Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Third excerpt

You know those movie trailers where they show the exciting parts of the movie, then when you see it, you find that the dialogue and half the shots in the trailer aren't even in the movie?
For instance, Star Trek VIII: First Contact, the USS Voyager makes an appearance. In the trailer. It's replaced by, I think an Akira-class starship for that particular shot in the actual movie. It also used scenes from Next Generation and Deep Space 9 episodes, as well as Star Trek VII: Generations.
Yeah, those... The ones where it makes people go "Oh, that's going to be in it?" only to rip that possibility from them.

This is called "Hearing The Silence". It is one such scene--it will not be in the finished short story.


Familiarity is often the basis of love or compassion. Having become accustomed to seeing someone, speaking to someone, communicating with someone, one becomes likely to develop a fondness—a certain type of compassion; a love that exists between the superficial and the sincere, between the plain and the bold, the bland and the profound; but it is not at all lukewarm.

Familiarity became the basis of their relationship; PDM-512-0753 and a human with a name unknown. The human would appear on a once-every-other-week basis, then became more frequent, showing up weekly. At first, the human would stare at PDM-512-0753 for minutes at a time, increasing almost daily until it was spending hours every one or two days. No longer just staring, it would communicate with the machine. One of the first things it said was its own designation: Lorraine. It would speak of situations and struggles it had faced, family, friends, enemies, and yes, even love—especially love. It was overwhelmed, almost obsessed with the topic. For this reason, PDM-512-0753 was fascinated by the creature and its tales of life. Love, it had said, was necessary to live. Like water to a plant, it said. These statements puzzled the machine even deeper so. PDM-512-0753 grew accustomed to this human's presence, and began to understand familiarity.

One day, Lorraine asked why the machine never spoke. It stared at her quizzically before answering “Because you can not hear me.”

Lorraine scowled, “How did you know?”

PDM-512-0753 took a step back from a sort of shock—even the computer could be surprised when occurrences were beyond understanding, but this biological unit understood it. It knew what it had said.

Query; you are capable of perceiving my communications?”

The human laughed, “More or less; I'm becoming deaf. I read lips.”

There was a brief pause as PDM-512-0753 seemed to scan a memory bank; “Designation: Production Display Model Five-Twelve, Oh-Seven-Fifty-Three, Etude line. Please state my purpose.”

You want me to state your purpose?”

It remained silent a moment. “Please?” it pleaded in complete desperation.

But I don't know what your purpose is.”

Do I have a purpose?”

I don't know,” the human responded, lifting and dropping its shoulders in a short, quick movement; “Well, bye,” the human said with a wave of its hand as it began walking away.

The machine watched intently as the human departed.

This scene was going to develop into several pages and tie in with the original ending, but it seemed out of place and somewhat meaningless to the story as a whole. Granted, a few more pages would be great to add, this is not the route in which I'm looking to add those pages.

Dialogue... Bleh!

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Just an update...

  I'm going to resume working on the robot-based short story soon. Not sure how many people actually read this, so could be just spittin' in the wind here, but nevertheless, I've gotta get that stupid thing finished. I've got a plan for another story and would like to at least get this'n out of the way before continuing with another. Have plans, too, for getting a story booted up--based on NaNoWriMo that a friend introduced me to, but at my own standards and at a time of my own choosing; ie. not in November(too busy of a month here), but maybe March or April, a time when everything is coming to life and the world itself seems to ebb with inspiration, imagination, life and hope.

  Also, been thinking about a major for college a lot. Need to discuss something with someone who already majored in what I want on majoring in(music, possibly composition or production), though it's being recommended that I go for English... Again, something to discuss with someone who has or is majoring in it. The reason I emphasize 'want', when referring to majoring in music, is because the career field for someone who's majored in music seems to be pretty slim pickings. Not that English would have more going for it, in regards to possible careers based on it, it's just that my interests are playing and writing music, as well as writing lyrics/poems(if they can be called 'poems' when lacking so many basic poetic devices) and stories.

  College is something I'm looking forward to, but am also scared senseless by it at the same time.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Center of The Universe?

I have decided that the center of the universe is wherever we want it to be. I can explain this position in further detail, but I ask you to keep an open mind and try not to label me some sort of lunatic before reading this entire hypothesis.

The universe is large. Vastly large. Any words I can use to describe its size are a severe understatement. To try and figure the center of it is pointless. We don't even know how big the universe is, since all that we can see on the intergalactic scale is only galaxies' whose light is strong enough to reach us and has reached us. Millions of lightyears away are other galaxies. Billions of lightyears away are MORE galaxies. Billions of lightyears beyond those are, likely, though we can't see them, yet even more galaxies. There's no way to see what is beyond that, since the light from it hasn't reached us yet, if it's even enough to be seen from such a distance. It spreads out, best anyone can tell, infinitely. Some will give theories as to why it's limited in size(though the boundaries are indeterminable), or growing(if it's growing, that would imply the universe is bigger than, well, the universe), but the simple fact is that the galaxy that we exist in is not even big enough to be consider one tiny piece of the universe.

Now, I'm going to do some serious hypothesizing here, but my only request is that you try to disprove these hypotheses before deciding they're ridiculous.

You are the center of the universe.
Before you say you aren't, prove that you aren't. Prove the Earth isn't actually orbiting you, the solar system orbiting that, the galaxy orbiting that, and the universe itself orbiting that.
With such a massive scale, it is impossible to find the center, therefore we can be free to each choose the center of the universe in our own perspective.

You are the center of the universe. What do you do now?

Saturday, November 26, 2011

What are the colors of the rainbow?

The other day, it occurred to me... We all see differently. Not like beauty being in the eye of the beholder(which might be vaguely related to this), but colors.
Look at something that's blue. I see blue. You see blue. It's blue. That's just it! What you perceive as blue, in your eyes, might be seen through mine as red.

Blue. Obviously.
However, what if what your mind sees as blue, my mind sees what your mind sees as green? I've been told it's blue. You've been told it's blue. It's blue. But what I am seeing as blue, you might see as what I see as red... Our minds might perceive it at different hues.

Perspectives, I guess.

It's not provable, nor is it disprovable(I don't think).

Me and my dad discussed this the other day, and we concur about it, but have so far had insufficient conglomerate verbal skills to communicate it to someone else in a manner that makes sense. He almost makes sense, though.
My mom usually gets infuriated when me and him go off into our mutually-fed hypotheses. We have many. Sane people usually don't understand us.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


Die-hard fans of the Halo franchise will know exactly who I mean when I reference John-117. People familiar with the games know him as "Master Chief". Those who are unfamiliar are missing out; to these people, he's the green robot from Halo.

This franchise, however, is a representation of the earliest historical texts known to man. The Bible.
I'm not saying this is a Christian game nor is it satanic, but it's far from secular.

The very title; "Halo" is derived from the ring-shaped worlds called "Halos". In this game, we know there are seven of them(Bungie, the development team behind the games, is fanatical about the number seven), one of which who's 'monitor', 343 Guilty Spark is blue whereas the other's monitor, 2401 Penitent Tangent, is red. It's never clarified the color of the other installations' monitors, but they very well could be imagined as orange, yellow, green, indigo and violet. The seven colors of the rainbow. And the rainbow being the promise to Noah that the Earth would not be destroyed by a flood again. Remember that.

The Covenant is a group of alien species that are trying to get the rings to activate, which would destroy all life in the known universe. The rings are a weapon against an alien life form called the Flood.
See what I'm getting at?
These rings were left by an ancient civilizations called The Forerunners, who were all but destroyed by the Flood. They ignited the rings as a means to eliminate the Flood, not by killing them but by starving them by means of eliminating their food sources, which is any life forms. These rings are a promise, of sorts, that the Flood will not destroy/absorb all life forms.
When the rings are activated, the only way for something to survive is by being on what is called "The Ark"...

Master Chief, or John-117, if you will, is called the "Reclaimer" by the installations' monitors. Humans, at one time in the Halo universe, coexisted with the Forerunners. John-117 is not necessarily foretold about in the series, but he is the way in which the Flood would be eliminated without having to fire the rings. He is, in a sense, the salvation of all life in the known universe.
He meets with the leader of the Flood, known as Gravemind, and Gravemind tries to 'tempt' John-117 into joining itself, but fails.
At the end of Halo 3, John-117 is put in cryogenic stasis. As he places himself in the chamber for stasis, he says "It's finished. Wake me when you need me".

If one is to read the 'terminals' in Halo 3, it is even mentioned that a Forerunner, called the "Librarian", finds a planet called Earth It was she that constructed the portal to the Ark, then buried it later.
She plants great garden, then names the garden "Eden" and puts humans there. After this, she resides on Mt. Kilimanjaro, overlooking the portal to the Ark, as well as Eden.

John-117 is the "Reclaimer". He saves them from the Flood in a way that wasn't possible before him. He did everything that the Covenant was there for, except he did it in a manner that allowed people to live.
He fulfilled everything that was supposed to happen according to the prior 'law', but in a redemptive way.
To put a little icing on the cake, if one were to look up John 1:17(John-117), they would find this: "For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ."

I just wanted to point some things out about the backstory to one of the most popular, successful video game franchises in history.

EDIT:  After playing through the first level and a half of Halo CE Anniversary, it is shown that each monitor is a color of the rainbow.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

What Is The Meaning of Rhythm?

Something I've thought about from time to time is the importance of rhythm. It is ingrained into our very being; from our conception, we're geared towards rhythm. From a heartbeat, to the tiniest detail inside our DNA(the nanoscopic 'machines' that work in a rhythm), to our everyday steps, our thought processes, our motions; all of these derive from rhythm. It transcends the physical and intertwines our thoughts and our emotions.

It connects us on a spiritual level so much so that we listen for a rhythm when we're upset, happy, sad, angry, jealous, etc; we listen to music, which is based solely on rhythm. When we don't listen to music, we close ours eyes and listen to our hearts and/or our breathing--the rhythmic thump or inhale/exhale.

It is the foundation of nature. All life on this planet has a rhythm, and is inclined towards rhythm. Some animals are even known to dance to the rhythm of music.
The cells that make up plant life even carry on a rhythm.
The ocean's waves are one of the most relaxing rhythms known to man.
The moon has a rhythm in its orbit around the Earth, and likewise the Earth around the sun, and the solar system around the galaxy, and the galaxy around--we know not what, but I can assure you, whatever the Milky Way is circling, it also has an orbit around something.

From the atomic scale to the intergalactic scale, to the universe itself, there is rhythm.

I just thought this was an interesting topic.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

This is a mockup of a story that hopefully will become more than a couple paragraphs long one day, but it can't until I finish the one I'm working on. My inspiration came from the movie/play "Harvey"(dead giveaway right there).

  Michael Bertrucci walked down the road towards his house, much as he did every other day. And like every other day, he was accompanied by his friend, Liam, who had no last name to speak of--at least it hadn't been brought to Michael's knowledge. As they walked past other pedestrians, they tended to receive strange glances, ones of worry of confusion. While it was obvious to Michael the reason why, he didn't care. Liam was Michael's imaginary friend, and he knew that Liam was an illusion. Nobody could see him but Michael, so public conversation with Liam was awkward, to say the least, but regardless, he conversed with his friend, careless of the world or how people looked at him.

  This particular day was unusual. As they walked, Liam brought up the subject, "Do people look at you ever so strangely?"
  Michael nodded, "They do. Ah s'pose iss juss 'cause they can't see yuh."
  "They could be more polite," Liam responded, "It is your world, after all."
  Michael pondered the precise meaning of the question for a moment, "Iss the world Ah live in, Bud, but it ain't never been mah own innehmore thin iss theirs," he said, gesturing to the concerned faces. "We haftuh share it with evereh one. Ah can't just tayll someone to not look at meh. Thet wouldn be right."
  Liam understood completely, but didn't acknowledge it. Liam seemed to have what could almost be seen as mood swings. For a moment, he'd be talking plainly, then he'd begin to whisper quietly, if speaking at all. He never looked directly at his friend, which was baffling to Michael. Occasionally, if they sat across from each other, Liam would glance at Michael for a half-second at a time, but never on the street. He always stared at the ground or directly in front of himself while walking. Michael always wondered if it was a subconscious aspect that kept him from imagining a more socialized person; perhaps he was unknowingly compensating for his own introvertedness, he wondered, but discarded the thought without regard.
  "Have you ever told anyone about me?" Liam asked.
  "Ah've not. Ah dunno what people'd think if ah told'm ah saw someone who issin there."
  What made this an unusual day was that Liam rarely spoke so much. He mostly listened. He also avoided any discussion of his own existence. Michael wondered if it bothered him, but threw that thought aside as well. Liam was what Michael made of him, nothing more, nothing less. Reasoning his feelings was pointless--Liam felt how Michael imagined he felt. He thought how Michael imagined he thought. He existed how Michael imagined he existed. He walked through lightposts, walls, trees, anything in order to stay at Michael's side. It was as if Liam didn't even see the objects in the path whenever they approached; he simply kept walking, as Michael imagined he would, as a person without mass, displacement or matter.
  "Michael," Liam said solemnly, "we need to talk."
  "Sure thang, Bud, what 'bout?"
  "I can't see you anymore."
  "Well, Ah'm rot 'ere beside yuh."
  "That's not what I mean, Michael, and you know it."
  Suddenly, Michael understood perfectly, as if it had been explained to him in great detail; "You see, your world really is your world, not mine. People there look at you, not me because I don't exist there. You've mentioned how I walk through stuff. That's because it doesn't exist. You don't exist. You're just my imaginary friend, Michael. And people--real people--are asking questions about me talking to someone they can't see."

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Yesterday becomes Tomorrow

I was sending a message to a friend of mine a few moments ago, and said "I know you won't read this until tomorrow," and that got me thinking... If I sent it today, and they receive tomorrow, then they wouldn't read it until today which is tomorrow from when it was sent.
That would mean that it was sent yesterday, to today, which is tomorrow... That could be said as it was sent yesterday, to tomorrow, today.
If they receive it tomorrow, they receive it today, so today becomes tomorrow. If it was sent today, it was sent tomorrow. However, today becomes yesterday, therefore, I sent it today, yesterday, to today, tomorrow.

Long story short, I sent a message today that won't be read until tomorrow. But if this isn't read until the day after tomorrow, then I sent this tomorrow to yesterday.


Goodnight, you wonderful people.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Depth Of An Antonym

It is the sorrows and pains of life that bring the joys and comforts. If one were to sleep on a soft bed their entire life, they would not know the comfort of the rest for they would never have slept on gravel or cement. Occasionally, one must rest on rocks or concrete to keep the discomfort fresh in the mind, or else forget and not know the true pleasure of having a bed in which to sleep at night. Truth, also, is forgotten and overlooked if one is not accustomed to hearing lies. Faith, love, so far as life, what are they if absent of their acronyms? What is faith without disloyalty and doubt, love without hate or loss, life without death? They not only lose their power and meaning, but also their very existence. Faith, without doubt or disloyalty, would not be something that meant to believe or to have loyalty, but mere existence. It would be the accepted way of existing, and there would be no 'without', therefore there would also be no 'with'. Love would also not exist without hate or loss, as love would be universal and the lack thereof would not exist, so the way in which love is measured and known would be gone and there would be no such feeling to describe. Life, without death, would never be deemed life, therefore would not exist as it does. It would become, simply, 'existence'. The term 'life' would not be known, for the term 'death' would not, and the existence would be without striving for accomplishment due to a limited amount of time available in which to achieve said goals.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Bliss: The Straight Jacket

What absolute desperation consists of is the worst of all things. Desperation in its barest, most ugly and hideous form is to exist without hope in any form. Many in society go about day-to-day lives unknowingly filled with desperation. The merciful, perhaps the merciless thing about such desperation, is few realize the hopelessness filling their lives. Endless redundancy truly is the worst of all things, in such that it entails total despair and a void where any trace of hope might exist. The beauty and horror of it, however, is, as the phrase goes, 'out of sight, out of mind'; as long as hopelessness is not the forefront of thoughts, it is not altogether troubling. Ignorance can be bliss, if only momentarily. When realized, sorrow envelops and clouds all aspects of existence, and becomes a monster manifested in the mind, which is an impenetrable stronghold. The only person with unabashed access to one's mind is oneself. The monster of the hopeless sorrow already grows within and cannot escape. Its claws like grapnel hooks, digging in deeper each time one attempts to try and pull them out. The only way to overcome it is to embrace it and let it have its way and hope to come out of it sane. But sanity is not necessarily a release, rather an indulgence or denial. Sanity is to exist in an apathetic way so as to not cause commotion in the outside world; much in the way a person in a padded cell, held tightly by a straight jacket, cannot cause commotion. To exist in observance and without contact, for to make contact, the depths of one's mind may be accessed and deemed insane or unstable in society. Sometimes, the most successful way to break or remain free of despair is to remain in the temporary, blissful ignorance or perhaps to hold to it until one has reached the edge of sanity and let it go free.