A Question/Problem of Depth

Everything is relative to one frame of reference or another: an object or event when viewed on a different scale tends to seem awkward - or at least out of place. Like, say your friend's father passed away. That could potentially be a tremendous personal lost for that friend. Put into the scale of deaths per year, or deaths in [named disaster], however, it's just 1 death compared to [significantly larger number]. Also, viewed from the never ending cycle of birth and death, the death of one person may seem ultimately insignificant.

But of course, saying it like that, or even thinking about it primarily like that would be bad person skills. The frame of reference here is your friend, it's a personal event that happened to him or her, and your friend's feelings and reactions to the situation are what should take priority here when calculating a response (assuming he or she is sufficiently "in-frame", otherwise the previous musing might be... more fitting than usual).

Extreme hypothetical aside, the original sentiment is something many can agree on, I think: correct scale is important. Now that we've established that, let's go z-axis: depth. Not just thinking too big or too small, too grand, too long, but thinking about something too deep.

Now, hear my tale.

I was watching something on YouTube - it was a FineBros production, their famous "React" videos. The format is that they (the Fine brothers, Fine is their surname) have a group of people (kids, teens, elders, other YouTubers) and the Fine brothers show the group something - usually a video. Afterwards, the Fine brothers ask the group questions about what they just reacted to. During the "reacting" part of the video (and during the interview part as well actually), the screen cuts to different people of the group - the reactions and interviews are done separately for each group member usually. When the screen cuts, for visual consistency (I think?), whomever is on camera tends to be in the same relative position on screen - the seating and camera are arranged such that a person's face always occupies more or less the same area on the screen. This is key for the following... chain of events that happened to me.

Spacing out while watching this, I was focused on the "face" area of the screen - blankly but intently focusing on the faces. The primary visual stimulus that was being registered to me was the... skull shape of people. The "face" part of the bones. Think "it hit me in the face" vs "it hit me in the head", just the face area of that. Eyebrows, eye sockets, cheekbones, noses, upper incisors and maybe canines. That area has remarkably small variation in between individual to individual, I found. The cheekbones could be the most varied, then the brow and eye socket maybe - but with a smaller range of variation than the cheekbone.

Then I started focusing on the cap. The dome. The neurocranium. That area has really little variation. It isn't always so clear to see, but excluding the hair, it seemed there was very little that could be different from individual to individual. Also, the hair tends to cover up the detailed topology, so only broad strokes can be noticed through ocular investigation without manipulation.

Of course after that is the jaw. Lots of variation available here. I guess this is why the jawline is such a notable factor in differentiating how people look. High school biology talk here, but, the mandible is my favourite bone in the body. The way it occupies three axes, the delicate touches and variations, the strong and firm overall form, the way it fits into the cranium. Simply amazing. Even more so in motion. Anyways.

After intently watching the bone structures, the flesh came into focus for me. The most interesting was how it covered the whole set-up, but that's a different story. I kept my focus on how it fleshed out the portion between the "two peaks" of variables in bone structure: the area between the cheek bone and jaw. Basically, the cheeks. "Cheek line", naturally, is a big factor in how a person looks. Although I prefer the cheek area to be fully filled and well fleshed out, looking at it from the bone-out it was quickly obvious that less fleshy cheeks make it much easier to observe the cheekbones and mandible. I mean, that's pretty obvious, but man, that was all I could think about at the time.

Movement. When they talked, when they moved their jaw around. How the flesh would pull at the cheekbones, bringing clear definition. How the cheek flesh would move about, like lines defining the relative positioning between two points dancing in accordance. Movement vectors, the cheek viewed as a multitude of lines rather than a single shape. And yes, of course, the movement of the mandible itself. The best part was seeing the cause and effect all in the same place - parts of the cheek would cause the motion of the jaw, other parts would move as a consequence. Cause and effect, tied together by a remote factor, the motion of the mandible.

Anyways, this whole thing weirded me out after a while - I only focused on bone structure and flesh conformation of human faces for one video. Still. Lessons learned: 1. look to deep into one thing and things will get weird (as mentioned in the beginning), 2. anatomy in motion is fascinating, and 3. maybe I'm now starting to learn about beauty standards.

tl;dr > I stared at faces for too long until all I could focus on were the bone structures, then I got weirded out.

Border cells. Always trying to learn about the intermediate by defining the extremes.

Basilonian Apocalypse - The Curtain of Cranes

"...I remember the fatigue. I remember thinking, 'there has got to be something we are overlooking here', but at the same time being too tired to care or bring it up. I don't think I even had the energy to properly articulate and convey my concerns and sentiments.

Looking back on it now, I don't think anybody had the energy to listen or change course either.

So we waited. Too tired to stay... awake, too worried to fall asleep. An hour passed, a whole hour before we decided on something along the lines of 'fuck it, let's get this finished and pass out or something.' Kinda funny how easily affected by emotions we were back then. With immediate fatigue clouding our minds, we decided to risk the two months of planning, preparing in secret - do you know how hard it is for high school boys to keep something they're actively working on as a secret for two months? Anyway, we were risking all that, just because we were 'tired'. Kinda silly.

Or was it brave and decisive. Time hazes my memory. I think we knew that it might get rainy for a while after that day; plus, we wanted to see the full effect of our actions while we would still be around. So we decided. We decided to act, and let the chips fall where they may.

We departed a good hour before daybreak. A whole hour of waiting, then a whole hour until daybreak. We'd be making finishing touches in the dark. The drive was silent, our 60 days of labour packed carefully in flimsy plastic containers in the boot/trunk. The drive was bumpy smooth. The drive is the part I remember least.

We set to work as soon as we arrived. Little was said between us. The fatigue set in like morning dew: sweet, heavy, wet, omnipresent. We kept busy at our tasks under the grey sky - the dawn kept busy at its. It didn't take long. The work was finished without ceremony, and we just... sat there.

I thought for sure I'd just collapse into sleep after it was done, but I stayed awake. Reasons? Plenty. I wanted to see the reactions to what we've done. I didn't want anybody destroying what we've displayed. One thing I didn't expect was how I'd be so captivated by the dawn light catching the familiar landscape and skyline. One thing or another kept me awake.

As we were emptying our minds and becoming vessels of sublime truth (...or spacing out), people arrived. Astonished. Shocked? Confused. Amazed, maybe. We didn't factor in how tired we'd be by then. Too tired to read emotions, acknowledge, care or respond.

We had achieved something, but the final journey had become such a process that we were no longer connected.

The means devastated the ends."



Epi.
The project, consisting of 1,000 paper cranes folded from 10cm by 10cm squares of coloured paper of various pastel tones, sewn together in columns to form a cascading rainbow curtain, was taken down in less than an hour since the initial discovery by the first witness. The reason for the dismantling was due to risk of destruction of the project, as reasoned by staff. It was reconstructed as a single line of paper cranes arranged in cascading colours, then hung up in the bell tower on site for safekeeping.

Legend has it that folding 1,000 paper cranes grant the folder a wish. It was later revealed that all three participants (all of whom who participated in the folding of the cranes) of the project wished the same wish: that their work would not be immediately destroyed.

---

So... this is an actual thing that happened. The whole monologue and epilogue were written to be dramatic, but the experience is bona fide. I folded 1,000 paper cranes with two of my friends back in high school, as a sort of really weird senior year prank. It's weird, we didn't know who we were supposed to be pranking in what way, especially since we weren't really inconveniencing anybody. I guess we just wanted to be remembered.

This was lifted almost directly from my Facebook post I made about 12 hours ago. I removed the tagline (with a bunch of tags) and two words ('Sorry, Z.'). The two words were in reference to my friend, Z, who drove that day. Sorry I don't remember much of the drive, I was a bit too tired I think.

Basilonian Apocalypse is just something I refer to on my Facebook sometimes, usually by adding "Excerpt from Basilonian Apocalypse" at the end. It's an autobiography, which hasn't been published or even written up (and probably will never be?).

Regression

I have a confession to make: I've been straying from high power vocabulary, towards shorter and simpler words. As a result, I won't be able to flex my lexicon in writing new posts. Fortunately, this hasn't affected what little writing skills I've had, but I am a little ashamed that I let myself lose something that I had a modicum of pride in.

This is from a combination of a variety of situations, I think.

One, my exposure to "strong" English has diminished drastically. Ever since I graduated, the time I spend around people who primarily speak English has decreased by a lot. Language is like flexibility in this way; repeated exposure and strain can keep it strong and growing. So, the shift in my language environment has created a situation that enabled the aforementioned result.

Two, my exposure to simple English has increased drastically. The... lifestyle I lead these days is an odd one. The main source of my entertainment, the media that I tune into most frequently is YouTube, specifically Lets Play from Achievement Hunter. (I don't watch Rooster Teeth, just Lets Play.) They're entertaining to watch, and with few friends to veg and game with, along with less time to actually sit down and play games, it's been a great substitute. I enjoy watching them a lot, but most of the humour isn't from high level English. In other words, regardless of enjoyment, it has contributed towards my waning of English vocabulary strength.

Three, I teach high school Biology and Chemistry these days. I'm not saying high school students have worse English - if anything, their English should be growing drastically. However, I teach Bio and Chem to Korean (by ethnicity) international school students in Korea, and with my aim being maximum understanding for the students, I frequently mix Korean into my lessons. On top of that, complicated English isn't exactly a prerequisite or fundamental component in conveying scientific concepts. Even in academia or scientific papers, the English isn't aimed to be elegant or significant in the literary sense.

Bottom line of this post is, with these (and perhaps other that I'm unable to recall at this given moment) conditions combined, they have brought about a regression in my English. Writing here helps, which is why I hope to return to writing and show some more perseverance and tenacity this time. Still, it felt necessary to give some sort of warning that my written English style may have changed.

That is all for now. I should be back here fairly soon though.

Recipe

Triticum aestivum.
Harvesting process terminates life.
Dead organic matter is then pulverised and desiccated.
Occasionally, bleaching is added to the process.
Gather prepared material.

Material is swamped through addition of water.
Viscous mixture is created from remains of the original organism.
Crystals of halite is added depending on preference of creator.

Small souls, added to mixture.
Viscous mixture creates conditions where breathing is difficult.
Suffocation through drowning is achieved.
Last breaths trapped in mixture.
Mixture, including last breaths, is heated intensely.
This destroys the remains of the dead.

Overall mixture may become overly oxidised in intense heat and organic molecules may fuse with heating machinery.
To facilitate removal of final product, essences and extracts employed to serve as additional layer between mixture and machine.

Helianthus annuus.
Extract is often utilised for above purpose.
Prepare extract by harvesting Helianthus annuus.
Crush Helianthus annuus remains to annul organic cell structure and release essence.
Chemical solvents occassionally employed to increase efficiency, but are generally viewed as...
Unwholesome.

Final product from dead organic material with entrapped dying gasps is often enjoyed with condensed mammary gland secretions from Bos primigenius or reproductive organs of angiosperms, minced and boiled in high concentration sugar solutions. Non-condensed mammary gland secretion from Bos primigenius is often co-consumed.

Airport, Departure

1

We were both tired. We'd both overdrank last night - wasn't part of the plan, but that's how the night went with everybody happy to contribute towards another bottle as a goodbye gift. I'd passed out somewhere at some point in a semi-private place, a burger I'd only taken a bite out of still in my hands. Sid found me and we went back after all that.

Had to wake up by 6 AM. If it were up to me to wake us both up, the flight might as well have not been booked at all. Good thing Sidius had a thing with alarms: alarm clock goes off; he wakes up, as simple as that. Still, didn't mean that he weren't tired. Hungover and groggy, we'd arrived at the airport after an hour's journey to find the departure lounge to be too populated to sit down. So there we were, at the arrivals.

The sheer density of people, the eagerness of the crowd, the hubbub of activity, the bright lights; all things pushing us bit by bit towards overstimulation. It was a strange juxtaposition. We were all tired yeah, us from the previous night and that morning. Us versus the arriving people from their flights. We had more to come though, these people were just glad to have arrived. Sidius would be departing soon. These people were joining whomever was waiting for them.

2

I guess I wasn't fully exhausted. I had energy enough to feel it, the loneliness.

Airports have been a very... physical symbol in my life. I'm sure it's the case for many people, but anyways, for me, most times when I left a country it would be for good. America, France, England.

Through all that, each and every airport I've been to, I loved. The architecture with so much space, the gigantic windows overlooking the planes in the departure lounges, those gigantic windows that projected the skies so directly unto us, every image a metaphysical manifestation of flight, departure, and arrival. Always so relaxing, always so neutral; airports never felt like they belonged anywhere, some otherworldly feel to them.

People would leave from them, leave behind gods-know-what, leave towards world-knows-where. That alone could cause a whole range of emotions: the liberation, anxiety, anticipation, excitement, regrets, and of course, loneliness. Even when arriving there to greet or be greeted by loved ones, the relief from these emotions or loneliness would punctuate the fact that those emotions existed. No winning, no getting out of it. Once you feel it, you know it for good.

I breathed in deep, the pheromones of the crowd setting off chemical fireworks in my brain. Loneliness, a smell.

3

And so there I was. Sitting across one of my closest friends, not knowing when I'd see him again, too tired or busy chasing my thoughts to say anything meaningful. Then again, that might've been "awkward" or whatever. Ah, men. Am I right? Or... maybe, if something was said, the goodbye would feel too real. Too important. Almost permanent until otherwise acted upon. Something we wanted to avoid.

Saying nothing that mattered much, we both parted ways.

Loneliness is a human condition that we all have to deal with and live with I suppose. Just that one day I got to really splash around in it, fatigue enhancing the experience. Exhausted empowerment.

I still love airports; rare are opportunities to get so close to an embodiment of an emotion.

Bench

[Once again, written from mobile; please disregard any capitalisation inconsistencies. I will make best effort, however, to write 'correctly'. Last time it looked a bit messy.]

I lay there, with my headphones gripping around my ear. I could feel my pulse against them, telling me I was alive. The last song had ended a while ago and I hadn't put on a new one on yet. I wasn't about to listening to any song though, just my pulse and the ambience.

The light shower had left the earth and air moist; a cool breeze was all that stood between my word choice of humid or moist. The night air cool, I just lay there, staring up at the cloudy sky.

The clouds were plenty visible. All the light pollution that we (as humans) were pumping out left the darkness of the night weak and feeble around these parts. Still, night was night, and the shadows were cozy in their enfeebled state.

The bench was hard on my back - I had learned through experience that the pleasures donned did not include a comfortable surface. It was the best I could make do with though; I wasn't about to complain. The smell of wood soothed my senses further as I thought about this.

Possession is an odd thing. Often there is effort, or struggle, to obtain something. Then there is continued effort, or struggle to keep something. To have something, to possess, to be chained. To be possessed by your possessions?

Cliché, yeah, but it made sense to me at a deeper level for the first time. The summer night was merciful and welcoming, and it had in store much more than simple relaxation and relief that I had originally seeked.

Perhaps this was as close to meditation as I could get to in the life I lead currently. Perhaps this was just an odd hobby that would pass as 'just a phase'. I let my mind drift and scatter, letting all thoughts come and go. Occassional conversations from people passing by, talking on their phones, mundane emotional matters we all deal with - a stark contrast from the Zen I was chasing while lying down. Still, something I would partake in again and again so long as I was involved with this world.

I snapped out of my trance and sat up. The summer night's mercy extended only as far as its temperature; the Mosquitos had their own agenda. I was going to go home and sleep in my bed tonight. A bed designed for Greek Gods and Roman Emperors, a bed taken up by a man so far from enlightenment and desperately aware of that fact.

Tonight's dreams would be vivid as usual.

Short Thought on a Human Condition

[written from mobile, please disregard capitalisation inconsistencies.]


2 things.


First, you may or may not have heard the mind-shattering question of 'how do you know you are not alone in this world?'.
the gist of the question is this: considering that everything you experience is basically neural signals in your own brain, how can you say with certainty that people - people you know around you, people you talk to on a daily basis or meet for the first time - are "real", and not just part of your imagination? just autonomically and spontaneously generated neural signals to give the illusion that others exist? maybe the life you know is entirely a figment of your imagination? maybe you are truly and utterly alone in your existence.

believe it or not, that question is moot. pointless.
it's like the myth of 'bumblebees aren't supposed to be capable of flight according to aerodynamics, but they fly anyway' - this has been disproved, the flight of a bee can be explained by aerodynamics.
the fact that others do exist has been proven in a philosophical experiment by a simple fact: language.
if every person you meet was just parts of your imagination, there would be no need for language at all. you would be able to interface with yourself easily, and there would be no room for misunderstandings that arise from language issues.

note here that I don't mean just 'people who speak different languages', but also the fact that even people who speak the same language have incomplete communication with each other. in other words, it is very difficult to accurately and unambiguously convey what you mean (including all nuances) to another person.

so, this leads us to an interesting situation.
1. we are definitely not alone in this existence.
2. the evidence that proves this fact also states that even if we aren't alone in this existence, we are incapable of truly understanding each other.
3. so... how together are we, when we are together?
it's a somewhat difficult and lonely state we exist in.

[side note: this is part of the reason why I struggle and strive to learn languages, to better my skills at conveying what I mean, to aid (as much as I can) the understanding of the person I am speaking to.
this is also the reason I try to give my full attention to the person or people I am with or in communication with.]


Second, just a short addendum, somebody asked me recently, 'aren't you lonely?' or 'you must be lonely'.
I can't remember what it was that brought about that question, nor the exact nuance/wording/intention of that question, but... my answer was simple.
"Aren't we all."

and I meant it. every word, every letter, every inflection of my voice.
this is our condition. this is us, right now.