I, Robot?

So, I'm reading this book on cybernetics that I bought at the gift store in a science museum. I was reading chapter three today when I found out some shocking news. (cuse the dramatic music) News that would turn my whole world as I knew it upside down....

That news was the definition of the word cyborg:

cy·borg

   /ˈsaɪbɔrg/ Show Spelled[sahy-bawrg] Show IPA

noun

a person whose physiological functioning is aided by or dependent upon a mechanical or electronic device.

 

(source: dictionary.com)

Glasses, as it was pointed out by the book, are a mechanical device. I wear glasses. Therefore, I'm technically a cyborg.


...


...

...0_o

Seriously?!? This is shocking news to me, it's like, right below being told that I'm actually an alien. And all I can come up with is an emoticon?!?

Oh. My. Goodness.

THAT'S EXACTLY HOW A CYBORG WOULD REACT!!!!!!!




Crap. I did it again...sort of.

I'm bad at internet memes.

Probably a good sign.

Still trying not to hyperventilate.



Maybe if I...got contacts?

Wait. Still a lens.

Laser surgery?

Can't afford it.

Darn it.

Oh well. Guess I'm a cyborg for life, then.



The lame thing about knowing something is that you can't unknow it...

Dahlia or Dandelion?

Have you ever seen a flower growing through a crack in the pavement? It makes my day every time.

The thing is, you'll never see this occurring with the more delicate flowers. No roses or orchids or dahlias here. The flowers that make it through the concrete are the dandelions, the wild pansies, the daisies. They're the weeds. The ones that annoy me when I see them growing on the front lawn.

How could something be so beautiful in one situation, but held in such low regard in another? The only solution that I can think of is that it's not the beauty of the flower itself that I'm reacting to, but the beauty of the situation. Every tiny blossom that a plant growing through the sidewalk produces is a reminder that adversity can be overcome.

At any time, there are pairs of feet cruising by, any one of them might crush its delicate petals. A child could easily pluck it out of the ground, inadvertently destroying the subject of his or her admiration. Herbicides are sprayed with the express purpose of killing the tiny plant.

Add to that the fact that it's growing through a slab of rock. There are no nutrients there to support it. At least not at the surface.

But what the rose would see as a death sentence, the wild pansy sees as a challenge. Its roots shoot far, far down into the soil, as its stem makes the long, difficult journey to the light. Down beneath the pavement, the dandelion finds virgin soil, free from other plants that might compete with it, and gets all the nutrients it needs to flourish in its difficult environment. Even if it gets plucked, the roots of the plant are so deep that it can regenerate and start over. It adapts.

As do we. Everyone faces adversity. What separates the dandelions from the dahlias is whether we see it as a minor setback or an insurmountable obstacle. The only question is which will you be?

The Best Things Ever

My two favorite things in the world are fresh air and music. I've decided to procrastinate from my homework by creating a list of scenarios which combine the two, all of which are guaranteed to cause a little happy coma, deep within my soul:

1) playing guitar outside
2) hearing some one else play guitar outside
3) outdoor worship services
4) outdoor concerts
5) listening to a crappy stereo while at the beach
6) listening to a crappy stereo while camping in the mountains
7) blasting the radio while driving with the window open
8) sitting at the window, listening to my ipod
9) campfire sing-a-longs
10) singing in the parking lot (until I inevitably get caught, that is)

The Cliff

I've been on this road for awhile now. Trying to live two lives. There's the life that I imagine for myself at some point in the future. There's not a day goes by that doesn't find me thinking about it, picturing what it will be like, longing for it. Then there's the life I actually live. It's good, respectable, and most of the time I actually find myself enjoying it. On some level, I knew that the day would come when I'd have to choose.

Do I chase the awesome but admittedly crazy dream, or do I grow up and settle for an easy, peaceful life?

I've been inching closer for a good portion of my life so far.

And finally, I find myself at the edge of a metaphorical cliff with two options.

I can jump off, knowing that I'll have to fall through all of my deepest fears and way, WAY out of my comfort zone. But if I find that I can fly, the payoff would be huge. I could become all I've always felt I was meant to be.

Or, I can walk away. I'll be safe, comfortable, stable, maybe even moderately happy. But I'll never know whether I ever had a chance at my dream. I'll never know whether I could fly.

I've known the time to make this decision would eventually come ever since I realised that the life I pictured is highly improbable. I've always thought that I would make the brave decision and go for it anyway. And now everything in me is telling me the time to make that commitment is now. But I'm terrified. I know that this is a risk that I need to take, but something keeps pulling me back.

It's the craziest thing to know exactly what you want, and what the next step to getting it is, but being afraid to do it. It's like being paralyzed.

Not that this is something meant to be interesting to read. I just needed to think through some things, and writing is a way for me to do that. Sorry to have wasted your time if you were expecting to read something excellent.

I Wore My Sunglasses at Night

A long-time pet peeve of mine is when people wear sunglasses indoors. Not due to a medical condition or being sensitive to light or recovering from laser eye surgery, or because they have those lenses that automatically shade when you go outside and then take forever to go back to normal. But as a fashion statement. It's not practical, everyone knows it. It just looks bad. Please don't.

And WHAT is with the selection of these already fairly awful frames? It's like they're just designed to be unflattering. You've got the aviators, which make you look like you walked out of your time machine straight from the seventies, ditto the ones with ridiculous day-glo frames that you can buy at the dollar store if you happen to be blessed with good vision. You've got the ones that are so dark they completely block out your eyes and the ones that are so lightly tinted they barely qualify as sunglasses. What's worse is that there doesn't seem to be a nice, medium range. And lest we forget those ones that are so huge they make virtually everybody look bug-eyed (which, much to my bewilderment, most model/actresses don't seem to mind). I bought the least offensive pair I could find at lenscrafters and I still hate the way they look on me.

Don't get me wrong, sunglasses are useful sometimes, and there are a few occasions when I'll go ahead and swap them in. If I'm driving and the sun is in my eyes, if I'm walking out of an afternoon showing of some movie, if I'm on the beach, or in Hawaii (my Canadian eyes are just a little too delecate to handle that much sunlight), or if the sun is reflecting off the snow enough for it to hurt not to squint I won't hesitate to pop them on, but other than that I avoid them like the plague.

So it kind of sucked for me last week, when my regular glasses broke. I tried to make do with an old pair, but it's easier said than done when you have to read the whiteboard to take down notes. So, I wore my sunglasses in a particularly note-filled class one day. I wasn't proud of it then, and I'm not now. I'm pretty sure I blushed for fifty minutes straight that day. I put them away as soon as I got out of class and immediately felt dizzy wearing my old prescription. Having already experienced a good dose of cognitive dissonance from wearing them indoors for almost an hour despite my chagrin when I see other people do it, I decided "What the heck? I already paid for it.". And wore them for the rest of the day. In costco. At the mall. Shopping for a new pair of glasses. Playing with the cat. At 11:00 pm.

It really annoyed my family. Good to know I'm not the only one.

I'll Probably Decide to Delete This By Tomorrow

I've always kind of liked minesweeper. I find that there's something kind of soothing about using simple logic to avoid certain (virtual) doom.

There's just one problem: I used to really suck at it.
Like 33% win rate kind of suck.
Really bad.

Then last week I finally figured out how to flag mines (you right click, FYI), and after losing a few games by accidentally left clicking on a mine I was trying to flag, I found myself winning almost every game.

It was such a small peice of the puzzle, but without it, winning more than 50% of the time was a pretty much hopeless endeavor. And then I started thinking: What if real life were like this? What if there were just some "little peice" that was holding me back? Would I change it? Would I be able to? If not, would I even want to know?

Then I remembered: that was computer land, and this is here. So I don't have to even wonder.
It was the first time I was ever thankful that life is more complicated than a computer.

AUGH! :(

Know what sucks?!?!

*waits for you to guess*

Wrong! Miniseries's. They suck.

Allow me to back up a little bit. Recently, I was unlucky enough to find what could very well be my favorite TV related thing ever. Spoiler alert: it's BBC's Sherlock. It was perfect. Everything about it was just perfect. The british accents, the mystery, the adventure, the british accents, the creativity that still managed to stay somewhat true to the source material, the british accents, the bromance between Holmes and Watson, and did I mention the british accents (which are only the second most beautiful accents ever)? Also, Sherlock Holmes is my all-time favorite book series. Even the throw cushion on Holmes's armchair is exactly like the one I have on my bed (which I bought before knowing of the series). It's like the producers had me in mind when they made it.

Now, I say that I was unfortunate to stumble (or rather, be directed to via a friend's recommendation) upon this little slice of heaven because it's a miniseries. Which basically means there are a total of three 90 minute episodes available for me to watch until the new year, when the second season is to come out. I've watched two of them already.

So now I'm stuck with this terrible dilemna: I can go ahead and watch the third episode right now. Or I can resist and have a new episode still to watch until the new series comes out. And I blame the miniseries format of the show. Three episodes is just not enough for a satisfying season of any show, let alone a contender for the greatest thing ever. It's enough to get you hooked, and then it's like: No more! Season's over. See you next year, SUCKA!!!

You suck, BBC, you really, really suck.