I was watching some videos on dimensions. They're up to 12 now. Using these 12 we can show where any physical object is in our universe.
What about thought?
I can think of something and it won't show up in a dimension. Why is that?
I can think up a fork and them beat metal till it turns into a fork but the fork doesn't exist till I make it. I think it exists the second I think it.
I think thought should be a dimension. Does that mean we have infinite dimensions?
Friday, December 27, 2013
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Blast
My mom just called me. They sold their old house. I didn't know what to say so I just asked if they would take some pictures when they're out there collecting all the stuff they want.
My dad was driving my brother and I down a gravel road. I was 12 or 13. I used to live there he said. He pointed to an old worn down house. The house was abandoned. It looked like it was about ready to fall over. I wondered how anyone could live there. He looked kind of sad.
I lived with my parents until I was 18. I spent almost every day of my life in the same house. It was a farm house. My brother and I used to build tree houses and take bike rides down the gravel road. It was more than a house. It was a home. My brother and I used to climb in the old cupboard and hide. We jumped up and down on the back hallway even after dad said it could cave in. We planted a tree in the front yard. When I left it was still a small tree and now it's taller than the house. I hit the clothes line with a stick and a bunch of bees flew out and stung my brother and I. We had a four wheeler and we ran it into the fence. My dad made a pitcher's mound and I used to throw to him hours on end. I remember throwing my brother into the wall and it making the impression of his head in the drywall. I was diagnosed with cancer and remember lying in my bed and worrying. I wonder if my porno magazines are still hidden in the basement...
At thanksgiving my mom's parents shed some light on my dad's story 20 years later. My dad lived there with his mom, brother, and sisters. His mom thought the house was haunted. My grandma on my dad's side is a little paranoid and believes in that stuff. The previous owner of the house went to war. He was pushed off a ship and died at sea. My dad's mom saw the sailor at the house. He was talking to her when she was in the bathroom. The moved out after a short time after that. My dad never told me about my grandma's visions.
I really liked living in my old house. Is it wrong wanting to say goodbye to a house? At the end of the month a different family will be living there. The sale seems like a funeral. I haven't been back to see the house in a long time, but every time I do it feels really good. All the memories of my childhood come rushing back to me. My daughter will be riding with me one day and I'll say "look at that house Marissa. I used to live there" I think we should break in. I'm putting her up in that cupboard and taking a picture. The current owners may have bought the house, but it will always be my home.
My dad was driving my brother and I down a gravel road. I was 12 or 13. I used to live there he said. He pointed to an old worn down house. The house was abandoned. It looked like it was about ready to fall over. I wondered how anyone could live there. He looked kind of sad.
I lived with my parents until I was 18. I spent almost every day of my life in the same house. It was a farm house. My brother and I used to build tree houses and take bike rides down the gravel road. It was more than a house. It was a home. My brother and I used to climb in the old cupboard and hide. We jumped up and down on the back hallway even after dad said it could cave in. We planted a tree in the front yard. When I left it was still a small tree and now it's taller than the house. I hit the clothes line with a stick and a bunch of bees flew out and stung my brother and I. We had a four wheeler and we ran it into the fence. My dad made a pitcher's mound and I used to throw to him hours on end. I remember throwing my brother into the wall and it making the impression of his head in the drywall. I was diagnosed with cancer and remember lying in my bed and worrying. I wonder if my porno magazines are still hidden in the basement...
At thanksgiving my mom's parents shed some light on my dad's story 20 years later. My dad lived there with his mom, brother, and sisters. His mom thought the house was haunted. My grandma on my dad's side is a little paranoid and believes in that stuff. The previous owner of the house went to war. He was pushed off a ship and died at sea. My dad's mom saw the sailor at the house. He was talking to her when she was in the bathroom. The moved out after a short time after that. My dad never told me about my grandma's visions.
I really liked living in my old house. Is it wrong wanting to say goodbye to a house? At the end of the month a different family will be living there. The sale seems like a funeral. I haven't been back to see the house in a long time, but every time I do it feels really good. All the memories of my childhood come rushing back to me. My daughter will be riding with me one day and I'll say "look at that house Marissa. I used to live there" I think we should break in. I'm putting her up in that cupboard and taking a picture. The current owners may have bought the house, but it will always be my home.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
type D
Life Ninja
In this crazy world I've met a lot of people. Lazy, stupid, smart, fat, skinny, rich, poor, and crackheads. Most people don't relate to my pain because they what society thinks they should do. I'm in a minority because of my stubbornness. It's hard for me to let go.
Type A:
This group has a bed pushed up against the wall. They fit the sheet at the wall corner first. They think things through. They don't get all excited looking at the freshly cleaned sheet and think "I'm going to start this job right away and fit the sheet to the corner away from the wall first. They start their job at the corner against the wall. The fitted sheet then can be easily finished at the end opposite of the wall. They represent the majority of people. They keep the country moving in the right direction. They make changing a fitted sheet look easy. They make life look simple.Type B:
This group doesn't own a bed. They might own a bed, but not a mattress. They might own a mattress, but not a fitted sheet. They might own a fitted sheet but never have to change it for themselves. This is a primitive group. Most of them are crackheads
Type C:
This group has a bed, but it isn't pushed up against a wall. They can afford to cheat. They have enough space in the bedroom to have the bed placed away from a wall. Most of them have a maid change the sheets for them. When the maid does change the sheets she doesn't have to worry about which corner to start at. She has a walking path around the entire mattress and can chose a starting point wherever she likes. She is paid to change their sheets and the irony is that when she goes home her job is much more difficult because she is type A or B outside of work.Type D:
This is my group. We're impulsive and stubborn. I only realize the sheets are in the dryer when I'm ready to go to sleep. I'll walk in the room and say "shit" then walk down to the dryer. I'll bring the sheets up and start making the bed. I always start at the lower corner nearest to myself when I threw the sheets on the floor. I do this because I'm upset at myself for not doing it earlier. So I fit that corner then I fit the other easy corner then I'm screwed. A sane person would just pull the sheet off and start over again. Not type D. So, I get on the bed and pull the sheet toward the corner against the wall. It never reaches. I then jump in the air and push the sheet toward the wall. I remember one time doing this and the other end came off so I stopped and refitted the first corner. I then repeated the jumping technique till the corner is secured.Type D doesn't abide by society's rules. We live life as we want. I don't think the term ("life ninja"™ schwabdawg inc) is too much of a stretch. We decide how and when we're going to get that corner next to the wall fixed to the bed. We don't follow a playbook for living our life. Sometimes you just have to break free of how others view your actions and do what you feel is right. Even if it makes you look like a dumbass almost knocking yourself out against a wall while jumping up and pushing a fitted sheet towards that last corner.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
e-cigarettes
As I'm writing this I'm surrounded by a white mist. The mist is triggered by myself sucking on a battery. It looks like a cigarette, but it's about 50 times heavier and I can't hold it with my lips alone. The end has a red glow that's nothing more than a LED. I don't know why they added that feature. It seems kind of stupid. No one could possibly believe it's a real flame. I don't think this thing could catch on fire even if I held a lighter to it.
I can "smoke" inside. This is the greatest benefit in my opinion. If I'm having a bad day at work I can pull thing from my pocket and take a drag. Liquid nicotine gets vaporized and I inhale it into my body. What I exhale is nothing more than water vapor. It doesn't smell. It's a little cloud of shame. My smoke used to smell and burn when inhaled. I was a badass. I had to go outside in a designated area to smoke. It still pissed people off who walked by because they don't like the smell. It takes practice becoming a smoker. The harder the cigarettes the more practice you need. I remember my first camel wide cigarette. I coughed for a minute straight and felt a huge rush of nicotine. I almost threw up.
Never buy an ecigarette while nic-ing out. I walk into this local shop. The owner greets me. How can I help you he says. I want an e-cigarette that looks like a cig....he finishes my sentence "real cigarette". We don't have those he says. I'm thinking this guy is an idiot. He must have heard that before. He finished my sentence. Now I know I'm in trouble. I'm nic-ing out and surrounded by flute shaped e-cigarettes. They're all "smoking" in there and I'm surrounded by this gay mist. I started walking out and say ok thanks. Then this "salesman" says hold up and I don't know why but I turned around. He was cleaning the apparatus with a wetnap. Come over here he says. This is a quality device. The battery lasts for 8 hours. Here try it and he hands it to me. I took a drag and instantly felt relief. I looked down at this flute looking thing and smiled. I quickly looked at the "salesman" and he was looking away. I'm glad he didn't catch that smile. Are you a converter he asks. I say "No, I'm a human". He didn't even smile. Come on man, you're selling me a cigarette not a car! I say "Do you have any of these that look like cigarettes?". He said no and then I walked out. What would he have done if I told him that I've never smoked before and thought this would be a fun hobby? The salesman would have done what salesmen do. He would have sold me a fun new addictive hobby and put some money in his pocket. In a way he's worse than the guy selling me cigarettes. Atleast I know the cigarettes are bad for me.
It saves me money. Cigarettes are $5 to $6 a pack. I was smoking about $2 worth of cigarettes a day. I spend 50 cents a day now. The refill cartridges last two days and they are $1 per.
I think it's healthier except I think I'm taking in more nicotine than before. They don't have the skull and crossbones on the package anyway. No one told me it was bad for me. It must be ok. I can smoke anywhere now so I do. Whenever I feel the urge to smoke I take a pull. Ahhhhh This die-hard smoker at work said he tried e-cigarettes but it didn't have the same burn as a real cigarette. He's in his 50s. I always hear these stories that start like my friend's grandma eats bacon 3 times a day, smokes 2 packs, she's 90 and in perfect health. I have a feeling the tobacco company pays to circulate stories like this because I don't see it often. I rarely see an elderly person smoking.
I have to put a little rubber cap over the end or it tastes like death. Yeah, that's right. To keep my e-cig tasting fresh I have to cap the end with a little cigarette condom. I left the cap off for just one day and the next time I used it I almost got sick. It tasted like mold or something.
It makes me feel like a douche. I cope by with this feeling by the thought that it's just a gateway to me quitting for ever. I'm only sucking this battery for nicotine and once I get to a reasonable point of dependency I'll just stop all together.
Quitters kick ass. If you're someone who has quit smoking then let me tell you that I have a lot of respect for you. My friend at work and I quit at the same time. She quit for real and I only quit for 2 weeks. She told me only emo dbags use e-cigarettes.
I can "smoke" inside. This is the greatest benefit in my opinion. If I'm having a bad day at work I can pull thing from my pocket and take a drag. Liquid nicotine gets vaporized and I inhale it into my body. What I exhale is nothing more than water vapor. It doesn't smell. It's a little cloud of shame. My smoke used to smell and burn when inhaled. I was a badass. I had to go outside in a designated area to smoke. It still pissed people off who walked by because they don't like the smell. It takes practice becoming a smoker. The harder the cigarettes the more practice you need. I remember my first camel wide cigarette. I coughed for a minute straight and felt a huge rush of nicotine. I almost threw up.
Never buy an ecigarette while nic-ing out. I walk into this local shop. The owner greets me. How can I help you he says. I want an e-cigarette that looks like a cig....he finishes my sentence "real cigarette". We don't have those he says. I'm thinking this guy is an idiot. He must have heard that before. He finished my sentence. Now I know I'm in trouble. I'm nic-ing out and surrounded by flute shaped e-cigarettes. They're all "smoking" in there and I'm surrounded by this gay mist. I started walking out and say ok thanks. Then this "salesman" says hold up and I don't know why but I turned around. He was cleaning the apparatus with a wetnap. Come over here he says. This is a quality device. The battery lasts for 8 hours. Here try it and he hands it to me. I took a drag and instantly felt relief. I looked down at this flute looking thing and smiled. I quickly looked at the "salesman" and he was looking away. I'm glad he didn't catch that smile. Are you a converter he asks. I say "No, I'm a human". He didn't even smile. Come on man, you're selling me a cigarette not a car! I say "Do you have any of these that look like cigarettes?". He said no and then I walked out. What would he have done if I told him that I've never smoked before and thought this would be a fun hobby? The salesman would have done what salesmen do. He would have sold me a fun new addictive hobby and put some money in his pocket. In a way he's worse than the guy selling me cigarettes. Atleast I know the cigarettes are bad for me.
It saves me money. Cigarettes are $5 to $6 a pack. I was smoking about $2 worth of cigarettes a day. I spend 50 cents a day now. The refill cartridges last two days and they are $1 per.
I think it's healthier except I think I'm taking in more nicotine than before. They don't have the skull and crossbones on the package anyway. No one told me it was bad for me. It must be ok. I can smoke anywhere now so I do. Whenever I feel the urge to smoke I take a pull. Ahhhhh This die-hard smoker at work said he tried e-cigarettes but it didn't have the same burn as a real cigarette. He's in his 50s. I always hear these stories that start like my friend's grandma eats bacon 3 times a day, smokes 2 packs, she's 90 and in perfect health. I have a feeling the tobacco company pays to circulate stories like this because I don't see it often. I rarely see an elderly person smoking.
I have to put a little rubber cap over the end or it tastes like death. Yeah, that's right. To keep my e-cig tasting fresh I have to cap the end with a little cigarette condom. I left the cap off for just one day and the next time I used it I almost got sick. It tasted like mold or something.
It makes me feel like a douche. I cope by with this feeling by the thought that it's just a gateway to me quitting for ever. I'm only sucking this battery for nicotine and once I get to a reasonable point of dependency I'll just stop all together.
Quitters kick ass. If you're someone who has quit smoking then let me tell you that I have a lot of respect for you. My friend at work and I quit at the same time. She quit for real and I only quit for 2 weeks. She told me only emo dbags use e-cigarettes.
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