Wreckage Cannot be created or destroyed, only repaired.

I should have a new machine sometime next week, at which point I shall begin the long and arduous task of updating everything I said I would from the last post. Arduous is such a cool word. I wonder if I spelled it right. Anyway, to tide you over, here's an amusing theory I developed based on my driving experience. In the past four months, my 62' Greenbriar has suffered a rear-end assault, a side-swipe, and two flat tires. None of it has caused irreparable damage or prevented me from driving for long, and neither of the collisions were my fault, but all three incidents (both flats happened at the same time) have caused undue stress and financial annoyance. This has lead me to believe in a law of conservation of wreckage. This law states that every individual who owns or will ever own an automobile will suffer a given amount of wreckage. Because of the short life-spans of the vehicles I can afford, it is safe to say that I will probably own several different automobiles. Thus, the damage done to my modes of transportation must be split thin to cover all my vehicles evenly. It is probably safe to say that I will not be any more wrecks until I start driving something else.

Darth Sidious: People Person

A combination of personal curiousity and reflections from The Darth Side has inspired me to write a sort of fan-fic. I don't know if it's been done yet, but I really want to get the Palpatine story. I have been intrigued with his character for quite some time, and I would like to research his character. I'll do my research, see what stuff has been written for him thus far, but hopefully I can put more of my own ideas into his rise to Sith Lord.

Inadvertedly Submitted by Jenna Smith

In an online correspondence with the Valedictorian of Tech's class of 2005, a few amusing stories came into being. I have posted them here, because I think they're funny. If you don't, you probably stopped reading my posts a while ago, so I'm not too worried about it.

Jenna Wrote:
So... once upon a time, there was this guy. His name was Marten. And last Wednesdsay, he flew (yes, like a bird, with his own wings) to a distant island where they are currently filming the next Survivor episode. After suggesting a contest idea to Jeff Probst (lightsaber tree battles) he continued his trip and visited the continent of Antarctica. There, he became a foreign exchange student with a family of unable-to-fly-but-still-noble-birds (they think penguin is discrimnatory). He learned how to fish and found the bad-Santa's workshop located on the South Pole (for everything there must be balance). He then took his plane and flew around the world so fast that he went forward in time. There, he bought a pocket watch that made him invisible. Then, he flew backward a long, long time so that he went back to the beginning of Episode three filming. His pocket watch let him watch all of the filming of Episode Three without anyone being the wiser, but! during the last take, he accidentally dropped it and appeared right between Padme and Anakin. George Lucas found out what happened, kicked him off the set, then started filming all over again, completely changing the plot line. Afraid of what else might happen, he finally went back to his own time and place. He thought everyone would ask him where he got his "I was kicked off the Episode Three set and all I got was this lousy, yet cool, T-Shirt" shirt, but everyone else only saw the official No-Pants Day shirt. "Why are you wearing that shirt, Marten?" they asked, "No Pants Day was yesterday. Where were you?" Ahh... if only they knew.

I Wrote:

I only wish last Wednesday were that interesting, but sadly it was slightly less exciting than that. I sort of robbed a bank. Don't tell my mother, she still doesn't know. I discovered my super powers earlier last week, and decided to test them by braking into a bank safe. I didn't actually plan to steal anything; I can only use my powers for good. However, it is possible that others may develop similar abilities, and I figured that the traditional targets of super villains would save quite a bit of money revamping their security systems if the first attack came from some one who wasn't going to take any of their money.

She Wrote:

Can you imagine the life of a pair of sunglasses? It must be weird. First, you start off in a factory where you're born. Then, you are boxed up with all your brothers and sisters. After a long time in the dark, a humanoid lets light in, then sets you on a rack where there are fluoresent lights all around. A weird guy picks you up and puts you on his ugly big nose. Look, there's a wart! He puts you back on the rack, then a girl comes over and trys you on. She takes you off and pays for you. You have a new home. The girl wears you in the car and outside. You spend many, many hours perched atop her head. You get tossed aside sometimes, but she keeps track of you even as you travel overseas and through the country. It's a good life.

More coming later, unless she gets mad that I posted these and stops writing. Hopefully she won't mind.

I had this really awesome thought process through intentions and levels of morality, but the school computer froze up before I could publish it. But trust me, it was awesome. Bow down to my profound inner-vision.

Man and His Machine

So I discovered that my car only stopped working because something knocked the killswitch in the trunk, and it's not broken or anything. Still, I'm not going back to that thing. I've moved on. I'm driving the corvair van, now, for better or for worse. I've taken all my trash out of the sable, and I have removed Geoffrey, my dashboard buddy. He's a dragon that blinks. Lina says he looks more like a Charlie, but that's beside the point. I've left my car for another. I had some good times with the it, and we've had our differences. It's going to be tough; they say the first car is always hard to leave behind, but I will have to be strong. I've already started something with the corvair, it's taken me places. We've had our first fight, and we've worked it out. I think this is the start of something good.

Jonah inspired me. check out his stuff here

It got bigger

We had a sort of a script writing clinic thingy in drama, and we were charged with writing ten lines of a script for a show that clearly took place in the future, and something seemingly impossible had to happen, but it had to be possible to stage.

One and Two are holed up in a moderately small space. It is clear that they are hiding from something

ONE: You think it's gone?
TWO: I don't know. I don't hear anything
ONE: Take a look outside.
TWO: Why do I have to look? Why don't you do it?
ONE: I'm One. You're Two. You have to do what I say.
TWO: What if it gets me?
ONE: It would be worse if it got me.
Two seems to accept this logic. Two slides th door open slightly, looks out, suppresses a scream & quickly shuts the door
ONE: What? What did you see?
TWO: (Panting)It... got... Bigger... I think it saw me...
ONE: What do you mean? How much bigger?
A loud banging is heard off stage. Possibly a roar.
TWO: A LOT Bigger

So that's my crappy handfull of lines. feel free to make fun of it, though I think I've got an idea for an entire show based on the relationship between One and Two. Probably something to do with seniority=/=superiority.

Adventures in Keyboarding: Continued

An essay, the rubric of which only defined the number of words and the topic "Spring Break":

You have exactly one week to do what ever you want. What do you do with it? You certainly can’t waste it; a whole week is valuable time. Yet, while this time is too valuable to waste, it is a whole lot more time than one has been accustomed to since winter. Without careful planning, the entire week could go by and no one would ever know it was there to begin with. So what does one do with a free week? I have compiled several possible plans to make your spring break more manageable. These plans will be listed in order of level of detail. Some of these plans are more complicated than others, and it is recommended that you try the more traditional plans first. If you find these too simple, feel free to move on to more elaborate arrangements.

Level 1: Simple vacation

The most common spring break plans are small excursions to a beach, park, or other kind of resort. The simple vacation may last through the entirety of the week, or just a couple days of it, depending on funding. When planning a simple vacation, the following must be taken into consideration: where it is you are going, how long you’re going to stay there, and means of transportation. Depending on these three factors, other questions of packing and how much money to carry will arise, but those details will vary from situation to situation. The simple vacation is not for everyone; if you are uncomfortable with simple relaxation, please try one of the other plans.

Level 2: Party

Some would argue that a party is simpler than a vacation, but this is a common misconception. Preparation for a party is much more demanding than it seems. Unlike a family vacation or short excursion with a close friend or loved one, a party involves a high level of political intrigue. When preparing for a party, the most important detail, aside from food, is who is coming to the party. With limited resources, one has a limited number of possible guests, and one must choose carefully who to leave out. Even when party resources are abundant, tough decisions are replaced with possible miscalculations, and someone can be left out by accident. This situation is even worse than the former, as one left out of a party at which a large number of people attended is likely to be more sour than one left out of a small, exclusive group. When entertaining a large number of people, one must also maintain a level of etiquette unknown by many who have attempted the position of host or hostess. A host must be sure of the comfort of all guests, aware of how much food or drink is available, and must be ready repair any damages that are commonly made by large concentrations of people having a good time. The efficiency of parties is debatable, depending on the level of planning and the after-math. If you spend half your break preparing for a party, one night actually throwing it, and the rest of break cleaning up after it, then the party was not very efficient.

Level 3: Wacky adventure

This is a quite complicated venture that requires luck, timing, and almost no experience at all. In fact, the less experience one has with wacky adventures, the better. The actual events that constitute a wacky adventure will vary considerable, but they must be zany, absurd, silly, or unimaginable in some way for it to be considered as “wacky.” No possible adventures will be listed here, as that would ruin the wackiness of any adventure you may have. If you really want to learn more about wacky adventures, check out Madcap Hijinks for Idiots at your local library. If you are uncomfortable with making things up as you go along, please consider any of the other plans before attempting a wacky adventure.

Level 4: Organized Crime

Caution: For Experts Only! Illegal operations of any kind require a high level of organization and pre-planning, and to be able to pull off any sort of heist in one week is a challenge for only the greatest of minds. Possible crimes include, but are not limited to: casino robbery, jewelry heist, mass-burglary, safecracking, bank robbery (a classic favorite) and museum heists. Most thefts will involve the manipulation of some form of security, be it laser motion detectors, automated or live guards, or heavy containment units. More complicated jobs will have more than one kind of security system combined, adding to the danger level, as well as the pay-off. For the protection of the author, no successful plans may be listed in this volume. Good Luck!

Boredom lies crushed and defeated by my mighty hand!

Adventures in Keyboarding

In such a stifling class as keyboarding/documenting, one must make every attempt at silliness as possible. Here is an example of my escape from typing tedium. More will come as a feel like posting them.

A rare open-ended question in a typing exercise:

A student sees a designer jacket hanging over the door of a locker. No one seems to be around. The student tries it on; it looks great. He likes it and wants it. He reasons that if the owner can afford an expensive jacket, he can afford another one. So quickly the student puts it in his gym bag and walks away.

The student is absolutely within his rights for taking the jacket. One’s immediate reaction to this is one of disdain, but what is an expensive jacket to a rich owner? Clearly, it was unimportant enough to leave it lying around in a locker room where anyone of loose morals may pick it up. Suppose it didn’t belong to the one who left it there? Suppose it was borrowed, and now some poor guy has to pay for a brand new jacket that he was only borrowing for one reason or another? Well, that’s tough. He should have taken more responsibility with something that did not belong to him. Aside from the responsibility issues of the previous owner, one must also look at the moral vanity of ownership of the jacket. The student-gone-thief has actually done the owner a favor in taking away something so unimportant as a designer jacket. What is the significance of a jacket, anyway? Must one wear expensive clothing to be respected? In the loss of this utterly insignificant symbol of our materialistic culture, perhaps the previous owner learns that designer or name-brand clothing is not important, a valuable moral lesson.

short trip

Unable to focus on my book report, I was hit by a small particle of inspiration. It turned into a short story about a guy who gets his head cut off and thinks about it.

The crowd jeered and taunted as a dejected looking fellow was marched up to a platform by an intimidating figure wearing a black mask. Towards the front of the platform was a basket. Directly behind the basket was the guillotine; the one way door to eternity that had seen the end of many lives, innocent and guilty alike. Incidentally, its next victim was, in fact, guilty. He understood perfectly well the possible consequences of his actions before he took them. This did nothing, however, to keep his mind off the fact that he was about to die a gruesome death in front of thousands of people who hated him.
The executioner slowly lowered his head to the cutting block, and locked him into place. the crowds taunts became louder and some of them began to hurl fresh produce at the condemned man. Were he not about to die, he may have appreciated the irony that these fools were throwing away the very thing that they begged for everyday. The executioner stepped back, pulled a lever, and with a sickening thud, the man's head dropped into the basket.
'Strange,' thought the man, 'That wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Hardly felt a thing. A quick snap and it's off with my head. Or is it off with my body, I wonder? I'm sure that the rest of me must be more confused than I am, not knowing what my brain wants it to do, and all. And yet, without my body, I can't very well get anything done, myself. Which part is missing which? Perhaps--'
At that point, the oxygen in his brain expired, rendering him incapable of thought, incoherent or otherwise.

Sticking it to the Man

In an odd conversation with some random old guy about my bathrobe, I came to the realization that authority and leadership are completely different things, and that authority truely exists to be challenged. If no one challenged authority, it need not exist.

Authority is somewhat of a place holder for leadership. If you don't have certain leadership skills, you are given authority to make up for it. If one were a perfect leader, authority would not be necessary, because one would be compelled to follow or respect that leader. The best leaders do not actually make you do anything, they make you want to do things. A good leader will clarify situations that require leadership in such a way that the leader's desired action is the same as the desired action of those being lead. This can be construed as manipulation, but it does not require the leader to have any level of authority bestowed upon him or her by an outside power.

An authority figure will dictate what must be done in the situation. The reasons why this must be done are irrelevant, for the figure of authority has been granted power by some real or percieved source. At the same time, those subordinate must have the power to challenge the authority for the authority to have purpose. Without the power of authority, those subordinate to the person who holds it would have no reason to obey. And yet, without the possibility of insubordination, the power of authority is pointless. Power over something unable to challenge is not power at all; one might as well boast of one's ability to turn a machine on and off. Authority does not exist for those who would submit to it, but for those who would challenge it.

More on this later, as I develop my point.

I've lost my silly. I don't feel random at all. I had it for a little while, but it's gone now. there's a hole.

The title of this post will become obvious, but I didn't really want it at the top of my page in bold letters.

The guide to being awesome shall be put on hiatus because I don't really feel awesome right now. I feel like an ass. I can't get a fucking job, I'm failing weichert's class because I'm fucking lazy, my parents are mad because I can't get a fucking job and I've got a fucking headache. I can't say what else is bothering me because it would probably make it worse. I'm tired of saying fucking obsenities, because fuck is probably one of the stupidest words in existence. It doesn't even make you feel any better for getting your fucking anger out, it just makes you sound like a fucking pile of white trash. It even looks fucking ugly, I mean look at the fucking word! Is it pleasant to read? doesn't it make you want to write some fucking complaint to whoever the fuck wrote this fucking word? I mean, god, it's like duck without the cool. Ducks are awesome, why should they have to bear a name that rhymes with the worst fucking word in our fucking language? I pity anyone named Charles, as well. They don't have it as bad as the ducks, though, atleast they don't have to take the nickname. Ducks are stuck the way they are. Which is kind of the way I feel, I can't do anything about anything. Every fucking problem I have has a way of perpetuating itself so I can't do any better. Every report card it's some average or lower GPA, and it gets on my nerves, but I don't do a fucking thing about it. I don't know why, I just don't. Maybe I don't really want to go to fucking college or have a fucking possibility of a future. Maybe I secretly want to be a fucking bum and live off garbage that people throw at me. Maybe I'll apprentice to some janitor before I have a chance to not graduate, and I'll live at LC for the rest of my fucking life. Maybe I'll turn to a life of crime and be a fucking pirate until I get caught and sent to jail, where people who actually had the sort of circumstancial upbringing to lead to that end will fuck me up the ass.

Gesundheit! ~ An original poem

Until I can conduct my next interview, you shall have to content yourself with some impromptu poetry skillz. In English last week, Weichert had every student put five of their favorite words on the board. Then, she had everyone write a poem using atleast ten of those words once everyone was finished. This is what I came up with. (most of these are not my words, and I was feeling very silly.)

Gesundheit!
Thomas released a phenominal ooze
Gesundheit!
Mucus, play-doh of omnipotence, began to coagulate
Gesundheit!
Lungs, through the depths of esophogus, had to elucidate
Gesundheit!
Death of a nostril
Gesundheit!
Breathing now oral
Gesundheit!
Kleenex is gone, bacteria's loose
Gesudnheit!

Self-Centered Guide to Being Awesome ~Chapter One: Feed Your Cat

After making the decision to begin this posterity-driven undertaking, my first interview choice was clear: my loving cat, Kcub. When asked why I was awesome, the cat simply purred. If you know Kcub, the meaning is clear. Kcub purrs quite often, and the sound has various meanings, such as "pet me," "pick me up," "put me down," or "throw that mouse toy." Most often, it means "feed me." Most cats meow when they are hungry, but Kcub simply rubs up against the cabinet where his food is kept and purrs. It did not take me long to realize what this meant, as he purrs while eating his food as well. While food is important, I doubt that feeding kcub is the only reason he appreciates my awesomeness. I also respond to his other purrs, and play with my cat as often as time permits. Sometimes, I even let him win. My cat is a very happy cat. You can tell by the way he purrs so often. If you want to be awesome, then you will be attentive to your pets. Your pets will appreciate this, and respond with gratitude, and recognize you for the awesome pet owner that you are. If you don't believe me, just ask Kcub how awesome I am.

Self-Centered Guide to Being Awesome ~Introduction

It has been established by several sources that I am awesome. This is certainly fine by me, but it begs the question "Why am I awesome?" Personally, I don't much care about the answer to that question, but what if some kid comes up to me and asks "Marten, how did your get to be so awesome?" I couldnt just tell him that I don't know and walk off. What if he wanted to be awesome like me? So, for that purpose, I have decided to research my awesomeness. This research shall be conducted as follows: I shall interview various people, asking them why I am awesome, as well as why I am not awesome, so as to get a well rounded and unbiased set of data. The information gained in this fashion shall be compiled and interpreted to form a guide, so that anyone aspiring to be awesome may make use of it.

Sophia

This isn't usually the place to put dramatic personal posts, but something incredible happened yesterday. Nights of feeling depressed, overthinking about it, feeling stupid, and general confusion have been, um, somethinged. She loves me. She Loves Me! I'm not some pathetic guy thats obsessed over this girl who has made me want to sing, yell, kiss and kill. I'd told Sophia how I felt before, but, I don't know, she was afraid, or something, but yesterday, she figured it out, and she told me she loved me, in front of the entire drama class! Teacher and all! This is funny, sad, silly, and beautiful all at the same time! It's impossible to say how much that meant to me, for her to say that, knowing full well that the class would never let us hear the end of it. I look back and think about it, still knowing that I'm a highschool kid that has no idea what love is, but right now it doesn't matter. Even if it ends sometime into the future, it doesn't matter, because it will always have happened. We'll figure it out. I know I sound silly, but I don't care, I have Sophia, and she has me.

If you can break it, you can build something better

I had this random rant in english. I am very tired and hungry.

People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. This is a well known metaphor, usually to denote the precarious position of the person to whom the metaphor is directed. This person, who, for the purpose of this rant, we shall name Jerry, is currently protected by the fragile logic represented by a "glass house." Unfortunately, Jerry has begun to throw metaphorical stones, or ideas that are not compatible with his current logical foundation. These stones shatter the glass of Jerry's weak logicand he finds himself completely unprotected in a metaphorical world that represents his intellectual position. Of course, one rarely takes into consideration that Jerry, while out of a logical resting place, now possesses several logical rocks, with which Jerry can take a number of different actions. Possibility one: Jerry, frustrated with his lack of shelter, takes his rocks and begins throwing them at other glass houses. Unfortunately, this action will lead to resentment by the home owners who were happy with their transparent logical structures. These victims of frustrated logic will retaliate, pelting poor Jerry with their shards of ignorance. The broken pieces of their glass houses, while not as heavy or as solid as Jerry's rocks, are sharp and very dangerous. Hopefully, Jerry will learn from from this mistake. Then, he can take his rocks and build a new house of logic. It may not be perfect, but it would be better than his old glass house. If he should discover a substance that could break his new walls, he will only have something sturdier with which to build a new structure.

The Fuzz

I would like to dedicate a post to the Indianapolis Police Department, and extend that dedication to Police officers in general, except for the corrupt ones. With that last thought, it should be understood that any other dedications I make to large organizations is nullified in the case of corruption unless otherwise noted. Back to the police, I appreciate their willingness to do the most menial tasks, like traffic control. There is a very large church near my neighborhood, and if not for the tedious work of these dedicated individuals, I would not be able to get out of my neighborhood on sundays or religious holidays. Tasks like these go sadly unrecognized because of other things that sort of overshadow such important work, like car chases, drug busts, murders, and the like. While these are significant and duly noted, it should be equally noted that without the seemingly meaningless task of traffic direction, our society would cease to function, or atleast everyone would be late to everything. Here's to the Watch! Fabricati Diem, Punc