Since When is Time Travel Possible in Your Sleep?

A vague amount of time ago, I went to bed in my dorm as usual. It had been a long day, and I was ready to relax my body and prepare it for the day ahead. You can imagine my surprise when I woke up and discovered that while I had been asleep, I had traveled back 26 years in time. It was like a strange historical fiction had become my real life. All I could do was wait and hope that I could re-awaken in the modern day.

I am still in this strange, dangerous historical-fiction past, but during my stay here I've learned something important: To others, you are only as you seem. Intentions don't matter, feelings don't matter, and thoughts don't matter. If you don't display them, others can't see them. They can only judge you from what they see, or how you "seem." It makes sense, but, as always, there is a small number of people that ruins everything.

It makes sense that people judge you only from what you display, but what if the person judging you can't see or just won't see what you're trying to display to the world?

As real as the presence of Big Brother and his Party are in this strange and dangerous historical-fiction past I find myself in, there is hardly a Brotherhood. The suspected individuals that have shown up in this past have, at the best, frail or almost non-existent connections. But the paranoia that there is a Brotherhood certainly exists. 

Computers and the internet have become the new Telescreens, and Big Brother is always watching. Every day I walk out into the dull, run-down streets of Oceania and see the signs. "BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU." I wonder to myself, "How can someone who is always watching see so little?" And this is where I come to my new conclusion. It is not how I am presenting myself, but it is how I'm being perceived that is the current problem. A problem with no solution.

The world is how you perceive it. I want to convey that there is no Brotherhood, and that we are not planning a revolution. I want to show that The Party and Big Brother are safe from harm. I want The Party to see that I am not interested in taking them down. But all of that is pointless if they can't or won't see it. Until Big Brother and those around him can stop living 26 years in the past, I am stuck here as well. I will continue to be perceived as Emmanuel Goldstein, The Most Dangerous Man in Oceania. And I will eventually be taken to the Ministry of Love to pay for that crime...

Let the Two Minutes Hate begin.

I hate/love blogging

I have figured out why I love and hate blogging at the same time. It's a weird relationship, actually. I like what it does for me, but I hate what it does to me. Kindoflikegirlfriends


Wait, what?

Anyways, the reasons why I love blogging.

1.) I find it really handy to be able to just write about anything that I want in any form that I want.

2.) It's just really nice to have a way to organize my thoughts just once, and whenever I want to review my thoughts on something, all I have to do is just come back and read what I wrote.

3.) I think it helps keep in touch with people.

Even though there are soo many reasons some reasons to love blogging, I also hate it so much. There's really only one reason though: Blogging messes with the way I think.

It's also the reason I don't like updating my Fb status all the time. Ever since I can remember, I've thought in pictures. The first step of my thought process isn't in words; I see pictures first. Once I see it in my head, then I can describe it with words. It's also why I think I have such a hard time talking sometimes. Usually I don't hear what I'm about to say until it actually comes out.

I guess it's having more of a science and math based mind than a literature mind. It helps me with Geometry, Physics, Trig, anything like that really. But when it comes to Lit, it gets uncomfortable. Writing things like blogs, status updates, and anything where I have to think in "I, Me, He" form is the worst. Once I start thinking like that, it's hard to stop. I start thinking in words and it just feels so dramatic. Kind of like I'm a narrator in some over-the-top novel. It's different for creative writing because I'm free to picture things in my head and then describe them, like what I'm used to doing.

So there are my feelings toward blogging. I like it, but it messes with me.

Haikus: Vol. 4

HAIKU TO A GIRL:

I THINK I LIKE YOU

AND NOW BECAUSE OF GOOGLE

I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

RINGWORM ON MY FACE

MY FRIENDS ARE SCARED OF ME NOW

I HAVE A SAD LIFE

SUMMER SKIES ARE BLUE

THE OCEAN IS BLUE AS WELL

SO ARE CHOKING KIDS

MY HEART IS BROKEN

HOW COULD SHE HAVE BEEN SO CRUEL?

SHE CALLED ME A DUNCE

CRUSTY STICKY EYES

ARMPITS SPROUTING FROM ARMPITS

THIS IS MY BODY

SPIDERS IN MY MOUTH

COCKROACHES IN MY STOMACH

THESE ARE THINGS I EAT

INSOMNIACS HAIKU:

I CANT GO TO SLEEP

THOUGHTS OF TERROR IN MY BRAINS

WILL TEN ADVILS HELP?

HAIKU TO MY SON:

YOU THROW LIKE A GIRL

SOMETIMES YOUR VOICE CAN BREAK GLASS

PLEASE HIT PUBERTY

Snakes Rustling in the Grass

It's weird what your mind jumps to when we don't fully understand what's going on. For example, I've noticed that every time I hear rustling in the leaves/grass outside of Hill, my brain automatically thinks "AFRICAN SNAAKE! IT'S A SNAAAKE! OOOH IT'S A SNAAAKE!"

Fortunately, I can calm myself down and think through the situation before my body actually responds. "Hold on a second. Maybe it's a BADGERBADGERBADGERBADGERBADGERBADGERBADGER...."

I don't actually think that last part, I just wanted to say it...

But my first thought really is that it's a snake waiting for me just off of the sidewalk, although there is no proof that snakes can even live near Hill. The rustling animal is way more likely to be a squirrel, chipmunk, or even a bird. Snake is maybe the least likely possibility in the entire world, but because I have no proof that it's not a snake and that it's never been a snake, my brain continues to panic for just a split second.

Haikus: Vol. 3

A HAIKU FOR LIFEGUARDS:

I SIT IN THE HEAT

KIDS SCREAM FOR HOURS ON END

.

.

.

.

I WISH THEY WOULD DROWN

SO MUCH SAND IN ME

I CRUNCH EVERY TIME I MOVE

I HOPE THATS NORMAL

I WOULD LOVE TO RUN

TO RUN THROUGH FIELDS AND PRAIRIES 

BUT I DONT HAVE LEGS

I SWALLOWED FIVE KNIVES

BUT THEY DIDNT COME BACK UP

NOW I HAVE SLICED GUTS

I GO TO THE PARK

KIDS RUN AWAY TERRIFIED

IS IT MY CHAINSAW?

BEING BORED IS BAD

I MIGHT CATCH THINGS ON FIRE

GIVE ME STUFF TO DO

I WENT TO THE PARK

I SCARED KIDS WITH MY BICEPS

NOW IM BANNED FROM THERE

Nut Scratching, Closed Doors, and a Series of Tough Questions

I was just in the bathroom when I did something that made me think. I scratched my nuts. It wasn't a very thought-provoking action, but as I did so, I looked up and saw that the stall door in front of me was closed. No one could see. It made me ask myself, "Would I have done this if the door was open? Or if I was outside?" The answer is "probably not," and that's the thing that got me thinking.

How do you determine who someone really is?

I'll start on a small scale and try to show you my thought process and how I ended up asking myself this.

Small Scale

In the closed stall where no one was watching, I was a scratcher. But in the outside world, with other people, I am not a scratcher. Which one am I really? Does the fact that I scratched when I knew no one would see make me a scratcher that just acts the part of a non-scratcher in public? Or does my conscious decision to not scratch in public make me a non-scratcher?

Slightly Larger Scale


I'm sure everyone has been asked this question, or at least been exposed to it somehow: What would you do if you were invisible for one day?

I think that this question is deeper than what the words are asking. To me, this question is also asking, "Would you actually act on your impulses once the filter in your brain was removed? In other words, once the pressure of others' rules and expectations are gone, would you still be yourself, or would you be different?" Most people would probably act differently if I had to guess. But that leads to questions similar to the small scale section: If the person chooses to do something that they normally wouldn't do, are they actually a person that had been pretending to be someone else their whole life? If it's something illegal, and they know no one is watching and that they won't be caught, does that make them a criminal at heart? What would it mean, then, that before this chance, they have lead a crime-free life? Does their conscious effort to not do crime make them a truly law abiding citizen or does their temptation to commit a crime make them something else? Are they criminal or not?

Larger Scale


Your brain is surrounded by closed doors, and no one can see inside. You have to either let your thoughts out, or let people in. Otherwise, they are completely secret. This sets up the next step of my thought process.

Lots of thoughts go through my head every day. Here is a quick jot list describing the range of my thoughts:
- Happy
- Sad
- Funny
- Disgusting
- Embarrassing
- Dirty
- Innocent
- Etc.

My point to this is to say that no one knows what I think unless I say it. I know what I think, and I also select what thoughts I want others to hear. I think most thoughts come directly from the subconscious mind, and that you have to consciously organize them in order to mean something. It seems that there is rarely any definite beginning to a thought that you are aware of. Thoughts just pop into your head at seemingly random moments, suggesting that they are from your subconscious mind. The tricky thing about your subconscious mind is that you can't control it (I will write later about what I think the subconscious mind actually is)(ithinkitsbullshit). Controlling it would make it your conscience.

So do the thoughts that go through my head define who I am as a person? The sum of my thoughts is unique to me, so it would make sense to say that. But if that's so, and I have disgusting or dirty thoughts, it would make me a disgusting or dirty person- even though it's out of my control.

So in that case, is it what I choose to dwell on and the thoughts I consciously organize and reveal to the world that defines me as a person?

The Big Question


Is it your conscious or subconscious mind that defines who you are as a person?

I may never know...