Martin Granite

“Congratulations! It’s a boy! He looks very healthy; let me go clean him up.” The father watched his wife take some deep breaths, then smiled as he kissed her on the forehead. She looked up at him and smiled between breaths. The doctor came back in the room quickly and gave the boy to the mother. The boy had already stopped crying, but it still had that scrunched up baby face. Both the parents wanted to say something to the other, but neither could think of anything worth being said. Silence was the suiting sound for the situation.

________

Sometime after the child had passed a year’s age, something unusual happened during one of his temper tantrums. When the mother came to the sobbing child to comfort him, she could not pick him out of the crib. Every time she touched him, she was burned. She was nearly about to panic, but the child stopped crying soon enough now that she was in the room.

She sat there with him for a little while, not touching him, watching him lie in the crib. After a couple minutes passed, she tried to pick him up again. This time the child was a cool, normal temperature. She walked him around for a while, but also decided to call her local doctor.

“I have a question.”

“Absolutely.”

“About half an hour ago my baby was very hot.”

“Um. Well, babies can get warm sometimes I gue-”

“No,” she pushed, “Really hot. Like, burned-my-fingers-hot.”

The doctor took a moment, and then said, “Well, how is he now?”

“He’s alright now, but-”

“And your fingers are alright?”

“What? Yeah, it’s just a burn, but-”

“Well I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

The mother scrunched her face and paused for a moment, as if the doctor could see the expression on her face. “You’re not listening, I burnt my fingers on my baby’s skin.”

“I’m listening perfectly fine Mrs…. Um…”

“Granite,” she managed to say without moving her lips.

“Ms. Granite, it sounds like neither of you are harmed or ill. I understand your concern, but it sounds like everything is fine.”

The doctor begins to sound as if he’s reading from a pamphlet. “Thank you for calling Vernicle Hospital, if you have any other concerns, please call us anytime.”

What Was I So Worried About, Again?

A lot has changed lately. I don’t see things the way I used to. “Doing something meaningful” has transformed into “trying something I enjoy.” I don’t have to “do” anything, nothing needs to be permanent. I simply need to give it a try. It doesn’t need to be “meaningful,” because nothing means anything. I may as well enjoy it.

I’ve undergone a very bizarre experience recently, one that made me embrace the concepts that I’ve always known. I’ve always known that in the vast size of life and history, whatever I do won’t mean anything. That sounds depressing, like “all efforts are futile,” but it’s actually a huge relief when you think about it in the right way. If life is meaningless, then I should be concerned about making my life as good as it can be while it lasts. I should do something wonderful with my life that I enjoy, I should build loving relationships with everyone I care about, I should create my own heaven on Earth.

None of that is going to come until I make it happen. Until I embrace facts for what they are instead of twisting them and trying to figure out what I’m not seeing. There’s nothing else there! Take people, take events, take concepts for what they are. There’s not some hidden meaning behind all of it. I was always looking for some ‘answer,’ what’s it all for? But it’s not for anything. They’re just there. Accept everything for what it is rather than what we think it means.

Right now I am committed to getting a job. That’s my first step for creating my own heaven. I used to apply to jobs thinking, “They’re not going to hire me, I’m too inexperienced, I’m too blah blah blah.” Gradually, I started applying to less and less jobs because I had myself convinced that it wasn’t going to make a difference. Why did I convince myself of that? There are probably a lot of reasons I’m having difficulty getting a job, but, first of all, I don’t know which ones are accurate, so I really shouldn’t get hung up over any one of them. And second of all, why should they stop me from trying? If I want a job, who cares what the reasons against me are? I’m trying to make my own heaven on Earth here, so if I want a job, I better damn well go and get one!

That’s only the first step, and I’m not sure what the steps after that are. I’ll figure that out when I get there. But I’m sure I’ll want something, and if at first I don’t succeed, then I better try, try again. There may be reasons it may not work, but I’ll have to ignore them. If it’s what I want, then I’m going to make it happen. It is literally that simple.

That's Fine, I Don't Care.

I am a lazy person. I am rarely interested by anything. I tend to not care about anything, and I prefer to not do anything. It’s not uncommon to not know what to do with one’s own life. But it is rather destructive in its effects: People feel insignificant, meaningless, bored, and unproductive. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I never had an answer to that question. Or, rather, I might have had an answer for a week or two, and then changed my mind.

I expect that the root of my laziness comes from a lack of ambition, directly from not knowing what I want to do with my life or having any direction. If I have nowhere to go, why should I make any effort to get there? Because I don’t want to be here, that’s why. I don’t want to sit around forever in this meaningless, lazy depression. Although I know I don’t want to be here, that realization is not enough to get me anywhere. I want to be happy in my life; I want to have a purpose in my life. These are the extent of my life goals: Happiness and purpose. But you need purpose for happiness, and it needs to be the right purpose.

CTF

I created this a long time ago, and it can be found in other locations. But I decided to put it here because videos always seem to draw people better than words. Note that the pre-loader still says Sheepie26, because that's where it was originally posted, and that my screen name used to be Sheepie. And a final note, I don't mean to sound like I'm making excuses, but if something looks weird (e.g. the line across the middle during credits), it's because of resizing issues.

Something Quoteable.

A modest man will never speak of the size of his penis, and you will never know how big it is. A boastful man will always speak of the size of his penis, and you will still never know how big it is.

Moths

I casually kick the door, but an unobserved screen door replies louder than anticipated. I balance the pizza on the palm of my hand and reach for handle with the other. I swing open the door and hold it with my foot. I give the real door three crisp knocks. When I remove my foot, the screen door swings back, making another crashing sound.

As I wait, I stare at the moths bouncing off the round, buzzing light. Moths aren’t exactly the smartest beings on Earth, are they? They don’t even notice all the other moth bodies clumped in the bottom of the light fixture, all the moths that actually managed to get in; what evolutionary advantage possibly came by instinctively running into bright things? I suppose they would be good at getting out of tunnels: I suppose.

I look back to the door and perform the knocking maneuver on it again. What’s taking so long? Maybe this is a prank call; the porch light is on, though: I don’t know. I check a window, but all the lights are off; all I can see is my reflection: I need a haircut. It’ probably a good thing, though, if needing a haircut is the only thing I can complain about when it comes to my looks; The hair isn’t really bad looking itself either: I’m just bad at remembering to wash underneath my bangs; my forehead gets oily and it’s a prime acne spot; the hair also hides it, though, so it’s not that bad, I guess; but it’s still gross.

Heavy, frustrated air forces itself from me. This is taking way too long: I’m leaving. I start to walk down the stairs, but jump when I hear the scream of a woman from inside the house. Why did I jump? That wasn’t scary; it was surprising, but not scary. I walk back up the steps and knock on the door, telling myself this is their last chance to answer. “Hello?” I ask the door.

Existence

It occurred to me that all existence is comprised of layers of power. And each layer will continue within the layer above it, until that higher layer has died.

Even I, a human being, contain cells that die and replenish, only because I am alive. Similarly, I only exist because the Earth still breaths. The Earth can only breathe because the Sun has not yet imploded upon itself. The Stars exist because our Galaxy hasn't pulled in upon itself yet. And the systems and Galaxies and so on all remain still because the whole Universe has not reached its peak, and returned to its massive point.

A Little Philosophy

A lot of people think that life is a miraculous event that is a rare phenomenon, and quite a few believe that it is created by a powerful, divine being. I will agree that it is rare, but at the same time, it’s bound to happen. When you pick a card from a deck, there is a 1 in 52 chance that you will get the ace of spades. But if you draw a card enough times, eventually it will be the ace of spades. Well, life has an even smaller chance; the necessary elements on an adequately sized rock being the correct distance from the right caliber heat source… It’s just not something you come across every day. But when you consider how many rocks there are in the universe, at least one of them is bound to be the ace of spades. (In fact, there’s enough to pull the ace of spades quite a few times.) It is a very, very rare chance that is certain to happen.

Chewed Gum

Ugh, what was that?
Something isn't quite flat.
Squishy against my knee,
Just beneath the table.
I have no doubt what it could be:
A piece of gum with no label.

It really is disgusting.
My job isn't cleaning.
I'm not taking care of it,
I might catch ill.
I just came to sit
And get my fill.

It's only rubber though,
Any germs would be now through, -
Or at least, so I hear.
Heck, I could eat this gum!
Why would I hold fear
Of a little thing so dumb?

But on second thought, even so, -
That's pretty far to go.
What would I gain?:
"A treat before the burger joint"?
Even without the pain,
There's not much point.

Post-Inspiring

It's odd how something can make you so happy that it isn't until it's gone that it inspires you. You become so blissfully blind, that nothing else means anything; but then once it's gone, it's everything.

It seems as though the only thing of importance and beauty is the subject of your desire. There is nothing that compares to it: No images, no sounds, no order of words, nothing that comes close.

Because there is nothing to portray love, it is the purest emotion. "Love" hardly means anything, it does not provide any relevant sensation. Yet the feeling it represents has overwhelming power.

Kissing, touching, sex: These things are all wanted because of what they represent. But not everyone truly understands it. Sometimes people lust for these things, but that is a fool's love; a fake emotion. People feel lust because they want what sex represents; for a moment, they believe they are in love.

But lust can only describe love as well as pictures or words. No: Love is so much bigger, there is beauty to be recognized that can only be felt from genuineness.

When genuine love is realized, it's representatives develop inherent beauty. It is to be observed and savored. It cannot be chewed, it simply happens. Love is self perpetuating, self creating. It cannot be stopped, analyzed, or imitated.

When your love is there, but you've nothing to spend it on, it still cannot be stopped. An outlet is needed. You can draw, you can write, you can sing, but you know it isn't what you want.

What you want is your lover. You need that person; they are the only thing that will quell you. The only thing you need. Your love target.

Man Practice

No one seems to get this one. So I guess I'll leave a little note:

The men are having an 'oh-so-manly' pissing contest. The man on the right practiced, and no longer has to go.

There you go.

Shpuddabum

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This is a really really really really really old story I wrote. I don't know how well it's written, because I haven't looked at it since I wrote it. But I'm sure that it is worth putting on this blog. In the future I will have more stories, in fact I already have some written, but I'm gonna see if I can get them published in a fancy magazine or something first.

If I find any other old stuff, I'll post that too. Or if my new stuff gets rejected. Then you can see that as well.

Shpuddabum, a turtle known to a small group of friends as the fastest turtle alive, was currently leading the pack of a small friendly neighborhood race. Although, "Leading the pack" implies that the pack was close behind him. Honestly, it makes more sense to say second place was leading the pack. Shpuddabum was far, far away. It only took a moment for good 'ol Shpudda' to finish the race. He spent more time waiting for the others than he spent racing.

When all the other racers finally did arrive, they were astounded by how ridiculously fast Shpuddabum was. They knew he would win, but it was how fast he was that astounded them, not his seemingly infinite winning streak.

On their way home, they passed a flyer mounted to a post. "The International Awesome Super Race of Trendyness" it said. Below that it stated; "starts in 3 minutes over there!" Nobody questioned how a flyer can tell you how much time is remaining before an event starts, but Shpudddabum's friends told him to enter.