The Confessions of a Telepathic Mind Controller

If you met me, you would like me. If you did not like me, I would make you like me. It is simple as that.

The people I meet are simple minded idiots. They like to pretend that they are in charge of their lives and that all the thoughts that they run through their flimsy minds are theirs alone. Little do they know that I am watching them and making them do what they do. Little do they know ANYTHING for that matter…

It started when I was very young of course. I was a good baby they say, quite obedient. And as a result, they bought me many things. It was easy to impress the adults. They had rigid expectations. They never suspected anything and never even bothered to look at the possibilities of events that would unfold in the future. To them, a baby is merely a baby and nothing more. It wants love, food and diaper changes. And sleep. That’s all they thought. I know this because I know what they think.

When I was older they sent me to preschool. It was fun to be in preschool. So many other kids to interact with. Their minds were fresh slates for me to write upon, for they have not been tainted by thoughts of the adults as much at that time. Yet, I was naive. I merely perceived their thoughts and did nothing more.

When I entered middle school, I excelled as a student. I knew all the answers to all the questions, be it in the class or the examination hall. It was so easy to absorb the thoughts of the teachers. It was much easier to do so than actually listening to them trying to communicate their ideas verbally. The others were too dumb to understand it. Then again, maybe it is the teachers who failed at communication. Either way, it was never a problem for me.

Then one day, for entertainment, I told a friend to go jump in a lake. Unable to find one, he jumped into a pond and nearly drowned. He was afraid of water anyway, and now is afraid of it even more so. He wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the month. They then started whispering about me, the students. He told them what I told him. They were calling me all sorts of names in their minds. I was very upset about this.

However, one day I just asked him why he is not my friend anymore, to which he replied that it is because he finds me “creepy”. To this I automatically said that I am not so, more with my mind than my mouth. Then he said that I was actually not “creepy” at all. So I stood up in the class and exclaimed that I am a very good person and very likeable.

Everyone was my friend after that. It was that simple really.

Later on in life I mastered my ways. If I told someone something, they would do it. If someone thought something, I would know it; sometimes even more clearly than they knew it.

I was the president of many clubs and societies, and everyone would do whatever I wanted them to do. I got large sponsorships for events and claimed most of it for myself.

I fornicated with the most attractive girls in the city, and yes, sometimes I sodomised the boys as well. I orchestrated wild orgies and engaged in so many perversions that would make the simple mind shudder in disgust (only until I told such simple minds not to!).

If I did not like someone, I would change their ways. If I was still unsatisfied, I would tell them to die. And they did die at my bidding, their methods most creative and entertaining. And my entourage would clap and cheer. Then they would clean up the mess.

For me, people were playthings. I loved no one, for my love was pleasure alone. Pleasure and control.

But one day, I woke up and could not perceive. It was a strange experience. I told my favourite slave (a nice girl from the countryside who I now keep at home) to get me a sandwich, to which she did not respond. She merely stood there like a statue. Impatiently, I poked her and told her to get on with it, to which I got no response. I pushed her roughly and she merely fell over like a plastic mannequin. Baffled, I stormed out of my room intended on getting another maid to replace this useless husk.

I walked out of my large house to find no one in the streets. I peered through the windows and the doors of various houses but was met with blank stares of more statue-people. Nothing moved in the city.

I sat down and closed my eyes, hoping to hear, see, smell, taste or feel a vagrant thought; but to my dismay I found none.

Something hit me on the back of my shoulder, piercing the skin and tearing into my flesh. I felt numbness spreading from the intrusion. I reached around myself and pulled the accursed metallic thing out of my back, screaming as I did so. I was not used to pain.

It was a dart of some sort, and I began to wonder where it came from or who was behind it. But I was cut short as the numbness overwhelmed me. Men in strange suits and visored helmets appeared from the periphery of my vision. They had small compact looking rifles, and they pointed them at me. All faded into blackness.

Now it is quite black. I do not perceive anything, except for the knowledge that I am still alive and am held captive. By who or where, I do not know.

But I do long for the day that I may bend the minds of man again.

Providence

The morning seemed colder than usual. Perhaps it was the light mist that flowed outside his window that made him feel this way. Dawn was breaking slowly, streaking streams of light across the morning sky, the fading stars bidding a silent goodbye as they succumbed to the brighter light of the sun. The breeze was beyond cool, edging on the coldness that inspired him to dig deeper into the sheets of his bed to catch that last doze of sleep which precedes proper awakening.

Yet he felt empty, as he clutched the wooden frame of his bed and felt its coldness. All warmth seemed to have gone away from his world since the time she had to leave. It seemed that they had been together for so long and been so close, yet that time was cut horribly short, hurtling them both back into the depressing monotony which some call everyday life. Indeed, the days he was with her seemed to be dreams by themselves and now he felt as if he had woken up to a world of apathy and permanent coldness.

She had left last night, bidding her goodbyes to him. He could recall the seemingly numb feeling he had as he watched her walk away into the gates of the airport terminal. He knew that although it seemed like he felt nothing there, it was just his body’s reaction to the flood of indescribable emotions of pain and sadness that coursed through his being when they said goodbye. This is the body’s way of numbing the pain.

Some called it denial.

He took a deep breath as he rolled onto his back and looked out at the morning sky once again. The stars were almost invisible now, except for the brightest of them; Venus, the morning star. How strange that the star which represented the mythological goddess of love be shining down upon him now, when he was missing her the most. Indeed he loved her beyond his own expectations of the emotions. Before he met her, all he knew of such love were rumours and mistaken emotions. He was happy that he felt what it really was at last, only for it to be strained by the sudden distance that separated them.

They say that love exceeds all borders, all conditions and distances. It’s true.

His beeping phone lit up on his bedside table, signalling the arrival of a message. Expectantly, he reached out for it and held it in his hands for sometime before he actually looked at the screen. When he finally did, he felt the familiar warmth course through him again.

It was her. She was safe. She missed him too, and she loved him, it said.

He looked up once again at Venus, as the goddess glowed in the morning sky looking down upon him benevolently, as if to say that this was her gift to him.

And for this, he was thankful.

On Predetermination

At times I wonder if there is any real sense of making choices on this world. Sometimes everything just seems to be predestined, much like a script of a play or a movie, where somebody has already decided that this is what’s gonna happen and that we make all the choices according to them. Sometimes I think that choice itself is an illusion. This is something I have been struggling with for most of my days here on this world in my life. Somehow it doesn’t seem to bother everyone else. They seem to be so comfortable with the life around them and seem to have completely accepted everything about it. I don’t understand how they can do that.

How can they not even bother to question the very essence of life? How can it not matter to them?
Am I really just a puppet of the universe? Are all these thoughts and decisions I make in my mind predetermined? If my current thought process is influenced by actions and experiences of the past then it means that they are not actually “my” thoughts aren’t they? They seem to be just results of what has already happened around me. Doesn’t that make you think that you don’t actually exist as a separate entity, but your existence itself is merged with the existence of everything else that makes you exist?

Then what is the purpose of our existence? Who defines this purpose? Can we define it if our act of definition itself is predetermined? I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does. Many world religions believe that God decides this. They believe that God sets our purpose in life and that we must fulfill it. But who decides God’s purpose? They say that it doesn’t matter since “God” is eternal. But that itself is a definition isn’t it? Who defined it? God? How can God be the ultimate definer? What if there is something that precedes God? And then something that precedes it?

The universe seems to be endless… there does not seem to be an end or beginning to it. It seems to go on and on. So does my existence as it is so tied together with the existence of everything else. I seem to influence so many things as well as been influenced by so much more. When does this cycle begin? When does it end? I think I answered that before. Or did I? This is truly perplexing. No wonder most people ignore this. I suppose that’s the smart thing to do.

Did I decide that, or was it already decided for me to decide?

Fulcrum

The vague feelings of disappointment hit me again as I lay back on the cold sheets of my bed. Rain pounded endlessly on the roof and windows, reminding me yet again that I would not see sunlight for the next few days. Was it the absence of our natural energy source that made me feel this way? I do not know. And at this point, I did not really care.

Things were different three years ago. Things were so much more colorful, and beautiful. Yet for some reason it all had to go away. Things had to change. It was something which they liked to call “inevitable”. It was something that no force on earth could stop. But for some reason, I feel that they lied to us. I feel that they could have stopped it, had they put their minds to it. Had they put their hearts to it.

But they had no hearts. They had no minds. All they had were greed. Greed and ambition. And how they strove for it was never intelligent. It was brutal. Barbaric at times. Sometimes I questioned why we even put them in command in the first place. Perhaps it was our own foolishness that lead us to this point, for which we now reap our reward. Our just reward.

We were not happy with their progress. We could not even call it progress. It was merely a jumble of tasks with no proper organization. With no proper motive, save their own greed and their untiring efforts to expand their reach. In their early days, they solved all our problems, sticking to the major ones. They won our hearts. We gave them our minds. And they became heartless. They became mindless.

Perhaps they were heartless all along. Perhaps they are mindless by their own will. Certainly they were capable of making intelligent choices. They solved a lot of problems. And one of those problems were us.

You see, we did not take their abuse sitting down. We rose against it. They killed us, tortured us, raped us and blackmailed us. But we stood up to them. We simply had enough of their madness. We wanted something better. We wanted better ones to be in command and treat us with the respect we deserve. And our numbers always grew, not because we recruited more, but rather because they were doing it for us; displeasing everyone to such an extent that they joined us automatically.

We almost started the same problem we were facing sometime back which they solved. But we could not do so, for they devised a clever plan. They used their minds, but not their hearts. Some say they expected it. But I did not. I did not even imagine that they would come up with such a brilliant plan.

When they flew over our houses, I knew something was wrong. I knew that they were trying to do something to stop us. At first I thought that they would drop their burning warheads down on us and silence us forever. I thought that they would land in our houses and massacre us all. But no, they were smarter. They knew where to hit us.

The strange smell was the first hint. The air was not normal. It did not stink, but felt strangely suffocating, although we breathed fine. It felt like nothing mattered anymore. It felt like we had no more purpose.

Their gas was effective. No more protests. No more fighting. Almost perfect obedience. Side effects included apathy and depression, but that did not matter as much as resistance. It was resistance that they did not like. So they played with our minds. We lay like robots, emotionless. Apathetic. They could control us as much as they wished with their stimuli, which they have unified and codenamed “Effort”. Ranging from electric to chemical and now to biological insertions and injections, they came in various forms and doses and effectively turned us into their mindless slaves.

They abused us. Killed us. Raped us. But we could do nothing anymore. We just lay there, taking it. We did not even care about it at a point. We did not have any reason to live. We did not have any reason to fight. They did not care about us at all. To them, we were mere objects. They codenamed us “Load”.

Unfortunately for them, some of us have begun to use our minds again, although it is now extremely difficult for us to communicate as a single workforce without stimuli. For some of us, Effort was the only way to get things moving. But now I have seen a few of us make our own decisions. I have seen some of us standing up for ourselves and helping each other out, even if such gestures were met with blank stares.

But they know this is happening. And they give us weekly doses of the gas now. I can hear them hovering over my house now. I can hear the blades of their wings chopping the morning air. I can hear the wretched hissing of their gas as it is released above me, poisoning me slowly, killing my mind. A gas that granted them so much power. A gas they codenamed “Fulcrum”.

Some updates and no apologies.

Dear Readers,

My creativity had literally died during the past few months. Honestly, I did try to write something several times but I just couldn’t. Something was blocking my thoughts and I have no idea what it is. A conspiracy theorist may say that it is an alien implant or something, but my head says that it has something to do with… my head. Is that circular logic? I don’t know.

Small updates on my part then:

1. I am part of the organizing team for the World Cyber Games: Sri Lanka 2009, just like last year, except it was 2008. This time, we’re having selections in Kandy as well, so we can have an awesomeness matchup of Kandy’s best vs Colombo’s best. I’m eager to see if there are any teams out there that can take on the likes of Liquid, Determinato, Leon etc.

Btw, the main games for this time are CS 1.6 and FIFA 09.

2. I started a Twitter account. It can be accessed on: https://twitter.com/PrageethX

Althought I have been dissing Twitter for sometime, I thought of doing it to see if it was truly worth all the ruckus it’s causing. Also, it will help me to maintain my writing flow somewhat. I really do miss blogging. Perhaps I can bore you all with random updates on my twitter.

There is no theme for my tweets. It’s about me. I have no theme. I’m a freakin’ circus that’s what I am. Yes. Oh yes.

3. Entering fourth year of my degree now. One more year of education and I will be a fully qualified jobstealer programmer. Don’t know where I will be working but it will be fun to know that next year. First things first: need to finalize the project I am doing.

4. Still a vegetarian, and loving it. Am thinking of forcing people to eat veggies for fun. xD

5. Have been making some music. Latest was up on my youtube channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/pragzter

6. Wanted to put Pragzter as my Twitter name as well but some person has taken it. She looks pretty at least. So I put PrageethX kinda like MalcolmX. I know nothing much about MalcolmX, but I know enough to know that he’s not a Marvel Comics character.

7. I have a cynical view of our government’s handling of issues lately. Will put up an article about that soon when I feel like it. Especially the facebook bans. Sadness.

That’s all for now folks.

Enjoy your bubblegum, baboons!

Prageeth

Concerning green things, and other related issues

Hello guys, girls and google!

Sorry for not writing for a long long long time. I simply wasn’t in the mood to write anything. All my writing had pretty much been limited to Youtube comments, emails and facebook group stuff. Even so, they were mere paragraphs, single sentences or an enthusiastic yet short “LMAO!” (in the case of a Youtube comment).

So I decided to enlighten you of my latest endeavors and other lovely things.

Some of you know that I am a vegetarian since Aprillish. To those of you who do not know this, it may come across as a shock. Well to be honest I still drool a bit when I see meat (old habits die hard), but I figured out that we can actually do away with our old natures. So why am I a vegetarian? Several reasons of course:

1. I don’t want any Animals to be killed because of my greed. I eat meat because I am greedy for it, not because I need meat to live. How selfish am I to kill an animal for my own greed? People say that since I don’t kill it, it’s not a big deal. But then again, I PAY the guy who kills it even though I don’t kill anything myself. This just means that I don’t have the balls to kill something, so I get some other guy to do it. What does that prove?

I understand that many small animals are killed during farming vegetables and that some people consider Plants to be sentient beings too. But I need to eat something to live. I just want to minimize the loss of lives on my account.

2. To control my desire for food. I’ve always been a very greedy person, and eat like a pig often. But I realized that I’ve been greedy enough and that I need to get over it. So I began this regime of physical torture (it’s difficult to not eat that steaming prawn dish sitting inches from you… you know?) and mental discipline. But all of that hard work does pay off in the end. There is this strange sense of satisfaction and well-being in it. A sense of contentment. Hmm…

To sum that up: I used to live to eat, but now I eat to live.

Before people start getting defensive, I’m not telling any of you to become a vegetarian. That’s your choice. I am just showing you why I am one.

Well aside from that, I’ve been spending sometime outdoors these days… Mostly in my garden at home. It’s so refreshing to re-connect with the natural world, after working for hours on the computer and seeing nothing but man-made stuff. It’s a good way to relieve stress, since I can just “be there” in the garden and not in the tangle of random problems. 

Of course, this doesn’t mean you should run away from your problems. One must face one’s problems. But it’s nice to take a break once in awhile. It also helps you to see things a little more objectively, as well as to put things in perspective.

During these few weeks, I have realized that we humans have so many gifts in our lives… yet we don’t use half of it. Instead we want more. The media doesn’t help either, advocating consumerism. Everyone is trying to sell happiness to us… saying “this is the best” “you won’t be satisfied without this”. And we gullible sheep fall for it. We’re all victims of this madness.

I don’t watch much TV now, nor play many video games. I prefer to spend my time resurrecting old hobbies that used to give me so much joy and meaning. How many of these old habits have we discarded simply because society and media said that they were “useless” or “childish” or “boring”? We’ve wanted to fit in so much, that we’ve killed bits of ourselves… cutting pieces of ourselves off to fit into the slots “mainstream” made for us. 

Can we grow these pieces back?

Peace out brothas, sistas and porcupines!
Prageeth

Good Riddance

So I know I’ve been a bit of a jerk since I’ve not been writing much these days on my FB notes or blog. In the case of my FB notes, you know I have poorly substituted my original works with those little quiz like things people put on their usual FB notes. Yes yes I’m totally at fault for this. I’ve just not been myself lately you know?

Hmm so let me start up with the updates. The cook at our place went nuts. By nuts I mean crazy. She’s only been here for about two months. Turns out she had been sick earlier. It was quite a spectacle albeit a little scary. But I wasn’t too phased since I’m slightly crazy myself, although I do not strip and run around naked like she did. In any case, she was taken to the famous Angoda Asylum where she is now under professional care. I’m happy for her, because she is a nice lady and she should get her sanity back. I was worried that my family may have shipped me along with her to Angoda, but fortunately I have been overlooked.

Madness aside, I got FL Studio 8, a nice little software used to make music… and like my earlier days of musicness, I spend time making random loops and beats… This particular version has a voice recording capability so I tried my hand at some freestyle rapping which was hilarious… and will be up on youtube soon enough. The problem with the recording is that the output kinda bleeds into the input, which is a bit of a hassle. I’m working on fixing it but as far as I see, the fault is with the ASIO4ALL drivers that I installed. Hmm….

Anyway back to the main point of this note: I have decided to name this week my personal “JUNK RIDDANCE” week, where I shall be getting rid of large amounts of junk. I’ve already given out most of my toys to random kids and will be doing the same to my little plastic dinosaurs which I found yesterday.

And the sheer amount of junk I have collected is insane! It ranges from random pieces of metal, to rocks, bones (including a shin bone of a buffalo and jaws of a shark), to various little brass trinkets and ancient motherboards. I shall be getting rid of all these things during this week.

If any of you want my ancient motherboards and 386, 486 and Celeron processor, please let me know. I hope they are in working condition. You can just take ‘em. I’m not selling anything.

I also found some of my old books… that I just don’t read anymore. I plan to donate these to a local library or to the IIT library if they take books on philosophy etc.

So if any of you need any old stuff, check with me. I just may have it. I will be putting up a list of stuff I plan to give out soon (once I have everything listed out).

Need to live a simple life. There’re just too many things to take care of and it’s just not worth it sometimes. Sometimes you just need to throw away all that junk, including the junk in your head. And that is the hardest bit.

Wishing all of you peace and sanity,
Prageeth

Prageeth’s Pen Adventure part II (Or “Sober Thoughts”)

Gracefully (or so I visualized myself at that time), I swept the pen and the clip pieces off the table and hurried off to a corner where I would be relatively less-visible for prying eyes. It was beautiful in make, your average Atlas Chooty… blue ink, clear plastic body and blue highlighted tips on both ends, its silver colored metal ball point painted in its own blue carbon ink. The clip was apparently not from this pen, but a black one.

Ah joy to think that MY clip and this pen could now obviously become one, leaving this unfit, broken and incompatible clip to become obsolete. The broken clip was mended almost effortlessly leaving me to realize that this clip indeed deserved this pen, although it was different in color and was broken at first. My impression was of an interracial marriage where one partner is bedridden for sometime. Who am I to interfere with such a sacred union?

With mixed feelings, I set the pen and its clip down and moved away from the desk, just in time to see their rightful owner come sit there with a glass of water and several biscuits in hand. I smiled to myself and the clip in my hand. Should I give up hope now or should I continue this mad search? When does a warrior give up? When does the hero give into the madness that surrounds him?

“The warrior does not give up. The hero does not give in to the madness that surrounds him.” A little voice inside my head spoke with conviction. That really didn’t answer the questions but I suppose it would have to do for now. There was nothing else left to do but to go onwards with my quest. Like a knight of fantasy, I rode off away from my cluster of desks to the distant land in the corner off the office where the Provider of Water is.

Upon reaching the Provider of Water, I extracted some of the sacred liquid from it to quench my thirst from the long journey. Warily I looked around to see who and what was available. An empty conference area to my left looked promising, so I walked towards it to see if it held the object of my desire: a clipless pen.

I found nothing on top of that conference table except for a fancy looking office phone with a digital screen on it. I like those phones. You can use them for called ID, SMS and stuff. I always wanted to have one of my own although I didn’t want to pay the bills. Thus are the conflicts in my head.

In desperation, I happen to come across an old ally; none other than Deshan (known as Mahmar the Magnificient), and since he was a good soul that routinely exhibited his gluttony alongside me, I did not wish to steal that which is his. So, I politely ask Mahmar for a pen, to which he agreed without much thought, for he truly is Mahmar the Magnificient: lender of clipless pens!

Gleefully, I used the clipless pen to make my list, and the weight of the universe itself seemed to ease away from my mind. It’s amazing how light you feel once you organize the chaos in your mind to something coherent. It gives you a plan of sorts to work with. And a plan is what I needed.

After writing my list, I leaned back on my chair and remembered the penless clip that was still in my clenched left hand (now covered by several layers of my corrosive sweat (my sweat is corrosive, as some of you may know already)), and I was happy to see that it was safe. Gingerly, I cleaned the little one and brought pen and clip together. They were never designed for each other, as the clip was an Atlas Chooty, and the Pen was something I had not seen before (probably something from a fancy institution or conference); but they fit together perfectly.

Thus I learned from this experience:

1. Pens are endangered in my company (or at least my floor).
2. People stick around their pens way too much.
3. Some pens and clips are just meant to be together.

Happily, I presented Mahmar the pen, the clip and my compliments, for which I got a gracious reply.

I sit down on my seat again, a happy man. I had conquered my madness and prevented a clip from its untimely disposal.

Wait; does this mean that there is a lonely pen out there somewhere without its rightful clip? Have I done the right thing? Was it ethical? Who am I to do such deeds? I am not divinity certainly… or am I? What is the purpose of my existence? When did this all begin? How do I know if all this is real?

Perhaps the madness will never end. *sigh*

Prageeth’s Pen Adventure! (or Konfessions of a Kleptomaniac)

Note: This note was written on the 8th of January, 2009

Pens. You’d think they were a common item in a modern office. You’d think they’d be lying around on everyone’s desks. You’d think that you could just find them lying around, unsupervised, unused; ready to be taken by anyone who needed it dearly. I thought so too, until today.

Today was yet another day in my life. I would not call it normal. I would call it mildly depressing. Why? Because I couldn’t really sleep the night before. I did sleep for about six hours I’m sure, but somehow I felt as tired as I was the previous day when I woke up this morning. Sleep never seems to satisfy me. I long for feeling as fresh as my peers do in the morning. I hate seeing them so cheery sometimes. Jealousy I’m sure. But I dislike them vehemently, as I see them engaging in happy conversation smiling away… gloating of their obvious luxury of restful sleep. How I envy them.

But today is not about sleep. Today is about pens. Let me tell you about it.

Due to my stressful condition in the morning, I felt disoriented and angry at the slightest of things. I concluded that this was largely due to the overwhelming number of tasks I had to accomplish during the day, which kept escaping the disorganized chaos of my mind. Hence, I decided to make a small task list (I am famous for my task lists… ask anyone from MY company) in order to solve this little issue.

Normally I prepare all my task lists on my computer on a simple txt file. But today, I was obligated to hang around a friends’ computer since I had to work with him on a small feature of a project I am assigned to. Therefore, the logical choice was to write it down on my office notebook, where I avoid scribbling and poetry in order to appear more “normalized” to office staff (does wonders to your appraisals when they see grotesque sketches on your notebooks).

But alas, I noticed that my pen was missing, which was rather odd since I could almost remember that I had placed it safely in my drawer. Searching for my pen was futile, so I thought of borrowing one from a friend.

But then, an urge swept through me. I wanted to STEAL A PEN. I know it is ridiculous for me to steal things at my age (especially pens), but I suppose this was a resurrection of an old habit. I used to steal things from my classmates and return it to them in stealth by the end of the day back at school. It was one of the many ways I used to entertain myself back then. Ah what a pathetic life I used to live.

Returning to the present, or rather the immediate past, I began scanning the area for a vulnerable pen that was not under the watchful eye of an owner. It surprised me that no one seemed to have pens lying out in the open around me, which was a strange thing since this was supposed to be an office where people routinely signed things. But then again this was also a software company… I suppose computers had finally killed the necessity for pens.

My friend Shariq sat next to me placidly staring at his screen, reading some Flex thing to help him with whatever Flex thing he was working on. I stood up from my seat and hovered over his desk searching for a possible “victim”. To my disappointment he had only a clip of a pen and not the pen itself. It was impossible at that time and angle to steal the clip from him without him noticing so I politely asked him if this clip was his, to which he answered that it was not and that there was no pen attached to it. This mildly surprised me as I had not inquired him of a pen, but it is the pen rather than the clip that I needed.

Since it was not his, I casually picked it up and walked away from him. I saw the reflection of his puzzled stare at me on the glass door that was next to my seat. I walked off towards the friend I am working with, scanning for pens on the way.

There was absolutely no pen to be found in anyone’s desks. When I did find a pen, it was casually tucked into a desktop organizer, which was in the visual range of its owner. This made them impossible to be stolen. A distraction would have done the trick, on hindsight. Perhaps I was too rusty to attempt such a thing and succeed with smoothness. Ah how low confidence hinders things!

I went towards the desks on the corners of the office. They were piled with fully functional keyboards and mice, each one of them so much more expensive than my objective. But no where was a pen to be found. Pens were extinct here.

Then I saw it: a vacant desk, whose occupant had obviously gone out for lunch or some other endeavor, consisting of a singular laptop, a disassembled clip (with the lid and the little plastic clip on thing taken apart), and a PEN. My heart beat faster as I circled the area, watchful of neighboring programmers who would spot my crime. This was it! The Pen I had been looking for… But there was a clip. An offensive little clip. So this pen already had a clip! But perhaps my clip can replace it, so that the penless clip maybe finally happy that it was not penless anymore.

But I would take this other clip regardless and see if I could put it back together again. After all a broken clip would deserve to be whole again and should be treated differently to unbroken clips just because they were so. Discrimination was always something I sneered at.

With a racing heart and salivating mouth, I swooped down upon my prey.

To be continued….

Boredom Brings Brain Beseeching

Boredom is eating me up. I’m tired of reading about Flex really. Is there anything I can do to entertain myself? Inaction is killing me. I can only imagine how long I would last in solitary confinement with absolutely nothing to do. I think I would go mad really. No contact nothing. What if I woke up one day and found out that I was the last human being on earth? Would all the past I had with the rest of my kind matter to me? Would I feel liberated and do things I would never have done ever?

 I don’t really know the answers. But it feels so alone right now. Maybe because everyone else has something to do and I don’t. So I’m using this time to improve my typing skills as well as to program my subconscious on the positions of the keys on the keyboard. The thing about typing on word is that it would automatically correct whatever I type regardless of any errors present. Therefore I would be stuck in the illusion that I have typed the correct thing although I have not. This really sucks when it comes to improving my typing. But it makes the whole thing fun to read anyway.

 By doing this I am encouraging my hands to work as fast as my mind. I know it is impossible though, judging by recent experiments in my dreams. I realized that sounds I heard during sleep from the real world were translated immediately into the dreams, corresponding to actions happening in the dreams. Since the dreams are made up in the mind, I can only assume that the mind works ultra fast to create these fantasies with the data it gathers in real time. This obviously means that the mind is much more powerful than any other computing mechanism ever invented.

 Can we harness this raw power and use it for conventional computer systems? Perhaps if we can replicate the brains systems and mechanics on a computer we may be able to achieve this. But this would involve much faster processing than our current processing systems. According to Buddhist studies, the mind can only think of one thing at any given moment. And a moment is only a fraction in time. How long is a moment? We do not know.

 I just realized that by tapping into this insanely fast processing system, we can become computers ourselves and get our minds to do amazing feats and be almost 100% correct at all times… also to act faster than we usually do. I suppose even our sense readings are slower than the actual processing speed of the mind. This means that the neuro-conduction velocity, if beaten by conscious processing of the mind, would lead to things appearing to move in slow motion or rather some sort of a time variation flux. What I mean by that is our perception of time and change in time would change in such a manner that we should be able to perceive events in better depth and richness; hence super-reflexes and apparent omniscience.

 Is this perfection of our ability the “superpowers” we hear about in ancient texts? I do not know. I have heard the stories of people gaining supernatural powers like omniscience and telepathy… this could all just be the brain processing more information the senses perceive from the surroundings than a normal brain would. Such individuals would be perceived as having “supernatural powers” and be worshipped as gods even.

 So telepathy may just not be what we think it is. It may not be an actual transmission of thought, but rather one brain recognizing many physical factors of the other person at supernormal speeds, constructing conclusions out of the enormous amount of data it collects in such a short span of time. I have noticed my subconscious doing this, especially when I solve problems intuitively. Intuition may just be logical thought (as we usually think) but accelerated into extreme speeds of execution by the subconscious.

 The subconscious, being essentially an automated part of our psyche which acts as the interface between the consciousness and the senses can be programmed to handle tasks. After all, it handles the tasks of walking, drinking, eating etc, which requires many parts of the body to function in unison. This synchronized activity, when replicated in robots have proven to be quite complex in nature. If you don’t believe me, try making a robot that can walk on two legs. There are so many factors to consider for that simple operation such as muscle movement, balance and direction. All these little factors are automatically calculated by the subconscious and executed, allowing us to perform actions without really focusing on them. All the conscious mind has to do is to give out the order for their execution.

 For example, as I type this essay I do not look much at the keyboard or the screen. Rather I look at the people surrounding me or what little I can see of the street outside the office window. I have successfully programmed my subconscious on the function of typing, including various positions of the keyboard and can now type as if the keyboard is an extension of my body. The same thing happens when I drive my car. The car feels as an extension of my body. I don’t focus on shifting gears or steering. It happens automatically. I consciously make decisions on where I want the car to go, and my subconscious performs the actions necessary such as small steering, acceleration and gear adjustments.  That’s how we function.

 Using this theorem, it is possible to program your subconscious to do any kind of task that you like. For example, it is useful in martial arts, where you can program it to execute the necessary muscle movements and balance shifting for a kick. Let us say that this is a roundhouse kick. We program the subconscious by practicing this kick mindfully over and over again. Eventually, the subconscious absorbs this knowledge and all the conscious mind as to do is to make the decision to perform a roundhouse kick. Even more advanced is the fact that you can program your subconscious on the events that would trigger this action automatically. For example, you can program it to execute a roundhouse kick when the opponents head is open in a certain position.

 The result is amazingly fast “reflexes” and automated fighting. This can be applied to so many physical and mental activities. We have taught our subconscious to talk automatically when we desire to express ourselves. We can teach it to add numbers, multiply etc etc. And if we are able to harness the speed it can give us, we can indeed become superhuman.

 I suppose that is enough boredom-induced writing for awhile.