The Curse Of The Tuesday

A/N: The amount that I wanted to swear in this post was sort of unbelievable. But I refrained myself, so don't worry.

I think everyone should know that Tuesdays are the absolute worst day of the week.

There are ignorant, social-norm-conforming people who would argue that Mondays are much worse, but these people are very incorrect. You see, Tuesdays suck. At least on Monday it's the first day of the week, so you can have a little bit of the mindset, "Woo hoo! A fresh new week!" On Tuesday, you're stuck in the terrible in-between that's much too far from the weekend and not early enough to be inspiring.

At the beginning of this school year, someone cursed my Tuesdays. This sounds ridiculous (frankly it is ridiculous) but it happened. I can't reveal too much information in fear of exposing this person, so I'm not going to tell the story. But know this: it was not a good day. It was humiliating and awful and ended with mutual hatred toward this person. The conflict lasted a week, and by the end my Tuesdays had been officially cursed.

Everything about Tuesdays is bad now. Let me give you an example:

Yesterday (a Tuesday), I went to open my lunch box for food, right? And my yogurt had exploded everywhere, leaving a pool of strawberry gunk at the bottom of my lunch box. Now, normally I would start laughing hideously and probably make a gigantic joke about it. This is not what happened. I guess I wasn't really having a good day or something so when I unzipped my lunch box, I burst into tears.

I sat there crying for a solid ten minutes as my friends watched me, most likely stifling laughter. Aside from a small yogurt-soaked ziplock of popcorn I'd managed to fish out from the top of my bag, the rest of my lunch was ruined. It wasn't a big deal but I cried about it, for some reason. I have no shame in admitting it, either.

Anyway, it has been an ongoing joke between me and my friends: The Curse Of The Tuesday.

The Space Shuttle Challenger before it exploded,
killing 7 crew members (on a Tuesday)
Image Credit Here

I did some research, and I'm not entirely sure that this is a curse on me specifically. I decided that all Tuesdays are just bad. Possibly for everyone, these are simply awful days.

The September 11 attacks, for example, occurred on a Tuesday. There were nearly 3,000 casualties. Or, in 1986, the space shuttle Challenger broke apart a minute after takeoff, and this happened on a Tuesday. The stock market crash of 1929 was given the name "Black Tuesday." Elvis Presley died on a Tuesday, which most likely sucked for all the people who liked Elvis Presley. The Columbine shootings in Colorado also occurred on a Tuesday, where two high schoolers killed thirteen people.

I think The Curse Of The Tuesday is a universal thing. Nobody likes Tuesdays. And if you're one of the few people who wake up full of joy on the second day of the week then good for you, you little optimist. But I hope this knowledge has somewhat informed you.

Next time Tuesday roles around, consider this. And, hopefully, Tuesdays aren't as awful for you as they are for the rest of us.

Time Doesn't Exist

I feel like this should be common knowledge, so if this blows your mind a little bit then sorry about that.

Time is a concept that humans invented to organize themselves. Every day, our planet is moving. The Earth is spinning while simultaneously rotating magically around the sun. Now, I did some research on this, and there is no specific person who ever invented time. I suppose, long long ago, someone with a hairy face and clothes made out of animal skin pointed at a stick and said, "George, once this stick's shadow touches this rock, I want you to come over to my cave." Eventually everyone just subconsciously created "time" as a way to understand the universe's cycle of events.

There's a bunch of movies about people who can "stop time," which is super ridiculous when you think about it. If someone were to pause time, as if it's a physical thing, nothing would happen. The Earth would still move and the wind would still blow and everyone would carry on as if nothing is different. Nothing would be different.

If people stopped measuring time, however, we'd have a huge issue. Clocks would disappear from walls and watches and phones. Everyone would do everything with leisure. No deadlines, no stress, no organization. The Earth would spin and spin and spin and no one would care. People would probably celebrate Christmas on different days, if it even existed. There would be no way to log significant events in your life. Everything would just blend together.

There's also this haunting feeling that "time" did exist. Like, maybe up until 2012 (the end of the world) there was a giant clock in outer space somewhere that was counting something down. Maybe on the 21st of December, we all got stuck in time. Maybe it's still technically December of 2012 and we've all just continued along our lives ignorantly.

I think it's important that people understand this abstraction: time does not exist. Clocks exist, yes, but clocks are a human invention. The world is moving, but time is not.

Another unnecessary picture I've added simply because it's required
Image Credit

Nothing Special

When I was younger, for whatever reason, I created a very stupid game. To play, you're supposed to try to formulate the strangest sentence possible. As a child, the sentences were often senseless and completely confusing, like "Chickens bounce small from skinny weasels and evaporate onto the gum balls." The object of the game was to say something that no one has EVER said before.

Obviously, there is no distinct way to determine whether or not a sentence has already been said in all of human history. That was sort of the point, really – your sentence had to be such nonsense that nobody could've possibly uttered it.

Now that I'm older, the concept is a bit more meaningful.

Have you ever wondered if all your words have been said? Maybe every sentence you've ever spoken has already come out of someone else's mouth. Perhaps there's even one specific person who has said everything you've ever said, just in a different order.

Furthermore, maybe everything you've ever done has collectively been done by other people. Maybe you've never performed an act that hasn't already been performed. They say that no two snowflakes are the same, but how are they supposed to know if the same snowflake that fell outside my bedroom window today fell 1,000 years ago in Portugal?

I've lived in three houses before the one I'm currently sitting in. What if tomorrow a new family moves into my first house – the one I lived in until I was 6? What if that family has a daughter just like me? What if the family then goes on to live in my second house? Then my third one? By the time I go off to college and get an apartment of my own, what if that little girl lives here? What if she ends up sitting where I sit to do my homework after school? I would never know. I could be following someone right now and I wouldn't know it; there could be someone ten years older than me who has lived my exact life. I wouldn't have a clue.

Image Credit

A/N: I'm not really sure why I wrote this. I was standing around a pool table with one of my friends a few months ago, listening to loud music through the ceiling-speakers. It was past midnight, and for some reason we were talking about this. I thought it was interesting.

Read more of my theories here.

How Long Have You Actually Been Alive?

Please Note: Whether or not you believe in God, I'm going to pretend that there is a figure in charge of us up there (I'm not sure where "up there" is, but just go with it). In this post I will be referring to this figure as "The Person In Charge."

Technically, I am fifteen years old. Technically, I have been on Earth since August of 2000 and technically, my existence has gone on for a long while. I've experienced many things in my years and I remember a fair portion of those objectives. But the things I remember…what if they're just memories?

There's a theory that you've only existed for a few seconds. Possibly less.

Assume that The Person In Charge just put you here three minutes ago. You've been on the planet for precisely three minutes and haven't existed any longer than that. When The Person In Charge brought you here, you were given memories. 

You were given vague commemorations of your childhood, the years you spent growing up, and that one time you tripped walking up the stairs at school. Some things are emphasized more than others. There are parts of your life that you don't recall at all. The Person In Charge made it this way.

You were given memories of a life you actually haven't lived. You were given memories so explicit and beautiful that they feel real. Everything feels practical enough that you begin to live your life as if it started a long time ago; you begin to live your life as if you weren't just created.

This would mean that you haven't actually experienced anything before this moment. All the things you think you've done are simply memories you were given. Congratulations, you just took your first breath.

The View From Our Hotel In Seattle

My dad told me about this theory in Seattle, Washington. We were visiting colleges for my brother and staying at some random hotel near the University of WA. My dad wanted to see the movie The Martian (which was a really good movie, by the way) and the only showtimes were later at night. My family and I were sitting down in the restaurant aspect of our hotel, sipping ice water from those black straws that hotels have, while we waited.

I don't exactly remember how, but we started talking about all these crazy theories. This was one of them. After my dad explained it, I felt extremely uncomfortable throughout the remainder of the night.

We discussed other possibilities about the existence of humanity, which I will be posting about later during the evolution of my blog. If you're looking to read about any more of my theories, click here.

This is one that made my head spin. Sure, you may think you've been reading this blogpost for a few minutes, but maybe you haven't. It's possible that you were put on Earth a millisecond ago. So, that being said, welcome to the planet.

Aliens Exist

The universe is infinite. I'm not entirely sure how, but the science nerds over at NASA have proved this. When you look up into the sky, you're gazing into everlasting space. There is no "end" that has been discovered. The universe is infinite.

What most people envision
when they hear the word "alien"
Photo Courtesy

Knowing this, I don't understand how people don't believe in aliens.

For some reason, when the word "alien" is mentioned, people immediately think of little green guys with heads that are too big and two fingers. Often they look something like the image to the right.

When you think of it like this, it seems fairly improbable. I don't know where this idea came from but it's strange. Most people take aliens as a joke.

The reality is this: aliens exist.

Maybe you think I'm insane – a fifteen year old girl trying to tell you that there is life outside of Earth doesn't seem very convincing. But, as I said before, the universe is infinite. And if there are thousands of life-forms on Earth (our tiny planet within a solar system within a galaxy), there must be more out there.

Our solar system lives on the edge of the Milky Way, a long disk-shaped collection of millions of stars, planets, and other space things. Everything that you learn about in elementary school – from Mercury to Pluto – exists within our solar system.

This is an image of our sun in relativity to the Milky Way
Picture Courtesy

I've already posted about how huge the universe is (click here if you want to read it), so I'm not going to talk about that. Still, keeping in mind how massive everything is, do you seriously believe that our pathetic little planet is the only thing to contain life?

No, there has to be something more. The universe is too vast for us to be alone.

This proposes other questions: What kind of life is there? Why don't we know about them? Will we ever be able to contact other living things? Is there another Earth?

Maybe there's another planet identical to ours. Maybe it's just located on the complete opposite side of the galaxy. Maybe the galaxy is just a reflection of it's self; maybe the galaxy is symmetrical. Maybe there's another planet like ours, but backwards, called Htrae (that's "Earth" backwards). Maybe there's another version of you, but backwards. Maybe there's an abundance of other life in places that we didn't know about.

When you think about it this way, it feels pretty obvious. There is life somewhere that's not here.

Aliens exist.

Everyone Is You

My dad majored in rocket science.

He studied hard on a full scholarship and ended up quitting half way through because he "didn't want to be an astronaut anymore." Despite the fact that he now works for a power-line company, he still graduated with such a degree, so I have the privilege of telling people my dad is a rocket scientist.

He tells my brother and I about a lot of these…theories. I'm not sure where he gets them, but they always make my head hurt. Most of them involve the universe, or time, or paradoxes. I'm going to write about one.

Everyone around you is also you.

Imagine this: every time you die, you're reincarnated. I'm sure you've heard this theory before ("you die and then you're reborn again!") but this is somewhat different. Assume that you're born in the year 2001. You live a long, happy life and then you die in the year 2080.

You're reincarnated. You're born again, as someone else, in the year 2000 (yeah, you went "back in time"). You live a long, happy life – through the year 2001 – up until the year 2080.

Wait! That would mean that there are two versions of "you" on the planet AT THE SAME TIME! What if they meet each other? What if they see each other? Would they know?

Pretend you live out this life (the one from 2000) and then you die again. You're reborn in 2002 and live until 2080.

Maybe you see where I'm going with this. If this cycle has repeated over and over and over…there could be a lot of versions of you on one planet. Maybe 12% of the world is made up of reincarnated you's.

Maybe you've walked down the sidewalk and made eye contact with someone you "didn't know," maybe you thought: cool, hey. Kept walking. But maybe that person used to be you. Maybe that person is who you'll become after you die.

Think about this: If it happened millions and millions of times…wouldn't that mean that everyone around you could be another version of yourself? Think about it. Perhaps you are everyone. Perhaps every time you die, you go back in time and start over as a new person. Perhaps you've lived millions of lives as other people that you don't remember. Maybe you are Albert Einstein and Beyoncé and Donald Trump. Maybe you are everybody.

It's sort of a difficult concept to think about, but try it. Then look around you and study someone else's face. Think: have I been here before?

The idea makes you feel peculiarly lonely. Technically, by these standards, you're alone. You are the single being that exists on Earth, and all people are made up of your being.

Everyone is you.

Emma told me to add this picture.
Courtesy of High School Musical

The Universe is Too Big

Did you know that we don't matter?

Maybe you're the kind of optimist that thinks everyone is significant to the world's cycle of events. Maybe I've offended you deeply by telling you that you're unimportant. And I don't mean to make your existence feel pointless, but it kind of is.

Here's the thing: the universe is too big. We all live in a city that lives in a state that lives in a country that lives in a continent that lives on a planet. We live on a singular planet among a collection of other planets. This collection of planets live in a galaxy, a galaxy that lives with an abundance of other galaxies. These galaxies form a universe, a universe that is much, much too big.

This is either a good thing or a bad thing. It goes one of two ways:

1. The massiveness of everything inspires you. You look into the night sky and want to become the stars. You learn about the universe and want to discover it; you want to explore it. You want to be the kind of person who makes an impact on everything else. You want to matter.

2. The vast, immense pile of giant stars is terrifying. You glance upward toward the clouds and feel really really small. All you see is a huge, empty space between where you are and where you wish you could be. You want to float into the sky and touch the galaxies, but you're accompanied with the heavy reality that you can't.

There's this picture taken by the Voyager 1 in 1990. It's of the Earth – our Earth – from 6 billion kilometers away. The picture is called the Pale Blue Dot. And it shows, visually, just how minuscule our entire world actually is. We live on a speck.

Image Courtesy of: Pale Blue Dot

Though the whole "we don't matter" concept isn't exactly inspirational, it's nice (and necessary) to regain a sense of perspective.

Have you ever seen Horton Hears a Who? (It's my favorite childhood movie, by the way). If you haven't experienced it, I'll enlighten you:

This is an absurd animation written by Dr. Seuss and some other guy name Jeff. It's about Horton, an elephant, who lives in the jungle with all his jungle friends. One day he comes across this little crumb on a flower and manages to discover that there is, in fact, a little city of people living on this speck.

At the end of the movie, the camera "zooms out" to reveal that Horton and all his jungle pals are ALSO living on a speck. Despite the fact that I was only 8 years old when I first saw this film, it caused me to consider the idea: what if we, too, live on a speck? And the reality is that, when you think about it, we do. We live on a speck. Sure, the world is gigantic in comparison to an ant or a caterpillar. But in comparison to the universe, our world is nothing but a speck. A pale blue dot suspended between the stars.

Whether this matters to you or whether it doesn't, it's certainly something to think about. I used to believe that we, as humans, were too small. I thought that we were too insignificant, stuck here on this tiny planet. In actuality, the universe is just too big. No human is ever going to explore the entire macrocosm, and that's a fairly unsettling realization. The universe is too big. You cannot reach up and touch a star. If everything were a bit smaller and a bit less infinite, then maybe – just maybe – you'd matter a little more.