Memories

• What are memories? Do they exist without consciousness?
• What is consciousness?
• What is a blog?
  
• Who is the chief of the Peruvian ministry for tourism?
• What does one fill in line G of IRS form 0603 SS-8PR? Why not anything else? Why?
  

These are fundamental questions that science is yet to answer. As things stand, this should clearly support my stance that science has given us more questions than answers. Science may be a good thing, but I am convinced that it's not good for humanity.

There is one other question I read somewhere online once, and it has haunted me since:

• Who is General Failure and why is he reading my hard disk?
  

Bitter Wine

A 200-pound labrador retriever was unhappy at being left alone in the back of a pickup truck in 10 degree weather. He decided in his freezing condition that he would opt out, and, at the next stop light, jumped out of the truck and towards a gas station. At the gas station, he waited patiently near the door for someone to push it open and entered behind that person. That person turned out to be a thief who held a gun to the gas station cashier's head and demanded all the money from the cash register. The retriever bit that person in the ass so hard that he (the thief) ran out of the store screaming. He didnt shoot the dog because he had no ammunition in his fake gun. The gas station cashier was pleased and let the dog stay there as a guard dog, eating all the skittles he wanted.

Moral : A bird in hand is worthless unless its on the endangered list, in which case, you're screwed.

Hunger struck

An old chair once found itself in panic because the dense crowd trying to squeeze into the subway trian seemed like it would prevent the chair from getting off the train and to an interview which held the promise of a better career. The chair was frustrated with its current job and wanted to move up. After a good bit of pushing, shoving, and grunting, the chair got off the train. As it was walking out of the subway station, an official performing random checks asked the chair for its ticket. The chair reached into its pocket and found it didnt have any. Didnt have any pockets, that is. The chair was slapped with a six hundred dollar fine and eighteen hours of community service. Because of the delay caused by this incident, and the ensuing stress, discomfort, and nervousness, the chair came accross as a fidgety kook and a nervous wreck in the interview. No hire.

Moral of story: Two wrongs do not make a right. Three..., maybe; but definitely not two. No way.

Whats the hurry

Music seems to be one thing that has at least one more dimension thatn the universe we live in. A magical transport out of existence and back.

Maybe I should revist my pointless stories with inane morals. That used to be fun. So, here goes:

There was once a pangolin who lived in a penthouse atop a skyscraper in Chicago. As the morning flights would approach O'Hare, they would veer dangerously close to her apartment, lost in the sticky clouds that obscure the winter sky in the windy city. One day, the pangolin had a scarecrow installed outside her window, and no planes bothered her anymore. However, the scarecrow scared the bejeezus out of her one night as she was ambling towards the kitchen for a midnight snack and she nearly peed her pants.

Moral of the story: If it says "Budget Gourmet" on the cover, dont expect much of a meal; you might enjoy the taste of the cardboard that it was packed in more than the pasta itself.

strands of life

Appears to me that our lives (Im generalizing based on the experience of one here, which is a gross misuse of statistics, I know) are strands of various different roles we play.

While physical discomfort can cause stress, most peoples stress is a result of conflict between these strands. When our life-strands are orthogonal, they do not interfere with each other; life seems stress free, but a kind of restlessness develops: One seeks out answers to questions such as "What is th epurpose of life?" or "What Am I here for?". This restlessness is due to our inability to pull all the strands together into a coherent flow. We have numerous little things flowing smoothly by themselves, but in infinite directions. The are many facets of life at work, personal life, and the ups and downs of ones health and finances that dont seem to form a coherent, fulfilling whole. We seem to be trying to manage multiple different lives.

Sometimes the strands just plain disagree with each other. Or so it seems. These are times of extreme emotional duress.

It seems like we wait fo that one moment when the clouds lift and there is a clarity of thought we never thought possible; the moment when it all makes sense, when we finally see all the strands comeing together as a single flow. Orthogonal strands still snake the way they always did, but our viewpoint shows us all of them as a unified stream. Conflicting strands melt into each other. Life makes sense. The answer seems trivial. The impermanence of all that exists suddenly makes the world a beautiful place.

p.s.: Deepak Chopra, your days at the top of the bestseller list are numbered.