Love

It’s hard to give a textbook definition of love but it’s almost like being wrapped in a big, fuzzy, heated blanket; except the blanket is the company of another person. Imagine you’ve found a person that you’re always happy to see, someone with the innate ability to cheer you up no matter what; through the sheer power of smile they manage to somehow make it all okay. You might have a million little things to worry about over the course of the day, but it’s no big deal because whenever you see her, you get this warm feeling inside that you just can’t explain. They aren’t perfect, no one is, but you don’t really care. You might not even notice at first, but even when you do, it’s not a fault, it’s a quirk and it makes her unique and you love her even more.

But then it’s gone. Now there’s a vacuum in your heart where she used to be. Everything reminds you of her and there’s nothing that you can do to get it back. Love is hard, don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. Love can bring emotions like jealousy, and anger but through it all you don’t stop caring because you can’t stop caring, and you don’t really want to. You take the good with the bad because even the bad is still with the person you love.

Happy Valentines Day.

Death

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there;
I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye

We are the first intelligent animals to know that death is inevitable and that will happen to us some day. It’s a scary thought. However, death may actually be the most beautiful thing we have. Right now we believe that we have one consciousness, but we don’t. Our consciousness is incredibly complicated. The brain has multiple neuronal groups, each responsible for a small part of our whole conscious. And each of those neuronal groups are made up of billions of individual neurons. When our consciousness is being expressed, it’s actually expressed through the firing of electric current through groups of neurons, so it’s always different every fraction of the second. We are actually continuously re birthing and dying in our minds, but our brain makes it seem as though it’s one continuous entity. It’s beautiful. We are merely constructs of the mind, and the mind is constructs of biology. Biology is a construct of incredibly complex chemistry down to the molecular level, and each molecule is a construct of the most fundamental physics that govern our universe, all gaining mass through the Higgs field that runs through the entire universe.

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Life, choices and compound interest

Albert Camus said, “Life is a sum of all your choices.”

I think better definition would be, “Life is summation of compound interest on hereditary.”

So, You want to be a programmer …

So, you want to learn to be a programmer… I think I’ll take some time and write out a really long post about the steps you should look to taking so I can reference it later, as this comes up fairly often.

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Freedom

When I became convinced that the universe is natural — that all the ghosts and gods are myths, there entered into my brain, into my soul, into every drop of my blood, the sense, the feeling, the joy of freedom. The walls of my prison crumbled and fell, the dungeon was flooded with light, and all the bolts, and bars, and manacles became dust. I was no longer a servant, a serf, or a slave. There was for me no master in all the wide world—not even in infinite space.

I was free—free to think, to express my thoughts—free to live to my own ideal—free to use all my faculties, all my senses—free to spread imagination’s wings—free to investigate, to guess and dream and hope—free to judge and determine for myself—free to reject all ignorant and cruel creeds, all the “inspired” books that savages have produced, and all the barbarous legends of the past—free from popes and priests—free from all the “called” and “set apart”—free from sanctified mistakes and holy lies—free from the fear of eternal pain—free from the winged monsters of the night—free from devils, ghosts, and gods. For the first time I was free. There were no prohibited places in all the realms of thought—no air, no space, where fancy could not spread her painted wings—no chains for my limbs—no lashes for my back—no fires for my flesh—no master’s frown or threat—no following another’s steps—no need to bow, or cringe, or crawl, or utter lying words. I was free.

I stood erect and fearlessly, joyously, faced all worlds. And then my heart was filled with gratitude, with thankfulness, and went out in love to all the heroes, the thinkers who gave their lives for the liberty of hand and brain—for the freedom of labor and thought—to those who proudly mounted scaffold’s stairs—to those whose flesh was scarred and torn—to those by fire consumed—to all the wise, the good, the brave of every land, whose thoughts and deeds have given freedom to the sons of men. And then I vowed to grasp the torch that they had held, and hold it high, that light might conquer darkness still.

– Robert Ingersoll