Jake-Morrison.com

I’m staring at a blank sheet, the limitless canvas of white stretching out for parsecs before me. A pristine plane of vanilla tones, the wan landscape of nothingness downright assaults me. I see myself on that pale plain, just one small dot on an otherwise pristine existence. That small insignificant little speck is in danger of being completely drowned out by the totality of the world around it. There is no way to tell, but something that could reasonably stand in for time passes. Seconds, eons, minutes, millennia, all are one and many. The infinite nothing presses on that mite, crushing the world into an ever-shrinking realm. No mere words can describe the air of social destitution that this cultivates. For an instant, for an eternity, that particle stands alone against the elements. That interminable interval passes, and with a flash of inspiration, that fleck shows signs of movement. Soon that single dot evolves. Now, a black line stands proudly in the wild, a defiant expression of existence.

Somehow, that line does not seem to mar the universe. It adds to it. That blank line morphs and changes, lengthens, changing direction and path. It separates the blankness into definite regions. Suddenly, where once there was a hazy expanse of nothing, there is a vivid cache of detail. The line zigs and zags, it gently curves, and blazes a trail across the earth. Amazingly, the line manages not only to cut and divide the surface, but to accentuate it as well. Another impossible to define length of time passes. Only this time, instead of an insufferable length of solitude and loneliness, there is change and growth.

For a moment, I stop staring at the sheet. Where once nothing stood, there now proudly stands an image. This image is recognizable. This image does not just show a representation of a vision of an object, it has emotional quantities as well. This image is a declaration of the future, a monument to hope and ideas. This image is, in and of itself, me. In a brilliant moment in defiance of the laws of physicality, I am both the image, and the entity viewing it. As the glow of that instant passes, the definition between the two versions of me no longer exists. What exists of me in the image is inexplicably and entirely me. But rather than two separate versions of me, the image-me is a shard; a soulful piece of me that gives it a life and awareness.

No matter where my image-me or I go, we will be whole. I set down my pen, and lovingly gaze at the image. I take time to admire its inherent qualities and flaws, to appreciate it for what it is. The image is not perfect. Nor should it be. Just as I am imperfect, anything I create will be as well. Those imperfections make it what it is. They make it special, unique, and wonderful. By appreciating the image, and the image-me, I am appreciating myself. I grin wolfishly, and then decide to share this image with the world. Everyone should share in this revelation; everyone should find a piece of themselves in what they create.

I take the crisp piece of paper, markings and all, and set it on a display board. The backdrop of the board is a dark brown, so deep a hue it appears almost black, and it sets off the ivory tones of the paper. Suddenly, it becomes quite clear that what was originally seen as a colorless white void is full of its own subtle tones and nuances. The perspective of the backdrop creates nothing from nothingness. The slight changes and variations of the sheet weave and meld with the image, making it come to life just a little bit more. I take the image to the living room, and place it prominently above the couch.

Everyone is invited, from all around the town. They are invited to come to the living room, to sit, to admire, to comment and to critique. They are told the story of the dot, of the line, of the image and of the image-me. They are told of the duality, the dichotomy, and feeling of completeness they enforce. Like a creeping plague, understanding nods spread slowly throughout the room. When it comes, the so-called “Ah ha!” moment is an intense and personal moment. The only timing and master it knows is that of the person who has it. But once that moment occurs, it changes that person forever.

In just a short while, the image-me has cast an undeniable spell over the group. An air of understanding, of community, fills the room. Something so small, and yet so intricate, has made a poignant point. The change that the image-me has wrought is not drastic; it is a small and easy thing. But it is a change that is needed; it is a change that is welcomed.

One by one, the group files out of the room. Several make attempts to purchase the image-me, but I find myself unable to part with it. I find that every part of me is special to me, even the parts I imbue freely in my work. As the occupants of the room dwindle down, I find myself filled with a feeling that I have not felt in a very long time. It is a feeling of happiness, of contentedness. The feeling is a full, warm, and joyous one. It is one I shall treasure for ages.

I mosey out of the living room, which is now empty with the exception of the image-me and myself. As I traipse my way slowly to my room, floating with a feeling of rapturous bliss, I lay myself down on my bed. With a jolt, I sit up suddenly. I walk out the living room, only to find no image-me above the couch. No messages from an adoring crowd, no sense of real satisfaction in my gut. I wander, confused, to sit in the chair where I thought, a short time ago, a kind of magic had happened. After a brief moment of hesitation, I pick up my pen, and ready my papers in front of me.

I’m staring at a blank sheet.

So begins another week. This week has a special event that is occurring; I cannot, and will not, talk of details of it just yet. I do not want to jinx anything that could happen. I only ask that you give freely your warm wishes and hopes for me. If this event happens in the manner I desire, my world will be changed utterly. This is a change that I want, nay, that I need to have happen. So amidst your comments and critiques, I humbly request your warm wishes, honest, humble, or otherwise. If you have not already, do please friend me on Facebook, dear reader, and remember to follow me on Twitter @Chiron7936.

I had planned to continue the “A Man Down” story this week. But when I sat down tonight to write it, I felt no want to, nor any luster or desire to write it. So tonight, there is no tale. No story, no pleasant fiction. Tonight I write whatever comes to my mind. And what does come to mind is the tragic and terrible tale of this week. I say tragic and terrible, not because they are appropriate descriptors, but rather because they are fun to say.

This week I earned an achievement. This achievement unlocked the title of “Wasp Hunter”. It was a balmy Friday afternoon. I was relaxing in my room, enjoying a bit of World of Warcraft and awaiting the arrival of a friend, when my phone rang unexpectedly. Wait. Unexpectedly? Isn’t that always how a phone rings? It seems illogical that a phone would ring expectedly. That would require a feat of precognition that I don’t think many, if any, people have. But back to the point. It seems my friend Drew was being accosted by a wasp. After ascertaining the specifics of the situation, I bravely exited out of WoW, put on my pants, and drove to Drew’s house. On my way there, I informed Stephanie of the needed delay, and thought through my various options.

Option one was the most straightforward. I could get a shoe, or other sturdy blunt device, and turn the wasp into wasp paste. The simplicity of that option was alluring; in its’ own barbaric way, it was kind of graceful. However, that option had downsides. Namely, coating the killing object and whatever substrate was under the wasp with wasp paste. There was also the chance of failure; that in my graceless ways, I would miss the wasp, and piss it off, and it would fly in a frenzy, killing twenty three children in the area, stinging me in the eye, and destroying a large portion of Central Tokyo. You know, that kind of stuff. Plus there was the added factoid that I truly didn’t feel like killing it. I’m not a wuss, as any redneck would call me at this point, I’m just a bit of a pacifist. I know, I know. I play a lot of shooters. I sword fight. I curse up a storm, and insult my friends with what I imagine is amusing grace. But even so, I don’t like to kill things. And in RPG type situations, I end up playing the support class.

I am Jake. I make things better. Even for non-sentient species.

Option two was a bit more complex. That would be the catch and release program. That kind of stuff works for National Geographic or the Fish & Wildlife service, but I wasn’t sure how well it would work for me. While I did my time at the Emerald Coast Wildlife Refuge, I had captured many a wild creature, from the noble and wily pelican to the frankly stupid and hated pigeon. But I had never captured a member of the Order hymenoptera before. Usually such small and delicate creatures are beneath my purview. As I sat and thought about the situation, (such lackadaisical thinking was possible as I drove to Drew’s thanks to the fantastically horrible traffic that Colonial gifted to me), I realized that this was the option I should pursue.

Option three was on the table as an option, but wasn’t one I could choose. I could always have turned around, and gone back home. But that would have been mean, and petty, and frankly wouldn’t have made anything better.

Option four is always present. It’s the doomsday option. That’s the option that basically specifies that some sort of calamity prevents the completion of whatever quest I am on. That calamity could be anything from another person in a more dire situation, to a comprehensive catastrophic structural and mechanical collapse of my car, (read as: car crash), to the zombipocalypse. Option four is, by necessity, an option that is not lightly chosen.

But option number two was the one I chose. After arriving at Drew’s domicile, I scouted out my insectile adversary. I wasn’t immediately sure of the species. It appeared to be a breed of paper wasp, but the abdomen and antennae weren’t quite right. But I digress, the species wasn’t important. I acquired what I had determined to be the ideal wasp-catching accoutrements, namely a sheet of A4 paper and a Tupperware bowl. I then went to capture the nefarious fiend. As I stalked my elusive prey, she cleverly flew behind the blinds. I was stymied. I could not see a way to draw the blinds without enraging the wasp. And as any WoW player knows, enraging a mob causes it to do six times its normal damage. It was a chance I simply couldn’t risk. I stood there for a while, muscles corded and ready to spring if an opportunity arose, and I watched my target. Eventually, she flew free, and straight onto the screen of a nearby open window.

My chance had arrived. Now was the moment to strike!

But before my move could be made, the wasp walked up between the screen and the upper portion of the window. I was saran-wrapped again. Why saran-wrapped? Why quite frankly, I was tired of being foiled. I then positioned myself close to the window, the Tupperware ready to snap over the wasp once it was in the open. As I stood there, in a rather awkward position hanging over the back of a couch, I had a stroke of brilliance.

I’d just pop out the screen.

I slid the top part of the window slowly to mostly close it, then pressed the screen outside. A little elbow grease, a slight twist, and the screen fell on to the roof below. And the wasp flew free. This was a triumph. Dear reader, make a note here, HUGE SUCCESS. Naturally, Drew was completely amazed and grateful. I then left, in order to return home to hang out with Stephanie.

I then spent a fun and engaging evening with Stephanie, watching a bit of Big Bang Theory and seeing Crank 2. That movie is ridiculously, horribly, awesome. I laughed my way through it. It made me quite the happy panda.

And thus ends the ballad of Friday. It was indeed an amusing day. So now, as I always do, I leave this part of the blog open to any comments or complaints. And I do mean any. They don’t even technically need to be about this blog. You could comment about anything, from the hue of the sky, to the tint of the text. Whatever you please, so long as you comment, because those comments and critiques are the very soul of this site. And the end of every week, I count out them one by one, and if not enough are made, I cut off a toe. Remember to friend me on Facebook, and follow me on Twitter @Chiron7936.

So it turns out that a lot of businesses are closed on Easter. I know, I know. It is one of those common sense things that everyone knows. Sadly though, common sense has always been one of my weak points. So Easter Sunday night found me driving around in quasi-erratic circles around Orlando, searching for a delicious meal. I ended up at the Pita Pit, which for the tragically uninformed is an extremely delicious place where they wrap tasty noms inside of a pita. The Joker was the pita of choice; chicken souvlaki and gyro beef inside, with grilled peppers, onions, mushrooms, and feta cheese, tzatziki sauce, spinach, and olives to fill it out. That warm pocket of loveliness joined me with a bottle of mango orange juice, and a free cupcake courtesy of Sweet!. Yeah, I got a free cupcake. They were handing them out, as a kind of Easter prize. Way better than your standard hard-boiled egg that has been hidden all day in the hot sun. Way safer too, I’d bet.

“Jake!,” I can hear you asking, “All of this sounds incredibly tasty! But why did you go to such lengths to have a delicious and tasty meal? What made Sunday so special?” Well, to be frank (and not Frank. For I believe in honesty, not impersonation), dear reader, there was nothing especially special about Sunday for me. It was the cap to a long week, a long week in which news arrived.

Oh yes, news. News of the good kind. The kind of news that finds you in whatever dank dark pit you’ve made a home in, and shines a million candela light upon you. The kind of news that lifts you up, and gives your life renewed meaning and purpose. The kind of n… What? What’s that? Ah yes, dear reader. I shall get to the fraking point right away.

I have a job. And not some cheesy waiting-on-tables or retail job either. I have a job in my field. A job that my degree has helped me to get, and will ensure that I keep getting similar jobs. I know! It’s super exciting! I’ll have something good to put on my resume. I’ll have something exciting to have stories about.

What will I be doing?

Well, I will be working for a company called SAIC. The job consists of working on [DETAIL REDACTED]. I will be working hand in hand with [PERSONAL AND GROUP INFORMATION REDACTED]. My product will be essential to the support and safety of said [REDACTED]. Essentially, I will creating a system to [SPECIFIC WORKING DETAIL REDACTED].

Doesn’t it all sound so exciting!?

And no, that redacted stuff isn’t just for drama and flair. Okay, it’s there to add that, yes, but I really am not at liberty to discuss the specifics of this job. Only that it is interesting, safe, and necessary. The redacted bits would only worry you.

I could tell you more, but then I’d have to kill you.

Ha, not really. But that is my goal. To one day have a job that is Top Secret, something that I truly can’t talk about for decades after it happens. Like, I’d be sitting on my porch, enjoying a nice cool lemonade, watching kids go about playing a rousing game of four-square while taking the occasional “Car!” breaks, and think to myself, “Isn’t it nice, that this kids can play, and not have to worry about that outbreak of Rage virus that threatened to kill civilization? They’ll never know how close they came to complete and total annihilation.” I’d then continue to sip my lemonade, smug and secure in the fact that I helped. That, or I’d really just like to sit on a porch and sip at some lemonade. But that would require me to be financially secure.

WHICH I AM NOW! AHAHAHAHHA! Or more to the point, which I soon will be. I’m not secure just yet; but you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be scoping out some prices on entertaining and interesting glassware with which to enjoy my drink. And the glassware shall be nifty, with little bubbles and handmade imperfections and whatnot. Or perhaps it will just be some strange and inventive shape. I’m not sure yet. But there shall be a study done.

My orientation starts at the unbelievable hour of 9:00 in the morning. Now that I have a job, I suppose I shall have to relearn how to get up reliably at this unfashionably early hour. I will just have to dial my mind back to a time when I went to Full Sail, where my schedule would shift willy-nilly to and fro, from getting up at the crack of noon to sleepily plodding from my bed at four. Four in the morning, that is. Once you’ve swung that schedule once or twice, no time related awakening truly seems that bad anymore.

In light of this joyous news, I’ve had to temporarily postpone my trip planning. I still expect to be out to see Nikki and Stephen, and Krista at the end of May, I just dare not commit completely until I am absolutely sure I’ll have an appropriate mobile computing device to take with me. How cool is it that I’d have a job to take with me, and keep getting paid, while I was on a self-imposed vacation/sabbatical. I am also working on an updated business card, which includes shiny bits. Hopefully I’ll be able to use the shiny bits of the cards long enough to distract the HR people to get an interview.

Failing that, there is always my grappling hook.

On that happy, and hopeful note, dear reader, I declare the end of this week’s blog. It would please me greatly if you would leave your excited, happy, and jubilant wishes as comments. I suppose you could leave criticisms as well, but really, do you really want to be a sad sap and ruin this spirit of joy and happiness? Remember to friend me on Facebook, and follow me on Twitter @Chiron7936.

Sometimes, when it feels there is nothing else you can do, when you feel like you are trapped under a depressingly crushing weight of doom, you suddenly find some space. I found myself in just such a position this week. I could feel myself slipping into the yawning abyss of despair, sliding uncontrollably towards a future that I could not predict. As I found myself drawn inexorably down the slope, scrabbling madly for a purchase, any kind of stability, I could only find scree and gravel under my hands. It is at this point, where nothing you do seems to make a difference, at which despair is at its greatest.

However, I have also found that at that point, if you take a deep breath and a step back, you can see a way out.

I found my position to be precarious; I could see with fear that the slope was nearing its end, the sinister void racing towards me, and then I saw my way out. My hand suddenly found a grip on the barest outcropping of rock. One small purchase was enough to reverse the descent. From there, I have been able to make my way back up the slope, slowly but surely.

But that is enough of this desperate-fall allegory. What happened to me really wasn’t quite as dramatic as that. Although I definitely feel the lesson I learned sounds much cooler with that kind of build up. I did hit a low point though. And I did feel rather… lost. It was a lonely period. No one was at the house, or online. I felt this strange urge… I had to do something, anything. I felt that if I stayed home, that I would somehow cease to exist. So I grabbed my drawing bag and my Boba Fett hoodie, and I made good my escape. I scrawled a quasi-desperate message on Facebook, hoping that someone out there would be awake, would care enough, would defy the odds, and read it, and want to hang out. The hopes for that weren’t high, as it was one in the morning. With that slim hope of camaraderie my only protection against the elements, I found myself driving, and not paying attention to what I was doing.

For most people, that is a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for this blog, and my continued existence, I am not most people. My subconscious made my decisions for me. My conscious mind was busy singing along to Hoobastank and Jimmy Eat World, processing the memories that those songs invoked, and remembering the lyrics from ages ago. And so, after several hours of driving what, from a satellite view, must have seemed a rather chaotic path, I found myself in an unexpected location. I was at Kennedy Space Center.

I am still not quite sure how I got there. Seems my under-mind had something in plan for me. I stopped my car, and got out. The wind immediately assailed me. It must have been blowing a solid and steady 25 miles an hour, and gusting for quite a bit more. Fast enough that the noise it made as it whipped past my ears overrode anything else I could possibly hear. I found myself in the most gorgeous location. The air, sped by the wind as it was, had that peculiar salty tang of the sea. The clearing I was in was lit seductively by a gibbous moon; and that wan light filled in the world just enough so that I could see clearly around me. But what was around me was rather unremarkable. Sure, the vegetation was beautiful in its own right; but it was that common beauty that all things natural have.

The view that captured my heart was two-fold. First was the completely awesome sight above me; the deep and majestic beauty of space. Arrayed above me was the limitless forever of the Universe, given depth and dimension by a few high floating wispy clouds. That forever was so simple, so deep and amazing. Also, I use the word awesome in the true meaning of the word. Something that fills you with awe. I was instantly reminded just how much I love space. There is a reason that I love Star Wars to the point that some people find it concerning. I’d truly give anything to live in that realm… it would be completely amazing. That a similar future could exist for humanity fills me with hope. That is also why I so eagerly await the release of BioWare’s new MMO, The Old Republic. The Star Wars MMO that Galaxies was supposed to be.

But the thing that made the space above seem so amazing was the view of the Vehicle Assembly Building in front of me. Right where the infinite impossibility of space meets the solid certainty of Earth. That wonderful world above is tied to the earth by such a delicate linkage; a gossamer thread that connects humanity to the whole of existence. The horizon was mostly a panorama of blackness, to the north was the noisy light pollution of Titusville, but other than that, only the VAB stood spot lit in front of me. One of the largest buildings in the world, a defiant block proclaiming our intent to explore; and that night, it was a beacon of hope for me.

I stood there, angled so Titusville and other signs of habitation where invisible. I stood there for an hour or so, drinking in the sight of the VAB, of space, and thought of my plight. As I released my worries and mind, I realized I could pick out the gantries of the Shuttle Launch Pads. For the first time in a very long time, I felt a sort of peace. And in that peace, I came to a realization.

No one is going to help me.

That is to say; the only person who can really set my world to rights, who can really enact major changes in my life, is myself. I want changes, I want a new beginning… and so I must act to ensure that beginning occurs. That is what I am doing now. I have worked out a visiting schedule with some very dear friends of mine; at the end of May, I shall be visiting them at their lairs. I will go to Austin and Seattle, and see what I like of the cities. See if they agree with me. And while I am there, I will hand out resumes and business cards to every place that catches my eye.

To whit; Commitment Number Three has been realized. I have struck upon a design for my business cards that pleases me. I am just waiting for inspiration to strike me for a particular bit of catchphrase cleverness, and then I am done with it. I am imminently pleased to announce that of the nine original commitments, four have been realized. Only a few months after setting those goals up, they have fallen like lopsided dominos.

This, dear reader, is the end of this week’s blog. As always, your comments and critiques are the only things that bind my body and soul to this mortal coil. So add your thoughts, lets I shuffle off. Remember to friend me on Facebook, and follow me on Twitter @Chiron7936.