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math, juice, world of warcraft, starcraft 2, call of duty, kingdom hearts, final fantasy, marvel vs. capcom 3, japan(ese), nom nomz, nerdiness,

Alice in Wonderhell: The Second Artifact

Sometimes it’s not what is at the end of the tunnel that matters, it’s the journey to get there. But other times, the prize at the end of the journey greatly outweighs the climb, or fall for this matter. This was one of those times. I decided to take a leap of faith into Scott McCloud. After all, Cloud is the epitome of Final Fantasy, and I couldn’t help but relate my nerdy ways to a last name.

I start falling into what looks like a bland website, a rather boring hole. It was too professional for my taste: the font, the background, the topics, everything. Except for that peculiar title conveniently placed in the upper left corner of my eye. “Web comics” was as close to my life as anything on this website could get. So I pried open this portal to fall into the most eye-catching portal of all: Chess. It was actually titled, “My Obsession with Chess.” It was one of those titles that wasn’t bigger than the rest, nor did it have any crazy colors or displacement. And yet, I was drawn to it because this portal, this title, is and has been a big aspect of my life.

And so came the hard landing. Normally when you land from an epic fall, you wipe your hands clean, claim your prize, and wake up. But I just landed on a chess board. I just landed into my life. It wasn’t the end of a rabbit hole, just the beginning. And so came the utterly long web comic of a man who has devoted his life and sanity into Chess. And this web comic was true as well, and because of that realism, I fell down another rabbit hole. I started sympathizing with this man’s life, because I stumbled upon a reflection of me.

Like him, I was bullied in elementary school. I too, had a growing obsession that nearly drove me to an insanity. But we were both just playing a game; one simple board game. And that’s the funny thing about Chess: it’s a mind game. It’s a game of trickery, deception, and strategy. Sound familiar? It should, because you are living it. We are all playing this game of Chess, this game of life. After all, in life, we make decisions about every move we make. And once we lose everything, once we give up, we die. This man and myself have been free-falling since we first understood Chess, and not just the cute little rules. We’ve been falling, and can’t seem to stop. Maybe because Chess lovers are peculiar little devils, always asking questions, and always being vulnerable to insanity. But that’s the beauty of insanity: there is always a genius stuck in there.

And that’s what I realized about this man at the very end of the web comic. It was as if he just revealed the ending to his life, and made me question everything he said. And once I read that very last, very bizarre sentence, I accelerated back up. Not back to my point of origin, but back to reality. The reality that we are always falling through rabbit holes.


Portal: The Rebirth; The First Artifact

As she completed her final test, she wondered what her next life was going to be like.  She was scared, not knowing if her new family was going to treat her properly, or whether she would find love as easily as she did previously.  But none of it mattered now, as the testing chamber drew to a close.  Her memories were wiped as she took the plunge through the Portal to her new Rebirth…

The alarm buzzed like a giant bee inside of one’s ear.  It was yet another day for her as she began her morning routine before heading off to school.  She hated school; She loved to learn, just hated the ideology of sitting behind a desk and listening to an underpaid teacher yap for nearly 60 minutes of what seemed like a wasted life.  But she went anyways, like she always did, never with a smile.  Ever.

She thought about her past as she left the cubicle and walked deeper into the testing chamber.  It was unfamiliar territory, yet it felt like home.  It was purposeful.  She found herself in orange clothes with a strange white gun.  She didn’t dare shoot the gun just yet, but continued through the rather creepy, abandoned lab.  She enters a control room.  Nobody there.  Yet, strangely enough, something was controlling the lights, the automatic doors…somebody was still here, watching. Continue reading


Reflection: How to Whisper

Writing is like art. It’s a form of expression through words, which opens various doors, or perspectives, to the main idea. Such doors could be labeled as allegories, similes, or parallelisms. Writing is a world where various ideas come together and clash through evidence of other writings, and mingle through different opinions. It’s a subtle whisper to an audience on the deeper message trying to be conveyed, hidden under layers and layers of riddles; you might call them metaphors. That’s what makes a whisper so unique, whether writing or verbally speaking, whispers make the audience listen. It’s more discreet than a blunt theme with some bullet points, which makes the journey through each passage so difficult to navigate, but more rewarding in the end.

 

I call whispering a technique in writing because I don’t see it used very much, as it branches away from the “norm” of the English world.  Normal English pieces are structured in a way only that the “higher powers” want them structured:  introduction, body, and conclusion.  But, whispering is like creating a story within an English piece, and offers the reader a chance to embark on a journey, to fall down a rabbit hole, through the author’s mind.  I have been using this technique for quite some time now, including these past months through various Articles and Encounters, and now is the time to let the cat out of the bag.
If you don’t have an audience, you can’t whisper. What’s the point if no one will hear you? You might as well just never speak again. The key to whispering in a piece of writing is through rhetoric. It’s about confusing your reader on impact, and forcing them to keep re-reading your piece until they finally understand your perspective. (Some readers will never understand, maybe because the whisper was too subtle or because they gave up). It is the same idea with art; you want a “customer” to keep staring at your piece of art until they finally just understand it. You want your customer to question everything about your artwork, and to embark on a journey of putting clues and pieces together, until the puzzle becomes clear. That’s where the balance of the use of rhetoric comes in.

 

Take a look at the following example of rhetoric from Found Self: “The point is, we are all Lost souls waiting to be Found, to meet with the self. It is the journey to get to the self that creates our identity, who we are as people. That is the beauty of the imperfect journey of humanity, and finding the self.” The rhetoric in this brief passage is the comprehension of my idea of Self, that it’s a journey of creating and accepting an identity. But it’s not that simple. Rhetoric creates unanswered questions, purposefully, so that the reader will ponder these kinds of concepts after reading. The same idea applies to movies as well. A great movie will leave an impact on you, and will force you to ponder any unanswered questions or themes long after the credits rolled. Such questions I have created through this passage of Found Self include: What does it mean to be “Lost” and/or “Found” through the Self? Is your purpose in life complete after you have found who you are? What is my own journey like; have I found my Self yet? These types of questions were included in all of my pieces; my audience remained the same. I read various pieces of scholastic writing and realized that in essence, the audience that these pieces engaged were all rhetorical minds (of college students and above). Though my audience remained the same, (and thus my form of whispering in a rhetorical sense remained unchanged), that does not mean I didn’t “break the rules” of a genre.

 

Usually, an essay consists of: an introductory paragraph, three body paragraphs, and a conclusion.  I liked to reverse this approach by introducing parts of the conclusion first, with the main ideas in the middle, along with the conclusion being a revelation of my theme, without being too blunt.  I also did not follow the “three body paragraph” format; I wrote many, but smaller, paragraphs.  The reason for this was because I want my writing to be a story, not another essay typed in a college English class.  When you read a novel, you notice that the paragraphs are broken down into smaller passages with some sort of main idea, or clue, that hints at what the ending will be like.  Like a novel, each paragraph has a purpose to the theme.  That’s the approach I was going for.  I don’t throw in random words or break down paragraphs for nothing.  Everything was justified.
Even the great masterminds of writing, or art, or pretty much anything, have weaknesses, as well as unique strengths. Without attempting to brag, I believe my biggest strength was the recognition and exploitation of this use of whispering, and weaving my main ideas through each passage through various words. I find that writing, especially through narratives, can be fun (when I’m not in school) because of how much you can toy with an audience or a main idea, through words. I usually start an introduction with a glimpse of my main idea, with some confusing metaphors tossed in there. I than like to introduce any evidence or facts apparent with my main idea in the first few passages, without actually revealing the main idea, until the final paragraph. I feel as though I, and all authors, are responsible for creating a journey, or a game, for the readers, making the entire piece of writing that much more interesting. The readers basically take on the role of Sherlock Holmes, using my clues and evidence at the beginning of my writings as a “lead” to my main idea or theme: the treasure that all readers want to get their hands on. I don’t like to just hand what’s going on in my mind on a silver platter, the readers have to work for it.

 

Now, given my strengths, I also have many weaknesses as I am nowhere near a perfect writer. The big one is that I actually hate reading, and to be a good writer, you have to be a good reader, or at least be interested in reading. I hate reading anything and everything, Vogue magazines excluded. So, it was beyond difficult to sit and read some intellectually amazing pieces of writing in this class. In fact, I barely read anything, and somehow managed to “bullshit” my way through each essay. This is a weakness because my essays could have been so much stronger if I would have sat and thoroughly read what I was supposed to. However, I just took the main idea from each of my readings and somehow weaved, or whispered, them through my own writing. I barely got by.
To say that I didn’t learn anything in my classes would be like me saying I love my job. As much as I absolutely despise school, I must admit that I learned and accepted what the class is and was trying to convey. This class was about reading scholastic writing and writing a response to it, but also encouraged the use of creativity, especially in Encounters. I learned various perspectives and ideas from these kinds of authors, and borrowed some of their techniques to incorporate in my own writing. Given that I hopefully will never write an essay again in school, I love writing narratives and have learned how to engage an audience, without dropping my main idea like a 10 pound weight.  My use of whispering has been improved on, and I hope to one day publish a few of my own narratives through it. This was my journey through this class: a stray from the “norm” of writing, using my own technique of whispering through this form of art.


A Series of Things that Piss me off

This is pretty cool, for the first time in this class I can free write, speak in mother tongue, and do whatever I want mwahahahahahaha!!!  So instead of writing some epic conclusion to all of the blog posts I’ve written, I’ve decided to take the easy way and write something dear to my heart clouded in darkness:  the series of things that piss me off.  Oh where to begin, because there are so few things in this world I actually like, landscapes for example.  I love any picture that has to do with space, mountains, waterfalls, and that sort.  But this is a rant so here it goes.

Environmentalists, my god do they annoy me more than my alarm clock.  They act like plastic bags are going to blow up the planet, that humans are a major threat.  This planet has been through so many traumatic events, such as earthquakes, solar flares, cosmic rays, etc. Trust me, littering here and there won’t put a dent on this beautiful green/blue ball just floating around the sun.  Besides, if Environmentalists really cared about this planet, why don’t some of them go and pick up trash voluntarily around the neighborhood.  In my opinion, Environmentalists don’t care about the planet, they just want a clean place to live.

Girls that constantly talk about clothes, makeup, and make duck faces on Facebook.  Not like any of these things in general are wrong to talk about, but from my experience in high school, girls that solely talked about these things just seemed so dumb.  Do girls not have anything more to talk about instead of tangible objects, maybe more rhetorical topics, like philosophy.  I’ve had friendships in the past that I’ve broke off with some girls, because I couldn’t take all the discussion over such “dumb-blonde” topics.  Not all girls are like this, but those that are just piss me off.  And what is up with those duck faces?  What is the appeal in perking up lips…when did ducks get attractive?  It’s overrated, too many girls do it (which loses its appeal), and unattractive.  Whatever happened to smiling?

Closed-minded people that think their opinion is the end-all be-all of facts.  For example, Steve hates techno, therefore Steve thinks techno sucks, and (further) that those that listen to techno are stupid.  I once asked my mom what it means to have good taste in music.  She replied “I’ll tell you what’s bad taste in music:  Britney Spears.”  I grew up, once upon a time, and realized that there is no such thing as “good” or “bad” taste in music, books, sports, food, drinks, video games, etc.  Since everyone is entitled to their own opinion, their own taste in whatever, nobody’s taste is right or wrong.  So, I just wish those people would stop treating their opinions like actual facts, there is a big difference between the two.  Just another example of closed-mindedness.

Fashion that people take so seriously.  I love magazines, and alot of inspiration and ideas come from various types of magazines, my favorite is Vogue.  But I hate it when I’m reading a magazine and I’ll read an article or a little tidbit on “never wear pink with orange,” or “chokers are so 90′s,” or blah blah blah.  I appreciate the science behind fashion and the illusion that it can create with clothes.  But, for the fashion industry to act as if there are rules, and laws and what’s “in and out” (which by the way, I hate it when people only wear trendy stuff, it’s like do you not have a mind of your own?)  is a bit absurd.  Again, my opinion, but fashion is just clothes.  It’s all just tangible objects, so I wish people would stop acting like fashion police.

People that say “Starting next week I’m going to diet and exercise” and never do.  Or those that complain about their weight and don’t do anything about it.  Talk about lazy.  If someone is that worried about their health or weight, than do something about it!!!  The sheer absence of logic of some people never ceases to amaze me.  It’s like those students that never turn in homework, than wonder why on Earth they are failing a class.

Oh and another point I want to add, why do girls complain about models being so skinny on magazine covers?  Cindy Crawford once said “What I really don’t agree with is people who complain about it but still support it. You’re giving your power away. If people don’t want skinny models, stop buying the magazine with the skinny model, and believe me those magazines will change fast. It’s business.”  Couldn’t have said it better myself.

People that can’t cook or do origami.  Both require following simple instructions.  If a person cannot comprehend simple instructions, I can’t bear to imagine how they get through everyday life.  Sure things like soufflés and making a dragon out of paper isn’t something an amateur learns easily, but for someone above the age of 14 that says they don’t know how to cook chicken or boil water or cook an egg is a little ridiculous.  Maybe it’s the fact that they never took the time to learn, but I’m talking about the people that say that cooking chicken is hard, all because they don’t understand the directions.  Reading and comprehension are basic skills learned in middle school.

I work in a retail store, H&M to be specific.  One of my biggest pet peeves are the customers that come in and wreck havoc in the store.  Why on Earth would customers purposely throw clothes on the floor after your done looking at them, or knock clothes off the rack?  Customers are the biggest headache since doing an English paper at 3 am.  They are a nuisance and make me hate my life even more than I already do.  And don’t get me started on the people that give me a hard time at the register or in the fitting rooms.  It’s not my fault that customers can’t read the signs carefully, or that H&M doesn’t carry the size they want.  People have to start being more considerate of the employees of retail and any store for the matter.  We are not your slaves,  though corporate wants you to believe we are for the idea of profit (a sad, sad concept that drives people to insanity).  Thanks to customers, every time I close at my job, I have to stay until 2 am cleaning the store, (that is not an exaggeration, during holiday season it’s alot worse).  Given, my store is 2 levels and it’s at one of the biggest malls in the United States, that doesn’t give people an excuse to lose respect.  So, next time you shop at a store, here’s what you can do to help:  When you take an item off a rack, put it back nicely, the way it was.  Don’t shove it back in, it ruins everything else.  And especially, don’t throw it on the floor.  Next, after your done trying on clothes in the fitting room, put it back to where you got it from.  Every time someone leaves their clothes in the fitting room, or gives it to the attendant, that adds to more clothes we have to “run” back onto the floor, to their original places.  Try running at least 10 full racks of clothes a night, at about midnight.  Not fun at all.

The funny thing is that I have this long list of “pet peeves” stored in my subconscious mind that is too long for this post, (and that I can’t remember some of them either).  So, I will end my rant with one of my favorite quotes:  “I don’t have pet peeves, I have major psychotic fucking hatreds.”  -(RIP) George Carlin

 


The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Cyberspace

The name says it all:  Identity (meaning the condition of being one’s self) plus Tourism (the act of touring, or travelling from place to place), which equals the act of touring through the wondrous world of one’s self.  And by “the wondrous world of one’s self,” it actually means the Internet.  The title is a reflection of taking another identity (involving race/gender) from the internet, which can translate to other media forms.  To be able to tour the internet with a mask on depicts a creation of a new world, a new (Utopian) reality.  All in the comfort of one’s chair.

Nakamura is depicting a sub-figment of reality, and how it creates and loses identity.  Within this sub-figment comes the birth of someone new, a copy of one’s self with desired traits.  However, one can become engulfed within the Internet and can often lose a sense of reality.  This raises the subtle question within her essay:  What is reality?  What seems like a relatively positive outlook on Cyberspace quickly turns into how it corrupts us as humans, as if cyberspace is like a virus deployed into the “real” reality.  That is just the point of the argument.

Often a claim within a piece is presented at the beginning, like the first chapter of a book.  But Nakamura places her claim towards the end by stating “Performing alternative versions of self and race jams the ideology-machine, and facilitates a desirable opening up of what Judith Butler calls ‘the difficult future terrain of community’ (242) in cyberspace.”  The point?  Putting on a mask over the Internet halts a sense of reality.  Furthermore, because the mask acts as concealed identity, there would be a paradox of falsity and truth behind every word and sentence being murmured, or typed for the matter.  This creates the “difficult future terrain” of Cyberspace as Nakamura has stated.

Such qualifiers that support this claim include LambdaMOO/MUD, and Utopia.  LambdaMOO and MUD are role-playing sites that allow you to choose a (new) identity, specifically a new race/gender.  These type of sites are the epiphany of why “citizens” join cyberspace.  You are allowed to become a new person, with whatever kind of characteristics you want.  You can choose to be a “troll,” (a person who intently causes drama).  Or you can go the route of hacking, observing, or just socializing.  It doesn’t matter, the Internet is your Utopian world, another one of Nakamura’s premises.  Utopia, or a perfect world, is only as perfect as one makes it.  You can only go so far into your new identity before clashing into other “new” identities, where the paradox of falsity and truth finally plays into perspective.  This raises another question within Nakamura’s piece:  Is the Internet a Utopia after all?

Nakamura’s two major premises were:  Utopia and role-playing websites.  Such warrants for a Utopian world of Cyberspace include:  the creation of a new identity, doing (almost) whatever you want without penalty, and making what you feel is perfect, a reality.  There are also negative warrants that stray the idea of Utopia far from Cyberspace, including:  the cloud of mystery behind everything that anybody says (which creates a “scary” new world of distrust), any new laws over the internet (targeting hacking, and threats), and of course, the idea that the sub-figment of reality, isn’t really a reality at all.  It is more less, an escape to paradise, which is another reason why Cyberspace has become our new home.  Warrants from role-playing websites include:  becoming the person you have always aspired to be, and being able to communicate through this sub-figment.  An obvious negative warrant includes a negative clash between two “mask-wearers,” such as a fight between a “troll” and a “non-troll.”  Rarely does anyone have enough bravery to “troll” in real life, so the ideology of wearing a mask is often taken advantage of.

Nakamura’s intended audience is anyone familiar with the internet, but more specifically, anyone that is heavily involved and/or knowledgeable with the (future) community of cyberspace.  Her audience are also the people that are corrupting Cyberspace for what it was never intended to be, and from Nakamura’s perspective, it is a “jamming of the ideology-machine.”  In relation to her audience, Nakamura is implying that us Users have created a new identity over the internet, and have chosen to make cyberspace our new Utopian world.  She is also implying that Users are unaware of Identity Tourism, and have no idea that (we) are falling in what seems like a Black Hole of compulsion (of an imaginary community).  Her final implication, stems from the idea of what I call the Internet being a cigarette.  Those who smoke do so to relieve stress and to escape the problematic obstacles of reality.  We use the Internet as our sweet escape.  It (rarely) solves what we consider “real-life” obstacles, and is often used as a ploy to drug us into a dream world (of Utopia; which can easily transform into a nightmare).

If there were one essay that Nakamura’s source(s) related to, it would have to be the Bryn Mawr Commencement Address, by Ursula Le Guin.  The Commencement Address is all about Father Tongue, the academic way of speaking.  Nobody speaks Father Tongue in “real-life,” outside of research papers, and academic speeches.  It is a mask to conceal how we really speak, which is our native Mother Tongue.  Take Nakamura’s MUD source, an online site used for creating a new identity.  This new mask of socialization, is no different than the mask that students are forced to put on for school.  Both are new identities.  Both are for language, one for Father Tongue and one for Mother Tongue.  The only difference is that the creation of an identity over the Internet is not forced.  And as I related Cyberspace to a Utopian world, speaking in Father Tongue is literally a nightmare, unless a peculiar student takes serious enjoyment out of excruciating academic writing.  The fact with nightmares though is that they perish, just like all research papers involving Father Tongue eventually end with a conclusion.  There is no end to a dream, and there is no end to the Internet, unless one chooses to wake up, or closes an Internet account, such as Facebook.  Identity Tourism is unstoppable, as the awareness of cyberspace grows at an exponential rate.  Losing our awareness of reality though, is up to us.

Article 2 Rewrite


Found Self

In a Utopian world far from Earth lived a community filled with robots, ghosts, aliens, animals, and of course, humans.  They all interacted in some way, whether it be in battle or in laughter.  All were very different.  They varied in terms of appearance, functionality, mind, personality, and skill.  And yet, some of these species knew everything about themselves.  They knew who they were; they were found.  There were also those that had not discovered their identity; they were lost.  Whoever said Utopia was just a figment of imagination; an impossible pursuit, if that?  This isn’t just a figment, it’s reality.

The very definition of self varies from person to person.  Those that have experienced the self, the journey to finding who they are as people, tend to understand the deeper meanings behind this four letter word.  There is also the dictionary definition that clouds the journey to the self:  the holy grail of life, happiness, and acceptance.  We are not born knowing who we are.  Nor do we know by the age of 10.  Or 20, 30, and so on.  We are like lost souls wandering Earth.  We don’t know who we are, our capabilities, and our identity until much later on in life.  We all go through life often pondering questions about where we came from, and why we are here, and often those abstractions are left unanswered.  Those that ask are the Lost.  Those that have found their key to happiness and are satisfied with even the unanswered of questions, are the Found.    Then again, this is just one perspective.

Take Ursula K. Le Guin’s “A Non-Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be.”  She defines the self as a connection of voices.  Moreover, a triangular connection between the reader’s voice, the writer’s voice, and the voice of words.  This triangle is encrypted in what Le Guin calls a “performance,” which is the goal of her Non-Euclidean View, her perspective.  In other words, her performance is her Utopian view of the self.

She also adds that “Forgetting is the great private problem of man:  death as the loss of the self.  But what is this self?  It is the sum of everything we remember.  Thus, what terrifies us about death is not the loss of the future but the loss of the past.”  (Milan Kundera).  This quote is an example of what the self isn’t.  What Kundera fails to understand is that just because a person is alive, dead, or in a vegetative state, the self’s past is not defeated.  For example, a just born child that suddenly suffocates from its own umbilical cord has a self, it’s just not developed yet.  Furthermore, this infant’s death won’t have people thinking about the “loss of his/her past,” but the loss of the future.  This child’s death has resulted in a loss of future activities, interests, and objectives.

Refer back to the introduction of this piece.  How does Utopia relate to the self?  In the perfect world, do you really think that people know about themselves, their identity, and have their future mapped out?  Hypothetically speaking, if a perfect society of people are aware of their self from such a young age, than they lose the learning process of their future abilities, objectives, and activities.  They’re life becomes pointless.  Sounds so perfect right?

The point is, we are all Lost souls waiting to be Found, to meet with the self.  The self is the reason we are living, it is the ultimate key to happiness and acceptance of questions and answers we have with everything about life.  But the self isn’t just a tangible gold nugget with answers, it is the journey to get to the self that creates our identity, who we are as people.  Once we have completed that journey, we have created and accepted our identity.  Whether we live in a perfect world or not, all of us are very different, and yet we are all the same.  That is the beauty of the imperfect journey of humanity, and finding the self.

 

A rewrite based on Lost Self (Article 1)

http://madworldwriters.wordpress.com/2011/10/05/lost-self/

 


As I Warped Through The Fabric Of Space: The Mother Tongue

 

:


“Honey, Honey!  Are you ok?”

“Mom?”

“You seemed to be dreaming sweetie.”

“Oh…what year is it by the way?”

“Why, it’s 2021.”


http://madworldwriters.wordpress.com/2011/08/26/as-i-warped-through-the-fabric-of-space/


As I Fell Through The Fabric Of Space: A Derailment

I couldn’t help but realize how much this world has changed from ten years ago.  (Yes, everything changes in ten years:  plants, animals, humans…we all develop duh).  Every physical and chemical property worked in unity:  gravity, electromagnetism, relativity, you name it.  (Doesn’t everything work in unity now, this isn’t anything new).  Now, throw everything you ever knew about space and time out the window because this world has become a chaotic mess.  (This is a weird view point, I thought this was a narrative and now you’re talking to an audience?)  Planets of a mind boggling mass are flying around, microscopic atoms are being inflated like balloons, and stars are collapsing like a thousand big bangs.  (So how come your not dead yet…what is making you so invincible?)  Of course, I shudder to look down to see the very fabric that once served as a calming resting place for planets to spin on, has become the biggest trampoline ever to exist.  (So…your floating in the air with stuff flying everywhere, miraculously dodging you, and now you see a trampoline that’s somehow now affecting you either?)  Upon closer inspection, I see tears in this fabric that are growing into enormous black holes; sucking in everything within a large radius.  (I think you would be dead before you conceived of what was actually happening if this was true)  One hole directly below me seems to be the biggest of all:  a super massive black hole.  (There’s just one super massive black hole?…in this universe there are many)  As I am being pulled into its current, so are most of the other celestial bodies that once accompanied the universe.  (Again, how is that no other celestial body is hurting you?)  I see nothing but darkness on the way down as I try to dodge my surroundings.  (Your falling helplessly down a rabbit hole, how can you dodge anything?)  I close my eyes as an asteroid is about to hit me…(So nothing hits you except a puny asteroid?!)
“Honey, Honey!  Are you ok?” (No mom, I was just hit by an asteroid what do you think?) 

“Mom?”  (If I were hit by an asteroid I wouldn’t even know what Mom would mean)

“You seemed to be dreaming sweetie.” (Well that’s a pretty wimpy way to end an epic story, it would’ve been interesting if you didn’t just conclude to a dream)

“Oh…what year is it by the way?”  (Because my next question after waking up from a dream is to know what year it is…right…)

“Why, it’s 2021.” (Probably the most accurate thing said in this entire story).

This was confusing because I felt like you were switching from first person view to third person at times, you have to pick a perspective and stick with it, otherwise nobody is going to read this.  It was also completely unrealistic, the character should have been dead before even conceiving that the world was in a chaotic mess, even if it was a dream.  The idea of falling down a rabbit hole should have also been stressed more, since this was the underlying theme.  Not just you get sucked into a rabbit hole and then get hit by an asteroid, only to wake up as if it was a dream, it’s a cop-out.  There should have been a more creative way to incorporate 2021…maybe if this wasn’t a dream and you land on the other side of the rabbit hole to find it’s 2021, etc.

http://madworldwriters.wordpress.com/2011/08/26/as-i-warped-through-the-fabric-of-space/


Portal: The Rebirth; The First Artifact

As she completed her final test, she wondered what her next life was going to be like.  She was scared, not knowing if her new family was going to treat her properly, or whether she would find love as easily as she did previously.  But none of it mattered now, as the testing chamber drew to a close.  Her memories were wiped as she took the plunge through the Portal to her new Rebirth…

The alarm buzzed like a giant bee inside of one’s ear.  It was yet another day for her as she began her morning routine before heading off to school.  She hated school; She loved to learn, just hated the ideology of sitting behind a desk and listening to an underpaid teacher yap for nearly 60 minutes of what seemed like a wasted life.  But she went anyways, like she always did, never with a smile.  Ever.

She thought about her past as she left the cubicle and walked deeper into the testing chamber.  It was unfamiliar territory, yet it felt like home.  It was purposeful.  She found herself in orange clothes with a strange white gun.  She didn’t dare shoot the gun just yet, but continued through the rather creepy, abandoned lab.  She enters a control room.  Nobody there.  Yet, strangely enough, something was controlling the lights, the automatic doors…somebody was still here, watching. Continue reading


Lost Self

In a Utopian world far from Earth lived a community filled with robots, ghosts, aliens, animals, and of course, humans.  They all interacted in some way, whether it be battle or for laughter.  All were very different.  They varied in terms of appearance, functionality, mind, personality, and skill.  And yet, some of these species knew everything about themselves.  They knew who they were.  Then there were those that were clueless; They were lost.  All were the same.  Whoever said Utopia was just a figment of imagination; an impossible pursuit, if that?  This isn’t just a figment, it’s reality.

Take Ursula K. Le Guin’s “A Non-Euclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be.”  She defines the self as a connection of voices.  Moreover, a triangular connection between the reader’s voice, the writer’s voice, and the voice of words.  This triangle is encrypted in what Le Guin calls a “performance,” which is the goal of her Non-Euclidean View, her perspective.  In other words, her performance is her Utopian view of the self.

“Forgetting is the great private problem of man:  death as the loss of the self.  But what is this self?  It is the sum of everything we remember.  Thus, what terrifies us about death is not the loss of the future but the loss of the past.”  (Milan Kundera).  This, according to Le Guin, is the loss of a voice.  Now let’s take this a step further.  Take a person in a coma.  This patient is literally a rotting vegetable that cannot think or speak; Their literal voice is lost.  What happened to their self?  Is it alive or simply dead?  And what about this patient’s future and past?

What Kundera fails to understand is that just because a person is alive, dead, or in a vegetative state, it doesn’t defeat the self’s past.  The past will never be lost, or forgotten, but the future will remain unknown.  For example, a just born child that suddenly suffocates from its own umbilical cord has a self, it’s just not developed yet.  Furthermore, this infant’s death won’t have people thinking about the “loss of his/her past,” but the loss of the future.  This child’s death has resulted in a loss of future activities, interests, and objectives.  Thus, Kundera’s quote is an example of what the self isn’t.

What the self is, is not described in one definition.  Rather, it’s a journey through life.  We are not born knowing who we are.  Nor do we know by the age of 10.  Or 20, 30, and so on.  We are like lost souls wandering Earth.  We don’t know who we are, our capabilities, and our identity until much later on in life.  Sometimes, we will never find out.

Refer back to the introduction of this piece.  How does Utopia relate to the self?  In the perfect world, do you really think that people know about themselves, their identity, and have their future mapped out?  Hypothetically speaking, if a perfect society of people are aware of their self, than they lose the learning process of their future abilities, objectives, and activities.  There life becomes pointless.  Sounds so perfect right?

Utopia is, but it isn’t attainable.  Most people firmly believe that Utopia is a perfect world that is impossible to attain.  Most, however, fail to even consider the fact that this world is Utopia.  It’s just a matter of whether you allow it to be.  Those that take their lives, their self, for granted tend to believe they deserve better.  And then there are those that understand that in life, the journey that every self embarks on, is perfection.  All of us are different, and yet we are really all the same.  Just a bunch of lost people waiting to be found by the Self.  This isn’t just a figment of what looks like a degrading nightmare; but rather an opinion.  My opinion of who we are through my world.


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