A Quote and a Dream

Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.
-Albert Einstein

I think I have a serious imagination addiction. Cause, you know, now when I'm in the maths program, just when I'm seriously beginning to study something I have a passion for, logic suddenly seems too small. It's like maths is all about restraining your thoughts, channeling them in a certain way - for greater power but less flexibility.

Somehow I feel I gain greater knowledge from dreams than from maths.

A few nights back, I dreamt that myself, River Tam, Bruce Willis and a voodoo god whom I suspect was Papa Legba, were to storm a hi-tech bar located in a swamp, ruled over by a cyborg sort of guy. Trick, the black vampire from Buffy, worked for him in the gym, except it was just the actor of Trick, not actually a vampire.

I was supposed to plant a computer spike to get the others in, but something went wrong and Bruce Willis never showed up, meaning I was without a good gunman when the fighting broke out. I had to flee into the cyborg man's office, and then escape through a hatch down into the gym, where I fast-talked my way out of Trick's way and got into their security center and laboratory. Just when everything looked like we were screwed, Papa Legba rose an army of zombies and marched them on the gym, allowing me time to escape alongside River.

I had stolen a few important things from their lab, so the assault wasn't a complete failure, but I knew we hadn't quite won yet because we didn't manage to destroy their computer central. Unfortunately, fleeing from the place, we were chased by some black dogs, only saved by a white tree from which I broke a branch and used as a magical staff to sling white light at the dogs, killing them.

Now I wonder; where did Bruce Willis go?
Also - the real question, the key question - did this dream give me more knowledge than my waking studies did?

I do not know.

Finns

Morgonen faller
som stenbumlingar på en trottoar
jordbävning
säkert
och jag sa ju,
att jag alltid skulle finnas här,
nog finns jag alltid.

Men när allting blir så här tungt
är det lätt att glömma bort
vad som finns och
vad som inte gör det
till exempel häxor
finns väl egentligen inte
jag finns iallafall,
nog finns jag alltid.

Du vet,
jag glömmer inte bort dig
ens när du inte är här
för trots allt
även när du inte syns,
nog finns du alltid.

Du vet,
även när vi inte vet att vi gråter
för varandra
för att vi inte pratar
för att vi inte skrattar heller
för att vi inte syns
och inte ser varandra
nog finns vi alltid.

För det gör vi ju.

Hay guyse!

You know what I just realised? We're all gonna live for at least another year, with pretty high likelihood.

Imagine all the cool shit you can do in a year!

By the way

Happy WTC day everyone!

Sloth, Irresponsibility, and Kidnapped Princesses

So, I took today off. In retrospect that might not have been the cleverest move I have ever made, seeing as the first test of the course is tomorrow, but aside from induction and combinatorics everything has been horrendously bland repetition, so I'm hoping I'm not missing anything particularily important. I don't think I am, given that they were going to talk about basic trigonometry today and that only for two hours.

So, instead of trigonometry, here comes a blog post. My schooldays have been horribly taxing, but I've finally caught up with the material so that I'm no longer lagging behind. Both Chinese and maths are sort of in a good equilibrium now - I'm a little bit ahead in both subjects, only a tiny advantage that I'll probably lose in taking this day off, but losing an advantage doesn't mean gaining a disadvantage. Tomorrow's the first test, which I passed last year without any problem at all, so I'm pretty calm.

So what have I been doing with my time lately? I've been writing a story about three brothers, I've been playing Knights of the Old Republic, and I've been writing a few pages of random junk. And then, there's schoolwork and roleplaying games, which I'd say have been taking most of my time. I have lots to write about both, but I think maths would bore you more, so I'll fill you in on the roleplaying games instead; Anton and Madde make for an interesting two-man party. I always rather liked storytelling pairs of players, as there's room to give NPCs a bit of extra space that way, but Anton and Madde's styles of play can be difficult to intertwine sometimes. Happily, I'd say that this is running along smoothly. Madde plays Kalyna, a 16-year old adopted girl, raised in a family of petty dukes, and Anton plays Taran the Dynastic Dragon-Blood "Noble-who-gets-cities-as-a-birthday-present" who reveals to her that she's the will-be Empress of the World.

Last session was an interesting, and hitherto rarely seen phenomenon - it ended with Kalyna (Maddes' character) being kidnapped by an old daimyô at whose palace they had been staying as guests. He had complained that his wives all bore weak, mortal children, and when Kalyna arrived he wanted her to bear him "strong sons". Taran, obviously, was outraged at his heresy towards the future Empress, and tried to fight him - and failed. Despite me being a general sadist when it comes to my antagonists, it feels like the heroes rather rarely fail in defeating them: This time, however, it happened royally, which leaves the story in an interesting situation. Taran is knocked out cold and nearly dying somewhere in a ditch, and meanwhile the young Imperial Princess is imprisoned by a lecherous old man who's desperate to see his lineage continue. Neither of them are dead, both are just in very, very uncomfortable situations - it'll certainly be interesting to see how they manage.

Oh, and on a completely different note, I finished reading Anansi Boys. Excellent, excellent novel. I liked its pace, which seemed very fast but, when you go back to think about the novel, was actually probably pretty slow. It impresses me when an author can tell a story in nearly 500 pages without boring you at any point in the reading - that's rare, with my screwdriver-sized attention span.

I suppose that's a bit of my status report for now. I might also throw in a few fun facts, such as how interesting it is to study Chinese, how nervous and uncomfortable I get when I skip school even if I know it's stuff I don't need to attend, like today, and how I walk around telling myself "Dude, it's sin o/h, cos a/h, tan o/a. You know this stuff. Relax, mate". I wish I could portion out my diligence in reasonably sized chunks, rather than working tirelessly for 16 hours, sleeping like the dead, and spend the following day barely attending school and being nervous about it. Another fun fact is I've been visiting Anton's friends, who had a water-pipe standing around in their kitchen. And I've been doing a lot of walking. Seriously a lot of walking. My legs are like, bodybuilder legs or something. Except, you know, for walking.

So, until next time: Don't let the kazoos bite ya!

On Justice

Once upon a time, there were three brothers living in a cabin in the forest. It was a rather pleasant little forest, one of those comfortably black forests which is not quite black enough to contain bandits but quite black enough to contain a fairy tale. The cabin was, likewise pleasant - not too big, not too little, just spacious enough for three brothers to live and work in. Well, not all of them worked, of course.

The eldest brother was a blacksmith, and he worked hard all day to make ploughs and bridles and buckles and knives to sell in town; it did not make him rich, but it did give him enough money to buy food for himself and his brothers. The second eldest brother was a student - he had convinced his elder brother to buy him a Book of Wisdom, and he spent all day studying this book, except when the oldest brother asked him to go fetch a pail of water, or some firewood. The youngest brother, finally, was a poet; he did not quite work as hard as the eldest - indeed, not even as the second eldest. Instead, he spent his days sitting around the cabin, pondering what rhymed with "orange".

One day, which seemed to become a quite ordinary day, the eldest brother woke up to find that he didn't have enough firewood for his smithy. He'd been given a rather large order of one hundred belt-buckles, and he was anxious to get started with his work, so he lunged out of bed, took the last of the firewood and started up the smithy. As soon as the iron had softened ever so slightly he began clanging on it, and he made such a noise that he woke up his brothers even though they slept some distance away from the forge. As soon as he saw them coming, he turned to them and said "Brother scholar, you must go out and fetch for me more firewood, or I shall not get this order finished in time."

But the scholar, who was indeed quite a busy man, replied "I must study to-day, for soon there shall be a Professor travelling through town I hear, and if I impress him enough with my wisdom, perhaps he will teach me though I have no money to pay him. Let Brother Poet go, instead." So Brother Blacksmith turned to Brother Poet, and said to him "Fetch me some firewood, or I shall not get this order finished in time." Brother Poet wanted to object, saying that he had just figured out a good rhyme for "yellow", which wasn't quite the colour he intended but was still better than being stuck on "orange", but Brother Blacksmith did not want to listen, so Brother Poet had to go out in the forest and fetch some firewood, despite his protests.

So, he took a few ambling steps into the forest, and started picking sticks - but as poets' minds do, his mind wandered, and soon he found that he had followed a pretty bird instead of picking up sticks, and not too much later he was lost. In this part of the forest, there was a pretty green meadow surrounded by lush, green forest. As poets very much like pretty places, he sat down to rest for a bit to figure out where he was. As he did so, he saw something glitter in the grass. Picking it up, he found it was a bejeweled bracelet, no doubt one that was once used by a Princess. Delighted, he decided to run back to his brothers to tell them the good news.

After having spent some more time lost in the forest, he returned to his brothers in the after-noon, when they had both taken a pause to drink a cup of hot water (they could not afford tea, you see). Triumphantly, Brother Poet raised the bracelet and displayed it to his brothers. "See what I have found!" he said. The three brothers were very delighted, and embraced him, and kissed him. They let him tell the story of how he had found it, and as soon as he had finished speaking, Brother Blacksmith stood up and spoke.

"It is only right that I should have this bracelet. I have been working to feed you, brother Poet, and you, brother Scholar, since we were but children. If not for me, you would not have food on the table. Clearly, I am the one who should have the bracelet, for my work has been the greatest."

As soon as he had finished speaking, Brother Scholar stood up and spoke. "It is only right that I should have this bracelet.", he said, "The Book of Wisdom says that riches should go to those who have need of it; what's the bracelet to you? Food on the table we have, and poetry doesn't cost a penny. If I have this bracelet, I may sell it, and with the money I can pay a Professor to give me Education. Clearly, I am the one who should have the bracelet, for my need is the greatest."

As soon as he had finished speaking, Brother Poet stood up and spoke. "It is only right that I should have this bracelet.", he said. "Was it not I who found it in the forest? Besides, I am a Poet, and I understand beautiful things; the two of you would merely sell it for money, but I appreciate this bracelet for what it is, not for what it is worth. Clearly, I am the one who should have the bracelet, for my love for it is the greatest."

Which of the brothers should have the bracelet?

Bruce Willis

How good a shot is he? You see this dude confidently pointing a gun at someone in almost every movie he's in.

It's 06:06 and I refuse to google this question out of pure spite, just so it will boggle your heads and you will have to do it yourselves.

On Monday, that is in 18 hours now, I have school for 12 hours. Feel my blaring pain; class starts 8 and finishes 8.

And there's homework, on top of that. Joy is moi. G'night!

Nick Carraway and I

So, in the spare hour of lunch I dug through my backpack looking for The Happy Prince, and instead found The Great Gatsby (I had accidentally packed that book instead - again). Reading the introduction to that book, I came to realise what it is I love so much about this piece of work.

This is, simply, that I can identify with both of the main characters - with Jay Gatsby, and above all, with Nick Carraway - because, much like Nick, I gravitate towards people far more splendid than myself. Nick is a man who finds that great men tend to trust him, in his own words, and he's got a strange fascination for Jay Gatsby, this larger-than-life fellow whose ambition and despair the book is about. Thinking this, I realised that I am much like Nick Carraway in that I associate with great people, for whom I hold great adoration.

I don't talk about Gatsby's kind of ambition, because I know nobody with that particular type of splendour. I am saying, though, that the people I associate with - that is to say, my friends - seem to me passionate people, with a dedication to living life to its fullest. They all do this in different ways, to be sure, but there's little negotiation - little holding back. Some of you seek to change the world, others, to change yourselves, still others, to be free of the worlds' expectations - but all of you are, in some ways, my superiour. I do not say this lightly.

There is a saying that "everyone I meet is in some way my superiour", which would make the above point moot. I don't think so, however; there are people more skilled than me in many areas, to be sure, but their skill is a tool, a means, a crude device. This is not superiourity - whether this skill is social, physical or mental, it's no more sophisticated than Tom Buchanan's polo playing (sorry for all the references, to people who have not read the novel, by the way). The splendour I see in my friends is their devotion to the idea in itself, to the concept that a higher purpose is hidden inside a skill. The difference between skill and superiourity, then, is analogous to the difference between brawling and martial arts; a man swinging wild punches can surely defeat a martial artist if he's lucky, but to him the fighting is only a means - never an art, never a purpose in itself, never a soul's treasure like the art is to the artist. Jay Gatsby is more than a wealthy socialite - he's a man with the American Dream burning at the very core of his soul.

What I mean to say - and I might be wrong, but what I feel - is that everyone I know and love possesses such a soul's treasure, a flame which makes them my superiour. Many, many people in this world could beat me up, but Love is truly my superiour in the martial fields. Many could talk faster and crack better jokes than me, but Eva has a burning passion for people. Many could draw better than me, or analyse comics better than me for that matter, but Björn has a flame of creativity which suffuses all his essence, and so on, and so forth. The list goes ever on; everyone I love possesses such a flame, and it would be pointless for me to recollect everyone's talents and ambitions - you know them yourselves, and each of you possesses more than one of them. It is as if you've seen a glimmer of some Platonic ideal, and seek to pursue it.

And, like I said at the beginning, I see some of Gatsby in myself as well. Though I waiver in what I want, I too can at times feel like I am superiour in what I do - not because I do it well, but because it is so important, so great, that it becomes larger than life. It is at times like these that I can truly believe in the green light across the bay. Nevermind what it means.