I wonder if the 2.0 change has brought this journal back to life like it did for Matt's.

We'll see!

Edit: Sweet! I'll still be using "Spencer", though.

Alright fine you might just have to deal with the insanely high numbers.

I'm not much of a gamer. For a while, I liked playing computer games like Roller Coaster Tycoon, Age of Mythology, The Incredible Machine, Rayman, and the like, but my rediscovery of the internet and IM kinda changed that. (I know, lame. Don't have to point it out.) The only game I consistently play on the computer these days is Kingdom of Loathing, and while it's insanely awesome, it just isn't what I'd consider a true video game.

So for me to be this excited about an upcoming game must mean that the game looks that cool.

The game is called Spore. It's made by Will Wright, the guy behind Sim City, The Sims, and all those Maxis sim games. I'll admit, I'm not very into sim games-- I much prefer strategy or action games to The Sims. They rarely hold my interest long enough. "Okay, so you peed on the floor. Again. And you're too tired to clean it up. Why don't you go sleep? Oh, right, you're too tired to go to your bed. Bugger, I quit."

Spore is radically different. Sure, you're still controlling a character, at least in the beginning of the game. But even by that point, it's differentiated it from the sim human who just set the house on fire.

Because you're not controlling a human. You're not controlling any recognizable animal, actually. You're running the life of an animal that you create, that you evolve over generations to be what you want. It can have eight beaks, or three legs, or pincers or fins or whatever.

The features of your creature aren't just aesthetic, either. The game will analyze the changes you make, and will implement them in the gameplay. In other words, the game will analyze the three legs of your creature and actually make it walk in a way that would make sense for a three-legged creature.

Let me say that again: The gameplay will actually reflect the changes you make to your creature.

Well, at least I find that pretty amazing.

But the creatures grow. And evolve (or are continuously intelligently designed, whatever). You lead them through life, dodging predators, eating, and mating. Sooner or later, they become fully evolved, and you no longer deal with the individual but with the community. You control a tribe, and then a city. You finally reach a point where your creatures have civilization, and can make peace or war with other civilizations.

And with that, the game doesn't end.

You can purchase a space vehicle, and then fly all over the globe, attacking, or abducting, or essentially doing anything you want.

Then you fly out into the rest of your solar system, and find other planets, and can populate them, sculpting the terrain and even putting life on dead moons.

Then you leave the solar system and go into the galaxy, looking at the planets that other players have created (all downloaded via an Internet connection, but downloaded in a way that the file package is minimal and the game builds the thing back up ingame based on the instructions in the package). You can then play whatever you want with these many planets, changing their cultures, watching them develop, pushing things along, whatever. You go from a tiny, microscopic creature in a drop of water to an immense galactic superpower cruising the universe and doing whatever you want.

And you control all of it.

That's what I'd call a fun game.

So if I'm geeking out for a while, I have good reason to. I've caught the Spore spore.

"Shut the fuck up! We're tired of your evolution shit!"

That was a comment I heard yesterday directed toward one of my closest friends, from another friend of mine.

And it brings to light how terrible the dissonance between science and religion has become.

I respect everyone's right to hold their own beliefs. You can believe in Yahweh, the Egyptian gods, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster for all I care, and I don't think any worse of you for it-- well, apart from the fact that I think you've been suckered into believing a fairy tale. As an atheist, I am, of course, biased, but I think that while a belief in a supernatural being or beings may be reassuring, may be pleasant, may be quite obviously truth to you, you should not close your mind to natural explanations, especially when much of the observable evidence points to them. To deny what there is obvious proof for, either by ignoring it or claiming the proof is not obvious, or by whatever other means you may use, is like a little child clinging to her safety blanket whining, "But my mom gave me this blanket, so Mommy must have made it!"

Or some other ridiculous claim.

Religion and science can co-exist peacefully-- right now, that is. Because of their natures, one will eventually eradicate the other, but not today. The key to this is knowing what is what. Religion is supernatural, and explains that above our level of existence-- above nature. Science seeks natural explanations. Because we live in a natural world, science should always be given much more benefit of the doubt than religion, simply because it is the more applicable of the two. Likewise, religion should always be given much more faith in describing the supernatural. Science would never have any place attempting to define what God is.

Is this unfair? Yes, most likely. But we will never understand all there is to understand about our natural world if we look at it from the supernatural angle. Religion should keep its nose out of what can be conclusively proven as true-- and should also take off its lenses of bias so that it can fairly evaluate the evidence there is.

There are overwhelming amounts of evidence supporting the theory of evolution. There is evidence found even today supporting it. More elephants are being born with no tusks because those that show the tusked gene are shot by poachers. Those without the gene are not killed by poachers, so they live to pass it on. This is clearly natural (actually artificial, but the premise I'm getting at remains the same) selection. A mutant chicken was born with bumps in its beak that clearly resembled alligator teeth, supporting the theory that all animals shared a common ancestor. We have tailbones because we descended from apes with tails. Some of us can wiggle our ears because somewhere in our evolutionary past, we were a species that turned its ears toward sound, like the coyote. Whales and snakes both have pelvic bones, which do very little or nothing for the animal, and fully blind animals have eyes. Why? Because we share a common ancestor. There is extraordinary proof for evolution, if you open your eyes and look at it.

On the contrary, there is little evidence for creation. There is, in fact, no hard evidence of creation, simply alleged evidence that supposedly disproves evolution. Much of the "proof" of creationism comes from the Bible or another holy book, which is circular logic. To prove we were created by a higher power, one must regard a book supposedly written under the influence of this higher power, and therefore assume the power's existence in the first place. Creation has next to nothing holding it up.

Religion and science can be friends. But each of them has to know when to concede to the other that they're right.

I don't know. I'm kinda scatterbrained, and really just felt like going off on a rant. Sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean to.

I have never been very anti-drug. I don't personally like drugs, would never use them, and really don't want friends using them either. But that's not really anti- drug, just not pro-drug. Or however you want to construe that.

I watched Frontline tonight, an episode entitled "The Meth Epidemic". I was horrified. I read around, and within two hours, became far more rooted in my stance.

I advise anyone interested to see where I'm coming from to read this article.

Meth use causes dopamine levels in the brain to jump from a base of 100 units to 1,250. To put that in comparison, consider this: sex puts it at 200, and cocaine makes it spike to 350. This causes, literally, an instant addiction (or almost instant, I'm sure it may not happen with just one use) to a drug that, in essence, rots the body away. The body's resources are all expended on maintaining the high– forfeiting normal tissue repair. Sores don't heal. Can you imagine a little sore, like a bug bite, never healing? Teeth rot and fall out. Your gums break down, as do your major organs, just disintegrating inside your body.

And that's just the physical aspect.

Apparently, your mind goes too. Paranoia is common among meth users, to the point where users have been known to run around outside with knives, believing someone's after them. One user drank a fifth of 151-proof rum, injected meth five times and snorted it ten times, all in one evening. His body temperature soared to 110. He fell into a coma, and now has trouble shaving, he shakes so badly. He forgets words midsentence.

Perhaps even worse is the effect meth has on children. The children of meth-addicted moms can have meth in their blood, born with an addiction before ever using the drug themselves. As the article notes, babies born addicted scream from withdrawal 24 hours a day. They are punished for what their parents did. Children that grow up in meth households may be living in dangerously dirty conditions, with toxic chemicals and fumes commonplace. Most of us have heard of the terrible abuses placed on children in meth-addicted homes, from being locked in rooms for hours, sometimes days, without food, to having to find their own food in the hazardous laboratory that was their kitchen, to sleeping right next to needles, or the chemicals used to make the meth.

What unnatural high is extraordinary enough to warrant these hells inflicted upon one's self, upon those one knows?

Nothing this artificial should take this much precedence over real life.

And nothing, no matter how pleasurable it is, no matter how far away it lets them go, gives anyone the right to make anyone else's life a living hell.

So for anyone on Elowel who, by any chance, who happens to do hard drugs, know this: I'm not trying to dictate your life, that's not my spot, and I won't act like it is. But even if you're doing cocaine, or heroin, or things that are nowhere near as potent as meth– realize what you're doing. Know the consequences of your actions, pause your life of the now for a second in order to look ahead to the later.

Because it seems to me that a couple hours of heaven are not worth lifetimes of hell.

BitterSweets may just be the best things ever.

I love Despair, Inc.

Tomorrow marks an important point in Western history. The 14th of February is a celebration of something very crucial to the majority of us on Elowel, something that I sincerely doubt we'd be here without.

Yup, ladies and gentleishmen of Elowel, I am indeed referring to the fact that tomorrow is...

...OREGON'S BIRTHDAY.

Valentine's Day, too, I guess.

This will come as no surprise to anyone who even remotely knows me, but I really really dislike Valentine's Day.

It's not that I'm bitter, cantankerous, and crotchety, saying, "LOVE IS ALL AN ILLUSION, RAWR." I don't think that at all. I dislike the holiday for a completely less grumpy reason.

It's just as follows:

I think love should be expressed equally every day. If you love someone, why the hell should you single out a day to tell them, especially, "I love you"? Yeah yeah, a day devoted to love is nice, and schmaltzy, and everything, but why?

I know, I know, it's the "W" word. "Spencer, stop asking questions, sit down, and be a good little boy!"

I just don't get it. "I love you even more today"? "Yes, I love you every day, but I'll tell you today"? If you need a day to celebrate being in love, you've got 365 to choose from. 366 in leap years. What makes Valentine's Day special, other than two words on a calendar? If you ask me, nothing should. You should celebrate being in love any day, hell, every day. Because it's amazing. Don't wait until the 14th of February to do it. Spontaneity rocks, and the only things that make a Valentine's Day celebration different from the same celebration any other day are the commercial hype and the little phrase in the "February 14th" box.

So if I seem irritable tomorrow, if I have a generally unhappy look on my face, it's not because I can't get a date (I made the decision about six months ago to stop trying, at least for a while), but because it's all so ridiculous to me.

That, and the game of tonsil hockey is not supposed to be a spectator sport.

If you want to celebrate something that actually does happen once a year, and doesn't involve superfluity, hormones, or the blind, false assumptions that nothing's going to change*, celebrate Oregon's birthday tomorrow.

After all, you can tell that other person you love them whenever you want. A state only turns 147 once.


*among high schoolers, that is. Void where restricted. See store for details.

I laughed so much today.

The first Oz show of the day today was awesome. I loved the little kids. They had so much energy, and I had so much fun playing with them. Everything was spot-on.

I played with Sara's tape recorder microphone thing. Had too much fun with it, but that's okay.

End of school. Hammerhands and another friend come home with me. We sit, talk, laugh, have good times.

Then, before the second performance, Hammerhands ran for President of Iraqistan (because he has the power of light), I went to my office a number of times, I talked with JB about his grandmother, who held me up at gunpoint for the chicken which had been given to me as clearly directed in the will, Kathryn tried to draw Keith, and it all kicked ass.

Then there was the second performance of the day, and it was phenomenal. I ad-libbed a lot, which is good and bad, but I had a blast on stage. Afterwards, I signed so many things with my Sharpie that it got all silvery*. It just rocked. Hardcore.

Then we all went to Shari's. I labeled many sugar packets "THE WEAPON", which gave me an immense hoot. Shotgun, Lawnmower and I conspired to kill each other by means of sugar in water, suspicious drinks were passed around (like we can't tell when a waffle or a seasoned fry has been put in the milkshake... honestly!), I swapped bodies with Sara, Hammerhands, and Michelle, Boy and I "made out"... it was sweet.

Rock, ROCK on. I love these guys.

Now, to check to see what drug must be in my system to make me so ridiculously cheery**.






*Which is not a brag or a boast, but more an attest to the silver-ness of my Sharpie.

**Being happy is fine, but THIS happy? Must be the product of some vile concoction slipped into my food. I'M ON TO YOU, TROTSKY!

Man, I lose.

I really really lose.

I hate making assumptions, and I hate assumptions being made, yet I always somehow seem to make them. Not only that, but they're almost always assumptions of a phenomenal scale, making people look at me and say, "What were you thinking?"

Hindsight is 20/20. I look back, and say, "I should have asked myself it that made sense." But of course, I didn't, and so I end up in another awkward moment.

Rawr.

Jesus.

Yup, I'm conceited, all right. I'm so convinced that I'm the hottest stuff to hit the drama department, I'm such an egotistical bastard about being in two lead roles.

Because, even though I never think of myself as better than any other actor, even though I don't think at all in terms of role sizes, I've so obviously got an ego the size of Texas. Or Kansas and Georgia, as the case may be.

So, line up! Come see the freshman who, although doing so would directly violate his philosophy of "all are equal", believes he's all that! MARVEL at his amazing ego! RECOIL IN HORROR from his stupidity, or his inability, or whatever you may see!

Because it's no coincidence that "drama" refers to both acting and ridiculously unbelievable situations.



If there is something you have to say, say it to me. Don't say it behind my back, don't laugh about it while repainting the stage, tell me. If you dislike something in me, I'm certainly not going to change it if I'm not aware of it. If you're directing me, and you dislike something I'm doing, say so, for gods' sakes-- I can't read minds. Saying, "We like what you're doing" makes me think, surprisingly enough, that you like what I'm doing, and that I should continue with it. No comment makes me assume nothing's wrong, and so I continue what I'm doing.

I am not saying I have no faults. I am far from admitting that, I know I have plenty. But to make fun of what I do because you don't like it, behind my back, not only does nothing to inspire change, but it exposes a lack of respect for me, as a person.

And if you can't respect me, on the most basic level, why do you consider me anything near a friend?

In other news, one should always check the waters before jumping to conclusions.