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Monday, July 21, 2008
Still here...
sorry for the lack of posts. Things have been busy. I'll get back to a more normal schedule soon I promise!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Cell - Part 4
From out of the darkness stepped a man in a black leather trenchcoat... his first thought was that he was still dreaming and this was Morpheus from the matrix.
"Hello Paul", the nameless man said.
"Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?"
"All of that will be explained in time. Let me ask you, how do you think you got here?"
Paul explained his story to the man who stood and listened very calmly.
"And do you feel disoriented in any way?", the man asked
"Of course I do, you people drugged me..."
The man excused himself for a moment and walked over to the bank of glowing monitors. Paul sat up and wiped his eyes. His vision cleared enough to see what was on the monitors. His jaw dropped.
On one monitor Paul could see himself in the holding room in the hospital. In another he could see himself signing the papers for Sarah to be committed. On another Paul could see the room he was currently in, but it was different somehow... something wasn't right.
"Paul, focus on me. It's very important you stay here with me."
Paul felt himself becoming dizzy and disoriented. The room shifted, almost as if it were a photograph with the depth of field changing. When his vision cleared he was standing in the hospital again. The doctor who had checked him in was looking at him with a puzzled look.
"Paul? Are you ok?"
Paul stared at the doctor, and looked around. In the holding cell behind him he saw Sarah crying.
"Hello Paul", the nameless man said.
"Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?"
"All of that will be explained in time. Let me ask you, how do you think you got here?"
Paul explained his story to the man who stood and listened very calmly.
"And do you feel disoriented in any way?", the man asked
"Of course I do, you people drugged me..."
The man excused himself for a moment and walked over to the bank of glowing monitors. Paul sat up and wiped his eyes. His vision cleared enough to see what was on the monitors. His jaw dropped.
On one monitor Paul could see himself in the holding room in the hospital. In another he could see himself signing the papers for Sarah to be committed. On another Paul could see the room he was currently in, but it was different somehow... something wasn't right.
"Paul, focus on me. It's very important you stay here with me."
Paul felt himself becoming dizzy and disoriented. The room shifted, almost as if it were a photograph with the depth of field changing. When his vision cleared he was standing in the hospital again. The doctor who had checked him in was looking at him with a puzzled look.
"Paul? Are you ok?"
Paul stared at the doctor, and looked around. In the holding cell behind him he saw Sarah crying.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Cell - Part 3
Chapter 3
He slept and dreamed, nice dreams.... but he could also sense something wasn't quite right in himself...
He woke to the moonlight streaming through his window. The clock showed 4am. Can't sleep again. The cool breeze from the cracked window reminded him of nights when she used to lay there next to him. Her body warm and soft. Now all that was next to him was empty space, cold and devoid.
He looked out the window and saw the interstate in the distance. Before he knew it he'd gotten his jeans, boots, shirt and hat on and jumped in his 65 mustang and he began to drive.
He thought of the times they shared together. Their first meeting at the county fair, how she looked so beautiful as she walked down the fairway. The chance drop of her purse which he picked up and handed back to her. The look in her eyes as they met his was magic.
He asked if he could join them in their walk down the fairway, though her friend protested, she invited him along. As they walked their hands found each other. Electricity flowed between their fingers, although they didn't look at each other. Neither knew, and both knew. This was for real. After searching for so long they had found each other.
She took him on the Zipper, the one ride he'd always been afraid of. As they swung around and around, flipping upside down and rightside up she kissed him for the first time. The combination of the nauseating physical sensations combined with her kiss to give him a feeling he'd never had before. Everything faded but her, her hair flying around in the enclosed car. When the ride stopped they were still kissing. The rank smelling carnie operating the ride even watched hungrily for a few seconds before they realized he was. He then opened the door and let them out.
Over the next few months they saw each other almost every day, and talked on the phone when they couldn't. She introduced him to instant messaging on the computer and then they were virtually inseperable. She was his only one, and he hers. He couldn't understand how things had gone so wrong. He saw her walking away from his cell at the hospital again...
Suddenly, and with a great degree of terror, he realized that he wasn't in his car, and that he wasn't at the fair... he was in a dimly lit room. He couldn't make out much except for a quiet beeping, which he guessed indicated his heart rate, and someone sitting in front of a bank of glowing monitors.
"Hello Paul" a voice said from the darkness.
He slept and dreamed, nice dreams.... but he could also sense something wasn't quite right in himself...
He woke to the moonlight streaming through his window. The clock showed 4am. Can't sleep again. The cool breeze from the cracked window reminded him of nights when she used to lay there next to him. Her body warm and soft. Now all that was next to him was empty space, cold and devoid.
He looked out the window and saw the interstate in the distance. Before he knew it he'd gotten his jeans, boots, shirt and hat on and jumped in his 65 mustang and he began to drive.
He thought of the times they shared together. Their first meeting at the county fair, how she looked so beautiful as she walked down the fairway. The chance drop of her purse which he picked up and handed back to her. The look in her eyes as they met his was magic.
He asked if he could join them in their walk down the fairway, though her friend protested, she invited him along. As they walked their hands found each other. Electricity flowed between their fingers, although they didn't look at each other. Neither knew, and both knew. This was for real. After searching for so long they had found each other.
She took him on the Zipper, the one ride he'd always been afraid of. As they swung around and around, flipping upside down and rightside up she kissed him for the first time. The combination of the nauseating physical sensations combined with her kiss to give him a feeling he'd never had before. Everything faded but her, her hair flying around in the enclosed car. When the ride stopped they were still kissing. The rank smelling carnie operating the ride even watched hungrily for a few seconds before they realized he was. He then opened the door and let them out.
Over the next few months they saw each other almost every day, and talked on the phone when they couldn't. She introduced him to instant messaging on the computer and then they were virtually inseperable. She was his only one, and he hers. He couldn't understand how things had gone so wrong. He saw her walking away from his cell at the hospital again...
Suddenly, and with a great degree of terror, he realized that he wasn't in his car, and that he wasn't at the fair... he was in a dimly lit room. He couldn't make out much except for a quiet beeping, which he guessed indicated his heart rate, and someone sitting in front of a bank of glowing monitors.
"Hello Paul" a voice said from the darkness.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Oh my goodness.
I got my ENT to give me the disc with my MRI images on it, and I looked at them. I have never seen such strange things in my life. I will be dissecting some of them and showing you some of the odd illusions in there... for now you'll have to be content with this one image which is one of the most striking I've ever seen..
Monday, June 9, 2008
Title
Do you ever wonder where language and the words you use, and understand came from? How many generations of human beings did it take to accomplish fluency, and be able to agree on a common language?
Someone recently told me that in China that people can read the same languages, but they cannot speak to each other. This blows my mind. I was immediately taken to the thought of ancient Egypt with their heiroglyphics... and I wonder if they had one language and one dialect. Logic would follow that they must've since they lived in a very geographically small area, and speech would have been their main method of communication as I can't believe the normal non royalty in that time period would have known how to read anything... of course I don't know this. Perhaps the heiroglyphs were created in order to visibly teach the language to a massively illiterate society. I feel fortunate that I grew up in a society which prized the ability to read and to write. I don't write for any other reason than to get some of these things out of my head instead of boring my coworkers with them, and with the hope that someone out there in the world will get some sense of awe and wonder from seeing things the same way I do. I've tried to keep my childlike innocence about the world, since I can't imagine taking some of the things around us for granted...
Perhaps soon we'll find out what's going on with Paul in his cell...
Till then.
Someone recently told me that in China that people can read the same languages, but they cannot speak to each other. This blows my mind. I was immediately taken to the thought of ancient Egypt with their heiroglyphics... and I wonder if they had one language and one dialect. Logic would follow that they must've since they lived in a very geographically small area, and speech would have been their main method of communication as I can't believe the normal non royalty in that time period would have known how to read anything... of course I don't know this. Perhaps the heiroglyphs were created in order to visibly teach the language to a massively illiterate society. I feel fortunate that I grew up in a society which prized the ability to read and to write. I don't write for any other reason than to get some of these things out of my head instead of boring my coworkers with them, and with the hope that someone out there in the world will get some sense of awe and wonder from seeing things the same way I do. I've tried to keep my childlike innocence about the world, since I can't imagine taking some of the things around us for granted...
Perhaps soon we'll find out what's going on with Paul in his cell...
Till then.
Friday, June 6, 2008
The Cell Part 2
Part 2 of The Cell - Please start with part 1 if you have not read it yet.
His mind raced... he thought of all the time they had spent together, snuggled up on the couch watching movies. Talking about everything they could imagine sharing. Perfection was the only word he could come up with in his mind to describe her. Now she was leaving him here, and she was the reason for his panic in the first place.
After staring out the window for an amount of time he couldn't quantify he went back to the bed and sat down. He could hear children crying, and the sounds of gurneys being rolled by outside the magnetically locked doors. He read, and re-read the bill of rights printed on some sort of metal material and then sealed in a plastic barrier informing him he had the rights to an attorney, and the rights to avoid unfair treatment. He coudn't imagine being treated much more unfairly than this. Sure, things had been stressful lately, but nothing for which he needed to be institutionalized.
He laid back down on the bed and stared at the flickering fluorescent lights and waited. He dozed again.
He was awakened by the door opening. A woman in a white coat, carrying a clipboard entered the room and signaled for the door to be locked again.
"Good morning Brian, how are you feeling?" she said.
"What the hell is going on here? Where is Sarah? Why am I locked in this room? I did nothing wrong, I'm not ill, I just want to know what is happening. And who is Brian? My name is Paul."
She simply stood there, staring at him, her face a mix of confusion and evil which he'd never seen before.
"We're going to give you some medication to help calm your nerves. I'm sure the stress of what has happened is very difficult for you cope with right now. I can assure you that everything will be alright."
Suddenly he was surrounded by four orderlies in purple scrubs. Their faces were covered with thick masks of skin, and their eyes peered at him from behind veils of sarcastic, put on concern.
He struggled, but it was no use. He screamed for help, but no one came. He felt the needle poke, familiar and painful in his right arm... then the blackness came again. Sweet, comforting and terrifying until it almost became too intense for him. As he faded he noticed doctor begin to examine something which looked eerily like a severed finger, bleeding profusely. He wondered if it was his... his fingers didn't hurt, but he couldn't really see anything at this point.
"Take him to section 4. We'll continue there." were the last words he heard before he blacked out.
His mind raced... he thought of all the time they had spent together, snuggled up on the couch watching movies. Talking about everything they could imagine sharing. Perfection was the only word he could come up with in his mind to describe her. Now she was leaving him here, and she was the reason for his panic in the first place.
After staring out the window for an amount of time he couldn't quantify he went back to the bed and sat down. He could hear children crying, and the sounds of gurneys being rolled by outside the magnetically locked doors. He read, and re-read the bill of rights printed on some sort of metal material and then sealed in a plastic barrier informing him he had the rights to an attorney, and the rights to avoid unfair treatment. He coudn't imagine being treated much more unfairly than this. Sure, things had been stressful lately, but nothing for which he needed to be institutionalized.
He laid back down on the bed and stared at the flickering fluorescent lights and waited. He dozed again.
He was awakened by the door opening. A woman in a white coat, carrying a clipboard entered the room and signaled for the door to be locked again.
"Good morning Brian, how are you feeling?" she said.
"What the hell is going on here? Where is Sarah? Why am I locked in this room? I did nothing wrong, I'm not ill, I just want to know what is happening. And who is Brian? My name is Paul."
She simply stood there, staring at him, her face a mix of confusion and evil which he'd never seen before.
"We're going to give you some medication to help calm your nerves. I'm sure the stress of what has happened is very difficult for you cope with right now. I can assure you that everything will be alright."
Suddenly he was surrounded by four orderlies in purple scrubs. Their faces were covered with thick masks of skin, and their eyes peered at him from behind veils of sarcastic, put on concern.
He struggled, but it was no use. He screamed for help, but no one came. He felt the needle poke, familiar and painful in his right arm... then the blackness came again. Sweet, comforting and terrifying until it almost became too intense for him. As he faded he noticed doctor begin to examine something which looked eerily like a severed finger, bleeding profusely. He wondered if it was his... his fingers didn't hurt, but he couldn't really see anything at this point.
"Take him to section 4. We'll continue there." were the last words he heard before he blacked out.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
The Cell
He rushed home after he got the call. Something urgent had happened, but his mind was a blur. Things hadn't been the same since that dream of running, hiding from the monster... and that had been a few weeks ago.
He watched in the mirror as the bag was packed. He had to do something this time, it was serious. There were threats made that could change the course of people's lives and he had to make sure that didn't happen. The bags were packed, showers taken and he drove to the emergency room. After waiting for an hour and a half they took him back to the room where his girlfriend would be evaluated.
After the nurse came in to take her to get changed he laid there and looked around. The room was a controlled room for flight risks, which made sense because she definitely was a risk. The statements she'd made, the letters, all of it was far too clear. Time passed, as time only can in a white room with no clocks. He looked around to take it in.
The first thing he noticed was the lack of anything on the walls, and the way the screws which held the panels in place were spackled over to prevent anyone from getting to them. There was a plaque which indicated what her (his?) civil rights were. That he was protected from electroshock therapy, that anything he (she?) said could be used in a court to determine mental stability.
The walls were flush with the floor, and there were a great number of steel panels screwed into it. Behind a locked panel was a camera, for observation, and there were only two small windows, one on each door. The doors had no handles, so there was no way out. In the center of the room was a wooden and metal platform which held a thin uncomfortable mattress. He laid down on it.
The ceiling was dotted with flourscent fixtures and one air vent, as well as something which appeared to be a fire extinguisher... however it also looked different. It had a nipple instead of the usual piece of plastic which burns away to release the water. He wondered if this was a method of control but didn't notice any drains on the floors.
He looked at the door and could only imagine who had scraped the paint away. It was dirty near the bottom, as if many people had been here and tried to get out by peeling the door away. Some of the spackel had been removed from the bolts on the wall as well, as if it was believed people without any metal implements could remove the bolts. He closed his eyes to wait for the doctors to bring her back.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and found himself in a pair of scrubs. His clothes had been changed, but he didn't know by whom. The door opened and a doctor came in... The doctor was saying something about how he was here to evaluate his condition and that he'd been through a very traumatic time. He didn't understand, he was here for his girlfriend. He asked the doctor about this, and the doctor looked confused.
"What is your girlfriend's name?"
"Sarah", he said glumly.
The doctor stared back at him and told him that a social worker would be in soon to talk to him. This time when the doctor left he heard the electromagnetic locks engage. He heard muffled words about Sarah. He could hear her voice. He felt his whole world go into freefall. When would he see her again? What was going on here?
As he peered out the window he thought he saw her walking away, but could he be sure?
... to be continued.
He watched in the mirror as the bag was packed. He had to do something this time, it was serious. There were threats made that could change the course of people's lives and he had to make sure that didn't happen. The bags were packed, showers taken and he drove to the emergency room. After waiting for an hour and a half they took him back to the room where his girlfriend would be evaluated.
After the nurse came in to take her to get changed he laid there and looked around. The room was a controlled room for flight risks, which made sense because she definitely was a risk. The statements she'd made, the letters, all of it was far too clear. Time passed, as time only can in a white room with no clocks. He looked around to take it in.
The first thing he noticed was the lack of anything on the walls, and the way the screws which held the panels in place were spackled over to prevent anyone from getting to them. There was a plaque which indicated what her (his?) civil rights were. That he was protected from electroshock therapy, that anything he (she?) said could be used in a court to determine mental stability.
The walls were flush with the floor, and there were a great number of steel panels screwed into it. Behind a locked panel was a camera, for observation, and there were only two small windows, one on each door. The doors had no handles, so there was no way out. In the center of the room was a wooden and metal platform which held a thin uncomfortable mattress. He laid down on it.
The ceiling was dotted with flourscent fixtures and one air vent, as well as something which appeared to be a fire extinguisher... however it also looked different. It had a nipple instead of the usual piece of plastic which burns away to release the water. He wondered if this was a method of control but didn't notice any drains on the floors.
He looked at the door and could only imagine who had scraped the paint away. It was dirty near the bottom, as if many people had been here and tried to get out by peeling the door away. Some of the spackel had been removed from the bolts on the wall as well, as if it was believed people without any metal implements could remove the bolts. He closed his eyes to wait for the doctors to bring her back.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and found himself in a pair of scrubs. His clothes had been changed, but he didn't know by whom. The door opened and a doctor came in... The doctor was saying something about how he was here to evaluate his condition and that he'd been through a very traumatic time. He didn't understand, he was here for his girlfriend. He asked the doctor about this, and the doctor looked confused.
"What is your girlfriend's name?"
"Sarah", he said glumly.
The doctor stared back at him and told him that a social worker would be in soon to talk to him. This time when the doctor left he heard the electromagnetic locks engage. He heard muffled words about Sarah. He could hear her voice. He felt his whole world go into freefall. When would he see her again? What was going on here?
As he peered out the window he thought he saw her walking away, but could he be sure?
... to be continued.
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