Two monks were walking along the road, meditating on the vitality that last night's rain had brought upon the foliage. They came upon a crosswalk, and found a woman in distress. She had on a long white dress and the crosswalk was covered in muddy puddles the rain had left behind. The woman looked at the monks helplessly, and so one of them offered to carry her over. She smiled.
She jumped on his back, and he piggybacked her over to the other side, accepted her thanks, and walked back to the other monk, who was in deep thought. The rest of the walk was quiet, with one admiring the foliage and another with a troubled look on his face. Finally, the monk stopped and turned to the other monk.
"We are monks. We shouldn't be doing things such as carrying ladies on our backs. Though I understand your good intentions, it is just not a proper thing for a monk to do."
After a moment's surprise, the other monk replied, "I left the lady at the crosswalk, why are you still carrying her?"

"Innocence and Experience" or "Me, Myself, and My Illness"

"Doctor, doctor, I have an illness."
"What is it, son? What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure."
"What?"
"I'm not sure what's wrong."
"Son, are you really sick?"
"Yes, sir."
"What exactly makes you say that you're sick?"
"It's this illness. I don't know what's going on."
"Can you please describe it? I can't tell you what it is if you don't let me know what it is."
"I don't how to describe it myself. It's like, I'm perfectly healthy, even psychologically. But I'm just not happy."
"Son, not many people are happy these days. That's not an illness."
"But what's wrong with me, then?"
"Come over here. Yes, out here. Look out that window, boy. You see that?"
"What?"
"All that."
"It's just people walking by."
"Yea. Those are people. That's what's wrong. We're all wrong. People are all sick the way you are. Nobody's happy in this world."
"Doctor, are you saying that everybody out there has the same problem as I do?"
"Not all of them know about it, but yes, I'd say so."
"Oh."
"Yea."
"I see. What should I do then? Is there no cure?"
"Son, maybe you don't understand. It's not an illness. It's not a disease. It's part of being a person. You think you can be happy because of this thing or that thing. You think that you can be happy because you get married, or because you win the lottery, or because you star in a movie. No.
No."
"But somebody somewhere must have been really happy at some point. Otherwise, how do know that we can be happy?"
"I don't know. Maybe we were made to be happy, but something just didn't go right. Maybe there's something missing inside."
"Dogs can be happy."
"Maybe. Have you ever been a dog?"
"...Well, no. But they sure seem that way."
"Well, don't people seem happy at times?"
"...Well, yes. So are you saying they're not?"
"Son, I'm just trying to tell you that I can't do anything for you. I'm just a doctor."
"I see. I'm sorry to have wasted your time, then."
"No. I'm sorry to have wasted yours. Good luck, boy."
"Er. Thanks."

Thoughtful quotes

"The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense."
- Tom Clancy

"If everything is under control, you are going too slow."
- Mario Andretti

"Men have become the tools of their tools."
- Henry David Thoreau

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, prepare to die."

Looking at a Dead Father on a Bookshelf

To drive through this casual dementia
is a fragile dizziness at 3am posed like a manikin before you.
Only the limbs grow cold and itchy in the air conditioning.
Oblique are both the whims and wants
of half-ambitions doused in sleep.

When you have exhausted the metaphors,
and everything sounds like an exhaust pipe,
there he is, high up on silent pinewood –
A framed face that cares little of the poor lighting,
(why frame his face and not his trousers?)
and that never looks you in the eye.

Could you have said that the light
slants no more than you do?
It is what it is,
and perhaps you are now
only what you are not.

Is Hell exothermic or Endothermic?

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington engineering mid-term. The answer was so "profound" that the Professor shared it with colleagues, and the sharing obviously hasn't ceased...

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or Endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote Proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law, (gas cools off when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

"First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate that souls are moving into Hell and the rate they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let us look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. Of course, if Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa Banyan during my Freshman year, "...that it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you.", and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then, #2 cannot be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and will not freeze."

This student received the only A.

Summer Nights/ Oh - Alcohol

Bruises color limbs in the heat.
I’m ok Mama says,
She says it’s nothing.
Everything is tidy. Everything is tidy.

Barefoot and battered,
She wobbles to pick up broken dishes.
Oh, Alcohol – Oh, Alcohol
A hymn to bottled idols.

Her face is a southern peach
Ballooned and blemished.
You can’t pick the rotten ones
She would say at the supermarket.

Daddy’s friends are over –
I can smell their laughter,
Oh, Alcohol – Oh, Alcohol
Timeless friends and television.

Love is unpredictable Love is uncontainable
Love is reliable Love is infallible

Love is right Love is wrong
Love is weak Love is strong

Love is good Love is pure
Love is real Love is sure

Love is jealous Love is pain
Love is lost Love is gained

Love is naked Love is raw
Love is everything Love is all

Love is here Love is there
Love is beautiful Love is fair

Love is great Love is shit
Love is demanding Love is it....