Schrodinger's Cat

The first time I heard this analogy was a little after junior year of high school, our AP Chemistry teacher had mentioned it almost as an afterthought, seemingly smirking because he was both messing with and blowing our minds at the same time.

The next time this little story came up was in General Chemistry, which actually explained the details, consequences, and applications of this.

I've noticed that this actually applies to many more things than just atomic physics and chemistry. It is a natural sense of anxiety and/or hope, based simply in our own knowledge base.

For instance, if my football team was expected to lose a big match-up against a division rival, but I had no television to actually watch the game, I would be, in a sense, both anxious and hopeful on what the result would be. This range collapses after I look up the score online afterward, where my team would have either won or lost, not both.

I think this has a lot to do with the concept of wanting to be in control of one's life, all the time; we seek to minimize the questionable, to lift the fog, and remove the sense of limbo from our lives. This is in relation to our new technological generation, where information is right at the tip of our fingertips. Sometimes, what we don't realize, is that spectrum of feeling, the sense of unknowing protects us, gives us hope. Some things can be left better unsaid.

For all of you guys who didn't know, this is where "curiosity killed the cat" comes from.

Maturity

As I've grown through college and become complacent with my status as an aging senior on campus, I suppose it is easy to say: "I've matured." However, with maturity comes many risks and problems that soon become apparent.

Maturity is only a hop away from pride, a skip away from missed priorities, and a jump away from the inevitable fall that follows.

I used to pride myself on the ability to get everything done, having not relied on anyone. That sense of independence was my drug, my delusion of grandeur, or as Elizabeth pointed out, my sludge. To be honest, it sure tasted pretty good when I was blind to what Jesus was offering.

We often talk about how we'd love to go back to high school, since all our classes were easy, things were very lax, and we could just hang out with people all the time. I am a huge proponent of letting my grades take a backseat (my grades are fine, thanks for asking) to spending time with friends and fellowship (IM Sports, sound familiar?).

The principle of this yearning to go back to a time when we were younger makes sense; we're just wanting it for the wrong reason. By saying this, we're still valuing our grades, our own free time more than the Father. I propose that we want to go back to a time when we were younger simply because being a child was amazing with an even more amazing Father. Who wouldn't want to be a child of God?

God bless Elizabeth for coming in to speak to us, and for us to take it in our hearts, and put her message to practice.

Long Night

“Are you ok?”

“Huh?”

“Are you ok? You kind of zoned out and became all quiet, all of a sudden.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m fine; I was admiring the night sky.”

It’s quiet; almost too quiet. It’s a long night, and has no intention of ending soon. I am in my street clothes, on a top of a large parking garage; there is absolutely no light pollution, the stars have come out to play. The moon, normally shy, has come out and joined the party. I look at her, and she looks as dazzling as the stars. I asked her for a dance, and the stars glowed brightly, almost like they were blushing, twinkling, giggling with delight.

It was a slow dance, really. I couldn’t imagine anything quite so interestingly tacky, and yet so sweet. I could stare into her eyes, and be so immersed that I could completely ignore the fact that we were on the top of a parking garage. It was mystifying, her smile, that is; a smile so radiant that I am just lost, overwhelmed by the moment.

This was truly a special someone; granted, someone who will always stay close to my heart. Unfortunately, this moment was not meant to last forever. A quick check of the cell phone revealed the dim lit screen saying that it was time to go. She smiles at me once more, and says, “Maybe some other time.”

As I walk her back to her place and wish her good night, the way back home seemed so much longer. I look up, and walk to the jingle of the stars.

It’s a long night, and the only thing that is heard is a soft sigh.

The Test

It's strange, sometimes when I've had a deep discussion about something that really got me thinking, my mind decides to make it into a realistic puzzle game.

I found myself not knowing where I am or how I got to where I am. I am in an odd room, resembling a classroom but almost completely cleaned out, with the door open, and the only window revealing light so bright it blinds if and when you try to look out.

On the blackboard, is a message, written out in all capitals: "CHOOSE WISELY."

I look around, and at the only chair and desk in the room, a piece of green paper with the word "Fortune" on it and a piece of red paper with the word "Power" on it lie seemingly harmless. Is this what the message was talking about? Which piece of paper do I choose? I sat on the chair, staring at the desk with these two colored pieces of paper; perhaps there was a message on the back of these sheets of paper. What would happen if I decided to look at both?

After a while, I finally flipped over the red piece of paper, partly out of boredom, and partly just because curiosity got the better of me. On the back was scribbled, "Don't look at the green piece of paper." To make matters worse, the door that was open suddenly closed and locked. Now what do I do? Flipping over the red piece of paper has only left me with even more questions than before, my curiosity unfulfilled, on top of now being trapped in the room. Do I flip over the green one now? Or do I listen to the warning on the red sheet of paper? I decide that I might as well flip over the green piece of paper too, since I had nothing better to do, the door was closed and locked, at any rate.

That was a mistake.

Flipping over the green piece of paper, I was shocked to read, "Don't look at the red piece of paper." The window slowly started to creaked shut. As the light in the room was being consumed by darkness, I realized it was too late; the wise choice that the message on the board was talking about, was to simply leave the room.

As my vision blacked out, I woke up.

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Temptation is everywhere and unexpected, will you choose wisely?

Skeletons

I find myself sitting awake, late at night [inclined to say, as usual]; the room light is off, although my desk lamp is still glowing weakly. Some Coldplay track is playing softly in the background, and a book of bones and skeletons lies open on my desk. Pictures of skeletons in various pictures and poses shimmer off the limited light in the room. How creepy.

I've actually never understood the scare factor of skeletons. They're the structural portion of something formerly living, merely giving us a very good clue of what the organism would have looked like when it was alive. After all is said and done, we have our own skeletons inside of us [and other stuff that we tend to hide], and we cannot separate that from ourselves. I am most likely analyzing this too scientifically to deem scary. That's no fun, oh well.

Perhaps the whole horror genre has taken this to the next level with skeletons that move and have been reanimated with "dark magic." Plenty of fantasy games, RPG or not, have used skeletons as an integral part of their mystical, mythical brutes of some diabolical mastermind's evil horde. What that says about what people view about the skeleton, I won't be able to even scrape the surface; all I know is that it would seem that culture has deemed the skeleton an object to be feared and the cause of many children's nightmares.

I suppose that's why the phrase "skeletons in the closet" is deemed so apt and appropriate about nasty little secrets that people hide. Now those, not skeletons, are truly scary.

The Power of the Space Bar

There's a small difference between a girl friend and a girlfriend. That small space, silent to the ear, speaks volumes on how one should react to and interact with this person. It's apparent to some people on which one is being used, knowing the context of the sentence, and the people involved, but other times, it's not so clear.

This lead me to think: what does this space actually signify? After much thinking, I didn't get anywhere, as it was a question too simple to over-think, yet too complex to provide a simple solution. While busying myself with reading, a relatively satisfactory solution appeared in front of me. The space is like a termination of a thought process. It is how we denote that a bundle of letters jumbled together creates one coherent thought/meaning, and is then separated from the bundles of letters before and after it.

It's a thin [invisible] line separating those two ways of addressing someone; isn't it the point to find a boyfriend/girlfriend who has those traits that allows you two to be best of friends? What dictates the differences? Why are there differences? What changes when that small space is deleted?

After all, shouldn't it be nothing?