Oh, the Lies We Tell Ourselves

I heard/read not too long ago that if you lay still with your eyes closed for 15 minutes, you will absolutely fall asleep.

What a load of horse shit.

Instead, as the flickering streetlight broke the black monotony of my room, I wondered if we (humans) were really naive enough to think that if/when the eventual goal of science were to be realized--complete understanding of how everything in this universe works--then that will somehow fill the crushing emptiness inside us. As we encounter (or evolve into) intelligences that vastly outstrip our current comprehension, will they have a solution for fulfillment? The silver bullet that ensures a life free from pain? Or do we currently possess that, but are made fools by some mechanism that tricks us into being hollow?
So, yeah. Existentialism and shit. Now, on to the rant.

After scanning the general wonderfulness that is Breaking the Law, I found their article on a dodgeball ban in NH.  For a second there, I forgot I wasn't reading The Onion. I love the reasons behind it--risk of injury, and because it makes kids targets. I just want to say two things about this.

Numero uno- Injury? Really? with the foam-cored, soft-skinned things that pass for dodgeballs, these days?
We used to play it with slightly deflated rubber dealies that would leave the cross-hatched texture imprinted on your face. With bricks inside. On fire. And made of hornets. But in all seriousness, we act like any amount of physical discomfort is injury. Call me an ass, but it builds character, teaches kids that failure has consequences. Whatever you think, I survived--the shortest, scrawniest, most awkwardly bespectacled kid survived dodgeball, red rover, murder ball, and "hit Nate with pebbles" ball. Guess what? I fought back, toughened up, and am no longer a thin-skinned little kid.

"I'm going to crush your childhood!"

Nummer zwei- Do the pointed heads in the NH bureaucracy really think that dodgeball causes bullying? The complaining parent thinks so, but I'm certain that dodgeball is the least of the kids worries. There are hundreds of other, less visible ways kids are cruel to each other. If there were instances where kids were obviously going out of their way to single out one student and render him/her a sobbing heap, it's on the adults to end it. Maybe--stop me if this is too extreme for you--punish the bullies. My father, gym coach since I was a fetus, would find a way to cool the blood-lust fires in the aggressive kid. It's called time out. Even hockey has a "time-out" box where you go when you've been a knob.

We don't need to wrap our kids in bubble wrap and cancel chess club because some guy gloated after beating your precious snowflake.

Get a grip, humanity! End rant.

Honing the Soft Arsenal

So, this semester, which should have been my last, is going as hectically slow as I could have hoped. In fact, I'm actually writing this in my econ class. Yay, fractional reserve banking or whatever.

Anyway, I am taking advanced fiction writing class with Dr. Andrew Plattner. I thought "Oh here is another easy-peasy A." I don't think that anymore. Dr. Plattner has probably helped me hone my craft more than all other people on Earth. I know what I need to work on--information. I tend to leave things blank or at best vague. I rely too much on emotion instead of action. I mean, it makes perfect sense that so-and-so would be struck with grief--his mom just died or whatever. In any case, this class is helping me immensely.

Soon, I will start posting some flash fiction up here pretty regularly. Plattner thinks it will help me with brevity and poignancy. In any case, here is my latest piece of short fiction. I put it up on Scrib.com which is a great site, by the way.

                          Click for the reads!