I seem to have lost my phone.
Can I have your number?
I don't have a camera,
But I can picture us together.
Do you have a map?
I keep getting lost in your eyes.
This cheesy pickup line,
I use to break up the ice.
There isn't a word in the dictionary for how good you look.
I wondered when creating you how many angels it took.
I'm just looking for directions to your heart.
Until you answer me, milady, I won't depart.
I follow you on Twitter,
Because I follow my dreams.
My wittiness, my cleverness
Is my downfall it seems
But if you fell from heaven,
Oh my fair lady.
Your love, I am craving.
I really am not crazy...
For you.
Samx
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Short Story: When Foolish Words Are, For The Sake of A Friend
Probably my first foray into "heavy" science fiction storytelling.
When Foolish Words Are, For The Sake of A Friend
by Samuel Garcia
In the bubbles which are not bubbles between the universes (universi?), the foam of the Void, the multiform of dimensions, which are, in a way, mini universes (universi definitely sounds cooler) themselves, a stray bubble which was not a bubble touched upon another bubble, and that both bubbles went POP!
Except that it was not POP, it was more like both universes crunched and entropied and shifted to a zero energy state, BUT THERE WAS NO POPPING SOUND, FOR THERE ARE NO SOUNDS IN SPACE WITHIN THE UNIVERSE, AT LEAST MOST OF THEM, in accordance to each of their laws of physics. Howbeit, the point is, both were annihilated, because each of their personal bubbles intruded upon the privacy of each other.
I kid, for what was beside the point is actually important. If you recall, the sword does not cut always with its point, but its blade. Their annihilation were in accordance to the laws of physics of the universi (multiverse? Or is that too technical?). This led to a variety of doomsday apocalypses.
The most common laws of Universi Annihilation included that in the common tongue, a Universal Big Crunch, in which all stars, asteroids, planets, cheese, your grandma's mailbox, and multitudes of alien civilizations and their colonies and hermits outside of those, crunched into a single point of singularity. And not the cybertechnical singularity, but the event horizon one. I think. A cousin to this Universal Death is the Universal Big Quack, in which the universe is squashed, not into a singularity, but a singular all-encompassing duck. When it quacks, it croaks.
Alternatively, if the variables and constants were correct, instead the Universal Heat Death would happen, in which all stars, asteroids, planets, cheese (melted by entropy), your parallel universe grandma's mailbox, and multitudes of alien civilizations and their colonies and hermits outside of those, lose all heat and energy and atomic movement and probably subatomic and Planck motion as well, plunging everything to absolute zero and even colder.
Even less common was the Universal Death through Integalactical Bureaucratical and Brutal Tax Auditry, in which the laws of physics of that universe send it to its graveyard by a rapid exponential growth of desk jobs and paper work and deterministic desk workers that encompass the universe. Any conceivable and inconceivable and aconceivable subatomic movement and photonic energy and any quantum fluctuations are heavily regulated, taxed, accounted, interviewed, mortgaged, sent for coffee, shredded, made redundant copies, passed on to the next call representative, and legislated. This slows down the universe afflicted with this death to near zero time relativity, in which the speed of light is simply, practically zero miles per hour. If light decides to speed, then whoa, whoa, whoa, it will get ticketed. The call tree of this universe is in the degree of septillions, so much so that the music of the spheres literally is call music that you hear when you are rerouted to India. When that bubble finally bursts, it is seen by the relatively smaller void dwellers (and yet the void does not have nor recognize the concept of size!) as a shower of paper trail confetti.
Yet an even rarer Universal Death is through Universal Death through Hologram Spam. Think of a universe where your spam came to life as holographic characters, no, persons and races. There would be phishing spam, insurance spam, random spam, chain letter spam, creepypasta spam, canned spam, all represented as ghostly embodiments, rightly called hologram spam. Schroedinger's Cat is viral Nyan of the lengths of stochachistic numerals of rainbow super strings. This is fine and dandy, but when trillions of spam are spawned,there are only so many cans to go around, and the universe that fills up with the spam afterlife disintegrates like an email going to the Trash Folder. Luckily, most universes have spam filters and firewalls.
I've gotten carried away, haven't I? Well, it just brings me to a universe, that is probably not our own, or rather quadrillions of centuries in to the future, or some other distant conjecture through time and space and inbetween and nowhere and nowhen. In this universe, the apocalypse was of the constant, eternal invasion of shadow hyperspace entities that are closest shaped to puppies. Except they were beings of pure vacuum darkness. Not an evil darkness, but simply darkness that drains the light into its bowels. Instead of a common Big Crunch however, the pups of annihilation invade the edges of this universe, expanding space at dangerous planar lengths that are equal to imaginary radical numbers and letters of the alphabet. In doing so,
In the awareness of this Pupocalypse, the Spanning Imperial Omnidemocradoms of the Constellation Stovansglow, residing in the edge of the universe, almost to thesoapy surface of said bubble not bubble, grew restless.
You see, in the Omnidemocradoms, which only was truly a democradom by false pretense, and not by any solid or relevant nature, like the misnaming People's Republics of the communists of here yonder universe, had the High Imperial and Only Ever Powerful Servant of the Omnidemocradom and its Rightful Heir of its Manifest Destiny Beyond the Constellations and Even Beyond That declared an infinite eulogy to be sung in his name. The civilizations of this universe prized eulogies, for the longer the eulogy, the more immortal one is, a goal in many universes. So there was this hope of immortalizing the narcisstic ruler in the end of time (and space).
A call was heard throughout the stars, and the stars covered their ears as the bellowing signal rang for the best singers, poets, drama artists, pantomimes, radio announcers, and even beeping melodious doorbells and electronic card musical silicon chips. The logic is, that the sound would attract the narcissm of the ones who ply the trade of performance so that they can correct it. Thus many planets lost their Grand Poet Laureate, and galaxies their great Oratorious Maximus. Even the long dead alternate universe counterpart of Shakespeare and Lincoln was raised from the dead, and those who were time traveling and had a lick of singing ability was plucked out of the 4 dimensional time vortices by the bellowing signal.
And thus the High Imperial and Only Ever.... oh, you know who it is was pleased to see the best of the best performers eulogize his deeds and misdeeds (and mostly because the horrible signal was psychostatic in their brains, meaning that they have to sing and sing and sing to block it out of their minds). Verses rang out in the auditorium that is the space between the stars.
Oh, Mighty Servant of the Cosmos.
Ruling guiding hands we all feed on.
You invented the coffee thermos!
He who bites you be cast to the sun!
Each atom is pleased by your humility,
The quarks, and Higgs boson, too.
You make Stovansglow tranquility.
With your aid the cows go moo.
Though the darkness bark,
Literally.
You will make your mark,
Eternally!
The Andrimedia, woman of the seven nebulae, who sang to swirl the plasmic gases in a harmony, beautiful in face, heart, spirit, and song, was taken from her place, to the sadness of her prince and her people.
Resist, my love, the bellowing!
But she could not, for the treble the universe was in was disharmonious. The seven nebulae held what basically was a funeral procession for their Lady.
Even the best of the best could not hold entropy at bay, the traitorous pups of of annihilating doom. They babbled and grumbled and foamed and fell, for they were tired, and the High Imperial you-know-what didn't really have that much to be proud about, even made up redenkulous ones. (In that universe, that is how ridiculous is spelled, don't ask how this universe English can be translated otherwise)
Even the Andrimedia was muted, vocal chords strained. She lost her identity in a song, not of her own praise, but to one who did not deserve so. And she ebbed away and faded into vibration... she dissolved into a song! A pretentious song indeed!
Off with their heads! the ruler cried. Find me more performers! I shall live beyond the death of the universe! A lone pup started barking.
Oh, but what is this?
A hunched, hooded figure stopped the people's fuming autocrat. With a raspy voice, he cried, Sir, o sire, do not cut off their heads, for it is their heads that sing. If they cannot sing, they cannot turn the canine tide and make thee live beyond the inevitable death.
Go on, the skeptical Servant of the Constellation raised after declaring a proxy war against the canes of his empire. Apparently, the canes were conspiring to make old people fall in nursing homes by failing their structural integrity, thus making the grown children amass huge lawsuits against the ones responsible for making the canes, that is, the cane megafactories, and thus collapsing the Imperial Omnidemocradom's economy. A whole department of spies, called the Cane Intelligence Agency, sprung up from the declaration (that is, they literally grew and stepped out of the paper of the declaration of war the Servant just signed), and arrested all canes within the palace premises about, and three star systems away. Never mind that when they did the arrests, the old people who were holding on their canes fell and broke their bones. Thus the canespiracy theorists point that out this very day.
My solution, sire, is that I will build thee a great singing machine in the model of thyself, for who other than thou, knowest what you have done of all infinity? Then that yonder statue machine likeness will be set in the point of relativity where the center of this universe is, for then all the universe shall hear of thy greatness, and the Cerebus dogs of the hades would stop in their tracks and flee to nether regions unknowable.
The High Imperial Servant stroked his chin, and muttered, yes, yes, splendid idea! Thus his highness commissioned that nothing shall be withdrawn from the hunched-back man's requests, and gave his word.
O Ruling Servant, I beg of thee only a few things, that all the canes you have arrested become part of my workforce to build said statue, and all those that are performing here shall lend their vocalistic trembelutions and throaty sonic shrills and poeticrastic cerebellums.
Go! Go! Said the proud ruler. May his immortality ring throughout the bubble bath multiverse.
The hooded man went away as mysteriously as he came, like a singular quantum fluctuation in the sea of chaotic random-pseudorandom generation. Except that there were a flotilla of battleships and transports and space galleys full of canes and performing artists traversing to the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!
The CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE was boring, only filled with boolean alien civilization hive mind who held its consciousness in a neural net of celestial bodies like neurons, who were decimated quickly with death rays to make room for the statue.
What is it to me, an annihilation of a civilization, a species, the greatest supercomputer of all, for the memory of myself woven in the fabric of infinity and beyond!
In another universe, a certain toy spaceman felt a disturbance in the force.
In what seemed to be no time at all, but in reality, a very 7ZIP compressed recursive time/chrono loop with a terminating program, a colossal statue of (fool) gold, (glass) diamond, and other (fake) precious stone of the Servant was erected by the cane workforce. The cane workforce feudalized, democratized, unionized, communistized, splintered, outsourced, WAHed*, and globalized within the compressed centuries time loop.
In a separate subroutine within the time loop, a great tubular musical instrument was being assembled. The statue's mechanical arms were to play the flute to memorialize him!
So it was done after the program terminated and set into a self-sustaining orbit.
The end was nigh. The dogs were nibbling the edges and cutting swaths with their paws!
With no time to lose, the hooded figure invited the Ruling Servant inside the instrument. It was explained that all the performers voices and speeches and playing were in record here and perfectly amplified. All the Servant had to do was to enter this chamber, complete with a throne magnificent, think happy thoughts about himself, and the telepathic circuits would translate it into a universe shaking song.
Happily, the Servant sat himself down. The figure left the throne room, along with a parade of canes in ships to bunker down.
But it was all pretense, for you see, it was not an amplification chamber for a song. But for something else.
Neither was it exactly a musical instrument.
The time loop inside the instrument was restarted as the High Imperial Servant whistled, trapping him.
And the puppies of the universal darkness heard the eternal canine whistle, and rushed back to the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE. Colliding and barking and colluding and scratching and chasing tails, their gravitational spin increased.
It became what is known today as the Dog Star. And the orbiting statue with the trapped Servant keeps the Pup-ocalypse contained to this very day.
For you, Andrimedia, and our people, and the universe.
Thus the mysterious hooded figure raised his mysterious figure hood, and revealed the prince of the seven nebulae underneath with eyes of sadness.
And the high pitched whistles in the air and space had a tinge of melancholy, when foolish are words of the proud, but vengeance will come for the sake of a friend.
(The prince resurrects Andrimedia and they marry in the far, far future, using a string, a epigenetic recreation machine, timeline disperser, sound bounce container, and some cheese, but that is yet another, entirely different story)
*WAHed is the process in which outside work is completely turned into a house activity. It is an abbreviated form of "Work-At-Home - ed"
When Foolish Words Are, For The Sake of A Friend
by Samuel Garcia
In the bubbles which are not bubbles between the universes (universi?), the foam of the Void, the multiform of dimensions, which are, in a way, mini universes (universi definitely sounds cooler) themselves, a stray bubble which was not a bubble touched upon another bubble, and that both bubbles went POP!
Except that it was not POP, it was more like both universes crunched and entropied and shifted to a zero energy state, BUT THERE WAS NO POPPING SOUND, FOR THERE ARE NO SOUNDS IN SPACE WITHIN THE UNIVERSE, AT LEAST MOST OF THEM, in accordance to each of their laws of physics. Howbeit, the point is, both were annihilated, because each of their personal bubbles intruded upon the privacy of each other.
I kid, for what was beside the point is actually important. If you recall, the sword does not cut always with its point, but its blade. Their annihilation were in accordance to the laws of physics of the universi (multiverse? Or is that too technical?). This led to a variety of doomsday apocalypses.
The most common laws of Universi Annihilation included that in the common tongue, a Universal Big Crunch, in which all stars, asteroids, planets, cheese, your grandma's mailbox, and multitudes of alien civilizations and their colonies and hermits outside of those, crunched into a single point of singularity. And not the cybertechnical singularity, but the event horizon one. I think. A cousin to this Universal Death is the Universal Big Quack, in which the universe is squashed, not into a singularity, but a singular all-encompassing duck. When it quacks, it croaks.
Alternatively, if the variables and constants were correct, instead the Universal Heat Death would happen, in which all stars, asteroids, planets, cheese (melted by entropy), your parallel universe grandma's mailbox, and multitudes of alien civilizations and their colonies and hermits outside of those, lose all heat and energy and atomic movement and probably subatomic and Planck motion as well, plunging everything to absolute zero and even colder.
Even less common was the Universal Death through Integalactical Bureaucratical and Brutal Tax Auditry, in which the laws of physics of that universe send it to its graveyard by a rapid exponential growth of desk jobs and paper work and deterministic desk workers that encompass the universe. Any conceivable and inconceivable and aconceivable subatomic movement and photonic energy and any quantum fluctuations are heavily regulated, taxed, accounted, interviewed, mortgaged, sent for coffee, shredded, made redundant copies, passed on to the next call representative, and legislated. This slows down the universe afflicted with this death to near zero time relativity, in which the speed of light is simply, practically zero miles per hour. If light decides to speed, then whoa, whoa, whoa, it will get ticketed. The call tree of this universe is in the degree of septillions, so much so that the music of the spheres literally is call music that you hear when you are rerouted to India. When that bubble finally bursts, it is seen by the relatively smaller void dwellers (and yet the void does not have nor recognize the concept of size!) as a shower of paper trail confetti.
Yet an even rarer Universal Death is through Universal Death through Hologram Spam. Think of a universe where your spam came to life as holographic characters, no, persons and races. There would be phishing spam, insurance spam, random spam, chain letter spam, creepypasta spam, canned spam, all represented as ghostly embodiments, rightly called hologram spam. Schroedinger's Cat is viral Nyan of the lengths of stochachistic numerals of rainbow super strings. This is fine and dandy, but when trillions of spam are spawned,there are only so many cans to go around, and the universe that fills up with the spam afterlife disintegrates like an email going to the Trash Folder. Luckily, most universes have spam filters and firewalls.
I've gotten carried away, haven't I? Well, it just brings me to a universe, that is probably not our own, or rather quadrillions of centuries in to the future, or some other distant conjecture through time and space and inbetween and nowhere and nowhen. In this universe, the apocalypse was of the constant, eternal invasion of shadow hyperspace entities that are closest shaped to puppies. Except they were beings of pure vacuum darkness. Not an evil darkness, but simply darkness that drains the light into its bowels. Instead of a common Big Crunch however, the pups of annihilation invade the edges of this universe, expanding space at dangerous planar lengths that are equal to imaginary radical numbers and letters of the alphabet. In doing so,
In the awareness of this Pupocalypse, the Spanning Imperial Omnidemocradoms of the Constellation Stovansglow, residing in the edge of the universe, almost to thesoapy surface of said bubble not bubble, grew restless.
You see, in the Omnidemocradoms, which only was truly a democradom by false pretense, and not by any solid or relevant nature, like the misnaming People's Republics of the communists of here yonder universe, had the High Imperial and Only Ever Powerful Servant of the Omnidemocradom and its Rightful Heir of its Manifest Destiny Beyond the Constellations and Even Beyond That declared an infinite eulogy to be sung in his name. The civilizations of this universe prized eulogies, for the longer the eulogy, the more immortal one is, a goal in many universes. So there was this hope of immortalizing the narcisstic ruler in the end of time (and space).
A call was heard throughout the stars, and the stars covered their ears as the bellowing signal rang for the best singers, poets, drama artists, pantomimes, radio announcers, and even beeping melodious doorbells and electronic card musical silicon chips. The logic is, that the sound would attract the narcissm of the ones who ply the trade of performance so that they can correct it. Thus many planets lost their Grand Poet Laureate, and galaxies their great Oratorious Maximus. Even the long dead alternate universe counterpart of Shakespeare and Lincoln was raised from the dead, and those who were time traveling and had a lick of singing ability was plucked out of the 4 dimensional time vortices by the bellowing signal.
And thus the High Imperial and Only Ever.... oh, you know who it is was pleased to see the best of the best performers eulogize his deeds and misdeeds (and mostly because the horrible signal was psychostatic in their brains, meaning that they have to sing and sing and sing to block it out of their minds). Verses rang out in the auditorium that is the space between the stars.
Oh, Mighty Servant of the Cosmos.
Ruling guiding hands we all feed on.
You invented the coffee thermos!
He who bites you be cast to the sun!
Each atom is pleased by your humility,
The quarks, and Higgs boson, too.
You make Stovansglow tranquility.
With your aid the cows go moo.
Though the darkness bark,
Literally.
You will make your mark,
Eternally!
The Andrimedia, woman of the seven nebulae, who sang to swirl the plasmic gases in a harmony, beautiful in face, heart, spirit, and song, was taken from her place, to the sadness of her prince and her people.
Resist, my love, the bellowing!
But she could not, for the treble the universe was in was disharmonious. The seven nebulae held what basically was a funeral procession for their Lady.
Even the best of the best could not hold entropy at bay, the traitorous pups of of annihilating doom. They babbled and grumbled and foamed and fell, for they were tired, and the High Imperial you-know-what didn't really have that much to be proud about, even made up redenkulous ones. (In that universe, that is how ridiculous is spelled, don't ask how this universe English can be translated otherwise)
Even the Andrimedia was muted, vocal chords strained. She lost her identity in a song, not of her own praise, but to one who did not deserve so. And she ebbed away and faded into vibration... she dissolved into a song! A pretentious song indeed!
Off with their heads! the ruler cried. Find me more performers! I shall live beyond the death of the universe! A lone pup started barking.
Oh, but what is this?
A hunched, hooded figure stopped the people's fuming autocrat. With a raspy voice, he cried, Sir, o sire, do not cut off their heads, for it is their heads that sing. If they cannot sing, they cannot turn the canine tide and make thee live beyond the inevitable death.
Go on, the skeptical Servant of the Constellation raised after declaring a proxy war against the canes of his empire. Apparently, the canes were conspiring to make old people fall in nursing homes by failing their structural integrity, thus making the grown children amass huge lawsuits against the ones responsible for making the canes, that is, the cane megafactories, and thus collapsing the Imperial Omnidemocradom's economy. A whole department of spies, called the Cane Intelligence Agency, sprung up from the declaration (that is, they literally grew and stepped out of the paper of the declaration of war the Servant just signed), and arrested all canes within the palace premises about, and three star systems away. Never mind that when they did the arrests, the old people who were holding on their canes fell and broke their bones. Thus the canespiracy theorists point that out this very day.
My solution, sire, is that I will build thee a great singing machine in the model of thyself, for who other than thou, knowest what you have done of all infinity? Then that yonder statue machine likeness will be set in the point of relativity where the center of this universe is, for then all the universe shall hear of thy greatness, and the Cerebus dogs of the hades would stop in their tracks and flee to nether regions unknowable.
The High Imperial Servant stroked his chin, and muttered, yes, yes, splendid idea! Thus his highness commissioned that nothing shall be withdrawn from the hunched-back man's requests, and gave his word.
O Ruling Servant, I beg of thee only a few things, that all the canes you have arrested become part of my workforce to build said statue, and all those that are performing here shall lend their vocalistic trembelutions and throaty sonic shrills and poeticrastic cerebellums.
Go! Go! Said the proud ruler. May his immortality ring throughout the bubble bath multiverse.
The hooded man went away as mysteriously as he came, like a singular quantum fluctuation in the sea of chaotic random-pseudorandom generation. Except that there were a flotilla of battleships and transports and space galleys full of canes and performing artists traversing to the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!
The CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE was boring, only filled with boolean alien civilization hive mind who held its consciousness in a neural net of celestial bodies like neurons, who were decimated quickly with death rays to make room for the statue.
What is it to me, an annihilation of a civilization, a species, the greatest supercomputer of all, for the memory of myself woven in the fabric of infinity and beyond!
In another universe, a certain toy spaceman felt a disturbance in the force.
In what seemed to be no time at all, but in reality, a very 7ZIP compressed recursive time/chrono loop with a terminating program, a colossal statue of (fool) gold, (glass) diamond, and other (fake) precious stone of the Servant was erected by the cane workforce. The cane workforce feudalized, democratized, unionized, communistized, splintered, outsourced, WAHed*, and globalized within the compressed centuries time loop.
In a separate subroutine within the time loop, a great tubular musical instrument was being assembled. The statue's mechanical arms were to play the flute to memorialize him!
So it was done after the program terminated and set into a self-sustaining orbit.
The end was nigh. The dogs were nibbling the edges and cutting swaths with their paws!
With no time to lose, the hooded figure invited the Ruling Servant inside the instrument. It was explained that all the performers voices and speeches and playing were in record here and perfectly amplified. All the Servant had to do was to enter this chamber, complete with a throne magnificent, think happy thoughts about himself, and the telepathic circuits would translate it into a universe shaking song.
Happily, the Servant sat himself down. The figure left the throne room, along with a parade of canes in ships to bunker down.
But it was all pretense, for you see, it was not an amplification chamber for a song. But for something else.
Neither was it exactly a musical instrument.
The time loop inside the instrument was restarted as the High Imperial Servant whistled, trapping him.
And the puppies of the universal darkness heard the eternal canine whistle, and rushed back to the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE. Colliding and barking and colluding and scratching and chasing tails, their gravitational spin increased.
It became what is known today as the Dog Star. And the orbiting statue with the trapped Servant keeps the Pup-ocalypse contained to this very day.
For you, Andrimedia, and our people, and the universe.
Thus the mysterious hooded figure raised his mysterious figure hood, and revealed the prince of the seven nebulae underneath with eyes of sadness.
And the high pitched whistles in the air and space had a tinge of melancholy, when foolish are words of the proud, but vengeance will come for the sake of a friend.
(The prince resurrects Andrimedia and they marry in the far, far future, using a string, a epigenetic recreation machine, timeline disperser, sound bounce container, and some cheese, but that is yet another, entirely different story)
*WAHed is the process in which outside work is completely turned into a house activity. It is an abbreviated form of "Work-At-Home - ed"
Friday, February 14, 2014
Valentine's Day Part #1: Questions and Pick Up Lines
Check out Part 2!
Let's do questions first.
Who is your current crush? Who was your first crush?
I like the orange soda, too. I don't have a Crush soda though. Just some apple cider. I wonder why the makers of Candy Crush haven't sued them yet?
Crushes make us young. I am frankly attracted to someone at the moment. She has blondish, brownish, long hair-ish. From College Plus? No names, lest I embarrass her. Cause she probably doesn't have a clue that I do. Maybe. ;)
I kept this answer intentionally vague. :P
My first crush's name was Millicent Rose in kindergarten. She's also the first girl I've taken a picture with. I have no idea where the picture is.
Why am I single?
There are countless alternate universes where you are NOT single. So have consolation in the fact that one of you in another alternate universe has a perfect girlfriend that loves you and cherishes you and marries you, happily ever after.
Unfortunately, travel between universes are not allowable by our current technology and/or laws of physics.
Why do we love?
We love because God has first loved us. And also, chocolate. Also, chemical interactions in our brains. Also, peer pressure. Also, the butterflies in our stomach and meeting someone's eyes. And knowing you will never going to be with that person.
Favorite love song(s)?
Right now, "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, but also "My Girl" by the Temptations, and "Fur Elise" by Bach. Also, I call them sentimental songs, not love songs. Oh, and "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know"! :D
Courting or dating?
I subscribe to this thing called "courtation". Okay, I'm kidding. I will have my thesis on it post as separate, so check that out. I kinda define that dating is before engagement, and courting is after engagement.
Qualities in girls you like?
I only like girls who are virtuous, godly, good, beautiful, and single. Oh, and she must have cookies for me.
Who is my favorite historical couple?
I ship Adam and Eve, Valentine and Asterius' daughter, Doctor and River Song, Jesus Christ and His Bride (though technically a future thing). Bonnie and Clyde; and Marie and Pierre Curie did not make the list, unfortunately.
My favorite is probably Prince Albert and Queen Victoria of England. They are a model every family, royal or otherwise, should aspire to.
How did the heart morph from a fist-shaped organ to the cute little shape we see everywhere today?
The first instances of the use of the so-called geometric heart shape was during the Middle Ages in the use of decoration (Think of the decorated medieval books and Bibles with pictures). But it was not identified as a heart and a symbol of love until around the 13th century, where it was depicted as a pine cone shape in the hands of a knight giving it to his damsel in distress. It appears in various paintings from then on. The current form was finalized around the 14th or so century, and the hearts on playing card games came around the 15th.
In my opinion, the heart-shape is actually more accurate, but exaggerated, than it is given credit for. A normal heart has four chambers, and a somewhat pointed bottom. Also, Cupid cannot hit anyone with his heart arrows without the point. So it does have a practical purpose.
But yes, it went from a fist, to a pine cone, to a the pointed cardiod shape today.Neat, huh?
Which is better to give your Valentine, roses or chocolates?
Chocolate roses. Sprinkled with bacon. A whole bouquet. I don't care if you have money to afford this, steal, plunder, beg, save, invest, so you can have enough. Always, always go over the top on Valentine's Day for your love. Your Valentine will always have a fond memory of you. I promise.
Now for some pickup lines!
Christian pickups:
I've been reading the book of Numbers, and I realized I don't have yours.
Are you my babe in Christ?
Hi, my name is Will. God's Will.
Is your name Grace? Cause you are amazing.
Can I have your name and number for my prayer list?
Is that a mirror in your Bible? Cause you are reflecting the image of Christ.
Is it a sin to steal my heart?
Before this night, I never believed in predestination.
Is this pew taken?
I've picked out our chaperones.
You're a Proverbs 31 kind of woman.
Is your name Faith? Because you are the substance of things hoped for!
Doctor Who pickups:
Will you be my companion?
My heart for you is bigger on the inside.
Babe, you make both of my hearts skip a beat.
We have all of time and space to get acquainted.
Come along, Pond!
You're my fixed point in time.
You must be a weeping angel, because I can't take my eyes off you.
Bonus pickups:
Hey, do you have my hairbrush? Because you are a real peach. (Veggie Tales)
Disclaimer: I am not responsible for any eye rolling, face slapping, indiscriminate laughter, cold shoulders, heart breaking or otherwise from the use of the above pickup lines. Use them at your own peril. I will, however, take credit for any engagements and marriages resulting from such use. And invite me to the wedding. Please. Or even have me officiate the wedding! :D
Thanks to Rikki Meek, Hannah Musick, Joshua Loomis, Drew Sproule, Skip Graham, Faith Burnside, Sarah Iddings, Garret Johnson, and everyone else who submitted a line or question or suggestion, or I did otherwise steal from you.
Check out Part 2!
Let's do questions first.
Who is your current crush? Who was your first crush?
I like the orange soda, too. I don't have a Crush soda though. Just some apple cider. I wonder why the makers of Candy Crush haven't sued them yet?
Crushes make us young. I am frankly attracted to someone at the moment. She has blondish, brownish, long hair-ish. From College Plus? No names, lest I embarrass her. Cause she probably doesn't have a clue that I do. Maybe. ;)
I kept this answer intentionally vague. :P
My first crush's name was Millicent Rose in kindergarten. She's also the first girl I've taken a picture with. I have no idea where the picture is.
Why am I single?
There are countless alternate universes where you are NOT single. So have consolation in the fact that one of you in another alternate universe has a perfect girlfriend that loves you and cherishes you and marries you, happily ever after.
Unfortunately, travel between universes are not allowable by our current technology and/or laws of physics.
Why do we love?
We love because God has first loved us. And also, chocolate. Also, chemical interactions in our brains. Also, peer pressure. Also, the butterflies in our stomach and meeting someone's eyes. And knowing you will never going to be with that person.
Favorite love song(s)?
Right now, "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, but also "My Girl" by the Temptations, and "Fur Elise" by Bach. Also, I call them sentimental songs, not love songs. Oh, and "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know"! :D
Courting or dating?
I subscribe to this thing called "courtation". Okay, I'm kidding. I will have my thesis on it post as separate, so check that out. I kinda define that dating is before engagement, and courting is after engagement.
Qualities in girls you like?
I only like girls who are virtuous, godly, good, beautiful, and single. Oh, and she must have cookies for me.
Who is my favorite historical couple?
I ship Adam and Eve, Valentine and Asterius' daughter, Doctor and River Song, Jesus Christ and His Bride (though technically a future thing). Bonnie and Clyde; and Marie and Pierre Curie did not make the list, unfortunately.
My favorite is probably Prince Albert and Queen Victoria of England. They are a model every family, royal or otherwise, should aspire to.
How did the heart morph from a fist-shaped organ to the cute little shape we see everywhere today?
The first instances of the use of the so-called geometric heart shape was during the Middle Ages in the use of decoration (Think of the decorated medieval books and Bibles with pictures). But it was not identified as a heart and a symbol of love until around the 13th century, where it was depicted as a pine cone shape in the hands of a knight giving it to his damsel in distress. It appears in various paintings from then on. The current form was finalized around the 14th or so century, and the hearts on playing card games came around the 15th.
In my opinion, the heart-shape is actually more accurate, but exaggerated, than it is given credit for. A normal heart has four chambers, and a somewhat pointed bottom. Also, Cupid cannot hit anyone with his heart arrows without the point. So it does have a practical purpose.
But yes, it went from a fist, to a pine cone, to a the pointed cardiod shape today.Neat, huh?
Which is better to give your Valentine, roses or chocolates?
Chocolate roses. Sprinkled with bacon. A whole bouquet. I don't care if you have money to afford this, steal, plunder, beg, save, invest, so you can have enough. Always, always go over the top on Valentine's Day for your love. Your Valentine will always have a fond memory of you. I promise.
Now for some pickup lines!
Christian pickups:
I've been reading the book of Numbers, and I realized I don't have yours.
Are you my babe in Christ?
Hi, my name is Will. God's Will.
Is your name Grace? Cause you are amazing.
Can I have your name and number for my prayer list?
Is that a mirror in your Bible? Cause you are reflecting the image of Christ.
Is it a sin to steal my heart?
Before this night, I never believed in predestination.
Is this pew taken?
I've picked out our chaperones.
You're a Proverbs 31 kind of woman.
Is your name Faith? Because you are the substance of things hoped for!
Doctor Who pickups:
Will you be my companion?
My heart for you is bigger on the inside.
Babe, you make both of my hearts skip a beat.
We have all of time and space to get acquainted.
Come along, Pond!
You're my fixed point in time.
You must be a weeping angel, because I can't take my eyes off you.
Bonus pickups:
Hey, do you have my hairbrush? Because you are a real peach. (Veggie Tales)
Disclaimer: I am not responsible for any eye rolling, face slapping, indiscriminate laughter, cold shoulders, heart breaking or otherwise from the use of the above pickup lines. Use them at your own peril. I will, however, take credit for any engagements and marriages resulting from such use. And invite me to the wedding. Please. Or even have me officiate the wedding! :D
Thanks to Rikki Meek, Hannah Musick, Joshua Loomis, Drew Sproule, Skip Graham, Faith Burnside, Sarah Iddings, Garret Johnson, and everyone else who submitted a line or question or suggestion, or I did otherwise steal from you.
Check out Part 2!
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Relationship Ramblings, Or, Why Sam Doesn't Have A Girlfriend
Another rare post about *cough* girls. Or, actually, relationships. Or something. No, just random ramblings without construction about the fact of relationships or lack thereof.
Everyone I know seems to ask me if I have a girlfriend, or if I'm courting. My grandma, cousins, family, relatives, strangers, friends from church and college, authority figures, teachers, pastors, random people....
I keep telling them, No, not yet, me? I have to... earn money, finish college, stuff like that. That I'm very, very picky. That I only want one girlfriend, and that she'll be my future wife someday. That I want to be patient and be very careful.
And that's all true. They're not really excuses, or at least bad ones. But what I don't tell many people is that I think I know who she is.
But I don't tell them. Because I feel like I fail in everything I plan concerning these things. Always waiting and waiting for weeks to build up courage. Always failing to ask in time for a date to the banquet. Always resigning whenever the one you ask tells you that, in a deflating tone of voice, why she can't go out with you. Always feeling too dejected to try again in the foreseeable future.
(That's why I look forward to the bi-annual dancing balls where the Scottish music plays around here in Ohio every spring and winter. At least there, no lady will reject any gentleman who asks her for just a single dance. And all dance as friends, not any more than such. There is no dating or any such romantic matter. Just merely fun and laughs. But I digress.)
Some people have caught on a little bit on who she would be. Or maybe, they already know for sure who she will be, as if God reveals it to them, not to me. I think He does, though. Either that, or there's a huge conspiracy going on. Them peoples making little snide, seemingly harmless jokes here and there, and I just smile and shrug it off.
It's probably my fault. Making little art game in dedication to a certain, specific mademoiselle was not the most subtle thing I could have done for Valentine's Day. I don't regret doing that, though.
People are smarter than you think. They observe you. They know more.
I think she even knows. Maybe. Or maybe she actually dislikes me a lot. Or thinks me amusing. I never really asked. Sometimes I want to know. Sometimes I don't want to know.
It's been a long time since we were together for any reason. We used to go to school. And to youth group activities. And nowadays, I only see her at church, rarely. I think we naturally avoid each other. I can probably count only a handful of times where we both were in proximity of less than one feet from each other. And most of those times were more or less forced. It made me hesitant and uncomfortable and yet strangely hopeful.
You probably can tell she occupies my thoughts a lot. Trust me, I tried forgetting. And erasing my memory. And finding another to take her place in my heart. To no avail. And that's one reason I know it's her.
Even then....
What am I supposed to do, though? Every opportunity I ever had has disappeared and it doesn't seem like any will come. I'm just quiet now. Waiting. Dreaming. Watching. Hoping. Praying. Looking out my window to see a winter wonderland.
I've just accepted the fact that if we were indeed meant for each other, that God will bring us together one day.
I love her. I trust Him.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
I Love U-........kuleles & Youth Conference
It's stuck in my head! I heard it first at a skit at Youth Conference. It was a fun time, and possibly my last youth conference I will attend, unless I come back as a chaperone or counselor or something.
I made some decisions for Christ at the Conference. Many did, too. No less than 119 people got saved under the preaching of Jack Schaap, Kenny Baldwin, Eddie Lapina, Chris Tefft, and other great men of God. Some of my youth group were called to preach. I renewed my commitment to preaching the gospel.
Here are some pictures:
High Street Youth Department at First Baptist Church Hammond
The Chicago Bean
My sisters, with David Riggs on the background.
The guys that sang "I Love Ukuleles". Singles' session.
Guy with an epic backpack. XD
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The Quest for the Perfect Girl(?)
Does a "Perfect Girl" Actually Exist?
It really boils down to the definition of "perfect" one uses. If one means "perfect" to denote someone who is sinless, flawless, and all-around amazing, no such girl exists. However, if "perfect" means someone who is right for a guy, someone whom God has picked to be his "soulmate", then that girl may actually exist. "Perfect" can also mean "mature, complete". Truly mature girls are rare, even though some girls think they are mature. But I've seen enough to know they aren't an endangered species.
The Bible tells of a "virtuous woman", whose price is "above rubies". Rubies are rarer and more expensive than diamonds. This, I believe, is the definition of a "perfect girl".
My Very General List
The Lord has led me to list the qualities of the girl I would hope to marry someday. My wish list, if you will.
1. She must be saved.
I can't marry a heathen! This really is, while not the most important part, the most primary part. God says I can't yoke myself with an unbeliever.
2. She must be spiritual.
This is not the same as being saved. Saved girls can also be not spiritual. She should at least know her Bible well enough. This is even more paramount than the first, but it is impossible to achieve this without the first.
3. She must be smart.
I'm doomed. As long she is not stubborn. I can work with that.
4. She must be beautiful.
Of course. Why not? *wink* In reality, the beauty of a girl is, as often cliched, "inside". As long that "inside" beauty shines outward. She should have at least enough sense to take care of herself. And she should be naturally beautiful without makeup. I hate it when girls think that their makeup actually makes them more pretty. It DOESN'T!
5. She must be modest.
This is more important than you think. At least something should be covering her knees at all times. And maybe I should demand Victorian elegance?
6. She must be a bit shy.
Really extroverted girls are okay, but to me, they are not date-able or marriageable. Especially if she talks to random guys. So simply, a girl who doesn't flirt.
7. She must be faithful.
Girls are fickle, according to my experience.
That list only applies to me. It appeals to my taste and values. If you have a different conviction, then follow that conviction. This list is for me, not you. If you are a girl interested in me, then you must at least have the first one got down. If you don't know how to get saved, click here. Then talk to me. And then actually work on acquiring the other things on the list.
The Quest So Far?
Hmmm... The quest is actually going on well, thank you. I've weeded out the girls that don't fit the list and looking into girls that have at least some of the qualities presented here. I've tested some girls that have stood out as the most likely candidates.
One day, I will find her. I do not know who she is yet. But I know God has someone planned for me. *wink*
In Christ,
The Gentleman X
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