The Isochronism

Above, stars like twinkling candles shine, defiant, shine the candles, twinkling like stars above. 

"How is it you can you always smile?"

I've been to many Q&A-type events that Brandon Sanderson has answered questions at, and after 3 years of going to Dragonsteel I think it's interesting that I've heard this same question (or some variation of it) every year. "How do you write (depression/anxiety/mental illness) so well?" I've honestly wondered this many times too. Sanderson's answers vary, from talking about the importance of talking to people, to how a character needs to remain active, but as a writer myself I always hoped there was more of a secret to doing such a good job. Something I could emulate. But unfortunately there's no substitute for hard work. Although I think the works of Sanderson provide their own answer to that question, and that answer has less to do with Sanderson as a writer and more to do with all of us as humans. 

For those of you who aren't familiar with my essays I'm sure this post will be a little weird, because I don't often see in depth literary analyses on this forum, especially on the Stormlight Archive threads. Many of you who hang out on these threads hardly ever post on any of the other threads, so you might not know me at all. These threads are dedicated more to theories and arguments. However, as much as I like being original I'm not the first one to post this type of literary analysis. I found a thread made by @Spinner16 (who's been inactive for a few years unfortunately) titled "Themes in the Stormlight Archive" and I loved reading through that. (Go check it out and give them some rep if you're interested.)

The point he made was the same conclusion I and many other readers have come to. The main theme (Or, to prevent argument, A main theme) of The Way of Kings is about the worth of a soul. More specifically, "The worth of a soul is priceless." I've thought about that theme a lot, but like any well-developed theme there are many facets of it to be explored. That idea of worth is so perfectly encapsulated in the prologue, which has my second favorite chapter title in the whole book, and there are lots of good ones. (Ask me sometime and I'll give you a list.) "Of Most Worth." In that incredibly creepy epilogue, Hoid asks a question that matters a lot to this book. What do men value the most? Hoid gives a variety of answers, before proposing the conclusion that humans most value novelty. Ideas which are new. Art that is new. but while Hoid quickly is able to tell us what we value most, he dodges the much more important question. What is of most worth? The difference between those two questions is at once both tiny and as vast as the world itself. And so that bigger question is left up to us.

What is the worth of a soul? What is the worth of a piece of art? What is the worth of a story? Is the imitation of a piece of art intrinsically less valuable just because it's an imitation? And lately a question I've been asking, "what is the worth of a truth?" 

A theory I've had in the past is that a single truth is priceless, while a lie is completely valueless. That's a neat way of looking at things. Neat, oversimplified, and definitely too extreme. I'm sure after reading a blanket statement like that you can immediately see the problems. "Can the truth about what I had for breakfast this morning really be priceless?" I think it's not completely untrue though, even if it is a little extreme. Some truths really are priceless. Some people might cite religious truths, and I also cite personal ones. Finding out my best friend isn't as happy as he pretends to be. Finding out my coworker is a recovering drug addict, who turned his life around to be worthy to marry the girl he loves. Finding out that I am loved. Some truths are priceless, and when you find one it's easy to believe the first part of the statement.

So what if it's the second part of the statement that's untrue. Are there cases where a lie is valuable? Stories come to mind. There are lots of jokes about authors and politicians both being professionally employed liars, and it's definitely worth considering what actually counts as a lie. Is a fictional story a lie? I think it's fair to assume most people wouldn't think so, but that begs a lot of questions about where to draw the line, and those aren't questions I want to get into in this essay. But before I tell you why this is relevant, I think we should return to the quote that I began this essay with. A question Kaladin asks his brother, Tien. 

How is it that you can always smile? It's dreadful outside, your master treats you like crem, and your family is slowly being strangled by the city lord. And yet you smile. How, Tien?

What is the worth of something as simple as a smile? It's a question I can answer easily. On a rough day when everything feels heavy, the beautiful smile of someone I love can mean the world. To me? A smile is priceless. How can something so simple be so valuable? Maybe because I know how much strength it takes to smile. I have been smiling for years, because that's what people expect. I love what people see, I love pretending to be happy. But at the same time... I hate that my smile is fake. I hate that it looks so real, I hate that I can look in the bathroom mirror after five minutes of crying, and even I can't detect a crack in that perfect smile. No wonder nobody can see me. But sometimes... I'm really tired of smiling. My strength runs out and I ask myself, "How is it that you always smile? Your friend is dead, you've been abandoned again and again, and your family barely even cares that you exist. And yet you smile." 

I think Kaladin knew the answer to his own question as well as I know the answer to mine. 

How do you smile, Tien? And why is it that you make me want to smile too?

Tien's smile —To Kaladin— is priceless. Because it gives him the strength to smile too. With Tien's death, Kaladin decides he's going to smile too. Not because it's easy, but because there's people who need that smile. "Kaladin smiled at him. A forced smile. Sometimes that was all one could offer." Kaladin gives Bridge Four the gift of smiles, of laughter. But isn't it all a lie? In chapter 30 Kaladin even acknowledges this. "He gave Skar an encouraging smile. A lie. But an important one." 

I wonder if Tien's smile was always real. He certainly doesn't smile forever. In the end, after being recruited to the military, his strength finally fails. His smile finally wavers. Kaladin finds it physically painful to see that smile falter. "Tien should smile. That was who he was." But maybe Tien's sacrifice was making that smile look easy, so that other people could smile with him. Everybody is more than a smile. But we see a similar reaction when Kaladin first meets Lopen. "This man obviously didn't understand what awaited him as a bridgeman. No person would smile if they understood that."

Kaladin doesn't believe that anyone could smile, because he can't. But sometimes even people who are so deeply sad can find the strength to smile. And sometimes we take it for granted.

Most days my smile is fake. Sometimes I feel guilty for showing people something that isn't real. But nobody should ever feel guilty for trying to lift others up. A fake smile meant only to hide or deceive might be valueless, but a smile meant to inspire? It may be a lie, but it's an important one. It takes strength to cry too, and I don't devalue displays of real emotion, but I do want to explain why I keep smiling. Because I know when someone else smiles it makes it easier for me. And I believe my smiles have the same effect. 

How does Brandon Sanderson do such a great job writing people? Whether it's mental illness, depression, grief, or just emotion at all, Sanderson can convey it beautifully. And he can do it because writing is his fake smile. The stories may not be real, but he writes them to inspire others. He writes them to give people permission to feel those real emotions. Depression. Love. Grief. Fear. He shows those for what they are, how they can be terrible and how they can be beautiful. Because he wants us to be able to feel human without being ashamed of it. 

You want to know what else is amazing? Those fake smiles don't stay fake forever. Kaladin discovers this in chapter 57. "He smiled. Odd that he could still do that." I figured it out too. And just like the smiles, good writing is more than a valuable lie. In us, eventually writing becomes real. It inspires us and changes us. Maybe that's why I wanted to write this essay in the first place.

I want to plead with all of you to keep smiling. Even if it feels fake. Even if it feels forced. Even if you don't see who it's changing. I love your smiles. I can sometimes tell you're smiling even though I might never see any of you in real life. And that is worth more than you know.

I know that was long, I hope you'll forgive me for not having any creative theories or hot takes, and if you have any thoughts feel free to share them. On this thread I'll just briefly note that I'm not looking for criticism or argument, these words are just my opinions, and they're very precious to me. Thank you for taking the time to read the ramblings of a smiling author, I love you all.

On 5/16/2024 at 10:11 PM, Slowswift said:

They're amazing, aren't they? Makes writing so much more joyful. Welcome down the rabbit hole!

To add to Coolmint's question, does it suddenly stop in the middle of a word, or is it when you first start writing?

On 5/16/2024 at 12:53 PM, Coolmint said:

What brand of pen?  How does it load: cartridge/converter or piston?  What type/brand of ink?  These answers will help diagnose the problem (I'm in the middle of repairing a 'problem child' pen now).

And welcome aboard!

Brand is Iridium Point Germany (according to the tip?) and because pen and ink were both gifts I'm not positive of brand otherwise. The cartridge loads by breaking the end of it by stabbing it on to the end of a thingy. Ugh, I'm too new to any of this to understand the terminology.

Ink stops in the middle of a word, pretty randomly throughout my writing.

Hopefully that's enough information? 

Finally got a fountain pen (On Easter Sunday a few months ago) so now I'm here to join y'all. I freaking love these pens. My issue is sometimes they stop writing for a minute, like the ink got clogged or something. Is this normal?

Never thought I'd need a fancy pen until I got one, I absolutely love it. 

On that subject... Fountain Pens. Writing letters while rain hits my window. Sealing wax. My custom wax stamp. 

Hey everybody. The birds are chirping, and the airplanes are also chirping, and if that's not a sign of the apocalypse I don't know what is! That's right, for the first time in at least 6 months, it's the moment you've all been waiting for.

Today is very special, because I'm going to answer a total of 3 questions. The first is quite simple.

On 11/4/2023 at 1:23 PM, ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ said:

Do you like to play ping pong?

No. I don't like to play ping pong. Ping pong is not a child's game, you simpleton! It's not something to be played! It's a competitive sport. (1) I compete at ping pong. And I win. Usually. (2)

On to the second question.

On 5/6/2024 at 7:52 AM, Anguished_One said:

What day will it be when the world ends? 

It's time for some hard core math. First lets list some possible world-ending disasters. To keep it simple, we'll only list five of the most deadly. (3)

1. Asteroids 

2. Solar Flares

3. Very Big Volcano 

4. Time Travelers

5. Spontaneous Combustion

Now we have to calculate the most probable time for each of them to end the world, by setting time [T] to zero [0] and then we'll take the average of all five to figure out how many years until we have to be worried. Let's begin.

According to BBC a large asteroid will only hit earth once about every 100 million years. (4) I encourage you to follow the citation link and check their math, but for now we'll assume they're correct. The last world destroying asteroid was the one that killed the dinosaurs, which hit about 66 million years ago. (5) That means for #1, T = ~34,000,000 years

Now, some silly scientists believe there IS no probability of a solar flare destroying earth, (6) but I feel like they're just saying that. I saw the northern lights a few nights ago, that crap is crazy. And if it's crazy now, it'll only get crazier. The largest recorded solar flare was in 1972 (6) and I'd bet there was a good chance of that destroying us even, and that was 52 years ago (7) time [T] for #2 equals -52

A very big volcano may also destroy the earth, but scientists seem to agree that for the time being that's unlikely. The chances of that are about 1 in 730,000. So statistically it will take 730,000 more days, or 1995 years give or take. So time for number 3 equals 1995. (9)

Time travelers are equally likely to destroy us every day through all time, so the negatives and positives cancel out to create T=0

Spontaneous combustion is most likely to destroy the earth sometime this year, (10) so for that we'll say T = 1

Okay so now we have 

T(1) = ~34,000,000
T(2) = -52
T(3) = 1,995
T(4) = 0
T(5) = 1

So now we do [T(1)+T(2)+T(3)+T(4)+T(5)]/5

That gives us probably about 6800388.8 years to live. (11) I wish I had better news. 

Do you guys want some real life advice for your wisdom? Maybe I'll give you some serious advice after all that. I'll put it in a spoiler tag though, so you know you've been warned.

Citations:

Thanks you for reading, but just know I'm expecting cheers of joy when y'all see I posted this. 

8 hours ago, Ancient Elantrian said:

A Jesus Ketek, cuz I’m bored and my friend gave me the idea:

Help, him without fallen soul. Our savior. Our souls fall, without his help.

Is it crazy how saying sentences backwards creates backwards sentences saying how crazy it is?

8 hours ago, ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ said:

@Ookla the Wisdom Shouter - writer 

Oh definitely, how could you tell? 

"I don't know how to fix this." 

Let's do things differently this time. Like, so differently.

Every good story starts with a question. It's a simple question really, but in recent years hollywood has done a terrible job of asking this one question. In fact it just might be the one thing that could save the hundreds of mediocre movies that are released and forgotten every year. It's a question I ask myself every time I start a story, and it's a question I keep asking myself until I finish it. It's the only thing that makes writing worth it. 

That question is: Why do I care?

It always starts with the storyteller, asking himself "Why do I care about this story?" If you're an author --or even just a reader-- you may understand the type of commitment it takes to write a story, but a film like Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is much harder to produce even than a book. So why did the creators decide to tell this story when they could have told any other. Why did they invest a hundred million dollars on these characters?

But this question has two sides, and the other side of the question is on us, the viewers. Whether we like it or not, from the second a movie begins every viewer is unconsciously asking themselves the exact same question. "Why do I care?" Why should this fictional story matter to me? These are characters that don't exist, so why should I care what happens to them? 

Ultimately, that is the question that decides who likes a movie. Marvel movies have been suffering lately because nobody quite remembers why they should care. Marvel expects us to care about these characters because they had a cameo in a previous movie, or because they're related to characters we do love. They expect it's enough that we recognize the character's name, and they forget to give us any reason to care. And so many people don't. "Superhero fatigue" is getting worse all across the world as people get tired of seeing generic characters that they can't relate to, and seeing recycled plots that barely matter. And so for months I've sat down in movie theaters, asking myself why do I care? And the sad answer is... I don't. I no longer care about the MCU. I no longer care about the Star Wars universe. And my apathy comes from those writing the stories. If they knew why they were telling those stories, maybe they could convince me to care too. But I almost feel like Marvel barely cares about their stories anymore, only caring about their algorithm and their box-office numbers. And that is why Across the Spider-Verse surprised me so much. For the first time in a long time, I care. In fact, I care deeply. The characters in this beautiful movie are characters I'd follow forever. So what made this movie different? Why do I care so much, and relate so deeply to characters that won't ever exist in reality?

Across The Spider-Verse starts differently from the very beginning, and the opening scene of the movie is only a hair's breadth away from perfect. We're introduced to a character we thought we knew. It turns out... We didn't. Gwen isn't the girl we thought she was. But this movie does something absolutely brilliant. It doesn't introduce us to Gwen by talking about her, the movie starts with her talking about someone else entirely. 

His name is Miles Morales. He was bitten by a radioactive spider. And... He's not the only one.

That phrase, "He's not the only one," becomes a theme that follows every sentence Gwen uses to describe her best friend. But even at the very beginning of the movie she's telling his story, instead of her own. That's when the movie hooked me. Because I think we can all relate.

Every day starts with the same question. I ask myself this question at the beginning of my day, and I keep asking myself until I get to the end. Why do I care? Why does it matter if I get out of bed, who would notice if I just lay here forever? Why should I go to school, or work, when it'd be so much easier to just give up? 

Every day the answer to that question is different, and some days we don't have an answer at all. Some days we don't even care enough to get out of bed, and I know I've felt the weight of my own mistakes, or inability to do the most simple things, and in my head I cry out I can't do this alone. Or like Gwen Stacy, at the end of the opening scene in Across the Spider-Verse, I find myself whispering I don't know how to fix this. 

I think that's what Across the Spider-Verse is really about. The first movie's theme was "anyone can wear the mask" but the sequel asks the question "why would you want to?" Being Spider-Man costs everything. So why is it worth it? What are you fighting for?

Miguel O'Hara gives Gwen Stacy something to care about, tossing her a watch and muttering "Join the club." But even more importantly, he gives her something to believe in, because she can no longer believe in herself. That cause --the preservation of the multiverse-- is enough for Miguel. But... it's not enough for Miles. For some reason, he's different. He begins the movie by telling his story, and concluding with the statement sometimes I just wish I wasn't the only one.

Miles is also searching for a reason to fight, for something to believe in, but he's not like the others. He doesn't find that in the spider society, or in the preservation of the multiverse. He finds it in his dad. And also in himself. 

This place isn't what I thought it was. [...] People keep telling me how my story is supposed to go. But nah, I'm gonna do my own thing.

Gwen is too scared to tell her own story, so even at the beginning of the movie all she believes in is Miles. But Miles is different. At the climactic moment of the movie, Miles realizes who should be telling his story. And the strangest thing... others begin to follow him. My first time watching, I found it a little annoying how everyone around Miles was perfectly happy to forsake the fate of the multiverse to help him, but I think I understand now exactly what they were feeling. They were tired of telling their own tragic stories of failure. They were all thinking I don't know how to fix this. So it only took one person who was willing to stand anyway, to give them something to believe in. Suddenly they all found themselves believing that it was possible to change the cannon. For the first time ever, they started to hope they could write their own stories.

I've wondered before how we can care so deeply about characters that aren't real. They shouldn't matter to us, but for some reason they do. I think Miles is the answer to that question. We care because characters like miles show us hope we don't have in ourselves.  They give us something to believe in. They're another story we can tell when we're too scared to tell our own stories of failure over and over and over again. They make us believe that we can change the cannon, be someone different. Someone better. 

But... You can't tell someone else's story forever. You can't spend your life only believing in other people. And the best part of Across the Spider-Verse, is that even Gwen realizes that. At the end she says that she always wanted to join a band, but never found the right one. And so she made her own. 

Stories give us something to believe in when we feel like we can't believe in ourselves. But I want to tell you that you can believe in yourself. You write your story. I truly believe that. I know how it feels to fail over and over and over again. I know how it feels to not even care enough about your life to get out of bed. So if you can't believe in yourself yet, I'll just say that I believe in you too. And when I get frustrated trying to write my story, I'll believe in yours. 

It's been a while since I've posted an essay, and this is an essay I meant to finish a lot earlier, but for an essay about finding something to care about and believe in, I found I cared very little about it for the longest time. After seeing this movie for the fourth time, I finally feel like I was ready to write this. It's still a little all over the place compared to my other essays, but I hope you can tell that this is something that matters to me. And so, thank you. I love knowing you guys care about my thoughts. It inspires me every day. I know these are long, so thanks again for taking the time to read the ramblings of another absurdly busy author. I hope to hear your thoughts too!

I'm an Ookla until December 23rd which isn't too bad actually.

It's kind of amazing how happy all the apostles are. I feel like they always leave this world with a smile, which is uncommon. It comes from them not having to fear what's beyond this world I guess, because they all have personal witnesses of Jesus Christ and his gospel.

It's weird to think that president Oaks or Holland will be our next prophet. We have interesting times ahead for sure...

Current list: (In no particular order)

Dune (2021)

Spider-man Across the Spider Verse OR Spider-Man Into the Spider Verse

Knives Out OR Glass Onion

Thor Ragnarok OR Guardians of the Galaxy

The Incredibles

(Subject to change depending on my mood)

Dear Skyward,

Do you ever find it strange how much humans crave immortality? It's hard to think of something that's been less universally sought for throughout time. Humans are scared of death, and for some reason the fall of the world itself scares them less. I used to think the people that craved immortality were just idiots, not even worth thinking about. But then I met you, and... I started to see the appeal. 

When we talk time passes so quickly. You're like me, we both spend more time thinking then we should. Some people believe that time is wasted, but I think thoughts can change the world. Or at the very least they can change... me.

That's why I write even when I know you're gone. Because I still think about you, and my thoughts need somewhere to go. And without you, they have to go here. 

If we both could have lived forever, we could have talked for days, we could have slept, we could have taken time to breathe. But our lives are so short that I've started to understand the call of the unachievable. Immortality. Something our mortal mind can't even comprehend. And so we crave it.

But... humans don't just crave immortality. They're terrified of it. Have you ever noticed that every horror story is, at its heart, a story of immortality? Zombies, ghosts, vampires, monsters... they all have one thing in common. They're humans who don't die. Things that shouldn't be alive, but live anyway. Humans crave immortality, yet nothing scares us more. 

When we used to talk it felt like we never had enough time. I just wanted to sit by you forever, but it was always much too short. Too quickly reality caught up to us. But living without you... every moment feels like a lifetime. There's nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for. I'm still young, and the life I have ahead of me is terrifyingly long. Beyond this life perhaps immortality awaits, but that immortality terrifies me, because as humans we need there to be an end. It's the only thing that gives anything worth. 

Happiness ends, while heartbreak lasts forever.

Eternal happiness is impossible, no matter what the pastors say. Happiness requires sadness, or it becomes worthless. And so after an eternity everyone will be unhappy. What awaits us in the world beyond? A real death? An end of our existence? Or a prison where we'll live the remainder of existence until we just become shadows, our minds broken and our souls gone. Ghosts of our former selves. That's what immortality is. Infinite, everlasting heartbreak.

Love, Stoneward.

I just finished day one, today's word count is 2131

My word count goal is between 50,000-65,000, so I'm on track to hit that, but I might not.

65,000 would finish my most recent book, which I'll do either way eventually but It'd be nice to have a bit of a breather come december. We'll see how it goes, that's like two and a half hours per day which is quite some, but I could always just forget to care about sleep.

Pride and Prejudice

Dear Skyward,

I cheated. That first time I saw you, when I showed you my deck of cards and pretended to read your mind. I cheated. 

Obviously you knew magic wasn't real, but you told me I was real. That my reality was enough. I tried to tell you that I wasn't actually amazing, that the secret was in the cards, but you wouldn't listen. You said you didn't want to know, you wanted it to keep being amazing. You wanted to believe even though you had no reason to. Now I want that too. Let me believe.

The deck was marked. I know I can perform similar tricks without a marked deck, but it's nowhere near as smooth. I bet it would disappoint you to figure that out, that the only thing that makes me special is that I can read numbers hidden in the complex back of the card. I'm a magician, I'm supposed to be more than that. Every trick is supposed to be me, but no matter what effect I waste my time creating, the most amazing effects are the ones that are the most simple. Nobody cares about the complex sleight of hand, or the time that goes into memorizing a stack. Nobody cares about the subtle magician's forces, or the multi-step effects that do things that even a magician could believe was impossible... They assume they understand the most complex of forces, yet they look past the most simple marking forever.

Magicians are a type of artist, I suppose. All that matters is creating art. We can't decide if people will love it, we can only strive to create. Over, and over, and over again. I hold these cards because they transform me into more than a human. I become a magician. Someone confident, who always has another trick up their sleeve. Someone who doesn't make mistakes, because every mistake is a part of the show. Everything becomes intentional. 

You asked me once how I was so confident in my own abilities. The truth is... I'm not. I tried to tell you that, but he wouldn't listen. You told me it was real, or at least that I was real. That my reality was enough. But every day that confidence crumbles further, and my clever props become less and less effective. When their simplicity is revealed, and my simplicity comes out, then maybe you'll see why I needed to be more. Maybe then you'll understand why I needed... You.

In a deck full of marked cards, one card is normal. It bears no markings, because there is nothing on its face. The double sided card that comes with so many decks, which some magicians use for their tricks. Not me though. To me, that card is useless. And let every time my audience sees it, they're suspicious. While every fake card escapes their notice, the only normal card seems extraordinary. 

I am that card. I have no face, only an image. I look fantastic, mystical, and useful. But in reality I'm useless. But then again... maybe every card is useless. On its own a deck is just paper. Without a magician or artist to give us value, we're all nothing. And maybe... just maybe, the magician doesn't have any value on his own either. Maybe he gets his value from us.

Where do you get your value? Are you a magician, or a card? A creator, or a creation? What makes you special? Because you are special, somehow. Which means as much as I hate to admit it... maybe I am too.

Sincerely, Stoneward

It is currently 2 AM where I am. My decision stands.

2202

That's a lot of twos. Almost 3 really.

Just wanted to share here.

I've been so overwhelmed lately. My calling has been a lot for the past few months, and I have to teach a lesson next week. And there's some revelation I've gotten which I'm really struggling to follow. And our church just moved to a new building, the building we've been in for years that was within walking distance of my house. The new building is not.

I wasn't questioning my faith exactly, just feeling exhausted. I felt like I shouldn't have been complaining, because other people had it worse. 

But something interesting happened the first sunday at the new church building. I'd constantly been told that we shouldn't be complaining about the switch in church buildings because some people had to drive hours to church buildings, and compared to them we had it easy. Surprisingly though when my stake president stood to speak his tone was completely different. Instead of telling us we had nothing to complain about, he just said "Thank you for your sacrifice, brothers and sisters." And somehow I think that's exactly what Jesus would have said. If there was anyone we would be justified in saying "you have nothing to complain about, compared to my sacrifice yours is nothing"  it would be Jesus. It feels so selfish to even think of my calling, and my lesson, and my drive to church as a sacrifice. Because he did so much more. But I think Jesus doesn't care, he only sees us giving something.

In the car today my mother suddenly turned to me and told me the Stake President's words had stuck out to her too. And she said "I felt like that's something you need to hear too. Even the sacrifices nobody knows you're making matter." They were exactly the words I needed. Just to know God was grateful for how hard I'm trying, so grateful he prompted my mom to tell me to make sure I understood.

I felt like there are people on here who need to hear those words too. So I'll tell you the exact same thing. Jesus knows how hard you try to be good. He knows the sacrifice it is to do the little things every day, whether that be church, seminary, scripture study, prayer, or anything else. He loves that sacrifice. So thank you, brothers and sisters, for your sacrifice. Whatever it may be. I don't know, but God does. And if he were here he would tell you the exact same thing. 

Thank you for your sacrifice.

3 hours ago, ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ said:

“Armature”?

I mean... how much do you get payed to do magic? If you're anything like me, and get payed $0, it really doesn't matter how good you are. Even if you're as good as I am, (which is... possible, but unlikely) you're still amateur.

Or was this a comment about my spelling mistake?  

7 hours ago, ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ said:

This feels like a set up.  It is a good trick, and as one hwo has studied and learned a lot of magic tricks, I appreciate that. The card would be the six of diamonds.

Ah, good to know. Always nice to meet a fellow amuture magician.

Let's say hypothetically someone walks up to you many years from now, and asks you if you want to see a magic trick. He shows you a shuffled deck, and asks you to pull out any card randomly, saying he has already predicted which card you'll choose. Then, after you've pulled out a card, he reveals that it wasn't actually him that predicted what card you would choose, it was YOU. Many years in the past. Sure enough he directs you to a message you posted online years ago, predicting which card you would chose. You flip over the card, and IT MATCHES.

What card did you just flip over in this very hypothetical scenario? 

It's been far too long since my creatively named thread has been at the top of the AMA forum. WELCOME young and old, and nobody inbetween! If you're a newcomer consider reading my many posts above, to glean the wisdom therein. I just so happen to be the "Hornswoggling Wisdom Shouter" and though I'm now posting to this thread under a different name (a very cool sounding name I might add) that much will never change. And boy do I have some wisdom for you today. Veterans: You know what time it is. Newcomers: I'll tell you what time it is.

It's the moment you've all been waiting for.

Our question today is "what makes an object good" 

So first let's tackle the simple question that philosophers haven't been able to answer for decades (1) "what makes something good/evil in the first place?" My answer however is simple, below I've attached a handy flowchart for your convenience. (2) So anyway, now that I've answered the question that has plagued philosophers for generations, how do I apply it to this specific question? Well, here's the deal. If an object is used to do good (see citation 2 for what counts as doing good) then it is good. If it is used to do evil, it is evil. On the converse side, if it is used to destroy evil, it must be good. Somehow if it is used to destroy good, it is also good, because destruction is fun. (3) Let me provide some examples: a light bulb is used to illuminate people trying to do their homework. It is used to do good! Now if it was used to illuminate people who waste too much time citing fake evidence for example, that same light bulb would be evil. Ladies and Gentlemen, it is not things that are evil, it is people. (4)

People say "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" but did you know The first lemons came from East Asia, possibly southern China or Burma. The lemon is a cross breed of several fruits.  One fruit is the bitter orange, best known in the west for its use in marmalade, cocktails, and tea.  The bitter orange has about six different varieties, the best known being the Seville orange (the famous ingredient in marmalade) and the bergamot orange (used in Earl Grey tea).  The bitter orange itself is a hybrid of two other citrus fruits: the pomelo and the mandarin. To create the lemon, the bitter orange was cross bred with the citron.  In most languages of Europe, citron is the word for lemon, deriving from the Latin word citrus.  This can cause some confusion, since the citron and the lemon are two different fruits. (5) ANYway, Do you know what this means? Life didn't give us lemons, we gave ourselves lemons. So if anything answers your question, it's that.

And some wisdom: If you want to make your enemies mad, mail them some milk. Like seriously, pour milk into an envelope, mail it to your enemies, and watch the revenge comence. Imagine this, your enemy gets an envelope and they're like "Look, a nice note from my arch enemy" but NO it's just spoiled milk.

Congratulations, you're a horrible person. (6)

Citations:

Enjoy your next 24 hours.

Oh yeah, and I accidentally posted this before it was finished (hence the edit), so don't @ me. I do my best, it's not my fault control+shift=you posted your draft, congratulations you look ridiculous. 

Dear Skyward,

You at least have to be real. I've decided that even if none of this matters, you still matter. Your smile still lights up a room. It makes me want to smile, for just one more day.

I've always loved the simulation theory. Occam's razor. The belief that a universe as complex as ours is impossible, and the much simpler explanation is that none of us are really real. It's all just a simulation. A dream. For centuries humans have been exploring that very idea, with stories like the Truman Show, the Matrix, Inception, and the many other adaptations of the same theme. Each asks the question, "What if none of this is real? What if the only thing that's real... is me."

"Solipsism," they call it. The belief that you're the only person in the universe that matters. The universe sprang into existence when you become conscious and it will vanish when you die. It's irrefutable. How could anybody else convince me they really had free will, that they were really more than a product of my imagination? I could never know for sure. Do I believe that? Not really. But deep down that belief still calls to me. In those moments of silence between long days, I hope beyond hope that I am somehow important. That I am more than a speck of dust in the cosmos, hopeless, tiny, irrelevant. Barely more than a ghost. Because either the universe is mine, or it is nobody's. Either I own the world, or it's all a lie, and we're all just... irrelevant. But you're not irrelevant. You at least, have to be real.

I wish someone could prove me wrong. I wish someone could convince me that I wasn't alone. I just want to wake up. I JUST WANT TO WAKE UP! And you, Skyward, you probably think you're awake too. But how could you ever convince me, when you don't even know that you're not alone either. Maybe we're all alone. 

And of course there's another possibility. I've always been arrogant, but I have to face the statistics. What are the chances that I'm the only one in the universe who matters? Of all the millions of people that could have lived, why would it be me? Which means maybe I'm not the one living in the simulation. Maybe I'm part of it. Maybe I'm a creation of your mind, meant to draw you in, fool you. Make you think you could live. Maybe I'm not real, you are. I'm living in your dream. I'm orbiting your universe. Maybe it was always about you.

I know you're real, I've seen your smile. I know you're real, I've read your words, as warm as any hug, as you promise me I can be happy. You lift me up. Make me feel like I'm not irrelevant, that my struggles matter. I can tell you anything, and you'll listen. You'll cry with me, pray for me. You're the hero of the story, because you fight every day. Maybe I love you just because I envy you. I want to fight. I want to matter. 

But I'm not real. You are.

So go live your life while I live this lie. Reach for the sky while I stay abandoned on the ground. The stars are infinite. So are you. Every day I'll smile, because you won't be happy unless you see I can be happy... without you. Unfortunately, that's not how love works. But... you don't have to know that. It's worth every second of pain to know you can be happy. It's worth lying to you every day just to see your smile. I'll carry the burden of this simulation, this world within worlds. So you can be happy. Because that's what love is. I hoped once that I could be part of your reality. That if I became your anchor, you'd find a way to pull me with you, up toward the stars. I was hoping that if our stories became entangled, we'd both have freewill. 

I have realized one thing though. If this was all fake, I wouldn't feel so broken. Shattered by the earthquakes of love. My pain is like a hole in the illusion. 

You made me real.

—Sincerely, Stoneward

2199

I'm outlawed due to pineapples. Also pistachios become evil and sentient and ruin the entire world.