A Geologist's Tale

Tony the Geologist had met his match: "This little rock I'm holding is nothing compared to the beautiful specimen before me!"

Wondering why this specimen was growing larger by the second, and why it was is in the sky rather than on the ground, Tony's mood shifted to silent contemplation. "Why," he queried, "would this rock be above me and not below?"

Tony the Geologist then began to feel fear for the first time in his life. Quickly, he turned aside to glance at the pebbles and stones at his feet. "Perhaps if I jump high enough, I can be safe again, for these stones are under me, and they are not growing larger!"

So, Tony the Geologist spent his last moments jumping toward the very thing that destroyed him. It was, in fact, a poetic end. Writ large upon the sky was Tony's passion, creeping ever closer in a symphony of silence that brought its viewer to a state of utter hypnosis. He had died a happy man.

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Savior

This wasteland cold and dark runs free Its fearful creatures speak to me One fateful day one nudged my hand To set my eyes upon a tree He knew I could not understand For I was in his native land His signs became our common speech To lead me through the deadly sand Now stuck I saw him me beseech He could not lift me out to reach The firm foundation of a cave Outside the boundaries of this beach Withal, the beast became more brave To risk his own my life to save To carry me, its life it gave To carry me, its life it gave. This poem was inspired by Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening." That poem, like this one, has four four-line stanzas of eight syllables per stanza. Its rhyme scheme is AABA BBCB CCDC DDDD.

Ghosts

Exercising at a gym seems to be pretty important in our culture, but it's kind of weird to see the social dynamics when you're there. Usually, if you're running an errand, you see others doing the same thing, going about their days and focusing on what's in front of them. The same thing happens at the gym, only everyone is relatively stationary. They don't really go anywhere, except from one machine or area to another. One might think this lends itself to lots of interaction between members, especially since they're all there for the same purpose, but it isn't true. Not only do people generally avoid talking to one another, but they also avoid even looking at one another. It is as though there is no one else there, even though there are dozens on any given day. Most people follow this unwritten rule, unless something in the environment-- say, two people wanting to use the same set of weights-- gives them common ground to interact, or unless they've alr...

The Nice Guy Fallacy

I read part of a poem recently by one of my favorite poets. It reads: I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage The linnet born within the cage That never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time Unfetter'd by the sense of crime To whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may call itself as bles't The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall I feel it, when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. At base, Tennyson contrasted a life of risk, and consequent pain, with one of security. He sides conclusively with the life of risk, and says he fails to envy those who have faced no hardship. I agree with him; and, for good or ill, his words are just as relevant today as they were in the nineteenth century. Like then, there are those today who choose to live their lives with as little risk as...

Thoughts

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