I have a theory. I have no proof of this theory… but I have a theory.
My theory isn’t as wild as the theory of gravity but it’s got its own share of impracticality.
Imagine if you will… the beginning of the big bang… The Universe is born from nothing. It is the result of random particles blinking into existence, possessing incredible amounts of energy, and then blinking out again. Only instead of annihilating itself completely from the polarity it possesses, a tiny infinitesimal portion of it sticks around. Could this infinitesimally small residue be our universe?
Now here is where it gets weirder. Imagine that dark matter is nothing more than residue from other universes that have since been born of nothing and have since returned to nothing.
You see, as a *NERD* I’m quite educated in the theory of my own wild imagination. I know from watching various NASA/COSMOS/NERD type shows that our own universe is going to experience some sort of heat death in about elevenidy-quadrillion-pexillion-hugeillion years. That’s a real number, look it up. Back yet? Good. Now that you have studied up on the thermal heat death of the Universe… what is to say that dark matter, which doesn’t react to anything in our universe, is nothing more than the spent ash of prior Universes? Does spent ash ignite when thrown into the furnace of a big bang? No, otherwise it wouldn’t be called ash. See, I told you I was smart.
Think about this. Go on, I’ll wait here for a bit.
Still thinking I see. We’ll I don’t mean to push you too fast here but I don’t have all the time in the universe to wait. I have my own version of a thermal death to attend to at some point. You see dark matter doesn’t react, or at least as far as we’ve been able to determine. So if it was inert, save for its rudimentary gravitational force-
Damnit I just had a phone call and that took me out of my head. It was a wrong number too. It’s almost as if the Universe is trying to keep me from solving all of its secrets. *Looks for aluminum hat*
I know my thinking might sound weird but I assure you *adjusts newly dawned hat* that it’s no crazier than the crackpot Galileo. Yes, before you go there, I fully admit I had to google how to correctly spell his name.
Now leave me and my jars of urine alone!
So there we were, all four of us sitting around the dinner table. My daughter, Megan 10, likes to play this dinner time thing where she pulls precut questions out of a plastic drinking cup to and uses them as conversation topics.
My wife, being the cleverest vixen she is, decided to pull up her own question off of her phone for a bit a variety. It’s my wife’s turn to ask her question to which she reads off, “If you could be any person you wanted for a week, who would it be and why?”
She looks to her left and eyes me expecting an answer. I lower my fork and focus my gaze out into the beyond for the one and half a seconds it takes for me to come up with an answer. Refocusing on my family I reply “Hugh Hefner, I think he lives an interesting and artistic life.”
The part glare, part frown, part grin I get from my wife tells me my mouth trumped my brain again.
My daughter looks to me as says “Who’s Hugh Hefner?”
My wife’s eyes lock onto me as if saying ‘See what you’ve started?’
I face my daughter and say, “He was a man of naturalistic art.”
Something sparks in my daughter’s face as she faces her mother and says “I would want to be Taylor Swift cause I would sing her music. I really love her music.”
My wife says, “Somehow I knew you would say that.”
I wink in my wife’s direction, “Did you know I would say mine?”
I just get an eye back.
Then our son, Drew 6, speaks up. He says, “I want to be Hugh Hefner as well.” My wife and I exchange looks of ‘Does he even what he is saying?’ Drew then adds, “He sounds fun.”
My wife looks back at my face and comes close to spitting up part of her dinner into her napkin out of ever increasing laughter.
Two minutes later, once she has calmed herself down some more, she says to me “I would have chosen Jacqueline Kennedy for the sheer Joy of watching you in Dallas.”
Mildly put off by her desire to see my brains sprayed out I come up with my response. “I’m surprised you didn’t say Lorena Bobbitt?”
She raises her glass of wine and gives a mock salute.
The hate I have for my current job has killed nearly all of my writing mojo.
My boss, a.k.a. ‘Vinegar’, has started noting the times we (not just myself but in fact our entire team here) come and go and how long our lunches and breaks are. She has even gone so far as to come in early just to try and catch me coming in late. I haven’t been late and don’t expect to be but it’s just offensive. She has also taken it upon herself to sneak up on us to make sure we are where we are supposed to be.
Aside from this drama I have gotten only about two pages deep into reworking my Mr. K novel. This would be the third draft of the story and what is good/sad (I’m not sure which) is that from when I wrote the second draft, winter/spring of 2015, I can feel the story getting stronger.
I’ve also been slowly editing a novel which was written by the father of a childhood friend of mine. My friend and I have since parted ways due to him getting a bug up his butt. I’m not making that up as those were close to the words his father used when I ran into him during that workshop last Friday.
How do you eat an elephant?
One bite at a time.
2 pages done on draft 3. 🙂
I spent $210 to attend this event “https://sacramentowritingworkshop.com/”
It’s the half-way point of the day and both the agents I’ve signed up to meet are later in the afternoon. I can’t say this has been much of a learning exercise so much as a reinforcing exercise. Much of what the speaker has said I’ve already picked up on through various sources. So nothing, as of yet, really new. Still, the reinforcement is providing some level of comfort.
You know what…
..and I’m back. While I was writing the above I got interrupted by a peer wannabe author. She and I struck up a conversation and one thing leed to another.
BTW I just finished giving my first pitch to an agent and I missed hitting a home run.
I did however get a line drive so technically I am on first base. She had no interest in my Sup-Her pitch but she did give me a chance to pitch something else. I plugged my Mr. Kobayashi story and she said she was interested in learning more about it.
SUP-HER is now officially on hold!
Hello Ehm! Long live Mr. Kobayashi!
Now I have to decide what I’m going to brush up on for my second agent pitching attempt.
The bead of sweat trickles down my back and finds its way into the crack of my ass.
It is a hot day but even as I stand here in the shade it feels somewhat comfortable had I not just walked a mile from work to the train station.
Of course it was late.
What else is new?
I came close to getting some sex this past weekend. Our little C.B., which publically stands for cuddle buddy, snuck into our bed both Friday and Saturday night after we had fallen asleep. In private it stands for cock blocker but that’s something I won’t share with him until he is much older. Nothing kills a mood faster after waking up with and reaching over to have your hand find the butt of your six-year-old son.
Right now my mind is awash in thoughts, too many thoughts, and far too much emit. Now you might be asking yourself what emit is? Well, it’s the opposite of time. Yeah, I’m not that original when it comes to naming things. When I write stories often the first names I come up with for characters it’s typically stupid like ‘Evaldude’. The antagonist in my Sup-Her story has the name Tyorus. Which is in effect the company ToysRus jumbled up. I wanted to name him after the twisted mind as I envision him. As of me writing this, I can’t say what his name might have changed to but I’m sure has become something different.
I’m in a Starbucks, air-conditioned thankfully, and sipping on a strawberry refresher. $4.45 never seemed like such a deal. It is definitely what I would call tasty. I called my wife a few minutes ago and she is now on her way to pick me up. Guess I can reward her by keeping my hands to myself again tonight. I’m not a subtle guy and so I want to make sure I’m giving the impression that she isn’t into sex as much as I am. Oh and on top of all this, I happen to have a cold as well.
You see when our little CB joins us he often sleeps onto of the covers, which I tend to throw off when I’m trying to fall asleep. Over the course of the night, as the temperature starts to drop, thanks to the windows being open, I reach over and pull them back over myself. Well our little buddy sleeps right on top of them which makes this little act of gymnastics rather difficult.
Add in sleep deprivation, which is the norm most nights as the kids don’t ever go to sleep on time, and you get yourself a nice little no win situation. Hello Mr. Cold.
The man sitting at the next table over from me is talking to himself. I doing my best to nod my head to the latest Lindsey Sterling album playing through my Bluetooth headset. Yeah introvert ignorance and not having to interact with him.
Am I a selfish human being.
Or am I considerate enough not to force myself onto others?
A bit of both seems about right.
Yesterday I made the trip to go see my grandmother who is just a few months of turning 90. It has been far longer than I would have liked since I last visited her. Sadly, it’s been years. You see my son, who just turned six, still has bathroom issues. I have been reluctant to do longer car rides because he keeps soiling this way and that. He is, for lack of a better term, a real pill.
Yes, I know that is an excuse. It’s also the truth. He is also wicked smart when it comes to things. I have some repressed hope that the little fucker ends up being some sort of Einstein and does something awesome with his intelligence. Either that or I’m just deluding myself into thinking all this is somehow worth it.
A bit of both seems to fit.
So in talking with my grandmother, because it had been so long, I could see the deterioration of time has had upon her.
Time out for a moment as I have to give some more backstory about who and what she is. So on Sunday I called her up and discussed showing up around noon to take her out to lunch. In the entire conversation I would say, from both of our mouths, that a total of 300 words in all. It wasn’t that long of a conversation. In the end, I think the words ‘lunch’, ‘noon’, ‘take you out’, and ‘see you around noon’ came up at least twice each. Well after getting off the phone with her I called up my own father, her son, and informed him of my plans.
The next morning, I get a text from my dad saying she has no clue to when I’m going to show up or even if I was.
Come Monday afternoon, as we’re all sitting around chatting, my dad, who decided to show up, gets a text from his cousin. He reads it aloud and tells everyone that my aunt/cousin (I get these things confused) is inquiring about my visit. The only people that knew about this trip was my father, my grandmother, and myself. The fact that my aunt/cousin also knew told me that grandma was busy dishing the gossip. This from the lady that has no clue to when I’m even showing up or even if I’d show up at all. It is drama for drama’s sake. She is like this.
She has always been like this but only now, after being away for some time, do I truly see it for what it is.
Man maturity sucks. She’s getting worse and as I’m getting older I’m seeing the truth more and more for what it is. I find myself missing the ignorance of youth more and more. Yes, I’m a forty-five-year-old man but even I want to cling to some innocence. You know, like kind of wishing my wife had more of a drive. Or that my kids knew how to not shit themselves so much.
And yes, on the way home yesterday my son shit himself in the car again. We got to smell that Mmmm tasty treat all the way home.
I believe in the 80/20 rule. It’s the only thing that seems to keep me above water. For those of you who don’t know the 80/20 rule is essentially ‘In order to get something mostly done it only requires some effort on your part.’ This is essentially saying that in order to get something to 80% done it will require about 20% effort. The same logic then says that in order to get it something from 80% to 100% will then require an additional 80% of effort. In other words, ‘Perfection is the enemy of getting things done’.
That being said my boss and my boss’s boss are both Type ‘A’ people. In other words, they believe in wasting the resources in order to get something to 100%. Now I work for the state of California and trust me there are plenty of 20% effort people out there who fail to achieve even a comparable 20% product for their 20% effort.
I don’t work in the legal department. My area does not deal with brain surgery issues, but after listening to Ben Carson I’m starting to think that brain surgery is all that difficult either. True story tangent: When I was around the age of 20 I went to Florida and went on a tour of NASA. As part of the tour they showed us the launch rooms and technology and gave their colorful banter. I recall them saying something to the effect of “What we do here is quite impressive but it’s only rocket science, not brain surgery.” Gotta love nerd humor.
I am a type ‘B’ person. I always have been and will be until the day I die. I would rather do something good enough to get it done and then move onto the next project. Yeah sometimes my 20% effort doesn’t actually get an 80% result but I’m willing to be that this happens far less than those who put in the 100+% and get less than 100% results. I won my shortcomings. Yes I said won cause isn’t that in a sense an own in its own right? Yeah, what started out as an unintentional typo blossomed into something more. Hey, this site is all about life happening in the first draft. I don’t mind rolling with it.
Anyway back on to my topic… I think type ‘A’ stands for Asshole and in a bit of self-indulgence, believe that ‘B’ stands for Brians.