My Musings

I just finished formatting my fourth blog, and I'm beginning to think there is something wrong with me. Can a person have too many blogs? We all know the saying, perhaps, that a "Jack of all trades is good at none." Well, I hope that doesn't apply to blogs. Could it be said that a "Jack of all blogs is good at none"? Have I created an intellectual prism, through which my mental powers are divided into the individual colors that make up the whole? Either the brilliance of the beam is dispersed through the prism, or the seperation of colors makes for a pleasant medley of distinct tastes that make up something greater and more delicious than could otherwise be achieved through only one blog.

So last Saturday at dinner, I told a friend that "I never get sick; and I don't even need to knock on wood when I say that." Well, perhaps I should have done at least one knock - just to make sure. Yes, it's true: I'm sick. My eyes are on fire, my head going to burst, my joints ache a bit, and my skin feels considerably more sensitive than usual. It is in times like these that I question whether the superstitions of ages past - and even of the present - merit the skepticism that we give them. So I'm sick. And I don't think that Airborne really works. I think it's all whooey, actually. I've drunk that stuff like six times since yesterday, and I still feel just as bad, if not worse, than I usually feel during a cold. I would bet that all the extra vitamins just pass straight through the body and are disposed of. Now, if Airborne does nothing, then is one superstitious if he takes it and swears to its efficacy? Are we still in the dark ages where witc

I don't know if anyone else blogs just for the sake of blogging, but that is what I am doing right now. Most of the time, when I do this sort of thing - usually when I really want to write something...anything - those are the times when I have seemingly nothing to write about. That may generally explain Luminiferous Brilliance... I've been reading. Pretty simple thing to say. But it's significant. What is reading? It's translation of words into thoughts. Words are a medium for the thoughts of one mind to be transferred to the mind of another - specifically, from the author to the reader. I don't think it is far-fetched to state that the written word is a way of directing the thoughts of another, but only to an extent. Books are really like a guided river-boat ride. All the most fascinating things are highlighted, but the individual on the ride is free to let his gaze wander and free to draw his own conclusions. Nevertheless, he is on the boat and still subject to

Only the very observant will notice that I changed the title of my blog. I did not do so lightly. I don't do anything lightly, I think. It was only a slight change, but it means a lot to me. I've probably deleted several lines of text, and here I am back at the beginning. It is in these moments, when I feel but cannot articulate, that I have the most trouble. I enjoy photography. But it is a mixed pleasure for me. I've made some excellent photos in the recent years, but I have difficulty enjoying them as much as the random observer might enjoy them. You would think that my mental attachments to the photos through the experience of their creation would render me more able to appreciate them and take pleasure in my accomplishment. But sometimes it is quite the opposite. When I look at a photo from a year ago, I remember who I was, and I'd rather be who I am now. It's like the past comes to haunt me through the photographic preservation of things as they used to be,

I was informed that the link on the last post no longer works. Try this new one. Burning Down the House Also visit my new political blog, "Purely Political" .

I don't think I've been very political on my blog yet, but I can't resist on this one. This is an excellent video that tells how the current economic mess came to be. It doesn't look pretty for one presidential candidate... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5tZc8oH--o It all sounds pretty consistant with what I've been hearing. By the way, use the pause button throughout the video if it's moving along a little too quickly. Enjoy.

"If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning." -C. S. Lewis

Power : "the ability to do or act; capability of doing or accomplishing something." - Random House Dictionary Some time ago, I heard an interesting statistic. It was that gun owners tend to be happier than those who do not own guns. The speculated reason was that gun owners feel like they have more control over their lives. This fascinated me, and has inspired me to write on the subject of power as it relates to happiness. They are both important subjects, and it is likely that we are all seeking for more of each. But how are they related? After much brainstorming, I have come to the conclusion that without power, there is no happiness. Undoubtedly, at the very mention of the word power, some will immediately entertain thoughts of corruption, war, or dictators like Hitler or Stalin. They both definitely had a degree, or at least a certain type, of power, but it needn't be argued that their power ultimately led to a great deal of suffering and unhappiness. The power to opp

If you've never witnessed the germination and growth of a pumpkin vine, then you are missing out on something magical. This has been the second season in which I have seen the fruit of my labors, but moreso the fruit of the hand of God. This summer, in perhaps a more feeble way than I think, I have come to know why agriculture can make a God-fearer out of you. It all starts out with a seed scarcely the size of a fingernail, which sprouts within a week or so. From there the growth is rapid and vigorous. Within a couple months the ground that was once the home of a little sproutling, is covered with green. The pumpkins are formed and ripening. Where is the miracle, you may ask? It is in the fruit, in the vine, in the habitation formed by the Whole. The miracle is in the organization of Chaos. Dirt is entropy of earthly organic materials. Dirt is death, the disassociation of materials from a lively form to a non-intelligent state. Somehow the pumpkin seed uses the roadmap of DNA, wate

Now that this blog has been long forgotten, it is time to write again. I just lost inspiration...

I took a creative writing class in high school, in which we would daily have time to free-write. The theory was that moving the pen would spark creativity and give us something to write about, even if we were at a block. That's kind of what I'm doing here. What resulted were directionless babblings, sprinkled with flecks of creativity. Now that I think of it, why would anyone care to read my "free-write"? It is probably uninteresting so far. Answer: because it will likely be brilliant. Or not. This may just be a waste of time, but I'm in one of those moods that compells me to write, even though my thoughts haven't taken a definite form. I should be ecstatic for the sole reason that school is out, but I'm not exactly that. It seems like life is a tricky thing. It may be that we have more things to stress about than we can cope with, so we just pick a few at a time and are never short of supply of them; or there are multiple spickets that turn on and off, bu

Here I am blogging when I should be working on a research paper for my history class. It's about the three ancient civilizations that have had the greatest impact on our modern society. I'm arguing that Greece, Rome, and ______ are the podium perched trio in this one. If you think it sounds boring, read on, because I won't be writing about it. But it got me thinking about things Roman and how I want my blog to look more Roman. Now, my perception of a Roman blog is probably nothing like the blogs they actually had in 37 B.C., or whatever, but that's okay. My real question that I asked myself was "why do I want a Roman-looking blog?" The answer delves deep into the essence of human nature and comes disconcertingly close to viewing the nucleus of consciousness . Put on your non mercury-tainted beaver pelt hat , and grab your walking cane, for this may be a long walk down the road of knowledge. It's a rough and dusty road, full of hills and potholes. Do not fr

Go here to read it. Need I say more? Yes. Global warming is fake. Go here too. Okay, so I feel like posting more, and it's the same day...hour. In light of the subject of the great hoax called "global warming" I would like to share my tribute to coal from a recent academic assignment: Man's best friend The magnificence, and uses of coal are endless. The rotten carcasses of the dinosaurs have travelled through the ages to bring us the miracle of Prometheus's ' spark. The flame, the soot, the toil, the sweat, even the blood, are all part of the undying legacy of coal. It is a legacy that powered the engine of the rising industrial machine, and a legacy that will take us down the rails of a glorious journey, of which the end can scarcely be comprehended. While the fads of green power will come and go, coal will remain ever constant, like a loyal friend. Never did a young child receive a better gift on Christmas morn, than a lump of coal.

It seems like all of the famous blogs post on Tuesdays or thereabouts, so it would only make sense for me to post on a Tuesday also. But I feel as though I have nothing to say that is worthwhile, or I at least struggle to have the desire to continue, which leaves me in that undesireable state of deciding whether I want to keep tapping the keyboard, or just click on the little red X in the upper right hand corner of the screen. *click*

It has finally come to the point that I deem it literally and metaphorically time to begin this little venture into the blogging world. For many weeks my mind has laboured heavily over my decision of what to write about. It had to be impressive, I thought, so as to attract the masses of the web. But blogs are many, and time is short. Not every voice can be heard by ma ny. Yet I begin in the face of daunting odds. It is to the subject of beginnings that my th oughts are appropriately drawn. Now for the metaphor. I think of the soil of the earth, from which emerges plants of infinite variety. The dust of space is routinely drawn together to form stars, solar systems, galaxies... Our minds take the chaos of life, the entropy of non-intelligence, and find meaning. What is this miracle that we behold? The miracle of intelligence, of order! Gradually, we take the chaos of life, and we arrange it in such a way that the chaos becomes creation. The universe moves and labors to destroy itself, t