Sea of Green

Water Color

I Don't Even /Like/ Pumpkin!

I've been accused of cheating. Not recently, thankfully, but since it happened oh so many years ago, I can claim no longer that I've not been accused of cheating. But any time I have to admit that I once was accused of cheating, I can further, at least, go on to say that They Were Wrong.

It's not often that a kid in middle school gets the chance to say that.

Not that I'm a kid in middle school any longer, but I did get to say so then (and still get to say so now. They Were Wrong!)

But because of this one time, I can no longer say that I've not been accused of cheating. Which saddens me greatly. Not that I'm claiming to be either for or against cheating; that's the topic for another time, when I'm again skimming the bottom of the barrel and have nothing interesting or generally worthwhile about which to rant. No, I'm claiming neither, mostly I'm claiming that I don't like to be called a cheater. Even more so when it's not true.

I can't help that in that competition, the question they asked was dumb. I can't help that they had to give us all sorts of numbers for the word problem before we were supposed to be able to start scribbling to put the numbers together is some meaningful and coherent way. I can't help that the way they gave us the numbers, the question was obvious before it had been stated, and the answer was apparent as soon as the last number was revealed.

I can't help that I chimed in with the answer before they thought I even knew the question, I can't help that the other team felt like glaring at me.

I can't help that they thought I was cheating.

But when they realized that the question itself came from the other team, that there was no chance I could have even seen the question, much less rememberized its answer, they began to doubt their claims.

I can't help that I could still see it in their eyes and thoughts, though. Cheater, cheater! Seeing things in people's thoughts doesn't make me a cheater, right?

Standing... Still

What's Up?

Through the Looking Glass

Eye Spy

Just a Dash of Color

Room.. With a View

Against the Flow

On the Nature of Time

We all know that some times (say Friday, the day before Christmas, or 3am on a sleepless night) crawl by. Some days always refuse to cooperate, refuse to let other times have their fun. Other times (weekends, or the hours between when you fall asleep and when you wake up) fly by much too quickly, are unable to hold their ground against the inevitable future, no matter how you try to assist them.

Some people might blame this on the Evil Time Fairies, those nasty beings that flit around when you're not watching, and pushing time around, moving it to people that appreciate it less. They're there, when you see something blue, shiny, and fast flashing out of the corner of your eye. That's then, when you see a *bzorch* of power, and then *poof* suddenly that wonderful day you were having with the girl of your dreams is now no more than a bittersweet memory that has begun to fade even before your time together was even over. (Don't worry, she was having a horrible time, so she's still there with you, and for half of eternity you'll be together.)

Some people might blame this, instead, on the Chronoslug, a beast leaving a trail of temporal distortion in his wake, sticking to the fabric of space (not space/time, obviously) like that gunky buildup that happens in your shower when the water isn't the pure liquid from a stream high in the Himalayan mountains. They're obviously wrong, though, since I tried taking this gunky time-distorting buildup with me the last time I went to a boring lecture, and all I got was thrown out.

Some people might blame this on the conspiracy of watch makers, whom all have decided that they want more time off, and thus slow down clocks around the world whenever they need a break. So while it may seem like time is crawling by to you, don't worry, it's crawling for everyone else. Just boycott the watches and clocks, just claim "5pm, time to go home!" and don't let the injustice continue.

What is a time other than an arbitrary designation anyway? It's not like anyone /else/ really believes in the Evil Time Fairies.