Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Time travel and being buried alive.

So the law of Quantum Physics states that time has already went through all possibilities to give you the present. That is you can't back in the past and kill your arch enemy so he fades away, because he is alive today, so even that has been figured in.



Well that takes the fun out of time travel, going back, messing something up, seeing how that effects the world. That's all I want to do with time travel. Well, maybe.

I did have a dream I time traveled once. I had a van that could drive through time. No drugs involved I swear. But I went back and took my childhood self a play station. Now I shaved off all logos and i.d.'s. I was like "take this boy, remember you made this." With some generic game on a cd my self went inside the trailer we lived in, and I talked with my younger than me parents. "Your son made this in our science lab, I suggest you contact. . . ."

Of course I was trying to come back and be rich. . . or dead.

But what if I really could time travel. Hmmmmm.

I wouldn't care. I would exist between the seams of time, going from here to there. I'd mess stuff up, kill Hitler, see if that did anything. Kill Washington, see how America changed. Reality wouldn't matter neither would my actions, cause I could just catch my self in a time loop and say "Hey don't do this or that, it sucks."

Now knowing me I wouldn't believe myself, or attack the future me. And in the end I'd probably end up killing every important person and eventually wipe out when I got bored of historical figures disappearing. I'd be tempted to take and oxygen tank, go back in the not so nice days of amphibians first starting to stick their heads out of the water and club them.



But then you have to wonder if I did that, would I disappear, or would I only disappear if I wet back to the time I left? Because I would be in flux.

I guess life is like a time machine. I remember being a different person, we change and become something new every so often. Maybe it is a life event, maturity, realizing we ware going to die. Or whatever.

Odd thing is I always knew I was going to die. Well I think I did. I don't' remember not realizing I am going to die one day. Perhaps I still don't' know, but think I do?

That reminds me of sitting at subway when I was about 6 or 7. MY dad was telling us stories of people being buried alive, how they dug up a guy and he had ripped off his fingernails by trying to claw his self out of the coffin.



At seven that freaked me out. I realized how small and tight coffins were. The space didn't freak out, I'm not claustrophobic. . . but not being able to move and get out. I know that sounds the same. But I would be fine in a room I could kick my 250lb butt out of. OR even bring a knee up. I work under cars all the time, so it isn't the tight spaces. It is the being trapped in a box under the ground. No one is going to look for you, because they already think your dead.

A calm Buddhist type may relax, and run out of air and peacefully slip off to death. Some "normal" person would probably freak out and claw at the top until ripped their finger nails off. Not me. I am rational. I'd be trying to get my fingers under the seal to find the lock. But when you close a coffin the lid "poof" actually touched the persons face, and shoulders are usually to the side, so there isn't a lot of movement room.

Now a days there is a small chance you could get to the lock, with the one way venting seals. Even if you did you couldn't open it. The dirt would be too heavy, and they are steel so kick the bottom out is even near impossible. IF you did wiggle out most places have concrete vaults over the coffins. Screwed.

But back to subway. My dad telling us this story freaked me out. We were sitting next to a cemetery in the restaurant and I could picture myself buried alive. Also I could picture someone right then trying to get out of the ground, clawing, screaming, with no hope. I couldn't eat my sub because the lettuce reminded me of grass. I know it sounds weird.

I'm not afraid of a lot, but being buried alive freaked me out. So I opt for cremation. If I do wake up it won't be for long. I am also too impatient to rot in the ground. My wife too, is going to be cremated.

I drive ten minutes back home just to make sure the garage door is down, even though I watched it and waited ten minutes to make sure it wasn't going up. So I could see me digging her up just to see if she was alive.



Now I know all about embalming, worked at a funeral home for a bit. So I know in America this isn't likely, cause if your not dead the embalming will more than kill you. But for someone who unplugs toaster so the house doesn't burn down you can't be too safe.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Prime of Life.


So here I am, getting ready to do homework. Great time to blog. Could it be that I am in college, yet still some how I am reaching the prime of life? Maybe. They say the prime of life is when you have too much to do and not enough time to do it.

That's me, a lot to do, vehicles to fix, a house to clean, a yard to landscape, dogs to feed, three fish tanks, one with turtles, an attic that needs redone, a bronco that is waiting for me to fix, homework, and lots of driving.

But I don't think that is what the prime of life is really about. I think it is about motivation. If I was really motivated I think I could accomplish almost everything, clean the yard, house, tanks, fix all the cars, do all the homework, and take a big 80% chunk of what needed done.

But it just keeps coming back. You finish one thing and four other things appear. You change the car's oil, and one thing down, but now you have dishes, laundry, trash, and dogs that need walked. You walk the dogs, now they are sick and have a cough, they need special food and antibiotics added to them, you give them a treat and have to watch them because they like to fight over bones and toys.

Once you do something, something else appears, always a hundred thousand things going on. That kills my motivation. If I could take one day, one single day, and just attack all that needed to be done, and have a easy week I would.

I guess I do that on homework. I like to get a bunch of projects Thursday that are due Tuesday and wait until Monday to start them. A little pressure is a good motivator.

But today on my way home the car died, had to floor it to keep it running. Got home about 3:00 have until 8:30 to do homework, eat, and here it is 5, only 3 and 1/2 hours left to accomplish six hours of homework, and fix the car. It was a primary fuel injector vacuum line, split and sucked itself inside, which will be fun to fix. That pressure is a motivator.

Prime of life? Maybe it is too much to do, or maybe it is that we grow older and less active? Either way I am not sure I am ready for the prime of life.


By the way speaking of my dogs:

Here are our dogs chewing on beef knuckles, it's not blood on her head, it's grease, she fights the grill for it.


video