Life oh the Meaning of Life, such a silly Question . . .

Now this is a question that I know has plague everyone’s mind at some point or another. It might be a question that crosses your mind as you lay in the grass and watch the clouds float by, or maybe this was the question that has caused you much deep thought as you contemplated your future goal. But know matter we have all wondered at some point what the meaning to life is. Could it be as simple as a number like in “Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” I honestly think that this is a very silly idea, but you never know maybe we are over thinking everything and maybe the answer is as simple as 42, we just do not know how to properly phrase the question.
I can remember playing a game with my Dad when I was a little kid (long before the movie came out I would like to add). My little sister or I would ask my Dad a question and he would respond to our question, “42”. Plain and simple this answer was always given as a joke and would be used at any time, whither it was to aggravate or cheer us up, or even just because he didn’t know the actual answer to our question. My Dad then quickly had my sister and I trained to respond with the same answer of “42” to most of his questions, and it become a fun joke among the three of us. But the point was that this answer was silly.
Today I sometimes think that people get way too caught up in “deep” thinking about important topics or serious matters and don’t realize that the answer might actually be very simple or right in front of them. It is good and very philosophical to wonder what the meaning of life might be. For example why are we here? Do we have a purpose? Is there a larger meaning to our existence? but do not get too caught up in these questions and forget to live life. Everyone has his or her own ideas on life, but remember to live each day to the fullest, be happy with your life and I think that you will find all the answers to all of your questions.

42 what???

In the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the answer to the most important question about everything in the universe is 42. The only question is: What was that question?

Now I can easily turn this into a more comedic thing by saying the question was "how many ways can you use a towel?" or "at what age will one start going bald?" or "how many times in a day do the dolphins think the thought that humans are stupid?".

The more likely question has a more meaningful purpose. For example, the question "what age does one fully understand life and the universe?" is a more logical question that would have the answer of 42 than the comedic ones stated earlier. I believe this is the question that the supercomputer computed when it was asked to give the answer to the most important question of all time. I think this because we all at one point in our lives try to understand the meaning of life and everything and strive to figure it out throughtout the years. Age 42 is likely to be the time that we no longer need to search for the answer. We will have experienced a lot by age 42 and have seen a lot by age 42 and will have come to understand a lot by the age of 42.

So enjoy the third dimension while you still can

"Fermilab is Building a 'Holometer' to Determine Once and For All Whether Reality Is Just an Illusion"

Interesting article...

http://www.popsci.com/node/49293/?cmpid=enews102810

Last week we talked about Mind Body known as Dualism. I would like to expand on this subject a bit more and talk about another philosophical view.

One of my favorite books is called “The Mysterious Stranger”. It’s a short story by Mark Twain that is unusual compared to his other works. He wrote several versions of this book over the course of 30 years but never officially completed any of them. Through his manuscripts a completed version has been published that best tries to complete the story the way Mark Twain would have if he completed it. This version is known as “No. 44, The Mysterious Stranger”

The story is about a boy named Theodor who ends up meeting another boy named Satan who can perform magical feats and foresee the future. The book deals with issues such as moral sense and religion among many other topics. The ending of the book is the most intense however. Here is an excerpt…

Strange, indeed, that you should not have suspected that your universe and its contents were only dreams, visions, fiction! Strange, because they are so frankly and hysterically insane - like all dreams: a God who could make good children as easily as bad, yet preferred to make bad ones; who could have made every one of them happy, yet never made a single happy one; who made them prize their bitter life, yet stingily cut it short; who gave his angels eternal happiness unearned, yet required his other children to earn it; who gave his angels painless lives, yet cursed his other children with biting miseries and maladies of mind and body; who mouths justice and invented hell - mouths mercy and invented hell - mouths Golden Rules, and forgiveness multiplied by seventy times seven, and invented hell; who mouths morals to other people and has none himself; who frowns upon crimes, yet commits them all; who created man without invitation, then tries to shuffle the responsibility for man's acts upon man, instead of honorably placing it where it belongs, upon himself; and finally, with altogether divine obtuseness, invites this poor, abused slave to worship him! . . .

"You perceive, now, that these things are all impossible except in a dream. You perceive that they are pure and puerile insanities, the silly creations of an imagination that is not conscious of its freaks - in a word, that they are a dream, and you the maker of it. The dream-marks are all present; you should have recognized them earlier.

"It is true, that which I have revealed to you; there is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream - a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought - a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!"

This is a great example of Metaphysical Solipsism. Solipsism is an epistemological position that knowledge of anything outside one’s own mind is unjustified. This means that the external world and other people’s minds cannot be known which means they might not exist. The only thing you can prove that exists is your own mind.

A thought experiment called “Brain in a Vat” is an argument used for solipsism. This thought experiment proposes having your brain removed from your body, suspended in a vat of life-sustaining liquid, and having your neurons hooked up to a supercomputer with wires. The supercomputer would then simulate reality which would allow the person with the "disembodied" brain to continue to have perfectly normal conscious experiences without them being related to objects or events in the real world.

Because a brain in a vat exactly replicates the same impulses as if it were in a skull, and since these impulses are the only way of interacting with the environment, then it’s not possible to tell from the perspective of the brain whether it is in a skull or a vat. And since you cannot rule out one’s self from being in a brain or a vat, there cannot be good grounds for believing any of the things one believes.

Another older view which is similar in a way to the Brain in a Vat is Zhuangzi’s Butterfly dream. Zhuangzi said he once had a dream where he thought he was a butterfly and had no recollection of anything else except being a butterfly. He then woke up and realized he was back to himself. This made him wonder whether or not he had dreamed being a butterfly, or if he was a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi.

This is a more out there view of philosophy and one that not many people agree with. But it might make you wonder… Is that person really a person? Or just a philosophical zombie I created?

The Ultimate ? (42)

The average time a peorsom thinks about the meaning of life because the meaning is diffrent for everyone and life is finding that meaning for your self. it takes a lot of asking to finally find that anwser for your self so mabey after the 42nd time you will finally find it.

there i stand in a pitch black dark room. im falling? Thud. a chest apeared to my left. interesting . open it? why not cats have 9 life so why not be a little cureuse everyonce and a while. sand, thats curious. the boz fell over with a heave. sand spilled out everywhere. i ran over and shift through the sand to no avail but when i lifted up muy head the sand was every where.
All of a suden the ground started to shake. this was bad i had to get out of hear. so i ran. then all of a suden a giant worm roase from the sand in front of me . i looked up at it in shock and aww. in the mean time my feet toke me like a convayor belt right in to the giant beast and then it was black all over again.

Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?!

So, I was watching the Patriots this Sunday, eating some chips and dip, and was smugly enjoying the lead we had over the Chargers. The camera panned over to Bill Belichick, (their coach for those who don’t follow the pats,) and he was speaking into his microphone, with his hand holding it closer to his mouth for extra emphasis, and of course wearing his sweatshirt that’s always cut off at the sleeves.

And every time I see him on the side lines, the same thought always crosses my mind: He is my FAVORITE patriot-- hands down. I feel like he is the icon of the team. Not Tom Brady, not Randy Moss, who’s gone now anyway …Which I feel like is my point. Players come and go. Players get traded, injured, retire, sign new contracts… But the team is always relatively the same. Different dynamics, sure. But as long as the brains of the operation stays the same, the team overall reflects the same image.

So then, this fine Sunday evening, I caught myself thinking of philosophy class while I was watching football!! …If the coach is the mind, then the players are definitely the body. Where would old Bill be without his players? There would be no team. Nothing to coach, or to direct. Where would the players be without Belichick? They would have no direction, and probably be not so great of a team.

Which begs the question, where’s the soul fit into all this, or does it? Cue the camera zooming out and panning over the entire stadium with close-ups of crazy fans with face paint and giant foam fingers before cutting to a commercial…

That’s the soul of the team.

The coach, (or mind,) could clearly not function alone, as well as the team, (or body,) without their coach. But where would both of these be without their fanbase? What would be the purpose of putting a team together at all…of even playing football?

It’s the spirit of the game--the players have it no doubt, so does the coach, but the fans embody that spirit; they are the support, the root of it all. And then I got thinking how much fans really matter. How about home field advantage? Yeah the home team doesn’t have to travel, but they also have the advantage of having more support from their fans… in theory. The booing, the cheering, if the crowd is flat, then maybe the players play flat.

I wonder how many games are won on account of the fans…or at least influenced by it in some way? But that’s the thing: they are always influenced by it. It’s what get’s the teams’ blood pumping faster, gets them hyper focused, wanting, --needing –- to play! I’m getting excited right now just thinking of it all! Anyways, who’d of thought you could tie philosophy into football? I suppose you can tie it into everything

…But yeah, just a thought to throw into the mix!!

Picture:

http://www.boston.com/sports/football/patriots/extra_points/p1_belichick_getty.jpg

What If?

What would've happened that night if we had taken a right turn instead of a left?

Would I be writing this right now?

...Or would I be deader than a doornail, buried somewhere deep beneath the Earth's surface?

Would the three of us be crammed in some cold, dark underground torture chamber trying to portion out the starburst that I found in my pocket, unaware of when we would escape (if ever)?

Would demons have taken over our bodies...like in paranormal activity?

Would we all be chased down by psycho cannibals hiding in the woods who would then go on to chew each of our fingers off, one by one?

Would we have found another windmill farm(this time haunted), which would unnaturally send the turbine tripling in speed and horrifically sucking us up into its winding blades, chopping us to pieces?

Would we have found the infamous Crum Cemetery and performed our little "ghost hunt"?

...Or would the ghosts/demons have performed something on us??

Would we still be alive and only missing a few limbs?

...Or would we still be alive with all body parts intact?

Well, one thing's for sure: I'm glad this didn't happen....

Paper Trails

The more the paper crinkled beneath Clarisse, the more agitated she became. She hated everything about hospitals: From the suffocating stench of cleanliness, to the blandness of the walls, to the stupid puppy posters that always hang on the ceiling, meant to inspire cheerful, happy thoughts to anyone laying down on the examination table-- Which, oh yeah, are covered with the most obnoxious paper known to man, the crinkle and ruffle enough to make you swear your ears are bleeding. So instead, you sit, stiff as a board, waiting, for hours it seems, for the doctor to finally knock on your door.

Clarisse held her arm close to her stomach, stroking around the spot that was most tender, trying to relieve the pain. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It really had seemed like an hour had gone by at least, or maybe it was just her lack of patience.

1:42 a.m. She estimated that the last time she saw anybody was around 1:00. Not quite an hour, but this was getting beyond ridiculous! Gently, she scooted herself off the table, the dreaded paper mustering all it could to give one last snarly cackle as she slipped out the door into the hallway.

The sound of silence was deafening. Clarisse spun in the middle of the hall, taking in her surroundings. Something was different. It seemed that the blandness of the place had gotten blander in some way. Or maybe it was that she was getting delusional in her sleep-deprived state. Choosing a direction, she proceeded to walk, poking her head in the doorways to every patient’s room.

Room 223, empty. Room 225, empty. 226, 227, 228-- all empty. Clarisse felt her heartbeat quicken, and her arm started to throb more than it had all night. This wasn’t right. She saw the lobby in the distance, with the desk unattended, and the computers off. The lights were set to their lowest setting. Turning on her heel, she intended to make quick work of grabbing her things from her room and hauling ass out of this eerie place some would call a hospital.

Almost to her room, she stopped dead in her tracks after hearing a gasp escape from a room across the hall. Then a voice:

“Hello Mrs. Medluck, I will be your doctor tonight.”

A pause.

And then: Crinkling. Ruffling. Scrunching, crumpling, TEARING. Getting louder and louder-- more frantic as the seconds ticked on.

And finally: a scream.

Higher and louder than the human ear could register. Clarisse stood frozen in fear, as she really experienced what it was like to have her ears bleed.

But then, just like that, it was over. No more screams, no more rustling of paper from across the hall.

Only haunting silence.

Instinct finally took over, and Clarisse sprung into her room and slammed the door in one fluid motion.

However, as she turned around--

There he was, sitting on the table.

“Hello Clarisse, I will be your doctor tonight.”

picture link:

http://www.piperreport.com/archives/Images/Empty%20Hospital%20Corridor.jpg

Boggart

As I walked to my parents’ house, I knocked on the door. No answer. Taking the key from the hidden spot, I unlocked the door and walked in. “Mom? Dad? Where are you?” That’s funny. Their cars were in the driveway. As I stepped in the door I see someone’s legs on the floor behind the wall. I walked a little further and peered around the corner. “Mom!” She was lying on the floor, motionless and a pool of blood gathered around her body. I rushed over to her and checked her vitals. No pulse. As I looked around I saw another body lying on the ground. “Dad!” His throat was slashed, blood covering his shirt. What happened? Who could’ve killed my parents?

Crying, I wondered if anyone else I was close to was hurt. I thought of all the people closest to me and my boyfriend’s face popped into my head. Anyone after me would use him to get to me. I ran as fast as I could down the road to his house. I burst in the door, not even bothering to knock. As I ran around the house, I found him sitting in his favorite chair.

“Sam!” I ran to him as fast as I could. “Sam! I was so scared! My parents are both dead and I thought you were too!” He looked at me, his piercing blue eyes gazed over me, not focusing on anything. “Sam? Are you okay?” I looked him over and found a stab wound in his stomach. Oh no! Not him too!

As I held his hand, he whispered his dying breath. “Please…help me. Not like this- I don’t want to die like this.” My true love…the one who shared my soul died in my arms, as I sat, helpless and alone.

I searched around his house, searching for the hidden panic room. As I walked in, I shut the door behind me and sat in the center, holding my knees and rocking back and forth, shaking with grief. I sat for hours, waiting for the monster to find me. Oh well. They can’t come in here. I’m safe now. It doesn’t matter…nothing matters anymore. I lost the ones I loved.

Suddenly, I hear heavy breathing. In and out, in and out. The sound of dripping pounds in my ears. Is that blood? Then a dreadful thought came to me. The monster was in here all along…

I waited, wondering when the monster would attack. Then I realized something…I looked at the blood on my hands and clothes, and the knife in my hand, and I realized my worst nightmare. I am the monster, and I hurt the ones closest to me.

Ogle Town, PA

We were lost. Off on some unknown dirt road searching for a cemetery, like all those stupid kids in the movies. Tales of broken down cars and hanging men flooded our minds. Nothing but blackness surrounded my dumpy boat of a car with its dim yellow headlights. We were screwed. We began driving past a HUGE wire fence, uncertain as to whether it was keeping us out, or something else in. At this point we were on lock down; I don't know how many times I pushed that switch, but it hasn't gone dead on me yet. We found ourselves at a fork; nothing but a dense blackness greeted us on either side. We continued left, hoping more and more that we didn't find Crum Cemetery. We drove for miles, the crunch of gravel under the tires was deafening; passing tree by tree by tree. There was a clearing ahead with a red blinking light up in the sky. It was a wind turbine, but there wasn't just one; thousands cut through the air making the same loud buzzing noise. It was at this point I knew no one would hear our screams.

Caterwaul

This is more than 500 words, but I feel if I cut it anymore, it'll lose whatever oomph it has. PS my mommy is not fat, cleans every day and doesn't try to sacrifice me to demons. Also my house is not full of cats.

The house was full of shit. Junk rose, wiggling with worms and maggots, from the swallowed floor to the ceiling. High ridges of trash and boxes swayed and collapsed atop the swamp of damp garbage. The smell of soiled clothing, rotten meat and alcohol curdled the air.
Cats haunted the mountains of debris. Little starving things with thin, bulging ribs and wide, wild eyes. They crept like roaches in hell and sought out warm, dry places to curl up and die. Some escaped, for the door to the house did open on occasion, and they scrambled over one another to dart past the fat woman in the doorway. They ran blindly into the world, leaving the dying to fester in the house while the woman wailed.
Another lived there, in his own space, detached from the rest of the house. It was a boy, Conner, who guarded the only clean room. It was inaccessible from within the house; he had allowed heavy clutter to block the door. Conner entered his bedroom from the window, a high place that his fat mother could not climb. He was safe within the clean room, and if mother tried pushing her belongings into his space he would fight her. She would cry and sob and claim he didn’t love her, but Conner never replied. He’d only gaze back and wait for her to open the window. Then he’d spit in her face. She usually relented, but her resentment towards him for barring her from the room was deep.
It was bad luck if any of Conner’s belongings strayed from his room. The item would become immersed immediately. Gobbled up. Everything fell lost in the house. On a better day, the thing (in this case, a notebook) would sit right outside the door. It was the only time he ever went wandering into the filth.
Conner crept through the narrow pathways that cut through mother’s kingdom. Books, hardware, appliances, furniture, cat toys and God knew what else towered far above his head. Thick layers of brown dust slopped on top of it all. Shit and piss. He tried not to touch the towers. He eyed them, not just in disgust but in distrust. A rusty refrigerator once tumbled atop him and pinned him to the floor. It nearly killed him.
Cats watched him go, sick pale eyes glittering from caverns of trash.
When he reached the blocked door, he felt a jolt. Something new sat before the decaying desk and stacked microwaves—a mirror, framed in silver, decorated in jagged spirals. It matched his height, and the reflection glared back at him. Lying before it were kittens—cold bodies twisted in death.

A cat brushed past him down the path. It carried a tiny kitten corpse between its yellow jaws. Conner watched it as it plopped the little dead thing before the mirror. Others followed it. A parade of cats swam out of the contamination, all carrying grim offerings, and placed them there.
A chill cut through his spine. He felt the back of his neck prickle, and the skin of his arms and legs pinched .Goose flesh crawled up his chest, tugging at the base of his throat. The kittens all had their mouths open, miniature teeth stained brown, and he saw fleas leaping in black swarms around them.
Something moved in the mirror. He pulled his eyes away from the pile and saw, with relief, that it was only his reflection. The image of Conner stared back at him and swayed side to side on restless legs.
It took only a second for him to realize that he standing very still. But the reflection still swayed to and fro like a snake, all on its own.
Mirror-Conner lowered itself to its knees and crawled, legs over arms, to the edge of the mirror.
“Hi,” it grinned.
Conner did not respond. He felt his trigger finger twitching and an odd drowning slush in his gut.
“What’s your name?” it said. Up close, Conner realized it did not look like him much at all. The basic shape of his face and body were identical, but the mouth was sharp and the eyes were misshapen. They had a milky film over them.
“You can tell me,” it continued. “Your name.”
“No,” Conner said. More and more cats brought the mirror their children. “Why?”
“Why? Because that’s what people do when they greet each other,” it said. “You miserable mongrel.”
“No, why are the cats doing that.” He could hardly hear himself talk.
“Oh,” it placed its hands on the mirror. They pressed against it; Conner saw the skin of the hands flatten. “They’re mine. Presents. Born here, or dead here, in this house. Don’t worry, they don’t have names. What’s yours?”
Conner’s head buzzed, full of moths. His arms felt light and though his heart sped in his chest, he did not run.
“Why don’t they have names. I can name them.”
Mirror-Conner watched him, tapping its long fingers on the glass like an impatient child.
“Things born in this house have no names. Things that die in this house give them away. To me. They are mine. Now give me yours,” it said. The thing in the mirror, yellow skinned with long, twisting nails stretched its bottom jaw to the floor. The reflections of the kittens wiggled and moaned as the long, sopping tongue scrapped them into its mouth. It crunched down on the nameless cats, and they screamed as it swallowed. Conner stood, frozen, and watched innards spill from between the thing’s teeth.

One Shot

Just a little farther. I can make it. I have to. These were the words that had been keeping him, Alex Fletcher, alive for the past month. The only way he was able to stay sane and focused was by repeating them.

It was only a week ago that he had lost his little sister Abby to the zombie horde. She was only seven and being seven had automatically without thinking spotted a cat and chased after it, unaware of what lurked out there in the world. She had been his only remaining relative that had not been taken yet by the virus, his last hope in having something happy, someone there, in this new crazed, gloomy, horrific life. And he lost her. Just like he lost his parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and best friends. And now he was running again but this time by himself. And he was getting tired. And even though he couldn't see them, he knew the horde was not far behind.

Five more steps. That's it. It's right there. Just get inside.

He pushes the front door open. It's a place called Columbia Trading Post. It just happens to sell guns and ammunition. Of course nothing sells anything anymore when no one is there to sell it. He already has his pistol but he still glances at the other guns as he grabs more bullets and rushes to a back room, clutching his weapon as he goes.

Any minute now they are going to come. Alex senses it. He locks and barracades the door even though he knows there really is no point. Yet there is a point.

Tired and weak and hungry and parched, he just slides to the floor. The end is in sight and he knows it. The feeling is overwhelming. Yet he is prepared. He goes over his plan as he tries to breathe.

I won't let them take me too. Not them.

He hears them now. It isn't really hard to miss when they are all screeching and hollaring like that. Through the walls he hears objects toppling over, crashing breaking. They've found him. He looks at his gun, loads it and waits. He knows what to do. It is now time.

The noise comes closer. Suddenly through the door windows he sees them: the faces of his beloved family and friends, his sister too. They sneer and cackle at him through the windows with their now ghastly faces. They have found their prey. They begin banging at the door. Now the doors are thrashing and starting to break. They will get through in a minute. Alex picks up his gun from off the floor. He points and fires. One shot.

Alex's body falls. As his blood drains out, the door breaks open and the zombies pile in. But it's too late. They can't change him now. He's already gone, leaving a smile on his face. He did it. His final wish was fulfilled.

I Wanna Go Home

“I wanna go home.” She who looks like the buffalo said in a sulky, lifeless voice.

“Baby you are home”. Yerskmur replied in a reassuring tone.

“Please let me go home”. She said again and again.

“She who looks like the buffalo, you're safe now, you’re home”.

“I WANNA GO HOME!” She screamed and then sank back down into the corner of the room.

“She who looks like the buffalo don’t you recognize me? Don’t you recognize your home, your living room? Why that couch right over there is where we used to spoon and watch movies. You always fell asleep before the movie finished, you said it was because you felt so safe and comfortable in my arms”.

“I’m addicted to meth”. She said in a helpless tone as tears rolled down her cracked weathered face. She looked 10 years older then her age. “They drugged me Yerskmur, until I couldn’t live without it”.

“I know. The police had said that it wasn’t uncommon for se… people who were in you position to be drugged. We’re already on top of getting you help. You can live without it.” I managed to say through a choked up voice. It was obvious she had been addicted for most, if not all of the 14 months she was missing.

“We were just sailing down the coast of South America.”

“She who looks like the buffalo you don’t need to…”

“They ambushed the ship”.

“You shouldn’t be…”

“They split us up, into groups where no one spoke the same language. They drugged me, Yerskmur, and rented me out to men in suits, and they raped me.

“I need a hit, I needed a hit, please, give me a hit” she begged me, as if she were my possession.

“You won’t find any of that here”.

“Give me a hit! I WANT A HIT RIGHT NOW! GIVE IT TO ME!” her voice cracking as she screamed.

“Yerskmur?” her mom said as she came down stairs

“Yes, Sally?” Yerskmur said

“I think it may be time to get her to bed, we’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

“Yes I think that would be best. I love you she who looks like the buffalo, more then anything and I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

She looked up at me like an injured animal.

“Mom, it hurts so bad, I need a hit”. She said as I closed and exited the back door.

“Please let me have a hit”. She said in a pleading and louder voice.

“GIVE ME IT! I NEED IT!” The last thing I heard as I was closing my car door was crying.

Later that night the phone rang.

“Yerskmur” was the only thing I could understand through sobs.

“What is it Sally, what’s wrong?”

“It’s… it’s she who looks like the buffalo … she’s… she’s, Oh god my baby!” The next thing I heard was the phone hitting the floor and the echoing sobs of her mother.

A Walk in the Wodds to Remember

It’s a beautiful fall day I thought to myself when I woke up this morning. After my classes I should go for a walk in the woods!

I didn’t really plan on where I was going to walk or for how long. Usually I’m pretty good at keeping track of where I’ve been so that I don’t get lost. I started out around 2:00 P.M and decided I would just head back when the sun started to set, so that gave me about 4 hours in the woods…

I started walking a known trail, but then decided to do some deep woods exploring. I loved walking and hearing the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. The birds singing and chirping as I went by, the amazing fall colors, and the light breeze that ruffled my hair but wasn’t cold made it so there was nothing that beat this sensation of being completely one with nature and my-self in, the middle of the woods. As the sun started setting, creating wonderful yellows, pinks, and oranges in the sky, I decided to head back since I was about 3 hours off the trail (much farther than I had anticipated on going). While walking back, I started to get this feeling that something or someone was watching me. Having seen too many horror movies, I tried to ignore it and continued walking (even though I was still paranoid). I was walking at a decent speed but something in the back of my mind kept telling me to run! I knew enough that I was the most dangerous thing in these woods. But that wasn’t enough to calm my nerves and I started running in the direction I thought was the way back. Somehow, fear had taken over rational thought and I tripped over a fallen log buried under leaves, I twisted around and started to roll down the hill. When I stopped and came to my senses I was at the bottom. In front of me was a really old, broken down house. It looked like a perfect horror movie scene and I cursed myself for being so stupid. I was about to head back up the hill when I heard the door creak open. Something drew me inside, I couldn’t stop myself. I honestly can’t say what happened once inside, but I still have nightmares of being tied down and tortured.

It's Not Just All About Fantasy

By Sarah

In fantasy literature, you easily see themes in magic, good versus evil, supernatural things, etc. What you don't see right away is an environmental theme. I definitely didn't in The Amber Spyglass.

In The Amber Spyglass, this environmental theme shows up predominantly in the land of the Mulefa and also in the land of the Ice Bears. The Mulefa have noticed that the seed pod trees are dying. "Dust" is barely hitting the flowers of the trees that produce the seeds and therefore there are less seed pods that the mulefa can obtain and the mulefa NEED those seedpods. The seedpods are what help the young grow up and "settle" as it would be for Lyra and Will and their daemons. It appears symbolic of how our world environmentally is declining and will be lost if we don't try to fix it. We are losing habitats, we are losing animal and plant species, and we are losing resources. This leads into the example of the kingdom of the Ice Bears. Due to the massive explosion made by Lyra's father that also made a gateway into the sky and worlds beyond, the climate and natural systems are in a funk. The ice bears kingdom is melting. They end up leaving to search for a new home in the new worlds and try to survive in the mountains. But it doesn't work and a decision is made to go back and just try and live with what is there. This is very similar for our nonfictional polar bears. Global warming is destroying their home and the ice caps are melting and depleting. If we don't do something, we may lose them and this magical habitat in the near future.

Another example of environmental themes in fantasy is in The Lord of the Rings. The shire is this green, beautiful, magical happy little heaven in Middle Earth. It is threatened at one point in the trilogy when Sarumon goes to the shire and turns it upsidedown and in peril. When the hobbits come back to their beloved home, its like walking into hell. They have to fight one more fight to reclaim their Shire and then bring it back to life and green and beauty. War definitely changes a place that at one point is beautiful. It then always has to be worked on to return it to its original state but there will always be a scar on the environment there. It will never be the same. This shows how important our landscapes and different habitats are and how we need to protect them from getting destroyed or broken.

The Magic Comes With You

by Sarah

In the question of whether characters were born able to do magic or had to learn and acquire it, the answer was clear to me. They were born with it. They just also had to learn how to use it.

It shows up in many stories. For example, in Harry Potter, all of the wizarding world was born able to magic but were only able to start using it and learning it when they were about eleven. They had to learn how to control this natural ability they were given and how to use it properly and carefully and without the non-wizarding world noticing. The interesting cases in this example are the kids who had muggle parents and yet were able to do magic. I think this makes them the most extraordinary ones because it obviously isn't genetics that chooses who will be a wizard or witch.

Another example is of the wizards in the Lord of the Rings. It is very clear that they were born able to do magic. They're the wizards. They also have to go through tasks and challenges to level up though. So not only are they born with this power, they have to learn it too. The elves also have magical abilities that they also appear to be born with. And it makes sense that they had to learn from their elders to understand it and how to use it.

The simple truth: even if one is born with magical powers as a baby, they will not understand it when they are born.

It's all in your head

Where there is no imagination there is no horror. ~Arthur Conan Doyle, Sr.

I found out with midterm grades that some how I had managed to completely miss a blog entry so here goes, a blog that is a little off topic but I hope some people will still find a little interesting.

People ask why I don’t watch scary movies, which as you guys will know is huge thing during this time of the year. I usually tell them that it is because I a big baby and can’t handle them. But the other day I finally figured out that there is more to it then that. I was walking in the woods with one of my friends a couple of nights ago and she was freaking out about being in the dark. She was afraid of something trying to kill, rape, and eat her, along with many other things. She claimed that she had watched too many scary movies. This was when it dawned on me that if I watched scary movies that I most likely never people able to go any where at night alone or with other people. I think I would miss that a lot. The night is calming; it is when everything has started to sleep. The moon lights the way, the pop out and say hello. I have decided that I am perfectly content being in a happy (no scary movie) carefree sense of mind, so that I am able to enjoy the night and accept it for what it has to offer.
Everything is in you head. Your view of your surroundings comes from your imagination, which is often triggered by past experiences, such as things you have done, seen, or even heard. I think that there is no reason for scary anything (movies, stories, books, ect) because they just lead one to become paranoid and doesn’t enable them to enjoy life as it is. Sorry to break the news but there is not a crazy ax murder behind every tree, instead it is probably just a confused skunk. Hope everyone has a wonderful Halloween even if you go for the crazy thrill of scary things or not.

Alone . . .

You sit alone in a room; the room is bare except for the old beaten up wooden rocking chair that you are sitting in, slowly rocking back and forth. The creaking as you rock echoes around the empty room. You look directly ahead and there is a window. The window is small in size and the glass fuzzy to look through from the dirt that has become commentated on to the pains. Cobwebs surround the glass window; the spiders must crave the sunlight too. As you look out the window you think to yourself, this is a window, a window to the past, present, and future, what a curious idea. Looking out the single window, though small you can still see gentle sunlight causing the trees to sparkle with fall colors of red and gold, so peacefully. You are tired; the constant movement of the rocking chair, the creaking as it hits the floor is causing you to grow tired. Your eyes close as you yawn and suddenly you are outside, you have gone through the window, traveling to the past, present, and future. The breeze whistles past your ear. Red, orange, and gold leaves swirl by caught in the breeze. All seems peaceful, except for a feeling, a weird creepy feeling that something is watching you. You are alone always alone, just walking, one foot in the front of the other; the methodical pattern of your footsteps now pushes you on and on. Down the dirt road you walk all alone, always alone. You feel that weird creepy feeling; it’s like a heavy weight pressing down on your shoulders. Your going crazy, you must be going crazy. You look all around, twisting your head from side to side. The beautiful golden trees on either side of you rustle as the wind blows by. The rustling sounds like evil laughter, this can’t be right you think to your self. You don’t like the trees any more but they are all around. You start to walk faster you want to escape the evil laughter. You are scared, the pressure of that creepy feeling is almost suffocating you, and you feel as though you can’t breath. The wind blows stronger, the laughter grows louder, and you run faster, you start to panic you can’t breath. You are now in a full sprint down the dirt road, the trees on either side seem to be pressing in on you, something is wrong, oh so wrong. Your foot lands in a pothole un-expectantly, your ankle twist in pain, agonizing pain and you fall down, down, down. The laughter is all around, everything goes dark, but you can still hear that evil laughter pressing down on you. All is wrong you think, how can this be happening, but this is your last thought as something grabs your hand, cold sharp nails digging into your skin. The pain, oh the pain, and with that everything goes silent.

freaky writing thing

So for those of you who may have seen Mr. Brooks, I got my inspiration from that movie. I hope people aren't upset I used that as inspiration.

“Plink, Plink, Plink”

Is the sound that the blood makes as it drops off the axe onto the basement floor. Its such a comforting wonderful sound to me. If I believed in having a chi, I would believe that right now my chi is perfect and calm. I haven’t felt this calm in a really long time, but thats probably because I haven’t gave in to my urges for a while. I’ve been working really hard to be that perfect community member, to be someone that everyone in town knows. I really didn’t want to go back to killing, but I gave in this time. Damn it! Why the fuck did I give in, this is such a wonderful feeling. I can actually hear myself think, there’s no nagging voice in my head. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop now.

Its been a few weeks since my last kill, the voice has come back again. I’m going to give in again I just know it. In fact I’ve been kind of looking for my next target. I think I’ve found her too. The problem is I know this girl. Its against my rules too go for someone I know, but I can’t her out of my head. I want her.

I’ve been watching her for a few days now. The weekend is coming up. I think I’ll do it then.

This is it. This is the night. The voice has become to overbearing. I can’t hear my own thoughts again, this is the only way I can get rid of them. Too bad, she’s beautiful. I’m waiting in the parking garage for her. I’ve fixed her motor so it won’t start, then I’m going to drive up and see if she needs help. Its perfect she won’t know whats coming. I can’t wait to see her face when I do it. Here she is now, getting in her car now. Haha, she can’t start it. I turn my car on and drive to her and ask if she needs help.

We’re in my car driving in the direction of her house, except she’ll never get there. I take a wrong turn so we can head back to my special spot where I take them all. The expression on her face looks like confusion. Thats when I do it, I pull the needle out thats full of the sedative and stick her with it. Her face fills with horror, and then she slumps back back in her seat, falling asleep.

She wakes up and we’re in my place. I’ve been watching her sleep she’s so peaceful. I take her gag out and she asks “why would you do this? I thought we were friends” What are you going to me?” her tears are starting to come down now. “please don’t hurt me she says. I don’t want to die”. The voice in my head is screaming “DO IT NOW. DO IT NOW”. I walk across the floor, away from her to grab my axe, my heels go “click, click, click” across the floor. I grab the axe and the handle feels so smooth in my hands, I can barely contain my excitement. Before I can turn around, something hits me hard in the head and I pass out.

When I regain consciousness, its me on the floor and she’s standing over me with the axe in hand. Somehow she must have gotten free. I can’t move at all, but for some odd reason I’m not scared. She bends down, looks me in the eye and says “I’ve known you’ve been watching me for a while. Don’t believe for a second that I haven’t known what you were from the second I met you. Its too bad that you went after me though, we could have teamed up and done some amazing jobs together. Wouldn’t that have been great, the two of us girls working together? Oh well, looks like it will only be me having fun in the town from now on”. She raises that axe, and brings it down. BAM then I’m gone.