past

Stupid Things To Do With A Time Machine

Lists

Try To Fix Anything
Any true science fiction fan knows that the Butterfly Effect is some serious stuff. It basically means that even the smallest alteration you make in the past will ultimately affect the future in a very big way. So no fixing of the Liberty Bell. No fixing of past relationships. And no destruction of the first scripts for Star Wars Episodes I through III.

Find Your Parents
Sorry, McFly, but that would be a horrible idea. Not only do you risk potentially ruining any chance of your future existence, but you might see some things you don’t want to see…

Find Yourself
Rule #1 of time-traveling is never to find yourself. Although no one – to our knowledge – has ever traveled back in time and come face-to-face with their past or future self, most theoretical science assumes that you will undoubtedly explode (probably due to crossing frequencies or something.)

Visit Famous Disasters
One of my favorite b-movies is called Thrill Seekers, about a future where “tourists” can go back and visit famous disasters, escaping right before they would die. Cheesy? Yes. Epic? Heck yes. Enjoy the trailer below:


What I’ve gathered from the scores of times I’ve seen this film (no shame, no regrets) is that visiting famous disasters is probably the most stupid and risky thing you could ever do with a time-machine. Not to mention depressing.

Assassinate Anyone Other Than Hitler
Again, don’t change anything. It would be bad news bears for all of us. However,  when it comes to Hitler all bets are off. I know we’ve already discussed the Butterfly Effect and I’m well aware of the ramifications altering anything in the past could have for the future, but I’d be more than happy to take the blame for creating a world where Hitler was prevented from doing any of his heinous crimes.

Save Jesus
Think about it.

Redo Yesterday
There are two types of people in the world, those who like the movie Groundhog Day and those who have better sense. Not only does repeating your Yesterday sound completely repetitive, but it’s also impossible, seeing that you would run into the problem of mixing your past self with your future self. Plus, if you continuously visited Yesterday, you’d start creating multiple versions of yourself and over populate the world with duplicate yous. All readers with contrary opinions should consult my new favorite Wikipedia page on temporal paradox. And re-watch Groundhog Day.

Sneak A Peek At Tomorrow
Come on. Can’t you wait like 24 hours? That’s like wasting a wish on a new pack of gum.

Attend Your Funeral
Not only will you scare those in attendance, but who actually wants to know when, where, and how they die?

Witness The Last Day On Earth
Tempting? I think not. Again, who wants to know the when and where of something of that magnitude? Besides, I already know how the world ends:


Tell People About Your Time Machine
Are you crazy? Everyone would want to use it. What would happen if it got into the wrong hands? Anarchy! World war! Disappearing historical figures! Altered histories!

Conclusion
Don’t use your time machine. It’s too dangerous. You’d better just hide it. Or destroy it.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Feb. 13, 2001

Everyday

Below is an entry I made in my diary exactly twelve years ago today. I was eleven years old.

photo

The first thing that I realized upon reading this (other than my poor spelling and grammar) was that this was written during the early days of the internet when it would crash for no apparent reason during the worst moments possible – namely in the middle of a very gripping Neopets game of Dice-A-Roo. It was also the point of my life when we only had one family computer. It lived in the hallway at the top of the stairs and its usage was on a very strict time schedule (we had to be fair, you know). This was a time before Google, when you had to ask a presumptuous butler to answer your random questions. A time when you had the dial-up tone memorized and your mailbox would greet you with “you’ve got mail.” A time when chatrooms were totally da bomb, you had to upgrade your AOL with a computer disk that came in the mail, and when not getting to be on the computer would ruin my day. And make me so, so, so mad. It was a simpler time.

It’s always weird for me to read my old journals. I think it’s because, although I can’t really remember what the weather was like or what clothes I was wearing, I can always remember how I felt at the moment I wrote an entry. Like some weird sixth sense connection I have with my past self.

I sometimes forget that little girl didn’t disappear. She’s been with me all along. She’s a little taller and a little bolder, but she’s still the same little girl who was afraid to grow up. The girl who loved climbing trees and making mud pies. The one who wanted so much to be appreciated for being herself. To have her schoolwork posted on the refrigerator and to be called upon by name. The little girl who, when everyone wanted to be models or mothers or princesses, had wanted to be a writer.

And look at her now.

 

A Poem from My Past

Poetry

The following is a poem I wrote a little over a year ago on September 1, 2011. I very rarely post any of my poetry, partly because I fear people judging my work; mostly because I write them for me and I don’t think they really hold much meaning to people outside of my inner world. Every so often I go through my files and read my old writings, either to laugh at myself or to remember how I felt at the time. Sometimes, I feel as though my past self wrote them so that my future self would find one at just the right moment. This one stood out to me:

Drowning

My heart is slowly breaking as I stand upon the shore,
These mistakes that you are making, I can’t take them anymore,
You say that you are seeking a new life that is your own,
But the life that you are living made you someone I don’t know.

I watch you float before me, holding on with all your might,
As the pillars that you cling to drag you slowing from the light,
You say that you are happy as you hold on to your strife,
But the waves are getting higher and they dare to take your life.

Your strength, at once admired, it has weakened, fading fast,
You are sinking, you are hopeless, and I fear you’ll breath your last,
The waves are fierce and mighty as they drag you out to sea,
The shoreline forms my chapel and I pray God will hear my plea:

I pray that you are happy, you are faithful, you are warm,
I pray that God protect you as you try to fare this storm,
I pray you find what you are seeking and you save what you have lost,
But I also pray the journey is worth far more than the cost.

As I kneel down in my chapel, a ray of light breaks through the gloom,
It fights its way through darkness and offers safety from this doom,
But distance grows between us, you get farther day by day,
And, hopelessly, I watch you as you slowly float away.