Superposition

wafting to see a panoramic screen,
is like a Man, who with his child on knee,
tastes to smell an Incandescent dream,
of the space that fate now feigns to feed. 

a tawny needle, yet enclosed,
in view of purpose Clasped in thread,
seldom is mindful of the renown 
their unity gives those Who wed.

here and now and far between,
as beached upon the Isle of hope,
temps me to test the vagary:
tense and mirth, belied as "nope".

could light and darkness Me supplant,
fate, grant to me present's recant. 

Treadmill Confessions

"The road to being one of the best, I think, can be a very lonely one. And I have been willing to accept that loneliness- at whatever cost, and some people don't understand that. . . but I've been of the presence of mind not to allow that to deter me in any way because I believe this to be the most important pursuit of my life."

I firmly believe that moments of adversity and abject darkness of consciousness test and even purify human resolve. In moments like these, when objects seem so fixed and immovable and situations ship of life seem to capsize, character is built or lessened.

Nothing ever is easy, and few payoffs are immediate. Patience is necessary. I live and long for the payoff that stares back at me from an indeterminate time frame and displacement. Once attained, I know it will be comparatively insignificant when compared to the journey.

I feel most passionate, at present, about the awesome possibility everyone has, but few use, to create for the better- to change something/someone with the an intangible and unquantifiable abstraction, an idea, of a more desirable reality.

The luxury of the synergistic co-laboring in life is wonderful but something I find rare when so few barely considering the possibility of actualizing their own dreams. Resonating is difficult. However disheartening the loss of a close connection may be, self exploration and improvement is paramount. Kaizen- always.

"I'm living my life, too. I'm doing exactly what I want to do. I've found my passion. I've created my true calling in life. I live life on my terms. . . If I work hard at it, I can achieve something that was in my own hands to do."

Birth by Sleep

It all began with birth by sleep
when all was well within their hearts.
Though few took mind into the deep
desires creeping within his arts.

Names now differ and times have changed,
but still the stuggle wages within
the organ's two-fold meaning mazed:
a battleground for fate to win.

A world of darkness graced with few lights
who seek to spread and share good will
are faced with every wicked plight
to achieve life's goods whilst using ill.

Though chasers now do run their course,
"I hear I w's 'nsem" cleansed will endorse.

Idol Shepherd

There's many who'll tell you they'll give you their love,
and when they say "give" they mean "take". They'll
hang around just like vultures 'till push comes to shove;
they'll take flight when the earth starts to shake.
I've been walking through the the annals of my mind, and I heard quite a few reoccurring conversations over the past months. They went something like this, Q"Remember that guy Erik Downes who was banned from the App Store for "security reasons" for publishing apps on his blog?" A "Yeah. He surely must be dead; he hasn't blogged in months! Maybe he just has given up and has nothing more of reality to quantify and derive." Let me assure you, I've got quite a bit to say, but as usual, finding the time and means to transmit these approximations has been quite the tiffy. I apologize, but viewers, I've got my voice back.

I began this blog with a quote. I'm not going to explain it. I also began with a large picture of Steve Jobs. I'm not going to comment on that either. Why- because they're not important? Maybe. Because I've got something more important to say? Possibly. Here we go! Take a look below at Natalie Portman's sweet, luscious, caboose. That's what I'm going to blog about.


New viewers, you may not be surprised by my previous statement, but my veterans are, and they should be. I'm not going to center this blog around her rear end but, rather, the reason why she's bent. I quite enjoy being a human being- the highest life form on this side of the crust. I've got thumbs which I can oppose, and a brain with which I can think. . . or not. It's great. Why waste time considering what other animal you'd be, viewers? We're the best. Quite frankly, all other animals wish they were us. True fact.

Amidst the endless glories of humanity, one qripe of mine came to mind as I pensively sat on the patch of grass, fit for humans, akin to the one the dog squatting on- my toilet. TOILET PAPER. Of all of the creationary/evolutionary benefits humanity now has, how is it that we still have to use toilet paper and lower life forms. . . . don't? IDK about you, viewers, but I think something's wrong here. Some animals, like the dog above, have it so good, that someone else'll bend over and pick up the scraps for them. The hard fact about reality is, the only means of help you get for this evolutionary slip up is monthly expenditures for toilet paper which conveniently seems to run out when it's needed the most. Need I say more? I won't.

Contrary to popular belief, a handshake is a contact sport. Without sight or sound, I firmly believe that people would be fully capable of discerning one's character with touch and the most expedient means of doing so in a non-invasive manner is the handshake. Fortunately, for most of us, sight, smell, and sound all affirm or redress our perceptions of a newcomer based on their shake.

Handshaking isn't like college classes AT ALL. In college, as I'm sure you've heard, the most important thing is showing up, and maybe you'll learn something while you're there. I dare you to just "show up" to a handshake. Know what'll happen? You'll quickly fall into the category of people whom I'm about to categorize in this blog who offer the social introduction equivalent of "just showing up". A handshake of this nature, thus, will aptly be named- The Dead Fish (for reference- view the above picture).

The most important part of the handshake is the grip. If you're not capable of the grip, then, viewers, please- don't. show. up. If you do show up, then do so with a grip that conveys acceptance, interest, appreciation, and warmth. How does one do that? Practice. Squeeze too hard- you're inconsiderate. Don't squeeze at all- you're giving the dead fish, and you're the object of my textual derision. Congratulations. Squeeze JUST right, and you're in.

For most things in life, there's a window in which one can quickly implement damage control, and avert what, if left alone, could be a disaster. This, too, is true of the handshake. You really don't know what to expect, so the only way to guage one's grip is to jump right in. Once palms are connected, let the other senses do the work. Eye contact and eye brow positions are key. After all, the eye is the window to one's soul and handshake, right? (Cheesy? I know lol) Seriously though, there's a point to this all.

Here's the key: Confidence. A handshake is indeed a contact sport, and just like no singular sport is done with one part, neither is handshaking. Eyes, eyebrows, lips, cheeks, hands- the whole package- they all are means by which physical representations of confidence are perceived by onlookers- regardless of their/your sex. And just like that, viewers, you're now handshaking professionals. It's 2AM in my part of the world. IDK where you all are, but regardless of your geographical parameters, there are people with hands which need to be shaken with finesse and authority. Go out and own, and let me know how it goes!

Have you ever received The Dead Fish? Ever dominated a hand in the shaking process? Ever been so disgusted by someone offering you The Dead Fish that you refused to shake their hand again? Tell me all about it!

Post comments below, and as always, thanks for reading!

Plaid To Meet You

Loyal viewers and casual clickers who encountered this blog through StumbleUpon alike, welcome. I've had much to blog about since my last entry, but my schedule never afforded me an oportunity to publish my ideas to cyberspace. Instead, I wrote a few ideas down in a journal, but this entry has been on my mind for many many MANY days. Today, I'll attempt to debunk a very common social phenomenon as I usually do in an effort to derive life on this blue speck on the Milky Way. You know, it's been awhile since I've defined a term, so I'll to so at this time. Today, I'll be talking about what I call The Gravitational Jaw Drop (I'll refer to this as GJD for short throughout the rest of this post).


When I first laid eyes on The Gravitational Jaw Drop, I knew I was onto something big. This first encounter occurred during my senior year of high school in my Calculus class. My teacher, Dominic Sinopoli, would often use a program on the computer called MAPLE to illustrate graphical displays of functions and their respective Calc-related theorems for the class using an overhead projector. Anyway, overtime, I noticed that whenever he'd look at the computer monitor, his eyes would squint, although he wore glasses, and his mouth would, for no apparent reason drop. That's right. He wasn't at the dentist on the receiving end of that dreaded command, "OPEN UP!". Oh no. He was in his habitat- the math room, yet this is where the GJD occurred.

I completely forgot about this phenomenon until about 2 weeks ago when I was in a Pre-Med meeting with the professor of the Biology department. He, too, was trying to use the overhead projector, and whenever he'd look at his laptop screen the GJD scene unfolded as though he was an actor on stage. His eyes squinted as if they unduced an increase in gravity exclusively for his face, and as expected, his mouth dropped until the task was complete and his eyes reverted to normal width- thus returning his facial gravity levels to normal. Viewers, you're probably scratching your heads in disbelief here. I know. I know. Just take a look at the image below.

This is NOT my high school math teacher, but he, too, is exhibiting the Gravitational Jaw Drop. After seeing my Calculus teacher, my Biology professor, and this old man who's apparently very plaid to meet his new computer all display the GJD, I had to write this entry. I began to think about this, viewers, and I concluded that this phenomenon occurs EXCLUSIVELY among males above the age of 50, and I even wagered that this is the exclusively male alternative to the Humingo. (BTW- if you don't get my reference to the Humingo, then you owe it to yourself to read my blog titled "Family Hominidae Meets Family Phoenicopteridae" in June.) Okay, where was I? That's right- Gravitational Jaw Drop only occuring in males. I was convinced that this was the case UNTIL I thought back to my various visits to museums.

Those artsy fartsy folks at museums love to produce artwork meant to stretch human imagination and all sorts of strange non-scientific stuff. On occasion, as opposed to hanging art on the wall, they'll post it from the ceiling. This situation utterly disproves the male exclusiveness of the GJD, for when every museu-spectator views such art- their jaws drop like anesthetized flies and remain in the downward position until their heads return to a normal forward position.

I had to rethink my definition on this term. While I was correct in linking the squinting of the eyes to an increase in gravity thus compelling one's jaw to drop, it seems that the raising of one's head, too, causes an increase in potential downward force thus causing one's mouth to open. I think I've made my point, and I won't beat away at a dead horse anymore. Check out the pics below. People, both young and old, single and married, bald and hairy, and even President Obama, exhibit the Gravitational Jaw Drop!

I knew I was onto something, viewers, and boy do these pictures prove it. What do you think? Am I right about the GJD? When have you noticed this occurrence in life? Or am I completely wrong in my analysis? Post your comments below, and as always, thanks for reading!

Finna Read This Blog

Just Say When

Before I get into the (fecal) matter of this blog {PUN INTENDED} let me just address some business to the iPhone users on my blog. If you do not have an iPhone, then do not read the underlined text below, for to you, it'll be irrelevant:
I used to devote a large portion of this blog advertising a repository of my own iPhone apps that people could download. One of my viewers contacted me recently and informed me that they don't work due to Apple's restriction caused by a lack of authorization in iTunes. For this, I apologize, and I am grateful that Chris shared this feedback with me. Despite this drawback, I will still be on the prowl for new and rising iPhone innovations, and the faithful few who check my blog will be the first to know.

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"If a promise you don't keep, it will haunt you in your sleep, and as you lay beneath your quilt, you will have a conscience full of guilt" Stu Pickels

Even though the above quotation is from The Rugrats, I think there's a lot of truth in it. Okay- perhaps you won't lose an ounce of sleep over breaking a promise, but it's still a good idea to keep them, y'know? And for that reason, I'm crafting this blog from the most creative convolution of my brain....mmm...it feels like it's coming from the left side at present, and I'm doing so this week just like I said I would. I kept my promise.*

* = The promise above refers to my facebook status where I promised a blog this week. For those of you who are my facebook friends, you know what's going on; for those of you who follow the facebook widget I added at the right of my page, you, too, know. All roads lead to home; in this case home is my facebook status.

Well, although I've managed to keep my promise in composing and publishing a new blog, I've failed on a larger scale at keeping up with my blog. It's been over a month since I've released my thoughts to cyberspace, and a lot has happened. I've partly been unable to blog because I worked at a summer camp in New York this summer which tried to remove campers from technology and modern ammenities. As a result, I slept in a cabin, seldom got to use my cellular, and rarely used my lap top. Now, I'm back on campus, and I'm willing and able to blog. Here goes.

Since my last post, I've been sworn in as Sophomore President of the Class of 2012, and I've completed Precalculus and Calculus I over the summer. I've also survived a summer of counseling a 2 sessions of campers who found it quite amusing to pick on me because I most always wear American Eagle attire. Now that summer's over, I wake up and stare a 20 credit hour semester jam packed with 7 classes in the face every morning. At times it's daunting, and I become mildly overwhelmed, but a few things have helped me cope with this seemingly insuperable course list. Firstly, I'd have to say faith has a lot to do with it. So many professors and friends have advised that I drop classes and not even attempt to juggle this load with extracurriculars and student government. Secondly, my friends who share similar ambitions and life goals keep me on track. If they can do it, I can do it too. Thirdly, the woman in the series of pictures above is quite inspiring. This isn't pure hogwash here, readers. While you may easily relate to my first two reasons, the third one, I feel, needs a bit of explanation, and explain I will!

According to that famous Guinness Book of World Records, a nutrionalist at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor met a woman, whose name escapes both me and cyberspace, who requested a fiber rich diet so as to acquire the world record for the longest poop. After roughly a month long period, she let go her fecal matter accross the wooden floors. It measured a stunning 26 feet in length- roughly the size of human intestines. "How'd she keep it in?", you ask? I'll tell you.

A buttplug.

No joke. Doubt me? You try holding poop in for more than a week. It just peekes out of your bum hole like a turtle's head through a shell- or so I've heard. It's only natural. Here, I'll illustrate it below. Use your imagination.

There you have it, folksies. So, in moments of strife and in the midst of untried academic waters which threaten to obliterate any aspirations I have of attending Medical School, I think of this unsung hero in the realm of fecal matter who risked poisoning herself by keeping waste nestled within the convolutions of her intestine to achieve a world record. If she can keep poop inside for that long, then I certainly can press through this academic year, and so can you. The only question is:

What's your buttplug?

Post your comments below. Let me know what your buttplug is/was/will be to get you through a tough time.

Again, thanks for reading!