Current actions are not decided by past or future. Influenced, certainly, but no more than we let it influence us.

What I’m saying is that if you want to be who you want to be, be it now. Think about who you’d be if neither your past or future mattered, who you want to be, and act accordingly.

Ultimately, I believe it is up to ourselves to give our lives purpose within this Universe, whether the Universe has a purpose or not. People overestimate their part in the world in some ways, underestimating it in others. We feel as if we’re somehow important to the Universe as a whole. Maybe we are, I don’t know. I don’t know much. Comparatively to what there is to know, I know nothing. I don’t know if there is a God, I don’t know if there’s life after death. Hell, I’m not even sure there’s life prior to death.

In most cases, people are alive, certainly. But do they truly live? Maybe. I don’t know what they do when I’m not there to see. Nothing beyond my perception is anything I can put comfort in. What is beyond my perception is beyond my control. Even then, I can rarely choose what I wish to see. My perception can deceive me at any point in time, or perhaps I deceive myself so as to not see what I perceive. Knowing that makes me profoundly uncomfortable.

That discomfort is most likely the reason people look for an explanation, a rationalization or just some comforting story to make it all seem a little less scary, a little less beyond control. Science, religion, or perhaps even just willful ignorance, it makes no matter so long as it gives comfort. I can’t say if it’s worth striving for some kind of beliefs about the Universe as a whole, but I can’t deny comfort is something that would be nice to have.

Whether it be science or faith, we all strive for a way to explain things we can’t comprehend. For me, I find small amounts of comfort in both science and religion, because I believe Complete Understanding can only be found in the sum of all knowledge, rational or otherwise. Sadly, I also believe no one human mind can ever contain all knowledge. For that, I hope, there will be an existence after death, an existence wherein we can relate to Everything more directly.

The details of my beliefs are fairly unique to myself, but they give me a very small amount of comfort. Just not enough to satisfy my mind, as of yet. I feel discomfort at my own existence, which is why I strive to understand what is around me before I look further. What is beyond my understanding is perhaps important to Everything, and Everything might be important to me, but I do not know what any of that could mean, as it is beyond me.

Why I’m here is something I’m not sure of. I’m not even sure what I am. I’m not a theist, nor an atheist, perhaps a pantheist. All I know is that I know nothing. This is my only comfort. My only comfort beyond the idea I do not truly need to know everything to be who I am. I’m me, my reason for being is to be me. Like Everything else, I exist because I do. What I choose to do is up to me.

As this little post becomes longer, I compose my own thoughts well beyond what I write here. It’s still a mess inside  my mind, but it’s my mind, a place where I am comfortable, because it’s the one thing I know. I know my mind, and that is all I know. That is all I need to know. The rest will do as it does and I will adapt to that without abandoning my own mind to anything.

Such is my faith, my discomfort, my mind and my duosyncrasy regarding my understanding.

Dear Ms. Falters,

My name is Micah. I’m twenty-seven years old. I don’t remember much of my childhood, and I’m grateful for that. But I do remember you. I remember you clearly. I especially recall your voice. I loved that voice on the rare occasion you would sing. You have a voice unlike any I’ve ever heard in my life, and it’s beautiful beyond words.

At least, it was when you weren’t yelling at me, telling me how much you despised my existence and regretted ever giving birth to me. The reason I don’t remember much of my youth is largely related to that, actually. I don’t remember anything beyond being told how ungrateful I was to be given a place to sleep in your wonderful home. The home I kept clean with my own, tiny hands. How ungrateful I was to be given a full plate of food every day. Food I cooked with my own, tiny hands. On a plate just as tiny, I might add.

I knew nothing beyond my small world of doing my work and being yelled at. Nothing beyond the times you sang. The times where I was so invisible to you, you were actually truly, openly happy. The times where I could walk right past you, your eyes staring endlessly into nothing, or perhaps everything, and sang. Those were the precious times I cherished. The words never seemed to have any meaning, but the emotions behind them meant everything. More than any amount of yelling could ever mean.

The songs you sang were songs of bliss and happiness. Two things I knew I’d never have as long as I stayed with you. Once I was old enough to truly realise that, not just in mind but in heart as well, I left you. At ten years of age, I left. It had been months since you last escaped the world enough to sing and be happy. But on that day, as I was preparing to leave, gathering a few things, you just walked past me, your eyes staring at everything but reality itself, sat down on your favourite chair and sang. The same song you always sung, the one without sensible words, but with tangible happiness. I listened gratefully as I packed my things, feeling slightly guilty for taking some cash out of your purse.

You were still singing when I completed my tasks, so I looked at you and I couldn’t resist doing something I never thought I’d want to do. I walked towards you and looked into your eyes. Eyes filled with love, which until just then were never directed at me. But this time, they were. You looked right back into my eyes and I saw into your soul. What I saw is something more beautiful than I’d ever seen before, or have seen since.

But I knew that was a beauty that wouldn’t last, I knew I had to leave despite that. So, I hugged you as best I could, given the awkward situation, turned around and left without looking back. I never looked back, knowing that my last memory of you would be the best one I would ever have.

Since then, I’ve never quite managed to settle down anywhere. I’ve drifted through the country, and even past that. I travelled all over the world for ten long, beautiful and difficult years. Until finally, I chose to find you again. I wasn’t quite sure why I did, it was just something I felt I should do at the time.

I found you, after some searching, right here. A lone grave in the middle of nowhere. It’s an empty grave, I know. But in a way, that seems ironically appropriate. I found you had died just moments after I left you there, seventeen years ago. From what I heard, your heart just stopped. Not a heart attack or anything of the sort. Your heart just stopped beating.

You may never know this, but I love you,

Micah

Whatever life may bring, it always brings us a lesson. Everything that occurs happens for a reason, every little thing can change your life. It’s just up to you to decide what’s most important to you. One can choose to dwell on misery, or find the bright spots in life, knowing those are more important than any amount of misery.

Absolution, like happiness, isn’t so much forgiveness as it is a state of mind. It’s never easy, but ultimately, it’s worth it.

I fear that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

Has quietly come waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

By David Feinberg

“What has you so mimsy on this beautiful day?” said a soft, familiar voice somewhere below, to my left.
Turning my head, my suspicion was confirmed as I saw her at the base of the ancient old oak tree, looking up with her ever-sparkling dark amber eyes. I sighed and looked away, not replying, instead simply pulling my legs further up from the two broad branches my feet rested on.
“Come on, Mr. Borogove, tell me. You know you can talk to me.”
When she still didn’t get a reply, she clambered up the tree quickly, setting herself down on a nearby branch. But I was determined to ignore her and that’s exactly what he did. So she didn’t say anything either, probably guessing I’d talk eventually, or she just didn’t mind the silence.
As usual, she patiently waited, and thought once more of the poem a friend introduced her to, written by one Lewis Carroll. Her friend had told her that Carroll must’ve been just a bit crazy. The girl was a bit strange, always talking about the strangest of things, but she didn’t really mind her weirdishness. For a moment, she wondered if that was actually a word, but decided she didn’t really care as it described her friend just fine, and that proper meaning outweighs proper language.
“Hey. What does ‘mimsy’ mean?” I suddenly said, quietly, after contemplating her presence for a while. I could somehow sense her smiling when she answered.
“I’m actually not sure, but I think it’s a sort of combination of ‘miserable’ and ‘flimsy’. It’s just how you looked, sitting up here in this old tree, all by yourself.”
“And why’d you call me Mr. Boro-whatsit?”
“Borogove. Ever heard of the Jabberwocky?”
I finally turned my face towards her, my eyes connecting with hers, a strange sensation, yet not really a sensation at all.
“Isn’t that one of the creatures that one of your friends talks about sometimes?”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded, “That’s the one. It’s actually a poem.”
“And what does that have to do with being mimsy and Borogoves?” I asked, slightly bemused.
“I’ll show you sometime, maybe. If you dare visiting me at home sometime.”
“You’d really think I have the courage to visit that place? You and your family are evil. Pure evil.”
She snickered, then laughed, before I did the same, barely knowing why I was so… ‘mimsy’ earlier.

Everything, every little thing, every big thing, and every thing in between. They’re all there, somewhere. And somewhere in that great big somewhere, there’s you. One of the littlest things there are to be found. And yet, that little thing you are is all you have, and all you’ll ever be. A frightening thought, to be so alone in such a vast place, with so many things, big and small, to stand in your way. Or to help you along. But really, it’s impossible to tell which is which, and what’s really what.

A game of chance, a game of luck. This place, big as it is, is impossible to predict. You can try, by hiding away and keeping everything simple. But that won’t always work. The simple things can’t always explain the difficult bits of everything. And every little thing is part of a bigger, more complicated thing, occupying a bigger part of somewhere. You see, everything is part of a problem, yet everything is part of the solution too.

But for a little thing like you, it’s impossible to see which is which, and what’s really what. Sometimes, everything seems bit darker than it should be.

It wasn’t the warmest of days, certainly not. It wasn’t anywhere near warm. But it still warms my heart to remember it. Though more specifically, it’s that evening which I hold dear. Because it was that evening when I found my world slowly changing just a little bit. Just enough to show me what’s beyond the edges of familiarity.

Words exchanged, yet something a little more than that. A sense of peace and tranquility mixed with understanding. A few moments of true honesty given new meaning to myself, finding buried treasures deep within. It wasn’t passionate, instead it was calm, comforting and warm. A place to be, not to act, just to be. No need for anything but contentment with the world as it is, no need for anything at all. Just a quiet, simple winter evening, warmer than it should’ve been, warmer than it could’ve been.

There were no fires on this evening, not even a candle to cast shadows on this essential perfection. Yet it wasn’t dark at all, strangely. The world aglow, no need for light when everything is clear, when everything you need to know is what you already know this very moment.  A calm tranquility of knowledge that nothing else matters but the simple ideas that rule the world.

Simple ideas, often overthought, underappreciated. Everything we consider to be strangely difficult is actually strangely easy, if one takes the time to think softly, think gently, rather than thinking furiously and hardly.

There’s no need to try, if your wish is to succeed in being happy. To succeed is to be, not to do.

Quite simply put, my idea of God is roughly equivalent to 42. Or for those who’ve actually read the books (If not, you really should, theist or otherwise), God, to me, is the Meaning of Life, the Universe and Everything.

God is not a conscious entity. Merely the result of a singular goal, much in the way every little drop of water in a river flows from the top of a mountain to the sea. No thoughts driving it, just simple gravity. Of course, this is fairly oversimplified, but the basic theory still applies and can be applied to the Universe. Everything is governed by a set of interactive rules, all of which lead to a certain outcome. Just, thanks to the massive amount of uknowns (variables), one that is completely unknowable for one single miniscule variable in that equation.

To me, God is the outcome of that. Though more precisely, the process leading to the outcome.

My reasoning for this is mostly the fact how everything works together. This time, I do refer to the outcome, on any given scale. Atoms are formed in a seemingly-random way, which upon further examination makes perfect sense, given the rules of the Universe. Beyond that, molecules. More specifically, amino-acids. Somehow, for some reason, there is a fairly high likelihood these molecules will form, given the right circumstances. These molecules can in turn be used as the basic building blocks to single-cell organisms, which are the building blocks to animals, humans, to Life itself.

This process may be purely incidental, but really, why does it all fit so neatly together? Layer upon layer of  our reality intermeshes perfectly, allowing for the complexity of not just Life, but stars are born in much the same way. These stars may even have a level of sentience, for all we know. We can’t prove it, but the facts remain: The Universe is incredible and can hardly be entirely coincidental.

Therefore, I believe there is a greater Meaning to life. In short, I’d call it Free Will, rather than God. Free Will isn’t a person. It’s a concept. It’s not even necessarily sentient. It can apply to anything.

My grand and elaborate scheme to rule the world will be detailed below. This is all top secret, mind you, so unless you are in fact who I am and not someone else, you are not allowed to read this. So please, be a kind little minion and don’t, okay? That’s very much appreciated.

Anyway, my plan. Yes. I want to rule the world, just like everyone else. Yes, I have a Top Secret Plan to achieve that goal. In fact, this is that very plan. Unlike most plans, it is not deviously simple. It is, in fact, deviously complex and highly misleading. Therefore, minding you are me and not someone else reading my Top Secret Plan, you must take care to understand the underlying complexities involved in my Top Secret Plan.

It all begins with the fact I already rule the world. This is rather convenient when it comes to taking over the world, as it means I don’t actually need to bother with the whole Revolution scheme. This all generally takes far too long to accomplish anyway. So, I rule the world. Well, pretty much. My parents do. I’m just the prince. Crown prince, but not the King. Yet. And I don’t actually want to be the king. In fact, I don’t even want to rule the world. This is why I made my Top Secret Plan. To rule the world by not actually ruling it at all, you see.

It’s all very simple. I’m the Prince, but I don’t want to be the King. So I’ve made up this plan in order to escape from ruling the world. But unless you’re me, you’re not supposed to know that. That’s why this is so very secret. Top Secret, even. This Top Secret Plan is about my alternative to rulership. The alternative of living my life in peace, without the need for starting wars or stopping them.

You see, I’m not going to take up the throne, or even the scepter, or anything silly like that. I’m going to flee, and I’m going to find a place to hide. Away from all these people who think ruling the world is the grandest thing ever. Ruling the world involves people disagreeing with you a lot. And killing you for it. At least, it usually does. There are a few exceptions, but even those weren’t too pleasant. Mostly because the people that didn’t get killed, killed others instead.

But really, what’s the point to all this murder? I mean, I see how dead people won’t try to take the throne, but wanting to sit on a throne is silly anyway. The throne isn’t even comfy. And the room is too big. And cold. It’s just all really very silly.

So, on with the plan. I’m going to run away from here, and I’m going to hide, so I can live my own life. Rather than live the life other people want me to live. Other people who like killing eachother. And get killed for trying. They’re all not very nice, though they usually pretend to be. They’re not very good at pretending though, so even that isn’t very nice. Which is why I’m escaping. I’m going to run and hide, rather than be King and rule the world.

Some cultures believe there is power in Names. Power in knowing the Name of another, and knowing the Name of one’s self. Knowing another’s truth allows one to control them, through white lies based in the harshness of truth, giving them a greater believability. But there is also power in knowing one’s own Name. It gives one the ability to understand oneself, to know more about the consequences of one’s own actions, and a deeper understanding of everything around them.

The ability to lie is what sets us apart from others. Abstract untruths that allow us to go beyond what is real into what is unreal. In this manner, we have created Science and Art. In this manner, we have created our own Truths. Yet somehow, all this seems to lead to our own destruction. All this knowledge based on abstract untruths in an attempt to explain the Truth. Self-deception in order to inflict boundaries upon that harsh Truth. It is all we can do to expand our knowledge.

But looking forward means we lose sight of what goes on around us, and what comes upon us from the side. Our own self-deceptions, our own illusions of grandeur will lead to the downfall of the human race, unless we turn to the Truth without the need for white lies.

That’s all, really.

The belief in a God bothers me. I’m not an Atheist, but I’m not an Agnost either. Oddly enough, I’d say the Jedi belief is rather more correct than more common Theistic religions in the sense that if there is a God, it is not a Man. Intelligent Design, in my opinion, is quite likely, but to say the Designer made us in particular in ‘His’ image is an absurdity. Why us, the ants of the Universe, and why not the ants of Earth? There are more of them than of us at any rate.

Anyway, the point I want to make here is that I’d sooner think the Purpose or Design of the universe is a Force, the Energy behind it all, that makes it all possible in a way that just seems to work. Another thing about Jediism is the fact it does away with simplifications like Good and Evil, to some extent. People don’t all conform to one exact belief about how everything is supposed to be, just about how it is. It’s a religion of sorts where the point isn’t to tell you how you should live, just a rough explanation as to why it’s possible.

Looking at how Life works, it’s incredibly unlikely there wasn’t some sort of Design involved. Intelligent or not, what happens on a molecular level to achieve Life, and the apparent chaotic order that reigns on that level of each individual cell of one’s body is amazing.

The Force, in my eyes, seems a far more reasonable explanation than some guy high up in the sky that made everything in a week. Even all the power in the Multiverse cannot work faster than it can. And even if it could, where would be the fun in that? It’d all be over in the blink of an eye, and nothing would happen.

What I’m not sure about, is to what extent our lives are Forced on us, the extent of our free will. Though really, this largely depends on your definition, again, something that is an individual choice, and not something that should be indoctrinated by any religion.

Edit: Found a more accurate word to describe my lack of both atheism and traditional theism: Pantheism.

Thinking is what’s most often done while waiting. But sadly, rarely do people bother thinking about anything relevant to anything in particular. Sometimes, they’ll contemplate something important to them, but this happens far and few in between.

Contemplating matters that are important to you is something well worth doing when you’ve nothing better to do. Question your political views, your religion, recent choices or potential future ones. Use the time you have, rather than waste it. It’s as simple as that.

Overall, I’d say my own life pretty much sucks. But I’m not unhappy, because I’m making it better, constantly. Many people strive for ‘happiness’. People define of happiness as a static mindset, yet they forget life is dynamic. It’s ever-changing, and that’s what makes it interesting. I strive to better my life. There’s a distinct difference many people wouldn’t quite understand. Happiness isn’t a state of mind. It’s a process.

Another oft-made mistake is being unhappy. This is a state of mind which tends to propagate itself. When you’re unhappy, you start thinking unhappy thoughts. A vicious circle, a downward spiral. Either way, unhappiness is overrated. It’s not as tough to be happy as people seem to think. It’s a matter of focus.

Looking for the silver lining may seem to be silly in the face of a storm, but you can’t have a rainbow without rain. The bad things usually seem worse than they are, but there are many, many times where they make the good things stand out more. Embrace those times, rather than shoving them away to stare into whatever pit of despair you’ve found yourself in.

Find what’s good in your life and only then pay attention to the bad things in your life. A positive approach can help you find the answers you seek, which often are simpler than they may appear.
On the other hand, there are some things you just can’t influence. Never try to control the things you know are beyond your influence. Trying to control that which you cannot control will end up controlling you. Putting energy into something without reward.

My definition of happiness:
The process improving one’s life and the lives of others.
My definition of unhappiness:
Slavery.

Bit of overuse of the word ‘fuck’ for my style, but otherwise… Yeah.

In short, when something extraordinary happens to you, people seem to be drawn to you as if you’re actually more interesting than five seconds before. Even though you’re exactly the same person now as you were then. Just a circumstance that doesn’t adhere to the norm, and you’re special, and you get attention. Attention from people you’ve only ever met once, maybe, and whom you barely remember. Or other such acquaintances.

It’s rather annoying, really, the way people seem to look at you differently when you’re still the same person as before. When you’re still the same person they never cared to get to know until that something happened. Until you became special. Until you became you with a giant exclamation mark on your forehead.

Who cares? None of them, really. They’re just curious. Curiously though, they don’t even seem to care they don’t actually care. You could win the lottery, and have dozens of brand new friends as a result. But they wouldn’t be your friends, would they, if you hadn’t won. This is true for any occasion where you’ve had the sheer dumb luck to ‘acquire’ something that’s in some way unique or special, be it good or bad.

Interesting circumstances attract peoples’ attention. But that’s about all they’re good for. People are strangely shallow creatures, despite claiming to be the most social and civilized of beings on this little planet. We’re sentient, we have emotions, but do we actually care? It doesn’t seem that way. We’re all just self-serving, egotistical little creatures. We don’t care to know who’s won the lottery, unless it helps us in some way. We don’t care about things that don’t make us more important than others.

The little things are what makes life interesting, but people only seem to see the big things, the inconsequential things. This may sound backwards, but in my opinion it’s the little details that are everything, with the bigger picture being something to look at after the fact. Life is the act of painting that picture. And really, it may be a cliche, but it’s the path you walk, not the paths you could’ve walked that’s important. The big picture is irrelevant, because you’re only you, nothing more.

It wasn’t much, really, his current little hide-out in the middle of nowhere, just to the west of nowhere else. It wasn’t even home. Home had lost meaning a long time ago. But what it was, was respite from the darkness outside. The single candle, burning bright, did little but heighten his fears, and ease them all the same. The shadows flickered, but yielded to the small but brave little flame.

Gray didn’t often find himself able to rest, not here. This truly was Nowhere, though his rough maps told him he was actually long since past there, into the Unknown, as he’d named it. Aptly, in his own humble opinion. At least Nowhere had been somewhat safe, perhaps even sane, at least compared to where he found himself now. The Unknown, he’d spent months here already, and yet its name remained as appropriate as ever.

He’d given up trying to map out the areas he tracked through a long time ago, as backtracking showed him there was no chance of returning to any safe haven he knew of. It seemed the world changed around him, if it was even a world at all, rather than some demonic realm. Which seemed likely, considering. His reason for setting up camp was after all to see after his wounds. They were but minor, yet he knew that they could mean everything. Tending to them had been relatively easy, even lacking supplies as he was. But now, he needed rest. Sleep wouldn’t come, he knew, so he settled for simply sitting back and waiting for energy to return to him. If the demons didn’t come first, at least.

1. Put your Media/MP3 player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense.
4. If the same band/singer comes up a second time or more skip it and use the next song instead.

QUESTIONS:

1. HOW ARE YOU FEELING TODAY?
House On Fire – Assemblage 23

2. WILL YOU GET FAR IN LIFE?
No Hero – The Offspring

3. HOW DO YOUR FRIENDS SEE YOU?
Omen – Final Fantasy X

4. WILL YOU GET MARRIED?
Sacred Lie – Disturbed

5. WHAT IS YOUR BEST FRIEND’S THEME SONG?
The Contender – Autumn Thunder

6. WHAT IS THE STORY OF YOUR LIFE?
Second Chapter – Enigma

7. WHAT WAS HIGH SCHOOL LIKE?
Plastic Plan – CKY

8. HOW CAN YOU GET AHEAD IN LIFE?
The Alternative Polka – Weird Al Yankovic

9. WHAT IS THE BEST THING ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS?
Distant Dreamer – Duffy

10. WHAT IS IN STORE FOR THIS WEEKEND?
On The Hill – Monkey Island

11. WHAT SONG DESCRIBES YOU?
Brat – Green Day

12. TO DESCRIBE YOUR GRANDPARENTS?
Serial Killer – VNV Nation

13. HOW IS YOUR LIFE GOING?
No Submission – Static X

14. WHAT SONG WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Spiritual House – KMFDM

15. HOW DOES THE WORLD SEE YOU?
Dreams Collide – Colbie Caillat

16. WILL YOU HAVE A HAPPY LIFE?
Liar – Ill Nino

17. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS REALLY THINK OF YOU?
Mechanical Ape! – The Aquabats

18. DO PEOPLE SECRETLY LUST AFTER YOU?
Somewhere – Within Temptation

19. HOW CAN I MAKE MYSELF HAPPY?
Unicorn – Apoptygma Berzerk (Duet Version)

20. WHAT SHOULD YOU DO WITH YOUR LIFE?
Rotten – Neuroticfish

21. WILL YOU EVER HAVE CHILDREN?
Into The Unfathomed Tower – Candlemass

22. WHAT BEST DESCRIBES YOUR PERSONALITY AND INTERESTS?
No Education – Apocalyptica

23. WHO WILL YOU BE?
Burning – Darude

24. DESCRIBES YOUR FIRST JOB?
Zero Signal – Fear Factory

25. WHAT SONG WILL PLAY AT YOUR WEDDING?
Fuck It – Seether

26. FINAL THOUGHTS ON THE FUTURE?
Amid the Falling Snow – Enya

But is it wrong to be wrong? Surprisingly, this isn’t always the case.
It’s often quite good to be wrong, as it allows one greater insight into what is right. Knowing something, and realising something are very different things.
Right versus wrong, good versus evil, it’s never a clear matter, unlike what’s commonly thought. It may sound somewhat cliche, but there are shades to everything, not necessarily just gray. What’s good for one, is worse for another, though it also reflects neutrally on others. Everything affects everything. You may have heard of the butterfly effect: The smallest things can affect a great many situations in ways we can’t quite comprehend.

Imagine, if you will, some grand insight you attained regarding some personal situation of yours. You’re convinced you’re right. What would ultimately be better? Being proven right, or being proven wrong about your theory?
Most people would instantly say being proven right is better. I disagree. Being proven right too often can lead to overconfidence. And overconfidence can lead to foolhardiness, to foolishness itself. Willful ignorance over willingness to accept a different view.
Being proven wrong, however, can lead to a greater insight than your initial grand theory, an appreciation for nuances you would have otherwise overlooked.

There are however, upsides and downsides to either, as is almost always the case. Being proven right does not have to mean overconfidence, and being proven wrong isn’t always useful: Being constantly wrong is more foolish than refusing to admit a single wrong.

I hope this sincerely desimplified matters.

There’s little to be said after all is said and done, really. Other than, of course, a recounting of what was said and done. Either in the hopes of making sure none of it happens again, or so it does.
After all, after all is said and done, history may or may not repeat itself.
This is such a recounting.
It starts once upon a time in the future — Yes, yes, I’m terribly sorry for upsetting your primitive imaginations regarding things you can’t begin to understand.

Anyway, once upon a time, there was a boy. Just like there are in other times, the boy was a rather snotty one, but luckily this would soon change due to a bunch of unfortunate events I’ll tell you about now if you’re all done pretending your silly theories on the Universe are in any way profound.

So, this snotty little brat named Stan sat in his oddly empty room. With nothing but a bed and a small bedside table with an alarm clock on it, one is left to wonder just why he was such a snotty runt. The kid did nothing but stare at the door of his room for over five minutes until he finally got rather bored and decided to do something else. So he picked his nose instead. This involved a lot of snot. Surprisingly, after a few quite daring nasal excavations, a lot of snot was cleared from his nose and instead found its way to a handkerchief the boy had extracted from one of his pockets.
After disposing of his ‘kerchief by throwing it in the rubbish bin in the kitchen, Stan had become a far less snotty boy and a handkerchief would eventually find itself being set on fire several weeks later for no particular reason, other than the fact a young aspiring pyromaniac liked setting fire to things he found at ‘his’ local junkyard.

THE END.

Times like these remind me of the most cliche things, like the phrase ‘times like these’.
It seems at times my life’s insignificantly small, yet at times it’s bigger than the universe could ever encompass. There’s forever and there’s now. And quite frankly, now is more important than forever, because now decides forever. The here and now is what makes the future, and every future after that. It isn’t set in stone, and there’s no real finite end to it, no matter which way you look at it.

But even then, everything can seem small, even to someone like me, an insignificant blip in an insignificant blip of time. The here and now is the only thing there is for most of us. The past is already decided, and the future isn’t. The only place we truly matter is the here and now. And most things we do are small. Yet, they can amount to everything in one go.

‘Everything’ is about as relative as you can get.

I mean, what is it, exactly? Everything you can see, everything you can comprehend, everything ever, or just the things you care about?
To me, everything I care about could be put in a plane with an approximate radius of about a furlong, and it could exist without any major conflict for my entire life. It seems arbitrary, perhaps, but given just a small space and of course a steady supply of food, I could be perfectly happy with nothing else but my own little world.

‘Everything’ is a lot, ‘Things that make me happy’ are few. Take away most of what makes me unhappy, and I’m left with just a few things. Of course, even then, there’ll be things I’ll be unhappy with from time to time, but this only means that I’d be happy otherwise. After all, without darkness, light is meaningless.
But I’m afraid, my furlong plane doesn’t exist, and here I am, in this reality, for now.

Misanthropy, infused with a tinge of wistfulness is what I feel, observing here. The human race is poisoning itself. The fools are too smart for their own good. They think they know, but are clueless of the consequences of power, of knowledge, of fate itself. No sense of the grays of reality. Just the black and white of individual perception. Cruelty beyond imagination is what the human race creates through generalizations. Despite supposed words of wisdom, philosophies of better times, mankind is geared to destruction, all in the name of a great Benevolence.
The name of God.
The Great Irony.
A being that is not paradox nor impossibility personified, but merely a silly imaginary friend with fairly psychotic tendencies. Psychology isn’t my strong point, to be certain, but even I can see mankind’s inherent search of power, the one thing they think controls everything.

They are wrong. They consider power to be no more than selfishness. Ironic, really, how their great Benevolent God is what they wish to become themselves, through their own selfishness. It seems nothing more to me than immaturity, plain and simple. Mankind is incapable of sharing, except for a price. Often too high a price. Wars have been fought in the name of a great Benevolence. That is, each party has their own specific imaginary friend they dedicate their murder to. Rationalization is weakness. Ethics and morality have no place in religion, unless it can be tamed by those in power.

If their concept of Heaven existed, every single one would go just there. Straight to Hell. Rationalization: In the name of God, man does many things expecting to be blessed for them, forgiven for their sins. Yet because of this benevolent absolution, man supposedly needs feel no guilt as all will be forgiven in Heaven. Heaven itself is supposedly perfect. No man is. No-one with a shred of conscience is free of guilt. Perfection is undeserved for those who feel guilt. All those who have a conscience. Heaven is only Heaven for those with no conscience, no regrets, and endless sin.

Religion. The Endless Irony.

An Outsider can see the truth behind man, the sense of ‘evil’ that barely holds meaning in comparison to the innate self-destructive personality of mankind as a whole. Too much power, not enough responsibility. Not enough knowledge to counterbalance the knowledge it does possess. The scales are tipping over with potential destruction. Mankind’s make-believe of religion is a scourge of self-deception. Mankind itself is nothing more than the start of a fire. A collection of flammable objects of various natures, and the flame of knowledge perilously close to the short fuse that is mankind’s thirst for more.
One can only hope for the birth of a Phoenix from the ashes of Mankind’s own destruction.

This is what I am
Formalities annoy me
No more

These thoughts are vague
Adequately presenting
My mind to readers

My mind is leaking
All words spill forth rapidly
My subconscious

Know implicitly
Hidden significance
Behind these few words

The next new chapter
Represents far deeper
Coherent thinking

Old words tire quickly
But represent challenges
Of historic size

Knowledge seeks you out
In the inverse abyss of life
Embrace all of it

See now, my young friend
This world is what it shall be
But not in the past

Monosyllabic
is what I seem to be now
when I read this; “Eh?”

Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test Test
Test Test Test
Test Test Test
Test Test Test
Test Test Test
Test Test Test

Whee

Test completed.

Testing this as well.

Test completed.

I have no idea where it came from, closest I know of is my own mind. For some reason it makes sense, somehow. Don’t ask me, though, as I don’t have the foggiest. Do with it as you please, but if the results are particularly gruesome, please provide evidence towards that.

Chemistry
Physics
Biology

Stuff Happened

History
Geography
Economy

Nothing Happens

Mathematics
Languages
Art

First History happened, then Geography. People started killing, other people ran off.
Then Economy happened. People started using arbitrary pieces of junk to trade stuff. Languages were required to convince people of this nonsense. Then, when the system was implemented Mathematics happened in order to maximize profit due to the amount of nonsense caused by Languages. Eventually, Art happened. The making of useless junk to trade for other useless junk known as ‘currency’.
Chemistry, Physics and Biology as a whole, explain why all that crap happened.

* This stuff happened contemplating school subjects. Why this happened? Ask a Scientist. Or refer me to a good shrink so I can ask them.

A quote I ran into watching Heroes (S1E18)… Seems an interesting concept.

Nondescript, quiet,
utterly silent and alone.
Ticking, dark, alone.
Fear not the dark,
nor the lonely,
they mean no harm,
yet inflict it all the same.

It takes perhaps a word or two to explain,
but in the end it’s not quite right.
What’s said and done is never gone,
just in the past, perhaps where it belongs.

Let it stray,
let it flow,
but don’t ever close your eyes
to try and make it all go away.
It won’t, you see, it’ll stay.
It’s yours, it’s you, it’s all the same.

Truth.

Words lead nowhere but another sentence ahead,
unnecessary and meaningless.
Meaningless, except for all they’re worth.
Everything is explained.
Everything for all who know already what would’ve been spoken.
Still, nothing remains but silence in this realm of mine, this world.

Take care.

The jagged gashes on the man’s face and neck seemed almost surreal in the way glittering blood still pooled in them, pale, thin trails still streaming down along his lifeless features. The rest of his body had been covered in a strange web-like film, surrounding him like a cocoon that would hatch strange, lethal creatures in a matter of days. The victim had been killed only moments before he was found, the brutality of it frightening in its severity. Perhaps the worst part was that he neither was the first nor the last to suffer such a fate.
At least, until they would be able to trap the still-unknown killer, which they knew by now to be inhuman in every sense of the word.

Religion, Justice. Self-serving ideals that often amount to the same thing.

Ideals are what they strive for. Yet, ideals are either black or white, and as such cannot be applied to gray.

I believe not in religion nor justice. I only believe in my own ideals and need not be told what others’ are. I infuse the world with my own black, my own white, but those only exist in my mind. Beyond that, everything is gray.
Justice is ideal in its ideals, flawed in its execution.
There’s always someone who ends up losing. The world isn’t black and white, as opposed to any ideals of justice and religion.

Religion. Justice. Defining all gray as either black or white. The result? The image fades, leaving nothing but jagged scars.

This is my opinion. Don’t condemn me for it. Instead, learn from it if you can. I may be right or wrong in your eyes, either can teach a lesson, though both make the gray it truly is.