I just got back from London: me, Mike, Andrea, Raf and {CLASSIFIED} went to see Wicked for {CLASSIFIED}'s birthday. It was amaaaazing - the best musical I've ever seen. Great songs, plots, and set. I was too far away to see their faces, but their acting was probably stunning as well.
Oddly, the blonde was played by a brunette, and vice versa. Peculiar indeed.
We also ate food and had ice cream afterwards, when I either:
A) Was invited to an exclusive nightclub, or
B) Was invited to participate in some sexual activity by an odd man.
It's like a Choose Your Own Adventure.
I left Nick alone with Julia for the afternoon/evening, and they watched three films and ate junk food. Colour me surprised.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Day 86 - Never Foul a Fowl
2.43
Nick's here, and we just finished playing the longest game of Blood Bowl that has ever been played. It actually started in 2004, although neither of us realised at the time. Its true nature became apparent about an hour ago, when our ancient bond revealed itself in a shower of nlood and confusion.
I will not explain any part of that paragraph. Or anything from that past 27 bdays.
Nick's here, and we just finished playing the longest game of Blood Bowl that has ever been played. It actually started in 2004, although neither of us realised at the time. Its true nature became apparent about an hour ago, when our ancient bond revealed itself in a shower of nlood and confusion.
I will not explain any part of that paragraph. Or anything from that past 27 bdays.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Day 85 - Peculiar Factorisation
First of all, Happy Birthday Freddie! My little brother is five years old today. Sadly, I have no recent photos on my laptop, it seems, so here's one from July 2006 - add three years or so, and there he is.
It's cheating a bit, to use someone else's words in one of my own blog posts, I thought earlier. To redress the balance, here's an old piece of writing that I found on my laptop - I must've written this when I was about 15, probably. There are bits I love, bits I hate ("well hewn thighs"?!?), but here it is, in all of its erratic glory.
Nick's arriving tomorrow to stay in Oxford. God help us all.
Maze:
A lone figure stalked the labyrinth. Its long, twisting corridors stretched both ahead and behind of him without a break in the monotony, until they turned sharply away. They were broad but low, causing any tall explorers to bow their heads. Small globes, floating close to the ceiling, let off a dim glow, lighting up the passages for the wanderer as he strode along the stone floor. He was very short, not rising past the halfway mark of the low corridors. He was wearing just a pair of light, cotton shorts, tightened by a ragged rope belt. This left exposed his slightly chubby torso, and the surprisingly lean and well hewn thighs, ending in a pair of large, mangled feet. His arms were also well muscled, and extremely long, easily dragging on the ground if he let them rest. But instead they were in constant motion, tracing strange curves in the air with their wild flailing. His face was...portly, and drooped slightly, as if it had been let out to hang just a bit too long. A hint of stubble covered his rounded chin and bloated cheeks. His hair was black, greasy, and long, stretching down to his shoulders. He was also shouting at the top of his high pitched voice, screaming about some sort of 'black water'.
He continued in his peculiarly rolling gait along the never changing passage, arms almost blurring in the air. Behind him, the globes slowly dimmed, fading away to total darkness. Eventually, there was a break in the monotony. A small opening had appeared in smooth sandstone walls, the pitch black within revealing nothing of what lay beyond. The man stopped before it, and turned to gaze into it, his arms finally stopping, dropping to the ground. He fell silent, and the last echoes of his cries echoed away down the now darkened passageway. He peered cautiously into the darkness, and waved a hand through the opening. Instantly, the room beyond was lit up by another floating glow globe. It was extremely small, practically a cupboard, and all of its wall space, and much of its floor space, was covered by scraps of paper, attached with small pins. They were covered in untidy scribblings in an unfamiliar alphabet. Here and there was a well drawn charcoal sketch, sometimes of an attractive young person's face, both male and female, sometimes of a sleeping cat, some were more like blueprints, with curious angles and scrawled annotations. There was one of an old, torn teddy bear, and one of a bloody knife. Many were of strange beasts, and even more incomprehensible things. But most were of the same scene: an isolated lake in a wooded valley, surrounded by tall mountains. Although all were of the same scene, and none of the details had changed, each was subtly different. Some portrayed the lake as an unwelcoming bottomless pit, others as an idyllic watery paradise, and others still as a polluted sump. In some the mountains were gentle sentinels, or distant, indifferent giants, and in some jagged, threatening beasts who were about to consume the valley. But no two were the same. On the floor were many blank scraps of paper, in rough piles, and in a clear spot was a couple of sticks of charcoal and a stub of a pencil.
The man looked around, and frowned slightly. He peered at a couple of the nearest scribblings, and read them intently. Then he sat down in the lotus position, picked up a stick of charcoal and a blank scrap of paper from the nearest pile, and began to sketch rapidly, but with great control. Under his skilled hand, the image of a ruined stone tower soon began to take shape. He added a violent storm raging in the background, some ivy growing down the walls, and a dead tree protuding from the stony ground next to the tower. When he had finished, he lay the charcoal stick down gently, and peered critically at the drawing. He picked up the pencil, and scribbled a short note in the strange alphabet (similar to Hebrew) underneath the tower. He shouted out a word that sounded like "Kratoamain!" in his shrill voice, and burst out laughing. He laughed loudly for ages, tears rolling down his cheeks, but keeping his arms curiously still and folded across his chest. A couple of minutes later, he seemed to have recovered, and stood up shakily, looking around at the walls. He found a blank space near the top, and rummaged amongst the piles for a bent metal pin. Although it was far above his head height, his arms easily reached up and hammered the nail into the stone wall with his calloused thumb. He looked around at the walls again, and gave a short nod. One of the more hospitable lake scenes caught his eye, and he reached out with one slender finger to stroke it gently. His eyes welled up, and a lone tear trickled slowly through the grime and stubble.
He stood in silence for one long moment, then dropped his head, staring at the floor, and letting his arm fall back to his sides. He turned and crept quietly out of the room, and it fell dark behind him once again.
He began to stride along the corridor once again, and he was soon shouting and windmilling his limbs around frantically once again.
When the echoes of his ramblings had faded away, there was the hint of motion in the now darkened corridor outside the drawing room. Darker shapes in the gloom glided silently along the floor, turning through the small archway. The small globe still hovering just below the ceiling did not seem to notice the newcomers, or if it did, did not care enough about them to shed some light. The vague, serpentine figures halted once there were in there, and faded once more into the darkness. After a while though, they began making a series of loud clicks, first one starting, then the others clicking in harmony. It was uncertain how many of these there were-at least four though, and no more than ten. The vague shadows once again began their strange motion, gliding up the walls and over the scraps of parchment, continuing their sharp chorus. It rose in both volume and pitch, become rapid and frenzied. The individual sounds blurred together, rising into one singular scream of agony and discord. The rise in pitch did not stop, quickly rising past the human threshold, so that only the shadow of sound was left. There was one final burst of sound, sending the walls vibrating, before they fell silent.
They dropped down from the walls, and glided back out into the corridor, and in the direction the man had gone.
It's cheating a bit, to use someone else's words in one of my own blog posts, I thought earlier. To redress the balance, here's an old piece of writing that I found on my laptop - I must've written this when I was about 15, probably. There are bits I love, bits I hate ("well hewn thighs"?!?), but here it is, in all of its erratic glory.
Nick's arriving tomorrow to stay in Oxford. God help us all.
Maze:
A lone figure stalked the labyrinth. Its long, twisting corridors stretched both ahead and behind of him without a break in the monotony, until they turned sharply away. They were broad but low, causing any tall explorers to bow their heads. Small globes, floating close to the ceiling, let off a dim glow, lighting up the passages for the wanderer as he strode along the stone floor. He was very short, not rising past the halfway mark of the low corridors. He was wearing just a pair of light, cotton shorts, tightened by a ragged rope belt. This left exposed his slightly chubby torso, and the surprisingly lean and well hewn thighs, ending in a pair of large, mangled feet. His arms were also well muscled, and extremely long, easily dragging on the ground if he let them rest. But instead they were in constant motion, tracing strange curves in the air with their wild flailing. His face was...portly, and drooped slightly, as if it had been let out to hang just a bit too long. A hint of stubble covered his rounded chin and bloated cheeks. His hair was black, greasy, and long, stretching down to his shoulders. He was also shouting at the top of his high pitched voice, screaming about some sort of 'black water'.
He continued in his peculiarly rolling gait along the never changing passage, arms almost blurring in the air. Behind him, the globes slowly dimmed, fading away to total darkness. Eventually, there was a break in the monotony. A small opening had appeared in smooth sandstone walls, the pitch black within revealing nothing of what lay beyond. The man stopped before it, and turned to gaze into it, his arms finally stopping, dropping to the ground. He fell silent, and the last echoes of his cries echoed away down the now darkened passageway. He peered cautiously into the darkness, and waved a hand through the opening. Instantly, the room beyond was lit up by another floating glow globe. It was extremely small, practically a cupboard, and all of its wall space, and much of its floor space, was covered by scraps of paper, attached with small pins. They were covered in untidy scribblings in an unfamiliar alphabet. Here and there was a well drawn charcoal sketch, sometimes of an attractive young person's face, both male and female, sometimes of a sleeping cat, some were more like blueprints, with curious angles and scrawled annotations. There was one of an old, torn teddy bear, and one of a bloody knife. Many were of strange beasts, and even more incomprehensible things. But most were of the same scene: an isolated lake in a wooded valley, surrounded by tall mountains. Although all were of the same scene, and none of the details had changed, each was subtly different. Some portrayed the lake as an unwelcoming bottomless pit, others as an idyllic watery paradise, and others still as a polluted sump. In some the mountains were gentle sentinels, or distant, indifferent giants, and in some jagged, threatening beasts who were about to consume the valley. But no two were the same. On the floor were many blank scraps of paper, in rough piles, and in a clear spot was a couple of sticks of charcoal and a stub of a pencil.
The man looked around, and frowned slightly. He peered at a couple of the nearest scribblings, and read them intently. Then he sat down in the lotus position, picked up a stick of charcoal and a blank scrap of paper from the nearest pile, and began to sketch rapidly, but with great control. Under his skilled hand, the image of a ruined stone tower soon began to take shape. He added a violent storm raging in the background, some ivy growing down the walls, and a dead tree protuding from the stony ground next to the tower. When he had finished, he lay the charcoal stick down gently, and peered critically at the drawing. He picked up the pencil, and scribbled a short note in the strange alphabet (similar to Hebrew) underneath the tower. He shouted out a word that sounded like "Kratoamain!" in his shrill voice, and burst out laughing. He laughed loudly for ages, tears rolling down his cheeks, but keeping his arms curiously still and folded across his chest. A couple of minutes later, he seemed to have recovered, and stood up shakily, looking around at the walls. He found a blank space near the top, and rummaged amongst the piles for a bent metal pin. Although it was far above his head height, his arms easily reached up and hammered the nail into the stone wall with his calloused thumb. He looked around at the walls again, and gave a short nod. One of the more hospitable lake scenes caught his eye, and he reached out with one slender finger to stroke it gently. His eyes welled up, and a lone tear trickled slowly through the grime and stubble.
He stood in silence for one long moment, then dropped his head, staring at the floor, and letting his arm fall back to his sides. He turned and crept quietly out of the room, and it fell dark behind him once again.
He began to stride along the corridor once again, and he was soon shouting and windmilling his limbs around frantically once again.
When the echoes of his ramblings had faded away, there was the hint of motion in the now darkened corridor outside the drawing room. Darker shapes in the gloom glided silently along the floor, turning through the small archway. The small globe still hovering just below the ceiling did not seem to notice the newcomers, or if it did, did not care enough about them to shed some light. The vague, serpentine figures halted once there were in there, and faded once more into the darkness. After a while though, they began making a series of loud clicks, first one starting, then the others clicking in harmony. It was uncertain how many of these there were-at least four though, and no more than ten. The vague shadows once again began their strange motion, gliding up the walls and over the scraps of parchment, continuing their sharp chorus. It rose in both volume and pitch, become rapid and frenzied. The individual sounds blurred together, rising into one singular scream of agony and discord. The rise in pitch did not stop, quickly rising past the human threshold, so that only the shadow of sound was left. There was one final burst of sound, sending the walls vibrating, before they fell silent.
They dropped down from the walls, and glided back out into the corridor, and in the direction the man had gone.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Day 84 - Some people ain't got the vittals
As Mike described something entirely different, my blogging lately has been "erratic at best, more erratic at worst."
Events must have been happening in my life, but my mind cannot recall them now. Me and Julia just took advantage of one of the plethora of meal offers going around at the moment, and were rewarded by poor service (nobody likes an ancient death grudge settled while you just want to pay the bill) and deeeeelicious food.
We also just watched Four Weddings and a Funeral, the highlight of which (in a sad way, of course) was the funeral scene, with the reading of W. H. Auden's Funeral Blues:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Events must have been happening in my life, but my mind cannot recall them now. Me and Julia just took advantage of one of the plethora of meal offers going around at the moment, and were rewarded by poor service (nobody likes an ancient death grudge settled while you just want to pay the bill) and deeeeelicious food.
We also just watched Four Weddings and a Funeral, the highlight of which (in a sad way, of course) was the funeral scene, with the reading of W. H. Auden's Funeral Blues:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Day 81 - Grease is the word
I've just been watching Grease! The more observant of you will notice that this is the first blogpost title that has been relevant - something for future trivia books, I'm sure. We went out for dinner at Nando's tonight, but I did not have the whole chicken again - a comparatively tiny chicken breast fillet burger instead.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Day 80 - A fay, a fah
It's 22:43, and I think my body has fallen asleep. My mind's trying its best to struggle on valiantly nonetheless, but it's getting more and more difficult. Time to rally the troops with a cup o' the Hot Brown Stuff ("Tea" has recently been copyrighted by the McDisney corporation, so I can't use it here, hence the cheerful euphemism.
Julia's still nuzzling a cat somewhere, so I've been pootling around alone today. Not a lot to report - did some Algebraic Number Theory, got to level 9 on Talesworth Death Arena, and just watched the first Kill Bill.
Forgot to say yesterday - me, {CLASSIFIED}, Mark and Victor made a music video to Cream's I Feel Free, with crazy dancing and a very bemused {CLASSIFIED}. I might even post it on YouTube, when I get the sound synchronized properly. Oh, Kino, why do you punish me?
Edit: Interestingly, the above {CLASSIFIED}s were originally typed as < blank > (without the spaces), but HTML rendered them as blank spaces. Who'd have thought, eh? And no, you can't find out who {CLASSIFIED} is, you nosy Googler.
Julia's still nuzzling a cat somewhere, so I've been pootling around alone today. Not a lot to report - did some Algebraic Number Theory, got to level 9 on Talesworth Death Arena, and just watched the first Kill Bill.
Forgot to say yesterday - me, {CLASSIFIED}, Mark and Victor made a music video to Cream's I Feel Free, with crazy dancing and a very bemused {CLASSIFIED}. I might even post it on YouTube, when I get the sound synchronized properly. Oh, Kino, why do you punish me?
Edit: Interestingly, the above {CLASSIFIED}s were originally typed as < blank > (without the spaces), but HTML rendered them as blank spaces. Who'd have thought, eh? And no, you can't find out who {CLASSIFIED} is, you nosy Googler.
Day 79 - Shammooo It For the Young 'uns
Umm...so...yesterday, I was...being...eaten, by...myself. Yeah, that's it. That's why I didn't blog, I was too busy eating and being eaten. Have some sympathy, ye scurvy dogs.
Julia's left me today, back to Peterborough to be with her true loves (her pets, not her family, of course). This has left me at a loose end of my tether, so I've been pottering around my room this afternoon and evening, trying to do useful things, and getting distracted by INSANE things.
My attempt at revision this afternoon was to read through past exam papers, and reflect on how ignorant I am. Hopefully, this is the usual beginning to a long and painful process. After all what, exactly, did Benacerraf say, and is it right to care?
Horrible exam question: "Why are there no morals in logic?"
??!?"W>!>">!??!"?
Julia's left me today, back to Peterborough to be with her true loves (her pets, not her family, of course). This has left me at a loose end of my tether, so I've been pottering around my room this afternoon and evening, trying to do useful things, and getting distracted by INSANE things.
My attempt at revision this afternoon was to read through past exam papers, and reflect on how ignorant I am. Hopefully, this is the usual beginning to a long and painful process. After all what, exactly, did Benacerraf say, and is it right to care?
Horrible exam question: "Why are there no morals in logic?"
??!?"W>!>">!??!"?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Day 77 - Zero is the earliest number
I have not blogged for five days, and I'm not entirely sure why. Most of them I just completely forgot, and last night, I couldn't be bothered. This is why I stop most things - a combination of forgetfulness and laziness. Still, I'm back. When we fall off the ladder, we must pick ourselves up and start again. Or possibly the horse.
Perhaps this is where I'm going wrong. It's very hard to put a saddle on a ladder, and climbing up a horse does not get you very far at all. I must choose a metaphor and stick to it like glue. That's a simile, it doesn't count.
What have I been up to? Many strange, terrible, and wonderful things. In particular, Saturday was Valentine's Day, which fell into the third category (and probably a little of the first). We had an indoor picnic, and ate vast quantities. Then we watched Laputa, played on the MUD, and chilled out, before going to have dinner at Giraffe. I am in love with Julia, especially right now - we just watched Pretty Woman, and I am a sucker for romantic chick flicks.
Ooh, shut up Nick. You know you are as well. Plus, you have stupid hair now, so you can't laugh at anybody.
Perhaps this is where I'm going wrong. It's very hard to put a saddle on a ladder, and climbing up a horse does not get you very far at all. I must choose a metaphor and stick to it like glue. That's a simile, it doesn't count.
What have I been up to? Many strange, terrible, and wonderful things. In particular, Saturday was Valentine's Day, which fell into the third category (and probably a little of the first). We had an indoor picnic, and ate vast quantities. Then we watched Laputa, played on the MUD, and chilled out, before going to have dinner at Giraffe. I am in love with Julia, especially right now - we just watched Pretty Woman, and I am a sucker for romantic chick flicks.
Ooh, shut up Nick. You know you are as well. Plus, you have stupid hair now, so you can't laugh at anybody.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Day 72 - Edit it forever!
2.2.2.3.3
Today, I have walked a total of seven miles. My day was: walk to the Maths Institute. Back to Merton. Somerville. St Hugh's. Somerville. Christ Church. Merton. Somerville. Too many colleges!
I have also discovered that my converses are not the most comfortable shoes for long distance walking. Tomorrow, I will try and strap pillows onto my feet, and see how they hold up. Then a succession of furry animals until I find the optimal comfort/cruelty ratio. For science!
Today, I have walked a total of seven miles. My day was: walk to the Maths Institute. Back to Merton. Somerville. St Hugh's. Somerville. Christ Church. Merton. Somerville. Too many colleges!
I have also discovered that my converses are not the most comfortable shoes for long distance walking. Tomorrow, I will try and strap pillows onto my feet, and see how they hold up. Then a succession of furry animals until I find the optimal comfort/cruelty ratio. For science!
Day 71 - Count them till you can't count no more
This is why I should do the lunchtime blogging thing - I'm just too tired to blog properly now, just before I go to bed.
Me, and Tom did intend on going out to see Frost/Nixon tonight, but when we got there we found that the cinema had been fully booked. Making the most of our trip out, we went for a walk instead. We encountered a very insistent club owner, a hidden shopping arcade, the Jungle Master of 62 Park Lane, an amusing hedge, and a Range Rover with a "SOV13T" licence plate.
Better than the film, no?
Me,
Better than the film, no?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Day 70 - Mmmmmmmkay?
2.5.7
One whole chicken. Nando's. Foolish boy enters. Leaves a foolish man.
Free Abelian Groups rule, and Witches drool.
One whole chicken. Nando's. Foolish boy enters. Leaves a foolish man.
Free Abelian Groups rule, and Witches drool.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Day 69 - Captured Forever Between Sheets of Slight
My jaw is much better today, but I think I'll still go and see the nurse tomorrow morning.
Today has been a wet and miserable day - looking back, half of it seems to have been spent trudging through pouring rain in the dark, trying to avoid falling and breaking my neck on the glaciers that have replaced the pavements, and cursing the shoddy workmanship of my shoes.
Swings and roundabouts, apples and pears. I also watched two episodes of Hustle, and attended two very interesting talks by maths PhD students (one on algebraic geometry, and one on mathematical physics). It occurred to me that perhaps I have been too harsh in my judgment of physicists - they have to learn all the same maths, but the physics as well! It's doubly hard! I doff my metaphysical cap to them, and all the great work they do.
Today has been a wet and miserable day - looking back, half of it seems to have been spent trudging through pouring rain in the dark, trying to avoid falling and breaking my neck on the glaciers that have replaced the pavements, and cursing the shoddy workmanship of my shoes.
Swings and roundabouts, apples and pears. I also watched two episodes of Hustle, and attended two very interesting talks by maths PhD students (one on algebraic geometry, and one on mathematical physics). It occurred to me that perhaps I have been too harsh in my judgment of physicists - they have to learn all the same maths, but the physics as well! It's doubly hard! I doff my metaphysical cap to them, and all the great work they do.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Day 68 - Orbits of a Certain Nature
My jaw still hurts. After an extensive 10 second research session on Google, I have concluded that I have Bruxism. What Bruxism actually is I'm too terrified to find out. I'm sure it'll be something terrible, which will need lots of surgery and tea. Turgery, as Julia points out. She's a walking dictionary.
I failed to blog at lunchtime, but I had good reason. I was fighting with a bear. No jokes, man. A bear - a really, proper bear-sized bear. With paws and everything. I'm pretty sure I now have fewer kidneys than I should have, but it's difficult to count.
I failed to blog at lunchtime, but I had good reason. I was fighting with a bear. No jokes, man. A bear - a really, proper bear-sized bear. With paws and everything. I'm pretty sure I now have fewer kidneys than I should have, but it's difficult to count.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Day 67 - Chamford vs. Holmsford
Check it out, blog at lunchtime. Alright, new goal - blog every day, during the day. Madness, they cry. It shall be done.
I'm interested in religion, and having some Christian friends and it being the religion I've had the most exposure to, I wonder about Christianity the most. There are many big questions about it that I've yet to find a satisfactory answer to. I've borrowed a book from Raf - "If You Could Ask God One Question", by Paul Williams and Barry Cooper, which provides answers to some of these questions. I'll blog with one of these, their answer, and my evaluation of it, over the next few days.
Question 1: If You're Really There, God, Why On Earth Don't You Prove It?
Their (summarised) answer: He did prove it, by sending Jesus, his son, who performed plenty of amazing miracles and made it pretty clear that he was, in fact, the son of God/God himself. We have the Bible, which records these, and this is his proof.
My objections:
1) Why only then? In fact, why only once? There are plenty on Earth today who don't believe in God, probably far more than there were then. It seems that today is more in need of a healthy boost of God proof than was Palestine, 30 AD. What would be the problem with appearing every hundred, twenty years, or even every day? I'm sure there are good reasons that wouldn't work, but they didn't mention them in the book.
2) The answer's only as good as the word of the Gospels. If everything written about the Gospels is true, then it would be pretty compelling evidence that something very powerful was at work, maybe God. I'd need some good evidence that the Gospels were reliable, however, first. I've heard that there is such evidence - please let me know!
Comments, thoughts, answers, please comment.
I'm interested in religion, and having some Christian friends and it being the religion I've had the most exposure to, I wonder about Christianity the most. There are many big questions about it that I've yet to find a satisfactory answer to. I've borrowed a book from Raf - "If You Could Ask God One Question", by Paul Williams and Barry Cooper, which provides answers to some of these questions. I'll blog with one of these, their answer, and my evaluation of it, over the next few days.
Question 1: If You're Really There, God, Why On Earth Don't You Prove It?
Their (summarised) answer: He did prove it, by sending Jesus, his son, who performed plenty of amazing miracles and made it pretty clear that he was, in fact, the son of God/God himself. We have the Bible, which records these, and this is his proof.
My objections:
1) Why only then? In fact, why only once? There are plenty on Earth today who don't believe in God, probably far more than there were then. It seems that today is more in need of a healthy boost of God proof than was Palestine, 30 AD. What would be the problem with appearing every hundred, twenty years, or even every day? I'm sure there are good reasons that wouldn't work, but they didn't mention them in the book.
2) The answer's only as good as the word of the Gospels. If everything written about the Gospels is true, then it would be pretty compelling evidence that something very powerful was at work, maybe God. I'd need some good evidence that the Gospels were reliable, however, first. I've heard that there is such evidence - please let me know!
Comments, thoughts, answers, please comment.
Day 66 - Sweeeeeeeeep
I've just been watching Invader Zim with Victor and Mark, and my love - nay, fervour - for the show increases each time. Whether the first, fourth, or fifty-sixth viewing, it's still excellent. Awesome characters include Zim, Gir, Dib, Gaz, Tak, Professor Membrane, The Tallest, the Monkey, Mortos der Soul Stealer, Miss Bitters, and the various scum of humanity, who all act like they are suffering from constant migraines. It is a bleak view of the world, but a funny one. Watch some, today.
In other news, my left jaw hinge has been hurting for about a week now. I'm not sure why, and it's the weekend now, so I'll wait till Monday. If it's still hurting, I'll go and see the nurse. Hopefully she won't amputate again. I miss my torso.
In other news, my left jaw hinge has been hurting for about a week now. I'm not sure why, and it's the weekend now, so I'll wait till Monday. If it's still hurting, I'll go and see the nurse. Hopefully she won't amputate again. I miss my torso.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Day 65 - Through the Looking Holes
Stephen Fry has a twitter account, as do a few other celebrities. This is one of those facts which, when you think about it, is completely expected, and yet still utterly surprising.
A fact of the opposite sort is that the world continues to run each second pretty much as it did the second before.
A fact of the opposite sort is that the world continues to run each second pretty much as it did the second before.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Day 64 - Mr Knowles, the Joyful Dancer
Any of the following would be terrifying to wake up to:
1) A meteor shower inside my room.
2) A flaming tsunami.
3) The Fourth Coming of the Prophet Tzatoomo, who last appeared 3,700 years ago, and is really annoyed that everyone's forgotten him since.
4) A pile of rotting fruit that speaks with the voices of the dead.
5) Girls Aloud. Live.
That is all.
1) A meteor shower inside my room.
2) A flaming tsunami.
3) The Fourth Coming of the Prophet Tzatoomo, who last appeared 3,700 years ago, and is really annoyed that everyone's forgotten him since.
4) A pile of rotting fruit that speaks with the voices of the dead.
5) Girls Aloud. Live.
That is all.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Day 62 - Ravenous Overcomings
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=FQlgA68z_L4
OK, I really didn't want to use videos or photos in my blog posts. They are a sign of weakness and lack of creativity. This video is, however, an exception, being as funny as a clown in a hurricane. Also, hopefully your laughter will distract you from your murderous rage at my lack of updates over the weekend.
I didn't do anything exciting enough to justify this failure. Sure, some people died, and I lost ANOTHER ploughshare in the ensuing legal fallout, but that's just a regular Saturday morning. Seriously, nothing has happened, so move along. What gives you the right to peek into my life, eh?
OK, I really didn't want to use videos or photos in my blog posts. They are a sign of weakness and lack of creativity. This video is, however, an exception, being as funny as a clown in a hurricane. Also, hopefully your laughter will distract you from your murderous rage at my lack of updates over the weekend.
I didn't do anything exciting enough to justify this failure. Sure, some people died, and I lost ANOTHER ploughshare in the ensuing legal fallout, but that's just a regular Saturday morning. Seriously, nothing has happened, so move along. What gives you the right to peek into my life, eh?
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