From time to time I feel the need to write. This is generally a bad thing. Rather, it has always been a bad thing up to this point, but it could conceivably become a good thing some day. It's a bad thing because good writing isn't forced, it just comes. If one sits down and tries to find an idea for writing, the idea will probably not be as good as one that just pops up at random

Yesterday evening I was sitting in the tub thinking about writing something. This was an especially bad thing, as most of my bad writing ideas have come from the tub. I thought passively for a few minutes, and then decided to think actively; I would force myself to come up with a writing idea. I took a few deep breaths and put my head under the water.

I lay in the quiet darkness, thinking. What could I write about? I was so dang bored. I considered how frail humanity in general was. We are such wimps. Pluto is cold. Alaska in January is, by comparison, merely inconvenient, yet if you stick the average person out there in his underwear, and he'll complain! What a wimp. Stick him on Pluto, and he won't have time to complain! Either he'll pass out from the low pressure, or he'll freeze instantly because of the temperature. In any case, he'll be dead in about 5 seconds.

I still hadn't come up with an idea for writing. I had been under the water for 1:20. I had recently learned in Human Biology that the only reason the human body needs oxygen is so that mitochondria can have a place to put a spare electron. Of course, breathing is also needed to take away carbon dioxide, which lowers the pH of the blood, but we wouldn't have that problem if it wasn't for oxygen. Stupid oxygen. Actually, the sensation of needing to breathe is almost the same as the sensation one gets when one has been breathing too hard and too fast; that is, a sense of being about to pass out. Both sensations are all the fault of oxygen. Stupid oxygen. I had been under water for about 1:45

There is a fish native to the western pacific and Indian oceans called the mudskipper. This fish spends most of its time on land. It likes to lie in the mud lazily, or hop about in trees hunting insects. The thing that enables the mudskipper to live on land for so much time is its eyes, which are set high on its head. Under each eye is a pouch of water that acts as an air tank, or rather water tank. Of course, the mudskipper also breathes through its skin like frogs and salamanders do. Mudskippers are so well adapted to the mud and land that they seem to dislike normal water. A mudskipper forced to spend its time in deeper water will quickly die. I had been under water for about 2 minutes, and I still hadn't found something to write about.

I had recently gone on a kayak trip up river from my house. There had been a large flock of drab little birds in the trees by the river. The interesting thing about flocks of drab little birds is that they tend to be rather large; it's almost as if the birds realize their drabness and littleness, and try to make up for it with quantity. This particular flock of insecure drab little birds was quite large, consisting of about 200-400 individuals. It seemed as though each bird was talking about nothing in particular to the bird next to it, and having to yell to be heard. The result was almost deafening. Flocks that are this large have another interesting quality: stupidity. A flock of birds is always as flighty as its most skittish individual. With this quality in mind I lifted my paddle high above my head. Instantly, the noise stopped, except for a conversation which loudly continued in the lower branches. "...and you should have seen it; it was green and syrupy and came out with lots of gas and...." but then the bird realized the noise had stopped and shut up. Now that I had the attention of the entire flock I brought the paddle down on the water next to me with all my might. The smack echoed up and down the river, and the flock insecure drab little birds took to the air; their wings sounding like a high wind blowing through the trees. I had been under water for about 3 minutes now, and my tanks were running on fumes. I decided to surface, having failed to come up with something worth writing about. I'm sorry if you were expecting this to be worth your time.

My Great Victory Over Me

I have just finished a game on paint. Most people don’t use paint for games, but I like to make my own. My games usually involve building cities and having them fight, though there are many rules as to how many buildings you can build per turn and who can attack what etc etc. It’s rather like Age of Empires, except that the graphics are somewhat inferior and I’m playing both sides.

In this particular game I decided that I would make some new rules. If you had 4 houses, you could build a port. If you had a port, you could build twice as much of anything as you could before. If you had 20 houses, you could build a factory. If you had a factory, you could build 4 times as much as you could before you had the factory. Each side had 3 ports and a factory, meaning that while you could usually build 1 ship per turn, you could now build 32! (1*2*2*2*4).

Unfortunately, this resulted in a rather cluttered map. I switched to defense and tried to wear myself out in battle, but unfortunately I could not beat me, as I could create things faster than I could destroy them! I then tried to target the ports and factories, but due to the rules of the game the attacking armies never got through the defenses. Switching strategies once more, I decided to make huge fleets and have them battle for dominance of the bitmap! Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep track of the attack power, range and mobility of 40 ships in my head.

Far off in a corner of the bitmap, in a small grass and mud hut, one of my loyal subjects was creating a weapon of terror! As the battles raged he slaved away, until finally it was completed. It’s power was unimaginable; it could wipe out vast fleets and huge forts with a single blow, leaving only a white smear in it’s wake. He showed the weapon to me, and I was delighted. Finally! I had a weapon with which to destroy me!

The attack was set for dawn, Tokyo time. Not knowing what time dawn is in Tokyo, and being to lazy to look it up, I ignored orders and launched an attack against myself that took me completely off guard! I destroyed my battling fleets and teeming cities! I destroyed my industrial complexes and grand fortifications. I was heartbroken, I’m sure, to see all my hard work smashed in one move! I then stood before myself, lord of all I surveyed. I begged myself for mercy, but I gave myself none! Then, much to my horror, I saw that my weapon of mass terror had not stopped its work! It swept on through my cities and fleets, until the entire map was white!

I fell to my knees, broken and terrified. I got up from where I had been begging mercy from myself, and I laughed in my face. I then punched myself. It hurt, but I’m not sure which me it hurt. Since my fist hit my head, and both fist and head were wounded, I believe I was hurt as well as myself.

And who won? Well, I believe I did. If I had not developed this device of terror, I certainly never would have, because of my technological superiority over myself. To be sure, if I had not thus destroyed myself, I’m sure I would have fought me for days… which would have been really boring in 16 bit color.