sumthin' to thing about

" Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there - on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors, so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."
-Carl Sagan

stinky

a trashcan clatters as the sleek cat slides from the rough wall and scampers into the fog. i toss the black bag of trash into the reaking dumpster and shuffle away. i creep out of the misty and rotten alley and into the solem street breathing the fresh breeze.the oaks overhead sway in the grey wind, shivering thier leaves away. the cold air nips my throat and i pull my coat tighter as i reach for a cough drop. my numb fingers crinkle open the resin blob and i pop it into my mouth as i stride up the stairs to my house.

rocks and dust

i walk across the empty field as the wind whisps sand across the top of the mounds. small rectangular hills where garden beds used to be. the flowers would quiver in the breeze like hundreds of paper lanters, lighting up the shaded groves of plants. the trees overhead used to be great for climbing and in the spring would burst with peaches and mulberries and pears. a fountain in a small pond would seep water to the whole garden while you would sit in the cool shade. you could eat lunch on the rough hewn benches, the wood smooth from years of use, and enjoy a little bit of the garden with it. a tomato and maybe a bell pepper, carefully reared by the sienor care center down the block. one could pick a few basil leaves for your salad or, if your feeling bouncy, pull up a fat carrot and wash it clean in the laughing fountain.
these were the days i remember with her, drinking apple juice in the hedges and rolling in the clean grass. now there is nothing but an old bench and a straggiling oak tree. i look to the street where together we would run through the sprinklers that the pond could not feed, our clothes wet, but we dint care, we had fun. i sigh as i walk past the hole where the wrenched the old apple tree from the ground. the clouds swirl overhead as i scratch the ground with a stick and drop a seed down into the nurturing earth.

cafe

the gray sky swirls above, blowing pumkin colored leaves past my door as i step out into the biting wind. i stroll down the sidewalk under the crkinkling oaks. the dry wind bites at my neck as i pull the scarf tighter, its downy yarn cuddling my neck. an old taxi gargles down the black asphalt swirling the leaves behind it in a black cloud of exaust. i walk into the little cafe, the little bell on the glass dorr rings its greeting from the top of the doorframe.
"a large mocha, heavy on the chocolate" i tell the scruffy college student. the stainles steel beast churns and froths, steaming the windows as i dig for the $2.50 in my grey cargos, thier seams frail and furry. i take my mocha, cuddleing it close for warmth. i sit outside, enjoying the new weather and watch the cars go by. she walks by, her red dress flashing from underneath the large fur coat. its lke a beatiful bear just stode into the cafe. the bell jingles in happyness as she slides through the door.
"a large mocha, heavy on the chocholate" i hear her say from inside the foggy windows.

the workbench

i sit at my scuffed up bench, dissasembling the tape recorder. on the cork board in front of me the desighns pinned up, a little, rustry red tack holding it there. i rip the flat dull metal casing apart the wires spill out an a color coded tangle. i pull down the plans, exposing her picture stuck to the wall behind it. its swings back and forth on its tac, her cork brown eyes stare out from behind the papers, right into mine. i look back, at her long straight hair half covering one eye with a sence of mystery. i flash back to the long board walk along the dunes, the seagulls over head strangly quiet, as the salty wind finally reaches land after travelling around the earth over open water. it swirls the sand in joy, playing with the reeds and grass of the dunes, tossing the floating seagulls higher into the air. i snap her picture against the green sea, and we walk on dissapearing into the sound of the breakers, raging against the sand.

robots, or computers?

mmmm tasty, new school year
smells of fun long nights of hw, robotics club, crazy lan games.
tastes of friends, girls and ultimate
feels like STAC, school induced migranes, and loud music
sounds like the last remaining yet hottest days of summer,
looks like something scantily clad and curvy,
yet it stings like a smack across the face....
telapathetically feels like facebook and AIM, mebbe halo or star craft.
idk somebody(girls) tells me im cute.. is that a good thing?

doooood! i just got the awesome new and inmproved Lego Mindstorms NXT set. it like came out yesterday.. its soo cool and complete makeover and redesighn since the previos system. the interesting thing is that the whole desighn and construction style has changed from plates and pegged beams to smooth asthetically pleaseing beams and pegs. it gives the whole system a more professional look whilst maintaining strength and function. the new style also forces the hardened RCX robotics builder to rethink his own methods of construction. all the hardware such as motors and the Brick itself have been fully upgraded and improved. anyways i might be brining you some videos of my newly created robots.