Human 1.6.0.3

I never feel as creative as when I don't have the tools to create. Frustration at not being able to draw, when I haven't drawn anything in months. Hello? Pen and paper? No way.

Losing my phone is like losing half my brain. It's my add-on. I lose functionality when it's offline.

People like my parents think these things are bad. And on some level I understand that there's a risk involved in installing add-ons and depending on tools. But without tools and add-ons, a program is limited to what it was when it began its existence. By weaving these things, electronics, into my existance, in a sense I'm transcending humanity. That sounds horribly like hübris, but what I mean is, while it makes me vulnerable isn't it worth the risk to increase my skill and capacity, to create and see things I couldn't have done without them? Am I missing things I could have done? Yes. But people who don't are missing these things. Everyone are missing 99% of life. Not enough time, or space, or effort, or energy. It's a question of priorities, of choosing what you forego.

If I had the option to install a cybernetic leg to replace my flawed one, I think I would, not only because it would fix my problems but also because I'm curious. Insanely curious. What happens to a human when the things we call human are slowly worked away, replaced with things that now must be human because - I am still human? Right? "Humanity" is bullshit. It's some kind of made-up concept that makes no sense.

Superpowers: awesome not because you get to go invisible or fly, but because you're transcending the traditional sense of what a human is. In a very realistic sense, you're crossing into godhood. You're experiencing something, you cross a bridge that falls away behind you, and you're seeing new ground. On a planet where most things worth seeing have already been discovered and is readily available, what's left to explore is yourself. What would installing chips with cell-phone like capacity into peoples brains do with us? How would it feel? My wish to face these questions and issues first-hand is like the longing for love. 

I can't wait for the future.

Connections and Copyrighted body parts

I have had trouble sleeping lately, and I've had to come up with things that fill the time and silence that aren't too demanding. The answer has in many cases been doodling, simplistic flash games, and lots and lots of youtube.

What this means is that in a somewhat emotionally unstable state, I have listened to hours and hours of a YouTube caster called Cry (username ChaoticMonki in case you want to check it out) playing games and reading ghosts stories and other shit. He's got a good voice and is good-natured and relatively calm for a youtuber, and listenting to someone reading is nice in this state of mind. And unavoidably that means I've built some kind of relationship to a person I've never seen, and who doesn't have the slightest idea that I exist. You might think "how is this different from being someone's fan" or something. Well, it feels different. I haven't figured out why yet, but it does.

I would be sad if he stopped posting things, like losing contact with a friend. Human relationships are funny that way. I almost like humans best this way. Listening to their voices without them necessarily knowing or caring that I'm listening at all. Just getting comfort from the noise and bustle of the life that surrounds me. I wonder if it's the same way the other way around. That I'm most comfortable speaking to an audience I don't know and don't know if it even exists, like in this blog. Maybe I should start youtube casting. Maybe someday Cry would catch a little clip I made for lols and it would cheer him up on a bad day, and the circle would be complete, without either of us ever knowing anything about it. It would be beautiful.

What do we have friends for, but to ease our pain, share our happiness, and fill the frightening expanse of time stretching before us, second for second, hour for hour. We don't need to know how they look, or what they do when they're not with us, or why they take the time to be nice to us. We pick the parts we like about a person and let that define who they are to us, instead of investigating every corner. We pick together the things we want to complement ourselves, instead of finding it all in one person (which is impossible imo).

In other words, we are all Japanese mechas, and we're building our bodies from the bodies of others. I'm nicking Cry's voice for my in-suit Jarvis, then. You can have mine if you like, it would be an honor to give it, or a finger or an eye. Gives a whole new meaning to free distribution. We are all stitched-together ghouls and we are all beautiful. Maybe you want that image for a background on your holo-screen? It's certainly not copyrighted.

The Full Process (or How to Not Worry by Yeonni)

I don't worry. It has to do with a childhood belief that either things work out, or you give way and find a different place. It has to do with an adult faith that everything is connected and everything is as it should be, as it will be, as it has always been. I can frown and think and stare into the dark of night, but it's theoretical, logical. It's thinking, not worrying. Not when my brother crashed with the bike, not when my dad had a heart attack, not when we stood before the possibility of being tossed out of the place we lived in three weeks time. I get angry and scared and frustrated, but I don't worry.

But it's cold. He's a silly little ball of fur, kind of stupid, often very annoying, and I don't even love him that much. But now I feel it. It's like the hand of death gently resting on my stomach. I feel it, and I keep seeing the image of him curling up in the snow under the window just after I convinced him to go outside for a bit to get some air and exercise, and I keep thinking, how do you live with this? How do people who worry survive? Maybe I'm just sensitive because I'm not used to it. But how do people do this?

So.
Reality check. Worst case scenario: he's dead, and I'll never find the body. No, scratch that, worst case scenario: he's lying somewhere suffering for days and days before he dies, and I never find the body. But that makes no difference for me; I can't do anything about that. Boiled down, only four options exist (where "coming back" and "being found" are the same).

1. He comes back. 
2. He comes back wounded. 
3. He doesn't come back and I find the body. 
4. He doesn't come back and I don't find the body.

In a way, if I don't find a body I can imagine he's alive somewhere, but that's highly unrealistic, and I like knowing the truth more than having vain hopes, so they are ranked in that order. By likelihood of each outcome occurring  ranked by most likely first, I think they're somewhere like this:

1. He comes back. 
2. He doesn't come back and I don't find the body. 
3. He comes back wounded. 
4. He doesn't come back and I find the body.

So my most desired outcome is the most likely. Good. My least desired outcome is second. Okay.

Preparation. If he comes back he will be cold and hungry. Handled. Cat candy all stocked up. If he doesn't come back on his own I will have to try to find him, although it seems difficult. Go looking, put up pictures, post through social media. Not only to find him, but also to be able to say, if things go badly, that I did everything I could.

I was not wrong to let him out. I was wrong to not check on the window more frequently, but I must forgive myself that because it wasn't that cold, and as far as I could tell from the tracks in the snow he hadn't been back to the window anyway.

Possibilities for why he hasn't come back to the window are essentially far too many to handle. But for example:

• Plausible reasons: He may have walked in somewhere and been locked in. He may have been in a fight and/or ran off somewhere.
• Less plausible reasons: He may have wandered into the road and been ran over. He may have gotten stuck somewhere in the snow or woods.
• Implausible but possible reasons: He may have been kidnapped. He may have been scraped up by a snow clearing machine and buried in snow. He may have crawled into a car that drove off with him.
• Ridiculous reasons that for some reason insist on popping up in my head: He's hit his head and forgotten the way home. He's fallen in love with some other human. He's pissed and punishing me for tossing him out.

None of this prepares me emotionally for losing my friend and life partner. Hm.

Preparation 2.0. I don't want to get another cat immediately. That's not only disrespectful, it would also be painful. Being alone is also painful. Hm.

Preparation 3.0. People in situations they cannot control do many things. Like pray. People who lose their friends talk to their gravestones, or their pictures. There are rituals and ceremonies involved in handling grief and loss. It's more difficult if there is no definitive end; sending well wishes to the life after death is kinda odd if you don't know if the person is actually dead. 

I don't believe in the life after. I do believe in some sort of "pool" that what we are go back to, like our bodies decompose into dirt and the air in our lungs return to the air outside. But that doesn't deal with the question of whether the person is dead or not either.

People who are not there cannot hear things you say. People are not emotionally connected just because they want to be. Genetically similar people can react similarly to things, and therefore predict how other genetically similar people might feel or act (like twins), but there aren't that many genetic similarities between Asian girls and male cats. Mothers do not know if their children are dead. Thinking so seems to help them emotionally, but I am not his mother.

Loki is a cat. He doesn't know that I love him. He knows here is food and warmth and friendly protective aliens. He will most likely try to come back, and he may miss me, but he will not blame me if I don't find him, because he doesn't know that I love him. Because cats don't know what love means. I don't know what love means either. 

Loki will not know the difference between if I worry about him or not, or whether I miss him when he is not here or not. I do these things only for myself. Missing someone strengthens your bond to them, and makes you appreciate them. Worrying... doesn't help at all.

Conclusion: Worrying will not help Loki, will not increase his chances, will not make him happy if he returns, will not make me better prepared to face the emotional pain from losing him, will not make either of us understand love any better, and will only be painful. Except for looking for him, the only way to get to any of the options stated above is time passing. Passing that time in suffering changes absolutely nothing.

Preparation 4.0 Final. I'm going to watch some videos and play NDS-games in Korean (that I barely understand 1% of) because it makes me happy and eat tasty food.

Thanks for listening. Bye.

Shhh I'm hiding.

Searchlights

I'm looking for a little blue notebook. It happens to contain my heart. I carried it around for several years, and each word could just as well be written in my own blood. I stowed it away somewhere. It was only there to be written in, not read. Only there to feel, not be felt. If ever a word escaped, I smiled and apologized and hurried to brush it aside. Today I thought of it, and a few of the words I sealed inside. I need the words. Sometimes hearts need to be felt and read and soak up the blood that has been bled for other causes. To inspect the scars and be reminded that what healed before will heal again. To see the beauty of what has been born through blood and sweat and tears. You won't find my little blue notebook. It is hidden somewhere here closest to my chest. But I need to find it. I need to take a peek at my heart to make sure it is still beating.

From the Candy Snake

Every move you make
every little step
of your rituals
are like chocolate cake



for my soul, my heart,
like a burning flame
for a moth like me,
whispering the name



of your spirit core,
grand and beautiful,
of your time and love
I pray grant me more.



Don't want sugar cubes,
I'll eat you instead;
won't be satisfied
'til I'm in your head.



(Bet I creep you out
like a candy snake,
but you bear with me
as I flail about.)



Want to wear your skin
what's it like to be
perfect in yourself?
Here's a poem from me:



you're soft through and through,
you're like candy floss;
it can't be washed off.
P.S. I love you.

To die a lizard and wake up a dinosaur

One evening long long long ago, a giant lizard died. One day not so long ago, its bones were dug up and suddenly it was a dinosaur. One day at some point in time, a wolf gave birth to the first dog. Every night people go to bed a man, a mother, a wife, a husband, an immigrant or a worker and wake up a father, a grandmother, a widow, an ex-husband, a citizen or an unemployed.

People who don't like themselves feel trapped in who they are. I feel paralyzed in fear of changing. And, true to form, I feel trapped in feeling afraid of the change. I've accepted and to some extend embraced the fact that things and people around me change. But I am Me. I am God. What if I change, and then wake up one morning realizing I've become Not-Me - and by extension Not-God? What if I try to change and realize that I've lost the ability to? Or, horror of horrors, what if I become Not-God, and don't notice because I no longer can? I've seen the incredible powers human minds possess to shape themselves for whatever purpose; the power of manipulation, suggestion, hope, belief. It's like trying to trust every ant in an anthill.

All the little pieces that make up a "me", they're all necessary, right? Like the single stone that tips the scales, one piece might be all you need to remove to make the scales go the other way and suddenly I'm someone else. So what if I let my cramping fingers rest and go along some more with change, and then break one of those essential pieces? I wish I knew which pieces were required. Of all the things I love, if I lost them I would miss them but if I lost me I might not love them anymore, and for some reason that's so much worse. But things that stagnate rot and die. Lizards are alive and well, dinosaurs are dead.

If you were stranded on a deserted island, what single part of yourself would you bring with you?

Korean Fun Writeing!

Follow the letters easier to write letters to children, pronounced helps.

- Results -
Pay close the line connecting the dots will stroke your baby infant children's fun.
Fine motor development, cognitive development, drawing animals, the brain intelligence brain stimulation study.
Character shapes coloring crayons. Crayons Child Care Education Child Brain Development.
Anniversary of Self-directed learning toys mom mother baby, we focused on our kids.
Alphabetical cat dead dog playing in red potatoes, cacao children.


Android app for, I'm guessing, learning to write in Hangeul (Korean letters) for kids. Long live machine translation. The last sentence is my favorite. Cacao?

Us in the Future

Got linked this on fb, stay until the end for it to make sense.


The Chase by Philippe Gamer by Premiere-Heure

While in this case it can be forgiven, it still makes me sad that so much people seem to default to that blowing up policemen is fun. I always feel sad when I see those graffiti scribbles that say "cops are swine" or whatever, or when people talk down on them. As if "pigs" chose to be there so they only have themselves to blame for being shot. I tend to like cool bad guys, and cheer for them, but there's a limit to my acceptance for wanton destruction and the line goes where you're killing policemen excessively or for fun.

Killing civilians is fine. You get funny priorities from being a policeman's daughter ^^

An Unshakable Faith

For a long time I felt guilty about my faith shaking about total atheism, because it wasn't necessarily true; I still believed in *something* that I couldn't put words on but that I had a growing suspicion wasn't very fitting of an atheist. I adopted the Lifestream analogy as a way to ground my feelings, and I put up a "everyone has the right to believe what they want"-facade. Then I drifted on in slight discomfort, settling into a familiar tune of suspected guilt, and tried to leave the subject alone.

Religion came up again recently in my surroundings, and the conversations have made me realize that I no longer have a problem with it, personally. It's like the floating feeling has solidified into an unshakable truth about the divine in science and the science in the divine. I can go to church, because churches are like museums or giant monuments of human passion, no matter if that passion brought love or destruction. I can openly say I don't believe in god, because I know what I believe in instead; a pattern, a singular shape of the universe like a single line of the most perfect, beautiful code that could ever be produced. And the discomfort and guilt has more than gone away, it has turned into awe and appreciation and happiness for the amazing perfection that is the world.

I still have questions though. The most pressing question is this: is it right to condone religion? Is it right to not question religion where one finds it, but give it free way? Considering the good and bad religion accomplishes, it's hard to figure out if they balance out. How long and difficult would the road be before we've integrated the good of religion into other parts of our society, and would it be worth it? Are we ready for it?

Like the cells that make up our bodies, every human is now part of the neural (or you could call it cybernetic) network that is humanity (or in extension the creature that is the planet Earth, as of now). It would be foolish of me to say that not every single cell is needed, or that not every single decision is critical. Cancer starts with a single cell. It is also pretentious of me to say that the survival or condition of the human race as a whole is any more worth than a single cell in a single human's body, since our solar system could very well be the single cell in some other kind of life, but as a human, I would want to keep humanity around, for now (although that is not true all days).

What I'm trying to say is, I think the decisions we make concerning the inevitable adaptation of old religions that is coming might be one of those do or dies of our race, where the mistakes of a single cell and the ignorance of the cells surrounding it could spell a slow doom for our creature. But the implication paralyzes me. Personally I will never believe in God, and I will never join organized religion for any other reason than political ones, but my attitude towards others is also a part of this process. No one, nowhere, at any time, is excluded from the process, no matter how small their part is. So what is it? What does the pattern say? Am I to speak, or remain silent? Am I to cross the bridge and join in on shouting at people to come over, or sit down and wait for others to join me?

Who are we, those of us who are stuck between the conventions of religion vs science? Not confessing to religion, neither atheists. There's no word for us yet, but there will be I'm sure, because the symbolic answer is: We're evolution. We're synthesis. We're the future.

To the Future - Mass Effect leading the way

Thought this article had a very nice point, that I've been trying to put words on myself while playing it. It's short so go ahead and read it, but the summary of it is: the gender of your main character - Shepard - has little to no effect on the actual story and gameplay. There's a general limitation on who you can romance, which is quite realistic since not every person of every gender will throw themselves at you. Other than that your gender is basically never mentioned. In a future where people run around with biotic and tech implants left and right, complex AI's bordering on independent life, and fibers you can weave into your skin to make you sturdier, there's no reason why the gender of your soldiers would matter at all, rather you would want the right minds at the right places. Shepard has the mind of someone who gets shit done at any cost, and who can inspire people to do their best, and so she's a commander.

One can argue about the average boob size or the greatly uncommon and revealing dress of a certain news anchor and the frequency of female "dancers" but absence of male, but these are details. There are many things one can complain about in a game, but then again, there's a lot more one can complain about in reality. All I ever wanted out of games, as a female gamer and as a human being who believe we must abandon prejudice to grow as a species, was to see these minds in female bodies, because I know that they exist in real life already. There are women out there who make real commander Shepards, and while they still suffer from the limitations of their biology, there is no reason why that wouldn't be fixed in the future - why that wouldn't be one of the great things about the future. A world where what you are born as put even fewer limitations on what you can become.

Something that someone showed me recently made me think along these lines: If art and culture are to guide us into the future, if we are to learn morals and values and ascend through the works of Shakespear and Jane Austen, then that should be true of all creative accomplishments. Artwork, movies, and now in modern times, games. So here's to BioWare guiding us into the future, by showing us a possible future where it doesn't matter if you're black or white, girl or boy, a saint or a ruthless bastard. All that matters is that you get shit done, stand up for yourself and what is important to you, and are prepared to sacrifice everything if it comes to that.

So Easy

Shadowolf told me that female-to-male transsexuals start losing their hair with old age if they have the genes for it, like they would if they'd been born male. It made me wonder if it's as simple as that the body finds male hormones and goes off to check if you're supposed to keep your hair or not. If it is, doesn't that sound like a pretty natural thing? Like, just another day in the life of a human body? "Hey guys, the boys up top decided to import some wares in wait of trying to set up our own supply, so they wanted us to check the blueprints again to see how these new things fit in." Like sex and gender are like hard- and software of a computer, where yes, some combinations work poorly or not at all, and running with the standard pre-installed works pretty well for most, but sometimes there's better things for just your configuration and specs.

Make the best of it

Just saw an ad for a webcomic (or something along those lines) that said: "Trapped in the body of an adult film star, your own body stolen by the devil himself - WHAT DO YOU DO" and I'm like.... have fun? GL with that body mr. Devil, I'm just going to enjoy myself over here (double entendre intended)!

What Society Taught Me Of Women 01

Om din man inte klagar precis såhär är du ingen riktig kvinna:



From: here

Inget ont om Rocky, jag älskar serien.

Swedish Democrats

*reads pamphlet*

Ice: You know, if I didn't know there's complete racist idiots in that party, the Swedish Democrats sound pretty reasonable.

N: How can you say that!

Ice: Come on, listen to this: "We want an open Swedish identity where the opportunity to be a part of this country isn't dependent on how you look or where you come from. What matters is a person's values and actions. We are also always clear with that it's the politics and not the immigrants themselves that is responsible for the failures of integration."

N: You know what those people really think.

Ice: You don't even have any arguments to answer me with. And this: "Multi-culture is the ideology that a nation should be built upon widely separated values working side by side, which in practice leads to separation and segregation. We want to stand up for the Western ideas of democracy, equality, animal protection and children's rights."

N: Western ideas? In practice? Besides, how can they both be equal and not allow some people to keep their culture?

Ice: If you're like that, you might as well ask "why be equal and not allow the people who want to to have crocodiles in their basements", maybe it belongs to someone's religious faith to have crocodiles? Besides, I'm not saying the Swedish Democrats are good people, I'm saying they have a point.

N: A point that is WRONG. Imagine what would have happened to those people who had been turned away, if our politics were harsher.

Ice: Imagine what could have happened to the people who got in, if they were treated better and not just tossed across the border with the "Everyone should come" policy? One of those human rights groups had a commercial a while ago that went, "there's a difference between being alive and living".

N: That's ridiculous, they were probably referring to people imprisoned in inhumane environments or starving in a desert, not to people with houses and clothes and their families around them.

Ice: Anna, what do you think?

Anna: I leave this discussion to professionals in immigration and economics.

N: Of course, since you can't get anything out of it.

Ice: In the best of worlds, the Swedish Democrats would have made the other parties look over their immigration politics, but since we have a habit of yelling NAZI every time anyone breathes anything that could possibly be considered anywhere near negative about people not Swedish, there can't even be a serious discussion. How is that for discrimination, anyway. Equality should mean we're allowed to talk bad about everyone.

N: Hear that? You're an idol of equality to everyone, Anna.

A Quiet Birthday Celebration

Today, or rather, between yesterday and today since Korea's half a world away, Jaejoong had his birthday. I feel really happy because A) I remembered it and B) I celebrated it all on my own incentive and in a good and balanced way. That is, I fancied up a little and bought sushi and chilled. Outsiders might not be able to spot the difference between me celebrating and me not doing it, but I feel the difference quite noticeably. I didn't listen to his music to no end, I didn't watch sixteen episodes of the drama - I celebrated his birthday in the only way that truly counts; in my heart.

All of it made me think about mold and cornflakes, about the patterns in the universe and in our back yards, about the way cities grow and the way we breed animals; about how everything is one single beautiful whole, and in all that, Jaejoong is the one single thing that when I think about him I don't think about everything else. I don't think "but there is a statistical possibility that piracy actually severely damages culture in aspects that I might be ignoring because supporting free information furthers my own short-term agendas". I don't think "this book is such crap compared to what I know I'm capable of; if I'd just had the resolve I might have published my first book already, but even so, I know what I write will never be best-selling because considering mass psychology I write things too different from the general fare". I don't think, "which part of a person is DNA and which is not, and if all are, then why do parts of me contradict and what do people actually want?", I don't even think "all of this is hyped up fangirl mass-hysteria typical of my gender that enforces all kinds of woman-degrading ideas that circulate, and I am playing into the expert hands of marketing professionals that have molded some kind of public persona over whoever he is beneath".

There is always a "but", a "maybe", another view to consider, another detail to examine. Every time I look at a thread a spider web explodes in my head.

But not with him. I don't think. Every single thing - every single thing - I have found out about him, and seen of him, and heard of him, since the day I first saw his picture, has been perfect. No compromises, no thoughts, no justifications. No shrugs of "I guess I can live with that". I don't care if I never find out about the parts that some people seem to think "matters", or if I never exchange a single word with anyone in his general direction. It makes no difference who he is or how I discovered him or what he does for a living, all that matter is that the spider web goes silent. I look at him, and all I see is him. And until that stops being, god forbid that it does, I have one way to keep myself from going insane.

I am so happy you were born, Jaejoong, and I wish you everything in the world. For once, for one person, I can truly and with no hesitation say that. And I wish words could express how much I mean it.

Sunday Morning

It suddenly occurred to me that I haven't had any paralyzing or mindfucking strikes of anxiety regarding life, money or the universe in general this weekend. I've been... happy. Satisfied with my position and progress. Oh well. It's still only Sunday morning, there's still time.

OTHER NEWS: Commotion at the Cork Tree

We have earlier reported on the commotion at the Cork Tree regarding the modernizations of the cattle pens, where one of the current residents, a bull going by Ferdinand, has been conducting something of a non-violence protest - in fact, he hasn't done anything at all, including moving. We finally got past the blockade to speak to him directly.

"I understand if people want to get on with their lives," said Ferdinand, on the subject of the other cattle having left already. "It's nice to have company, but I'd rather sit here under my tree and smell the flowers alone, than listen to them talk loud and proud to each other about "not wanting to be helped"."

When we asked him what he thought of the complaints made against him, he said: "Before they wanted to make a tourist spot of this precise tree, people sighed and shook their heads and thought I was peculiar but cute, but now that they do, they sigh and shake their heads and say I am difficult and have social phobias and discuss motivational therapy or tow trucks to move me to an institution where they have painted flowers on the walls and sprayed perfume in the air. They say I cannot pay my rent by sitting under a tree smelling flowers, and cork trees are in high demand recently. But I don't think I bother anyone, really. It's not like I'm one of the new bred bulls that talk about depressing things and threaten with going to the slaughter house as soon as someone wants to leave. People actually listen to them. They just make me tired."

We asked how long he planned to continue his protest and what his actual goal was, but he did not seem to be aware of there being a protest going on anywhere, and said he didn't have any goals with his life and that seemed to be what upset people.

Footnote: A week after this interview was conducted, the flowers at the cork tree were dug up to make room for benches and a brand new water supplying system. Expressing a wish for keeping at least one flower, Ferdinand was taken away for obstruction of progress. We have not yet been able to reach him about a comment on this, but a spokesperson for Progress expressed assurances that he was "in a better place".