I thought it was ridiculous that Pizza Hut has its own channel via Time Warner digital cable in this area, from which you can actually key in the type of pizza you wish to order from your armchair, and have it delivered straight to your door.
But, it actually gets worse than that. If what I am about to show here was a joke, I would be laughing my tail off, almost literally. It would make an excellent parody of a certain group of people I have come to regard with an intensifying degree of contempt.
That sad truth is that it's real. It actually exists, and it has already been implemented. My initial reaction was to laugh, more in nervous disbelief than pure amusement. As soon as I began to ponder it, I nearly wept.
http://everquest2.station.sony.com/pizza
Yes, my dear hopelessly sociopathic gaming geeks, ordering pizza now no longer requires scraping up the entirety of your blobby mass from the computer chair whose contours are perfectly molded to the shape of your body, or even leaving your precious game of Everquest you've been working on continuously since the last genuine Elvis sighting! You know the world is becoming a better place to live when pizza can be ordered by a simple keyboard command even your average Everquest player could understand! Of course, if no one else is around (and there likely wouldn't be--chances are you never even answer your phone, providing you didn't lose it amongst all the Mountain Dew cans and empty pizza boxes strewn about your room) you'll still have to get up to answer the door and pay the deliveryman. But hey, who said the world was perfect?
And remember, you'll get fresh pizza! It's certainly worth emphasising that the pizza will be fresh, and not a week-old moldy specimen they pulled out from underneath the cleaning supply cabinet (sound familiar?). So you can play content in the knowledge that while you're slaying evil monsters, gaining awesome new spells with which to pwn your rivals, and developing invaluable relationships with 11 year-old nerds who deliberately misspell common words to fit in with a clique and hit on anything that shows promise of having a vagina, your pepperoni trio pizza is in the oven, just rising to be devoured in an Orc-like fashion!
Enough mockery, though. I simply cannot get over how strikingly pathetic this is. My loath of multiplayer gaming is not the primary cause of my vexation. It's the fact that these online RPG players who spend the majority of their lives in a virtual world are only encouraged to keep on playing even in spite of hunger. Honestly, it would be so good for them to get up, stretch, and go for a nice little stroll to a local eatery--get some fresh air, a little exercise, and maybe remind themselves what it's like to interact with real environments and real people. But no, pizza can now be ordered from a video game and brought to your front door, necessitating only a short, intense, breath-stealing waddle upstairs and through the hallway. I can just picture a pasty-skinned, obese kid devouring his fresh pizza, typing in nifty little commands with his fat greasy fingers, thinking "life doesn't get any better than this." I cannot help but be contemptuous of such a lifestyle, because there is much, much more to life than having junk food brought to your door as you stare bleary-eyed into a computer screen, playing epic virtual quests with equally bland souls all day. At least, I hope most people have the capacity to realise that and embrace the finer aspects of life.
Now, if only you could install a sink into your computer desk, and make your computer chair double as a toilet. Then, we'd be in business, wouldn't we? At least, until your toilet backs up. Then, you might just have to turn on your Nintendo and order up professional plumbing service from the Mario Brothers.
Mar 7, 2005
Mar 4, 2005
The defibrillators are in the bag, sir.
Natural Hazards class was not very pleasant yesterday. For the final lecture of our biological hazards section, we were shown a video entitled "Modern Meat." It was about food safety in the meat industry and the production of beef, and it was graphic, very graphic. Select images tend to be very impacting and stand out vividly in one's memory. The video provided us some very detailed shots of cattle getting beheaded, gutted, and systematically torn apart as they moved down the disassembly line. As horrifying as it was, I couldn't seem to avert my gaze out of morbid fascination. A meat-packing plant--just one little compartment of the vast human killing machine at work. It's hard to imagine anything more barbaric short of the Holocaust, or other events of massive human genocide.
The film also provided a lovely view of the meat -grinding- process. Imagine watching two thousand pounds of meat scraps from hundred or thousands of animals being mixed into a giant machine and ground into a thick, pasty substance that shows up in your local grocery store as "hamburger." Indeed, don't for a second delude yourself into believing that hamburger you order up at Jack in the Box comes from a happy, healthy cow on the ranch. The grim reality is that by eating a single burger at your favourite fast food joint, you are actually eating the entrails of hundreds, possibly even thousands, of different animals. And who knows, really, where some of those animals have been. Eating and sleeping in their own shit, most likely, as cows in feedlots essentially live in their own fecal matter. Of course, a technique has been discovered that -might- rid a cow of some of the diseases they carry--a pesticide bath, where they push the animals into a pool full of pesticidal agents. And still, it has been estimated that one-quarter of all cows in feedlots have E.coli in their guts, even though half of all antibiotics sold in the United States are used in the meat production industry. How appetising.
Hamburgers are repulsive. The two-minute sequence of close-up shots showing people stuffing those disgusting things into their mouths was one of the most unpleasant parts of the film. It was even worse than watching them cook on the griddle (the hamburgers, not their obese consumers), drowning in a thick puddle of boiling grease. Forgive me for not understanding why people voluntarily put such rubbish in their body several times a week, or even a month. Nothing is more responsible for the success of fast food than public ignorance.
My instructor is a vegan environmentalist, and for that alone I respect him. Maybe by showing such videos to the class, he's hoping to perhaps convert a couple of his students to a vegetable-based diet. I can't say I'd mind that at all. The earlier one starts on a healthy diet, the better off they'll be when they're older. When people have access to a wide ranged of nutritious foods, many of which could quite possibly taste just as "good" as a greasy old hamburger once an individual gets accustomed to them, why on Earth don't more people try it, if only out of interest for their own well-being?
It's too easy for people to think it's perfectly fine to chug ten litres of soda a week or consume a big hearty breakfast of bacon, sausage, ham, and eggs and cheese every morning when so many other people are doing it--when it is a widely accepted norm of our culture. "Everybody" eats hamburgers, after all, so screw the poor nutritional value! People think they taste good and culture only reinforces that notion, making them irresistible to so many. Why keep shoveling this crap into our bodies on a regular basis when anyone who is even slightly educated should know deep down inside of them that their bodies deserve much better? Why do people deliberately disrespect their bodies to such a gross extent? Why does culture so heavily encourage such a thing, from reality TV shows exposing the miraculous results of plastic surgery, to the trendiness of piercings, to the promotion (and unfortunate lingering legality) of cigarettes, to what is considered an "all-American meal"? Why are we as a society so enamored of 'instant gratification,' knowing full well tomorrow will come eventually, and the worse we eat today, the more dismal the following days will be? How can anyone be gullible enough to believe that limiting one's carbohydrate intake drastically in the interest of losing weight could possibly be good for them? What of getting proper amounts of exercise and eating well instead of forcing oneself onto some hocus-pocus diet plan advocated by some quack and perpetuated by every conceivable food manufacturer that tempts every consumer vying for the "perfect body" with the magical number "0"? Zero carbs, zero calories, zero sense.
While I am on the subject, smoking should be illegalised entirely. It's preposterous that cigarettes are still legally sold. According to my economics textbook, in the year 1998, smoking-related deaths accounted for 430,000 deaths in the United States. That's more deaths resulting from cigarette smoking than deaths from alcohol abuse, motor vehicle accidents, other accidents, suicide, homicide, illegal drug use, and AIDS combined. How many casualties resulted from the use of illegal drugs? 13,900. Honestly, if the government cared most about the public's health, cigarettes would have been banned before I was born. Yet, cigarettes are still sold legally, because capitalism isn't interested in our health, it's interested in a profit, which may be applied towards indulging ourselves with more unnecessary and unhealthful pastimes and luxury items.
What are we, stupid?
The film also provided a lovely view of the meat -grinding- process. Imagine watching two thousand pounds of meat scraps from hundred or thousands of animals being mixed into a giant machine and ground into a thick, pasty substance that shows up in your local grocery store as "hamburger." Indeed, don't for a second delude yourself into believing that hamburger you order up at Jack in the Box comes from a happy, healthy cow on the ranch. The grim reality is that by eating a single burger at your favourite fast food joint, you are actually eating the entrails of hundreds, possibly even thousands, of different animals. And who knows, really, where some of those animals have been. Eating and sleeping in their own shit, most likely, as cows in feedlots essentially live in their own fecal matter. Of course, a technique has been discovered that -might- rid a cow of some of the diseases they carry--a pesticide bath, where they push the animals into a pool full of pesticidal agents. And still, it has been estimated that one-quarter of all cows in feedlots have E.coli in their guts, even though half of all antibiotics sold in the United States are used in the meat production industry. How appetising.
Hamburgers are repulsive. The two-minute sequence of close-up shots showing people stuffing those disgusting things into their mouths was one of the most unpleasant parts of the film. It was even worse than watching them cook on the griddle (the hamburgers, not their obese consumers), drowning in a thick puddle of boiling grease. Forgive me for not understanding why people voluntarily put such rubbish in their body several times a week, or even a month. Nothing is more responsible for the success of fast food than public ignorance.
My instructor is a vegan environmentalist, and for that alone I respect him. Maybe by showing such videos to the class, he's hoping to perhaps convert a couple of his students to a vegetable-based diet. I can't say I'd mind that at all. The earlier one starts on a healthy diet, the better off they'll be when they're older. When people have access to a wide ranged of nutritious foods, many of which could quite possibly taste just as "good" as a greasy old hamburger once an individual gets accustomed to them, why on Earth don't more people try it, if only out of interest for their own well-being?
It's too easy for people to think it's perfectly fine to chug ten litres of soda a week or consume a big hearty breakfast of bacon, sausage, ham, and eggs and cheese every morning when so many other people are doing it--when it is a widely accepted norm of our culture. "Everybody" eats hamburgers, after all, so screw the poor nutritional value! People think they taste good and culture only reinforces that notion, making them irresistible to so many. Why keep shoveling this crap into our bodies on a regular basis when anyone who is even slightly educated should know deep down inside of them that their bodies deserve much better? Why do people deliberately disrespect their bodies to such a gross extent? Why does culture so heavily encourage such a thing, from reality TV shows exposing the miraculous results of plastic surgery, to the trendiness of piercings, to the promotion (and unfortunate lingering legality) of cigarettes, to what is considered an "all-American meal"? Why are we as a society so enamored of 'instant gratification,' knowing full well tomorrow will come eventually, and the worse we eat today, the more dismal the following days will be? How can anyone be gullible enough to believe that limiting one's carbohydrate intake drastically in the interest of losing weight could possibly be good for them? What of getting proper amounts of exercise and eating well instead of forcing oneself onto some hocus-pocus diet plan advocated by some quack and perpetuated by every conceivable food manufacturer that tempts every consumer vying for the "perfect body" with the magical number "0"? Zero carbs, zero calories, zero sense.
While I am on the subject, smoking should be illegalised entirely. It's preposterous that cigarettes are still legally sold. According to my economics textbook, in the year 1998, smoking-related deaths accounted for 430,000 deaths in the United States. That's more deaths resulting from cigarette smoking than deaths from alcohol abuse, motor vehicle accidents, other accidents, suicide, homicide, illegal drug use, and AIDS combined. How many casualties resulted from the use of illegal drugs? 13,900. Honestly, if the government cared most about the public's health, cigarettes would have been banned before I was born. Yet, cigarettes are still sold legally, because capitalism isn't interested in our health, it's interested in a profit, which may be applied towards indulging ourselves with more unnecessary and unhealthful pastimes and luxury items.
What are we, stupid?
Feb 27, 2005
Multi-tiered magnificence
Many full moons had risen and fallen since my last spiritually enriching night wander. I had set out on many brief evening strolls through town, but rarely do such walks turn out to be wholesomely sensational. Everywhere are ugly street lamps, offending my sensitive vision with their characterless torrents of dingy amber light. Traffic is noisy and predictable, and I can never hope to achieve a harmonious connection with the natural environment with filthy engine by-products deluging my olfactories. The human beings seen roaming about in the dead of the night are by the most interesting vision, but it is also dismal much of the time. Downtown is usually ruled in the earliest morning hours by two or three delusional drunks who hang around the large gazebo near the bus station, claiming to have missed their plane-err-bus-err-train to "Caluhhforeignyeah."
When the wanderlust hits me, and I feel the need to break out of immediate civilisation altogether, I rely on an automobile to take me out of town. Around 1:30 this morning, I was struck with a sudden longing for an adventure. My current early morning class schedule makes a nocturnal lifestyle difficult to manage, but fortunately, this was a Sunday morning, and I had the rest of the day free. Without much forethought, I grabbed my camera and my keys and took off, allowing the road to lead me to some unknown destination. About fifteen minutes out of town, I recalled that botanical garden I had for quite some time desired to prowl around, but could not be scammed enough to pay the $8.50 admission fee to enter. A half-mile later came the left turn to the garden, and I decided on it. So as to arouse the minimal amount of suspicion, I drove past the garden and parked a quarter mile down the road, before a bridge crossing a wide rushing stream. As soon as I stepped out and closed the door, I was immersed in the rain forest. The myriad frogs greeted me with their repetitive chorus. Everywhere surrounding the desolate one-lane road were massive wild ginger, tall trees with leaves the size of umbrellas, lofty sword ferns, and a sea of lush green tinted silverblue by the naked moon. The air felt cool and heavy with moisture, and exceptionally pure. My no shoes policy was in effect as usual, and the sensation of the chilly dew-dampened grass beneath my feet was euphoria in itself.
A very brief walk brought me to a turn-off into a gulch. The concrete-paved road immediately split up into two directions, the left fork leading deeper into the gulch and the other steeply ascending up its wall. Between the two roads proudly stood this sign:
001.jpg
After slapping on my invisible name tag sticker upon which I had sloppily written 'GUEST,' I went against my primal left-handed nature for a change and chose the right fork. A short climb led me out of the relative darkness and into a wide moonlit clearing. The road progressed uphill, past a small cattle corral and water tank. As I approached a cluster of planted trees at a ninety degree turn, I detected the marvelous soothing fragrance of tropical wildflowers along with the sweet rotten smell of decaying fruit. A few short black shapes darted amongst the brush and across the road ahead of me; wild oinkers in search of an early morning meal. As the road began to run parallel to the rim of another gulch, I encountered at least a dozen of them at once. Some rapidly scurried down the steep gulch walls, escaping to their homes, while others lazily moved out of the way, as if they hardly feared me but did not wish to confront me either. A couple boars stood by in the brush and glared at me from behind their tusks, obviously proud of how facially well-endowed they were. The occasional screech of a bat couple circling above made me feel only more at home among these nocturnal creatures. I continued on slowly along the paved road, opting to treat my bare feet to the grassy strip that paralleled it instead, becoming absolutely attuned to the outdoors and my inner self.
Around another bend, a large, glossy sign jumped out in the moonlight, reading, "Umauma Falls."
002.jpg
I had been there before, only having reached it via a much more primitive route. Instead of scrambling up the slippery rocks of a stream and hacking through the jungle on the banks for a mile, I had this time taken the pampered wealthy tourist route. ...The route that is so luxuriously easy to travel, the owners actually charge visitors to view a waterfall from their lookout. When I did step up to the guard rail, peering over the edge of the gulch, I immediately decided a two-second glance would be more than worth the cost. Of course, I stared for much longer than two seconds. I was transfixed by the majesty of the scene for a good few moments. The pampered wealthy tourists' view from far above the stream was far superior to the primitive jungle-slashing, rock-hopping savage's view from stream-level. My eyes followed the multi-tiered waterfall as graceful ribbons of rapidly flowing silverblue-tinted white descending into one pool after another, eventually ending at a larger body of water. Beyond the gulch the wild rain forest could be seen rolling up the mountain to the very summit many miles away; a zenith still capped with a thinning crown of snow that shimmered brilliantly against the moonlight even at such a great distance. As I leaned and stared, I took a deep breath and wondered to myself whether tropical splendor could possibly be any more captivating. As I gazed steadily over the scene, I could not help but imagine the very best things in life, as wonderful images swirled around my head, painting rapturous masterpieces that left my soul smiling. I was probably about as 'high' as anyone could possibly get.
Eventually, perhaps five minutes or an hour later, I broke out of my euphoric little trance and glanced to my left, noticing the road continuing upward and onward. I allowed it to lead me farther up into the hills and deeper into the Garden of Eden. A sudden glance into the sky showed me a dense band of low clouds rapidly approaching, dark and bulging with moisture. The bright moonlight was quickly obscured and my shadow faded into nothingness. Moments later, the sky burst open, and I was pelted with heavy, warm raindrops. Almost instinctively, I held out the palms of my hands and embraced the random act of nature. Five minutes later, the rain ceased as quickly as it had started, leaving me and the earth and the trees a sopping mess. As I continued walking, I glanced back at the white-capped ocean far downslope and watched the dark veil of rain drift out to sea. As the moonlight touched upon my skin once again, fighting for its moments of direct contact with the beautiful landscape before the next dramatic shower, I was cold, wet, and rejuvenated.
I could not possibly reach the end of the road without exhausting myself, for it very well could have continued miles into the wilderness, ascending ever so steeply. I turned around and followed an alternate route which, by chance, took me directly back to the botanical garden's registration shack. As I wandered down the twisting path, ever taking my time, I thought about my dreams, and how dream-like this experience felt. If only I could have leaped and bounded thirty metres almost effortlessly, landing light as a feather on my feet, as I so often can in my dreams. While the gravity imposing its force on my body remained, I felt as if the pressure on my spirit had been completely released.
I decided to take a still image of the shack across the road, if only because it was so vibrantly decorated:
003.jpg
It was also quite interesting to observe what the waterfalls looked like by day:
004.jpg
Tired and thirsy as I was, I decided to roam about the immediate area for a little while, following narrow concrete paths through densely forested sections. It was all too easy to imagine myself in some elaborately-schemed maze, as the paths weaved erratically and unpredictably back and forth, past bizarre-looking garden ornaments wearing twisted grins. I expected some mystical creature to hop out of the brush and confront me, challenging me to find my way out alive before his underlings picked up my scent and preyed upon me.
The surreal only became more so when I stumbled straight into a moonlit hedge maze. The sheer unpredictability of such a discovery delighted me. The hedges were nicely trimmed, a metre or so taller than I was, their leaves drenched in that familiar gorgeous silverblue hue. They filled the air with a brisk, sweet scent that simply makes one feel at ease. At the entrance, rectangular grassy paths led in three separate directions, and I chose according to my nature this time, veering left. The path weaved about many ninety degree turns past a couple alternative routesbefore arriving at a dead end. One turn-off led to a dead end, and the other a loop, so the initial left-hand choice turned out to be entirely in the wrong. Alone with my imagination, I was enjoying myself immensely. I felt as if I had somehow landed into a maze from Starfox Adventures. I continuously imagined the possibility of a Sharpclaw lurking behind every sharp turn, waiting in silence for an unwitting soul to turn the corner. It was me against the world, after all.
The experience was incredibly video game-like. I was reminded of what a tremendous pleasure it is to use one's imagination to make a video game-esque adventure out of real life scenarios. The surrealism of the settings only made it easier to envision being in an entirely different world ... a less drab, predictable world based on such a rigid set of rules. The darkness bathes objects in shadows, leaving the interpreter's imagination to fill in the blanks. An oddly shaped object only a few metres ahead of me could be anything until I get close enough to it to examine it. My imagination quite literally goes wild, and I adore the sensation, even though it often reacts with my paranoia and leads to a few frights. The moon and the darkness paints far more intriguing, exciting landscapes than the plain, dull daylight, magically converting the ordinary into the bizarre. It's no wonder I enjoy so much wandering the night in absence of all human souls.
Only when a sudden rush of exhaustion hit me did I finally find my way out of the maze and return to my apartment, slipping into bed and quickly falling asleep as if I had just woken up from an incredible dream.
When the wanderlust hits me, and I feel the need to break out of immediate civilisation altogether, I rely on an automobile to take me out of town. Around 1:30 this morning, I was struck with a sudden longing for an adventure. My current early morning class schedule makes a nocturnal lifestyle difficult to manage, but fortunately, this was a Sunday morning, and I had the rest of the day free. Without much forethought, I grabbed my camera and my keys and took off, allowing the road to lead me to some unknown destination. About fifteen minutes out of town, I recalled that botanical garden I had for quite some time desired to prowl around, but could not be scammed enough to pay the $8.50 admission fee to enter. A half-mile later came the left turn to the garden, and I decided on it. So as to arouse the minimal amount of suspicion, I drove past the garden and parked a quarter mile down the road, before a bridge crossing a wide rushing stream. As soon as I stepped out and closed the door, I was immersed in the rain forest. The myriad frogs greeted me with their repetitive chorus. Everywhere surrounding the desolate one-lane road were massive wild ginger, tall trees with leaves the size of umbrellas, lofty sword ferns, and a sea of lush green tinted silverblue by the naked moon. The air felt cool and heavy with moisture, and exceptionally pure. My no shoes policy was in effect as usual, and the sensation of the chilly dew-dampened grass beneath my feet was euphoria in itself.
A very brief walk brought me to a turn-off into a gulch. The concrete-paved road immediately split up into two directions, the left fork leading deeper into the gulch and the other steeply ascending up its wall. Between the two roads proudly stood this sign:
001.jpg
After slapping on my invisible name tag sticker upon which I had sloppily written 'GUEST,' I went against my primal left-handed nature for a change and chose the right fork. A short climb led me out of the relative darkness and into a wide moonlit clearing. The road progressed uphill, past a small cattle corral and water tank. As I approached a cluster of planted trees at a ninety degree turn, I detected the marvelous soothing fragrance of tropical wildflowers along with the sweet rotten smell of decaying fruit. A few short black shapes darted amongst the brush and across the road ahead of me; wild oinkers in search of an early morning meal. As the road began to run parallel to the rim of another gulch, I encountered at least a dozen of them at once. Some rapidly scurried down the steep gulch walls, escaping to their homes, while others lazily moved out of the way, as if they hardly feared me but did not wish to confront me either. A couple boars stood by in the brush and glared at me from behind their tusks, obviously proud of how facially well-endowed they were. The occasional screech of a bat couple circling above made me feel only more at home among these nocturnal creatures. I continued on slowly along the paved road, opting to treat my bare feet to the grassy strip that paralleled it instead, becoming absolutely attuned to the outdoors and my inner self.
Around another bend, a large, glossy sign jumped out in the moonlight, reading, "Umauma Falls."
002.jpg
I had been there before, only having reached it via a much more primitive route. Instead of scrambling up the slippery rocks of a stream and hacking through the jungle on the banks for a mile, I had this time taken the pampered wealthy tourist route. ...The route that is so luxuriously easy to travel, the owners actually charge visitors to view a waterfall from their lookout. When I did step up to the guard rail, peering over the edge of the gulch, I immediately decided a two-second glance would be more than worth the cost. Of course, I stared for much longer than two seconds. I was transfixed by the majesty of the scene for a good few moments. The pampered wealthy tourists' view from far above the stream was far superior to the primitive jungle-slashing, rock-hopping savage's view from stream-level. My eyes followed the multi-tiered waterfall as graceful ribbons of rapidly flowing silverblue-tinted white descending into one pool after another, eventually ending at a larger body of water. Beyond the gulch the wild rain forest could be seen rolling up the mountain to the very summit many miles away; a zenith still capped with a thinning crown of snow that shimmered brilliantly against the moonlight even at such a great distance. As I leaned and stared, I took a deep breath and wondered to myself whether tropical splendor could possibly be any more captivating. As I gazed steadily over the scene, I could not help but imagine the very best things in life, as wonderful images swirled around my head, painting rapturous masterpieces that left my soul smiling. I was probably about as 'high' as anyone could possibly get.
Eventually, perhaps five minutes or an hour later, I broke out of my euphoric little trance and glanced to my left, noticing the road continuing upward and onward. I allowed it to lead me farther up into the hills and deeper into the Garden of Eden. A sudden glance into the sky showed me a dense band of low clouds rapidly approaching, dark and bulging with moisture. The bright moonlight was quickly obscured and my shadow faded into nothingness. Moments later, the sky burst open, and I was pelted with heavy, warm raindrops. Almost instinctively, I held out the palms of my hands and embraced the random act of nature. Five minutes later, the rain ceased as quickly as it had started, leaving me and the earth and the trees a sopping mess. As I continued walking, I glanced back at the white-capped ocean far downslope and watched the dark veil of rain drift out to sea. As the moonlight touched upon my skin once again, fighting for its moments of direct contact with the beautiful landscape before the next dramatic shower, I was cold, wet, and rejuvenated.
I could not possibly reach the end of the road without exhausting myself, for it very well could have continued miles into the wilderness, ascending ever so steeply. I turned around and followed an alternate route which, by chance, took me directly back to the botanical garden's registration shack. As I wandered down the twisting path, ever taking my time, I thought about my dreams, and how dream-like this experience felt. If only I could have leaped and bounded thirty metres almost effortlessly, landing light as a feather on my feet, as I so often can in my dreams. While the gravity imposing its force on my body remained, I felt as if the pressure on my spirit had been completely released.
I decided to take a still image of the shack across the road, if only because it was so vibrantly decorated:
003.jpg
It was also quite interesting to observe what the waterfalls looked like by day:
004.jpg
Tired and thirsy as I was, I decided to roam about the immediate area for a little while, following narrow concrete paths through densely forested sections. It was all too easy to imagine myself in some elaborately-schemed maze, as the paths weaved erratically and unpredictably back and forth, past bizarre-looking garden ornaments wearing twisted grins. I expected some mystical creature to hop out of the brush and confront me, challenging me to find my way out alive before his underlings picked up my scent and preyed upon me.
The surreal only became more so when I stumbled straight into a moonlit hedge maze. The sheer unpredictability of such a discovery delighted me. The hedges were nicely trimmed, a metre or so taller than I was, their leaves drenched in that familiar gorgeous silverblue hue. They filled the air with a brisk, sweet scent that simply makes one feel at ease. At the entrance, rectangular grassy paths led in three separate directions, and I chose according to my nature this time, veering left. The path weaved about many ninety degree turns past a couple alternative routesbefore arriving at a dead end. One turn-off led to a dead end, and the other a loop, so the initial left-hand choice turned out to be entirely in the wrong. Alone with my imagination, I was enjoying myself immensely. I felt as if I had somehow landed into a maze from Starfox Adventures. I continuously imagined the possibility of a Sharpclaw lurking behind every sharp turn, waiting in silence for an unwitting soul to turn the corner. It was me against the world, after all.
The experience was incredibly video game-like. I was reminded of what a tremendous pleasure it is to use one's imagination to make a video game-esque adventure out of real life scenarios. The surrealism of the settings only made it easier to envision being in an entirely different world ... a less drab, predictable world based on such a rigid set of rules. The darkness bathes objects in shadows, leaving the interpreter's imagination to fill in the blanks. An oddly shaped object only a few metres ahead of me could be anything until I get close enough to it to examine it. My imagination quite literally goes wild, and I adore the sensation, even though it often reacts with my paranoia and leads to a few frights. The moon and the darkness paints far more intriguing, exciting landscapes than the plain, dull daylight, magically converting the ordinary into the bizarre. It's no wonder I enjoy so much wandering the night in absence of all human souls.
Only when a sudden rush of exhaustion hit me did I finally find my way out of the maze and return to my apartment, slipping into bed and quickly falling asleep as if I had just woken up from an incredible dream.
Feb 20, 2005
Debt.
Credit cards are evil. They are truly reprehensible little rectangular pieces of plastic. They are also an incredible convenience, which only makes them more evil. They are there to tempt you to indulge in high-priced goods you do not need but feel you do because your card makes it possible for you to obtain it. They tempt you to purchase that really cool item that you cannot actually afford, but feel you can because you are armed with a method of acquiring it now and dealing with paying it off later. In a society that revolves around instant gratification so heavily, simply owning a credit card is in itself for most people a true test of self-discipline. It can be so tempting to just purchase that nice item now for the simple pleasure of taking it home and enjoying it, knowing you won't have to worry about paying for it for awhile to come. But that time always comes, eventually, and like they say, payback is a bitch. ...Especially when you find you have so little to pay back with. I do not ever want to allow that to happen to me. I do not want to run up huge debts on my credit cards while maintaining a "screw tomorrow" attitude, which is what so many young people these days unfortunately seem to do. And they wonder, then, why they are forced to drop out of school and work three jobs just to manage their monthly credit card fees. Ugh. I would rather simply not be able to afford something now and thus simply not have it than place the charges on a credit card so I can have it now but then struggle with bills for months to come. My brother already ruined his credit by using credit cards to purchase commodities he couldn't even afford, and thus ended up defaulting on his monthly bills. I have never made a late credit card payment in my life, and I see no reason to ever get lazy with that, either. I don't wish to journey down the same road as him. I just recently paid off the remaining $280 balance on my Best Buy card (for my camera I purchased in August) in order to avoid being slapped with deferred finance charges. It's certainly nice to know I won't have to worry about that financial obligation anymore. I do not relish the thought of spending my life being a prisoner to debt due to my own carelessness.
Credit cards are useful, yes. They can be life-savers in emergencies. I'm highly considering making a vow to use one of my credit cards only if it's an emergency; a situation that places my survival or well-being at stake. The bottom line is that credit cards, like many things, are dangerously easy to abuse. It's good to have a couple, but most of the time, it's best to leave them buried deep in my wallet for truly desperate times. I suppose I have bothered to write this out for my own benefit more than anyone's else's, as everyone deals with a different financial situation. If I ever make the mistake of unnecessarily running up mountains of credit card debt in the future for luxurious items I don't need, at least I can look back upon this entry and remember that I used to be smart.
Credit cards are useful, yes. They can be life-savers in emergencies. I'm highly considering making a vow to use one of my credit cards only if it's an emergency; a situation that places my survival or well-being at stake. The bottom line is that credit cards, like many things, are dangerously easy to abuse. It's good to have a couple, but most of the time, it's best to leave them buried deep in my wallet for truly desperate times. I suppose I have bothered to write this out for my own benefit more than anyone's else's, as everyone deals with a different financial situation. If I ever make the mistake of unnecessarily running up mountains of credit card debt in the future for luxurious items I don't need, at least I can look back upon this entry and remember that I used to be smart.
Feb 16, 2005
Precognition
I experienced something most phenomenal today.
I was driving down Waianuenue Avenue (I don't expect non-Hawaiianers to pronounce that properly), past all the schools and into downtown, not initially expecting anything to happen. I was admittedly being rather spastic, lost in the dark harmonious tunes of Peter Murphy and devoting just enough concentration toward driving to avoid hitting anything. Suddenly, something snapped me out of my little trance, and I almost reflexively hit the brakes. It was nothing I could initially see or hear. It was something I felt, something I imagined. I had a vision of a raccoon running across the road right in front of my car, and it lasted less than a split second. That was all it took to get me to depress the brake pedal. Not more than two seconds later, two cats, one closely following the other, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and ran across the road in front of me toward the left lane before disappearing into the trees. Their approximate distance in front of my moving vehicle was no more than ten feet, and if I hadn't applied the brakes they would have been roadkill, just like my conscience.
I cannot dismiss as a simple coincidence the astounding connection between my vision and the cats running across the street. I feel the actual event is something I must have predicted somehow. The entire way home, I was absorbed in my music, and did not halfway expect anything to run out onto the road ahead of me. All of a sudden, a vision of an animal crossing the road compels me to hit the brakes, and two seconds later two kamikaze kitties jaywalk in front of me. Yes, it's awfully difficult to regard that as coincidence.
Phenomena such as this has occured throughout my life, and every time it does happen, I become further assured that humans and animals alike have a sixth sense, weakly developed as it may be. It may allow us to predict significant events in our day that have yet to occur, if only a couple seconds from now. This sense could simply be rooted in our instinct for survival; it may be responsible for saving lives everyday.
Often, though, it simply keeps me out of trouble. I cannot remember the last time I overslept through a class, as I always naturally wake up in time to get ready for school. If I have class at 9:00 in the morning, I usually wake up between 7 and 7:30, then fall back asleep. I don't bother setting an alarm, because I always wake up at or before 8:30. Most of the time, I naturally wake up exactly half an hour before class starts, give or take a few seconds. This has always left me in awe, and I wonder if anyone else experiences anything similar. In another instance, I have an instructor this semester that likes to call on students for answers. In spite of, or perhaps because of my deliberate rear corner-huddling, I seem to be one of her favourite targets. As often as I space out and daydream in economics class, I can always seem to predict a couple minutes ahead of time when she is going to ask me a question. I receive a sort of mental cue to start paying attention. Nothing I can physically observe or recognise assists in my ability to predict it ... it is entirely extrasensory.
This may not sound unusual, but I can also always tell when someone is looking at me. I can feel their gaze upon me, and I feel wildly violated. I can tell when someone has been in my personal space, such as my bedroom or apartment in the past few hours. I simply feel the remnants of their presence, and sometimes find it disturbing. When outside, wandering about where I think I should be alone, I can usually feel the presence of a human soul within a mile radius. This enables me to keep on my guard, and keep from getting caught if I am somewhere I should not be. I believe it must be much harder to sneak things by individuals with a stronger than average sixth sense. One might consider being as honest as possible to someone who demonstrates abilities of precognition.
I was driving down Waianuenue Avenue (I don't expect non-Hawaiianers to pronounce that properly), past all the schools and into downtown, not initially expecting anything to happen. I was admittedly being rather spastic, lost in the dark harmonious tunes of Peter Murphy and devoting just enough concentration toward driving to avoid hitting anything. Suddenly, something snapped me out of my little trance, and I almost reflexively hit the brakes. It was nothing I could initially see or hear. It was something I felt, something I imagined. I had a vision of a raccoon running across the road right in front of my car, and it lasted less than a split second. That was all it took to get me to depress the brake pedal. Not more than two seconds later, two cats, one closely following the other, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and ran across the road in front of me toward the left lane before disappearing into the trees. Their approximate distance in front of my moving vehicle was no more than ten feet, and if I hadn't applied the brakes they would have been roadkill, just like my conscience.
I cannot dismiss as a simple coincidence the astounding connection between my vision and the cats running across the street. I feel the actual event is something I must have predicted somehow. The entire way home, I was absorbed in my music, and did not halfway expect anything to run out onto the road ahead of me. All of a sudden, a vision of an animal crossing the road compels me to hit the brakes, and two seconds later two kamikaze kitties jaywalk in front of me. Yes, it's awfully difficult to regard that as coincidence.
Phenomena such as this has occured throughout my life, and every time it does happen, I become further assured that humans and animals alike have a sixth sense, weakly developed as it may be. It may allow us to predict significant events in our day that have yet to occur, if only a couple seconds from now. This sense could simply be rooted in our instinct for survival; it may be responsible for saving lives everyday.
Often, though, it simply keeps me out of trouble. I cannot remember the last time I overslept through a class, as I always naturally wake up in time to get ready for school. If I have class at 9:00 in the morning, I usually wake up between 7 and 7:30, then fall back asleep. I don't bother setting an alarm, because I always wake up at or before 8:30. Most of the time, I naturally wake up exactly half an hour before class starts, give or take a few seconds. This has always left me in awe, and I wonder if anyone else experiences anything similar. In another instance, I have an instructor this semester that likes to call on students for answers. In spite of, or perhaps because of my deliberate rear corner-huddling, I seem to be one of her favourite targets. As often as I space out and daydream in economics class, I can always seem to predict a couple minutes ahead of time when she is going to ask me a question. I receive a sort of mental cue to start paying attention. Nothing I can physically observe or recognise assists in my ability to predict it ... it is entirely extrasensory.
This may not sound unusual, but I can also always tell when someone is looking at me. I can feel their gaze upon me, and I feel wildly violated. I can tell when someone has been in my personal space, such as my bedroom or apartment in the past few hours. I simply feel the remnants of their presence, and sometimes find it disturbing. When outside, wandering about where I think I should be alone, I can usually feel the presence of a human soul within a mile radius. This enables me to keep on my guard, and keep from getting caught if I am somewhere I should not be. I believe it must be much harder to sneak things by individuals with a stronger than average sixth sense. One might consider being as honest as possible to someone who demonstrates abilities of precognition.
Feb 15, 2005
Earlier today, on my way home from school, I passed a large white banner hung on a park fence that read "Heart Walk." The first image that popped into my head was that of a bunch of people with large, gaping holes in their chests walking around their own bloody hearts on lush green grass, with the leashes attached to one or more of their valves. What's odd is that these creatures could not stop sniffing each other's chambers. Now that's what I call a hearty romp!
I wasn't given too many choices for student workstudy jobs this semester. I could have been a note taker for a disabled student, but I don't exactly enjoy taking notes nor have the best handwriting. Almost every other job would have required me to be fluent in the Hawaiian language, have taken higher level chemistry or economics courses, or meant answering telephones and talking to humans on a regular basis. So, I chose a job on the university farm, about five miles from the main campus. I have never minded doing outdoor nursery work, and this is a place in which I would rather be outdoors.
On the second day, I found myself pulling piglets out of a pen, one by one, and holding their back legs down while an animal science student injected a vaccination agent in them. They were all rowdy as a litter of puppies, and most of them squealed like the sky was falling until they were returned to their mother. As I held them by the chest with my left hand, I could feel their little racing hearts and the heat of their bodies. Somehow, I get the feeling this job may cause me to be even more sympathetic toward animals, should that be possible. The more time I spend with animals, the more I appreciate them. I do not enjoy hearing their cries of discomfort, much less being a cause of it--but I always enjoy being around them. I just hope I will not be asked to assist with the slaughtering or euthanasia of an animal, as I am not sure how I would handle it. At any rate, this is a fairly painless job thus far, and yet another reference for the future--though I don't see how circumstances could ever place me on a path towards being a farmer.
It's time to assess where I am academically, if only for my own benefit. All my general education requirements are completed, and I have only two courses left to take to satisfy all my requirements for my Geography and Environmental Studies major in the fall. I must select two courses for summer school (running from mid-May to early June), and the only requirement is that they must be upper division courses. Here are the ones that look the most promising:
Eng 485, Writing for the Worldwide Web
HPE 495, Science of Diet and Weight Control
Soc 394, Cross Cultural Leadership Styles
Psy 320, Developmental Psychology
Psy 323, Community Psychology (online)
Rels 394, Jesus in Movies
Yes, they are actually offering a course called Jesus in Movies. It'll be like getting 3 credits for watching the religious channel everyday. Show me the path to transformation! I can hardly contain this sensation of giddiness that overcomes me when I think of graduating. Three years ago, I was ready to admit to myself I would never make it all the way through. I didn't do much in Arizona besides goof around and overwork myself in the freight industry, but university in Hawaii is much different from community college in Glendale, and I have learned to establish a very good work ethic. To borrow a famous phrase from Calvin & Hobbes, I have 'built character,' and lots of it, through the challenges and hardships of college. I suppose the reward of all this hard work will be getting a job I actually desire in a place I want to be in.
Hawaii is beautiful. One of the most beautiful places on Earth. The Big Island is like an ultra-miniature continent, with all its different climate zones and geomorphic features. It has arid deserts, semi-arid deserts, grasslands, tundras, glacial features, an active shield volcano, cinder cones galore, the tallest mountain in the world, alpine zones, sub-alpine zones, temperate forests, rain forests, beaches, dramatic amphitheater valleys, rivers, lava tubes, and otherworldly landscapes characterised by fields of barren rock and mysterious craters. It doesn't quite have the wettest spot on Earth, though. That title belongs to Kauai, whose Mt. Waialeale receives nearly 450 inches of rain annually. The rainiest area on this island receives only a little over 300 inches, which is still acceptable, I suppose. The beauty is often so intense it cannot be taken for granted even after countless years of living here. I came to this realisation on my way back to my apartment last weekend. I was driving along the mountain road. Downslope, golden tropical sunshine drenched the shores of the leeward coast and rained down upon the vast blue sea, stretching out to the horizon boundlessly. I looked in the opposite direction and witnessed over the green grassy rolling hills a vivid rainbow against a backdrop of dark, low rain clouds. The cool Pacific trade winds were driving drizzly rain sideways into the realm of sunshine, and the end result was little short of breathtaking. Farther down the road, Mauna Kea came into view, its summit crowned with pure white snow. I stopped and took another picture of the vista, despite my having done so several times before. Many traffic accidents here occur as a result of the driver taking in the scenery a little too much. Indeed, I could never get completely tired of this place... there is simply too much natural beauty. That is to say nothing of the culture. People are generally as warm as the sunshine here. Accepting, too. It's an ultra-liberal place to live. It's as far away from America one can get and still be considered part of America. The cultural diversity is tremendous. The air is among the purest in the world. The ocean is eighty degrees warm in February. The only recreational activity that is seasonally dependent is skiing or sledding in the winter snow on the mountain.
So why would I ever want to leave? Simply, there is much more out there to see. This is but a tiny little crumb on the lithosphere. It's a precious crumb, but still a mere crumb. I long to see new places and meet new faces. I cannot dismiss the likelihood of eventually coming back here to live out the rest of my life, but I want to see some of the rest of the world, first. I feel it will make me appreciate paradise all the more, as three years of metropolitan life in Arizona certainly did. I wish to live in a temperate climate again, so that I may experience a proper cold winter. There are exotic locales abound elsewhere, and I am a young, ambitious pup. So, once I break out of school, my first real job will likely be situated on the U.S. mainland somewhere... most likely in the westernmost states. California, Oregon, and Washington all seem appealing. Fortunately, the rest of my family seems very willing to assist in my getting all this together, as well.
Provolone is calling my name.
On the second day, I found myself pulling piglets out of a pen, one by one, and holding their back legs down while an animal science student injected a vaccination agent in them. They were all rowdy as a litter of puppies, and most of them squealed like the sky was falling until they were returned to their mother. As I held them by the chest with my left hand, I could feel their little racing hearts and the heat of their bodies. Somehow, I get the feeling this job may cause me to be even more sympathetic toward animals, should that be possible. The more time I spend with animals, the more I appreciate them. I do not enjoy hearing their cries of discomfort, much less being a cause of it--but I always enjoy being around them. I just hope I will not be asked to assist with the slaughtering or euthanasia of an animal, as I am not sure how I would handle it. At any rate, this is a fairly painless job thus far, and yet another reference for the future--though I don't see how circumstances could ever place me on a path towards being a farmer.
It's time to assess where I am academically, if only for my own benefit. All my general education requirements are completed, and I have only two courses left to take to satisfy all my requirements for my Geography and Environmental Studies major in the fall. I must select two courses for summer school (running from mid-May to early June), and the only requirement is that they must be upper division courses. Here are the ones that look the most promising:
Eng 485, Writing for the Worldwide Web
HPE 495, Science of Diet and Weight Control
Soc 394, Cross Cultural Leadership Styles
Psy 320, Developmental Psychology
Psy 323, Community Psychology (online)
Rels 394, Jesus in Movies
Yes, they are actually offering a course called Jesus in Movies. It'll be like getting 3 credits for watching the religious channel everyday. Show me the path to transformation! I can hardly contain this sensation of giddiness that overcomes me when I think of graduating. Three years ago, I was ready to admit to myself I would never make it all the way through. I didn't do much in Arizona besides goof around and overwork myself in the freight industry, but university in Hawaii is much different from community college in Glendale, and I have learned to establish a very good work ethic. To borrow a famous phrase from Calvin & Hobbes, I have 'built character,' and lots of it, through the challenges and hardships of college. I suppose the reward of all this hard work will be getting a job I actually desire in a place I want to be in.
Hawaii is beautiful. One of the most beautiful places on Earth. The Big Island is like an ultra-miniature continent, with all its different climate zones and geomorphic features. It has arid deserts, semi-arid deserts, grasslands, tundras, glacial features, an active shield volcano, cinder cones galore, the tallest mountain in the world, alpine zones, sub-alpine zones, temperate forests, rain forests, beaches, dramatic amphitheater valleys, rivers, lava tubes, and otherworldly landscapes characterised by fields of barren rock and mysterious craters. It doesn't quite have the wettest spot on Earth, though. That title belongs to Kauai, whose Mt. Waialeale receives nearly 450 inches of rain annually. The rainiest area on this island receives only a little over 300 inches, which is still acceptable, I suppose. The beauty is often so intense it cannot be taken for granted even after countless years of living here. I came to this realisation on my way back to my apartment last weekend. I was driving along the mountain road. Downslope, golden tropical sunshine drenched the shores of the leeward coast and rained down upon the vast blue sea, stretching out to the horizon boundlessly. I looked in the opposite direction and witnessed over the green grassy rolling hills a vivid rainbow against a backdrop of dark, low rain clouds. The cool Pacific trade winds were driving drizzly rain sideways into the realm of sunshine, and the end result was little short of breathtaking. Farther down the road, Mauna Kea came into view, its summit crowned with pure white snow. I stopped and took another picture of the vista, despite my having done so several times before. Many traffic accidents here occur as a result of the driver taking in the scenery a little too much. Indeed, I could never get completely tired of this place... there is simply too much natural beauty. That is to say nothing of the culture. People are generally as warm as the sunshine here. Accepting, too. It's an ultra-liberal place to live. It's as far away from America one can get and still be considered part of America. The cultural diversity is tremendous. The air is among the purest in the world. The ocean is eighty degrees warm in February. The only recreational activity that is seasonally dependent is skiing or sledding in the winter snow on the mountain.
So why would I ever want to leave? Simply, there is much more out there to see. This is but a tiny little crumb on the lithosphere. It's a precious crumb, but still a mere crumb. I long to see new places and meet new faces. I cannot dismiss the likelihood of eventually coming back here to live out the rest of my life, but I want to see some of the rest of the world, first. I feel it will make me appreciate paradise all the more, as three years of metropolitan life in Arizona certainly did. I wish to live in a temperate climate again, so that I may experience a proper cold winter. There are exotic locales abound elsewhere, and I am a young, ambitious pup. So, once I break out of school, my first real job will likely be situated on the U.S. mainland somewhere... most likely in the westernmost states. California, Oregon, and Washington all seem appealing. Fortunately, the rest of my family seems very willing to assist in my getting all this together, as well.
Provolone is calling my name.
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