Science of the Sexes

I absolutely believe science is at least partially to blame for how people act. The line of purity of science goes like this: (click the picture for the full version, making it smaller just made it unreadable)



Going by this, you can't blame everything that everyone does on naturally occurring scientific processes because we, unlike the separate building blocks of like that make us up, possess consciousness, which is something we can't truly explain yet with what knowledge we have. The chemicals in our bodies definitely have influence on how individuals are inclined to acting, but consciousness to our complicated extreme allows us to learn from our unattached surroundings, which helps us along the adaptation component of evolution.

As we've evolved chemically/physically, our consciousness has worked side-by-side with science to alter the locations, living conditions, and everyday needs that we've had to adapt to. This considered, we've shaped our own biology and psyche in ways. This also means we have free will, so I can't agree that science completely predetermines personality, but this is exactly where sociology comes in, and is exactly why we'll continue to keep evolving, socially, physically, scientifically and not.

To Make You Laugh Is All I Want

Sometimes I think, “Hey, leave the feelings to the artists. You've abandoned that part of you.” So then I'll listen to myself. I'll close my computer and stop writing, but only after erasing all of the effort I put forth just so I won't have to remind myself how miserable I was before I fell asleep.

This doesn't fix much, because when I wake up, I'll remember the two hours of college prep work I put off trying to define the mix-ups of my mind in eight lines and a chorus. I'll stare at the blank word document on my screen, trying to come to terms with the fact that I have nothing to show for giving myself a double work load for the day.

I'll press undo, thinking “Hey, maybe that song wasn't so bad after all.” I'll see the extra letter I pressed on accident the previous night pop back up. Undo will no longer be an option.

All I'm really trying to say, is don't burn your bridges. And also, I agree with you Ace, waking up can be so hard to do.

I know, that time goes faster when you're sleeping
And I know it's not too good for me because when I wake up, I'm all alone

It's just enough for me to fall in love with you
And I wake up, time and time again with nothing here for proof

If I have to wake up one more time without you and these ugly red eyes
I hate the bright blue sky to greet me in the morning rather then your arms.

I need you to be with me, dreams can only hold me for so long.
And I will wait my life, I promise to do it right,
For just one moment to be alone with you.

I see us standing there holding something in our hands
I see an open door, I see us walking in
We're walking up the stairs into our room
Waking up can be so hard to do

Just Enough//The Early November

I Wouldn't Be So Sure

Certainty stands on the mountaintop of indeterminacy. To bear the cold nights and the whipping wind, he puts on many layers of decisiveness. Deep under his shell of outer layers, he's warming up to the ideas of his best friends, Chaos and Confusion. Only those able to extract Certainty from his cozy hiding place will know he's a failed contender, scared and alone, just putting up a solid front. There is always too much turbulence in his line of vision, whether or not he lets on otherwise.

A lot of people have a heightened sense of naiveté when Certainty comes waltzing around. The second grader that is so sure one and one makes two gets confused when the quiet girl in the corner rejects his invitation to go get ice cream after school. The man that is so vehement on casting blame withdraws himself from the situation when evidence piles up against his train of thought. Certainty knows this and savors the sweet taste of victory. Little does he know the deliciousness is as fake as his front, the arguments as reliable as his penetrable layers of clothing.

It only takes one run-in with Certainty to figure out you should never go back. When you're stuck on Mount Everest with nothing warm to wear, he will come along, posing as your long lost hero with a winter jacket. He'll fail you for everything you're worth, and when your real friends bring you back to the cold, you'll remember you were better off thrown and obscure. You'll realize you should have listened to them from the start.

Don't trust Certainty. He can't even trust himself.

Also, I have figured out the answer to life, maybe.

Money is not the root of all evil. Love doesn't get in the way.

At the end of the day, it's hope that ruins everything.

So much can be categorized by this one terrible word.

It's hope that it actually happens, real hope in that it can become a reality, that makes people do the terrible things they have to do in order to get the money.

It's hope that, no matter what happens between oneself and another person, makes people still embrace the emotion of love. Love is just another chemical reaction in the brain, like happiness, anger, whatever. Hope is what makes people think it's worth fighting for.

Hope is kind of interchangeable with faith in this case.

(I blame this on my severe lack of sleep over a severe amount of consecutive nights.)

Wake Up, Wake Up, You Are Going To Die!

Life begins now.

There isn't a whole lot I believe in. Among the list of my disregards is the idea that life starts after college, or after your schooling and training.

No.

Sure, I'd love to burden myself with 8+ years of college to become a professional nerd with my telescope and bible of interstellar data to process. Sure, I would love to go to UIUC and room with a friend of four years. Sure, I'd love having other friends already there to hangout with. I would also love to take advantage of their shuttle bus program and come home at least once a month.

You know what else I love? Winter. You know what winter loves? Snow. You know what snow loves? Car accidents. Freak bus accidents. Ending the lives of college kids that, by the definition of some, never actually got to start their life in the first place.

So what is it exactly that people are so sad about when these pre-living students come to such an unfortunate end? You can't mourn things that were never there. You can't mourn a life that was never lived.

Unless it really was there, and it was just dormant because somewhere along the line, someone forgot about the endless possibilities of chance and circumstance. You'd think those living in the future would be the first to consider this.

Wake up. You are going to die. Live your life!

You're Shouting So Loud, You Barely Joyous, Broken Thing

What do you do when the only way you can stop someone from getting hurt is to risk hurting them yourself? Do you try and intervene? Do you just let the cookie crumble? Is there even a reasonable option in this situation?

If you're ever faced with this dilemma, I have one piece of advice: throw the fight before the fight throws you. You cannot win.

Nonetheless, if you want to know who your real friends are, fight the battle. Every mediocre friendship you've ever thought more of will reveal its true colors, and you will grow a new love for your four or five friends that stick by your side. These are the only people that will ever really know you. These are the only people who will understand why you do things, and you will never have to doubt that again.

If you want to know what it's like to trust someone, be the contender. Put your trust in people who want you to trust them. When everything goes to hell and everyone speaks out against you in order to cut their losses, you will understand. When they fail you for everything it's worth, you will understand.

If you want to know what it's like to be the victim of assumptions, wage war. If you're not collaborating with those four or five people who know you, you're feeding mouths that will bite. Everyone knows the real story, but the facts are never told under pressure. Things are left out. Details are altered. You are wrong, and there is nothing you can do about it.

You lose, no questions asked.

Typical, a little?

Dictionary.com has found 36 different ways to define "life."

Honestly, I don't know how. I see one definition that's universally fitting: "The condition that distinguishes organisms from inorganic objects and dead organisms, being manifested by growth through metabolism, reproduction, and the power of adaptation to environment through changes originating internally."

Because no one likes nerdy dialect, all this means is that there are certain things that separate the living world from the nonliving world, and these things are completely measurable and testable qualities.

Like I said in my previous blog, life elsewhere isn't impossible, but it is rare. It's so rare that we could have missed it, or we might miss it after we're gone, even though some form of us has been here for more than 2 billion years, and we probably won't be going anywhere anytime too soon.

So why is it that everyone takes life so seriously?

It's embedded in us from birth to consider the human species as the most important of all on Earth. I don't find it necessary to give a lengthy explanation of why this is, because everyone has experienced this feeling firsthand.

If I would have never been told I was important, maybe I wouldn't have cared so much about what others thought for so long. Maybe I wouldn't have been so terrified of interacting with people that I would have let go of my teacher's hand during pre-school recess. Maybe I would have climbed more jungle gyms and not worried about people thinking I looked scared or stupid. Maybe I wouldn't have abandoned everything in middle school that made me a smart kid, and maybe I wouldn't be so exhausted all the time trying to make up for all those years of studying I lost.

Then again, maybe I would be writing about how the human species is important, just because I'd been told otherwise all my life and felt the need to give a counterargument to the issue.

In the end, all I really wish is that people would stop taking things so seriously. I wish people would reach out to the people they hate and find an incredible connection, somewhere, deep down. I wish people would willingly give people second chances, because that grudge that's clung so tightly to will disappear with the rest of the solar system when the time comes. If the Big Bang Theory is right and the universe collapses in on itself just as it exploded, none of the remnants of our species, no floating satellites, no radio signals, nothing of the sorts will even exist after so long. So what is it that makes people so judgmental, so hostile, so closed-minded? Why can't people talk to other people that have a different sense of style from them? What makes a person more socially acceptable, and why is it even an issue? Doesn't that just inhibit our potential advancement?

On these issues, I usually make little sense, but I'm so tired of how people treat me, how people treat each other, and how people don't understand that they're like this.

Maybe this will always be just a wish.