Brain Cleansing ~

After a day of mind stimulating information, Meena spoke to a friend of hers who opened to the door to the idea of brain cleansing. She pondered the notion for a tad and felt rather glum after speaking with him. "Is the glum catchy?" She wondered. Here she was all hyper on information, only to be met by a stone wall of glum.

Perhaps she should wash her brain as others had done. She had seen how on the television commercials, billboards, and news casts, that most people of the world were into washing their brain by their bedside much as she had seen her grandmother wash her teeth.

Up to this point, Meena had thought her brain to be clean, but between her friends and the commercials, they were tempting her to be like them. This promoted her reason to visit the local mega-pharmacy to buy the brain agent that would render her cleansed and like almost everyone else.

A gent of sheepish nature greeted her at the door with the blankest of looks. When she asked him where she could find the brain cleansing solution, all he could do was to look at his feet. Having a mind of her own and the will to seek this agent out, she stormed through all the isles until she found what she was looking for. Within the corner of the store, and taking approximately one quarter of the store’s space, were the boxes of the cleansing agent.

She thought it odd that it was such a big box as she believed it to be in pill form much like a vitamin. At the very least, she assumed it would be no larger than a shampoo bottle in which the contents would soak into her head while in the shower. It was her belief that the ad of a brain in a jar beside the bed was nothing more than a part of a humorous ad campaign.

Without further ado, she picked up the box without reading the label and marched on home with the contents in hand. Although she grumbled a great deal on the way home, she thought it in her best interest to do the cleansing.

Around dinner time, she decided to unbag the contents and read the instructions. Much to her amazement, the brain cleansing solution was to be emptied into the enclosed jar along with water. As her brain was to follow, she refused to read the rest. “How could this be?” she thought to herself. Thinking that the ads and her friend’s “pooh” (using the word most literally) about it were nonsense, she chucked the whole lot of it and went back to absorbing information.

Within two hours of her arriving home from the mega-pharmacy, there came a knock at her door. Not being accustomed to unannounced visitors, she did not answer the door. The knocking then became louder and louder until she heard her door give way to whomever was on the other side.

She had enough time to hide herself in the upstairs closet. Nevertheless, she could hear them walking around her house and talking amongst themselves and then climbing the stairs. Surrounded by nothing more than some dresses, tops, some skirts, and plastic hangers, the only thing she had going for her were the use of her wits and her own physical ability against those who had violated her domain.

Not before long, the closet doors flew open and standing before her were several men in lab coats and several armed guards. Armed with her plastic hanger, Meena questioned their break-in and wanted to know what they wanted. Much to her horror, they advised her that they had come to remove her brain for cleansing. Although she stated that she had discarded the box and contents as she thought it either a sick joke or mislabeling, the men in the white coats assured her that it was not a joke. By purchasing the product, she had consented to brain removal and cleansing. The two armed individuals, whose faces were covered by ski masks, grabbed her out of the closet while one man in a lab coat injected her arm with something that made her feel weak and sleepy.

Meena woke to the sound of a buzzer going off. As she rose out of her bed she blankly looked at the jar and its contents that sat beside her bed and thought nothing of it.

~ Arachne ~ 10/23/09 @ 6:16 p.m. EST

The Dust~

The walk was an uneasy one, but my curiosity would not abate.  Too many stories were being told of this and that and I needed to know if what they said was true.  It had come to my knowledge that one room was not to be entered, however, the key, with its rather heavy chain, was given to me for safekeeping.

The room in question was and is located on the top floor or attic of an old house.  Unfortunately, there was no windows nor electricity to make out very much save for the small amount of light that flowed from the lower floor.  With an adjustment to darkness, I could see a hallway, a sconce, and a door.

Seemingly like forever, I had walked this dusty floor of another time and contemplated and debated opening that which they told me not to.  This scenario reminded me of Eve and the Tree of Knowledge or of that of a child left alone in a room with a toy they were told not to touch.  Ah, the gravity of it all.

Pace I did with the key dangling behind my back while my two hands fiddled with the solidity of its chain.  What could lay here that would thwart the opening of a door?  What contents could lie within?  Shall I be like Pandora?  Reaching for my match, I ignite the tiny timber and engage the sconce with light and head to the door.  Eager as a beaver to build a dam, I headed toward the door and held the knob in one hand while my other hand busied itself inserting the key into the key portal.  I met no resistance to its turn.

Ah, the feeling of a child at Christmas opening a present, however, as I knew not what to expect behind the door, there was a tad of caution.  The agreement of mind had it that this is not Christmas nor was this room a gift.

The door now laid unlocked before me and all I had to do was turn the knob and push.  I had been waiting for this.  This is what I wanted and it was right in front of me.  Slowly the door opened and the musty odor escaped only to assault and insult my nostrils and lungs with its repugnancy.  The small sconce within the hall did not offer much rays into that which was slowly being opened.  Upon the threshold, the creaking boards broke the silence so loudly that each step resonated what sounded like a house screaming in pain.  Yes, I the inquisitor heard the scream-like reverberations of an empty room.

With the door now wide open, I stood within the confines of the space and was dismayed at my discovery.  For all my curiosity, pondering, and pacing, the room laid as empty as my ears had told me.  If something were here, it was not big nor visible from where I was standing, then again, the room was shaped like a “U” and thus the only way to find anything would be through feeling it out on all fours.  Hell, I had come this far only to have to choose which side of the room I would feel first.  I suppose I could have played eenie meanie miney moe, but the game spirit was not within.  Choose the left is what I did as I scattered my body weight over the floor and sniffed around like a dog looking for a buried bone. That is the last thing I remember.

As if awoken from a dream, I heard voices and noted that everything had become dark.  From my point of view, there was no door to be seen and no issuance of light even if ever so dim from the lower floor.  Then again, who were the people in my house?  Thinking quickly, I figured if I can hear them, they too can hear me.  With all I could muster, I banged with hands and feet and my voice roared for them to find me.  When I heard someone approaching the top steps, joy filled me and I was pleased that someone was in fact there.   “IN HERE” I yelled, but another voice, a familiar voice from below yelled out “Child, get away from those stairs!  You were told never to go up there.  Now bring that key back to me.”

Tragically, the scolded child was I.  ~ Maggie ~ October 19, 2009 @ 11:10 p.m. EST 

On the morning of the 4th in the year of here
A rain cloud exploded and tore river banks

Intangible Substance~

I sit here and ponder life in the area of have and want.  First I look at what I have.  Despite the fact that material is rather like a ball and chain, some of it serves a function.  As for the rest, I look upon it and think that I could do without much of this as I do not see substantial benefit(s).  Second I look at what I want.  What I want is intangible.  Therefore, how do I gain it? Do I already have it in some regard?  The answer is yes.  So now what?

Let your mind swim to that which encompasses it-- the all the nothing of the seamless patterns that seem like one--stretch of the imagination grasping headlong into what appears an abyss but not--where are you?

One twist can change much.  One twist can alter patterns forever shifting them in a domino dimension.  Falling and hurling at the speed of light.

What do I want?  I don’t know.  Perhaps it is the cake that I want to have and eat it too.  I can’t say for sure, but then again maybe I can.  Questions.  Here lies the builder of the future...my future.

I do eye the schematics of what is and what could be and I realize that no decision is a decision by default.  Ah, but the play...the characters who act out the roles in idealized form.  I am but one.  What is one's role?  One's role touches many and hence we are the dominos.  A twist from one will affect the many.

There are scenarios constantly running and the point is to be on top.  Losing a game does not equate to a fall from the top.  To this I realize and continue on. ~ Maggie ~ October 13, 2009 @ 4:23 p.m. EST

Days~

Shall I start with once upon a midnight dreary?
In a sleep but not playing that which I knew not
Left for a bit only to be led to bed
On a memory not, but yes to a particular aspect
Words light and bring forth what should not be forgotten
Can I say that parks at dark are better than the day?
Nay and yea
I see an anchored soul struck and stuck to a vision only to play
Yet upon the drag
An awakening occurred
Odd steps and lost time oft wondered where have they gone...
Here they be in the majestic told to I who listens...
Singing and humming doing 75
Memory serves me right
The memory of the tranquil almost liquid peace
The kind of peace that brings forth song and poetry
It has been a time of good
What effects have transpired have done so in form
Good form!
To the negative I see the positive and there is love
That all important factor lest it not be forgotten
Mixed are these memories of this time spent
However, is the chronology important?
Nay
All is well on this day and the next
Yesterday's memories that are held in tact are cherished
Tomorrow sees me gone
However, I again arrive at pi ~ Maggie ~ 10/1/09 @ 5:20 p.m. EST


If only the words that I spewed in thought and vocalization could be laid here to rest. Laid upon parchment more so that the pendulum could hold what I verbalized. The escape of literature happens when ideas cannot be lassoed with the pen. Alas, perhaps I shall find them again in their right sphere and commit them. Until then, I leave what scattered thoughts mislaid yet portrayed in random form. Should the same words that were thought upon broach my mind, I shall relay them surely in kind. Life is sometimes bittersweet. I shall unfold that which I hold when and if they return to me in the original fashion. ~ Maggie ~ 10/1/09 @ 5:27 p.m. EST

Poke Her ~

Would you push my hand to see my cards?
The way to do this is to call and/or raise me
Could you be certain of my reaction?
Might I choose to fold, you would win, but what would you win?
Should I choose to play it out, and I have a winning hand, what then?  You would lose.
Should I choose to call and/or raise you, would you have the confidence to think I bluff?
These are but possibilities in poker.
Care for a round of duces and jacks the man with the ax
A pair of natural sevens beats all?
What about day or night baseball?
Follow the queen? Queen of spades kills the hand while others make the next card wild unless otherwise said?  Choice given as to up or down on last card to create a possible change?
Seven card stud?
Jacks or better to open?
Five card stud?
Five card duces wild?  Even seven card works.
Of course one cannot know how one is going to play until the game is called
Even when the game is called each play is different as is each hand
Of course a player with some experience can make a good judgment call,
It may not be a correct call
Who knows what the cards hold
Then it is a matter of choice as to how to handle that which you are dealt
What I am trying to say is that you don’t know what to do until you come to that “bridge”
I do enjoy a good game don’t you? ~ Arachne ~ October 9, 2009 @ 2:36 p.m. EST

Exit The Visuals Please~

The ew feeling is sticking to me like white on rice as the pictures spin through my head posing possibilities.  I am grossed out by both fact and fiction and wish the scenarios to die.  It sucks being visual.  Oh my gosh take my head off please as I don’t want to see anymore!

Even the hypothetical brings me to the point of chasing my tail as my reaction is one of spinning knowing that the bottle will stop somewhere, but where?  It is like laying belly down on a swing and twirling the swing tight only to spin and then when stationary, your eyes are still moving back and forth.  That too sickens me.  Like all sicknesses, save for a few, you become immune and eventually your eyes return to normal.  Regardless, I will end up on top as usual.  For that I have no question.  Trust me,  I do take things in the right stride and in the end all will be fine even if different.  What is different?  Well it would depend on where the bottle stops now wouldn’t it?  This is all hypothetical now isn’t it?  Um...for now it is.

Thinking like a rat, there is always a back door(s), hall(s), and/or window(s) in which to exit.  To these, I hold sacred that which creates the positive for me.  To this I know I can jump. ~ Maggie ~ October 9, 2009 @ 1:18 a.m. EST

Phase Shift~

Observing from a wire
That which transpires
See not that which was, but that which is
Pattern broken or perhaps not broken
Looking to see who stays or strays
Observations...
Who are you I ask myself
You who is just like me
You are me and I am you...
You see?
The lessening of a pattern
Whose design now has holes
Is it so much what I see or that which I do not?
All to see behold!
Does in fact the residue impact?
Visuals indicate aye ~ Maggie ~ October 8, 2009 @ 7:45 p.m. EST

It is not important that you understand what I speak about as I do not write for you.

Life~

To say that I do not feel any emotion or sense sensation would deprive me of who I am.  Despite some pitfalls, of which only I am to blame, I tend to surface like cream with all things being equal.

The joy of life includes any down cycle as that is what makes one appreciate an up cycle.  A down cycle could be a sad thought (or worse) based on a current instance(s) or set of circumstances or that of one (or many) which happened some time ago.  Nonetheless, there is a joy connected to it.  A joy that has either made us stronger for experience of it all or one that has attached a moment of something great be it an event, an object, or a subject.

If looking at negative aspects only, one would be a negative being and thus live in misery.  When looking at positive aspects of negative events or cycles, there is reward.

No one lives the life of peaches and cream even if some would like to think so or to think others do so.  This cannot be.  The benefit in life is learning through our trials and errors and sometimes our own foolery.  To this life there is the benefit in the knowledge gained on any level. ~ Maggie ~ October 8, 2009 @ 7:35 p.m. EST 

Addiction~

How can I start this out?  Is anyone here familiar with Mafia Wars on Facebook or any other game applications?  If so, pay heed to those that play.  What else do they have on their site save for posts to do with the game(s)?  It is not only this mindless game, but many mindless games.  I plea guilty for having played and I also plea guilty for getting too caught up in it.  When doing a scope of those that also played and at what level they were playing at, I had to wonder what else do they do?  Was this an all encompassing activity for them?  I would say that for me, my last days on it were almost all encompassed by the game.  Communication had almost stopped, but at least I had the lectures running in the background and I would read things of a non-mindless nature when waiting for energy.  Oh me oh my!  Why?  Addiction!

I can’t say that I was all engulfed as I did not really pay attention to things in there as to me it was a come what may situation.  Nonetheless, I was on it and not doing the things that I normally do to the fullest degree that I do them.  Hence the self suffered.  In addition, I saw the suffering of others.  How you may ask?  The view of it all.  The staggering numbers, the emission of only game related posts, and lack of thought.

One person was kind enough to tell me why they played.  He stated he played out of boredom and loneliness.  If that is why he is playing, I must question if the others have similar reasons.  Unfortunately, I can only use assumption at this point, but I would bet the farm, that my assumption is close to fact.  The knowledge came about because I was leaving the game as I saw it as problematic.  All the things that I had acquired in one application were given to those who played with me.  To this I felt like I was giving junk to junkies and helping to feed their habit.  It is rather sad.  Thankfully, I am off the three applications that I was on and have removed all but a few of those friends from my friends list.  First, I feel as though I was using them to gain something, second I feel as though they were using me to gain something.  Fair trade right?  Right.  However, none of it was real.  Perhaps, this knowledge is not worth much, but it is worth the lesson learned. ~ Maggie ~ October 8, 2009 @ 2:51 a.m. EST