outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary

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lethargic return to topic at hand

I'm at work. The work is done, the lunch is eaten, the diaries are all read...there's nothing more for me to do but tackle the next entry in the Jessie Archives, which I've been putting off for a while now due to the lack of enthusiasm that comes with having too much to say.

Guestbook entries to be addressed. Plastron writes, "To quote the Bard, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet". Is the occurance of a "Big Bang" less important if some people name that bang "God"? Is it less miraculous? It's all just semantics. Just words. Final point. Evolution doesn't have a direction. So millions more years of it won't lead to a better understanding of anything. Just a different point of view. 100 years ago scientists were sure that going faster than the speed of sound would peel one's flesh off. Later we learned it didn't." To answer the first point, no, it wouldn't make anything less miraculous, although we might want to make a different word choice. The thing is, I never said it had to be one or the other. It could be either, both, or something altogether different. And another word choice tangle, my use of evolution when I meant something not that. Progress would be better, as Plastron mentioned; I was thinking technological evolution or some other variety of advancement. And the ability to gain a better understanding, while not a sure thing, is definitely a trend we've been following for our history. Leaps and bounds, baby; leaps and bounds.

I must heartily disagree with this, from Greg: "Like I said before some questions are not meant to be answered or asked. The reason being is becuase no matter what answer we receive we can't possible prove or disprove. It wouldn't get us anywhere. So the only questions that should be asked and answered are the ones that can be prooved and that aren't a waste of time. Asking the question what created the universe and reality is one of the oldest philosophical questions known to man and one of the largest wastes of time as well." The questions we ask and the answers we formulate don't always have to have the intent of "getting us somewhere". Proof is a difficult thing to corner, but that doesn't mean the answer isn't out there. By asking the questions, we exercise our ability to ponder our world; it's something that sets us apart, if you will. How many times have you agonized over why the object of your affection refuses to love you, with no actual intent to find the answer? Did that ever stop you from wondering? Wonder is not a waste of time, if you ask me. It helps put us in touch with all the hidden facets of our lives.

(Greg, I would like to sneak in here with an "I'm loving this aspect of your personality" comment.)

Tryste writes, "j have you read a brief history of time? somewhere close to the beginning he says something like we're probably not going to be able to understand the origins of the universe because our point of observation is well..it's affected by the fact that we're a part of the experiment itself? I thought that was a good point." So, being a product and part of our universe, we are unfit/unable to discern its true nature? Quite possibly. I don't know. But I should definitely read that book. I ought to have been properly shamed into doing so because my brother read it and I didn't, but so far, the shame hasn't reached a critical level.

Finally, I'd like to wrap up this chapter with something beautiful Titou made. Check it out here.

I'm sorry for the crappy quality of the entry so far. Ennui. Ennui, I tell you.

Things have been going on around here, I may as well relate them to you...on Wednesday night, Plastron and Spooky went to the infamous Manray for a quick bout of debauchery before bedtime. I will try not to insult with my opinions about the goth meeting ground, if possible, but -- I thought it was the funniest thing ever. So funny I even told the Dep about it, and this is a woman with whom I do not feel inclined to share. Sub-culture is right. Because not only is it a culture that remains hidden from view most of the time, but it is a culture in and of itself, with its own rituals and hair-dos and fashion faux pas's. And dances. And music. Both hilarious in their own right, too funny not to laugh at, too serious not to try not to laugh at. It was rough. My absurdity detector reading was alarmingly high.

And then Spooky left. I'm not exactly sure when, cause I didn't see him do it, but he most certainly was Not There after some time had gone by. No word yet as to why he left, unless he sent me an email and I accidentally erased it. Has been known to happen. Until I receive undeniable confirmation that the guy still lives, this will remain a mystery to me. Not a huge mystery though, because if he thought about the place what I thought about it, I can understand why he wouldn't want to stick around. The difference with me was I knew some of the people we were with, ish. And Plastron in a corset is rather fetching.

Qvetching, wretching, retching...not a lot of positive words end in -etching. Never mind that.

There was some family hoopla going on this weekend, so we cooked. Just flexing our new-found domestic talents, which are quite green but aching to be exercised. Rob made banana muffins (forgot to double the sugar; half the batch was sorely lacking in calories), I made pumpkin soup (minced garlic hardened into little chunks and ruined the fine fluid perfection the soup ought to have had), and the next morning I put together a strawberry trifle (burnt the pudding in the pan; made the whole dessert smell like smoke). I never said we were pros, but our EFFORTS were appreciated, at least. And we looked good with our arms full of tasty, or potentially tasty, goodies.

I was pretty sad about that trifle though. No matter what my uncles said, that thing was a dessert debacle. What a waste of...cool whip.

Oh well.

Now I have a mere week to prepare for this cruise. I've been steeling myself for a grueling trip to the mall after I finish up here in a half hour or so, but I really don' wanna. It's sputtering outside, and I need showering, and the night is already being cut short by my intrepid Sunday Working bravery. But the fact remains, I won't be happy until I have all my cruise preparation items in hand, ready to go. The facial, the manicure and the (ha) pedicure must wait; the laundry can be done another day; Jessie's fuzzy legs can be landscaped later tonight. I have nothing better to do than go to the damn mall and try on yet another fifty or sixty dresses that look embarrassed to be in my pudgy presence. Surely there is a dress amongst them that can suck it up (too true!) for a free trip to the Caribbean.

I'd half like to start another discussion here, but I'm not quite into it right now. Tomorrow, maybe, we'll talk about atheists and morality. Stay tuned.

4:10 p.m. - 2002-04-28

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