CRASH

A violin was telling a sad tale and I lived it. Do you hear the cricket's cry their sad lament? They sing, you find me not, you find me not! My love finds me not! Yet a lonesome cricket still chirps, still hopes somehow. The sun was just rising but I had risen long before it, the sun rises in joy and strength but I... I rise to spread the stain of salt and water down my checks. Play, play on my violin and make the clamor of my soul reality to my ears so that I might understand it. I slowly danced to the tune which beat inside my heart, singing softly, "Relax, take your time... Trust me and you will see... infinity." How long had I been promised that now?

I remembered... My father was laughing at the time, and mother was hiding somewhere. My big sister, her brave soul protected me, she was shrieking. Thwack! Thwack! Crack! CRASH! Stop, my child brain had demanded, stop it! You can't love us, you can't... not like this. And he didn't and doesn't. I'm just glad my sister escaped the hell of that house, I escaped to a different hell altogether. My friends were druggies, my family alcoholics, and my mentors criminals. There was no childlike innocence within me, no spark of hope divine or life care-free. Infinity? I'd forgotten the definition.

My sad dance of memories and sorrow led me to the bathroom. Ah, my strongest enemy, the with the sharpest tongue. My father had not been a kind man, nor my mother an encouraging woman, my friends had placed me at their feet to appear larger in their own eyes, and... all the world threw me to ashes. But no one compared to the sheer belief of a mirror. I stared in scorn and hate and contempt. Dash away violin! Scream out your vile anger in twisted cords and snap your bow upon the shredded strings! What was it I saw in the mirror? An abomination of a girl, hardly deserving the to bear the female sign. Gaunt and gangly, uncouth and ungraceful, and above all else altogether unlovely. The mirror also hated me, for it had not shattered from my visage out of spite. Oh yes, infinity was real but only as a negative reality. Infinite putrescence!

I wiped my mouth from the vomit and dared not to remember how many pills I had taken to get a hold of myself. I couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop for a moment breathing. But I had a semblance of control at the least. The violin was distant, like I was dead and buried already and it played on the other side of the casket for my passing. Hello world, let's pretend life again. I remembered how to smile and say, "Good morning." They actually meant their well wishes. I made an attempt to eat in order to make them feel like I was being a "good girl", I made my cricket cry in my heart and said nothing of my pain. Find me my love, find me my infinity. Come softly, my violin and speak to me of poison and a slow death of the dead already.

I took a walk in the park and thought about my many imperfections. I wanted and deserved death, I lied, I cheated, I drank and smoked and cut. And life punished me for it, I was beaten and betrayed by everyone to the most foul of degrees. Them I forgave already, because I knew I deserved all those and worse. And made my life amount to a slow torturous punishment. The sun was warm and the wind cool and the day perfect around me. I wanted to cry, why cannot you agree with me? I've made my infinity already, I diligently crafted it over time and with care and thought. Why didn't you let me drink the cup of sorrows I so arduously mixed?! Shriek, violin! Wake infinity for me and bid Him answer me!

"Cold hearted orb that rules the night!" I crowed at the sunny sky, "Let me decide what is right!" Silence replied my tantrum. Silence and I could stand no more. Not the silence, please. Where are you my violin? My cricket's cry for love? I wept in frustration, my muse, my music. My heart still had a song to sing, but no instrument to vent the song with. No more self deception, no more illusions. That's what the silence was to me. "Mercy!" I begged, though I wanted justice more than mercy. Every time I had cried for mercy in the past...

The mirror again, in my brain this time. Why the mirror?

*Little facets that there be, little crannies hard to see. Mirrors only see by light and light by life of power and might. Mirrors slice more keenly than swords and rebuke more potent than kingly words. Yet they make more beautiful than otherwise could be and bring a truth to the lies of the unseeing.*

Who spoke? Can it be? "What would you have of me my mirror? What can I offer to satisfy your unswerving gaze?"

*A perfect mirror always demands to reflect that which it is in all that stands. The world itself is not enough to match the silvered sight, but one who lived within below did live to be that light.*

Must I always be so humbled? To accept the beauty of another and not create my own, to let another drink a cup so perfectly mixed with sufferings in my place. To nail all imperfections and curses, all addictions and habits, and every other dark beast which resides within my heart upon him, must I always stay so contrite? Yet I have been in ashes already, I have been in squalor and humiliation... What difference is it to me that I finally become what I am? But a mere girl fashioned for the beauty of another. For years I lived like one who listens to the keening cry of death upon his laughing and pale mount. I could not but weep at the sound of the fires of Hades rising so hastily to my feet! I flew away, sinner that I was, for it was not then death that scared me half so much as life!

*Life again springs to you, do you dare to then renew? Accept this beauty for your own and ascend only to kneel at a throne.*

I, did and accepted fully and cried your pardon for me and requested your beauty on me! It was then that the image in the mirror went through many changes, showing a life and a death and a life eternal. Then, when it hung in the air of my mind like an everlasting symbol, it crashed and shattered.

*No more mirrors of judgment be, merely mirrors for refinement of thee. Laugh and dance and sing and grow for to you this mercy has been known.*

Dt

Friday Morning to Monday Morning

Greetings Gents! There are two primary reasons to my more absent postings of late. First, I've been working on a story and it hasn't been progressing well. Second, I was out of town! I visited a city three hours SSW of where I live currently, to my great delight. Enjoyed Mangolian style food, good fellowship, and new friendships. All in all a worthwhile trip. I also learned that at an illegal cruising speed of 75 MPH my 94 Honda Civic CX gets 61.79 miles to the gallon. MWAHA! This pleased my poor college student pockets to no end, I can almost one shot it to the college from just the numbers. It is only about 650 some miles away, and I did make it 590 before refilling. I digress, I want an opinion from you, my audience. Should I continue to try to make this current (sub-par imho) story work? OR should I abandon it in the hopes that I shall have some other concoction in the mixing? Up to you.

Dt

Under my Skin

I was awake as I lay in my bed, enveloped in the darkness. I glanced around at the room for the hundredth time. I had long given up trying to remember when I had last actually slept. Time was a slippery thing to me and clocks only told me numbers, too many numbers. My eyes ran over the desk in the corner with its useless piles of papers that hadn’t been touched in a month. I saw the large dresser with its menagerie of trinkets and baubles that lay in a random pattern of chaos across the top. My eyes began to scale the walls. I found myself fixed upon the eyes of the miscellaneous people in the pictures that stared ahead with long-dead, leering eyes. Those pictures had meant something to someone who had once lived here. Had that someone been me before? I couldn’t remember. I had left them there simply because they held meaning. It was something real, to someone, somewhere, once upon a time. Then, I saw the large mirror where I was reflected, even in this dim light. My pale frail frame and my fair hair offered stark contrast to the dark camisole I wore but it was my eyes that caught me. Who was this staring back at me? A question that taunted me until I turned away; I couldn’t bear to hold the awful gaze.

I rolled out of bed and went to get a drink. The light in the hallway was such a stark contrast to the dimness of my room that for a moment I couldn’t see. I stood there blinded, feeling much like a deer, caught and frightened by the headlights of a car. Blinded. Trapped. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light of the room, I began to see the details of the room: the open window allowing a cold breeze to stream in uninvited; the now dusty collage I had painted a year ago, a riot of color in a gloomy world; the golden pothos that sat on the table next to the window, wilting slowly from neglect, its beautiful vines still struggling to snake upwards. I knew how it felt as I tentatively began walking down the stairs. They were cold and smooth as glass against my bare feet. When I reached the bottom I stood there, holding to the banister as if I might fall when I let go. I focused only on breathing until finally I was able to release it. How pathetic I am I thought to myself, how frail. I moved my focus away from me and back to my surroundings.

The kitchen had faded ivy wallpaper that seemed as old as the house itself. The years had left their marks on the walls. A miscellaneous tale of scuffs, scratches and dust that I could not understand, but I liked it nonetheless. It wasn’t pretending to be something it wasn’t; it was honest. I scurried over to the fridge ignoring the fear creeping slowly across my bones as best I could. It had always been like this. A memory assaulted me unasked and unwanted. The hospital that day had been fairly empty. They had taken me to a room and set my wrist while I sat there silent and chilled. It must have been odd for the nurse that I remained so quiet as she cracked the bones back into place. Had she noticed the shadows in the room I think she would have been quiet too. The shadows swarmed and swirled in a slow macabre dance surrounding us, occasionally brushing past me. That day, when I heard the cries of what seemed thousands, I feared I was either dying or losing my mind entirely. I had only later learned that the hospital had been in use as a sanitarium when I was there. So then the nurses had at least heard the voices.

The coldness of the refrigerator brought me back into the present and eased the constant pounding in my head. I stood in the open door letting the chill wash over me for several minutes as more time slipped away; I longed to follow into that black oblivion. Where does time go when it passes us by? My heart clenched suddenly along with my lungs, and my stomach was troubled by a strange sensation of sliding... slipping. I ran to the sink emptying my stomach of the water I had just consumed. I wiped my mouth and shuddered, seeing a red light reflecting off the window over the sink. I turned.

He stood there, smiling, his sharp teeth a stark contrast to this house of darkness. I backed away only to bump into him behind me...no in front of me. Where are you? I tried to run but I was paralyzed, frozen like a stone to my spot. He lifted a pale hand adorned by long black claws and moved my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear, a strange act of gentleness. I shivered as I felt the same weakness that I always had as his presence invaded me.
The memory came with the weakness, with the cold. It had been a winter night then, a dark winter night. I had snuck out of the house, I never did know why. He stood in the snow staring at me as I skulked around in the snow like some sort of small criminal. At first I took him to be a criminal. But then his pale blue eyes caught my dark ones, holding me prisoner with a petrifying gaze like the basilisks of old. I knew true fear for the first time in my life and understood that he was no criminal: he was far worse. I came out of the memory suddenly, instinctively shrinking back from his freezing touch and accidentally slamming my head into a hanging light. As the world tipped at an impossible angle he began to whisper something, almost inaudible. A song came to mind, “cause you know babe that I can't get you out from my in...you're under my skin, under my skin...” I screamed then, screamed and screamed until I lost consciousness.

It was the knocking that woke me I think. I didn’t know what it was at first. I was too lost; my mind remained disconnected from life. I tried to focus on the noise, muddled as it was, tried to force myself to listen. There it was again. It was familiar somehow, like a melody on the radio, a song whose name you’ve forgotten. Then, as if I had suddenly awakened, I realized what the noise was. It must have been the neighbors who called them I thought—screams in the middle of the night do tend to alarm people I supposed.

She found me curled into a tiny ball in a corner in my closet. How had I gotten there? I didn’t remember moving from the kitchen. She asked me how I was, I looked at her...through her, don’t really see her do we my pet? his voice whispered to me. “No, she isn’t real enough” I answered. I felt him smile inside me, a slithering, sickening motion that nauseated me. My muscles spasmed, responding on their own to him. I tried to crawl away from him, from the sickness he caused. He grabbed me pulling me towards him. The woman stared at me as he dragged me across the floor, his crushing form enveloping me, or I was I enveloping him? I grabbed my head as the pressure on my lungs increased and screamed dragging my sharp fingernails down my face babbling “Death would be kinder, the mind slipping away into the void, the endless wheel spinning in the darkness. We’re all tied to it, bound by the hands and legs. Oh get it off, get it off, off!” I screamed as I clawed myself, collapsing in a fit but remaining conscious somehow.

The woman spoke and fire seemed to fall from her tongue upon me. I jerked away from her hard, slamming my body into the ironwork of the bed. I turned and clung to it, to the chill of it. Stop I tried to scream, but she had begun again. I was useless to prevent her when I could barely see her. I could only burrow deep into myself. Run, run, run...run, run, run...it played over and over in my head, a demented mantra consuming my thoughts. Suddenly I felt a hand that was like an inferno. I tried to wrench away from her as my mind was slammed back into my body. I opened my eyes and clawed at my face, rising.

“Get away!” I shrieked. She smiled at me, asked me if I wanted to be myself again, without him. I panicked, “YES! I said then yelped “NO!” She simply watched me as I struggled inside myself. I began to pace frantically. “Stop...don't...yes...please...No I....help me!” I cried in broken sentences as I felt him slam me to the ground and hold me there. Still she watched in silence. I was able to stand again after what must have been an eternity and tried to run only to sit back down and curl my body into a tight ball. I sang to her, or me, or even him, that song in my head...“He's under my skin...he’s under my skin...he’ll always be in...oh gods!” I cried becoming more and more frantic. Her eyes continued to watch me, their intelligent kindness suddenly infuriating me. I rose and stepped towards her, suddenly every inch the arrogant powerful villain instead of the writhing cowering victim. She narrowed her eyes at me and spoke with that tongue of flames. I fell again and lay flat staring at the world as if I was an observer and not part of it. He held me down (or was it that he had fallen on me?) his oppressive weight making it impossible to move. My breath came in quick gasps, my lungs fighting to do their job, fighting his interference. “Help...me...oh god...please...I...PLEASE!” I begged, screamed, and cried, not even sure what I was asking as the tears ran down my face, mixing with the blood in my cuts, scrapes and scratches. She came to me and laid her now cool hand on my head. Everything in me screamed, spit, howled, hissed and jumped while I lay as if dead. Her clear eyes were the last thing I saw before I blacked out.

When I awoke, I felt as if I run a marathon. I was sore and tired, my head was heavy and my body was bruised, but I could breathe. I tried to open my eyes but they refused to obey, as if they knew what was best. I gave up, too tired to resist, and let sleep capture me once more. It was the best sleep I had had in years. When I finally rose, I was able to eat without my body rejecting it. I went outside—she said it would be good for me. (She was right as usual.) The sun was shining, the birds singing, a warm breeze blowing softly. I stared at the world as if for the first time. Had the sun always been this bright? Had the flowers always smelled like this?? I suddenly realized as I bent to pick a lily that I felt no foreign presence in my mind, no force on my chest, no pain...anywhere. At first I felt fear at the absence, but as I stood there able to breathe freely I forgot to be afraid. I smiled then laughed for the first time in over a decade. A different song was playing now, I sang merging my music with the rest of the world “it's gonna be a bright...bright...sunshiny day. And everything's gonna be ok, yeah everything's gonna be ok...”

Dt + MS

Mind Game

Flames. Searing fire rolled across the vast wasteland like grass, an inferno savanna. In stark contrast to the flames I saw there was an equally expansive chasm of frost adjoining the flames. A wind alive and savage made a tornado of ice and screams in the midst of the abyss. I was hanging suspended between fire and ice, half my body shrieked for warmth and the other half died indeed for lack of cold. Agony, torment. I don't think I had stopped making some strange noise between a yell and a sob since being hung there. A blade was approaching me slowly, swinging for my neck. Please, let me die!

I awoke. My pillows were torn, the sheets ripped and my mattress soaked with tears and sweat. My breath came ragged to me and my ears pounded with the distress of my heart. No burns, no blackness of the bite of frost nor of the ravages of fire on my body. Hale, sound, whole. Shaking I stood and went to take a shower. Afterward I felt a little better, a little more real and stable. This house centered me, I had lived in it since childhood and every floor board, every swirl of ceiling paint was as familiar to me as the feel of the razor on my cheek. Home, safe.

I got ready for my workday and sighed, I had forgotten about my divorce papers. They were lying on the bedside table, waiting for my signature. Oh sweet Hannah, why? Depressed, I drove to work. What had I done to deserve divorce? I'd been faithful, diligent to work and support her and the kids, and gone the extra mile to stay connected to her and the kids... even after those trying days of making my boss see that my division was making profit. Nothing made sense. Until that letter about a hotshot named Rick and a bunch of convenient excuses about true love.

Before I knew it I had arrived at my designated parking spot. I must have driven on auto pilot, because I didn't remember the trip. Disturbed, I entered the building and said hello to those along the path to my office. "Well lo and behold here's Micky." Said my boss John. Sitting in my chair, drinking a cup of coffee and looking calm, John was never calm. "Good morning John." I said, trying to keep the caution out of my voice. "Sit down Mick." There it was, he only called me Mick when he was about to let a bomb drop. I sat.

An hour later I left the building stripped of my work ID card, building keys, and future. I took some deep breaths so I could resist the urge to scream or cry. No job, no family... What makes a man? What makes a life? Living the American dream... yet now the dream is over and the nightmare has come. Even more depressed I went home. I felt like a robot signing that divorce document, I felt like a dead man already signing my last will and testament. I took a walk.

The sky was dark and promising rain. The wind, like a harbinger of doom cried its banshee howl and pushed against me. My heart was a broken clock, my brain sludge. I was a hollow man. The time was 8:47 PM on Thursday, August the 23rd in the year 2008. My mind was clear, my heart stilled. Dry palms, clean forehead and steady knees accompanied me. I looked at the bottles of pills I had purchased, now all of them empty.

I woke up and the realization dawned on me like an undeniable horror. I was being baked and frozen and cut and the true nightmare hadn't been my suspension amid a fury of elements but the replay of my last moments in life. I looked to my left and another hanging figure said, "Yeah, welcome back. I think it must be the third year you have been here. You are new, it is obvious because you are still a dreamer. That will pass in time. Oh right, forgot to mention this but you can call me Lenin." I keened and wailed, and Lenin laughed and sobbed. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Dt

Fear Times Two

I didn't think it would be this way, seeing the world like I do now. A grandfather clock was ticking out the minutes with his slow dreadful swing, like a scythe that cuts the time he counts. Death the clock... Death of time. I smiled, death was everywhere I looked. A mirror stood beside the clock giving the pendulum a double image and a different mirror behind the swinging scythe expanded the images beyond the eye. Infinite death... infinite animated death. I laughed, how novel! Death for eternity! Still laughing, I interposed my body among the images of decapitation and looked at myself.

Aaaah, now here is something worse than death perhaps. That freckle two/thirds of one millimeter to the left of my nose was as annoying as ever, if only there were another freckle two/thirds on the other side as well... then maybe the balance would be more bearable. At least my eyes were the exact same shade of blue and even the lines shooting out from my pupils were in the same places. Good good, I muttered, it's bearable at least. I can suffer with this body, ah but what I wouldn't give to be like the grandfather clock or maybe even a spirit! Always perfect that way. I went to the kitchen and looked for something to eat.

Food, it always looked so strange. My body demands it but everything shouts at me, I am ugly! Chicken looks like the skin of a man, beef the blood of him... Vegetables make me feel like a cow and fish like a bear. I suppose I might as well be a cannibal today and eat a steak, at least I'll still be human. Or am I even now? I looked up at the ceiling tiles, good. Still fifty-six whole tiles and seven half tiles in the ceiling. I sat down at the table and started eating the steak... memories.

So many memories here. I heard laughter echo down the halls of time, no no no! Memories are dead! Time killed you, time kills everything! Betake yourselves into the middle! I punched myself on the jaw and threw the chair to the floor. Leave me in peace, can I have peace? Does peace exist? Maybe... The real question is, if I met peace would I know it? I laughed, no I wouldn't. If I met peace I think I might run away just because I wouldn't understand it. I approached the table again with disdain and contempt, like picking up a dead rat. Time to leave the house.

Goodbye house, goodbye yard. The sun was making the sky bright but clouds were making the ground dark in shadows. It was fall and the leaves were turning. The great change of nature, the slow march to a cold grave of snow. Death in nature! I laughed and the neighbors saw me out. They quietly slipped into their houses. My town, a ghost town... A ghost man. I walked down the streets, a ghastly breeze spreading the chill of my mood before me. Beware children! I smirked at the thought as I arrived at my destination. The house, her house... Here again.

Memories threatened to engulf me and swallow me whole, no no can't yet... later I'll remember. I knocked. The sound, that mournful sound, that hollow house, my hollow heart. I laughed at the thought, ding dong here comes the chariot of flames. The door opened. I smiled, seeing my kin. Hello sister, I said politely, have you seen the sun today? It seems to have gone out at last! She looked at me, her eyes were far, far away. Hello brother, she said softly, yes.... perhaps the night will come for us at last? I entered the house.

Darkness was there... The darkness of our hearts, perhaps of our minds? Who knows, maybe this house is as it should be the only place that matches us. Burn world! Become charcoal and a wasteland, so that I can wander it and feel like we know each other, you are too blue and light world... I must be an alien. We danced, she and I, we danced. No music playing but the one in our head, the only tune we know. Do you realize... that everyone you know... someday... will die? Ahh, perfection! This is truth, this is right! I laughed and the floor creaked. Time to go sister, I said. Yes, it is time... perhaps like the Phoenix we will rise again from the ashes? I think not though, and it would be such a shame to disturb our well earned nothingness. Maybe memories stop once I die? Heh, probably not. It would be just my life for death to be the same as life.

I chuckled, no hope anyways. No, no hope, my sister muttered. We stood there, holding each other as we pondered death. Is it just the insanity of our minds which push us here? Does the world reject us... or do we reject it? Impossible to know, she said. Someone knocked on the door. I opened it and saw something I didn't think existed. A young man stood there, golden hair, golden eyes, bronze of skin. In his eyes I saw life, and light, and hope. I was like a helpless mouse, paralyzed by the eyes of a hawk. I couldn't move away, or look away. He smiled, a true, real smile. Would you like to know the sun? He asked me. The sun... is it possible for darkness to know light? Or for insanity to regain what it once lost? He laughed, knowing my thoughts. Yes! He said, it is possible for a creature such as you to become new! You will be reborn.

Reborn... Sounds nice.

Dt

A return, and a new revelation

Hello faithful readers, I the Stranger have come back from finals week death (special case of resurrection, for another example please see Glorifindel) but with gusto and a whole slew of new ideas and stories for you all to enjoy (or at least read and consider). I hope to post some of these soon but the ideas I have are just too good to write in a hurried manner so it may be some time before my better ones come forth for your viewing pleasure. However, I would like to whet your appetite with a little something that I've been mulling over.

This is my latest apology for the defense of theism (in general) which is meant to appeal to the logic of scientists and atheists everywhere. I thought of this when in the final few weeks of my apologetics class and upon reading Dawkins The God Delusion had it solidified in my mind as a potential candidate for philosophy (I kid you not, I'm really considering putting a lot of time into this argument, quantifying it logically, making a prose version, researching it, and writing it into a dissertation). I'm so excited about it that I might even make it my thesis for my senior year depending on what people think of its validity and strength. So, without further adieu I'll introduce you to the concept (if you haven't had your ear talked off already).

Scientists in general are in agreement with the theory of the one-bounce big bang as the origination of the universe (I, personally, do not know if this is a proper interpretation of the evidence but it is at the very least possible). Our universe is governed by necessary physical and chemical laws which act and react to their fullest necessary extent. In other words, when sodium and chloride react to make table salt (NaCl) they can't help themselves, they just do. Their electron clouds have just enough space to fill each other out and become stable so they are unalterably attracted to each other. If you pour a bucket full of chloride into a vat of sodium of equal amount, given enough time to fully integrate, every single one of those elements will compound to make molecules without exception. This is the definition of the phrase, "fullest necessary extent" the elements react to each other and bond with each other until they no longer have the capability of bonding any more.

Now, the source from which our universe originated (for it is a logical anathema to think we came from nothing at all) is either another universe like ours (except much more complex and more energetic to an extreme degree) or it is an essential, infinite in matter and energy, coherent, and energetic (that is acting and reacting chemically and physically with itself). If it is another finite universe which gave cause to ours then that universe must also have had a source to its own creation. This therefore makes an infinite chain until we finally break down and admit that there is indeed an essential and infinite source.

Yet, why must the source be infinite in matter and energy, coherent and energetic as well? If this ultimate source was essential (having the property of always existing and of always being in existence) then it would run out of energy if it did not have infinite matter AND energy (energy converts into matter, and matter into energy constantly). Also, we have matter and energy in our universe and the source from which this universe comes must also have had at least as many elements as we see in our universe (otherwise none of them would exist). Coherence is just my fancy way of saying it's not utterly random and that it is located in a single mass (albeit, infinite). If this source did not have the coherence of necessary laws then it would never have created a universe such as ours which does have necessary and coherent laws we would, again, be rather different than we are. I use the word "energetic" to convey that the source is acting, doing things. Basically, a source may be essential and indeed infinite in every conceivable way but made of a noble gas or of some other inert substance which would ultimately cause it to do nothing at all. If this were the case, once more, our own universe would not even exist.

So, it is necessary to accept that this source of which scientists postulate must indeed be infinite in energy and matter, coherent, essential and eternal, and energetic. Alright! Here comes my major premise, hold on to your seats.

If we apply the law of necessary full extent of physical and chemical reaction as dictated by the different laws that must indeed govern this source then that source will always act and react to the fullest extent of its power. What is this sources ability and energy? Infinity! If sodium and chloride reacted to each other in this source they absolutely must continue to do so for eternity and with infinite energy and matter. Why? Because of two reasons, this source has to be infinite in both energy and matter. Everything about it cannot help but be infinite in energy and matter, infinity doesn't just apply to the limitless number of items but to each individual item itself. For example, in this source if we were to examine just one atom of pure energy (which must also exist in this source) we would never be able to quantify just how much energy it really has in there. It would just keep on going, and going, and going for eternity. Each individual "atom" (if there is such a thing in the source) must by extension of the word infinite be unlimited. If we somehow created a giant space window to see the source we would not be able to look at it because of the infinite light coming out which would (by necessity) illuminate our entire universe with unstoppable light. So much for being able to see ever again...

That's just how powerful, and scary, infinity is. Now, if the natural reactions inside this source really did cause it to spontaneously "overflow" and create the universe in which we now live then there are two necessary results. Number one, our universe must be infinite in energy and matter and number two our universe would not be a closed system because the source would still be continuing to send in energy and matter, for eternity. Here is where I call upon the German astronomer Olber. Olber created a paradox which basically states this, if we lived in a universe of infinite age with an infinite amount of stars distributed equally across the sky (as infinity would indeed demand) then we would not have a nighttime! We see the void of space and if nothing else in all of our understandings of thermodynamics and science lead us to believe that we will one day experience entropic death (if something else doesn't happen before then) then the very fact of voids in space should tell us we live in a finite universe. Also, the relative stability of the universe should tell us we live in a closed system. If we didn't live in a closed system our world (and other worlds or stars) would be randomly sucked into alternative universes or have other stars, galaxies, or even universes, randomly pop into our own! In order for any life to have existed on our world from the atheist scientist perspective this is necessary, we must have a closed system, otherwise there would never have been enough stability to foster life.

So the scientist is left with a dilemma because of the source's necessary full application of all of the actions and reactions which occur in it. They must therefore accept one of the two following options, either the source really did cause the universe like they postulate but had one more attribute to its list and that of intelligence or all of their scientific knowledge, all their laws and theorems, everything man currently accepts as chemistry, physics, quantum mechanics, and etc. is absurdly incorrect and must be rejected as untrue.

I have to make a name for this argument (which is an argument from cosmology) so I'd appreciate some suggestions. I know that it assumes that the scientists are right about how the universe came to be but I'm alright with this assumption if it furthers the cause of Christ. Also, if you see any inconsistencies or illogical steps please inform me because everyone I've shared this with has so far been unable to make any objection to the argument once they understand what it's claiming. If you have any questions about it or don't understand it please tell me. Here's a numbered format of the argument which is much shorter but by itself is hard to understand, that's why I wanted you to read the prose version (because I could explain things in simpler terms).

Given: The science of physics as true as well as the theory of the big bang.

1. The universe appeared as a singularity.

2. The source of the universe’s appearance is

a. Essential

b. Eternal

c. Infinite in energy

d. Infinite in matter

e. Coherent

3. If the types of physical laws which govern the un-intelligent source of all things are like the physical laws in our universe then they apply to the fullest necessary extent of power.

4. If they do apply to the fullest necessary extent then all the actions of the source will be infinite in energy, matter, and time.

5. If the source truly did create the universe then the universe would be infinite in energy and matter and would still be gaining energy from the source.

6. The universe is a closed system because of stability

7. The universe is a finite system because infinite energy or infinite matter would necessitate no void of space.

8. There is a void.

9. Therefore, either the source was an intelligent force intentionally limiting the amount of matter and energy He used to create the universe or all of the laws of physics as we understand them are completely false.

Dt

The Great Wager

Strangely enough, the class that I'm not doing so hot in is the one I'm learning quite a bit from. Welcome to another discussion of philosophy the topic this time is Blaise Pascal. Pascal created the calculator, wrote the Pensees (and other books), and pioneered what is known today as computer logic. Without his contributions to the theory of mechanical logic, we would not have computers as we know them today. I'm no computer expert so I won't be treating his mathematics (phew) but his famous argument for the existence of God and the necessity of following Him.

The Great Wager! I really like this proof because it doesn't stop at God's existence but also proves that it is the Christian God and not some other *deity*. While the Pensees themselves are rather disorganized it's pretty easy to explain the logic to the Great Wager, which I'm thankful for. So here we go.

What's with life? What's with nature? What's with man? They are each of them self-contradictory, both affirming and denying God in the same breath with more or less of equal measure. Man is both noble and depraved, having his heart inclined to God but spurning Him with the intellect because nature both acclaims and obscures the very existence of its Creator. Man hopes in God but cannot seem to affirm Him mentally. Pascal calls this evidence a chaotic dilemma and man himself to be a "great chimera" (# 471) of the heart and the head.

Because both man and nature seem to affirm and deny God equally and constantly man himself is left with a terrible dilemma which forces him to choose, this is the Great Wager. If God does not exist and man not follow Him, then what benefit is that to man? He has no hope in life nor in death and lives his life resigned to the inevitability of nothingness. If God does exist and man not follow Him, then he gains but a short time to do his own will while living and loses eternity to the flames and the exquisite pains of separation in Hades. Therefore, if God does indeed exist then the infinite gain of eternal life with an infinite Being is, of course, of incomprehensibly more value than whatever amount of finite years you give in following Him. The possible gain makes the loss as dust on the scales, there is no comparison. Pascal loves this and he belabors his point just a little to draw out this distinction, what are the years you have lost if God does not exist since eternity is nothingness in that case and again what are those same years if God does exist since eternity is ever increasing bliss!

Now, a lot of people would at this point have a few objections. Namely, "I don't seem to have a choice in the matter!" or, "Well, sure fine but that still doesn't mean it's the Christian God specifically." Pascal pretty much rips these to pieces, to my delight. As for choice, why would you choose the desert over the oasis? The frozen tundra to the tropical paradise? As for not the Christian God, Pascal provides a short defense of the faith over others. 1. Christianity addresses both God's perfection and man's falleness and reconciles them together (no other religion offers this). 2. Christianity has fulfilled prophecy and evidence to back up it's claims to your heart. 3. Other religions have essential falsities in them (polytheism with the nature of piety and other monotheisms with fatalism).

To sum up, Pascal's Great Wager is pretty effective if the non-believer has not researched ways to combat it specifically (because it does have some weak points). The only thing I don't like about it is that it will cause a fight or flight response in the hearer, they'll see they don't have a choice and stay to duke it out (and lose) or choose to remain neutral (choose themselves over God). Such is the nature of inescapable dilemmas.

Care for a wager?

Dt

St. Anselm and Circles

Greetings and welcome to my attempt to explain a very complicated man, Anselm. Some of you have already been the butt of my teaching methods and I thank you for your practice and patience. Anselm was a monk who lived in the 1100's and who fashioned the first ontological argument of God, ontology being an argument for existence based on the effects of that existence. An example would be Descartes famous self proclaiming ontology, "I think therefore I am." This kind of logic is usually hard to fathom but it is also brief. I wrote one of my papers for my Philosophy class on him so I hope you'll appreciate what I learned.

Anselm basically made an argument from definition and his definition is, "something greater than which we can conceive of nothing." He breaks his argument into three basic parts, but before I state these it is very important for you to remember that his audience was a primarily Christian one. He didn't make his argument for the existence of God for atheists or agnostics but for believers. What that means is, basically, a Buddhist could take his reasoning and apply it to Buddha quite easily and it would be convincing, to Buddhists but to no one else.

He opens up his dialog stating, "Now we believe you to be something greater than which we can conceive of nothing." If you do not understand this sentence the rest of my explanation will be totally lost on you. The very fact that we can conceive of Him is important as well as that we can conceive of nothing greater. In His essence God is infinite (and beyond) to being the Being which nothing greater can be conceived. Anselm makes this statement then goes on to prove it, in order to use it as evidence later. His proof is simple, we have a concept of this being in our minds, if He existed only in our minds then he would not be the greatest being, if He existed in reality he would not be the greatest being, He must therefore by definition exist in both reality and in our conception in order to be the being which nothing great can be conceived. If He did not, then the definition of, "greater than which we can conceive of nothing" would not be applicable to Him and He would not be this Being.

Anselm then goes on to prove that it is literally impossible to think of this Being as not existing. Now, imagine if you will, two circles. One circle is "things it is possible to imagine as not existing" or more plainly, things that you can think of life without. The other circle is the Being, what Anselm says is that in order for this Being to be what He is there can be no other idea or thing which is greater than He. If you can put the Being circle inside the things that you can think of life without circle then the Being is not actually the Being, he's some other thing. If he really was that which nothing greater can be conceived then we couldn't imagine Him as non-existent. Because then that circle would be greater and the definition would be inapplicable.

The definition of this Being is the cornerstone, strength, and structure of Anselm's argument. Well, what about the non-believers? How can they then consider God as non-existent if it is impossible. Anselm started off by calling them fools (yeah... great way to win an audience) and then proceeds to say how the conception of a man can be different than reality. If they do not rightly understand the definition of this Being then they, of course, do not believe Him to exist because He is not "that which nothing greater can be conceived" in their minds. If He was that Being in their conception then they would believe (which goes back to his opening statement, "if I do not believe I will not understand").

My take on Anselm's ontology. Ok, this guy is way smarter than I am in just about every way you look at it. His goal was to make a self-sufficient argument which was sufficient for Christians and in this he was successful. But his argument would not, by any stretch of the imagination, be able to convince a non-believer of God's existence (or an agnostic that this God is the God of the Bible) but beyond that he never stretched his argument beyond the metaphysical into reality. Don't get me wrong, he didn't want to make his argument evidential beyond the area of the mind and the nature of an infinite spirit but because of his lack of the effects of the metaphysical upon the physical he can't prove anything. He can only say there is strong evidence for the existence of God because we have a conception of this Being. To me this basically means that his argument will continue to be a true inspiration in philosophy and logic but not much of a force in apologetics.

Dt

The Threshold

How fare ye scriptomaniacs? This is (probably) the Stranger. Don't forget to try a Little Calculation below. It's both funny and sad, and sad that its funny. I recently made a few more discoveries in Latin - English similarities which just about made me run around in glee. Hope you also enjoy them.

So, there's this word in Latin, Limen; Liminis neuter noun meaning threshold. It doesn't have any other meanings and only a few uses in Latin. If I were a Roman who just learned English I might use the word threshold like this, "I was standing in the threshold of the gate..." or "We took him up to the threshold..." and even "The threshold was guarded by many men against the enemy." But when we converted this word into our language we pretty much ignored these uses.

The most direct root is found in the word limit which obviously means, "having an end, boundary, or threshold." But there are other more subtle words, subliminal (under the threshold), preliminary (before the threshold), and my personal favorite eliminate (out to the threshold). Now whenever I say the word "eliminate" I know I'm really saying, "take blank out to the threshold" or preliminary "now, before we cross the threshold let's blank." But don't worry, I'm not trying to get some message under your threshold. ^_^

Dt

A Little Calculation

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New(est) Layout

Well, apparently the layout of my blog has once again changed.  Yo people, tis the Stranger, and make yourself welcome.  Do you like the Melding theme?  Frost and Fire meet as one upon the Stranger's wondering eyes...  Yet he seems caught in a heaven sent light amidst the fury of the elements.  I like it very much.  The thing is, as you may well know, I don't do html encoding.  This art was performed by a kitty Kat.  Little did I know, on Sunday morn, that she had completed this work upon my site.  A pleasant surprise.  Let me (and her) know what you think of the new(est) layout.  Perhaps it shall stay?  *shrug* I dunno but for now it is inspiring.

Dt

A Little Stranger

The cry was stifled as soon as it was heard. The boy bit his lip ignoring the rush of pain his nerves were registering. He refused to give his tormentor any pleasure in his pain.

The man shook his head, the memory falling away from him like water from a ducks back. He walked carefully, blue eyes interrogating the ground, searching for signs of disturbance. He was tall with shaggy brown hair cut just above his shoulders and his face would have been handsome but the scowl he wore gave him a desperate look. He bent down and felt the ground for a moment, considering. The ground was cold in the winter afternoon air, but he decided the tracks were fresh rising as he pulled his coat closed around him to keep out the wind. His coat was the closes thing he had to a companion. It was faithful as no one in his life had been.

"What, aren't you gonna cry?" The raven haired boy demanded sounding close to tears himself as he kicked his smaller brother again. "C'mon cry you little brat. CRY!" The brother remained silent, lips refusing to quiver. The raven haired boy screeched as he rushed at him.

The tracks became harder to follow by degrees. Soon they were further apart, further away. You won't lose me so easy the man thought quickening his pace to keep up. He soon broke into a run following furiously, heart racing. The sun was setting and soon the forest would be blanketed in darkness. He would find his prey before then. Yes, this time he would catch them.

The boy stood staring at the setting sun, tears streaming down his face. His raven haired brother had left him alone finally and so he stood, alone with the trees, the sky and the earth. He had never noticed before how comforting silence could be.

I will catch you, the man repeated like a mantra in his mind ignoring the darkening skies above. I will catch you this time. I will. Nothing will stop me. Nothing. "Do you hear me?" He suddenly shouted to the silent forest around him. "NOTHING!" Lightning cracked the sky as if in retort and thunder crashed in reply. Whether it was to him or the lightning he was unsure. Rain began one drop at a time, like a dance just beginning.

The rain fell softly at first then harder and harder. The boy stood letting it cover him completely. In a few moments he was soaked, his tear strained face hidden by a mask of rain. He smiled as he heard his name being called, but he did not reply. "Give me more time" he pleaded silently. "Please give me more time..."

The rain fell in torrents freezing the man. He ignored the warning signs his nerves were sending and bit his lips defiantly against the cold. Evening was coming but he did not care. This time he would keep going. He would follow the tracks to the end even if it killed him. His life had never seemed worth much anyway.

The boy sat in his room staring at the rain through his window. It didn't matter that it was he and not his brother who had been punished. It did not matter that his parents lectured him about wandering the woods alone. It did not matter that his brother gloated at him behind their parents back the whole way home. All that mattered was that he was finally alone. He was finally free, with only himself to be his judge.

The man finally broke through the thicket but in his fervor he lost his footing. He slipped swiftly down the hill, the ice adding speed dangerously. He refused to cry out as he tumbled head over feet down the side of the hill. His mind ceased dissecting his predicament as his body began responding instinctively. After several minutes of struggle he landed in a brown heap at the bottom, breathing hard.

"You think you're so special? You're just a useless pile of muscles, organs and bones. And those you can't even use well..." said the raven haired boy. His brother stared at him, eyes beginning to water. Friends of the raven haired boy surrounded him, watching, waiting, breath held as one. In the silence voices from all over the playground could be heard. Laughter, shrieks of delight, the sound of balls against pavement. The boy blinked.

It had taken him some time but he had found the tracks again. The sun was barely visible above the darkened edge of the earth. The moon had begun to shine overhead, claiming her dominion. Just a little longer, the man begged silently, just a little bit longer. His path had less twists and turns, as if his prey was getting tired. That makes two of us the man thought to himself. But as soon as I catch you I can stop searching. I can stop being afraid of your ever watchful eyes. The man had first become aware of his prey when he heard it taunting him, a disembodied voice replying to his. It was then that he began to notice the tracks following his own. Never one for expected responses, he had turned the tables, hunted had become hunter.

The boy laughed instead. He laughed harder and harder almost going into a manic frenzy. The raven haired boy stared at him in disbelief. His friends mumbled and backed away from the disconcerting laughter. The boy stared at his brother and kept laughing as hard as he could until his brother stalked, or was it fled, away. The boy's laughter became genuine, he had won. He had finally won. He kept laughing as the bell rang, commanding with a tone.

He burst through the pine trees and his triumphant smile faded. He collapsed, landing on his knees as he stared in disbelief. His knife slipped uselessly through his fingers becoming buried in the freezing mud. He had finally followed the tracks all the way. For the first time in his life he saw the home of his prey. A tent sat pitched haphazardly next to a small fire pit. Miscellaneous pots and pans surrounded the fire pit in a random pattern leading to the lake in the middle of the clearing. It was, in fact, the man's own encampment. He stared unable to deny the truth of it with any of his arguments. He had been tracking himself for three years. It was his own voice he had heard, echoing back to him through the trees, off the cliff faces and around the lakes. He was his own hunter, taunting himself, his own worst enemy. The stranger, even to himself.

--Madison Skye--

Dt

PS

How do you like the ghost written bio? It is a metaphor, but rather accurate in many ways. Also there are some hidden messages in the story itself, good luck to you in finding them.

A Debriefing

Hello faithful readers.  This is the Stranger and I wish to announce to you my first ever guest story.  That's right, a close friend of mine (you might say one of my best friends, if "best friend" were a category) is even now in the process of planning and writing a story.  I will wait to inform you as to the nature and content of the story, as well as its meaning.  Until then, in suspense...

Dt

NEXT!?!

Good morn all, this is the Stranger and I am quite aghast.  When I heard that Josh was going to change the name of New Attitude I thought, "Oh no! Well, I will withhold judgement until the new name is announced."  Here it is, NEXT.  Yeah.  Next is next apparently, and it couldn't be much more lame.  I mean, ok I can chill with the message intended by this word but it doesn't have much power in the shadow of ten years of New Attitude.  *SIGH*  This is where someone would say, oh let's just be all meek and follow the leadership (yadayadayada) and I will however this does not change my slight outrage.  We will see what comes next.

Dt

Cold Snap

It was the Dead of Winter and he was whiter than snow. In the lonely mountain ranges which spread across the Eastern world two men slumbered within a warm cabin. The equipment stored close by said they were going to ski cross country, and the thick blanket of snow in the mountain ranges said it would be a good skiing trip. The sky was changing its coat slowly as the rays of the sun reached into the frigid sky. Black heavens receded unto a frosty blue and the harsh klaxon of a cheap alarm rudely roused the travelers from their bunks.

"Remind me again why we set the alarm for 7 in the morning when we have all day to travel to the bottom?" Said a groggy skier. The other man without reply escaped his bunk and warmed up some coffee. Soon thereafter he was joined by his stumbling companion and they shared a simple breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, and coffee. Still mum they put on their suits and sticks and glided out of the cabin into the winter morning.

The trail in the mountains sloped upwards forcing the men to rely on their sticks to propel them to the trail's end. They planned to take this trail until they reached a fairly high altitude and then to simply ski down the mountainside. "Man, I wish my life looked this good all the time." Said the now not groggy man. The view was breathtaking; the sun had just ascended over the peak and was illuminating the forests and valleys in the roots of the mountain. The other man paused to survey the splendor, and then proceeded on without comment.

They eventually began to notice their breathing becoming strained in thin air and decided they had climbed far enough. They hydrated themselves and rested for a few minutes before taking what the talkative one thought of as the big plunge. "Yeeehaaaw!" Said the only man in apparent use of his tongue. The other man was smiling. They raced each other down the snowy scene for a time and then slackened their pace to something a little less hellbent. Still silent he took out his compass and pointed to the east of them, alongside the slope instead of down.

The first time that day the other man replied in actions instead of words and followed him. They travel east until the meet with what skiers call the spines of the mountain. The rocky formations caused by some great upheaval of earth blocked their way east for as far north and south as they could see. Their only option was to travel even farther down the slope. "Figures, we'll probably get lost." Piped up Mr. Talkative. Mr. Silent made a mute sigh.

For the first time that day Mr. Talkative guessed right, they did get lost. The dazzling light began to fade and the snow blurred the differences between rock and tree. In the failing sun they at last spotted a shallow cave in the side of the spine. Fortunately they had some trail mix left to eat and enough water to survive for another day. But the night did not pass with much rest for either of them, for the air was continuously pierced by the cry of the wolves and the roar of bears. They both greatly feared they were squatting in the den of some beast and would soon enjoy claws and teeth as their reward.

Before light had fully taken hold they left the cave. The slope before them was barely discernible and they traveled cautiously towards the bottom. They had almost passed a gap in the spine when Mr. Silent spotted it and made towards it without warning. "Hey, wait! What?" Cried out Mr. Talkative, soon followed by a soft "Ooooh." They headed east desperate to reach the town where their all terrain vehicles were parked with supplies. In the night the sky had sent down a short rain which made the trek more slippery and as a result Mr. Talkative was complaining. "Ahhh, gosh. It had to be freezing rain. The snow was perfect only yesterday and..." Mr. Silent didn't hear any other words and turned his head to see Mr. Talkative sliding backwards down the mountain.

His panicked yells only increased when he lost his sticks and all the while Mr. Silent sped after him. Farther and faster he hurled down the slope but not as quickly as Mr. Silent. Soon enough they were side by side, one in control and one out of it, and Mr. Silent grabbed the arm of Mr. Talkative. They began to slow down, bit by bit, as Mr. Silent shed momentum with well placed movements. Yet he saw the cliff side too late. Suddenly Mr. Talkative was hanging off the edge of the cliff and Mr. Silent somehow had managed to stay on the slope while keeping his companion's arm in a firm hold.

"Richard! Oh Lord, oh Lord!" Stammered Mr. Talkative gripped by fear. "Calm down Mark, you're doing nobody a favor by panicking." Replied Richard with the strain obvious in his voice. "I, I've been headstrong Richard. I've stopped being an example of love and light, and I've allowed my pride to blind me. Oh God, forgive me for wasting so many years and backsliding faster than my ride down this mountain!" "Mark, what are you doing?!"

The air was fast, sliding past him with its frigid knives. The side of the spine had been lifted quite high off the mountain floor and the landscape flashed before Mark's eyes just as fast as his life. Soon he began to hear a high and sweet sound as he fell faster and faster. He looked up to see Richard looking down at him, just a small figure now, and he felt like he was flying instead of falling. In the death of winter he was whiter than the snows of his grave.

Dt

Ps.  This story is a little rough around the edges, so I'm sure you will all have comments about how I can improve it.  But I still like it.