I think I'm gonna do something. Something drastic. These are drastic times, and they call for drastic measures. I will destroy my school. Not literally, of course. I do not mean to take a bag of molotov's to school and leave a federally offensive fellon. I intend to destroy my school politically.
My principal is an incompetent cow-whore, to say the least. I got to school at 4:30 this morning, so as to sign up for the intersession class of my choice without any problem. I stood for 4 hours. And I still didn't get my classes. They started a weird system using tickets to allow you in the line, and the tickets were given in another line. These tickets were given out at the back of the line. This means that my friend who got there at 6:30 got all his classes. And I did not. I am quite perturbed by all of this.
I plan to make a student union. Because I am not alone in my plight. The school has been threatened by the state to improve its Stanford 9 test scores, or whatever they call it now; it's still the same test. Regardless, my friends and I are the schools saviors. If we decide to bomb the test, the school will get comandeered by the state. That is probably the best way for that school anyway.
Stupid school. They need to stop treating it as an administration
Wherefore whence the willow came
now leaves, its branches hanging there
Though each denied it's right to name
Still whispers soft through christened air
And here, echos of voices past
do tell the tale and end to yet
The one and other, both the last
the like to each, and neither dead
But live! As living can be more
A loss than gain, so can it give
More than it takes, now keeps in store
The most it has, because it lives.
And in the darkness, far away
From loft, and light, it drifts and shies
From fro and to, and moves to stay
Three back and fourth, to gain the prize
In this dark there does reside
a spritely nymph to raise a mischeif
Disguised in cloth that here confined
Does not haste to speak of grief
That is felt, forever secret
Held evermore so deep inside
In vain hopes to fend off hatred
and keep it safe from prying eyes.
Wherefore whence the willow came
now leaves, its branches hanging there
Though each denied it's right to name
Still whispers soft through christened air
And here, echos of voices past
do tell the tale and end to yet
The one and other, both the last
the like to each, and neither dead
But live! As living can be more
A loss than gain, so can it give
More than it takes, keeps in store
The most it has, because it lives.
And in the darkness, far away
From loft, and light, it drifts and shies
From fro and to, and moves to stay
Three back and fourth, winning prize
(Once again for transportation
God exists. Period. There is no other option. The existance of God proves his existance. Surprisingly, however, to assume that God doesn't exist, God still proves that he exists. He is a contradiction that leaves itself out of the loop once, and the discredits itself infinitely. Therefore, it is always positive, and he exists.
I am going to make a game in which losing a battle does not mean losing the war. I need to decide how I'm going to do it, though.
Ok. I have something very much against evolution. Of all the crackpot ideas ever circulated in the scientific universe, this one got accepted. And now, it is taught in schools. And you know the worst part about it? These students, these potential minds and the futures of our precious society, they are taking this knowledge and storing it away without any question, when the slightest doubt would lead to the questions that topple the entire theory. Which is a major supporter to the fact that it is nothing more than a theory, and a poorly formulated one, at that.
Considering that Darwin himself decided that it was a stupid idea should give some clue to it's idiocy. But even if that's not enough, you have the Laws - LAWS! - of thermodynamics directly contradicting the theory. And yet, the theory is accepted as fact.
First, you have the sheer complexity of life. The chance of accidentally making a living cell that functions completely and can reproduce to make more fully functioning cells, each with over a million different intricate enzymes, all required to work together perfectly, is about as likely as having a tornado blow through a junkyard and assembling a fully functional 747 jumbo jet. (not my quote, but certainly well formed.)
Secondly, almost every mutation known to man causes the organism in question to become sterile, meanging that, by the very idea of the theory, they cannot live long enough to reproduce, and therefore are the weakest and mjost likely to die out. And they all have.
Third, the Earth itself is not old enough to handle all the theoretically possible changes required to change from some organic goop to a human being. Not nearly old enough.
Fourth, every single piece of evidence tha supports evolution is circumstantial and subject to complete contradiction with the emergance of new evidence.
Fifth, how could you explain intraspecies symbiosis? Evolution is only possible when it is guided, and once you have established that, there must be some being sentient enough to guide it. And that being must therefore be undying and unaffected by evolution; in other words, must be outside the system that governs the world we know. This fact therefore establishes the existance of a God, and thus discredits the need for an explanation. If there is a God, then creationism is true. Period.
Oh, yes. I'd completely forgotten about the thermodynamics laws.
Lastly, you have the Law of Entropy. In the universe when things are left to themselves, they have the tendancy toward chaos. From order to chaos. And Darwins Theory of Evolution depends on going from chaos accidently to order. And it just doesn't work that way. Sorry.
I have started to look seriously at the world around me. Around us. What is becoming of it? And why? Well, I can answer both, but the real question is, what to do? But, for any of you who are reading along and have gotten lost, the what is destruction, and the why is dissention and intolerance. But the what to do.... what to do? Nothing? Surely not, that is not intelligent. But, is the best end to this life death? Really, is it all the best it gets? Because if so, then there is no purpose. And I do not believe that there is no purpose. So there must be some other end. The cheif beginning of man is to glorify himself. So wouldn't the cheif end be to glorify others? And yet, most people live out their whole lives glorifying themselves. Beginning as the man they will never stop being. And everytime they look and wonder what has brought them there, they never see themselves. They are like vampires. When they look in the mirror, they see all reflected save for themselves. They don't see that it was their feet that strode them here, and in their melancholy at their plight, they miss the fact that these feet are just as capable of leaving as they were at coming. This is not to say that it is never too late. However, at the time of realization, the very fact of the realization is proof that there is still some option. After which, when there is no hope, there has been ample time and warning to get ready. At such a time as that, the human mind starts throwing in defense mechanisms, and the person in question won't even notice that something is missing from their life. That the answer is suddenly gone, not just encrypted.
And now, I look back on my entry, and realize that I have lost my train of thought. Derailed and cross-tracked, I leave this entry for a later date.
They hastily moved him into what looked to be a meeting room, which still had papers and pencils and trash from the previous meeting. At the front sat the council, and he was directed to a seat in front of them. Sitting in the middle of all of the council members was an aged man of perhaps 35 or 40 years, and he started shuffling some of his papers befoe finally finding what he sought, and then spoke.
"Please state your name."
No reply.
"I said, please state your name. For the record."
"Name, sir?" he said at last. "What name?"
"Your name, please. And do be quick about it, I'd like to be done with this as quickly as prossible."
"I have no name."
"It says here in my file that you are Richard M. Harks. Is this information incorrect?"
"If you say it is."
"The council asks for your cooperation in this matter."
"It was my christening, yes."
He was led into a fairly sized room, cieling and walls all covered in metal, and a moniter placed in the room in such a way as to discourage accidental eyes. The screen, which pulsated with a blue, green resonance and lit the room with a cold and peircing light, toward over where they sat him. The guards walked away, and the door was closed. As the light pittered and spithened across the floor, it's color changing slightly with each step it took, his eyes began to dilate. The lighting had something of a hypnotic effect on him, and now, forced into his thoughts, he felt alone. Crammed into his own head, he found nothing to comfort him. Even his memories had forsaken him, telling of joyous days long since passed, and long since forgotten. As the time drew on, he grew distinctly aware of the fact that he had not hade anything to eat that morning. Or the day before. The hunger began gnawing away at him, and now, with such sparce thoughts as these to protect him, he could not hide from it. And here he was left. Alone.
In the evening, he woke up again, and at first saw nothing. As he looked, he realized that the pulsating colored lights had ceased to run, and his eyes adjusted to the normal light again. The silver metal walls, which to his eyes had a yellow tinge to them, suddenly lit up as the door to the cell was opened. He felt the hunger inside him, but when he was actually offered food, what he saw he found repulsive, and he could not eat. Every particle of each item of food they had he knew had been bought by leeching the lives of people to serve the community. Though he needed food, he knew that he would not get it here.
The men assigned to his care hid their frustation with his disguist by disowning their involvement and responsibility
The cold spring air stung at his nose as he walked. The stinging thrilled him, invigorating him with a new feeling of life – of meaning. Each footfall across the soft, pebbled walk resonated in his ears, and each bird singing left its song impressed on his soul. He felt the wind weaving its cold, intricate web over his fingers, chilling his skin as armor perfectly fitted to his hand. As he looked blankly ahead, he could see everything around him. The trees were in perfect season with the winds, blanketing the earth with its coat of many colors. As he walked forward, he was filled with a joy he had never met before. For the first time in his life, he felt alive. He felt he was a part of something, something worth any price. And he was prepared to pay. He hardly noticed his armed escorts, or the stares of the people along the path. Their piercing eyes, blunted and dwarfed by the powerful display made by the entire universe around him, fell wasted to the ground, and the former scowl of the crowd was slowly replaced by a curious interest and awe. The anger they held against him slipped from their grasp, and they could only watch from affair as passive observers. As he walked, he saw a butterfly frolicking in the flowers, dancing through the air. As it fluttered joyfully, the fire adorning its wings burned into his vision. He could no longer look at the butterfly, for fear of defiling its innocence and beauty with his unclean heart. Yet, even as he turned away, the butterfly danced. It stayed within his vision, and each movement blurred in together, until there was no butterfly left to watch, and all that remained was a happy flurry of bright colors, blazing in the morning glow. As he boarded the shuttle which would steal him away to his fate, he looked back. All the colors that had inspired him so much had gone and fled, leaving his sight as he left their world. But, in the bleak scene which laid behind him, so brilliant and overwhelming when first he saw them, contained none of the things that had so impressed themselves upon his soul. Instead, in the landscape so insignificant compared to what it had been, there grew a rose. Amidst all the brilliance he had witnessed before, he had completely overlooked it. Now it held him, gripped his thoughts, his mind, his soul. Its thorns along its sides menacing, even in the beauty it protects. Surrounded and dwarfed by the surrounding glory, as he saw it now, he could not remember having ever seen anything so beautiful.
The door to the shuttle closed. Even though the flower was no longer there, it was all he could see. It was all he cared to see. He smiled.
The door opened again, revealing a large, circular building. He was pushed from the shuttle, and escorted through the building. They led him into a small cell on the far side of the building. They left him there.