The Other Squirrel

That's it. I finally found it. At 7:53 PST this morning, I finally discovered the origin of The One Squirrel.

There I was, walking down the street, minding my own business, when it hit me. Well, not /quite/ hit me, but it was a pretty close call. If I had been paying a bit more attention and had been walking in somewhat straighter of a line I would have been hit, so I'll go ahead and count it. So there I was, walking down the street, minding my own business, when it hit me.

I know now that this is where the squirrel must have come from. Where he must have started his journey. For there is no way that he could have come flying from the sky, crashing into the ground at my feet, and then shaking himself off before beginning his journey through time. I admit, there was a tree there that he came flying out of, but the palm tree was un-climbable. He tried to get back out of the timestream, but couldn't get a hold as he fell the thirty feet from the leaves above.

He grabbed and scrambled and kept falling through the air, unable to return from whence he came. He fell, he landed with a thump and he knew it had begun.

There is no way he could have climbed the tree, so atop that tree, at 7:53, his journey through time began. I have finally found his origin, and the theory is becoming complete.

Unless I was mistaken. Unless I'm seeing time backwards. Unless he didn't climb the tree, unless he fell /up/, and was already on his way backward through time.

Graveyard Shift

My plants are starting to die.

It makes me sad to come in and see them; the one was green and happy when I left work on Friday. It was excited to have a weekend to enjoy, had plans on relaxing, getting some sunbathing in, possibly going for a swim. It was full of hopes and dreams. But its dreams were shattered. The water never came, but the water wasn't as desired as the sun. The sun went away, as someone pulled the blinds closed. And my plant was left, lonely in the darkness, wishing it could be elsewhere. Anywhere.

My plants are starting to die.

It makes me sad to come in and see them; the other was already starting to turn brown when I left work on Friday. I keep watering it, but never can seem to give it enough. It's dry and brittle, and falls to pieces any time the wind blows. My old plant died because I watered it too much; this one, I fear, is going to die, as I appear to be afraid to water it enough. Yet, I continue to water it and hope, wondering if it isn't just the water (or lack thereof) that's causing problems. For it, too, may be wanting the sun; it, too, may have had dreams of sunbathing, dreams that were shattered when it moved further inside the building, further from the freedom of the portals to the wide outdoors.

My plants are starting to die. And what surprizes me the most is that they've lived this long. Several months longer than any other plant I've tried to keep, they have quite the will to keep going.

But perhaps, one of these days, I will leave my door unlocked and slightly ajar. Perhaps, one of these days, I will allow them to run free. And perhaps they'll return to me, appreciative of all I do for them. Even if it isn't enough, mayhaps it's more than they'd get without. Perhaps I'm doing some good for them, even though all I get in return is complaining and a desk littered with dead leaves.

Open the Hangar...err...Mailbox Door

"Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow" will keep the postman from delivering your mail, so they say. But those can't be the only things that will keep a postman from showing up on your doorstep. Yet, I don't know what the rest of the saying is, so I find that I have to make some slightly less-than-educated guesses.

Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor burning sun or glowing moon; no tidal waves or earthquakes rated less than eight-point-three; no armies of fire ants roaming free, no wind-blowing typhoon; none of these, nor many more, will keep thy mail from thee.

Neither starry skies, nor puddles of mud, nor three-headed attack dogs; no hedge mazes or crop circles or amazingly clean sliding glass doors you can't see; no acorn-wielding squirrels nesting in trees, no number of broken cogs; none of these, nor many more, will keep thy mail from thee.

There is nothing on this earth that will keep thy mail from thee.

Or at least so I thought until earlier this week. But as I was walking down the sidewalk, as I seem to frequently do, I discovered that there're some pretty mundane things that might be able to keep the mail from being delivered. Which made me fairly excited, as I think I found a new calling in life.

I've always wanted to be a teacher, but I thought it would be in some sort of math or science. I now found that I should start my own school, aimed at teaching postal carriers how to properly fold and throw paper airplanes. Quickly. For then, when the tow truck is pulling the broken-down mail car down the road, the mailman can still get his job done. And then, yet one more thing will be added to the list of happenstances that will not prevent your mail from being delivered.

It won't be his fault if you have a complex system of fans set up around your mailbox or drop slot. But if you arrange them properly, your mail will soon be delivered directly to your breakfast table. (Be careful with that pitcher of orange juice!)

Burning with the Fire of Exactly One Sun

What exactly /is/ the point of a fire alarm? It's loud, it's annoying, it's generally ignored. The alarm went off today, and as I made my way out of the building, I glanced around quickly to make sure I wasn't simply hearing a ringing in my ears again. The quick glancing didn't really help much. People kept chatting, eating breakfast, working on their computers, or even playing pool, but nobody was headed for the door. So what is the point of the fire alarm?

As I walked down the parking lot to the gathering area, I saw a couple of trucks filled with supplies being unloaded. I passed, and I couldn't help but overhear their conversation. "That's a pretty loud alarm, huh?" "Yup. Oh well, got to get this stuff inside so I can unload at the next place." So I wasn't just hearing things, unless I was projecting very well. They heard it too, but were willing to brave the flaming inferno that was supposed to be our building simply to get their job done on time? What is the point of fire alarms?

Sure, it was just a drill or test or a bug in the system. By the time I made it to the end of the parking lot, the alarm silenced and I could again head back inside. A few other people were incapable to handling the piercing noise, apparently, as there was a bit of a crowd to get back into the one nearest door. But the majority of the population had not heeded the warning. They had stayed chained to their desks, hoping to get one more minute of work done before the ceiling came crashing in on them. For without heeding the alarm's warning, that's the risk they found themselves taking. And if the fire alarm isn't going to be heeded, what's the point of having one?

What does it take to get people to evacuate a building? An alarm isn't enough, but will smoke do? Does the smoke have to be of sufficient quantity? Or do people need to actually see a flame before they flee? How much fire? Just a tiny one, or does it have to be a blazing inferno? Does the building have to be falling down, does the electricity have to be gone? Or do they simply have to start calling it a 'doughnut alarm', and serve baked goods outside any time there's a fire?

Would they then have to start catering baked goods every day, just in case?

It turns out, though, that there was a point to the fire alarm. Without it, I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to use the "Emergency Exit Only" door situated right by my desk. And it's been calling my name for a while now, mocking me with images of bright, sun shining days.

Another Kind of Model

I think I scared her as I was walking down the path. I'm sure she wasn't expecting me to come strolling by, else she wouldn't have made so much noise as he ran along through the underbrush, across the dead, crisp leaves.

Or mayhaps I'm wrong, maybe she was expecting me to let her be, expecting me to stop, take a few pictures, ask for her contact information in case some sort of ad agency wanted to get ahold of her, and then continue on my merry way, making sure to watch where I stepped as she ran her way across the path.

Mayhaps she's been watching too much TV, stealing off during the night when the hikers (and campers) are all snuggled safely in their beds (or sleeping bags), joining with the other wildlife in an effort to watch late night TV, viewing too many commercials with cute little geckos. Perhaps she knows that she's superior in every way to any lizard that currently has its own regular TV spot, other than the bit of random luck that would get her captured on film leading to his break in the modeling and acting businesses without having to go through all of the pictures that may crop up years in the future, disgracing her in the eyes of the world while simultaneously increasing the number of people that view her image.

It's possible that she planned that moment for years, her entire life working toward that one instant in time, that moment when she can finally get her break. It's even possible that her one chance is dependant on me being able to properly use the camera to show her off in the best possible light.

It's possible. But if so, she should learn to properly type her contact information. Does anyone know what zip code I can find 'axdvgnjjjjjjjjjjj' in? I have a lead on a job for her. They're offering seven figures.

Roast... Asparagus

I had some unexpected visitors this week. I hadn't been expecting to use my pool anyway, so I almost didn't even get to see them. But as I left my apartment, there they were, making me want to go for a swim.

What made the momma duck decide to go for a day trip to the pool today? And how did she know to use the pool, how did she keep the ducklings from going into the hot tub? How did she plan on getting them back out when they were done with their swim? She could jump out, but the duckling that tried hit his head on the side of the pool and fell back into the water with a splash. Not the size of the splash the momma made when she realized the ducklings couldn't follow, but a fairly hefty splash for a critter of that size anyway.

Why did the other 10 ducklings stay home when I saw her swimming in the pool again last night?

So many questions come from just seeing a duck paddling its way through a swimming pool. So many mysteries of the universe to unravel. It makes me wonder what questions I'd have if I looked out one morning and saw a tuna swimming around in the pool. I suppose I'd start wondering if the pool was safe, or if there was a danger of a man-eating shark.

Or maybe I'd just wonder... when's lunch?

Plotting Trees

It was a dark, forbidding place. The naked arms of the trees reached toward the sky, blocking all that would pass, be it plants from below, animals on the ground, or even the lights from the sky. It was a place of darkness, of horrible deeds and awful acts. It was a place that could be tread upon only once, only one way, only to walk even further into its grasp.

It was a place that gave you hope, but only to snatch it away at the last instant. It let you see the green sunshine, just out of reach. It let you know the heat of the sun was there somewhere, if only you could find the clearing that did not exist.

It could have almost been the set of Blair Witch, but with less sniffiling noses.

Or it could have been partway down a nice, sunny path, surrounded by mosquitoes with the sound of an amazing waterfall permeating the air. But that wouldn't make as fun a story. Although it still has no plot.

Fast Food Empire

I went to Yosemite this weekend. It was a fairly last-minute decision, and then my procrastination made finding a hotel even more difficult, so we ended up simply driving there and back in a day. A long, long day. A very, very, very, long, long day.

I hoped to stay longer, I hoped to see (and take pictures of) the stars, although I forgot that the moon was going to be so full washing most of the stars out of the sky. But we did stay until sunset, putting us back much too early (late?) in the morning.

The problem with staying so long was that I'd not brought anything for dinner and thus had to stop somewhere on the drive home to grab some food. Which really shouldn't have been a problem, but when I'd waited in line for ten minutes, and none of the six people ahead of me had yet to be served.. I wonder though, were they served by the time I was nestled safely in bed? How long will fast-food workers stay after closing hours to feed the ten people still waiting in line? Is this why some fast food places simply never close?

And thus, the questions that I ponder while I drive home late at night with little to keep my attention other than the castles off of the horizon.

One Car Over the Line

I do it frequently enough that I shouldn't be surprized by the things that I see as I walk to work. But the world keeps changing on me, and the things I see keep changing right along with it. Months ago, when they started doing road construction on my path to work, I was annoyed. They completely tore up the side of the road I walk down, requiring me to use the (slower and much more dangerous) other side for about a month.

I don't think the cars very much appreciated me using the other side either, as they kept having to stop to let me cross in front of them.

So when they put back my side of the street, when it was again in working order, I was pretty happy. Although they left the crosswalk signal un-connected, so I had to walk further down the road than I liked. They still painted the crosswalk lines and I thought the world was going to be a happy place again really soon.

I was wrong.

It wouldn't be very interesting if I'd been right. "City does road construction! Roads are now safer and more friendly!" Possibly front-page news, as most road construction never ends, but still not all that interesting. No, I was wrong. They left the crosswalk closed for several months, nearly half a year. Including today, although I'm hopeful the construction will end soon.

I discovered that over the weekend, they re-painted the crosswalk lines. About fifteen feet further down the road than they had before. So last time, they painted some useless lines in completely the wrong place.

Since they didn't turn the signals on, I figure they had to have known that they were going to do more construction. So I've found myself wondering, why exactly /did/ they go ahead and paint the crosswalk lines, lines that they now are going to have to go through the effort of 'removing' in some manner, so people don't find themselves trying to walk through random cars' back seats on their way to the other side of the road.

I suppose the city probably had too much money, and had to use it /somehow/ so they had an excuse to get some more.

Entropic Footgear

I need to get organized.

If you ask my mother, she'd tell you that she's known that for years. Well, I can't really argue, as I've known it too. But with all the picture-uploading I've been doing recently, I've found myself spending a lot of time trying to get things organized.

I think I have finally found a solution to my organizational problems, though. I'll have to start keeping my eyes on the newspaper classifieds, see if I can find a gnome willing to stamp, sort, index, file, and number.

I debated getting a maid, but realized that when she left to go home for the evening, I wouldn't be able to find anything at all until she came back. So I've decided a gnome is going to be the perfect way to keep my life organized. Gnomes never have to go home (or at least the gnome in my neighbor's yard is always there when I glance out my window at 3am, keeping an eye on the lawn), and can keep at a task for years and years without being distracted. That's at least how long it's going to take to get me organized.

But then again, I suppose that going with a gnome might be a slight problem. They ask for quite a large salary, which I'm not sure I can afford. And they don't move all that quickly, meaning it would take years and years to get my organization complete, all through which I would have to keep paying. Nor could I decide that I no longer needed his services partway through, as then I certainly wouldn't know where to find /anything/ in that halfway-sorted mostly intermediate state.

Gnomes taking so long would have lots of problems. But I think the worst is the gnome would move so slowly that in the time required to put away a single book, the entire bookshelf will have fallen. If I'm going to hire an organizational assistant, I suppose I really do need to require they work faster than entropy.

Organizational assistant wanted. Degree in physics and a pair of sneakers required.

Superhero's Slumber

I find that when I have nothing to write about, it's not really all that surprizing and is like all the rest of the time in my life. But if I start writing, I can manage to fill up a page or three of complete and utter nonsense before I have anything to say. At that point, though, I'm obviously tired of writing. So that's my excuse for having filled my blog with complete and utter nonsense.

But that's fine, I say. We need more nonsense in the world. Too many people take too many things much too seriously and use too many comparitive adjectives when describing too many points of view. The world is much too serious a place most of the time, and we can use a little bit of lightheartedness. So here I am, doing my little part in trying to save the world from a horrible destruction from within, as the population slowly degrades itself and the state of the human race.

Of course, I must also admit that I do my fair share of degrading the human race. Killing brain cells left and right, as I attempt to force people to think too hard, unable to grasp the logical connections of my brain, the logical connections that obviously don't exist. Yes, I do my fair share of degrading, but refuse to actually take part myself. I don't think. I conserve my brain cells for future, much more important uses.

There are many things that I /could/ do to take part, I know. And they sound so very appealing. Drinking myself into a stupor, playing a professional sport (not that I have anything against athelets, but my attempt at joining them would throw the world back to the second century), or believing that wrestling (professional) is real.

But if I were to do so, if I were to allow the world to help degrade me, then I wouldn't be here when I'm needed. I wouldn't be here, able to protect the world from our greatest threat of all time, the one that only I can help us win. Or at least I keep telling myself, as I stand strong against the Fox network's temptations.

I just hope that that threat hasn't already occured, I might have slept through it. I too sleep on occasion, y'know.

Return of the Lens Cap

I know, I seldom post about things that are new or exciting. Generally it's about the snail that beat me in my trek to work (they leave some pretty nasty bruises) or the feather that looked like a brick of lead. Generally I'm much too long winded, and don't have anything to say, but can write enough to empty an entire inkwell and run the world out of its quota of the letter 'e' for the next decade.

I've had enough comments, though, from so many sources, that I figure I should actually post some actual content and let people know that I Am Listening (although if you run down the street yelling "Listening! Listening!" I'll move to the other side of the road).

I've finally found somewhere to host my images. The large numbers of them that I take, not just the occasional one that I manage to upload to blogger. Of course, given a large number of images, it takes a while to get them all uploaded. And getting them all uploaded implies that there're going to be lots and lots and lots of them that aren't any good.

It's easier to take good pictures since my lens cap decided to stay in China and keep out of my way, though.

If you get tired of reading nonsense and want to see thousands upon thousands words of it, accessible even to the illiterate, my photo gallery is now available. I've added a link to my sidebar, or find it at www.rerenderer.com. Just don't be expecting much. I'm still trying to get it in order, and don't have everything uploaded. It's a mess (for now, possibly for ever), but to see China through my camera's lens, you can take a look.

Just don't forget to keep track of your lens cap.