Let's Talk Averages

Let's say an individual's average life expectancy is 78.439 years

This is equatable to 28,630.242 days

687,125.815 hours

Here's another average:

Let's say an individual sleeps an average of 6.7 hours a night

That's an average of 191,822.623 hours a lifetime

And let's say an individual blinks an average of 22 times a minute

The average time it takes for a human eye to blink is roughly .35 seconds

This results in 7.7 seconds each minute awake

228,830,074.6 seconds in a lifetime

63,563.910 hours

To think. We a creature so dependent on sight, spend on average 37.167% of life with our eyes closed.

However, each of the above are fragments, not sentences --- and like fragments, they lack meaning or purpose unless placed within a larger context. This I cannot see. No matter how long I stare into the void, the void never ceases to stare back at me.

So I leave you with this: Averages. Mean. Nothing. No matter how long you stare at the numbers, no matter how much meaning you derive, no matter how truth you see, it comes only from your image reflecting off those glazed over eyes staring back at you. Live! Laugh! Love! And don't worry about the letters in between (especially not significant digits).

New Post

A lot has changed in the past four months, ask me about it sometime. As for this blog, well it served a need which I don't have anymore. So, I may not post much here for a while. Maybe I'll start a new blog like a certain friend of mine, or maybe I'll continue to revise and revisit this one. Maybe.

In any case, I'm currently pondering subset-sum equality, if you were wondering.

Cogito ergo doleo

Remember what you said?

Yeah, yeah I do…But a new year, fresh start ---

No, hah, never. You'll always ask, "What if, could my life have ended up better?" Regrets, they're engraved in the human race as a mechanism, an assurance of the "evolutionary" process. We can never be content with where we are, such would be to deny improvement, progress. No; When we get lost, searching for some meaning or direction, we look to the guide we've been writing our entire lives. There, we find no meaning, certainly no direction. We realize that each event we regret wasn't laid before us by fate or destiny or to lead us to where we stand; for we are lost. Regret turns to sorrow, and we cling to the tree branches that remind us of familiar times.
We look to the stars for answers, but we realize all we see is the past. The light cast upon us from an earlier time. Gazing upon our hands, we realize so too is everything we see, just images of the past. Then, the perceived present becomes past, true present future. That instance of time we held so dear, lost like us as we walk the barren, pathless wilderness.

Simple

Honey, these are simple arms.
Lay back, and I hold you close;
    Not with the hands of time,
    Just with these hands of mine.
At once we'll experience
Forever in an instant.

I'll show you a simple time.
Close your eyes and you will see
    The past is set in stone,
    But you are not alone.
The future is yours to change
But present is where we lay.

Welcome to a simple life.
Drift away till you're asleep
    Waking within my dream.
    Simple as it may seem,
A purgatory with you;
Sixty-thousand years go by.

And yet, something so simple
Always ends up so complex.
    Shake reality's strife
    And live a simple life.
Together in simple time,
I'll hold you in simple arms.

Rose Fields

    …and there I belong, standing alone among endless rose fields like some forlorn dream. I raise my gun-formed hand and point it at myself. I pull back my thumb; it clicks with the cracking and shattering of bone. Then, I squeeze my finger---
    "What? Bless the lord, so you really are from the future...wait, so when does this war end? You must know!" A lengthy pause draws out between the drunken pawn's question and its response. "This war?" The tattered woman slowly glances at a nearby calendar, noting the day, "The war hasn't yet begun..."
    ---His knees grew limp, then gravity took its rightful course. Although no bullet or metal had entered---or exited---his skull, part of him died. A part that no gun, no weapon, no other man could have killed. Face buried beneath petal upon petal, it seemed as though his blood had escaped all around; a red rose stained crimson appears no different than any other.
    A girl rushes though the roses to his side. To her, this boy is someone she thinks she knows. To him, this girl is someone he thought he knew. She catches the inanimate boy, attempting to shake him out of a trance. She fails. Gazing into his eyes, his soul, she does not recognize what she sees. She's taken aback. He gazes into hers; and although that soft, welcoming look remains the same, the part of him who would remember is being absorbed by the nearby roses.
    In the girl's sadness she releases and leaves, making sure not to tread upon stained flowers. As she lowers her eyes in thought, the boy raises his. Her eyes did not move him. Her sadness did not move him. The stained roses at his feet and knees did not move him. As of this singular moment, no pain, no regret, not even the razor-edged thorns bother him the least. Bones creak as he stands, and again he is alone.
    It is not that misery passes through him, but into him like an endless well. For without that weakness, he can absorb humanity's pain, its suffering, its evil, just as the stained rose petals trampled behind absorbed the sweet crimson of the past.

I'm not a writer

I am alive. Blood type A positive. Half Japanese. Half...something else.
I am a thinker. An engineer. Good at physics. Better at math.
I am easily addicted. Sometimes lonely. Sometimes influenced by that. Choice A.
I am delighted by your happiness. Confused with my own. Guided by a simple philosophy.
I am ambitious. Trustworthy. Adaptable. Honest when it counts.
I am forgetful. A door with a hinge. Sometimes open. Sometimes closed.
I am seeking the answers. Going to find them. Impervious to imperishable impediments.

However, one thing I am not is a writer. So, I think I'll stick to what I'm good at.

はじまりましょう

The air smells of nature
    And the bugs won't leave me be.
A nearby cricket rolls onto its back
    And chirps for the very last time.

Curious is the nature of thoughts,
    For they never rest.
Without sleep, lacking dreams,
    Few say curse, many say gift;
However, a gift you may return.

Do they bug you as well?
Definite yet expanding space, curving time
--- the cricket flips back ---
Destructing life or resurrecting death
Sorrow in love, fear in purpose,
Flickering light, soul of darkness,
Peace in hell, war in heaven,
Fate's mind, destiny's heart
Past, choice, present, freewill,
Future, existance;
Thought.

Hands swinging at perfect frequency
    And I'm back to nature.
The perfect geometry of the moon
    Reminds me I'm not alone.
The air smells of nature
    And the bugs won't leave me be.

Wooly Willy

Here I walk, alone, my path lighted only by
    The moonlight betrayed by my fingertips;
    And I am alive.

The moon is my escort; the wind, my keeper.
Here lies the quintessence of peace,
    Chimeric beasts held at bay
    And thoughts crystallize with resonance.

Heaven? A heaven on earth is no more a heaven
    then hell---
Blank smiles, synchronized heartbeats,
    And eyes that tremble with the earth.
I may breathe the air you breathe,
    Smell the same never fading aroma,
    Endure twin pains you struggle to fight,

But I am not with you
    You certainly not with me;
A magnet pulling at dark filaments inside
Painting silhouettes upon my person
    like an adolescent toy.

As I darken like the night above me,
The kings continue to shake the earth
And I, even among the endless crowd,
    Am still alone---
No, not heaven nor hell,
    Just wind and light,
    Crystals with perfect resonance.

Here I walk alone, my path lighted only by
    The moonlight betrayed by my fingertips;
    And I am alive.

Without Another

Time
Seamlessly runs
Straight or skewed,
Tiled stone alley
Or aimless dirt path.

Memories
Never fade
From right to left,
From innocence
    and tranquility
To anguish
    and conscience.

One
Without another
Heart, no mind
    Jubilant
    Yet empty stride.
Mind, no heart
    Memories
    That never fade.

Actions
Pave the road
Up and down,
Predictions uncertain
With hollow footprints
    Left in the wet concrete.

Waking Within A Dream [puzzle]

I thought I might die alone,
We could keep things just the same.
Could this all just be a dream,
Our lives in this concrete cage?
In your eyes your sorrow shows.

Who knows how long I've loved you,
Your eyes will hold the memory.
It's the mind against the heart
So it's fine if you can't define
The enemy that lives within.

Here in your arms, where the world
Turn all your tears to laughter,
I won't stop for the beggars;
It's the last that I'll see of you.

I'm fractured from the fall and
I'm numb to life anymore.
One thing I can tell you is
Things couldn't turn out worse
If it's our destiny.

I said, 'All beauty must die'
Above the lies and truth;
We sink as we hang our heads.

You know the way to keep me
But memory in silence only fades;
So open up your mind's eye
You were made to rise above
What you sealed inside my heart.

Though I was a failure with
Out any pride, just wave me off;
I feel the same, I feel nothing.

I need a better way of life, for
Beyond here and on to eternity -
Why, I'm swimming against the tide.
Now there's a light that shines for me.

The Probability Is Always One

Here I stand, alone, in an empty field
Of vibrant grass, bold sky, and bleeding sun.
A rose stands next to a billboard revealed:

"The probability is always one."


As two paths lay before me, the season

Gives me courage, belief, resolve, and reason.



I dash left for my heart tells me it's where
Warmth, ambrosia, and love caress my sense;
Heavenly rays of light blissfully glare
While ceaseless summers stay in present tense.


As I travel my fantasies invite

Endless passion, desire, longing, and delight.


Another left and my heart becomes mute
When I stumble upon this ill fated coin.
My rue is a chimera in pursuit
Of a restriction I willingly join.


As more paths beseech me, no tomorrow

Can sooth despair, collapse, heartache, and sorrow.


Here I stand, alone, away from the realm
Of vibrant grass, bold sky, and bleeding sun.
To persist I must suit the naive helm:
"The probability was always one."


As I flip this coin, there's only one path
Whose destination is destiny's wrath.
Now I remember I have to forget

All the regret, regret, regret, and regret.