Colorful World

Red, orange, green, pink, blue, purple, yellow, our world is full of vibrant colors. They exist everywhere, brightening our lives in ways we often take for granted.
I've been pondering colors lately.
In their most basic form, colors are a result of the visible light color spectrum. Light hits an object, and various wavelengths of light are absorbed and reflected resulting in the color we perceive.

Color is, therefore, a perception. This conclusion poses a few interesting questions. If color is the product of wavelengths of light, does color even exist in the dark?
Some would argue that the color of a lemon exists even in the dark because darkness is temporary. Every time there is darkness, light is close behind. I disagree. Night is a period of time just like day, one could argue that light is temporary.

In the dark, colors are not perceived. If I stand in the middle of my yard in the dark and I pick up a piece of grass, it doesn't matter how strongly my logic tells me that grass is green, I will not be able to perceive that color unless I take it into some form of light.
Because of this, physics tells us that in the dark, grass is both colorless and every color at the same time.
Without light to help us perceive the color of grass, the color does not exist. Then I have to ask myself, if color is a perception that can be perceived at one moment, then be non-existent the next, is color real?

If I have a five dollar bill that appears and disappears when in different atmospheres, I would be skeptical about its solidity, its existence even.

Not only is color a perception, but it also is the product of the anatomical and physiological makeup of our eyes and brain. Adding further to the shaky existence of color, some people are colorblind. Something about the makeup or function of their eyes causes them to not perceive certain colors. If I look at a green leaf and someone else looks at it and sees no color, does the color exist or not exist?
Also, we have a very limited understanding of how animals see colors. Perhaps a yellow lemon is not a yellow lemon to them. Perhaps to some specific animal, lemons are blue. Who am I to argue that my perception is more accurate or more correct than another person or animal's perception?If three different beings perceive a lemon in three completely different ways, can I really argue to the reality and validity of my perception. Can I claim that color exists and is concrete if it can vary in such extreme ways. After all, each person/animal's perception of a lemon's color is just as valid and accurate as the other person or animal.

Whatever the reality of color happens to be, when I look outside on a gorgeous fall day and I see the colorful leaves, the fresh blue sky, the fluffy white clouds, the flutter and song of a bird passing by, I smile. Accident or purposeful creation, real or non-existent, color is a blessing I take for granted every day.

Forever

Gone is a long time, it kinda sounds like forever. And forever is a strange word, it's hard to imagine.
Sometimes I think I can picture forever. I picture it like this.

Take a laser beam, and shoot it right up through the stars. It would be a special laser beam, of course, one that was stronger than a volcano, and one that stayed strong, no matter how far away you shine it. It would start up like a roar on earth and shoot up past the moon in an instant. It would sail past all the planets like lightning, it would brush galaxies, and streak through astroid belts. And no matter how far and how fast you followed it in a space shuttle, you would never be able to catch up with the end of that red line of light. It would be billions of lightyears away from earth, but it would just keep going and going and going.

Then I picture zooming out on the whole incident. Zooming out and out until the milky way is just a speck in a sea of specks. Then, I watch that little red line growing and growing. Expanding and flying through space like water, trickling across dirt.

I try to picture how big I am in comparison.
Which, when you're talking in terms concerning outer space and viewing thousands of galaxies at one time, is less than microscopic. In fact, if I were doing a scientific experiment in which the results of the experiment were the size of the universe, and the margin of error were the size of human being in the universe, the error would be tossed out as insignificant.

After taking some time to meditate on my relative size, I whiz back down to earth, stand right at the base of that gigantic volcano laser beam....and I look up.

I picture that red light going up and up and up, but never reaching the ceiling. That's kinda how I picture forever. And gone is just as big.

Decapitated no more

For years, people in cultures all around the world have marveled at the stoic statue heads standing everywhere on Easter Island.
All of them are about the same size, and all of them have unbelievably boring facial expressions.
How did they get there? Who put them there? How were they transported to their locations all over the island?

Although few answers have been found concerning these famous statue heads, turns out they have once again taken us by surprise. A recent excavation of one of these heads revealed that the Easter Island statue heads, are in fact, not heads at all, but entire bodies.
The Easter Island statue heads are only heads because they are buried in soil up to their necks.

After the first statue was unearthed, more of the heads were examined only to find more statues with complete bodies.

Here is the link to the most-in depth description of this new discovery.

http://m.now.msn.com/now/0516-easter-island-statues

Unfortunately, this discovery only brings to light more questions. Why were all the statues buried? Was it intentional? Or was it the result of natural erosion or some other natural event?

Whatever the reason, the Easter Island statues remain one of the most intriguing mysteries on our planet.

Chase Noah

There are times when I stare my own mistakes in the eye. Sometimes these experiences make me weak, and sometimes they make me stronger.
This weekend has been an experience with the latter effect.

He was a friend and coworker to me. I remember the first time I met him. He came into the room with the most carefree smile. I chuckled to myself because he couldn't sit still. He sat down for a second, then jumped up to get something, then sat down again and repeated the process all over again.
I still laugh when I think of him spraying air freshener down the hall. "One, two, three, four, *spray*. One, two, three, four, *spray*" he said out loud as he walked. He was convinced that a spray every four steps was the perfect balance for the ultimate freshness.
Every time I worked he insisted on taking out the trash for me. "Hey I'm just gonna take this out real quick," he would say briskly, "It's kinda heavy." He always lugged it out for me no matter how many times I told him that I could handle it.
He was great at breaking things, but it was impossible to be mad at him for long. He loved to eat, and had an unquenchable appetite. He was young, athletic, and fun to have around.

We were surprised when we found out on Saturday that he hung himself.
All of my coworkers at the animal clinic where I work, and myself, have been in a state of shock for the last few days. Clients who come in for appointments have been met with a halfhearted reception.
Talk in the break-room is gloomy and filled with regrets. Most of us hope that he just drank too much, it clashed with his medication, and he went crazy and didn't know what he was doing. It's easier to think of it in those terms.

Either way, our friend Chase is gone.

Now, I've made mistakes in my life, I admit that, but fortunately I've never made any mistakes that had permanent results like the one that Chase made this weekend. In the end, all we can ever really hope for, is that our mistakes will mold us into a person with whom we can be content; a person who has been burned and bent and strengthened by the mistakes they've made.

Seeing the results of Chase's decision, and feeling the grief of his loss, has given me a fresh insight into my own growth. I can say that I am content with my change, and that realization is truly a peaceful feeling.
I only wish that Chase could have given himself the benefit of changing, and feeling the same.

Rest in peace, Chase, we miss you.

Photo Source Emitted for Privacy

NFL says "see a shrink!"

In a surprising new policy change, the NFL has set in place a new rule saying that people who are thrown out of the football stadium for disorderly conduct have to take a 4 hour survey in order to get into any NFL game for the rest of the season.
If the individual chooses to come to a game before taking the survey, he or she could be arrested for trespassing.

The survey costs $75, and at the conclusion, the person taking the survey/test has to complete an exit exam which has to be passed with a score of 70% or higher.

Photos and information on the individuals who refuse to take the survey are sent to the stadiums in question, and if they try to attend a game, they face arrest and possibly jail time.

Evidentially the theory is that if unruly behavior is treated with harsh intolerance, people will think twice before throwing that beer bottle at the referee.

I have mixed opinions about this new rule, but at the very least, it's entertaining.

Link: Photo Source

This, our world in shades of grey...

Through time, I have become increasingly aware of the fact that we live in a world that is almost free of absolutes. The absolute black and white, and right and wrong regions of our existence are exceedingly small indeed. Every rule has an exception, and every exception possesses an exception of its own. I'm not saying that there are no absolute wrongs or rights in life, I'm just stating that when life is broken down objectively, the lines begin to blur.

A murderer is wrong, no doubt about it...right?
But when it comes down to each situation, no one can actually testify to what was happening at that very moment, in that exact situation...except for the man or woman breathing that moment's air. Even two people who are experiencing the same thing can not testify to the other person's experience in every single aspect. We are individuals, plain and simple.

At the very most, all we can really say about murder is that it is illegal. That statement is true, but saying that murder is wrong is too ambiguous. That sentence implies an absolute, and murder can not be considered wrong in every single instance.
This is an obvious example, but would murdering Adolf Hitler have been wrong? It's still murder, taking another human's life, but he was a tyrant who preformed mass genocide.

This problem, of how hazy the lines between right and wrong really are, is why it is illogical to judge other people's actions, opinions, and life choices. Let's assume, just for a moment, that judging someone isn't rude and petty. The truth is that judging someone is impossible. No human being can correctly testify to any other human being's experience of any situation.

That is the essence of passing a judgement on someone else, after all; saying that you're viewpoint, opinion, point of view, life choice, or action is right, and theirs is wrong.

However, despite all of this, the judicial system in America is extremely important. It is very necessary to be able to pass judgment on someone who has acted outside of the law. Without this power, criminals would have no accountability for their actions. But the complexity of the judicial system itself testifies to how difficult it really is to put the label "right" or "wrong" on someone's actions.

I often find it difficult to stand silently by when I hear casual statements that generalize people into absolute categories without even contemplating how absurd it is to do so.
For example, the other day I heard this statement,
"People who use profanity have limited vocabularies."
This sentence implies that every single person who has ever used profanity has a limited vocabulary. This is obviously impossible to say. In order to correctly make this statement, one would have to give a vocabulary test to every single person who has ever uttered a cuss word.
This absurdity is obvious to me, but maybe I'm the only one who immediately hears these things in every conversation I have.

Now, that's not saying that I never pass judgements on others. Another truth in life is the ever present hypocrisy we encounter every day. Often, though, my judgements are even more petty than those made by others. It is my nature to acknowledge the logic in other people's actions, opinions, life choices, and viewpoints, so often my judgements are made out of a personal dislike for the individual.
Because of this, I will be bashing the person I dislike, but even though I desperately want to hate them, I have to respect their viewpoints. It's kind of like I have to separate the person from their situation; bash the person, but remain objective about the situation. Over-objectivity makes hating people complicated.

In the end, I very much like how unclear the world really is.

It gives us complexity, and it gives each person the benefit of a unique situation. It is the gift of individuality; the privilege of being separate from the general population and handed a blank slate on which to draw a life that is different from every other life that has ever been lived.
That is truly a priceless gift indeed. Preserve that gift with everything you have, and never steal it from anyone else.


On that note, I wrote a poem about this very thing; how absolutes are small, hazy, and ever changing.

Shades of grey

No blacks or whites, no wrongs or rights,
I stand under a sunset of grey.
I smile and chastise the thought of embracing any other sky.

With life wrapped in spheres of absolutes,
Philosophy would die.
Men with no fire of will, no pointed opinions,
No illogical prejudices;
The echoing screech of robots asexually filling the planet with
Robotic clones and more passionless life.

Tear it down off the wall,
This thought,
Crumple it,
Toss it away.

Dance with me joyfully,
Saluting the shades of grey that fill our skies with heartbeats.
Embrace the hazy edges of our confusing world!

Rejoice in the ambiguous nature of personality,
The missing clarity in love and death.

I raise my eyes to the birds,
The planes gulped up by the clouds,
Stunning!

What perfect imperfection, this, our world in shades of grey.

The Jaffa Invasion

I saw him right away.
I was standing in a small room with windows in the wall and door. Through the door I could see a hallway that went for a ways to the left and then turned right. Directly across from the room where I was standing, there was another door with a window in it. This one looked into a much bigger room where a surgery was happening.
Probably just a spay or something, I've seen so many surgeries that it doesn't really matter.
He was wearing a brown sleeveless shirt and ragged work pants. Heavy work boots covered his feet and seemed to weigh them down.
He was a Goa'uld.

I shrank back from the door, trying to make myself small. The next little bit was a blur, but soon I found myself being chased down the hall, Goa'uld on my heels. I turned around because I couldn't outrun him and I knew my only hope was to fight him.
He threw me to the floor, and I thought to myself, "I need a gun!"
Like magic, a pistol appeared in my hands and I began shooting him. Soon I was able to wrestle free from him and run away.

After what seemed like hours, I was at the church where I went as a kid. The Goa'uld were everywhere! There was a mothership hovering over the gym, and myself and a few others were fighting the Jaffa. I decided my best bet was to hide and then come out when they had left. I was running behind the gym, heading for the corner of the building. I looked behind me and I saw a toxic green colored rain coming towered me. I knew the mothership above me was dropping acid in an attempt to stop me. I also knew that if I could just get to the the corner of the building I would be okay. The door to go inside was around the corner, and the Jaffa hadn't invade the gym yet. I tried to run faster, but it seemed like I was slowing down. There was just a few more feet to go, but by this point I was running so slowly I was actually using the wall to PULL myself along!
The green rain was creeping up behind me, I glanced back and saw the grass dying where the rain was hitting it only a few feet behind me. I pulled with all my might, moving my muscles as fast as I could, inching along at a snails pace.
I stretched out my arm as far as I could and grasped the edge of the building. I pulled myself past the corner just a moment after the rain hit me.
In the safety past the corner of the building, I rubbed the rain off of my skin the best that I could. It burned and my skin blistered under its harsh touch

I didn't have time to nurse my wounds though, I needed to get inside and find somewhere to hide.

Once inside the gym, I crept my way to the kitchen. I contemplated hiding in one of the ovens, but I decided that if I hid there, there was a chance one of the Jaffa would lock me inside and cook me.
While I was searching for somewhere to hide, I saw my mom and brother run out one of the side doors. I followed them, and saw, way down on the church's parking lot, a van with all of it's doors open.
The thought occurred to me that I could just...leave.

I ran out to the van with mom and my brother, Nathan. We all got in, and started out on the road towards home. I thought we were all clear, but then I looked behind us, and saw the mothership turn onto the road behind us. It was gaining fast and I knew we couldn't outrun it.

At this point, I decide that the leaving-in-the-van-thing was a bad idea, and so I undid it.

I appeared back in the gym, as if it had never happened. Now there was a group of ten or so people gathered there. They were all people that I went to school with. I joined them, and we stealthily made our way down through the church until we reached the fireside room.

Evidentially this group of people had found a secret hiding place and were going to wait out the Goa'uld invasion Ann Frank style.
One by one, we climbed up a ladder into a floored space above the ceiling. Here, I watched the Jaffa troops assemble and raid the church and surrounding homes.

Then, I woke up...

I've been watching a TON of Stargate. I've seen the Knox revive their dead, Apophis enslave the Jaffa, and SG-1 saving the world time after time.
I've been watching Stargate so much, in fact, that I've begun to dream about it.
Now my level of obsession would be categorized as moderate. I am definitely capable of having conversations that don't involve Stargate. I don't shirk schoolwork to watch the next episode, but I am pretty consumed.

The woman portrayed in the picture at the bottom of this post is at the other end of the spectrum. She has spent several thousand dollars buying props from the show, including the full-sized Stargate she's standing by.
The next picture is a guy who got stargate address symbols tattooed on his arm.

So although I may be pretty obsessed with Stargate, these people make my obsession seem obsolete.

(note to others with obsessions:
If you have a geeky obsession like mine, it's always nice to find the lunatics who are in fan clubs and such. Then, when someone comments on how weirdly obsessed you are, you can pull out your picture of the crazy Stargate chick and point out how obviously normal you are)

In reality, everyone has something they really love. My brother is obsessed with Geocaching. (if you don't know what that is, just Google it) He's found over 6,000 of them.
My obsession is Stargate.

My theory is that without things to be passionate about, people would be no different than computers. It's built into our bones, flowing through our blood; humans are creatures of passion, and what a truly wonderful thing it is indeed!

Link: Photo source

Link: Photo Source